“Tahu kau mengapa aku sayangi kau lebih dari siapa pun? Karena kau menulis. Suaramu takkan padam ditelan angin, akan abadi, sampai jauh, jauh di kemudian hari. (Mama)― Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Anak Semua Bangsa
si punggung. seseorang yang hanya bisa kita nikmati punggungnya saja.
si bapak sungai. seseorang yang menjadi sumber semangat kita, inspirasi kita.
si manusia salju. seseorang yang dingin sekali, yang dinding hatinya begitu tinggi.
si bintang di langit. seseorang yang kita kasihi, tetapi tidak bisa kita gapai.
si abi pohon. seseorang yang menjadi alasan kita berani.
kita semua pernah punya seseorang seperti itu. mungkin masih. nggak apa-apa orangnya nggak nyata. seringkali memang orangnya nggak benar-benar ada. yang penting semangatmu iya. semangatmu nyata. dan kamu masih ada.
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In a rare moment of silence, Sylus can't help but wonder why his partner hasn't said a word
Masterlist
Word count: 993
A/N: This idea hasn't left my head in weeks and I love this fic sm. Reader is an artist!
The room held a quiet kind of tension, broken only by the faint rustle of paper and the occasional scratch of charcoal against parchment. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how the dim light from the window caught the silver strands of Sylus’ hair, casting soft highlights along its length. Something was mesmerizing about the way he held himself, completely absorbed in his work, the sharp focus in his red eyes making it feel as though he existed in a world separate from hers. She could study him for hours and still never fully grasp the layers behind that calm exterior.
She shifted slightly on the chaise, repositioning herself to get a better angle. Sylus didn’t budge, didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. His gaze remained fixed on the document, his fingers moving with the quiet precision of someone who had memorized the rhythm of every task they undertook. It was as though he were a machine, programmed only to work, to think, to achieve. At this moment, he wasn’t the man she knew—he was simply the version of him that existed when the world was too loud for anything else.
And yet, despite the stillness, there was an almost palpable energy in the atmosphere.
“You’ve been quiet,” he remarked his tone a mix of observation and mild curiosity. “Longer than usual.”
His fingers turned another page, but there was no immediate shift in his posture, no sign that he expected her to respond. He seemed unfazed as if whatever silence had settled between them was just another fleeting moment in their shared existence.
Y/n lifted a brow. “And that’s a problem?”
“You? Silent? Highly suspicious.”
She smirked but remained focused on her work, the soft drag of charcoal against paper continuing.
He glanced at her briefly before turning back to his work. “Should I be worried?”
“No.”
After a moment, Sylus shifted again. “If you’re plotting my demise, at least be creative about it.”
Y/n hummed thoughtfully. “Noted.”
Another beat of silence passed before Sylus finally turned his head slightly, catching the edge of her gaze. “Alright, what are you up to?”
Y/n clicked her tongue. “Now you’ve ruined it.”
His frown deepened. “Ruined what?”
She lifted the sketchbook slightly. “My sketch.”
Sylus blinked, then looked at the parchment in her hands. His side profile was captured in fine, careful strokes, the shadows accentuating the sharp angles of his features. His expression flickered—something unreadable, caught between intrigue and unease. Setting his paperwork aside, he moved to the chaise, his arm effortlessly pulling her against him as she shifted onto his lap. He took the sketchbook delicately in his hands, studying the piece.
Red eyes traced every detail with a quiet reverence, fingers ghosting along the edge of the parchment, careful to avoid smudging the lines. Y/n watched as he memorized it, committing it to the same careful vault in his mind where he kept every small thing about her.
She toyed with the edge of her sleeve, waiting for him to say something—anything. Sylus remained silent, expression composed, the same neutrality he offered the documents he had been reading moments before. Still, she knew him too well. The way his thumb lingered on the page, just a mere second too long. His grip on the parchment, both careful and firm, as if he weren’t quite ready to let go. A small, yet identifiable glimmer in his eyes, akin to the look he gave her when he thought she wasn’t watching. He liked it. He wouldn’t say it, not outright, but she knew he did.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Y/n mused, tilting her head against his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns along his arm.
