For all your silly time-killing forum games.
While the Lav-A is shielded from your kung-fu, it is not shielded from fluids. You have not peed in days, and decide to kill two birds with one stone and break the heater by urinating on it. It instantly breaks in a burst of sparks. A few days later, the lava has solidified and you can easily walk over it. Past the lava moat, there is a long path through a forest. You come to a fork in the road with three paths. The path to the left is labeled "death", the path straight ahead is labeled "free candy", and the path to the right is labeled "do not enter". Which way do you go?"
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He was a dreamer, a thinker, a speculative philosopher... or, as his wife would have it, an idiot.
Bow gifted by adnapemit.
We'll win, but not everyone will get out
= Surprised Cyclops
Blum Blum Shub (B.B.S.) is a pseudorandom number generator proposed in 1986 by Lenore Blum, Manuel Blum and Michael Shub that is derived from Michael O. Rabin's oblivious transfer mapping.
Shit, I habitually copy-paste my roleplay posts so I don't accidentally lose them upon sumbitting....
She counted on her fingers. One, teacup. Good. Two, empty glass. Not bad. Three, clown missing. Not what she had really wanted, but that couldn't be helped. It had been one of those visions, and trying to go up against them was usually a bad idea. People tended to forget that looking into the future was not an exact science or failed to realize that when you made it an exact science, you would inevitably end up with what had been predicted. Mysticism was an inevitable consequence of this, one way or the other.
Putting her hand down, she looked down at the cup. Yes, her tea was still there and it was still hot. Good. She took her drink and nipped at it, pondering the day's events in as occult a silence as she could manage. Small whirls of magical ambience floated through the air, until the waitress came by again and made a slightly placating hand gesture, which indicated that perhaps putting too much weird into the people's evening was not a very good idea on this day. Or any day, as lala found out momentarily. She stopped doing what she was anyway and finished the tea in merely thoughtful silence. It was good tea, and exquisitely hot to boot. Perfect for people who were used to an average temperature that would occasionally ignite normal human skin. It had been a very long time since she had visited home, or even heard from it. That was both reassuring and worrying at the same time, since well- news from her home came in a rather volatile and fiery package, but no news usually meant that things were going down and it was a shame to miss that kind of fun. Besides, it inevitably caused trouble on the upper planes when the devils got down to a good old-fashioned war. Perhaps she should have a look, or ask someone who had a convenient route to the lower levels of hell.
Better to do that at home. Again, running around looking into the place where demons lived could be a fiery affair and believe it or not, lala was actually fine with failing to do major property damage to her immediate surroundings. Which meant she should pay up. Shame about The Whitewasher that the clown had wasted by not drinking it- the remains of the bubbling white liquid were currently working their way through the second half of the wooden floor. That, she wouldn't pay for. Property damage caused by wasting a drink she bought for someone else was just not in her allowance. lala turned, waved gently for the waitress to come with the bill (which would be exorbiant) and focused on the coin she wanted. It was hanging on her necklace, but since stealing that kind of thing was far too easy for normal pickpockets, it was also not actually there. Which, understandably, made retrieving it slightly more difficult than it looked.
With a series of motions that looked like she was trying to make a cat's cradle out of her necklace while it was still around her neck, she retrieved a single coin. Just to be sure, she bit into it. Her teeth passed through, which meant that she had made a mistake somewhere. Back to the weaving, while the waitress politely turned to watch something else, even though lala knew she was being watched from the corner of an eye- partially to make sure she didn't bolt, and partially because lala was admittedly fascinating. It took her two minutes to get the right coin in exactly the right state so she could pay, and then it took another ten before the staff at the bar figured out what kind of coin it was so they could accept it. In the end, though, it worked out beautifully and everyone left thinking themselves richer. Some in a more literal sense than others, but even those who felt enriched in a more spiritual way had something to take home.
lala wandered, and heard, and saw... well, avoiding hearing and seeing was to her like trying to avoid getting wet in the middle of an ocean. It was very hard, and you'd probably have to use magic to get it done. So she let the vague waves of premonition wash over her like a refreshing shower, and saw in those glimmers of the future that she'd certainly picked one of the very best times to leave after all. Sometimes, her intuition really worked wonders that she couldn't foresee consciously. Humming quietly, as she hopped and skipped a little bit to avoid the brick that was going to be flung at her- now- lala made her way up the hill, sidled to the side of the road, and turned around. She had a good look over part of the town from here, and she knew what was going to happen next. Plus, she suspected, a fairly good idea of what would happen after that, as well.
