#Colossal Oppressor

[drondskaath]

Ten Ton Slug | Colossal Oppressor | 1st May, 2024

Irish Sludge Metal

Artwork by Adam Burke (Nightjar)

[bizarrobrain]

"Ancient Ways" by Ten Ton Slug - From "Colossal Oppressor" (2024)

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Ten Ton Slug - Colossal Oppressor (Self Released)

An album that puts an emphatic exclamation point after their name. It’s not Ten Ton Slug anymore, it’s Ten! Ton! Slug!! Shout it f**king loud.

The Slug is back, and the Slug is hungry! Filled with sludgy and doom-infused riff goodness, the beloved Irish three-piece will release their much-anticipated debut album, ‘Colossal Oppressor’ on May 1st, 2024. Ten years (roughly) since they crawled out of the West of Ireland to take the metal world by storm, Ten Ton Slug finally bring us their debut full-length release. It’s been a long time…

[horde-princess]

Nimona's origin story - or lack of one - is so important to me. like first she lies to you, then there's a weird metaphor that may or may not have anything to do with her, then finally at the very end there's a real flashback which clarifies. almost nothing?? EXCEPT perhaps it leads you away from the possibility that she's being possessed. personally my thinking is that she was born as a "regular" shapeshifter and became this colossal monster after she was "lab-modified." but i can't say that with any confidence, maybe the monster was part of her all along and the trauma just brought it out. maybe nimona herself doesn't know.

as frustrating as it felt to read at times, the ambiguity is the whole point. it's a commentary on how society (specifically christianity) will look at something it doesn't understand and try to stuff it into boxes it just doesn't fit in.

the whole "gloreth's beast" metaphor is so insane to me because it confuses you as the reader and makes you wonder if maybe nimona IS actually this satanic creature, or possessed by him. despite all your good intentions and your fondness for nimona as a character, there's a part of you which wonders if it might be true, because the author himself is implying it to you. it's only at the end that nate hints otherwise but still he leaves it up to the audience to wrestle with their own interpretation of what they've just read. i don't think i figured it out until the part where it says nimona's parents believed a monster had taken the place of their daughter.. i was like oohhhh i see what you did there

i've heard it said that nimona is a commentary on how society views lgbt+ people as a threat and i do think that sums it up nicely but. it's a story about how religion views queer people as a threat, how conservative christians stay in power by labeling us as the enemy, and how they get us to internalize this queerphobia so that we lose the will to rebel against them. it's about how oppressors have no say in how people take their stolen freedom back.

ITS ABOUT bipolar disorder and mental illness!!!! and the prejudice & discrimination & outcasting this community endures, which intersects uniquely with queerphobia and is still used today to characterize being gay and trans as mental disorders, as if that somehow justifies the hatred in their minds.

it's about addressing the fear & confusion surrounding the existence of queer people - "are they born this way? are they possessed by satan? are they mentally ill? are they a product of childhood trauma?" and Nimona is essentially like, sure. all of the above. or none of them. who cares? i'm here and i'm a human being - you don't have to understand me to treat me like one.

idk how/if the nimona movie plans to handle the ambiguity of her origin but its so so important i hope they're able to honor the spirit of it 😭🙏

[aedesluminis]

Simonne Évrard's speech of 8 August 1793 in the National Convention

"I am not here to ask you the favors of cupidity that claims and craves for indigence. Marat’s widow just needs a grave. Before I get to the relieving end of my tormented life, I come to ask you for justice towards the new attacks committed against the memory of the most intrepid and outraged of the people’s defenders. These monsters, how much gold did they lavish! How many hypocritical pamphleteers were paid to put his name to shame! With such hateful rage, they tried so hard to give him a colossal political existence and a detestable celebrity, in order to dishonor the people’s cause that he proudly defended. This day, still stained by his blood, they persecute him to his grave; some other day, they still dare to murder his memory. They are even trying to depict the monster, who pierced his chest with the parricide iron, as an intriguing heroine. In this circle we see the vilest of them all, the Carra, the Ducos, the Dulaure, the shameless praises in their periodicals to encourage their peers to slaughter what is left of the defenders of liberty. I do not talk about the vile Pétion who, in Caen, during a meeting with his accomplices, dared to say that the murder was a virtue.

Soon enough the foolish treachery of the conspirators, who pretend to honor the civic virtues, will make the infamous publications grow, where the horrible murder is presented in favorable ways and the martyr of the patrie is disfigured by the most hideous convulsions.

But here it is the most wicked of their schemes: They bribed some foolish writers who shamelessly usurp his name and tarnish his principles to immortalize the empires of lies which he was victim of! Cowards! First, they flatter the people’s pain to get their praise, then they speak the language of patriotism and morality so that the people believe to still be listening to Marat; but all of this is just to slander the most zealous defenders who have protected them. It is to preach, in Marat’s name, the exaggerations that his enemies attributed to him.

I denounce two men in particular, Jacques Roux and Leclerc, who claim to carry on his patriotic papers and make his shadow talk to insult his memory and to betray the people. After spouting revolutionary platitudes, they encourage the people to outlaw the government. It is in those occasions that they use his name to stain in blood the day of the 10th of August, because his sensitive soul, devastated by the sight of the crimes of tyranny and the uneasiness of humanity, sometimes let out some rightful curses towards the people’s oppressors and public leeches. They try to preserve the parricide lie that persecuted him and made him look like a foolish apostle of anarchy and chaos. And who are these men that claim his place? It is a priest, who the day after the faithful deputies triumphed over their cowardly enemies, came to insult the National Convention through a seditious and wicked speech. There is another man, no less perverse, who is associated with the mercenary furors of said impostor. What is important to remark is that these two men are the same who had been denounced by him at the Cordeliers’ club  just a few days before his death as people paid by our enemies to create public disorder and, on the same occasion, they were also formally expelled from this popular society. What is the aim of this perfidious faction that fuels these criminal intrigues? It is to vilify the people who honor the memory of the one who died for their cause. It is to slander all the friends of the patrie, whom it has designated as Maratists; to deceive all the French people across the whole republic, who gather for the reunion of August the 10th, by presenting them their perfidious writings, in which they preach the teaching of the very people’s representative they slaughtered. It is to cause disturbance in these solemn days through some disastrous catastrophe.

God! What will become of the people? If these men can usurp their trust! What is the deplorable condition of their intrepid defenders if death itself cannot avoid them the fury of their murderers! Legislators, for how long would you endure it if crime insulted virtue? Where does this privilege come from, of English and Austrian emissaries to trap public opinion, to give daggers to the defenders of our laws and to know the founding valor of our raising republic? If you let them go unpunished then I denounce them all here to the French people, to the universe. The memory of the martyrs of liberty and the heritage of the people; that of Marat is the only good deed left to me, I devote to his defense the last days of a languid life. Legislators, avenge the patrie, the honesty, the misfortune and the virtue, striking at the most cowardly of all the enemies.”

Original in French

I personally did the translation in English. Let me know if I made some mistakes or if some parts need revision! Last edit: 31/10/23

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Robert F. Graboyes

Published: Jan 28, 2024

On this, the 79th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the Holocaust Remembrance industry stands as a colossal failure. Holocaust Remembrance Day, it turns out, successfully transfixed eyes on the rear-view mirror and diverted attention from the dangers 10 feet in front of us. And, truth be told, the rear-view mirror is growing a bit foggy, as well. Less than a century ago, the leading intellectuals of Germany—the most highly educated nation on earth—initiated, participated in, or acquiesced to mass murder on a previously unimaginable scale. And only weeks ago, intellectuals in America, Europe, and elsewhere waxed lyrical over the rape, torture, mutilation, murder, beheading, and kidnapping of innocent Jews. 

An important parallel underlies both historical episodes. Both Hitler and Hamas were the cancerous outgrowths of respectable and sometimes altruistic intellectual movements that saw individuals as nothing more than avatars of demographic groups, defined by immutable characteristics. At my own Substack, Bastiat’s Window, I’ve written of this in “The Briar and the Rose,” “Intellectual Tyrants Beget True Believers,” and “Zola, Weiss, and J'Accuse...! 2023.”

A century ago, eugenics provided the unquestioned and unquestionable foundation for academic writing and public policy. Eugenics preached a world of predestination, where an individual’s worth was irrevocably determined at birth by race, religion, gender, sexuality, disability, economic status, and family history. No one could escape his or her essentialist destiny by dint of action, accomplishment, or character. Eugenics began as parlor conversation among well-born, well-educated, often well-meaning British academics. Then, it jumped the Atlantic and gave rise to a sexual sterilization machine in America—enabled by a debauched Supreme Court. Finally, it leaped back to Europe, where it metastasized into the Holocaust. 

In our time, the equivalent academic tendency is one that travels under many names—diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI); critical race theory (CRT); antiracism; white fragility; intersectionality; social justice; anticolonialism; social and emotional learning; progressivism; safetyism; critical social justice; identity Marxism; and (primarily to its denigrators) “wokeness.” The central connective tenet in all of this is something called “equity”—which does not in any way resemble any traditional definition of the word. 

A note on nomenclature: “equitism”

Writers like Thomas Klingenstein on the right, Freddie DeBoer on the left, and Bari Weiss in the center decry the lack of a consistent name for this intellectual and activist movement. I use the term “equitism” here and suggest it to others. Unlike “equity,” “equitism” offers no ambiguity of meaning. Unlike, say “the equity agenda,” “equitism” is a single word. Advocates of this philosophy often present “equity” as a substitute for “equality,” so “equitism” is parallel to “egalitarianism.” Unlike “woke,” “equitism” is not an insult or pejorative, and the web shows that a few advocates have used the term to describe themselves. I’ll use the term below for simplicity and clarity. 

Equitism as echo of eugenics

Like eugenics a century earlier, equitism presumes that demography is destiny, with some demographic groups imperiled by the immutable malignities of other groups. This often manifests itself as a Manichaean “oppressor/oppressed” dichotomy across demographic categories. Intersectionality and other frameworks array groups along a spectrum between these polar opposites. In its most extreme manifestation, this weltanschauung justifies horrific punishment of perceived “oppressors.” Hence, the pro-Hamas marchers proclaiming “by any means necessary”—which presumably includes baking babies to death in ovens, tying parents to children and immolating them together, raping young girls till their pelvises shatter, beheading children in front of their parents, and visiting all manner of depravities upon elderly Holocaust survivors—as long as they are Israelis and Israelis are classified as oppressors.

Clearly, those Western professors celebrating Hamas have not absorbed whatever lessons that Holocaust Museums were designed to impart. To name one category of protestors, LGBTQ+ Jews marching for Hamas seem not to understand the message of Martin Niemöller. The most enthusiastic practitioners of Holocaust Remembrance, unfortunately, seem to be the members of Hamas, who learned the lessons of those years all too well. It should noted that David Patterson’s 2022 scholarly work, Judaism, Antisemitism, and Holocaust: Making the Connections, documents Hamas’s literal organizational and philosophical links to Hitler’s Nazis. 

