#bootstrap-table

[god-in-schizoid-mind]

diy spiked bootstrap!

finally finished it :)

I had to work around not having a rivet tool and accidentally buying two different sized metal rings (might replace the smaller ring once l buy a new one)

anyway I'm super proud of how it turned out actually

progress pics:

[divinector]

Responsive Bootstrap 5 pricing table

[codingflicks]

Pricing Table design

[cssscriptcom]

Make Bootstrap 5 Tables More Readable On Mobile Devices - AvalynxTable.js

AvalynxTable is a tiny JavaScript library that makes Bootstrap 5 HTML tables look good and function well on mobile devices. You know how tables can get all squished and hard to read on smaller screens?  This Bootstrap 5 extension fixes that by automatically stacking rows and columns when the table reaches a certain breakpoint. This makes it much easier to view and interact with table data on…

[ultimateloserboy]

yall need to lock the fuck in if you want more dhmis content. i dont think yall realize how hard this shit is without OUR support. season two is already off the table so weve gotta start dropping cash or we’re not getting shit for the next decade!!!

money makes the world go round no matter how much we hate it. if you want more content the creators have to get the money for it. its gone back to being self funded which means WE have to pitch in if we want something!!

theyve been too incredibly kind to us by letting us have their stuff for free. its very reasonable to charge now!! hell, it wouldve been reasonable to charge from the beginning!!! yall are fucking spoiled by becky and joe!!!! be grateful!!

even if you dont have the cash you should still tell people about the website, advertise that shit dude!!!! we as a community have to pull together if we want things. the creators are just not big enough to fund these kinds of things themselves. pull up your damn bootstraps and stops complaining over 12 fucking dollars!!!!!!

[techav]

On Celebrating Errors

Isn't it beautiful? The lovely formatted tables of register and stack contents, the trace of function addresses and parameters, the error message ... it's the most beautiful kernel panic I have ever seen.

Why on earth would I be so excited to see a computer crash? What could possibly be beautiful about a kernel panic?

This kernel panic is well-earned. I fought hard to get it.

This kernel panic came from a current NetBSD kernel, freshly compiled and running on Wrap030, my 68030 homebrew computer. It is the result of hours upon hours of work reading through existing code, scattered documentation and notes, writing and rewriting, and endless compiling.

And it's just the start.

As I've said before, a goal of this project has always been to build something capable of running some kind of Unix-like operating system. Now that I finally have all the necessary pieces of hardware, plus a good bootloader in ROM, it's time to give it a shot. I'm not that great with this type of programming, but I have been getting better. I might just be able to brute force my way through hacking together something functional.

It is hard.

There is some documentation available. The man(9) pages are useful, and NetBSD has a great guide to setting up the build environment for cross-compiling the kernel. There are some published papers on what some people went through to port NetBSD to this system or that. But there's nothing that really explains what all these source code files are, and which parts really need to be modified to run on a different system.

I had a few false starts, but ultimately found an existing 68k architecture, cesfic, which was a bare minimum configuration that could serve well as a foundation for my purposes. I copied the cesfic source directory, changed all instances of the name to wrap030, made sure it still compiled, then set about removing everything that I didn't need. It still compiled, so now it's was time to add in what I did need.

... how ... do I ... ?

This is where things get overwhelming very quickly. There is documentation on the core functions required for a new driver, there's documentation on the autoconf system that attaches drivers to devices in the tree, and there's plenty of drivers already to reference. But where to start?

I started by trying to add the com driver for the 16550 UARTs I'm using. It doesn't compile because I'm missing dependencies. The missing functions are missing because of a breaking change to bus.h at some point; the com driver expects the new format but the cesfic port still uses the old. So I needed to pull in the missing functions from another m68k arch. Which then required more missing functions and headers to be pulled in. Eventually it compiled without error again, but that doesn't mean it will actually run. I still needed to add support for my new programmable timer, customize the startup process, update hardware addresses, make sure it was targeting 68030 instead of 68040 ...

So many parts and pieces that need to be updated. Each one requiring searching for the original function or variable declaration to confirm expected types or implementation, then searching for existing usages to figure out what it needs ... which then requires searching for more functions and variable types.

But I got something that at least appeared to have all the right parts and compiled without error. It was time to throw it on a disk, load it up, and see what happened.

Nothing happened, of course. It crashed immediately.

I have no debugging workflow I can rely on here, and at this stage there isn't even a kernel console yet. All I could do was add little print macros to the locore startup code and see where it failed. Guess, test, and revise.

I spent a week debugging the MMU initialization. If the MMU isn't properly configured, everything comes to an abrupt halt. Ultimately, I replaced the cesfic machine-specific initialization code and pmap bootstrapping code with functions from yet another m68k arch. And spent another day debugging before realizing I had missed a section that had comments suggesting it wasn't for the 68030 CPU, but turned out to be critical for operation of kernel memory allocation.

Until this point, I was able to rely on the low-level exception handling built into my bootloader if my code caused a CPU exception. But with the MMU working, that code was no longer mapped.

