A s China is gradually getting back to business after the COVID crisisthe coronavirus crisis is still dominating social media discussions. But the way the virus comes up in online debates has changed over the past few weeks, as the global health crisis has become increasingly politicized. Rather than a show of global solidarity, the pandemic has spawned a lot of finger-pointing in online media and on social networking sites across the world. Who is to blame for the spread of the virus?
Who is doing more, which leader is doing better, where is the crisis mismanaged? What is fake news, what is truth? Who writes or says what for which reason? Throughout the lockdown period in January, February, and March, Fang Fang wrote about life in quarantine in province capital Wuhan, the heart of the epicenter, documenting everything from the weather to the latest news and the personal stories and tragedies behind the emerging crisis.
Amid the panic and uncertainty of the early days of the lockdown, social media flooded with rumors, fake news, and misinformation. Chinese web users were looking for alternative reliable sources to find out what was really happening in Wuhan.
She soon became a go-to first-hand account of what was going on in the city; she was the voice of a quarantined city in distress. At a time when people were craving unfiltered information and distrusting official media, her words became an anchor for many in a sea of confusing news flows. The fact that Fang is a respected author contributed to the popularity of her online writings. With her compassionate representations of everyday life in Wuhan, she has since long been an important author for the regional literature.
She has remained a relevant author throughout the years, even receiving the prestigious Lu Xun Literary Prize in Besides writing about problems such as overcrowded hospitals and mask shortages, she also directly questioned how authorities were handling the crisis and warned other writers for propaganda manipulation.
By demanding more transparency and accountability from Chinese local leadership, Fang was saying the things so many people wanted to say and was asking the questions so many wanted answers to. The criticism that Fang Fang has since been facing on Chinese social media is unprecedented. The author has seen an online stream of death threats and violent comments. Fang Fang arguably would not have received as much backlash if China had not come to face such international scrutiny in light of the global spread of COVID Many saw Fang, a Wuhan native and acclaimed author, as a spokesperson for the people in times of fear, uncertainty, and collective suffering.
But as China increasingly came under international pressure over how it handled the epidemic in its early phases, anti-foreign and nationalistic sentiments grew by the day. The fact that the original title of the book emphasized that COVID started in Wuhan  was also something many netizens found offensive. The Wuhan Diary controversy seems to be an ongoing one.Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar.
Early morning, daughter is back in school. Nothing pretty, just a quick release to one of my favourite fantasies. Naughty schoolgirl being spanked and having sex with stern yet horny and hot headmaster. Puts ideas in my mind. Home from weekly shop. Break the bog brush as I clean the loo. How glamorous is my life? Decide to go take a lie down with my Kindle and a smutty book. Indulge in a more leisurely playtime and a long, slow orgasm. Bake a Jamaican cake to use up tinned fruit in the pantry.
Love new recipes and this one looks like it could be a good one. I may be big and beautiful but I have to work at being healthy.
Needs to be a balance, I think. Nearly time to go pick up daughter from school. Lament to husband lack of getting anything done. I disagree as that is one of my more kinkier fantasies.
Zumba kicks my butt with the new moves. I love it though; I feel almost coordinated after over a year at it. The last song makes me smile as last time I heard it I was watching a guy whip a pretty lady on stage. Straight into the morning pre-school routine.
From “Voice of the People” to “Traitor of China”: The Rise and Fall of Fang Fang’s Wuhan Diary
Bus is late, which makes us late for school. Come home and write. Find one of my favourite tops in a charity shop, just like the lilac rose one I have and love but is now too big for me. Chat with my bestest overseas mate; we met online eight years ago at literotica. He also provides fantasy fodder. We never mess about though he knows what I write about him. He reads it all. We have fun and during our typed conversation I remember a guy I had a crush on in my late teens.
Find him on Twitter and send him a message. Wake from an intensely sexy dream.Cassie Ruwaldt, 29, stands near a large wooden train built by her stepfather who used building the train as a pretense to sexually abuse her as a child. Ruwaldt is fighting to keep it from being displayed in front of Metolius City Hall.