The central feature of both the Holocaust and of Hamas’s slaughter is that once one abandons the sanctity of individuals and considers only the presumed virtues and vices of demographic groups, one is free to attack those deemed unvirtuous in any way. 

Furthermore, equitism, like eugenics, can anesthetize those who do not share the murderous intentions of the Nazis or Hamas. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum has been open for 31 years, but its mission clearly failed to educate the Ivy League presidents who hemmed and hawed and equivocated over questions of whether calls for genocide against Jews qualified as protected speech on the same campuses where subjectively discerned microaggressions or misuse of preferred pronouns are grounds for ostracism and punishment. 

Who wants to contradict something called “social justice” or “diversity” or “equity?” The anesthetic effect seems to have impacted even the Holocaust museums themselves. At Commentary magazine, Seth Mandel asked, “Why Are Holocaust Museums Cowering in Silence?” 

Corrosion begins in microscopic proportions

The most important lesson for Holocaust Remembrance comes from Dr. Leo Alexander’s simple, chilling statement that “corrosion begins in microscopic proportions.” Alexander, an American psychiatrist, neurologist, educator, and author, of Austrian-Jewish origin, was a key medical advisor during the Nuremberg Trials. He wrote part of the Nuremberg Code, which provides legal and ethical principles for scientific experiment on humans, and discovered that German doctors didn’t fail to stop the Nazis’ program of genocide and barbaric medical experimentation. Rather, he discovered they didn’t do more to stop the horrors because they were instrumental in initiating them. In a 2018 article on this subject, I argued that:

German doctors enthusiastically volunteered for [service] to, and leadership within, the Third Reich. Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess declared Nazism ‘nothing but applied biology,’ and many German doctors apparently agreed.” Collectively, they decided that medicine’s primary purpose was to build “an economically productive populace,” a concept that “opened the floodgates for atrocities.” 

By contrast, Alexander found that Dutch physicians following the Nazi conquest of the Netherlands, unanimously rejected this assumption and viewed their role as healing and comforting the sick and dying. Even when threatened with punishment and death, “humility assured that no Dutch doctors participated in the Holocaust.

German doctors, besotted with eugenics, gladly segmented society by ethnicity, by disabilities, by sexuality, and so forth. And once they began thinking of groups (e.g., productive versus nonproductive races), rather than of individuals, then they were free to commit atrocities in good conscience—or at least to acquiesce in the atrocities committed by others. The same dynamic plays out today on the campuses of America or the streets of London and Paris and Sydney.  

Alexander’s work is described in James A. Maccaro’s brief 1997 article “From Small Beginnings: The Road to Genocide.” Alexander’s full paper is his 1948 New England Journal of Medicine report on “Medical Science Under Dictatorship.” A century ago, the oxidants that began society’s corrosion lay in eugenics. Today, the oxidants lie in equitism. 

In the early 20th century, eugenics was almost universally accepted by academicians, politicians, doctors, the general public, and celebrities. Opposing eugenics put one’s career and friendships in peril. One of the few public intellectuals to oppose this madness was the British writer G. K. Chesterton, author of Eugenics and Other Evils (1922). Chesterton understood better than anyone that evil comes most often not from evil people, but rather from good people with unmoored ethics. In 1908, he wrote:

The modern world is not evil; in some ways the modern world is far too good. It is full of wild and wasted virtues. When a religious scheme is shattered (as Christianity was shattered at the Reformation), it is not merely the vices that are let loose. The vices are, indeed, let loose, and they wander and do damage. But the virtues are let loose also; and the virtues wander more wildly, and the virtues do more terrible damage. The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. Thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (I am sorry to say) is often untruthful.

Holocaust Remembrance Day is a worthy project, but not if it is solely backward-looking. Looking for Nazis in 2024 is a futile endeavor. Scanning the horizon in front of us for those with parallel intent is far more urgent and challenging. 

As goes the aphorism, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.”

[thetinyboio]

Welcome Home [Cult of The Lamb A.u]

Hey yall before I get in to this I have been working on this with another friend of mine for a little while and feel we are at a good place i can start publishing parts of this au!! I'm so excited to share my brain baby with! Please forgive my formatting im not used to posting text on here yet! ^^; Prologue [Part 1]

In the midst of a boundless, dark void, a colossal figure floated, shrouded in obscurity. The void itself held nothing but a series of windows that served as gateways to other realms. This enigmatic entity bore chains around arms while around their neck, two smaller, shadowy figures stood guard. Amidst the desolation of the void, the central figure hummed a haunting tune, seeking to occupy their thoughts and stave off the unending solitude.

The figure's solemn humming slowly transitioned into a melodic song that echoed through the emptiness: "I know this dream of life is never-ending, It goes around and round and round again. You know the sun is rising while descending, It goes on and on and never ends..."

As the song faded, the figure returned to the hushed solitude, their reverie interrupted when one of the windows displayed the approach of an unknown presence. Intrigued, the figure turned toward the window.

"Well, you two are not where you are supposed to be. What entertainment can you two bring me?" the figure inquired.

In another realm, two small puppets, one resembling a sheep and the other a humanoid figure, stood nervously. The sheep puppet addressed its companion, Wally, with trepidation:

"Wally, this... this is too dangerous. We should go back to the holding and wait until nightfall."

Determined, Wally responded, "We are so close, [Redacted]. We can't go back now. It would be risky either way."

Reluctantly, [Redacted] agreed, "Right, okay..."

They both stood before a peculiar pedestal adorned with a velvet pillow, upon which rested a black crown adorned with crimson jewels that shimmered like house windows. Wally attempted to pick it up, but it emitted a searing buzz, causing him to hastily let go.

[Redacted] used their hooves to grasp the crown and declared, "I've got it, Wally!"

As they held the crown, the ground beneath them trembled briefly, prompting them to exchange anxious glances before breaking into a run.

Meanwhile, in another realm, a decaying kingdom languished in suffering and enslavement. Small creatures ranging from foxes to rabbits, alongside humanoid beings, toiled ceaselessly, attending to the ruling class. Among these oppressors were the wealthy and powerful, as well as religious figureheads revered as pharaohs and bishops, each serving a distinct purpose.

These oppressive figures watched with cruel amusement as they tossed scraps of food at two small jackalope creatures. These unfortunate beings were tasked with the unenviable duty of maintaining the royal halls' cleanliness.

In the oppressive halls of privilege and power, Thoth, the younger of the two, diligently wiped a window clean while enduring the relentless laughter of the higher class. Their mother, too, shared in this degrading task, both of them subjected to the mockery of those they served. As they wiped, they glanced at their own reflections in the window, revealing the callous figures behind them. A sense of pitiful resignation washed over them as they contemplated the monotony of their daily lives.

Amidst this grim reflection, Thoth's attention was drawn to an unusual sight—a figure, as if in a spectral projection, running frantically. Suspicion flickered, and they cast a discreet look over their shoulder, wondering if anyone else shared this eerie vision. Satisfied that they were alone in witnessing it, they returned to their duties, their eyes locked onto the unfolding drama within the window's pane.

In a hushed whisper, Thoth couldn't contain their intrigue, "Mother. Mother! Look. What is that?"

His mother's response was curt and dismissive, "Hush, child. Get back to work."

"But..." Thoth stammered, horror in their eyes as they spotted their cruel master chasing the fleeing figures in the reflection of the window, "Mother, is that the Master?"

His mother's tone grew stern, "What? Thoth, get back to work or else you'll catch a lashing again. You're too old to be playing pretend."

One of the disdainful royals added to Thoth's misery by tossing a grape at him, cruelly taunting, "Get back to work, brat! Listen to your mother. Or I'll teach you a lesson Milan should have taught you a while ago." His lecherous gaze sent shivers down Thoth's spine, compelling them to return to their cleaning, their eyes watching as the strange "projection" faded away for the time being.

Moving along the corridor, Thoth entered the Holy artifacts chamber, dimly illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight and the full blue moon just beyond the window. As they worked, they hummed a tune to themselves, finding solace in the empty room and savoring the meager comforts they could find in their wretched life as a personal slave.

After meticulously tending to the chamber's floors, they returned to the windows to clean them as well. But just before their rag could touch the glass, they noticed an unusual vibration, as if an unseen force was at play. The mysterious "projection" from earlier began to fade back into existence before their bewildered eyes.

In the dimly lit chamber, Thoth's gaze remained fixed upon the unfolding drama within the window's pane. Their master, Milan, had apprehended the sheep puppet, scrutinizing the captive with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Fervently, he rifled through the puppet's pockets, his voice dripping with anger and impatience, "Where is it, mortal?! Where is the artifact?"

The puppet, fear-stricken, could only muster a feeble response, "I don't have it..."

Milan's rage escalated, his words descending into a sinister proclamation, "Useless thing... Things like you are just a plague to be eradicated, only good to be sacrificed."

However, Milan's ominous tirade was abruptly interrupted by a sudden strike to the back of his head. He turned swiftly, only to behold Wally, now adorned with The Crown Artifact upon his head, his once-neat hair now disheveled, and a wild, unfamiliar look in his eyes. The transformation was stark, and Wally seemed almost twitchy and erratic.

A fierce battle ensued between the two, Wally proving to be an almost even match for Milan. Some of Wally's movements seemed unnatural, as though he were being puppeteered by unseen forces. Another Bishop, perhaps, was assisting him in this fight, though Thoth could see only four of them.

Thoth watched the scene in utter shock. It was an unprecedented sight to witness anyone lay a finger on their seemingly untouchable master. Though convention dictated that they should be outraged, an unanticipated spark of hope ignited within Thoth's very soul. A wicked smile crept across their lips as they silently cheered for the blue-haired figure, finding themselves inexplicably drawn to the rebellion against their oppressive master.

As they watch they notice the crown upon Wally's head they notice that the symbol on it matches the ones in the room they're in. Looking behind them they see the royals are distracted by something on the "sacred looking glasses". Unaware they were also watching the same fight Thoth was seeing. Thoth's mother standing next to the royals holding a wine tray for them. Thoth goes back to watching the fight.

Amidst the intense battle, Wally landed several powerful strikes on Milan, slicing through his robes and leaving painful wounds. Milan, initially amused, now looked at Wally with disbelief and fear. Gathering his bearings, Milan opened another portal, and through the sheep's thoughts, Wally followed.

They emerged on top of a speeding train in the sheep and Wally's original world. The sheep, reaching out for Wally, witnessed the toll the artifact was taking on him. Dark tendrils, inky black and tinged with orange, began to constrict around Wally's form, starting from his left foot. Milan materialized in front of them, his arrogance thinly veiled, as he declared, "You're not worthy of the sacrifices required to wield such power. You mortals are nothing compared to us."

The Sheep challenged him, "If you're so powerful, then why was it so easy to escape and steal from you?"

