#sugar loaf mountain

[manessha545]

Sugar Loaf Mountain, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: Sugarloaf Mountain is a peak situated in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on a peninsula at the mouth of Guanabara Bay. Rising 396 m above the harbor, the peak is named for its resemblance to the traditional shape of concentrated refined loaf sugar. It is known worldwide for its cableway and panoramic views of the city and beyond. The mountain is one of several monolithic granite and quartz mountains that rise straight from the water's edge around Rio de Janeiro. Wikipedia

[russadocachorrobranco]

Carlos Futado. Rio.

Карлос Фуртадо. Рио.

[bargainsleuthbooks]

Blog Update: Vacation 2024!

Blog update! No book reviews this week, but I do share a recap of our mini vacation in Michigan's beautiful Upper Peninsula! The kids got to experience #Storheims, too! #Puremichigan #dayooperstouristtrap #presqueislepark #marquette #yooperdome #storheims

Earlier this year, I stopped posting as frequently as I used to on the blog. The reasons were varied: burnout from reading so many ARCs, refocusing on other hobbies besides blogging, some health issues, etc. I don’t have any book reviews this week because I did an amazing thing: I went on a mini vacation with three of my four kids to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It is the first vacation we’ve…

[frogs-robots-and-wizardry]

Fact of the Day 9.12.22 The linked hills of Sugar Loaf Mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro are named after the shape of the moulds used to transport sugar from nearby plantations. It’s summit can be reached by taking two cable cars.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Quince cheese (codonyat in Catalan) is a preparation made in many parts of Southern Europe, Western Asia and Latin America. It's a kind of jelly-like paste made of quince fruit cooked in water with sugar. It's usually eaten with a toast or loaf of bread, with cheese, or mixed with yogurt.

Many families in mountain areas used to pick quince fruit in autumn, and turning it into quince cheese was a way of making sure they could have food that would be preserved for the winter months.

Photos by the recipe blog Retalls de Cuina and Consum.

[cielettosa]

SEED OF DISCONTENT

Chapter 1: a burden unchosen

PAIRING: levi ackerman x fem!reader

RATING: explicit

FANDOM: shingeki no kyojin/attack on titan (canon verse, canon divergent)

SYNOPSIS:

The Ackerman clan needs to be expanded, and you are chosen to carry his child.

cw of the chapter: none

navigation

previous chapter - next chapter

Heavy air, thick enough to chew on. It sits on Levi lungs like a stale loaf of Dhalis' smug superiority.

Tick tock, tick tock. Clock mocks them all, counting down the precious minutes wasted in this shitty staring contest.

Polished table, a mirror reflecting the distorted faces of these pompous windbags. Zachary, the "General," a walking monument to paperwork erosion. His beard – a tragic map of battles fought with red tape, not Titans. His eyes, like a bloodhound sniffing out dissent, but too slow to catch the real monsters in this room.

Erwin Smith. The almighty, the strategic genius, the commander of the Survey Corps.

He sits there puffed up like a pigeon on a flagpole. Levi can practically hear his ribs creaking under the weight of his own titan sized ambitions and eyebrows. All bluster and dreams, that one.

He does not understand the grime under your fingernails, the blood that seeps into your soul after every mission. He talks about the "greater good," about humanity's "salvation."

Levi's fingers itch for the familiar weight of his blades. They would feel more comfortable here than this damn chair.

Erwin's icy blue eyes are probably doing calculus right now, strategizing the most soul crushing paperwork avalanche to unleash on Levi after this bureaucratic circus. Wonderful.

Just what Levi needs – another mountain of paper stacks to wade through, each one a monument to the utter cluelessness of these so called leaders.

Nile Dawk, perpetually looking like an offended toddler – ever the picture of simmering discontent. Tapping a rhythm on the table like a bored child, scowl permanently etched on his face. Military Police Brigade must be a real snooze fest if this qualifies as entertainment for him.

Dot Pixis. The Garrison commander with a smile sweeter than rotten fruit. Just the kind of saccharine charm that could probably disarm an abnormal Titan with a sugar high.

All sunshine and lollipops, that one. Probably thinks the biggest danger he faces is a paper cut.

And then there is Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Levi Ackerman. Years spent dodging death by Titan and defying gravity have turned his posture into a weapon itself.

His eyes, a stormy gray reflecting horrors most would not dare dream of, are a mask. A stoic facade forged in the fires of countless battles. Iron will, they call it. Yeah, well, sometimes even iron feels like it is about to snap under the weight of this never ending hell.

The air hangs thick, its intellectual density barely surpassing a sluggish potato. Dhalis slurs out his opening remarks, the weight of his words attempting, and failing, to mimic a momentous thunderclap.

"Esteemed Commanders and Captain," he declares, "we convene today on a matter of utmost importance." A dramatic pause follows, his pronouncement lingering in the air like an unwelcome houseguest. "The Ackerman bloodline."

The General utters the words with the gravitas one might reserve for announcing the cure for Titanism, a cure that would undoubtedly be more newsworthy than this current charade.

Here, in this room choked by the stench of bureaucratic ineptitude, the only true concern should be the ever present threat of humanity becoming Titan chum.

A tremor of unease ripples through the assembled commanders, a collective shiver down the spine of the room. Erwin, ever the opportunist, leans forward, transforming into the very image of rapt attention.

Nile, on the other hand, can not contain a scoff, a harsh sound that would likely send chills down the ever nervous Armin Arlert's spine.

His voice, dripping with disdain like a neglected mop, barks out, "The attack dogs utilized for combat by the Survey Corps and kept under their control - what bearing, if any, does this topic have on the current discourse?"

Dhalis counters Nile's scoff with a clipped retort, his tone as sharp as a drill sergeant addressing a trainee with the intellectual capacity of a sluggish spud. "With all due respect, Commander Dawk,," he emphasizes. "the Ackerman bloodline exhibits demonstrably abnormal combat capabilities. These capabilities demonstrably exceed even those of our most elite soldiers, if such a designation can be ascribed to the current standard."

Nile slams his fist down on the polished mahogany table, the resulting impact sending a tremor through the crystal glassware that evokes a startled flock of pigeons.

"The Ackermans are nothing more than volatile instruments of war! Their allegiances are fluid and dictated by whomever holds the reins of power! They are Smith's sword perpetually hanging over our heads, a festering danger to the very foundations of the Wall's Military!" He puffs out his chest, the very image of an outraged toddler whose favorite stuffed animal has been snatched away.

Predictably, the very mention of the Ackerman bloodline ignites a cacophony of idiocy within the room. Nile, bless his perpetually furrowed brow, predictably launches into a tirade about "the potential dangers," his voice laced with the kind of bluster one might expect from a petulant child.

Pixis drawls out a response, doing little to quell the simmering tension in the room. "While your concerns, Commander Dawk, are duly noted, perhaps a more measured approach is warranted.," he says, his voice dripping with a nonchalance that borders on mockery. "Captain Levi, appears content to fulfill his designated role. One might even argue he demonstrates a certain efficiency in battlefields And surely, their demonstrable utility in such endeavors cannot be entirely dismissed."

Dhalis clears his throat with a theatrical flourish, the universal signal for the assembled commanders to shut their yaps.

"Indeed, Commander Pixis," he concedes. "While I acknowledge Captain Levi's utility, Commander Pixis." He continues, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, as if he is about to drop a bombshell more explosive than a Titan spotting a juicy human morsel. "we must consider the entirety of the Ackerman bloodline. The private known as Mikasa Ackerman also warrants our attention in this discussion."

Nile growls, a bulldog with a stubborn bone lodged in its throat. "Private Mikasa Ackerman presents a potential complication," he spits out. "Her emotional attachment to the impulsive and reckless Private Eren Yeager, Humanity's Hope, could be a detriment to her objectivity. The military requires unwavering focus and strategic acumen, qualities potentially compromised by such sentimental entanglements."

Dhalis offers a curt nod, the gesture of a teacher indulging a slow student. "To be perfectly clear, Commander Dawk" he clarifies. "while Private Mikasa Ackerman's emotional attachments warrant observation, they are not the immediate cause for concern. Our primary focus must remain fixed upon Captain Levi, Humanity's Strongest Soldier. It is imperative that we establish, with absolute certainty, the nature of his allegiance. The military requires unwavering loyalty, a commitment that must be secured on a permanent basis"

They want to clip Levi's wings, transform him into a government sanctioned attack dog, a good little soldier following their every beck and call.

The irony is so thick, so suffocating, it could be slathered on burnt toast and passed off as a gourmet meal. Levi's loyalty, if they could even begin to understand it, lies solely with the singular objective of ending this bloody war.

And achieving that requires a hell of a lot more than empty promises and a patronizing pat on the head.

They dangle the Ackerman bloodline before him like a juicy carrot, all the while preparing to yank him in with a leash. Because, apparently, a goddamn Titan slaying machine, a man who has stared into the abyss and emerged unbroken, is a threat to their precious little power structure.

These self proclaimed leaders could not fight their way out of a paper bag, let alone navigate the treacherous political labyrinth they have constructed within these damned Walls.

The only true anomaly associated with the Ackerman bloodline is their complete and utter lack of tolerance for bureaucratic idiocy.

This s whole damn meeting is a pointless exercise in futility, a waste of valuable time that could be spent slicing Titans, not listening to them spout nonsense.

The only entertainment comes from watching these self important wind bags trip over their own inflated egos.

Maybe Levi should start a mental betting pool – Nile, with his perpetually constipated expression, or Pixis, with that oily salesman grin he can not seem to wipe off? Knowing their track record, it will be a nail biter of a finish.

Jaw clenches tighter, frustration a rising tide threatening to spill over. They have been droning on for an eternity, and not a single one of them has offered a decent cup of tea.

The lack of proper tea is a war crime in itself, and frankly, Levi is about to reach his breaking point.

Levi cuts through the tense air with his voice, a low monotone as sharp as a carving knife slicing through butter. "Loyalty," he declares, "is something that is earned, not something you bully into someone like a conscript force fed expired rations" His steely gaze sweeps across the room, taking each face in turn, a silent challenge. "If my lineage is such a delectable dish for your paranoid ruminations," he continues, leaning back slightly in his chair, "then by all means, let me demonstrate my value on the battlefield. It seems a far more productive use of time than this childish charade of bureaucratic musical chairs you've orchestrated here today."

