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buycigarettesonlineincanada · 5 months

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Buy Cigarettes Online in Canada

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nativesmokescan · 1 year

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nativefriends1 · 1 month

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1smokescanada · 4 months

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nativecigarettes · 10 months

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Cigarettes Near Me

Your Ultimate FAQ Guide to Buying the Best Canadian Cigarettes!

Smoking cigarettes has gained widespread popularity among people worldwide, including in Canada. As a smoker, you may want to explore the options available to find the best Canadian cigarettes that match your preferences.

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gosensi · 1 year

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bloodyknucklesforme · 1 month

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Red Summer | Ghoap x F!Reader | Slasher!AU

After breaking up with your long term boyfriend you take a job working as a camp counselor in Northern Vermont. Seven weeks of swimming, volleyball, archery and hiking. There's even a hot lifeguard. It seems perfect until you find something evil is lurking in the woods

Tags: Slasher AU, Ghoap x Reader, intro chapter, nondescript reader, dark fic

Chapter 1: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

5.5k words

It smelled like Summer. Ozonic and earthy, carried into your car by the breeze as you drove North through winding roads. Montpelier was two hours behind you now.

Despite the eighty degree heat, Vermont was lush and green. Only a couple more miles of shaded forest roads before you reached camp. At least you hoped so. Your maps app had been slow to load the last twenty miles.

The place was North, nestled between the border of Canada and the New Hampshire state line. It was gorgeous though. Anytime you thought about moving out of New England to somewhere cheaper the next season changed your mind. The trees just didn’t look as pretty in fall or the snow as splendid in winter. You just wished it was cheaper.

Suppose that’s why you took this job, as much as it didn’t appeal to you. Camp counselor for seven long weeks, the pay was shit but your food and board came free. After a bad breakup you didn’t have time to find a new lease so your life was packed up into a rented storage box with anything valuable shoved into the back of your car.

A friend of a friend recommended it. She’d been working here for years, attended for even more. She was an old money New Englander. Boarding school outside of Boston and all that. She was nice though. Got you the job over any qualified candidates. It wasn’t nepotism but whatever it was called you wouldn’t complain.

Your car dinged. Low gas. Shit.

Scrolling quickly through the map you saw a gas station up ahead. You’d just make it… hopefully.

You let out a sigh of relief as you pulled into the station. It was older with dusty windows and sun-faded posters for cigarettes.

A piece of paper was taped to the pump.

“Reader broken. Pay inside” scribbled in sharpie.

You sighed and headed inside.

It was dusty inside too. A couple aisles of brightly packaged food and walls lined with fridges filled with beer and soda. The man behind the counter glanced up from his book when you walked in.

He was handsome. Black with dark, short cut curly hair and big brown eyes. Much too handsome to be working in the middle of nowhere. He’d look more fitting in the corner of a bar, buying you a drink. He smiled up at you and your heart might have skipped a beat.

“Pump three? How much?” He was English… strange.

“Just…uh… ten bucks.” You stumbled out.

“It’s the accent,” he chuckled. “It throws everybody off the first time.”

“It’s a strange place for an Englishman to be, I guess.” You swayed awkwardly.

“I go to Middlebury. Easier to get a summer job than fly home.” He shrugged.

“Understandable.” You weren’t an expert on Vermont geography but you swore the college was on the other side of the state.

“Ten on three.” He said, nodding his head towards the window.

“Oh yeah. Thank you.”

“You still got to pay, love.”

“Oh fuck, yeah. Sorry… uh… Kyle.” You read his name tag before digging through your tote bag, finding the last bit of your cash.

“No worries. What brings a girl like you out here.”

“I’m working at the camp.”

“Weldon lake, right?”

“Yeah. First time… I’m going the right way, right?”

“If you continue up the road. There will be a sign when you need to turn.” He handed you your receipt.

“Thank you.”

“Hey!” You were half way out the door when he called. “Stay alive out there. Heard the campers can be down right evil.”

“I’ll try!”

The rest of the journey was smooth, there was a sign just like Kyle said. Another one after that taking you down a long gravel drive and into a dirt parking lot. A couple other cars were there already.

You made sure everything important was locked up in the trunk before grabbing your duffel bag and tote. You hoped you brought enough sunscreen.

The sun was warm on your back as you made your way up to the main building. Two other girls were hanging around on the porch. They each wore matching white baseball shirts with red sleeves and trim, each labeled with STAFF on the back.

“Hey, you’re Sophia’s friend, right? I’m Janie.” She jumped down from the porch fence. “I love your braids by the way.”

You’d done your hair before leaving, figuring it’d be easier to keep clean braided than fight for limited shower time.

“I’m Natalie,” The other girl greeted. You introduced yourself, thanking Janie for the compliment.”

“I think your cabin is next to mine. I can take you over once you check in.” Janie said.

Check in was easy enough. Sign a couple more papers, show off your ID to prove you were you and get your cabin assignment, key and two staff shirts. Tomorrow was orientation before the campers arrived Monday morning. Tonight was for getting to know everyone.

“So, where’s this cabin?” you asked, walking outside.

The girls grinned and led you down the path. Everything seemed to branch off from here. They pointed out where the dining hall was just past the main office next to the nurse’s station.

“Don’t expect much. They’re still recovering from when Covid almost killed this place.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. They had to raise fees and a bunch of parents freaked out. Guess an extra hundred dollars really threw all the millionaires off.” Natalie laughed.

Next was the pool, fully fenced in and surrounded by two tennis courts and two basketball courts on either side.

“Hey lasses!” A man called from the pool, leaning over the chain link fence. Natalie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Who’s the new girl?”

He had a thick Scottish accent. Lots of transplants for the area, you guessed. He was also handsome. Muscular with a dark mohawk and light eyes. He was shirtless with very short and tight red shorts on and a silver whistle around his neck. He was dripping water over the ground.