The onlookers, witnessing the escalating confrontation, gasped in shock. Milan's amusement swiftly shifted to annoyance at the sheep's audacious words. With a swift motion, he seized the sheep once more, using his dark, orange-tinged tendrils. Wally, determined to defend his ally, lunged at Milan. However, at that critical moment, the Bishop conjured a weapon with lightning speed.

In the blink of an eye, the sheep was released from the grip of the tendrils, tumbling helplessly. Initially oblivious to what had occurred, the sheep descended for a moment before everything turned blindingly white. Wally, wide-eyed and stunned, watched as the sheep's head landed a short distance away.

For a brief, surreal moment, Wally stood there, taking in the shocking scene before him. Milan, raising his weapon and ready to strike, found himself thwarted as Wally abruptly turned towards him. Windows cracked, and the viewing glass shattered into shards, leaving the nobles who had been observing the spectacle in horrified silence. Milan's face contorted from amusement to sheer terror once more. .

.

.

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Thanks so much for reading so far! Hope to see yall around for more as I edit and format the pages I have so far! special thanks to @kittydoodlearts for being my amazeing cowriter and helping me out!! Edit: oh also i have changed the names of the bishops as i prefer not to have Names of deitys as the villian characters just as my personal preferance!

[doomedandstoned]

Ireland’s TEN TON SLUG Oozes with Filth and Fury on ‘Colossal Oppressor’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by Adam Burk/Nightjar Illustration

From the City of Tribes, comes TEN TON SLUG, a band that really does live up to its name for its massive attack and weighty sound. We featured the Galway four-piece some years back on our compilation Doomed & Stoned in Ireland and now, after teasing us with two EPs in 2016 and 2017, they are back with their debut full-length, 'Colossal Oppressor' (2024).

Ten Ton Slug's name reminds me of the iconic album cover of the Conan & Slomatics split back in 2012, which showed a warrior atop a slithering ogre. Of course, that was a snail not a slug, but if you've ever wondered what it would be like to encounter a mollusk of such proportions, look no further than the seven mighty tracks before us.

The record begins appropriately with "The Ooze," ushering us to a scene besieged by oppression and war. "They cast us to the fires, they push us towards the sea," growls frontman Rónán Ó hÁrrachtáin. "Subjugation is here!" Right off we get a feel for the kind of energy the band brings to the stage, with unrelenting rhythms from Pavol Rosa (bass) and Kelvin Doran (drums). Rónán fires off fierce, sludgey vocals, with backing vox and killer groove metal riffs from Sean Sullivan. The tone and tenor is not surprising from guys who've been in such acts as Weed Priest and Soothsayer.

"Balor" is next, and gives a play-by-play of those in the throes of a wild horde. In Celtic mythology, Balor was chief of the Fomoire, a crazed race of demons who threatened the Irish with extinction during the chaotic second battle of Mag Tuired. "Jump to deny these false gods, rip them out!" Rónán urges his people, echoing the war cries of past generations. "Banish them all from their dystopian thrones!" The sentiment of the song is certainly relatable to anyone living under the hand of hapless leadership or the whims of dictators. Riffs seem to characterize the fluttering of demonic wings and vocals are dripping with caustic ire.

"Ancient Ways" dons a racing heartbeat in explosive drumming from Kelvin Doran, then the mood becomes dark and doomy as the band warns of gathering storms. "Plant your feet, take a brace, hold your ground!" adjures Rónán, "Ancient ways prevail, gaining strength to kill." Meanwhile, Sean Sullivan delivers ominous tech-death style riffage (as you'll hear later on the single "Mindless and Blind"), then belts out a piercing classic metal solo. Pavol Rosa's basswork is almost jazzy.

Dissonance rules the day in "Brutus" and brutal it is, featuring a collaboration from none other than Karl Willetts of Bolt Thrower fame (currently heading up Memoriam). His approach is low toned and raspy, almost as if he is breathing fire. All three vocalists play off each other with intimidating effect.

Another highlight of the record for sure is "Mallacht an tSloda," a song entirely in the Irish language. Ten Ton Slug explain it "captures the fury and wrath of the wretched oppressed who curse and revile their oppressor using the finest of Gaelic curses and ill-sentiments (to which the characteristic sound of the Irish language lends itself so well)." Fans of Tasmania's Psycroptic will find much to admire here, and the singing in the final minutes is the deadliest we've heard thus far.

The record finishes on "Mogore the Unkind", the longest track at nine-and-a-half minutes. It contains lines of ancient Hittite, a mysterious kingdom only uncovered archaeologically in 1834 but memorialized in Egyptian writings and reliefs. The Hittites were famous for their chariots of war, these "dark warlords of Hattusha." The song is about blood, sand, betrayal, and burning cities. A fitting end to this damning tour de force.

One more thing you should know, Ten Ton Slug tells us:

The last notes on the album were played by the remnants of a prehistoric lumbering beast that lived some 20,000 years ago...using a plec made from the tusk of a Siberian Mammoth, paying homage to the colossal beasts of the past.

This monster slithers out on vinyl, compact disc, and digital formats on Wednesday, May 1st (pre-order here).

And now get ready for a wild ride, as Doomed & Stoned gives you a first listen to Ten Ton Slug's Colossal Oppressor.

Give ear...

Colossal Oppressor by Ten Ton Slug

SOME BUZZ

Ten Ton Slug originated in the depths of Connemara in the west of Ireland in 2014 and plays a riff-filled mix of sludge and doom characterised by huge riffs and pummeling drums coupled with dynamic and charismatic heavy vocals.

The Slug has gained a stellar live reputation and a loyal and ever-expanding fanbase throughout Ireland, the UK and beyond, having shared stages with bands such as Black Label Society, Corrosion of Conformity, Memoriam, Crowbar, Conan, Jinjer, Bongzilla and more.

Self-organised tours across the UK, Ireland and brief runs into Europe as both support and headliner alongside appearances at notable festivals including Bloodstock Open Air and Metaldays have helped spread the slime far and wide; continuing this year with the band’s upcoming slot at Maryland Doom Fest and run of shows in the USA in mid 2024.

Two studio releases (‘Brutal Gluttonous Beast’ and ‘Blood and Slime’), one live EP (’Live at the Siege of Limerick’) and a single (‘Hunting Ground’) have all garnered excellent reviews to date, and May 2024 sees release of the long awaited and eagerly anticipated debut album Colossal Oppressor, featuring guest vocals by Karl Willetts of Memoriam/Bolt Thrower on the track "Brutus."

‘Colossal Oppressor’ is a slab of triple distilled slime that constitutes the culmination of over five years of work and dedication. It features all the elements from previous Ten Ton Slug releases such as powerful riffs and huge drums with Ronan’s characteristic vocals layered on top, yet develops them further and expands on them by incorporating more dynamic bass, developed songwriting and a wider variety of different grooves, atmosphere and melodic feels resulting in an album the Slug will be proud to enslave humanity to.

With cover art by Adam Burke of Nightjar illustration and guest vocals by Karl Willetts on the track "Brutus," ‘Colossal Oppressor’ melds doom, sludge, and metal elements to create 40+ minutes of prime riffage. The album expands upon the previous sound of the Slug incorporating new languages and elements including acoustic guitar intros, interludes, leadwork and more of a dual vocal approach.

TEN TON SLUG ON TOUR

Ireland

May 3rd - Limerick (tix)

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[militantinremission]

What exactly is the LGBTQ... Agenda?

I begin this by stating that ALL PHENOMENON comes into existence @ THE WILL & THE WAY of The Most High. Homosexual, Lesbian, & Transgender behavior is NOT 'unnatural', but it isn't 'common' either. The Majority of what We call Reality, is based on the integration of masculine & feminine forces. In humans, Men & Wo(mb)Men compliment each other. They close a spiritual circuit. When We consider the role that Yang & Yin (Shu & Tefnut) plays in shaping Ones 'temperment', We can see how some individuals may have a disproportionate mix of these forces. In Kemet (Kamit/ Ancient Egypt), The Kamau featured this duality prominently w/ colossal statues of Kings & Queens of that Era. They were depicted as Equals.

When looking @ the LGTBQ... Community from a global perspective, we're talking about less than 1% of the World's Population. From this angle, this Community is a small Minority Group, mostly found in Western(ized) Populations. Among the Non- Western Nations of the World, the most liberal may accept the Right of Expression of their LGBTQ... Population, but they're not adopting that culture into their Social Mores. The question arises: Why is the LGBTQ... Agenda being mainstreamed into Western Culture? And why is there a focus on 'Black Masculinity'? Individuals like Billy Porter try to paint Black Men as 'bullies', but are We? And what does he mean by 'bully'? Traditionally, bullies prey on the weak & defenseless; but that's a far cry from being an 'Oppressor'.

Bayard Rustin can be credited w/ tethering the Struggle of Black America w/ The Gay Rights Movement. He called that Movement 'The New Civil Rights Movement'. He also called Gays & Lesbians 'The New Niggers'... Is this accurate? Gay Men & Lesbians had Freedom of Expression behind Closed Doors. Most adopted a 'Mainstream' persona in Public. White Gays & Lesbians in particular, enjoyed THE SAME Rights & Privileges as Straight White Men & Women. White Trans Individuals were mostly Crossdressers; Gender Changing Surgery was not as advanced as it is today. Even they could mingle w/ Mainstream Society & enjoy the same Rights & Privileges.

While I agree that some Trans Individuals are persecuted to some extent for being different, a lot of the attacks against them stem from trying to engage w/ heterosexual Men who thought they were interacting w/ a 'cis- gender' Female. For whatever reason, They fail to see that THIS is a violation. They feel that they have the Right to misrepresent themselves to these Men, & are quick to cry foul when a heterosexual Man reacts to this misrepresentation negatively. They fail to understand The Fact that while they have a Right of Expression, others also have the same Right. If a Trans Individual learns that they are interacting w/ a heterosexual Man, why not tell him the truth, & let him make his own decision? There are Men out there who are attracted to Transgender individuals; why can't they pursue relationships w/ these Men?

A recurring Issue affecting the Trans Gender Community, is whether Trans Gender individuals have the Right to compete in Female Athletics. A number of these athletes have rose to fame by breaking Records held by 'cis- gender' females; is this fair? The argument, is that Men undergoing transition still preserve their masculine biochemistry. They may be more frail than the average Man, but they're more robust than the average Woman. Women have been fighting for equality in Athletics for decades; does this necessitate a new category of Sports, that takes Transgender Athletes into consideration? This is part of a larger narrative: Are Trans Gender Individuals that identify as Female actually Women? Judge Kentanji Brown Jackson couldn't answer this question during her Confirmation Hearing. This looks like a Trick Bag for future debate on the subject. It's not that complicated to me.

Trans Gender Individuals have the Right of Expression, but I don't think they really know what that means. They have the Freedom of their Pursuit of Happiness; if it means identifying w/ the opposite sex, so be it. That doesn't mean that Others are required to accept their Self Image. The Truth of The Matter, is that Women are Biochemically & Spiritually complicated Beings. Gender Reassignment, Hormone Therapy, & Uterine Transplants(???) aren't enough to make a Man into a Woman. It's actually pretty insulting. I remember Old School 'Trannies' who did their thing, & didn't care what ANYONE thought about them. What happened to that sentiment?

