#i know someone wrote an excellent post about CPs in OF

[1stthingsfirst]

2am musings:

how established/couple pairings (CPs) in bl function similarly to ships in fanfiction

both work by allowing the creators to capitalize on an ingrained love for the actors/characters and an understanding of their personalities and interactions. AUs ask us to examine (or play with) how these characters we know would work in a new setting, under new circumstances, relying on a shared understanding of certain fundamental character traits.

both work as shortcuts. you don't have to spell out all the details and you don't have to spend as much time fleshing out the characters because there is an implicit understanding that if you're engaging with the show/fic, you're there because you're already somewhat into the pairing and you like (at least something about) them.

basically, CPs = OTPs

tl;dr: we make assumptions about how the characters will be and act, both in relationship to each other and the core aspects of their personalities. as a creator, you can choose to use these preconceived notions to lean into or to subvert expectations.

[carpehistoryandthepens]

Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 19

It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

one, two, three, four, Five, six seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on the 22-23 season, that said last season when i wrote these tags originally, but hey, it takes me a LONG time to write, so now its no longer last season, OCs?, the realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.

-

Mike stared out the window of the kitchen, where he was putting dirty dishes in the (working!) dishwasher from breakfast. They just had a full breakfast that was more than just pop-tarts. He debated putting the food on the list to pay Sid back. He had an Excel spreadsheet on his mama's phone now. Children were expensive.

"I mean, he's weak on the right side. I think I can take advantage of that." Sid said, in between helping Marisol with some alphabet homework in Spanish.

Mike chose not to add what they ate as he finished the loading dishes. Sid already had the ingredients in his pantry. They had other things to worry about today.

Marisol sat at the kitchen table, trying to figure out how to write some of the alphabet. She was having trouble remembering what language had the double ll's and that English didn't start sentences with an upside-down exclamation point.  Nikita was next to her, packing his small backpack, talking with Geno in a mix of primarily Russian and some English.

"Think that goalie coach would have work on right side since last game. He must know." Geno said. "We saw in video review. That big of a weakness? Must have been worked on."

Sid sighed and immediately launched into his counter-argument. "But yeah, right, but so doesn't mean it's always been fixed!"

The sounds that filled the kitchen were familiar, but Mike couldn't place what it reminded him of. He missed the sound of his Mama's Spanish and his Papa's Spanglish.

Sid and Geno leave in the afternoon for the first roadie.

Mike was terrified. The nanny Geno and his wife hired for Nikita had also agreed to watch them. It was just an overnight trip, flying in the night before, morning skate, game, then fly home. They would be back early morning the next night.

The nanny, Bea, a lovely older lady who spoke passable Russian and Italian, was arriving in less than ten minutes. She understood enough Spanish to understand Marisol. It wasn't the perfect setup, but clearly, Sid, Geno, and Anna had tried. Mike was grateful to them all; he was sure they were complicated.

From what Mike overheard Sid and Geno discussing during Bea's interview, Anna wanted a nanny who could speak English, Spanish, Russian, and French. However, that combination was hard to find. Let alone someone willing to sign an NDA. Honestly, Mike wasn't quite sure what to make of Anna. He hadn't seen her except for the two nights she had spent at Sid's, but he heard her often - Nikita liked to call his mom. Understandable. The only thing he was sure of about Anna was that she loved her son dearly and wanted to ensure he was happy and well-educated.

Marisol's voice was what Mike heard the most in the hubbub of the kitchen. That might have to do with knowing her for much longer, or it could be from the need to ensure she was safe, but she sounded happy.

In the last two months, Mike had gone from being unsure he would have a safe place to sleep at night to having his world shift upside down. He had gone from living solely to protect Marisol and worrying, let alone being able to skate again, to having a personal trainer, private ice sessions, a therapist for Marisol and him, and a private tutor, hell-bent on getting them both onto grade level.

It was a little overwhelming.

Mike turned from the dishes and slid into a chair at the table. Geno said something in Russian that made Nikita laugh; Sid snickered, understanding the joke, but he didn't take his eyes away from Marisol and her homework. It was almost like being at home, with his Mama and Papi getting ready for work as he and Marisol were dropped off at the YMCA before school.  Mike felt like he was outside of the room, just watching the action happen.

It was a feeling that Mike was slowly getting used to that he was allowed to watch, and when he was ready, he could join in. In the past few weeks, the conversations he and Sid had participated in made that clear he was allowed to choose.

Just before the season's first game, Sid had sat him down with Helena to figure out what Mike wanted.

It had been a difficult question to answer, Mike had found out. Helena had spent most of the meeting reassuring Mike that not knowing what he wanted yet wasn't bad and his future wasn't set in stone. However, She and Sid told him that having an idea of his future would help them ensure he would be happy. They didn't mention Marisol for the whole conversation.

All Mike had been able to say was that he wanted to go to college on a hockey scholarship. It was the only thing he knew for sure. He had to pay Sid back somehow for the care of Marisol. Maybe a degree in tech or engineering? Something that made money. He wanted a college degree and hockey. He didn't even know what school. Before, he had some dreams of UCLA, Cal State, or maybe even Arizona State? When he voiced the schools, he realized he was now on the East Coast; he might need to look into universities that were local to him now. RMU was a good state school, wasn't it? Did he count as a resident of California or Pennsylvania now?

Helen had said it was complicated, but they would know by college entry time, and she could get him a list of schools with engineering degrees.

(Sid had nodded and said that was totally possible, but by the way, had he ever been talked to by USA Hockey? Helena had given Sid such a stink-eye at his question.

Mike had been blind sighted by the question. Sid and others (including coaches!) saw something in his skating. Mike had answered honestly that no, but he never really could go to the camps that USA Hockey was at.

Sid already had the information for Mike's old coach, Robert Jones, but he had retired and moved since Mike and Marisol were picked up by his Aunt. Coach Rob was the only reason he was on that team. Usually, it would have been out of Mike's reach.)

Sid looked up from helping Marisol, "Thank you for getting the dishes, Mike."

"Yeah, for sure. No worries," Mike said, sitting down across from the kids and adults. Geno grinned at his words for some reason.

Mike was still getting used to the idea of being thanked for being assigned chores. His Aunt and Rodger had just demanded, and he would be yelled at when he didn't do the chores exactly right. His mom and dad hadn't openly thanked him, but Mike had always felt appreciated for his work.

The chores conversation was another that was weighing on his mind. Geno had brought it up. Saying it was good for Nikita to have an assigned chore and asking if Mike would help Nikita learn responsibly by also having a chore.

Mike was a little suspicious, but his parents had him doing his own laundry, and he was responsible for cleaning the bathroom. His Aunt and uncle were very determined that Mike would do everything around the house, even the stuff he had never done before – like vacuuming. That was his mom's job. His dad cooked, and they all did the dishes.  

Sid had suggested that Mike take over the dishes. He already had a person who came and did all the cleaning, and everyone did their own laundry - even Nikita. Mike agreed, but only if Marisol could also get a chore. She was assigned to pick up the toys in her and Mike's room.

It was odd having a say, but Mike appreciated it all. It was something he could do to be useful and not a burden to Sid. (The whole thing had made Geno smile broadly. Nikita's chore was to take out the trash every night.)

"Did you have an idea, Mike?" Sid asked, going back to the upcoming game that night. "About the goalie?"

"Is this Primeau?" Mike asked, the question coming to him out of nowhere.

Geno shook his head, "No. Montembeault."

Mike crunched his face in thought. "The one who's weak on the upper glove side?"

"See!" Sid said, "Mike sees it!"

"And, goalie coach would see it too," Geno said firmly.

"Isn't he also weak on the meld with the posts?" Mike asked. "On the left?"

That got a pause from Sid and Geno before Geno nodded slowly. "Yes, yes. Mike right, goalie weak on the left, always leave a gap between him and posts in video."

"He does," Sid breathed. "That's an option to deal with it."

With a happy noise, Nikita finished packing his backpack. His uniform was more like the catholic school down the street from Mike's parent's old apartment than like a charter school. Mike hadn't worn a uniform after elementary school, and even then, it was more like a strictly enforced dress code rather than a uniform. Nikita raised the backpack up for Geno to inspect.

Geno took Nikita's Switch from the largest pocket, "Not allowed, Nikusha." He said. "Know better. School gets mad."

Nikita frowned mutinously. "But no one wants to play during lunch! Or at least not play soccer!"

"Then read book. Not game. Game for home after homework." Geno said sternly.