“You say that like you aren’t also the new guy, Johnny!” Natalie called, clearly annoyed already.

“Nat hates him.” Janie giggled.

“It’s been three hours and he’s already tried to fuck half the counselors. He’s a dog.”

“One I’d put on a leash.” Janie laughed.

Johnny walked over, still dripping wet. His crocs squeaked with every step.

“Johnny,” he grinned, holding out his hand to you. You introduced yourself as he shook your hand excitedly. He had a tattoo on his side, up by his ribs. You couldn’t see all of it but it looked like a heart with someone’s initials in it. S and something else, you couldn’t tell for sure. “Beautiful name for a beautiful gal.”

Your cheeks felt hot as his blue eyes traveled over your body.

“It’s going to be a fun seven weeks with all you bonnie lasses around.” He grinned. Nat looped her arm around yours.

“Down dog. We still have half the camp to show off.”

“You know where to find me. Pool looked like the lake when I got here.” He raised his hands up as he walked backwards towards the pool again.

“Come on, before we lose Janie.”

“He’s hot!” She defended.

“You just like him because he got your name right on the first try.”

“He’s intelligent too!”

The cabins were next. Ten white painted buildings split in half with about eight beds on each side and a shared bathroom in the back. They formed a circle around a fire pit with log benches.

You had cabin room 14. Janie was the building next door in 15 and Nat with 16 sharing with her. They took turns explaining everything.

“Your bed is the only non bunk and the chest underneath locks so anything you don’t want the campers to find should go there.”

“Basically all your shit. I had a copy of Crime and Punishment stolen last year. Fucking Crime and Punishment like any of these kids could read Dostoevsky.”

“Showers are in the back. Hot water is sparse so if you want some, move quick and early.”

“Breakfast is at 8. Coffee tastes like shit unless you pour half a pound of sugar in it.”

“You can vape just outside but if you smoke you gotta ask your neighbor counselor to watch your kids. At least thirty feet away or they’ll snitch too.”

“Weed is only for days off because they'll either snitch or demand you share. That goes for kids and counselors.”

“Days off are randomly assigned but you should get one every other week.”

“I don’t recommend sleeping with other counselors but if you must, go to your car.” Natalie said.

“We’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is in an hour. You can meet everyone else then.”

“Thank you guys for everything.” You felt overwhelmed just a bit.

They left, still arguing about Johnny. He was cute but the break up wounds were still fresh. You didn’t want to sneak around either. You weren’t a teenager anymore.

You haphazardly dumped the contents of your duffle into the lock chest before shoving it back under the bed. You had seven weeks to organize it.

The bed was okay. A plastic covered mattress with an old sleeping bag. You should have brought your own pillow. Maybe a Target run on your next day off whenever that was.

The ache in your muscles from driving all day hit hard the moment you sat down.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hey sleepyhead!” Sophia came in. You rubbed your face as you woke up. Out the window you could see the sky looked darker, a blue summer evening. “I’m glad you ended up coming.”

“Yeah. Thanks for getting me the job.” You stretched, your shoulders cracking. “It’s nice to get away.”

“I’m sorry about you and Ale.” There it was. She was nice but always craved gossip.

“It’s okay. Just wanted different things.”

You shrugged. It wasn’t a bad breakup, no arguing, just a slow and painful demise. He’d even offered to let you stay with him when the lease ended and he found out you didn’t have a place to go. You chose this instead.

“Well, let’s get you something to eat. The food is incredibly mediocre but I heard a rumor that the lifeguard has beer and weed for the fire pit.”

She was not wrong about dinner. Hot dogs with a slice of Kraft cheese melted on top with a bag of chips as a side.

You sat with Nat, Sophia and Janie.

“There are my lovely ladies!” Johnny sat down, forcing his way between Cel and Sophia. Nat looked like she wanted to kill him. “Coming out to the lake tonight? Hope you all brought swim suits or birthday suits.”

“Jesus Christ.” Nat groaned.

“I think we’re gonna have an easy night. Some of us had long drives.” Sophia motioned to herself and you. “Just some girl time.”

Johnny pouted.

“Fair enough but I do expect all of you at the bonfire tomorrow.” He pointed at all of them, even Nat. “Especially you new girl.”

He got up and jogged off to another table of girls.

“Am I allowed to call him a slut?”

“What happened to dog?” Janie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dogs can be trained.”

You all laughed. You’d been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. All the other girls knew each other for years at this point. Janie and Sophia had been coming here since they were kids. Nat met Janie in high school and got a job as a junior counselor with her the first chance they got.

It wasn’t a super attractive job and the pay was shit but it looked good on resumes and college applications apparently. Showed responsibility. Most of your experiences with camp were from horror films.

The sun was still out as the four of you walked back. Sophia was your cabin neighbor, taking care of room 13. It’s where you all gathered.

Sophia and you sat on her bed while she did your nails.

“Red looks nice on you.” It was a bright cherry red. She’d picked it out, saying they should all match.

The evening was spent talking and laughing. You asking questions about camp life and getting advice from the other girls.

You had friends back home but you were glad you fit in so fast. Any anxiety and fear for the Summer slipped away as the sun set.

“I’m beat.” Nat yawned. It was almost midnight now. Janie agreed and the two wandered off back to their cabin.

“I’ll head back too. Thank you for being so welcoming, Soph.”

“Absolutely! It’s nice to get fresh meat every once and a while. It can be tough with the kids so some people get jaded. I hope you have fun this Summer and if you don’t you can blame me.” She laughed.

The air was cool on the little porch out front. Most of the other cabins had their lights off by now and the center was lit up with fireflies, neon yellow dots.

