#the automatic feeder and camera are on

[kittymeiga]

Happy caturday! I'm away from home this weekend and will miss her like crazy 🥲❤️‍🩹

[thecattitudecentral]

PETLIBRO Granary Automatic Feeder Review: A Game-Changer for Pet Parents

As a pet parent, ensuring your furry friend is fed on time, every time, is a top priority. But let’s face it—life gets busy, and sticking to a strict feeding schedule can be challenging. That’s where the PETLIBRO Granary Automatic Feeder comes in, a sleek, smart, and reliable solution designed to make feeding your cat or dog effortless. Available on Amazon, this feeder has garnered rave reviews…

[primechoicereviews]

Dual Tray Cat Feeder with Camera: Perfect for Two Cats

[hsmagazine254]

Paws And Pixels: Pet Tech Innovations For Enhanced Well-Being - H&S Pets Galore

Exploring Gadgets & Apps That Make Your Furry Friend’s Life Purrfect In today’s digital age, technology isn’t just for humans—it’s for our beloved pets too. From smart collars to interactive toys, a plethora of gadgets and apps are revolutionizing how we care for our furry companions. These innovations not only enhance their well-being but also provide us with peace of mind and deeper insights…

[woso-dreamzzz]

Firsts

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first week at home

You get to come home the day after you're born.

Thankfully, you sleep the entire time though Pernille stays in the back with you just in case. It's a little strange, she thinks. The last time she was home, she was pregnant. Now she has you.

Your name is decided the day you come home and you do little but nap and eat. You're a little devil that first night and wake up on the hour, every hour to cry and feed.

Pernille has to get up because she's practically your walking food source but Magda gets up in solidarity too (though it's mainly to coo in awe at you).

The next day is more active. Magda drives you all to the registry office where they finalise your name and then to the embassies to register you as a citizen of Denmark and Sweden.

You seem to like the car because it sends you to sleep every time but dislike leaving it because you cry and whine until one of them holds you nice and tight.

You seem to like affection though. You're most content in Pernille and Magda's arms and you get all wiggly and weird when you're put in your car seat or crib. Magda can't quite tell yet if you just like their presence or if it's because of their warmth. Either way, she doesn't really care, more than happy to give in to your every need.

She takes a lot of pictures of you, sending them to family members who lament about not being able to visit but promise to book tickets to Germany very soon.

The exhaustion kicks in around day three. You haven't settled since your last feed of the night and Pernille's practically falling asleep in her seat as you suckle at her insistently.

Her eyes slip closed every few seconds and she has to wrench them open each time just in case something happens to you. Magda looks to be in a similar state as she lies on the floor at Pernille's feet, snoring softly before lifting her head when Pernille nudges at her.

"Huh?" She asks groggily," Wha's...Wha's goin' on?" Her words are slurred and she blinks the sleep from her eyes.

"She needs a change," Pernille says, unlatching you and handing you down to Magda.

Magda mechanically takes you, still completely exhausted but still awake enough to hold your properly.

You scrunch up your face in annoyance when she strips you of your babygrow and changes your nappy. It's one of the few things Magda can say that you absolutely hate. You screech loudly and kick out your little, uncoordinated limbs while Magda scrunches up her nose at the smell.

You're a little darling most of the time but she absolutely hates changing you. She thinks it's a fair exchange though. Pernille's barely producing enough milk to keep you full so there's none to express and put in bottles for Magda to use to feed you so Pernille stays as your sole feeder and Magda does the changing.

The little stump where your umbilical cord used to be looks fine when Magda checks it, a habit she has found herself doing ever since the nurse said that there was always a slight chance of infection. She tickles your stomach to distract you as she slips on a new nappy and buttons up your babygrow again.

"There," Magda says," All done!"

She picks you up and brings you into the crook of her neck. You're rooting immediately, trying to suck in her collarbone like it's going to get you milk.

Magda laughs a little, patting you on the back softly.

Day four and five happen much the same with the three of you trapped in your sweet little bubble at home.

Day six doesn't have much excitement either apart from the Wolfsburg chat blowing up when Nilla finally lets slip that Pernille has had you.

