#political dignitaries and agents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siconetribal · 4 months

Text

Beyond the Bookshelves (3)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Obnoxious coworkers, what is the proper ettiquette when emailing princes, teasing Captain

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

The meeting was as boring as the fallen prince expected it to be, but he hardly showed his disdain for his time being wasted. Cabinet meetings and audiences with nobility and dignitaries were expected and mandatory for royals. In his opinion, a majority of them were hardly worth the time and could be easily sorted out with logic, but politics hardly worked that way. It was fickle, changing at the whim of whomever is more powerful. And though at times it was fun to see how the spoiled nobles would squabble over the most ridiculous things, the majority of it was always dull.

To think I once found such a thing mesmerizing as a young boy, wanting to follow my father everywhere and prove myself useful to him. A moment to shine, to step out of the immense shadow casted by my brother. The corners of his lips tugged downwards at the miasma of memories that began to stir. He knew the ledge was a precarious one and a single thought could have him plummeting to the depths and ensnare him.

“Do you have any questions?” The agent looked at the members of the group one by one, hesitating and nearly jumping over Loki to avoid eye contact.

“Agent Pruyn, was it?” He watched the man who was addressing them flinch at the call of his name. “Would it not be wiser for me to be the one who distracts them? I am able to change my image to look like anyone. I would merely need some footage of the person I am to imitate to better play the role. You will also be able to monitor my movements since I will be in the banquet hall as opposed to behind the scenes searching through the office.” Minimal footage of me in questionable places is best. Who knows what someone might do as an act of vengeance.

“No, this is the best plan of action. Hawkeye is better suited for that portion of the mission and needs support while Black Widow distracts the target.” Agent Pruyn cleared his throat. The lack of negative reaction from the others seemed to embolden him a little bit. “Also, are you implying that she can't handle it? Black Widow is the best undercover agent we have. She's successfully infiltrated hundreds of places while you've only failed at discretion.” He scoffed.

There it was. The bias and condescending tone, the twisting of his words, and the lack of support. Such insolence made his blood boil to the point of physically punishing the fool, but he kept his reactions in check with a blank expression. Silently, he changed the way they perceived him to look identical to the infamous fiery haired operative who was sitting with them. Everyone in the room stared at him in wide eyed shock, looking at him and her to see if there was a difference.

“Well isn't that a neat little trick.” Natasha was the first to break the silence. “Certainly beats needing to put on that holographic skin.” She leaned in closer, trying to find some flaw.

“Stare all you like, you won’t be able to tell the difference unless I let you.” He said in her voice.

“If he’s so good at keeping up an appearance, why not just swap them? Nat and I are equally able to get in and out without issues if there’s a good enough diversion.” Clint shrugged, though he was impressed at how perfectly Loki copied her.

“I don’t have an issue with that change, I’m the one who can break into the computer system they have. It’s better if I’m with Clint.” Natasha agreed, Loki shifting back to himself.

“So, we’re in agreement. I will be the one to keep the group busy and the both of you will gather the necessary information. As I stated, I’ll require footage and data on the individual I’ll be impersonating.” He turned his attention back to Agent Pruyn who seemed rather cross with the change to his plan but said nothing since the other two Avengers were agreeing with Loki.

“We’ll need to adjust the timeline of the operation then. Everything was set up for this plan, we’ll need to adjust and see if there’s another gathering we can infiltrate.”

“You say this person of interest has possible ties to this Hydra organization, correct? Why don’t we get ourselves invited to his home or wherever you think he is housing the necessary information? Why must we wait for some large gathering outside somewhere else?” Loki questioned.

“We can’t just waltz into his home unannounced.” Agent Pruyn scoffed. “Do you think he just calls people over for tea time? This isn’t one of your royal games, Loki.” The condescending tone was back once more with a sense of triumph. This was hardly enough to anger the prince, but he was not so lenient to let it slide for a second time.

“Who said anything about tea?” He looked at the agent with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you had the time for such frivolous plans. I must disappoint you, my plans do not allot time for such.” Agent Pruyn grit his teeth and glared at the insouciant attitude the Asgardian was speaking with to him. A few of the other members of the meeting snickered at the calm retort, looking away to avoid the ire of the presenter. “This target has questionable connections and has a proclivity to feign a charitable appearance through auctions. We need to approach him as someone equally shady who wishes to either wash their hands of some item or trade an item to someone else and obtain the money under the guise of donating to said charity. We simply need to choose someone from his connections or create someone completely new.”

“That,” Natasha was the first to speak, coincidentally cutting Pruyn off, “is an excellent idea. If we came as someone new, trying to make a name for themself, they’ll be more likely to accept us if we come with an item of great value. Loki can play the part of the client and I can easily play the part of his assistant as needed to keep up the facade. Once we’re invited in, I can get Clint inside and we can get the information we need while the auction is going on.”

“Until the auction takes place, we can build a relationship with him and others. We can record all the conversations and pick up on any codes they use to discuss the secret dealings!” A female agent chimed in soon after, realizing an extra benefit to this plan.

“This makes it a much longer plan than anticipated though, we’ll have to resubmit the plan to our lead agent and to Director Fury.” A male agent pointed out.

“Sounds like it’s a necessary delay if it’s going to be more fruitful than the original operation. I guess Thor wasn’t exaggerating when he boasted about how strategic you are.” Clint slightly nodded his head in approval. “Redraft the plan and submit it, we’ll see what Fury says before moving forward.”

“We’ll schedule our next meeting after that.” Natasha nodded, standing from her seat. The others followed her actions and the meeting came to an end with a very irate Pruyn glaring at the back of Loki’s head. A small smirk of satisfaction tugged at the Asgardians lips as he walked down the halls, feeling lighter at proving himself as worthy to be on the team.

Y/N stared at the screen of her computer, willing it to fill the empty body of the email that was addressed to the two Avengers she was allowed to work with. Glancing at the time, she groaned audibly and turned her chair around so her back was to the screen.

Three hours, I’ve been staring at this blasted computer screen for three hours! Why do I need to message them!? Wasn’t Agent Hill supposed to coordinate this? Why is everything suddenly dumped on me from start to finish? This is ridiculous! Next they’ll want me to manage their schedules and make sure they have time to complete their missions and assist in my never ending task! I am not some over glorified secretary, I am the head of the Resource Management department, the director of it! I attend all the ridiculous morning meetings, check-ins, and any other waste of time meeting that could have easily been an email instead while managing all centers that contain our resources, digital and physical! She pushed herself out of the chair and paced in the space she had behind the desk. “When am I supposed to even meet with them when both are due to be deployed this week!” She threw her hands in the air as she shouted into the empty office. Defeated, she slumped back into her seat and turned to face the computer once more.

She did not want to wait until their return, she needed it done now so that while they were gone she could have the computers and scanners set up and be ready to start as soon as they returned. Straightening up her posture, she pulled the keyboard forward and quickly began to type a brief email stating she was approached by Agent Hill and wanted to set up a short meeting in person to introduce herself and better understand how to properly utilize their assistance and time. She also added that the both of them are available tomorrow after lunch for a brief period of time. Rereading her email over and over again, she made sure there was no error before finally hitting the send. Now she had to wait for a response. Thankfully, the chime signaling the door opening was a great distraction, letting her escape the panic while waiting for a response.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” She happily greeted the person as she stepped out of her office. “Oh, Captain Rogers, how are you?”

“Good afternoon Y/N, I’m doing well. How are you doing?” He smiled, giving her a slight nod.

“Could do with less work, but that’s not going to change anytime soon.” She tiredly chuckled.

“I don’t know how you handle your work at all. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a fourth of what’s here. They’ve got the right gal for the job here.” He patted her on the back. “Which is an expertise I’ll be needing at the moment. I’ll be going out on a mission with Thor and Tony to a fairly remote area with indigenous people. Thor will be a great asset with his AllSpeak, but I’d like to get some insight on the culture.”

“Oh, so no “An American Girl” books this time around? Or the “Hardy Boys”?” She curled her lips inward to keep from laughing as she watched the famous Captain America clear his throat and turn away to hide the hints of a blush that were creeping up onto his cheeks.

“No, not this time. But maybe when I come back you can suggest something for me to read?”

“I would love to, I’ll think up a small list and let you see which you’d like to start with. So, back to your mission, where are you going and do you know the group you’ll be interacting with?” She clapped and rubbed her hands together, eager to be of assistance. “Let’s head to the front desk while you tell me so I can pull up what we have for you.” Nodding his head, he delved into the details of the mission that were necessary, Y/N never asking for more information than necessary as she pulled up anything relevant and jotted it down on a sheet of paper. “Ok, follow me!” She walked back around just as the chime signaled someone else coming in. “Good afternoon, if you need my assistance I will be with you shortly. Please wait at the desk.” She turned to smile at the newcomer only to see the raven haired prince. Oh, good thing I put the book on the table already. “Follow me, Captain Rogers.”

