#what is lockdown 3.0

[easystitchesdesigns]

Pinned Post: Easy Stitches Deisigns

Welcome everyone to Easy Stitches Designs!

Who am I?

My name is Clara, it is nice to meet you all.

I started cross stitching when I was about 6 or 7 years old - I was a hyperactive child in need of socialization. My grandmother had the idea of sending me to the local charity, where women and children would cross stitch patterns to turn into trinkets to sell out and donate the income for the homeless and the poor. I learned the craft, although I did not do much of it later in life. Come quarantine and I am in furlough. Whilst looking for something to pass the time, my grandmother calls me and talks to me of the times I used to do cross stitching. I have received several encouragement words and started again this craft - and it felt as if time never cancelled what I learned. And now, in Lockdown 3.0, I had enough courage to embark myself into this adventure, hoping it will last.

What am I offering?

Well, within this blog you will find several cross-stitching tutorials for beginners, as well as tidbits on projects and wips I am intending to show you all and some promo for the newest items in my shop. Of course my ask box is always open and should you have any question please feel free to drop by!

This shop offers cross-stitched trinkets, pattern booklets, ornaments, greeting cards - it is the perfect corner for any gift ideas! And you can customize most of the items to suit what you are looking for!

Where to find my stuff

Here below you will find everything I sell:

My Ko-Fi page

I post a lot of my WIPs on my Instagram and should you wish to look further I have a Facebook page and a Pinterest page for this shop.

Thank you for dropping by!

[26shivani97]

The Uttar Pradesh government on Thursday issued directions for the third phase of lockdown relaxations based on the Centre’s latest guidelines even as the state reported a record jump of 3,765 Covid cases in one day, and the highest single-day fatalities with 57 deaths.At least seven districts in the state have over 1,000 active cases.

[miss-crazy-rose]

I’ve been thinking: why did they only send Bucky to mandatory therapy? Why didn’t they send Wanda? I mean she was also marked as enemy of the state and some people seem to see her as “dangerous” and unpredictable . Sure she wasn’t brainwashed for 70 years but still she was traumatized enough to take a city in hostage and create a fake reality 👀

Which leads me to this : do you think they only started sending Bucky to therapy AFTER the Hex incident? 😅 Like someone in the government went :

“maybe we should make sure the avengers are ok, idk make them see a shrink so they don’t do shit like that again?”

“ALL OF THEM? That’s a lot of people dude and honestly I don’t know where half of them are right now”

“ok maybe not all of them... who would you say is the most traumatized right now?”

“Hm... Barnes? The guy got brainwashed and turned into a killing machine for 70 years”

“damn that’s true. Make an appointment for him. Tell him it’s mandatory or... or he is un-pardoned. Yeah that should do”

“got it”

[anciientboosh]

Julian Barratt [Films to be Buried With]

[ceo-of-daichi]

Does Boris Johnson care about University students or??

[glendowersbitch]

Might make a soc blog .... or do I just make my main soc with additional clusterfuck ... this is the the only one devoted to one fandom lmao

[six-costume-refs]

has aragon's skirt gotten like, almost comically larger in recent iterations or am i imagining it?

You’re not imagining it, no. Here’s the rundown:

Pictured: Adrianna Hicks, 2.0, 2020 Broadway; Showstoppers replica and/or 2020 costume in Broadway style, 2.0, @/mizzhelen1; Adrianna Hicks, 3.0, 2021 Broadway; Jade Marvin, 2.0, Breakaway 2.0 but costume made for Bliss 2.0; Melinda Porto, 2.0, Bliss 3.0; Paisley Billings, 3.0, West End 2021; Lauren Drew, 2.0, UKT 2020, paigeleigh59916

Two major factors in it:

1. A new style of skirt. Broadway 2020 costumes ran into issues because they had too many layers of PVC and were stored in a not-good environment over lockdowns. Six does not use a breathable or forgiving material and that was an issue. Six’s solution was to change the structure of the skirts to separate the peplum and bottom for better ventilation. However, the issue was only discovered mid-2021 and the change implemented a bit later, so not every 2021 skirt has it - you can see there that the Showstoppers skirt, which was either entirely made before or completed even around the time they would have known about the issue with the Broadway costumes, has the 2020 flat/connected style. New style is Adrianna’s 2021, Paisley Billings’, and then Melinda Porto’s is a midway point where the peplum isn’t totally flat against the bottom skirt but is less separated than the other two (why Melinda’s is set up that way may be due to variation in costume construction from the different studio). That separation definitely makes the skirts larger and may be what you’re noticing.

2. Costumes are fit on a custom basis by fitters, and as a result there’s always going to be disparities in how costumes are fit (good or bad). Six has especially exaggerated silhouettes, so anything slightly off is going to be more visibly exaggerated as a result. Aragon skirts are definitely a place where this seems to happen a lot (you can also compare just how inconsistent some of the fits are in that photo). There’s also been some weird stuff that seems to be going on behind the scenes that would also affect this - Nicole Kyoung-Mi Lambert in two different Aragon skirts, one of which did not fit her right and seems to have been started based on Keirsten’s measurements (might go into this in more detail in another post if anyone is interested); NCL potentially working from stock costumes, etc.

Since I made this photoset, Jade Marvin also received a new costume. The skirt is very, very long relative to just about any other Aragon skirt - that one is specifically a fitting thing rather than the new skirt style.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ed-tech apps spy on kids

When schools switched to distance learning amid the lockdown, it represented a chance to rethink education and ed-tech, from lessons to schedules to evaluation.

For the most part, we have squandered that chance, doubling down on the most destructive educational practices.

This is true across the board, not just in ed-tech. Take the bizarre start-times for classes - as early as 7AM for students enrolled in "period 0" classes. This timing has nothing to do with best practices in pedagogy or our understanding of adolescent brain-development.

Instead, it's a least-worst option arising from the US's unwillingness to treat high-quality child-care as a public good that benefits both kids and working parents. We open our schools at o-dark-hundred because parents need to get to work.