The LGBTQ... Agenda confuses Me. What is the End Goal? I'm old enough to remember 'The Gay Rights Movement'. That was about Respect. Gays, Lesbians, & Trans Individuals were being harassed & beaten for just being themselves. They were fighting for The Right of Expression. The LGBTQ... Agenda feels different. This Agenda feels like Social Indoctrination. If We follow statistics, 7% of the American population, & 20%- 25% of Millennials identify as LGBTQ... Why is the majority of what We are exposed to, as a Society, LGBTQ... driven?

As a Heterosexual Black Man, I am concerned w/ the proliferation of Black LGBTQ images & the lack of Black heterosexual couples. As a Community, We have been attacked by various forms of genocide. Breaking down traditional Black Families, & the Covenant between Black Men & Women has been a long term goal of White Supremacy. We know that there are staunch racists w/i the LGBTQ... Community. Gay Men & Lesbians were also Slaveholders. I don't have the exact #s, but it looks like for every heterosexual Black Couple seen 'On Screen', We are shown 3 Black interracial & 3 Black Gay/ Lesbian Couples. Is this an accurate depiction of the Indigenous/Black American Community? What is clear, is that We are being targeted... I have always held the philosophy of 'Free to be', as long as U respect My Right of Expression. As a heterosexual (Dominant) Black Man, I feel my Right being threatened.

Society deems Black Masculinity as 'toxic', while Gay Black Men are deemed acceptable. When We factor in Prison/ Convict Leasing, Black Men make about 51 Cents for every Dollar that a White Man makes. Gay Black Men however, make about The Same as White Men. Billy Porter wants to represent A Black Male perspective, while wearing a dress; then he critiques those who contest his representation. They're bullies & homophobes that can't accept a multifaceted expression of 'masculinity'. He ignores The Fact that Black Masculinity has been stereotyped in Movies, Television Shows, Music Videos, & Publications for decades. There was NEVER a 'multifaceted' approach 2 Black Masculinity. There was a multifaceted approach to how a Black Man tried to take care of his Family.

I have to reiterate The Fact that The LGBTQ... Community deserves The Right Of Expression. My issue w/ The LGBTQ... Agenda, is the heavy handed feel of it. This Movement is more aggressive than The Gay Rights Movement that preceded it. That Movement seemed to be more about Gay, Lesbian, & Trans Individuals having their Own Place & Space to express themselves. I remember speaking w/ Gay Men back in the 80s, & how they stressed The Fact that they were MEN, that just happened to have an affinity for other Men. Today's Gay Man presents a more effeminate image. Ricky Martin & Neal Patrick Harris types have been overshadowed by more flamboyant personalities; prominent among this group, are Gay Black Men.

A Hot Button Issue w/ The LGBTQ... Agenda, is the perceived indoctrination of prepubescent children. The Gay/ Lesbian Agenda seems to have taken a back seat to The Debate over whether children should undergo Gender Reassignment Surgery. I'm of The School of Thought that believes that children should be allowed to be children. Why are We teaching Our children about Sexuality in Elementary School? Why is THIS even an issue? Children are in a perpetual developmental state; thoughts & feelings they have today, may be very different from what they think & feel 5Yrs from now.

Children are also in a Period of Discovery. They are learning about their sexual identity, & how to navigate Social Mores as that individual. Introducing alternate Sexual Identities complicates an already complicated period. I understand the Transgender argument that young boys & girls that identify w/ the opposite sex are being left behind. My issue, is that these individuals were allowed to have a childhood, grow up, & then decide how they want to live as adults. Why can't today's children have the same freedom? Mainstream Media is focusing on 'Drag Queen Story Time', but it's deeper than that.

I'm old enough to remember when The Gay Man's Health Crisis started going into Elementary & Junior High Schools in NYC. 1978 was a Watershed year for 'Gay Bashing'. The wanton attacks on Gay Men led many to take Martial Arts & Self Defense Classes. Others joined Gyms to bulk up. This led to the phenomenon of 'Body Sculpting'. The rationale @ the time, was a belief that familiarizing young children w/ Gay/ Lesbian Culture, would help reduce the prospect of homophobic attacks in the future. They were right. By 1984, Eddie Murphy is joking about social relations between Straight & Gay Men.

I personally think that Disco Music & Larry LeVan (R.I.P.) did more to bridge the gap between Straight & Gay Cultures, but Millennials & Gen Z have been much more accepting of the Gay/ Lesbian/ Transgender individual's Right of Expression. My question, is why isn't this enough? The LGBTQ... Community has amassed considerable Political Power & 'Social Capital'. Included are:

The Right to Exist

The Right of Expression

The Right of Autonomy, &

The Right to your Own Place & Space.

From a Indigenous/ Black American perspective, this group has attained more Freedom in 50Yrs, than We have in the last 159Yrs. It's a bit confounding, when you consider how This Community already had these Rights (as Whitefolk); it's apparent that They wanted Social Acceptance as a Counter Culture.

What concerns me, is the push to incorporate a 'Counter Culture' into the Social Mainstream. I accept LGBTQ... Culture, like I accept the variety of Ethnic Cultures that I am exposed to. That said, i'm not trying to integrate those Cultures into My Experience. My Right of Expression, is supposed to give me Freedom of Choice. The obvious indoctrination of children into LGBTQ... Culture by School Teachers, & Corporations like Disney, needs to be called out. Teachers need to double down on Reading, Writing, & Arithmetic; when do they have time to talk about Sexuality? The smug comments of a Disney Producer regarding the placement of 'Gay Images' (i.e. 2 Men kissing) in Programs that target children, isn't very funny.

Disney has a long history of Racism; both of the Disney Brothers were racists. That said, the Disney Legacy has been that of 'Child Friendly Entertainment'. Parents need to be more attentive about the Programs that their children watch, but they put their faith in Disney providing mainstream values in their programming. LGBTQ... Culture isn't Mainstream, regardless of how many Directors, Producers, Actors, & Crew Members from that Community are involved in a Project. These subversive acts only fuel the rhetoric associating LGBTQ... Culture w/ Pedophilia. Rumors of including NAMBLA under the LGBTQ... Umbrella doesn't help matters.

The Era of the 'Latch Key Child' means that Parents aren't available to reinforce Family Values on their children, like previous generations. This is offered more as a fact, than an excuse for today's Parents. Children are learning their Social Skills from Teachers, Television, & The Internet. This Case is especially true in Indigenous/ Black American Families. The proliferation of Black Gay Couples on Television Shows & Commercials, to the extent that they overshadow Black Heterosexual Couples, just isn't realistic. This representation doesn't reflect the Indigenous/ Black American population. The majority of Indigenous/ Black Families have relatives that are in 'The Life', but most are heterosexual. While We cannot deny that some of Our Black LGBTQ Family had a rough journey w/ little support, many had the love & support of their family. Our Black Gay/ Lesbian/ Transgender family members needed All the support We could offer; They tended to be the loudest voices in The Movement.

The Stonewall Riot that sparked The Gay Rights Movement, was sparked when 2 Trans Individuals of Color were brutally attacked by NYPD officers. Black Gay, Lesbian, & Trans Individuals were @ the vanguard of that Movement; unlike their White counterparts, they could not simply blend into Society. One would think that some measure of gratitude (i.e. Uplift) would be bestowed on this group, but 50Yrs later, this segment of the LGBTQ... Community still lives in poverty. As it is w/ The Black/ Indigenous Community, a few Black LGBTQ individuals are spotlighted, but the majority of The Community has a lower Quality Of Life than their Non- Black counterparts. Many argue that they are discriminated against because of their Sexual Identity, but it seems pretty clear that Race trumps Sexuality.

This plot to separate Blackfolk by sexual preference may achieve moderate success, but it will ultimately fail. Black LGBTQ individuals are Black First. Their Non- Black counterparts aren't fighting the same battle. White Supremacy doesn't differentiate between Straight or Gay. Black Gays & Lesbians are fighting the same Enemy as Heterosexual Black Men & Women. If they stay On Code, NO ONE CARES about what they do behind closed doors. The love & support that Marcel Dixon is receiving, is proof of this... Indigenous/ Black Men have an experience in AmeriKKKa that may explain the homophobic tendencies of some. Lil Nas X, is a throwback to the Era of 'Buck Breaking' or 'Slave Seasoning' Plantations. The ideal Black Man was either: a Buck, a Fighter, a Plantation Worker, or a Sex Toy- complete w/ dress & powdered wig.

Some White Men took joy in humiliating Black Men; especially in front of Black Women. It sent a clear message that he can't protect her, if he can't protect himself. This was probably the 1st crack in the foundation of The Covenant between Black Men & Women. As a Community, We collectively have a Genetic Memory, & some Black Men may conjure up past atrocities when they think about Gay relationships (Post Traumatic Slave Disorder). The genetic memory is one of Black Men being dominated, humiliated, & sodomized. Is it really surprising that 'Men' may rebel against that narrative? Child Predators exist in Every Community, & some Black Men may have bad experiences from their childhood. Gay Men flirting w/ heterosexual Black Men may unknowingly trigger these thoughts; but is it homophobic?

It's curious how the fight for Gay & Lesbian Rights morphed into the Big Tent of the LGBTQ... Movement. More curious, is how Trans Issues take precedence over Gay or Lesbian Issues. The LGBTQ... infiltration of BLM benefited Trans Individuals far more than Gays or Lesbians. We didn't hear: 'Gay or Lesbian Lives Matter' @ those Protests. Trans Organizations received the lion's share of the money dispensed by BLM; far more than the Black Grassroot Organizations that supported BLM & kept them relevant. How will Gays & Lesbians factor into the future of the LGBTQ... Agenda? They are adding 'letters' to their acronym, but these groups appear to be Sex Cults.

Inclusion of these groups may bolster the overall numbers, but the LGBTQ... Movement runs the risk of losing Societal Support. Gays, Lesbians, & Trans Gender Individuals have worked & fought over 50Yrs for acceptance. They had to overcome numerous stigmas & stereotypes along the way. Polyamorism & Pedophilia were the biggest of those stereotypes. Why would they even consider inclusion of groups regarded as Socially Deviant? Gay Designers dominate Men's Fashion, but putting Male Entertainers in dresses, & clothing Today's Men in tight 'Female Cuts' may not be enough to sway Public Opinion on what is deemed 'deviant behavior'. From a Black Perspective, it looks like this Movement has been co-opted by 'Others' that are intent on pushing The Envelope, until Society pushes back.

Clarence Thomas' recent comments regarding Gay Marriage sounds like 'Others' are waiting on Public Opinion to shift. It would behoove the LGBTQ... Community not to help.