"Papa!" Nikita protested, but he fell silent under Geno's stern look. "Могу я хотя бы выбрать книгу?" (Can I at least pick the book?)

Mike didn't understand what Niktia wanted, but Geno seemed to agree. "Da." Geno said firmly. "Go get."  As Nikita dashed away to his room, Geno sighed to Sid. "Anna better at this. She say, he do. No complaint."

"It's ok, G," Sid said, reaching out and fixing Marisol's pigtails before they fell out completely. Mike hadn't done them very tightly earlier – he would have to do better to ease the burden on Sid. "Some things come in time – isn't that what you said to me?"

Geno nodded, but he still looked worried. Nikita returned with two books – one in English and another in Russian. Geno raised an eyebrow but didn't protest. He gently collected Nikita and herded him toward the door.

Nikita called out a farewell, that Mike responded to absently, but Marisol was enthusiastic in her goodbye.

Mike chewed his lower lip. It had been a long time since he had heard happy goodbyes in the mornings. Rodger and Aunt Cynthia didn't talk to him like that, to either of them like that. Just demanded that he respect them and 'love' them in ways he never would. Mostly, they lost their chances when they treated Marisol like shit.

The latest conversation involving Sid's lawyer and Helena occurred two days earlier. Helena and Sid's lawyer explained it to him, faces serious but not hopeless. His Aunt and her husband had threatened that they would fight for custody.

When Helena's counterpart in California had told them that Mike was safe in another state but refused to tell them where he was, apparently Rodger lost his mind at the care worker.

This was being used as evidence Mike was right to run away. However, he did essentially kidnap his sister, which made things more complicated. According to Helena, his Aunt and her husband wouldn't push for custody of Marisol.

If they won, if a judge agreed that Mike needed to stay with them rather than Sid, then Marisol wouldn't have a legal base to stay with Sid. She would either return to Cynthia and Rodger or end up in the foster system.

Mike was terrified of his Aunt and her husband and the power they still held over them both. They weren't even sure what state they would be filing in. The parental information was in Pennsylvania, but Mike and his Aunt were from California.

The whole thing would be complicated. "Mike!" Marisol said, thrusting a paper at him just as the doorbell rang, "Mira!"

Marisol's paper was work she had been working on with Sid's help.  "Oh, that's nice," he praised. She had gotten more of the letters correct than the last time. And her 'e' only had three lines rather than four. "You did so much better!"

In the distance, in the front hall, Sid greeted Bea, their nanny. Mike hated the idea of needing a nanny; he was a teenager! Except, Sid and Geno (and Helena) were determined not to let Mike take care of Niktia and Marisol alone. Mike had to accept not being responcible for the kids would be nice.

Apparently, Bea was short for Beatriz, but she insisted on 'Bea.' At first, it was 'Aunt Bea' but one meltdown by Marisol later, it was just 'Bea.' Mike was simply relieved that Marisol's actions didn't cause Bea to quit on the spot – like Cynthia had always said she wanted to do when Marisol started to cry. The less Mike remembered about Rodger's reaction to Marisol crying the better.

"You ready for a fun day with Bea?" Mike asked. The plan was that the four of them (him, Marisol, Bea, and Sid) would go to the rink soon. Mike and Marisol's tutor would meet them there, and then a trainer would meet Mike on the other rink.

While he and Marisol hadn't been to a game yet, seeing the Pen's practice was still cool. Mike was learning a whole lot just watching the practice. Sid said something about introducing Mike to a coach soon.

Bea would not usually come with them to the rink from Sid's house, but as Sid was leaving on a roadie immediately after, they decided they would take two cars.

Marisol cheered.

[yellowocaballero]

hi i know it's been the hottest of seconds but director's cut for the prophetic spring if you're still doing these? 👀

Sure! I’ve spoken a lot about the prophetic spring, but I’m fairly certain I could give some meta information about my intense life-long obsession with Tim Drake. Dude has been showing up in my fics since I was 14.

But actually, the ficlet I wrote ages ago might be more interesting? So here it is. Exploring a dynamic that was WAY underserved for how important it is: the Steph, Cass, Tim dynamic!

No CW that haven’t appeared in the prophetic spring, but specific mention for drug addiction and drug depiction, as well as references to molestation, abortion, torture, and suicide. Story under the cut. 

Tim stared down into the toilet bowl. It was a little yellowed. He needed to clean it. 

He stared at the small baggie of pills in his hand. 

He visualized dropping it into the bowl, flushing it. Possibly mutating an alligator, or giving the race of mole people that lived in the Gotham sewers a nice surprise. 

Tim sighed, and pocketed the drugs. Maybe tomorrow. 

**

A month after the incident with a runaway foster kid and a, in retrospect, kind of embarrassing fake fight with his older brother, Tim got a text from an unknown number. To make matters worse, it was at an insane hour of the day - noon. 

Texts from strangers were hardly uncommon. Tim had an extensive contact network, growing larger by the day, but he had set up a Google Voice on his computer so they were all routed through a program there. Being bothered at all hours of the day on his phone was hardly his idea of a good time. The only people who really had his real number were his bullshit ‘friends’ and his asshole ‘family’. He hadn’t even given his number to his ‘friends’ - he had given it to Kon under strict confidentiality, and then Kon had given it to all of Young Justice. Asshole. 

405-555-1998: dropping by in three hours so make sure ur presentable :)

As Tim had just woken up, most of his brain was occupied by a single whuh? 

Just as his mind swirled in sleepy confusion, his phone buzzed again.

405-555-1998: B1706XQE45

The code checked out. It was an ally, not an unknown or an enemy. 

Tim groaned, covering his eyes with an elbow. He needed coffee.

****

The coffee was a new thing - rather, it was something he had drunk plenty of growing up, because there had been nobody around to inform him that coffee was bad for developing brains. Growing up completely unsupervised was probably why Tim was a drug addict now. He could totally blame this on his parents never loving him. 

Not a drug addict, Tim thought to himself anxiously as the coffee sputtered into the extra large gallon pot. Just someone who...uses drugs...in an unhealthy way. Substance abu - substance user, who just used it maybe as a bad coping mechanism. Not that Tim had good coping mechanisms, but it was better than sawing off heads or becoming a drug lord. When you thought about it, it was either being a serial killer or doing drugs, so logically it means that he should do more drugs to decrease the amount of fun little murders he does -

Tim made toast.

The coffee was a new thing, because he was trying to use it to replace the drugs. He had cut back. The stupid little sorority that called themselves the Birds of Prey had been talking to him about it. He had agreed to try. It was best to set expectations low, so he couldn’t disappoint. Actually, Tim loved disappointing, maybe he should set them higher. Maybe he could make inspirational speeches about how he was a good guy now? Ha ha. 

The three hours had been a deft move. The texter knew noon was his average wake-up time at best, and the three hours gave him enough time to sober up if he had been high or drunk at the time. Tim didn’t like to start popping the minute he woke up, but - well, sometimes he did. Or sometimes he was awake at noon because he had been on an all-nighter drug binge. They hadn’t given their name, either, which meant that it was somebody who he wouldn’t want to see. 

He could bounce, escape to some corner of Gotham until they gave up. Except he had the sense that whoever had gone through the effort to get his number wasn’t the type to give up. Almost nobody Tim knew was the type to give up. His ‘friends’ and his ‘family’ never gave up. On anybody but him. 

A voice in his head, not quite yet suffocated, sounding altogether too much like the Replacement, echoed in endless attempts to get him to come back. Oh, whatever. Kid was a try-hard. He needed better taste in made up families. 

Over the next three hours, he debated his tactics. If he wasn’t escaping and the texter was playing the buddy card, then the situation probably wasn’t dangerous. He strapped in his armor under the baggy pyjamas that he never took off anyway, and spitefully made no effort to control his hair. He did put on make-up, an old hand from keeping CPS off Bruce’s trail - man, he should have pretended Bruce was molesting him, that would have been funny as fuck - to hide the bags under his eyes. No use looking pathetic. 

He hid a few more weapons around his apartment. He anxiously checked his phone, staring not at the new texts but at Harley’s offer sent a week ago. He still hadn’t replied. He didn’t know what to do with it. 

As if he could ever feel safe sleeping under the same roof as her?

As if he ever felt safe anywhere?

Maybe he had nothing to lose. That was the greatest part about this, the most wonderful aspect of what he had done to everybody in his life. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. That’s freedom, or so Janis had always told him. She knew what she was about. Overdosing on heroin at 27 - that was understanding what it meant, to have nothing. To be free.  He was almost jealous. 