A flicker of surprise, as fleeting as a gnat caught in a hurricane, crosses Dhalis' weathered face. Erwin, however, can not quite suppress a smirk playing on his lips.

The man understands Levi better than most, recognizes the unwavering dedication that burns within him like superheated Titan blood.

Pixis, the oily eel of a Garrison commander, leans back with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Perhaps, esteemed General," he drawls, his voice dripping with a false sincerity. "the Captain raises a salient observation. Indeed, why not allow him to take to the field? Let him spill his own crimson ichor in defense of humanity. In the crucible of combat, his loyalty can be forged anew, not through empty pronouncements, but through actions etched in the very blood he sheds for our collective survival."

Dhalis releases a sigh that ruffles the papers scattered across the table, the sound betraying the frustration simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.

Dhalis reaches up to stroke his beard, an unhealthy habit that likely yanks out more hair than a pack of hungry Titans swarming a buffet. "Very well, Captain Levi," he concedes, his voice laced with a begrudging acceptance that strains to mask his underlying apprehension. "You have been granted this… opportunity to demonstrate your fealty. Consider this a reprieve, a chance to redeem the inherent suspicion that clings to your bloodline like a persistent miasma." he leans forward, his gaze hardening into steely glint, "But make no mistake, Captain" he adds, a cruel edge creeping into his voice, "the moment even the slightest tremor of disloyalty betrays your actions, the repercussions will be as swift and merciless as the blade you wield so effectively. And let me assure you swiftness will be a forgotten luxury in the face of your transgression. The full weight of the military will come crashing down upon you, a juggernaut of retribution that will leave you yearning for the sweet embrace of oblivion.

Levi meets his gaze head on, his expression an unreadable mask. "Understood, sir," he replies, his voice betraying none of the storm brewing within him.

"However," Dhalis continues, his voice taking on a sly tone, "as Commander Pixis eloquently articulated, mere pronouncements hold little sway in this esteemed chamber. Deeds, Captain Levi, deeds are what we demand. As alluded to in our prior deliberations, the undeniable admiration Private Eren Yeager, Humanity's Hope holds for you, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, is a matter of public record. His unyielding trust in your capabilities borders on the fanatical, would you not agree? The boy would not hesitate to follow you into the very maw of a Titan itself. Therefore, we require a… proof, shall we say? A public spectacle that unequivocally demonstrates that Humanity's Strongest Soldier is, without question, prepared to adhere to our directives, regardless of their perceived absurdity or apparent pointlessness. We require absolute, unwavering certainty that your allegiance remains firmly tethered to the military. Any hint of wavering, of a potential defection that could see you and Eren Yeager stray from the designated path, will not be tolerated. The consequences of such a betrayal would reverberate throughout humanity's fragile existence. Imagine the chaos, the erosion of trust that would follow in the wake of your disobedience. Think of the fragile hope you would shatter, the blood that would stain the ground due to your misplaced loyalties. No, Captain Levi, we cannot, will not, accept such a catastrophic scenario. Therefore, a public display of your obedience is paramount. We need the world, and more importantly, Eren Yeager himself, to witness your unwavering commitment to this cause. Only then can we move forward with a semblance of confidence, knowing that our strongest soldier stands firmly beside us, not against us."

Levi's voice cuts through the veiled threats, cold and sharp as a discarded blade. "How exactly do I prove this loyalty you are so desperate for?"

Dhalis leans forward, his belly straining against his uniform like a sausage casing about to burst. If Levi squinted real hard, maybe he could pretend it was sincerity wrinkling his brow.

"Ah, Captain," Dhalis Zachary drawls, a sickeningly theatrical tone creeping into his voice, "there in lies the crux of the matter, would you not concur? It would be a most unfortunate turn of events, a veritable tragedy of epic proportions, if…" Tragedy? More like a comedy act gone horribly wrong. "…something unforeseen… were to befall our invaluable asset…" Unfortunate for who, exactly? "…Humanity's Strongest Soldier, Levi Ackerman. The potential loss of such a potent genealogical lineage, the Ackerman bloodline, brimming with unparalleled combat prowess - an unconscionable waste, would you not agree? A crying shame that would echo through the annals of humanity's struggle for survival. Fear not, Captain, would never dream of placing you in an untenable situation. However, a strategically orchestrated public display of obedience, one that showcases your unwavering commitment to this very institution, would be most… reassuring. Think of it as a necessary formality, a safeguard against the unforeseen. After all, who amongst us can predict the capricious hand of fate? Imagine the public outcry, the despair that would grip humanity, if some… mishap… were to befall our most prized weapon in the fight against the Titan menace. Surely, Captain, a man of your esteemed stature would not want to be the cause of such widespread devastation, would you?" His gaze fixes on Levi, "The task I propose, Captain, is a mere formality, a carefully choreographed performance designed to quell any lingering anxieties. Think of it as an investment in the future, a testament to the enduring unity between yourself and the very military of the Walls. After all, the potential consequences of your… disobedience, shall we say, are a prospect that would leave us all trembling in the face of an uncertain future."

Unease flickers across Nile's face, a fly caught in a spiderweb. The man is a walking bad mood on a good day, but even he seems to recoil at the thought. Turning soldiers into government breeding stock? The very idea is enough to make a Titan reconsider its lunch options.

Nile growls, "Are you implying, General," he spits, disgusted "that we revisit that proposition tabled earlier, the one concocted in hushed tones between yourself, Commander Smith, Commander Pixis, and myself? The utterly repugnant notion of Captain Ackerman being transformed into some… government sanctioned stallion?" The word hangs in the air, vulgar and obscene, shattering any remaining pretense of decorum in the room. "The very notion is not only abhorrent but strategically unsound!"

Government sanctioned stud? Levi's blood runs cold, a primal fury clawing its way up his throat. The audacity of these men! Do they think Levi is some mindless beast to be bred in captivity? A weapon to be passed down through generations?

The General might acknowledge the validity of Nile's point, but government sanctioned stud? Even these pompous windbags have a limit on their tact, apparently.

Dhalis clears his throat, the sound like a clogged drain trying to cough up a hairball. "Commander Dawk, while your concerns regarding the… unorthodox proposition previously discussed are duly noted, perhaps a more nuanced approach might be warranted. We must consider the long game, do you not agree? Who can say what unforeseen threats lurk beyond the Walls, what monstrous adversaries may rise to challenge humanity's very existence? Therefore, would it not be prudent, some might even say a matter of humanity's security, to ensure the… continuation of the Ackerman bloodline? After all," he wheezes, strained like a man trying to swallow a rotten potato whole. "their demonstrably superior combat prowess is an asset too valuable to squander. Perhaps, a more… conventional arrangement could be facilitated. A suitable female candidate, carefully vetted for loyalty and robust health, could be identified. A union, orchestrated with the utmost discretion, could see the Ackerman lineage flourish, a safeguard against the potential horrors that the future may hold." He continues, the word dripping with self serving righteousness, "There is much to consider, do you not agree? But surely, the potential benefits outweigh any initial discomfort such a course of action might engender."

This attempt to sugarcoat their barbaric proposition with necessity is about as transparent as a window.

Erwin stays silent, a mask hiding any flicker of internal debate. Maybe he is strategizing, formulating an escape plan for this bureaucratic nightmare.

Who knows what goes on behind that calculating mind of his?

"Are you suggesting, that I become a government sanctioned sperm bank for the Walls?" Levi's voice cuts through the obfuscation, a blade slicing through their web of lies.

Dhalis, the oblivious buffoon, throws his head back and lets out a laugh that grates on Levi's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. The amusement in his eyes is a stark contrast to the thundercloud that has formed above Nile's perpetually grumpy face.

Does this man find humor in reducing a soldier to nothing more than a stud?

Levi's urge to wipe that smug grin off his face with his bare fists is overwhelming.

"Now, now, Captain Levi," Dhalis wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes brought on by his amusement. "There is no need for such modesty! Consider this a paramount contribution to the very survival of humanity, your ultimate patriotic duty! Imagine the glorious possibilities! Why, with a little," He leans forward, his eyes gleaming with a manic glint that sends shivers down spines more accustomed to Titan chills. "Imagine the possibilities!" he crows. "… selective breeding, we could cultivate an entire goddamn army of Ackermans! An unstoppable legion, bred for war and impervious to Titan threats! Think of it, Captain Levi," he trails off, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we could engineer the ultimate weapon, humanity's salvation forged from your genes! Generations of Ackerman prodigies, each one a genetic marvel honed for combat! The very future of humanity rests upon your… cooperation, Captain." he continues, "Refusal to cooperate with this endeavor, however distasteful it may seem, could be misconstrued as… disloyalty. And disloyalty, Captain, as we have already established, has a very unpleasant cost. So Captain, what say you? Will you embrace your patriotic duty and become the progenitor of a Titan slaying army, or will you force us to consider… alternative solutions?"

Is he reading out some twisted fairytale? These are not puppies you can breed for good looks and tricks, these are lives, lives he has ready to gamble on like chips in a rigged game.

The sheer audacity of these self important buffoons leaves Levi momentarily speechless. An army of mindless Ackerman babies, bred like cattle to fight their battles?

The very notion is so ludicrous it borders on comical. Almost. Levi forces down the urge to laugh, instead opting for a slow, deliberate blink.

The icy glint in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent challenge that hangs heavy in the air.

Nile's question cuts through the idiocy like a blade through overcooked cabbage. "And who, pray tell, General, who would be the lucky lady tasked with… producing this Ackerman army of yours?" He drawls the words.

An army of Ackermans, bred like some twisted livestock? The image that flashes in Levi's mind is enough to make him clench his fists so hard his nails dig into his palms.

Who would be the sacrificial lamb in this grotesque breeding program?

Nile's question is seemingly ignored.