This, despite the fact that the majority of teens' body-clocks shift nocturnally as they go through puberty. We know that waking kids up early hurts their learning outcomes, but we accept that tradeoff because the alternative (kids whose parents can't earn a living) is worse.

Virtual schools represented an opportunity to shift education to more humane hours, but we blew it. And that's the least of our failures, barely registering in comparison with the way that we failed to fix ed-tech even as it grew to eclipse all other pedagogical questions.

Exhibit A, of course, is "remote invigilation," the spyware that we force students to install on their computers in the name of preventing cheating on the pedagogically bankrupt high-stakes tests we cling to.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/22/ihor-kolomoisky/#copyfraud

These tools are force-multipliers for the destructive power of high-stakes testing: their junk-science "sentiment analysis" facial recognition algorithms can't recognize dark-skinned faces, forcing Black kids to sit tests with multiple lamps shining directly in their eyes.

Students forced to use tools like Proctorio are expected to rotate their webcams 360' degrees to prove they're alone in a room at home - which means that poor kids who share a room (or can only get wifi in the parking lot of a Taco Bell) are penalized for poverty.

Unsurprisingly, a company that would knowingly torment children in this way is run by terrible people and behaves terribly. It's not just that the CEO doxed a child who complained about his products on Reddit:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/01/bossware/#moral-exemplar

The company has also abused copyright law to sue and intimidate its critics, including a student security researcher who revealed defects in the company's products:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/22/ihor-kolomoisky/#copyfraud

The fact that businesses that profit by spying on children are run by awful, awful people is no surprise.

One of the most established ed-tech categories is censorware, which schools are required to install as a condition of receiving federal funds, under 1997's CDA.

This software captures every student's click and search-term, and often their chats and emails, and spies on all of it, using arbitrary word-matches and human classifications to block kids (and teachers) from seeing materials deemed "inappropriate."

The premise of this exercise is that somewhere there is a boiler-room full of prudes so large that it can look at billions and billions of webpages and decide which ones are and aren't "child-safe" and that an "AI" can pass judgment on the pages they haven't got to.

Even if you accept that bizarre premise, remember: this isn't an editorial process, it's a surveillance system. It's one thing for a school librarian to make decisions about which books to shelve, but this doesn't require them to spy on everything every kid tries to read.

For censorware companies to block your kids' data-requests, they have to intercept and examine them. Censorware is spyware. Given that, it's worth asking, "Who are we allowing to spy on our kids?

Terrible people, as it turns out.

The school censorware industry is a subsidiary of the global censorware industry, and its largest clients aren't schools - their bread and butter is the tyrants of the Middle East and former Soviet Union, dictators who buy their products to keep their citizens in line.

These are the depraved human-rights abusers we get to spy on our kids (they also provide censorware for corporate, hotel and airport wifi!), and you know what? They've got *terrible* judgment.

Independent audits of their blocklists show that they're blocking about a third of the top search results for terms related to the common curriculum, with overblocking skewed heavily to women's health, reproductive health, and LGBTQ (no surprises there).

And, like Proctorio, these censorware companies have a long history of intimidating and harassing their critics, abusing copyright law to prevent independent analysis of their blocklists in a bid to make it impossible to test whether they are any good at their jobs.

We've been spying on schoolkids' online activities since 1997, and the pandemic only accelerated that process, and not just through test proctoring, either, as a new report from the Me2B Alliance shows.

https://me2ba.org/me2ba-product-testing-spotlight-report-published-data-sharing-in-primary-secondary-school-mobile-apps-2/

The report analyzed 73 mobile apps that 38 schools in 14 US states were using as part of their administration and instruction and found that 60% of them transmit student data to commercial data-mining companies.

https://www.theregister.com/2021/05/04/school_mobile_apps/

The apps were built using "free" SDKs from Facebook, Google and other surveillance companies; these SDKs make it easy to build apps quickly, but they also harvest the app users' data at scale and subject it to long-term retention and analysis.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#hyas

Me2B found that the apps were sucking up "identifiers (IDFA, MAID, etc), Calendar, Contacts, Photos/Media Files, Location, Network Data (IP address), permissions related to Camera, Microphone, Device ID, and Calls."

Ios devices were far less likely to harvest user data than Android apps, but 1 in 4 still spied on users, and on both platforms, "95% of third-party data channels... are active even when the user is not signed in and that these apps send data as soon as the app is loaded."

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[beebo26]

If Anne came back to Earth and experience the pandemic and lockdown and when she went back to Amphibia and had the reunion 3.0 with Sasha be like:

Sasha: *sneeze* *cough* haha... It's getting really cold out here I think I'm gonna get sick.

Anne putting a mask and spraying alcohol: No Sasha ! Stay away from me ok?!

Sasha on the verge of crying: A-anne y-you really hate me that much? now you're wearing a face mask and treating me like I am some kind germs ? *Running away while wiping her tears*

Anne reaching out her hand : Wait what ! No I don't hate you it's a misunderstanding! Sasha!

[we-are-knight]

I'm unsure if it's lockdown 3.0, the general state of the US and UK, or various other issues right now, but since my anxiety has returned from it's sabbatical from 2019, let me show you all the one good thing I actually did recently.

Since COVID has led to weird hobbies (transitioning from reading HEMA books for fencing to taking up baking, to calligraphy), I decided to try and make French Onion Soup. The ideal evening food to warm your soul against the crushing reality of a malicious late-stage capitalist dystopia.

First, onions. So many onions. I haven't attended any of the protests that have taken place in the past 2 years, being in a remote part of England, but it's nice to be able to still find ways to tear gas myself in my own home to appreciate a modicum of what people are going through elsewhere.

I'm just really really sensitive to onions, why did I think this was a good idea?

After cooking these asshole alliums long enough to stop making my eyes become watery pain orbs, caramelisation kicks in, and I can actually have time away from the pain of spiteful vegetables to be alone with my thoughts. Nothing quite beats the pleasure of cooking a meal, and filling the intervals between preparing ingredients with the existential crisis you are having coming from spending a year inside as the world burns.

