#1

Danny: Punch me in the face. Zack: …Punch you? Danny: Yes, punch me, didn’t you hear me? Zack: I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ while you’re speaking but it’s usually just subtext.

Yakuza FemDanny Loop

Danny: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart-shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Jay: I wrote you a poem. Danny, already crying: You did?

#7

Daniel wasn't born invincible, although most people wouldn't be able to tell you that. Even in the first loop, he had first crawled through the filth before reaching the top. But it hadn't been enough. This is why, in every loop after that one, for at least a few dozen of them he had approached people like Gun, Goo, and Diego to teach him. Some were harder to convince than others and some would downright refuse to teach him until he found a way to prove to them he was worthy. He had to do things that he didn't dare to remember some days.

He remembered the first time he was made to kill.

His second loop, Gun had been much crueler than he usually was. He made his two masterpieces fight to the death, just for the sake of it. Daniel orphaned a little girl that day. He couldn't bare to look in the mirror for weeks, but he pushed on. He needed to be stronger! So, the boy-turned-killer gritted his teeth and force-fed himself sleeping pills every night.

The second time he killed it came much easier.

Perhaps because he was still reeling from the first one. It was only a few weeks after Eli's blood had covered his hands that another lay before him with his neck broken. It had been so easy it was gut-churning, like breaking a particularly tough twig. He emptied the contents of his stomach in a bush nearby, but couldn't find it in himself to regret it very much. It was horrifying to realize he regretted getting caught and ending up in juvie more than killing Zoe's stalker.

The third time's the charm, right? It wasn't.

That night he stumbled into a bar and drank himself into obliviousness to forget the feeling of a too-small boy beneath the tips of his fingers. He had killed a kid, not much younger than himself, a year at maximum, but a kid! The feeling of bile rising in his throat hadn't left him for the entire loop. When he woke up he was in a cell, with policemen looking down at him with a mix of disgust and horror. They regarded him as a monster, and Daniel deserved it. It didn't take long to get a confession out of him and back to juvie he went. It didn't matter, the phantom touch lingering whenever he clutched his fist was still there.

When the fourth came he still cried.

By the time of the fifth, he lost his appetite completely.

The sixth came with mandatory visits to the therapist's office.

The seventh brought on a new therapist and sturdier cuffs.

It helped, incredibly. There was no more killing in that loop, and the couple that followed.

The eight was accidental, and it left Daniel screaming and crying, and vomiting hysterically. He wasn't locked up for that one, but he somehow found his way back to the therapist's office. The first one he tried had left him with a bitter taste on his tongue. The second one knew exactly which buttons to push. It was a miracle Daniel didn't end up with a ninth corpse to the ever-growing pile attached to his name.

Finally, after a lot of breakdowns and unhelpful psychologists, Danny ended up meeting a nice lady by the name of Robin Lim, who managed, with an amount of ungodly patience and calm, to get through to him. It wasn't a sudden catharsis that left him feeling the office a thousand tons lighter, but it was like the steady flow of a stream, growing quicker and bigger every day until he could finally breathe without feeling like he was choking on air.

Robin remained Daniel's therapist for over eight loops until he finally came to terms with what he had and most likely would again do. He managed to establish a system of what to do when it happened again and how to manage his inner turmoil so that it didn't spill into something dangerous, either for himself or others.

While the looping had the effect of twisting his morals to the extreme sometimes, Daniel was always careful to keep a grip on his emotions and try to use the techniques Robin had taught him to regulate those that could become a threat. It wasn't perfect (the seemingly, only imperfect thing about him now), but it worked and it made him view the world in another light.

It was both surprising and not that he now understood Jinho, to a certain level. He knew what it felt like to be given a ray of light and not manage to cling to it no matter how hard he struggled. He had been pathetic and weak and selfish in a way that made him both better and so much worse than the scrawny boy. Better because he had learned from it and strived to make himself the best possible version despite his worries, insecurities, paranoia, and tilted moral compass. Worse because, unlike Jinho, he had succeeded and killed people to further his own selfish goals.

