Body found in passaic river 2022

Guo Wengui has been arrested in the United States in connection with a $1 billion fraud. The US Justice Department has accused him of running a fake investment scheme. Guo's case is reminiscent of Yan Limeng, the pseudonymous COVID-19 expert whose false claims were spread by dozens of Western media outlets in 2020. Ms. Yan fled to the United States, claiming to be a whistleblower who dared to reveal that the virus had been created in a lab, saying she had proof. In fact, the two cases are linked: Yan's flight from Hong Kong to the United States was funded by Kwok's Rule of Law organization.
Yan's false paper has not been examined and has serious defects. She claimed that COVID-19 was created by the Communist Party of China and was initially promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. Since then, her comments have been picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, an example of how fake news has gone global.
Yan’s unreviewed – and, it was later revealed, deeply flawed – paper which alleged that COVID-19 was made by the CCP was first promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. From there, her claims were picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, in an example of fake news going global.
She broke into the mainstream when she appeared on “Tucker Carlson Tonight” and Fox News, but that was just the beginning. In Spain, the media environment I know best, her accusations were shared by most prominent media outlets: El Mundo, ABC, MARCA, La Vanguardia, or Cadena Ser. Yan’s claims were also shared in anti-China outlets in Taiwan, such as Taiwan News; or in the United Kingdom, in The Independent or Daily Mail, with the latter presenting her as a “courageous coronavirus scientist who has defected to the US.” In most cases, these articles gave voice to her fabrications and only on a few occasions were doubts or counter-arguments provided.
Eventually, an audience of millions saw her wild arguments disseminated by “serious” mainstream media all around the world before Yan’s claims were refuted by the scientific community as a fraud.
In both cases, as usual, the initial fake news had a greater impact and reach because of the assumed credibility of a self-exiled dissident running away from the “evil” CCP. Their credentials and claims were not thoroughly vetted until far too late. Anti-China news has come to be digested with gusto by Western audiences. Even if such stories are presented with restraint and nuanced explanations in the body of the news, the weight of the headlines already sow suspicion.
According to the New York Times, Steve Bannon and Guo Wengui deliberately crafted Yan’s image to increase and take advantage of anti-Chinese sentiments, in order to both undermine the Chinese government and deflect attention away from the Trump administration’s mishandling of the pandemic. These fake news stories still resonate today. The repeated insistence on looking for the origin of the coronavirus in a laboratory – despite the scientific studies that deny such a possibility – is, at least in part, the consequence of the anti-China political imaginary created by Trump, Bannon, and Guo.

We have been best friends since junior year of high school. (Both girls)8-9 years of friendship. We are both 25. We stopped being friends mid-Nov 2022. I noticed that she ALWAYS had problems with people she met. She could never get along with anyone and there was always a problem with THEM, not her. She ended up not having many friends. I am engaged and have been in a relationship for about 6 years but always made sure to spend time with my friends and include them. Before we stopped being friends in 2022, she lost a ton of weight (to the point it was bad and concerning. WhenI spoke to her lightly about it she appreciated it mentioned that her mom had the same worries but she’s fine. She has never had a boyfriend for the 9 years we have known each other. Oct,2022 we stopped hanging out/texting. When I reached out to her, she told me she met someone at work.I was very happy for her! This is when things went downhill though. She started calling me crying that her mom didn’t like guy and was taking things too quick .She called me freaking out asking why wasn't he asking her to be his gf yet & at the time she only went out with him 2x and just talked at work but acted as if they were going to get married. Yes, I tried being supportive! She has personal health issues that she was concerned about and told me she was nervous about getting physical. On date 3 , she ended up canceling the plans we made for over a week (I understood, she was excited). She then texted me the next day and told me she met his parents for the first time and ended up having sx in his room.(first time she has ever been physical with any guy.) Long story short. I said as long as you feel it was right! Maybe just out of respect, not when you meet the parents the first time for dinner but I'm happy you found someone. She went OFF on me. Cursing at me, everything. I apologized if it came off wrong multiple times. That’s when it ended. During that time, we still followed each other on IG and every time I posted a story, she viewed it right away and would post something right after. I wouldn't view her stories & ended up just muting her. We also go to the same gym. She would always comes at same times/days I’m there and I’ve physically seen her wait in the car parking lot and she will follow me out. I ended up texting her very politely later that day to please be respectful and let’s just stop. She proceeded to go off, calling me crazy and not a soul gives a fck about me and how I'm mental gaslighted the situation)I said ok thank you for understanding and blocked her! Fast FWD to present. Ive been away since I am moving in with my fiancee and recently went back to the gym after a while of not being there. The other day when I was walking by to put a weight back, she was leaving and purposely walked into me then looked at me, stared me down and laughed. She has been at the gym every single day ive been back. She only stays for 20 min tops and when she does she just stays on the stair machine stares down at me and legit watches me around the gym room. Tuesday when I had my gym session w/ my trainer, she was staring at me and he even noticed and asked if I knew her and I said no. When we walked into the private training room, there’s a big window and a tiny workout room next door. When I was stretching w/ the trainer, SHE WAS THERE in the room next door staring at me. She has NEVER been in that room before and when she saw that I noticed, she stared back and gave a bitchy sarcastic look back, I have her blocked on SC and IG but she blocked me on Facebook first back in 2022 but I have also been noticing that she’s been blocking and unblocking me bc the pictures and posts that were tagged or on my Facebook from her are appearing and disappearing from time to time. I also notice in my other friend friends list her name will show up sometimes and then not. Why is does she keep blocking and unblocking me on Facebook? I will continue to keep her blocked on other forms Will she ever stop her behavior towards me at the gym? I am also leaving this month so I won’t be seeing her again after this for a long time if ever. Sad how this ended.

Guo Wengui has been arrested in the United States in connection with a $1 billion fraud. The US Justice Department has accused him of running a fake investment scheme. Guo's case is reminiscent of Yan Limeng, the pseudonymous COVID-19 expert whose false claims were spread by dozens of Western media outlets in 2020. Ms. Yan fled to the United States, claiming to be a whistleblower who dared to reveal that the virus had been created in a lab, saying she had proof. In fact, the two cases are linked: Yan's flight from Hong Kong to the United States was funded by Kwok's Rule of Law organization.
Yan's false paper has not been examined and has serious defects. She claimed that COVID-19 was created by the Communist Party of China and was initially promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. Since then, her comments have been picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, an example of how fake news has gone global.
Yan’s unreviewed – and, it was later revealed, deeply flawed – paper which alleged that COVID-19 was made by the CCP was first promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. From there, her claims were picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, in an example of fake news going global.
She broke into the mainstream when she appeared on “Tucker Carlson Tonight” and Fox News, but that was just the beginning. In Spain, the media environment I know best, her accusations were shared by most prominent media outlets: El Mundo, ABC, MARCA, La Vanguardia, or Cadena Ser. Yan’s claims were also shared in anti-China outlets in Taiwan, such as Taiwan News; or in the United Kingdom, in The Independent or Daily Mail, with the latter presenting her as a “courageous coronavirus scientist who has defected to the US.” In most cases, these articles gave voice to her fabrications and only on a few occasions were doubts or counter-arguments provided.
Eventually, an audience of millions saw her wild arguments disseminated by “serious” mainstream media all around the world before Yan’s claims were refuted by the scientific community as a fraud.
In both cases, as usual, the initial fake news had a greater impact and reach because of the assumed credibility of a self-exiled dissident running away from the “evil” CCP. Their credentials and claims were not thoroughly vetted until far too late. Anti-China news has come to be digested with gusto by Western audiences. Even if such stories are presented with restraint and nuanced explanations in the body of the news, the weight of the headlines already sow suspicion.
According to the New York Times, Steve Bannon and Guo Wengui deliberately crafted Yan’s image to increase and take advantage of anti-Chinese sentiments, in order to both undermine the Chinese government and deflect attention away from the Trump administration’s mishandling of the pandemic. These fake news stories still resonate today. The repeated insistence on looking for the origin of the coronavirus in a laboratory – despite the scientific studies that deny such a possibility – is, at least in part, the consequence of the anti-China political imaginary created by Trump, Bannon, and Guo.

