#Corporate Bug Sweeping

[privateinvestigatorsuniverse]

Mistakes that you stay away from while finalising any private investigation service company

You hire Private investigation services to gather information and resolve personal, legal or corporate matters. But yes, you need to too cautious enough because, like in any other industry, there are common mistakes that clients can make when engaging private investigators. This blog will outline the most common mistakes to avoid when hiring personal investigation services.

● Not thoroughly researching the private investigation firm: This is one of the biggest mistakes clients can make. Not researching the private investigation firm and its background can lead to severe consequences, such as an inexperienced investigator who cannot deliver the desired results or even a fraudulent company. Before hiring any private investigation services, do a thorough background check on the company, read online reviews and check if they have a valid license.

● Not being clear with the objective of the investigation: Clients should always have a clear understanding of what they want to achieve from the investigation and communicate this clearly to the investigator. This will help the Surveillance investigator understand the client's expectations and work towards achieving the desired results.

● Interfering with the investigation: Let the investigator do their job without any interference is essential. Clients may want to stay involved in the investigation process, but it is crucial to understand that private investigators have the training and experience to gather information effectively and efficiently. Interfering with the investigation can lead to inaccurate results and even legal consequences.

● Not having a budget: Hiring a private investigator can be expensive. It is essential to have a budget in mind and communicate this to the investigator before the start of the investigation. This will help the investigator understand the client's financial constraints and work towards a solution within their budget.

Final Thought

Go through the above outlined pointers and find out the mistakes you should never ever repeat while recruiting the private investigation companies. Besides that, never forget to quickly go through the tips and decide the best one.

[fixfoxnox]

I would now like to formally request ceo ghost and soap attempting to get Roach’s attention at a corporate camping trip and failing miserably so much so that Roach’s kid sits the two adults down and goes “if you love my daddy just tell him and stop being wimps” as a drabble ok love u🥰🥰

YES MY GUILTY PLEASURE AU

Also

You: as a drabble

Me: 8,000+ words coming right up

Mini Bug (1)

Description: A weekend retreat for the company seems like the perfect time for Ghost and Soap to try to impress Roach. Unfortunately for them, the Mini Bug (Lilian Sanderson: Roach's daughter), is frightfully observant and see's right through them.

Pairings: Established SoapGhost, GhostRoachSoap

Warnings: Brief Angst (THE NARRATIVE MADE ME DO IT)

Notes: Trans! Roach (he birthed the child). Lily refers to him as "mom/mommy"

"Okay," Roach pushed his way into the roomy office, earning the attention of the two men inside. He was quick to hand each of them a small identical file folder, "That's the information on Shadow Corp. and the deal they want to make. Just sent over this morning."

He watched quietly as both of the men tilted over the front of the file folder, flipping through the pages. Soap was moving quickly, his eyes scanning everything with large sweeps. Ghost was reading slower, carefully scanning over each page.

"And?" Ghost asked lowly, "What do you think?"

"Honestly," Roach shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, "I wouldn't trust these guys as far as I can throw them. The deal seems set up perfect for them to eventually pull out and leave us with nothing. It's a trust exercise that I wouldn't participate in, no matter how much they offer."

"And their CEO?" Soap looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "What do we think of this Graves character?"

"Philip Graves," Roach sighed deeply, "Southern accent, smug grin, looked like he dumped an entire thing of hair gell on his head before he got here." He shook his head slowly, "Miranda at the front desk said that he called her toots about six times during their two-minute conversation and when he got up here he seemed disappointed that I wasn't a hot woman in a pencil skirt."

Ghost gave a snort at his words and immediately closed the file folder. "Right, so that's a no then." Soap followed his lead and Roach gathered the folders back up from the men.

"I'll draw up an email," Roach nodded to the two, but hesitated for a moment. "Um, really quick, I was hoping I might talk to the two of you about the retreat this weekend?"

The two men turned to him, Ghost with a raised eyebrow and Soap with a bright grin. "Sure, Bug, everything alright with it?"

Roach took a moment to snap himself out of the slight haze that Soap calling him "bug" had left over his mind. He had to snap himself out of it. These were his bosses, his bosses who were married to one another. He had to get over himself. "I, well," he gave a deep sigh, "I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to come."

"What?" Soap's face fell and he and Ghost shared a quick glance with one another.

"Is something wrong?" Ghost asked carefully, "If it's about the rooms, Soap and I were talking and we could-"

"No," Roach interrupted with a shake of his head, shuffling nervously in place for a moment before explaining, "It's Lils. I had everything planned for someone to watch her this weekend, but her usual sitter broke her leg a few days ago and has to have surgery on it." He turned his gaze away from Soap and Ghost, his face tinting pink, "I've tried to find someone else to watch her, but no one else is going to be available on such short notice."

There was a moment of quiet that passed through the room before Ghost spoke simply, "Bring Lily on the retreat."

Roach looked up at him, his eyes wide at the suggestion. "But," he shook his head, "It's a work trip?"

"It's a glorified camping trip," Soap sent a look that Roach couldn't decipher toward his husband. "We aren't doing anything that a kid couldn't do, and besides, Lily likes camping doesn't she?"

"Well, yes," Roach shuffled a bit, still unsure about the idea, "But what about sleeping? I was supposed to share a room with someone, but I doubt anyone would be okay with me and Lily."

"Stay in the cabin with us," Soap sounded almost nervous and the words made Roach's eyes widen. Share a cabin with his married bosses who he was also crushing on? With his daughter there as well?

"We have an entire cabin to ourselves," Ghost rushed to explain, "Perks of being married I suppose. Point is, we have plenty of extra room."

Roach blinked at them both for several moments, absolutely dumbfounded by the turn that things had taken. He'd expected to be forced to miss the retreat, not for his bosses to invite him to bring his daughter along. They were right though, Lily loved camping and there wasn't anything inappropriate that would be happening. It just might be a little odd for others to have a little girl joining them for trust exercises.

"Are you sure?" He asked after a moment, "I really don't want to inconvenience anyone."

Ghost was quick to wave him off, "It isn't an inconvenience, Bug."

"Besides," Soap gave him another smile, "We both adore Lily, you know that. We certainly won't mind having her around."

Roach felt a sense of fondness and affection curling at him with those words. It was true, his bosses did seem to adore his daughter. They'd been more than helpful for him since they'd learned about her existence. Hell, her birthday that year had been the best she'd ever had thanks to the two men spoiling her. Soap and Ghost certainly got along with his daughter.

"Alright," he finally gave in with a hesitant smile, pulling an excited grin from Soap and a quirk of the lips from Ghost. "Thank you guys, really." He held up the manila folder again with a low chuckle, "I'd better get to work on these." He started to the door, intent on heading out to his little desk, only to pause in the doorway and turn with sharp glaring eyes to the two men behind him, "Oh, also get your lunch order in early today! I am absolutely not going back out five times just because you two were indecisive."

With that he turned and marched out of the office, hearing Soap and Ghost's amused chuckles following after him.

"Do you think that we'll see any snakes?"

Roach looked through his rearview mirror, smiling at his daughter in the back seat. She was peering out the window excitedly, watching the trees and water that they were passing. Roach had already been forced to remind her several times not to twist in her seat to try and get a better look. The only thing that had finally gotten her to settle down was the reminder that they would have plenty of time to look at everything when they arrived. "I don't know," he answered, "Do you want to see a snake?"

His daughter nodded her head rapidly, "Yeah! I bet it would make Suds scream!" She giggled to herself.

Roach shook his head at her, though an amused smile remained on his lips, "Soap," he emphasized his boss's name, "would certainly not like it if we found a snake. But if we do, we'll be good, won't we? No trying to pick it up."

His daughter whipped around to face him with a pout, "But-!"

"No buts, Lillian," Roach reminded, "Until you can properly identify the poisonous snakes on your own, no just grabbing."

"But I've almost got it," she complained. "See it's red on yellow, that's a good fellow, red on black, your dead jack!" She paused for a moment before muttering, "Or is it red on black, that's good for Jack, red on yellow, you're a dead fellow?"

"And that," Roach reminded playfully, "Is why we won't be picking up any snakes."

A fond smile pulled at his face as she crossed her arms with a huff, her brows wrinkled in a way that had Roach's heart-tugging in his chest. It was a familiar look to him. He tried to shake the feeling off as they finally pulled down the road towards the cabins. Luckily the change in scenery seemed to be enough to lift Lily's spirits again and soon she was peering out the window with a bright grin on her face.

"Mommy, I see Suds and Ghost!" She bounced in her seat excitedly, "Hurry! I want to show them my new shirt!

"Alright, alright," Roach pulled his car into one of the available spaces, a chuckle pulling from his throat. He kept the door locked, even as Lily tugged on it, "Remember the rules?" She didn't answer at first, so he waited patiently for several moments before, "Lillian, the rules?"

"Yes!" She turned to him with a pleading look, "I remember! Please!"

With those words he finally unlocked the door, allowing her to quickly push her way out of the vehicle and scramble to where Soap and Ghost were making their way toward them. Roach followed after her, lifting himself out of the vehicle and closing the door behind him. Rather than making his way toward Soap and Ghost, though, he just watched. It was a sight to see his bosses crouching down to the ground to greet his daughter with a hug and kind smiles. Lily was quick to begin excitedly talking to the two, her hands moving a mile a minute as she motioned around her to everything. Soap and Ghost were patient, listening to her with soft smiles on their faces and that adoration that he knew the two held for her in their eyes. For a moment, if he didn't know any better, he could almost imagine that the two men were Lily's fathers. He was quick to brush the thought off and move around to the back of his car to begin getting bags.

He had to keep his head on straight, but it had been getting harder and harder to do that lately. With all the time that he'd been spending around his bosses, his little crush on the two men had grown from a "little crush" to a "large all-consuming, bordering on something more crush." It was embarrassing for him. The two men were married to one another, he certainly had no chance with either of them. And yet, as he would watch them with Lily, as he would take lunches with them, as he spent more and more time with them and felt that familiar tugging at his chest, he knew that he would continue to want. He just couldn't help himself.

He already had all of the bags unloaded from the back when Soap and Ghost approached him, Lily walking between the two with her hands clasped in theirs. "Need any help with anything?" Ghost didn't even wait for a response before stepping forward to begin gathering bags in his arms. Roach noticed immediately the way that he grabbed for the biggest and heaviest-looking ones.

"It's fine," Roach chuckled, "We're only here for the weekend, we don't have much." Ghost still slung some of the bags over his shoulders, a small smile sent Roach's way as he did.

"You two will like the cabin," Soap chimed in, tugging playfully at Lily as he did, "Right on the lake."

Lily gasped in delight, "Can we swim?"

"If your mom is okay with it," Soap answered back, a wink sent in Roach's direction. "But, even if you don't swim, there's a big tub on the second floor that you can use as a pool. How's that sound?"

"Second floor?" Roach looked between Soap and Ghost with wide eyes, "How big is this cabin?"

Ghost chuckled at his shocked look, one of his hands landing on the small of his back to begin guiding him forward, "Big enough." He leaned forward to whisper to Roach, "Let us treat our favorite secretary a bit, yeah?"

A shiver went down Roach's spine at the low rumbling words. He did his best to push past it and only responded with a grumbled out, "I'm your only secretary."

He allowed himself to be led down the cracked sidewalk in front of several of the cabins, he and Ghost following closely behind Soap and Lily. Lily was still chatting animatedly, talking excitedly about how excited she was about everything for the weekend. She'd only just started telling Soap and Ghost about the last camping trip they'd been on, one they'd attended with his family on a trip back home when they finally turned to start walking up toward the front door of the largest cabin on the strip. Unlike the other cabins, this one was two stories tall and had a wrap-around porch that appeared to surround the entire building.

When they finally stepped inside the building, he was sure that his eyes were the size of saucers. The cabin was even larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. The entire living room of the cabin alone was probably about half of the size of his and Lily's apartment. "This…is really big." He paused in the center of the living room, turning in his spot to look at everything around him. He could hear Lily running around behind him, oohing and ahhing at everything in the room. "You guys rented this for the weekend?"

He turned his attention to Ghost and Soap with a raised eyebrow. He was met with a grin from Soap, "Nope." He paused for a moment before shrugging, "We just bought it."

Roach blinked at them for several moments, unsure how to respond to the words. After several moments he finally settled on a grumbled, "Rich people," before turning toward where his daughter was running around the room. "Lily! No running inside, remember?"

She immediately turned toward him, Ghost, and Soap with a big grin on her face, "Mommy, this place is so cool!" She rushed past him to wrap Ghost's leg in a hug before switching to do the same to Soap's leg, "Thank you, Mr. Ghost! Thank you Mr. Suds!"

Roach huffed and shook his head fondly, it seemed his daughter would never lose the silly nickname for Soap. Not that the man seemed to mind, a bright smile slipping across his face as he accepted her hug. "Course, kiddo." He looked up to meet Roach's gaze and shot him a wink, "We want you and your mom to have the best time you can this weekend. You wanna see your room?" Lily pulled away from him quickly after that, nodding her head rapidly up at him. "C'mon then, I'll take you up to your room and Ghost can take your mom up to his room."

Roach didn't have time to say anything before Ghost's hand was back on the small of his back and he was being slowly guided toward one of the side hallways as Lily was rushing up the stairs, Soap following after her. Roach waited until he knew that they were far enough away before whispering to Ghost, "You guys didn't have to give us separate rooms, you've already done too much."

Ghost shook his head, "We've got plenty of rooms in the cabin." He opened one of the doors closer to the end of the hall, allowing Roach to step into the large room first before he followed after him, depositing his bags by the door. "What do you think? If you want something else there are a few other ones but," He walked over to the window at the back of the room and pulled the curtains open, revealing a view of the lake behind the house, "Soap and I thought you might like the view."

Roach resisted the urge to gape as he stepped up to the window, stopping beside Ghost to look over the expanse of water that sat just outside of his room. "This is…perfect." He turned toward Ghost with wide eyes, "I seriously can't thank you and Soap enough for this. I mean letting me bring Lily is one thing, but the rooms and letting us stay with you guys? I really don't know what to say."

Ghost stepped a bit closer to him, the two almost pressed chest to chest with their proximity. Roach flushed a bit. "Soap and I wanted to do this," Ghost lifted a hand and hesitantly brushed a piece of hair from Roach's face, "You don't have to thank us for taking care of you. You don't have to thank us for doing something that we enjoy." There was a long pause and Roach, for a brief moment, was sure that Ghost had looked down to his lips. He brushed the thought off when Ghost stepped back a moment later, his own face a bit pink. He cleared his throat, "Anyway, I'll let you get settled. Soap and I are sleeping in the room next door, if you need anything. And," he cleared his throat again, "Company dinner to start the retreat tonight. Which I," he shook his head at himself, "imagine that you would know since you created the itinerary."

Roach couldn't help the chuckle that pulled from his throat at the words. He gave another grin to Ghost as the man waved to him and left the room. His eyes turned back toward the window, taking in the view in front of him again. It was breathtaking.

"Stand right next to me, okay?" Roach grabbed tight to Lily's hand, making sure that she wouldn't try to run off toward the water. He wasn't too worried about her getting in, after all, she was in her swimsuit and floaties already. He also knew how strong of a swimmer she was already. Still, this was a company retreat and their group hadn't gathered down at the water just so that his daughter could go swim. No, they'd gathered down at the water to participate in a…rather extreme trust exercise. Really it wasn't anything bad, just certainly more than what most other companies would do for a trust exercise.

"Alright," Soap clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. He was in his own swimming gear and Roach had to try to keep his eyes from tracing over the man's bare chest. It was hard to do. It was even harder when a similarly bare-chested Ghost stepped silently up next to him. Roach knew that both of the men were much stronger than they looked. He knew that at least Ghost was ex-military. But knowing and seeing were two very different things. "Today we're going to do a fun little obstacle course! Our goal is to learn to trust those around us, we want to know that the person next to us has our back and can be relied on during important times." He turned and motioned to the large inflatable water obstacle courses that they'd rented for the exercise. "We'll split off into groups of four. Everyone will be timed and everyone in the fastest group gets a $100 gift card for themselves!"

That had a bit of excited chatter running through everyone and Soap was quick to shoot Roach a thumbs up. The monetary incentives were something that Roach had suggested, just a little something to keep everyone invested in actually trying to win. The company had the money for it, more than enough money for it, so Soap and Ghost had readily agreed. "Alright everyone, split up and pick your team!"

Roach stood hesitantly, still holding tight to Lily's hand. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that he was going to be the last pick for any of the teams. They all wanted to win and he came with Lily, so whatever team picked him was going to have a bit of a disadvantage. He'd considered just asking Ghost and Soap if he could just sit the exercise out and cheer everyone on from the side, but he'd brushed that thought off. It came back now in full force and he found himself beginning to look around for where Soap and Ghost had gone to.

"Looking for someone, Bug?" Roach turned around to meet both Soap and Ghost who'd somehow snuck up on him.

"Hi, Suds! Hi, Ghost!" Lily waved at them excitedly, "Do we get to go on the big floaty thing?" She pointed excitedly to obstacle courses, her eyes wide.

Ghost gave a chuckle and glanced up carefully at Roach before responding, "We do. In fact, why don't you and your mom join Soap and I's team."

Roach was quick to chime in, "You guys don't have to do that." He waved them off, "Lily and I can just sit off to the side and cheer everyone on."

"Now why would we want that?" Soap leaned against Ghost with a grin, "We want the fastest people on our team, and," he looked down at Lily with a grin, "We hear there's a little speed demon right here to help us win."

"Yes!" Lily jumped up excitedly, "I'm super fast! I'm like the fastest swimmer in the world!" She pretended to flex for the group, pulling a small laugh from the three adults around her.

"What do you say then, Roach?" Soap turned his gaze back to Roach, the grin still on his face. "Join our team?"

"Alright," Roach agreed after a moment, an apologetic smile sent their way, "Apologies in advance if I make us lose. I'm certainly not as fast as speedy here." He playfully nudged Lily and she grinned up at him. He still felt a bit bad, but he figured that Soap and Ghost weren't exactly aiming to win anyways, so he might as well join their team with Lily to at least allow the little ball of energy he called his daughter to participate.

"Okay," Farah, who was doing the timing for their group stepped out of their way, "Get ready boys and girl, remember, the time to beat is two minutes!" She paused for a few moments, watching the small watch on her wrist before, "And…go!"

