#First Rat

[whovian223]

Friday Night Shots - Top 1000 BGG Games

Friday Night Shots - Top 1000 BGG Games @gmtgames @pegasusspiele @czechgames @fanfactories @PlayRenegade @garphillgames @Capstone_Games

I know what you’re thinking. Two Friday Night Shots posts in a row? That must mean Dave got the jukebox fixed! It’s amazing what paying your work people can actually do. Maybe that’s why I can’t keep a bartender? Anyway, welcome back! Pull up a chair and I’ll get you a drink. Whatever you like. Ok, not that…but anything else? Oh, and don’t mind my cat. She’s just insane. With something…

[akanemnon]

At least buy them dinner first before you lore dump all over the place

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference

[buckleydiazmp4]

rat…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

[artharakka]

“Äiti itki. Isä lähti huoneesta. Vivian istui nurkassa ja kuunteli vaiti. Kissamme Minni hyppäsi vuoteelle ja käpertyi jalkojeni päälle ja kehräsi, sillä kehräämällä parannetaan sairaita.” — Emmi Itäranta. Kuunpäivän kirjeet

“Mom cried. Dad left the room. Vivian sat in the corner and listened quietly. Our cat Minni jumped on the bed and curled up on my legs and purred, for through purring the sick are healed.” — Emmi Itäranta. The Moonday Letters. Quote tranlated by me (unofficial)

[critterbitter]

Language divides and building bridges.

Elesa’s feeling homesick. Emmet, bless his heart, tries to help by infodumping while Ingo frantically runs off to find water (crying is a very dehydrating experience).

((Would you look at that! The kids are picking up kantonese and galarian from each other!))

BONUS:

Heh. Callback.

Want to see more? Here’s the masterpost for submas!

[mrghostrat]

catch me monching on @chernozemm's cottage wives like an everlasting gobstopper

[pine-rhyme]

Harowhark study because i got the flu (Nonegesimitis).

[snattacat]

the rat grinders x who are you really

for all my rageguy enjoyers out there. major fhjy spoilers so proceed with caution...

[another-goblin]

Cat cake and rat cake

[extrashortshorts]

POV: your youtube recommendations after you clicked on one normal OP theory video

[whovian223]

Terminal City Tabletop Convention Retrospective - 2024

Retrospective - @terminalcitycon - 2024 @apegames @LookoutSpiele @Pandasaurusgame @StudioBombyx @StrongholdGames @Zmangames_ @Game_Brewer @wizkidsgames @vitallacerda @JohnDClair @bwisegames @AportaGames @pegasusspiele @FlatoutGames

It’s a few days after another great convention experience, so let’s talk a little bit about Terminal City Tabletop Convention – 2024. This year, it was held at the Vancouver Convention Centre which is right on the water in downtown Vancouver. It’s a beautiful site, and also the same venue as SHUX was held in…I don’t remember the last one (hey, let’s link to a blog post that might refresh the…

[domibomz]

" W H E R E I S A N A S T A S I A O F T H E N I N T H ? "

[maplebars]

cherished moments

[ritasanderson]

[lave-ium]

raffle prize i did like… idk a month ago on instagram LMAO i just forgot to post it here til rn😭

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."