#wheat customs duty

[pearlfeline]

homesick

peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tw: none

a/n: i used to write for hp and i tried to start anew with this blog but it failed lol. (might still write for hp if i feel like it) but i luv peter and wanted to write for him so bad. i kinda didn't know how to end this but i thought it was fun to write anyway. thanks for reading.

"What can I getcha?" You attempted a decent smile, though Peter could tell you were tired. He knew tired. He IS tired.

Peter, blinking that thought away, snaps back into reality. He is in a small diner, and he took too long deciding outside the door if he wanted to go inside, so to avoid looking stupid he shuffled inside and sat down.

"Banana wheat cake... Is it any good?" He lets out a dry chuckle.

You press your lips into a thin line. "I know I work here but..." You bit your bottom lip, tucking your pen behind your ear. You drew closer to Peter so he could hear you. "It sucks. Get the breakfast combo." You winked, tracing a circle around the menu item. Peter unintentionally takes in a whiff of your perfume, giving him a hard time remembering what you just recommended.

"It comes with a free coffee." You flip open your notepad again, and as you grab the pen from behind your ear, a piece of hair falls to your face.

"I-I'll get that then." Peter closes the menu handing it back to you.

"Great. Bacon or sausage?"

Peter catches a lump in his throat. Almost as if words were filling to the brim and he couldn't say a word.

"Bacon." He smiles but keeps his gaze on his hands. They were almost uncontrollably fiddling with each other.

"Got it. I'll be right back with that."

Peter watches as you quickly let go of your charm to catch up with refills of coffee. You worked hard every day just to make rent but you never complained. Peter was never a customer until today, yet he could tell so much about you. His eyes couldn't help but follow you wherever you went.

His eyes followed you around the counter, grabbing a tray and putting his food on it. You were trying to keep him from waiting any longer and picked up the pace approaching his booth.

“Oh!” You slip, losing grip of the tray holding Peter’s breakfast.

Before you could react to the impact of the floor, you were pulled up. You opened your eyes and find Peter’s arm over your waist, successfully maneuvering the tray to grab everything that flew.

“Great reflexes.” You looked up at him with bewilderment.

“Thanks.” He shyly loosened his grip on your waist. You pull down and flatten your apron. “Whew. That was incredibly lame of me but surprisingly cool for you.” You let out a chuckle, making sure nothing was ruined on his plate.

“Why surprising?” He replied. “Do I look like a loser?” He suppressed a small smile.

“No you just look more… smart cool and maybe a possible ninja? I don’t know what else to call what you just did.”

Peter lets his smile crack a little, taking a sip of his previously airborne coffee.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re not lacking physically because you’re a book smart type of guy.” You give him a quick once over cheekily.

Before Peter can panic and come up with a mess of a response, a disgruntled old man cuts the moment short. “Coffee! Hello?” He slams his mug on the table.

“Duty calls.” You gave him a small wave, quickly making your way to the opposite side of the diner.

Peter spent the remainder of his time quietly finishing his breakfast, stealing quick glances at you.

Watching you smile even though you’re probably overwhelmed and exhausted. The hardest part was deciding when to leave. He had to go eventually to avoid being a creep. He had finished his food ten minutes ago. Before he leaves, he folds a $20 dollar bill into an origami heart, leaving it on the table.

The next morning, Peter walked a little faster, posture a little straighter, and smiled a little more.

Peter wanted to see you again. He knew not to tell you about the past, but what would be so wrong just talking to you? He attempts a nonchalant glance through the windows, making sure you were inside before walking in himself.

Peter gives you a shy head nod, making his way to sit at the counter instead of a booth.

"There's the generous tipper from yesterday. Hi, I'll be right with you." You got up from speaking to your coworker and greeted Peter.

"Was my service that good?" You flip open your notepad.

"The best." Peter pretends to study your name tag. "...Y/N."

"Well, thanks..?" You tilted your head slightly.

"Peter."

"Ah, Thank you, Peter."

"I won't be her for long, I just wanted a coffee."

"And you came here?" You snickered. You only half meant that statement. You didn't know why, but seeing him a second time was making your dreary work day go by easier.

"Yeah, in case you decided to fall again today."

You gasp, being dramatically 'offended'. "I'll let that comment slide... Since you gave me that nice tip. Even though I was struggling to unravel it for a while in my car." You grab a pot of coffee, pouring it into a cup that says 'print design here'.

"Thanks." Peter chuckles.

"No sugar?" You asked.

Peter's gaze slowly reached yours. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" You raise an eyebrow innocently. "Nobody here drinks black coffee unless they're over fifty or a pretentious student. Oh, were you afraid to ask this whole time? Hold on." You reach and dig into the pocket of your apron.

"N-no, it's fine. I don't really drink sweet coffee anymore." Peter's face falls in defeat. Of course, you wouldn't remember his order. Peter had to remind himself that he was a customer and a customer only to you.

"So, you're a pretentious student huh? No wonder I got a big tip. Let me guess you're studying tech?"

Peter shakes his head. "Biochemistry. Though, I do have somewhat of a tech background. I-" Peter almost rambles on but catches himself. "I'm poor. Not really enough money to be pretentious." He sinks into his seat, taking a sip to cover his face.

"Dude, do you know how tipping works? You can't be poor and tip me $20 after a breakfast combo from a dingy part of the city."

"You work hard." Peter scratches his neck. "...At least from what I've seen." He sighs.

"Are you actually poor?" You start wiping down the counter to keep your boss off your back for being unproductive.

Peter sheepishly avoids your eyes.

"...I'm poor too." You smiled. "If that wasn't painfully obvious by how I look."

"No. Not at all." Peter took this opportunity to take in your appearance. You looked exactly the same. Even though it had taken months for him to face you again. It's like your eyes were waiting right where he saw them last, inviting you in.

Unknowingly, you take his one-sided reunion with you as innocent flirting.

"I get off at 5." You blurted out. Why were you so inherently flirty all of a sudden?

Peter straightens his posture as if that would help him hear you properly. He blankly stares at you as you do the same for a response.

“…Are you free..? Or interested?” You throw the towel over your shoulder.

“YE-yes. Yeah. I have no classes today I can come get you of course but I don’t have a car I just walked here but not from far.” He rambles.

You visibly relax your composure as that alone was enough evidence that Peter was just a nerd without the rich snob part. Though he kept the physique of someone who would visit his rich dad’s personal gym.

“Here's my number. I’ll get you an actual good meal.” You shyly look down at your feet, ignoring your ugly, work-approved kitchen shoes.

“Deal.” He pays for his burnt diner coffee, and leaves an appropriate tip this time.

You sneak in one last wave before he disappears around the street corner.

This shift couldn’t have gone any slower for you. The wait from 4:00 to 5:00 was the most excruciating pain of consecutive boringness.

When it was time to clock out, you rushed out the back, shoving your work shoes into your book bag and trying to fix your disheveled hair that had been put up by a pencil this entire time.

You rushed to the front of the diner while putting on your wrinkled sweater to mask the smell of butter off you at least a little.

You waited. And waited. And waited some more. 5:15. Why was he late? Did you scare him off? Is he never coming back to the diner? Was that big tip an accident? Maybe he took out the wrong bill and played along today just to avoid being awkward.

“Shiiit.” You groaned. You looked around the intersection. “Maybe he’s rushing towards me?” You thought. “He’s gonna come around any second and say sorry frantically like the nerd he is.”

He didn’t. He never showed. You waited for an hour more and just decided to walk home.

As you were walking along the dark and wet sidewalk, you were internally thanking yourself for bringing that sweater, but cursing because you wanted to take the scenic route and walk to work today.

“Hi miss.” A voice called from behind you.

You turned around to see Spider-man.

“Oh wow, hi?” You’ve never seen him this close before. The rainy afternoon gave his suit an exaggerated glimmer and despite his bug eyes, he didn't seem scary while approaching you.

“Why would a pretty lady like yourself be walking alone?” He starts walking beside you holding out an arm for you.

“Well, I was supposed to leave work an hour ago.. Something came up.” You take his arm cautiously. “I usually walk home anyway, nothing different today.”

Peter feels a lump growing in his throat. Even when he ditched you, you don’t insult him.

“Except… it’s an hour later. That means it’s an hour’s more worth of danger out here.” He jokes.

You nod, not really the response he was expecting. Spider-man was not getting the same treatment as Peter.

“Something wrong?” He felt wrong asking immediately. Yes something’s wrong. He was wrong.

“I just.. I’ve been feeling empty almost. Recently it’s like… It’s like I’m missing something. Not completely empty, but enough absence to feel hopeless. I had a date today and he didn’t show.” You almost continue until you looked up to realize you were talking to a bug man.

“Sorry. It’s dumb. I don’t expect you to understand or help.” You chuckled dryly.

Peter wanted to tell you everything so badly. He was already pushing it by seeing you again. Giving you a second taste of danger. But he burned for you. Maybe the first time was a sign. This was a new opportunity to keep you safe and he blew it. He crawled back to you desperately just for a glimpse of you. To see that you were okay. Now he’s knees deep in a new relationship with you and you didn’t even know.

“It’s not dumb.” He quietly answered. Peter on his way to get you, was leaving his apartment when he saw someone being robbed. “Maybe he ran late?”

You scoffed. “For an hour? More like he forgot.”

Peter knew convincing you to forgive him was bad. He knew doing the opposite was for the best. To tell you to forget Peter. But he couldn’t. He had you right here. Like he used to.

“Things happen.” He shrugged. “What if he got robbed?”

“Wouldn’t you have helped him?” You replied, unimpressed.

“Oh. Well I did help a really handsome dude and he got robbed. Was he like an attractive guy or..?”

“He’s cute." You admitted.

Peter blushes under his mask. Though you had said more affectionate things to him before, apparently he still gets giddy.

"Well, I'm sure he didn't forget someone as pretty as you."

You let out a scoff. "Did you drop down next to me to take me home safely or be stupid?"

Under the mask, Peter had a huge grin. He was proud of you. Still the same in how you always know how to avoid trouble. He rarely ever had to save you. You were too smart. No stranger was safe from you, not even Spider-man.

"Sorry." He says cheekily.

You both eventually reach your apartment though Peter had to act oblivious that this was your home.

"This is me. Thanks Spider-man." You tug on a zipper from your bag, reaching for something in the bottom. Gummy worms

"I don't know if you take payments but uh, I was going to share these with my date. It's my lunch I forgot about. Don't judge."

Peter feels a pang of guilt hit his chest. "Th-thanks... you really don't have to." He slowly takes the bag.

"It's okay really."

Peter sighed. "Look, if that guy is actually stupid enough to ghost you, just call me."

"How do I call you?"

"Like this; SPIDER-MAN SPIDER-MAN AGHHH THAT IDIOT NEVER CALLED ME BACK!" Peter ran around in a circle mocking a girl's voice.

"And you'd help me from wherever you are?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I have pretty good hearing." Peter comically dusts off his shoulder.

"Alright man, no excuses. Even if you're fighting off a giant monster or something you have to help me."

"Something tells me I won't need to. Y'know? One of my powers is basically a gut feeling that's always right." Peter puffs up his chest proudly.

You let out an amused exhale. "You're a nerd. See ya." You went inside, waving without looking behind you.

"See ya." Peter says quietly. As soon as he saw you disappear around the corner, he zipped to the top of a random building.

