#gini rights

[starrrbakerrr]

HSMTMTS Appreciation Week Day 1: Favorite Character

"I don't do anything right the first time, Ricky. My thing is that I just keep pushing and I never quit."

This scene occurred before Gina started to show vulnerability. At this point she was very guarded of her emotions and put on a mask of toughness. I dislike the "Gina 1.0" label because I think she has great qualities since her introduction that do not need to be stripped. Present-day Gina still has the confidence and drive of pre-Homecoming episode Gina, she's now just more open and comfortable in her environment – and that's why she's my favorite character. 💜

[surreal-duck]

messing around a bit

[seriebofficial]

everyone else at training: 😡😤🫡

gini: 😄😸✨

[ihopeudrownmore]

WHAT the producers really hate dani and gigi so much that they made gigi get in a car crash?????? no fucking way

[johnmalevolent]

om om pirang 95 yg mengobrak abrik hatiku

[paomungbeans]

Was she really trustworthy?: urging you to squeeze your brain with me in this case. 

The one and only rule: To maintain a respectful environment, I expect all discussions to be constructive and healthy. Suspicion and inappropriate language are strictly prohibited. It is essential to renavigate our intentions accordingly. May Allah always guide us closer to what is right! 

The story will be delivered in Bahasa Indonesia. 

Halo. Assalamualaikum.

Saya akan mencoba memberikan POV saya, yaa, mengenai akun sedekah di lamanbiru ini. Untuk selanjutnya, saya akan menyebut akun tersebut dengan kata-kata “Ma-eum” (bahasa korea dari “hati”). Kita sebut dengan Mbak Ma-eum.

Saya memulai perjalanan saya dengan tumblr tahun 2021 (kalau nggak salah ingat) di akun @khaylillahtahzanu. Akunnya deactive sekarang. Yuk baca sampai akhir kenapa bisa deactive. Padahal saya aktif share tulisan saya dan branding writing saya disana. Buktinya, akun instagram saya dengan nama @khaylillatahzanu, masih menyimpan history tulisan itu. Kalau mau di-stalk, ada satu foto yang saya pin, captionnya berisi alasan kenapa saya deact tumblr itu. In essence, tumblr itu adalah dunianya saya dalam nulis!

Tahun 2022, Mbak Ma-eum DM saya di akun TUMBLR @khaylillahtahzanu (selanjutnya saya sebut akun K), meminta sedekah untuk adik-adik. Saya saat itu nggak gubris. Perasaan saya justru malah, “Lho, kok dia berani ya nge-DM orang asing untuk minta uang?”. Lobus frontal saya masih dikuasai akal sehat dan butuh bukti untuk dukung keputusan saya. Karena tiba-tiba di DM meminta sedekah, siapa yang nggak kaget, sih?

Tahun 2023, saya buka tumblr lagi. Saya buka lagi history DM itu. Ceritanya saya tergerak untuk sedekah. Wah, kata-kata Mbak Ma-eum tuh manis sekali dan lembut. Akhirnya saya tergerak untuk sedekah rutin (subuh) melalui dia. Semoga ini bukan riya yaa.

Selama 2023 berjalan, saya kadang gak rutin sedekah subuh ke dia juga sih. Tapi saya mulai melihat pola. Kalau saya udah berhenti transfer, dia akan nanya, apakah ada intensi saya untuk sedekah bagi adik-adik lagi. Awalnya saya risih karena “Kok sedekah tuh semacam ditagih ya?” tapi saya hilangkan perasaan itu. Salah saya. Saya nggak acknowledge perasaan saya. May Allah forgive. Tapi selanjutnya, saya mulai merasa nggak nyaman. Baca sampai akhir yaa, ketika saya akhirnya overwhelmed dengan chat dari dia setiap bulan/minggu soal pertanyaan intensi sedekah ini.

CERITA SAYA

Nah, ini dia skenario itu dimulai. Mbak Ma-eum DM saya dan meminjam uang. Iya. Meminjam uang. Ini terjadi di bulan July 2023. Beliau minta ke akun K. Karena akun K saya kan sudah deact, jadi bukti ini saya minta ke mbak @andromedanisa (untuk jelasnya kenapa aku SEMPAT kirim bukti ini ke Kak Nisa waktu itu, baca sampai akhir ya!). Jadi masih ada bukti tertinggal. Terlampir:

Awalnya saya bingung juga. “Kok berani banget nih? Makin menjadi-jadi? Malah mau minjem uang? Apa sangking susahnya ya hidupnya?” Waktu itu narasinya adalah anaknya (aisha, kalau tidak salah), mau kontrol terapi tumbuh kembang. Suaminya qadarullah sakit. Waktu itu dia bersumpah bahwa dia telah malu meminjam uang kemanapun dan cara dia meminjam uang ke saya adalah cara yang dia akhirnya putuskan. Tadinya sih Mbak Ma-eum katanya malu minjem, tapi dipaksain muka tebel gitu istilahnya.

Yang menarik, disini dia menegaskan bahwa akadnya BUKANlah meminta. Melainkan pinjam. Gini narasinya more or less, “Mbak (saya maksudnya), ini akadnya saya pinjam ya. Saya akan balikin.” berkali-kali dia sebutin soal akad dalam pinjam-meminjam. Walau saya bukan orang finansial, saya paham bahwa akad yang jelas itu merupakan hal yang penting. Salah satu perintah Allah pertama kali juga kan di Surah An-Nisa ayat 29. Surah Madaniyah. Perintah pertama ke muslim at its infancy. (reference: buku Revive Your Heart by Nouman Ali Khan).

“Berarti amanah yaa. Beliau mengerti mengenai akad.” pikir saya. Sampai bulan-bulan selanjutnya pun saya tidak menagih kembali. Saya yakin dia amanah dan akan kembalikan uangnya.

Agustus 2023, saya mulai curiga dan merasa sedikit nggak nyaman. Kenapa? Karena beliau ingin meminjam uang lagi. Nominalnya 900.000. Wow. Sangat besar menurut saya. Walau yang juli 2023 lebih kecil dari itu ya, saya merasa bahwa ini sudah tidak benar. Disini perasaan saya sudah nggak nyaman, tapi saya tetep meminta pertolongan Allah buat nggak cuekin dan say indecency words ke saudara seiman saya saat dia meminta sedekah (salah satu anjuran di Quran juga kalau nggak salah inget).

“Waduh, pinjeman juli 2023 aja belum dibalikin, punya audacity banget kok ya orang ini untuk minjem lagi. 900.000 pula”. Nominal 900.000 itu yang saya ingat ya. Ya justru saya tolak meminjamkan. Saya bener-bener jadi merasa penuh tiap ada DM dari Mbak Ma-eum. Seakan-akan kok jadinya bergantung ya? Astaghfirullah.

Desember 2023, saya akhirnya kirim uang lagi (yaa lagi ada. Buat sedekah). Waktu itu narasinya bahwa ada adek Naya yang ingin paket C atau ingin berangkat les karena ujian. Untuk penjelasan narasi-narasi, saya akan ceritakan di section beda ya.

Lalu, 2024 pun datang. Saya gerah banget nih. Mulai gerah. Mbak Ma-eum kok masih punya audacity untuk chat saya minta sedekah ya? Tapi nggak ada omongan soal akad pinjem uangnya dia? Waduh, disini saya pikir udah nggak bener.

Januari 2024, saya akhirnya minta dia balikin dengan cara cicil. Sudah terlalu lama menurut saya. Juli 2023 sampai januari 2024, hitung aja deh. Dia kirim 50.000 dulu. Dia bilang mumpung uangnya belum kepake apa-apa. Oke, gapapa. 50.000 diterima (nanti section bukti mutasi rekening dan cerita dibaliknya, akan saya tulis dibawah).

Februari, Maret 2024… saya nungguin… kok nggak ada ya kabar lagi? Mbak Ma-eum masih sama. Masih setia ngirim pesan menanyakan kesediaan saya sedekah. Yang saya ingat di Februari, ada adik siapa gitu namanya, butuh sepatu. Yaudah saya gerah. Saya tanyain alamatnya buat kirim sepatu. Ya pada akhirnya ya gak saya kirim sih. Soalnya ternyata gaada sepatu yang sesuai HAHAHA.

Kemudian, saya diemin tuh.. Tapi kayaknya ada lah ya 1-2 hari saya kirim untuk transfer sedekah.

Di maret 2024 juga ada kejadian menarik. Ini dia. Tahan ya bacanya. Saya DM mbak Ma-eum untuk izin.. bahwa saya mau block dia! Kejam? Menurut saya nggak. Soalnya latar belakang keputusan saya tuh gini: 1. Saya udah capek secara hati karena ditagih sedekah terus. 2. Tidak ada itikad untuk bayar hutangnya. 3. Saya merasa takut buka tumblr karena capek liat DM dia yang menanyakan perihal sedekah terus.

Saya overwhelmed.

April 2024, saya memutuskan untuk menagih hak saya. Selain ya karena saya butuh uangnya.. Saya merasa bahwa saya harus nagih hak saya yang ini. Karena akad di awal itu meminjam. Saya gabisa mengkhlaskan gitu aja. Saya buka block tumblr saya ke dia. Eh eh, kok saya nggak bisa check profile dia ya? Apakah saya di-block juga? Ini ceritanya kepanjangan, tapi langsung intinya… saya saat itu akhirnya meminta bantuan Kak Yasir Mukhtar dan Kak Nisa. Saya jelaskan kronologinya dan meminta tolong mereka untuk bantu chat Mbak Ma-eum. Saya sertakan juga bukti Mbak Ma-eum meminjam uang ke saya. Nah, ini menjelaskan alasan yaa, kenapa Kak Nisa masih punya bukti SS diatas.

Kenapa kak yasir dan kak nisa? Ketika kamu search “rumahati” di tumblr, ada interaksi anonim nanya ke akun kak yasir serta ada interaksi antara Mbak Ma-eum dengan Kak Nisa.

Waktu itu Kak Yasir yang respon saya, dan dia bantu up soal tagihan utang saya ini ke Mbak Ma-eum.

