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reasoningdaily · 2 months

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Neo-Griot

Kalamu ya Salaam's information blog

HISTORY: Indians, Slaves, and Mass Murder: The Hidden History

Indians, Slaves, and

Mass Murder:

The Hidden History

by Peter Nabokov

The Other Slavery: The Uncovered Story of Indian Enslavement in America by Andrés Reséndez Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 431 pp., $30.00

An American Genocide: The United States and the California Indian Catastrophe, 1846–1873 by Benjamin Madley Yale University Press, 692 pp., $38.00

Carl Lumholtz: Tarahumara Woman Being Weighed, Barranca de San Carlos (Sinforosa), Chihuahua, 1892; from Among Unknown Tribes: Rediscovering the Photographs of Explorer Carl Lumholtz. The book includes essays by Bill Broyles, Ann Christine Eek, and others, and is published by the University of Texas Press.

The European market in African slaves, which opened with a cargo of Mauritian blacks unloaded in Portugal in 1441, and the explorer Christopher Columbus, born in Genoa ten years later, were closely linked. The ensuing Age of Discovery, with its expansions of empires and exploitations of New World natural resources, was accompanied by the seizure and forced labor of human beings, starting with Native Americans.

Appraising that commercial opportunity came naturally to an entrepreneur like Columbus, as did his sponsors’ pressure on him to find precious metals and his religion’s contradictory concerns both to protect and convert heathens. On the day after Columbus landed in 1492 on an island in the present-day Bahamas and saw its Taíno islanders, he wrote that “with fifty men they could all be subjected and made to do all that one wished.” Soon the African trade was changing life in Spain; within another hundred years most urban families owned one or more black servants, over 7 percent of Seville was black, and a new social grouping of mixed-race mulattos joined the lower rungs of a color-coded social ladder.

Columbus liked the “affectionate and without malice” Arawakan-speaking Taíno natives. He found the men tall, handsome, and good farmers, the women comely, near naked, and apparently available. In exchange for glass beads, brass hawk bells, and silly red caps, the seamen received cotton thread, parrots, and food from native gardens. Fresh fish and fruits were abundant. Glints in the ornaments worn by natives promised gold, and they presumably knew where to find more. Aside from one flare-up, there were no serious hostilities. Columbus returned to Barcelona with six Taíno natives who were paraded as curiosities, not chattel, before King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.

The following year, Columbus led seventeen ships that dropped 1,500 prospective settlers on Caribbean beaches. As they stayed on, relations with local Indians degenerated. What was soon imposed was “the other slavery” that the University of California, Davis, historian Andrés Reséndez discusses in his synthesis of the last half-century of scholarship on American Indian enslavement. First came the demand for miners to dig for gold. The easy-going Taínos were transformed into gold-panners working under Spanish overseers.

The Spaniards also exploited the forms of human bondage that already existed on the islands. The Caribs of the Lesser Antilles, a more aggressive tribe, regularly raided the Taínos, allegedly eating the men but keeping the women and children as retainers. A similar discrimination based on age and gender would prevail throughout the next four centuries of Indian-on-Indian servitude. As Bonnie Martin and James Brooks put it in their anthology, Linking the Histories of Slavery: North America and Its Borderlands:

North America was a vast, pulsing map of trading, raiding, and resettling. Whether the systems were pre- or postcontact indigenous, European colonial, or US national, they grew into complex cultural matrices in which the economic wealth and social power created using slavery proved indivisible. Indigenous and Euro-American slave systems evolved and innovated in response to each other.*

Taínos who resisted the Spanish were set upon by dogs, disemboweled by swords, burned at stakes, trampled by horses—atrocities “to which no chronicle could ever do justice,” wrote Friar Bartolomé de las Casas, a crusader for Indian rights, in 1542. Against the Caribs the Spaniards had a tougher time, fighting pitched battles but capturing hundreds of slaves as well. Columbus sailed home from his second voyage with over a thousand captives bound for slave auctions in Cádiz (many died en route, their bodies tossed overboard). He envisioned a future market for New World gold, spices, cotton, and “as many slaves as Their Majesties order to make, from among those who are idolators,” whose sales might underwrite subsequent expeditions.

Thus did the discoverer of the New World become its first transatlantic human trafficker—a sideline pursued by most New World conquistadors until, in the mid-seventeenth century, Spain officially opposed slavery. And Columbus’s vision of a “reverse middle passage” crumbled when Spanish customers preferred African domestics. Indians were more expensive to acquire, insufficiently docile, harder to train, unreliable over the years, and susceptible to homesickness, seasickness, and European diseases. Other obstacles included misgivings by the church and royal authorities, which may explain Columbus’s emphasis on “idolators” like the Caribs, whose status as “enemies” and cannibals made them more legally eligible for enslavement.

Indians suffered from overwork in the gold beds, as well as foreign pathogens against which they had no antibodies, and from famine as a result of overhunting and underfarming. Within two generations the native Caribbean population faced a “cataclysmic decline.” On the island of Hispaniola alone, of its estimated 300,000 indigenous population, only 11,000 Taínos remained alive by 1517. Within ten more years, six hundred or so villages were empty.

But even as the Caribbean was ethnically cleansed of its original inhabitants, a case of bad conscience struck Iberia. It had its origins in the ambivalence of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella over how to treat Indians. In the spring of 1495, only four days after the royals advised their bishop in charge of foreign affairs that slaves “would be more easily sold in Andalusia than in other parts,” they ordered a halt to all human enslavement until the church informed them “whether we can sell them or not.” Outrage was more overt in the polemics of Las Casas, who had emigrated to the islands in 1502. He had owned slaves and then renounced the practice in 1515. After taking his vows as a Dominican priest, he helped to push the antislavery New Laws of the Indies through the Spanish legal system in 1542.