At two on the dot, a polite knock echoed through the apartment. Tim looked up from where he was relaxing on the couch, with all of the possible entry points in his line of sight. That wasn’t a knock he had memorized, and he had memorized everyone’s knocks. 

Nothing for it. He’d have to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Maybe he can pull the insane sociopath schtick again; that had always been effective in ditching his parents. Tim sighed, walked over to the door, swiped his thumb against the keypad, undid the three deadbolts, and opened door only to see - 

Stephanie Brown, hands propped on her hips and smiling widely. Cassandra Wayne, standing right behind her, serene as ever. 

Tim closed the door - or he tried. Steph had expected the move, and the minute he had opened the door her foot had jutted out and blocked him from closing the door. Effortlessly, she wrenched it back open and stepped into his apartment, forcing him to press against the wall and scowl as insane women infiltrated his space. 

“Wow,” Steph said loudly, “this place looks like a wreck!”

Tim groaned. 

***

The thing with Steph and Cass was this:

How to describe it?

The sister he had never expected, the best friend he had never thought he would have. Cass was his twin, Robin’s shadow, the other side of his mountain. Bruce had adopted Cass barely five months after he became Robin, and Tim had unabashedly resented her for stealing Bruce’s attention so quickly. He had always liked her more, but Bruce had liked everyone more than Tim, so maybe it was no surprise. She was sweet, kind, gentle, and no trouble. Tim wasn’t any trouble either, but he couldn’t be the rest of it if it bit him in his ass. 

Robin was the brain. Cass was the muscle. They were a team so closely linked, conjoined at the hip, that Tim couldn’t remember a patrol ever done without her. Bruce had let them start patrolling alone at fourteen (“You didn’t let me work alone until I was fifteen, and I was an assassin,” Damian had spat), and they had been an unbeatable team. Robin’s hand-to-hand was weak, but nobody ever got through Batgirl. Batgirl struggled with technical knowledge, reading and writing and investigating and chasing down leads, the only area where Tim had ever excelled. Together, they had almost been as good as Batman. Sometimes, Tim had let himself think that they might be better.

They had been so similar. Everyone had always said so. They’re both so quiet, the Justice League had said. Emotionless little freaks, the Rogues had said. Neither of them blink, their schoolmates had said. But there had been nothing to say, not between them: they could have a conversation without words, without even Sign. Cass had known every twitch of Tim’s body, had understood him down to his core. Nobody else ever had. Everybody had always called Tim inscrutable and impossible to understand - but to Cass, Tim had been an open book. She knew every inch of him. And she had loved him anyway. 

And Steph! When Steph had found them when they were fourteen veering on fifteen, and from then on it was as if she had always been there. She was so big, so smiling, so much, and she had never apologized for any of it. Nothing scared her. To Tim, that was the perfect vigilante - somebody who was scared of nothing, who never hesitated, who was good. 

Not even Bruce could intimidate her. When Tim was fourteen, he had thought that was the most amazing thing in the world. Bruce intimidated everyone, but Steph had just stuck out her tongue and kept badly backflipping off roofs anyway. Through twin convincing, Tim and Cass had convinced Bruce to give her a chance, and Spoiler had slot into their dynamic perfectly. She was their best friend, always. 

She wasn’t good at hand-to-hand at first, but Tim had improved by then, and they could cover her. She improved faster than he had, and judging from the reconnaissance footage Tim had frantically consumed after he came back to life, she was amazing now. She was wickedly smart, practical and down to Earth. If Tim was better at hacking into a computer, Steph was the one who found the post-it note with the password stuck under the desk. 

But more than any of that, she had brought the social skills. She had brought the calming presence, the sweet hand to victims and civilians, and her good humor was infectious. Steph was good with people. She was a born leader. Resilient. Brave. Everybody liked her. Everybody loved her. Tim had. She had loved him too. She could have done so much better than Tim and Cass, weird little societal rejects, but she had chosen them as her family. 

It had been the three of them. For as long as Tim’s life had meaning, for as long as he had been loved, they had loved him. Tim had grown up alone, in a world of one, and they had infiltrated it. They had expanded it, and they dragged his life into more than just Tim. Into Tim-and-Cass-and-Steph. Into Robin-Batgirl-Spoiler. Into meaning, and love. 

Tim hated them. And he wanted them to suffer. 

“That’s the Stephanie Brown I remember,” Tim sneered, closing the door behind him. Steph had quickly thrown herself onto Tim’s couch, clearly somewhat surprised at how comfortable it was, and Cass had  perched daintily on the arm. Cass had always refused to sit like a normal person - she would rather sit on the backs of sofas, or on the arm, or perched on chairs like a bird - “If I had known you were coming I would have jumped cities.”

“We would have chased you down and you know that,” Steph said cheerfully, like she said fucking everything. “Besides, if you had known we were coming you would have gone into witness protection. You’ve been avoiding the fuck outta us.”

“Wonder why,” Tim said, injecting as much mean-spirited sarcasm into his voice as possible. “I need more coffee, don’t go through my shit.”

The apartment was small, and the kitchen had a cut-away wall where he could see through into the living room. Stephanie hated nothing more than being ignored or looked down upon, and if he dismissed her and didn’t react then she’d grow infuriated with him and leave. He couldn’t fight with her, because if it came down to a battle of rhetoric or emotions she’d win single-handedly. She was so good with words. Cass...had no weaknesses. 

Which was inconvenient, because it was Cass he absolutely had to get rid of as soon as possible. She was very emotional, and more than a little sensitive. Especially to rejection. If he was cruel enough to her, she’d start crying and leave. There was only one problem with that. 

As he jammed more grounds into the machine he watched the girls out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t talking or whispering to each other, both fully aware of how well Tim could read lips. They weren’t even having one of those body language conversations they could only have with each other, aware that Tim could crack that too. Instead Stephanie was casually sprawled on his couch, looking for all the world like a middle aged dad watching the football game, looking around the room. Cass, as usual, was zoning out. Or, of course, looked like she was zoning out - Tim could tell that she was waiting for something to happen, and was preparing herself for it. 

Shit. Tim fought the urge to gnaw on his fingernail. Cass was going to be a problem. 

He risked another glance backwards. She could see him, so she knew. Fuck. He had never been on the other side of her mind reading. It was fucking inconvenient. Psychics should be shot on sight. 

The coffee sloshed into the biggest cup he could find in his kitchen, and Tim began draining it immediately as he leaned over the cutaway. He kept the cup held up to his face, obscuring it. Face covered, everything under the elbows covered - best he could do without preparation. 

“This little field trip sanctified by Sgt. Brother?” Tim asked, sipping the scalding hot coffee. Not hot enough. He needed - he needed - they’d see -

“We’re nineteen, we don’t need his permission for everything we do,” Steph said, amused. So she was going to speak for Cass - hardly unusual, as whenever they were all together Steph tended to be the only one who spoke - but seeing as Tim was Tim then it was definitely a strategy. 

“He lets his precious baby sisters knock on the door of drug lords for fun?” Tim sneered. 

“If they’re incompetent and retired, sure!”

Tim gritted his teeth. Don’t rise to her bait. Don’t. She was the best person in the family at getting a rise out of their enemies. He didn’t stand a chance. 

“What do you want?”

“We thought we’d take you roller skating at the rink,” Steph chirped. 

Tim stared at her. 

“Or the pool,” Steph said, faux-thoughtfully. “Or just the mall?”

Fuck this. Tim headed for the door, ready to walk out of the building barefoot in his pyjamas. He tugged at the doorknob, only to find that it wouldn’t open. 

Tim breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth. There were other exits. He was not trapped. Had his apartment always been so small? He could have sworn that it was bigger. 

He turned around slowly. Stephanie was grinning at him, twirling what looked like a small plastic cylinder. Tim recognized it instantly - fancy League tech. Overrides all electronic locks and controls them. They all used it to trap perps and heighten their fear tactics. Tim jammed his thumb on the keypad. Nothing happened. 

Cass glanced at Steph, and made a small motion. Tim couldn’t interpret it. Why couldn’t he interpret it? Did they have a new code? It was Cass. When nobody else had understood her, Tim always had. Now they had their own language, one that Tim couldn’t interpret anymore. Tim was lost in translation, always drifting. 

“We aren’t bringing you in,” Steph said, just as light as ever. No trace of pity or caution or gentleness in her voice: just relentless cheer. “Literally all we want to do is talk. Play a board game, maybe?”

 Tim’s eyes flickered to the hidden panel in the wall next to him where he had stashed a gun and a sword. 

“Bro,” Steph said, “you really don’t want to escalate this.”