Alhamdulillah, saat itu, 2 April 2024. Saya harap 2 april 2024 ini diingat ya. Karena akan jadi kunci penjelasan selanjutnya. 2 april 2024 itu akhirnya kami (saya dan Mbak Ma-eum) pindah obrolan ke WA. Saya disitu bilang bahwa tolong balikin uang saya dsb. Saya ingatkan baik-baik bahwa itu akad meminjam.

EH, sebelum itu.. Tentu saya sudah tagih yaa di februari-maret 2024 itu (kalau ga salah ingat). Jawabannya? Suaminya sakit dan baru kecelakaan, sedang tinggal di rumah mertua. Jadi dia bilang untuk makan pun, mertua yang menanggung. Keadaannya tidak memungkinkan, jadi mohon maaf belum bisa menggantikan. Nggak persis sih seperti redaksi kata dia. Tapi di period tersebut, dia punya alasan untuk nggak ngirim sisa pelunasan. Semuanya kisah sedih.

Di 2 APRIL 2024 ini, saya udah menegakkan hati. Bahwa apapun alasannya, saya gak peduli. Uang saya harus balik. Kejam? Menurut saya nggak. Karena saya merasa udah gak kuat punya urusan lagi dengan Mbak Ma-eum. It’s better to cut-off someone who drains your energy. You will be in the same room with me for this one.

Akhirnya, dilunasi. Ini bukti MUTASI nya di rekening BSI saya. Dari rekening BSI dia (a.n Sri Wahyuni 7083952778) ke rekening BSI saya:

Sebelum dilunasi 450.000 nya. Ada yang ngebuat saya curiga dengan Mbak Ma-eum ini. Dia bilang, “Iya mbak, kami lunasi ya. Kebetulan ada uang sedekah tadi.”

Saya gak bisa kasih buktinya. Itu chat yang dia kirim ke WA pribadi saya. History chatnya saya hapus. Kenapa saya hapus? Karena sebelumnya dia guilt-trip saya (well, from my side, I took that as a gaslight or guilt-trip. manipulative!). Salah saya memang... seharusnya saya berpikir jernih waktu itu... seharusnya saya tetep keep chatnya. Tapi ya gimana... sebelumnya aja udah digaslight kayak gitu :((( Sedikit FYI, beneran kaget banget. Sampe beneran kaget. Nangis. (nanti saya lampirkan konsistensi cerita saya ini. Buktinya berupa LIVE CHAT saya 2 april yg reach out ke teman-teman saya. Ada voice note juga pada tanggal 2 april itu, sepertinya mau saya up di file cloud).

Oke, baca sampai akhir ya.

Jadi setelah dia melunasi Rp450.000, saya segera hapus history chat, deact akun TUMBLR khaylillahtahzanu. Kenapa? Saya beneran trauma liat akun itu. Trauma. Saya trauma liat tulisannya yang cenderung akan meng-expose kesedihan adik-adik asuhnya, dsb. Saya pun trauma karena gaslight-nya sangat menyakiti hati saya. Terlebih itu keluar dari jari dirinya. Jari yang ia pakai untuk menulis kalimat-kalimat Allah juga di page tumblr-nya beliau.

Adapun gaslight yang dia kirimkan ke saya melalui chat adalah:

“Mba, maaf banget kalau kami belum bisa bayar. Tapi tolong Mba jangan perlakukan kami seolah2 mencuri uang. Kami tidak tahu apa yang udah menimpa Mba Ervine. Tapi seolah2 kami juga ikut andil atas apa yang menimpa Mba.”

Buktinya? Memang tidak ada bukti chat dia ke saya. Karena history chat WA dia ke saya telah saya hapus. Saya sedih sampai ga sudi lagi untuk liat chatnya, makanya saya hapus (iya saya tau waktu itu langkah saya beneran nggak tepat untuk hapus history chat). Tapi waktu itu saya LIVE CHAT soal penagihan utang ini ke grup yang berisi kakak-kakak saya. Tanggal 2 april 2024. Harap dilihat time-stampnya ya!

Jam 15.33 itu beneran saya nge-copy langsung dari chat Mbak Ma-eum ke grup. Saya gemeteran. Sangat gemeteran. Sangat-sangat gemeteran. Sampai saya ketik ini, saya masih inget perasaan saya kala itu. Lalu, jam 15.36, dia kirimkan pelunasan 450.000.

Bersambung. Pasti masih banyak pertanyaan mengenai kebenaran cerita saya. Saya akan coba jelaskan di section tulisan terpisah. Yang berisi LIVE CHAT saya dan VOICE NOTE saya ke teman dan kakak-kakak kenalan saya. Saya waktu itu beneran sangat shock, jadi meminta banyak orang untuk mewaraskan diri saya.

Jadi, menurut teman-teman, adab sedekah (yang memberikan ataupun pihak yang diamanahi sedekah) dan meminjam uang itu sebaiknya seperti apa?

[peachjagiya]

I think JK just got together with Wooga recently, maybe pandemic. I don't think he is THAT close with them. Tae spends time with them a lot and since they were on hiatus, Tae invited JK to their hangouts same with his high school friends. Why only JK? They both have almost same time off during hiatus. Wooga are familiar with Hobi too. Peakboy's music is similar to JK's, hence the remixes. Others are meh about him. Levi and Gini know him so they also post about his songs. Does it make JK special? As Tae's closest friend in BTS, yes. But it isn't a basis of them having a romantic relationship. Is it possible that TK are just bestfriends with deeper bond than most of what we are used to? Of course. Is it possible that they are in a relationship? Certainly. Is it possible that they talked about their feelings but decided to just stay friends? 100%. We will never know. I think am better off accepting their relationship as platonic than romantic. Saves us the heartbreak. If they're still together 30 years from now and decide to come out, good for them. But with how things are at the moment, I'm leaning more towards them just being friends.

And that's ok!

I don't buy that JK is a sixth Wooga, no. I think it's more than just convenience though.

I can't think of many Hyungsik instances with JK. They went to Harry Styles with Hyungsik but that's the only thing I can think of.

But Wooshik has been out with Tae and JK along with his brother who then posted a picture of the three of them. He's inviting family to hang with a guy he's meh about? It seems cozy and comfy to me, especially as it was just the four of them. He also did like one of JK's instagram posts but likes can be accidental and I think it was only the one so.... yeah.

Seojoon invited JK, by name, to his film premiere possibly twice.

Ok so let's say Dreamiere - and possibly Concrete Utopia - was just to do with Tae and JKs schedules aligning. I mean Tae is capable of going places alone, right, and I also feel like this has been debunked by Jimin's availability elsewhere... but let's go with it: JK was just invited because his schedule aligned with Tae.

But Seojoonie-hyung was also at JKs album party, it seems*. Not made public, a private event, only revealed by staff. It's one thing to think Seojoon invites JK places reluctantly but it's another for JK to extend an invite and Seojoon to accept it. (Unless Tae extended the invite, in which case are the rumours about Tae organising the party for JK true? Or did JK just let Tae invite whoever despite seemingly nobody else getting that privilege? All roads lead to the same type of conclusion.)

*Sidenote on this: I don't believe I ever saw that it was pinpointed as a fake source but if any not-jkkrs knows it was, please do tell me.

Absolutely this can all be explained by Tae and JK being the closest. Yes. Alongside everything else, I personally think it's romantic. But that's beside the point. The main point I'm making is that I don't think the others are meh about him at all.

Though I think it was probably just an innocent throwaway comment, it's not the first time I've seen sentiment like this, the baseless implication that they only tolerate JK. Why paint JK in that light? There's a kinder explanation: they are cool with him and want to hang with their bestie's bestie/bf.

You're within your rights to protect yourself, obviously, if it saves you the heartbreak. I personally won't be heartbroken if it is platonic. I'll just accept I read it wrong and continue to love their closeness. But if it really would bother you, you're probably right to think of them as just friends.

[literallydontlook]

Atonement - part 1

Pairing: Crosshair x f!sex worker!reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, skidaddle)

WC: 5.7k

Series summary: After Cody deserts, Crosshair comes to terms with his place within the Empire and the things that he’s done in its name. As the inhibitor chips begin to degrade, his building guilt finally pushes him to defect himself. Life on the run is harder than he imagined, but he’s found moments of comfort and true peace from an unlikely source. Can he ever atone for the crimes he’s committed or is he condemned to a lifetime of guilt?

Series CW: canon typical violence, swearing, sex work, lots of negative self talk, PiV, masturbation (m and f), probably oral at some point; reader has a back story but no physical descriptions; lmk if I missed anything

Unwhitewash the bad batch disclaimer: these guys are straight up white in the show and that is not ok with me. My descriptions and headers are made to combat canon designs. If you don’t like that pls leave.

A/N: SOOOOOOO ONCE AGAIN I’m on my Crosshair shit even though almost 0 of my followers are here for this. I wanted to explore what it would take for him to find redemption. TO BE CLEAR a lot of the stuff he says on the show and his attitude and superiority complex in canon are straight up disgusting, but I can’t help but wonder if I’d be strong enough to defect if I were put into a similar situation. In an age where we are so quick to condemn people for their mistakes (god knows I’ve made my share), how can we nurture the good in people instead of pushing them farther away? Also I was horny lol

—

Sharp eyes scan the cantina over the rim of his drink. Others are like him — sitting at tables obscured by the darkness. They’re scheming and dealing, keeping low profiles as they search for their next gigs. The dim lighting blurs their faces and the air is hazy with smoke. But Crosshair still sees everything.

But he also listens.

“…Black Sun…—ot take kindly to…”

“…we’ll need a qui—….to pick off…”

“I don’t want no part of…-mperial control…”

There are a number of promising-sounding leads and he indulges in a little bit of cautious optimism. It’s been 2 months since he’d defected and two rotations since he’s eaten. He never thought he’d ever miss the Imperial slop they served at the mess, but it’s starting to sound pretty good right about now. His stomach rumbles.

Finding jobs was proving to be more difficult than he’d anticipated, especially for a man looking to disappear from the Empire. Most bounty hunters belong to the Guild, but he can’t risk leaving that kind of a record. It leaves him with the kinds of jobs that are actively avoiding official channels.

A spineless-looking gentleman dressed far too expensively for the establishment looks over his shoulder before taking a seat across from Crosshair. He runs a hand through greasy, slicked back hair and fiddles with the gaudy rings on his fingers, twisting them nervously. Crosshair acknowledges him with a silent nod.

