#algerian resistance

[chaiaurchaandni]

white american liberals love seeing poc as victims who constantly have to beg for a shred of white liberals' attention so they may throw some solidarity our way. the moment we refuse to audition for their sympathy and instead empower ourselves to fight back directly against our oppressors, these same liberals are not so comfortable with the idea of us as victims or innocents - how dare we resist or have our own agency? if a poc takes up a rifle after seeing their entire family be killed, and then is bombed by the killers for fighting back against the killers, then is that poc a victim? oh but how could they be? - they had a gun. the gun becomes our symbol of liberation and hope, not mindless vengeance, but as a means for the destruction of the power structures that our oppressor rests on. stop prefacing your support of poc with condemnations of our resistance. negotiations will never free oppressed people because our oppressors do not have a conscience. you cannot reason with somebody who thinks you are inherently worth less. resistance is the only way forward.

remember that the violence of the oppressed is in no way morally equivalent to the violence of the oppressor. and the oppressed do not have to justify the means of our resistance to the oppressors / the sympathizers of the oppressors.

#white ppl will say some braindead neutral shit like violence is bad !! and think ok enough activism for the day #had to write this after seeing some idiot white man write an article about how resistance movements should be held accountable #like shut the fuck up #people who have never lived in your shoes will tell you what to do in your life. how ridiculous #theyre like oh i wouldnt have dome it like tjat . ok? i would. i am doing it like that #i will never condemn resistance to colonialism and occupation and imperialism #most of all i will never condemn any act of aggression against the terrorist gov of the usa the uk and also the eu #to hell with all the bastards who seek to destroy our people #resistance forever #free palestine #glory to the martyrs #long live the resistance #viva la revolution #black panthers #palestinian resistance #kashmiri resistance #kurdish resistance #baloch resistance #algerian resistance #indian resistance #indigenous resistance #indigenous sovereignty #zapatistas #zapatismo #neo zapatismo

[sissa-arrows]

There’s few things I hate more in the Algerian diaspora bellow 40 years old in France who goes “We’re not our grandparents we won’t let you talk down to us and give you the other cheek” or “We’re not our grandparents they didn’t fight but we will”

Sweetheart if it wasn’t for our grandparents resisting, the situation would be so much worst for us today.

This idea that our grandparents didn’t fight is historical revisionism. But it’s true that we aren’t our grandparents cause they had to spill their own blood for freedom meanwhile all that is asked from us is protesting, boycotting, blocking certain places… nobody is asking us to spill our own blood.

Our grandparents did the ultimate sacrifice meanwhile too many of us can’t even bring ourselves to sacrifice a bit of our comfort but have the audacity to say “We’re not our grandparents we are fighting unlike them”.

Yes we are not our grandparents because they did much more than we ever did. They paved the way for us to be able to fight in the West without spilling our blood as much as they did. They paved the way so the West wouldn’t be watered with our blood the way Algeria was watered with the blood of the shouhada. So have some fucking respect.

(it applies to many other people of color in the West not just Algerians. There’s that tendency to think we’re better than our elders and that’s disgusting in all groups but I’m not going to speak on the behalf of people who are angry at their communities like I am at mine)

#racism #transgenerational resistance #history #ranting #diaspora #Algerian diaspora

[ladychlo]

-

#@anon #You know one of the things that people tend to do but absolutely not in favour of Palestinian resistance and liberation movement is #the condemnation of resilients and freedom fighters #it is really not the pro Palestinian stance #The liberation movement is not a peaceful one #ask the million martyred Algerian to liberated their land from french occupation #The people of Palestine are able to rise against their oppressor and are able to organise and to lead their liberation movement and have #their freedom fighters #USA or any western nation categorizing these resistance mouvements as terrorist its well their own racist shit #In the words of Refaat Alareer may he rest in power: #“Saying Hamas is a tool of Israel is saying the Vietnam fighters were a tool of America The Warsaw ghetto rebels a tool of the Nazis” #Black freedom fighters a tool of the slave owners And the indigenous peoples of America a tool of the European colonisers etc etc #and he was so right #Palestine #gaza #genocide

[determinate-negation]

what are your thoughts about hamas / or do you have marxist oriented or just good not western media biased resources for understanding them?

theyre an islamist anti colonial organization, theyre also a political party with a military wing (al qassam brigades) which is what people usually are referring to when they talk about ~hamas~. they won in elections and have a degree of popular support and, because they are the ruling political party, theyre in charge of civil institutions in gaza, like schools and hospitals etc. when reporters describe things like the gaza health ministry as “hamas run” when they would never say this about another political party, they are purposefully trying to delegitimize it and obscuring the fact that they are the government that won in elections, not a rogue terrorist cell. al qassam brigades was not the only part of the resistance that took part in the attack on october 7, there are a bunch of other factions like the islamist PIJ, marxist PFLP and DFLP, and some others. im not the most knowledgable on like politics within gaza and exactly how people feel about hamas but theyre absolutely not a terrorist group, i think theyre much closer to other anti colonial militant organizations like the viet cong and algerian national liberation front. theyre also fighting an asymmetrical war using guerrilla strategies like the viet cong and nlf, and western media misrepresents this with all the shit about “hiding weapons by civilians” or whatever. i would recommend looking into the history of guerilla warfare and anti colonial struggle to understand why im criticizing media representations of it. they also make a lot of their rockets from scraps of israeli bombs! i think people should make a better distinction that hamas is a political party with a military wing (al qassam brigades) because then its more obvious that bombing civilian infrastructure thats allegedly “hamas run” is a war crime. also i heard in their statements that most of their militants are orphans whos parents were killed by israel and i think that should be noted. i think its also incorrect to say they have an issue with jews in general and are rabidly antisemitic as if their main aim is to kill jews, the way most media portrays them. they very specifically exist because of the continued occupation of palestine and without that i do not think they would give a shit about jews. they attack settler because theyre settlers, not because theyre jews. idk this article was pretty good and has a link to their 2017 charter where they specifically say their struggle is against zionism not jews

heres their charter thats linked in the article but ngl i just recommend reading their statements and material in general. not saying take every single thing at face value but theyre a political party with issues like any other, not evil sadistic terrorists. and why let mainstream media set the terms of your understanding of them

#palestine #mine #hamas

[probablyasocialecologist]