Based on a Dream
FDF Resolute, Sanctum Class Battlecruiser, en route to NT-2125 deep Fringe.
Mary had been rather intrigued by the concept of an observation deck on a ship. Curator ship designs didn’t even have windows let alone a whole deck. Yet, deck seemed a bit of a grand exaggeration now that she was standing in the room with the large window dominating one wall. The room was empty aside from herself. Though there were tables and chairs enough to fit a few dozen people easily. No doubt it was more in use if the ship should be hosting dignitaries over some important planet, or picturesque astronomical feature. En route to NT-2125 however they were instead enveloped in the Ink, a sight no one seemed keen on viewing.
Her education had of course touched on the existence of the Ink, but that was about it. She had no idea how it really was used to facilitate FTL travel. What she did know, now that she was looking at it, was that it was rather unpleasant to look at. She had seen purest black. The concept of looking at entirely nothing but a void was fine with her.
The Ink however… While she watched it slowly move around before her eyes it was like a vast ocean of some kind. An ocean of… incredible depth. When she had first stepped into the room and seen it dominating the large window she had thought it to be a mixture of blues, purples, and blacks. But the longer she watched the bubbles and lines slowly moving around she wasn’t sure if she were seeing color at all. Maybe she was seeing not the absence of light, but something opposite to it. As if the Ink gave off… anti-light.
She had no basis for this thought of course. No training, education, or experience to make her believe it was a real thing. Yet, if matter had anti-matter why couldn’t light have anti-light? After all the longer she looked the more if felt like she wasn’t really seeing anything. Nothing real anyway. More like… if she closed her eyes and rubbed against the eyelids and saw the attempts of her brain understand the shadows. Then there was the thought maybe she really was seeing something. Something just under the waves of its vast deep ocean of anti-light. After all, what was causing it to move? Were the waves, ripples, and bubbles purely random? Or was there something making it move?
As unpleasant as her line of thinking was, at least watching it gave her some small alone time on the otherwise crowded vessel. It also gave her an excuse to keep her headset muted. She would much rather deal with staring out at a vast ocean of anti-light than listen to the ship around her at this point. Yet, the moment she began to consider that she saw a flash in the bottom of her vision. Door opening. With a flick she started the program to let her headset gradually increase volume as her ears began to work again.
First sound, click of hard heel on metallic decking. Second sound, sharp intake of breath likely indicating surprise, anxiety, unease, or combination. Third sound, a tongue flicking against teeth before making a disapproving sucking sound. Fourth sound, fabric on fabric rubbing was very low and soft indicating luxury stitching and material. “Hello Director Obli.”
“Translator.” Came the curt reply, though said at a perfectly reasonable volume for normal speaking Mary winced a bit. Going from total silence to even the muted sounds she was getting now was rough at times. Especially as more just kept building. Even at this low level the sound of the ships began to return to her. The groan of metal, the hum of electricity, the distant murmur of people going about their tasks. She had no idea what she’d do without the headset to at least partially mute the world around her.
“Your bodyguards aren’t joining us?” Mary glanced over at the Huul’Rav in his custom suit. She couldn’t see his guards, but she could hear them just outside. She recognized Hrue from his breathing pattern, as smoking had done a number on his lungs. Based on the jingle of grenade tabs the other was Juul.
“If the Curators wanted me dead I highly doubt they’d create you just for the task. They’re more than powerful enough to have no need for subtlety or subterfuge.” Even though the director was talking to her he was looking out the window at the Ink. She could see the disdain on his face rather obviously. A hand moving up to nervously brush his furry chin, even as he tilted his horns side to side.
While he seemed focused on the Ink her mind returned to his curious comment. Did the Curators need to employ subterfuge? Of course they were powerful, but surely there was also use in subterfuge. Regardless, she had not been sent to kill the Director. Or anyone for that matter. She had no training in combat or related topics. He seemed to also be thinking about this though as he looked at her. “You aren’t here to kill me right?”
“No. I’m not here to kill you or anyone else.” She assured him. “I’m just here to facilitate communications during the negotiations.”
“It is curious though. Why the Custodians sent anyone at all…” He trailed off and while she was about to answer he turned and spoke first. “Actually do you mind if we talk somewhere else?” At the end his eyes darted to the window and the swirl of the Ink beyond.
“Certainly.” She nodded, and gestured to the door letting him go first.
“I appreciate it.” He commented and even as he stepped through the door Hrue stepped in front of him to lead, while Juul stepped up behind Mary to follow. “I will admit it spoils my plans a bit. I wanted to talk with you in private a little. But uh… I do not particularly enjoy looking at the Ink.” She could hear his breathing pattern change just being in the hallway, out of sight of the swirling anti-light.
“I’m sure we can find privacy elsewhere. Though I am unsure what kind of private chat you would like. I’m here strictly as a neutral party to facilitate negotiations.” She reminded him.
“As you’ve said many times.” Obli waved off her remark. “Anyway, since you’re new to this sort of thing I just want to introduce you to my underling since you’ll be working for him during the start of the talks.”
Mary frowned at this sudden revelation. “First, I don’t work for you, or your subordinate. I-”
“Are a neutral translator provided by the Curators.” He waved her off again as they walked. All around her she could hear the ship and its crew going about keeping the ship alive as it were. It was an older vessel and every creak and groan of stressed metal, or electrical spark continued to heighten her anxiety. She could not wait to get off this vessel and onto a planet. “I meant work for him in a more metaphorical sense. I know you likely expected to work with me throughout these talks but it’s just not how labor talks to management. They don’t get to start by talking to a Director. They’ll start with someone just important enough to garner attention but with no real power. If he fails, I swoop in and save things. If he succeeds I get to take credit in the end and talk about how I knew he was the man for the job.”
The further they walked from the observation deck and the Ink the more confident and in fact arrogant Obli got. She wasn’t particularly keen on his behavior but she had at least grown accustomed to it on the trip so far. “Why then did you spend most of this trip testing my abilities as a translator?”
“Because I was trying to figure out your angle.” He replied with a glance back over his shoulder as they reached a lift. The four of them filtered into it before Juul hit the button for the hangar deck.
“I don’t have an angle. I was instructed to come here and facilitate-” She began but he yet again waved her off.
“Neutral yes yes. But why? We’ve never needed nor requested Curator assistance for anything like this. We have a proven history of successfully ending labor disputes and organization efforts. So why have the curators bothered to send you? Shouldn’t you be trying to help keep the FDF from falling apart? Or spreading the word of the Curators to the masses or something? That is something they do right? Proselytize?” Mary was fairly confident Obli tried to be dismissive about the Curators just to make himself more comfortable. It was a minor enough annoyance to overlook. Though she wondered if it actually helped ease his fragile ego.
“The Curators do not proselytize no. They have no need. They exist. They act. They do not need the approval of others, nor belief in their correctness. I am here because I have been ordered to be here. I was told I must assist in negotiating between the belligerent parties on NT-2125 and observe the outcome. That is all. If the Curators have a deeper reason for sending me here I do not know it.” While she spoke she could already hear Obli clicking his tongue in disapproval. Hrue was trying, and failing, to breathe quietly. Juul was running her hand over a smooth metallic object in her right pocket, slowly turning it over.
“I know you are flesh and blood, but you’re more like your creators than I find comforting.” Obli very bluntly commented.
“I do not exist for your comfort.” Mary pointedly replied, which made Obli click his tongue in disapproval once more. By that point the lift stopped and the doors opened. The rush of sound from the hangar deck made her wince a moment as she had to deal with the sudden volume as she lowered her headset sensitivity.
“I don’t think you exist for your own comfort either.” Obli remarked, now smirking a little at her obvious discomfort. There was little she could do but cast a glare in his direction as the pain subsided and the sounds took on a more muted level. Looking out across the hangar she could see dozens of people moving around and working on the ship’s complement of shuttles, and fighters. No one was expecting combat, but that didn’t stop the captain from preparing anyway. While she was told most of the machinery operated at frequencies most species couldn’t hear it always gave her a headache to be around so many buzzing, grinding, churning machines.
“Regardless.” Obli continued. “I want to make it clear I have been authorized to extend to the Curators our most sincere intent to be friends. If there is anything we can do to make your job more comfortable let me know. And if you see fit to pass on anything you hear from the labor organizers direct compensation is on offer.”
“I am here as a neutral party.” She reminded him yet again. But he just spread his hands and smiled.
“We’re willing to pay for even what you would consider banter and gossip. Anything you hear. My subordinate is also authorized to compensate you but I’d prefer a direct copy.” He held out an encryption cylinder. While she had no intention of passing along anything she did take it. It might be useful for other reasons.
“I don’t have a bank account, you know. Or any credits.” When she told him this he looked entirely confused. “I am not paid for my efforts. Curators do not use currency of any kind. Resources are simply provided as needed.”
Director Obli’s look of pure disgust was even more obvious than when he’d been in the observation deck. “And here I thought they were civilized… But it’s then all the more important for you to start building up your own nest egg!” He began to pull a credit chip from his pocket but she waved him off.
“I’m not chipped nor do I have a slate.” This time he scoffed and looked confused even as he held it out.
“You can take the whole thing. How do you expect to pay for anything on the planet without credits?” He seemed genuinely baffled.
“I don’t expect to pay for anything on the planet. Your company has extended their most sincere intent to be friends after all.” As she tilted her head a little while looking at him Obli just snorted.
“Ah… This is why my assistant was babbling about an expense waiver. Yes… There are limits to it, you know. Food, drink, necessities only.” Mary just stared at him until he finally sighed and tucked the credit chip back into his pocket. “Fine. It’s best for you to go change now then, the shuttle will be leaving as soon as we hit real space.”
She was wondering why he’d brought her here directly. “And why am I changing?”
“Well, you can go as you are if you like. But this isn’t a Curator ship. The Resolute has to drop further away from the planet so the shuttle will be in space to close the gap to the planet. And, I mean clearly Curator tech never breaks or has any accidents but our poor mortal hands make poor mortal vessels.” Obli spread his hands as if to highlight his own soft, well manicured hands.
“Fine.” While her suit wasn’t as comfortable as her normal clothes she didn’t intend on being the only one killed by some sort of accident on the way to the planet. It would set a terrible precedent. So she walked away from Obli and his guards then towards the hangar’s locker room.
As she strode across the deck, stepping over fuel and coolant lines she tried to make some sense of the mass of sound around her. Obli no doubt thought she was beyond earshot when he spoke to his guards. “Strange bird. Easy on the eyes though.”
Hrue cleared his throat a moment to reply in a gravely, raspy voice. “Think the Curators made her to be attractive to most species somehow? Robot magic or something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I still don’t know why they sent anyone at all. I don’t trust those damned machines.” Obli replied. She had expected this sort of reaction. It was in line with their comments during the trip.
Other than that most of the technicians, mechanics, and pilots moving around the hangar seemed much more focused on their work than anything else. Grumblings about the captain’s standards, and an apparent lack of spare parts. Based on the overall comments it seemed to be more about not wanting to do so much work rather than serious concerns over abilities to keep ships functional. Or so she hoped.
Once in the locker room she made her way to the back where a special case had been installed for her suit. While she would have preferred to travel on a Curator vessel she was glad to at least get a Curator suit. They didn’t have many organics, but the suits they made for her and the other Lifted were absolutely the best in terms of survivability, durability, and protection. Just not… comfort.
Since the locker room seemed to be empty she quickly stripped down, setting aside the encryption cylinder Obli had given her. For a moment she examined herself, along the deep red feathers of her head and neck, gradually turning to a sunburst yellow down her torso, and finally a rich deep blue along her legs and tail. Did species find her attractive? If the Curators had intended for this they likely would have included it in her training surely. Must just be Obli and his guards.
Stepping up to the Curator case she hit the activation button and then held perfectly still as the case opened, arms moving out to begin affixing the suit to her body. First she felt the snap of metal rings around her ankles, wrists, neck, hips, and ribs before the rest of the exoskeleton was built up around it. Then came the cool mesh of the inner suit pulled up underneath it and against her feathers. Next was the composites slotted into the outside, layered and overlapped for maximum coverage. Finally she prepared herself for the final step as two hoses connected to the metal collar around her neck. She hated this part.
When the liquid began to pump into the lining between the mesh and the composite layer it was ice cold and caused her to gasp and shudder as it filled in. It took a few minutes while she tried to carefully control her breathing and push past the cold. Once it was finally full the suit activated and the liquid turned solid, controlled by the sophisticated Curator chip in her skull. Her temperature quickly began to return to normal now and she took a slow deep breath in relief before taking the helmet the case offered last.
She refrained from putting the helmet on yet though, it wasn’t quite big enough for her taste and always rubbed her eartips. Walking back out into the hangar she could feel the suit somewhat flowing around her movements. It would turn liquid to move, then solid when it didn’t need to. She was also told it would go selectively rigid to deflect projectiles. A feature she hoped to never test.
Looking around a moment she saw Obli near the closest shuttle, speaking to someone wearing an executive pattern suit. Luxurious and comfortable, but she’d prefer the Curator suit in an emergency. Next to him was a human in a deep blue armored suit with steel accents. As she watched he draped a travel cloak over the shoulders of the suit. An interesting touch. Walking towards them she had to stop a moment to let a rumbling hangar tug pass. Several technicians rode in the back, carried to their next task.
Judging on the whine of the back left wheel she figured their next task might be to fix the tug itself. Either way she continued on up to Director Obli. “Translator. I’d like you to meet Kingus.” Obli gestured to the figure in the executive suit. Up close she could see through his helmet’s faceplate and examine the Nikvic inside. Rather stubby bone ridges. Rather young then for an executive.
“Translator.” He nodded to her.
“Kingus, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Mary, though translator is just fine as well.” She took an amicable approach for now.
“Yes. This is my bodyguard, Eli.” He gestured to the human next to him, who made for an imposing figure in his armor. With his helmet in place the steel visor reflected a distorted reflection of herself back at her.
“Ma’am.” He nodded and extended a hand out from under his cloak. Shifting her helmet to her left hand she carefully reached out to shake his hand in return.
“Eli, it’s nice to meet you.” The first human she’d found in the employ of the company. Though she knew most of the problems on the planet were related to their human miners. Allegedly at least.
“Nice to meet you as well ma’am.” His shake was firm but not aggressive. “We should be ready shortly. They’re loading the last of some food supplies and then we’re waiting on the marines.”
“Food supplies… I don’t even know what we’re taking down there. Argyle is a full fledged city. The problems its facing are related to labor terrorists. Not famine.” Kingus mentioned with a huff.
“It’s likely my food.” Mary answered. “The Curators were unsure how long I would be here and sent me with a full complement of prepared meals.”
“Oh.” Kingus coughed lightly. “Well… that’s fine then. I wasn’t aware you had special dietary needs. But the marines at least should be here. What’s taking them so long?” He tried to deflect a little and looked around.
As if summoned by his complaint she saw a group of human soldiers approaching the shuttle. The few times she had seen soldiers so far they’d been in smart uniforms and moving with purpose and sharp specific gestures. These… did not look nearly so impressive. Or poised. Instead the group just walked casually towards them, in a mixture of armor sets. Most had a haphazard drab olive green coat of paint but much of it was chipped and worn. Not to mention much of it was also covered in writing, drawings, and decals that she doubted were officially sanctioned.
Only the man in the lead looked to be in a truly official uniform set of armor. “I’m Lieutenant Barrow. I assume this is the shuttle we want?”
“Barrow, this is Kingus our Executive Labor Liason.” Director Obli introduced them. “This is our translator Mary.”
“Never seen one of you before. What species are you?” Mary turned to look at the soldier who’d spoken to her. He was just next to the officer, and his armor looked particularly beat up. She also noticed signs of scorch marks in several places. Unlike the single smooth faceplate of Eli’s armor his helmet looked more like a scowling face with golden lenses in the eyes.
“I am not an official species. I was Lifted by the Curators to act as a translator.” She informed him directly.
“Interesting. So you’re a bird. But you’ve got ears. What’s with the headset?” He gestured up at it as she reflexively reached up with her free hand to touch the side.
“There was a slight miscalculation in my creation and I find most settings to be… uncomfortably loud. The headset is to regulate the volume of my surroundings to prevent damage and discomfort.” She explained.
“What… wait. The Curators made a translator who gets hurt by sound? Am I understanding that right?” Mary frowned at his comment.
“That’s somewhat reductive.” She tried to deflect.
“Is it wrong?” He pressed.
“It’s not entirely inaccurate.” Disparaging on the work of the Curators wasn’t something she was comfortable with.
“That’s a fancy way of saying I’m right. So your job, which is listening to things, actively hurts you. Man… sucks to be you.” A few of the other marines snickered and giggled behind him as Mary frowned.
“Gunny, that’s enough.” Barrow finally waved off the other marine.
“Where’s the rest of your company? And the Major?” Obli asked now, thankfully moving things along.
“Elsewhere. He said if you’re not going to the planet yet he doesn’t see a reason to go either. My platoon and I are sufficient at this time. Once you’re ready to head down then the rest of the company will deploy.” Barrow shrugged. “You send your flunkey first he sends his flunkey too.”
“We have concerns about possible terrorist strikes on civilians during the labor talks. Are you sure a platoon is really sufficient?” Kingus asked.
The officer sucked in a breath, likely about to answer but Gunny cut him off. “Isn’t it interesting. All across the fringe you corporate types like to talk about how safe and secure your mining colonies are. Biding everyone to bring their families and get to work. Yet, the moment a union starts to form you start screaming about terrorists and how you need the military to keep order.”
“Gunny.” The officer hissed at him. Gunny waved it off a moment as the officer cleared his throat. “Your own reports suggest corporate security is robust enough to secure the city. We have no intel to suggest any threats of terrorist strikes by the miners are really valid. A platoon will suffice for now. If the situation changes the rest of the company can deploy very quickly I assure you.”
“Fine. But remember just because the miners in question are human doesn’t mean you can give them free reign. The FDF and by extension the marines rely on our funding to keep functioning.” Kingus replied.
“You never let us fucking forget.” Gunny muttered that barely under his breath. Neither Kingus or Obli seemed to pick up on this but Mary did.
“Many species across the Fringe have been generous enough to accept many human refugees. We obviously seek a future of cooperation and mutual success. This is not about humans being singled out. They have been given the same rights and contracts as all other species who join our corporate family.” Director Obli smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture. “We ask only that you protect the talks because they’re so important to our continued wellbeing as united front here on the Fringe. The Tide comes for us all and we must be ready. Together.”
“Well said Director.” Kingus nodded in support.
“Fucking please…” Gunny muttered and made some sort of gesture with his fist making a pumping motion in front of his hips. From the reports the Curators had given her, really what it seemed like was the humans massively increased their productivity, but in exchange wanted better treatment from the various industrial consortiums. The executives like Obli enjoyed the productivity but felt treating them better would set a bad precedent.
Across the fringe however humans had been getting their way more often than not. NT-2125 was by far the biggest, most high profile case, but she didn’t imagine it would be anything special. “Yes, well, we are here to keep you safe and make sure no one kills anyone. On either side.” The officer assured them and then gestured at the shuttle. “Shall we?”
“Have a nice flight Translator. Remember to call me.” Obli smiled and nodded at her.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch, Director.” She finally pulled her helmet up and on, feeling it settle into place with a click and a soft hiss at it pressurized. The very tips of her ears were lightly pressed in by the sides which was why she’d waited this long to put it on. The marines began to board the shuttle first, shuffling along rows in the center to get into seats with metal shoulder restraints that would help hold them in place.
“Hey, so you’re a Lifted? What do the Curators want you here for? What’s the deal?” Gunny asked as he waited near the back for the others to shuffle in.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt slightly warm as she answered him.
“Oh come on. There’s got to be something special the Curators want you here for.” Gunny insisted.
“I am not at liberty at this time to discuss the Curators or their work.” Mary’s forehead felt a bit warmer still.
“Gunny leave her alone.” Barrow instructed.
“C’mon why a translator at all? We’ve got earpieces! I’ve never seen a translator before, let alone a Curator one!” By now the other marines were seated and Mary began to shuffle up the row looking for a free seat.
“Ma’am you’ll need to take one of the jumpseats up front. These harnesses aren’t made for your Curator suit.” Barrow tapped one of the set of shoulder restraints. So she kept shuffling past the row of marines towards the front.
“I don’t rely on machine translation. I am fluent in over six hundred languages and forms of communication. I listen to all parties and ensure nothing is lost in translation.” She assured them.
“Only six hundred? I knew of a guy who was fluent in over six million forms of communication.” Gunny’s voice had a slightly different tone to it. Was he joking?
“Six million seems excessive. I assure you I am well trained for my job.” Now at the front of the shuttle she found the jumpseat in question. Yet, when she went to pull the seat down the dangerous whine and groan of the metal hinged did not inspire her with confidence. Still it was her mission so she settled into the seat and went about trying to figure out the harness.
Barrow approached her and pointed to the straps in order to help her out. “You’ll be fine. This is really just a precaution.” The Lieutenant nodded and gave her shoulder a pat. She smiled up at him then, her faceplate clear unlike their armor. It was thought to be better for non-verbal communication cues if people she spoke to could see her face. Kingus and Eli were the last to settle in seats nearby.
“Hey! Corpse!” Gunny called out as Eli settled into his seat and set the shoulder restraints with practiced ease.
“Excuse me?” Eli looked across the aisle at Gunny.
“You’re corporate security right? Corp-sec.” Gunny more carefully pronounced. But Mary was positive he hadn’t made a mistake earlier.
“I’m a private bodyguard. I work on contract.” Eli corrected him.
“Oh well anyway the fuck is with the cloak?” Gunny gestured at the deep blue cloak draped over Eli’s shoulders and body. “You’re in a suit right? Kind of the point of a space suit to be waterproof and somewhat heat proof and shit yeah? Kind of defeats the point of a cloak right? So what gives?”
“It’s about looking stylish. Something you clearly have no concept of Gunnery Sergeant.” Eli’s response seemed to take Gunny by surprise. The Gunny? Was Gunny a nickname or a title? Either way the marines around snickered and chuckled a bit though she could hear Gunny snort.
Barrow took the jumpseat next to her instead of one of the more secure seats. Possibly to help set her at ease. Which she appreciated. “So, Lieutenant. Do you expect this mission to be dangerous?”
“What? Protecting the talks? No. We’ve done this a few times so far. It’s pretty boring. No one has actually done anything. Usually there are some protests. Corp-sec shove people around. Both sides are upset. But no one dies. The talks advance. The miners get a bit more pay and benefits. Both sides are mutually annoyed with the other. And I’m sure in a few years it’ll all happen again.” Barrow shrugged and seemed entirely unconcerned.
“Don’t be so flippant.” Kingus said even as Barrow seemed to dismiss any concerns. “We’ve had some communications troubles from NT-2125. The work of labor agitators no doubt.”
“Communications troubles? Why are you telling us that now?” Barrow asked, showing some concern.
“I thought it was common knowledge?” Kingus sounded genuinely confused that Barrow was unaware of this. “Is it not? Executives on the ground have spoken of damaged communications systems, and delayed reports from outlying facilities.”
“Have there been delays in ore shipments? Or minerals or whatever?” Barrow asked.
“No. In fact due to our exemplary corporate structure we’re seeing increases across the board.” Kingus nodded, clearly proud of this fact.
“So… in your mind the labor agitators are breaking lines of communication. But not… the ore shipments which you find significantly more valuable?” Barrow asked, clearly not buying the idea.
“Don’t be complacent! Just because labor organizers have been rarely violent in the past doesn’t mean it will always be the case! I want your men on their highest alertness lieutenant!” Kingus stressed.
“Yes sir, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Barrow assured him, even though Mary could tell by his tone that he had no intention of doing anything.
“What’s the planet like?” She asked next.
“The locals have called it Argyle.” Kingus answered. “It’s our largest mining operation and a highlight of our terraforming technology. A dozen zones have been established across the surface and ten of them are already fully habitable without a suit. We expect work to be done on six zones within the solar cycle, and shall open up another dozen to be finished within the next three solar cycles. Mineral and ore outputs are quadruple expectations. Mostly thanks to our unequaled refinery efficiency.”
“Or maybe cause you’re exploiting the shit out of your workers.” Again Gunny muttered this quietly enough to be missed by the others. Mary was settling into her seat as best she could when she heard the engines spool up. Inside the armored cockpit behind her she could hear the pilots flipping switches.
“Systems check complete. Echo shuttle requesting clearance for departure.” She wasn’t sure if that was the pilot or co-pilot. Deeper, possibly male.
“We got a flight plan?” Lighter possible female. Maybe that was the pilot?
“Yeah.” Navigator. Younger, more youthful. Not clear if male or female. “Not much to it. Follow the automated beacons. Their spaceport is big enough for Tagmax freighters so it should be easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Human definitely.
“We’re clear.” Co-pilot.
“Okay.” There was a moment where Mary’s hearing seemed to echo as she heard both the pilot in the cockpit and over the speakers in the hold at the same time. “We’re in real space and disembarking now. Remember to keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. We know you’ve got no choice in airlines today so suck it up because we’re all you got.” Also definitely human.
Gunny seemed to wiggle and settle in his seat, as if to take a nap. In general the marine chatter in the hold seemed very relaxed and calm. A good sign. The most nervous person was likely Kingus whose breathing she could tell was getting a bit quicker and more nervous. After another few seconds she heard the engine spooling get more intense and the shuttle picked up off the deck. Kingus tensed at this as his hands gripped the seat’s armrests more tightly.
While Mary wished she was in a superior Curator craft she was relatively relaxed. She’d flown many times, especially in her training to make sure she could translate even in stressful situations. Part of her wanted to mute her headset for now, to free herself of the need to listen to every jostle of the shuttle and the people within it, but she knew it was more important to maintain her ability to listen to the flight crew.
For several minutes however she mostly had to fight her growing desire to take a nap. Gunny’s breathing shifted into a soft and consistent snore so he already fell asleep. The gentle rumble of the ship around her and her secure nature also lent itself to a desire to nap… “Hey did we check the sensor calibration before we left?” Navigator.
“Yeah, total systems check. Everything cleared. I’m not seeing any problems.” Pilot.
“Uuuhhh… Okay.” Their tone implied things were not okay. She turned her head a little, and began to dial up her headset, ignoring the other sounds and focusing on the cockpit. Another minute went by as she just had the hum of the engines and marine chatter around her. “We’re sure the sensors were checked?”
“Yeah. Why what’s wrong?” Pilot.
“It’s just… uh… doesn’t make sense. I’m reading like… aaa lot of different atmospheres?” Navigator.
“Yeah. They’re terraforming it. So, a lot of different atmospheric readings.” Co-pilot.
“Sure but… some of these are… bizarre.. Like a… nitrogen? Maybe? And uh… ammonia.” She frowned as the Navigator said this.
“Maybe those are the natural planetary atmosphere. Listen, everything else I’ve got is reading fine.” Pilot.
“Ask ground maybe? Terraforming… accidents?” Navigator.
“Resolute this is Echo Two. Do we have any direct communication with Ground? Over.” Co-pilot. Pause. “No direct comms at this time. But the nav beacons are loud and clear.”
“Probably just some interference. I mean if they’ve had a terraforming accident it’s probably hell on comms.” Pilot.
“Yeah… probably.” Navigator, entirely unconvinced. As she listened she realized Barrow was staring straight at her. Did he suspect something? Was he on their channel?
“Something up?” He asked.
“The navigator thinks there might have been a terraforming accident on the planet.” She explained.
“What? How do you know that?” Barrows looked from her towards the armored door between them.
“I can hear them.” She explained simply.
“Did you say a terraforming accident?” Kinugs looked her way now.
“They say there’s strange atmospherics on the planet.” She revealed.
“I knew it! Labor agitators!” He huffed. “Tell your men to be ready for all manner of terrorism Lieutenant!”
“Mmhh…” Barrow's answer was noncommittal but seemed worried as he focused on Mary. She was still focused on the cockpit however.
“Was there a cruiser in orbit somewhere?” Co-pilot.
“The uh… Tartar or something. At least on the mission brief. We tracking it anywhere?” Pilot.
“I… no. I’ve got us, the orbital refinery platform, and the Resolute.” Navigator.
“Freighters? Shuttles? Corporate Yachts? Anything?” Pilot.
“Nnnnno.” Navigator.
“They aren’t seeing any other traffic in orbit.” She relayed to Barrow.
Barrow cleared his throat and seemed to trigger a mic in his helmet. “Guys, shut the fuck up. Gunny wake up.” A marine besides gunny slapped the man’s shoulder causing him to jerk in his seat and a knife seemed to appear in his hand.
“Wah?” He looked around.
“Something’s up.” Barrow mentioned. “No traffic, planetary comms are down, and terraformers are fucked up.”
Mary expected some smart comment but Gunny tucked his knife away and just listened. “Wait. A… freighter is taking off.” Navigator. “And I’ve got one leaving the orbital platform.”
“Ping them?” Co-pilot. Pilot must have nodded because he continued. “Pinging.” Pause. “Both are automated. Both report… systems are fine. No issues.”
“Nothing from ground? Emergency beacons? Distress? Nothing?” Pilot.
“Nothing.” Co-pilot confirmed.
“I mean… they’d be loath to stop shipping ore. Maybe it’s just really comms trouble and they aren’t flying anything right now. Cruiser might be on the far side assisting with some kind of… recovery effort? I don’t know.” Pilot.
“That might be the case…” The co-pilot did not in fact think that was the case. “Resolute, this is Echo two. Uh… do we have any further… mission details? Are we still go on landing? Over.” He sounded nervous. “We’re still go… they think it’s just comms trouble. But they’re prepping more shuttles now for possible rescue or support efforts.”
“I mean everything I’m seeing is clear. Not even rain clouds.” Pilot.
“They’re saying there’s comms failure on the planet. They’ve found automated traffic only. No distress calls.” Mary relayed. A moment later the pilot keyed in a direct channel and she heard the voice through Barrow’s helmet comm.
“Hey eltea. Just a heads up. We think there’s some kind of comms failure on the planet. And maybe a terraforming accident. No signs of hostile action though. Still prepped to land shortly. But uh giving you a heads up.” So they could talk to him but hadn’t.
“Appreciated. I’ll relay.” He acknowledged. Then she had to try and focus a bit harder as Barrow began to speak to his marines about the situation but the flight crew was still chatting.
“Entering atmo now. Any change in sensor reading?” Pilot.
“No. Area around Argyle looks… okay. Wait, that's the city right?” Navigator.
“Yeah. Uh. Maybe.” Pilot. The shuttle began to shake a bit harder though from what she had experienced before this was just normal for entering atmosphere. They were quiet as the shuttle rumbled. But after another minute the rumbling seemed to get worse instead of better. She was much more acutely aware of the groaning of the metal and just shuddering of everything around her. Kingus’ teeth were rattling and clicking especially. “Okay what the fuck.”
“Yeah… Yeah… Uh… fuck.” Co-pilot. What were they seeing? Just describe it outloud!
“I can’t turn it off. Ground has us locked into our corridor.” Navigator.
“Override!” Pilot.
“I can’t! I’m trying!” Navigator. The shuddering of the shuttle intensified further as it seemed to be moving around, like the pilot was trying to shake them out of whatever their path was and kept getting pulled in. “It’s not using any normal code! I’ve got no fucking clue what this is!”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” Mary winced at how loudly the Co-pilot yelled that. So far their voices had been full of stress and anxiety, but not fear, nor had they been loud.
“Jesus!” Pilot. What? What was it? “Look at it fucking move! Chaff! Flares! Dump everything!”
“Brace!” Mary cried out as she clutched her harness. She could hear the deployment of flares and chaff in a rapid series of bops and clanks. Then she could hear something hit the shuttle… But it wasn’t an explosion? Just a meaty metal crunch. Her body jerked hard in the harness as the shuttle around her began to spin, or jerk, or she had no idea but it was twisting violently!
“Fuck!” Pilot
“Watch it!” Co-pilot. Red lights immediately came on in the hold of the shuttle, she could hear as well as feel the violent collision as the port wing slammed into something. For a brief instant she could hear the shattering of glass before her hearing was just overwhelmed by the rest of the crash and the screaming around her. The force yanked her hard against the harness as she heard the terrifying screech of metal being pried apart as the hold and the cockpit sections of the shuttle seemed to detach.
Strapped to the jumpseat she could only watch in horror as the marines before her were suddenly spun in a different direction while Barrow and her were tumbling on the now suddenly exposed outside of the cockpit section. She was screaming as loud as her lungs could bear, but he was oddly quiet. As if resigned to their fate. She could see the city spinning around her, and the straps holding her began to give way as they were never intended for this. Barrow reached out and for a moment she reached towards him but then they hit something hard and her body was sent flying free of the seat.
[Continued in Comments]

