He heard a saying a long time ago: "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." He refused to think it applied to Cloud, for he was an enemy and Sephiroth didn't have the heart.

In which Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are dimension-hopping superheroes. Kind of. More or less.

He bled out on the snowy grounds of the Night’s Watch, not expecting to wake again. But he did wake, and it was not in the forlorn outreaches of the Wall, but back at Winterfell, where King Robert Baratheon was a day’s ride away… Old Nan had always warned against changing fate, but how can Jon refuse a chance to prevent the game of thrones?

Artwork on Naruto fanfic Reverse by Blackkat, based on interesting character interactions and descriptions.

oh my god I just read a post that was like “fuck this nonsense send MACE WINDU back in time to unfuck the prequels!!” and now I will never, ever be satisfied until I find the 300k version of that fic, ever. I NEED THIS FIC LIKE I NEED AIR. WHY IS THIS FIC NOT ALREADY IN MY HANDS??

Hibari Kyouya travels in time and takes over the world.

“Wade and I have a tradition whenever one of us turns out not to be dead.” She smiles at Cable politely. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” “And by dinner, she means bare minimum twelve hours of the most animalistic ravaging of each others’ naughty bits that you can see outside Bangkok, big boy. Really putting the freak in fan-freaking-tastic multi-orgasmic cum-marathon.” “So what do you say?” Cable grinds his jaw for a second, but honestly, who would pass up these A-listers? “Why the hell not?”

Sansa burns Winterfell as the Night King approaches. Somehow, her story continues.

No one knows what the Council is hiding, but the effects ripple throughout the galaxy. Anakin knows he is loved. Former slaves are freed. A long-lost Master and his Padawan are returned to the Temple. No one understands how Obi-Wan Kenobi does these things, but they are grateful for it anyway. A time-travel story from the points of view of everyone but the time travelers.

The light overhead isn't from Minion island's overcast sky but instead a steel plated ceiling shining down fluorescence, glass and plastic bottles rattling on shelves against the walls. Everywhere there's monitors and familiar machinery and the distinct tang of antiseptic, sharp beyond the memory sense of blood and snow. For half a second Law looks at it all very blankly and thinks, What The Hell. Is he dreaming. Is he hallucinating. Is he just plain dead. His sight-line completes the rotation of this impossibility to fall upon speckled jeans and a long sweeping coat. And the man standing in front of Law has the blankest expression Law's ever seen. And the man standing in front of Law has Law's father's face. Underneath Law's blood-slicked fingers, Cora-san's pulse shudders. (This is a story where the past and the present collide. Wherein thirteen year old Trafalgar Law and twenty-six year old Rocinante tumble sideways through time-space via the blue desperation of a newly eaten devil fruit, from Minion island to a future distant. Right, unwittingly, onto the submarine deck of a another Law shortly after Doflamingo’s fall.)

If Wen Qing had realized sooner that she wasn’t in the afterlife or hallucinating, but had actually traveled back in time, she’d have done things differently. There’d have been less murder, for one thing.

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

Waking up two years before their adventure even began was a surprise. The Straw Hats have to find each other again and make their way back to the New World and their dreams. Dealing with younger, weaker bodies and the weight of future knowledge they will find it's not as easy as a simple do-over. Every change has an effect on themselves and on the world. This story will quickly diverge from cannon. It will mix up, move around and ignore entire arcs. These guys are not looking for a boring adventure when they already have answers. What's the point in doing it all the same?

Jon finds himself wandering. His feet carry him to one of the battlements, snow coming down in soft-feathered waves that dust the rooftops. Winterfell is alive with light, windows glowing and chimneys smoking, and Jon can't remember the last time he saw it so full of life, walls still standing tall. This Winterfell has never seen a Bolton occupation, has never witnessed the march of the dead, the wrath of dragon fire. It is eight years before the fall of the Wall, and it feels like a dream. Jon still can't bring himself to completely believe it. Mance Rayder is not yet King Beyond The Wall, the Free Folk have not yet begun to gather, and what stories there are of White Walkers and the dead that walk are still only that, just stories. It has not yet begun, Jon thinks, dread sinking in his stomach. And then- It has not yet begun, Jon thinks again, the thought taking on a new turn in his mind. - Jon has been given a second chance, a chance to change everything.

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.