There was an orange dot out towards the back of one of the cabins across the way. A cigarette. The man smoking it seemed larger than any counselor you’d seen but it was dark and he was half hidden behind the building. It was Johnny’s cabin, you think. He was big.

He waved and you waved back. He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. The little corner fell dark and you went into your side.

You didn’t realize how quiet the world could be as you curled up in your sleeping bag. No hum of electronics or cars. No people yelling above or below you. Just the stillness of the stars.

It was an early morning. Johnny was running around the circle of cabins playing music to wake everyone up. He was shirtless again and his shorts seemed shorter than the day before. You wouldn’t complain.

“So why did you choose this wonderful vista as a summer job?” Johnny asked, jogging up next to you as you made your way to the dining hall.

“Needed a break. Get out in nature for a bit. I grew up in the suburbs and just broke up with my boyfriend so I guess I wanted to breathe for a bit. You?”

“Running from my previous life of crime.” He smiled. “Nah, just also trying to get away. Was military back home, knee injury did me in. Didn’t know what else to do. Hiked part of the Appliachian trail. You know, it's the same mountain range as the Highlands. Felt like I had to see them. Haven’t really felt like going back home yet.”

“You hiked alone?” You raised an eyebrow. You knew that it was one of the longest and hardest trails in the country.

“Had a mate with me but I’m on my lonesome now.” He opened the door for you. Sure, he was boisterous but he seemed harmless one on one. Maybe a little dogish but he wasn’t going to hump your leg unprompted.

“Shirts are needed in the dining hall, Mactavish!” Sophia called. He held up his hands in surrender before fishing out a cropped muscle tee that had been shoved into his pocket. It was a nice change of pace to be around a man that wanted to show off his own skin rather than try to get girls to show theirs.

You told yourself before you got here that you wouldn’t look for that kind of distraction. It wasn’t worth it, especially not this early. You could look though. No harm in that.

Bacon, Eggs and self-serve cereal was today’s breakfast. You joined back up with the girls from last night. Orientation was supposed to take up most of the day so they encouraged you to grab a couple pieces of fruit and a protein bar.

“Only fill up your water bottle in here. There are fountains elsewhere but I think they taste weird.” Said Janie.

You were put in a group with Johnny, Sophia, and another guy named Warren. He and Sophia were long term counselors so they gladly took on the role of being you and Johnny’s tour guide. Johnny had been hired because of his lifeguard training so he already knew the layout of the lake and pool. You were scolded for not having proper shoes for hiking.

“What’s your size? I might have an old pair in my car.” Sophia offered. “If not I think there’s an L.L.Bean like two hours away. We can go on our next day off.”

You weren’t sure if you could afford brand new boots so silently hoped that Sophia did have that old pair and they fit.

“Don’t want ya getting blisters all summer.” Johnny said. He was doing the hike in crocs but apparently did have boots back at his cabin.

You didn’t do the full trail but Warren pointed out the different routes and how difficult each one was and which ones kids could do by themselves and which ones they couldn’t. The fields were next. A soccer field and baseball field were across the way from the cabins. It was a loose definition of each. One was a huge patch of grass and the other a diamond of dirt. Both looked a little off size wise. There was the sports supply shed that had all the equipment in it. Only a couple counselors had keys to it.

“People kept using it inappropriately.” Sophia smiled.

There was the art building, the rec hall, a path leading towards the archery field and riflery field.

“Riflery?”

“Yeah. We used to teach kids how to shoot. Mostly clay pigeons but it was one of the programs cut after Covid,” Warren explained.

“Shame I missed it. Could have taught the kids trick shots.” Johnny joked, pretending to aim a rifle backwards over his shoulder.

The horse stable was also closed. Too expensive to have horses here for even half the season.

The Lake was the last part of the tour. It was on the other side of the road so to get there was an underpass to get there. It was large enough for five adults to walk side by side comfortably but the yellow light from the lamps gave it a sickly vibe.

It ended a little ways before the beach. There were several rows of Kayaks and another shed filled with life preservers and paddles.

“Wow Johnny! You cleaned it up well.” Warren clapped him on the back. For a moment Johnny looked irritated that he’d been touched but he shoved that emotion out of the way to make room for his usual excited self.

“Yeah. Cleaned up the best I could.”

“It looks great, Johnny.” You were impressed. He’d even sprayed the kayaks down, bright clean plastic in a rainbow of colors.

“Yer making me blush.” He laid a hand over his heart.

The lake was gorgeous. Cream colored sand feeding into sapphire waters. You could just see the beach on the other side, a small empty dock with a path leading into the woods. The camp side had a floating platform about thirty feet into the water.

“Campers have to swim there and back to pass the swimming competency test.” Sophia explained. “If you can’t swim on your own you’re stuck in the buoyed area.”

There was a ten by ten foot area cordoned off by buoys, keeping to the shallow end of the lake. Made enough sense. No one wanted to fish a dead kid out of the water.

“Let’s head back. We don’t want to miss lunch.” Warren clapped his hands together.

The four of you made the trek back to the dining hall. You did feel like blisters were starting to form on the back of your ankles. You’d have to put band-aids on them later.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going over itinerary for the following week. Campers would arrive tomorrow between ten and six. It was a day mostly planned out for settling them in with an inaugural bonfire that night. After that it was seven weeks of regular old American camp adventures.

You went back to your cabin the moment you had free time. Your ankles hadn’t started to bleed but they were bright red and throbbing. You applied the bandaids and grabbed another pair of socks to wear the rest of the way.

There was about an hour and half before dinner and final orientation from the camp managers, who, you had been told, often made themselves scarce throughout the summer to avoid having to do their jobs. You settled on top of your sleeping bag. A nice breeze came in through the screen door. Janie had told you that it was the best way to keep the building cool.