Drown said thoughts with wine from a friend. Return to burning the evil out of those spiteful vegetables.

Between drowing the existential void in wine long enough to create the alcoholic equivalent of the Mariana's Trench, your onions are now a husk of their former selves, much like many of us being at the mercy of capricious powers that would happily see us all dead. Time to add the stock; in this case, duck stock made from the remains of Christmas dinner!

Leave unsupervised and allowed to simmer. Return after 30 minutes, add toasted bread of choice, layer with solidified cow extract, roast one more time under broiler to ensure hell vegetables are truly dead.

End product.

10/10, would contemplate dread reality while cooking again.

[cinematicnomad]

i hope you feel better soon! (and if you don’t mind me asking for some advice? would you mind talking a little about your transition to grad school? i’m in the middle of filling out applications and i’m looking at all of these requirements and stuff that they’re asking for and i don’t have anything at all that would make me a decent candidate - i tried my best during undergrad but my grades were never above subpar and i finished out school in lockdown so i don’t have any experience either - even though i /know/ i’d be really good at the work���. i’m just….feeling very despondent right know)

((sorry for the rambling 😅)

heyyyy anon! okay! i am totally happy to answer these questions. i am, in fact, a GREAT person to ask about this because i work in graduate admissions sooo i have more than just my own personal graduate school experience to help answer, but my entire career as well 😅

now, first caveat: i work for an engineering school, and graduate admissions does have some nuances that are unique to each general subject—what we do when reviewing an application for, say, a student applying to mechanical engineering, is gonna be v different from what the law school looks for, or what the english looks for, etc etc. but there are some general tips and tricks that i am happy to share!

first things first, your GPA is not the be all and end all. it really is a holistic review of your materials. i applied to grad school with a solid 3.0 from undergrad and i got in, and i can for SURE tell you that we admit students to the engineering program that have lower GPAs, even lower than our stated average on our website (but obviously—be aware, if admitted, most grad programs DO require that you maintain above a 3.0 in the program to graduate).

now, that holistic review comes in through the other materials you submit—your letters of recommendation, your resume, your statement of purpose, any test scores that are required...etc etc. (i'm not sure if your application requires test scores—i know a lot of admissions offices have moved away from them during the pandemic because accessing tests was v difficult for a time and waiving it obviously lead to an increase in apps which schools love to see.)

(this got long: more below the cut)

for your letters of recommendation: ask professors or employers who can really speak to your ability to succeed in graduate school. if they're somebody in the same field/subject that you're applying to, that's even better bc their opinion carries more weight. a lot of times we get students who submit letters of rec from people with really high titles but who don't know the student for shit and give a real generic letter—that's not helpful. the admissions office is going to be looking for specificity and for someone who can really speak about you and your strengths and why you're a good fit.

if you're worried about asking for a letter of rec bc it's been too long since you spoke to the professor/were in their class/etc, here's my advice: send them an email asking how they're doing and giving a quick update on your life. explain that you're applying to grad school (and where) and that you'd like to ask for a letter of rec from them. remind them what class (or classes) you took, what grade(s) you received (if they're good), what semester you were enrolled in, and why you liked it (their lectures were memorable! the subject material is what made you want to pursue a master's! it's the most fun you had in undergrad! etc etc etc). IF you saved copies of your old papers, offer to re-share them with the professor if they need a reminder of examples of your work. and then thank them for their time and consider and wait for their response. DON'T add their names to the application until they agree to write you a letter bc a lot of the app systems these days will auto-send the email to your recommenders as soon as their info is added, even before you have submitted the application.

THIS i speak from personal experience 😅 thankfully the professor agreed to write the letter anyway, lol

(note: extra rec letters, do not really help you at all. if an application requires 2, you don't get any extra kudos for submitting 3, or 4, or 5...when that happens there's no way to guarantee that the app reviewer will take the time to read all the submitted letters, they may just pick 2 at random, and those might not be the strongest. so it's best to stick to the requirements and to pick the recommenders who will sing your praises).

the resume is obvious—if you're worried GPA this is the place where you can highlight any special projects that you've worked on or jobs that you've had related to the area of study you're applying to. it's just a space that gives you the opportunity to provide the admissions office with more info about you, your skillset, and your background.

last, that statement of purpose. first thing: follow whatever instructions the program provides. the statement of purpose is where they're looking to see if you pay attention to detail. if there's a prompt, make sure you respond to it, and if there's a word count, make sure you stick to it. for the programs i work on, we typically look for 500 words max—if a student goes over that by 100 words, no big deal. if a student goes over that by 1500 words?? oh yeah, that's a problem. i know some faculty members who will just....stop reading the statement around that 500 mark even if there are still 3 more pages to go. we're looking to make sure that you can be concise and to the point and that you can follow directions.

if there's no prompt (my programs don't have one!) then it can be a little daunting what to write. a good framework that i suggest to students that i speak with is: past, present, future. so, start off talking about your past (where you got your bachelors, what you studied in undergrad, etc). since you mentioned your grades weren't the best, you can use this space to add in an explanation about how distance learning wasn't for you/the pandemic had an impact on your studies, etc. then move onto present: what are you doing now (are you about to graduate? are you working? is it in a related field or something totally different, etc) and why this is the moment you want to go to grad school. and then: future. what will grad school do for you and why is THIS PROGRAM the right fit. be sure to name drop the CORRECT school (you will not BELIEVE how many essays i've read with the wrong school). if it fits, mention any faculty that you're interested in working with/learning from, and any classes that look interesting to you. you can also talk about the location and/or the university in general, and how this program will help you to achieve your goals of xyz.

soooo those are most of the standard application materials. obviously some programs will require other things—portfolios, writing samples, etc, i can't speak to those with much authority.

make sure you pay attention to the application deadline! these will vary by program. submitting an application early doesn't usually help, but submitting an application LATE can hurt you, so try to make sure to have everything submitted on time.

