#day4

Dari Balik Kemudi : Tak Semua Hal Selalu dalam Kendali Saat mengemudi kendaraan, adakalanya semua terasa seperti otomatis berjalan dan terjadi. Ya, rasanya semua kemampuan untuk mengemudi datang dari dalam diri sendiri. Apalagi ketika sudah terbiasa mengemudi, seringkali jadi merasa bahwa medan jalanan seperti apapun akan mudah dilalui. Memang, usaha dan latihan serta jam terbang yang mumpuni takkan menjadi hasil yang mengkhianati. Namun, tetaplah ingat dan hati-hati dengan hakikat diri yang manusiawi. Bahwa semahir apapun kemampuan mengemudi dan selihai apapun mengelola hidup ini, takkan sanggup semua hal untuk selalu dalam kendali. Sebab ada hal-hal diluar diri yang tak bisa seketika dibuat berhenti. Misalnya, bagaimana perilaku dan ucapan orang lain yang mengomentari. Ada pula peristiwa-peristiwa takdir Illahi yang mungkin tak pernah terbayangkan sama sekali. Bahkan terkadang tak mampu untuk mengendalikan pikiran dan perasaan diri sendiri. Begitulah, dibalik semua penampilan terbaik, keelokan rupa, dan kegagahan jejak kemudi, semua itu hanyalah bagian dari titipan Illahi Rabbi, Sang Maha Penggenggam Kemudi.

Domaystic Day 4: “dont tempt me”, sasara & kuko How Kuko got into his house, Sasara has no idea. He hadn’t given the boy a spare key, and his windows are always locked. “Oh,” Kuko says. “You’re home early.” https://archiveofourown.org/works/84258606