So then came another few hours learning how to create a minimal early console driver. An early console is used by the kernel prior to the real console getting initialized. In this case, I'm using the MC6850 on my mainboard for the early console, since that's what my bootloader uses. And finally the kernel was able to speak for itself.

It printed its own panic.

The first thing the kernel does is initialize the console. Which requires that com driver and all the machine-specific code I had to write. The kernel is failing at its step #1.

But at least it can tell me that now. And given all the work necessary to get to this point, that kernel panic data printing to the terminal is absolutely beautiful.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I heard a raw line from Guilllermo Del Toro the other day about monsters being the perfect way to express human failure:

“…monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection, and they allow and embody the possibility of failing.”

And i was wondering your take on this quote in relation to things like vampire and werewolf and other semi-monster subtexts. “Monstrous” humans that are ironically allowed to act more human more often than… humans. I just find the attempt to make an outlet for imperfection while still at large criticizing it fascinating.

I mean, yeah, there's a long history of interpreting monsters through queer, anti-colonial, feminist and other Outsider lenses for exactly those reasons. The monster is the Other who is vilified by the in-group, which represents all that the in-group hates. The monster must, by its nature, fail to live up to the standards and expectations of the in-group, which is why it must be destroyed. But that also means the monster is free from the standards and expectations of the in-group, including oppressive and bigoted ones.

So, as an example, if you're queer, and rhetorically treated as inhuman and monstrous and diseased anyway, or eugenically classified as a deviant mutation or sub-derivation of "real" people, there is real appeal and a real sense of resistance in claiming monsterhood, in embracing it and glorying in it.

In part, that's what the rallying cry "we're here, we're queer, get used to it!" meant and still means. It is a reclaiming of monsterhood as a source of strength and community and pride, rather than shame. Slurs are used to Other queer people, to set them apart from "real" people and mark them out as a monstrous deviation from the virtuous norm - slurs are used to call us monsters. And thus a lot of queer people find a lot of power and freedom in reclaiming them, in turning their Othering into a flag to rally around.

And I think that's still a big part of the appeal of the monster, honestly, that freedom from being what someone else thinks you ought to be.

If you're a monster, you don't have to have the perfect body, you don't have to suppress your lust or your love. You don't have to shave your body hair or dress correctly for your assigned gender, or have a white picket fence house with a spouse and 2.3 children. You don't have to sit primly at the dinner table, you don't have to repress your emotions, you don't have to hate the foreigner or despise the gays or fear the trans agenda. You don't have to have a small, straight nose or perfect cheekbones, you don't have to wait to fuck until you're married, or pretend you want to fuck at all. You don't have to want to get rich or be a CEO, you don't have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps or be on your grindset, or cheer when the cops clear out a homeless camp.

To be a monster is to be free from the inhumanity that is forced on us by white supremacy, by fatphobia, by heteronormativity, by imperialism, and by the interests of capital. To be a monster is to be human in all the ways that are inconvenient to oppression.

... but I went off on a tangent there a little bit - vampires and werewolves, right. I have no theoretical or academic basis for any of this, so this is entirely a personal hot take, but I think vampires are perhaps a bit more about "passing" as a fantasy. Not necessarily in a gender sense, but the ability to keep your true nature undetected by the "normal" folk, while the secret things that make you different also make you dangerous and powerful. Surviving by stealing sustenance from a world that hates you, on terms that are entirely yours to dictate. "I will survive even if it kills you," that kind of vibe.

Werewolves, on the other hand, feel more like a defiant, angry embrace of the monstrous. Transforming into something vast and powerful and furious, growing out of your skin, out of your form, out of your boundaries; howling your nature to the moon and mauling any motherfucker who has a problem with it. Giving in to all the beastly unnatural urges, and diving into the horrible monstrous wants and desires that boil inside you (which, remember, include things like Not Wanting To Fuck or Wanting To Hold A Girl's Hand In A Lesbian Sort Of Way). Less the "I outfoxed your social game and drank you dry" slick vampire power fantasy and more the "call me a slur one more time and I'm going to wear your entrails like a fucking scarf" power fantasy.

Again, that's just personal hot takes, everyone's understanding of the monstrous in relation to themselves is different. I've seen a number of genderfluid and nb people use monstrousness as a way to defy occupying a shape that can be gendered for example.

[maistertim]

*Cautiously pokes head out from under a rock* I hope all of you are doing okay... for those who have watched it so far, how does it treat faith?

With Brennan and the players at the table, I'm sure it will be a great time. Having said that, if it's going to continue campaign 3's rhetoric of "gods are trash, and anyone who actually has faith and follows them are Morons (love fcg and braius, but even to me it's pretty obvious what's being implied) and how people should just pull themselves up by their own bootstraps instead like secular capitalists" then I'm afraid I'll have to pass this time.

[thethirdromana]

The Fifteenth's Doctor's episodes, from worst to best

These are my entirely subjective, personal ratings. Doing this in significant part because I think it'll be interesting to look back in a few years and see how my views have changed.