Sylus hummed, tilting his head slightly to rest on hers. His eyes remained trained on her drawing. “What thing?”
She nudged her chin toward the parchment in his hands. “Pretending you’re not touched by something when you absolutely are.”
His gaze flicked to her then, sharp but laced with unmistakable fondness. “I don’t pretend.”
She scoffed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re holding that sketch like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen.”
Sylus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but the barest hint of colour dusted across his cheeks. He finally placed the sketchbook down beside them, his arm wrapping fully around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
“Maybe I just like the way you see me,” he admitted, voice lower now, softer, like he was saying something he rarely allowed himself to.
Y/n’s breath hitched slightly, the warmth of his words curling around her. While his physical affection was something she was very familiar with, his words of affection were few and far between. When he did find his voice in these matters, it was with intention—every sentiment carefully chosen, irreplaceable.
She barely had a chance to respond before Sylus pressed his lips to her forehead. It was slow, lingering, a gesture of his love for her. His free hand came up, fingers threading gently through her hair as he kissed again, this time on her temple. A small smile played on her lips as she ran her fingers along the fabric of his shirt before resting them against his chest. She let her eyes close, savouring the warmth between them. “That’s more like it.”
“May I keep it?” Sylus cupped her cheek, thumb lightly brushing along her skin.
“After I colour it in.”
His lips twitched like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Just don’t take too long.”
Before he could pretend to be unaffected, she caught his lips with hers, silencing any further protest he might have had. He didn’t fight it—not even for a second. Instead, he kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered as if the moment itself was something worth preserving.
what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?
⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ZAYNE ⟡
“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”
From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.
“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.
Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.
You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.
“Hm? Why do you ask?”
Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.
“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”
You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”
His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.
Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”
You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.
“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”
You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.
“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.
His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”
Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.
“Thank you for helping me, my love."
SYLUS ⟡
“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”
You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.
“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”
Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”
“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”
“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”
He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.
“Y/N.”
You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.
“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”
“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”
All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”
Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”
“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”
Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”
XAVIER ⟡
“Xavier, do you want to try this?”
Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.
“That’s not my name,” he answered.
“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”
“No, it’s not,” he insisted.
Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.
Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”
Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”
His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”
That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.
“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.
“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.
You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”
Immediately, he brightened before you.
“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”
“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”
He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”
The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.
“I don’t want anyone else to know.”
RAFAYEL ⟡
“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”
He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.
“Rafayel,” you called again.
He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.
“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.
“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.
He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.
“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”
Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.
“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”
“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.
He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”
“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”
It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.
“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”
sylus always answers your calls. always. no exceptions.
he could be in the middle of a gun fight or a messy interrogation but when he hears the inside joke of a ringtone he set for you, he uses his evol to shackle everyone in place while he answers, calm and collected as can be.
“kitten, it’s late in linkon — you should be sleeping. no, i’m not busy at the moment.” a cold glare is the only warning his enemies get to stay quiet. “what do you need?”
some of the world’s most powerful and feared men have had their final agonizing moments prolonged by listening to the leader of onychinus sweet-talk you.
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Hello, my name is Rola, and I am a mother of two children living in the Gaza Strip. Our lives were once filled with love, laughter, and dreams for the future. But everything changed on October 7th, when the war shattered not only our home but our entire world.
That morning, my family and I were enjoying coffee together on the balcony. Out of nowhere, an explosion erupted, shaking our home violently. My husband and son ran for cover, falling over each other in panic, while I stood frozen, still holding my cup, unable to process the chaos around me. When I looked out the window, I saw that our neighbor’s house, once filled with life, had been reduced to rubble. Ambulances rushed to the scene as people scrambled to rescue the injured and pull bodies from the debris.
The bombings didn’t stop. At night, the rain poured heavily, and the cold seeped into our bones. I stayed awake, covering my children to keep them warm and praying for their safety. But safety is an illusion here. Another explosion shattered the night, and our neighbors’ home was destroyed. Their children, who had been sleeping peacefully under a blanket, were found lifeless, their cover soaked in blood.
