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svtskneecaps · 7 months

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feel like the global tasks sweep strat should probably be nerfed somehow. my thought would be, give each team an individual ten minute overall cooldown on global task claims. that is to say, a certain team can only claim one global task per ten minutes. say, deliver gas masks, and then in ten minutes you're allowed to deliver tea, and then after another ten minutes you can claim hot chocolate.

another teams would be able to claim a global task for bananas during this time, and their own ten minute cooldown would start.

(the global tasks can either keep their individual ten minute cooldown [i.e. after tea is claimed no one else can claim tea for ten minutes] or a slightly shorter cooldown, say 5-7 minutes)

when a global task is claimed, everyone is notified, right? if not, in my hypothetical, they will be.

then, a team trying to sweep six tasks at once would actually take sixty minutes to do, allowing another team to swoop in and have a chance to stop it in cinematic, entertaining fashion rather than tubbo having to grind resources and then log out in front of the merchant to counter this, which is boring for everyone (including the person delivering). plus, if a team cuts it down to the last second and ends up getting delayed, they physically wouldn't have time to make a delivery, meaning even being a BIT of a nuisance could be a viable strategy, even if you can't manage to kill; if you can STALL you could still wreck their plans.

that's my dream anyway idk i'm not a game designer. just think it would be interesting for most players

(i elaborate under)

red team would have to shake up their strategies, which is fun since they're a team that kinda has to rely more on strategy than outright brawn (overall the team's pvp can't be relied on unless they have carre or phil, as seen today when pierre, bad, and etoiles attacked phil cellbit foolish and baghera, and cellbit and foolish both died to etoiles in the attack, despite it being a 4 on 1 at the time. baghera was killed by bad soon after. phil was the one to get the kills. the first day, when blue attacked [niki, tubbo, and bad as i recall] carre got both kills)

the other teams would then still have a way to stop a global sweep since a sweep would have to start earlier, allowing not only more time to arrive at global to pvp about it, but ALSO allowing another team to swoop in and steal the goal out from under the team again

i'm gonna use it in a scenario bc i'm badboyhalo and i can't stop myself from making examples:

so, tonight, if the proposed cooldown was in place, bad and tubbo would both still had roughly 17 minutes when red team would have HAD to start the sweep process if they wanted all six global tasks: 1 hour until the server closed at absolute MINIMUM. more for safety's sake.

therefore, in this scenario, there's a lot to happen

blue team could wait at globals, knowing red will probably try this strategy, and attempt or perhaps SUCCEED in killing red. if they kill red entirely, the operation is a wash; red doesn't have to gear to come back from scratch and take out blue team, and even if they could, the travel time to return to globals alone would mean they wouldn't get all the global tasks, potentially meaning they don't take the lead. if blue team is unable to kill red and dies themselves or has to retreat, but succeeds in delaying red, red would face the same problem.

if red sends in all of the task items on one person, and that person dies, even if the rest survived, blue could loot the items from that person and would be able to either use the items themselves, if green is currently the owner, or could run away with the items, effectively wasting red's time and again, meaning they wouldn't get all tasks claimed even if they were able to overtake the runner and reclaim their items.

i'm unclear what would happen if red divided the task items between them since it seems like the person claiming the task doesn't have to have all (or any? again, unclear) the items in THEIR inventory in order to claim so long as a teammate is nearby with the items in their inv (evidence: pac's vod "voltei... o que tá acontecendo no QSMP?!" at roughly 3:00:00; tubbo claims tea and tea is taken out of pac's inventory. i don't know the limits of this strategy)

blue team also has time to swoop in and steal a global task out from under red during this time. say, if red team had claimed the task for 10 tea leaves, upping the price to 15 tea leaves, and then blue team snuck in and claimed the task and set the price up to 20 tea leaves, (since the proposed 10 minute cooldown on claims would be TEAM LIMITED; red's cooldown applying to red only and so on). if red waited until the last second, they wouldn't have the time to reclaim this task even if they did have the resources, possibly forcing them to start their sweep earlier to counter this possibility, at which point team members who had logged on earlier and are out of time by the end of the night, OR members who live in time zones that don't allow them to stay up until server close, may have an easier shot at participating in defending against a global sweep.