Most of the day is spent on a video call with you propped up on Magda's chest as Pernille shows you off to the camera. Everyone coos and awes over you as you yawn and clench your little fist.

Pernille swipes a finger against your cheek to show off how much you like to eat because you automatically move your face towards the pressure and start trying to root, searching for her breast.

It causes a fresh wave of coos to sound from the phone.

It makes you demonstrate your startle reflex expertly as your eyes go wide and you fling your arms out.

Magda likes to say that she knows you're going to be smart when you grow up just by how strong your instincts are but Pernille's planning on waiting until you're at least strong enough to hold up your own head to make such judgements.

"She's so pretty," Noelle coos from where she's squished between Ewa and Sara on the screen," When can we come to see her?"

"Pernille will come to you guys," Magda says as she holds you a little tighter with a wink to the camera. "We're keeping her to ourselves right now."

"Unfair," Ewa complains," Why can't we get baby love too?"

"Baby love is reserved for her mothers right now," Pernille laughs as she begins to say her goodbyes to everyone.

"How long do you think you can hold them off?"

"Probably until you leave. Frido, though, should probably get told before Nilla blabs to her too."

Magda sighs deeply. "I'll text her later."

"You better hurry," Pernille says," Or you're going to get a very angry phone call later."

On your seventh day at home, you let Magda know how you feel about her taking you from Pernille's breast before you're ready by spitting up all over her back when she tries to wind you.

Somehow, you've even gotten some under her shirt and she can feel the milky mixture slide down her skin.

Half-delirious from sleep exhaustion, Pernille finds this hysterical and laughs until she cries as Magda can do nothing but writhe in disgust.

"Pernille!" She whines," Stop laughing! Hold her so I can change!"

Pernille is still hysterically laughing as Magda feels your spit meet her waistband. To your credit, you're not crying or anything. You're just happily blowing spit bubbles out of your milk as Magda wriggles around.

"I've got her, I've got her," Pernille giggles as she takes you and mops up your face," Go and change. You smell."

"It's her fault!"

"Don't blame, princesse! She's just a baby!"

[rottenpumpkin13]

what are some impulsive purchases the firsts have made?

Sephiroth, the "I just Thought It Looked Interesting" Purchaser:

• A pendulum wall clock shaped like a lucky cat.

• A snuggie.

• Several lava lamps.

• An armillary sphere that barely fit through his apartment door.

• A feather quill pen that Angeal tried to veto because "you're never going to use it" that Sephiroth only uses when he's in Angeal's visual range.

• A pack of scented markers.

Angeal, the "It was On Sale" Purchaser:

• Bongos he bought at a garage sale for 10 gil (10¢).

• Five crates of zucchini he got for free from a farmer in the grasslands. Angeal's recipes included zucchini for three weeks.

• One set of 10 folding chairs was 40% off so he bought two sets. He lied and told Genesis that he only bought one though.

• A used automatic pet feeder with a camera he bought from a shady guy online that was "basically a steal." He doesn't have pets, so instead he fills it with veggie chips and leaves it in his office. He has multiple videos from the feeder where the timer goes off, and Sephiroth, Genesis and Zack sneak in to grab some chips.

Genesis, the "I'm Rich So It Doesn't Matter" Purchaser:

• An expensive liquor bottle in a language he couldn't read that ended up being fancy bottled water.

• An ice sculpture of himself that was delivered while he was out. He came back and it was a puddle in front of his door.

• A plain, black T-shirt that was designer and therefore 10,000 gil. He told Angeal the price and got lectured for three hours.

Zack, the "YOLO" Purchaser Killer Of His Bank Account:

• A Silver Elite premium membership card that comes with the chance to get a photo with Sephiroth. Even though he knows Sephiroth personally.

• An expensive leather jacket complete with spikes. He wore it once and then never again because he thought he looked mean and unapproachable.

• A trampoline.

• A three person bike that Angeal made him return after he, Cloud and Kunsel almost died on the highway.

• A Touch Me he bought from a shady guy in the slums that he intended to keep as a pet, but ended up escaping and causing a SOLDIER Frog catastrophe.