“That’s quite a rifle you’ve got there,” he says, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Crosshair hums in response, taking a sip of his drink. The man looks around again and dabs at the sweat around his neck before leaning in.

“I’m looking for some help,” he says, voice lowered to almost a whisper. There’s an awkward silence as he waits for a response but he’s met with Crosshair’s usual brand of stoicism.

He waits for the man to continue and it takes almost all of his willpower not to roll his eyes and scoff. “What’s the job,” he asks finally.

“Ah, yes — well, I’m looking for someone who can be discreet. This cannot be traced back to me,” he says, looking over his shoulder again, “and my associate spoke very highly of you.”

Crosshair narrows his eyes. “And who, exactly, is this associate?”

He leans further over the small table, lowering his voice even further. “Gini Millegi,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Hmm…” Crosshair considers this information carefully while absentmindedly stirring his drink with a toothpick. Millegi was a notorious gangster in the region who’d hired him for a hit just a few weeks ago. Something about rival gang politics — he couldn’t care less, to be honest. The pay was good and the job was surprisingly easy. What more could he ask for?

The man clears his throat and Crosshair’s returning glare nearly burns a hole in his forehead. “Go on,” he says impatiently. The man jumps in his seat and pats down his pockets nervously.

“The target will be at Safa Toma, just across town tomorrow.” He frowns, mumbling something to himself before exclaiming, “The little brat — she can’t just waltz in here out of nowhere and take our family’s hard-earned fortune! Who does she think she is?!”

He closes his eyes and places a hand over his heart dramatically.

“My father is not long for this world and she needs to be eliminated before he passes.”

Crosshair holds up a hand, “Spare me the details. What’s the bounty?” He didn’t need to hear a long winded story about greedy families vying for an inheritance. The less he knows, the better.

The man sits back and huffs indignantly. “Five thousand credits. Double if you can make it look like an accident.”

Five thousand credits. That's enough to buy some stability for at least a month. He locks eyes with the man and something in the pit of his stomach turns as he considers the proposition. It sounds easy enough, but he’s learned quickly that in this line of work, nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

Especially when the client is avoiding official Guild channels.

His stomach grumbles.

“Fine. But I want fifty percent up front. Those are my terms,” he says, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “You won’t find a more discreet hunter.”

The man hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek in consideration. Finally, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a coarsely woven bag. He sets it on the table, but his hand lingers over it. “How do I know you won’t just run off with the credits?” He asks with narrowed eyes.

Crosshair plucks it from below his palm. “You don’t.”

—

Safa Toma is boisterous, a hub of raucous activity and a host of unsavory characters. The main draw is riot racing, a dangerous sport akin to Tatooine’s pod racing with the addition of officially sanctioned weapons usage. Crosshair had heard of it. Many clients in his new line of work were enthusiastic participants with racers of their own, but he’d never had an interest. The place is decidedly too cacophonic for his taste.

He peers at the stadium through his scope, searching for the reflective discs he’d strategically placed the night before. With any luck, he’d be able to mask his location with a shot rebounded from the opposite direction.

He’s perched high on an abandoned building, several kliks away. By now, the toothpick dangling from his lips is gnarled and ready to snap. He can’t shake his nerves and the vague feeling of foreboding he’s had about this job. His commlink crackles to life.

“The target is en route to the viewing suite. Do you remember the hand signals?” His client’s voice is low and his speech is rushed, nervous and impatiently demanding some sort of comfort to placate his anxious energy.

Crosshair rolls his eyes before responding. His scope swings across the stadium in search of a group matching the provided description. An older, heavier-set woman with a severe expression and dressed impeccably. Another woman in expensive robes and perfectly coiffed hair carrying a small child. And two greasy-looking men in suits wearing jewelry worth more than Crosshair’s entire ship.

“I have a visual. Awaiting your signal.”

The link goes silent as he watches the client dart out from behind a column and speed walk down the hallway to catch up, arms pinned rigidly to his sides in a ridiculously short strut.

So much for playing it cool.

Now that they’re all together, it’s clear that these people are the client’s family. The resemblance between him and the two men is unmistakable. And they’ve all clearly inherited the older woman’s chin, who he figures is their mother. The connection to the younger woman and the toddler is less clear.

He’s focused on tracking the group but registers the sound of stray blaster fire and a unified gasp from the crowd. The announcer’s voice booms and even from this distance, Crosshair can hear it.

“A friendly reminder to all our spectators: be mindful of blaster fire. Safa Toma Speedway is not liable for any injury, death, or disintegration. Thank you.”

He absentmindedly rolls his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Hmm, he thinks, that’d be a convenient cover if the timing is right. Maybe I can double the bounty after all.

Steadily, he follows their movements with his scope until they reach the suite. The two men plop down on a luxurious looking sofa and turn on a large screened TV, where they’re able to watch several sporting events at once. The client pulls out a seat next to the window for the younger woman and Crosshair tenses in preparation, recognizing that this placement is surely intentional. She must be the target.

She sits and places who Crosshair assumes is her daughter on the ground. The child toddles towards the window, pressing her small, chubby hands against the glass, looking down at the speedway with wide, innocent eyes.

He exhales a stuttered breath and closes his eyes.

The kid will be fine, he reassures himself. The family’s loaded anyway.

When he peers through the scope again, he sees the client approach the child, kneeling down to meet her eye level. He places a hand on her shoulder and gestures down toward the track with three fingers, wagging them three times.

Crosshair sucks in a breath.

The hand signal.

Maker. What in Malachor has he gotten himself into? The toothpick snaps between his gritted teeth as he focuses on the small child. She ohs and ahs, clapping clumsily as the speeders pass by. And as if she knew he was there, she turns towards Crosshair’s position, looking straight into his scope and smiles.

Finger hovering over the trigger, he contemplates the job. He’s so close to the easiest payout of his life, but he’s struggling to make the shot. His head begins to throb violently.

Just do the job.

The faces of every innocent child he’d ever executed flashes in his mind.

You must do what needs to be done.

“You know what makes us different from battle droids?”

Just fucking pull the trigger.

“We make our own decisions. Our own choices.”

You were born for this.

“And we have to live with them, too.”

The pain crescendos — an acute, stabbing — until he can’t take it anymore, releasing his rifle with a clatter as he grits his teeth and sits back, hands gripping his scalp and eyes squeezed shut.

He can’t do it.

He won’t.

—

It’s late by the time Crosshair arrives at the agreed-upon meeting spot. The sun has long set and the only respite from the bite of cold evening air is the occasional puff of putrid-smelling steam released from an underground pipe. He leans against the damp alley wall, eyes cast downward. Anger and frustration swirl but at who and about what? He’s not sure.

His brooding is interrupted by the splash of stomping feet approaching. The client is cloaked, a hood pulled over his head, but Crosshair doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s pissed.

“What the kriff happened back there?”

“You failed to mention the target was a child,” he growls, jabbing a finger into his chest.

The client, seeming to forget Crosshair’s physical advantage in this altercation, doubles down on his outrage.

“What happened to ‘spare me the details’?!” He shouts, slapping away the accusatory hand. “What part of non-Guild work do you not understand?”

The toothpick in his mouth snaps in frustration, knowing it’s his own fault for taking this job, so he only responds with a silent glare.

“I’m not a child murderer,” he seethes. He pulls the burner commlink from his belt pocket and throws it on the floor, crushing it under his heel.

Not anymore, he thinks.

The client rears back with his jaw hanging open. He points a condemnatory finger towards the sniper.

“You —“ he shrieks, “you’ll pay for this.”

“Enjoy the fucking credits. I hope it’s worth it,” he says darkly before spitting at his feet and disappearing into a mysterious speeder just arrived at the end of the alleyway.

The leather of his gloves squeak as he tightens a fist and inhales slowly through his nose. He exhales a steadying breath and closes his eyes.

At least he’s got the deposit.

The coarsely woven bag sits heavy in his other hand but lifts a weight from his shoulders. Enough credits for a few weeks. He stares blankly at it until his stomach protests, reminding him that he’s close to death. He lets his feet take him to his next destination.

His boots splash murky puddle water as he mindlessly travels to the closest source of food. The shop is crowded but the warm, comforting smell of stewed nuna and protatoes is too enticing to ignore on such a frigid night.

He waits in the crudely formed line outside. There’s no indoor seating, only a dark window where credits are exchanged for a piping hot bowl of stew passed anonymously by a clawed hand. A Rodian man shoulders his way past Crosshair and anger flashes hot in his chest before the hollowness in his weakened limbs reminds him of his vulnerability.

The air is moist by the time he gets his bowl, the hazy fog settling heavily and blurring his surroundings. He finds privacy in an unoccupied alley to enjoy his meal and absorb its warmth. After the first taste, his eyes widen before he tilts the bowl back and gulps the stew ravenously, nearly choking on the large chunks of meat.

He tosses his trash into a dumpster and begins the long trek back to his ship, docked outside the city’s limits. He hasn’t had enough credits for docking fees and had been making the long journey into town by foot each day.

He absentmindedly scans the fliers posted to a communications pole. It seems like a popular spot judging by the absence of any free space. Some locations are stacked thick with flimsi and everything is damp from the dewy droplets formed on the metal shaft. Many fliers are out of date — faded and torn, pasted over by newer announcements and ads.

Lost Tooka - REWARD. Last seen at central market.

Waste removal services. Discreet and quick. Comm for pricing.

Rhodian Underground LIVE at the Spotchka A GoGo

Midtown Inn — long term and nightly rates available

Crosshair digs into his utility belt, fumbling for the credits. Weighing the bag in one hand, he deliberates his lodging options as he calculates the cost of ship repairs and ammo and food. His body aches and the thought of sleeping on a real bed is tempting, to say the least.

He looks at the time, knowing he’s got another hour or so until he reaches the ship. He makes a spontaneous decision to stay in town, allowing himself to indulge for one night. It’s a short walk to the Midtown Inn, but by the time he gets there, the “no” has been illuminated on their vacancy sign.

He sighs. Just his luck.

He runs a hand over his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat, as he looks around for another option. The immediate surroundings look like a bust. Just closed businesses shuttered for the night.