At the end of the day, the imperfect-perfect boy remained a human, one who struggled and hurt and cried. As long as he kept a tight leash on the part of him that could make others struggle and hurt and cry (and even worse) he kept going, trying to find a way to end the cycle and keep the people he loved safe.

Even if that meant entire loops-worth of counseling and breakdowns, he would do it. For those he cherished? Anything.

#9 The Petty Revenge Arc

Danny: Someone hurt my beloved Jay. Zack: And what did you do about it? Danny: I ruined their business, then went back in time and terrorized them with spiders and baby crocodiles with lightsabers. Zack: Baby what with what? Danny: Then I set an army of angry middle-aged housewives on him. Zack: ... Zack: You know what, never mind, I don't even want to know.

#6

"You are really relaxed for someone who just had all of his blood relations and dear ones threatened with death," Eugene noted, narrowing his eyes at the male lounging over two sets of stairs like a lazy cat.

"You'd be surprised at how often that happens. At this point, it's just routine." Daniel shrugged nonchalantly, popping his neck. "Besides, I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could do to my so-called blood relations anyways."

The air turned frigid, but he didn't give any signs that he cared about having implied that the Worker's president was incompetent.

"Oh really?" Eugene asked with a bit more bite in his voice.

He just got a vaguely affirmative hum in response. However, when Danny noticed that he was waiting for him to elaborate he gave a long-suffering sigh and adjusted himself to sit up on the stairs. everyone leaned in, eager to get even a scrap of information about the elusive and mysterious boy.

"Mom ain't here, dad never was and my brother could mow your ass like grass before you got twenty feet near him"

He had been extra secretive in this loop, so much so that he had actually moved his second body into another house and never used or mentioned it around his friends. For all intents and purposes, this Daniel Park had nothing to do with the shorter one who lived in a nice house on the other side of the city, so he wasn't scared of his lie getting discovered even if he pushed his luck a little bit. At least his lying skills had improved over the loops and now he had, at long last, become worthy of the title of 'professional bulshitter'.

"And does this brother of yours have a name?"

It was pretty obvious to everyone that Eugene was laying it a bit on the thicker side, but Danny was willing to go along with the charade if only to cause more chaos and confusion among the four crews. Thus, he replied with the most innocent smile he could muster, using a voice so flat that no one could tell if he was pulling their leg or actually telling the truth.

"Daniel Park." He let the words stew for a bit, trying to stifle his laughter at their expressions. "Can you believe that our parents couldn't even be bothered to give us two different names?"

Some seemed convinced by his lamenting voice, while others still looked at him with suspicion. Daniel even pulled out his wallet and showed them a pictured of both of his bodies side by side wearing sunglasses and smiling goofily at the camera. And if only one of his bodies was actually unconscious at the time, no one could tell with their matching sunglasses. Then, just to drive the point home he began gushing with Sally about a baby picture of 'his brother' and reminiscing about all the made-up fights they would have.

The meeting left him grinning delightedly and several others preparing to embark on a wild goose chase through Seoul in search of the second Daniel Park and the secret to the taller Daniel's apparent invincibility.

The boy in question was going to eagerly await the day they discovered his smaller body's whereabouts and tried to challenge him. After all, he had a reputation to uphold as taller Daniel's brother~

Danny: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things. Jay:[in jaynese] Hi, I’m ‘things’.

small snippet from my WIP

Shards and Splinters | Weeping Embers

Dried leaves fluttered in the breeze, crunching amongst each other as if whispering secrets into the wind to be carried away. The streets lay abandoned, everyone still asleep tightly in their warm beds awaiting the dawn of yet another day like any other before. But today wasn’t going to be a usual day.

From the moment his eyelids opened, and he jolted out of bed breathing as if he had been chased around the whole world by an army of demons Archer Uberto could tell there was something different about today. The sun rose to the skies just like every other morning, drowning the world in light and warmth as it had done perhaps trillions of times before, yet still, the boy could not shake the feeling something was out of place. It wasn’t anything obvious, else he would have noticed by now, like how you’d know if someone had moved your socks from their rightful place, but not if a splinter was missing from your desk. The feeling, although persistent did nothing to deter him from entering back into his routine almost robotically, forgetting about the dream that had startled him awake, or of the pungent smell of creos in his home...