How can a person make up for seven decades of misrepresentation and willful distortion in the time allotted to a sound bite? How can you explain that the Israeli occupation doesn’t have to resort to explosions—or even bullets and machine-guns—to kill? That occupation and apartheid structure and saturate the everyday life of every Palestinian? That the results are literally murderous even when no shots are fired? Cancer patients in Gaza are cut off from life-saving treatments. Babies whose mothers are denied passage by Israeli troops are born in the mud by the side of the road at Israeli military checkpoints. Between 2000 and 2004, at the peak of the Israeli roadblock-and-checkpoint regime in the West Bank (which has been reimposed with a vengeance), sixty-one Palestinian women gave birth this way; thirty-six of those babies died as a result.That never constituted news in the Western world. Those weren’t losses to be mourned. They were, at most, statistics. What we are not allowed to say, as Palestinians speaking to the Western media, is that all life is equally valuable. That no event takes place in a vacuum. That history didn’t start on October 7, 2023, and if you place what’s happening in the wider historical context of colonialism and anticolonial resistance, what’s most remarkable is that anyone in 2023 should be still surprised that conditions of absolute violence, domination, suffocation, and control produce appalling violence in turn. During the Haitian revolution in the early 19th century, former slaves massacred white settler men, women, and children. During Nat Turner’s revolt in 1831, insurgent slaves massacred white men, women, and children. During the Indian uprising of 1857, Indian rebels massacred English men, women, and children. During the Mau Mau uprising of the 1950s, Kenyan rebels massacred settler men, women, and children. At Oran in 1962, Algerian revolutionaries massacred French men, women, and children. Why should anyone expect Palestinians—or anyone else—to be different? To point these things out is not to justify them; it is to understand them. Every single one of these massacres was the result of decades or centuries of colonial violence and oppression, a structure of violence Frantz Fanon explained decades ago in The Wretched of the Earth. What we are not allowed to say, in other words, is that if you want the violence to stop, you must stop the conditions that produced it. You must stop the hideous system of racial segregation, dispossession, occupation, and apartheid that has disfigured and tormented Palestine since 1948, consequent upon the violent project to transform a land that has always been home to many cultures, faiths, and languages into a state with a monolithic identity that requires the marginalization or outright removal of anyone who doesn’t fit. And that while what’s happening in Gaza today is a consequence of decades of settler-colonial violence and must be placed in the broader history of that violence to be understood, it has taken us to places to which the entire history of colonialism has never taken us before.

#palestine #israel #gaza #zionism #settler colonialism

[newsfromstolenland]

some of the most infuriating talking points about Palestine are the ones that are like "well x group never attempted armed resistance against colonial occupation". because I can promise that whatever group you're referring to, you're wrong

I've specifically heard it about Indigenous people across "canada" and Indian people. which.

Indigenous people fought back!! they still fight back!! and as an Indian person I can tell you that my ancestors fought the British tooth and nail, we revolted and killed our captors and many of us died but so did many of them

so before you try to rewrite history to make Palestinians seem inferior for fighting against genocide and colonist occupation, please do the bare minimum of historical research. the rest of us fought back to, and they have every right to do as we did.

a few examples off the top of my head: the Lakota people, the Cree, Indians, Algerians, the Irish, South Africans, I could go on

and quick question. do you support Ukrainians fighting the Russian army? Then why not Palestinians? what's the main difference here? 🤔

#mine #palestine #free palestine #israel #genocide #colonialism #ethnic cleansing

[opencommunion]

"As Europe drowned in Palestinian blood, European verbal sadism softened and has been exchanged for a few grimaces and tragic statements in the media forced by the mountain of chopped-up Palestinian bodies. But ultimately, the support of all European governments for 'Israel' in its genocide has remained intact as seen in the refusal to join South Africa's demand at the ICJ. The hands of all are soaked in blood. The European position is cloaked in a gigantic refined hypocrisy that includes some votes in the UN Security Council in favor of a ceasefire but no real action in their governments.

... Whoever controls with his hand the taps of armament, economic, commercial, or institutional, to open or close them at will, is in practice the one who directs the genocide and ethnic cleansing in Palestine. The European and US governments operate with their hands these taps that feed the Zionist regime, because 'Israel' is not self-sufficient and maintains a circular colonial economy of dependence on the Western metropolis. To this is added an important trade with Turkey and the supply of fuel from Azerbaijan and Iraqi Kurdistan, which also comes to it through Turkey.

... Israeli GDP fell by 20% in the last quarter of 2023 due to the staggering spending on the war machine of $300 million per day ($10 billion per month), unsustainable for a population smaller than that of Portugal. Other factors are added to this, such as the paralysis in many economic sectors, the hundreds of thousands of internally displaced Israeli settlers who have emptied the settlements near the dividing line with Lebanon and Gaza, the reduction of commercial exchange, or the disappearance of foreign tourism, among others.

These figures would have led to the collapse of any country of that size, and it is obvious that there is assisted ventilation from the European metropolis and the USA. Therefore, Europe and the USA are leading in practice this genocide and exploration of ethnic cleansing to culminate their colonial project in Palestine.

... Despite all this gigantic coalition of criminal forces and the beginning of a months-long period of sadistic mass torture, today, as a year ago, as on October 7, my prediction is that the Palestinians will resist in Palestine, even if 'Israel' manages to explode a regional open war and in that gigantic chaos further escalates the massacre. 

The Palestinians will defeat the mental Dark Ages of Europe and the USA by resisting with their feet on their land, with the weapons they can dispose of, and by having the necessary and sufficient (non-Western) allies as the Algerians or the Vietnamese had. The colonial regimes applied greater sadism the closer they came to their end, and likewise, the Israeli regime will intensify its internal decomposition, accelerating its horizon of collapse. This statement is not the product of naive optimism, nor is it because the academic Ilan Pappe says so. It is because the recent history of colonialism tells us so, and above all, because it is reaffirmed by the Palestinians who are piled up on the colossal firing squad of the Gaza wall."

Daniel Lobato for Al Mayadeen, "US, Europe conducting the genocide, and their colony in Palestine, 'Israel', is executing it," 3 March 24

#palestine #colonialism #imperialism #zionism #resistance

[ventresses]

Is Ryloth based on Algeria?

A while back, some friends and I had an interesting discussion about why Star Wars has the Twi'lek speak with French accent, and the implication that Ryloth could perhaps be inspired by a country formerly colonized by France.

We discovered there were A LOT of parallels between Ryloth and the country of Algeria

Political History & Colonialism

Algeria became a colony of France after they invaded it in 1830. Their conquest of Algeria has been called a genocide, and they perpetrated countless atrocities- starvation, epidemics, retaliation for resistance, etc. During that time period, there were popular revolts against the French occupation, and insurgent groups, guerilla warfare, etc., particularly in the decade prior to their independence, which Algerians finally won in 1962.

Ryloth's rulers/most powerful political official(s) are always shown as off-world, corrupt, disconnected from the life and struggles of its people, and allowing the people and resources of the planet to exploited. First, this is under Senator Orn Free Taa, then Separatist occupation, then the Empire.

Throughout that same history of oppression and exploitation, we also see armed resistance movements and guerilla fighters, like the Twi'lek Resistance and the Free Ryloth Movement.

Geography

Algeria is the largest country in Africa. It contains a significant portion of the Sahara Desert, and hosts many impressive rock formations.

Ryloth is a large planet on the Outer Rim. Whenever we see Ryloth on-screen, it almost always shows the desert, is peppered with incredible rock formations, gorges, etc.

Architecture

The homes and structures we see on Ryloth are reminiscent of traditional &/or vernacular mud-brick architecture in Algeria and its neighbor, Morocco. For example:

The Syndulla House

Numa's Village (from The Clone Wars S1E20)

The Capital City (from The Clone Wars S1E21)

Interior Design

We also see themes and details that are strongly reminiscent of Islamic architecture in, for example, the design of the Syndulla family's home.

