#pfffthahahahah

To wit:

"Professor Murphy?  Is it true that Rose Walker based the character of the Prince of Stories on you?" ventured one shameless student.  Certain members of the class, who also happened to be part of the Hellfire Club, collectively facepalmed.  

"It would be rather singular if the Prince of Stories chose to walk in the waking world, spending his time teaching and telling stories, wouldn't it?" Professor Murphy returned.  He lifted his chin slightly, assuming an unmistakably imperious and regal air.  

There were some students who were visibly making an effort stifling their laughter.  Their fellows looked at them in bewilderment.

"Or perhaps, he might at that," Murphy continued, relaxing a little and continuing in a milder tone.  Surely that wasn't a glint of mischief in those starry blue eyes.  "Better than spending a tedious day entertaining another Faerie delegation."  

More giggling from the Hellfire Club.  "Please do not tell Lucienne or the rest of my Court that I am hiding here.  I would rather not have to deal with the Cluracan today."  

As if on cue, there was a knock on the classroom door.  Murphy immediately hid behind a tall file cabinet, seeming to blend into the shadows.  Some of the students gaped.

A stately woman in a smart, old-fashioned suit peered in, its warm colors complementing her dark skin.  Her ears were strangely leaf-shaped and her eyeglasses glinted in the afternoon light.  "Pardon me.  Is this... uhm.... Lord... er... Professor Murphy's class?"

Dustin waved.  "Hi Lucienne!"  

The woman, who was apparently this Lucienne that Murphy had just mentioned, gave Dustin a Look. He shrank back in his seat.

"I'm sorry I tried to take a book out from your library," he said sheepishly. "Won't ever do it again. Pinky swear."

"I shall take your apology under advisement, young Dustin. In the meantime, have you seen Lord - er... Professor Murphy?"

To their credit, nobody in the classroom looked at their teacher who seemed to have simply disappeared in the shadow of that file cabinet.

"You got the right class, Lucienne, but Professor Murphy stepped out for a few minutes," Eddie Munson told her with aplomb.  

Lucienne looked visibly flustered.  "Oh dear.  Perhaps if you could tell him that he is...er.... needed at his 'work' as soon as the class is over?  I believe we could still keep everything running until then, but I am, quite tempted at this moment, to uhm.... yeet the Cluracan somewhere unpleasant."

"A+ use of current slang, Lucienne," Dustin approved, clapping his hands.  

"We'll let him know," Eddie added.

"Thank you. Farewell, then."  And Lucienne left.  

"She has my blessing to 'yeet' the Cluracan anywhere she wishes," Murphy sighed, stepping out from his hiding place.  "You have my thanks."  

"He's that bad huh?" Eddie commiserated.

"Who or what is a Cluracan?" asked one bewildered student.

"A bothersome pest who should be 'yeeted' into the nearest Bog of Abominable Stench," Murphy answered, to more snickers from the Hellfire Club.  He sighed.  "Since Lucienne assures us the kingdom will continue to stand without my presence, shall we continue with the lesson?"

2.

Posted on Tumblr:

That moment when you're fairly sure that a fictional character based on your ridiculously hot literature professor is still fictional.  

And then, maybe, just maybe, he isn't?

#prince of stories #the dreaming series #into the night #rose walker why did you inflict your uncle on us #WHY #help our lit professor broke our brains #bog of abominable WHAT NOW #wtf is a cluracan #i still don't know #i'm not over how professor murphy says YEET

Reblogged by Rose Walker (@into_the_night):

BECAUSE.  

#uncle dream #lucienne deserves a raise #in this house we all love uncle dream's ravens #even matthew

3.

4.

Perhaps because turnabout was, indeed, very much fair play, the day came when a certain history professor poked his head into Professor Murphy's classroom.  

" 'Lo.  I'm looking for a... hmm... Professor Murphy, I believe? He's about yea high, looks like Snow White's twin brother, has abominable taste in English literature, because Shakespeare, really?"

This time, everyone snickered, especially since Professor Gadling's opinions on Shakespeare was the stuff of campus legend.  