The inn itself is tucked into the neighborhood, surrounded by a maze of small streets and alleys that eventually link up to the main road. He’s not sure anymore what the fastest route would be so he takes an educated guess and follows the small road past more closed shops below crumbling housing, using the tracking equipment in his vambrace as a guide.

He’s so focused on the little red dot on the radar that he nearly misses it.

The repeating pattern of one junk building after another is finally broken by a small pathway nestled between two closed restaurants. It’s remarkably void of trash. In fact, everything he can see of it from the road is uncharacteristically pleasant. He stares at it for a long time, looking back at his vambrace to determine if this could lead to the main road.

He approaches it skeptically, standing at the mouth of it and finding it to be very well maintained.

Cautiously, he follows the path, each side flanked by tall, solid stone walls that tower even above his significant height. They’re lined with lamps hung close to the ground where they cast a warm, otherworldly glow, keeping most of the way shrouded in darkness. The tranquility here is a sharp contrast to the grit of the rest of Ord Mantell City. He feels as if he’s entering a secret space and he’s careful to stay vigilant as he travels deeper down the path.

Finally, he reaches a crossroads. To the left, the path continues, turning sharply around a corner and out of sight. To his right stands a nondescript two story building, perhaps a house. On one side a large tree’s branches reach up and over its flat roof. And while the walls are painted a dark color, adding to the home’s mystery, there’s something welcoming about it. There aren’t many windows, but the lights are on in most of them, the curtains all drawn shut. Barely visible, painted in a hue just one tint lighter than the walls, is a small sign reading “House of Desire - walk ins welcome” in aurebesh.

Ah.

He thinks again about the credits in his pocket. Doesn’t he deserve one night of relief? He could certainly use it.

Reluctantly, he approaches the door and stands at the entrance. The cylindrical eye of a TT-8L gatekeeper droid extends abruptly from the peephole, focusing on Crosshair’s face before quickly retreating with a slam. The door slides open.

The entryway opens directly into a comfortable living room with a plush sofa set behind a low, circular holo table. A set of stairs runs parallel against the back wall where he sees two sets of legs disappearing up to the second floor. An older pantoran woman stands regally at the center of it all, her hands clasped low in front of her body.

“Welcome to the House of Desire. How can I help you?” She asks, motioning for him to take a seat.

Crosshair reluctantly approaches the sofa, carefully unholstering his rifle so he can sit comfortably. The woman seems entirely unbothered by his armored appearance and weapon as she takes a seat across from him.

“Can I offer you anything to drink? Perhaps an herbal tea?”

He simply nods and she immediately comms someone to bring them a pot.

“It’s your first time here, I gather,” she says with a smile, tapping the table’s control panel and projecting a menu of options. “Let’s start with some questions,” she suggests.

Crosshair visibly stiffens and she smiles knowingly, “Don’t worry, we understand the…sensitive nature of our business. There's no need to divulge your full identity here, only what’s necessary to ensure the safety of our girls.”

He hums in acknowledgement as she asks him for a name, to which he declines, instead opting for an identification number — ironic choice for a clone who’d only ever wanted to be recognized as a person, but different times and all that.

She conducts a full health screening, including a body scan for signs of contagious infections and disease. Finding him healthy, she takes note in his registration file as she explains the rules of conduct within the House. He agrees, signing his newly issued identification number.

“Alright, that about does it,” she says, navigating the holotable program to a roster of the House’s available girls (although the word “girls” is a fairly restrictive industry term it seems, as the catalog features people of all life forms and genders). He peruses a catalog of full body, three dimensional holos, each one including detailed information about their specialties, likes, and dislikes.

The options feel endless and he swipes through each one almost mindlessly, trying to narrow down his criteria. It seems like there’s something for everyone here.

He’s on the verge of making a random selection until one catches his eye. He’s not sure exactly what draws him to you specifically, as many of the girls are what he’d consider pretty — he wouldn’t have a hard time getting in the mood with many of them, truthfully. But there’s something about your entry that makes him stop and piques his interest more than the others.

He silently glances at the madame and she smiles, making note of his selection in his file and sending a message to you.

“Oh, you’ll like her,” she says, pulling a small card from the holo table. She hands it to him before inviting him to follow her up the stairs.

“This is your membership chit. Bring it whenever you visit,” she explains, “you can also plug it into your data pad to make appointments with or contact any girls you’ve had sessions with before.”

He pockets the chit as they walk up the stairs and down the hall to a door marked simply with the number 04.

She knocks gently and a voice answers from within, granting permission to enter. The door slides open to a dimly lit bedroom awash in the dreamy, soothing glow of candlelight. Taking a tentative step inside, he immediately feels his tense shoulders relax as he breathes in the light scent of jogan-blossoms and Felucian jasmine. The gentle plucking of strings, the song more atmospheric than melodic, plays quietly in the background.

“Enjoy your visit.”

Crosshair whips his head around, startled from his reverie by the madadme’s farewell. She shuts the door with a swish, leaving him suddenly feeling very self aware of how dirty his armor is.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” a voice calls from the adjoining refresher, “you can store your rifle and armor in the wardrobe. Unless you’d prefer to keep it on.”

Still hesitant, he finds the aforementioned wardrobe and shrugs off his weapon, next unclipping each piece of armor slowly. Once down to his bodysuit, he looks around the room feeling uncertain about his decision but ultimately resigned to it. He sits down on the sofa, hands clasped together and body hunched over, one leg bouncing anxiously in anticipation.

“Well hello there.”

He stills before finally lifting his gaze. Fuck. You’re even more beautiful in person. The holo doesn’t do you justice.

You walk towards him slowly, exaggerating the sway of your hips, each step shifting the hem of your deep red negligée in the most tantalizing way. This thing was designed specifically to send him to an early grave — he’s sure of it.

You stop in front of him, trying to suppress a smile, mirth dancing in your eyes. He realizes his jaw has been hanging open and he shuts it immediately, averting his eyes. Caught.

“May I?” You ask with a chuckle, motioning to the seat beside him. He continues to avoid your gaze but nods once.

Cautiously, you lay a hand on his bicep.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” you coo, “you can look. Isn’t that why we’re both here?”

He’s got a lot of shame and pride, you think to yourself when he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You smooth your hand up to his shoulder and down his back, feeling the defined muscle beneath your palms.

“Let’s get the boring stuff out of the way first,” you say, shifting to a more businesslike tone. He finally turns to look at you. “Lay down some ground rules and talk about what you want to do.”

You forge ahead. “I ask all my guests to wear a biosheath for the duration of our sessions.” You reach into a jar sitting on a side table, pulling out a foil packet and handing it to him. He accepts it with a silent nod and you smile, pleased that he seems unphased by this request. A good sign.

“Additionally — and I’ll understand if you’d like to find another girl — I will not kiss my guests on the mouth.”

Crosshair raises a brow, surprised by this rule, but nods in agreement. You sigh with relief.

“At any time, you and I are able to renegotiate any activity if either of us begins to feel uncomfortable.

I like to use a color system. Red means stop. Yellow for proceed with caution. And green for go. Does that work for you?”

Another nod.

You laugh. “Talkative I see.”

He shoots you a withering look and you laugh harder.

You move to stand in front of him, using a gentle hand to push him back against the seat.

“Relax,” you say lowly as you swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, running your palms up his firm chest. “Is this okay?”

You grind your hips down against his experimentally, feeling him grow hard beneath his pants. His breath hitches and you take this moment to firmly place his hands on your waist.

“Is that a yes?” You ask, only to be met with obstinance and his silent, piercing gaze. You tsk, “I need to know you want this.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “why else would I be here?”

What a brat.

“People come here for all kinds of reasons,” you explain, soothing your hands over his shoulders. “Some people come to watch or be watched,” you grind down again, nipping at his ear, “some people just want me to hold their hand.”

“Now,” you whisper, “what about you? What do you want?” You ask, letting your breath fan against his neck. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat attempting to adjust himself, but there’s no hiding how turned on he is beneath the skin tight bodysuit.

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought this far. The entire journey had been fairly spontaneous and he didn’t think he’d have, well, options. He’s never had options before. Not any so straightforwardly given anyway.

You crawl off of his lap, dancing your fingers along his shoulders as you circle the sofa to drape your arms around him from behind. Your hands explore his upper body and you feel his muscles begin to relax when you massage his neck.

“I…want to watch you,” he says finally. “And then I want to fuck you until you scream.”

You hum in agreement. “That sounds like a good plan. You’re so tense,” you muse, digging your thumb into a particularly large knot. He groans involuntarily — something between pleasure and pain.

“How about a massage first? Then you can watch me play with myself.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, palming himself over his pants. You smile impishly.

“I’m gonna take that as an enthusiastic ‘yes’,” you tease, leading him to the bed and slipping your fingers below the hem of his top. He pulls it over his head, and you nearly gasp. Brown skin pulled taut over some…significant muscle development has your eyes bulging. You thought his body suit was leaving nothing to the imagination but apparently there was much more to see.

Maker, you think to yourself.

It’s now his turn to smirk, making you look away embarrassed, caught off guard.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he teases, “you can look. Isn’t that why we’re both here?”

You roll your eyes. “Get on the bed.”

He doesn’t respond, but he smirks at you knowingly as he lies face-down.

“So tell me,” you start, massaging the scented oil over a particularly nasty scar across his shoulder blade, “what do you do for work? I’m guessing you’re a bounty hunter.”

“…something like that,” he answers evasively. You hum thoughtfully, finally deciding to cater to his preference for silence as you work over his tired muscles.

He sighs and you smile to yourself, pleased to be able to offer this man some relief. You crawl onto the bed, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle his back as you continue.

Your fingers work into a tattoo of a skull over the number 99 written in aurebesh and you wonder about its meaning knowing you shouldn’t push him too much. The man is like a stray, injured tooka — skittish and deeply suspicious but desperately in need of affection and attention.

“What? No more inane questions?”

You chuckle - Maker this man is infuriating. “Tons. But I won’t pry. You’ll tell me everything I want to know in your own time.”

He scoffs, “Awfully confident, aren’t we?”

You only smile and hum in response as you dig your fingers into a particularly tense knot of muscle. He hisses, turning his head in an attempt to scowl at you. You laugh.

