#muzzled tac

[erineas]

Y'know, I started this as a quick traditional doodle after reading he canonically owns a muzzle now. Dunno when I started painting on my computer, that might explain the odd shading--

Here's another version:

I may have fell in love with this guy when searching for references, he has some low-key big softie energy, ok? (That chest kiss!) 👉👈

Tac belongs to @didderd !

[didderd]

hehehe. y'all spoiling him. :3

[didderd]

saw th one with siren you n Tac after u left, n i love it!! <33333

magma doodles with frens! with @didderd 's tac sans!

[isthenapoleoncute]

So...I'm back at it again with Nippy, Soldat, and my one Lannes. I was taking them out for a war when I happened upon an unfortunate sight in the form of not one, but two Napoleons tied to a tree and wearing muzzles. So I took them home since they were obviously surrendered and their previous owner clearly didn't care about them. Thus, I now have Tic-Tac and the other is unnamed. The former I named because he saw a thing of Tic-Tacs on my kitchen table and took one. I had to pull the rest away from him so he wouldn't eat them all and get sick. I'm taking them to the vet tomorrow to see if anything else is wrong. I can't believe someone would leave these guys tied up like that.

GRR! That makes me so mad! I wish someone would take those mean Napoleon owners and tie them to a tree, see how they like it!

Good for you for rescuing them! I hope Tic-Tac and Nippy get along splendidly! Keep me updated on the other one, too!

[tictac-murder-spaghetti]

Introduction whoo!

Hello everyone!! I've been lurking for a little while but I finally mustered up the courage to make an introduction, so here we go! My name is Gadget or Tic Tac and I use any pronouns (he/they/she)! I'm currently 18 and I am aroace! I'm mostly going to post OC whump content, with my favorite duo of OCs currently being a detective named Ambrose (this blog is currently themed around him design wise!) and his mad scientist/necromancer best friend Strychnine. Both get plenty whumped in different ways >:) Now! Onto tropes I like :) - Kidnapping - Gags/muzzles - Lab whump - Nonhuman whumpees (of all sorts! Including anthro/furry) - Creepy/intimate whumpers - Defiant/snarky whumpees - Hurt comfort (ESPESCIALLY platonic relationships. I love caretaker and whumpee being best friends) - Restraints Then the things I will not write/probably not read either - Sickfics/emeto - Broken/fully conditioned whumpees - Major character death (permanent, do love a good necromancy afterall) - Unhappy ending/no comfort at all Beyond that, I'm kinda willing to give anything a shot! I want to say thank you to both @whumperofworlds and @a-crumb-of-whump for encouraging me to actually make a whump blog!! Both have amazing blogs and lots of cool OCs so if you haven't checked them out already please do (especially fond of WoWs Ash and Evie's Ollie!) Anyway, this got longer then I meant, but thank you for checking this out! Very happy to have a blog now and put my OCs through hell :)

[lady-loth-drabbles]

Zieh Leine

Kӧnig x AFAB Insert she/her. Part 1 / ? . Words - 1K. Enemies/Rivals to Lovers.

Warnings: None so far.

SWEDEN - Fulufjället National Park: 0400

The reconnaissance, who was supposedly already on ground, had been silent. Horangi was usually his Overwatch for missions like these - deployments with minimal engagement. He enjoyed how always talkative he was, over informative sometimes sure, but he’d slowly become used to it. So the silence was a little disconcerting. He was kicking himself for not paying more attention during the briefing, re-read the notes or maybe asked more questions.

 He had just been so eager to get out into the field, even if it was for something so mundane as this. The past few weeks had left him so restless he was practically vibrating out of his skin, he had visited the base gym so often they virtually begged him to stop - for his health. Now he was out and, as boring as it was, he was tempered, satiated. Though he did wish it was maybe a little more…precarious. 

The first few hours he’d just assumed it was Allard who was lost in these woods with him, given the environment she’d seemed the most comfortable in this terrain but as the night dragged into morning he was beginning to second guess whether he really had any support at all. So distracted with his rambling thoughts as he trudged through the snow he nearly missed the clink of metal in his not so distant vicinity. A sound, to a practised ear, of someone cocking a bolt action. They hadn’t seen him, he’d of been shot already, but they had definitely heard him.

He’d be kicking himself for being so unaware if the sound hadn’t intoxicated him. He moved deftly to cover as adrenaline flooded his mind with routinized finesse. His thoughts quieted and eyes blew wide with excitement. His shoulders pulled back, long brawny legs braced against the packed snow, tense and ready. All he needed to do had been done and no one said he couldn't engage - have some fun. What else could he do, before he was supposed to meet his illusive overwatch, play sitting duck with an active threat in the area? Of course not.