It was just as well that Professor Murphy had no idea what exactly his signature tiny smile, tinged with unmistakable fondness in Professor Gadling' general direction, was doing to many students in his class.  "Hello, my love.  Shall I remind you of your fondness for Sonnet 29, especially when I recite it in the way most familiar to you?"

Professor Gadling put a hand over his heart, in his best theatrical air.  "I cry your mercy, m'lord - I don't think my heart can take that right now."  

Murphy leaned back against his desk, hands primly clasped in front of his body and then:

"I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!

Merciful love that tantalizes not,

One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,

Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!

O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!"

"You are a menace," said Professor Gadling, eyes wide and cheeks reddening.  He did, however, respond with:  

"That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest

Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,

That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,

Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,

Withhold no atom’s atom or I die

Or living on perhaps, your wretched thrall."

There was an awed hush, which was only broken by Eddie suddenly saying, "I'm taking notes, because that, my friends, was a masterclass in wooing.  You taking notes, Steve?"

"Imma woo you in a minute, Munson," Steve responded, cheeks just as red as Professor Gadling's.  

Posted on Rose Walker's Tumblr (@into_the_night):

TFW you hear your idiot uncle and your equally idiot history professor are flirting with each other using POETRY.  AGAIN.

#uncle dream #professor g #GET A ROOM #these two idiots with their shared brain cell #matthew do something #john keats #REALLY?!!! #at least it's not shakespeare this time

Reblogged by @moon_revengers

AGAIN?!!! You mean this isn't the first time they've done this?

#where is this uni and how can i enroll #rose walker #uncle dream #prince of stories #professor dream #who is this professor g #hey professor g is hot too #how many hot professors can you have in one uni  

Reblogged by @our_cryptid_professors

<TikTok video posted of Professor Murphy reciting part of Shakespeare's Sonnet 29 which had Professor Gadling responding with a few lines from Sonnet 17>

NOPE.  We have video.  

#our cryptid professors #shakespeare #kilig apocalypse #they do this ALL THE TIME #we love them for it #professor g HATES shakespeare #so this is a legendary moment #sorry professor g we got the receipts #professor murphy FTW #we ship it #dreamling

6.  

5.  

"Apparently, we now have a 'ship name,' love."

A slow blink.  "What does a sailing vessel have to do with us, dearest?"

"No, no, it's this thing the kids are doing these days.  Shortening 'relationship' to 'ship' and apparently they are 'shipping' us and we have a 'ship' name."  

"Ah.  That explains some daydreams I've encountered recently."

"Daydreams...you know what? I don't want to know about that one.  Anyway, they have a ship name for us and it's rather adorable, I'd say."

"Adorable.  Hob Gadling, you know very well my opinion on that word and its connection with myself..."

"Now, now, duck, it's not just you this time - I've been dragged into it too.  Our ship name is 'dreamling.'"

"What."

A kiss was stolen from one very discombobulated Dreamlord.  "Like I said.  Utterly adorable."  

It made sense that Professor Murphy, with his signature Goth look, would have a raven.

It was significant that Murphy himself never referred to Matthew as his "pet."  Matthew the Raven happily fluttered between Professor Gadling and Professor Murphy, although these days Professor Gadling wryly referred to Matthew as his bodyguard, instead of "babysitter."  

Rose Walker was heard to comment that Matthew was actually the shared brain cell between her uncle and favorite history professor and it was hilarious to see Matthew apparently understanding all this and preening, looking very pleased.  

Today, in the spirit of the Halloween season, Professor Murphy was reading Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven and Matthew was helping.  Professor Murphy's unique, deep and resonant voice was perfectly suited to Poe's mournful and sinister verses and Matthew, to everyone's delight, was right on cue with: Nevermore.  

Shivers ran down people's spines as Murphy read on.  It seemed that the lecture hall darkened, and shadows crept along the walls, curling lovingly at Murphy's feet.  There was the oddest glow to his eyes and perhaps the suggestion of sharp white teeth.  

There was an audible sigh in the room when the reading was finished.  Matthew flew over to perch on Murphy's outstretched arm.

"Bravo, Matthew," Murphy praised.  "An excellent performance."