[faggotbeloved]

Kick-the-Bucketlist | Edward Nashton x GN!Mayor!Reader

Cw: home intrusion and stalking, 1 year post-The Batman (2022), 3rd person but the phrase "the mayor"/person/ whatever is substituted for a name, edward has escaped

└───────────────────────┘

A Reál Change. What a bullshit slogan. As soon as she was nearly killed before the flood, Bella Reál named some up-and-coming annoyingly charismatic politician as her endorsement for her early retirement, stating they had the better plan for disaster relief. They'd been flying well enough under the radar so that no journalists tried to air their dirty laundry, they stood for mostly the same things as she did, and they were young enough to empathize with the masses and mature enough to be experienced.

Plus, Edward admitted, they were definitely not hard to look at.

Edward scowled at the TV in his little shed on the outskirts of Gotham. He needed to lie low until there was a new, more pressing villain—the GCPD would want to assuage the fears of the survivors and claim the dangerous terrorist responsible for the destroyed seawall was recaptured, so they and that mask-wearing not-so-tragic antihero would hone in on him. He knew that would happen, of course, but he missed being able to blend in. With his face posted online for people to thank or curse at, he couldn't exactly walk into a crowd and see this shiny new mayor in person and interact like a curious citizen.

A house visit would have to do.

Edward mused to himself as he walked, clad in a replica of his trademark costume, to the new mayor's humble home: a single family residence, but he could forgive that. It wasn't a multimillion dollar mansion, it was a family home that was a little higher end than market price, was all. The mayor's first action pissed lots of people off, but it was a step in the right direction. They dismantled Renewal, using the entire fund to actually renew Gotham. Then, they requested a meeting with the reclusive Bruce Wayne to discuss the fund and how to move forward, resulting in a charity that serves a similar purpose, but thoroughly crafted to exist without the loopholes.

Gotham rebuilt over the past year, thanks to its new mayor. They took care of much of the mob due to the sloppy power vacuum Falcone's death created, gutted the police department, and allocated the majority of their time to correcting long-corrupt mistakes. They were called an 'insane extremist liberal' by the people whose pockets were significantly lighter by their new policies, and an angel by those who were able to eat without sacrificing heat for the week.

Edward was pleased to know his followers had been planning without him. Simpler plans, sure, but they held the spirit needed to keep the revolution going. They took care of a couple assassinations here and there, and now half of his to-kill list was crossed off. He just... needed a look around before he determined if he should add the mayor to the list.

Foolishly, the mayor had a sign poking out from their manicured lawn that told Edward exactly what to tap into to unlock their back door without triggering as much as an alert. After an embarrassingly short session with his laptop, the exterior door swung quietly open, revealing the cool night air of a sleeping house.

Their bedroom is upstairs, Edward determined, probably at the end or on the left side of a hallway. No family, pets asleep and luckily quiet, and the cameras are looping for the next hour.

Edward pulled off his mask, strolling around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize it. The fruit bowl was low—our mayor really did eat it, then? Not just decor?—the pet bowl was an automatic feeder in the kitchen, the fridge was stocked with a single-person house's staples, and the table had an empty glass sitting on it.

How lazy. Edward picked it up with a knuckle and brought it to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of wine. From this evening? All the stress could drive someone to drink, he understood. He ran the sink, rinsing and scrubbing and drying just to put it on the empty drying rack as proof that he was here. He slipped off a glove and pressed his thumb to the glass, imprinting his identity as a calling card. Then, back on it went as he explored further.

Their living room was tidy in that hired cleaner, hardly used, too busy for recreation kind of way. Pet hair clung to the fabric despite their maid's best efforts, but the remote was too straightened and the pillows too fluffed to signify anything but this being an unused room. What a shame, really—Edward figured the mayor would look lovely in a robe, nursing a morning coffee while watching the news. Or maybe they were more of an entertainment type of person? Edward doubted they'd be a sports fan. More research would be necessary.

As Edward explored, he found himself imagining their presence more and more clearly. Instead of windows reflecting somber blue tones of midnight, his mind conjured the gold of a rare sunny Gotham morning. Instead of occasional crickets and cars whirring by, he envisioned that wonderful voice he played back over and over and over back at his 'hideout, filling the room and those lips brushing over his ear and-

Well. Edward had a job to do. He still hadn't cleared the mayor. Perhaps there were some foul secrets yet. Not that he was looking very hard; Edward just wanted a copy of his hard drive to look through in safety, the house tour was for pleasure.