He was focused wholly on the hunt. The blood pumping in his ears steeling him, a practised predator. He scoured the covered ground around him, if they had vantage on him, they’d have seen him. So they were further down. It was the glare of the light, in the snow, reflected off their muzzle that told him exactly where they were. The risk was decently low compared to what he was used to and if they’re set up like he suspects getting one-up on them will be easy, allowing him to settle confidently further into The Game, The Hunt.

He had skirted the edges of the more rugged parts of the hill side, using the more visible rocks to excel his trek up and across the steep slope. The snow grips clipped to the bottom of his shoes clicked quietly against the stone, still less audible then trudging through the dense snow. As familiar as he was with these northern winters, his weight made traversing the snow undetected tedious.

He came to what he had suspected, a small hiking respite - a semi-open lean, snow covered and wind shielded. An undersized set of dark carbon fibre skis laid alongside the weathered wood of the shelter, half covered in snow, with a portable white tac pack leaning against a large gun case next to them. Definitely a sniper. If he wasn't so laser focused on the offensive he’d have probably considered this might just be his overwatch.

Desperately trying to muffle the scrunching of his heavy steps in the snow as he approached, glad the low light covered any shadow he might cast, he stalked closer. He pushed up to the opening archway, leaning down and dipping his head to enter, gun raised but held close to himself to avoid disclosing his entrance any more than he already had. A white painted rifle lay fully assembled and half covered in snow braced onto a firepit-side bench, the set up in front of him was basic, bare bones for easy transport. Basic and empty.

As he turned to sweep the corners of the ‘room’ his breath hitched in his throat as something long and hard pressed itself flat against the inside of his thigh, angled high - high enough to make resisting a whimper hard-fought. On instinct he already had his rifle raised, muzzle near knocking against the plastic of their foggy black ski visor. His eyes flicked briefly, tepidly, to his groin and the long 13” stiletto knife flicked out and held with a steady, practised, white gloved hand. Small.

They stood steady and upright, their posture - indignant, even so they barely came up to his armpits and had to tilt their head far back to make eye contact. Their eyes, though partly obscured by the tinted eyewear, glaze past the gun readied at them, to him - through him. He took a moment to look over them, the short tuffs of dark brown hair curling out from under the low pulled hood of their jacket, their neck gaiter, mottled grey with black venting over the mouth, the lip of it tucked neatly under the foam sealant of their visor.

“Call your berghund to heel O’Conor. He is about to be a hazard.” 

The other steady, practised hand moved to click their chest radio, his hand dropping from bracing his gun, reflexively snapping to grab their wrist. They glowered, undeterred. Titling their clothed chin to speak, stare unbroken. Even with the bulk of their winter gear, they were delicately small. Swamped by their white and tawny coat and matching padded ski pants .

The rhythmless cut to her light voice betraying her origins. High German. He remained steely, watching the quirk of her eyebrow through the opaque screen on her visor. It was a contest, a question. ‘Are you quite done?’ it said, bored and smug - without a smile. The radio on his chest hissed to life - Conor’s tight rasp coming through - quiet but assertive.

“Kӧnig, stand down. She's our new blow-in.”

[theaverageshooter]

Vaznev-9K 2/5 mods. This Vaznev is equipped with the True Tac Grip for fast ADS, and the Omega-9K muzzle attachment for recoil stabilization and sound suppression. . @kalashnikovusaofficial @kalashnikovusa @callofduty (at Fort Bragg, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp8Qxqiph7k/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gcldfanged]

Things you said I wouldn't understand.

It must've been the first time Tseng had seen him just... go empty. Completely numb, almost like a fugue state taking over, narrowing all of his sensory input to whatever was happening in front of him, in that second. Eyes little more than two matte pools of nara ink, not truly focused on one specific thing, but sliding around- floor to ceiling, his blood misted forearm still gripping his service pistol. The mangled, caved in pile of meat, teeth, and tongue that the agent had essentially bludgeoned with the butt of his handgun.

Their witness was still alive... maybe. Spasms making the body jerk like a marionette on twisted strings. Perhaps the last few signals of neurons firing off as the body began to shut down after going into shock.

Jae-hyo heard Tseng's voice but it felt so distant, the rapid and sharp snaps of his thumb and forefinger in front of his nose, a hard jostle to his right shoulder.

"Whip, look at me!"

Yoon nearly jumps out of his skin, turning with strangely open and dismayed expression like a small child about to be scolded by their guardian.

"What?"

