Sasuke Uchiha is cheerful, forever smiling, and deadly with a sword in hand. Team 7 is cohesive, capable, and formidable apart but unbeatable when together. This world is better for all of it. [OR: Takeshi and Sasuke are one and the same. Mafioso and shinobi aren't so different, after all.]

In a world where Fugaku has three sons, he wishes he'd stopped at the one. There's nothing wrong with the youngest, it's just... The middle child.

From the beginning, there was something odd about Namimori. In a world where every city had its own method of dealing with the bane of humanity that were ghouls, Namimori was the first place Reborn had ever been that felt safe to him. People were calm and unafraid on the streets, even after dark. It was remarkable and at first he thought it was due to the fact that Namimori's police force had some sort of foolproof guard against ghouls. But then he noticed the distinct lack of graveyards. By the time Reborn really understood what kept Namimori safe, it was too late to do anything about it. After all, the successor was being tutored, the guardians were chosen, and Xanxus was bearing down on them with half the Vongola rings and all of his wrath. All there was left to do was wait and see.

“Oh, fuck,” Squalo says, thankfully at about a quarter of his normal volume, as he tumbles to lean against the wall beside Xanxus. “This is like with that shitty Bronco all fucking over again, don’t you fucking dare.”

When Uzumaki Naruto breathed his last, he didn’t expect to wake up in the world of the living again. He was old, and tired, and so, so ready to move on. And, well...he wanted to see his wife again, dammit. But, of course, that wasn't what happened. Why? Naruto screamed at the powers-that-loved-to-fuck-with-his-life-and-now-his-afterlife-too, with tears streaking down his cheeks, feeling cold, weak, hungry, and utterly disgusted. Because you’re everybody’s bitch, Kurama helpfully supplied.