Slaving interests used a succession of verbal strategies for justifying and retaining unfree Indian labor. As early as 1503 tribes designated as “cannibals” became fair game, as were Indian prisoners seized in “just wars.” Hereafter labeled esclavos de guerra (war slaves), their cheeks bore a branded “G.” Automatic servitude also awaited any hapless Indians, known as esclavos de rescate (ransomed slaves), whom Spanish slavers had freed from other Indians who had already enslaved them; the letter “R” was seared into their faces.

In 1502 Hispanola’s new governor, Nicolás de Ovando, made use of an old feudal practice for ensuring control over workers’ bodies. To retain native miners but check rampant cruelty, Ovando bestowed on prominent colonizers land grants (encomiendas) that included rights to tribute and labor from Indians already residing there. Although still vassals, they remained nominally free from “ownership.” They could reside in their own villages, were theoretically protected from sexual predation and secondary selling, and were supposed to receive religious instruction and token compensation of a gold peso a year—benefits that were often ignored. Over the next two centuries the encomienda system and other local forms of unfree labor were used to create a virtually enslaved Indian workforce throughout Mexico, Florida, the American Southwest, down the South American coast, and over to the Philippines.

The story of Native American enslavement told by Reséndez becomes confused by the convoluted interplay of indigenous and imported systems of human servitude. Despite his claim of uncovering “the other slavery,” when speaking of the forms of bondage imposed on Indians he fails to acknowledge that there was no monolithic institution akin to the “peculiar” transatlantic one that would become identified with the American South, which imported Africans auctioned as commodities. Even the distinction some scholars draw between such “slave societies” and “societies with slaves” (depending on whether slave labor was essential or not to the general economy) only partially applies to the highly complex, deeply local situations of enslaved American Indians. For these blended a dizzying variety of customary practices with colonial systems for maintaining a compulsory native workforce. If Reséndez is claiming to encompass the full tragedy of Indian slavery “across North America,” he does not distinguish among the different colonial systems of Indian servitude—enabled by Indian allies of the colonizers—that existed under English, French, and Dutch regimes.

During the seventeenth century, as some Spaniards continued to raise the question of the morality of slavery, silver mines opened in northern Mexico, and the demand for Indian manpower increased. This boom would require more workers than the Caribbean gold fields and last far longer. Now the physical effort turned from surface panning or shallow trenching to sinking shafts hundreds of feet into the ground. More profitable than gold, silver was also more grueling to extract. Miners dug, loaded, and hauled rocks in near darkness for days at a time. Around present-day Zacatecas, entire mountains were made of the gray-black ore.

To meet the growing labor demand, Spanish and Indian slaving expanded out of the American Southwest, sending Pueblo and Comanche slaves to the mines, and seizing slaves from the defiant Chichimec of northern Mexico during particularly violent campaigns between the 1540s and the 1580s. From the beginning of the sixteenth century to the first decade of the nineteenth, twelve times as much silver was extracted from over four hundred mines scattered throughout Mexico as was gold during the entire California Gold Rush.

At Parral, a silver-mining center in southern Chihuahua and in 1640 the largest town north of the Tropic of Cancer, over seven thousand workers descended into the shafts every day—most of them enslaved natives from as far off as New Mexico, which soon became “little more than a supply center for Parral.” After the state-directed system for forcibly drafting Indian labor for the Latin American silver mines, known as the mita, was instituted in 1573, it remained in operation for 250 years and drew an average of ten thousand Indians a year from over two hundred indigenous communities.

As Reséndez shifts his narrative to the Mexican mainland, however, one is prompted to ask another question of an author who claims to have “uncovered” the panoramic range of Indian slavery. Shouldn’t we know more of the history of those Indian-on-Indian slavery systems that Columbus witnessed and that became essential for delivering workers to Mexican mines, New Mexican households, or their own native villages? Throughout the pre-Columbian Americas, underage and female captives from intertribal warfare were routinely turned into domestic workers who performed menial tasks. Through recapture or ransom payment some were repatriated, while many remained indentured their entire lives. But a number were absorbed into their host settlement through forms of fictive kinship, such as ceremonial adoption or most commonly through intermarriage.

Among the eleventh-century mound-building Indian cultures of the Mississippi Bottoms, such war prisoners made up a serf-like underclass. This civilization collapsed in the thirteenth century and the succeeding tribes we know as Choctaw, Cherokee, Creek, and others perpetuated the practice of serfdom; Cherokee war parties added to each town’s stock of atsi nahsa’i, or “one who is owned.” The custom continued across indigenous America, with child-bearing women and prepubescent males generally preferred. Their husbands and fathers were more commonly killed. Reséndez hardly mentions the subsequent participation of those same tribes in the white man’s race-based “peculiar institution.” They bought and sold African-American slaves to work their Indian-owned plantations. Once the Civil War broke out there was a painfully divisive splitting of southern Indian nations into Confederate and Union allies.

As with Carib predation upon the Taíno, it was not uncommon for stronger tribes to focus on perennial victims. In the Southeast, the Chickasaw regularly took slaves from the Choctaw; in the Great Basin, the Utes stole women and children from the Paiute (and then traded them to Mormon households that were happy to pay for them); in California, the northeastern Modoc regularly preyed upon nearby Atsugewi, while the Colorado River–dwelling Mojave routinely raided the local Chemehuevi. These relationships between prey and predator might extend over generations. Only among the hierarchical social orders of the northwest coast, apparently, were slaves traditionally treated more like commodities, to be purchased, traded, or given as gifts.

Indirectly, the Spanish helped to instigate the next upsurge in human trafficking across the American West. Their horses—bred in northern New Mexico, then rustled or traded northward after the late seventeenth century—made possible an equestrian revolution across the plains. In short order the relationships between a few dozen Indian tribes shifted dramatically, as the pedestrian hunter-and-gatherer peoples were transformed by horses into fast-moving nomads who became dependent on buffalo and preyed on their neighbors. In white American popular culture the new-born horse cultures would be presented as the war bonnet–wearing, teepee-dwelling, war-whooping stereotypes of Wild West shows and movie screens. Among them were the Comanches of the southern plains and the Utes of the Great Basin borderlands.