A flicker of interest crosses Erwin's face, a spark of intrigue igniting in his blue eyes. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on General Dhalis with a healthy dose of skepticism. "Intriguing," he finally concedes, his voice measured and devoid of emotion. "The potential for such a military force… an army specifically bred and trained to combat the Titan menace… it is a concept that warrants serious consideration. The Ackerman bloodline, with its demonstrably superior martial prowess, could indeed be the cornerstone of such a revolutionary endeavor." He leans back in his chair, his voice dropping to a low growl. "However," he continues, his gaze turning laser focused on Dhalis, "one must approach such a proposition with utmost caution. The ramifications of failure, of a genetic experiment gone awry, could be catastrophic. And frankly, General," he adds with a sardonic edge, "your sudden and fervent advocacy for Captain Ackerman's… reproductive contributions leaves much to be desired. I wonder what ulterior motives might lurk beneath the surface of your zealous enthusiasm." He fixes Dhalis with a stare that could crack stone. "Nevertheless," he concedes with a sigh, "the potential benefits are undeniable. Therefore, I am willing to entertain this proposition, on a trial basis. Captain Ackerman will be… monitored closely. The success or failure of this venture will hinge entirely upon his cooperation, and upon the viability of replicating the Ackerman lineage. Only time will tell," he concludes, his voice laced with a hint of grim determination, "if this gamble will reap the rewards we so desperately seek, or usher in a new era of unforeseen horrors."

Nile, bless his perpetually grumpy soul, erupts like a volcano spewing common sense. "Insane!" he bellows, a bulldog who has not only had his bone snatched, but stomped into oblivion by Dhalis' twisted amusement. "We can not trust these Ackermans!" He throws his hands up in exasperation. "Who knows what kind of pint sized killing machines they will churn out?

The image that explodes in my Levi's mind is terrifying – miniature versions of himself, miniature Levi's running amok, tearing through the streets with a bloodthirsty gleam in their tiny eyes.

"Indeed," Dhalis concedes, "there are intricate details that necessitate further refinement before we can proceed. However," he continues, his voice taking on a forceful tone, "the potential benefits for humanity's survival are undeniable. Captain Levi," he leans forward, his gaze turning into a predatory glint, "the choice before you is stark. Are you prepared to… contribute" – he emphasizes the word with a distasteful flourish – "to this endeavor, for the supposed good of humanity? Your compliance, of course, would be viewed most favorably." He pauses for a beat, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "However," he continues, his voice hardening into a dangerous growl, "should you choose the path of dissent, the consequences for your disloyalty will be swift and severe. We will not hesitate to leverage Private Mikasa Ackerman as a… necessary participant in this, ahem, breeding program. Furthermore," he adds with a cruel twist of his lips, "the currently planned operation to reclaim territory from the Titans, an operation you hold rather dear, Captain, if whispers are to be believed, would be indefinitely postponed. Let us be perfectly clear," he leans forward, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "this is not a negotiation. This is a decree. The future of humanity hangs in the balance, Captain. Do you truly wish to be the one who stands in its way? Does such an outcome, fraught with personal sacrifice and the potential to doom mankind, truly appeal to you?" He leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowed, waiting for Levi's response, the air thick with unspoken threats and a palpable sense of distrust.

Punishment or breeding program? He may as well be asking Levi to choose between getting devoured by a Titan or becoming one himself. The veiled threat about Mikasa, about the mission – a desperate attempt to yank on his leash, a leash he never agreed to wear.

Now Levi understands Erwin's … acquiescence to this farce. The mission dangled in front of him, a carrot to a desperate horse, all to get his grubby little hands on Grisha Yeager's basement and whatever secrets lie buried there.

The audacity of these self serving buffoons is breathtaking. Do they truly believe Humanity's Strongest Soldier can be reduced to a mindless beast to be controlled, a cog in their eugenics scheme? Levi meets Dhalis' gaze head on, his own eyes as cold and unforgiving as a Titan's stare. His posture remains rigid, a silent testament to his unwavering defiance.

Dhalis, sensing Levi;s resistance, does something unexpected. A barely perceptible smile, devoid of warmth or humor, tugs at the corner of his lips.

It is not a smile of camaraderie, but something far more unsettling - a predator sizing up its prey.

Let them stew in their own uncertainty. The real question is, when the time comes, will they be the ones holding the leash, or will Levi be the one snapping it in half?

"We acknowledge, Captain Levi," General Dhalis begins, his voice dripping with a false sincerity, "your unwavering dedication to the Survey Corps. Indeed, such loyalty is a beacon of hope in these perilous times. However," he continues, his tone subtly shifting, "loyalty, much like any well forged bond, demands reciprocity. Can we, in good conscience," he asks, his voice laden with veiled doubt, "extend our trust to a man with your… unconventional background? A past shrouded in the criminal underbelly, a stain on your otherwise exemplary record." He leans forward, his gaze turning into a predatory glint. "If you choose to defy this directive, Captain," he warns, his voice hardening with barely concealed menace, "we will be compelled to revisit those unsavory legal entanglements that dogged your past existence in the Underground. Those little indiscretions, conveniently swept under the rug upon your enlistment with the Survey Corps, will be resurrected with ruthless efficiency. The pact of silence, a tacit agreement reliant upon your continued obedience, will be null and void." He throws his hands out in a theatrical gesture. "Disobeying an order, Captain," he continues, his voice laced with a chilling finality, "is tantamount to disobeying the very military that has shielded you from the consequences of your past transgressions. The consequences, I assure you, would be swift and merciless. You will find yourself stripped of your rank, stripped of your freedom, and cast back into the very depths you so desperately clawed your way out of. The Underground beckons, Captain, its cold embrace a fitting punishment for disobedience." He leans back in his chair, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "The choice is yours, Captain. Will you honor the unspoken pact that binds you to this institution, or will you risk a return to the abyss?"

Nile Dawk, that perpetually grumpy bulldog of a Garrison commander, can not quite suppress a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"My past, has absolutely no bearing on my current abilities." Levi's face is a blank slate, an unreadable mask that would not crack under a Titan's roar. Let them stew in their ignorance. Levi's past, those scrapes and scuffles in the Underground, those were like pebbles on a dirt road compared to the mountains he hass climbed since joining the Survey Corps.

Who cares about a few youthful indiscretions, or for that matter, overthrowing a corrupt monarchy? Water under the bridge, ancient history best left buried.

Dhalis lets out a chuckle, a dry, humorless sound that sends shivers skittering down Hange's spine despite the summer heat radiating from Pixis' ever present belly.

"Ah, Captain Levi," General Dhalis purrs, leaning forward in his chair with a predatory glint in his eye. "It appears you harbor a fundamental misunderstanding," he continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that could curdle the blood of a seasoned Titan researcher. "Your past, Captain," he emphasizes each word with deliberate weight, "is far more… nuanced than you might believe. It is a tapestry woven with threads of rebellion, a penchant for violence that borders on the barbaric, and a rather lengthy, shall we say, apprenticeship in the notoriously brutal underbelly known as the Underground." He leans back, a hint of a cruel smile playing on his lips. "A most… colorful background, do you not agree? One that raises a multitude of questions regarding your suitability for the critical role we envision for you." His gaze narrows, scrutinizing Levi with an intensity that could bore holes through steel. "The question, Captain, is not whether you are loyal to the Survey Corps – your dedication is undeniable. The true question lies in the depths of your allegiance. Can we, in good conscience, entrust the future of humanity to a man whose past reeks of defiance and whose very existence is steeped in the savagery of the Underground? Loyalty, Captain, is a double edged sword. It demands not only obedience but also unwavering trust. And in your case, Captain," he concludes with a chilling finality, "that trust is a most precarious commodity." The air in the room hangs heavy with suspicion, a silent battle of wills waged between a man haunted by his past and a ruthless leader determined to exploit it.

A flicker of something - annoyance, perhaps, or maybe a tightly leashed fury - crosses Levi's features for a fleeting moment before he slap it back down under the mask.

These self important buffoons would not know a colorful picture if it bit them in their oiled ass.

"Those… youthful transgressions," General Dhalis continues, drawing out the silence with practiced ease, like a skilled interrogator milking a suspect for information. "By the benevolence of the military, these incidents have been relegated to the dustbin of history… for the time being. Consider them a dark stain on an otherwise pristine record, Captain, a lapse in judgment shrouded in the merciful cloak of the military's discretion." He leans back in his chair, a predator savoring the discomfort of its prey. "However," he continues, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, "let us not mince words, Captain. This amnesty, this act of extraordinary leniency, is a weapon. While it shields you from the harshest repercussions of your past, it also binds you to the military in a way most soldiers can only dream of. Your freedom, Captain," he emphasizes the word with a cruel twist of his lips, "is a conditional privilege, a gift bestowed with the expectation of unwavering loyalty." He fixes Levi with a cold stare.

This is about control.

They want to shackle Humanity's Strongest Soldier, a weapon of unparalleled skill honed in the fires of the Underground, to their will. Turn him into a loyal attack dog who only answers to their whistle.

The only thing they are overlooking is the fact that leashes can be chewed through, snapped, or used to strangle the very hand holding them.

'Well, General, you may think you have got me backed into a corner, but let me tell you something - corners have a nasty habit of disappearing when you know how to fight dirty. You do not even how much "former" criminal I can be.'

Levi's fists clench at his sides, the only outward sign of the tempest brewing within.

Years of meticulously crafting a life within the Survey Corps, the grudging respect he has earned through rivers of blood and mountains of Titan corpses, all teetering on the precipice of collapse at the whim of this power hungry peacock of a General.

Dhalis' self satisfied visage makes Levi want to wipe it off his face with the back of his hand, but the glint in his eyes, cold and calculating, warns against such impulsive actions.

Nile Dawk, that bulldog of a Military Police commander who perpetually looks like he is one bad nap away from spontaneous combustion, can not contain himself any longer.

A low, guttural chuckle erupts from him, the sound as pleasant as a Titan gnawing on a stubborn bone.

Dhalis leans back in his chair, the picture of smug satisfaction. The predatory glint in his eyes intensifies, and for a moment, Levi almost expects him to unsheathe a pair of claws from beneath his manicured fingernails.

"So, Captain Ackerman," he purrs, the word dripping with false sincerity, "are we in agreement? Do you continue to serve humanity, conveniently forgetting your little… indiscretions, under the banner of the Survey Corps, or do we take a stroll down memory lane and revisit those… misplaced documents?"

The seconds tick by, each one an agonizing hammer blow against the already suffocating atmosphere. Levi's jaw remains clenched, his face an impassive mask that would not crack even if a Titan decided to use it for target practice.

A battle rages behind Levi's icy gaze, a war between self preservation and the gnawing sense of being played like a cheap fiddle.

The weight of the decision presses down on him with the crushing force of a Titan's fist.

"You leave me with no options, General."

It is not an agreement, not truly. It is a surrender, a forced compliance in the face of an impossible situation.

