#Aluminum Signs

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1963 Aluminum Salesman Advertising Sample Sign by Vinnie DeVille Via Flickr: Vintage salesman advertising sample sign from the Stonehouse Sign Manufacturing Company. Normally these samples are miniatures of the actual signs a company produces. This particular sample describes the material and main usage of the product, and, as such, an item like this is not normally seen or found. A nice piece of vintage advertising, It’s always a thrill when it’s from Vinnie DeVille!

[taxusbaccata6]

[gaster]

04APR2024 "CAUTION: BUMPING PANEL MAY CAUSE SCRAM" and "CAUTION BEFORE PULLING SPLINES BYPASS CRITICAL RADIATION ALARM"

[skyedancer2006]

WHY ARE FRAMES SO EXPENSIVEEEEEE

^ Just bought the new Murder Drones poster and went to get a frame, and the cheapest frame was more expensive than the poster itself

[aacesignco]

Electronic Message Centers: Revolutionizing Business Signage

In today’s fast-paced, technology-driven world, businesses are constantly seeking innovative ways to capture attention and communicate effectively with their audience. Electronic Message Centers (EMCs) have emerged as a dynamic solution to meet these needs, offering versatility, engagement, and real-time updates. This blog delves into the benefits and applications of EMCs, and why they are becoming an essential tool for modern businesses.

What are Electronic Message Centers?

Electronic Message Centers are digital displays that use LED technology to showcase messages, advertisements, and information. Unlike traditional static signs, EMCs can be programmed to display a variety of content, including text, images, animations, and videos. This flexibility allows businesses to convey multiple messages and update their content instantly based on current promotions, events, or important announcements.

Benefits of Electronic Message Centers

Dynamic Content Display: One of the most significant advantages of EMCs is their ability to display dynamic content. Businesses can easily change messages, images, and videos to keep their audience engaged. This capability is particularly useful for promoting special offers, sales events, or new products. The ability to rotate messages ensures that your display remains fresh and relevant, capturing the attention of passersby.

Real-Time Updates: EMCs allow for real-time updates, which is crucial for businesses that need to communicate timely information. For instance, a restaurant can update its menu specials or operating hours, while a retail store can announce flash sales or store events. The ease of updating content means businesses can respond quickly to changing conditions or customer needs.

Enhanced Visibility: The bright, high-resolution displays of EMCs ensure high visibility, even in low-light conditions or adverse weather. This makes them highly effective for attracting attention from a distance and standing out in a crowded marketplace. Their ability to display vibrant colors and moving graphics further enhances their impact.

Cost-Effective Advertising: While the initial investment in an EMC may be higher than traditional signage, the long-term benefits often outweigh the costs. With EMCs, businesses can avoid the recurring expenses of printing and installing new signs. The flexibility to change messages digitally means that businesses can adapt their advertising strategies without additional costs.

Increased Engagement: Interactive features and engaging content displayed on EMCs can drive customer interaction. For example, businesses can run social media promotions, interactive polls, or contests that encourage audience participation. This not only enhances customer engagement but also fosters a sense of community around the brand.

Applications of Electronic Message Centers

Retail Stores: Retailers can use EMCs to showcase promotions, sales, and new arrivals. The ability to update content frequently ensures that customers are always informed about the latest offers. Additionally, EMCs can be used to highlight customer testimonials or loyalty program updates.

Restaurants: For restaurants, EMCs can display daily specials, menu items, and nutritional information. The visual appeal of moving graphics can entice customers and create a more inviting atmosphere.

Educational Institutions: Schools and universities can use EMCs to communicate important announcements, event schedules, and emergency alerts. The ability to display educational content and news updates helps keep students, staff, and visitors informed.

Event Venues: Event venues can utilize EMCs to promote upcoming events, ticket availability, and venue information. The versatility of EMCs allows for creative and eye-catching displays that enhance the overall event experience.

Public Information: EMCs in public spaces can provide important information such as weather updates, public transportation schedules, and emergency alerts. Their visibility ensures that critical information reaches a wide audience effectively.

Conclusion

Electronic Message Centers represent a significant advancement in signage technology, offering businesses a powerful tool to communicate dynamically and effectively. With their ability to display engaging content, provide real-time updates, and enhance visibility, EMCs are an invaluable asset for any business looking to make a strong impression and stay connected with their audience. As technology continues to evolve, the potential applications and benefits of EMCs will only grow, solidifying their role as a cornerstone of modern business signage. For more details visit our website: www.a-acesignco.com

[draciformes]

Totk makes me feel like I'm in an extracurricular gifted kid stem science engineering Saturday class

[seat-safety-switch]

You can tell a lot about the health of a civilization by their warning signs. Places with a lot of dumb folks will have very broad, very dumb warnings in public. "No feeding the birds." "Stop swimming in this drainage pond." That kind of thing.