Lucky Day: a close-run thing at this end of the scale but I think the essentially fash message of "it's wrong to hold the people with massive guns accountable" pushes this into last place for me. If you want to do a good anti-vax/climate denial analogy, do it about actual scientists, not people with massive guns.

Wish World/The Reality War: there were the seeds of good ideas in this ("tables don't do that") but taken as a whole it was a terrible, incoherent mess. Omega's inclusion was pointless and Belinda's retconned baby storyline was grim.

The Legend of Ruby Sunday/Empire of Death: similarly messy and incoherent to Wish World/The Reality War, but not actively offensive, so ranks a little higher.

(all a bit depressing so far, but the further you read, the more positive I become)

The Robot Revolution: I think this could have been a good two-parter, but unfortunately it was crammed into 46 minutes, so it felt a bit like watching on 1.5x speed. A bit more space to breathe, and the handling of Alan the controlling boyfriend might have felt a bit less clunky too.

Space Babies: a reasonable mid-series filler episode that I am judging much more harshly for being a series opener. I'm not into snot and nappy jokes, but maybe this one was fun for the six-year-olds watching?

Joy to the World: another story with too much story crammed into it. The Time Hotel was cool! The bootstrap paradox was cool! But the political messaging was anvilicious (and I say that as someone who was also very angry about Partygate) and the less said about the ending, the better.

Boom: and we've reached the stories that I enjoyed, phew. This would have been better on a fraction of the budget and without the ham-fisted criticisms of religious faith, but it's a great concept and gave Ncuti Gatwa the space to act.

73 Yards: I would have preferred this with some manner of explanation, but it stands out as one of the single creepiest Doctor Who stories I've ever seen.

The Church on Ruby Road: proper, solid, silly fun. I think this might have been Ruby at her best. There were lots of little touches - the police officer, Ruby's grandma, the Goblin Song - that I really enjoyed in this one.

Lux: this was fun too! It built on the Giggle and the Devil's Chord in interesting ways without being dependent on them. And I loved the whole sequence with the Doctor and Belinda stepping into the cartoon, becoming three-dimensional, and breaking the fourth wall.

The Story and the Engine: probably the most ambitious episode of Gatwa's run. I don't think it 100% succeeded - there was a bit too much exposition conveyed by people shouting over each other - but I love it for trying. I wish we'd had more episodes showing us places where a black Doctor could go and fit in where a white Doctor couldn't.

Dot and Bubble: this suffers in context because The Story and the Engine was really the only episode in which the Doctor's blackness was celebrated, but we got two - this and Lux - where the Doctor's experience of racism was a focus. Not a good ratio. But viewed in isolation, a great, sinister episode.

The Interstellar Song Contest: it had Rylan it! It introduced the world to Dugga Doo! I watched this while I was a little bit drunk and I intend to maintain that if I watch it again in the future. I imagine I will continue to have a wonderful time with it.

The Well: if this hadn't turned out to be a Midnight sequel, it would have been top of my list. It was tense, it was gripping, it had some brilliant one-off characters, and I think it might be the most interesting episode in the run for developing the Doctor and Belinda's relationship too.

The Devil's Chord: JOYOUS. They should have chosen a band with a back catalogue that could be licensed affordably, but you can't have everything. It's my other contender for Ruby's strongest episode, the costumes are fabulous, and Jinx Monsoon is flawless in it too.

Rogue: Of any Gatwa episode, this is hands-down the one I'm most likely to rewatch. It's the Fifteenth Doctor's answer to The Girl in the Fireplace, with gorgeous costumes, a doomed but captivating romance, and the alien plotline as a very much a secondary concern. If Doctor Who needs a new showrunner any time soon, I am keeping my fingers crossed for Kate Herron.

[codingflicks]

Bootstrap Pricing Table design

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Saturday morning has you in a fog as you awake from a long night of vivid but forgotten dreams. You can't recall a single detail but you're thoroughly irritated by your nocturnal alternate reality. As you go down to claim your morning coffee and bid away the headache looming behind your brow, you're greeted by your parents' voices.

"Hmm, it's still doing that thing," your dad huffs, "strange."

"I told you, hon," your mom hums, "that nice man says it's um, you know, this U part... well... I can't remember exactly what he said."

You drag your feet into the kitchen and squint, "call a plumber, please. I'm done getting sprayed in the face."

"You got plumber money?" Your dad snips, "look, I can figure it out. I'll check the Facebook group."

"I'm sure all the boomers on their will know exactly how to lift the sink up by its bootstraps," you chuckle.

"Honey," your mother warns as your dad fumbles with his phone, jabbing at the screen with his index finger.

"I'm not a boomer," he grumbles as he shakes his head.

"Kidding," you fill the coffee carafe from the fridge filter to avoid further breaking the sink, "you know I'm teasing."

"Huh, says here I got the wrong part," your dad scratches his chin, "s'alright, I gotta grab a few things down at the depot anyway."

