Last week was a rough week, and one of the bright spots that helped me get through it was @softest-punk 's adorable Sadman Week 2025 fic All's Faire. It had so many things I loved--pining, throuple dynamics (Dream/Hob/Nuala), a ren faire AU setting, delicious food, people being sweet to each other...I could go on and on.
It inspired me to make this drawing of Nuala in her fairy costume, though I did add some fantastical elements. Maybe this is how Hob and Dream see her, as pure magic. Thanks for the wonderful story, @softest-punk!
Forest background is by cocoparisienne on pixabay. Base image is from a photo shoot of Ann Skelly for VINGT SEPT Magazine. Made using Clip Studio Pro.
Hob had fought Lucifer, as Dream’s champion, with his bare hands, rushing in where angels would fear to tread, heedless of anything but the desire to protect.
Regency Chocolate Tart from A man of good fortune by @softest-punk
I'm one of many who has been consumed by this regency era Dreamling story. I read only a couple of omegaverse fics before, so this is not my usual fanfiction preference. But there is something so incredibly sweet and comforting about this story, this Hob, and this Dream that reading every update makes me feel things I cannot articulate, but it's this feeling:
"You know when you are driving in the rain, then you drive under a bridge and everything's silent, almost peaceful. Then you come out from under the bridge and everything hits you a little harder than before.
You were my bridge."
Ya, that's how it makes me feel. The fact that this story can stir up such feelings is not surprising because the writer is none other than @softest-punk, whose words from a then-drabble, now full fic, Catching Up, had yanked me out of my warm bed on a cold winter night to start on a very satisfying journey of making Dreamling recipes. I swear they have a pact with Morpheus to embed subliminal messages in their stories, which play with our minds when we sleep, and then we wake up obsessed with their fics! 😂
This is also a historical recipe, mentioned in Hannah Glasse's cookbook from 1747. I experimented with the portions but the ingredients are the same, except the rice flour, which I substituted with plain flour, and a tiny bit of orange zest that I included in the chocolate filling. The crust is my own recipe.
Because of all the butter and cream, it oozed out SO much oil! I collected at least half a cup from the tray because it's basically clarified butter.
I didn't glaze it because I don't have a shovel or a torch. But I later sprinkled some shaved chocolate and powdered sugar on one half only so that the top would look authentic. And adding the orange slices was an excellent idea because they perfectly balanced the richness of the dessert.
Here are some excerpts from the story!
----------
Aside from the pot, cups, and saucers, there is a selection of fruits and cakes, and something unfamiliar which draws Dream’s eye—a tart with a dark, smooth filling he has never seen before.
“Do you like chocolate?” Hob asks, having thanked and warmly dismissed Lucienne, already reaching out to pour Dream’s tea for him.
Chocolate.
“I have never tried it.”
“Oh, then you’ve got to,” he says. “If you want. I promise it’s good.”
“I have faith in your tastes,” Dream says.
It is with this thought in mind that he accepts the tart, and the offered fork, and slips the first bite past his lips.
The sound that escapes him as the tart filling melts on his tongue is wholly unexpected. Eyes wide, he looks between Hob, and the tart, and his fork.
Hob’s eyes sparkle.
“Good?”
Dream licks his lips. “Yes,” he says, in awe of how good. Nothing else is like this. He has never been so pleased by a mouthful of food in his life.
“You ought to… how do you feel about oranges?” he asks. “Let me cut you a slice.”
Hob does this deftly with a gleaming pocketknife. “You should try a bite of orange and a bite of the tart together,” he says, holding it out to Dream.
In either an incredible lapse of manners or a calculated attempt to arouse Hob’s lust for him—Dream will never be certain, later, when he turns this moment over in his head—he takes a bite of the orange directly from Hob’s fingers, his lips and tongue brushing dry, warm skin, catching the salt of it along with the tart sweetness of the orange, and as instructed takes a bite of his tart at the same time.
Another embarrassing sound escapes him at the combination of sweet-bitter-tart-salt, and he is grateful that the low lighting must disguise some of his hot blush.
He cannot quite look at Hob in the moments that follow. “You are correct. This is very pleasant.”
“Glad I’ve found something you like,” Hob says, silently slicing the remainder of the orange onto a plate and setting it between them, taking a slice for himself.
----------
Bonus pic: I added a lace ribbon because Hob and Dream have pretty hair here, and I couldn't help but include Hob's letter too, although it appears in chapter 6! Full letter here. The story is not complete, but we're almost there. So if you haven't read it yet, this would be a great time to start!
This is also the second time I've made a chocolate and orange combo dessert after the Dreamling Mousse, also from Catching Up! And it's my second tart after the Mini Strawberry Tarts from the delightful Tidings of comfort and joy by @xx-vergil-xx.