The question tumbles out like he'd only just misheard his superior in the moment- What was that, Boss? Like they were discussing what Tseng was going to order for takeout that night.

"What the hell happened?"

What could he even say? He almost laughed at the options.

Sorry, Boss, I guess I hit him a little too hard-

Hey, he's the one who headbutted my gun. Twenty-five times.

Jae's expression darkens as he pushes Tseng against the wall, the blood-speckled muzzle of his gun disturbingly close to his superior's chin due to the position of his hands.

"You said you trusted me, right-" he states more than asks, searching his superior's expression for confirmation of this fact. There's a dark intensity making his eyes look crazed, yet there's a kind of vulnerability to them.

"So, trust me now."

Don't ask questions. Please.

"What about the girl?"

Jae's pauses, having forgotten entirely about the more corpse than person lying on the sofa. Her eyes were closed, but even through the makeup caked on her face, they both knew she was young. Too young.

"We're leaving."

The incredulous shock on his superior's face is like a needle twisted inside of his heart.

"She's an addict, Tseng! Or did you think someone can manage to nap through what we did?" Jae-hyo demands, gesturing at the bodies they'd left all over the penthouse suite.

"You can't do anything for her. So drop it."

He can feel the elder man's presence dogging his footsteps as they leave, both of them walking at a slower pace to better blend in with the other suits milling around in the foyer.

Not now, not now-

The double doors swing open and the heels of Yoon's shoes echo into the brisk night air, the rapid 'tac-tac-tac' of Tseng's not far behind.

"So, that's it?"

Rolling his eyes, Jae pivots on his heel and faces his partner in crime.

"Yeah. That's it. Drag her to a hospital if you really wanna, but she's gonna be back out on the street once she leaves. This is reality, okay? Why do you think they never try to run away or report shit to Public Security? I told you, just... drop it. You wouldn't be able to understand even if I told you."

"Understand what? Then talk to me, help me understand-"

He's expecting a firm hand to yank him back, but what he gets is too gentle, the weight of a hand against his shoulder trying to keep him from walking away. Somehow that's even worse, a sudden spike of white-hot anger makes his eyes fly open and slap Tseng's arm away as though scalded by a flat iron.

"The next time you touch me, you're losing that hand," he warns, backing away slowly, but with his head raised and his chest out- As though challenging the other man to approach him. He doesn't take his eyes off of Tseng until he's certain he can lose him in the back alleys, exhaling a rough breath.

How could he understand what he hasn't lived through- It was impossible, like trying to teach a dog how to use silverware. There was no point. The concerned expression softening the other Turk's features made him want to throw up, rip his skin off and roll around in a vat of salt, douse himself in gasoline and light a match.

The resentment, the anger, the disdain- That he could take, just not pity. He's rather eat his own hand than let some asshole get all watery-eyed and weepy over something that happened every damn day and yet the world continued to spin, money continued to change hands, and the privileged few sated their greasy hungers on those who never had the illusion of choice.

[nocodmentary]

PULEMYOT 762 - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III - Domination - No Commentary Game: CALL OF DUTY MODERN WARFARE III Mode: DOMINATION Map: ESTATE Platform: XBOX SERIES X Keyboard: RAZER HUNTSMAN MINI Mouse: RAZER BASILISK V3 Mouse Sensitivity: 3 Primary Weapon Type: LIGHT MACHINE GUN Primary Weapon: PULEMYOT 762 Blueprint: MARIGOLD Muzzle: SHADOWSTRIKE SUPPRESSOR Underbarrel: SL SKELETAL VERTICAL GRIP Barrel: N/A Ammunition: 7.62X54MMR HIGH VELOCITY Laser: N/A Magazine: N/A Optic: SZ SRO-7 Rear Grip: N/A Stock: IVANOV BLUFF HEAVY STOCK Camo Category: N/A Camo: N/A Gun Screen: N/A Charm: SURVIVAL 101 Large Decal: N/A Sticker 1: N/A Sticker 2: N/A Sticker 3: N/A Secondary Weapon Type: HANDGUN Secondary Weapon: COR-45 Blueprint: N/A Muzzle: N/A Underbarrel: N/A Barrel: N/A Ammunition: N/A Laser: 1MW PISTOL LASER Magazine: 18 ROUND MAG Trigger Action: N/A Optic: SZ MINI Rear Grip: N/A Stock: N/A Camo Category: BLUR Camo: SUNSET BLUR Charm: THE TEAM Large Decal: GUT WRENCHING Sticker 1: INQUISITORIAL SEAL Sticker 2: N/A Vest: ENGINEER VEST Tactical: SMOKE GRENADE Field Upgrade: MUNITIONS BOX Gloves: SCAVENGER GLOVES Boots: CLIMBING BOOTS Gear 1: EOD PADDING Gear 2: TAC MASK Streak Type: SCORESTREAK Scorestreak 1: UAV (500) Scorestreak 2: SAE (875) Scorestreak 3: OVERWATCH HELO (1000) Operator Type: SPECGRU Operator: SPECGRU Operator Skin: RANGERS III Finishing Move: NINJANUITY Calling Card: BRAZIL Emblem: FLAG OF ENGLAND