Advanced civilizations have very precise signs. They've covered the bases of their regular, run-of-the-mill idiots, and now they're working hard to cover that other end of the bell curve: the talented idiot. When I was in Germany last time, there was a big warning sign that consisted of a 76-letter-long word that means "stop bothering this particular goose, Sven." I don't know who Sven was, but the goose looked pretty calm. It worked.

Now, I have a secret to tell you. You can just make your own signs. There's no law against it, except perhaps "littering," and the municipal sign factory doesn't have very good security. If you show up there past close and put in the door code that you shoulder-surfed off one of the employees returning from lunch a week prior, you have all night to fuck around with their sign-printing machine, making the most official-looking placards you can think of.

Is this wrong? I don't think so. It's a public space, and being able to put up an aluminum sign that says wacky crank shit is your right. For instance, just last week, I banned pickup trucks from parking by the playground. The cops figured out something was going on, because they didn't get any calls for toddlers getting backed over for a couple of days and sent a patrol truck to investigate. Took my sign right down.

What I discovered after that is that nobody keeps records of what signs are supposed to be there. Why would anyone put up a sign for no reason? They cost money, after all. The city is now suing the shit out of that officer for stealing the "no trucks" sign, thanks to an anonymous tipster who called in the theft. Guy wearing a reflective vest came by and put like four more of them up after the lawsuit made the news, just out of spite. I'm not entirely sure if he's actually a city worker; we ran into each other at 3am at the sign factory and just grunted. He was working on some really crazy signs about not feeding a particular swan. Probably German.

[vibrantsigns]

Shining Metal Statements: The Impact of Metal Signs on Business

In the competitive landscape of business, making a memorable first impression is crucial. In this exploration, we dive into the realm of metal signs, uncovering how these durable, versatile, and aesthetically pleasing signage solutions elevate a business's visual identity and leave an enduring mark.

The Allure of Metal Signs

Enduring Elegance

Metal signs exude enduring elegance. Crafted from materials such as aluminum, stainless steel, or brass, these signs withstand the test of time, maintaining their polished appearance even in the face of diverse weather conditions.

Versatility in Design

Businesses value the versatility that metal signs offer in design. Whether it's a sleek, modern appearance for a tech startup or a rustic, weathered look for a boutique, metal signs can be customized to align with the unique brand personality of any business.

Longevity in All Environments

Metal signs are renowned for their durability. Resistant to rust, fading, and deterioration, these signs thrive in various environments, making them suitable for both interior and exterior use. From storefronts to boardrooms, metal signs are versatile visual assets.

Applications of Metal Signs for Business

Storefront Brilliance

For businesses seeking to stand out on crowded streets, metal signs provide a solution. Bold lettering, intricate logos, or even raised 3D designs on metal signs draw attention, turning storefronts into beacons that captivate passing foot traffic.

Directional Signage with Class

In corporate settings, metal signs are employed for directional purposes with a touch of class. Whether guiding clients through a sleek office space or marking executive suites, these signs convey professionalism and sophistication.

Memorable Outdoor Branding

For businesses with outdoor spaces, metal signs become memorable branding tools. From hanging signs that swing gently in the breeze to metal plaques affixed to entrance gates, these signs contribute to the overall aesthetic and brand recognition.

Customizable Interior Statements

Within office interiors, metal signs serve as customizable statements. From lobby logos to inspirational quotes in meeting rooms, the design flexibility of metal signs allows businesses to infuse their spaces with unique visual elements.

Designing Metal Signs for Business Impact

Material Selection

Choosing the right metal material is paramount. Aluminum is lightweight and corrosion-resistant, stainless steel exudes a polished look, and brass adds a touch of elegance. The material should align with the business's aesthetic and environmental considerations.

Contrast and Legibility

Effective metal signs prioritize contrast and legibility. The design should ensure that the sign's message is clear and easily discernible, even from a distance. This is particularly crucial for storefronts or outdoor signs where visibility is key.

Branding Consistency

Metal signs play a crucial role in maintaining brand consistency. The color palette, typography, and logo design on the metal sign should seamlessly align with the overall branding strategy of the business, reinforcing a cohesive visual identity.

