#obsessive_dreamling

[obsessiveagony2point0]

*sigh*

Ravens in raincoats And big grins on killers Bright shiny rubies And gold eyes that glitter Death in the night with the moon on her wings These are a few of my favorite things

(don't hate too hard on my shitty little song rewrite)

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

Dream: "Is this truly what humans wear to sleep?" Hob: *chuckles* "Sometimes. Depends on the person." Dream *raises and eye brow at Hob* "Do you usually wear something like this..?" Hob: *laughs* "Nah. I normally sleep in my boxers. You?" Dream: "I do not sleep." Hob: "Humor me." Dream: *sigh* "If I am in need of a rest, I will generally lay in my bedchambers bare." Hob: ".......you mean...you sleep naked...." Dream: "Rest. And, yes." Hob: .......... Dream: "Those shorts betray your excitement and enthusiasm." Hob: "Shut the hell up and get in the bedroom...."

I'd like to think Dream's set would be looser on his willowy body while Hob's set would be pulled tight, especially against his chest.

100% convinced that Hob would wear this every single night just to annoy Dream. And maybe to provoke him to rip it off his body

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Home

Hob gives the boys a living space. Edwin isn’t sure how to feel about this.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Ghost didn’t have homes.

At least, according to Edwin’s understanding they didn’t.

They had haunts, of course, and places their unsettled souls would return to, but they didn’t have homes.

Edwin wasn’t even entirely sure he remembered what a home truly was. He’d spent so long in hell in the same place over and over again, that when he left…he didn’t want to be stuck in the same place. Luckily for him, Charles was willing and enthusiastic to travel and explore.

It wasn’t until the ghostly duo met Hob Gadling that things slowly began to change.

It started with a small, friendly conversation, which grew into the boys coming around to the pub every night to talk and…well, relax. Which was something Edwin definitely wasn’t used to.

One day, Hob ushered them to the basement. He flicked on a light, and Edwin and Charles stared in shock.

It was a whole living space. There were tables and chairs and bookshelves, a couch and plush arm chairs on top of a large, ornate rug.

“It’s not much,” Hob said as he ran a hand through his hair, nervously. “But I didn’t like the idea of you boys not having a place of your own to be able to come back to.” He gave them a small smile. “Ghost or not, everyone needs a space of their own.”

Charles immediately took to their new surroundings, cheering as he claimed the worn couch that had been provided as his very own spot.

Edwin was more hesitant, his mind spiraling. He didn’t want to be locked and trapped to one place. Not again.

A heavy, yet gentle hand on his shoulder pulled him from his mind, and he turned to look at Hob, who was smiling softly at him. “I’m not trying to keep you here, Edwin. You’re free to come and go as you please. I just wanted you to have somewhere you could always come back to.”

Edwin stared a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Hob.”

Hob grinned, and gave his shoulder a small squeeze before he launched himself onto Charles, who screamed and laughed.

Edwin tried not to latch onto this place. He liked Hob, a lot, and Dream, but he was still wary.

He hadn’t really realized how much he’d become accustomed to their new place until a particular case kept them away for a week.

When they had finally returned, it was the dead of night. They slipped in through the walls and floorboards to their living space, in case Hob was asleep. It was hard to tell when Hob was awake or not. He always kept a lamp on in his flat regardless of the time of day and his sleeping patterns were…strange. Sometimes he was up all hours of the night, and sometimes he wouldn’t sleep for days until Dream came to scold him and make him sleep.

As they entered into the basement Charles let out a happy sigh and slumped onto the worn couch, stretching as he said, “God, it’s great to be home.”

Home.

Edwin paused and looked around the space.

The walls that had been once bare held a mosaic of art Edwin enjoyed as well as odd little knickknacks from Crystal and pictures torn out of magazines that Charles liked. There were plants that Crystal had been growing on the table along with random things Charles had picked up during their adventures. The bookshelves held a strange collection of books that ranged from poetry to history to occult tombs to manga Niko brought in case Edwin wanted to read them. By the door, leaning against the wall, rested Charles cricket bat as well as a coat rack that held ridiculous disguises Charles and Crystal would wear, swearing that they worked.

