#uncle dream

Illustration from the first chapter of my new fic My love will testify with married Dreamling. And bonus proud Uncle Dream and Jed wearing matching space shirts!

And look, he was with her through the worst of the writer's block, encouraged, advised and inspired her in the creative process. Also, he was responsible for dragging her off to Tesco's on ice cream runs, having learned the lessons of lovingly bullying and caring about one's fam.

What? That was how SHE got HIM to finally have the stones to love on a Certain Immortal History Professor without fear of epic catastrophe. He's returning the favor, that's all.

So Dream of the Endless agrees and he gets himself recorded reading her book.

It's released on the usual platforms.

It's an INSANELY popular hit. Like everyone is now: WHOMST?!! THAT VOICE?!!! HOLY SHIT!!! OMG!!!

Rose, who wasn't expecting THIS kind of crazy, inadvertently adds to the frenzy by staying mysterious about her "voice actor who wishes to stay anonymous, thank you."

Oh, it would totally hit him like a train. Once it all comes together and he understands this his bias is false. (Understand, you all have not seen what Dream has of the darker side of Nightmare. You will in time, but that part of him is no longer in control. This is why he is slow to accept, and as someone who has been manipulated by Nightmare before, it's why he is quick to assume such. But when he sees that Nightmare has changed and for the better he will be shocked. Sad... that is not him that his brother turns to as family, but still happy that his brother has a family. But wait... doesn't that make him...

Dream: Brother, does this make me an uncle?

Nightmare: W-what?!

Dream: Your men... I can feel the bond they have for you, they see you as their father. Thus, as your brother, would I not be their uncle?

Nightmare: I am... I am their employer!

Horror: hey dad, on the way home can we get food, i'm hungry.

Nightmare: Not right now Horror, besides we have food at home. Now as I was sa-

Killer: dad, i'm bored.

Nightmare: Just a moment Killer!

Cross holds his arms up: dad, i'm getting tired, can you carry me, please.

Nightmare curls a tendril around Cross, notices Dust is falling asleep standing up, and picks him up as well: Fine, but please, I'm arguing with my brother, no more interruptions!

Dust and Cross together: thanks, dad

Nightmare: You are welcome. Now, Dream, as I was... wait... what did you all call me?!

Dream standing there with bright eyelights and his hands to his mouth: I am an uncle!

For the record, this was ENTIRELY the fault of Rose Walker, who decided, for the good of ALL HUMANITY and the Dreaming, to push her Uncle towards one Professor Hob Gadling and "finally put an end to the frankly pathetic pining, I swear to God, Uncle Dream, he would be a complete IDIOT if he doesn't pounce on you the moment he sees you like that."

"I have every faith in his intelligence," Dream manages to deadpan, even though he's not quite able to stop his blushing.

"Whatever. Go get your man, Uncle Dream."

Hob Gadling was thoroughly "gotten" even though Hob dot exe completely crashed upon seeing Dream of the Endless not in his usual black. He did manage to recover his wits in time, with some help from his students, all of whom had caught on immediately and instinctively came to the aid of their favorite Shakespeare-hating cryptid professor.

***

In her defense, Rose was very new to this fame business.

She hadn't expected her first book to do so well, let alone the sequel.  It helped that she had the actual Prince of Stories challenging her when she felt stuck or tempted to tapdance past a particularly difficult scene or plot point.  That imperiously raised eyebrow was like a challenge she couldn't resist.  And then, she found herself writing the next few scenes without any issue.  

And of course, King Somnio was a joy of a character to write and if she indulged in a few in-jokes at her Uncle Dream's expense, then that was just a bonus?  In fact, Calliope herself blessed those efforts and laughed loudest at the "wet of cat" line, to the point of tears.

Today, Rose was on her way to class - Professor Gadling's lecture today promised to be very interesting - when she was joined by a magnificent-looking black cat. She reacted as any sensible person would.

"Awww! Hello, meow! Where'd you come from?"

"The Dreaming, although if one must be perfectly truthful, I did walk all the way here from the New Inn. It's a rather lovely day, isn't it?"

Rose was very proud that she did not scream. It was a near thing, though. Coherence was, unfortunately, not something she could manage at the moment. "Uncle Dream?!!! Cat?!! You?!! OMG?"

"Calm yourself, my dear Rose. Yes, it is I. And yes, sometimes, I am a Cat. The King of Cats, to be precise."