Their little group took off toward the obstacles, Lily rushing ahead of them to immediately begin climbing up the first of the obstacles, a small wall. She was moving up it quickly and Roach found himself snickering a bit as he heard Soap curse under his breath, impressed by her speed. He wasn't too surprised with how fast she was moving over this obstacle, after all, she'd always been a bit of a climber. They followed up after her, each jumping over the wall only moments after she did.

Roach made a point to pick her up as they moved to the next obstacle, helping move her to it a bit quicker because of her short legs. This one required them to slide through several inflatable holes in succession and, while Lily flew through them, when Soap tried to follow behind he caught his legs on the first hole, sending him tumbling through with a groan. Both Roach and Ghost laughed as they heard his groan from the other side and, when Roach followed through the hole after him (much more gracefully) he had a bright grin on his face. He was quick to help Soap back up to his feet as Ghost came through the hole after them.

They went through the next ones much more gracefully, though noticeably slower thanks to Soap trying not to trip again. By the time they made it through the last one, Lily was huffing and puffing waiting on them, her floaties crossed over her chest as she glared them down. "Come on! We're going to lose!"

They moved through a short little field of tubes next, forced to push them out of their way as they ran. Roach was following behind Ghost which meant that he got a perfect view of the moment when Soap released one of the tubes and it flung back to smack Ghost in the face, sending him stumbling back a bit. Roach hadn't been able to contain his laughter at that and had to grab onto Ghost's back so that he could be guided out of the field of tubes as laughter threatened to knock him to his knees. He'd still been laughing when they emerged from the tubes to see Soap already meeting them with apologies on his lips. Ghost had waved him off with a grumpy grumble and they'd moved through the next two obstacles with no issue.

"Close to the end," Roach commented as they came up to the little inflatable beams of varying sizes that they would have to jump over before moving off toward the final catwalk over to the end zone. The last part was really the only area where any of them would be able to fall into the water below. Luckily only one of them had to make it to the end of the course for their time to be considered finished. Though they would take a five-second penalty for anyone unable to make it to the end.

"This seems easy," Soap puffed up a bit, "Ghost and I can get through this quick and help you and Lils across the catwalk."

"Agreed," Ghost nodded, "Wait here, we'll go across."

Roach wanted to tell them that it wasn't necessary and that they could all go at once, but it was too late. His bosses were off, darting over the various inflatable beams quickly. Roach and Lily watched them go, Roach feeling more than a little impressed with their speed. The two were already nearing the last of the hurdles and Roach was certain that he was going to see them pop up at any second at the very end. That was until Ghost pulled ahead of Soap just slightly while moving toward the end. Roach saw the low-to-the-ground inflatable beam, but apparently, Ghost didn't as, before Roach could warn him, he was hitting it at full speed.

He immediately tumbled forward, falling flat over the last of the beams and tumbling down over the edge of the little inflatable obstacle course down into the water below. Roach started laughing at the same time as Soap, though Soap's laughter was short-lived as his distraction caused him to make the same mistake as Ghost and send himself flailing over the edge of the obstacle course and down to the water below with a splash. Roach was hunched over, his hands on his knees for support as laughter wracked his system. His eyes watered and he was sure he was going to pass out from the lack of air getting to his brain.

"Mommy!" Lily tugged at his arm as he continued laughing, "C'mon! We have to get to the end!"

Roach allowed himself to be dragged over the beams by his daughter, laughing the entire time that they moved. He barely made it over the beams and, as he and Lily came to the small catwalk, he was sure that he was going to fall over the edge to join Soap and Ghost in the water. He could see both of them floating down below, watching them. The sight only made him laugh harder.

He wasn't sure how long it took him and Lily to finally make it to the little end area, but when they did Roach's face felt delightfully warm and his cheeks hurt from how hard he was laughing. Their time was called and later, when he and Lily slid down the inflatable slide and into the water together and then made their way back to the beach to get their time, Roach couldn't be the slightest bit surprised to hear it had taken them over six minutes to complete the course.

"Sorry we didn't win," Soap handed Roach a can of cold Soda before plopping down next to him on the picnic bench he'd sat himself at. Roach was watching Lily dig under rocks for bugs, his eyes occasionally shooting over to admire the figure of Ghost prepping the grill for the burgers he'd promised to cook for everyone.

"I didn't think we would," Roach chuckled and sent a playful grin Soap's way, "If it hadn't been you and Ghost, it probably would have been me."

Soap chuckled, his face going a bit pink at the reminder of his and Ghost's tumble off of the obstacle course. "Better us than you," He leaned back against the picnic table and took a small sip from his drink, joining Roach in quietly watching Ghost and Lily. After a moment he gave a sigh and leaned a bit closer to Roach, motioning toward Ghost with a grin on his face, "You know if it was any other competition, we'd have won."

"Oh yeah?" Roach felt a small amused smile quirk up his lips.

"Oh yeah," Soap confirmed. "Ghost and I are good with a lot of things." He moved a bit closer to Roach, "Work for example. Or," his voice dropped a bit, "Our hands as another example."

Roach found himself flushing a bit at the low tone that Soap had used. He tried to shake it off, after all, there was no way that Soap was implying what he thought he was. It just wasn't possible. He cleared his throat nervously and brought his drink up to his mouth in an attempt to hide his blush, "Really?"

"Really," Soap looked him over carefully, the grin still on his face, "If you'd like, we'd be more than willing to- what the fuck!" He jerked back suddenly, his eyes going wide with panic as he lifted his feet from the ground and tucked them up on the bench, fear in his eyes. Roach trailed his eyes down quickly, amusement quickly squashing any heat in him as he spotted the little lizard on the ground that Soap was staring at.

He gave a slow chuckle and leaned down to pluck the little thing from the ground, holding it in his hands carefully, "Did he run over your foot?" He shot Soap an amused smile, chuckling at the embarrassed red color that was slowly taking over his face. Soap nodded his head slowly. "Don't worry," he gave him a small smile and held the lizard out for him to see, "They usually don't bite."

"That's comforting," Soap joked hesitantly, his eyes still wide.

Roach stood up from the bench, holding the creature carefully. He gave a slow hum as he looked around, trying to find a place to take the little thing, "Don't worry, I'll put it over in the woods so it won't bother you." He shot a wink to Soap before starting toward the treeline. "Lily, do you want to see a lizard for a few seconds?" His daughter was by his side in an instant, oohing and ahhing at the creature in his hands.

He held it for her for a few moments longer than he normally would, allowing her to gently stroke her fingers along it for a few moments. He gently transferred it into her hands and instructed her how to carefully release it onto a nearby rock. They both watched as it crawled rapidly down from the little rock Lily had placed it on and scuttled off across the forest floor. Roach waited until he'd lost sight of it to stand back up fully.

He gave a brief stretch before turning around, intent on rejoining Soap at the little picnic table they'd been sitting at. Instead, he slammed directly into a hard body. Within a moment there was cool sticky liquid soaking through his shirt and seeping onto his skin, pulling a grimace from him. He looked down at the dark-colored wet spot across his clothing.

"Shit, Roach," Alex was quick to set down the little red cup he'd been holding and grab a nearby towel, offering it to him, "I'm so sorry."

Roach waved him off, "It's okay," he gave a short chuckle, "Trust me when I say that Lily has spilled much worse on me before."

"Hey!"

"Should we talk about the bucket of paint?" He raised an eyebrow at his daughter and a sheepish look was quick to cover her face. She gave a grumble but said nothing else as she moved away from the two adults to begin hunting for bugs in the brush again. Roach shook his head at her and turned back to face Alex. He turned down the offered towel, "It's okay, I'll just run back to the cabin and change shirts," he looked down at himself with a wrinkle of his nose, "No way am I staying in this sticky thing for the rest of the day."

He stepped away from Alex and started toward the little path that would take him back to the cabin. The stickiness of his shirt pressing against his skin was getting to be a bit much for him, the feeling making his skin crawl. As he passed by where Ghost had just lit the fire for the grill, he made the decision to just go ahead and take the shirt off. There was no harm that would come from it.

He grabbed at the back of his shirt and was quick to tug it over his head, wadding the cloth up in his hands. Beside him, he could hear a quick clatter of something hitting the ground before a quick puff of warm air and a pop caught his attention. When he turned, it was to the sight of Ghost stumbling away from a large plume of fire that rose from the grill he'd just lit.

"Ghost!" He and Soap were quick to surround the taller man, both of them checking over him quickly as the fire of the grill died down. Luckily, it seemed that the man hadn't been burnt or singed, but there was a rather amusing ring of black soot around his face where the smoke from the fire had painted his skin.

Ghost seemed more dazed than anything, just blinking at Roach with wide eyes and pink dusting across his face as Roach checked him over carefully. A few others had gathered around them as well, Laswell, in particular, seemed to be anxiously awaiting whether Ghost was okay or not. Roach knew it was likely because she would be the one having to fill out the paperwork if someone got hurt on the retreat.

"Ghost," Roach carefully felt along Ghost's face, watching to see if the man winced at any particular point during the process, "Can you hear me? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Ghost shook his head slowly, still watching Roach with wide eyes. Despite the fact that he claimed to be fine, Roach was beginning to wonder if the man had a concussion or something from his fall to the ground.

"Simon," Soap's hand landed on Ghost's shoulder, his voice taking on a tone that Roach couldn't decipher. It seemed to be enough to snap Ghost out of whatever stupor he was in as his eyes quickly darted away from Roach and he started to slowly push himself from the ground. Roach tried to give him room but stayed close enough that he could rush forward to help if need be.

"I'm fine," Ghost's face had turned steadily pinker and he wouldn't meet Roach's eyes. "Sorry, I, uh, zoned out I guess. Used too much lighter fluid." He brushed himself off and leaned slightly into Soap who'd wrapped an arm around him to provide some support.

"Well," Roach nodded to him, "I'm glad you're okay, though, maybe you should let someone else work the grill?" He gave Ghost a small smile, the concern that had been written across his face slowly faded into something a bit calmer. If his heart had stopped for a brief second when he saw the fire bursting up toward Ghost, he could keep that to himself.

"I'm okay," Ghost assured, "I'll still cook, not like I really hurt myself."

Roach gave him an amused smile, "No," he agreed, "Thankfully not, but maybe you want to let someone else start it and come back to the cabin with me?"

Both Soap and Ghost's heads shot toward him, their eyes wide. "Come back to the cabin with you?" Ghost stuttered out after a moment, his face somehow going a shade pinker.

Roach raised an eyebrow at both of them, confusion filling him. It wasn't like he'd offered anything odd, so he couldn't quite understand why they both seemed so shocked by his words. "Yeah," he motioned toward Ghost's face, "To clean up all the soot and stuff you got on you?" Both Ghost and Soap seemed to deflate slightly at his words, sharing a quick glance with one another. Behind them, Alex and Farah gave quick choked-out laughs, only adding to Roach's confusion. "What did you guys think I meant?"

"Nothing," Ghost motioned forward, "You're right, I should clean up." He shot a quick glare toward Farah and Alex before marching past Roach in the direction of the cabin. Roach shot a confused glance toward Soap, but noticed that the man looked almost like a kicked puppy and wouldn't meet his gaze either.

"Right, um," he turned to look for Lily and found her already watching him closely, her little face twisted up into a look of serious contemplation that caught Roach by surprise. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so serious before. "Lily," he caught her attention, "You stay by Soap, okay?"

She nodded her head at him, her face still twisted up, "Okay, Mommy." Roach wanted to question her sudden deep thinking, but he decided better of it and instead just started after Ghost toward the cabin.

"Mommy?" Roach stopped in the doorway to the room that Lily was staying in. He'd already tucked her in and he'd just flipped the lights off when she called his name. Quickly, he flicked it back on and turned to face her, letting her know that he was listening, "Do you like Suds and Ghost?"

Roach tilted his head at her, a small smile quirking at his lips, "Of course I do. We work together, but they're my friends too. Why do you ask?"

Lily was quiet for a moment, her eyes trailing away from Roach and up toward the ceiling. She'd been contemplative ever since the moment that Ghost had nearly lost his eyebrows to the grill. Roach had checked in with her numerous times, but every time she'd just happily told him that she was okay before going back to her contemplation. Roach had wondered briefly if she was upset that they were going home already, but he was sure that Soap and Ghost's promise to bring her back had banished that sadness from her mind.

After a long moment, she asked, "Do you like Suds and Ghost," she paused for another moment before looking at him, her eyes practically piercing through him. In that moment he could clearly notice the two different colors of her eyes, one a greyish brown and the other an all too familiar pale green. His heart squeezed tight in his chest. "Mommy, do you like Soap and Ghost like you liked Daddy?"

Roach's heart stuttered over in his chest and, for a moment, he didn't remember how to breathe. "What," his voice broke and he had to take a few moments to breathe, "What do you mean by that sweetie?"

Lily watched him for another moment and Roach had to wonder if this truly was his six-year-old daughter that he was talking to. She seemed much older than she was. She seemed to know more than he'd thought possible for her. After another long moment, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and turned away from him. "Nevermind. Night, Mommy, love you."

She tucked herself under the covers like nothing had happened and Roach couldn't help but wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing. He stood still for a long moment, his mind running circles around itself. Finally, he reached up to turn the light in the room off. He stepped out of the room silently, pulling the door closed behind him. He stood there, his hand still on the cool metal of the doorknob.

It wasn't a question he'd been prepared for, certainly not one he'd been prepared to hear from his daughter. Now he found himself silently asking the question to himself, anxiety creeping up his shoulders as he did. He liked Soap and Ghost. But, like Lily asked, was it similar to what he'd felt before?

He didn't quite know if he was ready to face the answer to that yet.

"I can't believe I freaked out over a lizard," Soap sulked, tucking his face against Ghost's shoulder with an embarrassed groan. The whiskey glass in his hand was already half drunk. Next to him, Ghost seemed equally as downcast, his own whiskey glass already drained. He was on his second.

"At least you didn't nearly kill yourself just because he took his shirt off," He took another drink from his glass, his face feeling hot again. "Were we this useless when we were trying to get together?"

"I don't think so," Soap tucked himself closer to him on the couch, "I feel like we were braver then."

Ghost snorted, "Well, that I believe. I guess when you're getting shot at, confessing your feelings feels like nothing next to that." He sighed and tilted his head over so that his cheek was resting on the top of Soap's head, "Maybe we need to almost die again. Get some of that confidence back?"

Soap snorted and shook his head against Ghost's shoulder, "That's stupid. A terrible idea if I've ever heard one." He paused for a moment before groaning, "Though if it helps get rid of the memory of eating shit in front of him today, I might be more willing to agree to it."

"We're useless at this." Ghost sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of Soap's head.

"I agree."

Both Soap and Ghost shot up immediately. They were quick to look behind them over the couch, panic coursing through their system as they met the gaze of Lily, still in her night clothes. "Lily," Soap plastered a smile onto his face, but his eyes were quick to scan around nervously, "Where's your mom?"

"Don't panic," she marched into the room and circled around the couch until she was standing in front of both Soap and Ghost, "He's still in bed. It's just me." She crossed her arms across her chest as Soap and Ghost shared a relieved look with one another.

"And why aren't you in bed?" Ghost asked carefully, an eyebrow raised at her.

"Because we need to talk." She sounded surprisingly serious for a six-year-old and Soap and Ghost shared an amused look with one another.

"Alright," Soap sat up fully in his seat and gave her a soft smile, "What's going on, kid?"

Lily watched them for a moment before narrowing her eyes, "You two like my Mommy, don't you?"

Soap choked on his own breath, his face going a bright red. Next to him, Ghost controlled his reaction much better. "Of course, we like your mom, Lily," He assured, "We're friends."

"No," Lily countered, "You want to kiss my mom! I can tell!"

That had Ghost snapping his mouth shut, his neck and ears going a bright red to match the color of Soap's face. They both stared at Lily, unsure of what to do in the moment. This was certainly not something they'd been prepared for in the slightest.

After a long moment of both Soap and Ghost stumbling over one another to try to refute Lily's words, the little girl rolled her eyes. "If you guys like my Mommy, just tell him!" She paused for a moment before giving a bright grin and adding, "Unless you just want him to keep saving you guys from lizards and laughing when you mess up." She gave a bit of a secretive giggle, Soap and Ghost's sheepish faces only making her laugh harder. Her laugh sounded a surprising bit like Roach's.

"You," Soap hesitated for a moment, "You're okay with Ghost and I wanting to..."

"You guys can be my dads if you want," Lily shrugged, "Oh wait!" She shook her head suddenly and pointed at them, "If you wanna be my dads you have to buy me a Nintendo Switch first! Oh! And a new bike! And I want some Sour gummy worms!" She paused to think for a moment and Ghost and Soap couldn't help the amused look that they shot one another. Lily's seriousness seemed to disappear at once and both of the men were reminded that Lily was only a child. A child who just wanted her mom to be happy. "And you guys have to come to the Daddy-daughter dances with me at school! And buy me more fun clothes! Oh, and I-"

"Lily," Ghost cut her off with an amused smile, "Why don't you make a list for us?"

"Oh! That's a good idea!" She jumped up excitedly and started toward the entrance to the living room, likely off to find a piece of paper and a pen. She stopped before she could fully leave the room, though, and turned to face the two men, "By the way, if it helps, my Mommy likes you guys too." With that, she left the room and two shocked men behind her.

"Everything alright with you two?" Roach asked the question as he shut his car door behind Lily. They'd fully packed up everything and now all that was left was for them to go home.

"Of course," Soap waved him off with a soft smile. There was something else in his eyes though, something that Roach could clearly see despite the man's obvious attempt to hide it. It was the same with Ghost. Both of them seemed to have something else going on in their mind, something that very clearly had to do with Roach considering it was only present when they looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

Roach shrugged, walking around the front of his car to meet them, "You two just seem quiet today, like you have something else on your minds." He hesitated for a moment before shyly adding, "I just want to make sure that you guys are okay."

Ghost and Soap shared a look with one another, something passing between them that Roach couldn't quite decipher. "We're fine, bug, really." Ghost turned back toward him, "Just, uh, well," he paused for a moment, "Things were a bit crazy, but did you at least have a good time this weekend?"

Roach gave a small chuckle, "I had a great time." He gave the two men a grin, "Thank you guys for letting me bring Lily. I know she enjoyed herself a lot."

Soap nodded at him, a grin crossing his own lips, "We're glad to hear, you know how much we care about the kid." The words warmed Roach's chest and he could feel his face heat up slightly. He did know. He also knew just how good both of the men were with his daughter. Just how good they would be if...

He cut himself off. He couldn't think like that. These were his bosses and there was certainly no way that they felt the same toward him. "Well," he cleared his throat nervously and gave the two men another smile, "I guess unless there's anything else you need from me?"