“Edwin? You ok?”

Edwin blinked, not realizing he was crying until warm tears ran down his face.

Home.

They had a home.

This wasn’t a prison, this wasn’t hell, this wasn’t the attic or the chest.

This was home. His home. His home with Charles and Hob and Dream.

He turned around immediately and went through the wall and up to Hob’s flat. He raised a fist to knock, then hesitated. If Hob was asleep, he certainly didn’t want to wake him, especially since Dream was so insistent that Hob actually sleep…but then again Hob always told them if they needed him, to please get him.

He took a deep breath and knocked. He was surprised to hear Hob say, muffled, “Come in, Edwin.”

Edwin passed through the door and saw Hob leaning over kitchen counter, with a mug in his hands, smiling.

“How…”

“You’d be surprised how the building sounds when you both pass through walls and doors. It’s like an exhale, as if the old place is at ease. Plus…” He grinned. “Dream and Charles don’t knock.” He waved at one of the stools at the counter. “Come, sit. Tell me where you two trouble-makers have been for the last week.”

Edwin smiled a little, settled on the stool, and began regaling to Hob their latest case.

As Edwin finished and Hob turned to fill his coffee again, the ghost boys said, softly, “Thank you, Hob.”

Hob stopped and turned back, tilting his head to one side in confusion. “For what?”

“For…for giving Charles and I place. A…a home.”

The immortal smiled wide and warm. “You don’t need to thank me. I was hoping it would eventually feel like a home to you boys.”

Edwin dropped his gaze to his entwined hands. “It’s been a long time…since a place felt like that. I…honestly thought I had forgotten what a home felt like entirely.”

That same heavy yet gentle hand that had been on his shoulder as reassurance weeks ago now placed itself over Edwin’s hands. He looked up into Hob’s gentle, unchanging face. “No matter how far you travel or how long you’re gone for…you will always have a home here, Edwin. I promise you that.”

Edwin’s smile trembled as his eyes filled with tears, but if Hob noticed he didn’t say. Instead, he gave the young ghost’s hands a small pat. “I’m sure Charles is feeling lonely. Should we continue this downstairs?”

Edwin blinked, slightly confused. “But…I have already told you about the case.”

“Yes, you did, but…” He winked at Edwin. “I always enjoy listening to Charles stretch the truth a little. Weave his tales.”

Edwin chuckled and stood up from where he was seated. As they moved towards Hob’s door, the immortal placed a hand on Edwin’s back.

“By the way, welcome back home, Edwin.”

Edwin smiled.

Yes.

Home.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Im probably gonna post a few of these warm, sweet little headcanon ficlets.

Because I like them and they make me feel good.

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

The Past

Charles reminds Hob of someone from a long time ago.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Hob isn’t used to being asked about his past, with Dream being the only exception.

But now, with Edwin and Charles in his life, he was often asked on a daily basis.

Edwin was far more interested in comparing Hob’s experiences to what was written down. It was easier for him to answer those questions since it felt like teaching his History classes. The difference here being these boys knew he was almost 700 years old and his students did not.

A lot of the time, Edwin asked questions about the 1900s, around the time he had died. He’d missed out on not only growing up, but he’d been locked away in hell for nearly 100 years. He was curious, and Hob granted him that curiosity.

It was Charles who asked the harder questions.

A lot of the time, those questions had to do with experiences he should have died from but couldn’t. It was…a bit difficult bringing those memories up, but when Hob spoke about the 1600s where he was homeless and was freezing to what should have been death, he saw Charles’ expression change.

He’d given the boy a hug that day.

He’d asked if Hob had ever been in relationships with mortal people, which led Hob on a very strange and embarrassing yet sad path of all his past relationships. Which meant he spoke about his Eleanor and his once small family.

Then, one day, Charles asked about him.

They were in the kitchen; Hob cooking, Charles flipping through a comic, when suddenly Charles asked, “What was your son like?”

The room went deadly silent.

Hob stared at the eggs, not realizing they were burning until the smell hit him and he immediately moved the pan from the burner and turned it off.

“I-I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, no. It’s alright.” He turned to Charles, who looked like a beaten puppy. “I told you both you could ask anything you wanted and I meant it.”

