#not as many funny lil guys in there but i think cool heists make up for it

[lunariarts]

If a ttrpg has options for the player characters to be furries, they will succeed. Homebrew can solve any problem, but baked in RAW furry rules are your ticket to fame.

Cyberpunk: Absolute horseshit no one is running around as one those handsome little robot sergal fuckers

Lancer: Deergirl piloting a mech, fuck with me

Monster of the Week: Become Cryptid

DnD: Pirate all of their content, become tabaxi, come aarakocra, become harengon, become leonin

Monopoly: play it in your fursuit you had to pass go fifteen fucking times to afford I guess

SO fucking true. My enjoyment of a setting is hands in hands with how many weird lil fellas there are running around. Like one of my sonas is a kobold I'm not immune to furrybait ttrpgs

Also can you actually play as a deergirl in Lancer because uhhh uhmmm 👉👈

[softspideys]

Are you okay? (Peter Parker x Reader) (Part I)

summary: while walking home alone one night, you find you’re being followed by a group of men. a certain masked hero swoops in to save the day before it’s too late.

warnings: uhhh there’s some harassment and a lil bit of a scary situation at the beginning but aside from that none

words: 1.9k

pairings: peter parker x reader

a/n: so many people encouraged me to post this so thank u so much <3 the reader is female in this just because of the plot and stuff so im sorry to all of my non-female readers :( if y’all like this i’ll definitely write some more and try to make them gender neutral. this is my first time posting my stuff on here so i hope it’s good :^)

You’d called the streets of Queens, New York your home for your entire life and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Some of your friends complained about living in the city, and sure, there were downsides: fighting for elbow room on a crowded subway, for example. Actually, pretty much just everything about the subway. Then there was the noise and the trash and the way that everyone and everything was packed in together so tightly. There were no backyards, everything was smelly; the list seemed to go on and on.

Even so, you loved living in the city. You were familiar with the streets and you weren’t afraid of any of them. Sure, you knew there was crime and murderers and rapists and robbers and gangs, but what was the likelihood that anything was going to happen to you?

One Friday night, you’d stayed late at a friend’s house. The two of you had started out doing some homework, but quickly dissolved into watching movies and eating snacks all evening. By the time your mom texted you, asking when you’d be home, it was almost eleven o’clock.

“Do you want my dad to walk you home?” your friend asked worriedly.

You knew your friend’s parents had retired to their room for the night and were probably asleep. You shook your head. “Nah, I’ll be okay. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You took the subway without any problems and came out only a few blocks away from your apartment. As you walked, you passed by some apartment buildings, one of which had a group of guys sitting on the front stoop. You paid them no mind as you went by, pretending not to hear the whistles directed at you. Unfortunately, you were no stranger to catcalls, but mother had always told you to just keep your head down and ignore them and you wouldn’t have a problem. So far it had worked. But not tonight.

You heard footsteps as the men got off of the stoop and began to follow you. You felt a lump of dread settling in your throat. You knew you had pepper spray somewhere in your backpack, but you were afraid to pause and search for it.

“Hey, beautiful,” one of the men cooed. His voice was smooth but it still made you sick to your stomach. “Where you going? Why you alone at this time of night?”

You didn’t answer, quickening your pace although deep down you knew it wouldn’t help. “Hey,” he said, louder and harsher this time, “I’m talking to you.”

Suddenly there were footsteps, heavy and loud behind you, and then a hand was grabbing your arm and jerking you back. You tried to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he merely held on tighter, making you flinch with pain. The other two men were surrounding you now, leaving you with no way out. Why was there no one around? This was New York, for God’s sake, there were always people around. It was just your luck. 

“Let go of me!” you shouted, hoping you would just sound angry and not scared.

They were all grinning now. “I don’t like being ignored,” the one holding onto you said. “I was just trying to be nice and give you a compliment, and you ignored me. That’s disrespectful.” He leaned in closer, and you could smell his hot breath on your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling tears burn your eyes. “I’m sorry, please let me go.”

He shook his head. “You know what we do to disrespectful little girls like you?”

Your heart was beating so hard and so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You had no idea what they did to disrespectful little girls, but you knew it wasn’t going to be good, and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop them. You thought of your mom and dad, waiting for you to come home, blissfully unaware of your dilemma.

“Please,” was all you could say, your voice shaking, “please, don’t.”

They all laughed, but before anything else could happen, a new voice said, “What’s so funny, gentlemen?”

Surprised, they turned in time to see a figure swooping down from a building, landing a few feet in front of you. What appeared to be a huge white net shot out and trapped one of the men against the wall. He shouted and tried to break free, but he was . . . stuck?

“Come on, guys, can’t you take a hint?” the guy continued. “If a girl ignores you when you catcall her and begs you to let her go, it means she’s just not into you like that.” You watched, eyes wide, as another net shot out from . . . his wrist? His hand? His arm? Either way, it trapped the second guy against the wall next to his partner.