You thought about Ale. His smile and deep laugh. How he’d wake you up in the morning with kisses to the back of your neck. How he loved your hair and ass. How he’d whisper in Spanish to you. You still had the English/Spanish dictionary he gave you shoved in a box back in the city. You missed him. Your cowboy. He would have been so disappointed to hear the stables were closed. Maybe you’d call him after all this. Ask to work something out.

You drifted off daydreaming about the scent of his cologne.

“Bonnie! You’re gonna miss dinner!” Johnny was knocking on the screen door. Maybe Nat was right in being annoyed by him all the time.

“I’ll just miss it.” you sighed, rolling over on the bed.

“You never know which meal is your last. Best not to skip any! C’mon or I’ll drag ya myself.”

You would have thrown a pillow if you had one. How did he always have so much energy?

He jogged literal circles around you on the way to the dining hall.

“How are your feet?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You were limping on the way back to the cabins earlier.”

“Oh…yeah just blisters.”

He tutted at you.

“Got to get you some good shoes soon.”

Dinner was the same hot dogs as the previous night with a bonus of a bowl of lettuce, cherry tomatoes and a slice of cucumber.

There was an excited energy in the room. Most people who’d snuck in alcohol or drugs said tonight was the best night to use it all. An unspoken competition of who could drink the most and still function when the first campers started to arrive. It could be fun, you mused. You were never a big partier in college and what was this if not a perfect chance to make up for that.

The boys built up a nice fire, each poking and prodding their own side with their favorite stick. You sat on one of the log benches next to Sophia and Janie. Johnny was across the fire, his arm around the waste of another girl counselor. Ceilidh you think it was. Pronounced like Kay-lee, she’d said. Pretty name, Gaelic. Made sense for him to go after a piece of home.

“Glad he’s finally left us alone.” Nat chuckled.

“I think they’re cute.” Sophia said. You pushed down the twinge of jealousy you felt seeing her giggle at his joke.

Warren came around with a cooler filled with a hodgepodge of beer. He was his fraternity’s president and one of his responsibilities was to get rid of any extra at the end of the term to avoid trouble. Dry campus issues.

You grabbed a Modelo. Ale’s old go to and one you’d gotten used to drinking. It left a familiar warm feeling in your stomach.

You drank, you danced, you ate s’mores, you laughed with your new friends. The stars seemed so bright and clear out here. Janie had you all lay out on your backs in the grass nearby as she pointed out each constellation.

“That’s the big dipper and above it is the little dipper but Draco is the constellation between them. If you guys tell me your star signs I can point it out for you.”

There was laughter nearby and you glanced up to see Johnny and Ceilidh sneaking in the dark towards her cabin.

You had another beer. And another. Maybe one more after that.

Someone offered you a hit off a joint so you did that too.

The four of you were laughing and stumbling back to Sophia’s cabin. You had no idea how late it was. The fire was dying out. Warren said he would make sure everyone got back inside all right. The designated driver of drunken counselors. He was a good guy.

You found yourself laying on your side on one of the empty beds. Sophia and Janie were on her bed, half asleep against each other. Nat and you were talking about your childhoods.

“I broke a bone three years in a row, each time in May. I missed field day every time. My mom once pulled me around in a wagon so I wouldn’t feel left out,” She laughed.

“How did you break so many bones?”

“Catholic school where the playground was just a parking lot. I was a wild kid. I broke my arm tripping and falling against the priest’s car. I dented it too. I thought I was going to hell.”

There was a shrill noise. Loud and stomach dropping. A scream cut off. You and the other girls all jumped to attention. It was silent except for the crackling of the fire outside.

“Fisher cat.” Janie said, trying to convince herself.

“Or a fox.” Sophia added.

“Did you guys hear that?” Warren said, coming in.

The four of you nodded.

“It sounded close. I’m gonna check it out.”

“By yourself?”

“One of the other guys is gonna come with me. It’s probably just an animal. If you see Johnny tell him to go check on everyone. I want a headcount before we all go to sleep.”

You all watched from the window as Warren met another guy holding a flashlight and a baseball bat. Sophia turned on the porch light. They disappeared between the cabin’s across the way.

“Johnny and Celilidh went off together. Should we try to find them?” Sophia offered.

“Maybe we should just stay here. Safety in numbers.” Janie answered.

“Safety from what? It was just an animal.” Nat insisted.

“Didn’t sound like an animal.” You thought. No one else would say it but you were all thinking it. A slide show of clips from horror films played through your mind.

Four sets of eyes darted around, looking out windows and the front door, waiting for some masked killer to seep through the walls.

Bang!

You all screamed as Johnny flew through the door, clutching his stomach.

“We have to go now!” He grunted. Blood was pouring between his fingers.

“Oh my god. What happened? Where’s Ceilidh?”

“Dead… fuck.. She’s fucking dead. Fucker came in through the window in the bathroom. I tried to fight him off. I’m sorry.” He gulped. “We have to go now!”

“You’re bleeding. Please let me look.” Janie reached out and he pushed her hand away.

“Don’t have time. We have to go. Get my car keys. I can fit us all.”

“What about everyone else?” You asked. There was so much blood, it was dripping on the floor now.

“I don’t know… when..when’s the last time you saw anyone?”

There was another scream from outside. Silence took you over again.

“Please… we can get out and get help but we have to go now.” Johnny pleaded. His bright blue eyes were watery and his tan skin was stained red down his legs.

“I’m going.” Sophia said, grabbing her backpack. “Fuck this. I’m not fucking dying like it’s a movie. We’re all going. Johnny, do you need help?”

“No, I can manage. I need to get my keys though.”

“I have mine. We can just take my car. It’s an SUV.” Sophia urged, crouching down to look out of the door.