BUT, last tip: a lot of admissions offices will offer application fee waivers so, take the time to search the website, sign up for an information session if you can (they'll usually drop a code at the end of the webinar), etc. if you don't see anything obvious, seriously, just send an email to the admissions team and ask if there's any way to qualify for an app fee waiver. if the answer's no, no big deal, but if there IS a way (like one of those webinars) they'll let you know, and then you can save yourself a good $80 or more.

ANYWAY, this got long, but i hope it helped. i'm here if you have any other questions. BEST OF LUCK!!

✨sleepover friday✨

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

How do you find it in you to care so much? I'm only 17 and my empathy's shot to hell. Everytime you try to fix something nothing changes.

There were the blm protests in the summer. Then there was the stop "Asian" hate thing (in commas because it wasn't even about all Asians, mostly chinese people). Now there's this Israel thing. So much energy is going into these movements and it feels like nothing changes. What's the point!?!

Then on a small scale. I got on the tube and gave a fiver to a homeless lady. Then the next day she comes back again so I give her some change. Then again. I'm out!? What do I do?? Then she's still coming back so I have to look at her as she asks and just say no! Then she's still coming so I just start avoiding eye contact because I feel bad. This went on for weeks! The second to last time I saw her, i gave her a fiver. But it's clear it did nothing in the long run. I know I went on for a bit. But it became so clear to me then, how people just walk past homless people on the street. It's not because they don't care, it's because any action feels useless in the grand scheme of things.

How do you stay motivated when change takes so long to happen, if it even happens at all?

I don't know that I care that much. But equally, I don't know how to not care?

Change is slow, but look back over the last 100 years, and see how the world has changed. Not all of that's for the better, but perhaps some of it is. All you can do is fight (metaphorically) for whatever change that matters to you.

And if you can't fight anymore, that's ok too. There have definitely been periods of my life like that.

But it's easier to live with the homeless lady if you know you're trying to work towards systemic change where no-one is homeless.

I'm not constantly motivated. I'm often sad and despondent, or need a break, but equally, often, I need to do something and feel like I'm doing something.

And sometimes, occasionally, like idk with the free school meals stuff earlier this year, or with the union action that led/contributed to school closures in lockdown 3.0, it feels like a meaningful difference has been made.

But you can only do what you can do.

[whoisbxcky]

What Is, And What Should Never Be Pt. 2

summary: Last time you woke up to find yourself living in a strange dream world, in which you and Bucky were no longer together, you had a substance abuse problem and SUVs were actually capable of actually causing bodily harm. 

This time when you wake up, things have taken a darker turn, and famously nothing is ever as it seems.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: all of them. (angst, mentions of substance abuse and rehab, being sectioned/ psychiatric care, violence, medically things, death, angst), idk if m/c being a bisexual disaster is a tw but if girls being attracted to other girls hurts your delicate sensibilities... Sorry not sorry?

author’s note: Oh, where to start. It’s been a while, I kind of fell out of love with writing. Not sure if I’m necessarily back ‘in love’ with it but I had an idea for a couple more chapters of this shit show and figured, hey, lockdown 3.0, why the hell not.

As always, feedback is welcome. Thank you for the continued support on part one of this carnage, I’m not very good at replying to people but do know the kind words/ likes/ reblogs and follows are greatly appreciated. ~ Toria

You groaned softly as light trickled over your weary eyes, the cool breeze from the fan on the bedside table ruffling the strands of hair that hung delicately around your face. Consciousness was beginning to come to you as the steady beeping of what you guessed was your alarm carried through your room, rousing you from strange dreams that slipped away into the darkness of your subconscious as you woke. You yawned, rolling from your back to your side and throwing one arm out to wrap around the muscular form beside you, seeking its familiar warmth and security.

Your eyes shot open wildly as you felt the tug from the IV in your skin instead.

It took a moment for your eyes to fully register your surroundings: white walls, pale blue blanket, wires and machines and a whiteboard on the wall opposite with your name and a lot of medical jargon scribbled on it. A hospital? But why the hell would you be in the hospital?

You racked your brain, trying to summon the last thing you remembered… You’d just woken up from a terrible nightmare, Bucky was consoling you… Bucky��

Suddenly, a tentative knock at the hospital room door snapped you back to reality, and when it creaked open and Bucky stuck his head through the gap, you almost sobbed in relief.

“Bucky!” You half-breathed, half-wheezed his name. Damn, your ribs hurt. Why did your ribs hurt?

“Y/N…” Bucky’s voice was hoarse as he fully entered the room, pushing the door to behind him and quickly making his way to your side. “How are you feeling?” He murmured, a gentle hand coming to rest on your forehead.

“I, uh, I- Oh, ow!” You had tried to sit up as you spoke, but the pain in your ribs made you cry out, you felt patches on your skin pulling uncomfortably tight too… Stitches?

“Y/N…?” Bucky was eyeing you worriedly.

“I… Hurt. Like, wore a semi-truck to the prom kind of hurt. What the hell happened to me? I don’t remember anything after we went to sleep last night…”

You trailed off, Bucky’s incredulous gaze making your stomach turn uneasily.

“What did happen to me, Buck?” You questioned, one hand snaking out from under the blanket to grip his. Bucky jumped at the sudden contact and seemed to be struggling to meet your gaze.

It was during the brief, uncomfortable silence that followed that you finally took a moment to look at Bucky. Really look at him. Your eyes widened and your heart stopped in your chest as your brain finally registered what your eyes could see. A suit jacket. Bucky was wearing a suit jacket. Why was Bucky wearing a suit jacket?

“Y/N… You don’t remember?” Bucky gave you a pitiful look as he absentmindedly stroked your hair out of your face. “You had an accident. You were hit by a car, outside my office, you remember?”

You could feel it. The lightening strike that rattled your very core. The dread creeping into your throat threatening to drown you in panic. Your palms became slick with sweat as you shook your head frantically.

“No. No. That was a nightmare, that wasn’t real.” Your voice was raising in tone, you could feel panic giving way to anger. Bucky’s pitiful gaze did little to quell your frustration.