[jrkinnard]

Listen/purchase: Colossal Oppressor by Ten Ton Slug

[hierarchyproblem]

We're all on the same page that armed resistance to oppression is perfectly ethically permissible and frequently necessary, right? And we understand that even though there's no purely military path to Palestinian liberation, both offensive and defensive violence are an unavoidable element of the struggle, right? And that even though Israel and the US will use that to "justify" reprisals, the responsibility for the violence of the oppressors lies squarely with the oppressors themselves, yeah?

That said.

It's becoming pretty clear that this whole thing was a colossal fucking misplay on Hamas' part, huh?

[newnewz]

How Ambedkar was both ‘Dalitised’ and ‘Brahminised’ by Indian ruling class to own history

Ambedkar’s legacy is complex and multifaceted. His is a name that continues to evoke dialogue and discontentment in sociopolitical movements formed in post-independent India. Yet, at the same time, Ambedkar has been intentionally ignored and strategically suppressed by history and society at large. Initially, many social and political movements did not embrace him. After the formidable resilience of his believers, who kept his memory alive and his struggle relevant, other mainstream movements piggybacked on their work, changing tracks when it directly benefited their interests. However, to condense Ambedkar’s breadth of scholarship, he became a prolific face for the denouncers to uphold. It was an amenable strategy to either ignore and let die Ambedkar’s scholarship or assimilate and grow. The latter was an obvious and relatively easy option to take. Political organizations with ideological underpinnings chose to select Ambedkar rather than accept him. The assimilation was a carefully crafted strategy to Brahminize and Dalitize Ambedkar.

Ambedkar was Brahminized by being made a part of India’s greatness and presented as an exemplary patriot. And he was Dalitized at the same time to ensure that his place as an untouchable remained in the archive of Indian history, while he received no further credit. In either case, it was the intention of the ruling classes to control the narrative and own the history. Brahminizing and Dalitizing form a space of conflated dualisms. They are separated by the logic of history and yet they are one. The ‘one’—a unison of neglected human fallacies that become an absolute logic of interpretation of the other from the fragile ground of the oppressor. The juxtacondition of possibilities and pain affixed alongside each other makes it a mandate of the people.

The two extreme possibilities of human status—one on the highest while the other is left excluded. Accretions of unasked merits define the final destiny of every human stretched in the rigid castesphere. In this essay, I will look at the chaos over having Ambedkar in the company of everybody who stood to denounce and reject him. This includes the appropriation politics of assimilation by the Hindu right, the Hindu left, Hindu progressive and Indian liberal order. I will then chart the radical projects of Ambedkar, which include a separate settlement for untouchables—an autonomous, independent self-governing space far away from the village ecology responsible for creating havoc in the lives of Dalit. In Dalitizing Ambedkar, even the socialists who failed in their deliberate attempt to absorb Ambedkar took Dalit politics into their fold after his death. Building on this argument, the paper then shifts to the heist of Ambedkar’s ideology by the apologists of Brahminical violence in India, politically known as Hindutva, culturally as Sanatan Dharma, and historically as varnashrama dharma that combined the ruling class aspirations of various religious orders.

Not Your Ambedkar If there is any figure from India’s modern history who is present, alive and relevant, it is B. R. Ambedkar. No other historical figure has been resurrected so strongly as him. His colossal scholarship, along with his radical social and political interventions, have made him a deified rector of India’s political school. His public life begins during his post-matric facilitation by the local slum dwellers who recognized his achievement. Although Ambedkar played down that event as being unimportant to his public life, he does recall that it was through that event that he was introduced to the Buddha at the age of fourteen through the biography of Keluskar, a teacher at Wilson College, Mumbai.

In 1919, aged twenty-eight, his first testimonial to the Southborough Commission argued for the franchise rights of all, irrespective of status or class.

Ambedkar’s oeuvre continues to expand as more literature produced by him and on him hits the bookshelves every year. The pile of scholarship crediting to Ambedkar’s work in non-English languages represents the largest import of Dalit cultural production. Books on Ambedkar are sold in crores over two days commemorating Ambedkar’s death anniversary at Chaityabhoomi, Mumbai, or in Nagpur commemorating the day of mass conversion to Buddhism led by Ambedkar. These bookstalls occupy an important place in the make-up of Ambedkarite gatherings. My father Milind Yengde was one such book hawker who sold books on the streets at Ambedkarite gatherings. I was his co-worker. Selling Ambedkar literature at a minimal margin of 50 paise to 2 rupees per book was still a proud moment for Milind, who ensured that the Dalit mass, which was deprived of education, would now acquire knowledge and think for itself. The investment in Ambedkar’s intellectualism has given rise to a solid arc for Dalit movements.

The recent upsurge in the number of attacks on the people’s constitutional rights since the Modi government’s tenure from 2014 has suddenly put Ambedkar back into everyone’s view. Protesters took the assault of the state on constitutional liberty as a sign of impending fascism.

The protest against the current government and other Brahminical forces could be possible while upholding the constitutional virtues deftly laid out by Ambedkar. Thus, the inevitability of Ambedkar and his political pragmatism became a weapon for the struggling masses of the country. Every ideology acknowledged Ambedkar and embraced his uncompromising radical-humanist vision. Ambedkar is difficult to fit into canon of non-Dalit ideologies. He does not parley without putting the rights of untouchables at the centre of nationalist or civil and political rights struggles. By appropriating and iconizing him in the pantheons of the Hindu right and making him a nationalist figure fighting on the side of the Hindus, the current government took the offensive against every dissenter. The Shaheen Bagh protest of 2020 partly re-appropriated Ambedkar through its symbols and literature and through the act of carrying his photographs with a collective call of ‘Jai Bhim’, reclaiming his constitutional legacy to rescue him from the misappropriation of the Modi government.

Despite being a deft pragmatist and a non-dogmatic democratic socialist, Ambedkar has become the most celebrated figure across the political spectrum in India in contemporary times. Everyone tends to display their admiration for his intellect but have a reserved appraisal of his political work. Therefore, to downplay his complicated and at times controversial vista, it is safe for the non-Dalit sphere to present Ambedkar as a sworn constitutionalist. Earlier, the caste-hegemonic discourse of India refused to grant the pedigree of India’s Constitution to Ambedkar’s scholarly toil. In some instances, it actively worked to denounce elements of Ambedkar’s influence and politics. Arun Shourie, a liberal right-winger, is a case in point. His book Worshipping False Gods became a bone of contention over the authorship of India’s Constitution and calling out Ambedkar for being in conversation with the British government and thus a collaborator of the Raj. The same was done by the dominant caste Hindu, Muslim, Sikh leaders of the Congress, however, they do not receive similar treatment as Ambedkar. Ironically, they are revered as nationalists. Many commentators who replied to Shourie’s book commented that Ambedkar was now being ‘elevated to the pantheon of nation leaders’. This means it was still unacceptable for the liberal and other non-Dalit spheres to accept him as a national figure towards the end of past century.

How does Ambedkar emerge out of the debris caricatured around his totem? And how do the Dalit political and social sphere examine the growing prevalence of such an act? All this was made possible in the matter of the last decade or so. These decades were marked by frustration over the lack of redistribution of resources and failed state policies in a neo-liberal make-up on pro-rich, pro-caste Hindu policies. However, granting the wholesomeness of the Constitution to Ambedkar alone eventually worked in favour of the ruling castes and class. They found an impeccable hero who would uphold the missives with all its positives and drawbacks. The propertied class found it appropriate to let their control on the assets go unquestioned for the articles protected their interests (Article 31).

The other stories of warring groups found it objectionable to accept it as their constitution. Therefore, a new movement to overthrow constitutional principles was carried forward religiously by the deployment of Adivasi youth under the tutelage of Bengali Brahmins, Bihari Kayasthas and other dominant castes.

Therefore, we now face a few complicated hurdles. One is the adherence to Ambedkar as an individual with his merits and limitations. Another is to deify him and to stop investment in critical thinking around his passionately curated oeuvre. Ambedkar and Ambedkarism are epochal. Ambedkarites and Ambedkarists have taken the cue from the political positioning of the Dalit’s adnate co-spheres of existence.

The one who believes in Ambedkar as an individual and in his artistry of uniting a huge, segregated mass under one banner and making them a political missile identifies with Ambedkarite-ness. So does the one who takes Ambedkarism as an eventual philosophy to develop progressive and broader hermeneutics in the construction of a thematic approach to problems. These thematic approaches rely on issue-based politics with a strong undercurrent of inaugurating an anti-caste politics towards the annihilation of caste dialectics. In this chapter, I will look at the confusion of including Ambedkar in the gang of everybody who stood to denounce and reject him. This includes the appropriation politics of assimilation by the Hindu right, the Hindu left, Hindu progressive and Indian liberal orders.

Accepting Ambedkar? Ambedkar is the most mesmerizing anti-Brahminical weapon, and no other community could produce another like him. His forthrightness in calling out the callousness of Brahminical elements woven in the Indian republic was astounding. His work takes shape in many forms. Aside from writing the destiny of his people, Ambedkar was also fighting to get their rights in place. For this, he chose every option available. He started off as a rights advocate in a social movement, later went on to petitioning the government as a lawyer and people’s leader, then toyed with the idea of claiming power through mass struggle and culminated in the political apparatus bargaining for more powers. After him, Dalit politics was open to be exploited. Many political parties, from the Congress to the socialists, tried to own his legacy by promoting Scheduled Caste leadership that was not entirely attuned to his radical programmes such as a separate electorate, separate settlement and nationalization of important sectors—land and industry being the most prominent. A firm believer in socialism, Ambedkar saw State socialism as ‘essential to the rapid industrialization of India’.

[amidstcalamity]

DEPARTURE TO DESTRUCTION

2048, within Zamboanga, Philippines. An elephantine cavern throughout the tropical grasslands, which served as one of the few secret lairs of the Eradicator. Currently present, and seemingly safe from any potential threat, including his enemy, the Desolation.

However, little did he know, he was getting some unexpected visitors. Visitors, who he despises immeasurably.

Multiple gargantuan ships, armed to the teeth with plasma cannons and filled to the brim with soldiers, flew in, consisting of the Desolation emblem right in front of them. 50-feet tall mechs dominated the ground, seeking to blast the Eradicator into oblivion.

Mammoth tanks, zeppelin ships from a higher altitude. Right beside the shore were Desolation battleships that were superior to 7th-generation naval ships. Multiple armies ranging in the tens of thousands, overcoming the lands like a plague.

Several gigantic, mechanical beasts in the form of a spider and centipede, with guns that far exceed a fortress’s weaponry. The Z1999 Apocalypse came back to torment the likes of the Eradicator, and there were two of them.

“You fucking kidding me? We’re expending this much manpower to take down one target? This is insane. An attack like this should go to the Classic Order HQ.” one soldier who rid by one of the flying ships remarked. A thought that had come to his senses, unlike the rest who were next to him.

“You. Don’t. Understand.” With every word, another soldier poked at the other’s upper chest. “This is no ordinary man. This is a demigod who has been taking out a large fraction of the Desolation. He’s slain plenty of Desolation members, and took out entire superfortresses of ours all by himself.”