“No…no…I…I uh…I have a gun in my car.”

“You brought a fucking gun to camp?” Nat’s jaw dropped.

“Old shotgun. It works. I’m trained for this. Get to the car and I… I can kill him.”

“You’re bleeding out, Johnny.” Janie cried, reaching for him again and once again being pushed away.

“Come with me.” Johnny looked at you.

“I…I…I don’t know.” You were shaking. It didn’t seem real. Too cliche. A real life spree killer running around the woods of a Summer camp. Sophia was right, you didn’t want to die like it was some movie.

“He knows I’m weak. He’ll go after me first. We’ll get my keys and if he shows up… you take them and run.”

“You..can’t sacrifice yourself.” Your voice warbled.

“It was my job to do that. If I can’t die saving my country, I’d like to die saving a group of pretty girls.”

Johnny was pleading. He seemed to know he couldn’t do it on his own. You thought about Ale saying you needed to stand up for yourself more. You never did. You didn’t stand up to bullies in high school, rogue professors in college or shitty demeaning bosses. You didn’t even stand up for yourself when Ale said he wanted a break.

Nat was saying how you should all just run to Sophia’s car. She had her keys. Sophia was agreeing. Janie was crying silently.

“I’ll go.” You forced the words out like vomit. It was that or actual vomit.

“Okay.” He almost smiled. “Sophia, turn off the lights. We’ll give you a signal when it's safe to come out. Then we all run to the parking lot.”

“What’s the signal?” Janie sobbed.

“I’ll whistle.”

You were shaking so much you worried you’d fall right down the front steps of the cabin. Johnny was in front of you, shoulders hunched up, his eyes darting everywhere. Sophia turned off the lights, leaving the two of you in near darkness. The fire was nothing more than orange smoldering logs.

“You seem like you’ve done this before.” You said quietly, finding yourself holding the bottom hem of his shirt.

“Like I said. It was my job.”

You walked on your tiptoes, trying not to make any noise. Your heart cried for the others. Even if you didn’t know them. You didn’t hear or see anyone. Maybe they all got out? They escaped already…or the killer was chasing them deeper into the woods.

You didn’t want to die. In the movies it always seemed so prolonged. The stabbings and bleeding out. Johnny had been hurt and he was still going on, trying to save you and everyone else.

“Stay here. I’ll go check to make sure it's clear.” He said. You’d made it to his cabin, whole body still shaking just on his porch now. Your heart leapt into your throat as the door creaked open.

“Be careful, please.”

He winked at you before heading in. You picked at the skin around your nails, a nasty old habit that you tried so hard to kick. You could forgive yourself for this relapse. It seemed an appropriate time to scratch out anxiety.

The step behind you creaked. Any light from the fire was blocked out. A arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you flush with a wall of muscle. You screamed for Johnny as a knife cut into your stomach.

It hurt worse than you thought it would. He was stabbing you over and over. All those movies and none prepared you for the sound that came from being stabbed yourself. The rush of blood in your head. You kicked and scratched the best you could, catching the gap of skin between his gloves and sleeves. Flesh caught under your nails and tore. The knife cut sideways across your stomach. Something wet and heavy hit the floor by your feet.

“Fucking cunt.” The man growled. You could have thrown up if it didn’t feel like your stomach had been torn open.

You hit the porch face first, no strength left to even try to hold yourself up. Blood pooled in your mouth. He stepped around you and in the corner of your eye you could make him out.

Large, well over six feet and bulky with large shoulders. A half skull mask covered the top part of his face. His head was buzzed. He had a hunting knife in his hand and it dripped your blood onto the wood and onto your face.

“Johnny!” Your killer called. You’d doomed him too. He could have gotten away. Johnny would die and it would be your fault. They all would now and it was your fault.

You closed your eyes as the throbbing subsided. You didn’t want to listen. He was so nice. He didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t deserve this.

You closed your eyes and let yourself slip away.

You heard music. Loud obnoxious music and singing from an off key baritone scot.

You opened your eyes and you were in your sleeping bag in your cabin. It was Sunday morning again.

Shout out to @ceilidho for being an inspiration to me to write darker fics and letting me use her name for a counselor.

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 11 days

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By Topher L. McDougal

California will be the first U.S. state to charge an excise tax on guns and ammunition, starting in July. The new tax — an 11% levy on each sale — will come on top of federal excise taxes of 10% or 11% for firearms and California’s 6% sales tax.

The National Rifle Assn. has characterized the law that allows this new tax, the Gun Violence Prevention and School Safety Act, as an affront to the Constitution. But the reaction from the gun lobby and firearms manufacturers may hint at something else: the effect that the measure, which is aimed at reducing gun violence, may have on sales.

For the record: 10:20 a.m. May 21, 2024 — An earlier version of this piece stated that U.S. gun sales grew tenfold over the past 20 years. They grew fourfold.

One way to think about the law’s ramifications is to compare state tax policies on firearms with those on alcohol and tobacco products. It’s not for nothing that these all appear in the name of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. The ATF focuses on those products because, while legal, they can cause significant harm to society in the form of drunken driving, for example, or cancer-causing addictions. They also have a common history: All have been associated with criminal organizations seeking to profit from illicit markets.

Alcohol and tobacco products are thus usually subject to state excise taxes. By making a given product more expensive, this type of tax leads people to buy less of it, reducing the harm to society while generating tax revenue that the state can theoretically use to offset those harms that still accrue.

California, for instance, imposes a $2.87 excise tax on each pack of cigarettes. That tax is higher than the national average but much lower than New York’s $5.35 levy. California also imposed a vaping excise tax of 12.5% in 2021.

Of the four ATF product families, firearms have enjoyed the absence of any state excise taxes. Until now.