Edward climbed the stairs, grazing the bannister where the mayor's hands must have touched thousands of times. The house even smelled like their skin... Edward assumed. He hadn't gotten close enough to try yet. It was funny, a revolutionary akin to those guillotining kings was admiring the family portrait of someone holding so much authority in Gotham. At least they ensured that people had bread to eat.

Just as expected, the mayor's bedroom door, the one on the far left (the balcony was what gave it away, of course they'd have the master bedroom and that would naturally be in the center), was wide open and gave a perfect view of the sleeping body. How trusting they were. Where were all their guards? Anyone with a laptop and a desire for homicide could get to them. But this was a nice neighborhood, and their home address wasn't exactly public information.

Edward wandered around the upper floor, greeting the curious pet with his outstretched hand full of food he snatched from the fridge to show he meant no harm.

He'd have to befriend this creature anyways, if he intended to return and be uninterrupted. After noting the soaps they used—brand and scent—their laundry detergent, and pocketing some clothes piled in the dirty basket, Edward started towards the mayor's room.

His first order of business was to get the flash drive, and the too-trusting sweetheart had left their desktop on. One USB later, and Edward was standing over the bed and watching with intense eyes as they slept. His phone, cracked and cheap but safely encrypted, managed to snag a couple decent pictures, what with the poor lighting. He was able to use flash on most everything else in the house, but he didn't want to risk waking the mayor. From the mayor's perspective on the bed, Edward noticed a tree not too far away that would be an ideal perch for watching. It would give a good angle of half of the house, at least.

Edward chuckled and sat at the desk, using the mayor's sleep to browse. No hidden 'homework' tabs containing illegal explicit images, no chat rooms discussing how they were going to embezzle all the relief funds, hell, their photo gallery was squeaky clean. The worst Edward found was porn, but the mayor was only human and it wasn't anything against Edward's morals. Were they really a perfect person? Edward doubted it. There had to be things they weren't proud of. But for now, Edward pocketed the USB drive and smiled as he tugged back on the mask.

Back at his shack, after hours of scouring and finding nothing corrupt, the username TheRiddler and its status turned green as he made his first post since being arrested.

> The Mayor is clean. Take them off the list.

┌───────────────────────┐

Hahaha you are part of my EVIL scheme... you see I have originally written this for a male reader but I'm making gn and f reader versions as an experiment to see if I'm shadowbanned lol. It's either that or there's not a demand for m!reader x riddler lol

[duothelingo]

Just so you all know, there are in fact cameras in my basement and I can see you all moving your cages closer together.

Move them back or the automatic feeder won’t go off.

[creativethought]

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[onechoiceshop]

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[thecattitudecentral]

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[horse-heaven]

my parents have an automatic feeder for their dog with a camera and often Riley can be seen lurking nearby when they check the feed, just waiting for her chance to swoop in and eat all the food that isn’t hers

[nonbinary-octopus]

so, for some reason or another, January's preferred method to inform me that she has been wrongfully deprived of breakfast (usually due to someone closing the door between her and the automatic feeder, but this morning due to me *gasp!* getting up before the feeder goes off instead of after, and throwing her internal clock off!) is to chomp on my phone charging cord. Sometimes my laptop charging cord.

I don't know why she has chosen this particular method of communication, probably some combination of "am hungry, put thing in mouth" and "I know you will stop me which means you are paying attention to me". Fortunately the situation does not often arise

This morning, I happened to wake up about 2.5hrs earlier than normal, and after lying in bed for half an hour, decided to get up and have breakfast.

I also thought I'd start a 3D print I'd been wanting to do, so after I made a bowl of oatmeal, I went to the living room to do so.

The living room, it just so happens, also houses January's eating station.

As I approach the living room, January runs with me, meowing. She is not a very vocal cat in most circumstances. This is very particularly a "food time" meow.

Rather than feed her, I go and turn on the 3D printer. January follows, looks at it, and chomps the filament.

this particular picture is actually a little bit later. After turning the machine on and shooing January away, I sat on the couch to wait for it to preheat, and January came and sat on my knee, kneaded the couch blanket a bit, and then settled down.

