domi|note

Thanks to DontCrossTheFox, LordCooler, Taichi L. Yagami, Undead009, Ficfan412, Exploder, DaddlerTheDalek, Yuke Navy Pilot, HalfWright, Ija, Subzero Inferno and TheFunGuy for reviewing the last chapter.

warning:- We're not just smashing the fourth wall, we're going to chop it up into tiny little pieces, eat it, regurgitate it and then set it on fire.

disclaimer:- Anything that doesn't belong to me, doesn't belong to me. There are just too many references to other things at the moment.

Enjoi…


When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. ~Mark Twain
...
Anthem of Our Dying Day
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Chapter Forty Five
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"Strange. Strange. In your perfect world. So strange, strange. I feel so absurd in this life."
...
Disco
by Metro Station


Somewhere in the (not so) sunny country of Australia, two bored kids were replaying Assassins Creed II in an attempt to get one-hundred percent("Damn you, Ezio! It's impossible to miss the fucking haystack!")while the girl's lonely -ever so lonely- laptop lie untouched with a half finished copy of Anthem of Our Dying Day Chapter Forty Four screaming, "Finish me! You stupid bitch," to which the fantastic author replied, "I shall not! For inspiration eludes me", to which the digital disaster replied, "Fuck you," as if an electronic device could talk without the consent of its masters.

At that thought, said author looked around to make sure that the rest of her electronics, such as the iron or the toaster were not rebelling either. Her PS2 had received a time out for being out of date, and refusing to play such classics such as Sonic Riders or Crash of the Titans. A revolt in her own household would not do her well, especially when her only other means of entertainment was her trusty sketchbook… which happened to be missing at the moment.

"What about me?" the boy (I think) asked.

"Are you reading my mental monologue?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

"Yes," he replied, "you're writing it down on the computer after all."

To her surprise, her hands were slowly typing out her thoughts, which was an insult in itself because normally her train of thought was actually very fast, but at the moment it seemed to be running around circles like a headless-

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because you've been typing-"

Much to her chagrin, she had repeated the word 'Chicken' for the last three lines. The word taunted her; she hadn't had anything to eat for the last twenty-four hours.

Chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken parrot chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken Jet chicken chicken chicken chicken…

"Oh shut up, Kobie. Nobody cares about your opinion anyway," she spat, getting up to prepare her breakfast/lunch/afternoon tea.

She continued watching her neighbour and co-writer running around the streets of Venice as a Florentine assassin dressed in an overly complicated red-white ensemble, doing dumb things like shove aside people holding boxes only to watch them drop, before there was an explosion and then a poof of smoke materialising in her lounge room.

Since this was a common occurrence, she sighed and then looked in her appointment book. It seemed that she hadn't sold her soul to the devil yet, and maybe he was making another attempt to barter down the price. Or the grim reaper might have had a bone (LOL) to pick with her about disposing one too many bodies in the sewers instead of the cemetery where they belonged. So she was surprised to note that before her appeared her favourite Sonic OC, someone that she had been tinkering with the idea of since she was seven years old. Now that she was sixteen, it seemed that her characters had become as bitchy and mentally unstable as herself.

Kobie, being the coward that he was, hid behind the sofa and held up a cross, which had also materialised out of nowhere. She swore she hit her vampire hunting equipment in the attic where her rather nosey co-writer would not find it. She didn't want another incident like last time; she still had spaghetti stuck to her ceiling after all, "Begone foul creature!"

Domi rolled her eyes and turned to Caleb, "Is there a reason for the spontaneous combustion in my living room?" She turned her head to the sofa, which had caught on magical rainbow fire, courtesy of the POWER OF FICTION! (Batteries not included.)

"You know what this is about you manipulative asshat!" the fox growled, pulling out a small little white book decorated with pink polka dots and a picture of pink Converse sneakers. "Not only does reading the script from a flowery book from a cute little Asian shop called 'Morning Glory' make me feel emasculated, but then you insult me with the content? What is wrong with you?"

"There, there," she said, grabbing Caleb's head and petting it, as one would a cat. He struggled out of her grasp, managing to slip out of it. His eyes darted over to the laptop. Kobie notices it before she did, but alas, the super fast reflexes that she had gifted Caleb with led to her demise. The fox snatched up the computer, and fled out the door yelling, "No! My life will not be controlled by a sadistic author and her weird obsession with fucking my life over! Is it too much to ask for a nice quiet life as the bartender at some strip club somewhere?"

"Yes!" both of them replied, to which Caleb promptly gave each other them the finger.

As both the author and the second co-author watched their Sonic OC disappear into the world of fanfiction with one of the most powerful tools of the literary universe (her USB and laptop) they wondered what havoc an OC who scored eighteen on the Mary-Sue test could possibly accomplish, and how they would go about righting this mistake…

And then they remembered that Assassins Creed was only eighty-five percent finished and she hadn't finished her breakfast.


Therapy by All Time Low


Caleb was now sitting on the kitchen table of the Black Arms, having promptly returned a minute prior. At first he had needed the help of Lacy to break the fourth wall, but since he now had the all powerful USB and laptop, he could do it as much as he'd like. His body tingled with all of the evil possibilities that he could incur on this story.

