For now this is just a one shot in which I blend all of my dearly beloved fandoms into one destructive mix of exploding colobairation, I might turn it into a longer story if the time and inspiration but meh, take those pins out of your nose and just take a look ;)

I do not own Harry Potter, nor the Hunger Games, or either Supernatural and The Mortal Instruments. I don't own Gallagher Girls, Heist Society, Pirates of the Caribbean and Divergent either. Others could be added later. If you don't know what any of these fandoms are there will come a time when you do not fully understand a sentance.

Forever yelling. Crying. Screaming. Always screaming. Fighting. Forever fighting the truth, the truth of what they are. A crazed boy with an oddly shaped scar rocks in his padded cell, left convinced of his quest to banish a dark lord he is bound to in away nobody understands. Discarded by the employees to shout his many made up words of nonsense until they find a drug to stop it.

A straight-jacket with a braid calls for her children she curses herself for having. Even though she never had them. As nonexistent as the games of death trials she dreams about, sobbing over the deaths that never happened. Asking for people back, people with silly names; she asks for Prim and Cinna, others by the name of Rue and Finnick, most of all she cries for her children and a man named Peeta. These people are just her imagination.

A blonde girl with tattoos, shouting silly numbers. Always the same number, a number just below five. She has complained more than once to the staff that care for her about the birds bent on her demise. She is full of regret, regret she needn't feel. Fake stories of the tragedies of Will she will never stop apologizing for, in addition to that she cries her apologies for Christina, the employees assume the two fictionalized incidents must have been related.

In the occasions the red head is allowed leisurely activities with the supervision of her onlooker she makes for the crayons, only to waste hours on end drawing crazy scribbles of nonsense, some upon herself. She stopped when they took the crayons away from her. And in sleep she calls for a boy named Jace. A stupid, silly name created by a girl gone insane; but a few doors down the hall that handsome young Jonathon jumps and tries to flip and yells, cursing everybody by the name of mundane.

A handsome man in dreadlocks attempts similar tricks, always plotting random bursts of escape that despite the compassionate training; amuse the carers to no end.

An equally handsome man wanders the hall to warn as many people he can of one sided shapes with a distinctive curve, between orders to follow common street birds.

One man is convinced he is an Angel, looking on over the two that demand salt at dinner time, as long as they have easy access to a flame at the same time. The staff of the asylum tried to separate them but the three caused so much disaster they left them close with strong security for meals. Employees faced with the choice of starving one patient or feeding him pie.

And the girl at the bottom of the corridor, who steals anything she can lay her hands on, rather expertly if the manager who is faced with constantly filling out forms says so herself, but oddly enough that girl at the bottom of the corridor appears to be the one most determined to heal herself, to live a normal life. But it is in her nature, much like every other patient at this hospital, to be abnormal.