"A wise decision, Captain Levi," General Dhalis purrs, his voice oozing with a cloying satisfaction that sends a shiver down spines in the room. "We had every confidence that reason would ultimately prevail." He directs a dismissive gesture towards Erwin Smith. "The details of this… accord," he continues, his voice laced with a subtle emphasis on the word, "will be meticulously overseen by Commander Erwin Smith, with myself, of course, maintaining a watchful eye on proceedings. He," he adds with a pointed look in Erwin's direction, "will ensure your… contribution to the perpetuation of humanity is both optimized and meticulously documented." The veiled threat hangs heavy in the air – cooperation will be rigorously monitored, any misstep scrutinized.

Contribution. Right. As if Levi has any say in the matter. More like ensure his continued usefulness as their personal Titan slaying attack dog.

The rhythmic tap tap tap of Levi's boots echoes through the sterile hallway, a chilling counterpoint to the silent scream building in his chest. This is not walking, it is a war march towards an enemy he can not quite punch.

Each step is a beat in the symphony of his simmering fury, punctuated only by the silence that hangs heavy in the air. This silence is a tangible entity, thick with the absurdity of the mission he has been strong armed into accepting.

Erwin's office door looms ahead, a stark slab of wood mocking Levi with its finality. The nameplate, "Erwin Smith, Commander, Survey Corps", bold and brassy, screams "authority" – the very thing they are trying to assert over Levi.

Levi takes deep breath, not to calm the inferno, but to fan it into a roaring blaze. This is not about calming down, it is about channeling the anger, using it as a weapon. Fist meets wood in a resounding boom, the impact echoing like a challenge through the hallway. The windows rattles, a surprised gasp from within the office the only response I crave.

A startled yell of "Come in!" pierces through the wood. Levi throws the door open with a flourish that would make a Titan flinch, entering Erwin's office in a whirlwind of barely contained rage. The room itself is a spartan reflection of its perpetually calculating occupant. Maps and battle plans dominate the walls, a grim tapestry chronicling humanity's losing struggle against the Titans. These plans, however, seem sterile and lifeless compared to the raw, simmering anger radiating off Levi.

Paperwork teeters like a drunken soldier on Erwin's desk, the only sign of life in this sterile office besides the furious scribbling of his quill. The quill looks like it wrestled an enthusiastic rodent for ink. Erwin glances up, that glint of amusement in his sapphire eyes like a taunting dare.

The door slams shut behind Levi, the sound a physical manifestation of the rage choking him. Each step towards the Commander's desk is a calculated move, a predator stalking its prey. Levi stops just a hair's breadth away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, and lock eyes with him.

Levi's gaze is a thousand suns focused into a single, icy point, a silent scream before the real roar begins. The air itself seems to crackle under the pressure, a tangible tension that hangs heavy in the air like a storm about to break.

This "arrangement," this leash they have forced around Levi's neck – it twists with every beat of his heart, a constant reminder of the simmering fury boiling beneath the surface.

"Levi," Erwin greets, a hint of amusement flickering in the depths of his blue iris. "What brings you here in such a… dramatic state?"

"Let us talk about the little… surprise Dhalis dropped on me today," Levi demands, his voice laced with barely contained fury. The very notion of Dhalis' "surprise" leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Surprise? More like a thinly veiled threat masquerading as bureaucratic hell.

"Levi," Erwin begins, his voice even and steady, a stark contrast to the raw emotions swirling around the Captain. "About the Ackerman proposition," he inquires, his tone more curious than accusatory. "Yes, I was aware of it. In fact," he continues with a wry smile, "I spent the weeks leading up to this meeting locked in a rather tedious exchange of letters with Dhalis, arguing the finer points until I thought my head might explode."

Erwin lets out a sigh that sounds like the air escaping a punctured Titan tire. He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to physically block out the sheer absurdity of the situation. The image paints a clear picture: Erwin, the brilliant strategist, forced to waste his time arguing with Dhalis, the buffoonish general, over a ludicrous proposition.

"Dhalis," Erwin mutters, the word dripping with contempt, "would clutch at any straw to keep the Survey Corps on a leash. Any leverage, no matter how ludicrous, seems fair game in his twisted little power grab."

"And that straw," Levi counters, his voice laced with enough bitterness to curdle milk, "happens to be my… reproductive system?"

The very concept is so absurd it takes Levi a moment to process it, and even then, the words come out sounding like he is choking on gravel. The image of him, humanity's strongest soldier reduced to glorified diaper duty, is enough to make him want to disinfect his brain with industrial grade disinfectant.

Erwin's sigh morphs into a long, weary groan that speaks volumes about the weight of his command. The man looks ten years older after his little meeting with Dhalis.

"Believe me, Levi," he says, his voice heavy with a sincerity that almost sounds genuine, "let me assure you, the last thing I want is to see you reduced to some stud for the military's benefit. And the thought of your hypothetical offspring being mere pawns in this twisted game? Frankly, it revolts me." he continues, leaning forward and locking eyes with Levi, "The Survey Corps, would never stand for such a blatant violation of your autonomy. We fight for humanity's freedom, not to become some twisted eugenics project. Besides" he adds, "the whole proposition is ridiculous on a practical level. Imagine the logistics involved! The paperwork alone would be a nightmare."

Levi's eyes narrow into slits, skepticism radiating off him like heat waves. "So why do you not shut this whole charade down, Commander Erwin?" he challenges. "Is that not your job, Commander? Making the tough calls, navigating the political labyrinth, and steering this damn ship through the storm? Or are you content to just shuffle paperwork while they dangle my balls over a fire?"

Erwin meets Levi's gaze head on, his blue eyes unwavering. "In an ideal world, Levi," he says, his voice firm, "of course I would put a stop to this nonsense. But the reality is far from ideal. Dhalis recognizes our potential, the potential of the Survey Corps, and he craves control. He wants to leash us, turn us into his own personal attack dogs."

Levi scoffs, a harsh rasp that echoes in the confines of the office. "Entrap our potential? You make it sound like some noble pursuit. They want a goddamn weapon, Erwin. An army of genetically modified super soldiers, all stamped with the convenient 'Ackerman' brand name."

The image that pops into his head again - miniature, murderous Levi Ackermans tearing through the streets - is both horrifying and oddly adorable.

Erwin shakes his head resolutely. "No, Levi. That is not what I want. And," he continues, his voice dropping, "I assure you, I will not allow them to use your children, or any potential offspring for that matter, as pawns in their twisted game."

A flicker of doubt dances in Levi's eyes, battling with the anger that still simmers beneath the surface. "What makes you think you have any say in the matter?" I ask, his voice laced with a challenge.

Erwin may be the Commander, but that does not mean he has complete control over Levi or his … superior reproductive capabilities.

"Levi," Erwin leans forward, his voice laced with a seriousness that brooks no argument, "let me get one thing perfectly clear. You, Levi Ackerman, are an indispensable asset to the Survey Corps. Perhaps our most indispensable, if I am being honest. Your skills, your unwavering dedication to purging the Titans from this world – these are qualities that cannot be easily replicated. We need you on the front lines, your blades flashing like a storm as you cut a bloody swathe through those grotesque monstrosities. The thought of you being relegated to some… government sanctioned breeding program," he lets out a snort of derision, "is frankly ludicrous." He fixes Levi with a steady gaze. "However," he continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we need a concession, Levi. Dhalis, that pompous windbag, requires a certain… optics play to secure approval for the operation we have been discussing. The idea of a potential Ackerman bloodline legacy, a new generation of Titan-slaying prodigies – it is a narrative they find palatable. So, yes," he acknowledges with a sigh, "fathering children may be a technical requirement to appease the bean counters. But there is the thing, Levi," he places a hand on the Captain's shoulder, his voice firm but friendly, "those children, your children, will not become pawns in this game. Their future is their own. The Survey Corps will ensure their safety and well being, but any choices they make, any paths they choose to walk, will be theirs alone. This is a necessary deception, Levi, a strategic maneuver to secure the resources we desperately need to achieve our true objective: to eradicate the Titans once and for all. We need you on the battlefield, Levi, and I assure you, I will fight tooth and nail to ensure your freedom and that of your future progeny. We are in this together, Captain. Now, let us go carve a bloody path through those Titan hordes and show the world what humanity is truly capable of." Erwin leans back in his chair, a determined glint in his eyes.

Levi's gaze drifts to the map plastered on the wall, a tangled web of humanity's despair. Walls that confines them, Titans that devour them – it is a suffocating cage. The weight of the situation, the impossible choices Erwin faces, presses down on Levi like a physical force.

Erwin may not be the enemy here, but he is certainly not the one calling all the shots.

"Alright, Levi," Erwin begins, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, "let's dissect this whole charade, shall we? Dhalis, bless his ambitious heart, has undoubtedly already identified a woman deemed genetically and physically suitable receptacles for your, ahem, Ackerman seed." He pauses for a moment, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But fear not," he continues, his voice laced with a dash of humor, "I have every confidence that this… candidate will not resemble… farm equipment." Erwin throws his head back and lets out a short, humorless laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. "The good General may have a rather… agricultural approach to this whole thing," he adds with a wink, "but rest assured, Levi, I will not subject you to such a crass charade."

Levi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Just keep the wide eyed, hero worshipping brats fresh out of the womb away from me," he retorts. The mere thought of babysitting some hormonal, hero worshipping brat is enough to make him yearn for the sweet embrace of a Titan's maw (Hange would find that amusing, to say the least). At least a Titan would not judge his social skills (or lack thereof).

Erwin throws his head back and lets out a genuine laugh, a full bodied sound that fills the office with an unexpected warmth. "The entire concept of this breeding program is absurd! Ludicrous, even," Erwin exclaims, his voice laced with a frustration that Levi clearly shares. "It is more ludicrous than the idea of a Titan trying to waltz in a tutu."

The mental image that springs to mind - a lumbering, naked Titan clumsily pirouetting in a ballet skirt - is enough to almost make Levi gag.

Levi raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in Levi's icy gaze despite the tense situation. "Ludicrous?" He echoes. "Erwin, we are talking about manipulating human genetics here. This is not some barnyard breeding experiment gone wrong. These buffoons are talking about creating a super soldier factory, and they want me as the star breeding stallion."

"Exactly my point, Levi, think of the logistical nightmare! Compatibility testing, mountains of paperwork, not to mention the potential for some truly… nightmarish sexually transmitted… anomalies." He shudders dramatically, the image clearly repugnant to him. "The whole thing is a bureaucratic minefield waiting to explode in Dhalis's face."