It didn't take a lot of waiting for the smoke curling from the rooftops to gain an edge. If she looked closely, and lala could look very closely indeed, she could see the faint shimmer of flames, licking gently up from a building in the distance. The smoke bunched up and grew thicker, and she nodded quietly. Everything was going according to ... fate, she supposed. Something like that. It definitely wasn't devils doing it, because the fire had started much, much too slow for any demon to be in the vicinity. They tended to be way into fire, demons. Actually, the fire had its good sides- lala debated with herself, rather briefly, if she should nip down again and search for something of a snack among the charred remains of houses and people that were evolving there.... but decided, after some thought, that perhaps it wasn't necessary after all. She had already eaten today. Perhaps some sleep would be appropriate? Could be, could be. At the very least, she should be heading back home. lala could see the headache coming in towards her if she didn't, like a great big haze of silvery pain in her immediate future. So, perhaps not going that way. Actually, definitely not doing that. Back to her house, instead.
Rather resolutely, and taking care to miss the figure of the clown-faced man skipping across the road she was standing in so she would have a legitimate and honest excuse in case anyone questioned her about him, lala turned her back to the spreading fires and marched, insofar as her rather childlike body could pull off marching (which, come to think of it, was rather not a lot), off toward the sanctuary.
The walk took an indeterminate amount of time. Perhaps forever had passed since she started walking, or maybe it had been a mere minute, or even less.... lala hadn't paid attention. She was actually enjoying herself quite well, skipping along the forest floor and absolutely disregarding the flow of time and any misgivings it was trying to give her. Up until she came face to face with the old walls of the sanctuary, peeling paint and spreading a faint odour of lived-in decay, as well as all sorts of magical creatures. The open door, if someone had painted the smells coming out of it in colour, would have been a veritable rainbow of all possible hues and shades of smell, including one that was disdain and one whiffing strongly of nostalgia.
She stopped a little ways off and took in the sight. It looked... cozy, which in itself was kind of an insult to any honest demon, since they were usually brought up to enjoy lying on single-spike beds or at least putting their guests on them. Besides, something was nagging at her. This sense of being somewhere, or being supposed to be somewhere. What was it? She'd have to close her eyes. Just for a moment... lala swayed and looked. Oh. Oh, dear.
She arrived in the middle of the main bar space with a sound that could best be described with 'pop', although this was naturally inaccurate in almost every way. The actual sound could be compared to a more violent, flaming version of the sound effect a soap bubble had when it was popped. A soap bubble - nay, perhaps a ball of lightning, wrapped in fire and painted with tiny occult symbols all around, plus a flower. Just one, mind. That was closer to the sound she appeared with, and it seemed almost disappointed (as usual) when her appearance failed to produce any smoke whatsoever. Whua! She had to shake her head, and almost missed the flame-tinged rant coming from the tall figure next chair over. What was it? Freedom... free food... free drinks.... okay. Yes, she could see that.
With some interest, she turned to look down at the man as he writhed on the floor- agony would probably be written on his face if such a thing as agony were allowed to even touch that kind of person. It probably wasn't, if you thought of it. "I'd say you paid pretty well for that one," she commented quietly and scooted up a little bit closer. Never mind the obvious demon traits he was broadcasting to the world; it felt a bit homely to sit next to one again. He even smelled faintly of sulfur! lala, well aware of the potentially violent reaction denizens of most hells could unleash at being disturbed, only carefully put herself into the man's scope of awareness. "If you'd prefer to pay, I could offer you a shot of 'sJoe Sheep Man Temporally Ole Liminent Dislodged. For the low price of, well, what you pay for drinking it and seven Rubnyx." For what it was worth, that was a pretty good offer. Ole Man Joe's Temporally Dislodged Sheep Liminent was a drink famous among timetravelers across time for having effects that you never quite knew exactly when would turn up, but often played a part in some sort of Russian Roulette during drinking nights. Sometimes, people threw up hours before the game, or passed up during it. Nobody had ever even developed a formula for when the secondary booze would hit you, and the hangover you got from it was invariably described as someone trying to beat your brains out of your feet with a pan-galactic gargle blaster.
As such, the reward from drinking it was frequently considered also the payment for having a taste, in addition to cleaning fees for when and where the hangover inevitably hit you. Seven Rubnyx, overall, was more payment for someone who had to transport the stuff across the universe, and make sure that it was there at the time when someone tried to drink it. lala gave the demon a look rather full of anticipation. "What say you?"
It's Magic. I ain't gonna explain shit.
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