I looked at my children with tears in my eyes and thought, How can I protect you? We had to flee our home with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We left behind my children’s toys, their clothes, and their beautiful bedroom. Everything we had worked so hard to build is gone.
Our Current Reality
Now, we are displaced and living in a nightmare. Food is scarce, and prices are unimaginably high—$10 for a kilo of sugar! The fear of death hangs over us constantly. My children deserve a life of joy and hope, not one defined by fear and loss. Why can’t we live like everyone else—go to work, visit family, and watch our children play in safety? Why do our children have to grow up surrounded by death and destruction?
How You Can Help
I am pleading for your kindness to help us rebuild our lives. We need your support to:
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Even the smallest donation can make a difference. If you can’t donate, please share my story. Every share brings us closer to hope.
What Your Support Means
Your kindness is not just about helping us survive; it’s about giving us a chance to dream again. To rebuild what we’ve lost and to ensure my children have a future filled with possibilities, not fear.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Your support means the world to us. Let’s work together to rebuild hope, one step at a time.
🌸 Please share our story and consider donating today. 🌸
Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to
synopsis: in which sylus is obsessed with your lips.
contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating because i like tormenting him like that), alcohol consumption, horny sylus (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and blood, and LOTS of cussing.
a/n: i told myself i wouldn't write anything until i finish finals but sylus won. i'm also avoiding his myth spoilers since i didn't pull his pair yet. enjoy reading! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.
sylus wants to kiss you right now. he wants to kiss you so fucking badly, it hurts.
you can't blame the man. you looked absolutely delectable right now. hair up, ears jeweled, eyes hooded, and back bared, oh, you looked so good in the dress he handpicked for you; he could just devour you whole and leave nothing to spare.
and he would have no remorse for doing so either. the auction you two were at was filled with fucking nobodies. how dare they look at you, let alone breathe the same air as you? he's lost count of how many times he felt the urge to just demolish this shithole of a place.
sylus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. he knows he's being irrational. after all, he was the one who suggested you two attend this auction. you showed interest in an old manuscript that just so happened to be available only at this auction, and he would be damned if he didn't get you everything you could ever want. hell, you could even ask him for his heart, and he would tear it out of his cold chest, deliver it to your divine feet, get on his fucking knees, and beg for you to demand more of him.
so, actually, you can blame him for the situation he is in. he was the one who picked the set you're wearing right now oh so ravishingly. he was the one who brought you to this stupid auction that's taking so long to get on with it already—where the fuck is the manuscript? but most importantly, he was the one who made your lips look so damn kissable right now.
he knew what he was doing when he picked your lipstick for you. deep scarlet that would match his eyes and look good on you. but he never thought it would look this good on you. sylus curses under his breath, feeling his pants tighten around his crotch after remembering you bent over the sink to gaze at the mirror and paint your lips. he recalls how it took him everything not to stride over to you, spin you around, and slam his lips onto yours, hoping to get a smear of that majestic shade.
oh, but it wasn't just the shade of your lips that drove him crazy. it was the texture, too. you must've been feeling heated because you go to take another sip of the wine in your hand. the matted, creamy lip print you leave on the glass has the silver-haired man inhaling sharply and tightening his grip on the table. what he would give to have such a work of art printed on him instead. he wants it all over him. his face, his neck, his fingertips, his cock—everywhere until no single part of him was unmarked by your luscious lips. until there was no room to even question who he belonged to.
that's how badly sylus wants to kiss you right now. but he stops himself using the single thread of patience he has left. yes, the two of you were technically alone, standing at the table in the far back. thank god he reserved a table just for the two of you so only he could marvel at your lip-stained glass. no one would interrupt if the two of you were to just have a full-blown make-out session right now.