By the mid-eighteenth century, the Comanche military machine had put a damper on Spanish expansionism. Their cavalry regiments of five hundred or more disciplined horsemen undertook eight-hundred-mile journeys northward as far as the Arkansas River and southward to within a few hundred miles of Mexico City. The slaves they plucked from Apaches, Pueblos, and Navajos became their prime currency in business deals with Mexicans, New Mexicans, and Americans. At impromptu auctions and established crossroads, Native American, Mexican, and Anglo slaves were being sold, some undergoing a succession of new masters. Until the US government conquered them, the Comanches held sway over a quarter-million square miles of the American and Mexican borderlands.

Reséndez argues for continuities in this inhuman traffic right down to the present day. But his abrupt transition to the present after the defeat of the Comanches only reinforces our sense that his effort has been overly ambitious and weakly conceived, as if achieving the promised synthesis for so complex and persistent a topic has simply (and understandably) overwhelmed him. His treatment of the multinational practices of Colonial-period slavery is spotty, and the ubiquitous traditions of native-on-native enslavement seem soft-pedaled.

Reséndez loosely estimates that between some 2.5 to five million Indians were trapped in this “other slavery,” in which overwork and physical abuse doubtlessly contributed to the drop of 90 percent in the North American Indian population between Columbus’s day and 1900. But somehow little of all that torment comes across vividly in The Other Slavery. We are told that Navajos called the 1860s, when their entire tribe was hounded for incarceration in southern New Mexico, “the Fearing Time.” Aside from that hint of the collective emotional impact from the victims’ side, we get few testimonies that reflect the anxiety and terror behind Reséndez’s many summaries of human suffering, tribal dislocations, furtive lives on the run, and birthrights lost forever.

A more convincing sense of the racial discrimination and hatred that bolstered and perpetuated the slavery systems discussed in Reséndez’s book comes from even a melodramatic film like John Ford’s The Searchers (1956), while the terrors of surviving in the late-eighteenth-century West amid roving bands of merciless slave raiders are better evoked in Cormac McCarthy’s Grand Guignol masterpiece Blood Meridian(1985). Reading Reséndez’s account one hopes in vain for something similar to Rebecca West’s quiet comment in Black Lamb and Grey Falcon (1941), her chronicle of Yugoslavian multiethnic animosities: “It is sometimes very hard to tell the difference between history and the smell of a skunk.”

Indian slavery becomes a contributing factor in An American Genocide, the UCLAhistorian Benjamin Madley’s extensive argument that genocide is the only appropriate term for what happened to native peoples in north-central California between 1846 and 1873. For American Indians, slavery in the New World took many forms that persevered over four centuries while changing according to local conditions, global pressures, and maneuvers to evade abolitionist crusades. Genocide—the elimination of entire groups—might seem easier to evaluate. Yet which historical episodes of mass Indian murder qualify as genocide has become a matter of debate.

Madley shies away from the hyperbolic accusations of genocide or holocaust often made in simplistic discussions of American Indian history. The definition that he invokes with prosecutorial ferocity is the one produced by the United Nations Genocide Convention of 1948, which defines genocide as, first, demonstrating an intent to destroy, “in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group,” and, second, committing any of the following acts: killing members of a group; causing them serious bodily or mental harm; inflicting conditions that are intended to cause their destruction in whole or in part; imposing measures to prevent births within the group; and transferring children of the group to another group. Whereas the large unspecified “group” referred to in this post–World War II statement was, of course, defined by the Nazis, Madley’s is smaller and, even then, it is composed of many hundreds of indigenous units, each an autonomous, small-scale cultural world that was decimated or destroyed.

Madley has documented his charge of genocide by years of scrolling through local newspapers, histories, personal diaries, memoirs, and official letters and reports. These revealed what many indigenous groups endured at the hands of US military campaigns, state militia expeditions, impromptu small-town posses, and gold miners, as well as ordinary citizens who hunted natives on weekends. Most western historians and demographers could agree that genocidal behavior toward a North American Indian population occurred during the nineteenth century. But Madley has concentrated on the killing in California during the bloody years between 1846 and 1873.

Edward S. Curtis: Mosa—Mohave, 1903/1907; from Edward S. Curtis: One Hundred Masterworks. The book is by Christopher Cardozo, with contributions by A. D. Coleman, Louise Erdrich, and others. It is published by Delmonico/Prestel and the Foundation for the Exhibition of Photography.

The factors that led to this American tragedy are worth recalling. Many Indian communities had already been defeated in their resistance to servitude during the Spanish Mission and Mexican Rancho years. The United States victory over Mexico in early 1848 opened the way to the last great American land rush. Until California became the nation’s thirty-first state in 1850, there were two years of lawlessness. The Anglo-American settlers whose wagons began rolling into the region carried anti-Indian attitudes imported from colonial times. The discovery of gold in early 1848 multiplied that immigration and aggressive settler colonialism. There was pervasive racism toward the state’s diverse and generally peaceful native population. They were denigrated as animal-like “Diggers”—a pejorative term based on their food-gathering customs. Political, military, journalistic, and civic leaders favored creating a de facto open season on its native peoples.

When the state’s first legislature convened, it passed a number of orders that, according to Madley, “largely shut Indians out of participation in and protection by the state legal system” and granted “impunity to those who attacked them.” The legislature funded, with $1.51 million, state vigilantism coupled with exhortations from top officials, including two state governors, to war against Native Americans. Near the beginning of this campaign, California’s first governor, Peter Burnett, pledged that “a war of extermination will continue to be waged…until the Indian race becomes extinct.”