Archer paused repeating the thought that had just passed through his mind. Creos? What even were creos and why did he think of that? A puzzled expression flashed on his face before the shrill ringing of his phone broke his line of thought, pulling him back into reality harshly. His body moved on its own, traversing the neat and clean room all the way to the small bookshelf adorning the whole left wall of his room before turning off that blasted noise, so he could once more rejoice in the softer morning sounds.

A crow stood atop one of the branches that neared his window, silently observing the teen as he exited the building dressed in an old baseball shirt and dark green jeans. It cawed out twice before taking off into the mushy clouds in search of its morning meal.

The sudden flapping of feathers alerted a nearby mouse and sent it scurrying back beneath the dumpster it had crawled from, the dark feathered bird now taking its place, atop the lid that rested on the wall behind it. From there it had a clear view of the lanky teen as he scurried into the backroom, before coming out with a green apron and getting behind the counter, just as the doors of the cafe opened to let in a stream of groggy and grumpy customers who couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries at such an early hour.

Archer sighed in relief upon hearing the bell hung above the door ring one final time that day, the last customer exiting the small Starbucks, coffee in hand. With a sudden sense of accomplishment, the boy grinned to himself, returning to the backroom. He greeted the rest of his colleagues politely and made a bit of small chat before changing from his uniform back into his soft dark jacket and exiting the building while humming a soft tune and swinging his arms in

Page Break

the air as if he were conducting a band of invisible musicians. There were barely any people on the streets at the time to judge him, and even those who saw him as mad he could not be bothered to pay attention to.

Upon crossing the street, he stopped in the middle, waiting for someone to come out of nowhere and run him over, but after a few minutes and not even the sight of a bike, he let out an exasperated sigh and continued on his journey back to his warm bed and fluffy pillow. Perhaps next time he would have more luck, Archer pouted jokingly while swatting a few stray strands of mahogany hair out of his eyes, only for the evening breeze to blow them right back into his face, blinding him momentarily. And it was all it took, just that one moment, he smelled that same scent his room had that morning, and that feeling came back over a thousand times stronger.

He whirled around clutching his sides, as a stinging pain bloomed right where his ribs caged his lungs and the wind picked up, raising clouds of fallen and dried leaves into the air and surrounding him. Archer clenched his eyes tightly, burying his head into his chest, now fully aware that that feeling of something being awfully wrong had not been only in his tired mind.

“There’s no way I’m going to die to a cloud of leaves today” he screeched, before choking on something and falling into a coughing fit, his eyes watering and his ears ringing.

Robin: Are you having another depressive episode? Danny: A depressive episode? Danny: I'm having a depressive series and we're just on season one.

Daniel: If Vasco and I were drowning, who would you save? Zack: You two can’t swim? Daniel: It’s a hypothetical question, Zack! who would you save? Zack: my time and effort. Vasco: 😢

Dick felt sick to his stomach as his brother's wails echoed through the cave.

He and Bruce had been the first to respond to his beacon. Batman's antidote didn't work against this new strain of fear toxin, so they had to bring him back to devise a cure. Tim was unresponsive, trapped in whatever hellish illusion Scarecrow's gas had triggered. They had barely been able to get him into the car, with how wildly he was flailing. His limbs struck around violently, uncoordinated. Not trying to attack, but as if he were desperately trying to flee from something. (The smell ozone lingered in the air) Once they'd reached the cave, they had to strap him to the medbay table to keep him from falling off.

And the screams.

God, the screams.

The first one had made Bruce recoil and nearly drop him. None of them had ever heard him scream like that before. It was something out of a nightmare, high-pitched and raw, carrying an unimaginable amount of pain. (Like a death wail) There was a frenzied, tortured quality to it that had Jason stumbling away and tripping when he reached the scene. It had made their blood run cold.