Top Providers of Metal Signs for Business

Metal Sign Company

Metal Sign Company stands out for its commitment to quality craftsmanship. Specializing in custom metal signs, they collaborate closely with businesses to create visually stunning and durable signage solutions that make a lasting impression.

Custom Metal Signs

True to their name, Custom Metal Signs is dedicated to providing tailored solutions for businesses. From outdoor signage to intricate indoor plaques, they offer a range of customizable options, ensuring each sign aligns with the unique needs of the client.

Metal Identity

Metal Identity combines artistry with functionality in crafting metal signs. With a focus on precision and design innovation, they deliver signs that not only serve a practical purpose but also elevate the aesthetic appeal of businesses.

Cost Considerations for Metal Signs

Material and Size

The choice of metal material and the size of the sign significantly impact costs. Larger signs or those crafted from premium materials may entail a higher investment, while smaller or standard-sized signs may be more budget-friendly.

Design Complexity

Intricate designs or custom detailing can influence the overall cost. Businesses should consider the complexity of the chosen design and whether it requires specialized craftsmanship, which may affect the pricing.

Installation Requirements

Factors such as installation location and complexity can affect costs. Signs mounted on challenging surfaces or in elevated positions may require specialized equipment or additional labor, impacting the overall budget.

Conclusion: Metal Mastery in Business Branding

Metal signs for businesses are not just markers; they are statements of enduring elegance, versatility, and branding mastery. From storefronts to corporate interiors, these signs contribute to a business's visual narrative, making a powerful statement that resonates with clients, partners, and the public.

In the world of business, where first impressions matter, metal signs emerge as beacons of distinction. Their timeless appeal, coupled with design flexibility, positions them as indispensable assets for businesses looking to make a lasting and impactful mark in their respective industries.

Unique FAQs

Q1: Can metal signs be used for temporary promotions or events?

A1: While metal signs are known for their durability, businesses seeking temporary solutions might explore alternatives like vinyl banners. However, metal signs can be designed for reuse or adapted for specific events with removable elements.

Q2: Are metal signs suitable for indoor use in areas with high humidity?

A2: Yes, certain metals like aluminum and stainless steel are resistant to rust and corrosion, making them suitable for indoor use even in humid environments. Proper maintenance ensures the longevity of metal signs.

Q3: Can businesses incorporate lighting elements into metal signs?

A3: Absolutely. Many businesses enhance the visibility and impact of metal signs by incorporating lighting elements, such as LED backlighting. This not only adds a dynamic element to the sign but also ensures visibility during low-light conditions.

Q4: What is the typical lifespan of metal signs?

A4: The lifespan of metal signs varies based on factors such as material, environmental conditions, and maintenance. High-quality metal signs, with proper care, can last for many years, making them a durable and long-lasting investment.

Q5: Are there restrictions on the design of metal signs for businesses?A5: While businesses have design flexibility, it's essential to adhere to local regulations and zoning laws. Certain areas may have restrictions on sign sizes, colors, or types of materials. Consulting with a professional sign provider can help ensure compliance.

[phil-id-center]

We make doorsigns like this👍

[sayruq]

I figured I should list setbacks and consequences (including signs of internal collapse) faced by Israel in the past couple of months. I'll make this as chronological as possible. Add any you think I missed.

While Hezbollah targets Haifa, Golan Heights, and new settlements

Gaza continues to punish the invading army

More and more western publications are forced to admit that Israel cannot defeat the Palestinian resistance

“This is a very high number that encompasses many sectors. About 77 percent of the businesses that have been closed since the beginning of the war, which make up about 35,000 businesses, are small businesses with up to five employees, and are the most vulnerable in the economy,” Yoel Amir, CEO of Israeli information services and credit risk management firm, CofaceBdi, told Maariv. The report adds that “the most vulnerable industries are the construction industry, and as a result also the entire ecosystem that operates around it: ceramics, air conditioning, aluminum, building materials, and more – All of these were significantly damaged,” according to CofaceBdi’s risk ratings. The trade sector has also been severely affected. This includes the service sector and industries including fashion, furniture, housewares, entertainment, transport, and tourism. Israel is in a situation where “there is almost no foreign tourism,” the report said, adding that “damage to businesses is all over the country, and almost no sector has been spared.” This includes the agriculture sector, which is based mainly in the south and the north – both considered active combat zones due to the threat posed by the Palestinian resistance and Lebanon’s Hezbollah – whose support front against Israel has significantly contributed to the downfall of the economy. The CofaceBdi CEO estimates that 60,000 Israeli businesses are expected to be shut down by the end of 2024.