At the time of first contact with whites, the native California population amounted to some 350,000, perhaps the densest concentration of Indians in the country. But they were divided into at least sixty major tribes that, in turn, were made up of scores of small, independent, autonomous villages that spoke upward of a hundred separate languages. After the epidemics, mission programs, land losses, and peonage of the Spanish period, about 150,000 Indians remained on the eve of the US takeover. By 1870 the number of California Indians had been cut to under 30,000, a population loss that would continue until it bottomed out at under 17,000 by the turn of the century.

When gold was struck near present-day Sacramento in January 1848, Indians were occupying some of the most desirable natural environments in North America. The size of these Indian groups ranged widely. The proximity of so many autonomous villages made bi- or even trilingualism not uncommon. But especially in the north-central region—with its abundant acorn groves, salmon-rich rivers, valleys plentiful in fruits, roots, and seeds, foothills teeming with game, plentiful marine life, wildfowl and associated plants along the sea coast and wetlands—their small, self-governing and self-sufficient villagers could thrive in their homelands. However, the combination of Spanish and American invasions would cost the Indians and their fragile ecologies dearly. Meadows bearing life-giving nutritious seeds and roots were put to the torch for conversion into agricultural fields and cattle pastures, streams were poisoned by the sludge from mining, and forests were cut for lumber.

To characterize these fairly self-contained worlds, the dean of California Indian studies, anthropologist Alfred L. Kroeber, coined the term “tribelet.” But when it came to describing the sufferings of these California tribelets during the Gold Rush, Kroeber wrote dismissively of their “little history of pitiful events,” which, as an ethnographer drawn to “millennial sweeps and grand contours,” he felt unable to comment upon.

That did not stop one of his colleagues, the anthropologist Robert Heizer, from doing so. Heizer’s revelatory They Were Only Diggers (1974), along with his other anthologies, compiled newspaper clippings and reports on the myriad killings and other brutalities experienced by the region’s Indians. Together with a state demographer, Sherburne Cooke, he began documenting the unpublicized story of the California Indian catastrophe. Now Benjamin Madley, building upon the ethnohistorical work of Heizer and Cooke, has delved more systematically into the outrages of the period.

His chronicle opens with accounts by Thomas Martin and Thomas Breckenridge, members of John C. Frémont’s early expedition, which invaded what was still Mexican-held territory. In April 1846, along the Sacramento River near the present-day city of Redding, Frémont’s troops encountered a large group of local Wintu Indians. With the command “to ask no quarter and to give none,” his troops encircled the Indians and began firing at everyone in sight. Breckenridge wrote: “Some escaped but as near as I could learn from those that were engaged in the butchery, I can’t call it anything else, there was from 120 to 150 Indians killed that day.” Martin estimated that “in less than 3 hours we had killed over 175 of them.” A third eyewitness account found by Madley raised that estimate to between six hundred and seven hundred dead on land, not counting those, possibly an additional three hundred, slaughtered in the river. “The Sacramento River Massacre,” he writes, may have been one of the least-reported mass killings in US history, and “was the prelude to hundreds of similar massacres.”

So begins Madley’s calm, somber indictment. One after another he describes the cultures and the histories of tribes that were victimized, and he profiles the victimizers. Many of the atrocities were committed not only by US soldiers and their auxiliaries but also by motley companies of militiamen that murdered young and old, male and female indiscriminately—and often with an undisguised glee that comes through in Madley’s abundant selection of quotes.

Rape was rampant, and natives were intentionally starved, tortured, and whipped. Under the new California Legislature’s Government and Protection of the Indians Act of 1850, any nonworking, publicly drunk, or orphaned and underage Indians could become commodities in an unfree labor system that was tantamount to slave auctions. The act’s impact on the young meant that ten years after its passage, thousands of California Indian children were serving as unpaid “apprentices” in white households.

For over a quarter-century, Madley shows how the region became a quilt of many killing fields. Of the estimated 80 percent decline in the California Indian population during these years, around 40 percent has been attributed to outright “extermination killings” alone. Yet each of these tribes and tribelets functioned as an independent cultural world. Each was knit together by strands of kinship and deep attachments to place, as well as oral traditions about both that were passed on from generation to generation. Strewn across California were not only human bodies, but entire worldviews.

At the start of the Gold Rush, the Yuki Indians who lived at the heart of the region had well over three thousand members; they were reduced to less than two hundred by its end. The same decline occurred among the Tolowa Indians to the northwest, while the Yahi people were practically wiped out altogether.

In the hateful rhetoric of many nineteenth-century military, religious, and bureaucratic hard-liners quoted by Madley, the word “extermination” was often used. Yet this outcome was considered no great tragedy for an entire people who were uniformly and irredeemably defined as savage and subhuman.

Madley’s nearly two hundred pages of appendices are the most complete incident-by-incident tally ever compiled of Indian lives lost during this terrible period. Asking for names would have been impossible; instead we get numbers of deceased and places where they perished—one or two with brains smashed on rocks on a particular day over here, thirty to a hundred shot to death and left floating in a river over there. This scrupulously detailed epilogue is the equivalent of a memorial wall that we are visiting for the first time.