but sylus knew better. he knew that you were still wary of him. this, you can blame him. after all, he's not a saint. his entire being is smothered in blood, down to the very tip of his designer shoes. he built his lavish empire of protocores and guns from the taking of lives. hell, he even threatened you the first time you met. though, he only did that to push you to your full potential. he could never truly harm you. but sylus knows you. you, in your most beautiful human form, who dwells not only on the past but also on the lives of others. you, whose empathy is so strong, sylus can't help but admire, even though he sometimes wishes you would just let loose and bring hell upon all those who dare to cross you. thus, your continued, empathy-driven wariness of him. but, sylus knows how to compromise. he's okay with being the one with bloodied hands and fucked-up morals so long as it means seeing you, even if it means from afar. besides, you haven't reported him to your little hunter friends yet. he supposes that's a start, and he could settle with that. he could also settle with this:
"is the wine to your liking, sweetie?" he asks smoothly.
you flinch, taken aback by sylus' sudden question. you were wondering when he would stop staring at you and actually start paying attention to the auction. not that you mind having sylus' eyes on you. it's just that the borderline depraved look in his crimson eyes was making you feel all hot inside and you really wanted to stop feeling all hot inside whenever you were near him, let alone thinking about him.
"uh yeah," you nervously chuckle, setting the glass down. "it's better than i thought." you turn your gaze to a waiter nearby, hoping to get a glass for sylus since he seemed so interested in yours for some reason. "here, let me get one for you too."
you try to catch the waiter's attention by raising your right hand, but sylus stops you. he grasps your hand with his left and rests it on the table. you furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he stopped you. sylus, the man who appreciates (that's the nicest way you can describe it) alcohol passing a chance at a complimentary drink? you're utterly confused.
"no need," sylus gives a gentle squeeze, trying to ease your confusion. though, you're not prepared for what happens next.
sylus picks up your glass with his free hand, plants his lips on your lip print, and takes a slow sip. your eyes widen, feeling the heat that was coiling in your stomach spread all around your tense body. holy shit, did he just—?
the aggravating godsend of a man next to you finishes your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the garnet droplets from the corner of his lips but not the paint left by yours. "hm," sylus drags his tongue along his lips, a smirk threatening to show. "it is better than i thought."
you flush, seeing your lipstick smudged on sylus' succulent lips. you don’t know what to say. he totally did that on purpose. there's no way he didn't. does this mean the two of you technically kissed-
you don't allow yourself to finish that last thought. you blink rapidly, trying to get your now parched mouth to say something. anything. but you can't. you're completely flustered to the point where all you can do is just gape at sylus with a blush the shade of his eyes tinting your cheeks.
sylus grins, the tip of his canine peeking out from his now-tainted lips. this is better than he thought. perhaps, he should settle more often if it means getting to see you so cutely aroused and embarrassed like this. though, he knows he won't be able to settle for long. he knows one day, he won't be able to hold himself back anymore. one day, he'll conquer your lips for himself and relentlessly indulge in the real thing. but for now, sylus is content. for now.
"cat got your tongue, sweetie?" sylus teases, tilting his head to meet your shaky gaze.
you jerk your head away, trying to get the image of his lips out of your mind. "eyes on the prize, sylus."
sylus chuckles, but not without placing his elbow on the table and propping his face on his hand to get a better look at you. "oh, my eyes are on the prize, sweetie. my eyes are on the prize."
Warnings: fluff, kissing, established relationship, lipstick, implied sexual content at the end
Word Count: 948
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How he got roped into this situation, he has no idea. Not that he's complaining. What could be better than his partner straddling his lap, kissing him over and over again?
You plant a kiss at a bare spot on his cheek without ceremony. You pull away, hopeful, only to deflate when the vibrant imprint of your lips are left behind. "Ugh, this one transfers, too." The tube of lipstick is tossed off to the side with the other failures.
Sylus grabs the makeup wipe from the previous attempts (almost completely covered in various shades of pink and red). His hand holds your jaw warmly, thumb on your chin, as his other thumb brushes the wipe over your lips.
He could suggest taking you shopping to the high end stores that would most certainly have lipstick proven not to smudge or transfer, but then you'd have to get up and stop testing it. His lips still have some red staining them, and his cheeks, neck and forehead are almost completely covered. He'd hate to stop now.