ICYMI, Yemen's armed forces have said they got a direct hit on Eisenhower, a nuclear powered aircraft carrier, forcing it to leave the Red Sea

Israel's attack on Yemen is playing a role in bringing Yemen's civil war to an end.

Etc, etc.

The point of this post is to encourage everyone who reads it. Keep talking about Gaza, keep boycotting, keep protesting, keep resisting.

[thriveadv12]

You can share a distinctive brand understanding with your customers by using transparent LED screens. In recent years, LED display boards have emerged as the most popular kind of advertising. For more details about Transparent LED Screen Company in Abu Dhabi kindly visit our site https://thrive-adv.com/digital-signages/transparent-led-screen/

[vivaredd]

Castrol yo! NOS yo! #castrol #nos #oilandgas #sign #aluminum #clean #available (at Phoenix, Arizona) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpgMPMDv0Wd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[evan-collins90]

AMC Studio 30 Theatre - Houston, TX (1997)

"What the design attempts to do in the 110,000 sq. ft. space is simulate a movie studio backlot and the soundstage where guests become part of the action, and the experience "rekindles the magic and memory of movie going."

Elements from sound stages and studio road cases make up the central lobby space along with a guest service desk. Images of Hollywood's glamorous stars of the past add enchantment to the balcony walls. The space is divided into three themed areas that "transport guests into fantastic worlds of Animation, Action/Adventure and Cyberspace." The food concession stands within each area carries through the theme; "Fizz, Sizzle, Pop"; Wildebeest Feast"; and "Quantum Bits." The 30 auditoria are located off the soundstage lobby and within the various themed areas.

The architecture seems to come alive in the Animation area. The space is designed to resemble an animation cel: "flat, two-dimensional, cartoon-like graphics are outlined with black lines, filled with color and applied on an exaggerated scale." The Fizz, Sizzle, Pop concession's identity and blimp directional signs seem to float in a blue sky with flat, cut-out clouds. The setting for Action/ Adventure recalls a rainforest with heavy hanging leaves, bamboo and rock "carved" directional signs. The custom wall covering features petroglyphs of cave people carrying popcorn, megaphones and movie cameras. The fiber optic eyes peering from behind the leaves in the Wildebeest Feast stand change color. They also appear above rock outcroppings down the corridor. Patrons are invited to explore an abstract, futuristic world in Cyberspace where the floor and ceiling are the same color and brushed aluminum columns rise partway to the ceiling. To create the illusion of "endless space." custom light fixtures project beams of light along the walls and backlit graphic images have neon edges. Various colored lights and a high-tech fluorescent green/orange acrylic sign help to define the Quantum Bits concession area in Cyberspace."

Designed by Kiku Obata & Co.

Scanned from the book, Entertainment Destinations by Martin Pegler (2000)

[bettysupremacy]

hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

[aacesignco]

Lighted Cabinet Signs: Brighten Your Business with Eye-Catching Illumination

Transform your storefront with lighted cabinet signs that offer maximum visibility day and night. These illuminated signs are customizable in various shapes and sizes to match your brand's identity, ensuring your business stands out even in low-light conditions. Durable, energy-efficient, and designed to attract attention, lighted cabinet signs are a perfect investment for enhancing your brand presence and driving foot traffic. For more details visit our website: www.a-acesignco.com

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 8

Previous/Next Chapters Here

Poker Night

CW: non-consensual drugging, date rape drugs, non-con, dub-con, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, homophobia, slut-shaming, food control, fat-shaming, vomit.

-

He pops the tab on the soda can, the sound of aluminum grating against your frayed nerves. You sit at the table, hands tucked under your thighs because all you want to do is wrap them around yourself, hold yourself, feel a comforting touch, even if it’s only your own. He brings the soda over and sets it gently on the table in front of you.

It is Saturday morning. 

“I know last week wasn’t fair to you,” your boyfriend says, planting both hands on the table, the picture of rationality. “I don’t like keeping secrets from you. I’d like to think we’re past that point in our relationship. Don’t you?” 

You nod, teeth clenched tight around a scream. 

“So from now on—” he holds up a pill for you to see, then slips it through the open soda tab into the drink. He slides the drink forward toward you at the table. “No more slipping things in your drink without you knowing. From now on, you get to make the choice. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s going to happen either way. The sooner you get used to that, the better. What you get to control is whether you have a good time…or a bad time. So what’s it going to be honey? Good or bad?” 

You hesitate for a long moment. Your fingers are numb when you untuck them from beneath your thighs, trembling as you reach out for the soda—

—and tip it over onto its side, a sign of defiance. 