Hope you check out and enjoy all these delicious stories! Now I'm off to the Dreaming! ⏳😴
@softest-punk for their Hobsbandverse series and @phoenix_queen on ao3 who put this idea into my head.
————————————————————————
After meeting Time and the ensuing argument that broke out between the Endless siblings, it was decided that Hob was not allowed out of their sights for the foreseeable future. Despite Destiny trying to be the voice of reason and assuring his siblings that there was nothing in his book about any repeat visits, the other six- yes they even dragged Death into the conflict, she felt guilty, like her speaking of their father had summoned him- tuned him out and formed time tables of who would be with Hob and when.
Hob himself gave a fond albeit exasperated sigh and just decided to go along with the whole charade to keep the peace, and calm his panicking spouses. And,he privately thought to himself, if their overprotective-ness helped soothe some lingering anxiety over his father-in-law’s visit, well, that was between him and his own thoughts.
It was currently Dream’s turn to mind him, and since the immortal was already sleeping with Delirium pressed against his body in the waking, they decided to spend the night taking a stroll of the Dreaming. Dream having co-created something or other with Delirium earlier in the day while Hob was out shopping with Desire, wanted his honest opinion on the collaboration.
“You know I’m not really much of an art guy dove, don’t know how much my opinion will matter.” He said, but he grabbed Dream’s hand anyway and let him lead him to a riff that was pulsing and flashing between a rainbow of colors faster than Hob’s human brain could keep up with.
As they stepped through the riff, instead of the riot of colors that Hob was expecting to see on the other side, all he saw was darkness. The sudden descent into the dark and absence of sight had him blinking a few times to see if his eyes would adjust to the unexpected change but nothing happened.
Dream’s hand still in his tightened, and Hob turnt his head trying to make out his husband’s profile through the pitch black nothingness surrounding them. He saw Dream’s star-filled gaze staring straight ahead, and fixed his eyes in the direction he believed the Endless was looking. After squinting for a few more moments and allowing his eyes more time to adjust, the immortal’s sight finally noticed twin faint lights in the distance.
He was pulled out of his musing of where they were and how they’d gotten there when Dream spoke.
“Hello, my mother.” He said.
Hob switched his gaze between the starry eyes of his husband to the lights twinkling in the distance a few times, trying to wrap his thoughts around this unexpected turn of events. He couldn’t believe his luck. Really what were the odds that he’d be meeting both his in-laws in a span of less than a week apart. Destiny definitely knew, he thought.
He was thrown out of his musings by an alluring lilted voice seeming to come from all around them at once, “greetings, Sweet Dream.”
As they walked closer to the source of the lights, Hob was finally able to start making out shapes and colors swirling through the darkness, along with more lights, that turned out to be stars. When they reached where the original source of the lights were coming from, they stopped. In front of them, sat in a pool of pitch darkness that rippled and looked to be made from the finest crushed velvet, was who Hob could only identify as the Endless’ mother.
She was big, was his first thought. He had seen a few of his spouses do the same at times, but never to this degree. He estimated she was probably the size of The London Eye with galaxies swarming around the parts visible to his eyes. She reminded him of Despair but had Dream’s black hair, flowing, and seemingly sucking in the minuscule light like a black hole from the faint constellations that made up her skin. The immortal privately thought Dream must have drawn inspiration for Gault from her, but would never dare voice his opinion knowing the prickly reaction he’d probably receive from his husband.
Hob was caught in his mother-in-law’s mesmerizing stare. Her eyes or rather what would pass for her eyes was pure starlight. She had no pupil and the sclera was locked onto him and didn’t move when she addressed her son. “So this is the mortal.” And though the alluring quality of her voice didn’t change, Hob still felt like she saw him as lacking.
“This is our husband.” The Dream Lord corrected. From the corner of his eye, Hob notice Dream was also bigger now.
Night scoffed, the sound just as enchanting as her lilting voice had been. “Husband.” She spit out the word like it was a disease. He suddenly remembered that the Endless parents were estranged.
“Um- Hello.” He attempted a greeting, but was ignored as Night’s eyes finally left Hob and instead pinned a look to her son.
“Darling, surely you could do better.” She said, voice softer when she addressed him. Dream’s grip on his hand at this point was bruising.
Hob’s inner monologue at this point took the opportunity to characterize the similar behaviors between mother and her children. Desire’s often smug and arrogant cadence to how Dream used to look at certain things with a dismissive stare to how Despair holds herself sometimes all reflected back in the figure in front of him.