"How many more do you have to test?" he asks.
You shift in his lap, forcing him to stop his ministrations in favor of holding your hip to support you. You grab another lipstick tube from a pile andshift the remaining ones around. "Like, five more? At least one of these has to work."
He shifts his legs, settling you back into place, and draws your attention back to him so he can wipe away the last smidge of tint at the corners of your mouth. "If none of these work, I'll buy you some more," he promises. He nods slightly as he sets the wipe aside. "Go ahead, try this one."
You use a little compact mirror to help you get the shade on right. It's a warm red, bloody and tempting. It’s the same shade as his eyes after a couple glasses of Gin Fizz, when he looks at you with unbridled affection, enhanced with his slight intoxication.
Sylus would be the first to admit how much he loves watching this. He loves the comfort you have to propose this silly idea, to crawl into his lap with a bag of lipsticks and makeup wipes and the intensity of an executive making a pitch to a board room. He loves getting to watch the concentration on your face as you glide the applicator over your top lip, following the natural line to ensure it's perfect. Loves the mild frustration when you mess up the corner. Loves that you trust him to fix it with the wipe wrapped over his thumb nail. Loves the quiet thanks you mutter before you get back to work.
Fully applied, you hum impatiently as you turn the tube over to read the directions. "'Wait two minutes.' Damn."
"The best results take time," Sylus teases.
You shoot him a half-hearted glare. "Fine. What should we talk about for two minutes?"
He hums as he taps a finger on your hip. "I don't think I ever asked: Why are you so eager to find a lipstick that doesn't transfer?"
"Well," you wipe your thumb along his lip, dragging the lingering color with it, "it's embarrassing to drink from a glass and leave a big smudge behind."
He chuckles. "That's what's got you so worried, sweetie?"
You trace the rouge up to his prominent cupid's bow. "Mm, not completely." You wonder what he'd look like with lipstick on him properly. You're sure he'd look amazing. Hell, even like this, covered with all your kisses, he looks good. You're damn near convinced he can pull any look off.
He squeezes your sides. "Tell me," he implores, voice soft and tender.
You sigh. "When we go to auctions, I feel like I can't kiss you," you admit quietly. "Everyone there is so... imposing. I don't want to, well, do this to you," you gesture at all the lipstick stains, "and ruin your reputation."
"Sweetie." He cups your cheek in his large hand. It holds you perfectly, always. You lean into it without a second thought. He smiles. "My reputation isn't that fragile. Besides..."
His voice gets lower as he draws you in. You could get high on the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. His nose brushes yours, hot breath shared in the centimeters of space left between you.
"How else will they know who I belong to?"
Your breath hitches. His mouth is on yours, seeking, claiming, drawing you deeper into him. You feel the creamy texture of smudged lipstick as you hold his face, slide your fingers along his neck into his hair. It streaks along his perfect skin.
His tongue licks the seam of your lips, begs for entrance. You tug at his hair as you let him in. He groans into your mouth, sighs a wanton rendition of your name. Your shirt slips up your waist as he dives a hand below the fabric to press against your bare skin.
You pull away sharply. "The lipstick!"
His eyes look murderous for being disturbed, by you of all people. Still, he contains himself enough not to dive right back in. Just barely. What he can’t contain is the furrow in his brow and the frown he wears.
You ignore the smudges of color on his skin, matching stains on your hands, as you tilt his head up to better look at his lips. They're still stained with that light red from before, but-
"Sy! It worked! This one didn't smudge!"
"Perfect." He pulls you roughly back down to him, biting your colored lip before licking it sinfully. "Let's take it for a test run, shall we?"