A grimace curls Levi's lip. Erwin's words conjure a mental image of some grotesque, Titan sized sexually transmitted diseases that will make even the most hardened Wall cultist reconsider their life choices.

"Now that is a horror story I would not want to read," he says.

"Indeed," Erwin agrees, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "Let me introduce you to the candidate selected."

"Now, to the specifics of this… arrangement," Erwin continues, his voice adopting a dryly official tone. "Dhalis has selected a candidate, a young woman named Letta Reader. She is, as of this year, twenty four years of age. Her background includes a stint with the Interior Military Police's Anti Personnel Control Squad." He pauses for a moment, consulting a document in his hand. "However," he adds, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "recent events have cast a shadow over Ms. Reader's otherwise exemplary record. Apparently, she expressed… misplaced loyalty towards a certain Kenny Ackerman, an individual whose activities have been deemed detrimental to public safety." Erwin sighs, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "This lapse in judgment has resulted in her incarceration. The General proposes a… unique solution. If Ms. Reader agrees to participate in this endeavor, to contribute to the continuation of the Ackerman bloodline, as it were, her release from custody can be facilitated, with the full endorsement of the Survey Corps."

He leans forward, his gaze fixed on Levi. "It is important to note, Captain," he continues, "that Ms. Reader hails from Trost District, a region well within Wall Rose. She chose to dedicate herself to serving humanity by joining the military, and her record, prior to this unfortunate entanglement, was indeed unblemished. Furthermore," he adds, a hint of intrigue flickering in his eyes, "her ingenuity extends beyond the battlefield. Ms. Reader is credited with the design of the Anti-Personnel Vertical Maneuvering Gear, a significant contribution to the Military Police's arsenal." He steeples his fingers, his expression thoughtful. "Letta Reader, Captain, is a complex individual. A woman of unquestionable talent, but one whose judgment has been demonstrably flawed." Erwin sits back in his chair, leaving the weight of this unexpected information to settle upon Levi. The fate of a woman, the potential future of the Ackerman bloodline, all hinged on Levi's next move.

Kenny. The name explodes in Levi's head, a grenade lobbed into the fragile peace. Supporting Kenny Ackerman? Stupid girl. They are using you as a leverage, dangling you freedom in front of you. Carry Levi's child, support the Survey Corps, and maybe, just maybe, you walk free. Erwin continues, his voice monotone as he reads from the file, a litany of facts that blur together in Levi's anger. Trost born, military history, even designed the new ODM gear.

Levi's face remains an impassive mask, but a flicker of fury dances in his icy blue eyes. He keeps his voice low, controlled, but the anger is palpable. "What makes you think I'd even consider breeding with a criminal branded by Kenny's actions? This entire thing reeks of Dhalis' amusement, does it not?"

Erwin lets out a sigh, a weary sound that speaks volumes. "Amusement? For Dhalis, it is more than that. You know how twisted his mind is."

Levi clenches his fists, his jaw set tight. "Kenny is s still alive," he mutters, more to himself than to Erwin. "Out there somewhere…"

Erwin steeples his fingers and leans forward, consulting the document in his hand. "Now, Levi," he begins, his voice adopting a more neutral tone, "it appears there is more to Ms. Reader's profile. According to her records, she graduated with distinction from the 95th Cadet Corps, achieving the esteemed honor of ranking top of her class. Her instructors noted a tendency towards introversion and a reserved demeanor, with a social circle on the smaller side." He pauses for a moment, a hint of curiosity flickering in his gaze. "They further describe her as a staunch adherent to regulations, a 'by the book' individual who takes her duties with utmost seriousness. However," he continues, "these observations are counterbalanced by exceptional physical prowess. Her trainers consistently lauded her remarkable speed and fast reflexes. While raw strength may not be her most pronounced attribute," he acknowledges, "she possesses great level of stamina, allowing her to sustain peak performance during extended engagements. Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Ms. Reader's profile," he continues, his voice dropping to a murmur, "is a certain… philosophical detachment. Her instructors noted a distinct apathy towards life and a somewhat unsettling acceptance of the ever present threat of death. This, coupled with her relentless pursuit of objectives, keen observational skills, and unwavering focus, are also nited." He takes a deep breath, his gaze meeting Levi's with unwavering intensity. "However," he adds, his voice hardening slightly, "the report also mentions a certain… inflated sense of self worth. While not overtly arrogant, Ms. Reader appears to possess a healthy dose of pride, perhaps even bordering on egotism. This, Captain, is a trait that may require careful management." A wry smile tugs at the corner of Erwin's lips as he continues, his voice regaining its formal tone. "The report concludes with a rather… unexpected observation. While Ms. Reader presents a demure and innocent facade, it appears her instructors harbored suspicions of a more… unconventional private life. Apparently, rumors circulated amongst her peers regarding a surprising number of casual sexual encounters. These suspicions, however, remain unsubstantiated." He leans back in his chair, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Levi lets out a frustrated groan, his arm rising to shield his eyes as he leans back in the chair. "That last bit of information was entirely unnecessary," he mutters, the irritation evident in his voice. The woman's sexual history is the least of his concerns. The idea of being reduced to a mere breeding stallion, especially with a woman seemingly chosen for her 'reproductive capabilities', is enough to make him clench his fists in silent fury.

Erwin flips open a file, revealing a stark portrait. Charcoal against faded paper, it captures a woman Levi does recognize. Her features are fine, delicate even, but her eyes hold a story the sketch can not quite tell.

Short, dark hair frames a face devoid of the hero worship he expected. No doe eyed wonder, no simpering smile. Instead, a quiet resignation stares back at him, a flicker of something that looks suspiciously like… despair.

Levi studies the portrait. This woman is not what he pictured. None of this is. No wide eyed cadets, no government sanctioned brood mares.

Just this quiet woman, a portrait of quiet indifference that edges dangerously close to… despair.

"This is her?" He finally manages, hua voice low and even.

"Indeed, Captain," Erwin replies. "Meet Letta Reader."

More like meet your… procreation partner, courtesy of Dhalis' twisted machinations.

Levi's gaze remains fixed on the portrait, dissecting her features line by line. Soft cheeks contrasted by a defined jawline, a hint of defiance beneath the resignation. There is an undeniable beauty there, a quiet strength that seems at odds with the defeat in her eyes.

The thought of being strong armed into this… procreative charade with her leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. A branded criminal, no less. Especially when the whole charade seems orchestrated by the ever manipulative Dhalis. This feels like a cage, another way to leash him and control the strongest soldier humanity has.

But a different kind of cage. This one does not feel like bars and locks, but like obligations and expectations.

A different kind of burden, but a burden nonetheless.

Maybe Dhalis is not the only one playing games here. Erwin, with his secrets and desperation – is he the warden of this particular cage, or another prisoner himself?

"You'll be meeting with this… (F/N) (L/N) tomorrow," Erwin announces, flipping the file shut. "Dhalis will be there, of course, along with Pixis, Dawk, and myself. I'll also inform Hange, if you have no objections."

Levi scoffs, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "A meeting? This whole charade just keeps getting more bizarre with each passing minute. Are we expected to discuss baby names and nursery decor in front of a room full of overstuffed, lecherous swine?"

"The meeting is crucial," Erwin explains, a hint of exasperation tinging his voice. "You and (F/N) will have the opportunity to discuss boundaries, parental rights, and expectations. There will also be a contract to sign, outlining the terms of this… arrangement."

Clearly, the fate of humanity hinges on Levi's ability to… procreate according to a government sanctioned contract.

Contract. The word hangs heavy in the air, a physical manifestation of the absurdity of the situation. Being issued an official order to impregnate a woman feels like a new low, even for the Survey Corps.

The whole notion is barbaric, a far cry from the strategic brilliance and deadly maneuvers Levi is accustomed to employing.

Levi's whole life, his entire being, has been poured into this damn Survey Corps.

Even after Farlan and Isabel, even after that gaping wound in his soul, he kept pushing forward.

Grief, a relentless tide, he channeled it all into this fight, this desperate struggle for humanity's survival. Erwin, the embodiment of that fight, became his guiding star.

Backing down now, kowtowing to these bureaucratic leeches, would be the ultimate betrayal. A slap in the face to every fallen comrade who entrusted Levi with their sacrifice, their shredded dreams woven into the fabric of this cause.

This… breeding program. A sickening joke, a perversion of everything he stands for. But the alternative? Letting Erwin down, letting the ghosts of his squad haunt the halls with their unfulfilled futures – that is a path he refuses to walk.

This is just another indignity, another hurdle to clear, another grotesque Titan to slay. Fine.

This is about more than him. This is about honoring the fallen, their sacrifices a flickering torch he holds aloft in this suffocating world. They died believing in a dream, a dream he refuses to let die with them. So he will clench my teeth, swallow his disgust, and play this hand they have dealt him.

[daitranscripts]

Solas Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About Your Journeys

Solas Masterpost

Positive approval, Skyhold only

PC: I’d like to hear more about what you saw in your exploration of the Fade.

Solas: I would be happy to share it with you.

1 - Dialogue options:

General: Tell me about spirits. [2] +Solas slightly approves

General: Tell me about old ruins. [3] +Solas slightly approves

General: Tell me about old memories. [4] +Solas slightly approves

General: Goodbye.

2 - General: Tell me about spirits. PC: Tell me about a spirit you encountered.

Solas: I met a friendly spirit who observed the dreams of village girls as love first blossomed in their adolescence. With subtlety, she steered them all to village boys with gentle hearts who would return their love with gentle kindness. The Matchmaker, so I called her. That small village never knew its luck. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: The Alamarri crossed the Frostback Mountains to escape a beast they called the shadow goddess in their stories. I met the spirit that they fled. She walks the Fade along the southern tundra, weeping, lonely, and forgotten. Great Ferelden formed because a lonely spirit drove her prey away. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found an ancient spirit who had once been undisputed king of almost every land I had discovered. Like pride or rage, it was the Fade’s reflection of a feeling. When I asked which one it was, the spirit faltered. “They’ve forgotten,” said the spirit. “There remains no word for what I was.” [back to 1]

3 - General: Tell me about old ruins. PC: Tell me about the old ruins you explored.