His placid mouth stretches into a wide grin. Soda drips off the edge of the table and onto the floor. Drip, drip drip. 

“Now,” he says cheerfully. “Why was I hoping you’d choose that?” 

-

It is Saturday morning.

He pops the tab open on a can of your favorite soda, pulled chilled from the refrigerator. Warm is best; it helps the pill dissolve faster, more thoroughly. But when the drink is icy cold, you are less likely to taste the bitterness on your tongue. If you try hard, you can pretend that it is your very first Saturday, that you have just been handed a drink by your boyfriend, that you have no idea what is in it. 

“We’ve got extra guests tonight,” he says, sliding the soda can to you. “I want you on your best behavior.” 

“I always am,” you mutter. 

“That’s just not true. Don’t bullshit me, baby. When you bullshit me, you bullshit the best.” He slides the drink toward you a little more, eyes dark and curious, wondering if you will drink this concoction that makes you relaxed and pliable, this drink that makes you enjoy the terrible things that are done to you. 

But Simon and Johnny will be there tonight. You glare up at your boyfriend and slide the soda back across the table. “You wouldn’t. Not in front of the new guys. I’m not stupid.” 

“Baby. You’re dumber than you look if you think I won’t do whatever I want in front of whomever I want,” he says with a laugh. He slides the drink back. “Next time you push that away, I’m dumping it down the sink. Make good choices.”

You almost do it for him. You really do. A part of you is sure that he’s bluffing; it just makes no sense. Why would he put himself at risk this way? But there’s a small frightened part of you that is always ready to be surprised, always ready to be taken to a new low, dragged to a fresher hell by these hands which were meant to love you. Maybe he would do it.

And is it worth it to defy him? You remember that one miserable Saturday after you had dumped the drink over. It had been one of the most painful, humiliating experiences of your life. Your Fridays afterward were often spent agonizing over the decision to come: was it worse to give in and drink? Did it make you wrong to not fight back, to even sometimes find moments of begrudging pleasure in your own rape? Did it make you weak? 

The thought of being like that in front of Johnny and Simon—soft and slurred and slutty—makes you feel…strange. You don’t want to think about it. The other side of the sword is just as sharp: if you don’t drink, you will be painfully aware of everything that happens to you, aware of Johnny and Simon’s participation—or their impending disgust. 

What is worse? 

Reaching out, you take the can with a shaking hand and go to tip it over—then change your mind at the last moment. You drink it down in its entirety, letting it fill your hollow, aching belly, even if the sugar makes you nauseous. 

Your boyfriend pulls a face, like you have pleasantly surprised him. He reaches out and takes the empty can from you and says, “Good girl.” 

You want to be sick.

-

“You’re in a good mood,” Simon says while making breakfast. He was up early this morning, well before Johnny awoke. Usually when Simon wakes first, he’ll take care of whatever business woke him and then lay in bed with Johnny until the other man wakes, but this morning when Johnny’s eyes blearily opened against the sunlight streaming in through the balcony doors, the bed was empty. Trust, he thinks. Simon’s beginning to trust him to be on his own more often 

“Could say the same fer you,” says Johnny with a grin, tapping the fingers of his hand against the table as he waits for his plate. His voice pitches lower when he asks: “Did yeh wake up on the right side of the bed, or are yeh just excited about what day it is?” 

Simon scowls. “Nothing to be excited about, Johnny. It’s not a recreational event.” 

“I don’t know,” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m looking forward to it. 

“You can’t kill him.” 

“Heard that line before. Rehearse a few new ones.” 

“I mean it,” says Simon, bringing Johnny’s plate to the table and setting it in front of him. Classic English breakfast. Fuck, Johnny’s stomach does a flip, he’s so goddamn hungry. It’s cut into bite sized pieces, but Johnny can overlook that. It’s a necessary evil for now, until his coordination is a little better—which it is, every day. Next comes Johnny’s orange juice, but just as Johnny reaches for the glass, Simon holds it up out of his reach, a frown in place. “Promise me that this is just reconnaissance. You won’t try to kill him—no matter what may happen.” 

It’s Johnny’s turn to scowl. He lets out an irritated breath through his nose. 

“Gonna starve me if I refuse?” 

“Yes.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I don’t hear any promises.” 

“I promise, I promise. Gimme that.” Johnny takes the orange juice. Simon lets it go, sighing. Though Johnny has told him what he wants to hear, he doesn’t seem comforted by it, Johnny thinks as he tucks in to his breakfast. 

Maybe he can tell that Johnny’s lying. 