"hey y/n, so so so so so so sodsdo sorry for ditching you. PLS FORGIVW ME!!! had family emergency. wanna meet tmrw???" Peter mumbled along as he typed, two gummy worms stored in the side of his cheek.

"I sound so lameee haha." Peter thought. He goes to delete but presses send.

"Man."

[skzhocomments]

The Rising Empress (Bang Chan) - Chapter 1 - The Sacrificial Lamb

General Masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - The Sacrificial Lamb

Chapter word count: 3.9k words

~one month ago~

~The Kingdom of the South~

The Kingdom of the South, one of the most powerful Kingdoms to ever exist, has always been graced with fields full of wheat, mines of gold, deep forests and merchant guilds to travel in and out of the country. Most of all, however, it has been graced with a people that don’t shy away from showing their support to the King and Queen they so much adore.

Despite prospering from the countless resources the country has to offer, The Queen’s infertility has brought The Kingdom of the South great distress. When she finally ended up with child, the whole Kingdom celebrated Her Highness’ pregnancy for 7 days and 7 nights straight, with traditional dances and music, with carts full of the tastiest foods, and so much wine, there was barely any left to send over to the neighbouring Kingdoms in the usual trade.

The happiness lasted for a while, for the Queen loved the child in her belly, and the King loved his Queen. They were a happy family, a royal couple to be envied. For the whole 9 months of Her Highness’ pregnancy, the castle squirmed with excitement, rooms for the future Heir have been prepared, trained attendants were brought, and people could hardly wait for the arrival of ‘the Miracle’, as the child was often referred to by everyone both inside and outside the castle’s high walls. After all, the future Heir was truly a miracle, after Her Highness tragically lost so many children, unable to carry to term, or even go past the 12 week mark of the pregnancy.

Everyone had great expectations for the future Heir, the highest of them all being that it had to be born male. Of course, this was out of Her Highness’ control, but she did her duty diligently and went to The Temple to pray day and night, for the Kingdom needed a future ruler, and with her poor health, another child would probably be an impossible feat to achieve.

The Kingdom was ecstatic when the bells of the Castle Tower began ringing, signalling the birth of the much-expected child, but quickly fell into mourning as the bell shortly started ringing again, eight times in a row, signalling The Queen’s passing.

Merchants closed their shops, musicians hid their instruments, and children stopped playing on the streets for three whole months, as the country mourned the absence of their so beloved Queen. No one paid much attention to the little child she left behind, especially since the little baby would not be an Heir, as the customs of the Kingdom follow, for the worst thing possible happened.

The child the Queen bore was a girl.

“Aristia.” the Queen said on her deathbed. “This shall be your name, my child, for you are born to be a ruler of people.”

Her servants were pitying her. All those days and nights spent on her knees at the Temple were for naught, for she failed to give birth to an Heir for the King. And even worse, the Queen died moments later, unable to express the love she had for the baby.

The moment the King stepped into the bedchambers, seeing the body of his beloved dead wife, he fell into despair. His love for her was unmeasurable, and now this little… sleeping, small thing took everything away from him.

He only spared one look at the horrendous thing after finding out its gender, and once he saw her, the only thing he could mutter was “My Queen has died for nothing.”

~

It didn’t take long for Aristia to realise she is not a regular child. People would bow in her direction, they would only address her as ‘Princess’, not by her name, and she was not allowed to play with other children, like all the other children her age would. At only four years old, she already knew how to read, and she was fluent in 3 different languages of the Main Continent.

No matter her accomplishments, the only way she could describe her relationship with her father was indifference. She wasn’t even sure she had a father in the first place, but the maids made sure to tell her all about how great the King was, and how busy he must’ve been to rule over their large Kingdom – way too busy to come see her, or to request her presence anywhere near him.

The first time she saw her father was when she was 5 years old, at the first banquet she was allowed to attend. That’s when she met the soon-to-be-Queen as well. Of course, she was aware her father was about to remarry. She’s heard the maids whispering in the hallways about how beautiful and young the new Queen was, and presumably about how fertile she was, and then shushing each other. Rumour has it that she was already with child.

Aristia found that rumour to be true when she bowed in front of her father and the soon-to-be-Queen, and by the time she raised her gaze, her father was preoccupied laughing along with her and putting his hands all over her belly, as if proud.

The first child the New Queen gave birth to was a girl. A beautiful girl with eyes as green as the Emeralds on her father’s crown. Green was, fore and foremost, the colour of The Kingdom of the South, so they said the King instantly fell in love with the little girl. From the moment he laid his eyes on her, he ordered the butlers to summon the best dressmakers in the country to ensure that his beloved daughter was adorned with the most beautiful dresses.

Such a laughable comparison to Aristia, who only owned little garments, some of them custom made just because her personal maid – formerly her mother’s – requested that the Crown Princess must own appropriate clothing for her status, and the King obliged due to his respect for the maid who took such good care of his late wife.

What does a baby even need so many clothes for? Aristia wondered. She could do well with only a few dresses, despite her large closet looking as empty as an abandoned town reeking of disease, so she couldn’t fathom what use a baby had for a whole wardrobe.

Once the maid died when Aristia was 13 years old, right after her coming-of-age ceremony, it was like tragedy struck one after another. Losing her only ally in the castle, the princess started to be treated less-than, to the point where even the maids were rude to her face. Since she didn’t have her father’s favour, there was simply nothing she could do. Sure, she could threaten them, or even hit them if she felt angry enough, but such reactions only brought further discontent from her father, who kept comparing her to her little perfect half-sister.

That girl was only 8 but was treated so much more differently than Aristia ever was. It even made the princess wonder what she did to deserve such little attention, for she’s never known love, to be able to ask herself about it in the first place. Not from her father, anyway. Her maid loved her, she told Aristia as much before she passed away. But now that Aristia was alone, she didn’t think things could get any worse.

But when life throws hardships your way, they always come in pairs. The Queen was with child again, and this time, a healthy baby boy was born, sending the Kingdom into a joyful mood. While everyone was more than ecstatic to welcome the Heir to the Throne to the world, this only meant the worst to Aristia, as she’s been stripped of her status as Crown Princess. She doubted she would become Queen of the Kingdom anyway, as the Kingdom was patriarchal, but still, her status allowed her to at least keep her head high, as her maid taught her. But now, she had nothing.

Once the boy was born, the world stopped spinning for Aristia. She was no longer allowed to take classes and learn how to rule a Kingdom, as it simply made no sense for her to know such things. She was a girl, merely the elder half-sister of the Heir, and effort and resources would be better spent otherwise.

She felt like she had no purpose. Everything she’s worked towards for the past 15 years was gradually being taken away from her, erased, just as one’s footprints in the sand under the merciless sea water. For the first time in her life, she requested an audience with His Majesty, her father, and was surprised to not only have her request accepted, but instead of being asked to come to the Throne Room, as audiences usually took place there, she’s been invited in the King and Queen’s bedchambers.

She’s never been allowed in this part of the castle before, and she let her eyes wander to the beautifully sculpted wooden walls and expensive marble floors. She realised for the first time how little luxuries she had in her own chambers. It was as if this side of the castle and the side she resided in were different places altogether, not part of the same building.

She was escorted by two knights and her presence was announced to His Majesty, who quickly let her in.

“Father, I’m glad to see you are in good health.” Aristia bowed respectfully.

“My daughter.” The King spoke, as if he'd just noticed her presence in the room. “You may rise.”

The princess straightened her back and stared at her father. He looked older than the last time she saw him. Was it two years ago? Three?

“I heard there’s something you’d like to tell me.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t.

“Yes, about my classes… Father, I think-”

He raised his hand in the air, signalling her to stop talking, and she bit back her words.

“Was it just that?” He sighed.

Just that, he said, but it was the whole world to Aristia. She’s always found solace in her books, and the historical characters she’s read about were her only friends.

“I would really appreciate it if I could-”

“Enough.”

“But Father-” She tried once more, and he angrily stood up.

“Such insolence! Do you think everything in this world belongs to you? Do you think you’re that important to bust into my private rooms and make demands?”

“No! I never-”

“It seems you simply can’t learn your lesson. I should teach you how to properly behave in front of your Father!” He stood up angrily and approached the girl, now a trembling mess in front of the King.

Too bad there was not even an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. They were cold and ruthless, and they held a heaviness in them, almost as heavy as the palm he used to hit Aristia’s cheek, sending the girl to the floor.

It took her a few seconds to collect herself, to figure out what happened to her and why she was lying on the floor in His Majesty’s room. When she came back to her senses, the King had his back turned on her, inspecting something in his drawers.

Aristia placed both her hands on the floor and pushed herself up, when her father turned to face her once again, holding a weapon of some sort in his hands.

A whip, she figured quick enough as her father approached her and pushed her back down, forcing her face to the floor.

Then, with no warning, he whipped her ten times.

~

The girl’s back was sore and painful to the touch. When the water made contact with the battered skin, she winced in pain. Bringing her knees closer and holding onto them with her frail arms, she let her face fall on them and started sobbing.

It hurt badly, and she didn’t know what warranted the beating. It was the first time in her life someone raised their hand at her, let alone beat her so mercilessly.

She could only hope it would be the last time.

~

It wasn’t.

That night in her father’s chambers became an almost monthly occurrence – sometimes more often, if he was feeling especially stressed, other times rarer, like the days when the Crown Prince would accomplish a milestone, such as when he said his first word, or when he learned how to walk.

His Highness would ask for her, and she could only oblige, as he was the King, and not going to him when he requested your presence was considered treason. While lying in bed late at night, she would tremble with anxiety, wondering when her father will take his fury on her again; when she’ll get summoned and have her back whipped until it bleeds; how many times he would flog her.

The only solace she found, the only thing that managed to keep her mind away from the horrors of her father’s cruelty, was the Royal Library, where she was thankfully granted access to after some pleadings and a few good beatings. Since no one would need her most times, as she was barely treated like a Princess anymore, only having a few attendants, she was able to spend most of her time in the confines of the large bookshelves, hidden away from the world, where she read and read and read about fallen Empires, medicine, geography, politics; everything she could get her hands on.

Despite losing her right to study under a scholar, her mind was sharper than ever, capable of memorising every paragraph she read, making so many connections, her previous teachers would’ve been proud of her.

Being knowledgeable helped her feel somewhat better. Safer. By the time her brother would grow up and get the Crown, she would hopefully be educated enough to get a position in his Council and become a well-respected member of the Court. Hopefully, there would be a place for her.

That was her life’s ambition.

~

It all came crashing down when Aristia was 18. She hasn’t been summoned by the King in a little while, so that most of her scars were now white lines on her skin.

Still, the anxiety in her stomach never went away, in anticipation of when the King would finally have enough on his plate and ask her to his rooms once more, to beat her black and blue and pierce her skin with the unforgiving leather whip.

Would she bleed this time?

She never knew. It rarely got bad enough for her to require proper after care. To give her father some credit, he sent the Royal Doctor a few times to her chambers to treat her wounds and make sure they wouldn’t get infected. Of course, not for her well-being; she was just property in his eyes, but he needed to make sure word wouldn’t get out about his leisure time activities. As far as everyone else was concerned, The King requested her presence to get updates on her life, and they’d gotten closer. No one besides the Royal Doctor knew about the abuse he would put her through, and she was smarter than to let anyone know.