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assalamu'alaikum wr wb. teman-teman semua, kantor saya sedang cari penulis lepas untuk projects penulisan buku/laporan. barangkali ada yang berminat, silakan kirim CV dan portofolio yaa. 🥳
Ramadhan tahun ini entah kenapa saya merasa vibesnya tidak seperti Ramadhan tahun-tahun sebelumnya. Vibes Ramadhan tahun ini dipenuhi kecemasan akan cuaca tak menentu, kenaikan harga sembako bahkan dari sebelum Ramadhan, serta isu kenaikan PPN tahun 2025. Barusan saja ramai video ibu-ibu memprotes Jokowi di X kala ia bertandang ke pasar tradisional di Pulo Padang. Ibu-ibu tersebut adalah warga Pulo Padang. Ia memprotes pengoperasian pabrik minyak kelapa sawit (PMKS) karena menimbulkan asap pekat hingga menganggu aktivitas warga dan anak sekolah. Paspamres merebut poster protes si ibu dan melakukan penyerangan fisik. Presiden hanya diam saja melihat itu. Suram.
Ramadhan kali ini terasa gloomy dan minim harapan. Situasi pasca pilpres masih belum pulih seperti sedia kala. Atmosfer ketenangan dan kedamaian Ramadhan tipis rasanya. Gejolak politik terasa sekali memengaruhi masyarakat. Entah lah. Saya sudah putus harapan pada negara ini.
Walau penuh ketidakpastian, setidaknya Ramadhan ini membuat saya tidak berputus harapan pada Allah swt. Saya masih yakin sebaik-baiknya tempat berharap adalah Allah swt.
Barangkali, itu kalimat pertama yang ingin aku ungkapkan, jika ditanya tentang kesan di Pemilu 2024.
Terimakasih ya Pak, sudah berjuang untuk maju, menjadi salah satu calon presiden yang membuat kontestasi Pemilu terasa lebih ada 'ghirah'nya.
Jujur, di 2014 dan 2019, rasanya jengah sekali. Setiap membuka medsos, isu-isu SARA yang menjadi bahasan. Kampanye yang begitu-begitu saja, membuat bosan untukku pribadi melihat perjalanan kampanyenya. Karena paling ya, begitu saja tren-nya. Blusukan ke warga-warga, kampanye di atas pentas sembari bermonolog di bawah terik matahari, juga bagi-bagi amplop *eh.
Di 2024, Pak Anies dan tim menciptakan atmosfer yang berbeda. Desak Anies dan Slepet Imin, menjadi model kampanye yang berani tampil beda di sejarah pesta demokrasi Indonesia.
Dalam Desak Anies dan Slepet Imin, terjadi dialog antara capres-cawapres, dengan audiens. Audiens bisa menanyakan apa pun, bahkan mengadukan keresahan apa pun.
Ini menarik.
Melihat bagaimana para calon pemimpin kita berdialog dengan rakyat biasa maupun para mahasiswa, yang penuh dengan keluhan dan kritik yang beraneka ragam. Gaya kampanye ini meruntuhkan gaya konservatif, dan aku tidak bisa bilang tidak, gaya kampanye ini adalah gaya yang mendidik rakyat.
Buatku pribadi, ini mengagumkan. Bagaimana capres-cawapres bahkan memperhatikan bagaimana strategi dalam berkampanye. Memperhatikan bahwa proses pesta demokrasi, bukanlah sekedar pesta untuk yang akan maju mencalonkan diri. Tapi senyatanya, pesta demokrasi haruslah dirasakan sebagai 'pesta' oleh seluruh masyarakat Indonesia.
Meski tidak bisa langsung mengikuti agenda Desak Anies, aku adalah salah satu pendengar setia rekamannya di Youtube. Pak Anies selalu menyampaikan di setiap dialog, bahwa Desak Anies adalah cara paslon 01 menawarkan 'cara berpikir' mereka. Menurut beliau, rakyat harus tahu bagaimana cara pemimpinnya membuat keputusan, dimana keputusan lahir dari cara berpikir. Menurut beliau lagi, pemimpin itu tugasnya membuat keputusan, maka sudah seharusnya rakyat memilih pemimpin dengan cara berpikir yang paling relevan. Aku semakin kagum dengan strategi beliau.