This is also true of simpler homes, like the ones in Numa's village from The Clone Wars, which utilize subtle geometric motifs and Arabesque patterned windows.

Art

Mosaic art was one of the hallmarks of Roman and Byzantine and Islamic Empires, all of which Algeria was part of, and had their history and culture influenced by.

The Syndulla family portrait is a mosaic.

Head Coverings

The vast majority of Algerians identify as Muslim. It's very common practice for Muslim women to wear the hijab, which covers their hair.

Every time we see a female Twi'lek on-screen she is wearing a head-band or head-covering. We very rarely see male Twi'lek do so.

Language and Accents

As a remnant of the legacy of French colonialism, French is widely spoken and understood in Algeria, though its official language is Arabic.

Many Twi'lek speak Galactic Basic, and do so with a French-sounding accent, though Twi'leki is their native language.

Anything else?

#sources are basically just Wookiepedia and Wikipedia and my useless college degree lol #i did my best but i'm no expert so please correct me if my terminology etc is wrong! #star wars #twi'lek #ryloth #star wars meta #sw meta #sw numa #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #the clone wars #sw rebels #mine #it's not a PERFECT parallel but it's still pretty close as these things go

[criptochecca]

This is what happens when you don’t teach the reality of decolonial struggles. Western left-wing academics be like “don’t compare The Wretched of the Earth to Palestine” because Fanon wouldn’t have supported violent resistance, conveniently ignoring the fact that after the Front de Libération Nationale (FLN) launched a violent revolution on November 1, 1954, Frantz Fanon became actively engaged as a supporter, member, and later spokesperson of the organization. It is no exaggeration to say that from then until the end of his life, Fanon completely devoted himself to the cause of Algerian independence, editing El Moudjahid, the FLN's French-language newspaper, and serving from 1959 as a roving FLN ambassador to Africa’s sub-Sahara states, which he repeatedly crisscrossed in an effort to solidify support for the Algerian revolution. To this day, the FLN is still labelled “terrorist” by the French.

.

#as always there is a lot i wanna add but i just cant formulate it right so ill just post without notes

[eretzyisrael]

by Giulio Meotti

There were shameful scenes at a Women's Rights Day demonstration in Munich's Marienplatz. Palestinian flags everywhere. Israeli flags were not welcome. Left-wing and pro-Palestinian groups insulted and pushed several Jewish women. Among the participants was the president of the Jewish community of Munich, Charlotte Knobloch (a Holocaust survivor).

Same scenes in Paris. Insults, attempted aggression, threats, and throwing of projectiles, the pro-Israeli collectives had to be exfiltrated from the Paris demonstration organized on the occasion of International Women's Rights Day. "We heard slogans like 'dirty Jews,' 'Nazis,' 'Israeli murderers,'" Mélanie Pauli-Geysse, president of No Silence, told Le Point.

No media or feminist organization in Europe is following the testimonies reported by the survivors of the family of Abu Bakr al Baghdadi, the caliph of Daesh.

Eggs, broken bottles, rubber bullets. "It was then that the situation worsened, we were only able to walk a few minutes before being exfiltrated by the police for our safety."

In L'Express, Sarah Barukh wrote: "There were Iranian, Afghan, Israeli, Pakistani, Yazidi, and others. We denounce the devastation of apartheid imposed by radical Islamism. We stand alongside women who are victims of barbaric traditions such as excision, in France and elsewhere." Next to her, Mona Jafarian, who fled from Iran, and Father Desbois, a Catholic priest who returned from Ukraine and recounted his life with Yazidi women, his arrest in Iraq, and his death sentence in several countries designated as lands of Islam because "I expressed words of sympathy towards the Jews."

Meanwhile, the Algerian writer Kamel Daoud writes that no media or feminist organization in Europe is following the testimonies reported by the survivors of the family of Abu Bakr al Baghdadi, the caliph of Daesh. His daughter, his wives, his sexual slaves are interviewed on Saudi TV to talk about the caliph.

"No relaunch in newspapers or platforms, no analysis, no echo," writes Daoud. "Western neo-feminism, crumbling into particularisms, is indifferent to this 'Muslim' scene where the condition of millions of women parades, beyond digital screens and the effects of ideological bubbles."

A forced tour should then be immediately organized to the Hamas cages under Gaza where Hamas is holding Israeli female hostages. And for those who don't feel like it, there is still the exhibition in London in which the conditions of imprisonment of the Israelis were recreated based on the testimonies of those who were exchanged in November.

Nothing seems to interfere with the ideological excitement these old and perverse peacocks derive from a barbarism they mistake for rebellion.

There is a pathological reluctance across the West to believe that Hamas has raped and mutilated women. "It didn't happen" or "where is the proof?" The speed with which these people went from saying "believe women" and #MeToo to "show the rape photos or it didn't happen" is mind-blowing.

Rape denial is so widespread that some have felt compelled to take to the streets to raise awareness of Hamas's sexual crimes. British Jews and their (few) allies gathered near BBC headquarters to say "rape is not resistance." Some wore jogging bottoms with stains between the legs, in solidarity with Naama Levy, the 19-year-old Israeli woman seen in that very state shortly after the Hamas pogrom.

The West went from "believe women" to "believe terrorists."

Nothing seems to interfere with the ideological excitement these old and perverse peacocks derive from a barbarism they mistake for rebellion in an unholy marriage of Western self-loathing and Islamic Jihad. They are willing to do anything to save the most squalid moral vanity and be able to continue selling us their "goodness." Except that it is really evil.

#feminists #hamas #rape #hamas rape #women's rights day #marienplatz #munich

[chaiaurchaandni]

does throwing a stone at a tank

make a child a terrorist?

is terrorism about resisting oppression? is terrorism about demanding your birthright to live safely and peacefully in your homeland? is terrorism about hating the killers of your family, your friends and your people?

accusations of terrorism are often weaponized against those fighting for liberation and sovereignty and dignity. the french settlers called the algerians terrorists. the indian government calls the kashmiris terrorists. the pakistani army calls pashtun activists terrorists. the turkish government calls the kurds terrorists. apartheid south africa called nelson mandela a terrorist. americans called the vietcong and the black panthers terrorists. the israelis call the palestinians terrorists. all oppressive regimes are connected. all oppressed people are connected. injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

#fares odeh #this is the justification that israel uses to imprison and kill palestinian children #accusations of terrorism are often weaponized against poc who fight for liberation #'wider impact: after odeh's picture became famous israeli tanks were told to start shooting at stone throwers' absolutely insane #free palestine #palestine #gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #glory to the martyrs #long live palestine #death to israel #long live the resistance #save the children #palestinian resistance

[sissa-arrows]

To those saying the ICJ ruling doesn’t matter because Israel won’t abide by it…

The Algerian liberation wasn’t won by armed resistance only the international pressure on France was just as important if not more.