[fmpsteelmarrow]

Update Video (Pistol & Grapple)

Below is a quick video about me talking about the changes to the grappling gun and pistol. Content:

Rotating Component (For tic tac)

Tic Tac enemies

Sound Effects (Pistol & Grapple Gun)

How to stop playing sound effects

Adding a hook to grapple point locations

Adding VFX to Pistol (muzzle flash)

Side notes what wasn't mentioned in the video:

I changed the projectile component speed and gravity so it shoots for faster and travels for a long distance as I didn't like how short the distance was.

I also lowered the grappling gun distance based off of inputs from my playtesting to make it less powerful.

An Issue I had when Importing the grappling gun into unreal was that it was facing the wrong way so I had to go back into blender and rotate it 90 degrees towards the correct direction.

Sound Effects Used:

Video Used to setup VFX:

[techarena]

Best Ashika Island Weapon Loadouts in Warzone 2

Are you ready to dominate the new Ashika Island map in Warzone 2? Choosing the right loadout is crucial for success, and we've got you covered with the top five guns to use on this map. These weapons were chosen based on their high mobility and damage, making them perfect for the smaller Ashika Island map. Before we dive into the top guns, it's important to familiarize yourself with the map. The Warzone 2 Ashika Island map is a brand new location, and learning your way around it is key to winning. Take some time to explore the full map and all the Points of Interest (POIs) before dropping in.

One of the POIs to keep an eye out for is the Tsuki Castle, which features a lot of close-quarters combat. Now, let's take a closer look at the top five guns for the Ashika Island map. Best Ashika Island Weapon Loadouts in Warzone 2 TAQ-56 The TAQ-56 is a versatile assault rifle that is perfect for long-range engagements, while still offering a fast time-to-kill up close. For the TAQ-56, we suggest using the Echoless-80 for the muzzle, Schlager 3.4x for the optic, Lockgrip Precision-40 for the underbarrel, 5.56 High Velocity for ammunition, and a 60 Round Mag for the magazine. To take your TAQ-56 build to the next level, be sure to check out our Warzone 2 TAQ-56 loadout guide for the best attachment tuning and more. Vaznev-9K Despite a recent nerf to its long-range damage, the Vaznev-9K still remains a formidable weapon up close, thanks to its high damage and controllable recoil. For the Vaznev-9K, we recommend using the FTAC Castle Comp for the muzzle, FSS OLE-V Laser for the laser, Cronen Mini Pro for the optic, 45 Round Mag for the magazine, and Demo-X2 Grip for the rear grip. For even better results, check out our guide on the best weapon tuning for the Vaznev-9K in Warzone 2. ISO Hemlock The newest assault rifle in Warzone 2, the ISO Hemlock, boasts low recoil and fast mobility, making it a great choice for the fast-paced Ashika Island map. To optimize your ISO Hemlock loadout, we suggest using the XTEN Havoc 90 for the muzzle, Fielder-T50 for the barrel, Schlager 3.4x for the optic, 5.56 High Velocity for ammunition, and a 45 Round Mag for the magazine. For more details on the best attachment tunings for the ISO Hemlock, check out our Warzone 2 ISO Hemlock loadout guide. M13B With a recent buff, the M13B is now an excellent option for the Ashika Island map, thanks to its fast mobility and high fire rate. For the M13B, we recommend using the XTEN Ported 290 for the muzzle, 14" Bruen Echelon for the barrel, Schlager 3.4x for the optic, 5.56 High Velocity for ammunition, and a 60 Round Mag for the magazine. To make the M13B even more accurate, check out our guide on the best weapon tuning for the M13B in Warzone 2. Lachmann Sub Our top pick for the best gun to use on the Ashika Island map is the Lachmann Sub, which boasts incredibly fast mobility and an even faster time-to-kill. For the Lachmann Sub, we recommend using the Lacerta Compensator for the muzzle, Forge TAC Ultralight for the barrel, Tac Laser for the laser, Sleight of Hand for the perk, and a 40 Round Mag for the magazine. Additionally, we suggest using the Rubberized Grip Tape for the rear grip to further reduce recoil and improve accuracy. Also read: Best Alternatives For Apple Watch Ultra In 2023 In Conclusion With the right loadout and knowledge of the Ashika Island map, you'll be ready to dominate your enemies and come out on top in Warzone 2. Don't forget to adjust your loadout based on your playstyle and the situation at hand, and always be ready to adapt to changing circumstances on the battlefield. Good luck out there! Read the full article