"How much are you going to spend before you get a professional in here?" Your mother challenges.

"It's eleven bucks, honey," your dad retorts with a sickly sweetness in his tone, "you wanna come with me?"

"Ugh, no, I'm making lemon meringue."

"Lemon mer-- why on earth are you going to all that trouble?"

"Because, Wilson, is it's a nice day and I want pie--"

Right, you're going to let the coffee brew as their marital discord does the same. Your parents tend to swing between head over heels and to the point of throwing hands on any day. A stormy but efficient relationship. It hardly lends credence to your mother's desperate pleas for you to snag a husband.

You go back upstairs and sit down at your work table. You open your planner and review your tasks for the day. Print some stickers, get some more work down on that infinity scarf, and maybe a nap if you make good progress. First, some music to drown out your parents as they go back and forth. Oh marriage does seem like a fairytale.

🧶

Your day wanes away to afternoon as you furrow your brow at your needles. You slouch uncomfortable against a pile of pillows against the corner of the wall. Your legs are bent atop the bed as a Youtube video plays on your phone and fills the void. The ombre effect looks good but this is sure tedious.

The fall grays to a winterly malaise. The only good thing about this time of year is the opportunity to wear turtlenecks and drown in hot drinks. Thinking of, you could use another. Maybe not coffee, but hot chocolate could scratch your itch. You loop the scarf over your neck as you jostle off the bed and keep up your looping.

You drift out of your room, crocheting and peeking up every few steps. You make a lazy descent and as you come to the first floor, you hear a commotion in the kitchen. Is your dad still at it? At this rate, you may as well just toss the sink out.

You enter, hoping that a hot chocolate isn't too much to ask. You stop short as you see two legs sticking out from beneath the sink. Those are not your father's boots. Did he really cave and hire a plumber?

Your mother hovers over the man, watching him as she leans on the open cupboard door.

"Thank you so much for doing this," she preens, "so lucky you could make it over. I swear, Wilson was going to drive himself to an aneurysm," she babbles. That's the thing, even service workers are a target for her ramblings. You pity the man stuck beneath the pipes, trapped with her yammering.

"Yeah, no problem, beats the troughs at the farm," the man responds lightly.

Suddenly you don't feel so bad for him as you recognise his voice. Your mother sure is an idiot. She invited this weirdo into her home? Your home? You can't say you're surprised, only deeply disappointed.

Before you can flee, your mother's attention is drawn by the unintentional click of your needles as they hit each other. Fuck.

"There you are, sweetie. Look who came to fix the sink," she chimes.

"Ugh," is all you give her as you commit to your mission. You poke the needles into the yarn and let them hang. You grab a packet of chocolate powder and mug. You keep your back to the duo as you flip on the kettle to boil.

"Hey," Cole says, his voice no longer muffled beneath the counter.

You don't acknowledge him. You mom harrumphs.

"Honey, don't be like that. He's a guest," she tuts, "oh, Cole," she continues on her tittering, "I made some pie, do you want to stay for dinner?"

You growl. This isn't going to work. You think you'll just starve in your room. You narrow your eyes at the kettle, willing the water to boil telepathically. It doesn't work.

"Well, I'd hate to impose," he says, grunting as he sets his feet and stands, his shadow rising over your shoulder. "Alright, so this is what we're going to do, start the dishwasher. It should create enough pressure to clear the block."

“Oh, you're so clever,” your mother praises. “And it's no problem, we have more than enough. It must be such a far way, I couldn't send you off just like that.”

“He probably has work to do on his farm. His home. Hanging out with the pigs or whatever,” you chirp.

“We don't have pigs. Got some chickens though. Oh, you should try some of the eggs,” Cole brushes by your insult, “maybe I could bring you some–”

“Probably not necessary, they sell eggs at the 7 Eleven.”

“Don't be so rude,” your mother snaps, “you're embarrassing yourself and me. If you're going to keep this up, you won't have any pie.”

“Fine with me,” you stick your tongue out.

“Look, hey,” Cole injects with his palms out, “I guess… I guess it's time to come clean. Camila, your daughter, she has a good reason to hate me. We've met before and I put my foot in my mouth and I think I embarrassed her so for that I apologise. I feel awful about it and I should've brought it up sooner.”

“Oh, wow, you–” your mom reels at the revelation, “well, I think then it's meant to be. The universe brought you back so you can apologise. Honey,” she turns to you, “can't you forgive him?”

You blink. The kettle clicks off as it boils. You glance between them. You turn your back to the kitchen and fill your mug, stirring with a spoon before tramping off without a word.

His act might work on her but you know he didn't find you to say sorry. He's too old to be wasting his time on you. He's pathetic.

[thepaintedsable]

Uh oh, who let me into a fandom again? Who left the niche within a niche door open??? Y’all should know better.