Terbayang, menghadiri berbagai dialog pasti adalah hal yang menguras pikiran dan tenaga. Belum lagi jika ada kritik-kritik yang perlu dijawab, betapa melelahkannya. Tapi Pak Anies dan segenap tim, tetap memilih proses yang 'out of the box' ini demi mendidik rakyat dalam proses pemilu. Selain juga pasti ada misi menjaring suara.
Pak Anies, kuakui adalah sosok yang memiliki kelebihan dalam public speaking nya. Beberapa pihak bersentimen negatif, menyebut kelebihan ini sebagai 'omon-omon' belaka, atau 'janji manis' tanpa eksekusi nyata. Beberapa juga berpandangan, orang yang ucapannya manis di mulut, tidak selalu baik dalam bekerja. Tapi, kurasa itu logika yang tidak selalu benar dan tidak bisa dipukul rata. Kecerdasan berbicara tidak berarti payah dalam kerja nyata. Tidak bisa dihakimi begitu saja. Dan lagi, rekam jejak selama Pak Anies menjabat Gubernur Jakarta pun dapat kita pelajari di berbagai platform media sosial.
Ada lagi yang menarik menurutku. Performa Pak Anies saat debat. Aku kebetulan menyimak debat ketiga secara live via Youtube. Disana, Pak Anies tampak begitu 'menyerang'. Jujur, sebagai orang yang tidak suka dengan konflik, aku agak jengah menonton serangan demi serangan tersebut. Tapi, secara jernih aku mencoba berpikir. Acaranya ini judulnya debat, lagipula saat itu temanya adalah pertahanan, dimana salah satu paslon adalah juga menteri pertahanan. Wajar kalau terjadi kritik yang pedas, dan harapannya yang bersangkutan piawai dalam menjawab. Namun, seperti yang kita lihat dan saksikan sendiri, yang terjadi justru sebaliknya. Ah, sepertinya tidak perlu kujelaskan, netizen bisa menilai sendiri dengan mindsetnya masing-masing :)
Aku tersadar, bahwa saat itu Pak Anies sedang menjalankan peran, sebagai seorang kontestan yang berdebat. Terimakasih Pak, sudah menjalankan peran sesuai dengan situasinya.
Lalu tentang visi-misi. Aku belum membaca dokumen visi-misi paslon secara lengkap. Tapi beberapa kali, aku melihat postingan yang mengutip visi-misi dari para paslon. Dan, aku melihat hampir di setiap aspek, Pak Anies selalu memiliki visi-misi yang digagas. Di isu kesehatan, ekonomi, sampai diaspora pun beliau tuangkan gagasan. Dokumen visi-misi yang lengkap ini amat membantu jika kita ingin mencari isu yang menjadi fokus kita. Dan rata-rata mostly isu-isu tersebut ada di dokumen paslon 01.
Tidak hanya itu, muncul juga berbagai gerakan organik seperti aniesbubble, humanies, senimanbersatu, dll yang mendukung perjalanan kampanye Pak Anies. Pak, rasanya saya susah membayangkan gerakan-gerakan seperti itu terbentuk jika tidak ada ketulusan (apalagi tanpa bayaran), karena satu tujuan menginginkan perubahan.
Oh ya, aku juga respect dengan para pendukungnya yang tetap objektif meski mendukung paslon AMIN. Contohnya, pada saat debat cawapres. Patut diakui Cak Imin masih sangat blunder ketika itu. Tapi, para pendukung mengkritik dan menasihati, bukan menutup mata atas kekurangan itu. Dan alhamdulillah, Cak Imin pun terbuka dan menerima kritik. Di debat berikutnya, performanya lebih baik daripada sebelumnya. Membayangkan Indonesia dengan pempimpin yang terbuka, berkepala dingin, mampu memproses (bukan hanya menampung lalu jadi angin lalu) kritikan, luar biasa sekali rasanya.
Pak Anies, aku berharap, apapun yang terjadi selepas Pemilu, Pak Anies tetaplah menjadi Pak Anies yang seperti ini. Pak Anies yang menginspirasi, dan terus menyuarakan suara rakyat, terlepas apa pun pilihan politik Pak Anies. Aku sudah di titik pasrah dengan hasil Pemilu. Pak Anies terpilih ataupun tidak, Allah sudah mengaturnya, bukan.