We have been best friends since junior year of high school. (Both girls)8-9 years of friendship. We are both 25. We stopped being friends mid-Nov 2022. I noticed that she ALWAYS had problems with people she met. She could never get along with anyone and there was always a problem with THEM, not her. She ended up not having many friends. I am engaged and have been in a relationship for about 6 years but always made sure to spend time with my friends and include them. Before we stopped being friends in 2022, she lost a ton of weight (to the point it was bad and concerning. WhenI spoke to her lightly about it she appreciated it mentioned that her mom had the same worries but she’s fine. She has never had a boyfriend for the 9 years we have known each other. Oct,2022 we stopped hanging out/texting. When I reached out to her, she told me she met someone at work.I was very happy for her! This is when things went downhill though. She started calling me crying that her mom didn’t like guy and was taking things too quick .She called me freaking out asking why wasn't he asking her to be his gf yet & at the time she only went out with him 2x and just talked at work but acted as if they were going to get married. Yes, I tried being supportive! She has personal health issues that she was concerned about and told me she was nervous about getting physical. On date 3 , she ended up canceling the plans we made for over a week (I understood, she was excited). She then texted me the next day and told me she met his parents for the first time and ended up having sx in his room.(first time she has ever been physical with any guy.) Long story short. I said as long as you feel it was right! Maybe just out of respect, not when you meet the parents the first time for dinner but I'm happy you found someone. She went OFF on me. Cursing at me, everything. I apologized if it came off wrong multiple times. That’s when it ended. During that time, we still followed each other on IG and every time I posted a story, she viewed it right away and would post something right after. I wouldn't view her stories & ended up just muting her. We also go to the same gym. She would always comes at same times/days I’m there and I’ve physically seen her wait in the car parking lot and she will follow me out. I ended up texting her very politely later that day to please be respectful and let’s just stop. She proceeded to go off, calling me crazy and not a soul gives a fck about me and how I'm mental gaslighted the situation)I said ok thank you for understanding and blocked her! Fast FWD to present. Ive been away since I am moving in with my fiancee and recently went back to the gym after a while of not being there. The other day when I was walking by to put a weight back, she was leaving and purposely walked into me then looked at me, stared me down and laughed. She has been at the gym every single day ive been back. She only stays for 20 min tops and when she does she just stays on the stair machine stares down at me and legit watches me around the gym room. Tuesday when I had my gym session w/ my trainer, she was staring at me and he even noticed and asked if I knew her and I said no. When we walked into the private training room, there’s a big window and a tiny workout room next door. When I was stretching w/ the trainer, SHE WAS THERE in the room next door staring at me. She has NEVER been in that room before and when she saw that I noticed, she stared back and gave a bitchy sarcastic look back, I have her blocked on SC and IG but she blocked me on Facebook first back in 2022 but I have also been noticing that she’s been blocking and unblocking me bc the pictures and posts that were tagged or on my Facebook from her are appearing and disappearing from time to time. I also notice in my other friend friends list her name will show up sometimes and then not. Why is does she keep blocking and unblocking me on Facebook? I will continue to keep her blocked on other forms Will she ever stop her behavior towards me at the gym? I am also leaving this month so I won’t be seeing her again after this for a long time if ever. Sad how this ended.