She hesitantly stepped into his chambers after the guards announced her presence, and to her surprise, the King was not alone this time around. In the room, the Heir was playing with some sort of toys on the floor right in front of his father, and he was smiling brightly. Aristia didn’t know much about her half-brother. He must’ve been about 5 by now, and he apparently liked dolls made of corn husk.

“Good evening, Your Majesty, His Royal Highness” She bowed to the two.

“Aristia, my daughter, you’re here!” He stood up and came towards her, taking her into his embrace. It was the first time he’s ever hugged her.

She didn’t know how to feel about it, but her guard was still up, and her hands formed fists, nails digging in her palm. She didn’t know what to expect, and being unprepared was something she absolutely loathed, especially considering that she’s always been unprepared for every event happening in her life.

This time, too, she was unprepared.

“Take a seat, daughter.” The King commanded, and she obliged. She tried not to look at the floor where the Heir was playing, because she only envisioned herself, sprawled on there half-naked, lacerations on her back, weeping quietly.

She didn’t want to think about it. Considering the Heir was in the room, maybe she wouldn’t get beaten tonight.

A few moments later, servants carrying trays of sweets and kettle sets entered the room, arranging everything beautifully in front of them.

Does he plan to poison me? Aristia thought and took a reluctant bite of the slice of chocolate cake given to her. She hated doing everything so hesitantly, but she was scared of her father. She hated it.

“As you might be aware, there are some tensions between us and The Empire of the Sun. My daughter, you know what a valuable asset you are to our Kingdom.” He started, and Aristia didn’t want him to continue.

So, that’s what he thought, after all. She was just an asset. An object her father owned.

She could guess where this was going.

“Yes, Father.” She replied, a little fake smile plastered on her lips.

“For once, you could be useful and do your duty as our Princess. The Emperor of the Sun sent us a marriage proposal to unify our lands and prevent war. This is such a great opportunity for us!”

Aristia stood silent.

While her father tried to paint her a picture-perfect setting, she knew what this truly meant. She was to be sent to the Empire as a sacrificial lamb, as a fake Empress with no actual power or status. It was crystal clear to anyone who read a history book that the Empire of the Sun and the Kingdom of the South have never gotten along; they’ve always been at each other’s throats for more territory or more goods, the main point argued between the two being the Emerald Mine in-between the two lands.

The Kingdom has always claimed that emeralds are their signature stone, so it was only natural that the land the Mine was on belonged to them, but the Empire has argued otherwise, and there have been tensions for the past hundred years, with wars sometimes breaking out at the borders.

An alliance through marriage would mean that no war would break out for a little while, and that’s what Aristia’s father was most likely hoping for. More time.

Historically speaking, the Empire of the Sun was in the right, and the mine belonged to them after they conquered the previous Kingdom standing at the borders of the Kingdom of the South, but for the past hundred years, The Kingdom was the sole extractor and seller of the emeralds. Losing the mine would mean a great financial loss to the Kingdom, and every year the King was able to stall the Empire for officially claiming the mine was a win.

Aristia couldn’t understand why the Empire would propose something like that, though, as she felt they were at a disadvantage. There were possibly other political factors at play she was unaware of. She needed to do some more reading.

“The marriage will take place in a month. You will be sent to the Empire with your close attendants.”

Of course, she was being discarded. Aristia almost wanted to laugh. Her father prepared all these cakes to sweet-talk her into agreeing without a fight. He always hated her, and she’s never known why, and now he was getting rid of her, sending her to a place where she would be loathed by everyone.

Was this why he’s always been so cruel to her? To prepare her for this uncertain future of being Empress of a foreign land that would most likely never accept her as a rightful ruler?

She just wanted to laugh.

~

~The Empire of the Sun~

“A marriage, huh?” The Emperor laughed for a few seconds, then his face became stern.

“Well, you are the most sought-after bachelor.” Seungmin, one of his counsellors, replied in a joking manner.

“So, you want to tie me up to that wench? Do you really think that’s the best way to avoid conflict?” Bang Chan challenged, but his two counsellors stood proud in front of him, sure of themselves.

“It would be best. You know the morale of our soldiers is on the ground.” Jisung replied.

“And why shouldn’t we just attack the Kingdom? It’s bound to happen, anyway, especially as they keep pushing our buttons.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, we’ve been at war with other nations for the past 10 years.” Seungmin chimed in.

“If we could at least postpone it while we identify all our losses and regroup, we can surely fight the Kingdom of the South and get the emerald mine back. Think about it, Your Highness, it’s the best solution to buy us time.” His other advisor, Jisung, insisted.

The Emperor hummed. “Jisung, how much time do we need to buy?”

“We discussed this with the Royal Knights as well. As you are aware, the South has the most powerful army in the Main Continent, so a war could be fatal to us at this point. However, Minho said that three years of preparations- no, even two years should be more than enough.”

“Besides,” Seungmin intervened, “providing you don’t bed the Princess, your marriage can be annulled in under two years for unfulfilling her tasks.”

“Even if you bed her, we can annul it if we prove she committed treason.” Han added.

“Right. It’s as simple as asking her to serve you a cup of tea at dinner and the maids will add poison to your cup, then we’ll frame her.” Seungmin shrugged.

“If we think about it, she doesn’t even have to become Empress. She’s a bit young for you anyway. She could get married to Prince Felix and-”

“No.” Chan cut Jisung off with a shake of his head. “We won’t… just… no.”

“They are closer in age.” Seungmin pointed out. “Although, be it between us, I heard through the grapevine that the people are really wishing for their dear Emperor to get married and have an Heir sooner rather than later. But Prince Felix’ marriage would also make them happy.”

“If it were anyone else, it would’ve been a great plan… There’s one thing for me to get a political marriage, but when it comes to Felix… you both know how kind-hearted and naïve that child is. He’d get attached to her. Let him meet and fall in love with someone we don’t plan on getting rid of.”

“Then… will you marry her yourself?”

“I’m not thrilled about welcoming a spy into my abode. They say the King adores his daughter. If she finds anything about us, she will most likely divulge it. It’s dangerous to us.”

“Keeping her in the dark will be easy enough, Your Highness.” Jisung chuckled. “It’s not like she’d have any allies here. Everyone in our Empire despises the Kingdom of the South. She won’t find a friend in anyone in the Capital.”

Bang Chan tapped his fingers a few times against his throne, deep in thought. The plan was good. They’d have a strong enough alliance and temporarily give up on the mine while their armies are recovering, and they’d get rid of the Princess in just two years, and hopefully settle the centuries old debate regarding the Emerald Mine as soon as his Empire is prepared to fight again.

“Mhm. Fine. Seungmin, please write a letter to the King of the South and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Good work, you two.”

~

Chapter 2

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Famous Grandfathers of the Prophet

Undoubtedly, we do not have much knowledge on all the ancestors who carried the Master of the Universe’s light as a Divine trust on their foreheads. The ancestors about whom we have the most knowledge are the ones who are closest in time. Here we will take a short glance at their lives and personalities.

Qusai

Qusai, the fourth grandfatherof the Holy Prophet and whose real name was Zayd, was a very important figure. He had only one male sibling by the name of Zuhra.

From these two siblings, Qusai was granted the honor of bearing the noor that came down from Hazrat Adam. From childhood, Qusai garnered much attention for his talents and grew up to be one of the leading figures of Mecca. In a short time, he gained much reliability amongst the people of Mecca for his fair decisions as well as his skills in governance and administration. For this reason, the governance of Mecca was given to him.  He divided Mecca into districts for the first time. He situated every tribe into the district that he allocated for them. The most important decisions of Mecca were discussed and decided in his home.  Important tasks such as safeguarding the Ka’aba, providing water for and hosting the pilgrims of Hajj, erecting the flag at times of war, and governing the Meccan assembly, were entrusted in him. The first house that was across from the Ka’aba and whose door faced the Ka’aba was specially constructed for Qusai. This house was a parliament, like a type of governmental building or the state of the Meccan city, where all sorts of works and issues were discussed. Historically, Qusai’s residency was known as “Daru’n-Nadwa” and it found fame with this name. It was conserved until half a century after the Hijra (migration).

Qusai was loved and respected by everyone without exception. The noor belonging to the Master of the Universe that he carried on his forehead, made him beloved to and the bosom friend of the Meccan people.

In accordance with the custom, Qusay handed over the role of the family chieftain to his oldest son, Abduddar when he got old and said, “My Beloved son, I appoint you as the chief of this tribe”.

However, Abduddar did not possess the skills to undertake such a great duty. Throughout his life he was unable to fill his father’s place because the noor of the Patron of the Universe was not shining on his forehead, but was on his younger brother’s, Abd Manaf who had four sons: Hashim, Abdusshams, Muttalib, and Nawfal. 

Hashim

Hashim is the grandfather of the Holy Prophet from the second generation.

Hashim was a tradesman; he was one of the notables of Mecca’s gentry. As the birth date of the Holy Prophet was nearing, the noor of the Holy Prophet on his forehead was shining even brighter. In addition, he had eminent virtues.

He was extremely generous. During a year of drought, no bread could be found. He had snow-white bread made from the pure wheat he brought from Damascus, cut several camels and sheep, and offered a huge feast composed of bread, meat, gravy, and broth to the whole of Meccan people.

Because Hashim was of high moral character, aptitude, was wise, generous, virtuous, was loved and respected by everyone, and had a noble personality, his name became the title for his family and posterity. For this reason, they termed this great lineage that includes our master of the Universe as the “Hashemites”.

Hashim had four sons: Shaiba (Abdulmuttalib), Asad, Abu Sayfi, and Nadla. 

Hashim’s progeny continued from his sons Shaiba and Asad. Shaiba is the Holy Prophet’s grandfather from the first generation whereas Asad is the uncle of Hazrati Ali’s mother, Fatimah.

However, when Hunain, who came from Asad’s progeny, did not have any descendants; every Hashemite was descended from Abdulmuttalib’s branch, proliferated, and spread across the Earth. 

Shaiba (Abdulmuttalib)

Shaiba is the Holy Prophet’s grandfather from the first generation. Since he was born with white hair, the name “Shaiba” was given to him; he gained fame with his nickname, Abdulmuttalib and was mentioned more by this name.

The story of how he was given this nickname:

Shaiba stayed with his maternal uncles in Medina during his childhood. One day he and his neighborhood friends were throwing arrows with the other children in a public square in Medina. Amongst all the children, he was easily distinguished by the noor belonging to the Master of the Universe that shone on his forehead. There, a crowd of grownups gathered to watch the children compete.

It was Shaiba’s turn to throw an arrow. He placed the arrow in the bow and stretched the bow in a confident manner. For a moment, he stopped breathing and unleashed the bow. The arrow that sprung from the bow hit its exact aim. When everyone looked at him with amazement, he brought the following words to his tongue through the happiness and excitement that he felt with this success:

“I am Hashim’s son. I am Sir Betha’s son. Of course my arrow will find its target”.

The adults that came to watch heard Shaiba’s commendatory words. One of Harith bin Abd-Manaf sons came close to him and learnt that he was Hashim’s sons by cross-examining. On his return to Mecca, this man explained the situation to Muttalib and remarked that it was not right for such a talented and intelligent child to be left in a foreign province.

Upon hearing this news, Muttalib immediately went to Medina and brought Shaiba to Mecca. As Muttalib was arriving to Mecca with Shaiba on the back of his saddle, they asked:

“Who is this child?”