A simple, brightly colored wooden train has become a symbol in Metolius. City officials say it honors their railroad past. But for Madras mother Cassie Ruwaldt, it represents a decade of childhood sexual abuse.
He was convicted of sexually abusing her, usually in his woodshop. Ruwaldt, 29, wants the train destroyed in memory of victims of child abuse and sexual assault. Instead, the elected leaders of this town of people voted this month to display it outside City Hall. Investigators searched his home on 10 acres outside Madras and seized the diary of his teenage stepdaughter — Ruwaldt.
It described years of sexual abuse at his hands. Pickett ultimately pleaded guilty to 36 felonies related to child sex abuse and child pornography.
Pickett was a county employee who worked primarily at the cemetery in Madras. Before his arrest, he was known to neighbors for the oversized toy wooden village spread around his property. Pickett began abusing Ruwaldt when she was 8 years old. He used woodworking projects as an excuse to spend time with her and isolate her from her family, she said.
Over the years, Ruwaldt thought often about that train and what might have happened to it. It was a case that stayed with LeRiche, as well. Throughoutpublic works employees refurbished it one car at a time in the city shop.
With its historic roundhouse and turntable in the center of town, Metolius has always been a train town, Metolius Mayor Carl Elliott told The Bulletin. In February, Ruwaldt nearly wrecked her car when she saw the train for the first time in years, now completely restored and proudly displayed in the center of town. I called my mom crying. I was like, how does this even happen? Ruwaldt attended the next Metolius City Council meeting in March, along with her husband, LeRiche and other supporters.
With April being Child Abuse Prevention Month, she suggested the city burn the train in honor of child victims of sexual abuse. She even offered to buy it from the city, including the restoration cost.
She said she was not prepared for the response she got. Audio from the meeting confirms she was met with resistance from councilors, who told her the city had invested money into restoring the train and they hoped she could see it as something beautiful coming from a tragedy.
Elliott, the mayor, told The Bulletin the city was willing to work with Ruwaldt on a sale, and the train was removed from display.
The 50-Year-Old in Her Hottest Relationship Yet
The city polled residents about what to do with the train and an overwhelming majority supported displaying it outside City Hall, he said. I wish she would have got back to us, I really do. The negative reception by city councilors brought on further stress. We are flabbergasted that this is even still a thing.
LeRiche said public officials should be sympathetic to crime victims who might see an object and be reminded of the worst things that have happened to them. The train now sits outside a city warehouse on Washington Street, visible from the highway though not officially on display.
Today she runs a jewelry business and a photography business, while she and her husband of eight years raise two children.Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. I want to go back to my place in Queens to do laundry and pay bills; he bought groceries to make me breakfast tomorrow and feels hurt I want to reschedule.
I relent.KPOP Sex Diaries Collection #6
Back to his apartment. Life is weird. Morning blowjob time! One thing that makes me feel really submissive is my promise to Boyfriend when we started dating that every morning on weekends, he gets a BJ.
I suck him off until he is close to coming, then he flips me over and comes on my butt. Must bring that up with him later. Boyfriend goes down on me in the shower. Both of us are horny now. Alas, I cannot even afford to think about buying the matching panties. A pretty Bettie Page lookalike is standing in the window at AP in thigh-highs, black lingerie, and red lipstick — his Axis of Evil.
She winks at him and waves. He looks at me like a dog looks at a steak.
I have accrued twenty demerits this week, each one punishable by a spanking, for offenses like being messy and teasing him. I bend over the bed, arching my bottom up in the air. He spanks my bare butt through open-bottomed fishnet panties. First he uses his hand, then he finishes with a ruler that says la petite lecon the little lesson.
My turn for a big O: He pins one arm back and licks my breasts while I rub my vibrator against my clit, fantasizing about being spanked. Goddamn it. The showing for A Dangerous Method is all sold out.
Michael Fassbender spanking Keira Knightley would be the perfect way to end this perfect day.But from inside my life on lockdown, an unexpected reconnection to my catalog of sounds was handing me hope for New York's future. When I moved here in autumnas I learned to engineer and produce music, I started recording everything from found sounds to late-night jam sessions to my own dabbling.