“No, I do get it, he’s a major threat and continues to prove it. I just feel like the Classic Order is more important.”

“Look, you gotta side with us on this one, kid. If you do, we’ll all go out for ice cream, got it?”

“You sold me.”

“Works every time. Alright, boys, let’s light up this asshole.”

The flying ships flew in to surface level to deploy its units, directly in front of the overwhelming armies. Before they would make their move, their oppressor walked out of the cave.

The Eradicator, in his crimson armor, not saying a word. He stood there for a few seconds, the soldiers that were directly in front of him were trembling in fear, acknowledging that they’re up first against the slaughterhouse of horrors that the slayer would deal.

They fired at him. A stream of plasma. However, he walked through the plasma shots. From one side to another, he fired out a colossal blast, annihilating hundreds of men and entire tanks.

The pulsing of energy. The ripping and tearing of men dealt by the Eradicator. Obliteration of the super heavy weaponry. For days, no, weeks, the Eradicator had to fight, yet his body never wavered.

From the beginning, it seemed like the Desolation forces were on their way, conducting yet another symphony of destruction. However, all they ever did was..

their departure to destruction.

[me-and-your-husband]

home || a. arlert

summary: after 4 years of the world thinking you were dead, you come knocking on the scout regiment's door.

warnings: mentions of violence against women, language, smut, creampie, praise kink, oral (female receiving), virgin!armin, virgin!reader, smut with feels, some angst, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink

pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader

words: 5k (this is the longest shit i've ever written)

A/N: this is in the canonverse, but sasha lives :D

here's my masterlist if you want to read more of my work!

Armin blamed himself. He blamed himself for not looking out for you. He blamed himself for not ensuring your safety. He blamed himself for your death.

Even though it wasn't his fault, he still blamed himself. It's just who Armin was. After your death, he was reduced to a shell of a man. He thought about nothing but strategizing, making plans with Commander Erwin and Hange to retake wall Maria and even after that he still focused on anything but you. There was no body, no grave he could visit.

Every time he did think about you, he didn't stop crying for hours. Days, even. Eren and Mikasa could bring no comfort to him. They were hurting too, but Armin had a different relationship with you. A more intimate one. A kind of relationship in which you trusted each other with everything. One where you felt at peace with each other's presence. How was he supposed to feel alright without you by his side?

When Armin became the colossal titan, he didn't know how to deal with that fact. The thing he had spent years fighting, years being afraid of, the thing that took his home, he was now that very same thing. Though, now he knew how Eren must've felt.

The next four years, he lost that light in his eyes. The childish glint that gave him his hope and his faith. After the discovery of Marley, of their oppressors, Armin realized that the enemies were the humans. He was expected to kill his own kind now.

He had moments where he wished that Captain Levi had chosen to save Commander Erwin. What could Armin do that Erwin Smith couldn't?

That's when he remembered you the most. He'd remember that whenever he felt insecure as a kid, you'd grab his face and tell him, "Armin! You're the smartest person I know. Don't go acting like you're not gonna change the world some day. I know you will. And you better believe it too." And there was no arguing with your stern voice.

After the attack on Marley, the scouts needed rest. They needed a secluded place where none of the Marleyans could find them even if they tried. So, they headed back to the castle that the scouts used to stay in all those years ago. Besides, Sasha had been shot and needed medical treatment from Hange as soon as possible.

The night approached and everyone, including Sasha, who now had a large bandage wrapped around her abdomen, sat in the mess hall. Niccolo had graciously prepared a delicious meal for the scouts when they were gone, knowing how badly they would need to regain their fuel when they came back.

The scouts laughed and joked, talked and told stories. Armin, Levi, Hange, Jean, Mikasa, Connie, and Sasha all connected with stories of old comrades and old adventures.

Soon, everyone was ready to get some much needed rest. Hange and Levi stayed up to clean up the mess hall. The rest of them found their own places to sleep.

Armin layed his head on the cold pillow. He pulled the thin blanket up under his chin and tried to fall asleep in the cold castle that harboured so many ghosts.

Finally, his eyelids felt heavy and he drifted off.

Levi, in attempts to soothe his insomnia, was up in the mess hall in the middle of the pitch black night, drinking a cup of tea. The world was silent and he could finally get a breath in.

He shut his eyes momentarily, before a series of loud bangs pulled him back into reality. He groaned.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Someone was banging on the door.

Levi sighed. Setting his cup down on the table, he moved towards the large oak door.

More banging.

"Hold on brat! I'm coming," he yelled through the door.

Swinging the door open, he was prepared for nearly anything. Nearly.

The figure in front of him was nowhere in the range of things he was ready for.

"Holy shit."

Armin awoke to a disheveled Hange shaking him furiously.

"Armin! Wake up! You have to see this!" Hange yelled.

"Okay, okay..." Armin groaned as he rolled out of bed. It wasn't unlike Hange to wake him up in the middle of the night to show him one of their experiments.

But what was unlike Hange, was to yell at the other scouts who were sleeping in their rooms, "Wake up, everyone! Meet in the mess hall, now!"

Armin was on edge, of course, but he didn't think anything of it.

Armin, Sasha, Connie, Jean and Mikasa all grumbled as they walked in their nightwear down to the mess hall in one large group. There, Levi and Hange stood facing them. But in front of the two with their back turned to the scouts, was a figure sipping on a cup of tea, rubbing their temples.

"Who is this?" Jean asked, arms crossed and face solemn.

"Yeah, and what're they doing here in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night?" Connie pressed.

The figure placed the teacup on the table and exhaled. They removed their hand from rubbing at their temples and looked up at Hange and Levi. The two gave each other a nervous look. For Levi Ackerman to be nervous, this must've been something extreme.

"Look, we don't know how..." Hange began. "Just..." Hange sighed in defeat. They looked at the figure in front of them and motioned at us.

The figure swung their legs over the bench to face us. Jean uncrossed his arms. Mikasa covered her mouth with her hand. Sasha gasped. Connie grabbed onto Jean's shoulder for support. Armin let out a whimper.

"Y-Y/N?" Armin spoke softly, his voice wavering.

You stood up and walked towards the group.

"Hey," you breathed, looking each of them over. Mikasa had cut her hair. Jean had grown his hair out more. Armin cut his hair into a silky undercut. Everyone's features were more cut and defined. Everyone grew a few inches and gained more muscle mass. You noticed Eren wasn't with them.

The same could be said for you. Your hair had grown down your back in the last four years. Your body naturally developed more into a woman with age. Your eyes were adjusted and calculated. You had more muscle than the last time any of them saw you.

"You all look like you've seen a ghost," you joked, crossing your arms and shifting your weight.

Jean stepped forward. "Because we have. You're...you're dead, Y/N. You have been for the last four years...?" Jean said, towering over you. He looked lost. He studied your features with a manic stare.

"No, everyone thought I was dead. Nobody came to look for me."

Silence. Nobody spoke, they just looked at you with hung jaws and wide eyes in complete shock, and you looked back.

After a few minutes, Armin's voice filled the room. "Y/N," he said, voice cracking as he stepped closer to you. He slowly and reluctantly reached a hand out to touch the side of your face. When you leaned into his touch and slid your hand over his, he put his other hand on the other side of your head. You slid your other hand on top of his as well.

Armin's eyes were flooded with tears. "Tell me you're real. Tell my you're really here. Tell me this isn't another dream. I can't lose you again," Armin whispered, completely drowning out everyone else in the room. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned his forehead against yours. Tears streamed down his cheeks and you wanted to wipe them all away. You wondered how many tears he spent on you when he thought you were forever gone. You swore you would never make him cry again.

"I promise, Armin. I'm here. It's me. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," you whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks and planting a kiss to his forehead. You had never gone far with Armin. You were both only 15 the last time you saw one another. The most you'd ever done with him was letting him lay his head in your lap while you played with his hair and he read to you, or hugs here and there. Sometimes one of you would fall asleep on the other.

But this, this was an unspoken kind of love. As you cradled a sobbing Armin in your arms as he clutched your shirt and nuzzled his head into your neck, as tears spilled down your face and into his hair, as you whispered reassurances and he how much he missed you, you both understood how much you needed and loved one another.

Soon, the others joined your hug with tears running down their cheeks like rivers. First it was Mikasa. Her, Eren and Armin were always the closest to you. Then it was Sasha, Connie and then Jean. Hange and even Levi found themselves huddling into the group hug.

The next morning, after everyone got over the initial shock of seeing their dead friend in the flesh, living and breathing, you all gathered in the garden and sat in the bright morning sun.

"So...what happened?" Connie asked without looking at you. He was sat legs crossed, leaning against a fence, playing with the grass next to him.

"Connie...give her some time," Mikasa reprimanded gently.

"No, no it's fine, really. I..." you sighed, standing up and brushing the grass off of your causal dress. You turned around and leaned with your elbows on the fence, back to everyone else. You noticed the way the grass swayed in the wind and the birds chirped and the sun never stopped shining.

You inhaled a deep breath. "When we headed back inside the walls when the female titan made an appearance, I told my group that I'd fall back to make sure nobody was left behind. They didn't know me very well; not like you guys did.

"We were almost back inside the walls, but I thought I heard someone crying for help in the forest. I went to check but...I couldn't find anyone. My horse got spooked by a bird and I fell off and it ran.

"I was out there for three months. I survived by moving at night when titans lost motion and the little amount of gas I had left in my ODM gear. I survived on nature, basic instincts.

"Without a map or any navigation device, I didn't know where I was. I could see the walls, but I couldn't see where the gates were. It took me three months, only travelling at night, to get to the wall. It took me another month after that to find the gate on foot.

"Once I reached the gate, I had to find a way in. I waited until the Survey Corps went on another expedition outside the walls. By that time, you had just discovered the ocean."

Armin gasped. "You've heard about the ocean? That it's real? Like I told you!" He beamed.

You chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I've heard about the ocean. For the next three and a half years I worked at a tea shop in the underground as a servant. I had a small room to sleep in and I was clothed and fed, but I was also beaten and robbed whenever I walked outside of the shop. Not to mention what they did to me..." You winced had shook your head.

"Regardless, it was lonely," you said.

"I found myself missing being a scout. I missed fighting for the better of humanity. I missed you all. I missed my old life. So two months ago I snuck out of my job, and made my way to the interior. When I asked for a meeting with Commander Hange Zoe to get my status back and moved back onto the scout regiment, officers from the Garrison threw me out.

"When I saw the scouts make their way in this direction, I knew you'd be going to the castle. So a few hours later, I followed. And here we are now."

It was silent for a few moments as everyone took that in. Captain Levi broke the silence.

"So you've experienced the underground then."


You nodded.

"I'm sorry. I know what they do to women down there. It's not...it's not something I'd wish upon anyone."

You gave Levi a reassuring smile and thanked him.

Hange cleared their throat. "We're going back to the interior in a few days. Until then, we're just planning to lay low here and take a minute to breathe. You're welcome back on the team, if you'll have us."