“Bucky, if this is your idea of some sick, practical joke I swear-“ You moved to get up, to face him. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, slap him? Hold him? Get on your knees and beg him to tell you this wasn’t real?

Either way, you never made it to your feet. Before Bucky could move to stop you, you had launched yourself from the bed so desperately that the tearing of your stitches made you double over, clutching your side and gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Bucky called anxiously, gripping you under your arms and gently pushing you back into the bed. You winced as crimson began to seep through your hospital gown, and the room tilted sickeningly around you. Though, whether that was from the pain or the crushing reality you currently faced, you had yet to decide.

“Bucky, please.” You wheezed, gripping onto him like your life depended on it. “Please tell me this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This… I…”

You stifled a sob as Bucky pulled himself from your grasp, straightening his suit jacket with an affronted glare.

“You must have hit your head when the SVU hit you. The doctors mentioned this could happen.” He sighed, moving close to you once more and crouching to meet you at eye level. “But you don’t need to worry, Y/N. My company is covering the medical expenses, my PR team are handling the media coverage. I feel terrible that you got hurt, really, I do. But things between us haven’t, and will never, change. I only came to make sure you were alright.”

He gave your cheek a light pat, offering you a curt smile as he straightened up once more.

“I’ll have a nurse come in to fix those stitches up. Call my office if you need anything while you’re here.” He called over his shoulder, making his way towards the door.

You could feel the bile rising in your throat. Just like last time. You couldn’t understand. Was this a dream again? Could you visit the same dream over and over? But, somehow, your gut feeling told you this was more than a dream. A horrible thought popped into your head, making your heart rate spike on the monitor. Had you really woken up before? Or was that just another part of this dream? Was this even a dream, or were you truly in another universe, and this was truly your life now? You felt caged, trapped by unseen forces. You wanted out. You wanted out right now.

“No.” You whispered, your entire body shaking.

“What was that?” Bucky called back to you, his hand resting on the doorknob.

When he turned to look, his eyes widened in shock. You were glaring at him, eyes full of tears, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to wake up. I want to wake up right now.” You said, feeling the hysteria in your rising tone. Bucky gasped as you began frantically pulling tubes and needles from your body, stumbling to your feet as more stitches pulled loose.

“WAKE UP, DAMMIT!” You shrieked, driving your elbow into your injured ribs hard enough to make you see stars. You screamed as white-hot agony threatened to take you back into unconsciousness.

You were vaguely aware of Bucky flinging the door open, calling for help. But you hardly cared, all you could think about was waking up from this nightmare.

You ground your teeth together to mute another scream as you clumsily made your way to the window, driving your fist through the glass. It shattered, and you gasped as stray shards bit into your arm, causing a fresh wave of dizziness. You gazed, uncomprehending, at your injured arm. Crimson red. No two ways about it. That blood was real. You could feel its warmth trickling down your skin, smell the nauseating scent of sickly-sweet iron, making your stomach roil once again.

This is real. You thought to yourself numbly, as strong, familiar arms gripped you tight. Bucky was holding onto you, pulling you away from the window.

Bucky.

No. Not Bucky. Not your Bucky.

You screamed once more, wriggling and writhing to escape this imposters grasp. You could hear your voice, hoarse and terrifyingly frantic, ordering him to let you go. But you sounded far away. Why did you sound so far away?

The edges of your vision became dim and blurry, and you found yourself going limp in Bucky’s grip. A sedative? Cheaters.

You felt yourself falling. Bucky’s face above you, mouthing words that felt familiar, but not. Be okay? Of course, I’m okay, Bucky…

...

The light that woke you from your restless slumber this time was not gentle. There was no breeze. No sound. Just an uncomfortable silence.

You cracked one eye open, almost blinded by the fluorescence that reflected harshly on the sterile white walls around you. The room smelled strange, almost clinical. Was that a scream you just heard? Was it yours? Could you even scream? You felt heavy, like you couldn’t lift your arms.

Oh.

As consciousness returned to you, you quickly concluded that the restraints around your wrists were the likely cause of your inability to move.

Restraints? But why-?

Oh.

It all came back to you like a flood. The hospital, the car accident, Bucky, your breakdown.

Oh.

With a resigned sigh, you let your arms relax on the table. No point trying to get out of this, where would you go, after all?

You couldn’t quite tell if you wanted to laugh or cry given your current predicament. The idea of being trapped in an alternate reality sounded insane. But, then again, everything about being an Avenger had seemed insane to you in the beginning, and alternate universes and galaxies weren’t exactly out of the realm of credulity in your line of work.

If only you could remember how and why you were in one right now.

Was it a mission gone wrong? Had you been abducted by aliens? You certainly felt like you’d been abducted, the bright lights and restraint table were almost comical in their addition to the situation.

You were grinning to yourself when the door in front of you swung open suddenly, and a tall, slender figure entered the room.

Alien? You picked your head up as far as it would go to examine the new addition to your delirium, and almost gasped aloud as you did.

The woman who stood before you was, for lack of a better term, drop dead gorgeous.

She was tall, easily 5,9, with long, flowing ebony waves that framed her rich, tera-cotta heart shaped face perfectly. She was dressed in a knee length pencil coat and blouse, clearly a professional. Her white lab coat flowed behind her as she slowly made her way over to you, the sound of what you assumed were stilettos clicking against the tile floor as she went. Some form of medical professional, then. But as she made her way up the bed towards your head, you realised the most striking feature she possessed was her eyes. They were blue, but not the colour of the sky, or sapphires, not the ocean or any other mundane comparison. They were otherworldly, glowing with a fluorescence that made you want to gaze into them for an eternity. When she spoke, her voice was velvet dipped in honey. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Good morning, Y/N. My name is Dr. Tess Rakt. I’ll be overseeing your treatment during your stay at this institution.” She offered you a warm smile as she spoke.

You paused, struggling to find your voice. You were by no means a shy person, but this woman’s presence was… Imposing? No, captivating.

You could have spent all day staring, merely drinking in the striking figure that stood before you, however as your brain finally registered what Dr Rakt had said to you, your jaw went slack.