Namun, setidaknya rakyat mendapat pendidikan yang berharga sepanjang perjalanan pesta demokrasi ini. Dan semoga, terus terdidik dan naik kelas demokrasi di Indonesia.
Pak Anies, terimakasih karena banyak kalimat Pak Anies yang menggugah dan terngiang di banyak orang. Aku jadi teringat salah satu ayat Al Quran,
Tidakkah kamu memperhatikan bagai-mana Allah telah membuat perumpamaan kalimat yang baik seperti pohon yang baik, akarnya kuat dan cabangnya (menjulang) ke langit (QS. Ibrahim ayat 24).
Salah satu kalimat yang aku ingat dari Pak Anies adalah saat Pak Anies membicarakan prinsip kebijakan. Kata beliau, "Membesarkan yang kecil, tanpa mengecilkan yang besar.". Maknanya, dalam sekali. Dan kalau itu menjadi basis dari setiap kebijakan, rasanya Indonesia Adil Makmur untuk semua bisa terlaksana.
And, the last. Terimakasih Pak Anies, sudah menggerakkan saya untuk menulis. Baru pertama ini, saya mendukung dan memilih calon pemimpin sampai dituangkan dalam sebentuk tulisan.
Semoga, Allah memberikan yang terbaik untuk Indonesia.
Adakah yg punya kakak atau saudara laki-laki yang sedang mencari istri? Ada sahabat dekatku lagi cari suami. Berikut deskripsi singkatnya:
InsyaAllah dalam kondisi mental stabil, siap menikah, kelahiran 1997. Saat ini bekerja di Jogja (scr finansial cukup, ada side hustler jualan di shopee dan cukup lariiisss). Pandai menempatkan diri, gak menye-menye, sayang anak-anak, berani ambil keputusan2 strategis dan tahu batasan. Jilbab menutup dada, hanya pakai celana saat olahraga.
Hobi olahraga, rajin donor darah. Ibadah rajin🙏🏻
Minus : darah rendah, kadang suka ngegas but still in a good way🤣
Sengaja post di tumblr soalnya lingkungan tumblr cukup positif🥹🙏🏻 kalau ada yg mau dikenalin atau ditanya2, bisa DM aku!
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Lagi ngedesain game dan kepikiran bahwa dulu pernah dengan naifnya percaya bahwa:
Jika seorang anak dididik dengan benar, mereka nggak perlu menemukan krisis.
Sekarang baru nyadar kalau manusia tidak akan pernah lepas dari krisis karena hidup itu dinamis. Di game, tiap ngenalin behavior baru, kita disarankan untuk mengurangi difficulty level biar player tidak stress.
Hidup selalu mengenalkan kita pada banyak masalah baru. Hanya saja tidak ada jaminan bahwa ketika ada masalah baru, hal-hal di sekitar kita jadi lebih mudah dikendalikan. No. Yang ada malah semua jadi kerasa messy.
Tidak ada model pendidikan seperti apapun yang membebaskan kita dari krisis. Kita hanya selalu dipaksa menjadi resilient oleh keadaan. Kemana pertumbuhan kita dalam resiliensi tersebut? Cara lingkungan memperlakukan kita mungkin bakal sedikit banyak mempengaruhi. Yang diperlakukan dengan manipulatif mungkin akan belajar menjadi manipulatif untuk bertahan. Yang diperlakukan dengan penuh penghargaan ke diri sendiri mungkin akan mampu menghargai diri sendiri dan orang lain. Tapi ini tidak mutlak. Ada banyak faktor lain yang mempengaruhi.
Adulting is hard. Nurturing is also hard wkwk.
Kadang-kadang, ketimbang preaching orang harus begini ataupun begitu, kita memang perlu belajar humble dan banyak doa semoga kita dikaruniakan akhir hidup yang baik meski pas hidup tuh sering nyasar kemana-mana.