Oh, Sweet Summer Child @whumpril Day 4 - Dazed. Phew, honestly, I’m really happy with how this turned out! I intend this to be one of the first few excerpts of the Devices Reboot. Hoping I can stick to a good pace. I originally wanted the title to be ‘Even Rose-Colored Lenses can crack’, but oh well, here’s my girl being humbled :P CW: Female Whumpee, Whump of a Minor (17 y/o), Minor Violence (Slapping), Cocky & Spoilt Whumpee (ngl), Authoritative Whumper, Mention of near-death experience for side character (inflicted by Whumpee), Mention of Whumpee being disowned, Institutional whump, Non-human Whumpee. ——— “Stop sulking and sit up straight. This isn’t your classroom.” Sihyeon glanced up at the man who’d introduced himself as her supervisor. Kurai, something, something. Was a supervisor equal to a teacher? He didn’t seem, or feel like one. To Sihyeon, teachers were supposed to be kinder. Teachers were elders that looked at her with this fondness she knew she could rely on. There was no such softness in the man’s eyes. He couldn’t be older than thirty, she guessed, with his appearance similar to the other government officials she’d see on campaigns. Sharp suit, not-too-shabby looking watch, neat hair, and the like. All of them looked the same, almost. In the way everyone glared at her now, too. Sihyeon was still slouched over the table, resting her head on her arms. Her eyes were red and puffy from sobbing herself to the dreamless, fragmented sleep she’d gotten last night. She’d woken up with a sharp pain in her chest. Regardless, she blinked rapidly and dragged herself up. She eyed the man sitting across, flipping through the pages of a file. Sihyeon squinted, trying to read the organized paragraphs from the other side. She could make out the bold headlines, the classic; Family History, Testimonials… and then the technical terms of Proband, Output Evaluation, Future Prospects, whatnot. Her head spun just looking at him go through the pages. “Is…is all of that about me?” The man glanced up for just a split second before returning to the file. He didn’t answer immediately, just shrugged lightly. Y ou could just answer…it’s a yes or a no.. “You’ve led a good life.” He finally spoke, stopping at a page, scanning the content. Sihyeon shuffled in her chair. “…Yeah, I mean…I was always on top of my class. I haven’t done anything that’s-” “You’ve grown up privileged,” He turned to the last page, and looked up at her, leaning back. “Never lacked anything. In comfort.” Sihyeon’s gaze fell on the numbers on the file. 7 983. What did that even mean? Weird. She nodded slowly. “You could say that.” She didn’t say anything further. Didn’t know what to. The man stood up, taking out a notepad. “We have quite a bit on the agenda today, but we’ll take it one thing at a time. Registrations first, then some introductory procedures.” Sihyeon debated on standing up as well, but her thoughts were scattered. Registrations? What for? She’d been left with so many unanswered questions, and n obody had or was telling her anything about her situation! The disownment deed had to be some sort of twisted agreement. All of this had to be s ome cruel joke. “Listen, I- I don’t think I need any of that. Aren’t my parents sorting things out?” Her own voice sounded smaller to her ears. She probably sounded pathetic, because the man pursed his lips. A wave of discomfort washed over her, with the way his stare was fixated on her. He waited before speaking, and placed the notepad back into his front pocket. “By sorting things out, if you mean getting ready to finalize your status as a ward of the state, sure.” God , his tone was so relaxed it made her skin crawl in frustration. Sihyeon couldn’t take it anymore. She jolted up, chair scraping. “None of you have given me concrete information on whatever’s going on!” Kurai wasn’t fazed by her burst in energy in the slightest. “That’s what we do today. We’ll help you settle down into the facility, among other things.” He lazily watched her with pace around, fidgeting with her hair. “Settle down? I- I have a lot of commitments at school and outside of it, my mom knows that, so I don’t- I don’t know what I’m doing here-” Sihyeon stuttered out, almost laughed. She would’ve continued her nervous tangent if she hadn’t heard the click of the file, and him interrupting her. “You think you’re going home.” When Sihyeon finally stood still, she caught his expression. He looked so subtly dumbfounded, impressed and amused all at the same time. "Why wouldn’t I be?“ Her thoughts took verbal form before she could even conceptualize them. Both of them stared at each other. His eyebrows were raised, and for a second he looked just as confused as her. Sihyeon watched him straighten, place his hands in his pocket, and exhale. Kurai laughed. She blinked. "Right. Okay.” He let out a chuckle that he seemed to be holding in for a long time. “I get that your disownment was too…abrupt. Sure, for someone like you, it must’ve been quite the shock.” He nodded with every sentence, as if he was trying to console a fussy toddler. “But the documents were pretty thorough, no?” It felt like the final nail in the coffin. Like the metaphor, none of it felt real. Sihyeon’s throat felt parched. “They’re probably just…punishing me. They’ll come back to get me.” “You almost killed your cousin. Near Fatality, as we call it.” Sihyeon felt like she’d almost stop breathing, chest constricting. She’d been trying desperately , to block out all thoughts of it. She didn’t remember a thing that happened in real time when everyone claims she almost took Mia’s life. All she recalled was the crimson Earth, the vast space wasteland, and the numbing terror that wracked every nerve of her body. In her memory, there was not a single trace of being a violent criminal . Yet everyone was convinced that it was all she was, that too at 17. She picked at her nails, which she’d bitten off. Kurai studied her, interpreting her silence as acceptance. “We’ve wasted enough time. Off we go.” He grabbed the file, and gestured that she follow. “But I didn’t mean it. I really- genuinely didn’t mean to kill her. I don’t get it, it was demonic possession, one of the officers said it herself, so why-” She stayed rooted to the spot, eyes beginning to water. “Yes, yes, we call that 'possession’ Resonance Displacement, simply put, you’re a ticking time bomb. That’s why you’re here.” He waved her off, his patience slowly ebbing away. It was as if she’d just swallowed glass, and scoffed. Fucking hell, she was so over the scientific sounding technical terms. “Well, at least I didn’t actually kill her, so why is everyone acting like I did?” Sihyeon knew she wasn’t thinking straight. The events of the past few weeks were like a movie in her own head, far from what she’d ever dreamt of. Shit , she’d really gone and said something that stupid, out-of-pocket, childish…evil. In those few seconds, the room grew so, so suffocating. Something shifted so starkly that even the shaky exhale she got out of her system didn’t grant her lungs any reprieve. The drop in Kurai’s features was much more noticeable now. He was no longer casual as he was moments ago, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. She avoided his glare, looking away and licking her dry lips. From the corner of her eye, he finally moved. Just a stride or two and he was towering over her. Smack. Sihyeon stumbled, grasping the edge of the table. The burn in her right cheek spread slowly, prickling at first. She took her sweet time processing what had just happened. Her pulse was like a war drum in her ears, her head, explosive. He’d hit her. Her fingers felt light as she brushed them against her stinging. It felt like…being grazed by paper. Or…sandpaper. She noticed the file at his side. Oh. So he’d basically slapped her with a file. The file that contained her data, apparently. Hot tears spilled from her eyes. Sihyeon looked up. She would have recoiled, with the terrifyingly unreadable glare that was looking down on her, if she wasn’t still processing the entire action. You can’t do this to me. Authority figure or not, you’re not supposed to lay a hand on me. “You,” he hissed slightly through his teeth. “Do not get to minimize what you did.” Kurai let those words sink in, with her still out of it. “You want out with that attitude? Want the 'involuntary manslaughter’ charge to follow you 'round everywhere?” He waved the file in the air, and this time he actually felt like a teacher reprimanding a student. “Didn’t kill her though, huh.” He scoffed, and grabbed her by the arm. She let him drag her out of the room, tears still damp on her cheeks. They’d entered an empty, dim hallway. Sihyeon quitely thanked it for being so. Even after everything, part of her felt humiliated. She wondered if she’d bruised from the hit. “The next time I hear such outrageous things come out of your mouth, I’ll be using more than just a file to knock some sense into you.” She heard him say, back turned to her as she walked in a daze. Sihyeon couldn’t find it in herself to answer. Everything felt distant, by the time they’d arrived in front of another door. “Get yourself together. Wipe those fucking tears, 79.” Even when his harsh grip had let go of her wrist, the stinging sensation refused to subside, and the new identity she’d been granted was lost on her.