“Institution?” You croaked weakly.

“Yes, dove.” She offered you a sympathetic smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Mr Barnes felt you would be safest under psychiatric care right now. And after reviewing your file, I have to agree. You’ve had quite a rough time as of late.”

You stared at her sceptically for a beat. Bucky had you sectioned? That bastard.

“Fret not, dove.” Dr Rakt continued, “There’s no shame in you being here. If you work with me during your stay, and are receptive to your treatment plan, you’ll be out of here in no time.” There was that smile again. It was like sunshine, almost blinding to look at.

“I’m not crazy.” You murmured, struggling to meet her intense gaze.

“Of course not. But your behaviour in the hospital, plus your insistence that you are from another reality? You can understand why your loved ones are concerned, can you not?” She raised a quizzical brow, and you swallowed, hard.

You had to hand it to her, she had you there.

“Okay, so it sounds crazy.” You retorted, biting your lip. “But I swear, I’m telling the truth. My life before two days ago was nothing like this.”

Dr Rakt flicked through her notes in silence for a moment, before seemingly finding what she was looking for and nodding to herself with a smile.

“I understand. I see from your file you have a long history with substance abuse?” She questioned, and you felt yourself blush red again. Both Nat and Bucky had mentioned that you were a junkie in this reality, so you suppose you couldn’t really deny it, could you?

“Mhm.” She nodded, with a sympathetic smile. “Y/N, it is not uncommon for long term narcotic use to… Cause trouble, with your memories. That is to say, is it not a possibility that the life you think you had before, is in fact the illusion?”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. There was no way… Unless…

Your entire body felt numb and uncomfortably cold. A small voice in the back of your head called out: out of two realities- one in which you’re a superhero that fights aliens from other planets, and one in which you’re a drug addict whose mind has been scrambled by a lifetime supply cocktail of class As, which one seems like the most likely?

“Fear not, dove. We’re going to work together to fix that mind of yours.” Dr Rakt offered you yet another warm smile, her luminescent eyes seemingly glowing brighter as she stood.

You could only watch helplessly as the Doctor turned on her heal and sauntered out of the room, biting back the sob that threatened to rip itself from your trembling form.

“I’m not crazy.” You whispered to yourself, over and over again, before unconsciousness came for you once more.

...

It had been weeks. Months, maybe? You weren’t sure anymore. Your days all seemed to merge together. Always the same.

Wake up, eat, talk to Dr Rakt, eat, sleep- rinse and repeat.

Your sessions had been going well, according to her. She was sure that your past drug use was the cause of your delusions. A world of supernatural beings, crime fighting demi-gods and aliens; a world of ‘Avengers’ and magical stones and intergalactic wars; a world you once considered your reality, you were now beginning to realise was all a fever dream.

It felt odd, admitting that to yourself. When you first woke up that morning in your apartment, which felt like a lifetime ago now, you had felt so sure that this world was the illusion. You would have sworn it on your life at the time, no doubts, or questions to be asked.

You chuckled to yourself as you considered the absurdity of it all, dipping your paint brush into a fresh pot of water as you mused. You had taken up painting as a way to depict these strange delusions to Tess- Dr Rakt, when you first began your sessions together. The more you had painted, and the more you had discussed said paintings with her, the more you had come to understand just how far from reality that world truly was.

You enjoyed your talks with the Doctor more and more each day: it was like no matter how strange or ridiculous your stories were, she never judged you. In fact, sometimes it seemed like she understood what you were talking about as if it were her own memory, like she could look inside your mind and really understand your thoughts and feelings.

You sighed and a soft smile crept onto your lips, your easy brush strokes making you fall into a light trance.

You truly didn’t know what you would have done without Tessa. You understood now, that thanks to her, you could go back to living your life. Your life here, in the real world. Your life with-

Bucky.

You bit your lip, suddenly losing interest in the painting you had been working on as memories of your ex-boyfriend flooded your mind.

You hadn’t heard from him since that day in the hospital, the day you’d had a complete breakdown, the day that had led you here.

You missed him. Terribly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door to your room, and Dr Rakt’s head poked around the corner, her bright smile making your chest fluttery and warm.

“Good afternoon, dove. How’s the artwork going?” She enquired in a sing song tone, entering the room, and shutting the door behind her.

“Tessa- I mean, Dr Rakt!” You smiled sheepishly, getting to your feet as she approached you, a wry grin on her taupe lips. “It’s going well, it’s a strange one today though, a place I think I called Wakanada? Wakanda? Anyway, it’s-” You cut yourself off, moving to point her in the direction of your intricately drawn city.

You felt her hand on your arm and you shivered, turning to face her. She was close, so close you could smell the flowery perfume, feel her breath fanning your hair.

“It’s very good. Very interesting.” She smiled encouragingly, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear, before her hand came to rest under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her fluorescent azure gaze.

“You look tired, dove. Have you been sleeping?” She said softly, looking you over with concern. You swallowed hard in turn, hoping the flush in your cheeks was not as visible as it felt.

“Y-yes, yes I have.” You gave her a small smile, feeling a strange pang in your chest as she released your chin and took a step back.

“Very well. Anyway, I came to tell you that you have a visitor.”

“I do?” You asked, unable to keep the surprise from your tone.

Tessa smiled at you, offering you her hand. “Come, I’ll take you to the visitors suite.”

You eagerly took her hand, allowing her to lead you down the winding corridors of the hospital. You paid no mind to the screaming and shouting that echoed out from the closed doors that you passed, you had long since drowned them out. That happened a lot these days, especially when you were with Tessa.

Finally, the two of you arrived as an impressive oak door with gold lettering that let you know you’d arrived at your destination. You swallowed hard, unconsciously gripping Tessa’s hand harder in turn. She turned to look at you with that sunshine smile as you blushed, shrugging as you quickly released her hand from your grip.

“There’s nothing to fear, dove. It’s just a visit. You’re not going anywhere.” Her voice was so gentle, it calmed your nerves instantly, and you smiled.