When the printer was warmed, and coincidentally I had also just finished off my oatmeal, I eased her off and went to start the print. She followed, and chomped the filament again. I shooed her away, then thought to grab my phone as she returned. I thought I had a picture with her actually chomping, but it appears to have vanished from my camera roll.

[theprissythumbelina]

I'm staying with my parents and their several dogs for another surgery (not important to the story). My parents have become the type of old people that like birds. I don't know if it's a chemical change or what but every good old person I've ever known likes birds. All the shitty ones couldn't care.

Anyway they like birds and they have bird feeders and hummingbird feeders. With automatic cameras (also not important) and a few nests near by. The hummingbirds are the ones I'm talking about because today my parents' puppy found a baby hummingbird and put it in her mouth. It was understandably shaken up when my mom got it out, and she interrupted my class that I was in to get me to come help because it wouldn't fly away.

I don't know what I was supposed to do I don't have any hummingbird knowledge, but I do have delicate hands and a soft heart so we put it in the raised tomato bed. Maybe it would recover and fly away. It didn't. After a while I figured it was thirsty and probably tired, so I picked this tiny little bird up and held it to the hummingbird feeder. And it drank like a beast. This is how I ended up standing multiple times in my parents' yard, perfectly still, holding a hummingbird to a feeder.

We can't find it in the raised garden anymore so hopefully it recovered and flew away. There isn't much of an end to this story but I hope there's a teeny tiny bird out there with a really crazy story to tell.

[alera21]

Recovered Record: Excerpt from Musings on Vampire as Pilots

Vampires used to be among the most feared creatures on old Terra. They were feared for their combination of power and intellect. However, they were vastly overepresented by the most powerful of their kind. Vampires are powerful, but they have some weaknesses that have become more and more clear since humans developed their technology. Weaknesses that are exemplified by subject 073. -------------------------------------------------

73 ran, leaping over enemy soldiers, past vehicles, around buildings. Eyes only for The Enemy. Painted blue, eyes green, 73 smelled its blood. The sweet, sweet blood. Every muscle tensed and exploded with every motion. A Singular Need. It could smell the blood. Nearly taste it.

The Enemy shot at it, but it seemed to move in slow motion.

The blood hunt was in its veins. Stolen blood rushed through its head, its dead heart, its ears, its teeth. Its teeth itched to tear out the heart of its enemy.

Then it caught the Enemy. Clawed hands held it down and tore into its arms. Teeth clamped to its neck and tore and ripped and ate and sucked. For thirty glorious seconds, it ate its fill of blood. Then its handler cut it off. "Good pet, 73. You've had some fun, but an armored column is coming up on your left. They'll be in range shortly. You need to not be there within another 30 seconds."

The blood stopped flowing. The beast inside it became smaller. Reality came back to it. The vision granted by external cameras faded back to just a view on a screen in front of it, and it became a small thing again, riding in the heart of an iron beast.

The Enemy was another mech, not at all rich in blood. The blood came from a feed run into its back and a second feed leading to a soft membrane tube that it bit into. Enough blood forcibly pumped into it sent it into the blood rage, made it a hunter.

But the damnable Handler took it away whenever she saw fit.

And the Enemy was torn apart, and it had taken too many hits that it hadn't remembered, hits that a vampire could regenerate, assuming they were appropriately scaled, but a mech simply accumulated damage. It would need repair.

73 leaned back, and looked into the sky. The bright, lit sky. It did not touch the light itself, it couldn't, but being able to see it again almost made having its hunts cut short worth it.

It turned and ran away, just as the enemy tanks came up the hill.

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

When they were both calm, the mech sometimes talked to it. "Good hunt."

It did not respond. The mech was a method to hunt the greatest prey, giants of steel. It tried to be a thing, a person, but 73 did not trust things of steel. It trusted things of flesh. Trusted them to be soft and tasty. It hated mechs. It accepted using one to turn other mechs into prey. A neonate like it could stand no hope against a mech without using one itself.

Blood gently flowed into the feeder tube from the mech's resevoirs. A 'gift' from its handler for a job well done. Less damage taken than usual and the enemy target was dead.