The Little Girl Who Sees Ramadan If there is one perspective that feels the purest, it is the way I used to see the world when I was a child, especially during Ramadan. Back then, everything felt simpler. More magical. Less complicated. As a very “money-oriented” little girl (yes, I was that child), I used to see Ramadan as harvest season. It was the month of unexpected bonuses. Extra allowance. It comes from relatives. Small envelopes that felt like treasure chests. Only later did I understand the deeper reasons behind those gestures. I realized there was love, charity, and tradition wrapped inside those envelopes. That realization made me a little emotional. But honestly? The happiness still dominated. Second, what I knew about Ramadan was this: I was not allowed to eat or drink. That was the rule. And little Nissa was dramatic about it. Sometimes I would pretend to hiccup. Sometimes I would look extremely weak and politely ask for permission to break my fast early. As if negotiating with destiny. As if my slight inconvenience deserved special treatment. Looking back, it makes me smile. Ramadan, through a child’s eyes, was not about spiritual discipline. It was about colorful prayer books, stickers for completed fasts, and the pride of filling in every page of a Ramadan journal. If you completed it perfectly, you were cool. You were “famous” in your own little circle. Not Instagram famous. Ramadan book famous. But maybe there was something pure in that simplicity. As adults, we analyze everything. We measure sincerity. We reflect deeply. We question our discipline. But children? They experience. They celebrate. They try. And perhaps that child version of me still exists somewhere inside, reminding me that Ramadan is not only about striving, but also about joy. Maybe this year, I want to see Ramadan again the way she did. With excitement. With small rewards feeling like big victories. With sincerity that does not overthink itself. Because sometimes, the purest faith is not the most complicated one. It is the one that simply shows up, with a full heart.

Day 4 at #IMTEX 2026 marked another productive day of strong engagement and valuable discussions. It was encouraging to see continued interest in NKH Hammers’ forging solutions, along with insightful technical exchanges and new connections across the industry. Thank you to everyone who visited our stall and spent time exploring potential collaborations with us. Visit Us in Hall 2-A, Stall C-105 at Bangalore International Exhibition Centre Call & WhatsApp: +91 98880 00053, +91 98150 11330 Email: info@nkh.co.in Website: www.nkhhammers.com

