TopazRiver3

Hetalia (now also known as Atlas, as suspicion would arise if six of the newest students at Hogwarts were to be called by their fandom names) stared at the brick wall before him, unsure of what to do. He had been instructed to run straight through it, but he had some obvious reservations about the plan. Last time he checked, brick walls were pretty solid, and solid things weren't the best things to try to run through. Still, he could see no other way to get to the train he was supposed to take, and at the worst he'd look like a fool, fall on his butt, and possibly be scolded - nothing that hadn't happened to him before. After taking a deep

Panting, Hetalia leaned on the outer wall of one of the surrounding buildings, the sunbathed surface uncomfortably warm against his sweat-soaked shoulder. After bolting from the Cornucopia at top speed, switching streets every now and then to avoid a clear path from the mutts to him, he was almost breathless, his knees weak from the seemingly endless run and sudden lack of adrenaline. One thought managed to break through his fatigue, though; where was Homestuck? They were supposed to have run in the same direction... With some difficulty, Hetalia climbed the vines that had overgrown the building he had been leaning against and up to the roof

The late August sun shone down on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, bathing the castle in brilliant light. The wounds inflicted on the school, the country, the whole world even, by Voldemort and his Death Eaters had by now healed as much as they ever would, leaving behind but scars and stories of heinous villainy and heroic sacrifices. The Boy Who Lived had long since said farewell to the first place he remembered ever feeling truly at home, and many teachers had by now retired. Despite all of the changes inside and outside of the school, those who still taught at Hogwarts could still feel the familiar buzz of anticipation in the a

The moment the gong rang, Supernatural spread his wings and shot up into the air, coming to a stop about fifteen feet up, well above the dog muttations. He hovered in his spot for a moment, looking for an opening where he could swoop down and snatch some supplies. Before long he found one, where a rather large green backpack lay quite far from the Cornucopia. Shifting his weight forward, he plunged into a dive, grabbed the pack by one of its straps, and pulled up just in time to avoid smashing into the ground. As he looked back down from his regained height, he saw three of the giant dogs snarling up at him, almost daring him to try that mane

Doctor Who observed the outfit he had been assigned carefully, keeping his mind busy and trying to predict as much about the arena as he could. The fabric was not particularly heavy or light- the climate wouldn't be terribly hot or cold. Either that or it would be both. Probably not a desert or tundra, then. The outfit, composed of a simple, light blue shirt, black pants, already broken-in boots, and a light jacket, seemed to be designed in large part for comfort, movement, and flexibility. There weren't any other noticeable advantages to the outfit that gave much of a clue as to what the environment in the Arena would be like. When someone

The Hunger Games fandom stood nervously in line, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. After a day of training with her escort and mentor, it was time for her interview- well, not hers, not yet, but it would be shortly. As she waited, little snippets from other interviews drifted into her anxious conscience. '...so, what are some things that have struck you as... different in the Capitol than in the main District?' 'Well, the food is quite different here than in the outer District. It's quite nice, actually.' 'Ah, yes, I've heard that...' 'So, do you have any ideas of what the Arena might be like this year? Any predictions abou

Portal sat on the couch of the fifth floor of the Training Center, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she awaited the broadcast of the training scores for this year's tributes. To her left sat Supernatural, and on her right sat the two fandoms' mentor, the Welcome to Night Vale fandom. The television set in front of the couch sprung to life, and the first airing of the program that was to announce the scores and play a large part among the initial favoritism in the audience had begun. "Hello, and welcome to the very first broadcast covering the training of the tributes of this year's Fandom Games!" the announcer began. "The batch of com

"Hey, demon!" Supernatural strode over to the trap setting station, where the Homestuck fandom was having trouble setting up a spring trap of some sort. "What the hell do you want?" Homestuck asked, looking up from his work and glaring daggers at the other. "I need to talk to you." Lowering his voice as he looked around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, he continued. "Doctor Who told me to spread the message of this... plan that he has to sort of show up the Capitol, to tell them that we're all together." Homestuck raised an eyebrow, now clearly interested. "We're supposed to work together in the arena as much as we can, help each