[ninjathrowingstork]

Never Quite Free

Chapter One: Pushed (words: 2309)

Sierra Six|Court Gentry/F! OC. No warnings yet, just canon-typical violence

Like everything in his life for the past- too many years, really - it had started out as just another mission. They told him where to go, what to wear, and who to kill, and he obeyed orders. Every time, without fail.

Sometimes, though, things didn't exactly go to plan, and ended up a little more exciting than he'd have liked. (Still beats going back inside) the man known as Sierra Six noted, ducking around a corner in time for the wall where his head had been to explode into a spray of stone fragments. There were at least a half-dozen of them, he'd counted, and he'd already cut his way through maybe that many to reach his target. His intel hadn't been accurate, and while he'd eliminated his target, (the leader's brother, kingpin in his own ring running. . . something, the details had been vague) the goons were still coming after him. And now, civilians were in the way.

He ran.

There were shots ringing out from multiple points around the open park, and he ran, skidding, through the panicking crowds to the cover of a low concrete wall. The cover wasn't perfect, they'd circle around to find him, but he'd at least have a minute to catch a breath and reassess. And a minute was more than he'd need (there was still that annoying graze across his left tricep where one guy had gotten too lucky.)

Seven. It was almost definitely seven shooters after him now, and some were up on the rooftops around the park, and-

A blur of motion of a body sliding and tumbling behind the wall had him spinning in a crouch as he brought the automatic in his hand up to bear on-

It was a woman. A civilian, maybe early thirties, at the oldest, and unarmed, he assessed with barely a thought.

"Ow, fuck", her skirt had ridden up to show one knee and where the tights had ripped along with the skinned knee beneath. She noticed him and the gun in the next heartbeat. "OH. FUCK." 

Eyes widening, she recoiled in shock just as he lowered the muzzle off of her, glancing back out over the possible lines of fire. 

"Oh, sorry." (Just gotta keep her calm and alive until I can get her out of here) "You ok?" He gestured to his own chin with his free hand. "

"I-what?" Reaching up to her own chin, her fingertips came away red with  the blood dripping from her mouth. "Shit,  must have bit my lip. Ow." The woman glared up and through the low wall, in the direction of the shots. "Yeah, just broken skin, I'll manage."

(Good, staying calm and not trying to bolt from cover, I can still get her out of here.)  "Ok, just stay down, I've counted seven of them and-" a shot ricocheted off  the wall, sending dust flying and his companion in hiding pressing back into the corner further with a muffled yelp. Again, he scanned the angles of fire, watching  the flash of light off a scope for an instant that gave away the shooter's hideout. Too fast, couldn't get a clean shot on him now.

"Hey, uh, just catching up here," it was the woman again, She was staring up at him sideways with a slight smirk, the tremor in her voice and the blood she absently wiped from her fingers onto her skirt the only reflections of their situation. "Since they're the ones shooting here, I'm guessing you're the good guy in all this, right"

(The good guy?) He hadn't thought of himself necessarily as the good guy in a long time, just the one who killed the bad guys. "I- I think so?" Better not to start thinking too much about the moral side of the work he'd been given just now.

Her smirk turned into something more serious and considering, searching his face for. . . something. "Ok, guess I'll-" she broke off, focus moving to something over his shoulder. "On your seven." It came out as a rush of breath, only a jerk of her chin pointing in the direction, and he spun to see one of the men in tac gear sighting on them. He fired a second before the other man could get off a shot. (Good girl), she'd spotted the man and kept her head enough not to show she'd seen him, in time for him to get the shot off. (Probability I can get her out of here just went up.) The shot and his realization had happened within the space of two breaths, and he twisted back, crouching on the balls of his feet to see her staring back where the man had been. "You still ok?"

"I- um. Can't say I've gotten someone killed before."

Working with a civilian, he reminded himself. Her calm might just be shock. He raised his gun again to try to peer over the wall, ducking back again when another shot sent dust into the air. "Hey, no, you did good." Working with someone to watch his back was new. She shouldn't be here with him, but it'd kept them both alive.

She grinned a little at that, it was shaky but it was there. Then the grin melted and the focus was back, her chin jerking out again behind him "on your six!"