all of this DIRECT CONFLICT would make for good audience entertainment and heighten the stakes of an attempted global sweep, since it would practically have to be one team defending globals for an hour while they pipe all their resources into it, knowing that if they die another team could easily swipe their task resources and use it themselves (along with the rest of their gear). it makes it more interesting, while still mostly viable.

plus it would force more strategizing for red team which is maybe just a personal plus, i just really like seeing people planning both in advance and in spur of the moment. it's really satisfying to see how a plan comes together and succeeds or fails; plus, since red team is the main team using this strategy at the moment and their main draw and strength as a team is cohesion and communication this would be completely fucking riveting for me as a viewer so maybe this is just a personal thing. but i really really think it would be fun

but again, i'm not a game designer, or a qsmp player, or a qsmp admin, or honestly even really a gamer? so maybe i'm off my rocker and out of my gourd and this isn't viable or balanced in any way shape or form but YKNOW what is this blog except putting stupid thoughts into the void and seeing if this time the void spits back hate mail so. i'm folding this into a paper airplane and throwing it into the abyss. hopefully it made sense.

k love you appreciate you getting this far, have a good week!!

(i hope your team gets a win in dramatic fashion and celebrates together!!! i hope they come together and unleash a plan so spectacular it takes the server by storm!!! i hope it's so good it becomes a vod you go back to even years in the future!!!! i hope you have a good week!!!!!)

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #shut up vic #block game brainrot #yes it's long beneath the keep reading no i'm incapable of being succinct #i color coded the important parts though i just wanted to try to be clear #examples are my bread and butter i do programming and math they make everything easier for me to understand #god i hope this makes sense to other people i didn't ask my biological peer reviewer so idk if this is stupid or not #tbh it's just a tumblr post so i guess it's whatever if it is but i put wayyy more work than necessary into double checking timelines lol #(i didn't watch blue today sorry :/ idr if i mentioned in the body of the post but i main red team)#(their energy is just more entertaining for me personally; though i kept an eye on pac once i could multi-watch!)#anyway other team mains feel free to weigh in if i'm making weird assumptions about what the teams are capable of #heaven knows my pov is biased here LMFAO #((for what it's worth i am fully aware this means red team aren't rly underdogs anymore and i super want them to be kicked in the stomach))#((back to the drawing board; what will they do??? I WANT TO KNOW :O))#((seeing them crawling back to victory from being like two pixels on the bar on sunday was great. more of that pls))#idk i've rambled enough #long tags #ignoring daylight savings it's technically one am goodnight friends i hope this post doesn't suck hahahaha...............#OH AND IF ANYONE THINKS I SHOULD TAG SOMETHING FOR FILTER PURPOSES ABSOLUTELY LET ME KNOW #i want to be courteous but i think this post is pretty neutral in tone? but if you think it deserves a tag i will absolutely add it!!!!!

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afraidparade · 2 years

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Fluff is great and all but I wanted to make a request for some Lufa hurt/comfort. No pressure the ofc.

i hope you will accept some in the form of writing 🙏

(faust gets injured, luka's the one who's hurting. BIG juicy faust lore in this one)

"High Pain Tolerance"

Word count: 3650

Content warnings: physical injury, scars, trauma, mentions of abuse, mentions of death

_____________

“Yup. That’s dislocated.”

Luka’s face froze in expressionlessness. He tended to be a rather stone-faced individual, but there were notable dissimilarities between his usual calm and whatever it was that he felt in that moment. Namely the way his lips parted slightly (despite the fact that he wasn’t breathing), and the pale, sickly complexion his skin took on when he realized what he’d done.

It had happened before — neither of them were particularly clumsy, it was just a risk that came with cohabitating alongside someone of a vastly different size — where Luka hadn’t been paying attention and accidentally knocked Faust off the surface of his desk with a casual, careless movement. He’d love to say that his protective instincts frequently sprung him into action, that he could flawlessly and heroically catch the falling demon in his palm whenever he was in danger, but truthfully, his reflexes weren’t all that fast. The only thing he could do was hiss out a curse and keep himself from toppling out of his own chair while he assessed the state of his roommate.