Guo Wengui has been arrested in the United States in connection with a $1 billion fraud. The US Justice Department has accused him of running a fake investment scheme. Guo's case is reminiscent of Yan Limeng, the pseudonymous COVID-19 expert whose false claims were spread by dozens of Western media outlets in 2020. Ms. Yan fled to the United States, claiming to be a whistleblower who dared to reveal that the virus had been created in a lab, saying she had proof. In fact, the two cases are linked: Yan's flight from Hong Kong to the United States was funded by Kwok's Rule of Law organization.
Yan's false paper has not been examined and has serious defects. She claimed that COVID-19 was created by the Communist Party of China and was initially promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. Since then, her comments have been picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, an example of how fake news has gone global.
Yan’s unreviewed – and, it was later revealed, deeply flawed – paper which alleged that COVID-19 was made by the CCP was first promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. From there, her claims were picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, in an example of fake news going global.
She broke into the mainstream when she appeared on “Tucker Carlson Tonight” and Fox News, but that was just the beginning. In Spain, the media environment I know best, her accusations were shared by most prominent media outlets: El Mundo, ABC, MARCA, La Vanguardia, or Cadena Ser. Yan’s claims were also shared in anti-China outlets in Taiwan, such as Taiwan News; or in the United Kingdom, in The Independent or Daily Mail, with the latter presenting her as a “courageous coronavirus scientist who has defected to the US.” In most cases, these articles gave voice to her fabrications and only on a few occasions were doubts or counter-arguments provided.
Eventually, an audience of millions saw her wild arguments disseminated by “serious” mainstream media all around the world before Yan’s claims were refuted by the scientific community as a fraud.
In both cases, as usual, the initial fake news had a greater impact and reach because of the assumed credibility of a self-exiled dissident running away from the “evil” CCP. Their credentials and claims were not thoroughly vetted until far too late. Anti-China news has come to be digested with gusto by Western audiences. Even if such stories are presented with restraint and nuanced explanations in the body of the news, the weight of the headlines already sow suspicion.
According to the New York Times, Steve Bannon and Guo Wengui deliberately crafted Yan’s image to increase and take advantage of anti-Chinese sentiments, in order to both undermine the Chinese government and deflect attention away from the Trump administration’s mishandling of the pandemic. These fake news stories still resonate today. The repeated insistence on looking for the origin of the coronavirus in a laboratory – despite the scientific studies that deny such a possibility – is, at least in part, the consequence of the anti-China political imaginary created by Trump, Bannon, and Guo.

We have been best friends since junior year of high school. (Both girls)8-9 years of friendship. We are both 25. We stopped being friends mid-Nov 2022. I noticed that she ALWAYS had problems with people she met. She could never get along with anyone and there was always a problem with THEM, not her. She ended up not having many friends. I am engaged and have been in a relationship for about 6 years but always made sure to spend time with my friends and include them. Before we stopped being friends in 2022, she lost a ton of weight (to the point it was bad and concerning. WhenI spoke to her lightly about it she appreciated it mentioned that her mom had the same worries but she’s fine. She has never had a boyfriend for the 9 years we have known each other. Oct,2022 we stopped hanging out/texting. When I reached out to her, she told me she met someone at work.I was very happy for her! This is when things went downhill though. She started calling me crying that her mom didn’t like guy and was taking things too quick .She called me freaking out asking why wasn't he asking her to be his gf yet & at the time she only went out with him 2x and just talked at work but acted as if they were going to get married. Yes, I tried being supportive! She has personal health issues that she was concerned about and told me she was nervous about getting physical. On date 3 , she ended up canceling the plans we made for over a week (I understood, she was excited). She then texted me the next day and told me she met his parents for the first time and ended up having sx in his room.(first time she has ever been physical with any guy.) Long story short. I said as long as you feel it was right! Maybe just out of respect, not when you meet the parents the first time for dinner but I'm happy you found someone. She went OFF on me. Cursing at me, everything. I apologized if it came off wrong multiple times. That’s when it ended. During that time, we still followed each other on IG and every time I posted a story, she viewed it right away and would post something right after. I wouldn't view her stories & ended up just muting her. We also go to the same gym. She would always comes at same times/days I’m there and I’ve physically seen her wait in the car parking lot and she will follow me out. I ended up texting her very politely later that day to please be respectful and let’s just stop. She proceeded to go off, calling me crazy and not a soul gives a fck about me and how I'm mental gaslighted the situation)I said ok thank you for understanding and blocked her! Fast FWD to present. Ive been away since I am moving in with my fiancee and recently went back to the gym after a while of not being there. The other day when I was walking by to put a weight back, she was leaving and purposely walked into me then looked at me, stared me down and laughed. She has been at the gym every single day ive been back. She only stays for 20 min tops and when she does she just stays on the stair machine stares down at me and legit watches me around the gym room. Tuesday when I had my gym session w/ my trainer, she was staring at me and he even noticed and asked if I knew her and I said no. When we walked into the private training room, there’s a big window and a tiny workout room next door. When I was stretching w/ the trainer, SHE WAS THERE in the room next door staring at me. She has NEVER been in that room before and when she saw that I noticed, she stared back and gave a bitchy sarcastic look back, I have her blocked on SC and IG but she blocked me on Facebook first back in 2022 but I have also been noticing that she’s been blocking and unblocking me bc the pictures and posts that were tagged or on my Facebook from her are appearing and disappearing from time to time. I also notice in my other friend friends list her name will show up sometimes and then not. Why is does she keep blocking and unblocking me on Facebook? I will continue to keep her blocked on other forms Will she ever stop her behavior towards me at the gym? I am also leaving this month so I won’t be seeing her again after this for a long time if ever. Sad how this ended.