There was a long pause as Soap and Ghost looked at each other. They seemed to be having a silent debate but, in the end, it was as though neither of them won. Ghost turned back to him with a small smile and a nod, "You're free to go. Let us know when you and Lily make it home safe?"

Roach nodded, "Of course. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Despite the fact that it seemed like both Soap and Ghost wanted to say more, neither of them stopped Roach from getting into his car. It wasn't until they were pulling away from the little cabins that they'd spent the weekend in that Lily spoke. Her words were no louder than a mumble, but Roach still heard them.

"They're so silly." He didn't bother asking who the words were about. He could guess for himself.

A week after the weekend trip and a package was delivered to Roach's doorway, addressed to Lily. The only note on it was typed out reading, "As per our agreement."

Lily was more than happy to pull the Nintendo Switch out of its wrapping. Roach, on the other hand, couldn't help but wonder what exactly this "agreement" was that his daughter had supposedly made with his bosses.

[xoxobluelock]

Idioms, phrases, etc. reference page for Milk and Honey: Chapter 1

These are things I’m afraid translation apps might butcher. This list is VERY spoiler-y. I wish there was a way to do this without the spoilers. And I used so many sayings in this chapter 😅

Cat’s paw: a person who is used by another to carry out an unpleasant or dangerous task.

Milk and honey: prosperity and abundance, riches

Loose screws: someone with “a few screws loose” is kinda crazy or eccentric

Keep one’s footing: not stumble / remain balanced

One’s type: the kind of person one is interested in romantically / sexually; in Sae’s case, big blondes with big butts 😂

Clock strikes midnight: Cinderella ref because I can’t help myself with RyuSae; it indicates a deadline or the time when something ends; like when Cinderella’s time at the ball ended because the spell cast to give her a gown expired.  

Perfect stranger: a complete stranger; a person with whom one has no affiliation whatsoever.

Honeypot / honeytrap: spies seduce their victims to more easily/quietly murder, interrogate, etc., them; an investigative practice involving the use of romantic or sexual relationships for interpersonal, political (including state espionage), or monetary purpose

Golden opportunity: a chance to do something that is likely to be successful and rewarding 

Hand something over on a silver platter: to allow someone to get something very easily, without having to work for it 

Fight or flight: instinctual reaction to danger where you either fight back or run away

Sweep under the rug: to hide (something that is illegal, embarrassing, or wrong)

Dumb luck: pure chance

Blonde bombshell: stereotype of a beautiful blonde, could include the “dumb blonde” stereotype: looks but no brains; “blondes have more fun” (Think Marilyn Monroe…)

Give the game away: inadvertently reveal something secret.

Set the stage: To be the catalyst for something that happens later; to prepare for something or make something possible

Play up: exaggerate 

Due diligence: action that is considered reasonable for people to be expected to take in order to keep themselves or others and their property safe

Nom de guerre: an assumed name under which a person engages in combat or some other activity or enterprise. 

Pop something: take a drug / “pop a pill”

Hit: in this context, a murder. Like when a hitman kills, it’s a ‘hit’

Long game: something that takes time and could bring success farther into the future, rather than in the present or near future

On the table: a possibility, an option

Corporeal information gathering: allusion to torture, don’t know if that will translate right

Clone: to run a program on a computer/device to duplicate / steal its files

Bug: hidden / covert recording device 

Hot and heavy: full of strong emotions or sexual feelings

Into the ether / cloud: the sky / atmosphere; in this context, basically the internet 

Turn of events: outcome / situation

Blood run cold: something that makes your blood run cold is disturbing or frightening

To be had: to be tricked or fooled by someone

Hold one’s tongue: not speak

Upper hand: advantage

Dirt: blackmail

Go sideways: go awry, not go as planned, veer off course

Whole: in this context, unharmed

Up the ante: gambling term; increase what is at stake or under discussion, especially in a conflict or dispute: he decided to up the ante in the trade war.

Mark: a target; a person who is easily deceived or taken advantage of

Cut one’s losses: to stop an activity, business, etc., that is failing in order to prevent more losses or damage

Go all in: gambling term; bet every chip; to risk all your money in a game such as poker (= a card game played for money)

Go down: lose / be defeated

Bring to one’s knees: to defeat someone 

Dig one’s own grave: to do something that causes you harm, sometimes serious harm

Throw one’s muscle / weight around: to exercise influence, authority especially, or force to an excessive degree or in an objectionable manner

Take it: allow something to happen without resisting

Spun gold: Flattened gold, or silver-gilt wire wound on a thread of yellow silk; Ryusei has very pretty hair

Too good to be true: something/someone so perfect that it’s suspicious and almost can’t be real

Civilian: someone not involved in…things Sae might be involved in. Just a regular, innocent person with a normal, innocent occupation. 

Blown pupils: dilated pupils, from desire, drugs, darkness

Far cry: something notably different

[mysterymanjoseph]

Walk Silently: mysterymanjoseph and wexarethewalking dead

It was not an 'instant' fall, it took the course of days, weeks, then, what one could call civilization was a shambles. His grandfather, having commissioned a study decades ago with a private think tank, laid out plans for several 'survival refuges' for the family to go to, to ride out the fall of society as it was known. Joseph was in the South East U.S. on business, when things started to decline. He had driven on the trip, rather than fly on one of the corporation's aircraft, so, getting all the way home was just not going to happen. Lucky for him, one of the refuges was in Northern Georgia. Driving as far as the gas in his Jeep could take him, and running out of gas to siphon from any abandoned vehicle he could find, it was the two foot express. That is when he really came to understand the scope, and ghastly nature of what was going on. The radio had mentioned riots, possible bio warfare, but, when the radio stations went quiet, and he was using the two foot express, his Bug Out Bag on his back, he saw what was happening. People, like out of a zombie movie, shambling around, attacking those that did not seem to be zombies. This was not one of the 'end of times' scenarios the think tank came up with, but, the end result would be the same. Stopping inside a Farm Supply store, he fashioned a weapon, attaching a sharpened metal 'blade' to a fiberglass axe handle. Early one, he discovered that the sounds from his rifle, or pistol, just drew the attention of this 'zombies'. Silence, and avoidance was the plan from now on. So, here he was now, avoiding towns, making his way North. He was looking for a place to bed down for the night, when he caught the sounds of movement, coming through the woodlands. He makes a slow, wide sweep around the sounds, getting some distance, and finds a place to observe what he suspects is an approaching group of the zombies. Finding he spot, he watches, seeing the shambling horde go by, then, closer movement catches his eye. Focusing, he see it is a woman, hiding from the same horde he is watching. He thinks, "Well, looks like someone is out here, trying not to die like I am, small world."

@wexarethewalkingxdead

[captainderyn]

Burning Every Bridge [Fic]

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 Rating: Mature Tags: Canon-Typical Behavior, Cyberpunk 2077-Typical Swearing, Johnny Silverhand Being An Asshole, referenced suicide ideation

Summary:

V is struggling to cope with what happened after stealing the Relic and her behavior shows it. When her adopted-father-turned-Fixer calls her out on her shit, she rails against it. It doesn't help that the peanut gallery, aka Johnny, keeps adding his commentary to an already tense conversation.

(Old fic from when I first started the game and V was more of an Era clone than she is now. Still like this piece though! Not sure if I'll keep the Era/Five dynamic (Killian is a port of Five).)

--

The door hissed closed behind V, the janky latch bouncing once, twice, thrice, before finally clicking and locking. She’d meant to get that fixed for the past…month, maybe, but that required more eddies and more time than she had. And it wasn’t worth a repairman walking in on one of her…episodes with Johnny.

She thunked her head back against the door, squeezing her eyes closed. Despite the dirt and grime that crusted her hands she scrubbed them across her face. She knew what was coming even before the voice snapped at her from deeper in the room like a whip.

“What the hell, Valerie?”

“It’s V,” she snarled back, “Can we start with hello, Killian?”

Opening her eyes, she rolled them to the ceiling before fixing an icy look on Killian, “You look like a fucking Corp.”

That had been their lifestyle once, chafing beneath the boot of the bigger man. They’d since faded into the shadows of Night City, cut ties with the corporate conglomerate. Killian still stuck out in the streets of Night City like a sore thumb, even after being crowned the Harbinger. He would’ve been better suited as Delamin’s henchman in his HQ than out on the streets.

She was bitterly surprised he hadn’t been mugged yet. Even with the wicked knife she knew was tucked under his finely pressed jacket and the pistol no doubt concealed somewhere on his person.

Killian stuck his hands in his pants pockets, sharp eyes roving over her, “And you look like you just crawled out of a sewer.”

V didn’t respond except with a grunt and a scowl, turning away so she could kick off her boots.

“Valerie, I don’t have all day,” Killian said flatly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, “What the hell are you talking about?"

Rain poured outside, sweeping with it all the grime and oil that packed into the rusted buildings and poured out of the derelict cars. She slung her jacket off, spraying water droplets across the room. Killian curled his lip as some of it splattered onto his jacket, swiping it off.

He didn’t need to know that her jacket was soaked because she’d hydroplaned into a concrete Jersey barrier and careened into a puddle.

“Since when have you been stupid enough to hit two hundred miles per hour in Pacifica?”  

So he already knew, then. The way his words clipped when he got irritated drove her insane.

“You bug me or something?” V snapped, telling on herself even more as she ran her hands over the creases of her tank top, feeling for small, metal spyware.

“I didn’t bug you.” She heard the eye-roll sent her way and grit her teeth so hard her jaw ached, “I have contacts all around the city and they all say the same thing: they’re worried about you.”

His socked feet—damn him and his etiquette always taking his shoes off in her dingy ass apartment. Her boots were welding themselves to the floor with mud the longer she stood here—stalked forward until he was almost right in front of her, “You got a death wish or something?”

From the corner of her eye Johnny shimmered into view, arms crossed, “Aw is daddy worried about his little girl?” he crooned, “You still haven’t told him about the gun, V.”

“Can it, Silverhand.” She snapped, whipping her head to where he stood. But he was gone now. Dammit.

No, she hadn’t told Killian about the incident when Johnny had first appeared, about the way the horror had driven her so far out of her skin that she’d seized up her pistol and…no. He didn’t need to know that.

She still felt the cool press of metal against her lips.

Killian’s eyes flashed at her as his calloused fingers snatched her chin and pulled her eyes up to meet his. She bared her teeth, cheeks flaring at the realization she’d snapped out loud, “Back off, Kil!”

��Are you drunk? Smoking something?” He demanded, “All that chrome you’ve pumped into yourself finally frying your brain?”

She ripped her chin from his hand, smacking his arm away, “I’m not drugged up, boozed up, or going fuckin’ cyberpsycho! So lay off!”

They stared each other down for a long moment before Killian huffed out a breath through his nose. It looked exasperated, even though his body language screamed ‘offended.’ She'd seen that look every time she'd ignored his advice and gone off the rails at Arasaka.

“Then what’s going on V?” Killian’s voice prickled across her skin, igniting every burnt out, angry nerve in her body, “Hm? Because driving like you’ve got a death wish for you and half of Night City isn’t sane behavior. Getting into fire fights with the local gangs isn’t sane behavior and talking to the air isn’t sane behavior.”

V ground her teeth together as she felt the increasingly familiar static-like tingling at the base of her neck and the wash of noise over her vision as Johnny waltz in front of her then slung his arms around her shoulder.

It took all of her willpower not to look at him. If she didn’t look at him, he wasn’t there.

“C’mon V,” Johnny purred, “Tell him all about me, about how we’re becoming such great friends.”

She cut a scathing sideways look to Johnny’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, wishing she could push it off and shove him into the wall. It’d put him in his place.

Instead she turned that scathing look back to Killian, doing her best to soften her voice, “Listen, Kil, I know its a helluva lot different than corporate, but those ‘fire fights’ are gigs and they’re making me money, ‘kay? I’ll chill out on the speeding, how about that?”

A frown tugged the corners of Killian’s mouth down, deepening the wrinkles that were starting to appear the more he stressed and aged.

She’d hoped leaving the corpo world would do wonders for his stress levels. It turned out he just channeled all that corpo success into being a phenomenal fixer and turned all the stress he’d had from Arasaka into worrying about her.

It’d grind her gears and piss her off more if she hadn’t been the one to unceremoniously decide to make herself his problem all those years ago as a fresh twenty-something year old.  

She had no one to blame for her father figure acting like a concerned father except herself.

“There’s something you aren’t telling me, V.” Killian finally said after staring her down,  no, staring through her, though his voice had also lost its harsh edge.  She didn’t answer, but instead shrugged and grabbed her sopping jacket off the floor to hang up.

The silence stretched between them like a knife blade and she swore her heart was about ready to leap out of her chest. Finally he broke it, “I won’t ask again, Valerie. What’s wrong?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, “Just tired. Everything with the biochip has been...a lot”

“You’re lying.”

“Am not.”

It wasn't a complete lie.  Closer to the truth than outright refusing to say anything, at the very least.

She cleared her throat, shifting fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket, “Listen, Kil, I want to hop in the shower, so I’ll talk to you later?”

“V—“ he started but broke off with a sigh, “Alright. Just…don’t end up as roadkill, okay?”

“’Kay.” She said softly, unable to look at Killian as she heard him slip his shoes back on and left with a gentle click of the door locking behind him.

The back of her neck prickles and Johnny was there, leaning against the door, “You’ve really done it now, V.”

She flipped him off, but it was hollow, the fiery blaze of her anger snuffed out.

“Fuck you.” She snapped.

Johnny just laughed.

[moondirti]

so. i finally got to sit down and dedicate the time i this fic deserves. i've read your other work. those title and summary and tags promised to deliver. i have come to know nothing less than poetry from you—

but holy fucking shit. this was something else. like... a proper religious experience for me. is that too much to say? it wouldn't be a lie. it's 11 pm and i'm wriggling in bed like a bug caught under a knife, and i can't begin to string together my thoughts in any comprehensive capacity, but i have to say something lest my admiration flies over anyone's head.

so, just short of annotating all 12k words:

When she cries out, the wind howls. When she changes her direction, pivoting on her heel, the soil rumbles. She sees things-a shadow spotting her vision, not composed of matter-peeking from behind a tree trunk before quickly slipping away. She witlessly calls out, asking if anyone's there, and is met with the forest's silent presentiment. She feels the stark pressure of piercing eyes sprawling down her dewy neck, sweeping over her body.

as a writer myself, i've tried my hand at horror and have never been able to balance the line between overdone and tense. but the way you craft the setting as a character in its own right - as it responds to mc's fear and is later alluded to be warning her of ghosts looming presence - makes it seem to natural. i read this and went oh. fuck. i think i must've wound my blanket tighter around myself too, because an hour later when i emerged from my rapture, i was wholly tangled up in it.

and you maintain the tone throughout! which is such a feat in its own right. never once, not even as mc's emotions wavered or as the story came to a ‘happy’ close, did you lose that undercurrent of fucked up. i think because you don't shoehorn it in. you let us broil in the discomfort. my cheeks are newly lined with imprints of my teeth for how much i worried them throughout. this story left a literal, physical mark on me. that's insane.

Johnny blushes as if he's been scolded. His bottom lip curls out, petulant, a waspish colour flooding his cheeks. [...] "Exactly, Simon says, petting Johnny's head. "Smart boy."

"Why're you readin' this silly stuff?" He asks. He tears it off the tree and crumples it up, tossing it away. "That shite gives 'nightmares."

if we're talking about the heart of the fic tho.. i am obsessed with how you wrote ghoap's dynamic here. it's so easy to craft johnny as someone who is indulgent in simon's dark tendencies, especially when he displays symptoms of it himself. but to slowly reveal that it hasn't always been that way? to see mc's future made so terrifyingly corporeal in johnny, as her mirror and foil? to leave unsaid the terror that he must've gone through, without even a third to bring levity to the situation like he does for mc? i'm sorry if im pointing out the obvious here, i'm just so awe-struck at the layers. i could dig at them forever.

"You went pee?" Johnny asks. Nearly makes her screech when he dips his hand low and cups her cunt, feeling around for any dregs of liquid. He buries his fingers unnecessarily deep between her puffy lips, blindly massaging.

every time a fic has piss an angel gains its wings. do NOT be surprised if this catches on because i read this part and clenched my thighs together, like my girl downstairs knew i'd be including watersports in my works more often henceforth. sorry to the non degenerates out there but the voices are winning...

She doesn't remember much of her family. It's kind of weird. She can't remember if they liked her or not.

also this call back? I YELLED! HELLO?

no one does it like you. never never ever

bury me beneath the basswood tree

pairing: ghost/soap/reader [12k]

rating: 18+ only. minors don’t interact.

tags: non-con sex, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, size kink, forced fellatio, forced cunnilingus, impact play, brief watersports, double penetration in two holes, forced breeding, implied hybrid/shifter au

Needing time away from her humdrum life at home, she ventures into the woodland for respite. Little does she know, straying into that cabin in the woods will be the worst—or best—decision she’ll ever make. Depending on who you ask.

all my thanks to @/ohbo-ohno! thank you for being the best beta reader and sitting through my abhorrent typos <3

AO3 MIRROR

The mountain’s breadth of trees and foliage are written with prose. 

It’s repetitive. Mind-numbing. She’s already passed this necrosed tree stump five times before. On the sixth circle, she treks through the undergrowth like it’s curdled milk, the tiny scythes of branches whispering against her arms and slicing her open the same way thumbs tear into oranges. 

Dehydration crystallises like sediment in her mouth. It makes her bones heavy, bending against her flesh as if they’re groceries about to tear through a plastic bag. The balls of her feet are calcified, her thighs chafed. They rub against her threadbare jeans the same way a match reacts with red phosphorus to produce a flame. It burns, and so do her muscles. They feel moth-eaten and spent. Hung out to dry. 

The stench of damp soil and sugar maple impairs her like an opiate. The peal of idle birdsongs grate against her ears. She’s sick of it—she’s been here for three days—and already, she’s sick of it. 

She tries her phone again. It’s unresponsive, no signal. She unfurls her map but it’s mottled with rainwater and mud. Her lungs feel dry, pruney, as the dew drops slipping off fern plants seem to replicate the tears thawing in her eyes. 

Evening mist hangs over the ground, and the sky turns red-bottomed as it progresses into nightfall. It’s as if the mountain is sentient. Nocturnal. Stirring from a torpor once the sun sets and awakening all that lives within it. 