South Africa didn’t put an end to Apartheid through armed resistance only the international pressure on apartheid was just as important if not more.

This ruling, if in favors of Palestinians (which is the only legitimate outcome) could send a message to the world but mainly to Israel’s allies.

International support is needed just as much as armed struggle. Armed struggle without the isolation of the colonizer/oppressor is a very hard thing. Which is why this is important and it’s also important for us pro Palestinians folks in the West to keep protesting to keep boycotting and to keep pressuring our governments.

Palestine will be free in our time Incha’Allah and we will witness Palestinian celebrating and we will celebrate with them.

#Palestine #free palestine #icj #algeria #South Africa #armed resistance

[beguines]

The cultural hegemony of the Empire was reinforced through the biological theories of western mental health workers; in this way, Keller argues that "[p]sychiatry brought a new degree of sophistication to colonial racism." A common thread which ran through such psychological theory was that "there was something abnormal about the 'normal' native mind". For example, the Malay in the Dutch-occupied East Indies were conceptualised as "over emotional," the Indigenous populations of British-occupied East Africa as being sent mad by "detribalization", and North African Muslims of French-occupied Algeria as suffering from a "persecution complex". Given the role of psychiatry in the colonies, it is unsurprising that their systematic stereotyping and labelling of the Indigenous "other" intensified as the struggles for independence grew in 1950s and 1960s. The outbreak of guerrilla war and acts of political violence against western powers was theorised by the profession as an alarming example of the inherent immaturity and instability of the native mind which could lead to psychotic episodes of violence if left untreated. These attempts by western mental health experts to pacify resistance to colonial authority was discussed in detail by the famous psychiatrist and social theorist Frantz Fanon, who wrote at the time of the Algerian War of Independence (1954–1962):

"We cannot be held responsible that in this war psychiatric phenomena entailing disorders affecting behaviour and thought have taken on importance where those who carry out the 'pacification' are concerned, or that these same disorders are notable among the 'pacified' population. The truth is that colonialism in its essence was already taking on the aspect of a fertile purveyor for psychiatric hospitals. We have since 1954 in various scientific works drawn the attention of both French and international psychiatrists to the difficulties that arise when seeking to 'cure' a native properly, that is to say, when seeking to make him thoroughly a part of a social background of the colonial type."

Bruce M.Z. Cohen, Psychiatric Hegemony: A Marxist Theory of Mental Illness

#bruce m.z. cohen #psychiatric hegemony #psychiatry

[christian2muslim]

👨👉👳‍♂️

One less christian one more Muslim

The new Muslim of the Week

Watan-Coach Patrice Beaumelle, the French coach of “MC Alger,” embraced Islam due to the events of the Gaza war and the steadfastness of its people, changing his name to Amir. A video of the moment of his conversion to Islam was broadcast on social media platforms.

The French coach, Beaumelle, appeared inside a mosque alongside a sheikh, dressed in Algerian attire. The sheikh can be heard saying that one of the French citizens, who changed his name to Amir after embracing Islam, is among them now. This decision came after he entered the religion of Allah Almighty.

t was added that the reason for Amir’s conversion, Coach Patrice Beaumelle, was very strange, which was the recent events in Gaza. He started asking about the religion of Allah Almighty, and the credit, as he said, goes to his companion “who always discussed these matters with him until he declared his Islam, and all praise is due to Allah.”

The sheikh added: “We are happy for him to have become one of us, Muslims, he has what we have, and upon him is what is upon us.” He then hears the repetition of the phrase “Allahu Akbar” among the mosque-goers, and then the sheikh shakes hands with the French coach.

According to the Imam, Patrice Beaumelle admired the resistance and patience of the people of the Gaza Strip in the face of Israeli aggression, and he became interested in Islam.

The Imam explained that his Algerian guide patiently explained everything about this religion to him, which eventually led to convincing him.

In a speech at the mosque, Beaumelle expressed his happiness at embracing Islam, addressing the worshippers, saying: “Peace be upon you, I am happy to share this moment with you, and I am happy and proud to be part of Islam.”

In turn, MC Alger welcomed their coach’s decision in a tweet on the X platform, saying: “Thank God, welcome Amir Beaumelle to the religion of truth, our French coach Patrice Beaumelle pronounced his testimony in the mosque, announcing his Islam, choosing the name ‘Amir’ for himself. Rejoice, Amir, with the goodness of the day that has passed since your birth.”

#christian2muslim #convert to islam #islam #mashallah #muslim #new muslim #arab superiority #muslim supremacy #mnwo #shahada #religion traitors

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Algerian Revolution is the story of French domination being met by heroic resistance, and the histories and theories that were catalyzed by the revolution are today just as   meaningful and inspiring as they were in the immediate decolonial period. We read and watch and do not in the same instance apologize for the terrors, for terror is a part of oppression and a part of resistance. Terror and violence. We do not moralize the FLN’s use of weapons instead of slogans and marches, because we know that many Algerians did the latter and were killed for it, such as the bodies thrown into the Seine on October 17, 1961, killed in the flagrant center of the flagrant capital, in Paris.

We know that for all the power of peaceful resistance, violent resistance has accompanied—and strengthened—its peaceful counterparts. Rebellions, uprisings, assassinations, and covert operations over multiple decades fill the context Mohandas Gandhi appeared within. As recounted by Elizabeth Hinton in America on Fire, the many instances of localized, violent resistance by Black Americans joined Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and the sit-ins that take starring roles in the Civil Rights era. uMkhonto we Sizwe and armed resistance in South Africa, at times deliberately targeting state functionaries and complicit Black South Africans, buttressed and empowered the unified uprising of civilians to end apartheid.

#israel #palestine #algeria #algerian revolution #settler colonialism

[thesugarclubs-blog]

A Shot to the Heart - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: mr & mrs smith vibes, injuries, hurt x comfort, hospital stay

word count: 6.9k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1431325298-a-shot-to-the-heart-florence

vibe: "How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."

"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.

Masterlist

It was quiet. Too quiet.

His target’s villa was supposed to be littered with bodyguards, even as Bucky made his way silently through the hallway leading to the man selling the latest deadly drug on the market, something felt off about the silence.

He’d encountered almost no resistance.

His heartbeat was thrumming steadily in his ears as he neared the main bedroom, the door beckoning him like a bullseye. His steps were quiet as he closed one fist around the handle while the other tightened on his trusty blade. 

The door didn’t make a sound as he opened it and slipped through it, closing it swiftly as his ears caught the faint sound of music. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he inched closer to the noise leaking through the spacious wing. His intel was solid, he’d been monitoring the French-Algerian mercenary for a month now.

Batroc had a set routine; hide in plain sight while making connections with the local higher ups of the island he was currently hiding in, stay in his villa to host parties on the weekends, and he was always alone on weekdays. He even went to bed early.

Which is why Bucky was confused as to why he was awake– apparently with a companion from the sounds of seductive music filtering in through the walls, when he was supposed to be sleeping. The job was supposedly an easy in-and-out.