-

“How do I look?” Johnny asks. He has buttoned his shirt on his own—a feat which only took him five minutes of careful coordination and deep breathing. Give me a fucking medal, he thinks to himself as Simon comes over to help him button his jeans (which are still too difficult to manage, depending on the pair he pulls on). Simon’s hands so close to his cock have Johnny humming, close to a purr in the back of his throat. 

They still have not fucked since the accident, but Johnny thinks soon. 

“You look like you need a haircut,” Simon says, voice rumbling against Johnny’s back where they are pressed together. One of Simon’s hands brushes through the lengthening fringe of Johnny’s mohawk, and Johnny lets himself shut his eyes at the touch, feeling a satisfied, sleepy urge come over him. Simon presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, and warmth blooms in the pit of Johnny’s stomach. Simon’s been like this all day: affectionate, borderline clingy. Doting. 

It’s a far cry from the way they had treated each other all week prior, and Johnny finds himself grateful for the change of pace. 

But he can’t let himself be distracted now. Not when so much is on the line. Poker begins in less than an hour, and Johnny has promised Simon that he will be on his best behavior. It’s not a promise he looks forward to breaking—but what promise ever is? Johnny plans to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open, taking in intelligence and making plans. 

But if an opportunity presents itself—if Johnny can find a single moment alone with your boyfriend—Johnny won’t hesitate. What a terrible accident it will be, he thinks gleefully. 

He turns in Simon’s arms and must turn too quickly. He stumbles, nearly falling. Simon braces him, helping to hold him upright. He sees the strange look in Simon’s eyes and frowns. 

“What is it?” 

“I need to ask you something.” 

“Alright.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Aye,” says Johnny promptly, grateful for an easy question. “With my life. Yeh know I do.” 

“Do you trust me with her life?” Simon asks. 

Johnny sighs a little. Simon has been so obliging today, Johnny should have suspected that he was waiting until the last minute to try to talk him out of any hairbrained schemes. Still, he says: “Yes. Not much I wouldn’t trust yeh with, Si.” 

Simon hesitates. 

“What is it?” Johnny prompts, reaching up with his hand to cup Simon’s cheek. He isn’t used to cupping this cheek, and it feels odd under his palm, almost like touching a stranger. “Go on, get it out.” 

“Will you forgive me?” Simon asks. 

“For our fight? Aye. Water under the bridge.” Johnny leans forward and places a kiss on Simon’s mouth. Now that is familiar: the curve of his lips, the way their noses brush, the scent of him. 

Johnny is nearly out of the room, heading for his shoes (and his crutch, considering how unsteady he is on his feet) when Simon speaks again: “Not for that.” 

Johnny stops and turns. The room turns with him. Simon stands with his back to Johnny, his huge shoulders hunched, hands hanging loosely at his sides. Johnny wishes that he would turn around and look at him, let him see the look on his face—except when he does, there is something oddly recognizable there, an eerie familiarity that he can’t put his finger on but which makes Johnny’s heart pound. 

“For what, then?” Johnny wonders.

“For putting that Oxy in your orange juice.” 

Goosebumps prickle all along Johnny’s arms and thighs. He stumbles again, and Simon is right there to catch him. Johnny is always unsteady on his feet when he’s been taking his pain meds. He stares at his lover blankly, struggling to piece together the what, the how, the why. 

“Need you to be safe,” Simon whispers. “I can’t have you there Johnny. I need you to be safe.” 

“Y’ drugged me?” 

“Just need you to get some sleep. I’ll be back by the time you wake up, and when you do, I’ll tell you everything,” he says, helping Johnny towards the bed. Johnny collapses back against the pillows, weak not from the Oxy but from his own horror and shock. Simon says: “I promise.” 

“Fuck yer promises,” Johnny slurs, eyes misty. Simon sits by him on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair until he begins to snore. 

-

It’s all compartmentalized, his feelings packaged into neat boxes and put away in the safest recesses of his mind. It’s remarkably like being on an op, when he would have to triage his own emotions: cannot face that one yet—push it back and come back to it later (or never, if more convenient). He practically feels the mask slipping into place, down over his eyes and nose and mouth. No more Simon, just Ghost. Ghost on a mission. Ghost preparing himself to do and witness terrible things. 

He’s numb to it all. His hand doesn’t even shake when he knocks on the door to 7C. Your boyfriend answers, brows raised with mild, surprised politeness, as if he didn’t truly expect that Simon would show (and Simon didn’t show, Ghost thinks darkly, but this idiot has no idea of that). Ghost holds up the case of beer he bought from the 7/11 down the street and the other man’s mouth stretches into a grin. 