#Indians #Slaves #Mass Murder:#The Hidden History #black lives matter #Black Indians #Neo-Griot #Kalamu ya Salaam #Black Global History

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f1uckinghell · 10 months

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Pierre and Carlos watching sports together. They're the ones that see their teams as life or death. Maybe they fuck about it too.

omg they woulddddddd they watch football (soccer for y’all heathen americans) and regularly squabble about their respective teams… they watch the matches together as often as possible, and get really heated about it!! and yes… maybe they do fuck about it too on occasion 👀

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leclerc-s · 1 month

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wait, there's another one of you?

series masterlist

isabellaperez posted new stories

this booger picked me up from the airport and then decided to mock me for buying food at the airport. little outfit change because it's not hoodie season in mexico. i ditched the booger and picked up my comfort food. no i will not be sharing, they're all mine.

lando norris someone want to explain to me who the guy in isabella's story is?

isabella perez my fucking brother? gael? dulce perez it's our brother.

charles leclerc wait, there's another one of you??

max verstappen how do you people not know this?

mae jones i didn't know...

daphne jones i did know, nice kid. i don't know how he's related to isabella.

sebastian vettel he used to come to races all the time, and then their dad died and he stopped coming.

dulce perez we all bonded with dad over f1. it was harder for gael because he was karting when dad passed. he gave up on the sport after that.

isabella perez haven't you heard, he's a big shot actor now. HE WORKED WITH THE SEBASTIAN STAN!!

penelope trevino your taste in men needs to be studied. under a microscope. isabella perez i don't really have a crush on sebastian stan. i have a crush on bucky barnes. it's very different. penelope trevino oh yeah, that makes so much sense.

max verstappen the worst thing is that he's a ferrari fan too 🙄

isabella perez HELL YEAH! FORZA FERRARI BABY!

charles leclerc LET'S GO!!

lewis hamilton i will never understand how checo's own blood aren't red bull fans.

dulce perez he was a ferrari academy driver with jules. it's practically in our blood to be tifosi. i just like to support my uncle, the other two are heathens.

isabella perez WE CAN SUPPORT UNCLE CHECO AND SUPPORT FERRARI AT THE SAME TIME DULCE!

esteban ocon we have to meet this guy!

lance stroll when can we meet him? carlos sainz are we allowed to meet him? dulce perez never. my brother will not be tainted by you nerds.

rowan todd listen, i understand the boys, but seeing as we work together with marvel. good luck keeping me away from him.

rowan todd wait-

rowan todd in the sense that, we're going to become besties. work besties if you will.

lance stroll pierre just let out a sigh of relief.

pierre gasly do you know how to shut the fuck up? if so, please do so. lance stroll why would i when you're so easy to tease?

max verstappen you have to bring him to a race soon. it's only fair! i will turn him into a red bull fan.

isabella perez listen, uncle checo driving for red bull is temporary, however long that may last, but ferrari is forever. you just have to deal with this max, uncle checo does.

carlos sainz max is just surrounded by tifosi isn't he?

max verstappen oh shut up carlos.

carlos sainz is the little one still a huge charles fan?

daniel ricciardo he called my move to mclaren the worst mistake of my life. daniel ricciardo he's also a little shit. but we love him max verstappen NO! YOU LOVE HIM! i tolerate him at best.

fernando alonso when you say patito, you don't mean pato o'ward, do you?

isabella perez i do! they were best friends growing up!

dulce perez wow, you are dumb.

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN??

dulce perez ask gael. maybe he'll answer the question.

lando norris someone could be in love with her and she would never notice.

daniel ricciardo i can't wait for the day i get to witness that

daphne jones don't be mean. she's not dumb, just oblivious.

pierre gasly this is like that time that guy asked for her number and she gave him dulce's number.

arthur leclerc WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THIS?

max verstappen arthur right now, probably

charles leclerc can confirm that is what arthur sounded like.

max verstappen at least someone appreciates my comedic genius. natalia ruiz he's in love with you charles leclerc literally shut up?

isabella perez WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? HE ASKED FOR DULCE'S NUMBER?

rowan todd HE ASKED FOR YOURS! HE CALLED YOU PRETTY GIRL AND EVERYTHING?

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID I MISS THAT?!

daphne jones like i said, you're oblivious.

freya vettel at least put us all out of our misery and ask out cute prema guy

isabella perez i can't.

esteban ocon the fuck do you mean you can't?

lance stroll wait. don't fucking say it isabella

isabella perez i got back together with austin

daniel ricciardo WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ISABELLA?

fernando alonso OTRA VEZ? ISABELLA, NO PUEDES SEGUIR HACIENDO ESTO! (again? isabella, you can't keep doing this!)

isabella perez but he said things would be different this time!

dulce perez THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING SAID LAST TIME YOU MORON!

gael perez dime que no es verdad isabella! (tell me it's not true isabella!)

isabella perez that depends, what are we talking about?

dulce perez cut the bullshit. why would you do this?

isabella perez HEY YOU KNOW WHY! I LOVE HIM!

gael perez i'm gonna die and my sister's still going to be dating that lunatic.

dulce perez at this rate i'm going to get back with arthur and she's still going to be with him.

isabella perez let's talk about dulce's problems instead!

gael perez old news, we all know she's still in love arthur but in denial about it.

isabella perez by the way, was patito ever anything more than your friend?

gael perez i have to go.

isabella perez CLEARLY I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS HERE!

isabella perez dulce is a snitch who's still in love with her ex and my brother dated his best friend.

dulce perez HEY FUCK YOU! WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SIBLING GROUP CHAT STAYS THERE!

max verstappen no, tell us more. as the children say, spill the tea sis.

mae jones i forget you have a broken childhood.

charles leclerc tell us something we don't already know.

dulce perez literally fuck you guys. i don't have to sit here and take this.

dulce perez i have class now.

pierre gasly coward.

dulce perez PIERRE'S IN LOVE WITH ROWAN BUT IS AFRAID TO ADMIT IT! MAX IS ALSO IN LOVE WITH MAE! AND CHARLES IS LOVE WITH NATALIA AND WE ALL KNOW THEY'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER!

dulce perez call me a coward again gasly. i know all your secrets.

lance stroll she's sort of scary sometimes.

daniel ricciardo she's a middle child. of course she knows everything.

daphne jones i love her.

max verstappen i'm kinda scared of her now. what else does she know?

dulce perez i know everything verstappen. all of you confide in me because i'm the only 'normal' one here.

dulce perez AND I KNEW ABOUT DANIEL'S PROPOSAL BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SO SUCK IT FUCKERS! (except for seb, lewis, and nando. i love you guys.)

mae jones RICCIARDO! YOU TOLD ME I WAS THE FIRST TO KNOW!

daniel ricciardo would you look at the time. i have to go walk my kangaroo.

fernando alonso coward!

daniel ricciardo no shame about it!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @suicidepanda07 @minmira95 @vroomvroom95 @scuderiadevils @lilsiz @ssararuffoni @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @cowboylikemets1989 @rmeddar123 @kaa212 @anxxiousaries

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click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! if i hadn’t mentioned this character before that’s because he was literally made up like last week. i also just love danny ramirez and i had to include him somehow. this entire series is just me putting together all my interests in one. also my love for pato, i love him so much. i have too many stories and don't have time to update them all so i just create more to ignore the bigger issue.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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normaltothemax · 3 months

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Their Team Is Their Family "Glad to see you're making yourself at home." (TK invited Clint to spend the night at his and carlos' place(?))