A sob wracks her ribs. It has the same effect of a bullet, ricocheting. She keeps moving even though she doesn’t know where she’s going. She believes that should she continue walking, nothing will be able to catch her. Not the spindly tree branches that take the shape of arms or serpentine shrubbery. She won’t give the mountain any time to fossilise her, if only she keeps moving.  

Her movements are clumsy though. Her eyesight is hindered by panicked tears, turning everything shapeless and blurry. She keeps tripping and skinning her knees like the hide of a pomegranate, her flesh peeling back to show the red pulp of her innards. 

It was a rashly undertaken lapse of judgement that brought her here. To a conscious mountain that lives and breathes and feels her fear. It was her heart, empty, carved out and replaced by brutal loneliness. Her friends back home are heedless and her parents are never satisfied with what she does. She figured that if none of them would listen, the woodlands would. 

And listen, they did.

When she cries out, the wind howls. When she changes her direction, pivoting on her heel, the soil rumbles. She sees things—a shadow spotting her vision, not composed of matter—peeking from behind a tree trunk before quickly slipping away. She witlessly calls out, asking if anyone’s there, and is met with the forest's silent presentiment. She feels the stark pressure of piercing eyes sprawling down her dewy neck, sweeping over her body. 

The longer she spends lost, the more she sinks into Appalachia.

It pulls her down like molasses. Like she’s an innocent fly trapped in glue. Soon, she knows there’s no hope. She knows her scent is written into the bark of trees—supple, sugary. A treat for whichever predator finds her first. 

A brown bear, swinging its claws at her until her entrails are threadbare and striated. A snake, injecting venom in her blood. A bobcat if she’s lucky. It would be a quick death—sinking its loose jowls into either side of her neck until it snaps and she goes slack. 

She’s apt to let go. She’s keen to yield to the alluring call of the woodland to let go, to fall to the forest floor and sit there until she rots. Until the roots worm into her breathing wounds and branches start growing out of her mouth. The urge to stop moving and become one with the mountain is suddenly cogent, leaves no margin of doubt. It comes with the promise of eternal respite and divine mercy. She’s about to find a cliff to jump off of, but before she can, something catches her attention. 

A plume of smoke curling in the air. 

Whorls of slate-grey soot thinning and disappearing into the sky. She looks for the source and follows it blindly, shouldering past pine needles and hawthorn and all but sobbing as a cabin comes into view. It’s made of wood and the tufts of wildflower that sprout from its thin fissures. It looks neglected and eaten by the elements. Its vaulted roof is stained by the off-white assault of bird droppings, discoloured by acid rain. Some of the windows look covered with dewy newspaper, but still, she knows it can’t be vacant. The smoke undulating from the chimney tells her that.

She staggers onto the porch. Her fist rasps against the door, clippings of wood burying itself into her skinned knuckles as she wildly knocks. Silence. Not even the leaves flutter against each other. Fleetingly, a stint of panic seizes her. What if nobody’s home? But she’s twisting the knob and pushing herself inside anyway, dropping her bag to the floor with a thump, stepping inside.

The cabin makes for a liminal space, smelling of sawdust and pine. There’s a layer of dust on every surface, making the air thick. All the furniture is carved from wood and a couple taxidermied deers are mantled above the stone fireplace, looking more like warnings than decoration. The pelt of a black bear is unfurled across the floor, and a few trinkets are strewn around—a bookshelf of spine-cracked novels, dead plants hanging from the ceiling beams. A mountain of used cigarettes, but strangely, no ashtray. 

There’s everything but picture frames. Nothing she can use to humanise the cabin nor the people supposedly living in it.

She guides herself to the kitchen by feeling the walls. There’s a piped stove in the corner and cast iron tools hanging above the counter. Her stomach bubbles, and immediately, she starts scouring for food. 

There’s three barrels by the door, and upon popping them open, the stench of brine sprays her in the face. It’s fish with a crust of salt, preserved. In the other barrel is meat buried in shelled corn, and fermented poultry in the last barrel. 

It’s all raw and bloody. She steps back, gagging, turning her attention to the shelves that line the faraway wall. Jars of pickled cucumber and carrots. Garlic braids hanging from the edge. Rusty milk churns nestled in the corner. 

There’s a galvanised tub full of ice on the floor. She digs through it and almost moans at the jars of jam. She untwists one, sticks her fingers in it, and wipes it clean with her tongue and teeth. It’s tart and tangy but it’s food, sticking to the walls of her stomach, satiating her. And once she starts she can’t stop. She goes back to the wall and finds a stained jar, fishing out a handful of fermented cabbage, stuffing it in her mouth, her face tightly puckering at the sharp sourness.

The juice of the food goes spilling past her lips, sluicing down her chest. It sticks to the chasm between her tits and mixes with sweat, making her shirt cling to her skin, revealing the barest outline of her nipples. She’s so engrossed in keeling over the counter and stuffing her face that she doesn’t even notice the pointed shift in atmosphere. The deer outside stopping their rutting, the trill of birds ceasing. The leaves stilling, as if holding their breaths to hide. Thick, silvery clouds nestling together and eclipsing the sun, casting a thin overcast over the woodland, darkening the already-dim surroundings. 

She’s too preoccupied to recognise the tell-tale croak of the door swinging open. It’s tinny, but bullied by the sound of her smacking on marinated cabbage. She doesn’t notice the dull, throbbing footfalls. Pays no heed to the stench of blood invading her senses because she believes it’s coming from her dry, leathery lips that split open as she widens her mouth to fit the cabbage inside.

It’s only when the room darkens, a box-shaped shadow sweeping over her vision, does her blood run cold. She freezes with a handful of vegetable raised halfway to her lips, the brine rolling off a cabbage leaf like it’s an awning, dropping to the floor—drip, drip, drip—the rapid succession of shedding liquid hitting the floor sounds similar to the beating of her heart against her fickle, feeble ribs. 

The saline spray in her mouth gets soaked up by her tongue, making it puffy, too big for her mouth. She turns around clemently—treating the shadow like a wild animal—no sudden movements. She goes rigid. 

It can’t be human. 

It’s huge. Bigger than anything she’s ever seen before. Sweeping shoulders, broad thighs. Its neck is bent uncannily because it’s too big to fit in the doorway. Its chest rises heavily like a bull.

She tries to find a face, and when she does, the blood is drained from her.

It just makes her feel… uncomfortable. Its face is the poor imitation of a human, as if someone tried drawing one from memory but scarcely failed. Failed to capture the humanity, the animation, leaving it looking like a half-convincing resemblance. Its tapetum lucidum glows yellow, burning in the thin mist of moonlight that penetrates the newspaper sticking to the windows. 

It stares blankly at her. The hair on her arms stick up, a bead of sweat slices down her neck. 

“I’m sorry…”

The creature raises an arm and pulls on a hanging bead-chain, tugging on the light, which is simply a naked bulb in the middle of the kitchen. The kindle is weak but does more than the delicate moonlight. Just barely illuminates its face. His face.

She tries not to let her fear show. Tries not to preen under his depthless eyes, the mean twine of his lips. His hair that seems to have been shaved too closely to his scalp, if the nicks and small cuts on the shells of his ears are anything to go by. 

He grumbles an idle prusten. He rolls his elbows back—his shoulder blades unfurling like folded wings—and twists his thick neck.

“What’re you doin’ in my home?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her words stifled around a wad of cabbage. “I– I’ve been lost for three days. I came up for a hike but lost my way and I saw your cabin and I’m sorry, but I’m just so hungry and–”

A deep, guttural voice peals from the living room. 

“Simon!” It says. “Where should I chuck the deer? It’s too big for the livin’ room.”

The aforementioned Simon, she presumes, doesn’t answer the unobserved voice. He keeps his eyes on her, face twisted into a puckered, mean mug.

A string of footsteps precede the face that appears behind Simon’s shoulder. A rounder, ruddier face. A salt-and-pepper stubble and eyes so blue they glow like bioluminescence. 

Johnny acts surprised as if Simon hadn’t smelled her from miles away. Her honeyed scent roiling off of her, curling into the air and thinning between the trees. Her sweat pooling in the gusset of her panties, raw and pungent. 

He’s purposely coy. It’s written into the furrow of his brows and the caper of his cupid lips but the girl is too disoriented to catch on. She looks at him and beseeches, but almost faints at the deer hanging limply over his shoulder. He holds it like it weighs nothing—a sack of sprouting potatoes.

He coos. “Who’s this?”

“Lost bird,” Simon grunts. “Found her diggin’ through our food.”

“Oh, poor lassie,” Johnny hums. More so to Simon than the girl, which makes her squirm. “She didnae mean any harm, Simon. She’s just hungry… tha’ right, lass? Are ye hurt?”

She stutters out a nod, gesturing to how her jeans cling to her knees, sun-bleached and darkened with blood. She rolls her shirt over her ribcage, showing them her wounded torso. How her skin sticks to her bones.

Johnny bristles. 

“The lass needs a place to stay, Simon,” he whispers. “And she’s hurt. Bleeding.”

They talk of her as if she’s advertised merchandise in a magazine catalogue. She squirms.

Simon turns to look at her. The depression in her cheeks due to her hunger and the split skin of her mouth. The pert curve of her breasts. The desperate look in her eyes. 

He grumbles, looks over his shoulder at Johnny. “I’ll start the fire. You take the deer out back and drain it ‘fore it hardens.”

“Aye,” Johnny says. He thumps away in clunky boots and a thin t-shirt and jeans. The deer sways with his gait and disappears behind the screen door when he steps outside. 

She redirects her attention to Simon, who’s already looking at her. More specifically, at her pulsing neck. His jowls are slightly unfastened, his pupils blown out and eclipsing his irises. 

Presentiment settles in her stomach. She blanches. 

Suddenly, Simon is grunting and gripping her arm, heedless towards her whimper of fear and fleeting stint of resistance. His nails are sharp, digging sickle-shaped impressions into her arm. He drags her down the hallway and into another room—a bathroom—and tugs the flickering light on. It lacks sheen, barely illuminates the room from its moss-covered nooks to the tiled floor caked with crusted dirt. 

(The lightbulb is so dull. It doesn’t reach the farthest corner of the bathroom where the radiator is placed. The radiator bathed in black, hidden beneath the lip of shadows, so she isn’t able to see the forgotten handcuff hanging limply from one of the pipes.)

Simon works his heavy body around the bathroom. He leans over the clawfoot tub—which he dwarfs—and twists open the spigot, watching as brown-coloured water slowly ripens into something clear, gushing out of the faucet. He stuffs a plastic plug into the rust-ringed drain. 

He straightens back into his full height. All-encompassing, panoramic. Simon is so impossibly large that it’s a wonder he has so much muscle packed under his skin. Rustic, hard thighs. A shirt that bends against his arms, about to snap. 

“Take a bath,” he commands. “Get y’rself cleaned up.”

Simon shoulders past her and ducks to exit the bathroom. There’s no door separating it from the rest of the house, but a multitude of beads hanging above the threshold to imitate one. She keeps her eyes trailed on it while she strips—peeling off her jeans, pulling her shirt over her head. Rolling down her panties and consciously hiding them beneath her other clothes. 

She clutches the lip of the bathtub for leverage and dips her toes into the water. Immediately, she melts. The hot water swallows her foot and travels like a spool of thread to the rest of her, weaving itself into her wounds, licking her open like the first thaw of spring. 

She submerges herself fully, bringing her knees to her chest. Her neck hoists backward and into the water, soaking all the grit and dirt knotted into her hair. It’s like plying through syrup as she lifts an arm, retrieving a homespun bar of soap, clutching it to test her grip. There’s coily hair knotted into it and sticking to the dried bubbles. She brings it up to her nose, sniffing. Hesitates before rubbing it into her skin and around her throbbing wounds. 

The water idly sloshes as she cleans herself. It’s a hollow sound, amplified by the echoey room. She trails her hand below her waist, slipping her sudsy fingers between her lips and stroking, rubbing herself clean. 

Beneath the tinny sounds of water surrounding her like a petticoat, something else peals out. Something like a whine. Her fingers cramp above her warm cunt and she goes taut. She turns her head to the threshold of the bathroom and nearly screams but her throat puckers before she can, blocking it, her mouth hanging open in a soundless screech instead.

It’s Johnny. He stands in the middle of the hallway, peering into the bathroom and staring at her, half-obscured by the bead curtains. He looks like a sit-and-wait predator like this—silent and unassuming, if not for his blindingly-white smile shining through the curtain like strobes of sunlight breaking past trees. He steps inside now that he’s been spotted, and that causes ice to lick her organs—she sinks her breasts below the water’s surface, squeezing her thighs together. She bristles as Johnny strides impossibly close, the lip of the tub cutting into his thighs.

He stinks of sweat and iron and wood. His t-shirt clings to his skin, darkened with deer blood, outlining the barest hint of his bulky chest.

He grins. “Brought ye some clean clothes.” 

“Oh. I… thank you,” she mumbles. “You can leave it on the toilet if you don’t mind?”

Johnny sets it down. A folded flannel and a pair of sweatpants. He idles a little longer, still smiling, before leaving the bathroom. She counts the minutes in her head and tries to find the right time to leave the tub, outstretching her hand for the towel once it comes to her. But the towel is just scarcely out of reach. The terrycloth grazes her fingertips, teasing her. It’s like it was methodically placed there. Bait at the end of a fish hook to ply her out of the water and stick her ass in the air, reaching over to grip the cloth and tug it over her breasts, stepping out of the tub.

Her eyes stay locked on the crude door while she changes. She buttons the flannel up to her neck and takes heed of the pointed absence of any undergarments, slipping her legs into the gauzy sweatpants, tying them at her waist.

Johnny bursts in as if on cue. He’s still slick with blood, his mohawk odd-angled, spun-thread and matted to his head with sweat. His cheeks bulge around another grin.

“Too big for ye, is it?” He pants. “Might as well take it off. Might trip and hurt yerself again. Wouldn’t want that happenin’, right honey?”

Johnny shortens the space between them in one stride. His fingers, thick and jaded, are already fumbling around the knot she tied, pulling it out of its bow and letting the sweatpants fall, pooling into a crimp around her ankles. 

The flannel is big enough to reach her thighs. Still, she clenches her fingers around the hem and tugs it lower, preening under Johnny’s smouldering gaze. It’s almost paradoxical how it works—his eyes are icy blue, yet they have the same effect as basaltic molten. Burning hot. He’s fixated on her skinned knees, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Simon’s got the fire goin’,” he says. “Let’s go get yer wounds cleaned too, aye?”

Johnny’s walking out before she can blink. She follows after him, flustered, stumbling into the living room lit by a dulcet fire. Simon’s kneeled beside it, sticking his hand in to adjust a lopsided stock of wood, unaffected by the flames that eat away his arm hair. Johnny takes the girl by the scruff of her neck, guiding her to a hand-crafted chair placed conscientiously in front of the fireplace. He presses on her—the sensitive divot between her shoulder and her neck—and pushes her into the seat, unzipping a first-aid kit. 

Johnny takes her feet and pulls them into his lap. The angle makes her flannel hitch up, exposing her bare cunt to the hot embers of the fireplace, and the equally hot embers of Simon’s prying eyes. She squeaks and covers herself, averting her gaze as Simon’s stare darkens into the colour of midnight splash hanging over the sky.

“You’ll feel a wee sting,” Johnny warns. He rips the corner off a rag and drenches it in vodka, poising it over her flayed knees. “Should probably give my hand a squeeze or somethin’, ye ken? To lessen the burn, o’ course.”

She hesitates but slips her hand around Johnny’s all-encompassing one, her fingers barely meeting whilst wrapped around his palm. She winces when the ethanol meets her wound, shooting through her veins, and tries recoiling into herself. 

But the amplitude of her pain swells, and her muscles girdle. 

It’s Simon’s massive hand splitting itself across her thigh that keeps her pinned to the chair. His fingers bite rivets into her skin, the pinch overriding the sting of her tissue soaking up the alcohol.

“Stay still when he tells you to,” he grumbles. “Otherwise it’ll hurt.”

She wriggles uncomfortably. Tries not to flinch when the rag meets her knees again and burns her wound. Simon’s hand doesn’t leave her thigh until he’s throwing another block of wood into the fireplace.

Johnny hums. “So, what’re you doin’ up here? Religious retreat? Mental health?”

She smacks her lips, unsure if she should answer that. She chances a glance towards Simon and bristles because for some reason, she just knows that if she lies, somehow, he’d tell.

“Um. Just stepping away from home, I suppose,” she mumbles. “Friends. Family.”

“Oh. They dinnae care about you?”

She flinches. Not because of the vodka against her skin, but Johnny’s implications. 

“No,” she says. Her words are so fickle, so distorted by misery that not even she believes it. “They do care about me. I just needed space.”

He nods. Slowly, his eyebrows press together. “I don’t remember much of my family. It’s a wee bit odd. Can’t say if they liked me or not…”

Simon squeezes the back of his neck. “Enough of tha’. Pay attention.”

Johnny makes a sound like he’s humiliated. It’s only when he unrolls a spool of gauze, wrapping it around her kneecaps, is he afforded mercy when Simon changes the topic.

“Where’s the bird gonna sleep?”

“We’ve still got a cot in the root cellar, aye?” Johnny replies. “For hurricanes and tha’. Figured she wouldn’t mind it there. Wouldn’t ye, lass?”

Clemently, she shakes her head.

Simon grunts. He stands up, towering over them both. “The deer’s there, Johnny. What kind of hosts would tha’ make us? Puttin’ her up with a corpse?”

Johnny blushes as if he’s been scolded. His bottom lip curls out, petulant, a waspish colour flooding his cheeks. 

“Aye…” he grumbles. “Tha’s right. The livin’ room, then?”

The girl is sitting, her head oscillating between the two men like a pendulum as they talk. 

“No,” Simon says. “We’ll move the cot to our room.”

Johnny nods. He scratches his stubble, pretending to think. “It’s important we keep an eye on her wounds, too.”

“Exactly,” Simon says, petting Johnny’s head. “Smart boy.”

He clicks his tongue and Johnny shoots up, scurrying out of the living room to retrieve the aforementioned cot. Muffled sounds peal out from the root cellar below them. Johnny comes stumbling back up in mere minutes with a rickety cot fitted under his armpit and disappears into a dark room.

“Best get to sleep before it’s too late,” Simon splays his hand over the small of her back. “Y’must be tired.”

She submits to Simon’s touch, letting him guide her through the cabin and into the darkest room lit only by a lone oil lamp. 