It’s not everyday you’re actually attracted to a guest, but there’s definitely a level of sexual chemistry here that’s unusual for your experience. His kriffing back of all things is getting you hot and bothered. Without even realizing it, you begin to grind yourself down on his ass, your breath growing heavy as you mewl softly.

Crosshair can feel you becoming needy and it makes him feel ready to burst. He’s been rock hard since you’ve entered the room and he knows that if he so much as ruts into the mattress he’ll come in his pants like some shiny fresh from Kamino.

He growls, finally flipping you over and caging you in between his arms.

“I said I wanted to watch,” he breathes, pupils blown wide with lust. You swallow and nod, almost paralyzed by his hungry gaze, before he releases you.

He pulls up a chair and takes a seat, lounging with his legs spread wide and one hand cupping his bulge. Grabbing the hem of your negligée, you begin to pull it off but he stops you suddenly.

“Leave it on.”

He looks like a king. The way one arm drapes casually over the seat’s back. The way his eyes devour you. Everything about him thrills you, shooting electricity down your spine. It’s been ages since you’ve felt this nervous energy performing for a guest.

You make a show of it. Biting your lip and massaging your breasts. You tweak a nipple and mewl in pleasure as your chest begins to heave with heavy breaths.

“Fuck, kitten, yes” he groans, using every ounce of self control not to stroke himself, “play with your pretty pussy. Show me what you like.”

Obediently, you sit back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open to put yourself on display. You pull your soaking panties to the side and run your fingers through your glistening folds to gather the wetness. Without breaking eye contact, you bring them to your lips and dart your tongue out to lick them before sucking with an obscene moan.

Crosshair grinds his teeth together so hard they nearly break. He doesn’t even know what to focus on anymore. The outline of your pebbled nipples through the silky fabric? Your lips wrapped deliciously around your fingers? The other hand rubbing circles over your clit?

“Fuck your fingers,” he demands, voice painfully strained. You obey, releasing your fingers with a pop before plunging them into your cunt. “Such a fucking good girl,” he praises.

You can’t help but to cry out in frustration as you try to reach that impossible place within you, working both hands feverishly to chase your high.

“That’s right, kitten, is that how you like it? Add another finger for me,” he grits.

You comply, panting heavily, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Before you know it you hear the violent clattering of the chair being upturned. You feel his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand away. Your cry of frustration quickly morphs into one of pleasure as he plunges two fingers into your tight hole, scissoring them until you snap, coming with a scream as his fingers fuck your through your high.

By the time you’re able to see him again through heavy lids and the aftershocks of your orgasm have subsided, he’s desperately rolling the biosheath down his thick cock.

“Hands and knees,” he rasps, barely in control of his desire.

You scramble to obey, arching your back deliciously and presenting yourself to him with a wiggle of your ass. He kneads your cheeks, reverently admiring the way his fingers sink into the plush meat there.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Fuck me,” you respond breathlessly.

Grabbing you firmly by the hips, he finally guides himself into your waiting heat and, finding no resistance, sheathes himself to the hilt in one stroke.

You both groan in unison as he stretches you open for the first time.

He hunches over you, fondling your breasts. “I won’t be gentle,” he whispers into your ear. He feels your walls clench around him as he ruts into you.

“Good,” you breathe.

Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him.

Raising himself back up, he grips your hips and begins to pound into you mercilessly, taking out years of pent up frustration as his fingers dig deep into your flesh. For the first time in a long time, he feels in control, using you for his own pleasure.

“You’re such a fucking good girl. Listen so well. Letting me destroy this tight cunt,” he growls.

You can do nothing but grip the sheets as he pistons his hips into you, the bed frame slamming into the wall with each thrust. You’re sure the other girls can hear it. The lewd squelching. The slap of his hips against your ass. Your pathetic moans. Apparently this man is silent except during sex.

“Yes. I’ll do anything you ask, sir. Make me feel so good,” you mewl. His rhythm begins to falter as he reaches his high, finally plunging himself deeply as he comes undone. His release triggers your own and you scream, your walls clamping down on his cock, milking him until he’s spent.

Panting, he pulls out, carefully removing the biosheath and disposing of it, only to collapse back onto the mattress when he returns.

“Maker,” you breathe with a hand resting on your sweaty forehead, “that was —that was…“ you laugh in disbelief as you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t respond so you enjoy a moment to come down from your high.

The candlelight is beginning to dim as some candles flicker out. The music has long since reached its last track. The two of you lay in contented silence for some time as you softly caress his bare skin, walking your fingers up his arms and smoothing your hand down his back in soothing motions.

You get an inkling when you feel his pliant body first becoming tense beneath your touch.

Before you know it, he’s trembling, his shoulders shaking more and more violently as he begins to sob. It starts as silently but soon devolves into wretched cries, his voice rough with pain. You gather him into your arms, letting him hide his face in your neck as you cradle him, gently rocking your body until you both fall asleep.

—

By the time your alarm chirps and the sun begins to stream in through the curtains, he’s gone. You wake up to an empty bed and a stack of credits on the nightstand.

You lay back down, clasping your hands behind your head and sigh contentedly.

You wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

—

A/N: 🫠 uh i Guess i hope you enjoyed?

[colorious]

no one is free from the need to repent (tawbah). "there is nothing wrong with me", that means there is something wrong with you.

kalo pernah terbersit aja pikiran, "hidup gue sih (((aman))) aja ya gak gimana-gimana apalagi commiting the sin (percayalah ada aja orang kek gini 😌)", tiati itu adalah sinyal bahwa ada yang gak beres dengan diri kita dan harus segera di-istighfari. bertaubat itu gak harus nunggu ada "momen" punya dosa besar dulu karena dosa-dosa kecil kita—yang barangkali udah berubah besar—juga harus di istighfari sebelum berubah semakin besar lagi.

there are two types of repentance: 1) repentance for sin 2) repentance for not doing enough—which is a deficiency with Allah swt. that means even if you are not engaged in sin (which is impossible y), you STILL perpetually, inherently FAILING to give Allah swt HIS FULL RIGHT upon you. THIS! alias gak memenuhi hak Allah atas diri kita secara paripurna juga harus repent. kita kalo nuntut hak ke Allah udah kayak apa tau padahal kita sendiri ke Allah kek manaaaa? ㅠㅠ

—

part yang ✨ lagi yaitu tentang istilah nasuha yang sering melekat pada istilah tawbatan nasuha which is translated as sincerely. secara bahasa arab berasal dari kata minsaha yang artinya sewing machine. this is deeply profound because what minsaha or sewing machine does it that it REMOVES OLD threads and then STRAIGHTENS UP the garment with NEW threads—and that is how you make your tawbah. dalem banget ga tuh. :")

—

when Allah swt speak about worldly life in the Qur'an Surah Al-Mulk verse 15, Allah uses the word WALK.

when Allah swt speak about matters of hereafter, Allah uses the word RUSH AND RUN.

when Allah swt talks about approaching Him, what does He say? FLEE. so if you are going (back) to Allah, don't just run and rush to Allah, or walk to Him. FLEE to Him.

—

اللَّهُمَّ إِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ الْعَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّى

"O Allah, You are Forgiving and love forgiveness, so forgive me."

always keep the door open between you and Allah. may Allah forgive our sins and guide us to the Straight Path. aamiin.

[aledisini]

Having the Right Friends

Beberapa hari yang lalu gue nangis habis-habisan karena susah banget ngerjain latihan soal. Iya nangis sampe sesegukan wkwk. Ndagel banget kaya waktu SMA dulu pas pertama kali liat arab gundul. Sambil yaAllah yaAllah srat srot ngerjain latihan nya.

Hari ini gue latihan section yang sama. Mana dengan kondisi yang lagi ga beres, capek. Udah ngira kalo pas ngerjain hari ini paling sambil mewek yaAllah yaAllah wkwk.

Tapi hari ini, gue sambil nelpon temen-temen IPB. Ditemenin ngerjain soal. Ditemenin pusing-pusing. It turns out ya mereka juga kangen euforia belajar bareng. Grup kita bentuk nya udah kaya grup kelas yang bagi-bagi slide sama kunci jawaban wkwk. It truly helps me ngelewatin reading comprehension ini. Dan dipejalarin bareng sama mereka bikin gue ngerasa materi yang susah ini ya emang susah banget WKWKWK. Tapi ternyata banyak kok yang bisa kejawab soal nya.

Awal nya gue kira karena sambil telponan ya bakal ganggu mereka dan bakal ganggu gue belajar. Ternyata sama sekali engga, sama-sama seneng digangguin hal yang bener-bener diluar kerjaan kita masing-masing. Ngga semua orang bisa diajak gini kan?

Setiap masa ada orang nya, setiap orang ada masa nya. Selain berlaku untuk masa keemasan, menurut gue itu juga berlaku sama kehidupan sehari-hari. Setiap kesulitan ada orang nya. Dengan berbagai kesulitan yang manusia hadapin dalam hidup nya, ngga mungkin dia cerita dan minta pendapat cuma ke satu orang. Different problems make us, as a human, need to get different pov right?

Sama kaya kalo cerita atau butuh masukan, perlu pilih-pilih. Kalau emang butuh insight orang alim pinter agama ya gue tau temen-temen gue ini bukan orang yang tepat untuk ditanyain. Salah-salah malah buat madzhab sendiri kan susah wkwk.

 فَاسْـَٔلُوْٓا اَهْلَ الذِّكْرِ اِنْ كُنْتُمْ لَا تَعْلَمُوْنَۙ Maka, bertanyalah kepada orang-orang yang mempunyai pengetahuan jika kamu tidak mengetahui. {An-Nahl:43}

Bertanyalah pada ahlinya. Walau agak bergeser sedikit, jadi "tanyakanlah pada yang paham". Kan kalau ngomongin kantor juga gue cerita sama temen yang paham istilah-istilah nya, jadi begitu cerita gue ga perlu susah payah jelasin terms and condition di kantor wkwk. Gue minta pendapat sama orang yang paham kondisi gue. Ya intinya gitu sih.

Ada wadah untuk setiap cerita. Buat extrovert kaya gue ini, punya temen yang banyak itu membahagiakan. Setiap mereka jadi orang yang berharga, karena tiap mereka pasti punya topik yang beda-beda untuk diobrolin atau diskusi.