@sm-baby’s Carnival AU for The Amazing Digital Circus grabbed me by the bootstraps with??? Inspiration??? Not only have I dodged most fandoms and the motivation to draw fanart (not that I don’t want to show support; just no ideas in the noggin), but I genuinely don’t think I’ve sat down and put a non-ironic, genuine OC for a media I like on paper since my Warrior Cats/Creepypasta era. This AU didn’t just get me to sit down and make an OC that fits with the original media, but one that fits with their derivative. I saw other people doing it and it looked like so much fuunnn.

First, have standard TADC version! Either that or a player.

This is Tuus! They’re mainly based on the beanie baby dragon to fit that sweet sweet 90s theme, but generally a mixture of beloved childhood toys I have sitting on my shelf. She’s scruffy, worn, and kinda dirty looking and that’s on purpose. She’s bottom heavy, and I wanted her wings to give off the texture of that basically-plastic shiny fabric you used to see on a lot of toys.

No mouth, but a randomly appearing lizard tongue. For fun.

Tuus deals with the circus by sleeping. A lot. Too much. If you don’t need to sleep, then you don’t need to be awake. If she’s doing to be trapped in a digital hell, she might as well be catching up on her naps. And she will sleep in the worst places. Time for a digital feast? She’s on the table. Caine wants to have an adventure in the lake? Girl is at the bottom. Sleeping with the fishes fr fr. And you need to find her one day? Nowhere to be seen, probably on the roof.

It’s playing on the whole big, lazy, sleeping dragon thing that used to be in a lot of children stories I remember. But also how well loved childhood toys seem to pop up and disappear, there when you aren’t looking but gone when you are. Her name also means “Your” or “Thy.” Your dragon.

BUT AT THE CARNIVAL?

What amusement park is complete without a gift shop? What game doesn’t have a place to buy goofy digital goods? Tuus is the big lady in charge of the gift place of the Carnival! Her room is what should have been a shop of sorts, to buy whatever products that darned company would have tried to push. Cosmetics, virtual toys, digital snacks, whatever. But, uh, I don’t think anyone told them dragons don’t like to…. share. Becoming sentient did wonders for the attitude. You should be just fine if you don’t make too much noise, though! She’s a lazy lizard, and often sleeps sprawled around the place. I imagine the level would be set up like a maze, or a labyrinth. Isles and isles of things, with peaks of a tail or smoke every now and again. Toys, clothing, and even random things that shouldn’t be in there just trash the path. It’s your job not to step on anything! It’s different each time, though (a speed runner’s nightmare). One level you might get lucky and have a straight shot with a sleeping dragon, the next there might be so many things it’s physically impossible to reach any exit at all. Potentially can get out of trouble with some digital coin™, but you’ll have to have found enough hidden in the room to forgive each “damaged item.”

Here she is much, MUCH larger and far cleaner. An oversized display never meant to be bought. A collectors item far too expensive for a child. Think “I used to be a beloved toy and now I’ve been forgotten, even forgetting myself, and this is how I cope” favor VS “I have never known the touch of a person and have been trapped on this shelf only to be abandoned and have the personality of an unsocialized dog” flavor.

She has no mouth, but she bites.

I want to draw more of her :) She’s a goof.

[tricky-pockets]

so, about the people who think that Laziness Is The Worst Sin. you know. those who imagine themselves to be Righteous Bootstrap Pullers.

statistically, a fair number of them will need heart surgery at some point in their lives. do you know how long a human can maintain accuracy at monotonous repetition of a 30-second-long task without a break? neither do I, but it's gotta less than 4 hours.

anyway, they'll need heart surgery. and sometimes it's close to the end of a shift and my brain is mush and I want to cry and I still pull every fiber of will together to keep checking the cardiac cannulae for flaws before I seal them into their pouches.

[correct cuff placement not obscuring airflow. no wrinkles no tears no bubbles no pinholes. sufficient airflow. double check airflow. no leakage from lumen line. printed depth marks and product code legible correct complete aligned. tip formed correctly no sharp edges from bad plastic molding old tipping machine, check with sensitive fingertips; rough edges can perforate. no voids in glue joints no excess glue to chip off and land in a blood vessel. no particulate matter, especially that weird orange stuff that's in the luer caps sometimes.]

people who disdain labor rights will need heart surgery and I will do everything in my power to not let them die on the table. and so I think maybe I should get a couple 15-minute breaks and perhaps the option to wear headphones. so I'm not fatigued. while I'm checking the cannula for your fucking heart surgery.

[doueverwonder]

hi hi :D! any wtt indiana thoughts to share?

I DO ACTUALLY-

so I've lived in Indiana right on the Illinois border since I was tiny, so ofc I have been pondering Indiana and Illinois' relationship a lot the past couple weeks even if I haven't been talking about it lol

They're siblings in my mind (well really the entire Midwest great lakes are siblings but that's a post for another day); their statehood days are almost exactly 2 years apart, December 11th, 1816, and December 3rd, 1818. But same as I say with Hetalia up against centuries a couple years is nothing, so they might as well be twins.