Anti-gun advocates and policy analysts have long called for the firearm industry to be subject to the same types of taxes as alcohol and tobacco given the harms that firearms cause. The national rate of gun homicides in 2021 was 4.5 per 100,000 people, eight times higher than Canada’s rate and 77 times that of Germany. It translates into 13,000 lives lost every year.

Additionally, nearly 25,000 Americans die from firearms suicide each year. Moreover, more people suffer nonfatal firearm injuries than die by guns, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Gun deaths and injuries aren’t just tragic — they’re expensive. One economist estimated the benefit-cost ratio of the U.S. firearms industry at roughly 0.65 in 2009. That means for every 65¢ it generates for the economy, the industry produces $1 of costs. And that calculation didn’t include nonfatal injuries within the U.S., or the cost of firearm harms occurring outside the country with U.S.-sold weapons.

U.S. gun sales have grown fourfold over the past 20 years to about 20 million guns annually, and they’re now deadlier and more expensive than ever. California is making sure they are taxed accordingly.

And what should that tax amount to? There’s an argument to be made that firearms should be taxed at a higher level than alcohol and tobacco, which are consumable products that disappear as soon as they’ve been used — guns stick around. They accumulate and can continue to impose costs long after they’re first sold.

When the new law takes effect in July, California will tax firearms at about the level of alcohol. But the state would have to apply an excise tax of an additional 26% to equal its effective tax on tobacco.

It’s unclear how the new tax will affect gun violence. In theory, it should be highly effective. In 2023, some colleagues and I modeled the U.S. market for firearms and determined that for every 1% increase in price, demand decreases by 2.6%. This means that the market should be very sensitive to tax increases.

Using these figures, another colleague recently estimated that the California excise tax would reduce gun sales by 30% to 44%. If applied across the country, the tax could generate an additional $1.5 billion to $1.9 billion in government revenue.

But a problem may come from surrounding states: It’s already easy to illegally transport guns bought in Nevada, where laws are more lax, to California. But there’s some evidence that suggests our state’s new policy won’t be neutralized by its neighbors.

When the federal assault weapons ban expired in 2004, making it much easier to buy AR- and AK-style rifles across much of the U.S., gun murders in Mexico skyrocketed. Two studies show the exception was the Mexican state of Baja California, right across the border from California, which had kept its state-level assault-weapons ban in place.

Gun seizures in Mexico show that all four U.S. states bordering Mexico rank in the top five state sources of U.S.-sold guns in Mexico. But California contributes 75% less than its population and proximity would suggest it should.

So, California laws seem to already be making a difference in reducing gun violence. The excise tax could accomplish still more. If it does, other states may follow California’s lead and work to reduce firearm violence by hitting gun manufacturers at the spot they value most — their bank accounts.

#us politics #news #los angeles times #op ed #2024 #gun rights #gun violence #2nd amendment #taxes #excise tax #Gun Violence Prevention and School Safety Act #us constitution #national rifle association #Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco Firearms and Explosives #california #gun crime #gun control

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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RIP, Roger Wood, genius assemblage sculptor

Last week, my dear old friend Roger Wood died, very suddenly, of cancer. He was 80. Roger was a brilliant sculptor, a Canadian veteran navy gunner, and gay. He was my neighbour for a decade. I miss him already.

Roger and I both lived in an old WWI munitions factory in Toronto, which had been turned into 15 illegal live-work studios with 20-foot ceilings which leaked, massive south-facing windows (which leaked), and a warm and collegial vibe of weirdos and artists.

Roger was a self-taught sculptor, a mad collector of all sorts of junk: scrap metal, old toys, discarded electronics, decorative items. He tore these apart, painted and mutated them, and turned them into whimsical assemblages.

Many of these were built around clocks; often with a small feather attached to the second-hand that quivered as it revolved around and around the clockface. Roger was making things that could be called “steampunk” before the term existed — and once he learned it, he embraced it.

In those years, I was working very long hours on the early web, but I was often and easily sidetracked at Roger’s studio, where I’d sit and smoke cigarettes with him and hear navy stories (his time with the big guns had left him somewhat deaf) or just tour his beautiful new pieces.

Roger, too, had an incredible work ethic. He told the Toronto Star’s Barbara Turnbull, “Even on Sunday mornings, when good citizens are off to church, I’m off to the local flea market, always scrounging different bits and pieces.”

https://www.thestar.com/life/2007/10/13/timepieces_of_art.html

And he was content: “But I survive, so why complain? I think mere survival as an artist in Canada propels me into the top 10 per cent of the ranks in this country.”

Turnbull really captured Roger’s studio when she wrote: “But it’s the overwhelming number of storage containers, loosely labelled and filled with the items he uses for his fanciful designs that makes the jaw drop: picture lamp bulbs, lamp parts, wooden balls, drawer pulls, buttons, clock springs, gears and faces, dials, jewellery, candlesticks, shoemaker moulds, picture frames, musical instrument parts, vacuum tubes from old radios, gas lamp parts, typewriter keys, bottle caps, old gauges, camera lenses and nameplates.”

Roger loaned me dozens of his largest, most impressive pieces for my wedding, where he was resplendent in a hall that was filled with his sculptures. I was living in the UK at the time, and shortly after, high Toronto rents pushed Roger out of the city and to Hamilton. I saw him again a few years later when he came to an event of mine in Hamilton and we had dinner.

But then he moved back east, to Nova Scotia, where, he emailed me, he built the studio he’d always dreamt of. I didn’t see him after that, though we corresponded some. Mostly, I felt in touch with Roger because I’ve got so many of his sculptures in my home, including the diptych he gave us as a wedding gift.

Knowing Roger is gone has left an ache in my heart. He deserved to be so much better known, and better treated by the cities he graced with his art and his presence. He was a sweet, kind, talented, funny man and it showed in his art.