“Uh.” Was he not supposed to be sitting on the counter? He probably wasn’t supposed to sit on the counter. “Sorry,” he kept his voice down, assuming Carlos was still in bed. “Habit.” Clint was almost always perched up on something—in his apartment, at Kate’s, at the Tower—but maybe that was something normal people didn’t like in their houses. At least he’d just been sitting and hadn’t been crouched with his feet up there as well. Still, he was quick to slide off of it, feet flat on the floor almost immediately. Leaning back against the counter was okay though, wasn’t it? Yeah, he was pretty sure it was.

Taking another bite of his glass of cereal—it just tasted better that way, alright?—he pointed the spoon at the coffee pot. “I made coffee.” Something he was actually drinking out of a mug. He wasn’t about to drink directly out of the pot at someone else’s house; he wasn’t that much of a heathen, no matter what Kate might say.

“Hope I didn’t wake you up.” Clint hadn’t actually gone to bed when TK and Carlos had bid him goodnight. Couldn’t sleep. Felt like there were bees in his brain, it was just buzzing. But he had very good sneaking around skills, excelled at being quiet when he wanted to, so he doubted he was the reason TK was awake now. Supposed it was possible, though. “Couldn’t sleep? Or you got a shift or something?” Why else would he be awake at…yikes, a quarter to four in the morning, said the stove clock.

@parameddic (x)

#parameddic #✦ ic: clint barton #✦ verse: main (clint barton)#✦ meme reply: clint barton #i loooove them so much

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newtonsheffield · 1 year

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Okay Molly just to clarify bikkies are actual cookies and not short for dog biscuits right? 😂

Well, in Australia all cookies are biscuits but not all biscuits are cookies, I hope that helps. A TimTam is not a cookie unless you're a heathen. Neither are Tic Tocs or Monte Carlos or Kingstons. And I'm ready to die on this hill.

Bikkie is short for all biscuits. Dog or otherwise

Examples:

I asked Greggy this morning if he wanted his bikkies. I was referring to his Hill's Science Diet Adult (Small bit for small boys) food.

I will also say to my assistant this morning: I am sneaking up to the tea room for a bikkie.

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rmd-writes · 8 months

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Good morning rae! It's now sunday for you, but you're getting an ask. I love the way your mind works when plotting fics, so I'm challenging you pick one of your favorite AUs that you've written in one of your other fandoms, and assign lone star characters to the roles in that universe!

Jen!! This was fun but actually very difficult!! I was tempted to cheat and say one of the fics in my Grindr series 😂 but I will play nicely and say my SC fic Letters to my Lover. This is the summary:

After the third time David is woken by the music from his upstairs neighbour, he tears a page from his journal, scrawls a note – waking your neighbours up with that noise is incorrect – shoves his feet into his shoes and a sweater over his head and stomps upstairs to push the note under his neighbour’s door.

When he leaves the building later, a note stuck in the middle of the building notice board catches his eye: APOLOGIES TO THOSE OF YOU I WOKE WITH MY MUSIC (IN MY DEFENCE, 8AM ISN’T EARLY). I TAKE REQUESTS THOUGH – PATRICK, 5C

Jesus fuck. David snatches the note off the board, lest any of his other neighbours take it upon themselves to make requests. What kind of heathen takes musical requests – and from people they don’t know? In New York?! He shudders at the thought.

If I was gonna take that fic and make it LS, Carlos would be the upstairs neighbour who plays piano (we’ve all seen those fingers, yes?) and TK the downstairs neighbour who gets annoyed and leaves passive aggressive notes about it.

#nice ask day

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mackeydoodledoo · 2 years

Text

War and Smoke: Chapter 1

Pairing: Pieck Finger x (Fem! OC): Akaime Shizumi

Summary: Being at war with the entire world is tiring enough. But, you may have just found the love of your life in the middle of it all.

Warnings: Death, Near-Death, War, Swearing

A/n: Welcome to my 1st Pieck series!! My Best friend requested this story so R is her character, not mine :)

Key: Italics = Thoughts, Bold/Italics = Thoughts (But out loud], CROSS OUT = Titan Speech

Chapter Theme(s): Heathens - Twenty One Pilots (Play at Beginning) / Back from the Edge - James Arthur (Play at Akaime's Battle)

-------------------------------------------------

You watch from the other side of the glass window as Liberio turns to different shades of red/orange.

"Eren you damn idiot," You groan in frustration

"You're telling me," Hange sighs

You turn to the door; to see Amrin coming into view. His titan marks visible.

"That was some insane idea you had Armin," Hange states, "Did you get possessed by Erwin's ghost or something?"

"I wish it was that," He sighs

Hange's direction turns to you.

"You're up, Akaime," Hange says, "Engage in battle at your discretion, keep the casualties at minimum."

You nod as you head to the direction that Armin had entered through. You lift the mask that was hanging around your neck, adjusting it to fit right over your mouth. You donned the upgraded Survey Corps uniform however, the only difference was that you didn’t have all of the mechanisms of the upgraded ODM gear. You had no need for it, thanks to your special ability.