You nodded. "That sounds great. Is this...all that's left of the scouts?"

Everyone nodded sadly.

"But it's fine! We've got Y/N back now!" Sasha said, bringing a smile to everyone's formerly sullen features.

"Yeah! We have to celebrate tonight. A welcome home party," Jean said, standing up.

"We'll go set everything up. There'll be beer, and food, and games and- oh! Sasha, you can get Niccolo to make that dish you like and we can show Y/N..." Connie's voice trailed off as him, Jean and Sasha skipped towards the castle.

"Well we better go make sure those brats don't burn the whole place to the ground. Let's go Hange," Levi grumbled, getting up and walking towards the castle.

"Y/N?" Hange asked.

"Yeah?"

"I...welcome back," Hange said with a genuine smile.

You, Mikasa and Armin sat in silence against the fence with your knees to your chest, looking out at the field in front of you.

You took a breath in. "Now might be a good time to ask..."

Mikasa looked at her hands, knowing what was coming next.

"Where's Eren?" You knew he wasn't dead. You just had a feeling.

"He's locked in a cell. He's too dangerous right now," Armin said, burying his face into his arms which rested atop his knees. His beautiful blond hair swayed slightly in the breeze.

You hummed. "Okay."

The sun was starting to set, painting an ethereal mix of orange, pink, yellow and blue across the sky. Birds flew and the grass swayed, ticking your ankles.

Mikasa sighed and stood up. She looked between you and Armin with a knowing look.

"I'll leave you guys to yourselves for now. I'm gonna go see if anyone needs help," she said, before walking off in the direction of the castle.

The grass was tall in this area and hard to see over. But when you could no longer see Mikasa, you spoke.

"Armin..." you turned your head to face him.

"Yes...?" He spoke timidly.

You giggled. "I like your haircut."

He blushed. "Really? I thought you would. I thought of you when I got it. Truth be told, I thought of you pretty much all of the time."

You looked at your hands.

"I missed you. I missed you so much, Y/N. And it's just so...I feel so...happy, at peace, that your back." Armin's voice carried so much pain, hurt and sorrow in it. You only hoped to take it away.

Armin turned to face you. He closed his eyes and took your hands in his. When he opened his eyes again, there were a few tears pooling in his baby blue eyes.

"Y/N, being without you for so long has only shown me how painful it is to live in a world where you're not by my side. I have to tell you this because I fear that if I don't, you'll leave me again. I..." Armin took a deep breath.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm in love with you. I've loved you since we were kids. When my only worry was what book we were going to read the next day and what I'd say to the kids who picked on us. When we were so young that we were incapable of such a complex emotion, I loved you. I still do and I always will, Y/N. I need you to know that. I need you to stay here and stay with me. So please, Y/N, please tell me that you feel the same way that I do because I don't know how I'll live with losing you twice." Tears streamed down Armin's face, as well as yours.

Armin studied your face for a long while. You were thinking about what to say. You didn't know how to say what you wanted to say.

"A-Armin..." your voice cracked. You looked down and shook your head. He recoiled slightly, thinking it was a sign of you not feeling the same.

"You don't feel the same way..." Armin stated, voice cracking and sniffling.

"No, Armin I..." you struggled to find words. "For fuck's sake, just let me show you," you said.

You cupped Armin's jaw with one hand and grabbed the back of his neck with the other. You crashed your lips into his. It was a mixture of salty tears and saliva. He let out a shaky breath into your mouth, and brought his hands up to cradle your face.

Pulling away, he gently grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his waist so you were straddling him. You leaned your foreheads against each other's, taking deep breaths.

After a while, you opened your eyes to look at Armin. You tested the waters, planting soft, chaste kisses on his lips. He immediately returned them.

You both held each other's faces, pressing tender kisses on each other's lips. Tears still fell down both of your faces from the overwhelming emotion you were both experiencing.

Soon, you found yourself slowly grinding against Armin's hardening length. He moaned into your mouth. You gasped when he started bucking his hips into you at the same pace.

You tilted your head down and felt his tongue brush across your bottom lip, asking for access to your mouth. You obliged, letting his tongue slip in.

The soft moans that Armin was releasing into your mouth only added to the fire burning in your core. You furrowed your brows and whined Armin's name.

Armin pulled back. His eyes were red from crying and his lips were swollen and red. He kept his hand cradling the side of your face and he looked up at you.

"Y/N, if you don't want to do this we don't have to-"

You cut Armin off my pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

"I want to if you want to, Armin."

With that, Armin moved his hands to your hips and nuzzled his face into your neck. He began sucking marks on your neck. For now, only you and Armin existed. The fear of being caught outside like this and people seeing the bruises on your neck later did not occur to you, and they wouldn't even matter anyways.

Your hands found purchase in Armin's soft hair, tugging lightly. Your fingers ran over the scratchy hair of his undercut.

Tiny moans escaped your lips. Armin pulled your hips closer to his, where your clothed core met his clothed length. Armin trialed one hand up your thigh and under the skirt of your dress, reaching the waistband of your panties.

"Can I?" Armin asked, looking up at you. Your hand subconsciously grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, Armin...I've never..." You bit your lip, looking away as a red tint spread across your cheeks.

"Neither have I, Y/N. Are you sure you want your first time to be here? With me?" He asked you, gently brushing a few pieces of hair out of your eyes.

You met his eyes once more. "Yes. Yes I do, Armin. I want to give myself to you. Please, I need more," you let out a breathy gasp when he grabbed your hips to softy lay you down on the grass.

"Do you trust me?" Armin asked, crawling in between your legs and interlacing your fingers together beside your head.

"I always have," you answered.

Armin gave you a reassuring smile as he pushed the skirt of your dress up to your waist. He kept your hands interlaced the whole time. He started at your ankles and trailed kisses up to your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed him the most. Finally, you felt him press a kiss to your clothed core. You clenched around nothing at the thought of him taking you like this. It was one of the most intimate things you could give, and you were happy you were giving it to him.

"Armin, please," you begged.

Armin looped his fingers around the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your legs and tucking them into the back pocket of his pants.

He blew warm air over your core, before pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, making you squirm.

"You're so wet, baby..." he said, before licking an experimental strip up your slit, making you moan. You bit your knuckle to stop the embarrassing sounds that you were bound to make.

With the hand that wasn't locked with yours, Armin gently swatted the hand away from your mouth.

"I wanna hear your sounds, pretty girl," he said, dipping back down to your dripping heat. Armin began licking at your clit, drawing figure eights with his tongue. You moaned his name and tugged on his hair again and again.

Armin used the hand that wasn't still laced with yours to hold your hips down, as they were bucking into his mouth.

"You're so pretty like this," Armin said as he came up for air, only to go back down to where you were begging for him.

For still being a virgin, Armin was very well versed in the female anatomy. Of course it was from all the books he's read in his 20 years. There was bound to have been a sex scene in one of them.

Armin continued to suck on your bundle of nerves, drawing moans and praises from your pretty lips endlessly. In no time, you felt that fire in your lower abdomen burn and burn out of control, until he finally hit that spot. It was a feeling you'd never felt before. It was such a pleasuring sensation, that you wished you'd felt it before.

Armin worked you through your orgasm by continuing his work on your clit.

"That's it, pretty girl. Come undone on my tongue. Just like that..."

Once you had finished, Armin pulled away and wiped his mouth with the black of his hand. You sat up and connected your lips with his. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you feel dirty, but you liked it nonetheless.

You palmed him through his pants, causing him to groan. You started to undo his belt, putting yourself level with his length. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled you back up to his face.

"Not right now, baby. I just want to be close to you. I just want to feel you and take care of you. Will you let me do that?" Armin asked, voice a little dominant but more soft and genuinely asking.

Of course, you nodded. you worked to undo his blue button up as he undid his belt. He shrugged his shirt off, revealing a set of abdominal muscles that he must have gained over the time you were gone. You let your fingers trail over the expanse of his abdomen, taking in the dips of his abs.

Armin hiked your dress up so the skirt rested at your hips, and you pulled the top down so that your breasts spilled over the top. Immediately, Armin cupped your left breast and sucked marks into it, as he gently rolled your other nipple between this thumb and forefinger.

You were a mess beneath him.

"Armin, please!" You begged, tears streaming down your face from the new stimulation.

"What do you need, beautiful? Tell me," he whispered into your ear before planting kisses underneath it.

You wrapped a hand around his neck. "I-I need you inside of me, please Armin I can't take the teasing..." you whined.

Armin obliged to your request, pushing his pants and boxers down at the same time to reveal his cock, dripping with precum. He pumped it a few times before leaning down to kiss you.

"Are you ready?" He asked gently. You bit your lip and looked down at where you almost met.

"I think so...will it hurt?"

"I think so, but only for a few seconds. I think then it'll start to feel good. I made sure you were ready, so it shouldn't be as bad since there's plenty of lubrication and-"

"Okay, okay, come here dork," you chuckled, bringing him in for another short kiss.

"But you love it," he teased.

"I do." You bit your lip. "Okay, I'm ready."

Armin nodded. "Okay, tell me if you want me to stop at any point and I will. Okay?" You nodded and hummed a yes in response. Armin laced his hand with yours, and pushed in.

At first it was a painful stretch. It felt strange. Armin noticed your face scrunch up, and he stopped. He pressed his lips against yours to distract you from the pain a little bit. He pushed in a bit further.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you, breath fanning over your face.

"Just give me a few seconds..."

Armin nodded and buried his head in your neck.

"Alright, keep going," you said.

Armin pushed in further, until he felt himself bottom out. He gave you a few moments to adjust to his length.

"Okay. You can move. It feels good now," you whispered into his ear.

Armin pressed his forehead against yours, before pulling out completely and slowly pushing back in. He loved watching your face contort as he made you feel good.

Gentle moans escaped your lips as he set a pace, giving you languid thrusts and peppering gentle kisses all over your face.

"You feel so good. You're so beautiful, Y/N," he said.

You could feel it. Neither of you were going to last very long, this being both of your first times.

It was a perfect scene. The sun was setting, and you lay in a bed of grass with the man you love, giving yourself to him completely and taking him and everything he'd give you completely.

You were still somewhat sensitive from your previous orgasm. So when Armin moved his hand down to play with your clit, the stimulation only spurred you on. That coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, until Armin's strokes and the added stimulation to your clit was too much. You came with a cry of Armin's name, white blurring your vision and Armin pressing his mouth to yours to muffle your screams.

"That's it, Y/N," Armin praised.

Armin was approaching his climax too. His thrusts became sloppy and irregular. Shaky moans escaped his lips. His hand that was locked with yours clamped down on yours.

"W-where do you want me to finish?" Armin asked.

"Inside," you whispered.

"Inside? Are y-you sure, Y/N?" He said, voice shaking slightly.

"Yes, Armin. Please, finish inside of me. I want to feel you," you pleaded.

Armin groaned. Something snapped inside of him, an animalistic look in his eyes. "M' gonna fill you up," he growled.