Muttalib was afraid that this child would be affected with the evil eye so the words “my slave” came out of his mouth.

When he arrived home, his wife, Khadija, asked the same question. Once more, the answer was “my slave”.

The next day Shaiba began to roam the streets of Mecca with the new and beautiful clothes that his uncle bought for him. Everyone became curious about his identity and began to ask questions. Those who knew answered, “Abdulmuttalib” (Abdulmuttalib’s slave).

Despite his identity being later revealed, his nickname remained “Abdul-Muttalib” from that day on.

[i-asifeq]

Battle of Badr – 17th Ramadan 2 A.H

“And indeed Allah assisted you at Badr when you were weak, so be careful (to your duty) to Allah so that you may be of the thankful ones. When you said to the believers 'Does it not suffice you that your Lord should assist you with three thousand angels sent down.'" [Qur'an 3:123-124]

The battle of Badr was the first of the great battles of Islam. When the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) heard the news that there was a trade caravan going to Syria from Makka under the leadership of Abu Sufyan, he sent two men to gather information about it. It was discovered that it was a large caravan in which all the Makkans had shares. The Quraysh had decided to put all their savings into it and use the profits on arms, horses and other items of war to use against the Muslims. The news was disturbing.

The Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) left Medina with 313 men, 2 horses and 70 camels to go to Badr, which was a stopping point for the caravans. The Quraysh had confiscated all the property of all the Muslims who had left Makka for Medina and the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) therefore decided to confiscate the property of the caravan in compensation. Abu Sufyan feared an attack from the Muslims and sent a messenger to Makka telling them of his fears. On receiving the message, an army of 1000 men, 100 horses and 700 camels under the leadership of Abu Jahl left Makka to go to Badr. Meanwhile Abu Sufyan took a different route back to Makka avoiding Badr. Once he was back in Makka he called Abu Jahl but Abu Jahl was too proud and desired to crush the Muslims with his large army.

The two armies met at Badr on 17th Ramadhan 2 A.H. In the beginning as per Arab custom, single combat (one to one) took place. The famous Quraysh warriors Utbah, Shayba and Walid came to challenge three 'Ansaars' from Medina. The Quraysh refused to fight any of the 'Ansaars', demanding their 'equals' and so the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) sent Ubayda, Hamza and Ali. The three Kuffar were killed (Ubayda was hurt).

The Quraysh grew disturbed and began attacking. When the fierce engagement grew during the battle, the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) began to supplicate to his Lord saying, "O Allah! Should this group (of Muslims) be defeated today, You will no longer be worshipped."

This was an Islamic duty, for all victory comes from Allah. Allah revealed, "Verily, I am with you, so keep firm those who believed. I will cast terror into the hearts of those who have disbelieved." [Qur'an: 8:12]. It can also be clearly seen from the above accounts that Muhammad (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) was also mindful of his (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) other duties to Allah. Islam required him (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) not only to make du'a for victory over the Disbelievers but also for his (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) Islamic State to undertake economic, political and military actions that were in line with this objective and which he (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) performed in order to seek Allah's victory.

During the Battle of Badr, Allah, inspired to His Messenger (sallallahu alayhi wassalam), "I will help you with a thousand of the angels each behind the other in succession." [Qur'an 8:9]. The Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) rested after the strain of this revelation and then raised his head joyfully, crying, "O Abu Bakr, glad tidings are there for you, Allah's victory has approached, by Allah, I can see Gabriel on his mare in the thick of a sandstorm."

The enemies got frightened and began to retreat. Kuffar were killed including their leader Abu Jahl; 14 Muslims were martyred. The Muslims also took 70 prisoners. The prisoners were treated with kindness and some became Muslims.

In later days some of the prisoners said: "blessed be the men of Medina, they made us ride whilst they walked, they gave us wheat and bread to eat when there was little of it contenting themselves with plain dates." The rich prisoners paid ransom and were set free. Others were asked to gain their freedom by each teaching 10 Muslims to read and write. The Battle of Badr reflected the strong ideological bond between the Muslims.

Before Islam, an Arab would look down upon a black person for no other reason than the color of his skin, and tribes would fight and kill one another for decades in the name of family pride. Islam established itself so firmly within the hearts of humans that, upon declaring their allegiance to Islam they would willingly shed away all of their previous affiliations to enter into the Brotherhood of Islam. For the Muslims, the color of skin, the family name, the geographic origin, or the wealth of the individual did not matter. When the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) began his Da'wah, he (sallallahu alayhi wassalam) established a core of leadership consisting of a Persian, a Roman, an African, people from among the Jews and Christians, and indigenous Arabs, and nothing bound them together but the idea they embraced.

[luminary-if]

✦ DEMO ✦ FAQ ✦ ROMANTIC OPTIONS ✦

LUMINARY is an 18+ story dealing with duty and destiny, gods and mortals, love and hate. You will follow your character through the darkness of night, intrigue of court, and maybe... just maybe, the dawn of a new era.

Choose your pronouns, customize your appearance, and decide your personality. Are you kind or cruel? Stoic or sarcastic? Let your dialogue and decisions make your character.

Pick what your criminal background was and how successful you were before the Emperor found you. Did you reap the profits of a drug circle? Were you the most merciless blade the Empire has ever seen?

Romance one of six romantic options, characters who all have minds and motivations of their own. See how their development overlaps with and changes your own.

Discover your bloodline and dictate your family dynamics. Your father is the Emperor, and your siblings are his royal spawn. But who are they behind closed doors? Oh... And who was your mother?

Play as a character integral to the world and its history. You want to be a god? Worship often comes with blood.

Develop your relationship with your very own star and see how the shadows react to your light.

There is no such thing as day in the Empire of Antumbra. There is only night. 

134 BA

Long before there was the sun or moon, there was Day and Night. Both ruled the people of the land with shadows and light. Both were hateful and loving and godly. Like any of the divine, they were also jealous. Day preferred the golden wheat of the fields. Night preferred the shifting tides of the ocean. Day preferred the songbirds that sang in the morning. Night preferred the owls that hunted in the evening. 

Day preferred their rule, and Night preferred their own. 

Disagreements became arguments. 

Arguments became battles. 

Battles led to bloodshed. 

Long ago, Day and Night warred, and the shadows won. 

When Day fell, light never again touched the land. With no sunlight to grow the wheat and the nocturnal beasts preying on their livestock, the people lived their lives hungry and in fear.  

34 BA 

On the one-hundredth year of endless night, a Man was born. He was born to a starving, cold world, and yet… he glowed. 

In his thirty-fourth year, he met a child of Night.

Some say they fought. 

Some say they danced. 

All agree though, that they fell in love. 

Night did not give their shadows hearts. 

There had never been a need. 

But this one will get one anyway, and it will live inside the man. 

The shadow knew the heart would die with Man. 

And so, the shadow betrayed Night and gave him four stars. 

With the stars came magic. 

With the stars came light.

Night, as punishment, took the shadow but left the heart. 

That was their last mistake.

1 AA

The Man grieved. 

He wept and screamed and felt he should die. 

But his sorrow grew angry. 

The Man taught his people how to see the stars, how to read the stars, and how to speak to them. 

Man and his disciples fought back Night and the shadows and trapped them behind the constellations. 

The land was theirs now, and they called it the Kingdom of Antumbra, with Man as the first ruler— the Bright King. 

The Bright King knew he had been given a gift, and gifts should be passed on. 

He took a woman to wife, and he had four children — one for each star to rule each province of the empire. 

Too little would lead to weakness. 

Too many would lead to a power struggle. 

… 

479 AA

The Kingdom of Antumbra is now the Empire of Antumbra. 

Emperor Csillo and his wife Empress Cethina had four children, loved by the land and praised by the people. 

They had four children. 

Their youngest, Prince Sidra, died in a freak accident, leaving the empire in an unprecedented situation. 

There is a star left alone and a province left unruled. 

You are the fifth child of Emperor Csillo, the bastard he never wanted nor spoke of, the blemish on the legacy of the Bright King. Unaware of your lineage and living a life of crime in the capital city, you are arrested and brought to court.

You are a child of the empire; with one gone, it is your turn to serve.

With a consort who cannot stand the sight of you, siblings who wish you were dead, and people who despise you, who needs enemies with allies like this? 

There is a darkness in the land, a darkness even the stars cannot hold back. 

It is inside you. 

Can you rule? Or will you burn up and die? 

[mariacallous]

POZNAN, Poland—Despite the fact that Poland’s archconservative ruling Law and Justice party (PiS) looks well placed to win its third straight election on Oct. 15, its leaders are spooked that a low turnout will force it into a coalition, perhaps with the country’s even-further-right party, the Confederation Liberty and Independence. In desperation, PiS is lashing out wildly: at Germany, the European Union, the liberal opposition, developing world refugees, and critically minded filmmakers—as well as war-battered Ukraine, which until now it had buttressed with steely determination.

A Sept. 21 comment made by Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki that Poland will stop arming Ukraine, which he later walked back on, set off alarm bells from Kyiv to Washington. “The message is not that Poland is pulling its support from Ukraine,” said Konstanty Gebert, a Warsaw-based author and analyst, “but rather that Ukraine is much too ungrateful toward its colonial benefactor. It should simply accept what it gets from Poland and be thankful.”

Even if the Morawiecki remark was misinterpreted—Poland is boosting its own depleted defense capabilities, he clarified—the implications are unnerving for the Atlantic alliance, which until now has marshalled its members’ consensus on Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and active solidarity with Kyiv intact. If Poland, of all countries—a committed foe of President Vladimir Putin’s Russia and until now a champion of Ukraine—can waver in its support, how far behind are other countries long fatigued by the grinding war, the cost of sanctions, and hobbling energy crises?

Morawiecki’s comment came on top of a string of flare-ups between the neighbors and allies—flare-ups that PiS, rather than address constructively, has chosen to exploit for electoral gains. In a swing at Ukraine [on Sept. 20], Polish President Andrzej Duda, a conservative backed by PiS, said, “Ukraine is behaving like a drowning person clinging to everything he can. A drowning person is extremely dangerous; he can pull you down to the depths … simply drown the rescuer.”

He was referring to the burden Poland bears in backing Ukraine, which it has done by channeling humanitarian aid and weapons as well as opening its borders to refugees. But he could well have been describing PiS’s increasingly desperate flailing to burnish its populist credibility in the run-up to the election after years of holding power.

Poland and Ukraine have been locking horns over underpriced Ukrainian grain shipments, mostly corn and wheat, which last spring began to flood Polish, Slovak, Romanian, Bulgarian, and Hungarian markets until the Central Europeans, with the EU’s blessing, imposed a ban on Ukrainian imports, which expired on Sept. 15. When Russia first cordoned off the Black Sea to Ukrainian exports, the EU told the Central Europeans to open their borders to Ukraine to move agricultural commodities through their territories as an alternative route. The ban allowed them to do so while preventing domestic sales of the Ukrainian products. But Ukrainian grain, which is exempt from EU customs duties, leaked out into the Central European markets anyway. This forced out regional crops from domestic and some export markets, pushed prices down, and ignited farmers’ protestations. On Sept. 16, Poland and Hungary defied the EU and reimposed the ban on imported Ukrainian food products, which then prompted Kyiv to announce its intention to take the rift before the World Trade Organization.