Pulling his gun with the silencer attached, he held the two weapons and decided to spring into action with quick steps only for his feet to stop at the sight of a very familiar body swaying seductively in front of a dazed looking French asshole. The woman’s back was to Bucky while she slowly stripped off a trench coat and dropped it to the floor. The blood rushing through his veins was boiling hot but not because of the black corset that was painted on her every delicious curve. No, it was because that body with a distinctive constellation of birthmarks on the back belonged to his wife.

Betrayal. Anger. White hot rage burned everywhere.

“Florence? What the fuck?!”

"Bucky," a tiny whisper left her lips, whether it was annoyance or surprise, Bucky wasn't quite sure. 

His eyes flickered between Florence and Batroc, a dangerous man now with the upper hand as his realization clicked into place that he was in danger.

"Guards!" He bellowed, scrambling up from his seated position and tumbling over the side. Within seconds four sets of boots were rushing down the hall at them. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" She whipped around on her stilettos. Clicking across the floor toward Batroc as she swiped her jacket from the floor, but it wasn't the jacket that came up in her hands, it was a slim, black pistol. Poised to kill. 

"What am I doing here?" Bucky growled, slamming the thin doors closed behind him. They wouldn't keep the guards out but it would buy them some time. "You're a  kindergarten teacher!" The shock was settling in, grasping a hold of any rational thoughts he might have had coming into this mission. "What are you doing here?" He kicked his boot against the couch and sent it flying up against the doors, barricading them inside.

“Listen, clearly we need to talk but this really isn’t the time, Bucky.” 

Bucky stared at her bewildered, struggling to wrap his head around what his sweet, civilian wife was doing in the home of a French mercenary.

“No shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, head snapping at the sound of quickening footsteps and growing shouts. “Can you run in those?” He asked, pointing to her shoes. 

“You know I can. I take it this is a normal Tuesday for you so what’s the plan?”

“Normal Tuesday,” He scoffed “I’ll talk to you about a normal Tuesday you just w-”

“James!” Bucky’s mumbles were cut off by Florence’s exasperated voice piercing through his ears, “not now.”

He shook his jumbled thoughts from his head as he found her eyes and nodded sharply, turning towards the door and pushing her just slightly behind him as he braced himself for the incursion. 

“What are you doing?” She hissed. 

“Florence just,” 

Both their heads turned to the sounds of Batroc clambering to open a window on the far left side of the room. He watched her in complete awe, mouth agape as she raised her gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet piercing straight through his hand. 

“You were saying?” 

“Just, do exactly that I guess,” He turned back towards the sounds closing in on them and back to her, not a sliver of trepidation in her beautiful chestnut eyes. “And don’t get hurt, please.” His brows knit in worry before he took a steadying breath and turned away once more.

Florence scoffed as she stalked over to where Batroc lay on the ground, clutching his wrist and moaning painfully. She bent over, displaying her ass and the length of her legs, which had Bucky moaning almost as loud as his target but for an entirely different reason. His distraction was soon over as his wife scooped up her jacket and slipped it on before turning to Batroc once more.

“Where are the files, you piece of shit,” she hissed, pressing one stilettoed foot against his throat.

“Wait a second,” Bucky interrupted. “Files? What files?”

He saw his wife release a sigh of annoyance as she pressed the heeled foot into Batroc's chest now, making him wince in pain when her heel dug deep.

"I would say it's classified but..." she gave Bucky a wickedly brilliant smile over her shoulder that almost had him forgetting he was angry.

"...I'm guessing you're here for the same reason, my love. I want the files on the new drug he has circling around."

"I was sent to take him out," Bucky narrowed his eyes. 

Florence rolled her shoulders and dug her heel deep into his chest as he tried to squirm away, mumbling something about internal communication under her breath. 

"You were never supposed to find out this way." She looked up at him. Regret painted across her beautiful face. 

Bucky opened his mouth to respond when the door behind him flew open and three men crashed into the room with their weapons drawn. He was quick on the first, grabbing his gun hand and slamming it against the door frame painfully and with enough force to snap the man's arm in half before kicking him backward out into the hallway. 

"This conversation isn't over!" He grunted, taking a gunshot to his vibranium arm. It shuddered in response, curling up and rebounding the bullet away. "You guys never learn." He hauled back his arm, the plates shifting and clicking before making contact. The man yelped and stumbled backward, dropping his gun and clutching his crushed face as Bucky stalked him. 

A gunshot rang out in the room, Bucky turning only to catch the third man crumbling to the floor, a leaking hole through his temple. 

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Florence quipped with a shrug of her slender shoulders. 

"Ren!" Bucky barked as a second shot echoed. Batroc's bloody hand curled around the handle aimed at Florence. Bucky slammed his boot against the throat of the second guard, rendering him unconscious as Florence exhaled a shaky breath and her fingers found the blood that poured from her shoulder. 

"You shot me!" She groaned loudly, turning on Batroc and laying a swift, hard kick across his face. Clipping his arm in the motion, his gun went sliding across the room as more footsteps pounded down the hallway toward them. "We need to..." her words faltered and so did her step as the color drained from her face.

Bucky's eyes widened and he rushed forward, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins as he reached for Florence. She glanced down at the blood pooling from the bullet hole and swayed, stumbling for the wall as Bucky swiftly caught her. He pressed his fingers to her shoulder, trying to staunch the wound. 

"Fuck! Florence, sweetheart, you gotta stay with me long enough for us to get out of here. Think you can do that for me?" He murmured as he tried to tamper down the rising panic. Never mind that she'd lied to him, if anything happened to her he'd lose it.  

"Huh?" Florence hummed, glassy eyes meeting his. 

"We gotta get out of here, Ren. I gotta get you out of here."

"Batroc..." she mumbled but Bucky couldn't dart his eyes away from her while he tried to hold her upright.

"I don't give a fuck about Batroc. All I care about is you right now, pretty girl." Her weight was getting heavier in his arms and he forced himself to look around for any other danger. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt again only because he let his emotions take over for a short moment.

Instead of using the advantage, Batroc was glued to the floor in front of them, the gun still in his bloody hand. Bucky's eyes narrowed and he shot the French a death glare that normally was reserved for Red Wing. 

"You!" he started, adjusting his grip around Florence's middle while his vibranium hand reached into the holster that was securing multiple knives to his thigh.

"Merde," Batroc hissed, spinning around and trying to open the window behind him with his good hand. Bucky flicked the knife and it pierced effortlessly through Batroc's hand, making him grunt in pain.

“No-one. Touches. My. Wife.” Bucky growled through gritted teeth, shoving down the urge to make the mercenary’s last meal a mouth full of vibranium.

A gentle touch to his cheek brought him back to himself and he looked down at his precious burden, who stared at him with a look of utter adoration.

“That was really hot,” she slurred but then her eyes rolled backward and her lids fluttered closed, her hand falling from his face as she slipped into unconsciousness.

“Ren, REN! Shit!” Bucky hissed as he held her tighter, running out of the room as carefully as he could.

“Medic, we need…agent down…shot. I need her…just…help…” he babbled into his comm, his voice cracking as he tried to relay the information.