He spun back, firing at another man slowly creeping towards their position and why did the way she said his number sound so nice? Almost as soon as he'd dropped the second man, her cry, barely above a whisper, came again.

"Three o'clock!"

She was using the wall as their 12, he realized. Smart. He twisted again, pivoting to his left and firing past her to the flash of light on a balcony.

"On nine!"

Again he twisted, and again fired. Another figure dropped.

"Four o'clock, high!"

That one was on the roof, and slid down to fall to the street when he was dropped. Two more down, that left three including the one pinning them down, who'd ducked back into cover when he tried to get a sight on him over the wall. He glanced back at the woman, her eyes were somehow even wider and face as pale as the ash-blonde hair escaping from its tie.

"St- still ok," she gasped out.

"We've got three more left, you sure on that?"

One eyebrow quirked up slightly. "Do I have a choice, really?"

An interesting answer, and he told her so. "Normally," they both ducked again as another shot embedded itself in the wall. "Normally, someone like you would be trying to run away from the guy everyone's trying to kill"

"Nu-uh, I've got cover and I'm by the guy who's said he'll get me out of- " she broke off with another jerk of the chin, "seven again."

This time, he just twisted to the side and fired. "Two left, I had seven on me when I got here."

"Only seven?" Her grin was back.

Somehow, he felt a grin pulling at his lips also. "Only seven, yeah. You wanted more?"

She snorted a small laugh. Amazing that she could laugh in the middle of this. Then again, that she could laugh and stay calm in the middle of a shootout was literally the only thing he knew about her (and that the way she said his number sounded nice and she'd asked if he was the good guy and that little half-smile of hers was cute for someone being shot at.) "I get the sense you could handle more, somehow, but because I'm here you're hold- on four again."

Her chin pointed, and he swung the gun to follow her chin and fired. "One more."

"-Holding back for my sake. Is that the one pinning us down here?" Rolling her head up, she tried to peer over the wall, before he reached out and shoved her shoulder back down just as yet another bullet skimmed along the top of the concrete surface. He tried not to notice how warm her shoulder was under his palm.

"Stay down. Here's what you're going to do, on my count you- what are you doing?"

A heartbeat after he'd moved his hand from her shoulder back to cradle the gun, she'd started shimmying out of her jacket, staying low. "I've got an idea." Reaching out with one boot heel, she hooked a fallen tree branch and began to drag it closer, jerking to one side as a shot cracked into the edge of the pavement a foot from her leg, but a second later she had it and was hooking the top of the jacket on the end. "I'm gonna draw him out, ok?"

Only long years of training and work kept him from staring at her. (This damn woman.) For anyone in his world of covert ops; of spies and assassins, he'd have felt professional admiration for her creativity, but for this civilian. . .

Before that thought could go any farther, she'd swung the coat on the stick up, hoisting it like a flag with a hissed "now!"

The fabric jerked with an impact of the bullet tearing through the material and he caught the motion from the corner of his eye as he sighted on the gunman who'd broken cover long enough to take the shot that was his last. One squeeze of the trigger, and Six saw the body of his last pursuer collapse to the balcony below him. That was it. Somewhere in the distance there were sirens approaching.

A small, choked laugh drew his attention back to the woman crouching beside him. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face in smoke-dark streaks, and she was holding up the jacket to stare at the single bullet hole piercing through from front to back. "Guess I'm gonna need a new coat." The slight tremor started creeping back into her voice.

"You should go, before the police get here. You don't need to be connected to this." He'd leave as soon as she was clear, and that would be it, he thought.

"Here," she'd dropped the coat in her lap and dug through a pocket to come up with a small white rectangle. "Here's my card, you can send me a new jacket as a thank-you. Burn it after memorizing it, ok?" She told him her size and her smirk almost drew another almost-smile from him. Instead, he wordlessly took and scanned the card and pocketed it as she rose to leave. The address was for a town several hours away. (Tori. It also said her name was Tori.)

"Hey," he'd stood, checking again on the bloody graze on his arm, but her call drew his attention back to where she stood, destroyed coat draped over one arm. "I didn't get your name."

His name? "Six, they call me Six." It had been a very long time since he'd used anything else.Or anyone had thought to ask.

For some reason that got another one of her quick laughs, but the smile this time was full and genuine (albeit a bit bloody from her bitten lip), and he was suddenly reminded just how long it'd been since anyone smiled like that at him. It'd been what, almost two years now?

"Number Six, like in the show?"

"What?"

"You know, The Prisoner? Cult show from the 60's? Who is number one, you're number six?"