The guy stepped into the light and you realized that it wasn’t a net, it was webbing. Spider-Man’s webbing, to be exact. The third assailant, the one holding onto you, seemed to realize that he had no chance in fighting back. He shoved you roughly to the ground and took off running.

“Oh no you don’t,” Spider-Man called. He shot another web at him and pinned the guy to a lamppost. You could hear him knock against it with a loud, painful-sounding clang. “There. Moral of the story here, guys? Respect women.”

He turned to you. “Now, let’s get you home, ma’am – oh.”

His voice instantly lost that smooth, confident tone he’d been speaking in as he jogged over and knelt to where you were sitting on the ground from when you’d been pushed. Your heart was still beating at a million miles an hour, and you felt dizzy, like you were in a dream.

If he hadn’t rescued you from such a horrifying situation, you would’ve thanked him, flirted with him a little, maybe even kissed his cheek. You knew all about Spider-Man, of course; you’d seen videos of him on the news and on YouTube. Occasionally he was known to get involved in huge crimes and heists, but mostly he was just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, who gave old women directions and helped cats out of trees and did flips for people when they asked. You’d always imagined what it would be like to meet him, but never thought it would happen like this.

“Hey, are you okay? Wait, that was stupid, of course you’re not okay, you almost just got attacked – what I mean is, are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?” His voice was high, so you could tell that he wasn’t an adult. Judging from that, as well as his height, you would’ve guessed that he was around your age.

You shook your head. You could feel a bruise on your arm from where the man had grabbed you hard, and your hands and knees were a little scraped from falling on the pavement, but you knew you were lucky to walk away with such minor injuries when it could’ve gone a lot worse.

“Oh, good. I was afraid I got there too late. Did you see the look on their faces when I came down? I love doing that, it never gets – wait, why are you crying?”

The weight of everything that had just happened finally came crashing down on you, and you felt yourself starting to cry. What would’ve happened if Spider-Man had gotten there too late? Would you be dead by now?

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, feeling embarrassed to be crying in front of him. It was bad enough he had to save you from such an awful situation.

“No!” he said quickly, startling you. “Sorry, I mean, don’t apologize. I’m sorry. You must be really scared and now you have to listen to me ramble. I’m probably only making it worse.”

You laughed a little, trying to wipe your tears away. “No, you aren’t. You saved me. I’m the stupid one who was walking alone at night.” You shook your head at yourself. Your mom would be so angry if she found out.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Spider-Man said. “Those guys – they’re creeps, they’re horrible. You weren’t doing anything wrong. It’s okay.”

You shook your head. You hadn’t even realized you were still shaking until he put a tentative arm around you. The material of his suit wasn’t rubbery like you originally thought; it was smooth and cool. You stiffened and he started to withdraw his arm.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I think you’re in shock and I thought maybe that would help but of course it wouldn’t, why would you want some weirdo touching you after what just happened? I’m really sorry.” You noticed that he tended to ramble, especially when he was nervous.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You can – you can put it back.”

“Okay.” Slowly, he put his arm back around you, rubbing your shoulder. You felt yourself blushing, and you wondered if Spider-Man were to take off his mask, would he be too? And then another thought hit you: what would he look like, if he were to take off his mask?

The two of you sat there for a minute or so until he finally asked, “So, uh – where do you live? I’ll walk you home. If you want. If you don’t want me to that’s okay, I would just feel better about it if I was with you. Um.” He scratched the back of his neck.

You smiled a little. “I live two blocks away.” The irony that you got attacked so close to where you lived was definitely not lost on you. “And I would really like that.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” Spider-Man stood and offered you a hand, pulling you up.

“What about . . . them?” You gestured to your would-be attackers, still pinned to the building and lamppost.

“I’ll come back for them,” Spider-Man decided. “They aren’t exactly going anywhere.” The two of you silently walked side-by-side to your apartment. There were a few people sitting on their front stoops, but no one gave you a second look. 

You snuck quick little peeks at him as you walked. He was only a few inches taller than you. He was definitely muscular – he had to be, considering all of the superhero-y things he could do – but now that the two of you were just walking, you saw he was also kind of awkward: he bumped into you every now and then and tripped over things like holes in the sidewalk or flower pots. It was a little endearing, and only made your guess that he was around your age even firmer.

You finally arrived at your building, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, here you are,” Spider-Man said. “I, uh, didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, a little shyly.

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Pretty. Well, have a good night. Is that the right thing to say? I hope your night gets better, there we go. Good.”

You laughed for the first time all night. “Thank you,” you said, looking up at him. “For saving me, and for – this. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he answered, and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I hope we don’t see each other again.” You nodded. He gave you a little wave before he took off jogging across the street, and you watched as he shot a web string onto the side of a building and swung into the night.