Sejauh Ini, Alhamdulillah Menjadi dewasa adalah tentang menyadari berbagai keterbatasan. Keinginan yang beragam dan waktu yang tak mau menunggu. Dan betapa mengambil jeda untuk sejenak bercengkrama dengan nurani, mampu menenteramkan diri. Menjaga akal agar tak “keblabasan” mengartikan sebuah takdir, dan mencegah kaki untuk melangkah menuju hal-hal yang akan timbul penyesalan di akhir. Ketika hidup mulai dirasa berat untuk dijalani dan berbagai masalah seakan rajin menyambangi, cobalah sejenak membuka kembali lembar catatan karunia yang Allah izinkan untuk dinikmati, mengingat kembali berapa banyak nikmat yang sudah Dia beri, juga menyadari bahwa sampai detik ini, takdir baik masih menyertai. Ternyata, segala pelik permasalahan yang tengah kita rasakan, tak sebanding dengan rahmat yang tak pernah putus Dia berikan. Dimensi ruang dan waktu dengan segala batasannya mengadopsi bentuk yang semakin tegas seiring manusia bertambah dewasa. Dalam bentuk itu, manusia seringkali terjebak menjadi hakim paling kejam pada dirinya sendiri. Alhasil, kita terjebak dalam perasaan kita sendiri. Keterburu-buruan membuat kemampuan kita untuk berpikir objektif terhadap diri kita menjadi tercuri. Menjadi dewasa adalah berdamai dengan ketidakpastian. Mengerti bahwa tak semua luka butuh obat, kadang hanya perlu waktu. Bahwa tidak semua keinginan harus menjadi nyata, beberapa lebih baik dibiarkan menjadi kenangan dan pembelajaran. Semoga kita dimampukan untuk menjalani waktu, memahami diri, memaknai hidup, mengizinkan diri bertumbuh dan menjadi, dianugerahi kemampuan untuk memikirkan dan merealisasikan manifestasi keimanan dan ketaqwaan dalam setiap aspek keberadaan kita. Semoga manifestasi itu terwujud dalam kerendahan hati untuk mengakui kesalahan dan kekurangan, kelembutan hati untuk menerima niat baik orang lain tanpa prasangka, tutur kata yang lembut tanpa kebohongan, kemudahan bagi lisan untuk mengucap maaf dan terima kasih, kesabaran yang tulus tanpa hitung-hitungan. Aku bersyukur telah diperjalankan sampai titik ini, diantara banyaknya jalinan benang takdir yang rahasia. Ke depannya, mohon terus temani ya Allah :)

Post Rupture : Day 4 Our author survived the dreaded weekend. We had every faith in her, of course, but she was reasonably doubtful going into it— and every moment through it, but that’s besides the point. We find her sitting at her computer, tucked into her nest in the coveted corner of the couch. Her book is open in it’s program, she’s come prepared with her notes and pens and she’s laser-focused on— oh no, his chair. She refuses to think about the past couple days, afraid her brain will jump straight to the thought she refuses to think again. Instead, she stares at his chair and wonders what he told them about her absence. She had a role to play, but as before, he wrote her out. She almost hoped he was decent about it, giving just enough to be understood, withholding his sudden confusing disdain for her, but she’d heard how he spoke of the ghosts he left in his wake. And having the aura he did, she’d heard how everyone just believes and agrees. He’ll point to the ghosts and say, “Look at them, they lost it,” but never show the map that got them there. It’s easy to judge the aftermath when you were the architect of the explosion. Not all manipulation is loud. Sometimes it’s silence, withdrawal, moral performance—slow erosion, then blame for the collapse. She continues on this train of thought as she picks up her coffee to take her first sip— derailing that train of thought immediately, crashing and leaving no survivors. She blinks at her coffee, so sure it was just steaming, then walks it back to the microwave with a sigh. Her companion is already there, waiting just off to the side of the microwave, tail flicking every which way. “Yeah? how’s that report going?” she mutters to the thumbless menace, rolling her eyes so hard she swears she saw God. -morning musings of a mind mitigating madness