He shook his head, "don't have much time for watching anything" which was a lie since he had the downtime, often, but it wasn't really his to spend.

"He's a spy who retires and gets isekai-ed to a resort in Wales, you'd love it"

(He gets what? )

The sirens were getting closer, and she glanced over one shoulder as she took a step back away from him. "I should go, at least before the adrenaline crash hits and I'm really a mess. But stop by sometime and we'll watch the show, it's just seventeen episodes so we can do that in a day."

"I- uh, that sounds . . . fun." It actually did.

She looked back at him with one last grin, then with a curious salute, raising her hand in the "ok" sign to her eye with a twitch of the wrist, she turned to go. "Ok Number Six, be seeing you!" Then she was gone, her trot turning into a run at the edge of the park before he lost sight of her.

He also ran. He ran in the opposite direction she'd taken. It had sounded nice, her invitation. Maybe in a different lifetime, the man he'd been before . . . everything, the man he could have been, would've accepted it and been free to go watch old spy shows. There was a debriefing waiting for him, though, then back to the safe house or hotel they'd keep him at, then the next mission, and the next. He'd accepted that as part of being Sierra. It's what Fitz had promised him, that he'd get to take out truly bad people and maybe make the world fractionally better and he'd kept that promise, but also that his time wasn't his own, he wasn't his own.

Still, it sure as hell beat the alternative.

.

.

.

Three weeks later, the woman, Tori, opened her door to answer a knock, to find a courier from a delivery service asking her to sign for a box. The sender was a vaguely titled export service. Inside the box was a hip-length jacket, similar in cut and fabric to the one she'd sacrificed in a wildly desperate move that day of chaos weeks before. The name on the label, though, nearly made her drop the coat in shock as how much more expensive the replacement coat was than her original outlet one had been. There was no note with it, she didn't need one. 

Chapter 2

[mandareeboo]

Prompt Wamma and Horse on a date with Horse having her armor and reigns.

"Did you double check-"

"They're all asleep, Wammawink. Relax." Horse toddled out of the grass with a roll of her eyes. The armor and reins she'd once bore proudly hung awkwardly around her cartoonish body now; the chestplate almost brushed the ground, no longer held up by a muscular stature, while her saddle was just a little too big and wiggly. The reins didn't quite fit into the curve of her muzzle, leading them dangling like too big pants. "Honestly, do we have to do this like this? I feel like an embarrassment."

Wammawink shushed her, rubbing her muzzle soothingly. "Oh, babygirl, never. You just look so handsome in your armor."

"I look better when I fit in them," she tsked, but beamed under her praise. "Back home, Rider would always show off to the village girls by having me walk past them, all shiny and stuff. I got lots of apples."

Wammawink led her over to the river, happily settling in with her front hooves dipped into the cool ripples. Horse loafed down next to her, looking up at the stars with vague interest. "Your village must have been very proud," she hummed, but moved on before the topic became too somber- they both knew how hard it was to talk about home as a place. "I sure hope I can meet this Rider person of yours, Horse. She sounds very nice."

"She's my person, you know?" Horse asked, rhetorical. She'd realized pretty quickly that the centaurs didn't quite understand. "I dunno how the rift will work, but I hope you'll get to see her before I go home."

"Oh, let's not talk about goodbyes tonight." Wammawink leaned on her side, running pudgy pink fingers through her fur. "Sometimes, when I feel sad, I like to imagine that the war is over, and you wouldn't have to fight anymore."

"That'd be... pretty anticlimactic."

"Hmm, maybe. But then you and Rider would want to stay, and find new adventures. And we would all travel together. Can we just... imagine that?"

Horse hesitated. She didn't want to give Wammawink the idea that might be reality. But she also really did like Wammawink, and the herd, and maybe even a little piece of her liked Centaurworld. "I'm not great at imagination games, babygirl."

"That's okay," she said, fingers tightening. "I'm the best at making up happy endings."

She leaned over to nuzzle her chin. It was something she'd done plenty of times with Rider, and even with the awkward angle it garnered a chuckle out of the llamataur. "We'd follow the stars," she added hesitantly, blooming under the full force of Wammawink's smile. "Zulius would probably try to give Rider a makeover. Glendale would steal some more silverware off Durpleton's plate while he played tic-tac-toe with her. And every night we'd share gigglecakes while Tail tried to make Ched laugh for real."

"Ah, what a wonderful ending," Wammawink said, eyes fluttering shut. "Tell it to me again?"

