A Totally Not Metal Fairy Tale

Rating: G
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None
Warnings: Rodents (and people wearing things they really shouldn't be wearing)
Summary: Murderface is called to go on a great quest.
Notes: Me and the Squirrel needed some crack. I offer into evidence a portion of our IM conversation as evidence -

Silvarbelle: *flicks tail* The squirrel feels the need to dress Murderface's hair in pink barrettes. And thread pink beads into his moustache. >>
Magic Rat: Double dare ya
Silvarbelle: *waits for him to pass out drunk* Murderface: *WHUMP! snorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre* Squirrel Vicious: *CACKLE* ... *stalks toward him, tail thrashing fuzzily, hums as unicorns and smiling suns and flowers in pink plastic are clipped into place, giving him mini-afro puffs*
Silvarbelle: Murderface Topiary! It's the latest rage.
Silvarbelle: ... Or WILL be, once he wakes up and sees this. XD
Silvarbelle: SV: *moves on to threading the 'stache* Phew! Rotgut breath! The stench of a thousand salamis.
Magic Rat: I think you and I are due a totally random and goofy metal fic
Silvarbelle: *grins* We is.
Magic Rat: Joo has given Rat bunny.
Silvarbelle: SV: *begins threading pink opaque and glass beads into Murderface's 'stache until, finally, he has a "beaded curtain" effect around his mouth* Mwee!
Silvarbelle: SV: *scampers off to hide in Tokihair*
Magic Rat: You hide. Rat now go write Most Unmetal Fairy Tale.
Silvarbelle: *mwees!*

This story has an accompanying illustration Bonevene.

William Murderface opened one eye and stared sourly at the thing before him. Two things, actually. Both were fuzzy, one grey, one red. The red fuzzy thing was wearing a leather flight helmet and goggles, and was probably a squirrel. The grey thing was wearing a pointed blue hat and smoking a cigar. They were mere inches from his face, and were studying him with quiet intensity.

He really was gonna have to speak to Pickles about leaving spiked drinks around for people to find.

“Go away. I don’t talk to hallushinations before noon.”

The rat took the cigar out of her mouth. “It’s three thirty in the afternoon,” said the Rat.

“Well it’s still before noon somewhere in the world. Why are you in my bed?”

The rat and squirrel exchanged glances, then the rat sat up on her hind feet.

“We are here to beg your assistance on a great quest. Only you can help us! For you are indeed the chosen one, he who above all others is suited for this task.”

Murderface tried to process what the rat was saying. Wait… maybe this wasn’t a hallucination after all. Maybe this was like… some sort of great quest thing. And he was the chosen one!

Bitchin’!

“So, uh… what seems to be the problem?”

“Thank you, oh great one! We come from the land of Slash.”

“Well that sounds metal.”

The rat and squirrel exchanged glances. “Yeah… well… here’s the thing. You see, all our plotbunnies escaped, and if you do not help us, the hutches of all slash writers shall forever remain empty! Never more will there be OTP’s, or mary-sues, or mpreg. No more shall we see hurt/comfort spiced up with a little non-con and BDSM. The flamers shall be left without things to bitch about, the trolls will be homeless, and worst of all, never again shall we be blessed with PWP. The bunnies are gone. The Land of Slash shall dwell ever more in darkness. Unless you, William Murderface, rise to assist us, our world is doomed.”

Murderface slowly sat up. His initial urge was to tell the both of these things to get the f//guitar riff//k away from him, but…

“I’m the only one who can help?”

The rat and squirrel nodded solemnly in unison.

Yeah he probably should tell them both to go to hell, but… on the other hand… when was he ever going to get a chance to be a hero ever again?

“Well, I suppose that’s only logical, I mean… I am awesome and all that.”

“But you cannot go without magical assistance!” said the rat. “Take these! They are powerful artefacts, and when you wear them you shall be invisible to all eyes, able to breathe fire, and to smite armies with a single blow from your mighty fist!”

Murderface accepted the obviously enchanted duffle bag from the rat and looked into it. His eyes grew large in horror.

“I can’t wear this! I’ll look like a douchebag!”

“You will be invisible!” said the rat.

“But…! I mean..! LOOK at this!”

“Well it’s up to you,” said the rat. “If you do not wish to be the great fire-breathing hero, smiting all foes and saving the Land of Slash from doom, I suppose we could go ask Hansen…”

“No! I’ll do it!”

“Wear only what is in the bag!” said the rat. “Anything else will ruin the spell!”

“And… you’re sure I will be invisible?”

“To all and everything, only you will be able to see yourself. Hurry! The plot bunnies must be saved before sunset!”

A half an hour later William Murderface walked out of his bedroom wearing only a short rufflie pink tutu that showed off his hairy, pimple-dotted butt rather well, a fluffy tiara of pink bird feathers, size thirteen gold high heels with fluffy pink rabbit fur on the toe, enormous pink fairy wings, and clutching a sparkly wand. He then bent over and proceeded to hop rabbit-fashion down the hall towards the front door of Mordhaus. The rat and squirrel watched him go.

“Huh,” said the rat. “I would have sworn he’d never go for it. Okay, you win, here’s your two jars of Nutella.”