To Faust’s credit, Luka had noticed on numerous occasions just how sturdy he was for his size. The handful of times he’d fallen before, he ended up a little disoriented and sore, sure, but aside from him barking at the human for being so oafishly careless, the tumble didn’t seem to result in much else. So Luka wasn’t sure what was different about this time. Maybe the angle at which he hit the ground? Or perhaps he’d blindly shoved the little imp with more force than he realized? Either way, Faust’s shoulder was clearly swollen and quickly turning a dark reddish hue.

“How—“ Luka had to pause and close his mouth and swallow, since his throat had gone bone dry, “How do you know it’s not broken?” His mind began to race at the possibility. What would he even do if it was broken? It’s not like he could check a three-inch demon into a hospital, and Google could only help with so much.

Faust stared at the joint for a few seconds in thought, tapped it lightly, then winced as he attempted to move it. “It’s just not,” he concluded, his eyes flicking back upwards to meet Luka’s. Upon seeing that his companion didn’t seem fully satisfied with that answer, he huffed a sigh and added, “Look, let’s just say I have a lot of experience with this. It’s just dislocated, trust me.”

Just dislocated. Just dislocated. As if that diffused the situation entirely! As far as Luka could tell, this was the worst injury he’d been witness to in their time together. And he caused it. It was sinking in now. Slowly, more noticeable signs of distress became evident on Luka’s features. His brows furrowed and his eyes began to widen, and while he’d managed to resume breathing, all of his inhales were shallow.

“W-what do we do? How do we treat it?” he asked in a trembling voice. For every bit as panicked as Luka seemed, though, Faust seemed wholly unbothered. Mildly annoyed, if anything.

“What do you think, genius? We just pop it back into place. It’s a pain in the ass to do it myself, but luckily you’re here to help me out. Just don’t be too rough with it, or it’ll actually end up broken.”

No way. The thought alone nearly made Luka black out.

“I can’t do that!” Luka quickly rejected, his voice cracking with anxiety. Faust actually seemed surprised by this sudden outburst, as if his request had been as inconsequential as fetching a bandage to put over a tiny scrape. The demon had experienced Luka’s nonchalant whims plenty of times in the past, so maybe that bewilderment was justified. But this was just something Luka couldn’t do. “I’m– I’m too big, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t risk hurting you.”

Faust scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Luka felt nauseous. He knew it was meant as a playful jab, but it made the reality all too clear in his mind. He hurt Faust. This happened because of him. Faust acknowledged that. He said it out loud. He blamed him. Was that it? Had he destroyed nearly a year’s worth of trust? Would Faust forgive him? Would Faust leave him?

“Alright, whatever. You’re clearly too much of a wimp for this sort of thing, so I’ll just…” the imp’s voice trailed off as he straightened his back and brought his good hand to the wrist of his limp arm, then bit down on his lip with disquieting anticipation.

Luka’s blood went cold. But once again, his reflexes were far too slow. “Wai—“

Faust yanked the arm up and pushed back, then with a strained yelp and sickening pop, he stumbled forward a bit before dropping to his knees. “Fuck!” he hissed, gripping the wound that was now stained with an even angrier red. He took a moment to catch his breath, wincing every now and then as he tested the limits of how much he could move his arm in its current state. All in all, it was a marked improvement from how it had been a moment ago, but would certainly take several weeks to heal fully. Once he settled down again, Faust appeared no different than his usual, crabby self. “Shit, that hurt more than I was expecting. But maybe if a certain someone hadn’t thrown a fucking crybaby tantrum, I’d—“

Upon looking back up, Faust nearly bit his tongue from how quickly he forced his mouth shut. He knew Luka could get moody every now and then, but even still, the amount of times he’d actually seen the man cry could be counted with just one hand. Evidently, he could now add another finger to that count.