“Do you think you can take me?” Tim asked curiously, letting his hand drift to his arm. He shook his long pyjama sleeve down to cover his wrist. “That’s pretty cute. Last time I checked, you’re the shittiest at hand-to-hand in your team.”

But Steph just rolled her eyes. Shit, wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring her? He couldn’t, not so long as she kept pushing and pushing. Not so long as she was in his house. “Leave off. Just because Jay and I are the last people in the fam who weren’t trained in Mystical Ninja Arts doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. Hands in the air, by the way.”

Stephanie was overly sentimental. New tactic. He raised his hands slightly in the air, caught reaching for the weapon hidden in his armor. “Incompetent enough to let me die.”

There. Finally. Thank god, Tim thought he was losing his touch. The muscles clenched in Stephanie’s jaw, and just a twitch of her eye - banishing a bad memory. “Everybody’s been saying you’ve turned rude. I guess you’ve just been avoiding us because you don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

“I didn’t remember a lot when I was first resurrected,” Tim said casually, despite the fact that he had never told anybody about the first awful six months. Something about Steph and Cass just pried it out of him, like invasive surgery. Or an autopsy. “I remember everything about those six months, though. Homeless. Practically retarded. Brain damage does that to you, you know. I lived on the streets, did you know that? It was a miracle I lived through it.” He gasped, as if he was remembering something. “I slept on 34th street! You lived near there, didn’t you? Maybe you even walked by me.”

Steph went white. Cass’ expression froze. He was pushing hard, but these two wouldn’t react to anything less. Steph could trade barbs better than he could, even now. 

“It’s a good thing Talia found me,” Tim continued. “She was the only one who cared.”

That did it. Steph tensed, leaning forward, and even Cass stiffened. “Is that what she told you? How can you believe her?”

Tim just shrugged, walking back to the kitchen and hiding his body language again. He took an extra loud slurp of the coffee, just to be annoying. “Talia never lied to me. She said that nobody cared enough to save me. And guess what!”

Steph’s jaw clenched again. She was a hot head. A fierce temper, an impulsive girl who jumped in feet first and sanity second. Woman, now. When had that happened? “Cut that shit out. We all know what you’re doing. You’ve been doing it to everyone. Did you think Connor didn’t warn us?”

Snitch. Tim slurped his coffee again. “Connor’s been telling everyone to give me space.”

“Yeah, everyone but us.” She stood up now, ignoring the flicker of a frown on Cass’ face, and folded her arms. A challenge against the world. Against Tim. It didn’t matter. “You don’t believe half the shit you’re spewing. You’ve never believed your own bullshit, Tim. You’re just saying it to drive everybody away. It’s not going to work on us.”

“Why?” Tim asked innocently. “You’re too thick?”

“Because we love you!” Steph cried. Tim rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. “Saving Richie proved it, you aren’t as insane as you keep pretending you are. You know what you’re doing is wrong, you just don’t care.”

“Wow, you caught me.” Tim took another long swig of his coffee. It was making his hands jittery. Good. “Local genius aware of his actions. Call the press. Call Uncle Clark, he needs a scoop.” He arched an eyebrow at Steph. She hated that expression of his - she had always found it so aristocratic and pretentious. Joke’s on her, he was pretentious. “Do you mind if I go do a line? I’m not high enough for this conversation.”

If she had told him who she was, he would have done a line anyway just to spite her, and she knew it. “You don’t want to try,” Steph said stubbornly, “but you’re trying. You don’t want to care, but you care. You don’t want to feel it, but it hurts so much you can’t bear it. You can’t get anything past us, Tim. It’s always just been us. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Doesn’t that mean -

“What that means,” Tim said, and he found the words scraping his throat. He found himself talking a little louder than he meant to. The coffee, you know. Made you jittery. “is that you should have saved me. If you loved me so fucking much, you would have been anything other than useless. You’ve always been the most useless girl in the world, Steph. You couldn’t save your crook of a dad or your junkie of a mom. You couldn’t save your baby and you couldn’t save me. You’re ghetto trash putting on airs, and everyone can smell it on you.”

As soon as he said it, he tensed. He shifted his stance, ready to throw the coffee and spill the scalding liquid on her. Obscure her vision. It would take a second for her to vault the cover, so he could duck down. From there he could get the gun, shoot the window, jump out the window. She couldn’t win. Tim had the most powerful weapon in the world in his disposal and that was his infinite, burning hate. His hate for Steph and Cass burned him to the ground, and his world with it, and he was going to burn them to cinders because he couldn’t do anything else. 

But Steph didn’t move. Cass got off the sofa. She walked up to Steph, and gently pressed a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed. Steph exhaled, long and shaking, and nodded at Cass. She walked into Tim’s bedroom - hey! - and shut the door. 

Then Cass stared at Tim, and there was no more need for words. Not between them. 

Tim vaulted the cut away wall, aiming for her feet first. Cass didn’t dodge - that would imply that she moved like an object moved. She moved like water moved - swift and supple, with such infinite grace and precision that it was like she wasn’t human at all. 

But he had gotten better. He didn’t spend two and half years trained by the League of Assassins in crochet. Tim lashed out with a foot, she dodged again. He threw a punch, she moved. He feinted, clearly leaving her an opening, and she didn’t take it. 

Bitch. 

Cass shoved away his coffee table, sending it skidding across the floor and opening the floor space. The rug became their arena, tight and intimate, no room for maneuverability. Tim acted and she reacted, Tim lashed out a sweep kick and she jumped over it, Tim tried to grapple and she broke his hold. She never threw him to the ground, never pinned him. She just moved. 

She was good, but not good enough to toy with him and win completely. The way to win against Cass was to leverage your height - Tim was taller than he once was, although that wasn’t saying much - weight, and strength against her. A couple good hits and she was down. 

The issue, of course, was hitting her. 

He got a hit in. It was much easier when she wasn’t even fighting back. She rolled with it effortlessly, taking the impact to gain a little space between them. She breathed deeply, sweat rolling down her neck. Tim used to take a cold compress and press it to that neck. She used to smile at him. Thank you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said. 

“Too bad,” Tim said. 

Fights weren’t like in television, long and choreographed extended scenes to entertain and thrill. When Ro - Tim was in a fight, a real fight, it was typically finished in less than a minute. The only way that a match can get long is if the other person was deliberately tiring you out - a risky strategy - or if you were of completely equal strengths with similar fighting styles. Or if it was a spar. 

As Tim tried to hit her again and again, he realized that it was a spar. 

No, not even that. It was a conversation. 

Tim grabbed her wrist, and said: I want you to hurt. Cass broke the hold, telling him that he can’t. Tim leveraged the motion and kneed her in the back, telling her that the only goal of this fight was pain. Cass let the impact take her down to the mat, an incredibly disadvantageous position, but rolled out of the way just as Tim tried to exploit the opportunity. I’m not scared of you. Tim hit again, and again, and again, failing every time. I want you gone, Tim said, and this is the only way I know how to do it. 

This is what Tim said: as much as I once loved you, I now hate you. The infinite depths of my love, my twin sister, how we moved in perfect sync. I hate it all. As much as I cared, I now hate. Feel this hate. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said. 

They moved in perfect sync, even now. Cass couldn’t predict his movements before he made them, like she used to - his training was different now, developed and refined. But Cass knew the League of Assassins too, had been trained by them just as he had, and they were written into her bones when they were only carved into Tim’s. After his third patented Talia move, she adjusted to fit his style, and their fight metamorphosed into more of a dance. Like they used to. 

“Why not!” Tim screamed, the stupidest possible thing to do in a fight, but Cass didn’t take advantage of his exhale. He lashed out a fist to cover the opening, but it was lazy and over-extended, and she dodged easily. “I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tim desperately tried to call the green to his vision. It was so easy. All he had to do was tap into that rage. Talia had called it blood lust. Said it was normal, even good. But it wouldn’t come. Where was it? It was his only friend. 

Desperately, Tim went in for another punch to the face - Cass’ jaw was the weakest part of her body, an old injury - but he over-extended again, and this time Cass took the opportunity. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, dropping him to the mat. She didn’t try to twist him around, instead landing him on his back. Bad move for her. 

She kneed him in the chest, putting her full hundred and thirty pounds on him. She twisted his hands behind his back, pinning him, and Tim could do barely more than wheeze. 

He looked at her in the eyes for the first time. They were infuriatingly calm. Her hair was tangled and clumped with sweat, but she wasn’t breathing hard. Her expression was placid and serene, as if she was watching one of her stupid fucking nature documentaries instead of pinning her brother to a hard and scratchy rug in a shithole apartment, three years after he was tortured to insanity and shot himself in the head. 