Tessa was right, of course. You were safe here with her. Besides, the only person you could think of who might pay you a visit was Nat, and you’d wanted the chance to thank her ever since the day this has all started anyway.

With one last pat on the arm, Dr Rakt pushed the doors open, granting you access to the visitor’s suit. You took a tentative step inside and shivered. The room was cold, but not only in temperature. You were greeted by the off-green hue of the walls, the rotting furniture, even the musty smell of death and decay. Everything about the room felt unfamiliar… Uncomfortable. This place gave you a bad feeling.

A cough from one of the dark corners of the hall made you start, and your eyes snapped up in time to watch as a familiar face materialised from the darkness, making you step back in surprise.

“Bucky…?” You gasped.

“Y/N. Hi.” He took a tentative step towards you, offering you an awkward wave as he did.

You stared at him for a beat, myriad emotions running through you at once. Joy, excitement, confused, embarrassment. But the one that really threatened to overtake you was the anger. All the feelings of betrayal towards him, that you had forgotten since you arrived at this institution, boiled up inside you at once, threatening to overflow.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” You folded your arms, your tone challenging. You could tell that your efforts to portray your displeasure at seeing him had been effective, given the way he took a step back, clearly affronted.

“I… I just wanted to check in. See how you’re… Getting on.” He offered nonchalantly. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he looked you up and down. “You look… Well?”

You couldn’t contain the snort that ripped itself from you, your eyes rolling in tandem.

“No thanks to you.” You spat.

“Excuse me?” You could hear the hurt in his tone.

Good. Let him hurt, you thought to yourself. The venom you felt roil inside your chest was almost overwhelming.

“How could you do this to me?” You snarled, finally taking a step towards him, your arms unfolding as your fists balled at your sides.

Bucky stepped back in turn; confusion etched upon his handsome face. “Y/N… What are you? Do what?” He inquired.

With an air of sarcasm, you gestured to the room around you. “Well, hell, Bucky. It’s not like you dropped me off at Disney Land. You abandoned me in a freaking nut house!” Your voice was beginning to raise with hysteria, and you could feel yourself losing the battle with your tremulous emotions.

“Y/N… I… I did it for your own good!” Bucky snapped back, taking a step towards you to close the gap. You could see the tremble in his hands, the fire beginning to burn in his eyes. “You were unhinged, you needed help! Those delusions-”

Your eyes widened as you barked a short, sarcastic laugh in retort, “you had me shipped off to a psych ward, Bucky. While I was unconscious. You’re lucky I ended up in the right place or you’d be looking at a human trafficking charge being brought against you.” You paused for breath, feeling the hurt beginning to bleed into your chest through the seething rage.

Bucky scoffed, rubbing the back on his neck in exasperation. But you couldn’t help but notice that he struggled to meet your gaze this time.

“I did what I thought was best for you.” He whispered finally.

“Except what’s best for me isn’t really any of your concern anymore, now, is it?” You murmured in response, folding your arms once more to cradle the blow your own words left on your heart.

Bucky swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“Recall that you’re the one who showed up acting bat-shit crazy on my doorstep. You made it my concern, Y/N. You-” His voice reached a crescendo, his own frustration finally taking hold. But you could listen no more.

“You bastard.” You heard your voice, a pained whisper, cut him off.

Bucky’s eyes finally snapped up to meet your own, and for the first time since you had walked into the room you felt him look at you. Really look at you. The contempt you found in that look made your stomach churn.

It was too much for you.

You suddenly found yourself void of any and all emotion towards the man. This man had betrayed you, abandoned you. He had replaced you with a younger, trashier version. Hell, he’d even chased you into oncoming traffic and put you in the hospital. At first, all of those transgressions had angered you, hurt you even. But, you realised numbly, in order to be hurt, one has to care. And you did not care about Bucky Barnes anymore. Not one bit.

“The Bucky I know, that I love, would never turn his back on someone in need. If you are all that reality has to offer me, then I want nothing to do with you.” You said with an air of finality.

You turned your back on him, making your way to the door. You dully considered how strange a thing it was that him not calling after you, not trying to chase you down and apologise, didn’t bother you in the slightest, where once it would have broken your heart.

Guess therapy worked better than I thought, you mused.

You passed through the threshold, back into the familiarity of the institution corridor, without looking back. When the door slammed behind you, you found yourself face to face with Dr Rakt, those piercing blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Well done, dove.” She reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “letting him go, it’s for the best.”

You smiled, the reassurance of her words making you feel light, and warm.

“What do you say we go back to your room, maybe do some painting? Or we could have coffee, and talk…” Dr Rakt began, offering you her hand.

Just as you reached out to take it, you became acutely aware of yelling, coming from behind the ancient oak doors. These screams weren’t like the others, those of the other patients that you had grown so accustomed to ignoring. There was something… Familiar about them?

“Y/N… Please…”

“Bucky?” You whispered, moving to turn back to the door.

Just as your head turned, Dr Rakt’s arm shot out to grip your own. You glanced down at it in surprise, what was her problem?

“Come, dove. Let us return to your room.” Her voice held it’s usually warmth, but you couldn’t help but notice the annoyance that flashed in her eyes as Bucky’s voice called out from behind the door once more.

“Doll… You have to get out of there… You have to wake up, please!”

“Wake up…? But, Bucky… I…?” Almost entranced by the voice on the other side, you turned on your heal, your hand reaching out to grip the door handle, to get to Bucky.

Suddenly, Dr Rakt’s grip on your arm tightened painfully, and you felt yourself being flung around to face her once more.

Except, you realised with a gasp of horror, where once Dr Rakt had stood, there was now a hulking form, made entirely of shadow. Your scream of terror never made it from your throat, as a hazy black hand shot out to grip your neck with a crushing strength that made you gag. When the figure spoke, its voice was like shards of glass on a chalk board.

“Nice try, dove. But you won’t escape your cage so easily.” It hissed, you thought you could make out the echoes of a chuckle form deep within its core, although it sounded a lot more like air escaping a balloon.