Charles looked hesitant. “Yea…but…”

“It’s fine, Charles.” Hob gave a small, sad, yet reassuring smile before he leaned back against the counter, staring at the ceiling. “What was Robyn like…”

He looked back at Charles, who stared at him with big brown eyes, his face concerned and worried. Memories of Robyn flashed in his head, the face of a young boy who just wanted to make everyone happy and safe.

Hob reached a hand out, placing it on Charles’ head. “Actually…he was a lot like you.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Edwin appearing through the wall. “Charles, we have a case. You can read your cartoon drawings later.”

“They’re comics, Ed. Comics.”

Edwin rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the wall.

Charles moved to follow, but stopped and turned to Hob. “See ya later, Hob.”

“Hopefully not in another week again.”

Charles chuckled. “Hopefully not, but you know Edwin.”

“I know.” Hob smiled. “Just…be safe. As best you both can.”

The ghost boy smiled back. “We will.” And with that, he vanished.

Hob stood there a moment longer, still smiling.

Yes…he was so very much like Robyn…

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Just really had to get this out of my system. I like the idea of Charles and Edwin of doing things that remind Dream and Hob of Robyn and Orpheus.

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

Happy Pride!

I’ve read so many fanfics and headcanons of Hob being bisexual, pansexual (also my personal headcanon), or trans as well as Dream being asexual, nonbinary, or agender and really felt the need to make those headcanons into some kind of reality.

Under the cut are other pairings of these flags, and please, please, pleeeaseeee comment if you’d like to see them with other flags!!

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Extremely late Dreamling Day post.

It’s just a WIP but it’s all I’ve managed to be able to do.

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Similarities

Edwin and Dream share something in common. Something more than a love of books.

⚠️❓ - Possible Trigger Warning

[ficlet contains mentions of fear/anxiety and being afraid of small spaces/claustrophobia]

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Dream didn’t talk about his imprisonment much.

It was said mostly in passing, as a way to explain why he hadn’t met Hob when that story was told, but the how and why and other details had never been told.

Hob, of course, knew. He knew what had happened to Dream as the Being had told Hob everything. So, when he reminisced about the past, which he often did, Hob never talks about those details. That was for Dream to talk about and Dream alone, when he was ready.

No one ever expected or anticipated that the day Dream would be ready to tell someone else about it, it would be in a chaotic, noisy pub.

Dream, Edwin and Charles were loitering around The New Inn, as they usually did when it was absurdly busy and Hob needed to jump in and lend a hand.

Edwin was at the bar, reading a book Dream had produced from his library in the Dreaming, while Charles was trailing closely behind Hob, asking questions and knowing no one else could see him while Hob, who could see him, talked away.

In the beginning, the customers would ask Hob if he was ok, concerned that maybe he was working too hard and was slowly losing his sanity, but he would just flash them a big grin and say, ���I’m alright. Just talking to a ghost.”

They stopped asking.

Dream was perched next to Edwin by the bar, sipping on a glass of white wine that never seemed to grow to room temperature no matter how long it sat there. He wasn’t paying much attention to Charles’ mischief or to Hob’s multitasking chaos.

Instead, he was keeping an eye on Edwin.

If you passed a quick glance at the young spirit, you wouldn’t notice anything amiss. Just a boy, casually reading his book, trying to dive into the pages and words.

But Dream knew better.

Edwin may have had the book open, but in the hour they’d been sitting there he had barely gone through 5 pages. His gaze may have been trained on the inked words in front of him, but his eyes showed that his mind was elsewhere. His jaw was tight, his shoulder’s stiff, and Dream could see a small tremor in his hands where they gripped the edges of the book.

Dream recognized this look. The look of fighting the rough waves as you tried to stay afloat, trying not to sink and drown. He himself had to tread through those rough waters until they settled.

Sometimes, he still had to.

“You do not have to read the book if you are not enjoying it.” Dream said before bringing the glass of wine to his lips.

Edwin blinked, the fog in his eyes dissipating as he looked at Dream. “I am.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Are you, though, Edwin Payne..?”