So much time had passed. So much had happened, nasty and festering and putrid, and Tim had let it happen. He had made it happen. There was a rot in Tim, and it had eaten him up until there was nothing inside. If you cut him open, would it spill out? Would it infect her, infect Steph? Could he make them suffer?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass repeated. “So don’t be scared.”

“Scared?! I’m not fucking -” Tim wheezed, cut off by the lack of air as Cass pressed down. 

“I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. But I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill -”

Cass pressed down on his chest again, cutting him off. She had finally done the one thing nobody in Tim’s life had ever figured out: how to make him shut up. “You can be as mean to me as you want. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay.”

Tim wheezed. In that, maybe, Cass heard something, because she continued as if he had spoken. Or maybe she just wanted the chance to talk. It had been stolen from her for thirteen years, and it was valuable to her. 

“You do not have to be kind. You do not have to hug me, even if I want you to. You do not have to be my brother. I know it hurts too much. But you are me. I am you. You do not even have to try for that. I do not have to give it to you. You have it.”

Tim couldn’t help it. He cried a little, and then he couldn’t stop. 

Cass got off him, but she kept her promise. She didn’t hug him. She just propped him up against the sofa, holding his hand, and didn’t speak. At some point the door creaked, and he felt Stephanie next to him. 

This is why, Tim thought hysterically, he had been avoiding them.

He knew this would happen. There was no hiding from Cass. There was no posturing, no pretending. She didn’t want anything from him. She never had. There was nothing he could say that would drive her away, because Cass did not listen to the words people spoke. She spoke only for clarity, when she could not afford for her words to be misconstrued, and for the comfort of others. 

Cass knew that he had been lying out of his ass. Cass knew that he wasn’t as insane as he pretended, as cruel as he wanted to be. 

He couldn’t make Cass hate him. Shit. 

None of them said anything. Nothing needed to be said, not between the three of them. Cass might be having a silent conversation in Sign with Steph, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. When they had first met, it used to make Steph so mad that Tim and Cass were having ‘secret conversations’. She had poured over her dictionaries, learning as quickly as physically possible so she could keep up. Everything Steph had, she had worked hard for. 

Steph was in college now. Premed. She wanted to be an ER doctor. Steph wasn’t a genius, she had to study hard. She wouldn’t be able to superhero in med school, so she was ready to hang up her cape for a few years until she achieved her dream. Steph said that she could do just as much good as a doctor as a superhero. She hadn’t always wanted it. When they were kids and Bruce used to ask her what she wanted to do when she grew up, in his awkward faux-dad way, she had always shrugged and said that she might be a nurse. 

“Why not med school?” Bruce had suggested, between sleepy spoonfuls of oatmeal. She used to spend more nights at their place than at her own. Her mom hadn’t noticed. 

Steph had just shrugged awkwardly, nibbling her whole-wheat organic toast that she would stare at suspiciously. Rich people, she would say, sighing. “I would never be able to afford it. And no way I’m smart enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Bruce said, which was the closest he ever came to praising somebody. “I’ll pay for it.”

Steph had gaped. Cass had eaten her Lucky Charms smugly. Tim had rolled his eyes. “An in-the-know doctor for the vigilante community would be invaluable,” he had informed her, pretentious and callous. “We could use you.”

“You deserve it,” Cass had signed. 

“You have a bright future, Stephanie,” Bruce said, buckling under the panic of being a responsible adult. “I would hate to see you waste it.”

He would hate to see any of them waste their future. He had hated to see what Tim had become. He knew that. The last time he had ever seen Bruce, it was just to disappoint him. Bruce was the only parent he had ever had, and his standards were so sky high it was impossible to do anything other than disappoint. 

The fact of the matter was this: he loved Cass and Steph more than he loved Bruce. He could hate Bruce. He could hate himself. But Cass and Steph…

Bruce had ear-marked a lot of money for Steph, both for whatever continuing education she chose and for her future. It had raised a lot of questions among the lawyer team, but ultimately she had been written off as another of his strays. Tim had left her a lot of money too. There probably wasn’t any point: when she married Cass she’d have equal access to the fortune. Rich people, Stephanie used to whisper in awe, looking at organic toast. 

Cass was majoring in dance. She wanted to be a ballerina. 

Tim’s future...Tim’s future…

“Or we can watch a nature documentary,” Steph said out loud. “If we all promise not to say a fucking word.”

Incredibly, unmistakably, irrevocably, Tim groaned. “Not the fucking bee one again.”

“I like the bees,” Cass said serenely. 

“If you aren’t going to get out of my house can I at least smoke up?” Tim asked miserably. 

“I brought gummy bears,” Steph said, chipper as ever, “which are way better.”

“I’m going to the fucking bathroom,” Tim grumbled, which everybody knew was as good as a yes. 

“If you take anything I’ll know,” Cass said serenely, and also threatened. 

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Steph and Cass high-fived, and Tim sulked angrily to the bathroom. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror - looking for Tim Drake, failing, as always - before opening it and grabbing his baggie of pills. 

He looked at it. He looked at the toilet. He looked at the baggie. 

He didn’t flush them. He put them back in the medicine cabinet. Tomorrow. He’ll do them tomorrow. Not today. He can hold out for 24 hours. It’ll be fine. 

For a wild, stupid, insane second, Tim wondered if he could say that tomorrow too. If tomorrow he would look at them and say: maybe tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…

If there was a future, for a fuck-up like him. 

The faint strains of Cass’ stupid fucking bee documentary began playing through the thin walls of his shitty little apartment, and Tim turned out the lights of his bathroom and closed the door, locking it securely behind him. 

[bucktitties]

pre-Eddie Begins thoughts

NOTE: I wrote most of this up last year at the beginning of the hiatus, so keep that in mind please, I just never finished it. But I want to have it posted before it all gets jossed by tonight’s episode, so here you go

So I had some thoughts about the upcoming Eddie Begins episode and how it can theoretically lead to buddie but are abso-fucking-lutely not going to happen let me live. I just want them out there in case they inspire someone else to write fic (y/y?)

Some background facts I/we know:

•Christopher is at least 8, possibly 9 y/o, by the end of 2019 •CP is usually diagnosed by the time a kid is 2 y/o*  •Eddie said he found out about Christopher’s CP diagnosis near the end of his first tour overseas and that’s when he signed up for a second one •Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was repealed in 2010 •I don’t know shit about the military

Therefore, it’s very possible that Eddie grew up pretty closeted considering his background, and when he decided to join the military/entered the Academy, DADT was probably still in effect. So this could be an excellent way for the show to introduce us to the idea that Eddie’s not as straight as we thought. Eddie’s very big on duty and that sort of thing, so I doubt he’d actually cheat on Shannon while overseas. Though I could see him maybe almost kissing a guy (and then of course they agree never to speak of it again because DADT) or some kind of parallel to that really intense kitchen scene he had with Buck (“I’d take you” jfc nobody fucking talk to me) and then feeling SUPER guilty about it. 

OMG WAIT what if he has some serious UST with a guy in his unit that ends up dying in that same mission Eddie ends up getting a silver star for?? and this guy is like the one that got away or something** and Buck reminds Eddie of him??? no I need a moment.

tl;dr- Eddie could very well be closeted based on his upbringing and being a part of the military during the DADT era 

*based on the preview clip just released, Christopher was probably much younger when he was diagnosed, but the point still stands  **I DID NOT KNOW 3x16 was going to be called that when I wrote this, so mark that one as jossed 

sidenote: we better get some Shannon scenes. I liked the actress edit: yay we are!

[gelo-p]

What trying for T10 ~kinda~ looks like

My friend said that the last thing I wrote was all over the place so I decided to rewrite all of it. >_>

So what’s this about?

This is just my own experience (and in a way, method) about tiering in Bandori; most of these, you’ve probably already read somewhere else. To be frank, tiering in Bandori can be summarized as “get the best team you can, prepare lots of flames, pick meta songs, and go like hell”. However, I think it’s important to visualize and plan out what “going like hell” really means.

Most of these will be written as if you’re trying to get into T10 as a solo player.

First things first - Bestdori is your friend.

Bestdori is a website that lets you determine exactly how strong your team really is. If you haven’t checked it out yet, please do so; it’s invaluable in making estimates. Set up an account (you don’t have to, but it’s convenient later on), enter your cards and area items, and then use Bestdori’s team builder feature to determine what the best team to use is for a specific event. This post assumes you won’t need help in using Bestdori; I might write a separate post for that later.