It craved the taste of blood fresh. The blood hunt convinced it that the massive jaw of the mech was its own, its claws and skin and cameras and giant size were its own. It could become lost in the hunt, but it could never truly enjoy it. Inevitably it was always reminded that it was truly just a gnat stuck in this metal cage as soon as it came down from the hunt, as soon as the blood was taken away by her.

It maneuvered its mech into its bay and set it to open the doors.

And it waited. Waited until its handler and her hauler bot to come up to the cockpit. Waited as the mech automatically retracted its link cables and the auxiliary blood tube. The ecstasy of blood and the hunt was lost completely as its handler's hauler pulled it from the cockpit.

"Excellent job 73. You deserve a treat, how does that sound?"

It frowned at her. She knew it hated this. She also knew how to play with it. She raised a syringe to its mouth, letting a few crimson drops fall from the end of it. It sniffed, and instinctively opened its mouth. She pushed the syringe into its mouth and pressed.

It was sweet. Not quite fresh, but better than the tanks of blood in the mech that were often several days stale.

"Good dog."

73's eyes drooped. There was a mild sedative in the syringe as well as the blood, and it was already quite full. Blood drunk, like humans would be after a large meal.

Sensation came back to its arms and legs as the mechanical prosthetics were attached by the handler. The hauler bot set it down onto its own feet. Well, the feet that the handler owned.

"Follow me, dog."

73 lazily followed the handler. Instincts told it that it could not simply take her. It wasn't hungry, she was in the open, she was useful. Its mind was muddied like this, its hate cooled and energy lacked.

A clang and a scream rang out through the hanger. An industrial accident. Blood gushing from a crushed leg.

73's vision went red, its pupils went wide as it locked onto its food. The fresh scent overwhelmed its other instincts. It was almost never allowed fresh wine of the vein. Muscles, mechanical and organic, tensed and released, launching the vampire, the hunter, the predator at its food.

A single thought to her implant from the handler sent a signal directly to 73's limbs. It landed in a heap, still a dozen paces away from its prey. It impotently wriggled across the floor, still making solid progress even with its dead limbs. Until the hauler bot picked it up again.

"Dog. What are you doing?"

It gnashed its teeth impotently, eyes still locked on the sweet red wine as the food's companions applied first aid and called for a medical team.

The handler slapped 73. "Look at me. I did not tell you to hunt."

The red haze faded. She stood in front of it. The hateful one that holds its leash. The loving one that feeds it.

She snapped at the hauler bot to make it drag 73 along to its quarters. She directed the bot to set it on its bed. She allowed its prosthetic limbs to come back to about 20% power. Enough to lift itself into a sitting position, but nowhere near enough to manage a leap like it had earlier. Barely enough to stand on its own.

She grabbed it by its hair and pointed its head to look right at her.

"Who feeds you?"

73's uncommonly used vocal cords were raspy as it responded, "you do."

She unfolded a small knife, one that 73 had seen many times and was always used for this. The one that left many marks on her wrist. "Why do you deserve to be fed?"

73 hated this game. It made it feel small, it knew that this made it dependant on her. "Because I hunt."

"No," she slapped it again, "because you hunt for me. Because you hunt what I say to, and not because you hunt whatever catches your nose. Why do you deserve to be fed?"

73 acquiesced. It hurt its pride to. It also knew it would not be fed if it did not. "Because I hunt for you. I hunt what you tell me to."

She ran the knife along her wrist. A line of red bubbled along the shallow cut. Red mist drifted into 73's gaze. It tensed what organic muscles it still had, but without limbs that would properly cooperate it would be useless. "Why don't you just heal your limbs? Why let me keep those metal ones on you?" She knew why.

"Because then I would not be allowed to use the hateful machine." And because it would be punished, have its regrown limbs removed and replaced with the prosthetics again. It was not an easy process. "That machine is important. Why do you hate it?" She tilted her hand down so that gravity pulled a drop of blood towards her fingertips.

"Because it means I cannot hunt with my own fangs and claws. Because the others have their own hateful machines, so I must have my own." Because it meant that a human was above it.

She lazily drifted her hand in front of 73's nose. It started twitching with the effort of holding itself back. She knew that it was on the edge.