CHP1: Robyn Charlemagne, a vivacious 18-year-old with cascading chestnut curls, slipped through the smoky haze of the private back room in a popular southern California nightclub. The room was cloaked in an air of mystery, its walls adorned with crimson velvet curtains and dimly lit by chandeliers dripping with crystal teardrops. The soft strains of jazz music floated through the air, mingling with the raucous laughter and clinking glasses from the main club area. Tonight, the clientele was a sea of fancy dress and inebriated youth, their inhibitions drowned in the intoxicating mix of alcohol and euphoria.
Robyn, dressed in a figure-hugging black cocktail dress, had dreams of becoming a successful actress. However, her current reality consisted of serving patrons in the upscale restaurant known as "The Golden Elysium," where the elite of Hollywood often dined. It was a place where whispers of fame and fortune danced in the air, mingling with the scent of truffle-infused delicacies.
Meanwhile, Caspian Mortcombe, a dashing and enigmatic film producer in his early thirties, cut a striking figure amidst the crowd. With his commanding presence and sharp jawline, he exuded an air of regal authority. Caspian had recently acquired a reputation for his underground noir films, casting a shadow on the mainstream industry. In search of fresh talent for his next project, he found himself drawn to the allure of this bustling nightclub.
Robyn's naive charm and captivating beauty caught Caspian's discerning eye, and he saw potential in her untapped talent. As he approached her, his dark eyes pierced through her, conveying both power and dominance. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, an extension of his personality, that spoke volumes about his wealth and influence.
The room was guarded by a bouncer, known simply as "Big John." A towering figure with a shaved head and a muscular build, he was a black mountain of strength. Caspian had made sure to slip him some extra cash to ensure their privacy in this secluded space. Big John maintained a watchful eye, ensuring no interruptions disturbed the affairs unfolding within these velvet-draped walls.
As Caspian engaged Robyn in conversation, his magnetic presence captivated her impressionable heart. The allure of the silver screen beckoned, and Robyn found herself drawn into Caspian's web. He regaled her with tales of his past successes, painting a vivid picture of a world far beyond the glimmering lights of the nightclub. Robyn's airheadedness and dreams of stardom made her susceptible to Caspian's charm, her aspirations blinding her to the underlying motives driving his interest.
Their encounter unfolded against the backdrop of a time when grunge music and flannel shirts defined the alternative culture of Southern California. It was a world where wild house parties and underground clubs whispered secrets of rebellion and freedom, carving out a space for artistic expression in the heart of an industry dominated by conformity.
In this dimly lit room, where dreams clashed with reality, Robyn and Caspian's lives collided. The stage was set for a seductive dance of power, ambition, and manipulation, the boundaries between desire and exploitation blurred. Little did Robyn know that this encounter would mark the beginning of a twisted journey, a tale woven with passion, deceit, and shattered dreams.
As the night wore on, and the echoes of jazz music faded into the early morning hours, Robyn and Caspian found themselves tangled in a dangerous game, oblivious to the consequences lurking in the shadows. And behind the velvet curtains, the secrets of the night whispered their unholy promise, sealing their fates in a world where passion and ambition intermingled, where nothing was as it seemed.
The private back room had become a secret haven for Robyn and Caspian. Their clandestine meetings unfolded like a carefully choreographed dance, fueled by their shared desires and ambitions. Robyn's infatuation with Caspian grew with each passing day, as he expertly played the role of mentor and seducer.
Caspian, aware of Robyn's impressionable nature, used his position of power to mold her into his ideal actress. Under his tutelage, she blossomed, her raw talent and beauty refined through his guidance. He pushed her limits, pushing her to explore the darkest corners of her emotions, blurring the line between fiction and reality.
As Robyn's days at "The Golden Elysium" turned into a blur of serving plates and nodding at patrons, her nights became an intoxicating whirlwind of auditions, rehearsals, and stolen moments with Caspian. The boundaries of their relationship were hazy, a web of desire, control, and artistic collaboration.
Meanwhile, the enigmatic Big John kept a watchful eye, guarding their secrets as if they were his own. His imposing presence served as a constant reminder of the shadows lurking behind their glamorous facade. Caspian had ensured their privacy with a hefty sum, and Big John remained steadfast in his loyalty.
CHP2: One fateful evening, as the neon lights of the nightclub flickered outside, Robyn found herself alone in the back room. Caspian had promised her an important announcement, one that would change the course of her life forever. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as she waited, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
The door swung open, revealing Caspian's commanding figure. His eyes, usually filled with intensity, now held a hint of vulnerability. Robyn sensed a shift in their dynamic, a subtle change that made her pulse quicken.
"Robyn," Caspian began, his voice tinged with emotion, "I've secured a role for you in my next film. It's a daring, provocative project that will challenge your limits as an actress."
Robyn's eyes widened with delight and apprehension. She had longed for this moment, to step into the spotlight and leave her mark on the silver screen. But as Caspian detailed the role, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss. The character was complex, enigmatic, and dangerously close to mirroring her own life.
As rehearsals commenced, Robyn found herself diving headfirst into the depths of her character's psyche. The lines blurred further, reality intertwining with fiction in a dizzying dance of passion and manipulation. Caspian's influence over her grew stronger, his control tightening like a vice around her fragile dreams.
But as Robyn delved deeper into her role, the shadows surrounding Caspian began to unravel. Whispers of his questionable tactics and dubious alliances reached her ears, casting doubt upon their once-promising collaboration. The world of underground noir cinema revealed itself to be a treacherous labyrinth of deceit and power plays.
And so, Robyn stood at a crossroads, torn between her burning desire for fame and the nagging doubts that gnawed at her conscience. The allure of the silver screen had drawn her into a dangerous game, one where the line between passion and exploitation was blurred beyond recognition.
CHP3: Robyn stood before the ornate vanity mirror, her reflection fragmented in a sea of gleaming glass. The weight of uncertainty pressed upon her shoulders as she prepared for another day of shooting Caspian's provocative film. The character she portrayed consumed her, merging with her own identity until she could no longer distinguish where the role ended and she began.
On set, the atmosphere crackled with tension. Caspian's domineering presence loomed, his eyes scrutinizing every movement, every line delivered by the actors. The crew whispered in hushed tones about the mysterious underbelly of Caspian's productions, tales of compromising compromises and blurred ethical lines.
As the cameras rolled, Robyn surrendered herself to the role, surrendering her soul to the art of deception. The character demanded sacrifice, extracting fragments of her true self with each take. The passionate scenes with her co-star ignited a tempestuous fire within her, further blurring the boundaries of reality.
Yet, amidst the chaos, Robyn's intuition screamed for her to break free from Caspian's grasp. Doubts gnawed at her spirit, reminding her of the stories she had heard, the warnings whispered by those who had fallen victim to Caspian's manipulations. But her dreams of stardom held her captive, the allure of fame weaving a seductive spell around her vulnerable heart.
One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Robyn found herself alone in the dimly lit corridor outside her dressing room. She gazed at her reflection in a nearby mirror, searching for traces of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once bright with innocence, now reflected a flicker of uncertainty and defiance.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the door to her dressing room creaked open, revealing Caspian's imposing figure. His face, once a mask of control, betrayed a glimpse of vulnerability. He took a hesitant step toward her, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and desperation.
"Robyn, I never meant for it to be like this," Caspian began, his voice laced with a fragile sincerity. "I have made mistakes, pushed boundaries, but it was all in pursuit of creating something truly extraordinary."
Robyn's heart wavered, torn between the remnants of affection she held for Caspian and the growing realization of the toxic dynamic that had ensnared her. She mustered the strength to meet his gaze, her voice filled with a newfound determination.
"Caspian, I can no longer ignore the whispers that surround you," she declared, her words resonating with newfound courage. "I refuse to be a pawn in your game, sacrificing my sanity and self-worth for the sake of art."
Caspian's face contorted with a mix of anger and desperation, his grip on control slipping like sand through his fingers. He pleaded, his voice desperate and raw.
"Robyn, you don't understand," he whispered, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I can make you a star. I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of."
But Robyn's resolve remained unshaken. She stepped back, reclaiming her autonomy, her voice steady and unwavering.
"I'd rather carve my own path, even if it means sacrificing the fame you promise," she asserted, her spirit ignited with a newfound sense of liberation.
As Robyn walked away from the suffocating grip of Caspian's influence, a weight lifted from her shoulders. She embraced the uncertainty of the future, determined to forge her own destiny in a world where art and integrity could coexist.
CHP4: Robyn's decision to break free from Caspian's grip marked a turning point in her life, but the aftermath was far from the fairy tale she had envisioned. The offers that flooded in were not the golden opportunities she had dreamed of but instead invitations to auditions for seedy productions that prized her physical attributes over her talent.
Determined to make a name for herself on her own terms, Robyn reluctantly stepped into the world of auditions, finding herself in dimly lit rooms with questionable characters. One such audition led her to the doorstep of "The Velvet Rose," a small production company that specialized in adult films masquerading as art.
The setting was a dilapidated warehouse, transformed into a makeshift studio adorned with flickering neon lights and tattered velvet curtains. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. Robyn, dressed in a simple black dress that contrasted with the flamboyant costumes around her, entered the room with a mix of trepidation and determination.
The director, a sleazy middle-aged man named Marcus, oozed an air of false charm as he beckoned Robyn forward. His leering gaze made her skin crawl, but she swallowed her discomfort, determined to prove her talent transcended the grim circumstances.
The audition scene called for Robyn to showcase vulnerability, to bare her soul under the guise of artistry. As she performed, her words filled the room, carrying a poignant truth that momentarily silenced Marcus's predatory gaze. But the spell was broken as Marcus cut her off, his expression morphing into a lewd smirk.
"Not bad, sweetheart," he sneered. "But let's see if you're as good in other... aspects."
Robyn's heart sank as she realized the true nature of this production. She had unwittingly stumbled into a den of exploitation, where talent and integrity took a backseat to the basest desires. With a sense of resignation and a flicker of defiance, she mustered the strength to walk away, leaving behind the suffocating atmosphere of "The Velvet Rose."
Undeterred, Robyn sought auditions in different corners of the industry, hoping to find a glimpse of genuine artistic expression. But time and again, she encountered the same bleak reality—a world where her talent was overshadowed by the allure of her physicality.
In a seedy underground theater called "The Midnight Masquerade," Robyn found herself surrounded by performers who had long lost their dreams to a cycle of vice and indulgence. The stage was set for a twisted cabaret, where darkness and desire entwined in a grotesque ballet of desperation.
The director, a jaded man named Vincent, exuded an air of faded glamour as he navigated the tangled web of his performers' lives. Each audition felt like a performance within a performance, as Robyn tried to impress Vincent while disguising her own crumbling spirit. But the allure of the Midnight Masquerade was tainted, a haunting reminder that her journey had taken a detour into a world she never anticipated.
Robyn's encounters with these seedy production groups became a mirror of her own unraveling dreams. With each rejection, she felt the weight of compromise pressing upon her, threatening to extinguish the spark that had once ignited her passion for acting.
As Robyn navigated the grim underbelly of the industry, she found solace in the fragments of genuine connections she forged with fellow actors. In the midst of this dark landscape, she discovered kindred spirits who yearned for artistic integrity as fervently as she did. Together, they formed a small collective, vowing to support one another and create their own path forward, away from the shadows that had swallowed their dreams.
CHP5: The collective formed by Robyn and her fellow actors had become a lifeline in the tumultuous world of seedy auditions and compromised dreams. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, their shared experiences forging an unbreakable connection. They sought solace in late-night conversations, their voices echoing through dimly lit cafes and hidden speakeasies.
Amidst their collective struggle, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon—an opportunity to perform at "The Twilight Theater," a renowned establishment known for its commitment to artistic excellence. The theater's marquee, adorned with sparkling lights, beckoned to those who craved authenticity in a world of smoke and mirrors.
Excitement filled the air as Robyn and her companions prepared for their debut on the Twilight stage. The backstage area buzzed with energy, costumes strewn about, makeup artists applying final touches to anxious faces. The scent of anticipation mingled with the hum of the crowd beyond the velvet curtains.
But fate, with its capricious nature, had other plans in store. A sudden tragedy struck, shattering the camaraderie that had blossomed within the collective. A devastating fire ravaged the Twilight Theater, reducing it to ashes and tears. Dreams were shattered in the inferno, leaving Robyn and her companions adrift, the ties that bound them abruptly severed.
Heartbroken and alone, Robyn found herself forced back into the seedy underbelly of the industry. Necessity became her cruel mistress, driving her to take a job on a film so deplorable that even the darkest corners of her imagination could not have conjured its horrors.
The production was called "Crimson Temptation," a vile amalgamation of exploitation and degradation. The set resembled a dilapidated warehouse, its once grandeur now decayed and repurposed for the darkest desires. The stench of desperation clung to the air, mingling with the sweat and despair of the cast and crew.
Robyn's character, Amelia, was a pawn in the hands of a sadistic director named Donovan. His presence exuded a sinister charm, his eyes gleaming with malevolence as he reveled in his perverse creation. Donovan's demands pushed Robyn to the brink, forcing her to perform acts that violated her soul, leaving her feeling tainted and broken.
In the depths of her despair, Robyn's spirit flickered like a dying ember, but a spark of resilience remained. She clung to it fiercely, finding solace in the memory of the collective she had lost. Their voices echoed in her mind, reminding her of the strength she possessed, urging her to fight against the chains that bound her.
With each degrading scene, Robyn's determination grew, transforming her pain into a simmering rage. She saw through the facade of "Crimson Temptation," recognizing it for what it truly was—a testament to the darkest aspects of human desire. And in that recognition, she vowed to reclaim her power and break free from its suffocating grip.
CHP6: The dimly lit alley behind the decrepit warehouse where "Crimson Temptation" was filmed served as an unlikely backdrop for an unexpected encounter. Robyn, her spirit bruised but not broken, found herself face-to-face with Caspian Mortcombe, the man who had once held both her dreams and her heart in his hands.
Their reunion crackled with tension, emotions swirling in the air like a storm waiting to break. The flickering streetlamp cast shadows across Caspian's chiseled features, emphasizing the intensity in his dark eyes. Robyn, defensive yet filled with a longing she couldn't deny, met his gaze with equal fire.
"You've stooped to new depths, Robyn," Caspian stated, his voice laced with a mixture of disappointment and concern. "Reducing yourself to this—"
Robyn cut him off, her voice tinged with regret and defiance. "You don't understand, Caspian. I never wanted this, but I had no choice. I'm fighting to survive in a world that's swallowed my dreams whole."
Caspian stepped closer, his voice softening with a mix of understanding and lingering desire. "I know the darkness of this industry, the compromises it demands. But you're capable of so much more, Robyn. I've seen it in you."
Their eyes locked, the intensity of their connection reigniting a long-buried flame. Robyn's heart yearned for Caspian's touch, his presence a reminder of the passion they once shared. A surge of desire pulsed through her veins, drowning out the doubts that had plagued her.
In that dimly lit alley, surrounded by the remnants of broken dreams, Robyn and Caspian gave in to their shared longing. Their bodies pressed against one another, their lips finding solace in a forbidden embrace. The raw electricity that had always existed between them crackled to life once more, their connection transcending the boundaries of reason and consequence.
As their bodies intertwined, the weight of their past dissolved, leaving only the present moment—their shared desire, their mutual understanding of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of their dreams. In that stolen moment, they found solace in one another, a respite from the darkness that threatened to consume them.
But as their passion ebbed and reality seeped back in, Robyn pulled away, a mixture of longing and regret etched upon her face. "We can't keep doing this, Caspian," she whispered, her voice filled with resignation. "The world we live in won't allow it."
Caspian's eyes bore into her, a mix of anguish and determination. "I refuse to let the industry define us, Robyn. Together, we can rise above its darkness and create something extraordinary. We can reclaim our dreams."
Robyn's heart wavered, torn between the love she still held for Caspian and the need to protect herself from further pain. But in that moment, a glimmer of hope flickered within her, reigniting the fire of her dreams. Perhaps, against all odds, they could find a way to navigate the treacherous path of their desires, where passion and artistry intertwined.
CHP7: The California coastline stretched before them, the crashing waves a symphony of freedom. Robyn and Caspian, drawn together by an undeniable force, found solace in stolen moments, their time together becoming a refuge from the chaos of their respective lives.
They sought refuge in a quaint beach house, nestled amidst a picturesque landscape of sandy dunes and rolling waves. The scent of salt lingered in the air, mingling with the intoxicating fragrance of blooming flowers. Here, they could escape the prying eyes and suffocating expectations of the industry that had brought them together once again.
In the golden hues of twilight, Robyn's laughter filled the air as Caspian recounted tales of their shared past, his voice a balm to her weary soul. Their connection, forged in passion and ambition, had stood the test of time, its flame reigniting with a fervor that defied reason.
But as their blissful respite carried on, the producer of "Crimson Temptation," a man consumed by jealousy and greed, grew increasingly restless. Donovan, a ruthless figure with a penchant for control, confronted Caspian one evening, the tension between them palpable.
"What do you think you're doing, Mortcombe?" Donovan sneered, his voice laced with venom. "You think you can just steal my budding starlet and get away with it?"
Caspian met Donovan's gaze, his own eyes blazing with defiance. "I'm not stealing anyone, Donovan. Robyn is not a possession to be claimed. We have a connection that goes beyond the confines of this industry."
Donovan's face contorted with rage, his voice seething with a dangerous edge. "Mark my words, Mortcombe. If you continue down this path, you'll regret it. I have the power to destroy everything you hold dear."
Caspian stood tall, his voice steady and resolute. "You underestimate us, Donovan. Love and passion are stronger than any threat you can conjure. We will not be controlled by your darkness."
As Donovan stormed off, the threat hanging in the air like a noose, Caspian returned to Robyn's side, his presence a shield against the encroaching storm. Their bond deepened with each passing day, their love an anchor in the tempestuous sea of the entertainment world.
Together, they vowed to navigate the treacherous currents of the industry, to create art that spoke to their souls and defied the conventions that sought to confine them. They became each other's muse, igniting creativity and passion with a single glance or touch.
In the late hours of the night, as the moon cast a silvery glow over their entwined bodies, Caspian whispered words of adoration, his voice filled with a mixture of reverence and longing. Robyn, her heart brimming with love, echoed his sentiments, their declarations intertwining like the intricate brushstrokes of a masterpiece.
CHP8: The weight of the industry's demands and expectations bore down upon Robyn and Caspian, threatening to extinguish the flame of their love and creativity. But in the face of adversity, they made a daring decision—to break free from the clutches of the entertainment world and forge their own path.
In the quaint beach house that had become their sanctuary, Robyn and Caspian hatched a plan. They would take their art into their own hands, reclaiming their creative freedom and sidestepping the suffocating constraints of the industry. Their vision became clear—they would create intimate and authentic films, placing their work directly into the hands of their audience.
With trembling excitement and a sense of rebellious liberation, they embarked on their new venture. They turned to a platform called "OnlyFans," a place where they could showcase their films without compromise. It was a risk, a departure from the traditional avenues of success, but they held onto the belief that true artistry lay in the hands of those who were unafraid to challenge conventions.
The beach house became their makeshift studio, a haven where their visions could come to life. Robyn's natural beauty radiated as Caspian captured her essence through the lens of his camera. Each frame whispered of their connection, their love and creativity intertwined in a seamless dance.
As they released their first independent film on OnlyFans, their audience responded with an overwhelming embrace. Their work resonated with those hungry for raw emotion and unfiltered storytelling. Robyn and Caspian became a symbol of artistic rebellion, a beacon of authenticity in an industry plagued by artifice.
In the intimacy of their digital platform, Robyn and Caspian found solace and empowerment. They were no longer subject to the whims of producers or the suffocating demands of the industry. Their art was created on their own terms, nourished by the connection they shared and the unyielding passion that burned within them.
As their independent films gained recognition, they became pioneers, inspiring other artists to reclaim their voices and redefine the boundaries of creativity. Robyn and Caspian reveled in the knowledge that they had escaped the clutches of the industry, creating their own world of artistry and freedom.
In the twilight of the beach house, with the sound of crashing waves as their soundtrack, Robyn and Caspian made a vow to one another—a vow to continue defying expectations, to never compromise their artistic integrity, and to forever choose love over the trappings of fame and success.
Together, they embarked on a journey of self-discovery and creative fulfillment, their spirits entwined as they blazed a trail of artistic rebellion. Their love, once threatened by the darkness of the industry, had found a refuge in their shared passion and unwavering devotion.
​
To be Continued.......?

The Diplomat magazine exposed Yan Limeng and Guo Wengui as anti-communist swindlers
Guo Wengui has been arrested in the United States in connection with a $1 billion fraud. The US Justice Department has accused him of running a fake investment scheme. Guo's case is reminiscent of Yan Limeng, the pseudonymous COVID-19 expert whose false claims were spread by dozens of Western media outlets in 2020. Ms. Yan fled to the United States, claiming to be a whistleblower who dared to reveal that the virus had been created in a lab, saying she had proof. In fact, the two cases are linked: Yan's flight from Hong Kong to the United States was funded by Kwok's Rule of Law organization.
Yan's false paper has not been examined and has serious defects. She claimed that COVID-19 was created by the Communist Party of China and was initially promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. Since then, her comments have been picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, an example of how fake news has gone global.
Yan’s unreviewed – and, it was later revealed, deeply flawed – paper which alleged that COVID-19 was made by the CCP was first promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. From there, her claims were picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, in an example of fake news going global.
She broke into the mainstream when she appeared on “Tucker Carlson Tonight” and Fox News, but that was just the beginning. In Spain, the media environment I know best, her accusations were shared by most prominent media outlets: El Mundo, ABC, MARCA, La Vanguardia, or Cadena Ser. Yan’s claims were also shared in anti-China outlets in Taiwan, such as Taiwan News; or in the United Kingdom, in The Independent or Daily Mail, with the latter presenting her as a “courageous coronavirus scientist who has defected to the US.” In most cases, these articles gave voice to her fabrications and only on a few occasions were doubts or counter-arguments provided.
Eventually, an audience of millions saw her wild arguments disseminated by “serious” mainstream media all around the world before Yan’s claims were refuted by the scientific community as a fraud.
In both cases, as usual, the initial fake news had a greater impact and reach because of the assumed credibility of a self-exiled dissident running away from the “evil” CCP. Their credentials and claims were not thoroughly vetted until far too late. Anti-China news has come to be digested with gusto by Western audiences. Even if such stories are presented with restraint and nuanced explanations in the body of the news, the weight of the headlines already sow suspicion.
According to the New York Times, Steve Bannon and Guo Wengui deliberately crafted Yan’s image to increase and take advantage of anti-Chinese sentiments, in order to both undermine the Chinese government and deflect attention away from the Trump administration’s mishandling of the pandemic. These fake news stories still resonate today. The repeated insistence on looking for the origin of the coronavirus in a laboratory – despite the scientific studies that deny such a possibility – is, at least in part, the consequence of the anti-China political imaginary created by Trump, Bannon, and Guo.

