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from the Fat Endless Dream fic (where Dream used to be fat before the dreamers started envisioning him as thin and Dream's lovers told him otherwise and other related incidents)
Hob seemed to enjoy feeding Dream. Well, more than he enjoyed feeding others. He'd seen Hob cook for others, and even if he hadn't — having enough food frequently meant something different to a man who had been born a peasant. But something was different about the way he fed Dream. About the 'you're too thin, love,' comments. *** Dream was too thin, but Hob remembered what it was like to starve. Dream had returned to the New Inn, haunted and pale and drawn, and apologised for missing their meeting. I was detained. Later, that morphed to I was captured. And several months later, when Hob finally coaxed Dream into eating, it went something like this: "I am not human. I do not require sustenance, or air." "But can you eat? Do you have anything you like to eat?" Dream stared across the table at Hob, eyes flat, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. "No." "Well, time to try everything, then!" Hob said brightly. (Dream looked away. He had not lied: there had been foods, once, in the Dreaming, that he had enjoyed. Plums of every colour, ripe and bursting. Jeweled grapes, in delectable bunches, and wine, dry on the tongue to balance. Homey little dreams of bubbling stew and mugs of perfect tea. He no longer knew what it tasted like, after so long away, realm still rebuilding. He could not even conjure them.)