(Ramadhan) Dari Masa Kecil Ramadhan dulu datang seperti pesta kecil yang ditunggu-tunggu. Ada degup yang lebih cepat dari biasanya, ada senyum yang sulit ditahan bahkan sebelum hilal benar-benar diumumkan. Kalau diingat-ingat, mengapa ya Ramadhan terasa berbeda semakin berjalannya usia ? Mungkin karena dulu aku memandangnya dengan mata yang penuh antusias, bukan penuh beban. Atau mungkin karena dulu Ramadhan adalah tentang kegembiraan yang sederhana, bukan tentang banyak hal yang harus dipikirkan. Waktu kecil, Ramadhan adalah ajang seorang syifa kecil untuk show up (sombong kale anak kecil satu ni). Semangat membara untuk bisa puasa full. Bangga kalau tarawih full. Bangga kalau tadarus di masjid tanpa bolong. Rasanya seperti punya pencapaian besar. Ada kepuasan tersendiri ketika berhasil menyelesaikan satu hari tanpa batal. Dan tentu saja, bagian paling seru adalah tarawih bersama sahabat-sahabat. Kami datang bukan hanya untuk sholat, tapi juga untuk bersama. Bisa cerita sebelum sholat, bisa jajan-jajan kecil diam-diam (bakso 1000 dan indomie kremes paling legend), bisa bolong-bolong tidak ikut rakaat penuh karena kebanyakan duduk. Kadang senggol-senggolan saat berdiri, kadang saling menahan tawa, ya dan pasti kami dimarahi nenek dan ibu-ibu karena terlalu bising. Bahkan ada momen “war” tempat sholat, berebut saf favorit seolah itu posisi paling strategis di dunia. Lucu sekali kalau diingat sekarang. Dan yang paling penting dalam pandangan Syifa kecil adalah semangat menuju lebaran. Beli baju raya bahkan sebelum puasa dimulai. Membayangkan hari kemenangan dengan pakaian baru, sepatu baru, dan rasa bangga yang sulit dijelaskan. Sekarang, suasananya berbeda. Mungkin karena teman-teman sudah punya jalannya masing-masing. Tarawih tidak lagi seramai dulu dalam versiku. Tidak ada lagi senggol-senggolan kecil atau bisik-bisik yang membuat tawa tertahan. Dan mungkin, yang terasa berbeda bukan Ramadhannya tapi memang kita yang sudah bertumbuh. Namun di balik perbedaan itu, ada rindu yang diam-diam menggebu. Rindu pada sederhana, pada tawa tanpa beban, pada semangat yang begitu murni, dan pada sahabat-sahabatku semua. Hikmahnya, mungkin Allah sedang mengajarkanku melihat Ramadhan dari sisi yang lebih dalam. Dulu aku bersemangat karena suasananya. Sekarang aku belajar mencintainya karena maknanya. Dan mungkin, di dalam diri yang sudah dewasa ini, masih ada anak kecil yang memandang Ramadhan dengan mata berbinar hanya caranya saja yang berubah. ~Faa

Ramadan, dan Pertanyaan-Pertanyaan Itu Sebagai anak kecil, Ramadan itu seru. Banyak libur sekolah. Kalaupun masuk, pulangnya cepat. Habis Subuh ada asmara Subuh. Malamnya setelah tarawih, main kembang api sama kawan-kawan. Yang paling kusuka itu sahur dan buka puasa. Pagi dan malam selalu kumpul di meja makan. Kalau hari biasa, jarang makan bareng. Jamnya beda-beda. Kadang aku sudah selesai, yang lain belum duduk. Kadang Ayah belum pulang. Kadang ada yang makan sendiri duluan. Tapi di Ramadan, semua duduk bersama. Rasanya hangat. Aku sebenarnya belum benar-benar paham kenapa Allah menyuruh puasa. Yang kutahu cuma satu: harus puasa supaya dapat pahala. Kalau tidak puasa, nanti Allah marah. Setelah tarawih, kami antri minta tanda tangan imam. Itu tugas dari sekolah. Habis itu tadarus rame-rame di masjid. Kadang masih sambil ketawa pelan-pelan. Tapi di tengah semua yang seru itu, kadang aku heran. Kenapa ada orang dewasa yang tidak puasa? Aku tahu bekerja itu melelahkan. Tapi dulu aku berpikir, bukankah ini perintah Allah? Katanya juga, kalau Ramadan setan-setan dikurung. Tapi kenapa masih banyak orang dewasa yang marah saat puasa? Berarti bukan salah setan dong, ya? Dan kenapa ada yang ibadahnya makin rajin, tapi tetap saja suka gosip atau ngomongin orang? Waktu itu aku tidak tahu banyak. Aku cuma anak kecil yang melihat Ramadan sebagai sesuatu yang seru, tapi juga penuh tanda tanya. Dulu aku banyak bertanya tentang orang dewasa. Kenapa tidak puasa. Kenapa masih marah. Kenapa masih suka gosip. Sekarang, setelah lebih dewasa, pertanyaannya tidak benar-benar hilang. Hanya saja arahnya berubah. Bukan lagi tentang orang lain. Tapi tentang diri sendiri. Dan mungkin, itu sebenarnya yang sedang dilatih Ramadan. ••• :: 7 Ramadan 1447H