You take a deep breath before smoke begins to engulf you. Your body leans forward and you begin falling towards the bloodied streets of Liberio, the smoke you created following suit.

You land with a very soft 'thud'. You turn to the streets and see carnage everywhere. No matter where you looked, there were bodies.

"How low can Eren be..." You sigh

Your ears catch a loud explosion of in the distance. You begin making your way through the alleyways to where the action was.

You emerge out of the smoke onto a rooftop, with a decent view of what was going on. You let out a cough when you see debris smoke coming your way. You obviously realize who was spreading all of the debris...

"Not him again," You sigh in frustration, thinking back to when you encountered him last

The Beast Titan absolutely annihilated your corps. Unlike Eren and a few of his friends: you actually respected the corps that were there before he came along. It was basically only you, Levi and Hange left of the original corps. Though you were in the 104th cadet corps class, Erwin handpicked you to join the scouts early, due to your special ability.

You spot Sasha many yard across from you. You re-engulf yourself in your smoke and subtly make your way across the field, unnoticed.

"Hey Sasha," You abruptly appear next to her

"Holy shit! Akaime don't do that," Sasha jumps

Sasha was one of your best friends, the both of you were always able to keep each other's spirits high during the harsh days of the cadet corps.

"Whats going on?" You ask her

"Cart Titan's engaged their unit, taking out teams one by one," Sasha explains

"Hey, if I obscure their vision, would that help?" You suggest, "I can get in there and take care of them.."

"It's possible," She answers, "Be careful Akaime."

You come out from behind the barrier Sasha was hiding behind and begin exhaling as much smoke as your body allowed it to. With the smoke now obscuring the Cart Titan and their unit's vision, you kneel into the smoke and begin moving forward.

"SMOKE?!" The Cart Titan immediately looks around

"Pieck! Our vision is compromised! We can't fire!" One of its men announces

"THEN HOLD YOUR FIRE. WE CAN'T RISK HITTING THE WAR CHIEF OR ANY OTHER OF OUR COMRADES!" The Cart Titan Speaks

"Pieck! Smoke is getting into our cockpit! Wait-wait who are y-?!"

"Hey... Carlo!" One of the men speak

"Say something to us Carlo!" Another yells out

"Carlo! What's gotten into y-"

"Pie-"

"A-A DEVI-!"

"GUYS?!" The Cart Titan calls out to their unit

However, no response... Building with frustration and rage, the Cart Titan begins looking around for whom was responsible for the death of every single one of their unit. The smoke begins clearing and the Cart Titan watches as a single figure lands with a graceful thud. You stand on your two feet as you make elongated eye contact with the Quadrupedal Titan. It noticed how the dissipating smoke was retreating back into your mask.

"YOU. YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DEATH OF MY UNIT!" It screams

It lunges toward you however, you release the same smoke and the titan swats at it however, you were nowhere to be spotted. As it had looked around as the smoke began moving around, it yelps out as it just gets a glimpse of your hand within the smoke. It pounces on top of the smoke in an attempt to crush you once more; however, felt no bones crush underneath its hands.

"You missed," You laugh, taunting the titan

It turns a whole 180 before lunching at you once more however, once it had attempted to crush you with its bare hand again, like before, you had moved.

SO SHE CAN MOVE THROUGHT THE SMOKE SHE EMITS???

"I see you've finally figured it out," You laugh, "You Marlean shifters are slow. No wonder how you lost back on Shiganshina."

WHAT? SHE REMEMBERS MY FACE?

"Dont expect me to forget your face Cart Titan," You speak, "You're also responsible for killing many of my comrades back then. We're simply returning the favor to your people here."

"AS IF I'D LET THAT HAPPEN!" It yells

"You already did stupid," You laugh, continuing to endlessly taunt the titan

You listen to it roar again as it once more attempts to squash you with its bare hand. However, when it slams its hand down, it yelps in pain. It draws itself back as it takes a look at its hand: blisters bubble and pop as it takes in the effects of the poisonous smoke.

"I can also manipulate my smoke to become a chemically dangerous smoke, only me being immune to it of course," You flaunt your ability

It attempts to use its hand however it falls onto the roof, unable to use that specific hand.

"At least I'm merciful and it won't go in deep enough to reach your human form in there," You add, "So, you should really thank me too."

"AS IF I'LL EVER THANK YOU!" It screams

It lunges with its three unharmed limbs as it lunches and opens its mouth as a last attempt to kill you. However, before you could dissipate into your smokescreen, you felt a presence of another scout appear behind you.

"This is a thanks for last time," Jean says

He uses his maneuver gear to slide right past you and launch a thunder soear into the Cart Titan's eye.

"Now! FIRE!" He yells to the scouts raining from above

On command, every one of them launch their thunder spears at the cart titan. You watchas the Cart Titan attempts to retreat but falls off of the roof. You walk to where the edge of the roof meets the open air.

"Ms. Pieck!!" A kid rushes over to the fucked up Cart Titan body

You watch closely as steam emerges from the titan, however, whom you were expecting to come out of the carcass, was the exact opposite of what you initially imagined. Judging by the long dark hair, and slimmer stature, it was a woman.

“Ms. Pieck!” One of the kids comes up to her to hold her up

“Get... Out of here... Falco,” She groans

Something in you pushed you forward ever so slightly. You even felt it in your core.

Take her...

“Akaime, you okay?” Jean comes over to check on you

Unconsciously, you begin emitting smoke.

“Akaime?!” Jean calls out to you again

He watches as you swiftly make your way down to the Cart Titan's shifter. The boy who was next to her stands up and attempts to use his body as a ‘shield’.

“STOP!!” He screams

A kid?!

“Don’t kill her please!!” He begs

You stop for a second, tempted to go right through the boy with the poisonous gas.

Keep the casualties minimum...