"It's like he's dying." Jason had remarked quietly from the side once they'd moved to another part of the Batcave. The red helmet lay discarded on the table he was leaning on. His face was pale, and there was a tremor barely hidden in his voice. A disturbed look flashed in his eyes, as if he was remembering something. (Pools of swirling green)

Bruce's black gloves squeaked as his fists tightened. He was stone-faced, but his sons could read the worry in his blue eyes. The Batman was just as helpless as them. It made his blood boil. (Electric currents buzzed through the cables on the floor)

The room was bathed in blue light from the Batcomputer. A white cup of cold coffee sat untouched by Jason's elbow next to the keyboard. (An accident waiting to happen) It sat there since the afternoon, when they had been urgently called for an Arkham breakout. Tim's coffee. Dick was suddenly struck by the absurd though that his brother would never leave his coffee around like that. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it down. Distantly, he recognised that his fingers were twitching along with his baby brother's screams.

It was all so incredibly wrong. The whole situation was just plain wrong. Red Robin's mask should have held against the gas. Hell, Crane should never have had the time to make a new type of toxin in the first place! It made no sense! (It made no sense to put an ON button inside the machine!)

Muffled screaming could still be heard even though the medbay walls. It was now more hoarse and ragged, as if whoever was making the noise had swallowed a bucket of sand.

Truly, it was a testament to Alfred's strength and devotion that he had stayed and taken care of him through all of it. Meanwhile, they'd fled like cowards into another room, pretending as if they were figuring out a cure, and not hiding from their failure.

The computer was processing the blood samples at an agonizingly slow pace, while they stood there unable to do anything to soothe their brother and son, respectively. The sounds grew more strangled and faint the longer it went on. They'd cut out a few times, when he'd run out of air, but they always inevitably started back up twice as anguished. (Incredible how he so rarely ran out of air, as if he didn't even need to breathe.)

Dick couldn't even imagine what Tim was going through to make him let out such a sound. (Privately, selfishly, he was glad that Damian was not home to witness it.)

With Jason's gun pointed to his head and Batman preoccupied with his third son, Crane had bragged that the gas made you relive your most painful moment. Dick turned a blind eye to his brother using a bit more strength than necessary to knock out the rogue.

They tried to figure out what Tim's worst experience was. Jason brought up the Titan's Tower, Bruce the JJ incident. Dick quietly proposed it could be something from the year he went missing to find Bruce. (Something from before they knew him, something from before he was Tim, something from when he was Da-)

The screams cut off again for a few blissful seconds, then started back up. It was a miracle he could keep going after so long. Dick felt his stomach churn. He'd heard people yell, cry, and shriek before, but this was something different. Something born entirely out of agony. Something guttural, prolonged, and horrible. Something no human should ever be able to produce. (Only something that was no longer human could let out such a scream.)

---------------------------------------------------

DannyTim woke up feeling like he had swallowed glass. His vision was swimming, and his head pulsated painfully. (He hoped he hadn't died this time, or Jason might actually kill him for stealing his gig again.) A sudden wave of searing pain made his muscles spasm painfully.

A big shadow loomed over him. Someone was touching his forehead and speaking to him in a hushed tone. The words were garbled, like he was deep underwater. They should really work on their pronunciation.

"-im.... -nother shot...-eetheart"

There was a pinprick somewhere on the back of his elbow. He tried to pull away, but his arm felt like lead. He let out a scratchy, quiet whimper, and immediately regretted it. The pathetic excuse for a protest left his throat feeling like it had been burned from the inside. The Demon Brat would never let him live this down if he learned of it. The big shadow returned to shushing him and patting his hair. It felt cozy and safe, like Dad.

Darkness once again closed in on him, and he settled for listening to the big shadows rumbling to lull him back to sleep. (He awoke panting from the phantom electricity still coursing through his bones, searing off his flesh and replacing his blood with green-)

Screaming into the night

Danny is reborn as tim.

Tim gets his memories back near the beginning of his robin run when he still has a rocky relationship with Bruce. He’s scared and keeps his mouth shut. This goes on for years never getting the right time to be revealed.

It isn't until the scarecrow uses a new fear gas that it comes up. Tim is hit and has to relive the portal incident. He is screaming with no brakes and does not respond to anyone.

The bat family has idea what he is seeing but they do find out from scarecrows taunting that the gas makes you relive your most painful memories. The entire family is wondering when this happened and when Tim wakes up he is not going to be very forthcoming.