The Ramadan I Saw as a Child Hello, My name is Nur Azis Ramadhan. I was born in Ramadan, twenty six years ago. That’s why my parents placed “Ramadhan” in my name. As a child, I always thought that this month belonged to me in a special way. When Ramadan came, I did not see it the way adults did. I did not see ramadhan as a burden.I did not see ramadhan as a spiritual discipline. I did not see ramadhan was a self control month. Yet i saw Ramadhan like a lights. Which lightnening thr day. I saw the streets becoming more alive before sunset, when people seek takjil. I saw trays of fried snacks lined up like treasures. I saw cakes in bright colors, syrup in red and green, steam rising from fresh food. Ramadan, in my eyes as a kids, was vibrant and warm. Other children sometimes became quieter during Ramadan. They tried to act more patient, more composed. But I was the opposite. As a child, I looked at Ramadan with excitement, not reflection. I like to counted down the hours to iftar. The adzan felt like the happiest sound of the day. The first sip of sweet drink tasted like victory. The first bite of food felt like a reward. I also saw Ramadan as togetherness. Family sitting closer than usual. Waiting together. Smiling more. Even hunger felt lighter because everyone shared it. Back then, Ramadan meant food, joy, and a sense of celebration. Only later did I realize something deeper. The hunger I once treated like a game was shaping patience. The waiting I once rushed through was teaching discipline. The joy of breaking fast was teaching gratitude. As a child, I saw Ramadan with wide eyes and simple excitement . But now, as an adult, I see it with understanding. But honestly, a part of me still smiles the same way when the first day of Ramadan arrives. Because somewhere inside, I am still that child who believes this month is a gift with my name on it.

Day : April 29 Character : Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow Original Character : Kayla Fury/Shadow Prompt(s) : Allegiance + Compromise Setting : Leipzig Airport – Quinjet Hangar Demi’s note: So sorry this was posted late, it’s been saved in my notes but real life has gotten in the way and I forgot to post. Anyway, here’s my next little fic let for @teamcap10 anniversary event, featuring Natasha and my OC Kayla. Disclaimer, I did use Google Translate for the Russian dialogue so it might not be 100% accurate. ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— The rubble of the Air Traffic Control Tower crashes to the ground, barricading the hanger bay. From the shadows just on the other side, Kayla emerges with Steve and Bucky, all three unharmed. The paleness of her skin is more evident now, especially against the contrast of her black suit. The sounds of the fight echo in her ears, the constant use of her powers taking their toll. Every jump through shadow. Every strain of power. But Kayla pushed it down; the dizziness, the trembles in her muscles, even her shortness of breath, because that was how she was trained. The Quinjet was just a few feet ahead of them. But, there was someone waiting for them. Natasha stood in front of the Quinjet, her stance calm yet prepared. No weapons drawn. Just…there. Waiting. Kayla let out an exhale, her shoulders rising and falling once. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her modified Chitauri staff as she stepped forward, putting herself between Natasha and Bucky. Natasha’s gaze flickered over her former mentee. The tension in her stance. The slight ashiness to her skin. The exhaustion she was pushing down. Even the beads of sweat forming at her temple. Still keeping her eyes on her former mentor, Kayla tilted her head in Steve’s direction, “Go.” She told him, her tone sharp despite her fatigue. “I’ll be right behind you.” Knowing there was no use arguing, Steve and Bucky ran for the Quinjet, Kayla moving to keep herself between them and Natasha. “ YA ne khochu s toboy drat'sya. No budu, yesli pridotsya.” (I don’t want to fight you. But I will if I must.) Kayla kept her voice calm, her stance firm yet ready to engage in a fight should it come to it. “Ty srazhayesh'sya za togo, v kogo verish’. A eto znachit, chto ty uzhe pobedil.” (You’re fighting for someone you believe in. Means you’ve already won.) Natasha’s tone was soft and sincere. “YA ne vstanu u tebya na puti..” (I won’t stand in your way.) The sound of shifting rubble caught both their attention, their heads whipping in the direction of the sound. T’Challa stood a mere few feet away, already breaking into a run towards the Quinjet. Natasha glanced back at Kayla, who was already preparing to fight back, before shooting T’Challa with a blast from her wrist mounted taser. “Go!” She ordered, firing another taser strike. Kayla spun on her heels and darted up the ramp, inputting the code to close the hatch. “Spasibo, sestra.” (Thank you, sister.) Natasha’s lips curled into a small smile. “Beregi sebya, sestronka. YA tebya lyublyu.” (Be safe, little sister. I love you.) The Quinjet roared to life as Steve used the weapons turret to carve away a portion of the hanger entrance so they could fly out. Kayla braced herself against the bulkhead, the jet taking off and leaving Leipzig in their rearview. Natasha stood in the same place, watching the Quinjet disappear into the clouds. “Compromise,” she murmured under her breath. Whether it was for herself, or for Kayla and Steve, wasn’t entirely clear.