The immortal still couldn’t properly see Dream’s face, but if he had to guess it would be carved from stone. The stars in his eyes blazed and Hob was sure he had a few broken bones now as the pressure around his hand squeezed even more. “My mother,” the Endless began, before he too was cut off by Night.
“I worry the pain you’ll be in, my darling, when he eventually withers away. After all, the heartache you’ve endured-especially with Orph-“ and here was Dream’s turn to cut his mother off. The fury radiating from him palpable. His own shadows stretched to mix with the darkness surrounding them, and his form lengthened. Claws now embraced Hob’s hand; more gentle than his human form’s grip had been.
“Hold your tongue, my mother.” Dream’s voice was soft, but the ice behind it let Hob know he would not let this perceived slight go. “Hob,” and here his husband stretched him name-as if to force Night to acknowledge and remember who he was. “Is under the protection of all of us. He is wed to all of us. Death spares her gift from him, he will not die.”
The immortal looked back to his mother-in-law trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes, much like her son’s, was also hard. The starlight going supernova as she stared Dream down. The human could make out a faint twitch of her lips turning down, before she rose from her pool. The darkness cascading down, and Hob quickly looking away once a brief flash of her exposed breast met his view.
“I see.” Was all she said before Hob felt the floor beneath him give way. He stumbled, but Dream’s hold on him kept him upright. Blinking he found himself accosted with colors from all around. Ones he didn’t even have names for.
At the sudden return to light, and the sudden burning of technicolor assaulting his retinas, the immortal felt his husband finally release his hand. When he felt like he could open his eyes with throwing up his dinner, Hob found Dream, his shoulders still tense. His form still bigger than usual with shadows dancing across the walls from beneath his long coat.
Hob took a step forward, intending on pulling his husband close, when the Endless turnt and gazed into his eyes. “This dream is,” he started to say before Hob slapped his hand over his mouth. Dream’s eyes widened.
“I don’t think so, dove. We are going to hash out all that was just said. Either here,” he gestured around to the space around them, “or back in the Waking with the rest of your siblings, but we are not going to let you seclude yourself away.” The immortal said sternly. He removed his hand from Dream’s mouth and instead cupped his jaw, gazing into his starry eyes-so different from Night’s- and allowed him to see his sincere determination and love reflected within.
The Endless blinked and his eyes returned to the blue he often favored in the Waking. A sheen of tears gathering at the corners before closing them and bringing Hob’s body closer to his and allowing his forehead to rest against the immortals.
A shudder tore through him before he pulled back and allowed his gaze to sweep over his husband, checking him over to make sure Night’s realm left no adverse reaction, when his eyes caught sight of his husband’s swollen hand. He gently cupped it, bringing it closer for inspection before closing his eyes again and whispering, “Forgive me, my husband. I did not mean to harm you.”
The immortal was already shaking his head even before he uttered his apology. “Nothing to forgive. I might not remember much of my mum, but I do remember the wooden spoon whenever my siblings or I misbehaved.” His slight joking tone fell flat as Dream’s mouth turn down.
“That’s not to says she was abusive or anything, it was a different time then. Point is I know what it’s like to be somewhat cautious of your parent, plus,” he quickly added, trying to deflect the landmine he knew he stepped on by pointing to his hand, “it’s already starting to heal.” His hand was tingling slightly and the feeling of his bones correcting themselves was as familiar as anything after his many centuries that it didn’t even hurt any more. Just left an inch he knew better than to try to scratch.
The Endless gently let his husband’s hand go and resumed staring at the colors all around them. After a few moments of silence he spoke, “I apologize for my mother. She had no right to speak of you like that.”
Hob reached out to cup his face and said, “You don’t owe me any sort of apology on your mum’s behalf. I don’t care how she thinks of me. I’m married to you and your siblings and your opinions are the only ones that matter to me.” He leant forward and brushed a kiss across Dreams lips.
Destiny lowered his book, a shadow of a smile gracing his features as he looked out to his garden from the bench he sat at in his realm. All was going how it should, and they were stronger for it. Hob made them stronger.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Hob's love letter to Dream from A man of good fortune by @softest-punk.
I am sorry but after taking pictures I noticed I misspelled desperately. 🫠 But Hob would have probably made some mistakes too hehe.
I am so proud of my self-control; I didn't read the latest chapter until I finished work. I felt like I was not worthy to read the story until I did something productive with my day lmao.
I also made the tart and my mom is eating it now. She has asked for a second slice, so I call it a success. I'll post pictures once I eat it too! This fic OMG ❤️
@softest-punk literally dropped the greatest goldmine of writing tips and they might have gotten me out of my block with morpheus' orchestra!!! thank u icon 🙏😭