In contrast to Romania, Bulgaria, and Slovakia, the Polish government has not been able to work out a compromise solution for the Ukrainian imports. The European Commission, which has no lost love for PiS, has sided with Ukraine.

“PiS is doing everything it can to divert attention from its own failures, but it’s not empty electioneering,” said Konstanty Gebert, a Warsaw-based author and analyst. “To get the big rural vote on their side, which it has to do, PiS is willing to pay a high political price for putting Ukraine down. The upshot depends on the electoral results, the percentage of peasant votes lost, and those gained by the extreme-right with their anti-Ukrainian propaganda.”

PiS’s flailing, Gebert said, reflects its conviction that only it understands the true interests of the Polish nation and that “its falling from power poses a life-or-death threat to the nation.” In the eyes of the PiS, Gebert added, “If it loses, Poland will come under the yoke of Brussels, be a slave to Germany, and flooded with Black and Muslim rapists. It wants to save Poles from the fate of people in the West, who they say can’t go out on the streets without fearing violent crime.”

Ukraine poured fuel on the fire by upbraiding Poland in front of the United Nations in New York. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky accused some EU countries of “feigning solidarity by indirectly supporting Russia”—a barb that understandably stung Poles, whose animosity toward Russia is legendary.

Another red-button issue at the front of PiS’s campaign is immigration. PiS is resisting EU plans to introduce a new migration pact that would give countries quotas of relocated migrants and require them to pay 20,000 euros (about $21,180) for each one they refuse. It is not the million-plus Ukrainian refugees in Poland that PiS encourages Poles to dread, but rather the roughly 20,000 refugees from Northern Africa and the Middle East that have entered Poland through Belarus this year. Belarus and Russia signal to these regions that individuals can gain access to the EU through Belarus; the unsuspecting refugees are let loose at the Belarusian-Polish border, often subject to beatings at the hands of first the Belarusians and then the Poles.

Agnieszka Holland’s film Green Border, which throws a harsh light on Poland’s treatment of refugees, premiered last week in Poland to the hysterical outcry of government officials, one of whom renounced the film as “disgusting libel” that is “harmful to the Polish state and Poles.”

While the Ukrainian refugees in Poland have thus far enjoyed the sympathy and support of Poles, their situation is changing, said activists from Logos and Spilno Hub, nongovernmental organizations in Poznan that assist Ukrainian nationals. Earlier this month, the Polish government announced it would be ending aid payments to Ukrainian migrants. However, in contrast to Germany, Ukrainian refugees in Poland are given immediate access to the job market, and they have pounced on it, helping Poland plug labor market gaps. The unemployment rate in Poznan, a business-minded city in western Poland, is 1 percent.

But Polish generosity is wearing thin. The Ukrainian activists say the social media rants against all refugees is vitriolic, much of it calling back to World War II-era atrocities between Poles and Ukrainians. A Ukrainian aid worker, Valentina, from the northeastern city of Sumy, was accompanying a class of Ukrainian school kids when teenagers accosted her, screaming, “Hey bitch, go back to Ukraine!” Physical violence is now increasingly common, Gebert said.

The geopolitical consequences of PiS’s histrionics reach far beyond Poland itself. In Slovakia, elections this weekend could bring about the return of Robert Fico, a former prime minister who is openly anti-EU and pro-Russia. Hungary, too, has long been a mouthpiece for Moscow in Europe.

And PiS’s most likely coalition partner, called simply the “Confederation” in Poland, makes no bones at all about its hostility to Ukraine and the more than 1.5 million Ukrainian refugees in Poland. (Its 2019 European Parliament campaign included a five-point platform: “We don’t want Jews, homosexuals, abortion, taxes, and the EU.”) Its presence in a coalition government led by PiS could entail a Poland-Ukraine realignment of some sort—and diluted sympathy for the Ukrainians now living in Poland.

A government that’s even more nationalistic than the current one in Warsaw might throw a wrench into Ukraine’s accession to the EU. After all, Ukraine’s high costs could shrink Poland’s slice of the EU pie. And a lukewarm, tight-fisted Poland could cause Kyiv to swap besties, putting its full faith in France and Germany rather than Poland. They, at least, have the clout in the EU that Ukraine needs, while PiS is openly hostile to Brussels.

PiS’s roughshod campaigning will hurt Poland in the long run, wrote Marek Swierczynski in Polityka, a centrist weekly news magazine. “PiS is toying with matters of strategic importance in this election campaign,” he argued. “And it is also toying with the very risky issue of anti-Ukrainian resentment. Now we have exposed ourselves to the criticism of global public opinion, all for the sake of this party scoring a few points with its own supporters.”

The gravitas that Poland has accrued over the past year and a half is immense—but it can expire if Poland’s will proves fickle.

[digitalworldbound]

dethroned, chapter one

characters: miyako/hikari

summary: Miyako, Princess of the land of Paramoura, is appalled the moment her father tells her she is betrothed to the prince of a neighboring nation. Afterwards, her lady-in-waiting must go, leaving Miyako by herself. In her stead, a young chambermaid by the name of Hikari is expected to fulfill her duties and care for the Princess. Though she does not know much, Hikari brings comfort to Miyako during her darkest hours. Comfort, however, comes with a price, and Miyako's life spirals more out of control as she realizes just how much the chambermaid means to her.

a/n: written as part of @campdigimonth . also, i love miyakari. that is all. on AO3 and FFN.

Amidst rolling fields of wheat and grass, towers of stone stood tall against the blue sky. In the land of Paramoura, the beloved royal family lived just beyond a small, bustling town.

Horses, laden with fresh produce and hand-crafted goods, meandered across the pebbled paths. Merchants called loudly to prospective customers while the bartering of eggs and bread carried on the wind, passing through the wheat fields and into an open window.

With a sigh, Miyako Inoue gazed out longingly at the flow of the market. A bird chirped its morning song from a tree branch below, a flutter of wings preceding its takeoff into the distance. 

“What’s the matter, Princess?”

Startling Miyako from her perch at the window, her lady-in-waiting stared at her with clear intent. 

“You’ve frightened me, Meiko-san.” 

The older girl giggled quietly. “That much is clear. Come here; it’s time to get ready.” 

Meiko gestured towards the swaths of fabric that she meticulously laid across the bed. Shades of blue melded into soft pinks, a spectrum of colors irresistible to most.

A strand of lavender hair hung limply across Miyako’s eyes. With a sigh of impatience, the Princess pointed vaguely towards one of the dresses before turning her back towards her lady-in-waiting. 

“Which event has me getting ready at the ripe hour of noon?” 

Meiko bit her bottom lip in a poor attempt to obscure her grin. She had known the Princess for most of her life. Miyako had always despised forced, public events. 

“Don’t worry, little one. You won’t be coerced into dancing with the drunken lord of some faraway land. The King has requested your presence.”

As Meiko tightened the laces of the cream-colored corset, Miyako could feel her breath dry up in her throat. “My father? What could the King possibly want with me?” Miyako paused, holding her hands up as one of the gowns was pulled gently over her head. “Unless…Is it time for our monthly dinner already?”

“It’s not your monthly dinner, it’s just…” Meiko’s voice trailed off 

Miyako glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowed tightly together. “What is it, Meiko-san?” 

For a moment, silence stretched between them. With deft fingers, Meiko tied the sash of Miyako’s gown with a flourish. A gentle tap signaled for the princess to turn back around.

Outside, the birds continued to hum happily. Early afternoon sunshine filtered through the window, illuminating Miyako’s loose hair. 

“The King sounded pensive. He asked for you to see him as soon as possible.” 

As Meiko’s fingers found themselves in the Princess’ hair, Miyako eyed her bookshelves with dismay.The start of the day had been glorious and slow with a small walk in the castle’s garden and snippets of her favorite novel read between meals. 

A sigh escaped her lips, the hem of her dress tickling the tops of her feet. 

After weaving Miyako’s unruly strands into various layers of braids, Meiko took a step back, admiring her work.

Bending at the knees, the lady-in-waiting bowed deeply. Her arm swept out, indicating for Miyako to take the lead. “My lady, by your leave.”

Biting back a smart remark, Miyako allowed herself to roll her eyes. Despite the Princess’ insistent begging, her lady-in-waiting refused to address her informally. Trapped behind those stone walls, Miyako could feel bits of herself chipping away. Each time the staff used her title in place of her name, a bit of Miyako’s identity melted away until she was nothing more than a face.

Shoulders set with determination, Miyako clenched her teeth. 

Her heels echoed down the empty halls as she neared her father’s door. Meiko trailed her dutifully, nodding respectfully at the servants who busied themselves with cleaning every nook and cranny of the castle. 

Beyond the Princess’ bedroom door, the castle walls spread out in all directions. Plants decorated nearly every corner. In the springtime, flowers bloomed from their branches, filling the rooms with a light, fresh scent. 

Because Miyako’s bedroom was situated on the top floor, she had plenty of time to look out above the rest of her home. The path in front of her was lined with a railing on one side. 

When the Princess was younger, she would sneak out of her room past her bedtime and press her face against the cool, iron bars. Miyako would doze off, hoping to catch a glimpse of her father in the early hours of the morning, only to wake underneath her comforter the next day.

Now, the Princess merely peered out down below, the murmur of a conversation between servants too low for her to discern.

As the pair rounded the corner, Miyako could feel her pulse quicken. 

It had taken her five months of consistently bothering her father’s courtier to convince him to eat meals with her. Eventually, Miyako had managed to arrange their monthly dinners, ignoring the ways in which the King would grumble and sigh his way through their allotted hour. 

In her twenty years of life, the only time she had received a direct summons from the King had been when her mother passed away unexpectedly. They had no others in their family, no other need to sit tersely in his office while tears streamed down Miyako’s cheeks. 

Miyako led their way down the grand staircase, pausing only to acknowledge the staff that bowed in her presence. 

Their trek continued through the main entryway and down another hallway. Unlike the sparse decorations of the rest of the castle, the path towards the King’s office was lined with carefully painted portraits.

Dead eyes stared down at the Princess. The faces of people she would never meet blurred together until she reached the end. Though Miyako could not bring herself to look, she could feel the heaviness of her mother’s gaze. 

Without so much as glancing up, Miyako had the curve of her mother’s mouth memorized, caught somewhere between a grin and a laugh. Grief gripped at her heart fiercely, her eyes itching for a moment. She couldn’t allow herself to cry, especially in front of her father. 

The King’s door loomed at the end of the hallway. A pair of knights stood dutifully on either side of the entrance. Their sharpened spears crossed in the middle until Miyako approached.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the pair mimicked. With a parroted bow, the spears were uncrossed and the doors swung open. 

The large wooden doors gave way to a lush, mahogany desk. King Mako, broad and stern, sat on the other side. A deep frown had been etched into his features from years of stress and strife. Although the land of Paramoura was generally peaceful, leadership did not come without an immense amount of responsibility. 

“Your Majesty.” Miyako was careful to keep her tone neutral and to time her bow to her father’s preferred length. As a child, she had many au pairs struggle to get their lessons across. Hours of painful etiquette classes had prepared her for terse moments and interactions. 

“Princess, please sit down.” 

With a flick of the wrist, Meiko was dismissed, shutting the doors quietly behind her. 

Alone with her father, Miyako allowed the silence to settle around them uncomfortably. She took a moment to study her father. Despite Miyako’s irritation, she could not pass on the opportunity to memorize his features.