“Y/N, you can just call me Steve. I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop formalities.”

“Captain Rogers, so bold and scandalous!” She gasped. “What would your fangirls think?!”

“Please don’t remind me of those.” He sighed heavily and gave her a stern look. “And I insist you call me Steve, we’re friends.” He flashed her that famous hero smile.

“Alright, alright, Steve it is.” She turned into an aisle and began to skim the codes, pulling out books which were taken from her by the gentleman super soldier beside her. Once everything was pulled, the two went to the nearest table.

“This is great, thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime Capt-,” she stopped at the pointed look he gave her. “Steve. If you need anything, just give a holler. I’ll come help you.”

“We’re in the library, I don’t think hollering is a good idea.” He chuckled.

“Who’s going to stop us, the librarian? Oh wait, that’s me!” She grinned, earning an eye roll from him before he turned his attention to the books he had as she made her way back to the front desk.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss@softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl@rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @kats72 @jainaeatsstars @mssjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki

94 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 7 months

Text

Protégé à Jamais

Aaron feels his blood boil, fury flooding his veins at the way the man in front of him dared to talk about the woman he loves.

-x-

Hi friends,

Not entirely sure where this one came from. I was driving to the grocery store this morning and some of the dialogue for this came into my head and here we are!

Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: brief canon typical violence

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily had never been so happy.

She sighs contentedly as she leans into her fiance’s side, smiling as he pulls her even closer, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her hip through the material of her dress.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Aaron asks, his smile soft as he looks at her. She’s almost eye level with him because of her heels and she takes advantage of it, nodding as she leans in to stamp her lips against his.

She hums as she pulls back, “I’m more than okay,” she says, kissing him again, smiling as she hears Derek groan and she makes a point of leaning further into the kiss, her hand coming up to cup Aaron’s cheek as she holds him in place as she licks her tongue through his mouth.

“Oh god Princess, we get it,” Derek says, shaking his head as he takes a sip of his beer, “You two love each other.”

“I think I preferred it when they used to pretend they weren’t in love with each other,” Dave grumbles jokingly, winking at Emily as she finally pulls back from Aaron, her hand dropping down to his chest, “They may have been annoying, but at least we didn’t have to watch them make out.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him, “Well excuse me for kissing my fiance at my engagement party.”

Party was a strong word and she knew it. They were out for a few drinks on a Thursday evening to celebrate her and Aaron’s recent engagement. She knew her actual engagement party would be something her mother insisted on throwing for them, an event full of dignitaries and people her mother considered important. This was the celebration she’d actually enjoy and she was going to make the most of it.

Aaron chuckles and runs his hand up and down her side, rubbing the soft green material of her dress between his fingers as he presses a kiss to her cheek, “Our engagement party, sweetheart.”

She shrugs playfully and winks at him before she finishes her beer, “Yes, baby. Our engagement party,” she kisses him again, “I need another drink.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek before he pulls away, “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.”

She watches him go, her eyes fixed on his ass as he walks towards the bar. She groans as he gets there and as she sees him standing next to Agent Clark and Agent Lewis, “What are those creeps doing here?”

They were both idiots. She’d never particularly liked either of them, but made polite small talk with them in the kitchen or the elevator if she saw them. Clark would often flirt with her and had asked her out on a date more than once, although that had stopped at least since she came back from Paris.

“Garcia invited everyone,” Spencer says, and Emily smiles as she looks at Penelope and she avoids eye contact, “The email went out to the entirety of Quantico.”

“And those two have never turned down a free drink,” Dave says, seemingly regretting for the first time all evening putting his card behind the bar, “They are usually harmless enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Penelope.

“You guys are getting married, that should be celebrated!” Penelope exclaims, her gaze shifting to Emily who chuckles.

“Trust me Pen, Aaron and I have done plenty of celebrating by ourselves,” she says, her chuckle turning into a full laugh at the looks of horror that sweep across Derek and Dave’s faces.

JJ joins in and shakes her head, sympathetically patting Derek on the back, “You know if you stop reacting she’ll stop telling you about their sex life.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Penelope says, taking a sip from her cocktail, “Especially because I’d like another BAU baby to spoil soon.”

Emily chokes on a laugh and shakes her head at her friend as she purposely ignores the treacherous hope that rolls through her chest. She and Aaron had decided to start trying recently, just a few weeks before he proposed, and she’d thrown away her birth control. She didn’t want anyone else to know yet, wanted to keep it as something just between her and Aaron, but she was excited — the thought of adding to their family enough to make her giddy.

Her response is cut off by someone shouting at the bar and she looks back over, her eyes going wide as she spots Aaron standing close to Agent Clark, his fist clenched by his side as Clark cupped his nose, blood dripping down through his clasped fingers. Her eyes drift down to Aaron’s knuckles as she steps closer, and she sees how red they are. His skin was sure to bruise over old scars she knew as well as her own.

She scoffs as she steps closer, confusion driving her closer as he looks at her, his eyes wide as if he isn’t sure what he’s done himself.

“Aaron, what the hell is going on?”

___

They don’t get a chance to talk about it.

At first, it’s because he won’t. Whatever had driven him to punching a fellow agent was something he was keeping to himself, a subtle shake of his head during all of the commotion in the bar all she needed to know he wasn’t ready to talk yet. It was an unspoken rule that they didn’t push each other until they were ready, so as much as she wanted to know what was wrong she takes a step back.

The moment they get home, Jack is on them, asking lots of questions about their night and hugging them tightly as if it had been days since he’d last seen them, not hours. The little boy blatantly disregarding his bedtime just to see them, something Jessica apologises for as she leaves. He insists that Emily is the one to put him to bed, a distraction she’s grateful for as she reads him two stories before he falls asleep against her, his hand tangled in her hair.

Despite everything in her that was screaming to go check on Aaron, to go slide into his lap where he had hidden himself in the home office, she still gives him the space she knows he needs. She gets ready for bed and slips under the covers, eventually falling asleep with her hand pressed against his pillow.

When she wakes up in the morning she’s alone.

She knows he had joined her at some point, can feel the warmth that only came with him surrounding her and permeating into the sheets on his side of the bed. She frowns as she sits up and spots a folded piece of paper on his pillow and she picks it up, smiling sadly as she reads his familiar writing.

Gone to work early, I’ve left you coffee in the pot and sorted breakfast for you and Jack.

She sighs and gets out of bed, putting aside her concern for the man she loves as she steps out into the hallway and almost trips over Jack, the little boy already awake and excited about going to school. By the time she gets to the office she feels anxious, a deep pit in her stomach as she places her bag on her desk, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks up at her fiance’s office.

“You ok there, Bella?”

She jumps and places her hand on her chest as she turns to look at Dave. She shakes her head at him and huffs out a breath, “Jesus Christ, Dave. We need to get you a bell or something.”

He smiles at her and holds his hand up in an apology, “Sorry, I didn’t think it was possible to sneak up on someone who used to be a spy.”

She hums and looks back at Aaron’s office, “I guess I’m distracted,” she sighs and turns to look at her friend, “He punched someone, Dave. And not just anyone, another agent. He could get in serious trouble over that,” she says, twisting her engagement ring around her finger, a habit that had replaced her previous one of biting her cuticles, “It’s not like him.”

Dave nods in agreement, “It’s not, but I’d say the guy deserved it, don’t you?”

She frowns and tilts her head at him, “Wait, do you know what happened?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking up to Aaron’s office, “I may have spoken to Lewis last night, and got his side of what went down between Aaron and Clark.”

She stares at him, expecting him to carry on, and when he doesn’t she asks, “What did he say?”

Dave sighs and forces his hands into his pockets, “If he hasn’t told you I don’t know if I should-”

“Dave,” she says firmly, cutting him off, “Tell me what he said.”

He maintains eye contact with her for a second before he nods, clearing his throat before he tells her what he knows.

___

Aaron’s smile fades as he approaches the bar, internally groaning when he sees Agent Clark and Agent Lewis standing there.

“Clark,” he says, nodding politely as he stands next to them, “Lewis.”

Lewis nods in return, but Clark turns to look at him, the smell of whiskey flowing off of him like a cologne as he smiles widely as if they were old friends.