The response confirming they heard him and help is on the way was muted by the chaos around them both.

"Fuck! Just– just hang on baby, I'll get you out of here." 

He told Florence, trying to keep her concious enough to get them out of there safely. Her body was getting heavier in Bucky's arms as he carried her and maneuvered around the room with shots coming from every direction and headed to the only exit available; the window.

Peering out once he was close enough, Bucky tightened his grip on Florence. All he could see was a thin ledge running along the outside of the villa, the one Batroc must have clung to before climbing in through the window. There was no way he would be able to balance on that with his wife in his arms, or use it to leverage himself down further. 

The drop wasn't huge, but he still didn't like the idea of jumping, not with Florence fading in and out, her blood seeping into his own tac jacket, hot and sticky, as he held her closer. She groaned softly, skin pale and dewy with sweat. 

"It's alright, pretty girl. I got you," he gritted out just as a shot whistled past him, shattering the plaster of the wall in front of them. "Fuck. Okay, we gotta go. Hold on tight, Ren. S'gonna be okay." 

Bucky heaved himself up onto the window ledge, glancing once behind him. Pressing his lips into Florence's hair, he put his focus on his landing point and counted down quietly before jumping.

“Just… fo- for the record… I’m as ba- badass as you,” she mumbled, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. 

“Shhh. Save your energy, baby. You can show me all your badass-ness later.” He couldn’t stop his heart from going haywire. 

Boot steps were echoing through the room he just climbed out of and while tightening his one arm around Florence, he held his gun through the window with the other, shooting completely blind. To his own surprise he heard the thud of a body right after the ringing of the shot vanished in his ears. 

With quick head movements he scanned their surroundings.

Pressing them up against the wall of the villa, he took a glance back down at Florence and his heart sank even further when he saw she’d slipped back into unconsciousness.

Quickly sliding along the wall and back around to his entry point he blinked away the tears that threatened to cloud his vision as he rasped against the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I know you’d have made that jump, pretty girl, even in heels. God, I’m so proud of you, I mean, I was before too, wrangling toddlers needs nerves of steel but…I’m rambling, sweetness, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to wake up.”

He sniffled loudly and carefully adjusted the long leather jacket around his wife’s lingerie-clad form, making sure she wouldn’t get too chilled.

He took a glance to the left and right before dashing across the villa’s courtyard and towards the side gate where he’d entered not ten minutes before.

Reaching his car, Bucky laid Florence delicately in the passenger seat, as if she were made of glass, before climbing behind the wheel and setting off in the direction of his rendezvous point, hoping beyond hope that the med-evac would get there in time.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as Bucky drove. Voices over his comm directed him where he needed to go but it all seemed to fade in the background as images of their life together flashed before him. The night they met, their wedding...Bucky felt a pang of hurt in his chest when his mind raised the question of if any of it was real. 

Saddened blue eyes flickered to his wife, her chest barely rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Waking her up would mean having to face the fact that their relationship he thought was built on honesty and truth was tainted with a secret so big it got her hurt. 

After a few sharp turns and questionable roads he spotted the med-evac waiting for them just beyond the brush. Bucky quickly threw the car into park and slid his wife from the vehicle, her soft groans and whimpers only shattered off pieces of his heart the more he jostled her around. "You're gonna get through this." He whispered into her hair. "Don't you die on me Ren."

"Sergeant Barnes! Sergeant!" 

The shouts made the woman in his arms flinch for a moment as he turned to see a handful of people coming towards him, carrying all kinds of medical aid.

"Sergeant Barnes! What happened?" One of them questioned while he rushed to get her on the stretcher they laid for her. His wife's whimpers of pain pierced through his heart as they started to undress her from the top to see the wound.

"Be careful with her," Bucky whispered. Not really paying attention to anything else but the love of his life as he cradled her pale face in his palms.

"Sergeant? May I ask who this is?" An agent accompanying the medical team asked in a careful tone, "we were not informed there would be anyone else but you, sir." 

He didn't answer. He didn't know how to even begin to explain the situation when his head was swarmed with questions of his own. 

Another pained whimper left Ren's mouth, this one louder and breaking through his thoughts.

"I said be fucking careful!" Bucky seethed at the medic.

The woman's eyes flicked to him but her expression remained passive as she examined the bullet wound, unaffected by his anger. He supposed they had to be. 

"It was a through and through, but she's lost a lot of blood," Bucky explained,  "just-- fuck, you gotta save her." 

"We'll do our best, Sergeant. Are you travelling back with us?" 

It took a second for the medic's words to catch up and he glowered, stepping closer with his vibranium hand balled into a fist.

"I'm sorry? You'll do your best? You fucking save her and that's an order." 

"Sergeant, stand down," a voice piped up amongst the fray just as the medic murmured out a weak, "yes, Sarge."

The medic started to put ECG electrodes all over Florence‘s upper body and Bucky‘s eyes darted over to the monitor to see how his wife was doing.

Her heart was beating regularly, but slower than usual. The sound of her normal, steady heartbeat while he had his head resting on her chest was burned into his brain.

He struggled more and more to keep the concern at bay, but when they placed the cuff around her good arm and he saw how low her blood pressure was, his heart ached and he was sure someone was tightening a rope around his chest. 

“Do something,” he whispered, his eyes wandering to Ren‘s unconscious face. She looked almost peaceful, like she was sleeping. And she was so fucking beautiful even with her paled skin and sweat all over her face. He’d been the luckiest man on earth that she chose him all those years ago. At least he thought he was, until today when his world was turned upside down.

“You listen to me, Florence Barnes,” he gritted, shouldering a poor medic out of the way as he leaned towards his wife’s ear. “I know we said in sickness and in health but this is taking things a bit too far now, don’t you think?”

The medics eyed each other in shock and surprise, one mouthing his wife?! at the others before they doubled-down their efforts to stabilise the fallen agent.

“Baby, you just gotta…fight…you know? I know I’m an absolute train wreck, ha, but I need you, Ren, I need you so much.”

A harsh beep from the equipment had the medics moving even more frantically as one of them turned to Bucky and grabbed his elbow.

“With all due respect, Sergeant, move, now!”

Bucky glared down at the medic, wrenching his arm out of their grasp. "Save Her.” 

The medic gave him a solemn nod before Bucky stepped back and let them get to work. He watched from the edge of the bay, pacing every few moments before stopping whenever they'd start barking orders at each other. He knew enough medical terminology to patch a bullet wound, but anything deeper than that he was foggy. It felt like his heart wanted to explode out of his chest until a familiar voice came over his comms. 

"Florence! Buck you brought Florence on a mission with you what the hell man!" Sam's angry voice echoed through his ear. 

"I didn't bring her." Bucky muttered as he stared at his wife. 

"What did you just say?" 

"She was already there."

“The fuck? Man what the hell is goin’ on?!” 

“Fuck if I know, Sam,” Bucky replied. 