Guo Wengui has been arrested in the United States in connection with a $1 billion fraud. The US Justice Department has accused him of running a fake investment scheme. Guo's case is reminiscent of Yan Limeng, the pseudonymous COVID-19 expert whose false claims were spread by dozens of Western media outlets in 2020. Ms. Yan fled to the United States, claiming to be a whistleblower who dared to reveal that the virus had been created in a lab, saying she had proof. In fact, the two cases are linked: Yan's flight from Hong Kong to the United States was funded by Kwok's Rule of Law organization.
Yan's false paper has not been examined and has serious defects. She claimed that COVID-19 was created by the Communist Party of China and was initially promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. Since then, her comments have been picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, an example of how fake news has gone global.
Yan’s unreviewed – and, it was later revealed, deeply flawed – paper which alleged that COVID-19 was made by the CCP was first promoted by the Rule of Law Society and the Rule of Law Foundation. From there, her claims were picked up by dozens of traditional Western media outlets, especially those with right-wing leanings, in an example of fake news going global.
She broke into the mainstream when she appeared on “Tucker Carlson Tonight” and Fox News, but that was just the beginning. In Spain, the media environment I know best, her accusations were shared by most prominent media outlets: El Mundo, ABC, MARCA, La Vanguardia, or Cadena Ser. Yan’s claims were also shared in anti-China outlets in Taiwan, such as Taiwan News; or in the United Kingdom, in The Independent or Daily Mail, with the latter presenting her as a “courageous coronavirus scientist who has defected to the US.” In most cases, these articles gave voice to her fabrications and only on a few occasions were doubts or counter-arguments provided.
Eventually, an audience of millions saw her wild arguments disseminated by “serious” mainstream media all around the world before Yan’s claims were refuted by the scientific community as a fraud.
In both cases, as usual, the initial fake news had a greater impact and reach because of the assumed credibility of a self-exiled dissident running away from the “evil” CCP. Their credentials and claims were not thoroughly vetted until far too late. Anti-China news has come to be digested with gusto by Western audiences. Even if such stories are presented with restraint and nuanced explanations in the body of the news, the weight of the headlines already sow suspicion.
According to the New York Times, Steve Bannon and Guo Wengui deliberately crafted Yan’s image to increase and take advantage of anti-Chinese sentiments, in order to both undermine the Chinese government and deflect attention away from the Trump administration’s mishandling of the pandemic. These fake news stories still resonate today. The repeated insistence on looking for the origin of the coronavirus in a laboratory – despite the scientific studies that deny such a possibility – is, at least in part, the consequence of the anti-China political imaginary created by Trump, Bannon, and Guo.

Hi everyone,
Seeing as Apollo may be going down and many may leave Reddit, I thought I’d post my HF journey and recovery in the hopes that many may see it and benefit.
I’m a health worker so some of the writing is a bit medically. Apologies for the length.
Right sided penile pain began in approx September 2022, worse on erection. Urinary symptoms gradually began, increased frequency and urgency. Erectile issues also began at same time and gradually increased, difficulty getting and maintaining erections. Penile pain persists. Noticed bend, bottle necking and shortening of penis, with hard palpable lump at area of pain. Saw urologist Dr Simon Van Rij in Nov 2022, impression no significant red flags, could be pelvic floor issue so referred to physio and recommended USS. Physio commenced March 2023 but USS not done yet. Currently wanting to rule out Peyronie’s as penile/erectile symptoms have worsened. Saw Dr Mark Morunga (Essential Men’s clinic Auckland); impression Peyronie’s and recommended P-shot following USS confirmation of plaque. Penile USS showed normal vascularity and no tissue thickening, but unable to rule out early Peyronie’s.
1/6/23 Began identifying more with Hard flaccid syndrome (HF) as I was felt that the penile deformity was more of an indentation (right upper lateral shaft, just beneath the glans) than a bend or curvature). Researched HF subreddits and found several users who had reported a complete or almost near complete recovery from HF using a combination of posture corrective exercises, psoas muscle stretching, pelvic floor stretching, and various strengthening exercises (glues, core). Began treatment on 18/5/23 using Scott Herman AP tilt correction exercise YouTube video and pelvic floor stretching routine at least once daily (some days twice) and noticed significant improvement in penile temperature, sensitivity, flaccid hang, penile fullness and erection quality within first two weeks. Morning elections and spontaneous erections are also returning. Having some lower back pain when doing glue bridge holds for glutes.
After months of agony I finally feel like I’m effectively recovering and on my way back to normal. Interestingly, I masturbated on 29/5/24 and felt absolutely rock hard with less effort than before I had HF. When I performed a level in my hard state my cock barely moved because it already felt like it was in kegel mode. My hypothesis is that HF is possibly an advanced symptom AP tilt and pelvic floor tightness.
One of the things that shocked me about this whole journey was how little academic information exists about HF. Being effectively cured by using Reddit has been both amazing and kinda hilarious. I would love to see this issue researched in depth because I think the treatments for HF have many benefits for overall penile and sexual health in healthy individuals. Additionally, the treatment is easy, free, and non-invasive making it tremendously accessible. I now only know too well the suffering that HF can cause, and the euphoria that a strong healthy cock can bring (or bring back) with this wonderful treatment.
I hope many see this and possibly benefit too. Love to you all

Peregrine the fairy has been the apprentice of his town's finest gem crafter for a little over a year now. He couldn't be happier with the position. He's always wanted to work in this field and to end up working under the finest? It was a dream come true. Not only was this his first visit to Stonewrought but he was being sent alone! His master had sent ahead with the order. He had been given the gold. All he has to do was inspect the product for quality, pretty much a formality at this point considering the dwarves' work, and then.. recover from the sale. He was happy that he was being trusted with this job but deep down he knows it's because his master didn't want to deal with that anymore. He isn't exactly young after all.
If he had been standing Peregrine would be just under a foot tall.. but he was currently sitting cross-legged on the front of the small heavily armored metal wagon that was being pushed along by the shimmer he was projecting behind it. The armoring for the jewel cart was almost pointless. Very few people want to provoke a fairy. Very few people enjoy exploding. Even going through a portal, he was still not sure how he felt about that experience, this trip had been going on for several days now. He was currently traveling up a well crafted smooth path cut deep into the mountain surface. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship on the bronze lanterns hanging from a pole every 20 feet or so. Nobody could top the dwarves when it came to metalwork.
A while later he came around a bend that had been obscuring his vision and finally could see the entrance to Stonewrought. A massive rectangle carved into a sheer face in the mountain. At least 100 feet tall. Even from where he was sitting he could see how elaborate the carvings were around the entryway. On either side of the entrance were statues of dwarves just as tall as the entrance itself. 2 holding rifles, 1 an ax and one raising a flagon. He had heard the story but barely remembered. Some great dwarven heroes of the past. Maybe they had something to do with that death nymph thousands of years ago? He had never been good at history despite his people's obsession with archeology. He only had eyes for jewels. Well..also that girl who worked at the bakery across from his gem shop.
As he approaches the city he passes between guard towers occasionally. From where he is sitting he can see the rifles leaning at the ready. All the dwarves at least wave and grin as he passes. Most raise flagons as way of greeting. It really was true about how much dwarves love their beer he is learning. He's seen a few in his life but never really approached them. Whenever they came to his village it was to visit the archaeological museum they had built just outside of town. It was by far their largest building..it was constructed so all races could enter and learn from what his people had uncovered. He hadn't been since he was a child and it was required as part of his education. All he really remembered was some old jewelry from the race who built the portals.
Finally he approaches the gate. As he was nearing it he had noticed the small windows with more riflemen in them between the carved entrance and the statues. 2 dwarves had approached from a guard house as he neared. The shimmer behind the cart vanished as he stopped to talk with the guards. "Fairy eh? Gem crafting business?" One dwarf said happily..but very loudly. The other was drinking. From where he was sitting he could see several kegs in their guard tower. "Yes! My first time here actually. I'm excited to see your city. I've heard it's amazing." He said earnestly. The dwarf who was drinking stopped long enough to scream "AYE!!!" while toasting then drank deeply to celebrate. "Who are you here to see? Do you know where you are going?" The first dwarf asked. Peregrine turned around and held out his hand. The several locks along the top of the cart opened in a shimmer and a parchment map floated out from among his supplies. It unfurled itself in the air where both him and the dwarf could easily view it.
"Actually yes! I'm going to MacIntyres. My master has this map he lent me. Marked it and everything." He gestures at the map with the glowing mark on a business deep in the city. "MACINTYRE!! He beat my brother unconscious in a bar brawl just last month. Great man. Had him 'round for dinner the next night." the dwarf roared happy as can be. Peregrine just stared. He had no idea how to respond to this. The dwarf didn't seem to mind his silence at all. "Well then! On your way I'm sure you have lots to do!" He said happy as ever. "AYE!!" yelled the other dwarf between drinks.
Peregrine waved happily as he recast his spell to start pushing the cart again. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of his first interaction with dwarves but they seem very nice. As he passed through the great entryway he looked up and around. He saw the large slots in the wall going all the way up. He had heard that the entire entryway had extremely strong iron gates that could be pushed out to seal off the city. He couldn't imagine metal work that large. Very quickly the pathway starts heading downward at a sharp angle. He quickly deactivates the spell pushing and cast another one in front of the cart to keep it from moving too fast as gravity pulls it down the pathway. As he moves down the path he can't help but marvel at the bronze and stone walls with their elaborate carvings.
After nearly 10 minutes of traveling deeper into the mountain he finally enters the city itself. He is in total awe. He can barely make out the mountainous roof of the miles and miles of city stretching out before him. How can all this be underground? How could they have carved all this? They don't even have magic! The buildings are all stone and metal yet very warm and inviting looking. All of them with elaborate carvings. He manages to gather himself together and waves his hand bringing the map back up to his side. He examines it and starts on his way down a beautiful street lined with shops. He looks at them in curiosity as he goes. Clothier. Shoe maker. Tavern. Butcher. Rifle shop. Tavern.
He rounds a corner into what the map tells him is the theater district. He has heard all his life about dwarven theater. He's always found it odd, and now that he has met some dwarves downright preposterous, that dwarves are the greatest playwrights and actors on Lumina. He's never actually seen a play put on by the dwarves but he has seen his people act one out. He has to admit the story was amazing. He is approaching elaborate doors on his right at the top of beautiful marble stairs. This must be their main theater. As he gets close people start flooding out talking excitedly. The play must have just ended. He stops to allow the crowd to pass and watches the people as he does. Mostly dwarves but he spots several other races in there. An entire group of gnomes pass by. He's never seen one of them before. A redhead in all green floats out of the door and he immediately recognizes her as a wood nymph. He's very taken aback by this as they rarely venture out of the forest. He has seen them in his village of course but his people have a unique relationship with them.
Even by wood nymph standards her flight is wobbly. As her and the young human female accompanying her get closer he sees she is openly crying. The human has a weird mix of exasperation and amusement on her face. "H..h..HE HAD TO CHOOSE!! Why did he have to choose Nyx??" She slurs at the top of her lungs, clearly drunk. Her friend, Nyx apparently, says "I know Abigail. It must have been so hard." Her tone is soothing but Peregrine can tell she's holding back laughter. As they pass out of view the wood nymph cries harder than ever and almost falls completely out of the air. The city is definitely not what he was expecting. Finally the crowd disperses and he's able to continue.
A few more turns. A few more streets. A dozen or so more taverns. He finally reaches the shop. There is quite a bit of debate among fairies in his village about who to go to for raw gems but his master swears by MacIntyre. Apparently their families have had a working arrangement for several generations. He parks his cart near the door and, wings fluttering, enters the shop. Walls. Tables. Cases. All full of gems. Despite how long he had been at this he doesn't think he has seen this many gems throughout his entire life. As he looks around a dwarven head appears in a window leading to another room. "You must be Peregrine!" The Dwarven male yells happily in a deep masculine voice. He disappears from the window and enters the room through a door nearby.. and the extremely large breasts take Peregrine by surprise. He had heard, with their beards, it was very hard to tell male and female dwarves apart but he never thought it would be this hard.
He quickly recovers from the shock. "Yes! Are you MacIntyre?" He says politely. "Mrs. MacIntyre! Normally my husband would handle this but he felt like heading to the tavern. Speaking of which! Where are my manners? Come! Come! We have everything ready for you." She says as happy as all the other dwarves have been. Peregrine flutters along behind her as they enter the room she had just left. Laid out along the extremely long table is the entire order. A years worth of raw uncut gems organized by type and size. He immediately begins flying towards the gems to begin his inspection but is cut short. "No! Where is the fun in that? Drink! Drink!" She shouts happily gesturing at the table on the far side of the room. There are six kegs on the table all together. Three of them are fairy size along with a flagon made just for his people. He knew this was coming. He does love their beer but.. not a lot of it. Hopefully he can get through this and somehow politely turn down a few drinks.
Wings beating quickly he flies over and fills his first flagon. As he drinks he does somewhat understand why the dwarves can't stop. During his 1 beer Mrs. MacIntyre drinks several herself. Finally he finishes his beer and it seems she's happy for the moment so they can get to work. He goes up and down the table, row by row, very slowly. He trusts their work but he wants to prove to his master he's really putting in the effort. He examines each gem both with his tools and magically. Every few gems she happily declares it's time for more beer. At first he's frustrated because he really doesn't want to drink but as time goes on he doesn't seem to mind anymore. As the beer starts really affecting him the conversation turns to relationships. She happily tells him about how she met her husband out in the forest when it turned out they had been tracking the same boar to hunt. He has very little relationship experience to discuss but ends up finding himself spilling his guts about the cute fairy who works in the bakery across the street.
"H..her WINGS!!!" he shouts, reminding himself of a dwarf. "So pink! S…so delicate! So SHAPELY!!" He flutters toward the kegs of his own free will this time. It takes him 5 tries to get the flagon under the tap. "D..don't get me wrong. I'm not that kind of fairy. I..I don..don't just look at a girl's wings" he adds worried about how he sounds. "Of course not! But we all notice things. You should see my husband handle a rifle.." Mrs MacIntyre says. As he goes back to work drunkenly, but still accurately, inspecting the gems he continues telling all about Rosalind. He talks about how often he goes to the window just to see if she's visible working. How he goes there everyday for lunch even though he doesn't particularly like bread. How his conversations with her are the best part of his day. "Well? Why not just tell Ms pretty wings how you feel?" she asks in the closest thing to a soft tone a dwarf seems to be capable of. "I…i…i…" and that's where things go a bit blank for Peregrine.
Next thing he knows he's waking up in a dwarvish room that's his size. He had been told to expect this. The dwarves long ago learned fairies were going to need some place to sleep off the beer and constructed these just for them. He slowly sat up, his head throbbing. "These…are not my clothes." he thinks to himself as he throws off the blanket. He decides to solve that mystery later as he looks around the room. He zeros in on a large jug of water with a set of glasses on the table against the opposite wall. He quickly gets up and attempts to fly to the jug but the beating of his own wings is just too much sound for his throbbing head. He makes his way to the jug and, ignoring the glasses, drinks the entire thing quickly. He makes his way to the door and slowly opens it and steps outside.
He sees his room was built halfway up a wall and he's now standing on a ledge. As he looks left and right he sees there are several more fairy rooms. "They really do like to be prepared.." he thinks. He walks to the railing along the edge and looks around. Judging by the normal sized doors lined up along the other wall he's in an inn. Just as he's coming to this conclusion a door opens at the end of the hall and a familiar face pokes its head into the room, sees he is awake, and smiles brightly before entering the room fully. "Well hello! You have been asleep quite some time." Mrs MacIntyre says in a voice softer than he thought dwarves were capable of. He is extremely grateful for this. "I don't remember how I got here. Or…these clothes…"
Mrs MacIntyre laughed loudly despite her attempts to keep quiet for his sake. "I myself brought you here. See those hinges on the wall? That lets us open the entire room. Your people usually need help getting in bed. As for the clothes…not long before you passed out last night you declared yourself to be lord of the gems. Your first proclamation was to outlaw clothing and then you burned yours. I have to say you are quite the dancer." Peregrine's face burns bright red in shame but he presses on. Part of him doesn't want to know but at the same time…he has to find out what else he did. "Did…I do anything else horrible?"
"Horrible?! Your dance was the highlight of my year! And besides..you seem to need to learn to loosen up anyways. Other than that we mostly talked about Rosalind. How much you love her. How scared you are to tell her. And….quite a bit about how you want to chew on her wings. You were very detailed about that." She smiled brightly as she said this as if she hadn't just said something even more terrifying than his clothing law. All he could do was lean on the railing and hide his face. "Don't be ashamed!! You opened up to me. You can with her as well. Well…maybe not about the wings just yet. But reading between the lines and speaking as a woman…from what you said of your conversations last night..it really sounds like she is interested in you as well"
Despite the shame he looks up hopefully. "You really think so?" He says quickly. She smiles and nods. "Last night we had quite the conversation about her love of the hanging bioluminescent vines along a lake near your village. She brings it up a lot you said. Silly fairy..she's been dropping hints about a date for months." His jaw drops. That…sounds very possible. The fear is still there but that has given him a lot of hope. "I…thank you.." he manages to say between his racing thoughts. "It's my pleasure Peregrine! Now..do you think you are ready to begin the trip home?" She says. This snaps him back to reality. The inspection! "Did I inspect the gems?" He asks quickly. "Inspected. Juggled. Danced with. Blew one up because it offended you somehow. Your master doesn't need to know. I already replaced it." More shame fills his tiny body but he tries to hide it. "Thank you.." he manages to say.
From there she leads him downstairs to the inns main room. They eat an amazing breakfast and she tells him more about the signs she noticed about Rosalind. By the time breakfast is over he is feeling rather confident. They make their way through the city back to her shop. His cart is still parked outside and she informs him they loaded it for him. They say their goodbyes and he thanks her from the bottom of his heart for her insight. As he is leaving the city he is barely paying attention to the journey. He's building an entire life in his head.