[officialyasen]

MITS Precision K2 Grunt Rail / ADVK grip

Eotech 552 + Larue Tactical QD riser

Surefire M620 + VG6 Precision LOPOM mount

VG6 Precision GAMMA556 muzzle brake

BE Meyer MAWL C1+ laser aiming device

Viking Tac Gen 1 sling

Team Julu Design Titanium MLoK rail section

[spicywhumper]

Whumpees forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of the whumpers

War Dog

tw: blood, violence, it/its pronouns for a person, implied child abuse, death.

I'm doubling it as a bingo fill | whump bingo: muzzled

Joan smiles as she watches the fight below.

She had her trained dog in the fighting ring. The girl - sometimes she forget it is a girl, just a little younger than her own daughter - is taller and stronger than her oponent. It's always quite satisfying to see how it could tower over a grown ass man. It had two good inches on his height, body that was all hard muscles and precision motions. It was a perfect weapon, a well-trained dog that had its leash firmly in Joan's hand.

If she was a pervert, Joan knows she'd use the dog for other forms of entertainment.

But she'd rather see it beating the shit out of men that dared to comment on her obedient puppy.

This one is a little different. The man had tried to summon a sex demon, which is forbidden unless you plan to try and have a hybrid. These, when they survive long enough, can become some of the strongest wizards of the coven. However, this man isn't the kind that can be bred, so all of them knew it was a summoning for fun.

You can't summon a demon just to have your fun with them.

So she decided to have her own sadistic fun with him. Ring fights aren't that uncommon, people have agressiveness and violence running in their veins, they needed a safe place to unleash that so they don't hurt other people. The dog is her champion, if she wants to teach you a lesson, she unleashes it upon you.

The pervert man is put in the middle of the ring, he's wearing only tight boxers, half-humiliation and half so it's obvious if he's the kind that gets aroused by violence like this. He shivers and trembles, bruises covers his body, Joan didn't stop them from hurting the man. All she ordered was for him to still be in shape to put on a fight.

He trembles even more when the Dog enters the ring. Unlike him, its body is fully covered. Heavy combat boots, tac-pants, modified straitjacket and a muzzle. All black, shaved head and empty eyes. Ready to do whatever Joan tells it to do.

The man lunged first, she made sure he'd been told that he had to kill the Dog to have a chance of being freed.

It's a beautiful fight if you ask Joan. The man does have some hand-to-hand combat training, basica and brute, terrible form and all he has is his strength. Her dog, on the other side, has the training and the strength and the grace. It has fluid motions as it ducks punches, blocks kicks, and even let some hits land.

Joan can't help a large smile when the man tries to reach a little too low, too below the waist, and all he gets is a forearm broken in two spot. His nose is squashed by a punch and his left knee explodes under a kick. It's such a good show to watch.

He was told to kill the dog, the Dog was told to kill him. Honestly? This is almost like a predator playing with the prey.

It's almost funny to see the pervert laying on his back, breathing hard and bleeding from his nose and mouth after a few teeth has been knocked out. The Dog looks up at her, Joan simply nods. She can feel the excitement from the man beside her, the guy that found the soon-to-be-dead man trying to fuck a demon.

All of them, in the end of the day, are excitable sadists.

As it was trained, the Dog makes sure it steps onto his crotch, he howls like a pathetic little animal. It falls heavily in one knee, the howls of pain is squeezed out of him as the Dog's weight takes away his breath. She knows her puppy is heavier than it seems, even when you know that all you can see is muscles and power. It stays just like that for a few seconds, watching as the man struggles to breath and make pain sounds at the same time.

Then it shifts so its straddling his waist. The man tried to push it off of him, but the Dog is better than this and grabs his wrists, pinning above his head with one hand. Not everyone knows who's behind the muzzle, who's the human persona of her War Dog, but when they look this close, they can see that there's a human buried somewhere there.

It makes everything worse and Joan loves it.

The man begs, pleads. Please and don't and other gasped words that mean nothing to the killed on top of him. Each punch is calculated, hard and precise. The Dog doesn't break eye contact, just like it was trained to do. Not stopping when his face turns into something beyond recognition, not stopping until the man isn't moving nor breathing.

It gets up, left hand dripping blood. Joan thinks some of this blood belongs to the Dog, she doesn't care. All she care is how her puppy is obedient and didn't even hesitate at killing the man it was told to kill.

The Dog looks up at her again. There's a bruise on its left temple, the punch that landed was hard enough that her left eyes was bloodshot and there was a little cut on her temple. Other than that, and the blood-covered hand, there's no hint of violence on her. Just the compliant empty-eyed soldier Joan has been training for years. Joan nods, the Dog turns and leaves the ring throught the same entrance it entered in the first place.

Joan can't help being proud of what she has accomplished with this project.