In Roger’s obituary in the Globe and Mail, his family says, “Donations to the Charity of Your Choice or support an artist, buy an original piece of art.” Support the artists in your life, folks, and cherish them. Goodbye, Roger. I was very lucky to count you a friend.

Here are some of my photos of Roger, his studio and his work:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=klockwerks&view_all=1

#pluralistic

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rreskk · 10 months

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HEADCANONS: Michael and Trevor (upbringings)

TW: -Mentions of abuse -Sexual, suggestive content

HEADCANONS: Michael Townley’s background (but make it extremely specific).

-He has Russian blood in him from ancestors (mothers side), and Italian blood (father’s side).

-Spent most of his summers round his grandparents to escape his parents abuse and fighting. There was an arcade near his grandparents so he’d sneak out to try and beat the records during night.

-Had a fake ID at 13 (to buy cigarettes and booze).

-Lost his virginity at 16 (thanks to his soccer talents at school, attracting many girls).

-Michael had a fake driving licence at 15 (he never learnt how to drive – hence his lack of driving skills), but he definitely got arrested multiple times before the age of 18 due to speeding.

-Worked part-time as a grocery stocker but got fired when he was caught stealing food.

-After that, he worked as a paperboy but got fired again for stealing cash from the residences he was delivering to.

-He moved out at 18 (after he dropped out of school) and travelled across the West, robbing people to earn quick cash.

-Doesn’t have any contact with parents after moving out.

-Used to recruit high-school friends for small robberies.

-Once got arrested after being recognised during a night-out.

-Was on house arrest a lot.

HEADCANONS: Trevor Philip’s background (but make it extremely specific).

-His mother originated from England and migrated to Canada (where she met his father).

-Persuaded his mother to let him go to theatre classes but got kicked out after fighting another student for being the main star.

-Trevor’s mum used to hookup with his teachers, so he’d skip classes just to avoid seeing their faces out of disgust and anger.

-Used to steal his mothers cigarettes when he was 14.

-Couldn’t remember when he lost his virginity.

-Him and his brother, Ryan, were constantly known as the “The Philips” to their neighbourhood growing up.

-Never had a part-time job.

-He moved out at in his early 20s (after being kicked out for “being useless), but also to join the air force.

-He was homeless for a few weeks after his discharge.

-Trevor used to sneak into festivals and music gigs to sell drugs for easy money.

-Most of his late 20s, he was in prison.

#trevor philips #trevor gta #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #gta v memes #GTA #GTA V #gta 5 #grand theft auto #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #michael townley #michael de santa #michael townley headcanons #michael de santa headcanons #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction

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wakewithgiggli · 4 months

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Rep Schriver: "In terms of endgame, why are we allowing these practice for anyone? If we are going to stop this for anyone under 18, why not apply it for anyone over 18? It's harmful across the board and that's something we need to take into consideration in terms of the endgame." Click: "That's a very smart thought there. I think what we know legislatively is we have to take small bites. I think that what we can say is that for minors, they are not capable of giving informed consent... We already regulate what minors can do. They cannot sign contracts, buy cigarettes, consume alcohol, they can’t get a tattoo without their parents. We already have rules concerning that. For minors the prefrontal cortex is not developed, in fact that's really not developed until the age of 24. I think there's something to be said for adults being able to weigh the pros and the cons. One of the things the governor did, he made several mistakes, but he actually put in some things I had to negotiate out. One of them is getting the data, there's no requirements to get the data. I had that in there, it got negotiated out... The other thing is planned parenthoods, they pass out hormones like candy, he's put a stop to that. That's one of the places a lot of adults will go. There's also Euphoria and Plume, where you can get your letters and hormones through an app. We need to slow down the game." Rep Schriver: "When it comes to consenting... consenting to mutilation, consenting to self harm, consenting to killing yourself. There are a few people wanting adults to be able to consent to killing themselves legally like they do in Canada. When it comes to adults, I'm not saying anything in the way of dismissing what you're saying about children and puberty blockers, that's all very valid and necessary, I'm just saying moreover in addition to that, we have to be looking at the endgame simultaneously, maybe even using that to move the window to say that this isn't just wrong 0-18, it's wrong for everyone and we shouldn't be allowing that to happen." Rep Click: "Reuters asked me one time when they said, do you feel bad because all of these states that are now blocking the procedures for children are having to close down their gender clinics and now adults can't get care? And I said no, I don't feel bad. We have to take one bite at a time, do it incrementally. When you put everything into one pot, it's going to be harder for you to get any legislation across the finish line." Prisha Mosley: "I did want to say that I've kind of been waiting for a state or a representative or anyone to be brave enough to address that. I just wanted to throw out this is the angle I would go at it. It's easier to handle the kids because of how we handle consent. However, I also think people in grave mental distress or who are mentally ill cannot consent. Also telling a suicidal person either take this treatment or die by your own hands, you can't consent to that. And even take that away, you cannot consent to a lie. Most of these doctors are straight up lying about the effects and saying it'll magically cure every bad feelings you've ever had and that you can magically change sex" (The conversation veers back to trans youth until the end) Rep Shriver: "And keep your mind open to banning this for all people, this is something that's harmful for all people, whether you are 18, 19, 20 or older." Rep Paquette: "I certainly don't disagree with the harm that this does for anybody. Yeah, we'll chat offline about all this good stuff."

#trans #trans genocide #trans endgame #transphobia

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strawberrybobamilk · 10 months

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Cut Here (Part 1)

So it's been a while I've been wanting to write a Trevor Philips origin story fanfic, but I never had the motivation to do so, until now that I came up with some ideas and experimented (so sorry if it's a bit crappy and all over the place), so here is my take on our most beloved psychopath's backstory. Probably gonna make it a multipart fic and eventually upload it on AO3 (once I get ahold of my pc again). Any feedbacks and suggestions are welcome.