Rindu Ramadhan Masa Kecil Bagi orang dewasa, Ramadan mungkin identik dengan menahan diri, manajemen waktu yang ketat, atau persiapan mudik saat lebaran nantinya. Namun, jika aku memutar waktu kembali ke masa kecil, Ramadan adalah sebuah petualangan ajaib yang selalu dinanti dengan mata berbinar. Tak sabar rasanya menanti momen Ramadan. Dulu, Ramadan bukan sekadar ritual ibadah, melainkan sebuah perayaan kebersamaan. Masih terekam jelas di ingatan bagaimana riuhnya suasana masjid saat waktu Tarawih tiba. Masjid menjadi saksi bisu berbagai tingkah laku kami di saf belakang. Ada teman yang benar-benar khusyuk mengikuti gerakan imam, namun tak sedikit pula yang menjadikan sela-sela rakaat sebagai ruang bermain. Kami sering berbisik-bisik, ada yang mengajak bercanda , bahkan ada juga yang sekadar mengobrol tentang rencana bermain esok hari sementara suara lantunan ayat suci menggema dengan indahnya oleh imam. Momen yang paling magis sekaligus mendebarkan adalah setelah salam terakhir diucapkan. Kami tidak langsung pulang, melainkan berdesakan maju ke depan dengan satu misi penting: meminta tanda tangan kepada ustadz. Kami akan berkerumun, menyodorkan buku kegiatan Ramadan yang sudah terisi nama penceramah dan ringkasan singkat. Mendapatkan goresan tinta dari ustadz terasa seperti sebuah pencapaian besar, sebuah bukti sahih bahwa malam itu kami telah “menunaikan tugas” sebagai anak saleh. Haduh, lucunya. Kebahagiaan itu semakin lengkap karena dulu saat aku SD, sekolahku diliburkan sebulan penuh. Rasanya seperti mendapat hadiah besar, senang bukan main. Libur panjang itu biasanya membawaku pulang ke rumah nenek. Kini, saat kita sudah dewasa, kenangan itu adalah pengingat bahwa kebahagiaan itu sederhana. Momen-momen saat kecil berhasil membuatku nostalgia betapa menggemaskannya dan sangat dirindukan Ramadan sewaktu masih kecil dulu.

The Fair (500 words) by CagedNightingale [AO3]

@domaystic My entry for day 4! Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม | Last Twilight (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Day/Mhok (Last Twilight) Characters: Day (Last Twilight), Mhok (Last Twilight), Night (Last Twilight), Pomjai (Last Twilight) Additional Tags: Book Fair, Protective Boyfriend, nasty encounter with stuck up bookofiles Summary: To his surprise the man looked at him like he had the plague. “Oh, you’re another one of those freaks, aren’t you?” Day blinked, surprised. “Huh?” The man continued. “One of those who want to shove equality down out throats, books are meant to be read, not listened to, audio books are a travesty!” Written for Domaystic 2026 - Prompt 4: Unspoken message

At What Cost? Angstpril 2026 #4: At What Cost? “You don’t understand, Kya! I can’t just barge into Raiko’s office!” “I don’t see why not. He’s just a public servant like you, isn’t he?” Lin blew out her breath and covered her face with her hand. “Just because I used to act like that with your brother right after he dumped me doesn’t mean I can do that now. According to the new laws, he can fire me whenever he damn well pleases.” Kya tossed a hand and turned back to the stove. “It’s not like you need the money.” Lin felt her blood pressure begin to rise. Kya wasn’t listening. “He has hated me since he started as a crime reporter over thirty years ago. I think I threw him out of some crime scene when I was a rookie. At some point, it was like he was looking for a way to get in my way.” She sighed. “Now, he threatens my job almost every single time we speak.” Kya, clearly equally frustrated, slammed the wok down on the burner. “Lin, I can hear your heartbeat from across the room. Why won’t you just retire?” Lin threw up her arms. “And give him the satisfaction of surviving me? No thanks.” She dropped her hands, slapping them against her thighs. “Kya, I can’t just up and quit. There’s too much at stake.” When her words were met with silence, Lin looked up to see Kya spinning a globe of water until it came to rest a finger’s width from her chest. She narrowed her eyes and examined Kya’s demeanor. Master Kya will see you now was what she heard in her mind. “Lin, this is just a conversation over dinner, but your heartrate is dangerously high.” She negligently flung the ball of water into the sink and fixed Lin with her professional directness. “I know you feel obligated. Like if you don’t die at headquarters, your entire life will have been meaningless.” Lin bristled, but couldn’t bring herself to contradict Kya. “I can’t talk to you about this anymore right now. You’re willing to put yourself in harm’s way. You’re willing to drive yourself into the ground.” Lin had to stumble backwards as Kya pushed past her, marched to the front door and put on her shoes. Over her shoulder, her weary voice nailed Lin’s feet to the floor. “At what cost will it be too much, Lin?” She didn’t even close the door as she left.