Solas: I found the ruin of Barindur, a lost Tevinter city buried deep beneath a dead and barren wasteland. Volcanic ash had sealed it tight. In one dark moment, every living creature in the city seared and smothered. They were statues in the ashes, like a mold made to recall the lost. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found an ancient dwarven thaig no longer sheltered by the stone. An earthquake had exposed it all to daylight. A thousand dwarven corpses lay, the victims of a darkspawn horde, their last stand marked by one great ring of armor. In the middle, one small body, clutching tightly to a small stuffed toy. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found in the Korcari Wilds a humble cottage far removed from any of the simple Chasind tribesmen. The trees and weeds had not reclaimed the home nor did the Chasind dare to come and steal the trinkets still remaining. It was empty, long abandoned, but the world feared that she might return. [back to 1]

4 - General: Tell me about old memories. PC: Tell me about the old memories you found in the Fade.

Solas: I saw a savage human horde go marching toward the battlefront. They sang a soldier’s hymn to keep formation. The primal music shook the ground. These savage unwashed warriors carried harmonies no Chantry choir has mastered. Though their cause was all but hopeless, they sang songs that made the spirits weep. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I saw a dwarf emerge into the light of day and shield his eyes against the sun, the first time he had seen it. The tears were streaming from his eyes. I thought them from the blazing light until I saw the rock he held so tightly. Then he laid the rock down gently, and he left it as he walked away. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I saw a young Qunari working in a simple kitchen, baking bread as she was ordered every morning. In every loaf she broke the rules. She’d take a pinch of sugar and would fold it to the center, like a secret. And this act of small rebellion brought a shining smile across her face. [back to 1]

General: Goodbye. PC: We’ll talk later. Solas: Goodbye.

After exhausting all of Solas’s stories Solas: I think I have shared everything of note. I should spend some time encountering more stories.

[swimmingwolf59]

omfg how long has this been sitting in my drafts??? At least four months LMAO because I baked these from the star trek cookbook for my friends for the winter holidays!

First was the Ha Rageel (Vulcan carrot loaf) - I loved how moist this loaf was!! Probably could've used a bit more sugar, and it did fall apart in transport lol, but otherwise I thought it was good!

It also has one of my favorite captions from the cookbook: "It has never ceased to amuse Doctor McCoy that Mister Spock, with all his logical training, cannot consider Ha Rageel a close equivalent to Tufeen Hushani. Actually, to the logical Vulcan mind, a ceremonial wedding cake is quite unrelated to an "everyday" dessert loaf. It is quite true that they contain many of the same ingredients and have a somewhat similar taste. But this no more makes them related than the same number of eyes and legs makes first cousins of horses and dogs. To a cook the difference is also important. Preparing the wedding cake requires time, attention and care to avoid a minor disaster; with Ha Rageel you can hardly go wrong."

Yes this was the inspiration for my fic. I mean, how can you tell me McCoy has teased Spock about the carrot loaf being similar to the wedding cake and NOT expect me to write a fic about it.

Also sorry McCoy, but after making both, they are WAY different, and the wedding cake is better imo 🤣

I also made Criniti, Romulan spice cookies! These turned out sooooooo yummy, will definitely be making them again!

They also have a fun legend for the caption in the cookbook: "The name for these cookies comes from an ancient Romulan legend. The story is about how the Romulan herding wolves came to be domesticated.

"Once there was a long, hard winter, and the tribe of the boy Kalyb was short on furs. The boy was already a good hunter, but not yet old enough to go with the men. The men had caught all the meat they needed, and the tribe had stored seeds, honey, nuts, and dried fruit. But still they needed furs, or they would freeze.

"One morning Kalyb chanced on a sleeping Canis crinitus with a magnificent pelt and was about to kill it. The animal pleaded for its life and offered the following bargain. If Kalyb's tribe would prepare his favorite treat for him and his clan, they would help the boy's tribe catch all the woolly, sheep-like mountain creatures they needed.

The boy's tribe prepared cakes from seeds, dried fruits, nuts and honey and left them where the Criniti could find them. The next day, the cakes were gone, and before long, Kalyb heard a great commotion. The Criniti were sweeping down from the hills driving the woolly animals before them. Kalyb's tribe killed many of them and had enough furs to keep themselves warm all winter. Kalyb's people learned more about the habits and needs of the Criniti, and between them figured out how to keep a supply of the woolly sheep-like animals on hand for meat and fur.

"Romulans still use fruit and nut cakes for training their animals. They also make delicious spiced cookies using many of the same ingredients as rewards for their children. On certain feast days it is even proper for adults to be seen eating them."

Idk if this is based on anything in real life? Cool either way tho! Also I want a pet wolf LMAO

[clouduru-chan]

Well, I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I hope it goes well, as well as the second season of The Legend of Vox machine, I decided to write something, like a modern reader going to the magical world. As an Isekai, and I decided to make a Brazilian reader, in addition to wanting to show a little bit of Brazilian culture, I want to please the Brazilian people who read what I post. And the first thing I'm going to write will be about Percy, because I'm a little bitch of that man.

Percy with a modern Brazilian reader

- First of all, let's say what you were doing before you stopped at an unknown and "magical" place;

- You were at the ice cream parlor with your friends celebrating the Brazil-Serbia game, it was the beginning of the World Cup, and everyone was excited, especially with the show that Richarlisson did in the second half of the game;

- Well, you don't like soccer very much, but when it's a World Cup year you ignore that and become extremely patriotic;

- The clothes you wore were the shirt of the Brazilian national team, the famous green and yellow, short shorts with sequins on the back pocket, and a fanny pack around your torso, and a pair of flip-flops;

- After having your ice cream with your friends, you decided to go home, but something strange happened, as you turned the corner of the street, your vision became blurred, as you closed your eyes and tried to understand what was happening to you, you realized that you were in an extremely different place;

- very different indeed, you would hit your face with the palm of your hand to see if you would wake up from it, well unfortunately it didn't work;

- And you couldn't stand still, because people were looking at you strangely, so you held tightly to the strap of your fanny pack and decided to walk around to get some answers, to try to understand where you were;

- Well, you can't have realized, Percival was looking at you, he noticed how out of place you were. Well maybe it was a feeling of sympathy, he came to you;

- He was not liking how other people were looking at you maliciously, especially because of the clothes you were wearing;

- Soon he came to you, looking at you it seemed to be some foreigner or traveler, he analyzed your clothes, they were a different fabric from what he had ever seen, besides that on your thigh had a tattoo of mountains and a being doing T-pose (being that it was the sugar loaf mountain and the statue of Christ the Redeemer), and on your shin was a tattoo of birds flying through the landscape, besides that your hair braided by each lock was very flashy too;

- When he asked you if you were lost, you grimaced slightly, as you were trying to carefully translate what he had said and try to talk to him;

- You had a little trouble telling him, you were dying of embarrassment because your English was horrible, Percy looked at you a little curious, you thought you had said something wrong, you started cursing in your original language;

"Puta que me pariu! Eu não mal sei falar português imagina inglês, mas que desgraça, pareço uma debilóide falando!"

- He became even more curious, because he had never heard an idiom like that before;

- And you were wondering why the fuck English was used in a world like that! Well, you were kind of happy about it, because you could communicate, but with your fucked up English it was going to be a little difficult;

- You are quickly put under protection by him and the rest of the group, and since Percival was a curious man, he filled you with questions;

- Well, obviously he realized that you were not from here, but when he finds out that you are not from the world of Exandria, with that he and Vox machine will help you get back;

- When you talk about the technology in your world, this man's eyes shine, when you showed him your phone that was inside your fanny pack he was amazed, he had never seen something so advanced;

- Well you quickly got along with every member of the team, they liked your playful and somewhat chaotic energy;

- When you take some random mission for money, you always stay close to Percy, because he wants you to stay close to him;

- When you go to the tavern, you are always cheerful, but when it's time to drink, you drink modernly since you are always the friend on the tour who tries to stay sober;

- And when fights break out in these places Percy pulls you to stand next to him, but he is a little surprised when you know how to turn around when you use some body-fighting techniques like Brazilian tai-jutsu or capoeira, considering that this type of fight you wanted to learn to defend yourself against an assailant or some potential pervert ;

- Well, he is impressed with your self-defense, but worried, since you were a human against magical beings, and you have no accessories or magic of any kind;

- He starts to have feelings for you, and little by little he decides to open up more to you, since you talk so much about the things in your world and about yourself, it would be kind of fair for him to talk a little about himself;

- When he tells you a little about his past, you look at him with empathy, you could see the pain in Percival's greenish blue eyes, with that you gave him the famous Brazilian hug, he felt how warm your hug was, it was very warm, he returned the hug with the same intensity;

- I think that in those moments you fill him with affection, make him feel happy, pure, make him for a brief moment forget all the horrible things he has been through;

- They are all doing their best to look for a way to get you back home;

- When the dragon was devastating the villages near the Tal'Dorei kingdom, Percy forced you not to go along with them, since he didn't want you to die;

- After defeating what was devastating the kingdom, King Uriel threw a party to celebrate the feat of Vox máquina, inviting the elite of some kingdoms or provinces, then Percy as was a Noble he had to teach good manners to the group, in your case you filled him with questions, what clothes to use, the cutlery and among other things;

- Well you did most of the hairstyles, since you were a hairdresser's helper, so you had a sense of what you were doing;

- You had to go in a long dress without any cleavage, because it wasn't supposed to be vulgar and you couldn't show your tattoos, but unfortunately it didn't cover the tattoo you had on your arm;

- In the castle everything was amazing, for a certain moment, you were close to Vex'Ildan and Percy, he will introduce you to all the nobles that were invited, and you are extremely polite and know very well how to make a friendly conversation, well some (most) Brazilians are quite fun to make a great conversation (but be careful not to fall into the trap, since you can take advantage of this situation and to deceive sometimes the unaware of the Brazilian culture);

- But when the Briarwoods arrived, Percival's expression completely closed, he stared angrily at the couple who fucked up his and Rolo's family's lives;

- When you realize that he has gone stiff because of the gothic couple, you hold his hand firmly;

- At dinner you could see Percy's anger about the Briarwoods, you had sat next to him, trying to calm him down, but when Delilah started talking about Rolo's family, Percy became enraged, and decided to deny that woman, so he left the table, and you quickly went to him, you had never seen him like that, you tried to comfort him with a tender gesture and asked the gray-haired man to vent what he was feeling;

- Well, after a disastrous night and a near death, and being a little frightened by the attitude of the gray-haired man who nearly killed an innocent man working for Briarwoods, Percival realized that it was too dangerous for you. Percival who realized that it was too dangerous for you, he did not want you to go with him to Whitestone, but with your stubbornness you went, because you knew that your friend needed something to comfort him in this very difficult moment;

- Well, on the trip you had changed your appearance, you were wearing pants of a thick fabric, a white T-shirt with sleeves that went all the way to your wrist, a pair of boots, and a belt, and on the right side of your waist you had a short sword;

- With your attitude, you have made Rolo's heart squeeze, do you think of him differently? Do you care about him? Well, he knows that you care about others and make your jokes, but with him it was a little different, he realized that he was in love with you, but then the question remains, what if you don't like the way he likes it? What if you go back to your own world?