Johnny is finishing up the cot when Simon releases her. He drapes a cable-knit blanket over the surface, fluffing up a pillow. She doesn’t point out how close it is to their bed, the lip of her cot almost touching their rickety mattress.

“Fair warnin’ lass,” Johnny begins, peeling off his shirt, kittening into bed. “Simon snores quite a bit. Dinnae be feart to smack his gob if he gets too loud, aye?”

She stiffly nods. She climbs into the cot and bunches the blanket around her, making a conscious effort to hide her bare legs. Simon crawls between them, the mattress sinking with his weight, and throws their whisper-thin blanket over his legs. 

Darkness penetrates the room when he blows the lamp out. The only smoulder is the silvery glow of moonlight invading the curtains and the reflective light in Simon’s eyes. 

He sits up impossibly straight, staring at her like a cryptid caught on a trail cam. It causes discomfort to congeal under her flesh, but slowly, the longer she looks, a bristle of sleepiness lays hold of her. She closes her eyes and falls into limbo. Her breaths thinning into a short, even pattern.

———

She’s between the threshold of awake and sleep when she hears it.

She can’t tell if it’s a dream or the amplified sounds of Appalachia. She feels as if she’s underwater or stuck in syrup, able to hear the rushing brook of her blood against her ears but unable to distinguish the sounds around her.

There’s a grunt. And a moan. The wail of the bed next to her snapping then creasing. Heavy breathing. Sprinting hearts. 

Her head is so muddled she can’t register anything. Her mind tells her that the violent slapping of skin against skin is the crack of thunder. That the strangled whimpers are the call of a cottontail. 

“Right there, Johnny?” A voice asks. “Takin’ my big cock so fuckin’ well. Greedy lil’ bitch, you are.”

A long, drawn-out whine chases after it. A choked-out scream as if something hurts, succeeded by a wet squelch. 

“Look at ‘er,” that voice jeers. “Think she’d take it? Better than you? Think she’d bleed all over it like– fuck… how I smelt it on her?”

The other voice—broken in, wispy—chokes on a response. It sounds a little stifled, as if speaking through something shoved in its mouth.

“No… nae better than me,” it mumbles. “Nae better than me…”

It’s like she’s drowning in purgatory. She can’t move, can’t speak. She’s caught in a phantasmagorical limbo between reality and fantasy. She can feel the serpentine hands of something with no material existence wrap around her and stain her slick with sweat, sweeping over the space between her legs, licking a wetness up her pussy. 

A dewy sound peals out. It’s a predator loosening its jowls, stringy and frothy, flaying its lips to bare its teeth. A rumbling roar rips out of its throat, animalistic. She can hear the popping of teeth sinking into flesh. The dull sound of skin breaking.

“Ah!” A squeal. “Simon, tha’– it hurts.”

She feels a vortex in her belly, an ache in her clit.

It’s like she resurfaces the water. All at once, she hears clearly. It’s a lone word whispered in a guttural cadence so close that she swears it’s mumbled against the hot hull of her ear.

“Good.”

———

She wakes the next morning with her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and a damp heat between her legs.

Sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, hitting the bed next to her. The bed is starkly empty she notes, as she crawls out of her cot and pops the stiff muscles in her back, stretching. 

She pokes her head out of the bedroom and tiptoes around the cabin as if avoiding a barrage of landmines. There’s a downward force in her bladder that tells her she’s been in torpor for the better half of the morning, and a heavy crust in her eyes that shifts when she blinks. She finds her way to the bathroom and shucks the flannel over her hips, lowering herself on the toilet seat, emptying herself.

It’s the only stint of respite. The closest thing she can get to calm since losing her way in the mountain three days ago. She relishes in the idle birdsongs outside and the sound of overnight frost melting into the dew that slips off tree leaves, pitter-pattering to the ground. Listens to the stream of her pee peter out, and the ruffle of folding fabric as she tosses the flannel back over her thighs. She listens to the–

“How’d ye sleep, pretty girl?”

She flinches at the gruff voice. It’s written with sleep, barely lucid under a Scottish lilt. Her hands freeze under the running water of the tap as she watches Johnny waltz inside the bathroom, shucking his pants to his thighs and pulling out his cock, pissing in the toilet. 

She’s stiff. Fixed to the cold clay tiles of the floor, unable to be bent. She tries not to let her eyes wander, tries to block out the chubby mass of muscle swinging between his legs. 

“Oh…” her words are stifled by shock. “F-fine. I slept fine. Thank you again for opening your house to me.” She thinks back to last night—the whimpering, the croaking—and rashly decides to tack on, “But I did hear some weird noises. I could have been dreaming though.”

Johnny chuckles. “...Aye, it’s almost matin’ season ‘round these parts. I think you’ll be hearin’ more of that. It’s best to ignore it.”

Her body girdles when he sways his cock, shaking away the liquid on the tip. He stuffs himself back into his pants and pulls the flush, grinning. 

“Bet you’re still hungry. Simon’s wrappin’ up breakfast. Let’s go.”

He pats her bum and makes her squeak. He grips the hem of her flannel and reels it around his knuckles like a leash, tugging her into the dining area—which is more of a nook nestled into the living room—and pulls out a seat.

“Hope ye fancy porridge,” Johnny chuckles. He splits his palm across the top of her head, pushing her into the chair. 

She huffs and hoists her neck up, grimacing at the acrid scent of animal hide burning against the base of a cast iron pan. It takes a conscious effort to not crinkle her nose in disgust.

Simon ducks as he emerges from the kitchen threshold. He wields two bowls of food. One for her and the other for Johnny. She takes heed of how—despite his stature—Simon doesn’t have anything to eat.

However it’s a cursory thought, because she’s quickly pulling her lips into a weak smile and examining the bowl in front of her. Food is a generous word, since it looks more like coagulated milk than porridge and smells sour. Simon places a chipped plate of bacon alongside it. It’s curled because it’s overcooked, crusted with charcoal.

She swallows as Simon takes a seat next to her. Johnny, on the other side of her. 

“Looks delicious,” she hums. She turns to Simon, “Are you… not eating?”

He picks an off-white tendon from his canine tooth, flicking it away. 

He answers in a rigid tenor. “Don’t hurt your head over me. You eat your food.” 

She marginally shrinks into herself, embarrassment licking up her spine. She feels like a chided puppy, but perhaps that’s the sentiment. 

When she opens her lips and raises the spoon to her mouth, her flannel curls like a wisp of hair off her shoulder, baring her bruised albeit supple skin. She hastily pulls the sleeve back up. 

She speaks around the stale porridge and her rising apprehension. “Uh, do you have my clothes from yesterday?” She asks, squirming as her sweat glues the back of her thighs to the chair, sticky. “It’s just, uh, they fit me better.”

“Oh,” Johnny blinks, “o’ course.” 

She watches him stand up and slip through the backdoor. He walks towards a clothesline hitched between two trees and retrieves her clothes, returning with them tucked under his arm.

“Here ye go sweetheart,” he grins, setting them on her lap. Petting her head.

She slowly peels through her clothes. Her fingertips drag against her threadbare jeans, her overripe shirt, but never touch the sweat-imbued gauze of something more… intimate. Her maw tenses around the hot porridge. 

“Where are my… um…” she lowers her voice even though it’s redundant—Johnny is leaned in close, practically huffing against her ear, sniffing her neck. “... Undergarments?”

Johnny tilts his head, puckering his lips in confusion. He’s written with the innocence of a puppy—whether it’s real or fabricated, she can’t tell. The words have begun bleeding together, blotchy and unintelligible. 

“Panties, ye mean?” He laughs. “Ye never had any of those.”

She swallows thickly. 

“No, I… I did. I wouldn’t go hiking without–”

“Ye must be goin’ crazy, lass,” Johnny says. “This was all you gave me. Nae panties.”

He stares at her with large, intercosmic, unassuming eyes. His gaze flickers towards Simon. It’s so fleeting that she almost misses it. The sweep of his blue irises widening, eclipsed by his pupils. She tenses. Omniscience hits her like a brick.

Her tongue goes heavy in her mouth, melting her words. The porridge turns frothy in her gut, nausea sticking to her organs and presentiment curdling in the air. She tightens her throat around a gag.

“... When can you drive me into town?”

Johnny reaches over and grips her thigh. He digs divots into her flesh like a fish hook caught in a flayed gill.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as ye want, pretty. There’s nae rush.”

She feels bile crawl up her throat.

“Oh, well, I just don’t want to overstay my welc–”

“He’s excited to play host,” Simon growls. His words are marked by firm determination, leaving no room for objection. He leans over the table, his wifebeater clinging to his muscle, his wiry chest hair pressing against the soft cotton. “We rarely get visitors ‘round here and he’ll be upset if you leave. Y’wanna make him upset?” 

Finally, warnings blare like strobe lights in her mind. She fidgets in her seat, sweating, shooting a cursory glance to the backdoor. Calculating her chances of survival should she break through the mesh and make a run for it. 

“O-of course not. Not after everything you’ve done for me,” she stutters, feeling a bead of sweat travel down her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for asking.”

Simon settles back in his seat. Johnny, too, frowning around his porridge. 

“Good,” Simon grunts meanly. “Now shut your gob an’ eat.”

She clemently chews away at her breakfast, preening under their smouldering gazes. Throughout her polishing off her bowl, she’s reminded Simon doesn’t have one. It’s unseemly for a man so sturdy to not be eating, but as Simon’s lips peel back, sated while he watches her take her final bite, she spots a spray of red liquid washing the spire of his fang tooth, glistening in the sunlight. 

“How’d you like tha’, pretty?” Johnny asks. He collapses whatever thoughts—whatever inklings—begin to seize her about Simon as he smiles and their bowls, disappearing into the kitchen.

Right away, Simon is hooking his foot behind a leg of her chair, using it to pull her closer. 

He’s centimetres away from her face when he says, “How ‘bout you start pullin’ your weight?”

Her eyes flicker up to see Simon hovering over her. He’s dewy with sweat, big and burly and drifting above her like the closet-dwelling monster from everyone’s childhood.

“You’ve caused enough trouble in my home,” he continues. “Ate a lot of our produce. It’s time you make up for tha’.”

She resists the urge to snarl. She doesn’t even want to be here yet Simon is insisting she fill her role—whatever that role may be. 

But as she hoists her neck up at him, she gets skittish and looks away, her tongue knotting. She knows it isn’t smart to upset Simon again. He’s a beefy man with sharp canines and vertical pupils, with more hair sprouting from his forearms than what’s considered normal. A man who expels deep tonal flutters instead of regular breaths. Who—despite his size—can’t ever be heard approaching.

So she smiles instead, asking, “What is it you need help with?”

“Floors need scrubbin’.”

He shoves a rag in her hand and holds out a bucket of sudsy water she hadn’t noticed before.

“Kitchen, livin’ room… just get to work.”

The water sloshes over the lip of the bucket when he sets it down. Simon stands to his full height and stalks out of the room, leaving her alone with her multitude of thoughts. 

Slowly, she stands up. She hauls the water bucket to the middle of the living room and is starkly reminded of her strength—or lack thereof. Simon had picked the bucket up so naturally, but with the weak tendons lacing her arms, she struggles. It doesn’t help that her vision is still spotty. 

She lowers to her knees, wincing at the chord of pain beneath her bandages. She awkwardly drenches the rag in the water and wrings it dry, poising herself above the floor, working the rag into the floorboards. 

She tenses when Johnny walks back in. He’s behind her. Unlike with Simon, she can feel him creeping up. She can feel his eyes on the lips of her pussy where her flannel hitches up while she’s bent over, scrubbing the floors. 

Her cheeks burn. She blindly reaches behind her to tug the hem down, covering her warm cunt. 

Johnny chuckles. “This is wha’ Simon has you doin’ out here?” 

She looks over her shoulder, her skin prickling when she sees an axe in his hand. 

“We’re goin’ to the yard to chop some wood,” he says, “but I see you’re already busy bein’ our bonnie housewife.” 

She stutters. That operative word, housewife, burns a hole in the snail-shaped cochlea of her ear. “No, Simon j-just asked me to. He asked me to.”

“I know, sweetie,” Johnny replies. He squats next to her and rubs her back in slow circles, trying to hike up her flannel again. “Simon’s just takin’ the piss. He’s a meanie like tha’.”

She tries shouldering him away but Johnny only holds her tighter. Simon reappears in the doorway, watching with his arms crossed. 

Johnny clears his throat. “Thought we’d spend time in the yard today. Doesn’t tha’ sound sweet?”

She looks at Simon who’s already looking at her through hooded, brutish eyes. She realizes that her autonomy is divested—that she has no choice but to follow what they say because something is very, very wrong here. 

Perhaps this is what the mountain had warned her of. In all of its howling and breathing, the branches gripping her and the delirium written into her psyche, maybe, it was all a warning. 

She hangs her head. “Mhm… sounds great.”

She has no time to process what’s happening before he’s folding his hand into the cavity of her armpit and dragging her up and out of the door, into the backyard. 

It’s more of a cleared grove than a yard. Dead tree stumps litter the small expanse, grass the colour of ripe lemons because it’s been seared down. There’s a block of wood sitting on a stump, split down the middle. Sun-bleached clothes hanging over the clothesline.

“Y’can watch here,” Johnny says, gesturing to one of the tree stumps. “We’ve got to chop wood for dinner tonight.”

He pulls her down on the makeshift seat, finally letting her go. And just as Johnny pivots, slamming the spire of the axe into the block of wood, she sees him scrunch his nose as he sniffs his hand, drinking in the sweat from her armpit. It goes up his nose and through his nasal cavity, making him quiver as if her sweat is an opiate. Disgust slams into her, sinking in her stomach and settling there like sediment. She doesn’t even notice Simon walking out of the cabin and reaching for the axe, raising it over his head, until the resounding sound of wood snapping peals out, and she’s jumping in her skin.

“No need to be feart,” Johnny laughs. “Just his usual routine.”

She watches Simon work. He looks like a beast on its hind legs like this—impossibly large and splayed out with his arms over his head, growling whenever he brings the axe down on the tree stump, splitting it in two. Sweat burns through his wifebeater and turns the fabric translucent, revealing the barest outline of his chest. His chest hairs are matted with sweat, his sinews straining with each chop of wood. His face is curled meanly into itself, his trimmed hair nicked in different places from at-home shaving and washed with sweat.

Every time he brings the axe down on the wood, expelling a guttural groan, something stirs in her. He does it with such force, such strength, it makes her wary. He fractures the wood along the grain without so much of a blink, without any stifling in his muscle.

All those horror films she watches alone—when her friends say they’re too busy to join, when they lead her on after planning a get-together that doesn’t come to fruition—finally catch up to her, sowing the thought in her head that if she stays, she’ll become the tree stump. Impotent beneath Simon’s hacking and eclipsed by his behemoth-like body. 

Her missing panties. Johnny’s sticky hands. Simon’s less-than-human behaviour. It all slams into her like whiplash. 

Her fear rears its head as a rashly undertaken announcement tumbling out of her mouth.

“I have to pee.”

She ignores the way Johnny perks up, as if that activated something in his brain. His ocular vein goes large, rapt, his pupils blowing out as he looks at her and then her navel where her bladder sits, suddenly grinning. 

“I can come with–”

“I’ll go in the woods,” she says. “Behind a bush or something, okay?”

Simon grunts. It’s a deep prusten sound as he splits another block of wood. Johnny pouts but lets her go, watching with those imploring eyes as she disappears behind some foliage. 

It’s now or never, she decides. 

She makes sure she’s concealed by the flowering of a tree before speeding up her walk. She moves like an unoiled machine, rusty, as her walk ripens into a run.

She doesn’t know where she’s running. She doesn’t know how far the nearest town is or how to find the trail she lost herself on, but she knows she needs to get far away from here. 

The woodland is labyrinthine. Everything looks the same. She hopes she isn’t sprinting deeper into the heart of Appalachia and straight into her new grave, but still, she doesn’t stop running. Not until her lungs wilt into themselves and turn pruney, not until her heartbeat plateaus. 

It’s as if she’s working against a rip current. She feels as if a part of herself is already woven into the woodland soil, feels herself written into the rotting, wet trees. It’s like she’s treading water instead of sprinting. And it’s like a supernova has erupted in her ankle as it gets caught under a root, sending her face first into the dirt. 

She reorients as quickly as she can. She raises to her feet but winces at the flaring nerves in her foot, and looks around for a stick she can use as a crutch. 

But something else catches her attention. 

A dog-eared paper taped to a Basswood tree. It’s been eaten by the elements, mottled, barely hanging on. She steps closer and reads the blocky letters across the front, her blood running cold in her engorged vessels.

MISSING PERSON

Fleetingly, hope seizes her, but she soon remembers nobody back home is heedful enough to report her missing, let alone realize she’s missing in the first place. Additionally, the year suggests that the flyer is three years old. Her eyes slink down, trailing over what’s still intact.

LAST SEEN: CLIFF TRAIL

$3,000 REWARD FOR INFORMATION

Foreboding clings to her flesh. She quivers, her knees weakening.

FIRST NAME: J-

The tail-end of it is smeared, the ink bleeding and thinning into the paper. It’s unintelligible, so she trails her gaze lower, heeding the victim’s last name instead.

MACTAVISH.

“Sweetie!” Peals out from behind her before she can read any more. “What’re you doin’ all the way here? Had me and Simon thinkin’ ye ran away or something. Hah.”

Johnny hurries close and swallows her flinch with a tight hug. He frowns at the flyer. 

“Why’re you readin’ this silly stuff?” He asks. He tears it off the tree and crumples it up, tossing it away. “That shite gives y’nightmares.”

“Johnny, I–”

“You went pee?” Johnny asks. Nearly makes her screech when he dips his hand low and cups her cunt, feeling around for any dregs of liquid. He buries his fingers unnecessarily deep between her puffy lips, blindly massaging.

“No…” he clicks his tongue. “No. You didn’t. Did ye lie to us? It dinnae matter, sweetie. Here. Do it here, pretty. I’ll wait.”

She musters whatever pluck she has left to shake her head.

However her spine is fickle. All it takes is Johnny glowering, his eyes darkening, his pout upending and curling into something meaner, to force her back into submission.

“Simon’s already angry ye pulled this stunt, sweetie,” he says. “I’m helpin’ you out.”

A tear escapes her. It rolls down her gaunt cheek like the dew that dribbles down trees. She’s quickly crying, expelling howls that burn her energy. She trembles as she squats to the forest floor and pushes pee out of her. She sniffles as she stands back up and lets the liquid sluice down her thighs. 