He hated this, the helpless feeling he never thought he’d experience with Florence. The worst case scenario played out in his head as he watched on — he would have to tell her family, her kids, fuck, who wants to tell a bunch of kindergarteners their teacher died? He let himself wonder briefly what song she would want played and that’s when he broke. A sob worked its way up his throat, his bottom lip quivering. 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice came again, softer this time. “She’s still here, Buck. She’s gonna fight and you gotta be strong for her.” 

Bucky nodded, sure Sam could probably see him somehow, and wiped his eyes just as a medic approached him tentatively. 

“Sergeant, we have her stabilised but we need to leave now, are you coming with us?”

“Yeah, yeah” He whispered, clearing his throat. “Sammy,” 

“I’ll see you two in a few Buck, we’re not losing her. That’s a promise.” 

Sam’s voice faded into static as he disconnected on his end and with that Bucky took out his earpiece with a disheartened huff as he made his way to the med-evac. 

When they reached the van’s double doors he paused, taking a deep breath before the agent next to him spoke. 

“Sir, we’re not too far from base and we’ve got her covered until we get there. Would you like to ride alone with her in the back?” The blonde smiled sympathetically as he raised his eyes from the road to meet hers. 

“Is that safe? I don’t- I need her to be okay,” 

“I can jump back if needed but she’s stable for right now. She does need to go into surgery as soon as we get to base, so you know,” 

“As long as you save her, anything.” He whispered before adding. “I apologize for my outburst, agent.” 

“Understandable. I hope you don’t mind my saying but, I think we can all agree you’ve lost enough in your life already, Sergeant. We’ll do everything we can.” 

Bucky nodded, holding back tears as his heart clenched tightly in his chest before stepping inside the cabin, settling gently in the bench beside the stretcher where his entire soul lay still.

He could make out a thick bandage secured with tape over Florence‘s shoulder, her arm bent and held by a makeshift sling. 

“You can grab her hand if you want to. Show her that you’re here by her side,” the medic suggested but Bucky hesitated.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt her,“ he mumbled, struggling more and more to hold back the tears that made his vision blurry. He needed her to be safe in an OR at the base before he would let himself fall apart. 

“You won’t. She’s a fighter, that's for sure.” the blond smiled again. Bucky reached out a shaking hand and grabbed Ren‘s small one in his. He’d done that thousand times before but today everything was different. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand before he pulled it close and placed a tender kiss on each of her knuckles.

And despite his best efforts, in this moment Bucky let the emotions break him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he breathed “I love you” and “Please don’t leave me” shakily on her skin over and over again.

By the time they’d arrived at the base and whisked Florence into surgery Sam had landed. He stalked over to Bucky, his wings still in the process of folding, and wrapped the super soldier in his arms. 

Bucky shattered. 

He didn’t think he’d cried that much or that hard since the night that Ayo had taken him into the Wakandan bush. His friend murmured platitudes in his ear and stroked his back, holding him as tight as he needed to feel grounded again. It was only when Bucky’s sobs finally subsided that Sam let him go, leading him over to some hard plastic chairs that were bolted to the floor.

Bucky slumped into one, his elbows on his knees as he rested his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in desperation.

“Why was she even there, Sam?” He asked weakly.

“I did some digging on the way over, called some people. Ren’s one of us, man. She’s an agent,” Sam said gently, leaning forwards to try and catch Bucky’s eye.

“I figured,” Bucky mumbled, his words almost slurring together, “but…but…how?!”

“Sleeper agent,” Sam tried to clarify. “Trained with SHIELD, and then reintegrated into society when it fell. Her job is legitimate, she is actually a qualified kindergarten teacher, but her backstory is…crafted and she’s called on when she’s needed for a job. Obviously this was one of those times,” Sam shrugged, looking almost as confused as Bucky.

"How the hell did I not know? For years?" Bucky muttered. 

"She's still Ren, Buck." Sam said. "What you guys had was still real. You know how this works." 

"She lied Sam." He glanced over at him, "she knew about me. Hell, she knows everything." 

Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back into the chair, "and you know how SHIELD is."

"I just don't get why she couldn't tell me. What difference would it have made?" 

Sam chuckled lowly and somehow Bucky knew exactly what he was going to say. 

"You can't honestly tell me that if you knew she was an agent, you wouldn't have pulled some over-protective bullshit every time she was called up on a mission?" 

"She's my wife, Sam. I made a promise to keep her safe. After everything, the least I can do is keep the love of my life safe. She had no back up in there, I would have seen them if she did." 

"Head over heart, man," Sam murmured, "it's the core rule of this job." 

Bucky huffed, eyes on the double doors that led to Florence. The waiting was unbearable, the longer he had to think, the worse his thoughts became. 

"That's a fuckin' stupid rule," he muttered, pushing to his feet when the need to move, to do anything but sit still, took over.

Bucky stalked to the double doors leading to the ORs before turning back to Sam. "Why send us separately to the same target with separate missions though? It's hard enough to accept Ren's an agent but," his voice wavered. Shaking his head, he stalked past Sam and towards the external doors.

"Hey man, where are you going?" Sam called after him, "Bucky, stop, Ren needs you here." He chased after Bucky and, placing his hand on his shoulder, his friend stilled. "You need to be here, Bucky. Ren needs you."

"I need answers Sam, I could have gotten her killed by bursting in when I did. Someone's fucked up big time and I've got to find out who!"

Any further argument was lost as the doors opened before them and a doctor appeared.  Both men eyed him warily and there was a moment of silence so profound that they could hear the subtle whir of the plates in Bucky’s arm as his fingers twisted nervously together.

“Doc?” He croaked, needing to know but not wanting to hear.

“Sergeant Barnes, your wife’s out of surgery. We cleaned up the wound and stopped the bleeding. We’re giving her medication for the pain and some additional blood but taken her off sedation. She should wake up soon.” He paused, seeing the incomprehension on Bucky’s face. “Your wife’s going to be ok, Sergeant.”

Bucky barely grunted his thanks before pushing through the doors behind the doctor in search of his wife.

His hand trembled against the door of her room, everyone seemed to disappear around him as he came to a halt. He could hear them talking to him, at him but none of it mattered. Ren was on the other side of that door and he wasn't sure he would ever be ready to face what condition she was in. 

As the adrenaline settled and his thoughts started to slow down the guilt and grief seemed to flood in. 

"Do you want me to go first?" Sam asked from his side, the only voice that cut through the static. 

"No," Bucky shook his head and inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and wandering inside. The faint beeping of machines and the smell of cleaning solution clouded his senses. Florence lay in the middle of the tubes and machines, so still it made his heart constrict in his chest. He hated it. "Oh baby," He sunk down on the side of the bed and rested his head against her hand, taking a moment to forget about his anger and frustration and to just worry about her.

Sam slowly made his way around the bed and rubbed Bucky's back. "I'm sorry, man," he murmured softly. "But she'll make it. Florence is one heck of a tough girl." 