You moaned at the overstimulation. You could feel another impending orgasm coming. You didn't know if you could take it this time. His words were only encouraging you.

He still hadn't ceased his movement on your clit. The extra stimulation burned, but you were chasing that high that you were so addicted to.

Armin moaned into your open mouth. "I'm gonna come, Y/N, ah," Armin said.

"Me too! Armin!" You cried.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you bucked your hips into Armin. Strings of incoherent curses came from your lips. Armin grabbed your face with his hands and put his weight on your elbows. He pressed his lips against yours.

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" He said, slightly muffled into your mouth as he came. You felt is hot seed coat your insides.

After you both caught your breath, you opened your eyes and parted your lips from Armin's.

"I love you too," you said, stroking his cheek.

Armin groaned as he slowly pulled out of you. He tucked himself back into his pants, before moving down your body and watching his cum trickle out of your hole. Slowly, he swiped up the substance and fingered it back into you.

"Don't want to make a mess all over the grass, do we my love?" He asked, a smirk on his face. You nudged him with your ankle. He laughed.

He buttoned his shirt back up and you pulled your dress down or up in the respectable places. He gave you back your underwear from his back pocket.

Sitting back against the fence, Armin opened his legs and patted the grass in between them, showing that he wanted you to sit between his legs. You did so, slumping against him and playing with his fingers as the both of you watched the sunset. He planted kisses into your hair and twirled it around his finger. He inhaled your scent.

Now that you were back when he thought he'd never see you again, Armin was never going to let you out of his sight. He was determined to make every moment count. And you were fine with that, because you wanted to spend the rest of your life by his side.

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[shreddedleopard]

Thoughts on chapter 137, and why it makes complete sense and cements the themes and lessons of Attack on Titan.

I have so many thoughts, I just want to word vomit them out at a million miles an hour, but I’ll try to do this in some sort of order and not my usual chaotic mess.

Attack on Titan is about family and belonging, and THIS is the dream that Ymir was drunk on. This is ‘that scenery.’

Ymir, the founder, just wants to belong somewhere. With someone. She wants to be loved and valued as a person, not as a slave; not as someone who merely fulfils a role. In the latest chapter, Zeke explains how he failed to understand her, but Eren did.

Look at Eren’s words to Ymir in this moment, several chapters earlier:

All Ymir has ever wanted is to be held. To be loved like a person. To feel that connection because of who she is, not the role she fulfils.

Eren understands this, in contrast to Zeke, who once again tries to impose her role upon her:

Ymir has been hanging around in paths all this time, unable to fully die and let her consciousness pass on to the next world, because she needs to find this thing that she’s been searching for since the start of the story.

It’s not just about romantic love. It’s about connection. That sense of being understood and belonging with someone else, whether that be romantically, platonically, as family ... we keep seeing the same theme brought up throughout the entire manga.

Who else is a character that constantly searches for the same thing? Mikasa.

She has so many parallels and yet also opposites with Ymir. Ymir is told she is a slave, she obeys the king, that is her role. And she accepts it. Because she believes that it’s the only way to find happiness; to find this belonging she’s been craving. However, unlike Ymir, who does not truly love the king, I believe that Mikasa does truly love Eren - what form that takes doesn’t necessarily matter to me at this point. It’s just about connection.

Whether Eren feels the same, tragically for him, doesn’t matter. Because Eren knows he is destined to be the one to end the cycle of hatred and free Ymir. And that will ultimately cost him his life. That is why, when Zeke asks him what he will do about Mikas’s affections - which have nothing to do with her bloodline and everything to do with him - Eren cannot answer. That choice has sadly been taken from him.

When Eren asks Mikasa what she is to him, I think he genuinely wants to know at that point. I think he cares about her so deeply and wants to know she feels the same way, and it’s not just about him being ‘her saviour’. But as we’ve seen before, Eren cannot afford to stop for too long and dwell in the moment, because he must push on towards freedom - the freedom of Ymir and the Eldian people from the curse of the Titans.

This brings his conversation around the table with Armin, Mikasa and Gabi into a whole new light. Eren insults his friends in an attempt to push them away from him - because he knows he won’t be around to live that ‘long, happy life’ with them. So instead, he wants to push them to confront their feelings in the arms of others. He pushes Armin to really consider what Annie means to him, and for Mikasa, I believe that Eren intends her to perhaps look towards Jean, who is truly willing to give her the love she has always sought from Eren. Because again, so tragically, Eren will not be around to provide that for her - regardless of whether it’s something he wants or not. His own wishes no longer matter on the path he has been set upon.

Back to Ymir. Eren tells her, he will put an end to this world:

He doesn’t mean the human world; the living world. He means the world of paths, where Ymir is trapped, unable to let go of the souls of dead Eldians, because she’s still searching for that connection she craves so much. Her paths world is an attempt to quell that feeling of loneliness she’s been plagued with, but ironically, she’s more lonely than ever, stuck there, serving the bloodline she’s created from a place of misery and duty, rather than love.

The rumbling and the destruction of Marley is a very tragic consequence of what Eren has to do to put an end to the curse of the Titans. He’s searched for another way to no avail; we’ve seen his remorse when he apologises to Halil or Ramsey in chapter 131:

I think the anger and devastation that’s unleashed in the rumbling, is a result of the hurt and mistreatment both Eren and Ymir have felt at points in their lives.

Eren understands that to destroy the paths realm, first this devastation is necessary, because he’s seen it in his future memories, despite the conflicting feelings it’s evoked from him - he doesn’t really want to destroy humanity outside of the walls, but his own future is telling him that he must and he will. But it’s not Eren’s emotions that drive this initial destruction - it is Ymir’s. These emotions are no different in nature than the ones that Eren felt in response to Armin’s childhood bullies - that sense of unfairness and need to lash out at oppressors - but tragically, unlike Eren who in that moment of intense, irrational emotion had only his fists to vent and release, Ymir is in possession of one of the most terrible and destructive weapons there is - hordes of colossal Titans. And in that moment where Eren finally gives her that validation she has been searching for, and allows her that feeling of release from the duty she’s felt she needed to fulfil for thousands of years, Ymir releases that frustration and anger too and sends them walking.

This theme of the oppressor and oppressed switching places in an endless cycle of revenge and stealing from others what has been stolen from you is a theme that we see repeated throughout not only the AOT manga, but also soundtrack and additional content too.

Eren was right that it would be Armin that saves humanity - because Armin is the one that makes the connection in paths - he understands what is being shown to him with the leaf - and tragically, it actually highlights how, even up until the very end, Eren and Armin knew each other very well. Eren trusted Armin to make sense of what he’s had to do - even if it’s only Ymir that he understands, because while Eren is the one to give Ymir her freedom and unleash this terrible devastation, Armin is the one who must stop it.

But how does this idea of family and connection tie in to the rest of the events in the chapter, and wider manga, and what’s up with Historia’s pregnancy? And how is paths going to be destroyed, if the rumbling has been stopped and Ymir is free, but the Titans are still around?

This is where the rest of our cast fit in - namely Zeke, Levi, Historia and Reiner. If my theory is correct.

Eren gave Ymir the validation she needed and that sense of connection, freeing her from her role, and this bought that final bit of time needed for Historia to give birth to her child. Why is Historia’s child important? Because it is the ‘new dawn’ we’ve seen foreshadowed repeatedly throughout the series. The birth of a new history. And this comes in the form of a new bloodline, no longer infected with ‘parasite’ of the founding Titan.

Unlike Ymir’s bloodline, which stemmed from a place of duty and slavery - as she was ordered by the king to take ‘his seed’, and carried the parasite of the creature that bound to her within the depths of the tree, creating the paths realm and an almost purgatory type space free of death or heaven or earth or anything, Historia’s bloodline will be ‘cleaned’ because of the genes of the child’s father. And not only this, it will be born out of a moment of love and connection, rather than duty. This new combination will make it impossible for a child of the royal bloodline to become a Titan. There will be no coordinate - no link for Ymir from her paths realm to the living world, because the last link to her bloodline - a Titan with royal blood - will no longer exist.

This really brings home the gravity of the moment where Levi cuts Zeke down - he’s the last of the royal Titans, but the reader knows Historia’s baby is about to be born - will they inherit the Titan, and the cycle will re-start?

They will not. The cycle will be broken with them, because - and here’s where it gets wild - Historia’s child is not a Fritz, or a Reiss - they are an Ackerman. They physically cannot turn.

Why does all this fit in symbolically? Let me draw your attention to the genre of Seikaikei.

Attack on Titan uses this idea with our two Ackermans.

We have both endings. Eren and Mikasa, our bittersweet ending, where Eren ultimately chooses the fate of humanity over his relationships with Mikasa and Armin, and Levi, who, in a moment of selfishness, allows himself to put aside his role for a night - probably at the railroad banquet, where he was supposed to be making sure the likes of Eren and Yelena were kept apart - and indulges in this connection that he’s formed with Historia. You can read my 10 reasons post if you want to for why the heck I would think these two would form a deep bond - it’s all there in the Uprising Arc. They have been the same as Ymir - yearning for a sense of love and connection, but bound by roles neither of them asked for or particularly wanted - reluctant heroes comes to mind. Remember how freckled Ymir’s parting wish was for Historia to live for herself?

The result is an accidental pregnancy which, ironically enough, is what is going to annihilate the curse of the Titans and save the world. How poetic that the Titans will not be ‘driven out’ by hate, violence, and destruction, but instead by love, connection and new life.

Remember Kenny and Uri’s miracle?

Kenny and Uri’s chapter, ‘Friends’, was exactly halfway back into the manga. History moves in repeating cycles in AOT, and we see things change slightly each time, on this journey to freedom. At this point, the Ackermans and royals were one step away from where they needed to get to in order to build this paradise - and Levi and Historia complete the cycle by becoming ‘lovers,’ tragically, the thing that Eren and Mikasa could not become, because Eren had to undertake the rumbling and be the one to free Ymir from her sorrow and loneliness. She can make the choice now - will she fight to be reborn as Historia’s child - fight for dominance with the Ackerman bloodline - or will she concede, finally laid to rest because the cycle has been broken by two people that love one another, just like the couple Ymir saw long ago and wished for.

Remember how Eren asked Zeke whether the ackermans act the way they do from a place of duty or genuine feelings? He needed to check it was the real deal that would break the curse, and finally lay Ymir to rest peacefully, after 2,000 years of hatred and searching. She will see that her descendant, Historia, finally has what she always dreamed of. That idea of dreams pushing us onwards - Ymir’s dream is realised through Historia and Levi.

As for the parasite itself? I believe Reiner will be the one to lock it in a Crystal prison with himself, deep underground.

A new dawn will come, and a new world will be built from the ashes of the old.

[milkboydotnet]

The characteristic feature of imperialism consists in the whole world, as we now see, being divided into a large number of oppressed nations and an insignificant number of oppressor nations, the latter possessing colossal wealth and powerful armed forces.

Lenin