He spent a good hour perusing through the USB content, flipping through the picture files and discovering pictures of himself from 2005, which was extremely odd because he was born in the year 3218. He flipped through the music files and promptly copied everything to his own ipod. Then he ventured into uncharted territory and came out blushing and needing a cold, cold shower. Finally, he found the files to the future plans of Anthem of Our Dying Day as she had fitfully named the folder (after an amazing song) and browsed through what she had planned for them.

Tails sat down to eat his afternoon snack and tried to initiate conversation, but Caleb was too immersed in whatever was on the laptop, spending the entirety of it nibbling his claws or ripping out his hair. He was also noted to be talking to himself, saying odd things like 'How dareshe,' and 'Oh, my screaming Chaos monkeys in glittering pink drag'.

Obviously some statements were more worrying than others.

He left the fox to his own devices, after he had tried to look over his shoulder and Caleb had simply hissed at him to go away (for his own sake, of course. He did not want to see what was making Caleb so riled up).

At one point, the fox had broken down crying.

Wave tried to comfort him, but he simply pushed her away and swore revenge. Sweet, bloody revenge.

After he had pulled himself together, he closed all of the future plans to their story and opened the word document to the forty-third chapter.

He could accept the fact that his life was a figment of someone else's imagination, but he'd be damned if he didn't have some control over what was happening. First, he would right all of the things that had gone wrong with his life, being the selfish git that he was. His father died from a 'tragic' car accident, and his mother raised both he and his sister in a prosperous loving home.

Then he realised something…

He hadn't met Arly.

That means that he wouldn't have made it in the art industry anyway, because he didn't have any courage or charisma. His artistic talent was not fuelled with his own emotions, making his work shallow and bland.

Worst than that, being a spoilt-rotten rich kid that had next to no social interaction, he wouldn't loose his virginity until he was at least twenty-three! LE GASP!

Alright, so he changed that so his mother sent him to GUN Academy… but why? The document refused to admit the words, because they had no logical reason behind it, and even being an artistic genius, he could not come up with a suitable reason for his mother to send him to GUN Academy. She would shelter him and love him; she would never let her dear baby go to 'the big mean military school'.

Fine! Say he became a badass and decided to run away from home to see what life was outside of the sheltered high class rich school that the Princess attended?

What do you mean 'DOES NOT COMPUTE?'

He slammed his hand on the table, seething at the laptop in his grip. So fine, he brought back his father, so that the ignorant git could send him to GUN Academy. BUT WAIT! Bringing back his father meant the inevitable death of his mother. Shit. He growled and decided he would get back to that problem later.

Let's try and save Arly.

So when CENSORED happened and CESORED he pulled out his gun and aimed at CESORED instead CENSORED and CENSORED leading to CESORED, CENSORED and buttsex.

Wait, what?

He looked over the words he had typed, wondering how anal sex had wriggled its way into the equation at all. Among the complicated theories, anything replacing buttsex would ultimately equal Rebecca Black, which was probably ten times worse.

Unfortunately, his actions involving Arly surviving eventually led to Lottie's demise.

Nice one, Heartnet. Some big brother you are.

He then thought about reprogramming his own personality, but that involved completely rewriting both of his parent's histories. And re-writing his parent's history could lead to him not being born in the first place, so he didn't want to risk it, else he explode into a puff of non-existence.

In the end, the sound of Caleb banging his head against the table and chanting 'FML. FML. FML' could be heard throughout the entire building.


DOCAMOCK by Smashmouth


So in the end, Caleb decided to leave his own history alone, deciding to get some help from Cesario so that he could re-write his life later. To vent his problems, he'd take it out on the inhabitants of the Black Arms for his selfish amusement.

Something he had found interesting unrelated to the Anthem of Our Dying Day plot was a nice little folder titled It's a Technician Thing, in which he discovered the origin of Tails' dissatisfaction with chocolate and popcorn mixed together ("IT'S AN ABOMINATION!") and the abject fear that Jet possessed in getting his tongue cut out ("Someone's been watching too much Death Silence,") further more, he found the author's obsession with Romantically Apocalyptic and Call of Duty worrying to an incredible extent. He'd also found a list of inspirations for their story, and was horrified to realise that Dawn of the Dead and Zombieland were on there. Recent internet searches also revealed that they would have to deal with something that was also result of the book Hunger Games and a fiction induced by the music of Marylin Manson.

He was worried to say the least.

He watched the blinking cursor of the half page, wondering what the write and what would happen if he did. He'd start off small and then figure it out from there.

'Shadow walked into the living room and tripped over Sonic, who was lying on the floor.'

Sonic was in fact, lying on the floor. Caleb was pleasantly surprised to see Shadow enter from the garage and –right on time- snag his foot on Sonic's leg and fall flat on his face. He grinned at all the evil he could still inflict all on the people that surrounded him.