“Congrats on the engagement, Hotchner,” Agent Clark says, his words slurring together slightly as he tips his beer towards Aaron. Clark was not a good man, and certainly not an agent Aaron would ever want on his team. He had applied to join the BAU more than once but had always been denied, his attitude and work ethic well known throughout the FBI.

“Thanks, Clark,” Aaron says, smiling politely as he indicates to the bartender that he wants two more beers. He smiles as he hears Emily laugh from behind him, the irritation he’d felt building for the man standing next to him immediately fading.

“Prentiss has always been a catch,” Clark says, shaking his head as he places his beer back down, “You’re a better man than I am though, I don’t think I could do it.”

Aaron freezes, his body briefly tense as he turns ever so slightly to face the other man, already asking a question he isn’t sure he wants the answer to before he can stop himself. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Clark doesn’t pick up on his tone, nor does he pay any attention to Agent Lewis on his other side who was attempting to stop him from saying anything else. His hand on his friend’s shoulder as he tries to lead him away, Aaron’s well-known glare getting through to him.

“Well,” Clark says, shrugging, his hand slipping off the bar as he steps closer, “You wouldn’t buy a car that already has damage to the bodywork would you?” He says, smirking as he chuckles at what he’s said.

Aaron feels his blood boil, fury flooding his veins at the way the man in front of him dared to talk about the woman he loves. He clenches his fists at his sides, his short nails digging into his palm as he tries to distract himself, the dull pain in an attempt to pull himself back from the edge. Anger he’d inherited from his father bubbling in his belly, burning up his chest and turning bitter on his tongue.

“What did you just say?” He asks, the words forced out through his teeth as he fixes his hard glare on him.

“We should go-” Lewis starts, but Clark interrupts him, cutting him off as he pats Aaron on the shoulder as if they were old friends, as if they were exchanging shop talk rather than talking about his fiance.

“Come on Hotchner,” he says, chuckling again, “We all know what Doyle did to her. She’s always had an incredible figure, but it must be a mess under that dress,” he says, nodding towards Emily, “Sometimes it’s best never to unwrap a gift if you know what I mean.”

Aaron sees red, and anger he hasn’t felt in years, since he’d seen Foyet in the home he’d once shared with Haley, overtakes him. Any attempt to stop himself from reacting disappears. It happens in slow motion. He doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his body, as if he’s watching himself as he punches Clark, the feeling of his knuckles connecting with the other man's face spreading throughout his hand.

Everything speeds back up again as he pulls his hand back, the quiet in the bar almost deafening as it feels like everyone turns to look at them. Clark’s cursing and the way he cries out in pain as he cups his bleeding nose barely registering as he turns to look at Emily, guilt and shame filling his lungs as she furrows her brows at him, any enjoyment she’d found in the evening long gone.

“Aaron, what the hell is going on?”

___

She closes her eyes as Dave finishes and she shakes her head, love and a flicker of irritation aimed at her finace blooming in her chest.

“Lewis told you all of that?” She asks as she opens her eyes and looks at Dave, smiling sadly when she sees his anger at the way she’d been spoken about painted across his face as he nods, “Maybe he can be a witness if this goes to some kind of committee hearing.”

“He did,” he replies, “I don’t think Clark will be taking this up with anyone.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at him, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs nonchalantly as he smirks, “Let’s just say, someone may have reminded him of his place here and about all the things he should have been reported on over the years.”

She smiles at him and leans forward to kiss his cheek, squeezing his shoulder gratefully before she takes a step back, “Thanks Dave,” she says, blowing out a breath as she turns to look at Aaron’s office, “I’m going to go talk to him.”

Dave nods, “I’ll distract the others when they come in, give you some time.”

She chuckles, “Someone is already taking their role as best man seriously.”

He laughs and shakes his head at her, “For this, I expect godfather of your firstborn, Bella.”

She turns and starts to walk towards the steps leading to Aaron’s office, “I’m not making any promises.”

She takes a moment as she gets to his door and blows out a breath before she knocks and walks in, smiling softly at him as he looks up from his paperwork.

“Hi honey,” she says, closing the door behind her, “You left early this morning.”

He clears his throat and nods, the same shame he’d felt ever since he’d hit Clark swelling in his chest the moment he sees her.

“I had paperwork to do,” he says, folding his hands on his desk, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

They fall into an awkward silence and she hates it, her eyes drifting to his knuckles that were bruised just like she knew they would be before she looks back at him, their eyes meeting as he covers the damaged skin with his other hand. She knows what he’s thinking, the comparisons he will have no doubt made to a man she’ll never get to meet, the man who he spent his whole life worrying he’d turn into. There were moments when she wished she could have a few moments alone with his father, when she wished she could give him a piece of her mind, when she wanted nothing more than to yell at the man who was supposed to protect his son, to hide him from the harshness of the world instead of exposing him to it.

She knew they’d have to talk about it, that she’d have to tell him, again, that she didn’t need protecting, that she didn’t need him to fight her battles for her, but this wasn’t the time for that. Not yet anyway.

“Lewis told Dave what happened,” she says, still standing by the door, her hands clasped together as she once again twists her engagement ring, around her finger, “And Dave told me.”

Aaron sighs, and looks down at his desk, clasping his hands tighter around each other, pressing against his bruised flesh, as irritation at his friend flashes through him. He didn’t want her to know what Clark had said about her. It was one of the main reasons why he hadn’t told her last night, his desire to protect her, to stop her from being any more hurt than she already had been superseding everything else.

“Sweetheart…” he starts, but he trails off, unsure what he wants to say. He looks up as he hears her walking towards him and he sits back in his chair, allowing her room to sit on the edge of his desk.

“We’ll talk about how I don’t need you to protect me later,” she says, reaching for his hand and sandwiching it between both of hers, her touch careful as she runs her thumb back and forth over his damaged skin, “From both the people who say things about me and the things they say.”

“You’re going to be my wife,” he says, anger flashing through him again, feeling wrong and biting in comparison to her gentle touch, “And even if you weren’t…no one should speak about you like that,” he says, shaking his head as he looks up at her, “You’re…you’re everything.”

She presses her lips together and raises his hand to them, stamping a kiss against his damaged skin.

“You’re everything to me, honey,” she says, kissing his knuckles again, soft and diligent as if it would heal him instantly. On some level, he’s sure it does, “So I don’t want you to risk your job over the opinion of a guy like Clark.”

He nods and avoids her eye contact, “I’m sorry.”

She cups his cheek with her spare hand and makes him look at her, “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” she says, leaning forward and stamping her lips against his, “Only he does, and I think the broken nose is enough of a punishment,” her smile fades slightly as she chews her lip, clearly lost in thought and he squeezes her hand.

“What’s wrong, Em?”

She shakes her head, “Nothing’s wrong,” she assures him, “It’s just…Clark used to ask me out all the time. And he stopped when I came back from Paris. I kind of assumed it was because we got together so quickly but…” she laughs humourlessly as the scar on her abdomen burns, the phantom stake driving through it as she thinks about it, “I guess not. Not that it really matters, I’d never go there in a million years even if we weren’t together but…it just makes me wonder how many people are thinking the same thing.”

The anger he’d felt last night flashes through him again for a moment, hot and overwhelming as he feels it threaten to burst free, but it disappears as quickly as it came, his concern for her more important. They’d both been self-conscious of their respective scars their first night together, as if they didn’t already know the worst of what each other had been through. It had been a night of exploration, of soft touches and questions that they’d had for years answered. Ever since then, they’d barely acknowledged it, as comfortable with each other as someone could be with another person.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, shifting back so she can slip into his lap, his arms tight around her as she settles against him, her side pressing into his chest, “And he’s an idiot if he thinks what happened to you doesn’t make you even more so.”

She scoffs and smiles lovingly at him, pushing his hair from his forehead, “You’re my fiance, you have to say that.”

“It’s true,” he says, moving his hand so it rests on her abdomen, gently tracing the edges of the scar that lay beneath her clothes. Scar tissue spread out like a constellation, the slope of it a pattern he could follow with his eyes closed, “It’s made of you, so how could it be anything other than beautiful.”

She shakes her head and leans in to kiss him, her lips firm against his as she cups the back of his head, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her once more before she rests her head against his shoulder, content to sink into his embrace before the day truly begins, “I wonder when Strauss will be in here yelling at me about last night.”

“I think Dave got you out of that one,” she says, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “He had a conversation with Clark and with Lewis,” she tilts her head to look up at him, “He said something about reminding Clark of his place.”

Aaron chuckles and kisses her forehead, “I’ll have to come up with a way to thank him.”