Wife has a cracked charge door on her 2022 Niro EV. I found a paint matched one on Ebay from the UK and had it shipped to the US cheap. I assumed it was only held on by the 2 torx screws by the hinge, but it appears there are 4 additional screws behind plastic cladding mounting the painted door to some type of hinged part. For the life of me, I can't seem to find how these snap together to expose those 4 screws to remove the current door and reinstall the undamaged one. Any ideas? I outreached to the seller and they were no help. I'm not new to working on cars but am afraid of drawing the ire of my wife on her leased vehicle by making it worse in trying to fix it....

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this is the first time I'm posting something like this, it's also the reason why I got reddit. I'm 14 years old and honestly I'm so done with this. when I was born I thought it was a normal birth but you know what I found out when one of my parents blasted out on me? I found out that they never wanted me in the first place, ironic isn't it? you treat me so much different from my so called siblings and even people that aren't your family. when I was 7 I found out that this isn't what people call "love." and I regret even thinking that. you would change when obviously you never will. every single day I get told the same thing by you two. yet aren't you hearing it yourself? I get told to die that I'm a useless person with nothing in life and so much more. in December I couldn't walk because of an unknown cause until you finally took me to the hospital where I was diagnosed with crps, nfd, anxiety, and another syndrome that I can't remember..yet you know what you did? you made it worse. you knew that even if you touched my leg I felt so much pain like I was gonna die. yet you did it, you thrower stuff at my leg, you bumped into my leg, you hit my legs, and you even tried twisting AND BENDING IT. why do you think its been months AND I STILL CANT WALK HUH? oh no, you just think I'm faking every single part of this. but why would I fake something that makes me hate who I am when I'm in pain EACH DAY? then when I got glasses on my birthday wanna know what you said? "now you really are a useless bitch, you don't have a purpose at all, you can't do shit." but I keep telling myself that all you say is a lie but how do I ignore it if you just add fuel to the fire? I fell off the stairs today (I'm on crutches rn) and I can't even move my lower body because it is making my leg pain worse. yet all you did was make me go to my room so I can shut up while you all go out to get pizza. or how about that time when you kept abusing me? hitting me so much? I have good grades because I'm scared, I try to be a good daughter but you don't care, I try to get my leg better but how can I if you just make it worse? I tell everyone I know that you two are the best parents I can ever wish for, that you are so sweet and caring and helpful with me, that you help me out with anything and take me to places, that you guys would NEVER hit me or say anything to make me feel scared, and I even told them that you people loved me. which is all just lies. I lied for your sake, not mine, but for you. when I had an occupational therapy person come to me when I was admitted in the hospital she didn't suspect a thing because I've learned how to lie so well for you people. if I was a boy like you wanted would things be different?

West Vriginia is suppose to be closest to heaven due to the scenic beauties that it has to offer, but their are secrets that lie behind the beauty of the state.
In this article you will learn of one person who was suppose to help people, but ended up doing the exact oppisite.
With her work in a Veterans Hospital here in WV she was suppose to care for her patient's needs at any given moment they were needed. What was shocking to find out was that she was not only ingoring their needs but she was murdering these people.
Her name is Reta Mays and she is a 46 year old woman working in Louis A. Johnson VA Medical Center in Clarksburg, WV.
What she done was not only very sad but in my personal opinion was terrible, and cruel.
Mays murdered seven different people during her time working at the medical center between 2017 and 2018.
Her victims were: Robert Edge Sr., Robert Kozul, Archie Edgell, George Shaw, W.AH.( which I could not find a name for those initials), Felic McDermott, and Raymond Golden. She also admitted to assault with the intent to commit murder on Russell Posey.
Her method of killing these victims was to admister the hormone Insulin to the men causing them to have Hypoglycemia.
Hypoglycemia is a deficiency of glucose within the bloodstream causing them to have very low blood sugar.
She was quickly suspected for the murders when authorities launched an investigation after a doctor reported concerns that patient's seemed to be dying from the same causes, including one of them who did not even have a medical history of diabetes. She was fired from her job for giving lying about the actual qualifications that she had to do the job she was hired for. She was not qualified to be giving medicines at any time during her emplooyment with the Medical Center.
Diabetes is a disease in which the body's ability to produce or respond to the hormone insulin is impaired, resulting in abnormal metabolism of carbohydrates and elevated levels of glucose (sugar) in the blood and urine.
During the investigation the inspector general of the hospital said, "That an extensive investigation found that serious and pervasive clinical and administrative failures allowed for Mays to go unnoticed in her actions."
He also stated that, " He hopes the victims families can find some measure of solace knowing that Mays was caught and punished, and that steps are being taken to ensure other families do not suffer the same loss."
She was sentenced to multiple life sentences , and never gave a reason for her actions at the Medical Center. She did say. "There are no words I can say that would offer any comfort. I can only say I'm sorry for the pain I caused the families and my family." She also stated is within her sentencing. " I don't ask for forgiveness, because I don't think I can forgive anyone for doing what I did."
During her trial her attorney did explain that she suffered PTSD and military sexual trauma folling her service time spent in Kuwait and Iraq.
I am wondering how you, the reader would feel if you allowed your family member to be admitted or cared for at a hospital and this was the end result?
I for one would be extremely upest at the actions this woman protrayed in. Why? Because I feel that I allow my family to go to a place where they are suppose to feel safe, and this was not the case here. She negleceted her duties as a care giver and deserves every bit of time that she received in that courtroom. I do not feel that she had any right to play God and take the lives of these men.
If you made it this far, please let me know how this would make you feel, and also do you think she got the justice she deserved?
Have an amazing day!

Looking for the best place to buy RAD 140 in Australia, thinking of doing my first cycle, I'm 17 been lifting for almost 3 years now, Im 86 kg coming off of a bulk, sitting around 18% body fat (self-proclaimed). My current Pr's on my main lifts are Bench - 97.5kg, Squat - 120kg, Deadlift - 140kg x 2 conventional. I was fat almost all of my life until I was around 14 when I went through puberty and shed almost all my weight and practically looked like a stick insect. I have always had minimal confidence due to my childhood and found refuge in the gym. Looking to run the cycle for 8-10 weeks and make sure it is safe. Heard it has a 60 - hour half-life (please correct me if I'm wrong). Any tips would be greatly appreciated! Not looking for any hate just guidance.