“I’ll take that from you—come on in. Make yourself at home,” he says, slipping the beer from Ghost’s hand. “Where’s your other half?” 

“Sick.” 

“Shame.” 

“He’s no good at poker anyway. Doesn’t have the face for it,” Ghost says. He doesn’t even consider asking about you, isn’t willing to compromise his own position by revealing any favoritism toward you. Moving inward, he comes to stand in the living room. It’s eerie being here, this strange reflection of his own apartment. There are differences: the kitchen and dining room are separate, only one bedroom here as opposed to the two at 5C. It is very clean, rather impersonal, without any pictures on the walls or framed photos on the end tables. 

There are hints of you: your shoes in the rack by the door, your name badge resting by your keys on the table in the foyer. But you are nowhere in sight. 

Two other men are already in the apartment, seated around a square dining room table, dividing out poker chips. Ghost runs an analytical eye over them even as he nods his head coolly in a greeting. They are relatively fit, though neither particularly tall. Likely low risk, though he would be a fool to underestimate them when they have the numbers in their favor. 

Before Ghost can even take a seat, there is another knock on the door and a third one enters. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Leah wanted my help putting the girls down for their naps.” 

“I hear a little whiskey goes a long way,” your boyfriend suggests, shutting the door behind the final straggler. Everyone laughs except for Ghost who merely raises his eyebrows in amusement. 

“You know Leah. She thinks there’s an essential oil for everything; alcohol ain’t it,” the man says. He points to Ghost. “Who’s this?” 

Your boyfriend comes to rest a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost takes notice of the height difference between them with distant, dim pleasure. “Fellas, this is Simon. He’s in the apartment next door. Let’s all pretend we’re gentlemen so as to not scare him off.” 

More laughs. Everyone takes a seat around the table. Beers are cracked open, and Simon feigns sipping at his as cards are dealt. He is pinned between your boyfriend and the straggler, but his back is to the wall which gives him a sense of security. His knife sits heavy where it is holstered against his lower back, keeping him from fully resting against the chair. 

He wishes that he’d brought a fucking gun. 

“So, Simon,” someone asks. “Are you married?” 

“No.” 

“Simon’s gay,” your boyfriend tells the room, though where he has gotten this idea from, Simon couldn’t say. Is that what you believed? Did you tell him as such?

The straggler beside him visibly shifts away after this news. One of the other ones pulls a face like he has sucked on a lemon. 

Simon has never put labels on himself—finds them constricting as opposed to comforting—but he’s been attracted to people of all genders at one point or another.  It’s good though, for him to be misunderstood. Let their misconceptions about gay men color their representation of him, let them think him weak or soft or whatever the fuck their homophobia believes. It rolls off of Simon like water off a duck.

“Problem with that?” Simon asks the straggler, picking up his cards. 

“No,” the man lies. Coward.

“Maybe your wife has an essential oil that will cure me,” Simon suggests. The table laughs at their friend’s expense, even the one who had pulled a face. 

A round passes; Simon lets himself lose. He listens to the conversations with one ear and to the rest of the apartment with another, straining for any sign of life from you. He hears nothing. 

Until: “So where’s the fiancé?”

When all eyes turn to your boyfriend, Simon realizes that you must be engaged. You don’t wear a ring, and you’ve only ever referred to him as your ‘boyfriend’. Maybe it is a new development—or a development that you don’t agree with. He feels a dim stirring of satisfaction at the thought, dampened beneath his persona. 

Your boyfriend gives a coy smile. “She’s around. You know how she gets around strangers. Shy.” 

“Does that mean no…?” They all share pointed glances. It’s clear that there is something they don’t wish to say around Simon. Ghost leans forward, elbows on the table, waiting for one of them to break and give him a hint. Beneath the table, someone kicks the shin of the one speaking. 

“Think I could use another beer,” one of them says, standing. The others agree hastily. “Simon? You good?” 

“I’m good.” 

The man disappears into the kitchen, but is only gone for a moment before returning. “There’s a goddamn lock on your refrigerator.” 

Your boyfriend laughs. He reaches into his pocket and works free a small silver key, handing it over. “Yeah—keeps the cows out of the pasture, if you know what I mean.” 

The table laughs—Ghost does not. 

“I don’t get it,” he says, sliding his cards toward himself across the oak table and examining them with mild interest. The others fall silent as Ghost makes this moment purposefully awkward. 