I think they were very close for most of their lives, but the breakdown of their relationship was definitely in the making for a long time. you see imo when Indiana was younger he wanted to be important, desperately so, would have done anything to be important. Indianapolis, the state capital, is modeled after DC. It's planned to be a major transport hub, and even after they find out the White River is too shallow for that the city keeps growing. and he's doing everything in how power to move it along, got that good old 'pull myself up by my bootstraps' 'if i work hard enough i'll get what i want' mentality and then looks over and Chicago in the fastest growing city in human history (literally) and Illinois doesn't even seem to be trying. In fact, he's upset about it. doesn't like Chicago.

And Indiana is horribly jealous, it drives him up the wall that he wanted to be important so badly and Illinois is the one getting the recognition he wants and can't even be grateful about it. Between 1870-1900 is when everything really falls apart, during the height of Chicago's growth, other states start paying attention to Illinois, Gov starts paying attention to Illinois. Indiana gets shoved into his little brothers shadow and I'm not going to say Illinois didn't do anything, because while he might not like Chicago he doesn't mind the extra attention and a seat closer to the head of the table. It also really doesn't help that Illinois doesn't realize how jealous Indiana is and *trying* to joke says things about getting what Indy always wanted, and it gets taken as mocking. Indiana gets cold towards him, and Illinois just reciprocate instead of asking why they grew apart.

and that runs into their current-ish relationship, "Illinois is just full of corrupt politicians" "well Indiana is nothing but backwards rednecks"; in their eyes they couldn't be less alike but they're still seen as extremely similar to a lot of other states and it drives them both more then a little nutty + drives their need to make as many back-handed comments about how different they are as often and as publicly as possible.

anyway:

tldr; Indiana wanted to be important, Illinois got the attention he wanted he got jealous and distant, Illinois can't communicate emotions and never asked why and just started being distant as well. Now they seem to get along to most other states but really are just out here insulting each other as much as possible they're just passive aggressive so no one realizes.

[cinnamoontopography]

She shared the sentiment that she thinks that all billionaires are bad people and it caused quite the active discussion amongst the people sitting at her table. She had a very noble-savage-esque assumption about the people at her table, that they would sooo be ready to rise up since they at least must hate The Man too. Bonding over that is going to bring some of the misguided souls who vote MAGA over, right?

Turns out, you have one conservative Christian girl who, aside from book smarts, doesn't have much going on in her head, a temporarily embarrassed billionaire who is going to pull himself up by the bootstraps, and a girl who belongs to some richie rich family who definitely benefits from the 1%er's wealth since her family is a bit higher up on the pyramid. Granted, one of the people she was discussing with was definitely very much "The Establishment", but even the people who she thought she could have common ground with didn't share that sentiment and thought it was incorrect, too harsh, "people should do what they want with their wealth, why should billionaires donate, do you donate, why aren't you volunteering more?" (<------said by a guy who grew up in poverty and had to the join the army to go anywhere in life)

You cannot "middle ground" these people dawg.

[merryfortune]

you are alive, you are flesh and blood

Prompt: Any fandom: any ship - Confession

Title: you are alive, you are flesh and blood

Ship: Inspector/Shiro 

Fandom: Cat Fantasy 

Word Count: 2,275

Rating: T 

Warning: None 

Tags: Female Inspector, Love Confessions, Seemingly Unrequited Pining, Kissing, Interspecies Relationships, Mentioned Inspector/Mandy

   The Inspector sighed tiredly as she sat down at the bench as though it were a tavern’s bar. She sprawled over it, right where Shiro had just mopped up with a cloth and so earned a stare of unceasing neutrality from the AI cat-girl. She bore a hole into the Inspector’s head as the Inspector tried to have a catnap but no dice.

   “Is everything alright, Inspector?”

   Her voice chimed through the Inspector’s thoughts. They bubbled and clouded, clogging up her mind and wearing her down with all the weariness of the world. 

   “Sleepy…” the Inspector mumbled.

   “You are more than welcome to go upstairs to rest.” Shiro suggested. “It would be more hygienic than using our cafe as a bench.”

   “Oh, you.” the Inspector pouted.

   No rest for the wicked, or so she reasoned. She pulled herself up and by the bootstraps, too. She smacked her face and puckered her lips.

   “I still have paperwork to do and there’s still so much to clean in here, it’s been a wild shift-”

   The door to the restrooms to the right of the cafe’s front bench opened and Mandy came through. Surprised to see that all the tables had been cleared and the chairs upturned to be placed atop them.

   “Goodness, I didn’t realise how late it is!” Mandy exclaimed as she came closer.

   “I didn’t even realise you were still here, Mandy.” the Inspector returned her surprise in equal measure.

   Shiro, however, didn’t. “I knew you were here.” She spoke matter of factly like she always did. “But we are closed. Civilians are not allowed inside after hours, please return home safely.”

   “A privilege now that we can be out and about after dark, not that mine and my sister’s place is that far.” Mandy giggled. She bounced on her heels, made gaga eyes at the Inspector by batting her lashes and flashing her pearly white teeth. “All thanks to a certain someone.” She put emphasis on someone, staring down just who that person was: the Inspector.