It started with a sniffle, a sharp intake of air as his body instinctively attempted to suppress the phenomenon, then when his eyelids quivered and his vision had gone completely blurry, he overflowed. Tears began to fall freely as strained sobs escaped the back of his throat, each one doubling in intensity from the last. His hands wavered and his fingers curled spastically, trapped between the decision of reaching for Faust, wiping his own face, or curling into tight fists on his lap. He stayed there, wobbling and weeping, unable to bring himself to do much else. This messy, desperate, speechless, fragile Luka was unlike anything Faust had experienced before. And the sight of his adoring caretaker shaking from his own bawling — the sheer helplessness he felt in that moment — wrenched something in Faust’s chest that hurt far worse than his shoulder.

“Wh– why are you crying?” the demon stammered, clueless as to how he should even begin to diffuse the situation, “I’m the one who—“

“I know!” Luka choked in a tone Faust had never heard before. He almost sounded…angry. But somehow, that bitterness didn’t feel as though it was directed towards him at all. Luka took in a shaky breath, forcefully quieting his tone. “I know you’re the one who got hurt. But I’m the one who hurt you. And- and even when I had a chance to make up for it, I couldn’t help you, I just…”

“Luka, for fuck’s sake, I was kidding! I’m not upset over a stupid accident, so calm down,” Faust tried. He didn’t exactly have experience in comforting others, but from the few times his human companion seemed to be in need of a reality check, remaining objective and sticking to his normal, crass self usually worked the best. He hoped the same would hold true this time, because truth be told, he didn’t have a Plan B. “Look, I’ve dealt with a lot worse, so I have a high pain tolerance. I already told you I’m used to this sort of thing, right? So—“

“But you shouldn’t HAVE to be!”

There was a heavy silence after that. Faust didn’t have a response. Truly, he had no idea what to think, let alone say. Sometimes the disparity between the two’s upbringings became all too great. And sometimes it slipped Faust’s mind that Luka didn’t even know the half of what he’d seen in his homeworld. Or what he’d done. As the arrhythmic hiccuping attempted to subside itself, the smaller man could only turn his gaze to the floor and realize he’d dug this grave all on his own. He felt utterly useless.

To say that Luka calmed down would be a severe overstatement, but at the very least, he managed to get his breathing under control. His eyes were still glassy, bloodshot, and sullen, while his gaze remained unfocused. It took a long time for him to come back from whatever daze he’d become lost in, but when he did, his voice was hoarse and painfully, heartbreakingly small.

“I’ve seen you cry over some really stupid things, Faust. But you never cry for yourself.”

Faust clenched his teeth. “So what?”

“It’s hard to watch, that’s what,” Luka replied, some of the agitation from earlier returning to his tone, “Why do you treat yourself as if you’re something expendable?”

The small, black claws of his good hand pressed so deep into his palm that Faust wouldn’t be shocked if he ended up breaking the skin there. But his voice stayed uncharacteristically level, almost resembling a convict under interrogation. “It’s what I was taught,” he answered simply.

“Then you should be mad to the point of tears about that, too.”

This time, there was no response. Sensing that the other had run out of manufactured responses for now, Luka took in a deep breath and continued, “Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’ve been through. And I’m not going to ask you about it, either. But I do know there’s something keeping you trapped in the past, and it’s doing something horrible to your mind. And not being able to…to help you, it’s such a scary feeling. I guess what happened just now was a result of not being able to handle that feeling anymore.”

Faust felt both a searing hotness and a hollow emptiness at his core. Was he supposed to apologize? He didn’t know what he’d be saying sorry for, so was there any point? And what did Luka know about fear? Real fear? That was about the only emotion Faust reserved for himself. So why did Luka bother wasting his own fear on such a pathetic cause? What a stupid, naive, all-too-human endeavor.

“I know I’m speaking out of turn here, and I’m sorry about that. I went and made your getting hurt all about me. I’m pretty lame, huh?” At this, the faintest smile pushed past the wet streaks on his face. “Though if you’d allow it, I’d like to make one more selfish request. Do you think you could put a little more trust in me, even if it’s just a fraction? I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’m the stupid idiot that pushed you off the desk in the first place, but until you finally get sick and tired enough to leave, you’re sort of stuck with me. And for as long as it’s the two of us, I want you to feel like it’s just that: the two of us. You’re not as alone in this as you think, okay?”