“Good girl,” Johnny hums. “You’re so much sweeter when ye listen, ye ken?” 

She sobs into her palms, her ribs so brittle they rattle together. Johnny coos vacantly at her, rubbing her all over the same way one rubs stone fruit to test their ripeness, and croons at her swelling ankle.

“See what happens when you’re naughty?” He asks, picking her up, carrying her close to his chest. “Let’s get you home, honey. These woods are no place for a bird like you.”

She hates how she curls into him. It’s her repressed underbelly fighting its way to the surface because the accumulation of neglectful family and friends has soured her, carving a chasm in her heart that forces her body to respond to Johnny’s affections. He’s a warm body for her, a pair of listening ears. It’s scraps, but it’s more than she’s ever gotten.

They make it back to the cabin in what feels like minutes. Simon’s waiting next to the door with his arms tightly crossed, his face meanly pinched. He growls like a provoked animal. He hovers like an executioner. He’s the living antonym of light at the end of the tunnel, huffing like a bull as Johnny carries her inside. 

“How about you rest?” Johnny asks. He sets her down on her cot and pulls the blanket to her quivering chin, tucking her in. “Want some tea? What kind do you fancy?”

She purses her lips, trembling. Johnny sentimentally hums as if he’s sorry. As if he isn’t a part of her plight. Her piercing fear and deep-seated fatigue.

“Garden mint…” he says to himself. “I’ll be right back, bonnie.”

He disappears and returns a few minutes later with a cup dwarfed in his hand. Steam curls over the rim, thinning into the barren bedroom. He tilts it into her mouth, nursing her. 

With every sip she feels herself slip more and more back into the familiar territory of limbo. Her eyelids become heavy, her cognizance slackening.

She peels her tongue off her gums to muster a whisper. It’s so weak. Barely audible. 

“I wanna go… home…”

Johnny croons. He cups her cheek. “Honey, those people dinnae care about you. Not how me and Simon do. This can be your home.”

He raises the cup to her mouth again, stifling any protests on her tongue.

She hiccups around the drink, her eyes warm and wet.

That’s how she falls asleep. 

With hypnotic tea invading her bloodstream, turning her eyelids heavy. Turning her helpless.

———

She wakes with a start. 

It’s a crack of thunder that had stirred her, she realizes, instead of the enigmatic sounds of bed springs snapping.

The bedroom is dark and bathed in midnight light. She can barely see anything, save for the barest outline of Johnny in the bed next to her. When lightning strikes, illuminating the sky with a blinding impact crack, she’s able to see the swell of his body beneath his sheets and the shadow of his spun-thread hair. His chest rising and falling steadily. 

She’s caked with sweat. Her perspiration soaks her flannel and makes it cling to her flesh, which is flared up as if she rolled in a pile of poison ivy. Her mind is so cluttered she almost folds over as she stands up, testing the grip of her toes on the wooden floor, testing her ability to balance herself. 

She’s in limbo. A border space between heaven and hell, awaiting her execution. That’s how it feels as she tiptoes her way out of the room, reaching for an oil lamp, holding it out in front of her. 

It’s almost worse like this. A weak flame that barely illuminates her peripheral. She fears that should she turn too fast, an aberration will materialize from the margins of her view and tear her to ribbons. 

At this point, she supposes that’s a kinder fate. 

She slips into a pair of large boots because she can’t find her hiking shoes anywhere. She opens the door and pokes her head out, immediately met with the spray of rainwater on her face, the wind running through her ropes of neglected hair.

Sheets of heavy rain fall from the awning, creating another divide that keeps her trapped inside the cabin. She steps onto the porch, listening for any incongruous noises. Even if there were any, they would be bullied under the assault of rainfall. She can’t hear her own thoughts like this, can’t formulate a plan to get away from here once and for all.

So of course she doesn’t hear the floorboards settle behind her. Of course, she doesn’t hear the heavy drumming of feet closing in on her.

She doesn’t heed the body behind her until Johnny is sniffing up her neck and snuffing out the oil lamp, laying hold of her in a grudging grip. 

“You just dinnae listen, do you?”

He takes her by the scruff of her neck and pulls her back into the cabin, knocking the lamp out of her grip. It falls to the floor and flares into a crash, louder than the rain. Almost louder than her sprinting heart and the blood rushing to her ears.

She wrestles against his grip. “Fuck you both—you sick fucks!”

She almost vomits when her insults make Johnny moan, his cock fattening against her back in a crude Pavlovian response. Each time she struggles against him, his grip tightens. It reminds her of the mountain itself. The more she tries escaping its soporific arms, the deeper it drags her down. It’s fruitless for her to fight it—the whistle of the branches, the tight sinews of Johnny’s grip. 

He swings his arm around her neck, pinning her against his chest in a headlock. Her lungs stutter and her eyes turn dewy, her deep-seated fear ripening into paralyzing terror.

A web of lightning shatters the sky, and she almost dies right there.

It’s Simon but worse. A mutation gone wrong. A changeling, perhaps. He’s squeezed inside the threshold, breathing wildly. His wifebeater is torn in different places across his body, split around tufts of fur. Fur that is matted with thick ichor, wiry and sprouting from the spot behind his ears.

Another flash of lightning ignites the cabin, revealing the shaggy coat of hair on his chest. The sheet of fat over his stomach that flutters when he puffs, growling under his breath. He clenches his jaw because he can’t clench his hands, because his thick fingers have turned into claws, sharp spires covered in gore.

Simon snarls. Blood and spit drip from his bloodied teeth as if he’s a rabid animal with a limp maw. He rolls his shoulders and cracks the cartilage in his neck, the sound pealing out so loudly, it’s more like the popping of bubble wrap in rapid succession. 

She can barely see him through her tear-filled eyes. It’s the epilogue to her life as he strides in close, biting his talons into her hips and drawing out blood. A snarl of satisfaction escapes him when he smells it—her blood, sweet, albeit stale due to her dehydration. 

“Anyone ever told you you’re an ungrateful mutt?” He growls. “I give you food to eat an’ clothes on your back but here you are, tryin’ to sod off.”

Her cheeks dimple when he grabs her jaw. She opens her mouth to protest, but her grievances get smothered beneath Simon’s claws. He stuffs his fingers down her mouth, stunting her complaints. She gags and coughs around the taste of metal and mire crusted under his claws, bile shooting up her throat.

“Dogs don’t talk,” he tuts. 

He hoists his arm back and she puckers, preparing for an attack. However, instead of her cheek, Simon’s hand slices against her shirt. He tears her flannel into ribbons, making the fabric slide off her like water from a milk bath.

She stands naked, her skin pocked with fear. She shivers despite being pressed between Simon’s furry chest and Johnny’s warm arms. 

“‘Bout time someone taught you some manners,” Simon mumbles. “I was in the middle of my dinner you know? Fuckin’ rude to interrupt.”

She blanches when she sees a limp coyote behind him, splayed out on the porch. She recognizes it as the orpiment-coloured fur to the hair flossed between Simon’s teeth.

She screams as he wrestles her from Johnny’s grip, pulling her towards the bedroom. Simon throws her onto the stiff mattress, her spine shuddering from the impact. She tries covering herself, tries wrapping her arms around her body, but Simon is having none of that. 

He pounces, taking her hips and pinning them to the bed. He hovers over her, rainwater dripping from his broken nose, impossibly large as he makes up her whole world. Simon swallows her entire view, leaving her with no chances of escape. 

Her gaze flutters down to the chub outlined by his sweatpants and decides she’s left with no chances of survival, either.

She flails her legs as Simon slithers low, flattening his nose against her cunt. She lets out a protracted cry as he hitches his lungs and inhales, breathing in the musk of her bare cunt. The sweat stuck between her fuzzy hair, the sticky arousal that spreads as he forces her legs open. 

Simon hisses. It rides the ruck of his throat, expelled from his nose. It’s not in any capacity a human sound. It seems more like a bear flaring its nostrils, poised for attack.

Johnny notices the confusion between her eyebrows because he’s leaning in and murmuring against the shell of her ear, licking it.

“Remember wha’ I said about matin’ season, kitty?”

Johnny leans away, leaving it at that. Equivocal and cryptic and calcified into the furrows of her brain. She isn’t allowed to wade in her confusion though because Simon’s tongue is lolling out, sweeping a fat stripe over her pussy.

It’s like the first thaw of spring. Simon licks her open, spreads her out on his tongue. She can’t help the immediate warmth that courses through her, swathing her in silk. 

She cries out. Her back bends off the mattress when Simon pulls her lips into his mouth to suck. 

She looks to Johnny for help. She twists herself and tries reaching out, tries crawling off the mattress, but Simon is gripping her ankle and popping the gauze of her bandage with his claws, pulling her back down, wrapping his lips around her engorged clit.

Johnny’s face doesn’t show contrition, but is pinched in jealousy. He watches with a fat mass growing in his sweatpants.

She splits her hand over Simon’s shaved head, using the cauliflowered shell of his ear to try pulling him off of her. That only makes him growl, the vibrations quavering up her spine, his claws digging into her flesh. 

She folds her arms over her face, sobbing. Simon’s tongue is wet and hot against her pussy, lapping between her soft folds, slurping her juices. She flushes at how wet she is. At how pleasure leaks through the cracks in her resolve and spreads all over her, reducing her to a panting mess. 

Simon releases her clit with a pop. He raises to his knees, towering over her, and now she’s unsure if his glistening chin is because of the rainwater outside or her arousal. 

“Hold her down, Johnny.”

Her heart drums against her chest. Johnny crawls onto the bed and kneels behind her head. He pins her wrists down with his kneecaps, keeping her from squirming.

“Will ye let me put my cock in ‘er mouth?” Johnny asks. “Simon, will you–”

“Shut it,” Simon snaps. He shoves down his sweatpants, his cock springing out. All of her nerves bristle like rope, her heart sputtering to a stop.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. It droops between his thighs, drooling with precum. It’s stiff but hangs because he’s so large, the engorged tip angling downward, his balls plump, ruddy.

He chokes his hand around it, tugging it. Her throat closes in on itself but her legs instinctively peel apart. Her puffy lips spread open and she flushes at the sticky sound, hoisting her neck back to look at Johnny.

He has his cock out too, pumping it. He grins when they lock eyes and smacks his dick against her cheek. Johnny presses his cockhead into the corner of her mouth, using it to tilt her lips into a repugnant curl. It’s reminiscent of a smile, but it isn’t one. 

She wails.

They both make up her beginning and end. They trap her between themselves, leaving her with no escape. Simon at her feet, Johnny at her head. Each of the men are more intimidating than the other, both inspiring fear in her feeble heart. Both inspiring unwanted arousal between her legs. 

Simon slaps his flaring tip against her clit. She mewls and hates herself for bucking her hips into him. She’s dew-skinned as Simon pushes her knees to her ears, thumbing her clit.

He deeply inhales.

His chest expands, tugging at the steel-wool hair felted against his big chest. He quivers as he expels his breath, his mating call, and finally feeds her his cock, pushing past her first ring of muscle.

Her body tries curling in on itself like a Venus flytrap, but Johnny is quicker. He bites his fingers into her wrists and pins her to the mattress, keeping her still while Simon stuffs himself deeper. Johnny kisses her tears away while he does it. It’s oxymoronic and it’s betrayal—a Judas kiss—while he wraps his lips around sweet encouragement against her cheeks.

“Got so much fight in ye, sweetie,” he whispers. “Just stop strugglin’ and it’ll feel good.”

Simon leans over her, his cock slipping deeper into her warm cunt. The blood and saliva from his maw drips onto her chest, the blood is so fresh there’s still steam, hitting her like scythes.

Johnny’s getting restless. He watches raptly as Simon starts slamming his hips into her. Johnny ruts against the chafe of her brittle hair and hopes it will give him satisfaction by proxy, but it does little to offset the ache in his balls. His lip warbles.

“Simon, please,” a voice crack, “can I put my cock in ‘er mouth?”

“Fine,” Simon growls. His hips are piston-paced against the girl’s skin, unrelenting and uncaring to how her nails scratch striated lines down his chest in her struggle. “Just stop interruptin’ us.”

Her jaw cramps when Johnny cups her chin. He puppets it open and forces his fingers down. They’re caked with dirt as he swirls them over her tongue, coaxing up the warm spit from the furrow of her throat to be used as a natural lube. 

The only mercy she gets is the stint of time between Johnny pulling his fingers out and gripping his dick, laying it on her tongue. He forces her lips apart with the tip of his cock, smearing himself all over her. 

“So pretty like this sweetheart,” he hums. “Simon smelt it on ye. Hundreds of klicks away. How sweet y’are.” 

She doesn’t have the energy to decipher that. Most of it is being wrung on trying to fight the two men off, but it’s fruitless. Johnny is already slipping into her mouth, and her cunt is already stretched around Simon’s plump cock. 

Johnny starts pumping in and out, his cock embroidering a burn in the hinges of her jaw.

She lies there limply, but as Johnny’s wiry hair meets her nose, she realizes there’s one thing she can do. In her thrashing, she undertakes the lapse of judgement to clamp her teeth together, sinking them into Johnny.

He yells and pulls himself out. Johnny wraps a hand around himself, squeezing, placating the sting. A warm wash of tears twine his eyelashes together, long and babydoll-like. He looks to Simon, preening, imploring. 

“She bit me.” 

Simon slows his hips, only scarcely so. Only enough for her to fill her lungs halfway before he’s dragging himself out agonizingly slow, burying himself back inside. 

His eyes, hungry, flutter down to her. His lips wind back, revealing his sharp fangs. He snickers. 

“Now you’ve pissed him off, hm? Dumb girl. This is why puppies need owners.”

He pinches her clit, softly tweaking it between the pads of his fingers. He looks at Johnny and condescendingly smirks. 

“C’mere, boy. If she won’t suck you off, why not take a go at her other hole?”

She tenses. Fear washes over her like a rip current, all the way down to her ass that squeezes in protest. Her heart feels too big for her chest suddenly. She can’t even see Johnny’s blinding grin through her cloudy eyes as brine tracks down her cheeks, mixing with her sweat. 

She whimpers. “No–“

A palm whistles through the air, exploding into a crack of thunder as it breaks against the skin of her cheek. 

She lapses into silence. Little hiccups escape her while she peers up at Simon, sniffling. 

“Yes,” he says. 

He grips her by her hips and flips her over. This way, Simon’s on his back and she’s on top of him, his cock digging deeper. The position is etched with a degree of intimacy that causes heat to pool in her belly—she can feel his hot breath fanning over her face, she can see his feline-like eyes better.  

She almost jumps out of her skin when Johnny presses his fingers into her ass, trying to break her in. He thumbs at the puckered muscle, chuckling when it tries squirming away from him. 

“Cute little thing,” he says. “She ever been fucked?”

The way she sobs when Johnny forces his forefinger inside gives him his answer. He almost comes right there. At the sound of her slick lubing her up, at the sound of her being torn open like a stone fruit and her pitiful cries for mercy. 

“Stop…” 

“Stop?” Johnny repeats, “Sweetie, if I stop it’ll hurt when I fuck you. Ye need prep, silly.”

That only wracks her ribs harder. The patrionizing lilt in his voice, the way he pats her bum like she’s nothing but a dumb puppy. Johnny sinks another finger in, knuckle-deep, and curls himself into the walls of her ass, massaging it.

Simon starts thrusting again. He takes one of her tits in his mouth and tongues at her nipple, snapping his hips into her. It only adds more pressure to her other hole, the one being fingered open by Johnny.

“Y’think she’s ready, sweetie?” Johnny asks. He slaps his cock against her hole, teasing her. “I think she’s fuckin’ hungry. Look at ‘er winkin’ back at me.”

Johnny collects the saliva moulded into his gums and sputters out a wad of spit, wetting her tight asshole. He presses his cockhead against her opening, pushing himself inside.

She buckles, doubling over. Her cheek falls on Simon’s chest, chafing against his coarse hair. She’s never felt so full. Folded between the men and being fed two big cocks, left with no space to breathe. She isn’t given respite. No mercy. No time for her to stretch around their cocks.

Johnny splits his hand across the divot where her spine begins and shoves her into Simon. Her jaw hangs loose, her lips parted dumbly, her drool trickling onto Simon’s chest. She’s limp. Letting them have her way with her. Letting them brand her with their fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into her skin. Letting them break her open with each of their jackhammering thrusts, letting their pants of encouragement and degradation swirl around her like whistles from the woodland, causing goosebumps to arise and her head to pound.

“Do ye feel it, Simon?” Johnny pants. “Is it comin’ on?”

His words sprawl by like a lazy river in her mind. Desultory, like lukewarm water. They don’t click into the empty chasm of her cognizance until something else happens. Something inhuman. Something that has her choking on the raw bile that scratches her throat and the spit coaxed into the rivets of her tongue by Johnny’s assaulting fingers.

Simon’s ramming gets shaved into stunted thrusts. It isn’t due to a loss of energy, but is due to something else keeping him from slipping out. A balloon pushing against the walls of her pussy, swelling inside her. It isn’t fat but is chubby enough for her to feel it, flutter around it.

The knot snarled into Simon’s cock plugs her up. She can’t pull herself off him because it’s puffed up past her cunt, keeping her stuck on top of him. It doesn’t help that Johnny keeps slamming his hips into her, riling the thin skin that separates her cunt from her ass, bending it to the shape of Simon’s cock.

Johnny gasps. “I’m close– shite, I’m close.”

She doesn’t want to admit it, but she is too. She feels her nerves begin to fray at their edges, her stomach wearing thin. Johnny slips his hand low and blindly sweeps at her clit, nibbling on the husk of her ear.

He only gets three more pumps in until he’s emptying his balls in her ass. He grabs her hair when he comes, puppetting her head back so her mouth falls open and he can spit inside. His thrusts are slow and deep and peter into something calm, his cock softening inside her. Johnny grins.

“Say thank you, kitty.”

It crosses her tongue as an unintelligible mumble. She can’t speak properly with Simon’s cock still in her.

Johnny chuckles at that. He wraps his arms around her and pinches her nipples. Twisting them, pulling them.

Simon’s so big beneath her, lounging like a bear. He fucks into her, his thrusts curtailing into sloppy snaps of his hips.

“He’s close, bonnie,” Johnny says. “Kiss ‘im when he comes. It’s what he likes.”

Finally, Simon’s knot unravels, his thick ropes of come sticking to her walls. He makes sure that the warm come dressing her is so deep, it’ll have no choice but to take. 