- Well, when you were camping near a forest near your destination, Percival was leaning his head against a rock while he was fiddling with his gun, but when you approached him and argued with him for lying down like that and that it was harmful to his spine, he sat up, but soon you sat down on the ground and slapped his thighs, giving him a hint of where he should lay his head to rest, well, this man's face turns red at this, but he did what you wanted. He got a little calmer when you started running your hand over his hair and singing some music from your world, mostly Brazilian;

"Chove chuva! Chove sem parar.... Eu vou fazer uma prece. Pra Deus, Vosso senhor. Pra chuva parar... De molhar o meu divino amor. Que é muito lindo, é mais que o infinito, é puro e belo inocente como a flor...."

- Ok, he just loves to hear your voice singing, especially in his language, this song is so calm and serene, maybe he asks you the translation;

- Feelings are conflicting inside Percy, when he looks at her face his heart hammers, so he will draw courage from the depths of his being, and make a declaration of love;

- When dawn breaks and you have to return to your trip, Percy will bring you to a secluded corner;

- He was very nervous, let's face it, he's very anxious, and also he thinks it's a bad time to propose, but he wants to get this feeling off his chest;

- But before he said anything, you started talking, well, you were declaring to him the feelings you felt, he wasn't expecting it, he was the one who wanted to declare himself, but your heart was warmed by every word you said to him;

"You know Percy, I thank the universe every day that it brought us together. Eventually, you became the most important person in my life. I want to be able to share every moment of joy with you. In the moments of sadness, to be by your side, to be your greatest support. My love, my life is more beautiful because I have you by my side. You can even try to find a thousand definitions for love in the dictionary. But nothing will come close to what I feel for you, because this feeling is pure and indescribable. You know, if you were a movie, you would be my favorite, the one I watch over and over again and never get tired of. I know this statement may be a little long, but I want you to know that I love you! If it weren't for you I wouldn't even know where I was when I came into this world...".

- Okay, you broke it;

- He didn't expect such a profound statement, his eyes were full of water, he was holding himself back from crying, so he hugged you tightly;

- When you returned to the group Scalan was giving a bag of money to Vax, since the half elf had bet the gnome that you would declare yourself first;

- When you arrived in Whitestone it was nothing but chaos, the living dead all over town, people lost hope, you were getting even angrier with the Briarwoods, you wanted to get into a fight with Delilah, but that's going to be just intent;

- Well, you met Percy's sister, it wasn't the most appropriate moment, but you made a little joke about whether you were allowed to date your brother, Percival argued with you that it wasn't the time for you to do that, but he thought it was funny;

- When Percy was under Orthax's control, you calmly approached close to that man, trying to bring back the humanity of that man, Vex went by your side to control the man who was being controlled by a vengeful demon, you softly touched the gray-haired man's cheek, he was recovering some of his mentality, he had been caught by several illusions that Orthax made, the main ones were the death of his family, his sister Cassandra and mainly you;

- He in that state hurt your heart, and any suspicious attitude from him you were put behind Vex, and when Percy shot his own hand to get rid of the demon it was the most horrible thing you ever saw, in person, since you were used to watch some violent things on TV, but in person it was horrible, you ran to help Percy;

- After that moment of madness and You chiding Delilah in her native language was sensational;

" VAI SE FUDE SUA VAGABUNDA! ELE NÃO PODE TE MATAR! MAS EU TERMINAREI O SERVIÇO SUA PUTA!"

- He didn't expect you and Cassandra to finish the job and kill Delilah, You had fury in your eyes, even though the necromancer did nothing to you, you felt empathy for everyone who suffered at her hand, you carried the anger of the people and the family of Rolo and ended Briarwood, but with that attitude of yours made Cassandra like you, she approved you as Percival's girlfriend;

- But you had to end that moment with a beautiful sentence, right? You decided to translate the sentence before you spoke;

" Crying bitch God doesn't listen!"

- You said that when you were pointing to Briarwood's body;

- Congratulations, you have Cassandra's full approval now;

- When you came back to Tal'Dorei, you and Percy started dating, and he kept asking you about your world, such as technological advances, holidays, languages, politics, economics, and possibly whether there was ever any conflict, and you answer all the questions, at least you try to, but the questions that get you is about your family or foods you like to eat;

- Well, the group will try to recreate some recipes but in the Exandrian style, well some of them were easy, like the pamonha that was made from corn or dulce de leche;

- He loves your displays of affection, you like physical displays of affection a lot, Percy took a while to get used to it, but he feels very loved;

- The stolen kisses, the affectionate kisses you give Percy on the cheeks and neck make him excited, you are so affectionate with him, he wonders if where you come from people are like that when it comes to showing affection;

- He gets all flustered when you give him some affectionate nicknames in his native language;

- Examples of affectionate nicknames are: Amor/mor/ Morzão ( practically You are called love, you use this nickname to get his attention), Muso (You use that nickname to emphasize the beauty of this man), Meu Tudo (When you point out that he's everything to you), Bombom ( it's practically one of the sweets you ate the most in Brazil, the bonbon, you use this nickname to call Percy sweet), Meu Batom garoto ( This expression is funny, it can refer to the fact that your boyfriend is small and delicious like chocolate);

- And when you try to translate or explain the nicknames to him, he gets all embarrassed, and will try to call you by the same affectionate nicknames too, he will try, maybe you give him Brazilian Portuguese lessons;

Hope you like it!

[q8q]

Sugar Loaf mountain view

[mega-aulover]

All I want...

Merry Christmas...so I'm going to a small Christmas story a week based on a Christmas song... until Christmas. Rated G

Peeta was having a hard day.

He was training Bill today and Bill didn't have the ability to bake a simple sugar cookie. Bill didn't have any skills other than snoozing while standing. Bill was the fourteen-year-old child of the owner of the bookstore that was next to the bakery. Normally Peeta would give Bill the grunt work. However today, his other assistant Tina was out with the flu, which meant he was stuck with Bill who couldn't ring up a simple loaf of bread much less bake. All of the hard work fell on Peeta. The boy had burnt everything, set off the fire alarm several times, and caused the sprinklers to go off twice running everything.

They had to start over twice.

Peeta rubbed his leg and then his neck. He stopped to look around him. Everything around him was dull, grey, and dark. He was only eighteen but he along with the others of his generation were survivors of the war. They acted like they were much older.

They had no childhood.

Today was one of those days he doubted himself. As much as he loved the bakery, he wondered if he had done the right thing going at it alone. It was brutally cold outside and his leg was killing him as he walked toward the Victor's Village. He was up for a new leg replacement. He was turning nineteen next year and he had a last-minute growth spurt. As he neared his home, Peeta could hear Haymitch's geese waiting to ambush him.

Peeta rushed forward.

Haymitch's geese were trouble.

When he arrived at his front door, he sighed and wanted nothing more than to just take a soak in the tub. He wanted to see the soothing pale yellows and creams.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas..."

Peeta listened from the front door as the familiar Christmas song blasted from the interior of their home. He didn't even bother calling out he simply dumped his shoes by the front door, as he made his way to the kitchen.

"I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree..." Katniss sang into the spatula her butt wiggling, as her voice lifted up into the rafters.

Peeta's heart thundered in his chest as he listened to her rich sweet mountain twang reminded him of the first time he heard Katniss sing. They were only five and she'd raised her hand volunteering to sing the Valley Song. He remembered how he saw bright beautiful autumnal colors when the sweet pitch of her child-like voice filled the room.

The beat of the tambourine and the tip tap of the drums caused Peeta to close his eyes and he saw bright greens and sultry reds as Katniss sang. His bad day slowly slipped away from his shoulders.

"I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace..." Katniss sang as she closed the refrigerator with her hip.

Peeta grinned.

When the war was over and they moved in, whenever he had an episode. Katniss would wrap her arms around his middle and softly sing to him. He could visually make out the fake memories from the real ones because the real ones had brighter colors. The fake ones looked slippery and shiny as if they were wrapped up in cellophane. Katniss always made him see colors, bold colors, somber colors, all sorts of colors that helped him through the lean years.

Katniss turned around and seeing him she grinned, pointed at him, and began singing, "All I want for Christmas is you..."

As he stood there, Peeta, saw colors that sounded like the golden twinkling sleigh bells. His bad day was gone and he couldn't even recall the hectic day.

Katniss sashayed over to him as she crooned, "Yooooooouuuuu Baby...." She swung her arms around his shoulders stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.

Peeta sighed at her chaste kiss.

"Hey baby," Katniss said. "I couldn't wait for you to come home..."

Peeta grinned as visions of colorful gingerbread danced in his head. "Can you sing it again?"

"Sure," Katniss winked and called out to the home electronic system, Plutarch gifted them last year. "Effie play All I want for Christmas again!"

The machine replied and the song began to play and his day was instantly better.

[russadocachorrobranco]

Carlos Futado. Rio.

Карлос Фуртадо. Рио.

[dragonprincedawn]

OC Signature Dishes

A small writing exercise inspired by Genshin's Specialty Dishes; What is this character's signature dish? If they were asked to bring something to a potluck, or make a last-minute dinner for a dear friend, what's the food they would default to? The goal is to describe the flavor and texture of the dish while at the same time revealing just a bit of the character's personality.

I had a lot of fun writing these, so hopefully I'll have more soon ^^

Azael - "Special Occasion" (Honeyed Apple Tart with Peanut Butter)

A dessert specifically reserved for special occasions and jobs well done. Only the fullest, most vibrant red apples in the orchard were finely sliced and layered upon the flaky pastry with precision and care. The roasted nuttiness of the peanut base softens the tartness of the apple, and the finishing touch is a drizzle of wildflower honey with dash of sugar. Being a stranger to the kitchen, Azael had to commit a great deal of time towards putting together this deceptively simple dish. Seeing you smile as you lick honey off your fingers is their hard-earned reward.