Angstpril 2026 - 4 https://archiveofourown.org/works/82472081 Summary: Would it be worth it in the end?

“Whumper… What did you do? Oh my god…” “I saved Whumpee.” “You turned them into a… a thing! That… That’s not even whumpee anymore! How could you?” “I saved them.” “But at what cost? Their life? They body? Their free will? You didn’t save them, you just preserved the meatsuit of their body to make yourself feel better!”

Maa Kushmanda is the fourth incarnation of Goddess Durga and is worshipped on the fourth day of Chaitra Navratri. www.ayurvedahimachal.com

Riyad as-Salihin (Ramadan Project) باب الإخلاص وإحضارالنية ‏ ‏ “‏ إنما الأعمال بالنيات، وإنما لكل امرىء ما نوى فمن كانت هجرته إلى الله ورسوله فهجرته إلى الله ورسوله، ومن كانت هجرته لدنيا يصيبها، أو امرأة ينكحها فهجرته إلى ما هاجر إليه‏"‏ ‏ "The deeds are considered by the intentions, and a person will get the reward according to his intention. So whoever emigrated for Allah and His Messenger, his emigration will be for Allah and His Messenger; and whoever emigrated for worldly benefits or for a woman to marry, his emigration would be for what he emigrated for”. [Al-Bukhari and Musli m]. Penjelasan. - Hadist ini adalah salah satu hadist kuat yang merepresentasikan islam (1 dari 3 hadist) -Ust. Nuzul - Goal dari amal -> mencari Ridho Allah dan bukan secuil validasi manusia semata. - Ulama - ulama terdahulu mempelajari niat, sebagaimana mereka mempelajari amalan itu sendiri. Keutamaan Niat dapat membuat kita lebih cepat sampai pada “tujuan” dari pada amalan itu sendiri. Amalan tanpa niat akan mengacaukan amalan tersebut. - Niat itu artinya ikhlas. Motif dan tujuan -> intention - Niat selalu bisa diperbaiki. Salah satunya niat menntut ilmu. “The deeds are considered by the intentions, and a person will get the reward according to his intention. So whoever emigrated for Allah and His Messenger, his emigration will be for Allah and His Messenger; and whoever emigrated for worldly benefits or for a woman to marry, his emigration would be for what he emigrated for”. [Al-Bukhari and Musli m]. Penjelasan. - Hadist ini adalah salah satu hadist kuat yang merepresentasikan islam (1 dari 3 hadist) -Ust. Nuzul - Goal dari amal -> mencari Ridho Allah dan bukan secuil validasi manusia semata. - Ulama - ulama terdahulu mempelajari niat, sebagaimana mereka mempelajari amalan itu sendiri. Keutamaan Niat dapat membuat kita lebih cepat sampai pada “tujuan” dari pada amalan itu sendiri. Amalan tanpa niat akan mengacaukan amalan tersebut. - Niat itu artinya ikhlas. Motif dan tujuan -> intention 2 jenis niat 1. Niyyatul Amal: Mencakup amalan apa yang diamalkan 2. Niyyatul Amal bi Maksud: kepada siapa tujuan amalan tersebut dipersembahkan. - Niat selalu bisa diperbaiki. Salah satunya niat menuntut ilmu. itulah mengapa banyak ulama yang menulis hadist ini diawal kitab yang dituliskan (sebagai pengingat bahwa penulisan kitab, pembelajaran, dst perlu selalu diniatkan untuk Allah semata).