"How?!! Why?!!" Rose was rather glad that they seemed to be alone at the moment because she really needed to sit down. There was a nearby bench that she thankfully sank into. Her ridiculous feline Uncle gracefully leapt on the bench to sit beside her, fluffy tail curling elegantly about his legs. Naturally, he treated that bench like it was his throne.

"I must confess that everyone's daydreams seem to be a little... loud these days, especially when I walk amongst them in my human form." If it was possible for a cat to sigh, then Uncle Dream certainly managed it. "It is a trifle disconcerting, to attract so much attention."

Rose blinked. "Attention? What do you mean by that?"

"It is no concern - it will pass, as these things tend to do, eventually. I would much rather follow the daydreams of the one dearest to me." Mischief glinted in those unearthly blue eyes, that now held the slightest bit of feline gold. "They are far more... interesting."

Rose snorted. "I'm gonna stop you right there, Uncle Dream, before you go into TMI territory. Does Professor G know that you can turn into a cat?"

"No." That was a very definite feline smirk. "This should prove most amusing."

"Great, good to know your husband has charge of the brain cell today. Please try not to break our professor, Uncle Dream, we still need him to teach us, y'know?"

"I shall send Matthew your regards as he is indeed with Hob right now. And alas, I make no promises about breakages. But I shall wait after his class for that." Dream hopped off the bench. "Shall we?"

Rose shook her head and groaned. "How is this my life?"

On the bright side, Rose was glad that Dream had graciously allowed everyone's favorite history Professor to complete his lectures for the day in peace. It must be noted, however, that Robert Gadling did emerge from his office at the end of the day looking very rumpled and quite dazed. His husband, "Thomas Murphy," was wearing an expression that could only be called "cat-that-got-the cream."

Now here was a true, proper rogue.

Leather, yes, a black doublet with faded bits of gold, straining a bit against broad shoulders, pants that clung sinfully to a pair of handsome legs. He was, of course, armed to the teeth - a sword, a pair of daggers, possibly more hidden about his person.

White teeth gleamed in a charming grin. The rogue bows with a graceful flourish. "Give you good morrow, my sweet lord."

Dream of the Endless knows perfectly well how to respond to such impudence. Such audacity. It is very easy to slip on his most imperious airs, to remind everyone present that he is a prince, sovereign of his own kingdom. "Sweet? I know who you are, foul villain."

A gloved hand is pressed artfully to his chest. "I? How could I ever offend one so fair as you?"

"Tangina. Here we fuckin' go again."

"I blame you for this entirely, Rose Walker."

"Me? I didn't do anything!"

"One of them's your uncle, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And I have their braincell at the moment."

"Caw!"

"You got your phone out?"

"Hell yeah, I ain't missing a single blessed thing!"

Dream ignores the peanut gallery composed of his niece, his nephew, his Raven and the history and literature students he and his husband taught. He fully commits himself to the spirit of the role. "You are the Dread Pirate Roberts and you have murdered my true love. I demand satisfaction, sir."

The Dread Pirate Roberts shakes his head. "A dreadful misunderstanding I'm sure. I have killed ever so many 'true loves' I tend to lose track of the buggers." He sighs, even as his hand closes carefully around the hilt of his sword. "Pity. Their sweethearts tended to be faithless creatures, not worth a single tear."

"You dare."

The Dread Pirate Roberts, scourge of the seven seas, master swordsman, barely got his sword up in time against the fair Prince of Stories, wrathful and vengeance driven. Swords clashed and gleamed in the sunlight. Daggers were drawn. They were locked in a deadly, intricate dance, giving no quarter...

The Pirate and the Prince do not kill each other at this time.

"Since when did your Uncle Dream kick so much ass in a freakin' swordfight? I thought he just did the sand thing!"

"Of course Uncle Dream knows how to do more than just the sand thing! He's the Sandman!"

"We know, Jeddie - we just didn't know he was a Jedi, too!"

Everyone's favorite history and literature professors were, incidentally, having too much fun to pay attention to the peanut gallery, coming up with the most ridiculous overblown dramatic lines, barely keeping straight faces. But they did manage, such was their commitment to their chosen roles.

Nobody wanted to admit they sniffled at "Prince Buttercup's" anguished, heartfelt description of his lost love, the simple farmboy Hob.

"Do not mock my grief! I died that day. And now, I shall take you with me!"

Which of course led to this revelation:

"As...you...wish."