She smiles, and is briefly distracted as she sees Dave walking up the stairs and stopping just outside of Aaron’s office, clearly trying to be sneaky but failing. She nods towards him and Aaron sees him too, so she winks at him, a silent request to go along with what she was going to say.

“He’s already claimed the role of godfather for our firstborn in return for it,” she says, her smile getting wider as his does, the mention of their potential future child enough to get rid of any lingering anxiety in the air around them, “Poor kid doesn’t exist and they already have Dave as their moral guidepost.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

They both laugh at Dave’s weary voice coming through the window and Emily leans into Aaron’s side again as she replies, happy and content in his arms.

“I know, that’s why I said it, old man.”

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #emily prentiss fanfiction

64 notes · View notes

darkmaga-retard · 9 days

Text

Fealty: “the fidelity of a vassal or feudal tenant to his lord.” These national leaders aren’t free agents but rather behave like they are members of a cult, given over to self-harm. The UN mixes the magic potion that is willingly consumed, converting them into global citizen/slaves. If the U.S. were to stop funding the UN, it would fold like a deck of cards. — Technocracy News & Trends Editor Patrick Wood

Posted By: Yudi Sherman via The Gold Report

On September 22nd, dignitaries from around the world will gather at the United Nations headquarters in New York for a meeting called Summit of the Future.

At the conference, world leaders will sign Pact for the Future, an accord in which member states will pledge their allegiance to the UN as a central, unifying government.

“We, the Heads of State and Government, representing the peoples of the world, have gathered at United Nations Headquarters to protect the needs and interests of present and future generations through the actions in this Pact for the Future,” the document begins.

“We recognize that the multilateral system and its institutions, with the United Nations and its Charter at the centre, must be strengthened to keep pace with a changing world.”

Member states then repeatedly “reaffirm” their “unwavering commitment” to the UN, its charter, its purposes, its principles, and Agenda 2030. They vow to comply with the UN’s International Court of Justice and promise to “reform the international financial architecture.”

“Reform of the international financial architecture is an important step towards building greater trust in the multilateral system,” says the treaty. “We commend ongoing reform efforts and call for even more urgent and ambitious action to ensure that the international financial architecture becomes more efficient, more equitable, fit for the world of today and responsive to the challenges faced by developing countries in closing the SDG financing gap. The reform of the international financial architecture should place the 2030 Agenda at its centre, with an unwavering commitment to investing in the eradication of poverty in all its forms and dimensions.”

Altogether, the document lists 60 actions that member states should take. In nearly all of them, the agreement makes it clear that the countries’s interests revolve around the UN and its globalist systems.

A clause buried toward the end of the document requires member states to embed UN “agreements and resolutions” in their own national laws:

7 notes · View notes

queenphanessa · 11 months

Text

*Screams in lesbian*

I won't lie, I spent a few minutes trying to screenshot the moment when she crosses her legs, but the scene went by too fast for me to do it 😔

I originally thought that Arlecchino was lying when she said this since Childe said that he didn't like her at all so there's be no reason for him to talk to her about this... But in his "About Us: Comrades" voiceline, Childe's pretty nonchalant about the fact that the other Harbingers know he's friends with the person who's been foiling their plans, so him casually talking about his friendship with the Traveler to the Harbingers would actually be plausible.

Then again, Arlecchino specializes in intelligence gathering so Childe could very well have mentioned that the Traveler likes sweets, just not to or around her, but an agent of hers could have heard it and carried it back to her.

Oh?? 👀

So she's dispensing with the politeness? Even with the Traveler present?

"But you? It beggars belief just how nonchalant and carefree you have been. From the very beginning, you, the god Focalors... You have utterly failed to take action."

Damn, look at that glare. She's even referring to Furina by her god name, which is hella rude in Teyvat, even calling her "O great Hydro Archon" sarcastically. Ever since that first meeting with Neuvillette and Furina, Arlecchino has been polite, but also passive aggressive. But now? She has completely dropped the cordiality and her tone was honestly angry and damning.

You know, when Arlecchino first appeared in game, I was surprised by how cordial she was because it was so at odds with how she was in the A Winter Night's Lazzo teaser where she was angry with some of the other Harbingers. But now that she isn't bothering with being friendly, I can recognize her now.

And remember how in the teaser, she was angry with Pulcinella and Pantalone, "heartless businessmen and dignitaries" as she called them (which Fontaine is known for having 👀), for talking about a proper way to honor Signora's death when they couldn't hope to understand what she went through when they always have convenient excuses to remain in the comfort of their homeland.

And here Arlecchino's lambasting Furina for "drinking tea and eating desserts as if it's all nothing more than a few stray bugs in [her] garden", talking about how she claims she will save Fontaine from the prophecy, but (seemingly) doesn't have a plan at all and is instead indulging in tea parties.

So it seems that Arlecchino is greatly pissed off by people and dignitaries with empty words and empty promises who enjoy comfort and safety while others struggle.

Because of her reactions in both those scenes, I think that if there's anything that can be determined about Arlecchino is that her desire to save Fontaine is genuine. Childe did say that the Harbingers have their own agendas and saving Fontaine from the prophecy could very well be Arlecchino's.

"Very well, let's stop that conversation here. There are still a few slices of cake left, so please help yourselves, everyone."

And then she just goes back to her cordial demeanor like nothing happened!

(Also, her fucking hips!!! 😩🫦)

Guys. "Those who work hard deserve gratitude and praise."

The shade she is throwing at Furina, my god.

I see those slices of cake there. So she wasn't lying when she said she has a sweet tooth!

This makes me wonder just how strong Arlecchino is. Neuvillette may have taken down Childe in one move, but Childe is the 11th Harbinger, while Arlecchino is the 4th. Could Arlecchino be strong enough to take Neuvillette in a fight? 🤔

More credence being lent to Arlecchino genuinely caring about Fontaine... 👀 Like Signora, she couldn't rely on her god to save her homeland, so she had to take matters into her own hands.

So once the Fontaine crisis is solved, does this provide an in-universe reason for Arlecchino being playable and aiding the Traveler?

She would have gotten what she wanted so her loyalty to the Fatui would take a swan dive.

And since Arlecchino is high up the ranking and specializes in intelligence gathering, how much info would she give us on the other Harbingers? 👀

#genshin impact #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino my beloved my wife #please come home soon

31 notes · View notes

umbralundertaker · 5 months

Note

not just him, everyone is fucked. i don't think we need to repeat how wv and pm got shafted considering that at the top of the list for things carapacian fans know, so here is another example. alpha dignitary is given a lot more personality than usual for diamonds. the aloof agent shows a lot more agitation towards hb dying as opposed to jack, whether that be due to actually caring or due to the loudness of dirk's rebellion. and unlike beta jack, who uses the red miles as a final spiteful fuck you to the universe, alpha dignitary practically opens with it. the man who, in the last two universes we saw him, focused mainly on stealth and little moves to achieve his goals, hits the big red button faster than his boss ever did.

there is also his relationships with other characters, his lust for the condesce and dad crocker being the obvious ones (which speaking of, i feel like that sort of attraction to people is a good sign that something is "alive" so to speak), but there's also the complete nonchalantness of his friendship with jack. i mean after what i said above, you'd think dignitary would do something to help jack out. but its like "nah, do it yourself and also do my paper work", and its hard to tell if this is normal for them, a mirror of beta jack dumping beta dignitary with the political work, or if he really was just being that much of a manwhore for a giant fish and a 50s dressed man.

and yet despite all these actions done to him/from him to the main cast, his connection to the alphas main villain, and one of their dads, you'd expect this man's presence to carry some weight to it. but nope, he just completely disappears. and its all due to the alphas (oh boy, i finally get to take out the bat for the alpha kids).

Dude the ESSAYS!!

And yes the carapaces were soooo shafted. Hussie gives us a little glimmer of hope in the form of content and interesting characterization and kills them off with no one mentioning them again. Again, theyre side characters, but he can do better than thissssss.

#and to clarify i do think theyre alive!!! Just not in the same way as everything else. Yeah #Homestuck #draconian dignitary

8 notes · View notes

handeaux · 6 months

Text

Cincinnati Surrendered To The Automobile When Jaywalking Was Outlawed

How many Cincinnatians subscribed to Popular Mechanics magazine in 1912? And how many of those subscribers recognized, in the September issue, a tiny article on Page 414 that laid out the future of the Queen City? It all seemed so innocent:

“The city pedestrian who cares not for traffic regulations at street corners, but strays all over the street, crossing in the middle of the block, or attempting to save time by choosing a diagonal route across a street intersection instead of adhering to the regular crossing, is designated as a ‘jay walker’ in Kansas City. Kansas City recently adopted a new ordinance for the control of foot traffic as well as vehicles, and ‘jay walking’ is to be prevented as rigidly as ‘jay driving.’”