His eyes, much like her own, shone a brilliant hazel. When her mother was alive, the King’s eyes would glimmer with happiness, his mouth curving up into a rare smile.

Miyako remembered being small, curled into her mother’s arms. Her father would lean in, his stubbled cheek pressing against her small head as he kissed her mother. Those were the last memories Miyako had of her father’s happiness. Soon after, her mother was gone, and the King was never quite the same.

Now, his hazel eyes were set in deep sadness. Wrinkles crossed the distance between his eyebrows and curved around his frown. His thin arms braced against the top of the desk, his gaze focused on a piece of faded parchment. 

“I need to talk to you about a matter of great importance.” He paused as if to gather his thoughts.  “First, I am going to speak. If you have any confusion, refrain from asking questions until I am finished.” 

Miyako sat up straighter, her interest peaked. As a woman, her role in the patriarchy had been nearly nonexistent. A troubled look crossed her father’s features, almost confirming Miyako’s hunch: There was something wrong in the kingdom, and the King needed her assistance. 

When his daughter made no move to respond, the King continued. 

“After the evening of your twentieth birthday, I was approached by King Aoki of Kunō. It is of my understanding that you have already been acquainted with the Crown Prince. In our discussion, King Aoki made it clear that if we wished for Paramoura to thrive throughout this next winter time, a compromise would have to be made.”

“Compromise?” Miyako all but shrieked. “Paramoura will be fine as long as they mind their -”

The King held up a singular finger, Miyako’s protests dying in her throat. “Though it is not your business, it will serve you well to know that the country of Kunō has bought the majority of our exports for the past decade. Without their financial support, our people would starve.”

“But-”

“Silence!” His voice reverberated in Miyako’s chest. Though the wooden doors had been shut tightly, there was no doubt that Meiko had heard the King’s outburst.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes,  but she would not allow herself to cry. 

Breath uneven, Miyako’s father continued. “As Princess of Paramoura, you have a duty to our people. Furthermore, I will not allow my daughter to interrupt me.” 

The warmth of shame crawled up past the collar of Miyako’s gown. Moments with her father were few and far inbetween, and yet she had managed to anger him within the first few minutes. 

Forcing her lips into a thin line, the Princess lowered her head. “Please, Your Majesty, forgive me. Excuse my eagerness and untimely responses. I am honored that you are speaking with me about these matters of importance; I hope to be of great assistance to you, in whichever way you need.” She paused. “I hope to serve the people of Paramoura well.” 

The toes of her shoes dug relentlessly into the floor. Miyako focused on the sound of her teeth grinding to avoid visibly cringing at the words that hung between them. 

Her father knew her well enough to gauge whether or not she was being genuine, but said nothing at her behavior. 

Miyako snuck a glance up at him through her eyelashes. Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, the deep crevices around his eyes more pronounced than usual. An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of the Princess’ stomach; the King was worried. 

“I need for you to listen, Princess. After countless meetings spent in heated arguments, King Aoki was steadfast in his ultimatum. Princess - Miyako - I’m sorry.”

The Princess’ head lifted up with urgency. Panic seized her heart, eyes wide. “Father, what’s going on?” 

Her voice wavered, and for a moment, Miyako felt five years old, preparing herself for the worst.

The King’s eyes flickered briefly to his daughter’s before setting once more on the parchment in front of him.  “In six months' time, you are to wed the Crown Prince of Kunō, Motomiya Daisuke. Your union will allow the country of Paramoura to prosper through the generosity of King Aoki.”

“No. No! I don’t want to marry the prince; I don’t even know him.”

“Princess, listen to -”

“No!” Miyako rose, the chair screeching against the wooden floor. Her pulse pounded wildly in her ears, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The walls of her father’s office seemed to close in, encasing her. 

Unconsciously, her fingers twisted their way into her hair, strands of lavender working their way free. The echoes of her heels reverberated in the otherwise silent room. “But you promised. You and Mama promised me that I could marry whoever I wished. I do not wish this; I would never wish this. Please, Father. There must be another way.” 

The last remnants of sunlight illuminated novels on a weathered bookshelf. Summer’s breeze rustled the leaves just beyond the castle walls, the smell of grass and sunshine mocking the ache in Miyako’s chest. 

She paced back and forth, as if forming a groove into the floor could save her from her fate. Eventually, she came to a stop at the tallest window. Miyako hazel eyes scanned the courtyards, watching the way the servants scurried to and fro, their bodies weaving past each other with a practiced ease. Their lives were repetitious and secure compared to her own. 

‘They have it easy,’ Miyako thought, a new bitterness hardening at the edges of her mind. 

“Believe me, I have tried. The people of Kunō are ruthless at the best of times, and King Aoki was ready to rage war. As the leader of Paramoura, I cannot risk the livelihoods of our own to save you from becoming betrothed. Even if you do not understand now, you will one day.”

Miyako’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the stone window sill. “You’re wrong,” she gritted out. “I will never understand.”

-

Once the door to the Princess’ bedroom was shut, Meiko angrily undid the laces of Miyako’s gown. 

“Princess, you have been taught better than this.” Meiko’s voice was clipped, a rare show of annoyance slipping through. “And of all the people to talk back to, you chose the King of Paramoura - your own father. If King Mako had not been as patient, you could be eating your dinner in the dungeon at this moment”

“Father would never,” Miyako interjected. Though they did not see eye to eye, the Princess knew that above all else, her father was fair. Unlike his daughter, King Mako would never allow his emotions to get the better of himself.

“You don’t realize how lucky you are, Princess. At least he told you of the arranged marriage; most women would find out the night before without even knowing their betrothed! You are very lucky, indeed.”

Miyako sucked in her breath. No matter how mad her lady-in-waiting became, Miyako could not bring herself to regret her honesty. King Mako deserved to know the truth; any marriage with the Crown Prince of Kunō would be a lie.

Meiko continued to wrestle with the restricting garment. “Besides, Princess, you are at an age where you are expected to hold your tongue. There will come a time where you will not be able to rely on me to smooth interactions over. As a Princess, you have had twenty years of experience; please, Your Highness, act like it.”

Once her gown had been sufficiently loosened, the Princess turned around. “What do you mean by me not being able to rely on you? You of all people have seen me through every season. Have I disappointed you so badly that you’ve resigned? Twenty years is not so long once you’ve realized that I was a child for over half of it.”

“Princess,” Meiko began, her timbre soft, “While I am disappointed, you could never do anything to make me leave you permanently. I must go to see my family soon. Mother is unwell, and as her only child, I have a duty to care for her.”

“Duty does not always mean necessity, Meiko-san. If your family needs money, I have a surplus. If she is ill, we have private doctors that can see to her recovery.  I’ll even ask Father to raise your pay, if that’s what is needed to keep you here.” Miyako hated the way tears pricked her eyes. Her hands began to tremble, an aching loneliness creeping in her heart. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

Though Miyako’s voice had been no more than a whisper, Meiko's face crumpled. 

“I commend your generosity, Your Highness, but I cannot stay. Right now, my place is with my mother. Remember, Princess, that duty is not always pleasant. In fact, it is difficult and heartbreaking and uncomfortable, but it must be done. You cannot escape the path that has been laid out before you; the only aspect that can be changed is your attitude towards it.”

Tears streamed freely down both their faces. Miyako, her hair as loose as the nightgown Meiko gently dressed her in, allowed herself a singular question. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.” When Miyako’s mouth opened to object, Meiko quickly continued. “This has nothing to do with your display of temper. I had planned to go weeks ago; I was only waiting for the right moment to tell you. If all goes well, I should be back by the time you marry. I’ll probably even get to help you get dressed on your wedding day.”

“Meiko-san, please.”

“Princess,” the lady-in-waiting began gently, “It’s time for you to rest. It’s been a long week for all of us, dear one. I’ll see you again soon.” 

A silent sob slipped through Miyako's lips as Meiko slipped from the door. She’d never even given her a hug, nor managed to say her goodbyes. 

Duty, Miyako had come to learn, had stolen all the things she held dear. For a moment, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“Please,” she whispered to an empty room. The backs of her knees hit the mattress, the rest of her body following suit. Mussed lavender hair formed a halo around her head as more tears slipped down the sides of her face. “Please, stay.” 

-

By the time Miyako woke in the morning, Meiko was gone.

In her stead, a young chambermaid hovered nervously in the entrance of the bedroom. 

“Good morning, Your Highness.” Her voice was as soft as the morning light. With a teetering bow, the young girl offered the Princess a shy smile. 

“Good morning.” Miyako managed. She rubbed the sleep from her swollen eyes, becoming painfully aware of her disheveled appearance. 

With sparkling amber eyes, the young girl merely looked at her from her post. Her thin frame was suspended with anticipation, as if she were waiting for something.

“I don’t believe I caught your name.”

The chambermaid started, tipping into another uneven bow as her hands shook. “Excuse me, Your Highness. Please forgive my impertinence. My name is Hikari-san.”

From the bed, Miyako motioned for the girl to stand, motioning her closer.

Though dressed simply, Hikari’s cheeks had a brilliant flush to them that hadn’t been there previously. Despite her obvious discomfort, Hikari gave a slight simile and averted her gaze before silence lapsed between them once more. 

Miyako studied the girl, half-expecting Meiko to waltz in and begin their day. 

It was only then that Miyako registered the bright light filtering in from her window. 

“What time is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Hikari’s eyes widened slightly before she cleared her throat. “It is nearly nine in the morning, Your Highness. I would have woken you up earlier, but Meiko-san said that for today, you should be allowed to sleep however late you wished.” 

Miyako’s fingers curled around her comforter. “And has she already left? Meiko-san, I mean.”

At this, Hikari lowered her gaze. For a moment, the chambermaid stood absolutely still, as if she were frozen on the spot.

If Miyako’s heart didn’t ache at her recent loss, she could have laughed. “Do not be afraid of me. I’m hardly more than your age. Meiko-san has been with me for so long; I just want to make sure that she arrived safely.” 

Miyako felt hope bloom unwisely in her chest. Perhaps there was a chance that Meiko had changed her mind and was playing a cruel prank on her as punishment for her behavior the previous day. 

“From my understanding, the lady-in-waiting left in the early morning. I cannot be certain of whether or not she has arrived, but I am sure we will hear from her in a few day’s time.”  With her best calming smile, Hikari approached the Princess’ side. “Are you ready to dress, my lady?” 

The hope deflated, leaving Miyako empty. She couldn’t find the energy to talk, much less dress and walk about the castle. She eyed the new girl with guarded curiosity. 

From her awkward posture to the slight nervousness in her voice, it was apparent that Hikari’s training rested solely with the house chores. 

Miyako merely stared at the girl from her perch on her pillows. “Am I to assume that you’ll be the one dressing me?” 

Though she hadn’t realized it was possible, the color on Hikari’s cheeks darkened. “I promise I won’t look, Your Highness.” 

At this, the Princess did laugh. All of her repressed sadness and bitterness melted away for a moment. Miyako giggled until her stomach hurt, hands gripping her sides as if to keep her laughter in. “Trust me, Hikari-san, a peeping tom is the least of my concerns. I was merely wondering if you were the one appointed to temporarily take Meiko-san’s place.” 

The young girl took a step back, giving Miyako space. “Yes, Your Highness. Though I may not know much, I promise to learn fast. “ After a pause, Hikari continued. “I hope that you will feel comfortable telling me when I do wrong, and are willing to help correct my mistakes, Your Highness.”