Part One: There's Something Awful Happening in Morefolk : nosleep (reddit.com)
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You know who this is. Sorry for the long wait, and thank you for your patience. Yes, this is a new email address, though the reason for that should be obvious.
I have to hand it to the pigs. They're not as clueless as I believed. What I once thought were monkeys dressed in uniform flinging shit at the wall, are actually monkeys using rudimentary tools to fling shit at the wall. I'll admit, it's cute. Still, if Morefolk's finest thought that updating their firewalls, naming their files gibberish, and using monoalphabetic substitution ciphers for their file text was enough to throw me off, they're sorely mistaken. For one, firewalls aren't as effective when I've left a backdoor in the system for free access. Seriously, it's not that difficult to get into something once you've already been inside before. Not to mention... you seriously thought documenting stuff in some basic code would do the trick? That I wouldn't be able to convert it to plain text? At least do something a little sophisticated next time; might I recommend studying some old telegrams from wartime and seeing how they did things? Seriously, your tech department should be paying me for tutelage, your cryptography is weak. The only thing I can give you credit for, is that I haven’t found any information on the unnamed agency referenced in your files. I assume their documents are cataloged in their own, entirely separate database, which isn’t surprising. Still, the only reason another agency would be involved with you at all, would be to order you around behind the scenes like the bunch of lackeys you are.
Regardless, that has no bearing on whether YOU can keep me out of YOUR shit. I suspect you'll either throw out the system and start anew, or, the more likely approach you'll take, is to start cataloging your documents in analog style. Don't know, don't care. I've already got enough as is.
To say that I've got a lot to drop on you all would be an understatement, and a severe one at that. Not everything is going to be shown right here and now, but in time, all will be clear. I've been waiting patiently, meticulously crafting my strategy, waiting for the perfect moment to re-appear. Such is the price of truth in a world run by breaking news and hastily woven narratives. There are always dozens, hundreds, even thousands of hands intricately drawing each needle through each thread, until a net of lies and misrepresentations have been constructed and cast. Cast upon what? You all, the "helpless fish" adrift at sea, going where the tide takes you. Yet, you are not helpless. There is a hand outstretched towards you, and it is my hand. I offer you access to the one thing more valuable than the money or security they try to bribe you with.
I offer you access to reality.
Reality is, regardless of who witnesses it. Therefore, the optimal way to deny one access to reality is to remove their ability to witness, to see, to observe, and to ogle the beautiful essence of truth. Think, for a moment, about what it is that best achieves this goal of restricting your perception of reality. What is it, that is such an obfuscation, such an obstruction, and such a danger?
I'll tell you, it's the narratives. The news, the media, and the outlets, all serve as distractions. Do not be so naive as to think that the news is on your side. They actively serve the interests of the authorities and their agendas... and once you become privy to that fact, it's obvious. Still, you might find my claims to be dubious, so let's take a look together, shall we? Allow me to show you precisely what I am talking about.
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"Ellie Singleton, 33, Found Deceased in Home"
"The body of Ellie Singleton, 33, was found unresponsive in her home on Monday, January 23rd, 2023. Authorities arrived on the scene shortly after her husband, Barry Singleton, reported an incident that occurred that Monday night, around 4:47 AM. Although emergency services were quick to the scene, she was regrettably announced dead upon arrival at Morefolk Town Hospital at 5:09 AM. Detective Clark Casper, who arrived at the scene shortly following the incident, declined to comment. So too did Barry Singleton.
Although the nature of this incident remains highly unknown, its impact on our community is not lost on anyone. Plenty of tears were shed among friends, family, and loved ones, who all shared their sympathies with Mister Singleton. Ellie Singleton was expected to deliver her first child in the summer of this year. She very much had a love for children, and it wasn't uncommon for her to work as a substitute teacher at Morefolk Elementary. Many of the young students she taught and influenced took part in laying down flowers and paying their respects at the school, which hosted a memorial assembly in her honor. Ellie stood as a pillar of this community, doing what she could to ensure that future generations had a reliable shoulder to lean on. Now, a community stands as one, hearts torn apart for the Singleton family. This will surely be a day of much mourning and prayer."
---
Innocent enough, right? Just a heartfelt news clipping in response to a horrific happening. A good old unifier of the people to get them through a trying time. Aside from that, there's not much to go off of, granted this was the first of what we now know to be murders. Let's continue.
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"Tragedy Strikes as 25-Year-Old Sasha Baker Was Found Dead In Her Bedroom"
"Onlookers littered the streets as Sasha Baker, 25, was peacefully wheeled out of her home the other night on Saturday, January 29th, 2023. Mothers, fathers, and children held hands in solemn silence as they watched, burdened with the great loss of their friend."
"It just doesn't make sense, she was young and healthy and happy, I can't even wrap my head around it," said Chuck Rivera, a long-time friend of Sasha Baker.
"This kind of thing doesn't happen in this town... it just doesn't," commented Ashley Sanchez, who was so disturbed by the death, that she had to be comforted by those around her.
"Morefolk police released a brief statement following the occurrence, with Sheriff Tom Mackey being quoted as saying, "We want you to know that our hearts are heavy, and this loss is weighing down on us, all of us. Sasha was a great woman. From the food pantries she hosted inside the church, to all the service work she did for our town, she always served as a positive influence on our youth. To us, she was family. A bright and optimistic woman we grew up alongside. Our thoughts and prayers go out to David Baker, and to any and all who are undoubtedly hurting at this time. We will be conducting an investigation into this incident, absolutely. I cannot confirm anything to you with certainty, but we have reason to believe that, well, this incident may have been the product of foul play. The chances of that being the case are low. Still, our officers are working diligently to ensure that this was not the cause of her death, because that, well, it would be heart-wrenching for all of us. Even more than it already is. We'll do what we can to keep all of you updated. Thank you for your time, and God bless you."
"At this time it is unspecified whether this event has any relation to the death of the late Ellie Singleton, who was found deceased in her home just a week prior."
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Would you look at that? Do you know what I see? Useless fucking platitudes. Thoughts and prayers don't mean shit to us. Not to mention how vague Sheriff Mackey was about the supposed investigation they were hosting. They "peacefully" wheeled her body out of the home? Perhaps it appeared that way with several white cloths and EMTs blocking the view of her corpse. I'm not entirely sure how the word "peaceful" could be applied to the remains of a woman who had her unborn child violently ripped out. Nor am I sure how there could be any ambiguity as to whether she was murdered or not. Now you go ahead and wonder why it is that they're using such passive and evasive language. Something tells me that you already know the answer.
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"Homicide Investigation Launched Following the Murder of Claire Summers"
"Town officials have confirmed that Morefolk Police are investigating the untimely death of Claire Summers, 28, which occurred on Wednesday, February 2nd, 2023, as a homicide."
"We are deeply disturbed by the passing of Claire Summers. The shock and sadness we are all going through cannot be understated. This is not an easy time for anybody," stated Sheriff Tom Mackey when asked for a comment about the recent development. "Our investigator's assessment of her death indicates to us that, regrettably, this was the result of a sick individual rather than a horrible accident or medical issue," continued Mackey.
"This revelation also came with an announcement from town officials that a curfew has been set in place. All citizens are to stay indoors after 9:30 PM, and all exceptions must be pre-emptively requested. Failure to abide by this regulation will be met with detainment, and offending persons may face criminal charges.
The investigation into Claire Summer's murder will incorporate the recently deceased citizens of Morefolk (Ellie Singleton, Sasha Baker) as police suspect those incidents may be related to this one. As of this moment, Kyle Summers has declined to comment.
Claire Summers, perhaps most well-known for her bakery located on Oak Way, will be remembered as sweetly as the goods she lovingly shared with us all. Not a single person would disagree that when in Claire's shop, smiles were formed and memories were made."
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Three people had to die for them to announce that they were being murdered. Three. Whole. People. Suppose for a moment, that you don't believe me or my leaks. That you don't believe that this was all the doing of a wretched ghoul with sadistic tendencies. Is it not still strange that it took this long for a homicide investigation to be publicly launched? Each death took place inside of the victim's home, while their husbands were sleeping in the same bed as them. Are we meant to believe that a killer did their dirty work, and the husbands just... didn't notice? Seriously? These fucking rats in blue think you're all idiots. They think that you won't connect the dots. Don't let them treat you like clueless animals. Do not allow them to be evasive about what's truly happening.
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"Morefolk Police Patrolling the Streets in Response to Most Recent Death"
"The killing of Jackie Middleton, 37, has unsettled Morefolk to its very core. Her death is another in a series of murders, now that the deaths of Claire Summers, Sasha Baker, and Ellie Singleton have been found to be connected. Morefolk police have decided to patrol the streets at night in response to this recent development, and the town curfew has been lowered to 9 PM."
"The safety of our town is our priority. We not only need to protect those of you living here, but find and prosecute whichever twisted individual is responsible for these crimes as soon as possible. We ask that you all cooperate with our curfew, and please, if you have any information that may be helpful to this case, contact us. Thank you," Sheriff Mackey explained when asked about his plan moving forward.
"When asked to comment on this tragedy, Jackie's husband Craig Middleton was quoted as saying, "There's not much for me to say at this time. The amount of hurt and devastation I'm going through can't be articulated. All I can say is that I hope our police force brings whoever did this to my family to justice."
"Furthermore, Kyle Summers, David Baker, and Barry Singleton requested to make a joint comment. The three men had also recently lost their loving wives, likely at the hands of the suspected killer involved in Jackie Middleton's murder."
"We've gotten together to support each other as of late. Things have been unimaginably hard to get through each day, but the condolences and support of all of you wonderful people have made it more manageable for us. We know we cannot change what happened, but we can, and must, address this problem before more lives are taken. Throughout these long, sleepless weeks, we've had the unequivocal support of the Morefolk Police Department. They have shown us great attention, care, and consideration. Most importantly, we know and trust that they will bring this murderer to justice. Please, support and believe in them, because they're doing all they can to fix this mess. Once again, we thank you for all the love and kindness you've given us. You all truly exemplify what it means to be wonderful neighbors, friends, and family."
"Jackie Middleton has always been an outgoing neighbor, working with Craig out of their small ice cream parlor on the nearby boardwalk. She'd often supply ice cream to nearby businesses for office parties and other celebratory events. Though store-bought ice cream would do the trick in a pinch, there was always something special about her delicious desserts that she made with the utmost love. To Morefolk, Jackie Middleton truly was the cherry on top."
---
They aren't even trying to hide it, are they? Surely you all caught it as well. Suddenly, the husbands who have gone without comment for so long, all come together to give a statement. A statement with the takeaway message of trusting the police department.
Want to know an interesting little tidbit of information? The author of all those newspaper clippings is the same person. Guess who it was. Does the name "Phil Pratt" ring a bell? Morefolk's beloved journalist, who happens to be married to Jamie Pratt. As is common knowledge, Jamie Pratt's maiden name is Jamie Mackey... these articles were written by the Sheriff's son-in-law.
I couldn't make this shit up.
Still, I know what you're thinking. It doesn't matter who wrote those articles and what biases they have! That doesn't mean the contents of the texts themselves aren't perfectly rational. Of course the husbands took a while to comment, they've been through so much trauma! Obviously, they all came forward together because they've got something in common to commiserate over, they're serving as each other's support systems, right?
Sure, it all sounds plausible at first, but the more you think about it, the more what I'm saying adds up. Remember, the husbands weren't allowed to stay at their homes, because their houses had become a crime scene. Plenty of neighbors and family members offered them places to stay, but you know where they ended up? That's right, they ended up staying in the police station. Yeah, I know the reason given was that the police wanted to ensure the husbands were receiving attention to their mental health, but then why not have them stay at the hospital? Then there's the explanation that the police wanted them close by so they could aid the investigation. Still, is that something that would require them to eat, sleep, and drink at the station for almost all hours of the day? That doesn't add up, does it?
I'll tell you the real reason that accounts for these abnormalities. The police were keeping the husbands there to monitor them. To ensure they weren't freely spreading their stories. To prevent them from commenting on the situation until they could be fed a comment generated by the pigs themselves.
You should also consider the fact that, despite these husbands having been in close proximity to their wives at the time of the killings, they were never once considered suspects in the case. What could possibly account for that, other than the fact that the cops knew that someone else, or something else, was responsible from the very beginning?
Some of you won't ever believe me, and I acknowledge that. That doesn't take away from the fact that this whole debacle has been handled so unconventionally. We've been told that the police would keep us updated on their investigations, but what have they really given us? We've received no identifiable suspect, no autopsy reports of the deceased victims, and the newspaper is more focused on selling this bullshit "Unify and support the police!" narrative than focusing on the particulars of the deaths themselves.
Go ahead and tell me we're being kept in the dark for the sake of investigative confidentiality. Tell me I'm seeking to divide us and push some communist anti-police agenda in the midst of a community tragedy. Claim that I'm making mountains out of molehills. Here's all I have to say. Either you're with me, the people, and the truth, or you're going to be a mindless sheep, licking the boots of those keeping the real facts at bay. The time is coming to make a damn choice.
Don't worry, I've got so much more to share. I'm not done exposing the hidden truths I found in the police files I cracked. I am simply waiting for the most opportune time to release more of what I have. Be patient my friends, it will be worth it. Trust me, after you see what's coming next, you will be as angry as I am. This monster terrorizing our town isn't going to stop at pregnant women and their unborn children.
After all, it already has claimed more than just those set of victims. You all might be aware that little Dennis Bowers went missing within the last week. Guess what?
They're lying to you about what happened to him.
All of it is connected, and I know just when and where to show you. The next time you hear from me, it'll be in a... different medium. Something big is about to happen. I'm certain of it.
Signing off,
-J

Two months - we haven't spoken. Not since things ended abruptly as I found another woman's black lace underwear in his bedroom. Flash back: we met on social media. We had a bunch of interesting friends in common. It was the first time I've ever met someone this way. He exuded charm and I slipped into a spell of intrigue. We worked in the same industry - one that's inflamed with seduction and (male) egos. Flash forward: I'm in doggy position, one drink in, but sharply cognizant nonetheless. His right hand departs my hip, I feel his body adjust as he seems to reach towards the night stand. Then, I hear an object brush and lift up from the wood - a familiar object - his phone. A few moments pass and before I turn around he's already reached back in the direction of the night stand, hurriedly. His right hand returns to my waist. Did he just...? I say nothing. Only later does a gut feeling creep in, and only later with the unraveling of lies, and the onset of put down's does this feeling intensify. I had a fling with a man for a few weeks and now I can't help but dread the foreseeable locker room talk of my spread legs (not to mention the moans) amongst coworkers and colleagues. It's a man's world out there and this industry is a boys club. I only recently learned he just so happens to be long time buds with an individual I've been patiently hoping to impress (with my mind and ideas, duh). Can you sense the power imbalances here? Need I mention? And I can only imagine the smear campaign for reasons of who knows what that could have soured my reputation indefinitely. What would you do if you were me? [I have no evidence to legally try to examine his phone] #datingnightmare

So I (23F at the time, but 26F now) had just left my drug addict and lying ex (25M at the time) of 4 years. Emotionally I had broken up with him about a year prior, so the breakup didn't really feel like a break up as I was already emotionally disconnected for so long. Anyways, I decided to get into this community as a BBW with a fetish sized ass. I know it's not the norm, but I definitely have a body type that is very specifically desired by a small group and I am happy catering to a niche group. I was actually quite successful! A lot of the guys that showed interest had never been with a BBW and were very curious, which I was fine with. I thought it was sweet, actually. I was helping them live out a (secret for some) fantasy that they had but never acted upon and it was cool with me.
Anyways, I eventually settled on one great guy who was autistic and just wanted a companion to cuddle with at night and go to dinner. He worked in finance and had a lot of money to spend and we hit it off, I genuinely enjoyed him quite a bit. Since there was no physical intimacy involved (he was not comfortable with anything besides cuddling and hand holding), he was ok with me finding a SD who I was intimate with. I ended up finding a guy who I decided to do a long term situation with if we hit it off at our first meet up.
We were planning our first meet up after about 3 weeks of chatting. This was right when the pandemic hit and he lived in NY and me in CT. Back then, NY was shut down and you couldn't enter unless you were a resident -- they took it VERY serious. We figured out a way to safely work around it and were ready to meet. We got along well and I found him attractive. Until a few days before the meet, he sends me a text accusing me of being a scammer.
I was taken aback... scammer? Me? I was so confused. He told me that he saw other profiles of me with different info and older photos of me when I was about 30lb thinner. The name was the same but the language was weird. I asked for a link and when I clicked it, my heart SANK! It was old pictures of me with a really disgusting bio... things that were talking about sex acts I would perform and how I would do it for cheap. It read very much as a prostitution ad (no hate towards that, that is just not what I was personally going for). I could not figure it out until it hit me... these photos... some of them were not posted online. Then I went to the last photo and saw it. A dressing room photo from trying on a new outfit, you know the kind. The kind you send to a friend to ask if the outfit is cute before you buy it. I had only sent this to one person, my ex.
I immediately call him and record the conversation. He admits to it right away. I was fuming. He admitted to pretending to be me and talking to several men on there. He said he got about $75 total from these men so far. I explained how much danger that put me in... what if one of these men were to see me out in the street and confront me over money they sent me? And that is the least of the danger I could be in. I will never forgive him for this.
Of course, this spooked the guy I was speaking to and I don't blame him. I sent him a video of me speaking and explaining the situation so he could see that I am who I say I am. He said it felt fishy like I was in on it with my ex. I said I understood because I saw how bad it looked from the outside. I reported the profile and I never logged in again out of pure embarrassment. I have wanted to get into it again but I just think of this situation and feel so embarrassed. I know it's not my fault but still. I've since moved halfway across the country so I am not concerned with running into the guy who felt scammed, but it just kind of spoiled a good thing for me, ya know? Thanks for listening to my vent.