That squib appeared adjacent to another brief item on how the brand-new town of Speedway, Indiana allowed only motorized vehicles on its streets, banning anything pulled by horses. In combination, the two articles sounded the death knell for a way of life that had existed for millennia.

Look at the illustrations that grace the old books about Cincinnati. There is no such thing as jaywalking. The streets were owned and enjoyed by the people. Pedestrians share the road with wheeled vehicles, crossing wherever convenient, even stopping in the middle of the street to chat. Horse-drawn carriages and wagons hauled passengers and freight. Men pulling handcarts and pushing wheelbarrows dodge the throng. The only motorized vehicles were the electric street cars, and they were confined to their tracks.

During election season, Cincinnati’s streets filled with torchlit political parades. On at least one occasion, a parade filled Vine Street from Fourth Street to McMicken with chanting men waving flaming brands, lighting the clouds above with a rosy glow. When any dignitary showed up in town, they were expected to speechify from their hotel balcony and people thronged the street below, halting traffic as they cheered. People crossing the street from any direction weren’t “jay walking.” They were just “walking.” The automobile changed all that.

Horse-drawn vehicles and electric streetcars killed a fair number of people, but the motor car quickly notched more than a hundred fatalities and many more injuries every year. Local media often blamed the victims. The Cincinnati Post [8 January 1916] piled on:

“Fourth-st. is the mecca of Cincinnati’s jay walkers. Most of the jay-walking is done between Vine and Race-sts. The other day we counted 20 persons crossing the street at different points at one time – and none was using a cross-walk. Fortunately accidents are rare on this street because of the extreme care exercised by autoists.”

It appears not to have occurred to the writer that this behavior, just five years previous, would have been considered normal.

The hammer landed in 1917. Cincinnati joined the ranks of other auto-infested cities that criminalized jaywalking. The new law went into effect in May of that year, restricting automobiles to no more than 8 miles per hour in the business district and 15 miles per hour in residential districts. For the first time, pedestrians were restricted to sidewalks and crosswalks. Pedestrians – literally – fought the new law. According to the Post [23 May 1917]:

“Theodore Mitchell, 38, agent, 631 Maple-av, is the first person to be arrested on a charge of jay-walking since the new traffic ordinance went into effect. Traffic Patrolman [Edward] Schraffenberger charged Mitchell attempting to make a short cut at Fifth and Walnut streets. When reminded of his mistake, Mitchell became angry, Schraffenberger said. Mitchell, charged with disorderly conduct and violating the traffic ordinance, was cited to appear in court Thursday.”

If you’d asked the cops, however, they would unanimously aver that the chief violators were women. The Post [21 May 1917] quoted Police Lieutenant Charles Wolsefer:

“The women are awful. They just don’t pay any attention at all. Just take a look at them crossing on Race-st.”

The reporter did so, and counted 48 jaywalkers, of whom 37 were women. A few days later, another Post reporter followed another policeman on patrol who confronted 25 jaywalkers, of which only two were men.

Among the first arrested was Miss Ella Bright of 538 Howell Avenue, Clifton, a teacher at Woodward High School. Miss Bright did not care for the attitude of the city policeman who accosted her. According to the Cincinnati Enquirer [7 June 1917]:

“She declared she had been upbraided unduly by an officer because she crossed the street in a manner which was a violation of the traffic laws after alighting from a street car.”

In August of that year, Mrs. John Mongan, 4217 Glenway Avenue, Price Hill, was arrested for striking a police officer who grabbed her arm as she executed a “Dutch Cut” (diagonal jaywalking) across the intersection at Sixth & Race.

Former U.S. President William Howard Taft, then on the law faculty at Yale, was visiting his hometown that year and blithely jogged across Sixth Street near Main, only to be corralled by Officer Joseph Schindler, who gave the law professor a little legal lesson.

The Post even enlisted its “boy reporter,” 12-year-old Freddy Printz, to test the city’s ability to enforce the new jaywalking regulations. On 7 July 1917, Freddy reported his fruitless attempts to get bawled out by a police officer. Despite blatantly jaywalking at five different locations, he only earned a polite reprimand from one officer.

While the local constabulary was doing their best to enforce the new laws, the automobiles were merciless. On 21 May 1918, the Post reported on the 25th traffic fatality of the year. The victim, a 12-year-old girl, was the twelfth child killed by an automobile that year.

Curiously, although Cincinnati outlawed jaywalking, the city had omitted one very important detail that might have contributed to compliance with the new law. A letter signed only “Chicagoan” appeared in the Post on 13 June 1917. The writer suggested that, like other cities attempting to get pedestrians to cross at intersections, Cincinnati should assist pedestrians by painting white lines on the street to mark approved pedestrian crossing paths. Cincinnati’s mandatory crosswalks were unmarked!

#cincinnati streets #jaywalking #cincinnati automobiles

8 notes · View notes

joachimnapoleon · 1 year

Text

Fouché evading back-to-back arrest attempts right before Napoleon’s return to Paris:

Actually, then, on March 16, 1815, at eleven o’clock in the morning, policemen surround the Duke of Otranto’s carriage when he is out for an airing on the boulevards, and declare him under arrest, in conformity with Bourrienne’s command. Fouché, who never loses his presence of mind, smiles disdainfully, saying: “An ex-minister, an ex-senator, cannot be thus arrested in the public street.” Then, before the police agents, who for so long were his own subordinates, have recovered from their surprise, he orders his coachman to whip up the horses and to drive home at full speed. Open-mouthed the policemen stand there, breathing in the dust raised by the departing wheels.

(…)

When the policemen report to their chief that Fouché has eluded them, Bourrienne is pricked into sharper action. Now it behooves him to maintain his authority, and to show that no one can make fun of him. He promptly has the house in the Rue Cerutti surrounded, and the door kept under close observation, while a file of armed men mount the steps and enter the house in order to seize the fugitive. But Fouché has another jest to play, one of those unique masterstrokes that come to him always in the most difficult situations. We have seen again and again that when he is in imminent danger he is seized by a lust for amusing himself at people’s expense and for leading them a dance. This adept in the art of mystification therefore receives with extreme courtesy those who have come to arrest him, and asks to be shown the warrant. Yes, it appears to be in order, and he is the person nominated therein. It would be needless for him to say that he has no thought of resisting His Majesty’s command. Perhaps his visitors will be good enough to sit down for a moment while he attends to a few trifling matters, and then he will come with them. With these polite assurances, Fouché withdraws into the next room. The others wait respectfully while he is arranging his toilet. After all, a senator, a sometime minister of State and court dignitary, must not be collared like a pickpocket and dragged off in handcuffs. They wait respectfully; they wait for a good long time; they wait so long that at length their suspicions are aroused. Then, since he still does not return, they too go into the next room, to discover there—a scene of true comedy amid the political tumult—that Fouché has slipped through their fingers. This man of fifty-six, as if he had been an actor for the cinema to be invented almost a century later, going out into the garden, has placed a ladder against the wall, and, while the police are waiting for him respectfully in the drawing room, has with remarkable agility climbed over into the adjoining garden of Queen Hortense’s house, and has thence made good his escape.

—Stefan Zweig, Joseph Fouché: Portrait of a Politician

#Joseph Fouché #just Fouché things #1815

52 notes · View notes

danceswithdarkspawn · 7 months

Note

16,17,18,19

16: Are one-shots really underrated?

How do I say this without being unhinged.

YES.

(General 'you' here) If you're the type of reader who writes off short works, such as drabbles, ficlets/microfics, or shorter works in general, I'm not judging you, but you're missing out on some gems.

17: Past or present tense? Why?

I think this depends on what you want. From a reader's perspective, past tense is easier for me to read/get into. There are some cases where present tense could potentially work better however, such as first or second-person POV where the aim is to make the reader more immersed in the story being told. Both are good, and truth be told I don't have a preference. It's all a stylistic choice.

18: First, second, or third person?

This is basically the same as above. I gravitate toward third because it's palatable to more people, is easier to write than first or second in some ways, and is more forgiving of mistakes. I do, however, adore first person and use it where I can.

19: Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

I'm leaving out a very important part at the beginning, I shan't say what it is.

After conducting business in the war room, he came up on a scene of chaos in Skyhold's main hall. A number of mages, scholars, and dignitaries gathered outside the entrance of the rotunda, and still more were being escorted out by Leliana's agents. Among the thralls, Josephine and Charter assured those displaced that yes, they would receive their belongings, but that the tower was closed and would remain so for some time.