Ya intinya, di dunia ini kita hidup ngga sendiri kok. Iya belum punya pasangan, tapi setiap hari ada aja kok orang yang bisa diajak ngobrol dan cerita. Tinggal kita nya aja mau ngusahain apa engga. Kalau pun ga ada lagi orang yang bisa diajak ngomong, itu sadajah masih kering huehehehe. Ada sajadah yang bisa ditumpahi air mata, dan bumi yang bisa dibisiki isak tangis. Kapan lagi bisik-bisik ke bumi tapi tembus nya ke langit?

[plasterdrain]

haorae : stupidly in love with you?

"should i be a poet to say i love you, because you are the poem." belum sempat dibalas bibir taerae sudah dikecup sekali oleh pacarnya, hitung-hitung mencuri kecupan habis makan manisan gulali barusan. musim panas enaknya bertemu sambil bahas cinta-cintaan. seperti ini, budak roman picisan yaitu zhang hao, pacar kim taerae.

"banyak orang."

"bagus, biar tahu kita orang pacaran, paling mereka cemburu karena melihat kita saling romantisnya." pacar taerae itu setiap saat sayang taerae, cinta taerae, kadang sampai buat taerae jadi kepikiran apakah hao akan merasa kurang padanya? apa segitu banyak hao beri taerae santapan cinta sampai taerae terasa penuh tidak kekurangan sama sekali. apakah memang pacaran selayaknya begitu? "kenapa?"

"gak," bingung ingin mengatakan apa, taerae pasti sudah ketahuan murung depan pacarnya. "aku gapapa."

"kenapa taerae, tadi mukanya sumringah sekarang murung? apa permen kapasnya kurang? aku bisa ngantri sekarang buat beliin kamu dua lagi." tuh kan, zhang hao selalu begitu.

"jangan, nanti kelamaan, kamu ngantri tadi aja berapa lama?"

"hampir setengah jam sih? pegel berdiri tapi abangnya buat gulalinya cepet kok."

"aku mau duduk aja."

"bilang dong kalau capek jalan-jalan."

pasar malam makin ramai saja di musim panas seperti ini, banyak kok yang pacaran bukan cuma hao dan taerae, tapi semesta tahu yang di sini paling spesial. menurut hao begitu, pacaran taerae harus spesial karena taerae itu paling spesial, paling manis, paling cantik, paling tampan. makanya hao suka.

"kamu pernah kepikiran gak?"

"apa?"

"soal kita."

"emangnya kenapa soal kita?" duduk manis berhadapan gini, buat hao sedikit canggung. apalagi nada taerae yang kelihatan banget pengen serius. "I love my baby sweet darling angel child sweetie lovely light of my life little guy angel can-do-no-wrong beautiful offspring."

taerae gak mau pergi, apalagi kalau hao merasa cinta dia kurang. apalagi kalau cowok itu jadi sedih dengan pertanyaan dia barusan. taerae gak mau pacarnya sedih, hubungan mereka masih panjang, benar kata hao. seumur hidup pasti gak akan cukup buat mereka saling mengadu cinta.

sekali lagi tolong perasaan taerae yang seperti ini jauh-jauh saja, tidak baik untuk hati kecilnya, yang berubah jadi pikiran besar. 

"aku gak suka lihat kamu sedih, kita seneng-seneng barusan, taerae kepanasan atau ingin pulang?" taerae geleng. pacarnya pasti tahu apa yang dia sembunyikan sekarang.

"hao..."

"apa?"

"aku tahu kamu itu romantis banget, paling banyak perhatiannya sama aku, bahkan kamu mau menyisihkan waktu buat malam mingguan sama aku sekarang. aku juga tahu kamu kalau quality time itu penting buat kamu. tapi pernah gak kamu ngerasa aku kurang buat kamu? because that's what i felt right now, dibanding kamu, yang selalu effort tuh kamu bukan aku."

"kata siapa?" hao cepat-cepat menimpali, mata cowok itu yang barusan berkelipan paling terang di bawah malam, kini berubah jadi tenang. bukan marah, ataupun buat taerae makin sedih.

"kata aku lah..., zhang hao. kamu dengerin gak sih?!" taerae itu tetap cantik kalau menangis, tapi bukan saat seperti ini, karena buat dada hao sesak sekarang. apapun yang taerae rasakan sekarang, pastikan hao tidak akan pernah merasa kurang.

"aku denger, tapi yang kamu bilang barusan itu omong kosong semua."

"ih?" taerae makin menunduk. "kamu beneran ngerasa aku gak sayang sama kamu."

"sayang." persetan dengan orang yang melirik mereka, tapi hao paling tidak suka kalau taerae menyalahkan dirinya seperti ini. "kim taerae."

"aku sedih, jangan panggil nama."

"sayangku, my sweet little baby duckling. i love you, i love you till the day i die, i love you because you are love, you are what i want, aku gak pernah merasa kurang sedikit pun dari cinta kamu." kini hao sudah mengambil perhatian taerae, "aku gak tahu apa yang kamu rasain, thank you for telling me this, jadi aku tahu perasaan kamu gimana."

"hm."

"aku boleh pindah, duduk samping kamu gak?"

taerae mengangguk, tenaganya habis dengan isi pikiran yang berkecamuk di kepalanya, seperti ini skenario jelek yang ada di kepalanya merenggut taerae yang sedang kencang dengan hao.

"maybe love wasn't enough to tell how much i love you right now, taerae. aku bilang kalau aku gak pernah ngerasa kamu kurang cinta aku, kamu mau dengerin gak?"

"iya... tapi yang jujur."

"masa aku bohongi pacarku."

"kamu pernah bohong makan puding coklat aku." tidak seharusnya hao tertawa dalam situasi serius seperti ini.

"itu sekali, aku lapet sayang, waktu itu kita masih pdkt. gak sengaja nemu pudding tinggal satu di kulkas kamu."

"aku udah maafin kok itu, kamu gantiin dua kerdus, ZHANG HAO DUA KERDUS, banyak banget."

"aku tahu kamu suka banget, sekalian aja jadi stok di kulkas."

memang dari awal zhang hao sudah terlalu cinta, mungkin.

"taerae... now i can tell you how much i love to spend my time with you, aku suka kamu mau dengerin aku seharian ngomong soal apapun bahasan yang aku buat, dari soal bintang-bintang, orion, sirius, and we can yap everything about life, love, universe, and i love you for that. you know i love for things to talk about, bahkan kamu bisa ngerti aku saat ngomong bulan, and how want to be the first person who still the moon for the one he loves." hao tahu taerae sayang padanya, tidak kurang, tidak lebih, cukup buat dirinya tenang.

malam ini masih dengan bulan yang sama, bulan yang waktu itu hao ceritakan ingin ia curi, diberikan pada yang terkasih, kim taerae. jadi kriminal nomor satu karena bulan untuk bumi hilang.

"i say i wanna love you in every universe, gimana?"

"aku juga inginnya ada kamu dalam hidup aku."

"in every constellation on universe, with their verses, i swear will be there to find you and i always known you like we were together for so long, kim taerae, i swear i will never leave you alone."

bahkan kalau selamanya tidak cukup, hao ingin selamanya bersama taerae.

“i love you, zhang hao, you are the one who makes me feel love, you are so full of love, i love you too, might not be forever, but if it’s forever, that will be even better, i wanna be with you till the day i die, i am scared that i am turning blue and you won’t feel the same as i love you before. you are the coolest person i ever know, i love you more.” taerae tidak sampai tega kalau hao akan sendirian tanpanya, bahkan tahu sendiri dirinya juga tidak akan jauh dari pacarnya. "and even in another life, you will be able to find me."

"iyalah, gak percaya sama pacar keren kamu ini?"

"susah percaya sama manusia." 

"betul." usapan di puncak kepala taerae, hao belum selesai sampai di situ, bibirnya dibuat menyatu dengan taerae perlahan, mengikis sisa jarak di antara mereka. malam minggu ini paling enak untuk ciuman di bawah bulan. tenang saja, hao belum siap jadi kriminal. "you can trust this person tho." tapi tetap ada nada tidak percaya diri dari hao. karena soal kepercayaan pasti susah buat manusia.

"haha, after that pudding gate, no."

"kim taerae."

"bercanda." kekeh si manis. "serius, hao, kalau kamu ngerasa aku gak cinta kamu gimana? aku gagal jadi pacar kamu berarti."

"enak aja, tarik cepet kalimat jelek begitu," dengus hao sambil menahan panik. "tarik cepet."

"iya, maaf." pasti satu kecupan dari taerae buat hao memaafkannya. "aku cuma kepikiran dikit."

"kamu kepikiran sedikit buat aku yang bisa kepikiran seminggu penuh nanti."

"dasar." hao lebay, tapi taerae suka. 

"awas aja ya, aku ucapin cinta tiap hari gak kamu jawab."

"harusnya aku yang begitu."

"aku juga mau bilang sayang ke bebek aku satu ini."

bebek. bebek. "bebek?"

"iya, bebek. kamu kalau manyun kayak bebek, pengen aku cium."

"kamu ciuman sama bebek beneran aja, jangan sama aku."

"pacar aku 'kan kamu, bukan bebek."

dipastikan pasangan kita hari ini kembali ke semula, habis ciuman panjang di malam minggu dengan situasi berisik saling ledek, saling cinta maksudnya. 

[babblingpipit]

Vibes

Sepanjang karirku, ada orang-orang yang perannya adalah buat ga suka sama aku meskipun di titik itu hierarkinya lebih tinggi dari aku, entah itu guru, dosen, scientist yang lebih senior, bos. Orang-orang ini, secara umum, adalah mereka yang aku pengen punya kesan baik di mereka, karena secara langsung atau tidak langsung, it matters right? Karir kedepannya akan bergantung dari persepsi ‘atasan’ atas kinerja kita.

But it simply is not true. Ada orang-orang yang emang akan drag you down, entah karena merasa terancam, atau ga cocok vibesnya, atau ya simply they are not a nice person aja. Sekarang aku sadar kalo gabisa semua orang akan selalu cocok sama aku, dan kadang orang ini adalah atasan yang kemudian bikin aku khawatir apakah penilaiannya mempengaruhi karir aku kedepannya.