“Don’t worry about it,” your boyfriend says with a laugh in his voice. “Just a little inside joke we have around here.” 

Ghost hums. 

Another round passes. The guys share stories about their work, their wives or girlfriends. Some of them have children. Do they know what their friend does to you? Ghost wonders. Could they possibly not know? They occasionally make an effort to bring him into the conversation, but his answers are terse at best, and eventually they stop trying. 

More rounds, chips changing hands. The empty beer bottles begin to stand like silent sentinels around the tabletop. Ghost puts little effort into winning, preferring to perform average at best so as to not attract attention. He keeps a close eye on the clock, a fraction of his energy always thinking of Johnny at home. Johnny who is hopefully sleeping peacefully. 

The next hand has just started when the door to the bedroom bursts open so abruptly that the handle knocks against the outer wall. You stand in the doorway, your face twisted in some expression too complex for Ghost to begin to unravel. 

The table loses it. Shouts of your name, whistles, joyful perverse greetings—a half dozen hands reaching out toward you, like you are the final member of this party and they have only been waiting for you to arrive. Your shoulders are nearly by your ears, you're so tense, eyes flickering around the room from face to face, sticking on Ghost for a fraction longer than the others. 

One of the men manages to brush against your wrist with his fingers and you wrench your hand away as if burned. The knife at Simon’s back itches; he wants it in his hand.

Your boyfriend sighs, laying his cards down on the table. “What is it?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“It can wait.”

“It can’t.”

The two of you communicate silently for a moment: sheer stubbornness on your end with mounting frustration on his.  

At last, he stands with a roll of his eyes. “Excuse me guys. You all know how she gets.” 

The two of them disappear into the kitchen. Sensing his chance, Ghost pushes away from the table. “Think I need that beer after all.”

The others pay him no attention, ducking their heads together and talking under their breath to each other like a group of teenagers.  It lets him slip away from the table and linger outside the kitchen doorway, silent as his namesake. He holds his breath, listening, knowing that this is the moment he and Johnny have been waiting for: concrete proof that your boyfriend is mistreating you.

“—isn’t working. I didn’t cheek it, I swear. Give me another, please,” you’re saying quietly, voice thick with tears.

“Not gonna happen.” 

“Please! I don’t wanna—”

“Not gonna happen because there wasn’t anything in that soda, you stupid slut,” your boyfriend whispers softly. The words echo around in Ghost's brain, bouncing off the walls of his skull. Mission successful. “I just wanted to see if you’d drink it. Now go back to the bedroom and stay there until everyone has left. Understood?” 

There is no response. Footsteps are heard—

Ghost has enough time to duck into the bathroom and avoid him—but he doesn’t. He lets himself get caught by your boyfriend, both of them staring at each other, eyes hard and knowing. There’s no reason to keep up the charade anymore, not after what he just heard. 

“Need something, Simon?” 

“That’s no way to talk to a woman,” Ghost says, soft and dangerous. 

Your boyfriend rubs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “If I were you, I’d mind the business that pays me.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Are you—threatening me?” he asks, head tilting in a manner of mild surprise. There’s something in his eyes that Ghost can’t identify, something that looks a lot less like the fear he would hope to see and looks instead like delight. 

“I don’t like that word,” he says. “Leaves behind a certain degree of uncertainty. If I ever hear you say something like that to her again—”

His words are cut off as from the kitchen comes a scream, a wordless shriek of rage followed by the ear-splitting shatter of a ceramic plate. Even Ghost jerks, eyes flickering to the kitchen doorway, but there is no sight of you. A plate careens into his line of sight in the doorway, shattering to bits on the floor where you have thrown it. 

“What the fuck,” your boyfriend mutters. Another dish shatters. He raises his voice, calm but booming: “Alright: everyone out. Poker night’s over.”

-

Simon returns to his apartment with heavy steps, feet nearly leaden with dread at what he is going home to, at what he has done. He opens the door to quiet darkness, steps inside, and lingers there just inside the door, listening for Johnny’s quiet snores. 

He hears quiet sniffles instead. Stomach clenching painfully, he follows the sound to the bedroom and finds Soap on the floor. He has rolled himself off the bed, likely awoken out of sheer willpower and tried to follow after Simon. Johnny looks up at him, pupils blown wide, eyes red and swollen from crying. 

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispers fiercely, kneeling down beside him. “I’m so sorry Johnny. I had to do it. You know I did.” 

“I hate you,” Johnny whispers back, tongue thick. All of the sudden, his face pales and he leans forward, vomiting on the floor between them. 

It is the least that Simon deserves.