He'd earned a reproachful look from Josephine for even daring to oggle for as long as he did. Charter, meanwhile, looked as indifferent as ever, but watched him like a bird of prey.

By nightfall, the rookery and indeed the entire tower that contained it was completely locked down. Each of the many entrances were sealed off and guarded by a pair of elite agents. For three days it stayed that way, with only a select few moving in and out of the tower, and always followed by armed escort.

No amount of backhanded prying got him the confirmation he wanted. All of Leliana's agents repeated the same mantra that they were not to speak of their liege's state. Josephine politely redirected the matter the way he'd expected of a skilled diplomat.

Charter was the only one to give him anything. He came to her claiming to have received intelligence that required Leliana's discretion. Charter informed him that the information was hers to know, and that effective immediately, she was the Inquisition's spymaster.

#the dancer answers #dances writing tag

2 notes · View notes

auntieoneandauntietwo · 2 years

Text

In a pern modern au Lessa is a powerful and terrifying world leader and F’lar is a decorated war vet turned FBI agent turned talk show host whose show is a news/politics show with an obvious and extreme bias he makes no effort to hide. He’s having less of a crisis of masculinity in this world and so can acknowledge he’s most useful doing what he does best which is talking a lot in a confident way. He’s vibing as first gentleman. Foreign dignitaries love his scintillating dinner conversation.

#also in this au the harpers are a high profile law firm that’s vaguely corrupt and spying on everyone #I don’t make the rules #they paid the bribes to get lessa elected #pern #dragonriders of pern #pern au #anne mccaffery #dragonflight #dragonquest #f’lar #lessa #stubbornly tagging pern characters names

3 notes · View notes

bennetttitus · 3 days

Text

"The supporter of power trading" - GuoWengui

#WenguiGuo #WashingtonFarm

On April 19, 2017, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs confirmed at a press conference that Interpol had issued a red notice, or "red notice", for suspected criminal Guo Wengui. The "Pangu Meeting" led by Guo Wengui, whose family ranks 74th on the Hurun Rich List, once brought together a number of senior officials and magnates, weaving an unimaginable web of interests.

Guo Wengui and his associates are suspected of a number of crimes, including embezzlement of funds, loan fraud, foreign exchange fraud, illegal detention, destruction of accounts and accounting documents, and invasion of privacy, and some of the huge amounts of money seized were transferred overseas through underground banks. The "Pangu Meeting" led by him once brought together a number of senior officials, including Ma Jian, former vice minister of State Security, and Zhang Yue, former secretary of the Political and Legal Committee of the Standing Committee of the Hebei Provincial Committee, and interwoven an unimaginable web of interests. In the Beijing business community, Guo Wengui has the title of "God of war" and "Pirates of the Caribbean." The protection of power is like a destroyer escorting Guo Wengui in the commercial sea, making him the omnipotent "God of war" wandering in the gray area.

Guo Wengui in the capital market, can not be separated from two dignitaries Ma Jian and Zhang Yue, respectively, the former deputy minister of National security and the former Hebei Provincial Party Committee Standing Committee, secretary of the Political and Legal Committee. Under the guise of "national security" and political and legal power, Guo Wengui can always meet the danger and win repeatedly. Beijing News (ID:bjnews_xjb) reporter exclusively obtained a 28-minute confession video of Ma Jian, Ma Jian said that he and Guo Wengui around 2006 through work, from 2008 to 2014, he repeatedly gave Guo Wengui help. Guo paid him bribes worth about 60 million yuan. Around 2008, when Guo Wengui increased the floor area ratio while building office buildings in Jinquan Square, the Beijing Municipal Regulatory Commission imposed penalties for building violations, Mr. Ma said. According to the provisions of the highest penalty, these buildings can be demolished, Guo Wengui will face several hundred million losses, he sent a letter to the Beijing Municipal Regulatory Commission in the name of the Ministry of National Security, hoping that the Beijing Municipal Regulatory Commission will not seriously affect the interests of Guo Wengui's company, according to law, the Beijing Municipal Regulatory Commission reported the situation to the then vice mayor of Beijing, after approval, Finally, only a fine was imposed on Guo, and hundreds of millions of yuan of losses were recovered for Guo Wengui.

Around 2010, Guo Wengui reported to the security department that a senior executive of his company named Qu Long had helped him hold some assets, but Qu Long later not only did not return these assets, but also blackmailed Guo Wengui. Ma Jian sent agents to Hebei Province to orally report to Zhang Yue, the Standing Committee of the Hebei Provincial Party Committee and secretary of the Political and Legal Committee, and soon Zhang Yue decided to let the Chengde public Security Bureau file a case. In the name of the Ministry of State Security, Ma Jian sent a letter to the Hebei Provincial Public Security Department, explaining that Guo Wengui was a working relation of the security department and had made contributions to national security work, and then formally filed a case, arrested Qu Long, and eventually Qu Long was sentenced to 15 years in prison by the Chengde court. In the end, Guo Wengui got what he wanted, forced out all competitors, and let National Securities fall into the bag.

Guo Wengui uses his own means to maintain his own complex network of relationships, so that he can be "like a fish in water" in the official circle, but he does not know that this is in disguise of his own depravity, when a node of energy particles together will eventually explode, and when that time is already too late to regret.

0 notes

ameliapullan · 5 days

Text

"The supporter of power trading" - GuoWengui

#WenguiGuo #WashingtonFarm

0 notes

shootey2024 · 6 days

Text

"The supporter of power trading" - GuoWengui

#WenguiGuo #WashingtonFarm

1 note · View note

loverandservantoftheahlulbayt · 21 days

Text

🍂🥀🍂 The Eighth Imam 🍂🥀🍂

🕯 Ali Ibn Musa al-Ridha (as) 🕯

🕌

Born in Madina 11th Zeeqaad 148 Hijri (1.1.766 AD).

Died in the city of Tus Iran on 17th Safar 203 Hijri (26.5.819 AH)

Period of Imamate 20 years.

His grandfather Imam Ja’far Al-sadiq (as) died one month before the birth of Imam Ridha’ (as) The family must have been consoled by his birth which took place after such a great loss. He was brought up and instructed by his affectionate father under whose supervision he passed his boyhood and youth. He availed himself of the instructions of his learned father for thirty one years, till the later was taken to Baghdad to suffer the hardship of imprisonment for four years till his death.

Imam Musa Ibn Ja’far (as) could foresee that the hostile Abbasid ruler would not allow him to live peacefully and circumstances would take such a turn that his followers would not be able to see him or enquire about his successor prior to his death.

So while free and undisturbed in Madinah he felt the need to introduce his successor to his followers. He, therefore, assembled seventeen prominent dignitaries from the descendants of Imam ‘Ali (as) and proclaimed that his son ‘Ali Ibn Musa (as) would succeed him.

He also wrote his will on which 60 respected elders of Madinah signed as witnesses. Such elaborated arrangements were never made by any other Imam and they proved to be most appropriate due to the controversy about the Imamate which ensued after the death of Imam Musa Ibn Ja’far (as) .

Imam Ridha’ (as) was 35 years old when his father died in prison of Harun al-Rashid in Baghdad and the responsibilities of the Imamate devolved on him. At that time Harun Al-Rashid was the absolute ruler of Baghdad and the descendants of Imam ‘Ali (as) were passing as ever, through trials and tribulations because of the tyranny of the Abbasid ruler.

Yet Imam Ridha’ (as) carried on the responsibility of administering the Divine Law of Shari’ah as taught by the Holy Prophet and Imams of the Ahlul Bayt after him.

After putting an end to the life of Imam Musa Ibn Jaa’far (as) Harun al-Rashid lived for ten years. He had less tolerance for the existence of Imam ‘Ali Ridha’ (as) , then he did for his revered father. But he also knew that his Government had already lost face due to its prolonged maltreatment and eventual assassination of Imam Musa Ibn Ja’far (as) or perhaps the tyrant felt the stings of conscience which kept him from harassing the 8th Imam.

It is said that once Yahya Barmaki, his Prime Minister, in order to gain the ruler’s favor, informed Harun that Imam ‘Ali Ibn Musa (as) claimed Imamate in the same way his father had done, Harun coldly replied, “We have already inflicted cruelties on his father, do you expect me to annihilate this family altogether.