Edwin opened his mouth, closed it, looked back at the book, and then shut it softly before whispering, “No…”

Dream hummed.

“It’s not that it’s not a good book.” The young spirit said quickly as to not offend the Prince of Stories. “I just…”

“Are currently unable to enjoy it.” Dream finished. “Your mind is…occupied. By feelings and images of the past.”

Edwin looked again at Dream, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“It is not often I find myself understanding how one may feel.” Dream said softly as his thumb ran up the curved glass. “It is even more rare that I understand because I have gone through a fairly similar experience myself.”

Edwin stared at Dream, who was staring at his white wine with furrowed brows. He realized, with surprise, that Dream was very much referring to his own imprisonment. “You’re…well…you’re you. How could you possibly have gone through what I have?”

Dream’s eyes hardened, growing dark. “Endless may not be able die like most creatures do…but we can be captured and hurt through the use of the occult.” White stars glanced at Edwin. “Humans often meddle with things they do not understand. You know this to be true.”

Edwin was silent for a while, turning his attention back to the book that laid on the bar counter. He brought a hand up to stroke the velvet cover and traced his fingers over the gold lettering.

Perhaps…Dream could truly understand…

“I thought what I experienced in Hell would be the trigger to this fear…” Edwin whispered after silently gathering his thoughts, his hands dropping to his lap. “But…instead…what triggered it the first time was a dark basement. It wasn’t until it happened a second time I realized it was because of that room. That room in the attic of the school where I was dragged to and sacrificed….” He scoffed venomously. “4 bloody walls in the dark overpowered all the terrors of Hell.”

“It’s frustrating…” Edwin continued. “It’s been decades since that night and the fear of it prevents me from going into any small, dark space that remotely resembles an attic. It impedes on our detective work if I cannot enter a small room where a crime has been committed.” He clenched his fists tight as he hissed, “I want it to stop.”

The dream eldritch was silent as he stared at the young, frustrated spirit. Though Edwin was over a century old and very wise, there were times where he showed that, deep down, he was still a 16 year old boy.

Eventually, Dream spoke. “I was also confined to a small room, much like your attic. Inside this small room was my prison, that was even smaller than the space it resided in.” He stared at his warped reflection in the wine glass. “My prison was a sphere. A sphere made of steel and glass…hidden away in a pathetic man’s basement where ancient markings kept me in place and where above me was cruelly decorated like the night sky to mock me and remind me of what I was missing.”

Dream let out soft sigh. “Once I was free, it took me many months to finally be able to stay for long periods in a small room where the walls felt too close and the ceiling too low.” He looked up at the ceiling of the pub. “Even now, there are times that this space becomes fearful.”

“It does…?” Edwin asked, his voice trembling a little. “So…the fear…it doesn’t leave?”

“No.” Dream replied turning his gaze back on Edwin. “It does not. Though it happens less, that fear still plagues me. It will always be there in the back of your mind, trying to drown you.”

“Then there is no hope for me.” Edwin said, defeatedly, his shoulders dropping.

Dream smiled a little. “There is always hope, Edwin Payne. That hope, that raft that will keep you afloat during those fears…that comes from the people around you.”

“The…people around me…?”

The Being turned his gaze. Edwin follow his line of sight, seeing it had landed onto Hob, who was laughing with some of his customers. The immortal caught their stares and waved. Charles looked where Hob was looking, noticed them as well, and grinned widely, also waving.

“The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft. Your life line. Even if you have no hope in yourself, even if you tell yourself you cannot do it…they will be the hope that will tell you that you can.”

“Hob was…and still is…my raft…” Dream said softly. “He possesses an otherworldly patience I have only ever seen in my sister…and even she has her limits. He has endlessly showered me with it as he has helped me through my fear.” He turned to look at Edwin again, still smiling. “You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin. You have many around you who are willing to be your raft.” He placed a slender hand over Edwin’s that had loosened their grip on his slacks. “Myself included.”

Edwin opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Hob, who had finally been able to make his way down to the end of the bar.

“Bloody hell what a night.” The immortal smiled apologetically at them. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to be around much this evening. One of the hazards to owning a business.”

“You were around me.” Teased Charles, who had come up behind Hob.