Obviously, this sword fight ended with the unmasking of the Dread Pirate Roberts as the Prince's long-lost love. And of course, the performance was capped off with a kiss that didn't really require any acting whatsoever.

It was said that there were five kisses that had been rated the most passionate and the most pure. This one in particular was filled with laughter and love and sunshine.

It was kiss number nine. The tenth one would be along in a very short while and there were endless ones behind it.

Incidentally, the ensuing video capturing all the romantic ridiculousness triggered yet another kilig apocalypse. All in a day's work for everyone's favorite cryptid pair.

-end-

** runs **

Here's the inspiration for the Dread Pirate Hob:

Lucienne saw this coming the moment she'd read the sequel to Rose's book.

It wasn't as if her Lord hadn't appeared in a few myths and legends before. Morpheus, the Mikado of All Night's Dreaming and the Sandman were part of the Great Stories, even though His Lordship had carefully ensured that his role was a minor one, brief mentions in dusty old scrolls and books, nursery rhymes for children. It wasn't unknown for him to be mistaken for some other god either, such as that prat Apollo, and he had never really cared greatly about such trivial matters.

(Lucienne had a long-standing grudge against the sun god, not that she would ever admit that out loud, but she still remembered comforting a shaking and crying Daphne. She had, in fact, taken great satisfaction in how she had thrown the sun go out of the Library, tail between his legs and ensuring that he was wounded in far more than his pride. Daphne was a very dear friend to her after all.)

But Rose Walker's story, of course, had brought His Lordship front and center, what with the way she had perfectly captured the mercurial and mysterious nature of his character in her first book. With such first-hand experience, Rose had shown the more dangerous aspect of the King of Dreams, which saddened Lucienne a little, as Rose had not a chance to see his capacity for kindness and the great heart that he'd kept so carefully hidden and guarded.

His Lordship, of course, had simply been very proud of the story Rose had written.

Lucienne, though, was far more happy to hear that His Lordship had apparently made amends with his niece and also frequently visited his nephew, much to Gault's astonishment, who had been continuing to care for the boy. Both children had shown an affinity for stories and storytelling, which partly explained matters. Still, Lucienne was not going to forget one memorable recent conversation she'd had with her Lord.

He had been dressed in attire far more casual than she had ever seen him - the black t-shirt with the bright yellow duck that had been gifted to him by Hob Gadling's students over a long-sleeved gray henley and comfortable jeans with the ever-present black boots.

"My Lord?!"

Morpheus had been unconcerned.  "I am taking Rose Walker to the nearest Tesco's."

"May I ask why?"

"I am told that there is a human rule that ice cream and cookies are excellent solutions to certain problems."

"Translation:  she's having major writer's block and feeling completely sorry for herself," Matthew cracked from his perch on Morpheus' shoulder.  

Morpheus absently ran a gentle finger against Matthew's feathers.  "Which will not do, so we shall endeavor to be of assistance."  

Lucienne shook her head, still not quite over the sight of Morpheus in the duck t-shirt.  She had heard about the whole "Duck of the Endless" business and it was a struggle to maintain her composure.  "If it helps, m'lord, the sequel has already appeared in the Library and I will be reading it tonight."

"No spoilers!" Matthew squawked.

"Well, obviously."  

That got her one of His Lordship's now increasingly-frequent tiny smiles.  It was quite gratifying to learn that there were more people in Lord Morpheus' life who were capable of drawing out said smiles.  "Indeed.  But perhaps a little inspiration would not go amiss.  She has quite a gift, after all and it is only right that we should nurture it."  

"Boss, if you were any prouder of her, you'd burst," Matthew cackled.  

"Hush, Matthew."

Lucienne had settled in to read Rose Walker's still-unwritten sequel - the perks of being the Librarian of the Dreaming.  She had a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows and a few snacks to go with it.  Snottor and Fauntleroy had the running of the Library clearly in hand.  

She read.  In blissful peace and quiet, with some occasional sips of chocolate.  

The character of King Somnio had developed quite a bit from its previous incarnation and Lucienne was rather pleased that this time, Rose's changed perspective of her uncle had a clear effect in her writing.  

And then, with a curious mix of amusement and horror, she realized something.  

King Somnio.  Fair of face, dumb of ass, pure of heart, wet of cat - as Rose herself had eloquently put it in her book, from the perspective of its heroine.  

Oh dear.  His Lordship was going to develop quite the following after this.  This was going to be even worse than his current stint teaching at the university.

-tbc-