(huge thanks to u/NonSpicyBurrito over at reddit and the rest of the Bestdori team for making an excellent tool ^^)

Table of Contents

“Estimate how much EP you’ll need”: A Fallacy

There are no guarantees, so prepare to lose efficiently

Automating the Guesswork: The T10 Calc

Input: Active Hours Per Day

Input: Multi-Live Score (includes VS Live)

Input: Multi-Live Duration

Input: Challenge Live Score

Input: Challenge Live Duration

Input: Final Hours Sprint

Planning your daily Multi-Live Progress

Planning your daily Challenge Live Progress

Hold on - what’s a “set” ???

Tracking your Flames (and CL’s) per day

Miscellaneous Tips

Final words

I. “Estimate how much EP you’ll need”: A Fallacy

Getting into your desired tier (T1, T2, T3, T10, T100, T1000...) is all about getting enough event points (EP) before the event ends, and nothing else. If only 99 people have higher EP than you, then congrats, you make it to the top 100! And if your EP is so high that only 9 people have it higher, then you make it to the Top 10.

However, there is no good way to estimate how much EP you’ll need to ensure getting into the desired tier. The moment you think you’ve figured it out, the other players start upping the ante and all of a sudden you’re left in the dust.

For example: when I first started estimating the EP I’ll need for Cycling Seasons, I figured 16M would be enough for T10, based on some foolish assumption using data from the last Challenge Live (which was My Ideal). Having read other posts by the other T10′s (post-event), they wondered if 18M would be enough. Surprise, the cutoff turned out to be 18.5M - and I personally did 19.2M.

Where did 18.5M come from? Nowhere. Nobody decided before the event to just “stop” at 18.5M and call it a day. And that’s why you can never actually estimate how much EP you’ll need. As long as there’s someone crazier than you out there, that cutoff is going to be pushed higher and higher.

II. There are no guarantees, so prepare to lose efficiently

Read that header again and again until it sinks in. There are no guarantees. I can tell from personal experience: during the Cycling Seasons event, the player who finished at T11 had a better team than I did (I know from periodically tracking their score), but I was able to put in more effort.

All you can do is put in as much effort as you can, using the best team you can get your hands on; however, should this not work out, you should also learn how to lose efficiently.

There will come a point where the amount of effort you’ve done will almost always** guarantee you a spot in T100. You have to decide at that point - usually after 2 days of playing at T10 pace - if keeping up with T10 is worth it or not. If you decide not to, then congratulations on an early T100.

** In the absolutely rare-as-hell event (never happened before AFAIK because seriously this is crazy AF) that 100 people fight for T10, then you’re going to have to put more effort to stay in T100. Otherwise, just play defensively, and keep yourself above T50. It’ll be easy at that point.

III. Automating the Guesswork: The T10 Calc

If you’re still willing to take the risk, then let’s start talking numbers. This was the first step in planning for me: making sure I know the numbers behind what I’m about to do.

First, grab a copy of the T10 Calc spreadsheet, since this pretty much streamlines the entire estimation process.

T10 Calc over at Google Sheets

Note: I know it’s ironic how it’s called the T10 Calc when I said there are no guarantees, but that’s what I call it, so... ^^;

Go to the EP Estimator Sheet and fill up the inputs.

Num Full Days - An event is always N Days + 6 hours long, so enter the number of full days here. It’s officially announced a day before the actual event, but sometimes Bestdori already has that info as early as a week before. Some events are just 6 days long (lucky~) while others can reach up to 12 (fuck me ugh). Typically it’s 8 or 9.

Num Hours Last Day - An even is always N Days + 6 hours long, so usually keep this at 6. There is a special case where you might want to change this though, discussed later.

Active Hours per Day - The number of hours per day you’ll be playing. This doesn’t include breaks, i.e. Active Hours + Sleep + Breaks = 24

ML Score - Compute using Bestdori. This is your score when playing in Multi-Live / VS Live using 3 flames.

ML Duration  - The average duration of a Multi-Live. This is different from the average duration of a song.

CP required per CL: This pretty much stays at 800, since this is the most efficient, time-wise. (There are 200/400-CP CL’s, we won’t use those)

CL score - Compute using Bestdori. This is your score when playing a Challenge Live. If the event isn’t a Challenge Live, please set this to 0 or leave blank.

CL duration - The average duration of a Challenge Live. This is different from the average duration of the challenge song.

Final hours sprint - Specific to Challenge Live events, it’s possible to hold back your CP’s, and instead use them during the final 6 hours of the event.

IV. Input: Active Hours Per Day

The average person can do 14 active hours per day. Which means 14 hours of staring at your phone, and 10 hours left for eating / having a life / sleeping. I found this the hard way; you’re free to make your own estimate. You can bump this up to something higher (I did 14.3), but make sure you don’t lose too much sleep / time for other activities. The higher you can push this, the better.

Have you ever wondered how T1 / T2 / T3′s always get crazy-high scores? Well, they can set this to 24 by sharing their account with teammates using the Data Transfer feature. By having teammates who can take over your account while you rest, your account can do 24 hours a day of gaming. I personally don’t do it (I’m a soloist all the way~), but it doesn’t seem to be a banned practice, so get your own team if you want those titles.

Thankfully, there are only 1-to-3 of these accounts per event, leaving some space for solo players to actually get to T10. WARNING THOUGH! If after a couple of days, you can’t get into T10 because they all have crazy high scores, give up and settle for T100. You can’t fight a 24/7 account.

V. Input: Multi-Live Score (includes VS Lives)

Note: For VS Live Events, you’re obviously expected to play VS Lives instead of Multi-Lives, but for the purpose of naming variables I stuck to the “ML” naming scheme.

No matter the event type, you’re going to have to compute an ML score using Bestdori.

Always use 3 flames for your computation, and because Bestdori gives you the maximum points achievable, dial it down for safety. In my case, I used 4275 instead of 4380. Initially it was 4200; however, after 2 days, I realized that it’s too safe (my actual score was waaaay above my calc sheet’s estimate) so I bumped it up to 4275.

Please note that different event types will give you different scores for the same team; Multi-Lives during Challenge Live events give you a lower EP compared to, say, a VS Live event, because during a Challenge Live, you’re expected to get some of your scores from the Challenge Lives. VS Lives give just a bit more EP than Challenge Lives; however, there won’t actually be any Challenge Lives, so the final EP is smaller. Normal events (where you’re expected to farm using ML’s alone) give the highest EP per ML.

ML Score is directly tied to the room score, and there are four ways to bump it up:

Increase your band’s power. Max out all your area items, and follow Bestdori’s recommended band. If you can afford it, buy your way into better members. Prioritize maxing out items that match the Characters / Attribute of the event.

Choose a Leader with a 90/100/110/115% score boost, and max out their level. Bestdori would have already done this for you. For VS Live, increase everyone’s skill levels.

Join private rooms (where the members are high-level). Joining the Grand Room is okay (that’s what I did), but if you have high-level friends who can help you out with their high-level bands, then it’s better. Conversely, during VS Lives, you want to join a private room where everyone is weaker than you are.

Pick meta songs. Meta songs score higher in general compared to non-meta songs, so try to pick them as much as you can. These include Jumpin’, Unite from A to Z, Home Street, KIZUNA MUSIC, etc... You probably recognize this list.

VI. Input: Multi-Live Duration (includes VS Lives)

This is the amount it takes to complete an entire Multi-Live / VS Live, from the moment you press the “Live” button to the next time you’re able to press it again.

There are two ways to dial down ML duration:

Join private rooms. On average, ML duration is 3.5 minutes in the Grand Room; if someone disconnects, or takes a reeeeally long time to pick, it can take up to 4, even 5 minutes. A good game in a public room is 2 mins and 45 secs long, but those are far and few in between. By joining a private room and agreeing beforehand which songs and difficulties to pick, you can keep the average ML duration down.

Pick meta songs, again. Meta songs are shorter in general compared to non-meta songs, that’s why they’re really good for farming event points. You will keep running into these songs once you start tiering.

SPECIAL NOTE FOR VS LIVES: During VS Lives, there’s an Event Song room, which might prove to be faster than the Free Song room, since there’s no need to select the song. This is especially the case if the event song is a meta song; case in point, the Roselia vs Afterglow event, where the event song was Passionate Anthem. I suggest checking out the Event Room (and song) during the first day, and see if the ML Score and ML Duration will give you a better final EP compared to taking your chances over at the Free Song room.