Ternyata ngga loh. 

Akan ada atasan yang cocok sama kamu, percaya sama potensial kamu, dan di saat itulah karir kamu akan berkembang. Ga usah pusing ngambil hati atasan yang udah ada persepsi buruk tentang kamu, malah lebih baik tinggalin lebih cepat biar cepet juga nemu yang lebih cocok.

Ini aku nulis gini karena abis meeting di sebuah group yang kayanya vibesnya off dan ga cocok di aku. Udah beberapa kali hadir tapi selalu ga nyaman aja, aku somehow ngerasa selalu dijudge kurang. Aku jadi refleksi apakah emang akunya kurang. Tapi pas sebelum meeting yang ini aku meeting sama orang lain (yang sama-sama seniorlah ya) dan dia puji progressnya dan bahkan bilang kok hebat bisa settled in cepet dan berprogress. Aku inget pernah jg dibilang hasil risetnya kurang didepan umum, pas lagi presentasi, sama profesor yang udah senior dan respected banget. Tapi toh supervisorku yang ga kalah respected pun happy-happy aja.

It is okay to walk in your own lane. You worry about what they think about you because you respect them and their judgements. But people are often wrong and biased, don’t put them all in a pedestal. Just keep doing what you do, take the criticism, but if you found it is not constructive, leave it and be okay to not work with them anymore. There will be better things coming.

[tanadrin]

To focus on something I couldn’t give the space it deserved in the previous post: I think it is possible to have a political system which is in theory very liberal in the classical sense but which in practice is not very liberal at all, and this goes to what some critics have pointed out as the tendency of liberalism to have CB of contradictions in its practical application.

A society without any kind of worker protection, old age pension, or anti discrimination laws, and with very low taxes, might legally be very liberal in the classics sense; but for individual workers and consumers it might be a society without much meaningful choice: one of company towns and stores, where most cannot afford an education or healthcare, and where bosses have intrusive control over employees’ private lives, to say nothing of whatever ambient social prejudices (like those of gender and race) might go unaddressed in workplaces. Moreover, because inequality in wealth will pretty much always tend to produce inequality in political power, even if on paper the society is very democratic, it will likely not function in a very democratic way.

Most western countries basically recognize this and have converged on what are a pretty extensive body of rules which are in principle illiberal—in that they strongly constrain individual rights and how firms behave—in the interest of broader social aims which are nevertheless pretty liberal in spirit: anti discrimination law, environmental law, welfare programs, disability law, anti monopoly statues, consumer protection law, and so forth. Outside the really hardcore libertarians (who are a small constituency), these rules seem broadly popular, with most political fights on the subject being focused on their details, not their existence.

The thing that I think a lot of socialists broadly construed have noticed is that this is still fundamentally a contradiction, just a contradiction of a different kind. And many critics of liberalism hold, essentially, that it simply doesn’t go far enough—and some flavor of socialism (pick your favorite) can deliver on the fundamental premise we’re aiming for (I.e., general welfare and individual freedom) better than a messy kludge applied over the top of capitalism.

I think the uncomfortable truth is that the line between Real Socialism and liberal capitalism with a social-democratic patch on it isn’t actually totally hard and fast—once you get below a certain GINI coefficient and above a certain HDI I think you’re splitting metaphysical hairs. But this is an indictment of the inherent virtue of capitalism as much as it is the One True Socialism that has Never Been Tried—if you have to do heavily adulterate capitalism that it barely qualifies as such anymore, it must be contributing very little virtue indeed to the final outcome.

[dykrophone]

whats ur fave poc4poc couple??

ok i can't choose one so it's between amerie and malakai (MY BABIES), yolanda and mari (from mosquita y mari), taoelle, cartero, soljiwan, sairamina, emaya, gini, vahim (love victor), laurel and michaela from htgawm (man i need to update the fic i was writing for them), trobed, kat and adena (they deserved sm better), hani and ishu, lex and aamani (every variable of us), dyaachal (the other love story), aylinluna and nitabambam (23.5), monsam (gap), idk if they count but lawlight and tinjali (!!!), kriscooper (from the one of us is lying show), vale and leticia (you don't have a shot), shireen and chris (dos and donuts of love), zhuma (she who became the sun), priyamalini, kavya and ian (beauty and the besharam), isaac and diego (right where I left you), danny and harry (picture us in the light), irie and jilly (songs of irie), will and vivian (saving face) and obviously my oc ships natyandal and ashra (they're my actual favourites if I had to choose but I'm a little biased soooooooo)

[mayangnr]

Buka puasa day 14 😚

Asiiikkk si suami bawain mochi sukabumi. Aku tuh lebih suka mochi tradisional kecil kecil isi kacang gini daripada mochi model daifuku yg gede dan isinya tebel. Pas banget deh buat buka puasa sama teh anget ❤️

Kalau mungkin ada yg bertanya tanya kok aku rajin amat masak tiap hari. Jadi rahasianya adalah pakai bumbu instan saja 😅

I'm not alone right?

Pokoknya mochi Sukabumi ku cinta ❤️

[tepilangitsenja]

Thought on: Marriage

“Sebuah upaya mengurai segala hal yang mampir ke pikiranku tentang pernikahan. Tentu saja, bukan karena akan segera menikah dalam waktu dekat :) “-Rania Nawra-

Disclaimer: Apa yang aku tulis disini adalah apa yang aku pikirkan di saat ini, yang tentunya, masih sangat bisa berubah di masa yang akan datang. Hopefully, kalau pun ada yang berubah, kearah perspektif yang lebih wise yaa. Plus, it’s going to be long story. Anyway, selamat membaca!

 ----------------------------------------------

Dalam beberapa waktu terakhir, aku banyak memikirkan dan mengobrolkan topik pernikahan, dengan teman maupun keluargaku. Sebagai manusia yang sudah ‘melewati milestone kuliah dan memasuki milestone bekerja, tentunya diskusi tentang hal ini tidak bisa dihindari.  Dan gabisa disebut “ngebet nikah ya lu” juga kalo sering ngobrolin ini, karena obrolan ini bukan lagi obrolan anak belasan tahun yang pandangannya tentang pernikahan masih sepolos itu.

I am 22 going on 23 this year, dan ketahuilah guys, waktu aku ada di usia ‘Sixteen going on Seventeen’ yang kaya judul lagu itu, 23 adalah usia dimana aku ingin menikah. Haha. Such a young age to get married, tapi waktu itu, aku yang berusia 16 tahunan punya alasan loh kenapa aku mau nikah di usia segitu. Dulu, kurang lebih aku mikir gini:

“Oke. Aku lulus SMA umur 17 tahun, lulus kuliah 21 tahun, terus kerja/S2, abis itu nikah di usia 23 tahun. Sabi lah nabung 2 tahun buat nikah”

This is a bit OOT, tapi sebagai anak kelahiran akhir tahun 2000, aku akui aku punya sedikit privilege usia yang lebih muda dibandingkan teman-temanku. Privilege yang muncul karena aku gamau ngulang TK B (TK 3 tahun) supaya umurku cukup buat masuk sekolah negeri dan akhirnya masuk SD swasta, ditambah karena aku ada di program akselerasi saat SMP. Jadi waktu itu, aku baru dapet KTP di semester 1 kuliah. Ga semuda itu, tapi cukup muda. Dan menurutku di level ‘maturity’ saat itu, aku ‘bisa nih’ nikah di umur 23 Tahun.

Tapi tentunya realita tidak sesuai ekspektasi. Aku memang lulus S1 di usia 21 tahun, tapi baru dapet decent job yang sesuai dengan career aspiration ku menjelang usia 22 tahun-tentunya, dan baru bisa nabung. Moreover, ternyata ada banyak hal yang terjadi di hidupku setelah usia 18 tahun, pilihan-pilihan yang aku pilih, dan tentunya, proses belajar dan maturing alias mendewasa yang bikin aku sadar kalau “Marriage is not that easy”. At least, for me. Well, everyone have their own perspective, right?.

Jadi, aku disclaimer lagi kalo tulisan ini bukanlah bentuk kampanye ‘anti nikah muda sebelum lulus kuliah’ dan lain sebagainya. This writing applies to MY LIFE. You do you, kalian punya cara sendiri buat menjalani kehidupan kalian, dengan prinsip dan nilai-nilai yang kalian pegang. So, no offense ya guys (Plus, menurutku perempuan-perempuan yang menjalani peran sebagai mahasiswa S1 dan juga S3 (re: Istri), kalian keren!).

Kembali ke bahasan tentang pernikahan.

Ngomongin pernikahan, menurutku ada banyak aspek yang menyusunnya. Tapi kalo aku boleh mengerucutkan hal-hal penting yang kudu dipelajarin dulu sebelum menikah, maka itu mencakup: ilmu agama, relationship-communication, parenting, dan juga finansial.

Kalo aku coba inget-inget, kayanya aku pertama kali belajar tentang pernikahan dan sebagian aspek di dalamnya tuh pas SMA di Pondok (Well, now I can proudly said that aku ‘SMA di Pondok’ instead of di ‘boarding school’ #characterdevelopment #kapankapankitabahas), lewat bab munakahat di Minhajul Muslim dan kajian nisaiyah rutin untuk santri putri. FYI, di kajian nisaiyah ini ada semacam modul yang disesuaikan untuk setiap jenjang dari kelas 7-12 SMA (atau kelas 1-6 Aliyah). Sejak kelas 10/11 (rada lupa), kami mulai ‘diberi tugas’ buat mengisi materi nisa’iyah untuk adik-adik kelas 7 atau 8, yang materinya dimulai dari bab thararah dan menjaga kebersihan diri dan sekitar. Meanwhile, kajian nisa’iyah untuk santri senior akan diisi oleh para asatidzah dengan topik yang lebih ‘berat’. Dan tentunya, yang dipelajari bukan bagian uwu-uwunya saja.

Di pelajaran fiqih dulu, materi-materi yang membekas di aku tentang bab munakahat justru materi tentang Talak. Iya, talak. Tentang bagaimana talak itu jatuh, apa yang terjadi setelahnya, proses ruju’, dan tentang kasus-kasus yang terjadi. Terus aku inget banget setelah dapet materi itu, aku mulai berpikir kalau “Wah, nikah tu emang ga boleh main-main” dan “Omongan kita harus dijaga agar bener-bener ngomong yang baik-baik saja”.