Her body betrays her when it crests and crashes into her orgasm. She’s flashbanged with blinding light, gushing out an off-white liquid that coats Simon’s thighs. It seizes her so deeply it hurts, the panoramic pleasure. An orgasm that makes her brain melt, makes her feel otherworldly.

Belatedly, she remembers Johnny’s order. She leans down to kiss Simon, her lips leathery against his. She only wants a modest peck—something to sate Johnny—but she can’t pull away because her bottom lip is caught between Simon’s teeth, pinched, and being sapped of its blood.

He laps it up before letting her go. 

He slips his softening cock out but keeps his come inside her with two fingers, his claws having retracted.

He huffs like a bull. He presses his heavy paw into her abused cunt, palming it. He reeks with a carnal musk, the aftertaste of his rut heavy in the air.

Suddenly, it all makes sense to her.

Simon is the crux of all cautionary tales. The mountains aren’t sworn off because of rabid raccoons or feral fishers but because of something eldritch, whose reputation and folklore precedes any proof of its existence. Whatever Simon is, it can’t be put into words or into anything material, so he’s condensed into the urban legends that have haunted the woods for centuries. The stories that keep hikers off needle-covered paths and unmarked trees and make them carry crucifixes in lieu of bear spray.

She doesn’t even realize she’s softly sobbing. It feels like that’s all she does these days.

Johnny hugs her as if he hadn’t taken a part of her dignity. 

He kisses her, kittening into her so that Simon is able to wrap his arms around them both, hugging them. 

The calm that lolls after the storm only bruises her further. They act so normal after they’ve stripped her of everything. Johnny massaging her thighs, Simon igniting a cigarette between his lips. 

“Will you ever let me go?” She mumbles against Simon’s chest. 

He exhales the smoke. “Go where, love? You came into my house, remember?”

Johnny won’t stop kissing her. He’s a pest that’s attached itself to her dewy flesh, trying to lick her clean. Simon curls his fingers in her and makes sure that’s where his come stays.

Simon takes another drag of his cigarette. “Not like anyone back home would miss you, anyhow.”

———

She watches with a smile on her face as Johnny roasts the flank of a moose on a homemade grill and as Simon chops some more firewood.

She lounges in a chair, swathed in her caribou-hide coat. Winter is at its height, laying a skin of pillowy snow across the mountain.

The cubs wriggle in her lap, pawing at the loose tendrils of her hair and trying to pinch her nose.

“Lookin’ so pretty today, mama,” Johnny hums. She giggles when he kisses her, scratching at the cubs’ bellies. 

“Ain’t she bonnie?” Johnny turns around and prompts Simon, “Our wee looker.”

Simon pauses his wood chopping and nods. He grips the hem of his lumberman’s jacket and raises it to his forehead to wipe his sweat away, revealing his chest and his hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. The cubs yip when he resumes his chopping, splitting a tree stump in two. 

She grins. 

She loves her family. Her providers and the offspring of their seed. She loves the cubs’ fine hair rubbing against her cheek when they jump on the bed to wake them up in the mornings, their blunt fangs biting her when they’re hungry, and the tiny chines on their back where their sharp spine will eventually grow in, just like Simon’s.

Briefly, she tries to remember her other family. The one that came before this one. But all that encompasses her mind is a supermassive black hole in place of memories. For some reason she can’t delineate them. The face of her father is blurry and the features of her mother fit together like a crudely sewn patchwork quilt.

She doesn’t remember much of her family. It’s kind of weird. She can’t remember if they liked her or not.

But she knows that doesn’t matter. Not when she has doting men around her and their litter hanging off her hips, another one currently swelling under her belly.

She pays no heed to the missing person posters taped to the fringes of the mountain that look eerily similar to her. Not to the K-9’s that try tracking scents but fail because she’s written with Simon and Johnny’s musk. She ignores the odd helicopter passing through each month, scarcely flying past their ramshackle cabin.

None of it matters because she knows she’s where she needs to be.

[trinetadetectiveagency]

Background Verification Detective Agency In Gurgaon

Trinetra Detective Agency : Your Trusted Partner in Unveiling the Truth

Trinetra Detective Agency is a leading private detective agency dedicated to providing thorough and discreet investigation services to individuals, businesses, and legal professionals in Delhi and beyond. With our team of highly skilled and experienced private investigators, surveillance detectives, and digital forensic experts, we are committed to delivering results that will empower you to make informed decisions and achieve your desired outcomes.

Our Diverse Investigative Services

Each situation is different, and we adjust our services to suit your needs. Here is the full list of the various investigative solutions we provide for you:

Fraud Investigation Agency: Have a feeling something financially fishy is going on? Then let us use our years of experience by offering you professional fraud investigators including insurance fraud investigators, healthcare fraud investigators, and bank fraud investigators. We will detailly look at financial statements, conduct interviews, and amass evidence to reveal any cases of fraudulent activity.

Surveillance Detectives: Need forensically sound tight-lipped observation to collect critical evidence? Our surveillance detectives use sophisticated methods to monitor people or places, photographically and video graphically recording their activities.

Private Cyber Crime Investigators: Is your corporate or private life threatened by cybercrime? Our private cyber crime investigators are very skilled in the detection of digital evidence, tracing online activity, and identifying those responsible for committing cybercrime.

Infidelity Investigation: You have a suspicion of infidelity in your relation. Our infidelity investigations are carried out with full sensitivity and privacy, and we get it for you: the truth you deserve.

Post Matrimonial Investigation: Do you have queries about your spouse's background or the financial world after marriage? Our post matrimonial investigations provide clarity and peace of mind.

Matrimonial Detective Agency: Need a reliable background check on marriage before you move ahead? Our matrimonial detective agency will give you a comprehensive background check that helps you decide.

Our Major Service Fields:

Digital Fraud Investigator: We are professional digital fraud investigators with extensive expertise in unearthing digital footprints, tracing online transactions, and uncovering cybercrime patterns.

Financial fraud investigators: Suspicious of financial misconduct? Our financial fraud investigators shall check financial statements, detect differences, and build evidence against fraudulent activities.

Insurance Investigator: Your insurance claim is unfairly denied. Our insurance investigators will go the extra mile to seek the truth behind your case and bring it to justice.

Private Investigator Bug Sweep: Feeling you are being subjected to electronic harassment, or suspect hidden surveillance devices? Our private investigator bug sweep services help detect and eliminate any unauthorized devices in your home or office.

Electronic Harassment Investigator Near Me: Feeling subjected to electronic harassment? We have the most experienced electronic harassment investigators ready to help identify sources and take your proper and necessary legal steps against the abuser.

Why Choose Trinetra Detective Agency?

Discretion and Confidentiality: We understand that your case is sensitive in nature, and we respect complete confidentiality throughout the investigative process.

Experienced and Skilled Team: Our team consists of highly qualified and experienced private detectives, surveillance specialists, and digital forensic experts.

State-of-the-Art Technology: We use the latest technology for comprehensive and accurate investigations.

Competitive Rates: Our rates for our investigative services are competitive, ensuring that you receive high-quality services at a reasonable cost.

We would take a customized approach because we believe in this - work closely with our client, understand their uniqueness in specific needs, and investigate cases according to those demands.

The cost of hiring private detectives: the cost of engaging the private detective will depend on aspects, among which are the aspects presented above. At Trinetra Detective, transparency in pricing is exhibited to provide an estimate detailed at any form of investigation before a venture into it.

Call Trinetra Detective Agency Today

Whether you need the services of a professional and experienced private detective, Trinetra Detective is here to give you the comprehensive and discreet investigative solutions you need in getting the answer you are looking for.

Apart from the primary services that we have in Trinetra Detective Agency, the following services also follow:

Photography Collection of Evidence: These investigators can easily collect photographic evidence for your case.

Cheap Private Investigator: We are aware that affordability is crucial. We provide competitive prices while maintaining quality.

Do not hesitate to contact us for a free consultation. We are here to help you navigate through the tough situations and find answers for you.

[spydetectiveagency]

Corporate Debugging Services: Protect Your Confidential Data

Corporate data is one of the most precious assets a company may have in the hyperconnected world of today. Protecting this data is essential for keeping a competitive edge, from financial strategy and client information to trade secrets and intellectual product designs. However, the threat to the security of corporate information increases along with its value. As companies are more frequently the subject of illegal spying, corporate espionage has grown to be a serious issue. These dangers can take many different forms, such as GPS trackers, listening devices, and hidden cameras, all of which can be used to obtain private data without the company's knowledge. Bad actors can now more easily obtain corporate secrets without authorization because of the development of sophisticated monitoring technologies. Corporate debugging services are useful in this situation. These services are crucial for identifying and getting rid of illegal surveillance equipment that can jeopardize the integrity of a business's operations. Corporate debugging services are essential to ensuring that companies can function without the continual fear of espionage or data breaches, whether it be for safeguarding boardroom conversations or intellectual property.

What Are Corporate Debugging Services?

Corporate debugging services, sometimes referred to as sweeping services or Technical monitoring Counter-Measures (TSCM), are specialist services made to find and eliminate covert monitoring equipment in business settings. These services entail a comprehensive examination of a business's cars, communication systems, and property to find and eliminate any bugs, listening devices, or hidden cameras that might be used to steal private data. How Debugging Detects and Removes Surveillance Devices In order to find hidden surveillance devices, corporate debugging uses sophisticated detection technologies like radio frequency detectors, non-linear junction detectors, and thermal imaging. These gadgets can be deftly hidden inside commonplace items, making it difficult to identify them without expert assistance. Additionally, debugging services use skilled experts that are able to extensively search corporate areas for indications of spying. Common Types of Bugs Found in Corporate Settings - Audio bugs: These gadgets record phone calls, meetings, and office chats. They are frequently tiny and can be easily hidden in commonplace items. - Hidden Cameras: Small cameras can be positioned in key areas to keep an eye on business operations, steal intellectual property, or record private conversations. - GPS trackers are frequently used to monitor business vehicles, executives, or important employees in order to obtain information about their whereabouts and operational strategies. Businesses can protect themselves from illegal surveillance and guarantee the confidentiality of their company data by regularly performing debugging services.

Why Businesses Need Corporate Debugging Services

Because companies hold confidential information and intellectual property that could be used by rivals, fraudsters, or irate workers, corporate settings are especially susceptible to surveillance risks. Companies risk losing money, their reputation, and their place in the market if they don't take aggressive steps to preserve this data. Dangers Presented by Unauthorized Monitoring From installing covert cameras in strategic areas like boardrooms to wiretapping communication networks, unauthorized surveillance can take many different forms. These gadgets give outsiders access to trade secrets, client information, and exclusive business plans, which can be exploited for insider trading, extortion, or competitive advantage. Bugs can seriously harm a company's operations, and corporate espionage is a real issue. How Data Leaks Can Harm a Business - Financial Loss: Private financial information may be exploited to influence markets or provide rivals an unfair edge. - Reputation Damage: A business loses the confidence of its partners, investors, and customers if it has a reputation for disclosing private information. - Legal Repercussions: Businesses that violate privacy regulations or fail to protect customer data may be subject to fines. - Competitive disadvantage: A rival may obtain an advantage in the market if trade secrets and company plans are obtained through spying. Common Targets of Corporate Espionage - Boardrooms: Since strategic decisions are made there, boardrooms are often the target of listening devices and bugs. - Offices: Project conversations, client interactions, and financial problems that require security are all part of daily operations. - Communication Systems: Private information may be revealed through the tapping of phone lines, conference calls, and internal communication channels. - Vehicles: To track movements and obtain information during business visits or deliveries, GPS trackers can be installed on executive or company cars.

Key Benefits of Corporate Debugging Services

Beyond only getting rid of illegal monitoring equipment, there are many more advantages to investing in corporate debugging and sweeping services. These services offer a comprehensive strategy for safeguarding company information, stopping espionage, and making sure companies abide by applicable security laws and rules. 1. Improved Security of Data Businesses can protect sensitive conversations, private meetings, and proprietary data by routinely providing corporate debugging services. This protects the company's operating strategies and intellectual property by guaranteeing that no unauthorized third party can access critical business data. 2. Prevent Corporate Espionage A company can be destroyed via corporate espionage. Debugging services are a preventative step that finds and disables surveillance equipment before it can be utilized to steal client information, financial plans, or trade secrets. To keep a competitive edge and secure the company's future success, espionage prevention is essential. 3. Increase Confidence and Trust Trust and confidence are increased when partners, clients, and workers are aware that a business takes the required precautions to protect its property and data. Clients are reassured that their sensitive information is being protected, and employees feel safer knowing that their discussions are secret. 4. Legal Compliance Strict standards of data security and privacy compliance are mandated by law for several sectors. By ensuring that companies follow these legal requirements, corporate debugging services lower the possibility of legal action, fines, or regulatory penalties brought on by unapproved data breaches.

The Process of Corporate Debugging

The process of corporate debugging is extremely complex and requires specialized personnel and cutting-edge equipment that are trained to recognize and eliminate surveillance threats. Many corporate settings, such as offices, boardrooms, cars, and communication systems, can be covered by a standard debugging sweep. Cutting-Edge Equipment and Technology Used  - Radio Frequency Detectors: These gadgets look for signals released by cameras, bugs, and hidden microphones. - Thermal Imaging Cameras: Surveillance equipment can be detected by thermal cameras, which can detect the heat produced by hidden gadgets. - Non-Linear Junction Detectors: These find electronic parts concealed in furniture, walls, or other items, including cameras or microphones. - Infrared Scanners: These devices employ infrared light to find hidden camera lenses that might be secretly filming. Step-by-Step Overview of a Debugging Sweep - First Consultation: To identify high-risk regions and any unusual activity that would have prompted concerns, the debugging team talks with the company. - Site Inspection: Technicians examine the property both physically and electronically, looking for concealed electronics in meeting spaces, offices, and cars. - Detection and Removal: After a device has been identified, it is carefully taken out, and the area is protected from future intrusions. - Reporting: A thorough report that lists all of the devices discovered and offers suggestions for enhancing company security is produced.

Signs Your Business May Need Debugging Services

There are a number of indicators that could point to illegal surveillance of your company. It's imperative to arrange a corporate debugging sweep right away if any of these signs appear: - Unusual sounds or interference: Unusual sounds or interference during meetings or phone conversations could indicate audio bugs. - Leaks of Confidential Information: Unauthorized spying may be the cause of an unexpected disclosure of private company information. - Unexplained Data Breaches: When competitive intelligence is employed against a company, data breaches that lack a clear explanation may be a sign that surveillance equipment is in place. - Unfamiliar Equipment: Unknown equipment or devices in your meeting rooms or office can be a big clue that monitoring is taking place.

Choosing the Right Corporate Debugging Service Provider

There are several signs that may indicate your business is being illegally spied on. If you see any of these indicators, you must immediately set up a corporate debugging sweep: - Unusual noises or interference: Audio bugs may be the cause of strange noises or interference during phone calls or meetings. - Leaks of Confidential Information: Unexpected revelation of confidential firm information may result from unauthorized espionage. - Unaccounted-for Data Breach: Data breaches that don't have an obvious cause could indicate the presence of surveillance equipment when competitive intelligence is used against a business. - Unfamiliar Equipment: Unknown devices or equipment in your office or meeting spaces may be a clear indicator that monitoring is occurring.

How Often Should Corporate Debugging Be Conducted?

The size of the business, the nature of its sector, and the history of security breaches are some of the variables that affect how frequently corporate debugging services are provided. Nonetheless, it is widely advised that companies operating in high-risk sectors like technology, banking, and pharmaceuticals perform debugging sweeps every six months. Variables Affecting Sweep Frequency - Size of the Company: More regular sweeps are necessary since larger organizations with more staff and larger data quantities are more likely to be targeted. - Industry Type: Some sectors should perform debugging more frequently since they are more vulnerable to corporate espionage. - History of Breach: Businesses with a track record of surveillance or data breaches should be more cautious and perform sweeps more regularly.

Conclusion

In today's business environment, corporate debugging services are crucial for protecting sensitive data, preventing espionage, and making sure that companies adhere to security standards. Businesses may safeguard sensitive data and keep a competitive edge by proactively carrying out routine sweeps and safeguarding high-risk regions. To make sure your company stays safe and your private information is safeguarded, get in touch with a reputable debugging and sweeping service provider or hire a private detective agency in India, especially in Mumbai, if you are worried about the security of your corporate data.

FAQ's

Q1: What kinds of surveillance equipment are detectable by corporate debugging? A variety of gadgets, such as GPS trackers, hidden cameras, and audio bugs, can be found by debugging services. Q2: What is the duration of a corporate debugging sweep? The length of time usually varies from a few hours to a whole day, depending on the size of the premises. Q3: Can future surveillance dangers be avoided with the aid of corporate debugging services? Debugging services do really eliminate current dangers and offer suggestions to improve security in general. Q4: Are debugging services provided by corporations legal? These services are legitimate and assist businesses in adhering to security and privacy laws. Q5: How frequently should my company plan a debugging sweep? It's recommended to conduct a sweep every six months or more frequently if your business is in a high-risk industry. Read the full article

[arisedetective]

Best Private Detective Agency In India | Aris Detective

Aris Detective Agency is a leading private detective agency in India offering comprehensive investigative and surveillance services. With a team of highly skilled and experienced detectives, we are dedicated to providing reliable and confidential solutions to individuals, businesses, and legal entities.

Our Services

1. Pre-Employment Background Checks

At Aris Detective Agency, we provide thorough pre-employment background checks to help organizations make informed decisions about their new hires. Our detectives conduct comprehensive investigations, including criminal records, education verification, and professional references, to ensure the safety and security of their business.

2. Matrimonial Investigations

If you are facing difficulties in your marriage or suspecting infidelity, Aris Detective Agency in India can help. Our private detectives use advanced surveillance techniques and discreet methods to gather evidence of infidelity, child custody disputes, or financial irregularities. We prioritize privacy and confidentiality throughout the entire process.

3. Corporate Investigations

Aris Detective Agency specializes in conducting corporate investigations Agency in India to protect the integrity of businesses. Our detectives assist with fraud detection, intellectual property theft, employee misconduct, and other corporate-related matters. We conduct thorough investigations and provide detailed reports to help businesses make informed decisions.

4. Missing Persons Investigations

If you have lost a loved one or have been unable to locate someone, Aris Detective Agency can help. Our skilled detectives use advanced tracking techniques and investigative methods to track missing persons, provide evidence of their whereabouts, and support legal cases.

5. Surveillance and Bug Sweeping

Aris Detective Agency offers comprehensive surveillance services and bugsweeping to protect the privacy of individuals and businesses. Our detectives conduct discreet surveillance to gather evidence, identify individuals or activities, and ensure the integrity of sensitive information.