VII. Input: Challenge Live Score

Note: If you’re not playing a Challenge Live event, set this to 0!

Specific to Challenge Live Events, you also have to compute your CL score. A Challenge Live event will have a list of featured songs (you can look this up in advance using Bestdori). Take for example the Cycling Seasons event:

Songs higher up in the list are better for your score, but I find that the first Hard song in the list is less tiring to play, giving me more consistent scores (in this case, Brand New Days level 18).

If you can genuinely manage playing the EX / SP songs multiple times consistently, then please do so.

Once you’ve settled into a song, calculate your CL score. Always use 800 CP.

Again, better to have a safety net, so instead of using 26,380 I used 25000. You’ll get a good feel for this value once you’ve actually started playing the CL songs. Just update the estimate later on.

You can bump this up by getting all members of your team as strong as you can. Area items, max skill levels.

VIII. Input: Challenge Live Duration

Like ML Duration, this is the amount it takes to complete an entire Challenge Live, from the moment you press the “Live” button to the next time you’re able to press it again. There’s no way to bring this down, since you’ll be playing the same song over and over again (to get a consistent CL score, see above).

Use an external timer to get the exact time this takes. Add a few seconds for safety, because the phone slows down after some time. For example, Brand New Days takes 2 mins 12 seconds long, but it can slow down up to 2 mins 22 secs long (according to my timing) once you’ve played enough.

IX. Input: Final Hours Sprint

This is unique to Challenge Lives, because it’s possible to stock up on CP’s and use them all up during the last hours of the event.

When this is set to > 0 (but capped at 6, for the number of hours in the last day), the estimator will calculate how much CP you should save up to perform the sprint during the last day.

A sprint is simply a period where you start using your CP’s. If you save up your CP’s until the very last hours, it’s possible to catch a few people off guard who thought you’ve ran out of CP already. Sprints let you earn a really high amount of EP in a short time, letting you overtake other people. There are still daily sprints, but not as much as the final day sprint. (You will still play Challenge Lives every day, you’re just not going to use them all up)

This will not affect your final score; this is just so your opponents could be tricked into not giving too much effort, thinking you use up your CP everyday. Please note however that most T10′s will also hold back their daily CP usage, but from what I gathered, most of them will sprint during the last full day, and not during the final 6 hours.

This won’t have any advantage if everyone else decides to hold back their sprints until the final 6 hours.

X. Planning your daily Multi-Live Progress

Now that you know how much effort you’ll be putting into tiering, you can now determine your Final EP and the number of Flames you’ll need to get there.

If you’re lacking in Flames, better start buying stars early. The premium boxes are the most economic; however, you have to buy them months in advance, because it takes 25 days to reap the full benefits.

If you’re not satisfied with your estimated Final EP, then you have to start finding ways to bring up your live scores, bring down your live durations, or increase how much time you can play for in a day.

Use Bestdori to simulate past events and see how you’ll fare. ^_^

Now, assuming you’re already satisfied with your target EP (again, no guarantees...), the next step is to ensure you’re on track getting there. This is where Flames used per full day comes in. If you want to evenly distribute the load over the duration of the entire event, then you must use at least this much flames per day. It’s easy to think you’ll just catch up, but might prove difficult (remember, you barely have enough time for sleep and other activities). On the other hand, if after reaching your quota you have enough strength to keep going, then please do so.

Of course, the final 6 hours isn’t a full day, so for that, please refer to Flames used during final hours.

XI. Planning your daily Challenge Live Progress

Note: The Challenge Live section should become empty if CL score is set to 0; conversely, the Normal / VS / Live Goals / Mission section should be empty if CL score is set to > 0. Also, a lot of these are just stats used in computing more important stats.

For Challenge Lives, the idea is the same: you have a quota of Flames to use per day, but now you also have a quota of Challenge Lives played per day. Both of these already take your Final Hours Sprint into account. The longer you plan to sprint, the more flames you have to consume per day, and the less CL’s you have to play per day (because you’re concentrating a lot of the CL’s in the final 6 hours). You’re still going to play the exact number of ML’s and CL’s, you’re just rearranging them.

If you don’t plan on sprinting (Final Hours Sprint = 0), then the final hours is just like any other day: the same amount of Flames and CL’s per hour, except for just 6 hours.

Should you decide to split the final 6 hours (Final Hours Sprint > 0, < 6), then you’ll have a few hours where you’re playing normally (mixed ML’s and CL’s), and then the final hours will be for CL’s only.

If you plan on using the full 6 hours for a final sprint (Final Hours Sprint = 6), then that’s all you need to do: play CL’s one after another for 6 hours straight. Please start at least half an hour earlier to account for possible interruptions. You need to consume all your Challenge Points before the event ends.

If you want to dedicate the final 6 hours to a sprint, but only want to do it for 4 hours (as an example), then please do the following:

Note your current total active hours.

Set num hours last day to 4.

Set final hours sprint to 4.

At this point, your total active hours should drop.

Slowly increase your active hours per day until you’re back to your original total active hours.

Since you’re “forfeiting” 2 hours of the final 6 hours, you have to make up for this by playing a bit more per day.

XII. Hold on - what’s a “set” ???

You need 800 CP to perform a Challenge Live, and in order to get 800 CP you need to play (in my example) 3.74 games on average. A “set” is the set of these 3.74 ML games + the CL it activates. That’s how you get set duration: 3.74 ML x 3.5 mins / ML + 2.37 mins of the CL = ~15.45 mins (it’s 15.46 when computed manually; Excel just rounded off 3.74 differently).

I just refer to it as a “set” for the purposes of calculation. Since you won’t actually be playing ML’s and CL’s one after the other (it’s more time-efficient to play a bunch of ML’s and then a bunch of ML’s, especially if you need to switch teams), you can just ignore the idea that you have to play in terms of “sets”.

XIII. Tracking your Flames (and CL’s) per day

Now that you know your daily quotas, it’s time to visualize them. Using the Excel file, head over to the Tracker Meta sheet:

Enter the current full day of the event, and it will automatically compute how many Flames and CL’s you should have used by the end of the current day.

Please keep playing until both “Remaining” fields are 0. ^_^ (they will of course increase once you move to the next day)

There is an Estimated Current Score based on the number of games you’ve played. If your actual score is below this estimated score after a day, then you overestimated your scores, and should immediately bring them down. Conversely, if your actual score is above the estimated score, then you made too safe estimates. You can probably increase your average ML score / CL score when that happens (I personally did this, from 4200 ML score to 4275).

To actually enter how many flames and CL’s you’ve consumed, head to the Tracker sheet.

Every time you finish a song (while the fireworks are exploding, to make better use of that time), enter a “3″ under the Flames column, or a “1″ under the Challenge column (if playing a CL). The timestamp should automatically be filled up (instructions inside the Excel file); if it doesn’t work, just delete the timestamp column, it’s not important anyway.

Note: The timestamp column has since been deleted, after migrating the document to Google Sheets. It’s not relevant anymore, but other functions should still work as intended.

Based on your current iteration (which day you’re in) and the number of games you’ve already played, you’ll know conveniently what time your misery would actually end for the day ^o^

(If you rest for one hour, you’ll find that the hours left won’t change, and that the estimated end time would also be pushed back one hour.)

It’s also possible to enter 0.25 / 0.5 under the Challenge column, if you somehow decide to play 200 / 400-CP CL’s. I don’t recommend it, but at least when starting out and just trying out the songs, you can still plot accurately.

One thing I personally do is enter a “2″ under the Flames section when I finish an ML with a score that’s significantly lower than my estimate. This lets me ensure that my estimated score won’t be higher than my actual score. However, I have to use one extra flame to catch up - and that means in the end, I’ll end up using more flames than what was actually planned.

Note: The tracker is only meant to be used until the last full day. I don’t think tracking the final 6 hours is necessarily useful; better to focus on just playing at that point, and give your best! ^o^

XIV. Miscellaneous Tips

During the first day, obviously, you’ll be playing CL’s after the ML’s (since you don’t have CP’s yet).

Starting the 3rd day, however, I found it easier to play all the CL’s before the all ML’s. This also lets me avoid a long-ass sprint (imagine finishing the last full day with a sprint... only to follow it up with a 5-hour sprint). This is only applicable if you plan to do a final sprint, since you’ll have reserved CP’s by this time. Your mileage may vary, just something you might want to consider.

Now, I didn’t discover this by accident - I actually woke up one morning and found there was no internet. Yes, that did happen. Thankfully, because I had enough CP to spare, I was able to stay productive and “passed” the time burning through my CP’s instead (mobile data proved to be stable enough for CL’s). That’s one advantage of not immediately consuming all your CP’s - it lets you stay productive (assuming you have mobile data) when the internet fails.