   Her obvious infatuation always sent a chill down the Inspector’s spine. Still, the Inspector was not so unkind that she would give Mandy the cold shoulder even if she very much did not feel the same way. She got up and left the bar stool.

   “Your welcome, Mandy, my duty and honour,” the Inspector told her, “here, allow me to escort you to the door at the very least so I can see you get home safely. Just in case.”

   “Aw, thank you, Inspector.” Mandy purred.

   The Inspector nodded.

   She did exactly as she told Mandy that she would: she guided the teenage student a few steps to the door and allowed it to ring. Meow, meow, meowww. Mandy laughed at the jingle and relished how the Inspector watched her from the doorframe. The florist, though well and truly closed at this hour, was only a few steps down the road from the cafe and the Inspector sent her off with a warm, watchful gaze.

   And that was that.

   The Inspector closed the door behind her and the bell jingled again. She sighed. Mandy was so bubbly and high-energy, it gave the Inspector a pep when she was around but felt so drained with her gone. Her shoulders slumped forward and she took that as an excuse to stand around and do a quick stretch.

   “Why do you never reciprocate Mandy’s intentions? They are as obvious to me as I’m sure they are to you.” Shiro asked.

   The Inspector’s eyebrow twinged, “Why do you care about my love life so much?”

   “Ahem, no reason.” Shiro blatantly lied.

   It was kind of adorable so the Inspector would never hold it against her. She sauntered back to the counter, placed her elbow over the mahogany flat of it and sized Shiro up.

   “I simply do not feel the same way as her. It would be inappropriate, an officer of the law taking advantage of a sweet, underage Felian. The entire world would have a fit.” the Inspector informed Shiro.

   Shiro giggled mechanically, “Mandy is eighteen according to her records.” 

   Ah. Classic Shiro. Always knowing things that the Inspector didn’t. The Inspector blushed as she now found herself in the faux pas of having guessed Mandy’s age wrong by around two years at least. She supposed that wouldn’t be as bad… Still. Her point remained: she did not feel the same way.

   “Whatever.” the Inspector clicked her tongue and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Shiro. “Besides, there’s someone else I like.”

   “Truly?” Shiro inquired.

   The Inspector nodded. She could feel the atmosphere of the cafe change. The slow, languid air chilled by the night turned electric. They were all alone in here. The fact it was after hours added a new layer of intrigue beneath their artfully dim chandelier lights. 

   If the Inspector strained her ears, she could hear the whirr of Shiro’s motors increase ever so slightly. They were usually imperceptible so if there was reason to hear them… That was unusual and so, she took heart in that. She licked her lips and continued her thinking out loud.

   “Yes, there’s someone I like.” the Inspector confessed and she stole a glance at Shiro.

   Her eyes were wide. Her attention was rapt. Her tail quivered. 

   “That someone is smart and loyal, she is- she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m glad we met, that she was not just made but born. She’s serious but that seriousness guiles such sparkling wit and cleverness. I-I like her a lot.” the Inspector rambled, her heart raced.

   Shiro’s hands tightened, her fingers curled against her palms, “And is she human or is she Felian?” she asked, bravely asked because a tiny cue in her voice betrayed that she was afraid to know the answer and yet.

   She asked.

   The Inspector, in turn, found her own courage. She looked directly at Shiro and basked at her humble beauty. The sheer white of her hair, the shine to her silicon skin, the way she was always so cleanly presentable, never changing, never out of sorts whatsoever, a solid rock of programming and aesthetics. 

   “Neither.” the Inspector replied. Earnestly, honestly.

   Shiro winced, “How can she be neither?” 

   “You tell me, Shiro. How can you be neither?” the Inspector asked and she got to her feet. Her hands splayed over the bench. “How can you try and turn me away when I… when I…”

   When the Inspector woke up this morning, after exploring the depths of her dreams, the strangeness of her memories and the locations they created in surrealness and absurdity, she didn’t think this was how her day would go. Though, a few months into her position as Inspector really ought to clue her in by now that things never did go smoothly here at their Cafe.

   So, the Inspector let go of all preconceived notion of right and wrong, of up and down, of even species, when she had fallen in love with… Shiro.

   “When I love you.” the Inspector finally finished her impassioned speech with a small smile. Her heart was ready to break, though, as Shiro was a robot. It was clear that despite her cleverness and curiosity, surely she would never feel the same way as a human (or a Felia for that matter).

   A conclusion justified by how Shiro reacted.

   She froze. Not a complete blue screen, however, but her eyes widened as disbelief permeated her expression. Her parameters raced to find some understanding as they organised the Inspector’s speech, turned into binary and tried to decode it in rapid fire pace which would put a supercomputer to shame and yet. Shiro was silent. She was frozen.

   “I think I have since the moment I met you. The real you.” the Inspector added. She had another flashback of that dream of oblivion, of Shiro’s outstretched hand painted with blood as she tried to protect her.