Still, Harun was antagonistic towards the Prophet’s descendants and persisted in maltreatment of most of them in Madina. The local Governors of Madina who wished to please the ruler could not afford to be fair to Ahlul Bayt. People could not visit the Imam freely seek his knowledge, and he had little chance to teach his followers openly, for the eyes of the agents of Caliph focused unceasingly on the activities of the Imam.

Political wranglings in Baghdad between the two sons of Harun were rocking the Empire. His elder son Amin who had an Arab mother had the support of the Arabs and most of the Abbasid elders, while the younger son Mamun had a Persian mother and was supported by the Persians.

To console both factions Harun took a pledge from both his sons that after his death Amin will rule the Arab part of the Empire while Mamun will rule the Persian side.

When Harun died in faraway Tus, the most northern town of his Persian Empire, Mamun was with him and buried him there. Amin in Baghdad immediately proclaimed himself the Caliph of the whole empire and immediately deposed Mamun from the rulership of the Persian Province. Mamun’s main concern was to subdue the Persian province under any circumstances.

He realized that the majority of Persians favored the teachings of Ahlul Bayt and if somehow he could persuade the Imam of the Ahlul Bayt in Madina to side with him, he could confirm his rule there. Once he felt secure on that side of the Empire, he would then rise against his brother and easily depose him.

So the orders were sent out for the Imam to leave his home in Madina and go to the Abbasid ruler in faraway Tus. Imam, as if by some miracle knew what was to come. So he left his wife and only son Muhammad Ibn ‘Ali al Jawad, later known as Imam Muhammad Taqi (as) in Madina.

He also called many elders of Madina mostly from Banu Hashim and told them of his call to go to the outpost of the Empire to see Mamun. The date of his departure was in the month of Rajab 200 Hijri. It was a long journey to Merve and the Imam set out on this momentous journey with some of his friends who were loyal to him throughout his life.

His journey began from Madina to Makka where he performed the Umra, then he took almost the same route as Imam Husayn (as) took in 61 hijri towards Karbala’. Half way through the hills of Hejaz when he crossed over to the desert of Najd his route changed to that of Imam Husayn (as) and his caravan moved towards the eastern side and reached the town of Basra in the month of Shawwal.

From Basra he crossed over the Shatt-al-Arab and reached the Persian soil heading towards the town of Qum. It was in the month of Zilhijja that he reached Qum where he stayed for a while. The month of Muharram the 8th Imam spent in Qum where it is said that he established for the first time a Majlis to commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Husayn (as).

This was the first Muharram in 201 Hijri that set the tradition of Majlis, beginning in Persia the way the Imams of Ahlul Bayt had wanted it and the way it was observed in Madina and Makka and throughout the province of Hejaz and Najd and to some extent in Iraq where people thronged for pilgrimage to the Shrine of Imam Husayn (as) .

After spending the Month of Muharram in Qum the Imam proceeded towards the northern part of Persia crossing the Alburz mountains to the town of Merv where Mamun had settled with his army to secure his empire for him.

It is thought in some historical circles that the 8th Imam involved himself in politics while his ancestors up to the 7th Imam after the martyrdom of Imam ‘Ali (as) refrained from this journey. Outwardly it looks like the Imam was abandoning the policy of his predecessors for the Imam could not be the heir- apparent to the caliphate without becoming involved in the politics of the day.

The Imam took pains, however, to indicate that it was not his desire, but that he was acting only in accord with the summons he had received from Mamun. He seemed to have no choice but to proceed on this hazardous journey.

Indeed if he had refused to proceed or shown any reluctance, force would surely have been used which would have been more humiliating for the Imam and his family.

Yakubi in his history gave some details of this journey. From Qum the Imam moved north to the town of al-ray, the Greek Rhages, which is near the site of the present city of Tehran. From this place the caravan continued its journey until it reached the city of Tus. From Tus they travelled on to the city of Merv, in what is now modern Turkistan.

On his arrival in Merv, Mamun welcomed him with great ceremony and pomp. Mamun treated the Imam with great honor.

It is mentioned by various historians, Both of Shia and Sunni schools of thought, that when Mamun initially offered the Imam his throne, the Imam declined the offer firmly and resolutely. After several attempts to bring the Imam to accept the offer failed, Mamun told him to accept the offer of being his heir- apparent to succeed him after Mamun’s death.

Imam replied to this offer, “ I will accept this to console you, but this will never happen for I will leave this world before you.” Once Mamun achieved his desire to get the consent of the Imam as his successor, he declared this openly to all in order to see the reaction of the Abbasid clan who were favoring his half-brother Amin.

According to Yakubi it was on the 27th of Ramadan, in the year 201 Hijri that the Imam was officially designated as Mamun’s “heir- apparent,”( Wali’ahd,) and the Imam’s name was included with his own on gold and silver coins. The inscription on these coins is well worthy of notice: “The King of God and the faith, Al-Mamun, Amir and Khalifa of the faithful, and Al-Ridha’, the Imam of the Muslims.”

This meant more than that the Imam was to be official chaplain to him for Mamun summoned the descendants of Abbas, men and women to come to Merv. It was an assembly of thirty three thousand and when they all assembled, the caliph Mamun called for ‘Ali al- Ridha’ (as) and gave him a place of honor among the greatest of the Abbasid nobles.

He then announced to those he had summoned, that he had carefully considered all the descendants of Abbas and also the descendants of ‘Ali, and that he had not found in his search anyone more worthy or more fit to be his successor than ‘Ali al- Ridha’.

He therefore took him by the hand and publicly acknowledged him as his successor(Kulaini). He then gave his daughter Umme Habib in marriage. He also sent abroad the command that the wearing of black flags which was the symbol of Abbasid rule after the destruction of the Ummayads, should be discontinued and that hereafter the use of green should be substituted. Green being the color of Ahlul Bayt and the House of ‘Ali (as) was the order of the day.

Once this story of succession was announced Mamun’s political ambition was achieved. He secured the help of the Persians fully behind him. With their help his army invaded the capital of the Abbasid empire, Baghdad, Amin was killed and his head was sent to Mamun to see for himself that he had become the sole ruler of the Abbasid Empire.

But Mamun was still not secure on his throne. The Arab party who sided with Amin, never liked the appointment of Imam ‘Ali al- Ridha’ (as) as the successor of Mamun, no matter how dubious it looked to them on the face of it.

The chiefs of the Abbasid family in Iraq perceived that by this appointment the principal authority in the empire would very likely be taken from them. They got together, therefore, and proclaimed that for bequeathing the Caliphate after his death to the Imam ‘Ali Al-Ridha’ (as), who was not their immediate family, Mamun himself was declared deposed.

They swore allegiance to Ibrahim al Mehdi, Mamun’s uncle as their new caliph. This proclamation took place on the 5th of Muharram 202 Hijri.

While Imam Ridha’ was with Mamun in Merv, his Prime Minister Fadl ibn Sahl arranged a conference on religions to which he invited the leaders of different sects, including Zoroastrians and Christians and Jews, that they might hear what the Imam of the Ahlul Bayt had to say to impress them of their spiritual abilities and excellences.

It was in these discussions with leaders of other faiths that the Imam clarified the position of sinlessness of the Prophets and of the guided Imams. These conferences were so successful that at one stage Mamun was fearful of the increasing influences of the Imam on the people as a whole.

In one such incidence on the occasion of the Eidul Fitr, the whole strategy of Mamun and the shear hypocrisy of the drama he was playing was exposed. He had asked the Imam to lead the Eidul Fitr prayers at the end of Ramadan that year. First the Imam declined, but when Mamun insisted, he agreed on the condition that he will direct the occasion as he would deem fit.

On the morning of the Eidul Fitr, when the military and civil leaders assembled outside the door of the Imam to come out and lead the prayers, they saw the Imam come out of the house bare foot, wearing a white shirt and white headgear. Imam also advised his companions to follow him in the same manner. He came out on the Road to the mosque outside the city of Merv.

All the citizens who saw the Imam in this fashion copied him and all walked barefoot. Even the military chiefs and civil judges walked bare foot. A huge crowd followed the Imam. He was saying Takbir loudly and all were following him and shouting Takbir (God is great).

The situation became so tense that when Mamun was informed of this huge following of the Imam he immediately sent a request to the Imam to withdraw from leading the Eid prayers. Imam withdrew and it was a great show down for the Emperor and exposed his trickery to the full.

It was after about a year’s stay of the Imam in Merv that Mamun decided to do something about the situation in Iraq. He knew that his uncle Ibrahim al Mehdi had been proclaimed as Caliph there in his place. This was a thorn in his heart.

He decided that it was time for him to return from Khorasan and assert his rights in person. He had already strengthened his position due to the help of the Persians. With a huge army beside him Mamun prepared his journey back home.