“Look here, you little shit, that was not because I chose that. That was because you decided that tonight was the night to make ol’ Hob seem more crazy than usual.” Charles laughed as he dodged a swat from Hob, running around to hide behind Edwin.

To any remaining concerned patrons in the pub that evening it looked like Hob was scolding the air next to a shadow of a man and then swatting at a fly.

Those patrons quickly returned their attention back to their drinks.

Hob shook his head at Charles, trying to look stern but unable to as he laughed at the young ghost stick his tongue out. “To make up for it, I’ll watch whatever movies you wanna watch. No complaining.”

“Really!?” Charles beamed.

“Not you.” Hob said as he pointed a finger at Charles. “You don’t get to pick.”

“What!? Robbie, c’mon!”

“Don’t ‘c’mon’ me, you menace.”

“I’ll just possess the TV again.” Charles replied, smugly.

“Do that and I’ll invite Death over for a visit.”

The spirit boys had long since been told by Death herself that she wasn’t going to take them. They were free to roam on earth as long as they continued their work.

Regardless, Charles still paled at the threat. Death was still Death, the taker of souls, the Grim Reaper. Their non-lives were in her hands.

Charles huffed and crossed his arms. “Well played…you win.”

A few customers waved at Hob, beckoning him over to order. “Ah, bollocks…here we go again.” He smiled sheepishly at the spirits and the Endless. “Only a couple more hours, promise.”

Hob hurried away and Charles was about to follow, when he stopped and turned to Edwin. “Hey, are you doing alright? I know…I know you don’t like small rooms very much.”

Edwin blinked, then glanced at Dream. “I…I’m ok right now. Thank you, Charles.”

“Of course. Anything for my best mate.” He placed a hand in Edwin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t ok…please come get me. We’ll…we’ll go outside or something, alright?”

Dream’s words echoed in Edwin’s mind.

‘The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft…You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin.’

The young spirit smiled and placed his hand over Charles’. “I will come get you, I promise.”

Charles grinned and gave Edwin’s shoulder a squeeze before he bounded after Hob once more.

Dream smiled at Edwin. “I believe you will find yourself able to read now.”

The ghost boy looked down at the velvet covered book. He picked it back up, then took in a deep breath and opened it once more.

He did, indeed, find he was able to read.

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

I struggled a bit with this one.

I will admit, I haven’t watched DBD yet. I will be this weekend tho.

But that doesn’t stop me from falling in love with the characters. I am the type of person who “spoils” movies and shows for themselves. I enjoy learning about the characters and the plot and story before I dive into the show. It helps me connect.

The problem with this…method…is I don’t always know the entire plot of something.

Which was issue here.

(If you do not wanna read spoilers for the show and comic, then do not read past the line)

Because DBD is so new, there not a lot out there yet on the show’s version of things. What I mean is, is that in the DBD comic fandom wiki, it says:

“He (Edwin) was abused by bullies who, one evening in 1914, dragged him up to the attics where they dressed up, drew a circle on the floor, and sacrificed him along with frogs and rabbits in an effort to raise devils that never came.

They hid Edwin's body in a trunk, and it was never found, Edwin thought no one looked particularly hard for him since his killers barely covered their tracks.”

I do not know how accurately the show went with the comic as the only thing I can find is an article about how the boys died, which states:

“Edwin's past in 1916 is quite heartbreaking. He had a crush on Simon at their British boarding school. He was invited to a date, only to be ambushed by Simon and his friends. The bullies thought they would have some fun with an occult ritual meant to summon the demonic Sa'al. It feels like they weren't sure that the tome they had would really bring the demon up. But they just wanted to hear Edwin scream and cry. The drunken hazing quickly turns sour as Sa'al comes up and roasts the bullies to ashes. He apologizes to Edwin, but the rules are the rules. Sa'al drags Edwin to Hell as the sacrificial part of the ceremony must be honored.”

So, as I stated above, I struggled. I truly wanted Edwin’s fear to be of the box his body had been hidden in. The fear of the confined space and the four walls and the darkness, because, perhaps, maybe his spirit had been stuck in the box too before he realized and figured out he could leave it.