Once Miyako nodded her assent, Hikari turned quickly on her heel and busied herself with ruffling through the armoire. 

The sound of fabric rustling brough Miyako minimal comfort. Meiko had been the Princess’ sole constant companion. Dutifully, the lady-in-waiting sat through every grand ball, listened to Miyako’s grievances, and prepared her for nearly every outing she had been on. 

Hikari seemed too meek to talk to, much less confide in. Meiko had been a much better match. 

‘But,’ Miyako asked herself, ‘Had it all been for duty? Had she sat through everything because she cared? Or because she was fulfilling her job description?’

“Now, while I believe you look best in blue, you’ve already worn it during your meeting with His Majesty the King. Please, feel free to disagree, but I think that you would also look lovely in yellow.” 

Still curled up around her blanket, Miyako shifted so that the gown could be placed beside her. It was gauzy and whimsical, much like the morning sun. 

Meiko tended to dress her in darker colors, to help the Princess appear more mature and experienced.

She would have never picked a dress so light and pure. Despite this realization, Miyako’s pulse quickened with anticipation. “I love it.”

Beside the bed, Hikari flushed in gratitude. “I am so glad, Your Highness. Now, would you like help getting ready, or should I leave you for a moment?”

“I would like some help, please. It should only take a moment, then we will go to brunch together.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Hikari gave her best lopsided curtsey before ushering the Princess from her bed. 

Before Miyako had time to get her bearings, Hikari was behind her, tugging the nightgown over her head. The yellow fabric she was to change into sat haphazardly on the floor.

“Now, Princess, if you would step into the gown, I can pull it up and fasten for you.”

Meiko would have never allowed Miyako’s gown to touch the floor before she wore it. The new girl was odd, but her antics distracted Miyako’s mind long enough that the corners of her mouth turned upwards. 

She did as the chambermaid asked, shivering as her bare feet touched the floor. “Alright, I am ready.”

No sooner than the words left Miyako's mouth, Hikari guided the gown up her body. Once it was settled, the chambermaid worked diligently at the buttons.

Though she had grown accustomed to the draft, another shiver crawled up Miyako’s spine as Hikari’s fingertips accidentally brushed against her skin. 

“Are you cold, Your Highness? I could stoke the fire for you.”

Miyako was grateful to have her back turned towards the girl. Her cheeks had grown warm, throat suspiciously dry. “With all of the shock I’ve experienced recently, perhaps I could be developing a cold. You needn’t worry, Hikari-san.”

Hikari breathed a sigh of relief, the warmth of her breath grazing the back of Miyako’s neck. The warmth from Miyako’s cheeks traveled down her neck, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. 

The Princess made a mental note to request a visit from the doctor; she was beginning to feel unwell.

[findxbuy]

11sqm Wheat Van Lining & Ford Transit Custom SWB Van Racking Unit

Kit out your van with this premium van lining carpet and racking complete set. The super stretchy yet durable lining design allows it to mould around wheel arches, windows, and metal work easily with no creasing to get the perfect professional finish. The heavy-duty carpet is 100% bleachable and is ideal for lining out vans, motor homes, cars and much more! At a length of 5.5m and 2m wide, each…

[palmoilnews]

TOP NEWS Agricultural Commodities > IGC cuts global wheat crop outlook on poor EU harvest > GRAINS-CBOT soy hits fresh lows on South America weather, Brazil-China deals > Argentina's soy planting reaches full speed, first plants show good condition > COLUMN-China's nod to Brazilian sorghum may serve as test for US relations -Braun > Brazil, China close to signing pork offal export protocols, sources say > Angry farmers block access to Bordeaux port to up pressure on French government > Deere's profit beat overshadows tepid 2025 outlook, shares rise > Poland, Baltic States call for customs duty on Russian fertilizers > Ivory Coast takes steps to control cashew exports and help local processors > Brazilian meatpacker JBS agrees to invest $2.5 bln in Nigeria, build six factories > Arabica coffee hits fresh 13-year high near $3 per lb > South Korea’s MFG buys up to 70,000 T corn in private deal, traders say > NZ's a2 Milk expects first dividend in February, lifts FY25 growth forecast > ICE canola Jan futures break below $600 > VEGOILS-Palm extends losses amid China tariff fears, weak demand

[best-aata-chakki]

Top-Rated Commercial Atta Chakki Machine | Sonar Appliances - Best Quality & Performance

In the bustling world of food production and culinary excellence, the right equipment can make all the difference. For businesses in the wheat grinding sector, investing in a high-quality Commercial Atta Chakki Machine is essential. At Sonar Appliances, we pride ourselves on offering top-rated commercial atta chakki machines that guarantee unmatched quality and performance. In this blog post, we'll explore why our machines stand out in the market and how they can elevate your business operations.

What is an Atta Chakki?

An atta chakki, also known as a flour mill, is a device used to grind various types of grains into flour, particularly wheat. The significance of this machine is immense in bakeries, restaurants, and households, where fresh flour forms the basis of countless recipes. A Commercial Atta Chakki Machine offers the ability to grind large quantities of flour efficiently and consistently, ensuring you always have the freshest ingredients on hand.

Why Choose Sonar Appliances?

At Sonar Appliances, we are committed to delivering products that meet and exceed customer expectations. Here are some compelling reasons to consider our Top-Rated Commercial Atta Chakki Machines:

Superior Quality and Durability

Our atta chakki machines are crafted from high-grade materials that ensure longevity and performance under heavy-duty usage. Designed to withstand the rigors of commercial operation, these machines deliver consistent results without the need for excessive maintenance.

High Efficiency and Speed

Time is money in the food industry. Our Atta Chakki Machine boast high-speed milling capability, allowing businesses to grind significant quantities of wheat in a short time. With our machines, you can maximize productivity without compromising on quality.

Versatility

Our Commercial Atta Chakki Machine are designed to handle various grains beyond wheat, including millet, rice, and pulses. This versatility makes them an ideal addition to any commercial kitchen, enabling businesses to diversify their product offerings.

User-Friendly Operation

Simplicity and ease of use are paramount in any commercial setting. Our Atta Chakki Machines come with straightforward controls and user-friendly interfaces, making them accessible to operators of all skill levels. Additionally, the machines are designed for easy cleaning and maintenance, further enhancing operational efficiency.

Energy Efficient

Energy costs can significantly impact your bottom line. Our atta chakki machine are engineered to minimize power consumption without sacrificing performance. By opting for Sonar Appliances, you can lower your operational costs and contribute to a greener environment.

Safety Features

Safety is our priority. Our machines are equipped with essential safety features to protect operators during use. From overload protection to safety guards, we ensure that our customers can operate our machines with peace of mind.

Customer Satisfaction

At Sonar Appliances, we believe in building long-term relationships with our clients. Our commitment to customer service extends beyond the sale. We offer comprehensive support, including installation guidance, operational training, and troubleshooting assistance. Our goal is to ensure that you get the most out of your Commercial Atta Chakki Machine.

Conclusion

In a competitive culinary landscape, having the right tools is essential for success. Sonar Appliances is your go-to brand for top-rated Commercial Atta Chakki Machine that deliver quality, performance, and reliability. Get in touch with us today to learn more about our products and how we can help elevate your business to new heights.

Contact Us

India

Sonar Appliances

Visit: https://sonarappliances.com/products/Commercial/Sonar-Flour-Mill

Call Us: +91 9312248787

Mail At: Sonar2025@Gmail.Com

ADD- E-77, West Vinod Nagar, Near Mayur Public School,

Behind Mother Dairy, Patparganj, Delhi, 110092, India

[gambitsobsession]

I get customers who get indignant when I inform them that the chicken and chorizo for our pizzas contain milk when they order those toppings after asking for no cheese. "I JUST DON'T LIKE CHEESE" they bitch.

Okay, cool. Just checking. Because there are people who ask for no cheese because they're lactose intolerant or allergic enough to dairy that a passing contact isn't serious but actually ingesting it is. And if there are allergens in our products that you might not expect, I have a duty not just as a food worker or a person who knows the trouble her sister has with food allergies but as a decent and conscientious human being to advise my customers of things I know about our products that may negatively impact their health.

Did you know that the vegetable oil-based garlic spread we have warns on the label that it's not suitable for dairy allergies? Poor guy came for a pizza and asked for garlic spread and vegan cheese (which we did at the time, not any more, no idea why) and I had to tell him that. Not a single mention of milk on the ingredients so we had to figure that something in it was a milk derivative. He went with tomato sauce in the end but like who would guess that the thing made of plant-based oil which is meant to negate the need for dairy to STILL contain dairy?!

It's just as well we don't do gluten-free pizza bases because every. single. one. of our beef-based toppings contains wheat flour as a thickening agent for the marinades. I only know that because I read all the labels on a slow day. Guaranteed at least four of my co-workers have no idea and might accidentally service a coeliac person something that could kill them with zero realisation.

the uncommon allergy haver to anticapitalist pipeline

[trailersourceofwheatridge]

Why Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge is Your Go-To Dealer for Cargo & Utility Trailers in Colorado

When it comes to finding reliable and high-quality trailers, Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge is the trusted name in Wheat Ridge, CO. Specializing in the sales, parts, and service of cargo and utility trailers, we provide solutions tailored to meet the unique needs of our customers. Whether you’re transporting equipment for work, hauling a vehicle, or managing personal projects, we offer a wide selection of trailers that will get the job done right.

Comprehensive Trailer Solutions Under One Roof

At Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge, we pride ourselves on being a one-stop shop for all things trailers. From enclosed trailers, flatbeds, and utility trailers to custom configurations, we offer a range of options for both commercial and personal use. We understand that every customer has unique needs, which is why we provide expert guidance in helping you choose the best trailer for your specific application.

Our team is made up of trailer experts with years of experience, ensuring that you get the right fit for your needs—whether you’re looking for a lightweight utility trailer for weekend projects or a robust cargo trailer for heavy-duty commercial use.

Why Quality Matters in Your Trailer Choice

Choosing the right trailer is a significant investment, which is why quality matters. Poorly constructed or ill-suited trailers can lead to damage to your cargo, higher maintenance costs, and safety concerns. At Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge, we partner with trusted manufacturers known for their craftsmanship and durability. Our trailers are built to last, capable of withstanding the rigors of the road while keeping your cargo secure and protected.

Professional Trailer Maintenance and Repair Services

In addition to sales, we offer a full suite of trailer maintenance and repair services. Keeping your trailer in top condition is critical for safe operation and long-term durability. Whether it’s routine maintenance like tire replacement and brake checks or more complex repairs, our technicians are here to ensure that your trailer is road-ready and performing optimally.

We also provide a wide range of parts to support any DIY repair or upgrade needs you may have. From axles and brakes to couplers and wiring kits, we stock the components you need to keep your trailer running smoothly.

Tailored Services for Every Customer

One of the things that set us apart from other trailer dealers is our commitment to providing tailored services. Whether you’re a contractor in need of a fleet of trailers for your business or an individual looking for a trailer to use on the weekends, we have the flexibility to meet your demands. Our personalized service ensures that every customer leaves satisfied, knowing that they’ve made the right investment.

Why Choose Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge?

Expert Knowledge: Our team brings years of experience and in-depth knowledge about trailers and the industry. This expertise ensures that we can guide you through the entire buying process with confidence and precision.