"Do not hate your mech. It lets you stand on the level of giants. And you still have a predator's instincts. That makes you a hunter of iron giants. Do not hate your machine for that."

Her finger pressed to its lips. It didn't bite. It knew that if it bit it would be punished. It had happened before. Its world was full of red. Red in its eyes, red in its nose, red in its mouth. Red hate in its heart. Not hate for the machine, not truly. Hate for itself, that despite being so much stronger than it once was as a mere human, it was still beneath a human, and it was a mere spec to the iron titans that ruled the battlefield, unless it allowed itself to be entombed in one itself. It let that thought drift away as more red blood, fresh blood, filled its mouth, and it sucked. A gift from the woman that kept talking to it. But it was hard to focus. Ever so hard to focus as the red blood filled its stomach.

[faggotbeloved]

Doing a small post because I have writer's block like a motherfucker; one sitting, no edits or drafts, just a character and a prompt.

Kick-the-Bucketlist | Edward Nashton x M!Mayor!Reader

Cw: home intrusion and stalking, 1 year post-The Batman (2022), 3rd person but the phrase "the mayor"/man/whatever is substituted for a name, edward has escaped, idfk how anything works and i refuse to do research on this

└───────────────────────┘

A Reál Change. What a bullshit slogan. As soon as she was nearly killed before the flood, Bella Reál named some up-and-coming annoyingly charismatic politician as her endorsement for her early retirement, stating he had the better plan for disaster relief. He'd been flying well enough under the radar so that no journalists tried to air his dirty laundry, he stood for mostly the same things as she did, he was young enough to empathize with the masses and mature enough to be experienced.

Plus, Edward admitted, he was definitely not hard to look at.

Edward scowled at the TV in his little shed on the outskirts of Gotham. He needed to lie low until there was a new, more pressing villain—the GCPD would want to assuage the fears of the survivors and claim the dangerous terrorist responsible for the destroyed seawall was recaptured, so they and that mask-wearing not-so-tragic antihero would hone in on him. He knew that would happen, of course, but he missed being able to blend in. With his face posted online for people to thank or curse at, he couldn't exactly walk into a crowd and see this shiny new mayor in person and interact like a curious citizen.

A house visit would have to do.

Edward mused to himself as he walked, clad in a replica of his trademark costume, to the new mayor's humble home—a single family residence, but he could forgive that. It wasn't a multimillion dollar mansion, it was a family home that was a little higher end than market price, was all. The mayor's first action pissed lots of people off, but it was a step in the right direction. He dismantled Renewal, using the entire fund to actually renew Gotham. Then, he requested a meeting with the reclusive Bruce Wayne to discuss the fund and how to move forward, resulting in a charity that serves a similar purpose, but thoroughly crafted to exist without the loopholes.

Gotham rebuilt over the past year, thanks to its new mayor. He took care of much of the mob due to the sloppy power vacuum his death created, gutted the police department, and allocated the majority of his time to correcting long-corrupt mistakes. He was called an 'insane extremist liberal' by the people whose pockets were significantly lighter by his new policies, and an angel by those who were able to eat without sacrificing heat for the week.

Edward was pleased to know his followers had been planning without him. Simpler plans, sure, but they held the spirit needed to keep the revolution going. They took care of a couple assassinations here and there, and now half of his to-kill list was crossed off. He just... needed a look around before he determined if he should add the mayor to the list.

Foolishly, the mayor had a sign poking out from his manicured lawn that told Edward exactly what to tap into to unlock his back door without triggering as much as an alert. After an embarrassingly short session with his laptop, the exterior door swung quietly open, revealing the cool night air of a sleeping house.

His bedroom is upstairs, Edward determined, probably at the end or on the left side of a hallway. No family, pets asleep and luckily quiet, and the cameras are looping for the next hour.

Edward pulled off his mask, strolling around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize it. The fruit bowl was low—our mayor really did eat it, then? Not just decor?—the pet bowl was an automatic feeder in the kitchen, the fridge was stocked with a single man's staples, and the table had an empty glass sitting on it.