And I'd saved everything. In January, my longtime musical collaborator suggested we catalog, curate and upload my decades-rich audio archive to the online music site Bandcamp. And so the excavation of long-forgotten boxes began. From their depths came microcassettes. Hard drives. What emerged was a historical document shaped by my personal and professional journey in the city. To a wide-eyed year-old from Las Cruces, New Mexico, New York offered unexpected adventures and limitless possibilities.
Inspiration was always around the corner. Another evening, I landed in a makeshift studio, deploying my nascent recording skills for a session with Gordon Gano of the Violent Femmes. These great equalizers compel coexistence, pushing inhabitants into its daily motion, fabric and swell.
What is left when the people — the hemoglobin in this multicultural organism — disappear? Does New York die? I decided to keep my city alive by revisiting my relationship with it one audio file at a time. Each box I opened yielded a different medium, a different state of mind.
My first instrument was the microcassette recorder. A synergy was taking place, I realize now. Sitting in my studio surrounded by artifacts, I pieced together a memoir from lo-fi samples and Alan Lomax-inspired field recordings: Mexican songs from family singalongs. Church hymns sung by relatives. Rancheras played by prison inmates in Juarez, Mexico, where I was researching a documentary.
As lockdown days dragged on, I dug deeper.Somewhere below me the bashing of a hammer is forming a percussive backdrop to the whine of a buzzsaw, or sander, or some other such tool that has been assaulting my eardrums all day. They have been here for months, actually.
It looks like a downat-heel prep school. The wooden panelling up the stairs, previously painted over, has been stripped and looks wonderful.
And pulling up the carpet has revealed that the entrance hall still has its original Portland Stone floor. This in turn requires scaffolding. A team of riggers spent a week shrouding the top of the house in an intricate web of steel and planks. My attic apartment has 17 windows. Scaffolding either covers, or is visible from, 13 of them. I wander from room to room trying to find somewhere that will afford some scrap of privacy, and some rest from the banging, crashing, shouting, bantering, rubbish radio stations and tuneless singing of the various beefy workmen larking about outside.
This is where I realise how much my life has changed. As a man, even a bespectacled one with a middle class accent, I would feel able to engage said workmen on equal terms, talk a bit of football, and politely but firmly ask them to be a tad more considerate. Men, particularly those kind of very physical, masculine men, feel very much like the opposite sex. I find them intimidating in a way I never did before.
My voice feels weaker than theirs. My clothes suggest softness, rather than strength. This is not just a matter of being female. Were I a natal woman, I might not use the same methods as a man to get what I want, but a mixture of charm and bourgeois entitlement would probably do the trick. My problem is that before I can apply the authority of an educated, professional middle-aged woman, I first have to convince the world that I am, in fact, that woman.
My transgender diary: 'The curse of being a 6ft-tall woman'. We urge you to turn off your ad blocker for The Telegraph website so that you can continue to access our quality content in the future.I wake up to my alarm. Most weekdays it goes off at so this feels like a respite. I have four kids — two are still at home. My older kids are 19 and 21, happily away at their respective schools.
Best thing I ever did for myself. Workout done, quick shower. I grew up in New York, with artist-therapist parents who wore overalls. J texts me.
The Stay-at-Home Mom With Schoolgirl Spanking Fantasies
Our code for I love you is The picture that really caught his eye was me dressed as a fairy, about to go trick-or-treating with my kids.
We both hate TV. He bikes, I run.
We waited over a month for sex. Given our living situations, we had to take it slow. We used to rent a room by the hour at a hotel downtown once a week. Then he and I would both return home, where our respective spouses refused to separate until we had settlement agreements done.
It was like being held hostage. I get home from teaching and get the kids organized and dinner ready. My daughter has been vegetarian since she was 9. All my other kids are meat eaters. Always a fun challenge to come up with dinner for everyone. A call from J. We talk every night before bed. Sometimes for five minutes, sometimes an hour. Tonight was somewhere in between. I get my little guy up, my teenage girl gets herself up. When I was 17, I moved to the West Coast by myself to work and live on my own for a gap year before college.
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