Ah.

What a miserable hypocrite he was, Faust realized, thinking he wrote the book on fear and being afraid. He didn’t understand it until now, but that burning emptiness inside of him did have a name. It was a new kind of fear to him: a fear built on hope. Without realizing it, that seedling of hope that longed to be happy, to be safe, and to be with this human whom he had grown…mildly attached to, had flourished and now branched into every fiber of his being. For once, Faust felt like he actually had a future. And nothing terrified him more.

He let out a slow, steady breath. One step at a time. Not to mention that during all this, Faust’s shoulder only began to throb more and more. “…For the record, I already thought you were lame,” Faust muttered, not quite smiling, but in a tone far from hostile. “So then, can I ‘trust’ you to help me make a sling?”

———

It didn’t take too long to gather the supplies for a sling, as well as some ice to apply to the injury. Both parties used the time to collect themselves individually, and after Luka had rinsed his face off and Faust pondered the nature of the other’s request, they reconvened at the scene of the incident. The sling was simple enough to craft out of an extra scrap of thin fabric Luka kept from one of his previous sewing attempts, and although the edges were too small for the human’s fingers to work into a knot, Faust made quick work of it using his uninjured hand and his teeth. Yet another display of his frighteningly extensive experience with this sort of scenario, but this time, neither commented on it.

“Are you able to take off your shirt? It’ll make it easier to see where I should put the ice,” Luka asked as he finished bundling a small lump of crushed ice in more leftover fabric.

The smaller nodded, catching the hem with his fingertips and tugging it upwards. It took quite a bit of wriggling and finessing, but eventually the demon was successful in sliding the garment over his arm and off his body. While Faust casually tossed the shirt to the side, thinking nothing of the motion he’d performed countless times in the human’s presence, Luka’s movements faltered and his stomach tightened. Now that the other’s back was exposed, he was reminded of the countless scars that marred the flesh there. Hundreds of discolored, thin gashes that overlapped each other in straight lines — some short, as if he had just been grazed, and others long, stretching nearly the entire length of his back — that appeared to have never healed quite right. That sinking, spiraling anxiety that sent him over the edge before came back to gnaw at his insides, but Luka reminded himself that he needed to focus on Faust’s wellbeing for the present moment. Unfortunately, it seemed like he had that realization just a second too late.

“Is something wrong?” the smaller asked, looking over his shoulder to see what the hold-up was. Upon seeing Luka bat his eyes in surprise and avert his gaze as he stammered for an answer, Faust sighed and faced forward again. “You’re worried about my scars?”

Luka frowned shamefully, but after collecting himself, he moved to position the makeshift ice bag on the swollen wound. “Sorry,” he apologized softly, pressing the fabric against the bruised flesh with a light touch, “I know that’s off-limits.”

Faust flinched as the stinging cold caused the entirety of his arm to throb, but after the initial shock subsided, he remained still and allowed Luka to apply a bit more pressure. A soothing numbness soon took the pain’s place. “No, it’s…fine.”

In the silence that followed, Faust furrowed his brows. Trust, huh? Well, he was already small, injured, and virtually defenseless. What was just a bit more vulnerability?

“…You know that I was a soldier. Or, that I at least trained to be one,” he began slowly. He didn’t need to turn around to sense Luka’s quiet surprise. “I, um… Actually, maybe this isn’t the best time to—“

“No,” Luka interjected, urgent but soft, “Please. If you’re comfortable with it.”

Faust swallowed. It didn’t look like he could back out of this one, so he continued after a brief pause, “You might find this hard to believe, but even in a world that’s…well, more me-sized, I’ve always been kind of small.” There were certainly several things Luka could have said about that. But he didn’t. “I’d always been the smallest demon in my platoon, from my very first memory of enlistment to the time of my, er, departure. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why they didn’t just label me as a runt at birth and kill me then. Maybe I just barely passed the acceptable threshold, or maybe it was someone’s idea of a sick joke. I doubt I’ll ever find out.”