If you do lose internet and the only way to earn event points is via playing ML’s, then you’re fucked. Go to sleep, and make up for it once the internet is back. You have to hit your quotas, and if you aren’t playing, then you should be resting. Same thing when there’s an emergency maintenance.

When playing in a public room, if another player is taking too long to load, you might want to disconnect - especially when their progress bar resets. This is admittedly a dick move, but in my experience, 50% of the time, that player is going to lose connection in the middle of the game, and your room score is going to suffer. It’s still up to you. That said, don’t disconnect while loading a VS Live.

When you’re already tired, and you think there’s a chance you’ll fail the chosen song in Expert, just pick Hard. The billion times Jumpin’ was chosen, I played it in Hard. No shame in that.

You might want to start tracking the scores of other T10 contenders at some point. For non-Challenge Lives, this lets you know how many hours a day they’re actually playing (since EP gain is proportional to time played); for Challenge Lives, this can give you some idea if they’ve already sprinted or not (if they gained waaay more points than usual, you know they’ve expended some, maybe all, of their CP). Now, this info might not matter, since you already have a planned amount of effort anyway, but if you see that you’re severely lagging behind, start considering stepping up, or backing down.

If you do make it into the T10 at some point, make sure to set stupid profile comments. It’s your time under the spotlight, have fun with it XD (don’t put offensive comments please) ... just don’t take 30 minutes to decide.

Prime examples. 😎

XV. Final words

Whew! I don’t know how much of these is new information to any of you, but I hope at the very least that the Spreadsheet helps. >///< If you have questions please don’t hesitate to ask me!

Most people who try for T10 will have friends to help them. I cannot, in good faith, recommend doing this alone like I did, especially during a major event.

However, that being said, I can understand the feeling of wanting to do it anyway.

SO! Good luck, have fun, 7000+ go like hell, and hey-hey-hoh~! ^o^

[princezukohere]

Still friends *revisited* Part 1

(This is just to set the mood for what's in store, this chapter/part doesn't have much besides back stories and a bit of the reader/(character I've made) but do know that part two is where everything starts)

1623 words.

You always lived off the motto that things happened for a reason and when it happens, you grab on and go along or you leave it behind. You started off with a youtube channel which you posted on weekly doing challenges and tags with friends that you were close with. The subscriber number wasn't something you paid attention to, you could live without being the most watched person on your channel but the number did grow and it encouraged you to continue on with your channel. Singing was a passion of yours and as you had people who liked watching you do crazy things, maybe they'd like watching you do covers or perform songs that you wrote yourself.

Guitar and Piano were your two specialties and that's how you started, your first cover was Blank Space by Taylor and that's what got you noticed. Rosa thought you were unique and you'd be an excellent client, she got in contact with your parents and now she's your manager. The first step was getting a record label for you, of course, you had your fair share of being told no or that you were too young but Island Records saw something that other companies didn't see in you. To be fifteen and signed to a record label meant a lot to you and with that being said you would go through hoops that were on fire to impress them all.

Shawn was the first to make you feel really welcomed, he had been working on handwritten when you showed up and sometimes you ran into him in the middle of writing songs, he was actually someone you went to when you had an idea, you just weren't sure how to put it on paper. The collab was an accident actually, you two had been in the studio throwing lyrics back and forth, both with your guitars out. Imagination was a beautiful song and Shawn performing it by himself was amazing, but whenever you two were together and able to sing it like you did when recording it, it was electrical. 

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

"When you and Shawn first met, you two hit it off correct?" Jasmine asked you, you nodded crossing your legs as she looked back down at her cards. "Imagination, though it came out when he wrote Handwritten and now he's released Illuminate, was it hard to find the perfect words?" 

"I don't think so. Shawn takes pride in whatever he releases so though we joked around a lot we were serious about the song. When you write music, you don't want the process to be hard, in my opinion, if it's hard then you aren't putting your heart into it or you may be overthinking. The lyrics may be crap when you first see them on paper but that's when you revise it."

"Opportunity was your first album, how would you say that it set the tone for the rest of your career up until today?"

"Opportunity, I have a love-hate relationship with this album because I was fifteen when I released it and people saw this young fifteen year old with a soft voice. Then I released new songs and people didn't like the sound because it wasn't that fifteen year old anymore. I went downhill so fast in my head at that time because I released something that I thought I loved and to this day, I love the meaning behind betrayal and careless but I love the songs more because I tried so hard to get my feelings on paper. Shawn released his album in April, I got to sing imagination with him so it brought a little attention to me and my youtube channel and then I felt like I needed to get an album out because I had a bigger audience after that." 

"How did you overcome that? You're seventeen now and you've released regenerated a few months ago so something must have snapped."

"Once again it was Shawn, I wrote regenerated for a year, and it only has twelve songs and four bonus tracks. I would miss school because girls were mean and guys were creeps. Some liked my music and now they wanted to be my friend and some didn't like my music and thought I was a wannabe, going back to school was not the best idea in my parents or managers eyes but I wanted to prove I could do it and I got so stressed. I went to the studio one day and I was writing lyrics like crazy and letting my anger out. The lyrics were shit but I hated feeling useless when it came to something I was passionate about. Shawn looked me in the eye and said, 'Don't release what they want you to, release what you think they'll want to hear, what you want to hear.' After that I wanted to partner with people, Hailee Steinfeld is an amazing friend of mine and we did a love yourself remix together. Bea Miller and I wrote Yes Girl and performed it together, people then started realizing my voice wasn't always innocent and then I started on regenerated." You explained.

"Can you give us a rundown of your favorite songs off of regenerated?"

"Regenerated was named that because I wanted it to mean that it was a new me, a new album, a new beginning, and the first track starts off really strong, I decided to go back in my life and work on this album"

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

Liar

Liar was a song about my dad, my dad was in and out of the house so it was just me and my mom and our dog. My mom was my best friend at such a young age and it was emotional to write because I always wished I had that father figure in my life and I didn't until I was thirteen.

Alone

Alone was the song I wrote for my mom, she died when I was eleven and my dad had been taken to jail months before. To be eleven and walk into a room and see your mom not there is unexplainable. I was picked up from school that day by CPS because my mom checked into the hospital and she didn't want me there when she passed away.

Lost girl

Lost Girl was the song meant for my third foster home, being switched like that was stressful, thankfully I went to the same school each time and that rarely ever happens. I felt alone and misunderstood and like I had no place, I felt lost and I didn't think I could express my feelings anywhere.

Runner

Now I never snuck out but I vividly remember dreams of always sneaking out when I was in my second foster home, Of course, I was only twelve so where was I going to go?

Taken Care of

This song is when I finally got to my fourth foster home and I was adopted, they adopted me before I turned thirteen but when I did turn thirteen I remember that was the first day I called him dad, Aaron is a great guy and I love him.

Thank you

Thank you is a song to my manager, my record label, my mom, and dad, to Shawn and to the fans most importantly. I made one cover and they loved it and it encouraged me to make more and now here I am talking about my second album. I feel like saying thank you isn't always enough so I put it in song lyrics.

See you soon

Shawn actually helped me write this, it's on my bonus track and we were going to sing it together but then last minute he had to leave, it's a song between two people. Shawn and I are both busy and we get that we don't get to see each other that often when he's in Europe and I'm in America or vice versa so see you soon is goodbye but not goodbye because we'll see each other soon.

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

"So you and Shawn have officially broken up, you seem to talk about him a lot, good things of course. Do you still have feelings for him?"

"Yeah, it wasn't a bad breakup and feelings can be hard to get rid of." You started, "But I speak of him because he's still my friend and we still talk and I still trust him. The breakup was mutual and sometimes when you're young it's hard to keep these commitments. I'm seventeen and he's eighteen, we're both traveling and it can get stressful and complicated." You finished explaining.

"It's great that you two can still be friends, it sucks seeing two celebrities go down hill with one another." The interviewer started.

"I don't really like the term celebrity, it makes me feel as if I'm being put in a box...but yeah when it happened Shawn and I agreed to stay friends and that if the other ever needed something we would be there and so far we've kept that promise."

"Amazing, well thank you for joining us but that's all the time we have. It was a pleasure having you on the show N/Y." 

"It was a pleasure to be here." You spoke before getting up, you two shook hands before you walked off stage.  Shawn was in your head again, though he always was. It made you regret not being able to work it out or work through it somehow.