How lazy. Edward picked it up with a knuckle and brought it to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of wine. From this evening? All the stress could drive a man to drink, he understood. He ran the sink, rinsing and scrubbing and drying just to put it on the empty drying rack as proof that he was here. He slipped off a glove and pressed his thumb to the glass, imprinting his identity as a calling card. Then, back on it went as he explored further.

His living room was tidy in that hired cleaner, hardly used, too busy for recreation kind of way. Pet hair clung to the fabric despite his maid's best efforts, but the remote was too straightened and the pillows too fluffed to signify anything but this being an unused room. What a shame, really—Edward figured the mayor would look lovely in a robe, nursing a morning coffee while watching the news. Or maybe he was more of an entertainment man? Edward doubted he'd be a sports fan. More research would be necessary.

As Edward explored, he found himself imagining the man's presence more and more clearly. Instead of windows reflecting somber blue tones of midnight, his mind conjured the gold of a rare sunny Gotham morning. Instead of occasional crickets and cars whirring by, he envisioned that rich tone he played back over and over and over back at his 'hideout,' filling the room and those lips brushing over his ear and—

Well. Edward had a job to do. He still hadn't cleared the mayor. Perhaps there were some foul secrets yet. Not that he was looking very hard; Edward just wanted a copy of his hard drive to look through in safety, the house tour was for pleasure.

Edward climbed the stairs, grazing the bannister where the mayor's hands must have touched thousands of times. The house even smelled like him... Edward assumed. He hadn't gotten close enough to try yet. It was funny, a revolutionary akin to those guillotining kings was admiring the family portrait of someone holding so much authority in Gotham. At least he ensured that people had bread to eat.

Just as expected, the mayor's bedroom door, the one on the far left (the balcony was what gave it away, of course he'd have the master bedroom and that would naturally be in the center), was wide open and gave a perfect view of the sleeping mayor. How trusting he was. Where were all his guards? Anyone with a laptop and a desire for homicide could get to him. But this was a nice neighborhood, and his home address wasn't exactly public information.

Edward wandered around the upper floor, greeting the curious pet with his outstretched hand full of food he snatched from the fridge to show he meant no harm. He'd have to befriend this creature anyways, if he intended to return and be uninterrupted. After noting the soaps he used—brand and scent—his laundry detergent, and pocketing some clothes piled in the dirty basket, Edward started towards the mayor's room.

His first order of business was to get the flash drive, and the too-trusting man had left his desktop on. One USB later, and Edward was standing over the bed and watching with intense eyes as he slept. His phone, cracked and cheap but safely encrypted, managed to snag a couple decent pictures, what with the poor lighting. He was able to use flash on most everything else in the house, but he didn't want to risk waking the mayor. From the mayor's perspective on the bed, Edward noticed a tree not too far away that would be an ideal perch for watching. It would give a good angle of half of the house, at least.

Edward chuckled and sat at the desk, using the mayor's sleep to browse. No hidden 'homework' tabs containing illegal explicit images, no chat rooms discussing how he was going to embezzle all the relief funds, hell, his photo gallery was squeaky clean. The worst Edward found was porn, but the mayor was a warm-blooded man and it wasn't anything against Edward's morals. Was he really a perfect man? Edward doubted it. There had to be things he wasn't proud of. But for now, Edward pocketed the USB drive and smiled as he tugged back on the mask.

Back at his shack, after hours of scouring and finding nothing corrupt, the username TheRiddler and its status turned green as he made his first post since being arrested.

> The Mayor is clean. Take him off the list.

┌───────────────────────┐

Wrote this in uhhh like 1.5 hours? Idk. I'm sorry to the wonderful anons requesting wesker things, I WILL get to them eventually, but I needed a break from that nerd to go see this nerd.

Truthfully, I think after I'm satisfied with 3SA and all my requests (~4 requests, and a couple more chapters will be made for 3SA if I keep it up), I'll retire Wesker from my brain. I still love him and I still love RE, but I've hit a wall and need to push past it and... sigh... watch someone play RE6. I'm probably gonna just follow Charlie moistcritikal playing RE cuz I've long since been a fan, but anyways!! TL;DR: Wesker's days are numbered. I am still accepting requests though!! Check my pinned for characters and see if any catch your eye =3

Comments, likes, and reblogs are so, so appreciated!