“Anyways, it’s not like I was a pushover just because I was a little short. I trained like hell to catch up with the rest of my platoon, but it’s like my body just had a limit I couldn’t ever push past, no matter how hard I tried. And I fucking tried,” he added with a noticeable bitterness. “Demons are all born at the same level, but once they gain more power, they become bigger and stronger. We call those ‘High Ranks.’ And for every group of ‘Low Ranks’ — that’s what I am — one High Rank acts as their commanding officer and oversees their training. That’s where K… m-my platoon leader comes in.”

Faust swallowed dryly, his posture having gone stiff and his tail coiling in a tight spiral. Luka flashed a concerned frown, then bent forward slightly and gave his companion a light nudge.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “We can stop if you want.”

Upon hearing his roommate’s voice, Faust allowed himself to breathe and release the tension that had gathered in his muscles. He reminded himself of Luka’s affirmation that he wasn’t alone anymore, and managed to reel his mind back to the present.

“No, I’m good. It’s just not the greatest memory, y’know?” the tiny imp replied with renewed determination. “So…that High Rank I mentioned, he was pretty strict on everyone, but he had a method of training that relied on the weakest link. With every regiment, we would all train with the knowledge that whoever ‘he’ determined to perform the weakest would, um…” Faust swallowed, briefly weighing his options. He was already sharing an overwhelming amount, so maybe it was best to spare certain details from this story. “...Receive punishment. Brutal punishment.”

He reached to hug himself with the only arm that could manage to do so, grazing the edges of a few scars with his fingertips. Maybe it was the memory, or maybe it was just the cold from the ice pack, but he swore he could feel them aching.

“I-it wasn’t me every time. Sometimes someone else would fall behind, and I’d be left alone for a while. But…for better or for worse, they wouldn’t last very long, if you know what I mean. I don’t know how I did. Maybe all that extra training was good for something, or maybe he just wanted to keep me alive to…”

He inhaled sharply, cutting off the thought. “So, yeah. That’s basically the long and short of it. Now you know where my scars came from.”

Luka stared forward, speechless. Honestly, he wanted to cry again, but he wouldn’t. Faust didn’t need to deal with that twice in one day. He just didn’t know what else to do. He had wanted to learn the truth so he could help, but now that he knew it, he’d never felt less sure of what to do or say. Just how horrible had things been in Faust’s world? Were they still like that? How many demons like him were experiencing the exact same trauma at that very moment? The questions and uncertainties were maddening, but with the brittle thread of knowledge that Faust had finally been willing to open up to him, Luka kept himself together.

He opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, then closed it.

“Don’t tell me ‘I’m sorry’ or some stupid shit like that,” Faust sneered over his shoulder. His sour disposition brought the air of familiarity back to the room, which Luka welcomed readily.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied.

“You were,” the smaller drawled, waving a hand through the air, “You’ve got that sad, dopey look on your face. I don’t wanna hear it though. None of that has anything to do with you, and pity pisses me off.”

Luka laughed through his nose. While it was frustrating to see Faust dismiss his problems before, this felt different. Not quite dismissal, as much as acknowledgment and acceptance. That was a start.

Seeing as the ice had turned into more of a slush at this point and began to make quite the mess on his desk, Luka collected the small bundle into his cupped hand and began making motions to stand up. “Alright. How about a ‘thank you’ then?”

Faust looked up, confused frustration evident on his features. “For what? Telling you my sob story? I don’t want to hear that, either.”

The brunette shook his head. “No. I had a feeling that would upset you as well, so not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of a ‘thank you for not giving up,’” he said through a smile, “Maybe you think the reason you’re still alive is due to dumb luck or some sort of cruel conspiracy, but I think it’s because of your own perseverance. You’re just too stubborn to die.”

Luka stood fully and began exiting the room to discard the ice pack and tidy the small mess he’d made in gathering materials, but paused by the doorway to add one more statement to his previous sentiment. “Every choice you made that kept you alive eventually brought you to me. I couldn’t think of anything to be more grateful for.”

Faust couldn’t do much but stare at the empty doorway, even long after Luka had left. He swiped a hand across his face, stared down at the droplets that accumulated there, and huffed a short, incredulous laugh. After all that, this was what made him cry?

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