But the box wasn’t used in the show.

So, I opted for the room, the attic.

Anyway, I’m rambling about this too seriously. I can headcanon things and situations all day long, but I like when those headcanons and my fics have true to the original story details if I can get them in there.

[obsessiveagony2point0]

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I know Hob does appear in the DBD comics, but I like to imagine that one day they just appear in The New Inn and Hob, having seen a thing or two in his near 700 years, has a feeling they aren't normal.

That feeling is confirmed when one of the tavern's patrons walks right through them.

They eventually leave, but the next night, to Hob's delight, they return. When the tavern is near empty and the boys are still loitering, Hob walks over to them and asks what they're doing here. They're surprised, and ask if he can see them, to which Hob nods.

The 3 of them talk, far into the night and long after Hob has locked the doors.

The more they talk, the more Hob adores these two menaces, Edwin and Charles.

That night, Dream also visits...and he can also see the boys. He arches an eyebrow at them, curious as to how they are there as it is not like his sister to let souls slip through her fingers...

Hob begs Dream to let him adopt them (it obviously wouldn't be an official adoption, but like Hob would adopt them in his heart), but Dream says no.

Not because he is trying to be intentionally cruel, but because sooner or later his sister will come for these boys and he does not want to see Hob's heart shatter.

The next time Dream visits, Hob has set up rooms for Edwin and Charles below the pub, where they can come and go as they please. He has supplied them with books and resources and whatever else they need to do their detective work.

Hob has adopted them.

Dream is exasperated.

They do, eventually, make their way into whatever is considered Dream's heart.

He is happy Hob made room for them.

[obsessiveagony2point0]

I believe Charles would call Hob by a variety of nicknames. Perhaps even call him “Hobsie”, sending Hob’s memories back to 1389.

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

I posted a while ago how I forgot I was working on a Dreamling fic where Dream is obsessed with Hob’s piercings.

Well I have officially finished it and will be posting it today!!!!

Edit 5/5/2024: IT IS UP

[obsessiveagony2point0]

👀💦

Don’t you judge me

[obsessiveagony2point0]

If this was a dream, then at least I've got Memories for when morning comes Now that I must leave with a heavy heart Oh, Wonderland I love - Welcome to Wonderland, Anson Seabra

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

Working on something pretty (I hope it’s pretty anyway…)

On the left is the reference I’m using which I’ll share when it’s all done!!

Soemthing Pretty This Way Comes 6/3

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Hob remembers their wedding day very well. He had been at the alter, trying not to sweat through his off-white or light cream suit (he honestly wasn't sure the color...it all looked white to him). He had been so nervous, vile thoughts digging into his mind. Thoughts about how Hob was nothing, how Dream deserved so much better than a History teacher, how he wouldn't blame Dream if he left him standing at the alter. Then...the music started. The notes of the Wedding March floated magically off Matthew's guitar and Lucienne's keyboard and Hob had felt his heart skip a beat at just hearing it. Because he knew Dream had ask his little band to please play at their wedding. Their wedding. The doors opened, everyone stood up, and all the fear Hob had been feeling, all the doubt and vile thoughts...they vanished. Because there was Dream, absolutely gorgeous in his nearly all black wedding outfit save for his red tie, the red damask pattern on his vest, and the marigold and poppy corsage that matched Hob's, being walked down by his oldest brother and sister, looking at Hob with pride and adoration and love. Looking at him...and only him. One would think once the rings were slipped on, any remaining doubt would leave, but it wasn't until they had their wedding photos taken, and as Hob stared into Dream's blue eyes, that Hob knew...he knew...that Dream truly, deeply, endlessly loved him as he was. Loved Robert "Hob" Gadling, the simple man who was a History professor and pub owner.

And it was that moment, as he stared back into those adoring blue eyes that had been decorated with black and red makeup, that those vile thoughts left...and never came back.

Thanks to @pluckyyoungdonna for suggesting the damask pattern! I did a dark red coloring so the vest could stay black but still match the tie (which I know you can see very well in this shot but it's there, promise lol).

WIP and Sketch

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[obsessiveagony2point0]

Hey look one of those 15-20 WIPs I have to do…