Extensive Inventory: We offer a wide range of trailers designed for various applications. Whether you need an enclosed trailer for business purposes or a flatbed trailer for personal use, we’ve got you covered.

Full-Service Support: Beyond just selling trailers, we provide top-tier maintenance, repairs, and parts to help keep your trailer in the best condition possible. This ensures that you get the most out of your investment.

Customer-Centric Approach: At Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge, your satisfaction is our top priority. We work with you closely to understand your unique needs, providing custom solutions when necessary.

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At Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge, we’re committed to delivering exceptional trailer sales and service to our community. Whether you're looking to purchase a new trailer, upgrade your current one, or need repairs, we’re here to help.

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Get In Touch With Us: Trailer Source of Wheat Ridge, Cargo & Utility Trailers Sales Parts Service (303) 422-2999 4651 Tabor St, Wheat Ridge, CO 80033 https://www.trailersourceinc.com/locations/wheat-ridge-cargo-and-utility

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[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Famous Grandfathers of the Prophet

Undoubtedly, we do not have much knowledge on all the ancestors who carried the Master of the Universe’s light as a Divine trust on their foreheads. The ancestors about whom we have the most knowledge are the ones who are closest in time. Here we will take a short glance at their lives and personalities.

Qusai

Qusai, the fourth grandfatherof the Holy Prophet and whose real name was Zayd, was a very important figure. He had only one male sibling by the name of Zuhra.

From these two siblings, Qusai was granted the honor of bearing the noor that came down from Hazrat Adam. From childhood, Qusai garnered much attention for his talents and grew up to be one of the leading figures of Mecca. In a short time, he gained much reliability amongst the people of Mecca for his fair decisions as well as his skills in governance and administration. For this reason, the governance of Mecca was given to him.  He divided Mecca into districts for the first time. He situated every tribe into the district that he allocated for them. The most important decisions of Mecca were discussed and decided in his home.  Important tasks such as safeguarding the Ka’aba, providing water for and hosting the pilgrims of Hajj, erecting the flag at times of war, and governing the Meccan assembly, were entrusted in him. The first house that was across from the Ka’aba and whose door faced the Ka’aba was specially constructed for Qusai. This house was a parliament, like a type of governmental building or the state of the Meccan city, where all sorts of works and issues were discussed. Historically, Qusai’s residency was known as “Daru’n-Nadwa” and it found fame with this name. It was conserved until half a century after the Hijra (migration).

Qusai was loved and respected by everyone without exception. The noor belonging to the Master of the Universe that he carried on his forehead, made him beloved to and the bosom friend of the Meccan people.

In accordance with the custom, Qusay handed over the role of the family chieftain to his oldest son, Abduddar when he got old and said, “My Beloved son, I appoint you as the chief of this tribe”.

However, Abduddar did not possess the skills to undertake such a great duty. Throughout his life he was unable to fill his father’s place because the noor of the Patron of the Universe was not shining on his forehead, but was on his younger brother’s, Abd Manaf who had four sons: Hashim, Abdusshams, Muttalib, and Nawfal.

Hashim

Hashim is the grandfather of the Holy Prophet from the second generation.

Hashim was a tradesman; he was one of the notables of Mecca’s gentry. As the birth date of the Holy Prophet was nearing, the noor of the Holy Prophet on his forehead was shining even brighter. In addition, he had eminent virtues.

He was extremely generous. During a year of drought, no bread could be found. He had snow-white bread made from the pure wheat he brought from Damascus, cut several camels and sheep, and offered a huge feast composed of bread, meat, gravy, and broth to the whole of Meccan people.

Because Hashim was of high moral character, aptitude, was wise, generous, virtuous, was loved and respected by everyone, and had a noble personality, his name became the title for his family and posterity. For this reason, they termed this great lineage that includes our master of the Universe as the “Hashemites”.

Hashim had four sons: Shaiba (Abdulmuttalib), Asad, Abu Sayfi, and Nadla.

Hashim’s progeny continued from his sons Shaiba and Asad. Shaiba is the Holy Prophet’s grandfather from the first generation whereas Asad is the uncle of Hazrati Ali’s mother, Fatimah.

However, when Hunain, who came from Asad’s progeny, did not have any descendants; every Hashemite was descended from Abdulmuttalib’s branch, proliferated, and spread across the Earth.

Shaiba (Abdulmuttalib)

Shaiba is the Holy Prophet’s grandfather from the first generation. Since he was born with white hair, the name “Shaiba” was given to him; he gained fame with his nickname, Abdulmuttalib and was mentioned more by this name.

The story of how he was given this nickname:

Shaiba stayed with his maternal uncles in Medina during his childhood. One day he and his neighborhood friends were throwing arrows with the other children in a public square in Medina. Amongst all the children, he was easily distinguished by the noor belonging to the Master of the Universe that shone on his forehead. There, a crowd of grownups gathered to watch the children compete.

It was Shaiba’s turn to throw an arrow. He placed the arrow in the bow and stretched the bow in a confident manner. For a moment, he stopped breathing and unleashed the bow. The arrow that sprung from the bow hit its exact aim. When everyone looked at him with amazement, he brought the following words to his tongue through the happiness and excitement that he felt with this success:

“I am Hashim’s son. I am Sir Betha’s son. Of course my arrow will find its target”.

The adults that came to watch heard Shaiba’s commendatory words. One of Harith bin Abd-Manaf sons came close to him and learnt that he was Hashim’s sons by cross-examining. On his return to Mecca, this man explained the situation to Muttalib and remarked that it was not right for such a talented and intelligent child to be left in a foreign province.

Upon hearing this news, Muttalib immediately went to Medina and brought Shaiba to Mecca. As Muttalib was arriving to Mecca with Shaiba on the back of his saddle, they asked:

“Who is this child?”

Muttalib was afraid that this child would be affected with the evil eye so the words “my slave” came out of his mouth.

When he arrived home, his wife, Khadija, asked the same question. Once more, the answer was “my slave”.

The next day Shaiba began to roam the streets of Mecca with the new and beautiful clothes that his uncle bought for him. Everyone became curious about his identity and began to ask questions. Those who knew answered, “Abdulmuttalib” (Abdulmuttalib’s slave).

Despite his identity being later revealed, his nickname remained “Abdul-Muttalib” from that day on.

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Import Waiver On Rice Begins Next Week- FG

The guidelines for the suspension of customs duty and taxes on imported food items are to commence next week, the Federal Government announced on Tuesday. In July the Federal Government approved a 150-day duty-free window to allow the importation of maize, husked brown rice, and wheat as part of measures to combat rising food inflation across the country. The initiative was based on the…

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Shradh (Pitru Paksha): Ancestral Blessings, Rituals, and Significance

Understanding Shradh and Pitru Paksha

In the Vedic tradition of Hinduism, numerous customs, fasts, and festivals hold profound spiritual significance. Among these, the Shradh rituals performed for ancestors stand out as a vital practice. These rituals can be conducted on the Amavasya (new moon) of each month, but a specific period known as Pitru Paksha, from the full moon of Bhadrapada month to the new moon of Ashwin month, is dedicated to these rites. Pitru Paksha, or the fortnight of ancestors, is a time to pay homage to departed souls, ensuring their peace and salvation.

The Historical and Spiritual Significance of Shradh

Shradh rituals date back to the Vedic period, aiming to honor and pray for the souls of ancestors. It is believed that offerings made during Shradh, particularly water (Tarpan), bring peace and liberation to ancestral souls. According to Hindu belief, a human attains life after 8.4 million births, and participating in Shradh rituals as a son is considered a significant duty, bringing true fulfillment to one’s role.

During Pitru Paksha, it is believed that ancestors visit the earthly realm for 16 days, and their desires are fulfilled through the offerings made in Shradh rituals, such as burning cow dung cakes. These rituals, when performed with devotion, are said to remove Pitra Dosh (ancestral debt) and ensure the ancestors’ blessings.

The Importance of Pitru Paksha

Pitru Paksha is a period when reverence is offered to ancestors through Tarpan or Shradh Puja. The Varshika Shradh, performed on the ‘Shradh Thithi’ (death anniversary), is particularly meritorious when conducted at holy places or Teertha Kshetras. The Puranas emphasize the importance of these rituals, which pave the way for progress and well-being.

Performing Shradh: Who Can and How?

Traditionally, the son performs Shradh for his deceased father, with the eldest son taking precedence if there are multiple sons. In the absence of a son, the wife, elder brother, grandson, great-grandson, daughter-in-law, or nephew can perform the rituals.

The rituals involve waking up early, bathing, wearing clean clothes, and taking a vow to perform Shradh. Satvik food is prepared with devotion, and offerings are made to the ancestors, followed by feeding Brahmins and donating. The day concludes with feeding cows (Gogras) and other creatures, ensuring the fulfillment of the ritual.

Pitru Paksha 2024: Key Dates

In 2024, Pitru Paksha begins on September 17 and ends on October 2. Key dates include:

September 17, 2024: Purnima Shraddha

September 18, 2024: Pratipada Shraddha

October 2, 2024: Sarva Pitru Amavasya

Pitru Paksha Puja at Shree Krishnayan Gauraksha

Shree Krishnayan Gauraksha provides a sacred environment for performing Shradh rituals. Experienced priests conduct these ceremonies according to Vedic traditions, ensuring the rituals are aligned with Hindu customs. Held by the holy Ganga river in Haridwar, the services include Tirth Purohit, Pind Daan arrangements, accommodation, and online video conferencing facilities.

At Shree Krishnayan Gauraksha, over 22,000 desi cows are sheltered, and Vedic Brahmins conduct various sacred rituals for the well-being of all. The institution offers a range of services, including Tirth Shradh, Tarpan, Yagya and Pooja for Pitra, Godaan (donation of a cow), and Bhandara (feast) for 11 Brahmins. Feeding Gaugrass (green grass, wheat bran, and jaggery) to cows is also a way to honor ancestors.

Conclusion

Performing Shradh during Pitru Paksha is a profound way to pay homage to ancestors, ensuring their peace and invoking their blessings for the family’s well-being. Shree Krishnayan Gauraksha offers comprehensive services to help families fulfill this sacred duty, creating an atmosphere of divine grace and positive energy. By engaging in these rituals, devotees not only honor their ancestors but also contribute to their own spiritual and material prosperity.

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Hungary, Poland and France team up against Ukrainian grain imports

While Brussels is keen to facilitate trade with Ukraine, whose economy is currently affected by the military conflict, some member states disagree that Ukrainian agricultural products should enter the EU market without customs duties. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán says this is the most important issue at the current EU summit and he has found partners to resolve it, Remix reports.

Hungarian news outlet Index reports that some EU member state leaders disagree with the agreement reached on Wednesday morning between the European Parliament and the Council of the European Union on Ukrainian agricultural products, mainly cereals, that would extend duty-free imports of Ukrainian agricultural products for one year.

Hungary, along with Poland, oppose the decision because of the negative impact on their own markets. They were later joined by France, which called for a tightening of the rules. In response, the EU imposed restrictions on poultry meat, oats and other grains from Ukraine. However, barley and wheat will still be imported into the EU duty-free.

A press release from the European Parliament said the new regulation “provides for an emergency restriction on poultry, eggs and sugar” as well as oats, maize, cereals (peeled coated grains) and honey.

Read more HERE