Hange’s words echo through your mind. You brush right past the boy and begin climbing up onto the hot titan carcass, hovering over the shifter’s body. Your smoke begins to dissipate, revealing your top half of your form to the child.

How your bright your hair was, how the smoke was apart of your body, acting l.ike some form of odd octopus-like creature. The mask, obscuring your face. It was something his memory would imprint on. Forever.

However, he begins observing how carefully you were being with Pieck; how the gas enveloping her was beginning to heal her wounds, how careful your hands were when you picked her up into your embrace.

“The cart titan is about to be taken!” One of the Marlean soldiers cocks their gun

Bullets ring out as you continue to take the cart titan shifter into your arms; however, a shot of pain shoots up your spine as you look at your grazed arm.

Ah! Shit!...

You look at the reigning fire of bullets run through the smoke, missing your physical form, other than the bullet graze. You emit more smoke as you pull the female titan shifter into your body as the smoke engulfs you both; the both of you disappearing into the smoke.

“The cart titan has been taken!” One soldier announces

“Find her now!” the commander comes up next to the boy

“Yessir!” The soldier replies

“Falco, are you hurt?” He kneels down to the boy

“I’m fine,” He answers, “But... I think it was my fault...”

Before the commander could go on, another small child appears in front of them. However, it was the exact opposite of how he knew what he was feeling.

You fly back up to the blimp as a few other soldiers follow behind you.

“Oh Akaime, Commander Hange allowed you to engage huh?” A solder comes up to you

“You didn’t see me fighting the cart titan?” You turn to them, absolutely unamused

However,m when you begin walking away with the mystery woman in your arms, they look down at her damaged body; a red armband.

“Akaime... Akaime has a titan shifter!!” The same soldier announces to everyone else

“Akaime has brought us further victory!!” Floch announces

You wince in pain as the cheers of your comrades cheering to a ‘victory’.

“Floch, how many more people will we have to slaughter just to save Jeager’s ass?!” Jean comes up to him

“Until every single one of them are dead, so that we can be free,” Floch says, “What Eren is doing out there, he is doing for us... We should follow him and do the same.”

“I call that bullshit!” You come up next to Jean, placing the Cart Titan shifter near Hange as soon as they come walking out.

“Commander! Akaime has kidnapped the cart titan!” a soldier comes running up to them

“What?!” Hange looks at you

Their eye of direction turns to the woman, steaming.

“Can we kill her commander?!” Floch jumps the chance, “She works for the enemy after all.”

“Shut your damn mouth Floich!” You snarl at him, “I found her first! I’m the one who decided to spare her life by bringing her here!”

“Commander!” Floch tries to get Hange to get an approval

“Akaime found her, and made the solo decision to bring the cart titan shifter here,” Hange sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of their nose, “Akaime Shizumi and her alone will make the final calls of what to do with the shifter.”

“Commander!” Floch yells, angrily, “You may be commander, but this I will not let it slide! We are killing the Cart Titan here and now!”

The soldiers cheer with him as Floch begins closing the gap between the both of you. Your fist instinctively punches Floch square in the face, breaking his nose.

“You.. Little Bitch!” He yells

Before he could attempt to fight you again, Levi uses his leg to kick Floch to the other side of the interior blimp.

“Hange has made their decision,” He says, “I would also advise to not cross her pr myself, anyone who does so will face severe punishment from the three of us, including 2nd Commander, Mikuka Tenkuji. Is that clear?”

The soldiers look down with fear. You, your best friend; Mikuka Tenkuji, Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe were the “Big 4″ in the last 4 years since Battle of Shiganshina.

“I said, ‘is that clear’?” He asks again

“Yes Captain Levi,” They all reply, except Floch

Floch looks at the three of you with full of rage.

“Akaime, I’d suggest that you keep the cart titan shifter in close proximity to you,” Hange whispers, “I don’t want them to interfere with whatever it is you have planned...”

You nod to Hange as you pick up the shifter once more as every single soldier makes a pathway for you to enter an empty room to situate yourself and the shifter in.

You sat there for awhile, wrapping up your bicep after treating your grazed bullet wound. You were in intense focus just as you were closing the bandage off until you hear a gunshot ring out and commotion from the other side of the door. You burst through the door to see someone on the ground and people crowding on the other end.

“What’s going on?!” You try too ask some of the comrades you actually trust

“Sasha’s been shot!” Connie screams at you

“We still need a medic!” Jean screams at some of the medics on board

You stood there in place... Absolutely bewildered...

Sasha’s... Gonna die?!

You immediately dive right on top of Sasha’s body as smoke begins emitting from your mask, attempting to heal her bullet wound.

“Shit!” You growl, “Sasha’s already lost too much blood!!”

Two soldiers come with a medic bed and carry her off into an empty room to patch her up as soon as possible.

After several grueling-like minutes pass by, the soldiers long had the two kids apprehended.

“What should we do with these two?” Floch looks to Jean, “We’ll throw the overboard.”

You look at the two kids and recognized one of them; the kid that was attempting to protect Pieck from you.

“There’s no need for that,” Jean sighs, “When will we stop killing innocents Floch?”

“Until Eldia is free from the hatred of the world,” He continues spewing his views

“You Island Devils won’t get away with it!” The small girl snarls at Floch

“Y-You!” The boy looks and recognizes you, “What did you do with Ms. Pieck?!”

“Relax kid, I didn’t kill her,” You answer him, as calmly as possible, “Everyone else would have to go through me if they want to get to her and I don’t recommend it.”

“Release Ms. Pieck right now!!!” The girl screams at you

“Hmmm... Don’t think I will,” You answer the kid, coldly unlike how you answered the boy

You begin making your way back to where you had left Pieck, however, see the door open from the corner of your right eye: Connie looks over at everyone, a single tear streams down his face.

“Sasha is... Dead,” He announces

Chapter 2

#pieck finger imagine #pieck finger x reader #pieck finger #pieck x reader #female reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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