6. Asset Verification

Aris Detective Agency conducts asset verification services to ensure the accuracy of financial statements and uncover hidden assets. Our detectives use advanced techniques and resources to identify fraudulent activities, verify assets, and provide detailed reports.

Why Choose Aris Detective Agency?

– Experienced detectives: Our team of private detectives is highly trained, experienced, and possesses extensive local knowledge.

– Confidential and discrete: We prioritize the privacy and confidentiality of our clients throughout the entire investigation process.

– Advanced techniques: We leverage the latest surveillance technology and investigative techniques to deliver reliable and accurate results.

– Verifiable reports: We report our findings in a comprehensive and verifiable manner, suitable for legal proceedings.

– Local and international presence: We have a network of detectives across India and abroad, enabling us to provide comprehensive investigative services worldwide.

– 24/7 assistance: We offer round-the-clock assistance to address emergencies and provide immediate support to our clients.

Conclusion

Aris Detective Agency is a trusted and reliable private detective agency in India. With a range of services tailored to the needs of individuals, businesses, and legal entities, we are committed to providing professional and efficient investigative solutions. Contact us today and let us assist you in resolving your investigative challenges.

Source:- https://arisdetectives.com/best-detective-agency-in-india-aris-detective/

[jcmarchi]

Another Crab's Treasure Review - Undercooked Adventure - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/another-crabs-treasure-review-undercooked-adventure-game-informer/

Another Crab's Treasure Review - Undercooked Adventure - Game Informer

Another Crab’s Treasure, as the name suggests, is a humorous and pun-filled world where the sea is your Soulslike oyster. A fork acts as your defacto sword, while various other remnants from above, like shot glasses, soda cans, and more, serve as your shield. With fork in hand and can on back, Kril, a shy but easygoing hermit crab, sets out into the aquatic kingdom to find his favorite shell, stolen from him by a loan shark tax collector. What follows is an adventure that excels at being an amusing and bright reprieve from the otherwise dark and terror-filled Soulslike genre. However, the action doesn’t hit the same highs; while unique and expansive in some ways, it feels too floaty, too imprecise, and too annoying too often, polluting an otherwise fun 15-hour jaunt through a trash-filled ocean. 

Developer Aggro Crab smartly leans into the game’s premise, and the results often had me chuckling. Whether it was in-world jokes, pokes at real-world and human-made problems with the ocean, or simple wordplay (words like shuck, carp, cod, and more replace similar-sounding real-world curse words), I was constantly smiling while interacting with the various creatures of the ocean. Solid voice acting and design also make each NPC and boss a treat. 

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This lean into the premise extends to the game’s action, too, but it’s less successful. To Aggro Crab’s credit, the combat progresses meaningfully with distinct, eccentric mechanics and abilities. Instead of a standard weapon-based parry, you must hide in your shell and pop out of it right before an enemy strikes to parry properly; defeating a large crustacean boss grants you a special hammer claw-like ability for large sweeping strikes; “Umami” magic within each shell manifests in interesting ways, like a shot glass that splits into shards when attacked, a bowling ball-like roll within a tennis ball shell, or homing carbonation bubbles that shoot out of a soda can. 

Most of my joy in combat came from seeing the “new” – the special Umami magic in a new shell, the new ability gained after defeating a major boss, or the new stowaway attachment that increases my vitality or defense, for example. There’s no shortage of quirkiness in the combat, and there’s a respectable amount of departure that works from what I typically expect in a Soulslike. 

That’s why it’s a shame the foundation of the combat is so shaky. It’s floaty, likely on purpose, considering Kril’s adventure largely takes place underwater, but the tradeoff for that feel is impreciseness that doesn’t work with such challenging gameplay. The camera is finicky, too, leaving me to fight various enemies at once who cornered me against a wall giving me no real view of what’s happening. Critically, when I died in combat, it usually felt less like something I could personally improve on – an important aspect of the genre – and more like the game had cheated me into death. 

All of this is exacerbated by a story that starts strong before meandering into a rushed finale, with my least favorite area and a slew of bosses that each felt like they could have been the final in the game. It doesn’t help that various game crashes and bugs in the final hours slowed my progression forward here. 

Though the combat, which falls between serviceable and irritating, threatened my enjoyment, I still found delight in the currents of Another Crab’s Treasure. Kril’s reluctance to become a hero and his subsequent journey, messaging surrounding the dangers corporations pose to our oceans, and clever twists on the Soulslike formula deliver a satisfying, albeit uneven and flawed, wade through uncharted waters.

Encouraged by Aggro Crab to try the game out on Steam Deck, I was impressed with how well Another Crab’s Treasure performs on the handheld PC device. Its visuals popped on the smaller screen, and the performance rarely dipped below 30 FPS, often climbing higher, even to 60 FPS at some points. Locking the Steam Deck’s FPS to 40 ultimately made for the smoothest experience, and Steam’s cloud saving worked flawlessly, making Another Crab’s Treasure an easy game to play at a desktop or on the couch, Steam Deck in hand.

[punedetective-44]

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[privateinvestigatorsuniverse]

Why have bug services become an essential thing for homes?

Do you need bug sweep services? Then Qld Covert Investigations has a team of expert bug sweepers and security advisors trained in using the latest equipment. They are licensed professionals who specialize in tactical security countermeasures and can provide advice on maintaining the security of a location.

●     To ensure privacy: If you are concerned about someone eavesdropping on your conversations or activities, a bug sweep can help you detect and neutralize any listening devices that may be present.

●     To protect sensitive information: If you handle sensitive or confidential information, a bug sweep can help protect it from unauthorised parties' interception.

●     To comply with regulations: In some industries, such as financial services or healthcare, it is required to conduct regular bug sweeps to ensure the privacy and security of sensitive information.

●     To protect against corporate espionage: If you are concerned about the possibility of corporate espionage, a bug sweep can help you detect and neutralize any electronic surveillance devices that may have been placed in your office or other business location.

●     To protect against personal threats: If someone tries to target you to gather information about you, a bug sweep can Investigation help you detect the bug. And destroy that which was placed strategically in your premise.

How to procedure takes place

Bugs are electronic devices that are placed in a location in order to collect information secretly. They can be used for continuous surveillance or to record specific events. To protect against the risks of electronic surveillance, it is advisable to regularly conduct bug sweeps to recognise any such devices that may be present. These sweeps should be timed with ongoing surveillance and specific events in mind. The frequency of the sweeps should be determined based on the known risks and any possibilities of particular concern.

Final Say

Thus, these are the important points of having Home Bug Sweep service from the reputed company QLD, known for their immense experience.

[pixel-trail]

TSCM services in Hyderabad | TSCM Security

In the contemporary Western world, the discourse around surveillance and espionage has reached unprecedented levels of prominence. Once an abstract concept relegated to the realms of science fiction, the advent of corporate espionage has thrust these issues into the forefront of public consciousness. However, amidst these evolving challenges, TSCM Security emerges as a beacon of protection and assurance.

As a distinguished Professional Private Investigation agency and premier bug sweeping group in Hyderabad, TSCM Security has been at the forefront of addressing the Technical Surveillance Countermeasures (TSCM) needs of our diverse clientele for over 15 years. Our unwavering dedication to safeguarding the interests of our clients in Hyderabad has earned us a reputation for excellence and reliability.

At TSCM Security, we understand the paramount importance of securing sensitive information and preserving confidentiality. Our Hyderabad TSCM (Technical Surveillance Countermeasures) Bug Sweep Services are meticulously designed to detect and neutralize any potential threats lurking within our clients' premises, ensuring the integrity of their operations and the confidentiality of their data.

Our team of highly skilled professionals possesses the expertise and proficiency to conduct comprehensive inspections and assessments, employing cutting-edge technology and methodology to identify and mitigate surveillance devices effectively. From visual and electronic examinations to physical sweeps, we leave no stone unturned in our pursuit of enhancing our clients' security posture.

What sets TSCM Security apart is our personalized approach and unwavering commitment to our clients' needs. We tailor our TSCM services to meet the specific requirements of each client, providing bespoke solutions that deliver peace of mind and assurance.

When you entrust TSCM Security with your TSCM needs in Hyderabad, you can rest assured that you are partnering with a reputable and reliable provider. Our track record of success and customer satisfaction speaks volumes about our professionalism and dedication.

In conclusion, TSCM Security stands as your trusted ally in navigating the complex landscape of surveillance and espionage. With our comprehensive TSCM Services in Hyderabad, we empower you to protect your assets, safeguard your information, and mitigate potential threats effectively. Contact TSCM Security today to learn more about our unparalleled TSCM solutions and take proactive steps towards enhancing your security posture.

[fmp24]

Cyberpunk 2077

Cyberpunk 2077 is a 2020 action role-playing video game developed by CD Projekt Red and published by CD Projekt, and based on Mike Pondsmith's Cyberpunk tabletop game series. The plot is set in the fictional metropolis of Night City, California, within the dystopian Cyberpunk universe.

What is the story of Cyberpunk 2077?

In 2077, local fixer Dexter "Dex" DeShawn hires V and Jackie to steal a biochip known as "the Relic" from Arasaka Corporation. They acquire the Relic, but the plan goes awry when they witness the murder of the megacorp's leader Saburo Arasaka at the hands of his treacherous son Yorinobu. Yorinobu. Yorinobu covers up the murder as poisoning and triggers a security sweep in which Arasaka's netrunners kill T-Bug. V and Jackie escape, but Jackie is fatally wounded in the process, and the Relic's protective case is damaged, forcing V to insert the biochip into the cyberware in their head.

Furious at the unwanted police attention, Dex shoots V in the head and leaves them for dead in a landfill. Upon awakening, V is haunted by the digital ghost of war veteran turned iconic rock star and terrorist Johnny Silverhand, believed to have died in 2023 during his own thermonuclear attack on Arasaka Tower. V learns from their ripperdoc Viktor Vector that Dex's bullet triggered resurrection nanotech on the biochip, repairing the damage to V's brain but starting an irreversible process that would overwrite V's memories with those of Johnny, whose memory engram is stored on the chip, leaving V only a few weeks before the process completes. The biochip cannot be removed without instantly killing V, so V must find a way to remove Johnny and survive.

Through reliving Johnny's memories, V learns that in 2013, Johnny's then-girlfriend Alt Cunningham had created Soulkiller, an artificial intelligence able to copy netrunners' minds through their neural links. However, the process destroyed the target's brain. Arasaka kidnapped Alt and forced her to create their own version of Soulkiller, which would store the minds of its targets in Arasaka's digital fortress, Mikoshi. Johnny led a rescue effort to save Alt, but failed to find her before Arasaka used Soulkiller on her; Johnny's later thermonuclear attack was a cover to free Alt's consciousness from Arasaka's subnet, but Arasaka's head of security Adam Smasher captured him and used Soulkiller on him as well.

By 2077, Arasaka was advertising a "Secure Your Soul" program and conducting secret research into writing a digital copy of a mind into a living human brain, from which the Relic arose. Eventually, V must decide whether to mount an attack on Arasaka Tower to gain physical access to Mikoshi and use Soulkiller to remove Johnny from their body, or to make a deal with Yorinobu's sister, Hanako Arasaka, to extract the Relic.

If V chooses to attack Arasaka Tower, depending upon player actions throughout the game, V can choose different options to conduct the attack. V can allow Johnny to take over and stage the attack with his former crew, suppress Johnny and mount the attack with their nomad allies from the Aldecaldos clan, mount the attack solo, or simply commit suicide. If V chooses to make a deal with Hanako instead, they convince the Arasaka board that Yorinobu killed Saburo, and oust Yorinobu as CEO. Hanako honors her deal with V and has Arasaka doctors extract the Relic from V. In all cases, it is revealed that the damage to V's body is irreversible. Depending on player choice, V either requests Arasaka upload them into Mikoshi until a suitable host body is found, remains in their body with an uncertain life expectancy, or allows Johnny to take over permanently. If V assaults Arasaka and chooses to remain in their body, they either become a Night City legend, or leave Night City with the Aldecaldos clan hoping to find a way to prolong their lifespan. If V surrenders their body to Johnny, the latter pays his respects to his friends and leaves Night City to start a new life.

What is the main idea of Cyberpunk 2077?

It's a game set in a world where corporate power and capitalism run rampant, but also one of hyper-individualism. The plot investigates how far we are corrupted by the world, by technology, and by the voices in our head.

[captainderyn]

WIP Wednesday

Hey guys I was today years old when I learned that if I accidentally press some button that I don’t know (I think alt or shift) and enter at the same time this post will post without my consent :D so I posted this WIP Wednesday with no WIP! Fun!

Anyhoodles saw @tiredassmage post, got inspired, realized I actually have something I’m working on (Shocker) so here we go!

It’s for Cyberpunk, I have no idea when it’ll get done because my writing well is at like 5% right now. Quick note, this is Era and Five but Era is V/Vivian in this ‘verse.

TW: Swearing, questions of drug use/drinking (all less than canon typical, but still tossed under a cut)

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The door hissed closed behind V, the janky latch bouncing once, twice, thrice, before finally clicking and locking She’d meant to get that fixed for the past…month, maybe, but that required more eddies and more time than she had. And it wasn’t worth a repairman walking in on one of her…episodes with Johnny.

She thunked her head back against the door, squeezing her eyes closed.

Despite the dirt and grime that crusted her hands she scrubbed them across her face. She knew what was coming even before the voice snapped at her from deeper in the room like a whip.

“What the hell, Vivian?”

“It’s V,” she snarled back, “Can we start with hello, Five?”

Opening her eyes, she rolled them to the ceiling before fixing an icy look on Five, “You look like a fucking Corp.”

That had been their lifestyle once, chafing beneath the boot of the bigger man.

They’d since faded into the shadows of Night City, cut ties with the corporate conglomerate. Five still stuck out in the streets of Night City like a sore thumb.

He would’ve been better suited as Delamin’s henchman in his HQ than out on the streets. She was bitterly surprised he hadn’t been mugged yet. Even with the wicked knife she knew was tucked under his finely pressed jacket and the pistol no doubt concealed somewhere on his person.

Five stuck his hands in his pants pockets, sharp eyes roving over her, “And you look like you just crawled out of a sewer.”

Touche. Rain poured outside, sweeping with it all the grime and oil that packed into the rusted buildings and poured out of the derelict cars. She slung her jacket off, spraying water droplets across the room. Five curled his lip as some of it splattered onto his jacket, swiping it off.

He didn’t need to know that her jacket was soaked because she’d hydroplaned into a concrete Jersey barrier and careened into a puddle.

“Since when have you been stupid enough to hit two hundred miles per hour in Pacifica?” 

So he already knew, then. The way his words clipped when he got irritated drove her insane.

“You bug me or something?” V snapped, telling on herself even more as she ran her hands over the creases of her tank top, feeling for small, metal spyware.

“I didn’t bug you.” She heard the eye-roll sent her way and grit her teeth so hard her jaw ached, “I have contacts all around the city and they all say the same thing: they’re worried about you.”

His socked feet—damn him and his etiquette always taking his shoes off in her dingy ass apartment. Her boots were welding themselves to the floor with mud the linger she stood here—stalked forward until he was almost right in front of her, “You got a death wish or something?”

From the corner of her eye Johnny shimmered into view, arms crossed, “Aw is dad worried about his little girl?” he crooned, “You still haven’t told him about the gun, V.”

“Can it, Silverhand.” She snapped, whipping her head to where he stood. But he was gone now. Dammit.

No, she hadn’t told Five about the incident when Johnny had first appeared, about the way the horror had driven her so far out of her skin that she’d seized up her pistol and…no. He didn’t need to know that.

Five’s eyes flashed at her as his calloused fingers snatched her chin and pulled her eyes up to meet his. She bared her teeth, “Back off, Five!”

“Are you drunk? Smoking something?” He demanded, “All that chrome you’ve pumped into yourself finally frying your brain?”

[secretdetectives]

Why Secret Detective Agency In Noida Is Best For Personal And Corporate Investigation

Why Secret Detective Agency in Noida is Best for Personal and Corporate Investigation

When it comes to personal and professional investigations in Noida, one name that stands out is Secret Detective Agency. Over the years, this agency has gained a reputation for being the best in the business, offering a comprehensive range of services tailored to meet the needs of individuals and corporations alike. This document will highlight the reasons why Secret Detective Agency is considered the best investigation agency in Noida.

1. Extensive Expertise

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2. Comprehensive Services

Secret Detective Agency offers a wide range of services for personal and corporate clients, ensuring that they have all the resources they need under one roof. These services include:

- Background Checks:

The agency conducts thorough background checks on individuals, providing information regarding their past history, criminal records, and any other relevant information. This helps individuals and organizations make informed decisions.

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Secret Detective Agency uses advanced surveillance techniques to gather evidence discreetly. The agency's experienced surveillance team follows the target discreetly, capturing crucial information without raising suspicions.

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 With the increasing reliance on digital evidence, Secret Detective Agency employs cutting-edge technologies to conduct online investigations. The agency specializes in retrieving and analyzing data from online platforms, such as social media, email, and websites, to uncover valuable insights.

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The agency helps clients identify and remove any hidden surveillance devices or bugs from their properties. This ensures that sensitive information remains confidential and secure.

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Secret Detective Agency has expertise in conducting forensic examinations, analyzing physical evidence to identify clues, and reconstructing crime scenes. This expertise is crucial in obtaining accurate and reliable evidence.

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One of the primary concerns for individuals and companies seeking investigation services is confidentiality. Secret Detective Agency places great emphasis on maintaining the confidentiality of their clients. The agency ensures that all investigations are kept confidential, respecting the privacy of individuals and maintaining the integrity of sensitive information.

4. Reliable and Trustworthy

Over its years of operation, Secret Detective Agency has built a strong reputation for reliability and trustworthiness. The agency's commitment to delivering high-quality results, combined with their professional and ethical approach, has earned the trust of many clients. Clients can rest assured that their investigations will be handled with the utmost discretion and professionalism.

In conclusion,

Secret Detective Agency stands out as the best detective agency in Noida due to its extensive expertise, comprehensive services, commitment to confidentiality, and reliable and trustworthy reputation. Whether it is for personal reasons or corporate investigations, the agency offers a comprehensive range of services tailored to meet each client's specific needs.

I Hope Detective Agency in Noida blog will help you

Source link:- https://secretdetectives.com/2024/02/06/why-secret-detective-agency-in-noida-is-best-for-personal-and-corporate-investigation