TWs: S/A and abuse.

1967

Betty Philips was coming back home after another night shift. Another night, same thing. Stripping and dancing for the entertainment of those drunk perverted low lives. When she was younger and moved from England to Canada along with her family in 1943, her parents promised her things were gonna be better, everything was going to be fine and dandy... and now, twentyfour years later, this is what she ended up doing for a living... and a shitty paycheck as well.

She was now walking back home, down the dimly lit streets, a cigarette in her mouth and soft wind caressing her red hair; her thoughts were interrupted when she suddendly felt herself being dragged in a dark alleyway by some unrecognizable man, pressing one of his hands on her mouth. She instinctively tried to scream, her voice coming out muffled by that pesky hand; the cold steel of a blade now threatening her neck.

"Try making another sound and you're dead, alright?" the mysterious voice behind her spoke. She nodded with tears in her eyes. "Good". Fear took her again when she heard the sound of a zipper behind her, but due to her survival instincts she did her best to keep calm and let him have his way.

Some days after that dreadful night, Betty discovered she was pregnant. With that monster's kid. She tried to kill it in all the ways she could: drinking more, smoking more... but nothing. That baby survived to everything.

"Oh Betty I'm so happy for you! Who is the lucky man?" her friend Brittany would comment, making Betty cringe at her hand touching her swollen belly.

"Oh huh... I'm a single mother I guess... i-it was a mistake..." Betty replied.

"Oh..." Brittany walked away with a disgusted expression. This baby truly was a mistake.

On 14 november 1967, the waters broke and Betty got recovered in urgency to the nearest hospital. The pain she felt while giving birth to the child, the hatred she felt in hearing it crying, the disappointment she felt when hearing the nurse commenting on how healthy it was, meaning the abuse of alcohol and smoking truly did nothing.

"Congratulations ma'am, it's a boy!" the nurse said happily, holding the wailing baby and gently giving him into Betty's indifferent arms. Betty looked at him with a mix of rage and disgust, saying nothing.

The nurse awkwardly said "Huh, Mrs Philips... have you planned a name for him?"

Betty couldn't care less. She gave him the first name she could think of: "Trevor".

"Uhm, alright. Trevor Philips is it then!" the nurse smiled.

In the meanwhile Betty was thinking: she'd never seen again the unknown man in the shadows who assaulted her, and police would have never believed a dirty stripper's claims. But she had his baby now. By pure mistake. She was gonna get revenge like this: she couldn't make that man suffer, but she could do that to his seed, and make that seed understand how much of a literal mistake he has been.

Days and weeks passed. Trevor spent his days alone in his baby crib. Betty never cradled him nor gave him affection, she just fed him and changed his diapers, just to make him stop his annoying crying. Meanwhile, Betty started dating a man, Simon; a truly fantastic man, with a drinking habit but tons of money: he'd buy her jewelry and clothes, and she loved that and was happy with him. After a few time, she got pregnant again, and this time with Simon.

1975

Betty was in the living room sitting at the table smoking a cigarette, smiling at her son Ryan while he was reading an Impotent Rage comic, and Simon was just mindlessly watching TV on the couch and taking sips of Pisswasser.

"Mommy mommy look!" the voice Betty hated the most yelled; it was Trevor running happily towards her.

"What is it Trevor?" she said, not even looking in Trevor's direction. Not that Trevor minded, he was used to that anyway. But this time she was finally gonna be proud of him.

Trevor took out a handcrafted paper plane: "Look! My plane!"

Betty turned around unamused: "A plane?"

Ryan took his attention away from his comic and laughed: "You call that a plane?!"

Trevor ignored him and stayed focused on his creation with pride: "Yes a plane! When I grow up I'm gonna be a pilot and fly on these!"

Betty took her eyes away from the plane and returned smoking: "As if you're ever gonna be something big in your life...". Trevor's smile fell.

"No mom you're wrong!" Ryan yelled. Trevor's eyes went big: Ryan taking his defense for once? Ryan snatched the paper plane from his hand "Trevor's right! He's gonna fly on these indeed, just like this!" Ryan's hand tightened around the plane, crushing it in the process and reducing it to a ball, and threw it on the floor "Booom!!". Of course not, classic old Ryan.

"RYA-" Trevor stopped in his tracks when he saw dad turning his head to him with a glare like an owl preparing to attack his prey. He knew what that glare meant, it was the first sign that a beating was coming. Simon was kinda like a big silent monster; he never spoke to Trevor, he only beated him up when he was "misbehaving". He only heard him speak when he occasionally yelled at mom in one of his drunken fits.

"R-Ryan please..." Trevor spoke in a quieter voice now, doing everything he could to hide his anger.

Ryan made a fake grimace and started yelling "Mooom! Trevor is being mean!", as he was hugging Betty's legs.

Trevor was feeling terror taking over himself now "No! I wasn't... I didn't mean..."

"First you disappoint me, now you make your brother cry, is that how you thank your family for everything we do for you, you ungrateful brat?" Betty looked at him with dark eyes "...Simon... it's time we teach him a lesson...".

Trevor was now laying on his bed; his whole body was aching and trembling, tears and snot running down his face as he was hugging his pillow. It was the only thing he could hold onto, sometimes he wished the pillow could hug back. His tears stained face was turned to the window as he observed that beautiful starry night sky. He didn't care what Ryan said, or what his mother said. She is right about everything but not about this. Someday, he was going to make his dreams come true. He was going to become a pilot, the best one the world has ever seen. He was going to be free, flying in that wonderful sky.

#grand theft auto #gta v #trevor philips #gta fanfiction

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