Lyerei - Auroral Sweet Ice (Rainbow Shaved Ice)

With a whispered incantation and a simple Prestidigitation spell, a cup of mountain spring water turns into a colorful treat in the blink of an eye! The refreshingly cool flakes of ice melt onto your tongue, simulating a medley of sweet berries and other fruits. The only colors Lyerei adds are a vivid red, a deep blue, and a bright yellow. These three simple hues, when swirled together, create all the colors of the Light Bearer clan's aurora in their center.

Sota - Post Workout Pick-Me-Up (Four Seed Bread Rolls)

Fluffy, buttery bread rolls with a golden crust, cut in two and slathered with tart cherry compote. Portable and nutritious, they're the perfect snack for when you have a busy day ahead. Each family in the Blackcliff Roost has their own recipe for baking bread, and so each loaf tastes just a bit different from the one next door. But there's a particular detail that sets Sota's recipe apart from all the others - the sprinkle of sesame, flax, poppy, and sunflower seeds added just before baking that give the crisp crust a subtle, nutty flavor.

Elgimn - "Surprise Me" (Seafood Rice Balls seeped in Green Tea)

One must be extraordinarily patient to allow the fluffy rice grains to seep in green tea until they are infused with a bitingly bitter taste. But the light aroma of the rice mixed with fresh crab meat leaves a sweet aftertaste lingering on the tongue. It seems even the most battle-worn warlords cannot resist indulging in life's simple delights every once in a while...

Thank you for reading! 💙

[arcadialedger]

Maria y Los Muertos-- a Día de Los Muertos short story.

It's pretty mild in tone, but please know the subject matter deals with a child who has died.

Maria José Ramirez had never been dead before. Not for Dia de los Muertos.

She had always thought the Land of the Dead would be dark, and lonely. She found, on the contrary, that it was actually colorful and full of life— music in its pulse. 

Tonight, however, she walked away from that world. For it was the one night a year the veil was thin enough to visit her family.

Dia de los Muertos.

As she walked along the petalled path, Maria’s heart seemed to pound with longing, even though it no longer beat. Ever since she had died last winter, she had waited for this day, patiently counted the moments before she could be reunited and see her mamá and papá, her little brothers Juan and Carlos. Even Dante, the family dog. 

She missed them more than she had thought possible, as though the she could reach out and grasp the feeling in the air.

As a child, her soul had crossed over at midnight November 1… Dia de los Angelitos. All she had to do was walk along the path her family had laid out for her. Yet, María found herself nervous to take another step.

How would her parents feel about seeing her… how would her brothers react?

María had to remind herself they only had one day. One day, and then an entire other year of waiting for this opportunity. 

So she took another step, the petals crunching beneath her feet.

Crunch. Crunch. 

Step by shaking step, María emerged out of the darkness and was met with a blinding light. Still, she pressed onward.

Crunch. Crunch.

When she emerged from the light, María was greeted with the front of her house… her casita. She smiled at how familiar it looked— the same yellow stone, and archways markings he trance. The trimming around the front door remained chipped and in need of repainting, as it had when she had dwelled amongst the living. 

The familiarity was both a comfort and a burden, to know so much had changed, and yet so little. With a deep breath, María walked along the path which lead through the front door, and into the foyer.

Where she was greeted with the most beautiful ofrenda she had ever seen.

“Oh, magnífica,” she whispered.

At the center of the ofrenda was a photograph— a picture of her that mama had taken not long before she got sick. Besides that were mountains of sugar skulls, some of them carved with her name, her favorite childhood toys and scarf, water, and pan de muerto. Decorating the ofrenda was brightly colored papel picado and fiery orange flor de muerto— the same flowers who’s petals had been used to guide her way. 

It was heavenly. It was perfect. Quickly, María rushed forward— careful not to knock over any of the candles— took a sip of water from glass which had been left for her, and bit into a loaf of pan de muerto. The sugary sweetness rested on her tongue— a taste she had not experienced in months.

Just then, a faint, tender voice rang out from behind her.

“Hermana?”

María nearly dropped the bread, as she turned around to see her little brother Juan standing in the doorway.

“Juanito!” She cried out, putting the bread back onto the ofrenda and running to greet him.

Little Juan was only five years old, and didn’t seem to have changed one bit in the ten months that had passed. His smile contained all of its past vibrancy, his head of dark curls the same bounce. 

“Mamá, papá, Carlos— María is here! She found our offerings!” Juan called out.

A moment later, her parents came running through the front door. Both stopped in their tracks and raised their hands to their mouths when they saw María. Mamá had baby Carlos on her hip. 

“Oh, mi hijita” her mother cried. 

Had she been able to cry, María would have in turn. Her body could produce no tears, but she choked back a sob as she walked up to her mother, unable to contain her elation.

“Mamá— your hair has gone gray” she observed. 

Her mom— named Julieta— stifled back a laugh, “Of course it has, after losing you, my sweet girl. It’s been the hardest months of our lives.”

María’s heart sank, but she was not surprised. Grief was a funny, floundering thing. It would take much more than a year for the pain to fade. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” María assured, “But we’ll always be together on Dia de Murertos”— so long as you remember to put me on the ofrenda.”

“Always.”

María smiled, but could feel the bittersweet tang in its edges.

She only had one day. Twenty four hours. They deserved so much more. She deserved so much more. If only they knew just how much she had missed them, longed to see them every day as they had her. 

“And what about you, Papá?” María asked, turning to her father Manuel, “How is work, and how is Dante?”

Her father almost appeared too shocked to speak, but he found his voice as we wiped the silent tears off of his cheeks.

“Dante slept in your bed for days, and has missed you as much as we have. We all… felt the loss of you presence.”

María looked down, unsure of how to respond. Instead of words, she reached out for her father’s hand, though she could not grasp it. 

“I’m here now,” she assured, “For you. For mamá. For Juan. And for baby Carlos.”

Her family looked at her then with gratitude, and María wished more than anything she could hug them all— take their hands in hers and feel the warmth of their skin. 

Her parents must have understood, for they walked up to her, and her father placed a hand in the air on the shoulder. 

“It’s okay, mija,” her father said, “We’ll always have Dia de Los Muertos”

[mariacallous]

This summer, I traveled to Transylvania, on a Birthright-esque tour for young North Americans of Hungarian heritage. Almost everyone I told about the trip made some sort of Dracula joke. I rolled my eyes, knowing the region was much richer than this. But truth be told, I didn’t have too much yet to counter with. 

Here’s the history book version: Transylvania, now part of Romania, belonged to Hungary for more than a thousand years. It’s far larger than I had imagined – at around 100,000 square kilometers, the region is bigger than the whole of present-day Hungary itself, which ceded the region to Romania after WWI. There are currently around one million ethnic Hungarians who still live in Transylvania. The community speaks the language and passionately keeps their customs alive, from music to dance to crafts and, of course, food. 

And my version? It was easy to fall in love with Transylvania. From the moment I clambered off the small, tinny plane from Budapest at the small regional airport in Marosvásárhely, I was taken by its beauty. Rows and rows of golden sunflowers, framed by the verdant hills and rugged peaks of the Apuseni Mountains rolled by as we headed for our bed and breakfast. We spent a week learning about the Hungarian community in Romania, hiking, exploring cavernous salt mines and lakes, taking in medieval frescos and wandering cobblestoned streets.  

We also ate well — very well. 

Growing up, many of our cherished family recipes were very traditionally Hungarian (with a twist, to make them kosher), and the rich goulash, tender chicken paprikash and juicy stuffed cabbage we ate on the trip were familiar. Truth be told, aside from the dizzying assortment of wild blueberry and rosehip jams, I wasn’t really focused on dessert. 

That is, until I tried a pastry called somodi kalácsin a tiny village called Torockó. Lightly sweet and yeasted, with a cinnamon swirl, it’s as if cinnamon-raisin bread and babka had a baby. While every meal served by our grandmotherly hosts left us stuffed, I loved the folded bread so much that our guide got the inn to pack us a honey-glazed loaf to go. 

Transylvania was home to a sizable Hungarian-Jewish population. In 1910, according to The Museum of the Holocaust in Northern Transylvania, the Jewish population numbered above 64,000. By World War I, Hungary itself had the second largest Jewish population in Europe at almost one million. By this time YIVO’s Encyclopedia of Eastern European Jews notes Jews were “fervently assimilated” to the language and culture (and, rather sadly, looking back now), “passionately identified with Hungarian nationalism.” 

Upon my return home to Los Angeles, I made it my mission to find somodi kalács. I knew that Jewish immigrants to the U.S. and Israel popularized other classic pastries from Hungary, such as chimney cakes and monkey bread (aka aranygaluska), and was hopeful I’d succeed.

While I haven’t (yet) found somodi kalácsin my city, I discovered that it’s available at Zingerman’s Bakehouse, the iconic Jewish bakery in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Like me, the Zingerman team tried somodi kalács for the first time in Torockó. The recipe, they found, dates back 400 years, when the village was a flourishing mining town, whose residents could afford the luxury of cinnamon and sugar. It’s typically served for Christmas, Easter and Pentecost, and until the 20th century, Zingerman’s notes, somodi kalács was the customary wedding cake. Theirs is a pretty traditional version. However, like my own great grandmother would do often, they sub the traditional lard for butter when greasing the pans, explained Managing Partner Amy Emberling.

At Zingerman’s, Emberling told me, it’s a beloved special item that they only bake a couple days each year. “Customers order many loaves of it and stock them in their freezer,” she said. And it’s not uncommon for customers to “let us know that they have not seen this since their childhood days in Hungary.” 

It’s also not uncommon to see patrons shed happy tears. I may have felt like shedding a couple happy tears myself when she shared their recipe.

[pablolarah]

Pão de Açucar views from Botafogo beach.

Sugarloaf Mountain is a peak situated in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, at the mouth of Guanabara Bay on a peninsula that juts out into the Atlantic Ocean. Rising 396 m (1,299 ft) above the harbor, the peak is named for its resemblance to the traditional shape of concentrated refined loaf sugar. It is known worldwide for its cableway and panoramic views of the city and beyond.

Made with ❤️ & Photoshop