   “Inspector…” Shiro gasped. Better late than never.

   “I-If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine.” the Inspector awkwardly shrugged. “You’ve made it obvious with your attempts at matchmaking. Even if they were misguided.”

   “Don’t you want to be with someone alive?” Shiro asked. “Someone of flesh and blood?”

   Her voice broke as she asked these questions of existence.

   It broke the Inspector’s heart, too.

   “Oh, Shiro,” she murmured, “you are alive. You live, you laugh, you emote through the wide range of emotions that there are from joy to sadness to frustration and, clearly, envy. As far as I'm concerned, you are flesh and blood, Shiro.”

   “Inspector…” Shiro murmured.

   She still seemed stunned, disbelief glued to her but shakily, she brought out her hand from in front of her apron. The Inspector leaned in and, like a cat, nuzzled against Shiro’s palm. She smacked her lips contentedly and closed her eyes.

   “Aah, nice and warm.” the Inspector assured her and slowly opened her eyes. “I like you, Shiro. You are my first partner and the only one I want in a non-professional manner, shall we say.”

   Shiro squeezed the Inspector’s cheek. The Inspector cringed - hey, that hurt - but beared with it as Shiro’s hand trembled. Her lips quivered only to curl into the tiniest, most thankful smile.

   “I never thought you would feel the same, Inspector.” Shiro confessed. “I’ve seen many Inspectors, seen them rise and fall, I had seen them give up and become disillusioned. I wish to never see the same for you, I want you to go higher and higher, I want to never leave your side. You are, I think, the first partner I have truly resonated with. Your kindness is unparalleled, the way you strive, constantly, for the path less travelled as it is often the one which is the most mediated or peaceful… It means a lot. Catto City is in good hands with you and as am I.”

   “Thank you, Shiro.” the Inspector replied.

   Shiro lifted the Inspector’s head by her chin. Her delicate, robotic hands caged the Inspector’s chin. They both leaned over the cafe’s counter and the Inspector felt her blood warm inside of her, it droned and raged and she could only hope that Shiro could feel it via her sensors.

   Shiro initiated their kiss. 

   The Inspector could have swooned as Shiro engulfed all her senses. She smiled as she allowed all of herself to be surrendered to Shiro. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and savoured the first kiss between herself and her most precious partner. 

   Shiro’s lips were soft and warm. Her eyes did not close, however, the Inspector could feel her trademarked, no-nonsense stare from behind her eyelids. Shiro’s technique was subtle. She didn’t know what she was doing but the calculations were clearly being run as there was micro-adjustment after micro-adjustment. She wanted it to be good. She wanted to be good at kissing. The insinuation was as powerful and obvious as the rubbery smell and taste that emanated off her but the Inspector wouldn’t have had it any other way as she kissed back. Intensely, passionately, humanly.

   With only the grace and splendour that Shiro was capable of, she requited all of the Inspector’s sentiments and more with this kiss. Slow and chaste, she overcame all her mid-confession jitters to wordlessly profess a love so profound it went beyond her programming and the Inspector received all of it until Shiro cut her off.

   She was running all the calculations, monitoring all the parameters after all. What was or wasn’t good for a human, leaving the Inspector “wanting more” or something like that as Shiro may have heard the idiom before.

   The Inspector opened her eyes and they were dewy with the emotions running high. Her lips tingled with the memory of Shiro’s own as they departed from one another.

   “I hope that was satisfactory, partner.” Shiro bade her.

   “Yes, yes it was, Shiro.” the Inspector assured her.

   They moved some more. Awkwardly, disjointedly. Shiro was akin to a ball-joint doll once more with an unknowable, unreadable expression. Now defiled by the entropy of humanity: a blush which was not in her cheeks before, now bloomed a rose on either side of her face. Her ears flicked contentedly and the Inspector took all these observations to her throbbing heart.

   “I hope we are partners for a long time, Shiro.” the Inspector told her, her voice a whisper.

   “I-I feel the same way.” Shiro shakily replied.

   The Inspector smiled and they both, mutually, receded from each other. Clunky and mechanical, a touch shy, even, like schoolchildren with their very first crush. The Inspector glanced, infatuated, at Shiro, bouncing in her boots, shifting her weight from one foot to the other only to yawn.

   “Get some rest, Inspector.” Shiro told her. “I will be here in the morning, I promise.”

   “Thank you, Shiro.” the Inspector replied.

   Of course, what tomorrow morning would look like was anyone’s guess. It was against protocol for Inspectors to fraternise with their Combatants, least of all the AI robot ones but in her short tenure, the Inspector of the Baker Squad could probably get some leeway. Falling in love with Shiro would probably be the least of all the infractions she had earned in her pursuit of truth and justice.

   Though the Inspector did hope, perhaps naively, for a bright, sunshiny morning after a night of being well-rested. She hoped for the birds to sing and for the trees that lined the street to sway pleasantly and for yet more kisses from her beloved partner and that together, they would go on to stop armageddon.