“What… Mean… I… Don’t…” You tried to speak, but only managed a faint wheeze as your throat was squeezed even tighter in a fist of dark matter.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, dove. We’ll have that mind of yours fixed in no time.” The voice said, and with a start you realised where the familiarity of those words came from. Dr Rakt-?

You felt yourself being thrown backwards, felt the concrete wall collide with your skull.

Then, you felt nothing. Only darkness.

...

Your eyes shot open wildly as you gulped in air, clutching your head with a groan. Pain exploded in your temple as you sat up, your hand reaching out to find a light switch.

Instead, you found your hand in the grip of another, this one metal, and incredibly familiar.

“Doll?” Bucky groaned; you felt the bed shift as he sat up beside you. When the bedside lamp stuttered to life, you were greeted by sleep addled eyes, tousled hair. The familiarity of Bucky’s presence.

Except, something about this felt entirely too familiar. So much so that you found you hand recoiling from Bucky’s grip.

“Is everything alright, doll?” Bucky questioned, the concern in his expression making you wince.

“Yeah. Yeah, just a nightmare, Buck. Nothing to worry about.” You responded, your voice weary and small.

With a satisfied nod, Bucky let his hulking figure flop back onto the bed, his arm reaching out clumsily to knock the light back off.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m always here.” His gentle tone called out from the sudden darkness.

As you lay back down, you turned your back to him, pulling your knees up to your chest as anxiety rippled through you.

“I know.” You muttered in response, that’s what’s starting to concern me.

---

In the darkness of his cell, Bucky flung himself back against the damp stone wall, the clattering of the chains around his neck, wrists and ankles echoing sharply around him. The sobs that wracked his battered and bruised form came out as little more than a wheeze, his voice was completely spent having screamed for hours, trying desperately to reach you.

There, in the centre of the room, you lay. Your limp, emaciated body hung from your own set of chains, the only difference being that myriad needles and tubes of varying sizes hung from your body as well.

As Bucky’s eyes followed their trail, he dully noted the sound of machines whirring somewhere in another corner of the dank room, but he paid them little mind. Instead, his focus returned to the point at which the largest of the tubes attached to your fragile form led, its epicentre illuminating the room with an unearthly azure luminescence.

There, positioned within some strange machine made of iron and gears, was the Tesseract.

If only Bucky could reach it. He had tried so many times, pulling, tearing, even gnawing at his restraints in the hopes one might give way. If only he could get himself loose, he could get that wretched stone away from you, get its influence out of your mind. God, what it must be doing to your mind-

Bucky was suddenly torn from his thoughts as you began to seize for the fifth time in an hour. He could only watch in numb horror, his ability to cry, to scream for you, all but spent.

“My, my.” A familiar voice echoed in the darkness of the cell, a hulking figure emerging from the shadows. “I do not believe our darling dove has much more to give, does she?”

Bucky gritted his teeth, letting his head fall useless back against the wall as a single tear spilled down his purpled cheek.

“Now, Bucky, are you ready to comply?”

Part 1 | Part 3

[southeastasianists]

Malaysia’s “stricter” measures, to be imposed this week to contain the spike in Covid-19 cases, have met with resistance from many who argue that the tweaks are “half-baked”.

Experts have also said the new measures are unlikely to go far enough unless they are strictly enforced, and they may take a longer time to produce an effect than a total lockdown.

“MCOs (movement control orders) work only if they are strict enough and long enough… They need to be accompanied by parallel measures. If not, the time bought is just squandered and we will repeat this cycle of MCOs, with deleterious effects on the livelihoods of people,” Professor Awang Bulgiba Awang Mahmud, the government’s Covid-19 Epidemiological Analysis and Strategies Task Force chairman, told The Straits Times.

Along with the MCO, he said the authorities need to increase contact tracing and testing in the community.

“The directive to reduce contact tracing needs to be rescinded and replaced with a massive effort to trace and test contacts. Non-governmental organizations and other government agencies should be roped in to help as this is a massive exercise,” he said, referring to a directive issued in January to test only those with coronavirus symptoms.

Malaysia on Saturday ordered malls, restaurants and shops to operate shorter hours from Tuesday (May 25). They will open at 8am and close at 8pm, instead of 10pm.

The government also wants 80 percent of civil servants – or 750,000 people – to start working from home, while the private sector has been advised to allow 40 percent of its staff to do the same.

The new rules add to a May 12 ban on dining in at restaurants and food stalls, which can offer only takeaways and delivery.

Malaysia is in the second week of a four-week MCO, but Covid-19 cases have continued to surge. Dubbed MCO 3.0, it bars inter-state and inter-district travel, and is set to end on June 7.

The stricter measures announced on Saturday did not provide clear health protocols for factory operations although they contribute to at least 60 percent of work clusters.

Factory worker Fazriyah Nazri, 22, felt the government did not address her concerns.

“I want to know as early as possible if the capacity for the production side would need to be reduced, because that’s where most of the infections come from. We need the money but we are also very scared,” she said.

“What I can do to protect myself now is to take a lot of vitamin C and isolate myself from my family after coming back from work. It’s taking a toll on my mental health.”

Others who have taken to social media to express their views include engineer Mohd Zakwan Alim, who said big crowds are likely to form when operating hours are shortened and public transport capacity is reduced by 50 per cent.

“Even if businesses can limit the number of visitors on their premises, naturally, there will be long queues. And with shorter operating hours, we can expect a bigger crowd,” Mr Zakwan, 30, said on Facebook. “How would this help?”

He added: “Same logic can be applied when waiting for a bus. If this is what the government calls ‘stricter measures’, I call it half-baked.”

The country has been logging more than 6,000 Covid-19 cases daily recently, with the highest recorded on Sunday, at 6,976.

The surge in cases has strained the healthcare system, including intensive care units designated for Covid-19 patients in hospitals around the country.

The Health Ministry’s director-general, Tan Sri Noor Hisham Abdullah, said on Facebook on Saturday that public hospitals in the Klang Valley, including Kuala Lumpur, were working at an average of 113 per cent as more patients fall critically ill.