He was accompanied, as Yakubi mentions it in his history, by Imam al Ridha’ (as) as his heir apparent and by his prime minister Fadl ibn Sahl, who was known as the holder of two offices, civil and military, being the Prime Minister as well as the chief of the Army.

But when they reached the town of Sarakhs, Fadl ibn Sahl was assassinated in his bath by two persons, Ghalib al Rumi and Sarraj al Khadim. They were found out by Mamun who immediately put them to death immediately that if there was any implication of Mamun in this murder it should not be exposed.

Mamun had his suspicions about his Prime Minister who was secretly gaining favor with the Abbasids in Baghdad. Historians did mention the name of Mamun in disposing off Fadhl ibn Sahl.

Within two days of this murder when the army reached the town of Tus, Imam Ridha’ fell ill and died within three days of his illness. Yakubi reported that “his sickness was no more than three days and it was reported that Ibn Hisham, Mamun’s favorite henchman had given the Imam poison which caused his death.

He mixed poison in grapes and when Imam had eaten the grapes he became ill in the same manner as Imam Hasan did and died within three days.”

Ibn Babawaih relates various reasons that have been assigned to Mamun for poisoning the Imam and shows also the circumstances in which Imam ‘Ali Ridha’ (as) is said to have designated his son Muhanmmad ibn ‘Ali as his successor to the Imamate.

Imam ‘Ali Ridha’ (as) died and was buried far off from Madina, the home of his forefathers of the Ahlul Bayt of the Prophet. In Sanabad, about a mile from the village where he died, they placed him in a grave inside the tomb of Harun al- Rashid who was buried there ten years ago.

Mamun’s ambitions to get the Empire under his feet was almost accomplished for he knew that the army under his command would not run away from him at this juncture. So he cleverly killed off the Imam and reached Baghdad with the declaration that the Caliphate of Banu Abbas would remain in the family. Ibrahim al Mehdi was deposed and later killed and Mamun became the supreme leader.

🍂 Imam’s Conduct

Usually, the poor who cannot afford to enjoy the pleasures of life are held in contempt or just tolerated by the society. But those who assume a hermits’ simple austerity in spite of wealth and power are the real saints.

The Ahlul Bayt of the Prophet adopted a peculiar policy. Those whose means were limited dressed nicely because otherwise their adversaries would taunt them as destitutes which would injure the dignity of their piety.

But blessed were those who by chance became wealthy, and who assumed simplicity and austerity so their simple life became a source of consolation for the poor and a model for the rich. This can be illustrated from the life of Imam ‘Ali (as) . For nearly five years he ruled the Muslim world as caliph. He ate and dressed himself as a hermit would.

Imam ‘Ali al- Ridha’ (as) too, led a simple life, though he was the heir- apparent of the vast Arab Empire compared to which the Roman Empire or the Persian territories would certainly not be a match. A vast chain of countries whose caliph’s upon watching a passing cloud, would arrogantly assert: “Go and pour your waters anywhere you please; the revenues of that land shall ultimately be brought to us”.

The appointment of Imam ‘Ali al -Ridha’ (as) as heir apparent demonstrated to the world how the saints fare when the treasures of the world are put at their feet. He felt he was morally bound to abandon riches and pomp. History repeated itself, and the austerity of Imam ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib (as) once more was shown in the calm and content personality of Imam ‘Ali Al-Ridha’ (as).

He did not like to decorate his house with expensive carpets, instead he covered its floor with rough mats during the winter and grass mats during the summer. When food was served, he would call all his servants, including the gatekeeper to sit and eat with him.

Majlisi in Biharul Anwar V 49 Page 101, writes that our 8th Imam insisted on eating his meals only after the entire members of his family, young and old, servants and grooms were present. One day someone who was fonder of royal formalities than the fraternity of the Ahlul Bayt, suggested that it would be better to make separate eating arrangements for the servants, The Imam replied, "All are created by God, Adam is their father and Eve is their mother. Everyone will be dealt with by God according to his deeds. Why should there be any discrimination in this world."

Imam ‘Ali Al-Ridha’’s (as) life contains countless anecdotes of this sort. Once a man said to him, "By God, there is none who is superior to you in the nobleness of your ancestry.” The Imam said to him, “My ancestors are honored merely for their Godliness, piety and worship.” Another man once declared,” By God, you are the best in the world.”

The Imam checked him by saying: “Don’t you declare an oath. Any man who is more pious than me can be better than me.” Imam several times declared the Hadith of the Prophet that a black negro slave can be better than a person from my own family if his deeds are better.

🍂 Establishment of Majalis to commemorate the events of Karbala’

As mentioned earlier, when Imam ‘Ali Al-Riza was on his journey to Khorasan he stayed in the city of Qom for a few months and there he established these commemorative Majalis. In Tus where he stayed for over a year as heir apparent to the Emperor, Imam re-established these Majalis there too. This tradition was initiated by Imam Muhammad al Baqir (as) and then continued by the 6th Imam. But during those times, only those who came to visit the Imams in their homes were narrated these stories.

But Imam ‘Ali Al-Ridha’ (as) was respected both as Imam and heir apparent. Merv, the capital and a central city of Persia of that time, was the meeting place of people from all walks of life and from all corners of the earth. As soon as the crescent of Muharram was sighted, Majalis of Karbala’ began. Everybody was expected to recite the sad events that befell the Prophet’s descendants and maintain a serious atmosphere of sorrow and grief.

Imam himself convened these Majalis in which he recited first, then allowed others to read the story of Karbala’. Abdallah ibn Thabit and D’bil al Khuzai were the poets who asked to recite poems narrating the tragic events.

At the end of such a majlis the Imam bestowed on the poet a costly shirt. The humble poet refused to accept such a precious gift, requesting that the Imam be gracious to grant him his used shirt instead. The good natured saint insisted on granting him both shirts, the new one and his own old shirt.

This incident proves two things: First, that the speaker in these majalis must not decide or demand any payment for his address, second that if the convener presents something as a gift or payment, the speaker may accept it.

To get an insight into the lives and activities of the Imam, let me give a few anecdotes from the pages of history to establish his manner and his behavior with other people.

One day a man approached the Imam and said, “ I am one of your followers and have love for the Ahlul Bayt of the Prophet. I am now returning from pilgrimage to Makka and I am now penniless and have no money to return home.

If you think it proper, please give me enough money so that I can reach home. After reaching home, I will give the same amount to the poor in your name. I am not poor at home, it is during my travels that I have spent more than I should have and become penniless.

Imam got up, and went inside the house. He then called the man to the door, extended his hand from behind the curtain and handed him the required amount, saying, “Take these two hundred Dinars. These are your travel expenses, and may this bring you the blessings of God. There is no need to give equivalent money to the poor but if you feel you must then you may give it to the orphans and the widows of your town.”

The man took the money and left. The Imam came out from behind the curtain and resumed his seat. People asked, “Why did you adopt such a way that the man could not see you while you were giving the money.” Imam replied, “ I did not want to see the shame of supplication on his face.” (Ayoun Akhbar al Riza)

Mohammed ibn Sinan reports that during the caliphate of Haroun, they once warned the Imam about declaring his Imamate as the caliph would try to harm him. The Imam replied, “ What gave me courage are the words of the Prophet when he said, “ If Abu Jehl can harm even a hair of my head, then be witness that I am not the messenger of God.”

And I say that “ if Haroun can harm even a hair of my head, then be witness that I am not a true Imam." (Kafi)

Abu Salt Harvi reports that Imam left Nishapur and reached a village called Din-Surkh, it was the time of Zohr prayers. Imam descended from the horse he was travelling and asked for water to perform the Zohr prayers. No water was found. Then the Imam with his holy hands dug some earth and a spring gushed out Imam and all his companions performed the wuzu.

This place near Nishapur is now called Qadamgah. It is a small hillock. The spring still gushes and people who visit this place drink from the spring for blessing and for obtaining cures from sickness and skin diseases. The place preserves the Holy foot prints of the Imam on a black stone. (Akhbar al Riza)

One of the famous saying of Imam ‘Ali Al-Riza is,

“ This world is a prison for a momin and a paradise for the unbeliever.”

This means that a true believer always aspires to leave this prison of his body and his Nafs and Ruh wants to get away to the nearness of God, but those who do not believe have nothing further than their mortal lives and they aspire to make it a paradise.

But in the process they create their own hell on earth for their aspirations are never ending desires for accumulating material wealth.

🍂🥀🍂 al-Islam.org 🍂🥀🍂

0 notes