The class (except for certain students who just ended up stifling snorts and giggles into their hands) were completely shocked when Matthew responded:

"Heh.  Happy Halloween, Boss!"  

7.   A Bonus Halloween Story

There's a candle burning in the midst of an old, decrepit classroom in the university.  

There are items scattered on the floor - a dagger, a bunch of moly flowers, a scroll and an old book with one of those classic yellowing vintage art covers.  

There is a hunger here, an unholy yearning and the young woman who sits alone in the middle of this room is swaying slightly, her eyes glazed and her lips moving, chanting something in a language not her own.  

There are bony, wispy fingers crawling up over her arms, landing possessively on her shoulders.  A voice whispering in her ears, a dead man's voice, exultant, triumphant.  

She shivers.  She shudders.  There is a part of her screaming in disgust and terror but she can't stop chanting, she can't run, she can't get free, she knows that everything is wrong, wrong, wrong....

"You. Dare."  

A white hand lands on the book, covering its title:  Here Comes a Candle.  A tall figure materializes out of the shadows, its head insect-like, eyes ruby red and burning flames licking at the ends of its night-dark robes.  

The dead man screams in the voice of the girl he's possessing.  "IT'S NOT FAIR!!! I JUST WANT THEM TO READ MY BOOK AGAIN!!! I SACRIFICED SO MUCH, THIS IS MY MASTERPIECE, I WANT PEOPLE TO REMEMBER ME, TO DREAM OF MY STORIES -- "

"You speak to me of sacrifice, Erasmus Fry - you who captured and defiled a goddess to possess gifts you had no right to.  You speak to me of dreaming and remembrance and fairness?"  The tall, terrible figure laughs and it is not a pleasant sound.  His laughter drags the dead man's soul out of the girl's body with shadowy and sharp claws.  She screams again and slumps on the dusty floor.  

The dead man who was once the writer, Erasmus Fry, struggles feebly in the clutches of the shadows commanded by the King.  "Lord, Prince of Stories, forgive me - I knew you not!"

"To you, I am King of Nightmares.   Your work shall be buried and forgotten.  And you will harm no one else."  

The book dissolves in grains of sand and so does the ghost of Erasmus Fry, wailing in agony.  

For the girl, the King of Nightmares is the King of Dreams once more.  Her last memory is that of a cool, gentle hand on her forehead, star-touched blue eyes filled with kindness and a soft, deep voice that is strangely familiar.  "Sleep, Waverly Moon.  Dream peacefully and wake safely."

And she does exactly that.  

-end-

Footnote the First:  The inhabitants of Dream's Castle were rather surprised when their Lord burst into laughter upon seeing Fauntleroy and their dreamlings.  The fluffy, feathery, duck-shaped dreamlings quacked merrily at their amused lord, even though they weren't sure what was it that made him so happy.  Still, a happy King of Dreams was a good thing so everyone just shrugged and went along with it.  Also, it was quite heartwarming, to be honest, as it had been such a long while since they'd seen their lord happy and content.  

Footnote the Second:  Professor Murphy's students (except for a Certain Few) have so many questions about Matthew.  Matthew, for his part, continues to be the shared brain cell between his two bosses and enjoying his best life.  

Footnote the Third:  Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson finally went on their very first date on Halloween.  It was, by all accounts, a success.  Dustin is now mentally prepping for his "dads' wedding."  

Footnote the Fourth:  Lucienne has not yeeted the Cluracan into the nearest Bog of Abominable Stench.  Yet.  She has many accomplices willing to help.  Including Lord Morpheus himself.  The Cluracan's sister Nuala figures that her brother thoroughly deserves it.  

Footnote the Fifth:

"'Snow White's twin brother' REALLY?"

"Heh. Well, you've seen m'duck and it suits him. Now how did it go again? Skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, kissable red lips?"

"Good Lord, Gadling, you are BESOTTED. It's disgusting."

"Oi, mate, I don't go twitting you for YOUR taste in men - dark, broody, sore loser Highlanders, was it?"

"..." A sigh. "Another round?"

"Sounds about right. Their classes should be over soon. Cheers."

"Ta ever so."