Over the course of three hours, Caleb watched with a tape recorder as the inhabitants of the Black Arms Garage went absolutely nuts. Tails was forced to eat a Mars Bar, leading to the ultimate demise of Shadow's shoes, which were now filled with steaming hot ramen. Jet was (once again) running around Black Arms with Tails on his tail feathers, a comically large pair of tweezers in his hands under the impression he could trade some feathers for crackers. He didn't remember how, be he was pretty sure Shadow was the reason the fridge had exploded, and as for Amy being tied to the couch like some kind of virgin sacrifice… he couldn't remember either, nor did he want to. Knuckle's hiding place in the closet was the result of a combination of events involving spaghetti, an Xbox 360 console, a multi-coloured sex toy, one of Caleb's favourite books and a fresh batch of grapes. Storm was underneath the table in the foetal position, murmuring 'May Enlil save us' over and over again.

"IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS RATED PG-13, STOP DOING THAT!"

Even though programming his own personality was difficult, re-wiring everyone else's had been done with incredible ease. However, when he tried to turn them back, he panicked when he realised that he couldn't.

He slammed his fist on the table again trying to delete the document when something flashed on the screen.

"ACCESS DENIED."

"Why?" he asked the laptop, irritation blatant in his obvious screaming.

"The author is having too much fun with the prospect of you suffering for over ruling her. By the power of Wi-Fi connection, she has terminated your control and now proceeds to watch with amusement as you're threatened with aloe vera bottles."

"What? No!" he cried, watching as three floating bottles followed him around the kitchen before he promptly started running for his life as well.

He was vaguely aware of Tails painting Silver's claws a bright pink colour, Cream in the background screaming in mortification, Marine, who had been painted to resemble a zebra and Blaze who was speaking like a high school cheerleader with an IQ that matched her age.

He was so focused on making sure the bottles didn't catch him that he didn't notice the wall materialise out of absolutely nowhere, and he ran, smack dab into it. When he came to, a few minutes later, Shadow and Sonic were hovering over him like doctors at an operation. It might have been, because Caleb's head was pounding. In his hand was… was… an empty aloe vera bottle.

Out of absolutely nowhere, Shadow and Silver started fighting over Sonic, who had materialised a frilly pink Elizabethan dress and was fluttering his eyelashes behind an equally frilly, flowery fan. Well, it seemed like they were fighting over Sonic, but were actually just spasmodically slapping each other and kicking each other's shins. He was absolutely sure that at one point Silver threw a conveniently placed laundry basket of Hannah Montana t-shirts, landing six meters away from his target. Somewhere in the room, wrestling became hugging each other and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears.

"DOMINATE ME! CALL ME A SLUT!" he didn't know who said that, but it sounded suspiciously like Sonic.

Fuck my life.


Bad Dog (Easy does it Remix) by Neon Hitch


One aspect of the aloe vera hangover he had gotten used to was not remembering what he had done last night. It was just like any other hangover, except his moods were still hypersensitive… as well as other parts of his body.

Around him, everyone else was waking up in a similar state, covered in chocolate spread or otherwise.

He winced when he tried to move, horrified.

"My…"

"What?" Tails, who was adorn in a purple toga and had had a monocle/swirly moustache drawn onto his muzzle, asked.

"My ass hurts."

There was a collective sense of dread between all of the men before everyone screeched, "IT WAS SILVER!"

"NO IT WASN'T!"

After Caleb discovered that his behind suffered because he'd fallen on his rear after tumbling down the stairs, a COMPLETELY SEX-FREE act, he used the magical teleporting abilities of the laptop to return back to the real world.

In the human world, it was still afternoon or perhaps the teenagers had been doing the same thing for the entire weekend, which happened to be vegging out and playing video games. The only difference now was that Domi was pulling apart a packet of Oreos and Kobie was playing some kind of first-person shooter game.

They seemed totally at ease with the situation while he had suffered for the last few hours.

"Happy now?" the author asked, brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I hate you."

"Would you like some cake?" she replied, holding it out and making him wonder where it had materialised for her.

He threw it out of her hands, "That cake is a fucking lie!"

"Alright!" she replied happily, "you're life is genetically engineered to suck. Not bad for a story planned whenever I have the free time."

"Die."

"U mad?"

"YES!"

"Aww, poor sweetheart," she smirked, pointing to the laptop.

"What's going to happen to the chapter I screwed over?" he asked, and Domi grinned and pulled out… a backup USB.

odnjewndewdewdsd-fuck!

"Go on, shoo," she said; waving her hand dismissively and Caleb disappeared in a puff of fiction smoke.

"So, it's going to be like the chapter never happened?" Kobie asked. "Isn't that a waste of time?"

She rolled her eyes. Her blond best friend could be a little idiotic sometimes, "Don't worry about it. It's like…" she thought for a second, "like Sonic 06 all over again."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I can do whatever I like!" she replied haughtily, "I'm the author."

Why did she keep Kobie around anyway? Welshscot, somewhere on the other side of the world, didn't give this much trouble.

Oh yes, she didn't keep him around, he climbed the tree in his backyard to reach her bedroom whenever he was bored. FML.

"Now that you've given him a taste of freedom, do you think he'll be back?"

"Not if I fill the USB with something much more scarring this time," she laughed deviously, downloading pictures from In the Night Garden and the Nyan Cat loop.

She found the corrupted document, highlighted the content, and hit delete.


April Fools!