Di nisa’iyah, salah satu materi yang membekas buatku justru materi mengurus bayi (cara memandikan, menggendong dll). Kata para asatidzah, beliau-beliau tuh ingin mempersiapkan dan making sure kalau santriwati kelas XII ketika lulus, sudah tau (at least basic things) untuk menjadi seorang istri dan ibu. Soalnya, kita gatau jodohnya datengnya kapan. Jadi, tetap harus dipersiapkan.

Tapi belajar tentang itu di pondok tentunya ga serta merta bikin aku siap nikah setelah lulus SMA. Aku masih ngerasa ilmunya kurang dan butuh belajar, plus yaaa ga siap aja. Aku tahu aku butuh belajar, tapi di awal kuliah aku justru gamau sama sekali ikut kajian pranikah. Why? Karena suatu kali di semester 1 aku ga sengaja denger salah satu kajian pranikah (karena solat di masjid tersebut), yang isinya justru kaya semacam mendorong-dorong orang buat nikah muda (waktu itu aku nangkepnya gitu sih, but it can only be my assumption hehe).

Barulah di 2020 aku pertama kali memberanikan diri join kelas yang berhubungan dengan pernikahan, lewat salah satu kelas dari asrama RK, Kelas Cerita Menikah Batch 1. Setelah ikut kelas itu, aku beberapa kali ikut kelas sejenis, seperti FWMP Batch 1 (2021), Kelas Proposal Ta’aruf nya Teh Juan (2021), terus ikut Dialog Menuju Rumah Tangga ‘Diorama’ Career Class (2022).

Lalu, apakah setelah mengikuti kelas-kelas itu, aku jadi ngerasa lebih siap nikah? Jujurly, NGGAK. Aku justru malah jadi reconsider keinginanku untuk menikah di usia 23 tahun, dan berkesimpulan bahwa kayanya “This plan is not SMART enough”. Setelah ikut kelas-kelas itu, aku jadi kaya bikin semacam gap analysis dari ‘Aku saat ini’ dengan sosok ‘Istri dan Ibu Ideal’ yang aku bikin (Jadi, ini versiku ya), dan menyadari kalau gap ini ga akan cukup untuk dikejer dalam waktu 1 tahun (Aspek Time Bound di SMART hoho). Ada banyak PR yang harus kuselesaikan pada diriku sendiri :).

Wait, ini bukan PR-PR yang berhubungan dengan “Bisa masak apa nggak” ato “bisa ngurus anak apa nggak” dll, karena SATU, Hal-hal itu masih sangat bisa pelajari karena menurutku itu termasuk TECHNICAL SKILLS+ada insting seorang ibu pada setiap Wanita (katanya kan begitu). KEDUA, aku cukup pede untuk mengatakan bahwa aku bisa masak, sudah belajar mengurus anak (Well, at least a 9 years gap with my little brother helped me a lot on understanding how to do that, thanks to mengurus Azka sejak bocil wkwk), dan membantu mengurus rumah tangga, apalagi setelah ayah nggak ada.

PR-PR ini lebih berhubungan dengan Behavioural Skills, yang a bit more philosophical. pertanyaan-pertanyaan seperti:

“Kamu udah cukup content nggak ya sama hidupmu sekarang? Sebelum nantinya kamu melahirkan kehidupan lain yang mungkin akan sangat mengubah kehidupanmu?”

“Kamu oke ga ya, kalau kamu punya anak yang akan meniru banyak hal dari kamu, termasuk habit yang kamu punya sekarang?. Apakah kamu sudah bisa menjadi sosok yang akan diteladani oleh anakmu, dengan habit mu sekarang?”

“Apakah kamu sudah cukup stabil dalam menjaga dan melindungi diri kamu sendiri, sebelum kamu mempunyai sosok-sosok yang harus kamu lindungi?”

Dan berbagai pertanyaan lainnya yang membuat aku banyak merefleksi kembali kesiapanku untuk memasuki jenjang pernikahan. Karena jujurly, beberapa jawaban untuk pertanyaan itu, jawabannya untuk saat ini adalah : TIDAK/BELUM. Hehe :(.

Anak adalah peniru yang hebat. Sangat hebat. Dan tentunya, sosok yang akan banyak ditiru seorang anak (entah secara sadar atau tidak) adalah orang tuanya, yang seharusnya banyak menghabiskan waktu bersamanya. Contohnya, aku:

Bundaku sangat suka warna ungu dan spektrumnya. Sementara aku pas kecil lebih suka warna pink (wkwk just like a lot of bocil perempuan). Tapi lama-kelamaan, aku yang tau bahwa warna kesukaan Bunda adalah ungu, sadar ga sadar jadi suka warna ungu. Sampe sekarang.

Aku pas kecil nggak suka sayur. Tapi karena aku terus menerus ngelihat bundaku makan sayur dan katanya “enak”, aku juga pelan-pelan mau makan sayur, dan jadi suka sayur, bahkan sayur-sayur sejenis pare, jengkol dan pete WKWK.

Ya, pokonya intinya anak itu akan banyak meniru orangtuanya. Itu juga yang dimention sama Ibu nya Maudy Ayunda dalam satu satu konten mereka.

Dan jujurly sekarang, aku masih ngerasa ga rela kalo anak ku punya daily habit kaya aku yang masih banyak kurangnya ini. Misal: Aku pengen anakku kelak menyukai olahraga, tapi berapa sih persentase nya anakku akan suka olahraga kalo sehari-hari ngeliat orangtuanya mager dan sukanya rebahan?. Makanya, aku HARUS bisa memperbaiki habitku dulu. Entah itu habit yang berhubungan dengan kesehatan, ibadah yaumiyah, habit belajar, meregulasi emosi, finansial dan lain sebagainya.

Tentunya, aku gabisa 100% memastikan bahwa anakku kalo udah gede akan ‘jadi seperti yang aku mau’ karena pada akhirnya, it depends on them. But at least, aku gamau mereka mengalami kesulitan-kesulitan dalam proses bertumbuhnya karena pola asuh yang mereka peroleh dari aku sebagai orang tuanya. Makanya, yang aku lakukan sekarang sebelum memutuskan menikah adalah : memperbaiki diriku. Seenggaknya itu variabel yang bisa kuutak-atik untuk saat ini. Variabel-variabel lainnya belum ketemu soalnya. Hehe.

Aku ingin bisa menjadi seorang Ibu yang bener-bener bisa jadi madrasatul uula untuk anak-anakku, tentunya dengan ayahnya sebagai kepala sekolahnya.

Nah, cuma ternyata proses launching sekolahnya untuk penerimaan murid baru nggak bisa secepet itu. Kurikulum nya masih perlu disusun, tenaga-tenaga pengajar dan sistem sekolahnya juga. Nyari kepala sekolah yang bener-bener bisa diandalkan untuk menjadi pemimpin sekolah yang baik juga ga mudah.

“Terus sekolahnya bisa mulai nerima murid baru kapan ya kak?. Yang jelas dong!”

“Oke tenang pemirsa. Kami jujur belum bisa memastikan secara fix kapan mulai bisa menerima murid, karena ada campur tangan yang diatas. Kami akan berusaha agar sekolahnya siap taun depan di 2024. Tapi gabisa janji, soalnya murid baru bisa diterima kalau kepala sekolahnya juga sudah ada. Mohon doanya saja ya Ayah Bunda”.

(PS: Sumpa aku gainget nulis part ini pas ngetik wkwk, lagi ngantuk banget cuy entah kenapa nulis dialog ala-ala begini. Tapi gapapa deh bagus juga soalnya wkwk)

Intinya, untuk saat ini aku sepertinya masih harus banyak menyelesaikan corrective actions untuk mengejar gap yang ada.

“Kalo gitu terus mah kapan siapnya?”

Iya memang, aku banyak bertanya ke temen-temenku yang udah nikah yang bilang, sebenernya pun ketika mereka memutuskan buat menikah, mereka ga bener-bener siap 100%. Perasaan belum siap itu selalu saja ada. Bahkan Pak Sandiaga Uno aja bilang kalo beliau tuh dulu ga siap nikah (wkwk cerita Nia pas sesi meet sama warga grup manusia kuat weekend kemaren).

Makanya, untuk berusaha ga menjadikan alasan “ga siap” yang berujung “gasiap muluuuu”, aku berusaha memberikan due date untuk setiap corrective action yang aku bikin. Supaya goalnya juga SMART ya wak, wkwk.

“Wah kapan tu due date nya”

Hooo tentu saja rhs alias rahasia. Bukan karena apa-apa, Cuma takutnya entar kalo action nya udah overdue aku dikejer-kejer lagi sama auditor T.T hehe becanda. Ya pokonya aku berusaha menyelesaikan actions yang ada sebelum due date lah. Due date di usia yang tadinya aku jadikan usia ‘target menikah’ ku, tapi setelah dipikir-pikir jadi due date corrective actions aja. Soalnya gatau realisasi ‘menikah’ nya kapan. Lagian juga doi nya belum ada, dan bersyukur juga sii belum ada disaat sekarang. Mungkin Allah mau aku lebih fokus mengejar gap yang ada karena tahu ciptaannya yang satu ini gampang oleng kalo jatuh cinta :).

Sebagai penutup, aku mau sedikit ngasi tulisan buat future partner (wkwkwk uhuk uhuk).

“Ya pokonya siapa pun kamu nanti, entah sekarang tuh kita udah pernah ketemu atau belum sebelumnya, semoga sebagaimana aku yang sedang berusaha mempersiapkan dan memantaskan diri (hah ko aku geli sendiri nulis begini, tapi tetep dilanjutin), kamu juga sedang melakukan hal yang sama. Semangat calon kepala sekolahku. Mari kita menikah dalam pernikahan yang berilmu :)

Dan buat future children:

 “Dear my future children, now I’m trying hard to love and prepare myself, so when you come to me in the future, I will embrace and love you with a full heart”

Benar-benar tulisan random semoga ga banyak yang baca T.T

Sumbawa, 9 Februari 2023