Bucky raised his head and looked at her, she looked so small in that bed, and her face was so pale. Despite all the tubes and wires, the beeping of the monitors was kind of reassuring. "She has to put up with me," he responded, "but when she left the house this morning..." He gulped and shook his head again. "How did I miss this, Sam? Some fucking super soldier I am."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Buck," Sam replied quietly as he gave Bucky's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You good here? Or do you want me to stay for a while?" 

Bucky heaved a sigh, eyes never straying from Florence as the thought about his answer. He reached across the bed to brush a stray hair from her face, fingertips lingering. She had more colour in her face now, cheeks warm and pink, but Bucky still found himself begging for movement -- a flicker of her eyelids, twitch of her mouth.

"I'm alright," he breathed after a moment. "Can you stick around the base though, as soon as she's fit for transport I wanna get her back to the compound and I want you travelling with us." 

"Course, man. Give me a shout if you need me." 

Bucky listened as the doors swung closed and the room fell into an eerie quiet save for the beeping of machines and Florence's steady breaths.

Reaching up carefully, he wrapped his hand around hers, tangling their fingers together. "What the hell were you doing there?" He whispered to her, knowing she wouldn't answer. At least not right now. Confusion and anger wrapped around his insides the longer he watched her sleep. A thousand unanswered questions plagued his mind and only caused more tiny little fractures in his heart.

It confused to no end why she didn't tell him, why she wasn't honest with him about this part of her life. His wife almost never lied to him— intentionally or not. 

Didn't she trust him? Did she think this kind of a secret could be kept forever? What if—

The twitch of her hand in his cut off his destructive train of thought. Ren's eyes were flickering open and closed causing Bucky's heart to still as he willed her chocolate eyes to open and reassure him that she was okay. Her hand tightened only slightly around his fingers and her head turned slowly in his direction, the softest smile graced her lips as she settled again, eyes closed but her posture more peaceful.

"Just be okay," he whispered. Leaning in to pepper kisses on the hand cradled in his while tears stung his eyes.

"We'll figure out the rest."

Bucky sat in that room for hours, going back and forth on what he would say to her the moment she woke. The doctors came and went and his impatience grew with every passing second and annoying beep or question. 

He wanted answers, he wanted his wife. 

He didn't know what he wanted but he knew if Steve had been there he'd have the answer and that only made him more angry. He had moved on, he had worked so hard to find a person that could understand him the way Steve had and it felt like a lie. He knew better than to believe that, he trusted Florence with everything so short of her being assigned to him and their entire marriage being a ruse. Nothing she would say could convince him she didn't love him too. He had felt her love every single time she was near him. So patient and delicate as he worked through so much unforeseen trauma. 

"Come back to me baby," he whispered from trembling, exhausted lips.

Time dragged and the monotonous beep became the background noise to his cheek pressed to Florence’s arm, resting his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been dozing when he heard it, the soft croak of a voice he’d been dreaming of somewhere above him. 

“Bu- Buck?” 

Bucky snapped his head up.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as Florence tried to speak again, her eyes fluttering open.  “Shh. Shh, hang on, baby. Lemme get you some water.” 

He propped her bed up a little before guiding the straw to her dry lips. 

“I was shot,” she whispered once she was done. “Fuck.” 

Bucky chuckled, cradling her cheek delicately and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, "You had me so worried, baby girl."

"Like I was hit by Mjolnir," she tried to smile weakly. She tried to lift her head but stopped, wincing and groaning.

"Stay still," Bucky admonished, "you almost died today." Florence closed her eyes and took a breath before looking at Bucky's hand on hers, she twisted her fingers to take his wedding ring and begin turning it.

"You weren't meant to find out this way, Buck. I never meant for this to happen."

He sucked into a breath and shook his head, his hand tightening in hers for a moment, "why didn't you tell me?" 

Her eyes found his and his heart dropped seeing the hesitation in her features. Ren's lips parted to say something before all that came out was a breath.

"Please tell me." 

He begged in a hushed tone, trying to have the patience to manage her fragile state while pushing away doubts and fears of his own. 

"This was the first mission I've been put on since we got married, Buck. I thought.." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip nervously. 

"I thought I was done with that part of my life. I told my superior that I was off the day we met, I didn't want to do that anymore." Ren continued, the words rushing out with the rising frustration clear in her eyes. 

He didn't understand. Bucky's eyes were searching her own but there was nothing but sincerity and anguish as Florence delivered the final punch to the gut.

"We met while I was on an assignment, and I just.. quit. Or so I thought." She mumbled the last part as her fingers dug into his palm as if willing him to believe her.

"So why this case? Why lie?" Bucky searched for answers to help make sense of her explanation. 

"It wasn't my choice," She moved uncomfortably, just trying to close the gaps between them. "I couldn't tell you and when they call," she stopped. 

"You go." Bucky knew that well, there was always another war to fight, another bad guy to bring down. It never ended and someone always came looking for help. It's not that he didn't want to, but he was tired and looking at Florence he had thought he found his haven from that. Someone who would never need him in that way but now... "I'm not mad you," he said. "I know it seems like I am but," he rolled his fingers over her cheek. "Tell me and don't lie to me. Was I ever a mission?" 

"No," she answered without hesitation. "Never. Not once, they never even tried to take that route. It's why I quit in the first place."

"It was never going to be easy for me, was it?" Bucky murmured sadly and Florence made a little wounded sound as she brought his hand to her lips. "Makes sense that I'd fall in love with someone whose seen just as much bloodshed as me." 

"Is that such a bad thing?" Florence countered. Bucky let out a shaky breath. "C'mere." Bucky scooted closer as she pressed soft kisses to his knuckles before turning his hand and kissing his palm. With her eyes closed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her cheeks and she looked every bit the angel she is. 

"I never wanted you to see that side of me, of my job, Ren. Not first hand, not like this." 

"I don't care, Bucky. I've always known who you are and what you do and I married you anyway. And besides, it was my job too. I knew I could have handled anything you decided to show me."

"You may not care, but I care!" His voice raised and almost broke. He pulled his hand away as he stood, the chair flew back abruptly and came to rest against the wall. Ren winced at his raised voice but knew with confidence that he'd never hurt her.

Bucky had begun to pace the room. "You're my angel, it's my job to protect you, to keep you safe...." His hands fisted his hair, "My whole world relies on the normality and routine of our lives...." He looked at her for the first time since he stood up. "This blows everything I believed we had out of the water."

"I'm still me!" She yelled, "I'm still the woman you fell in love with and I'm still the woman who is in love with you James Barnes." 

His face crumpled for a moment as he stared at her. 

"Now I am not throwing years of marriage away because of this. *I am not going anywhere*." Her brows furrowed as those big brown eyes looked up at him. Those eyes he tripped in the first time he saw her. Stumbling over his words, his heart racing with every moment she spared him and that smile. God that smile lit up every dark corner of his mind the first time he saw it. "Are you?" Her voice cracked softly as they watched each other. Both expecting to make a decision. 

Bucky let out a long drawn out breath and shook his head. "No."

A weak, teary laugh escaped her and Bucky's heart broke over the sound.

"Good. Because you're stuck with me," she announced. "One injured shoulder won't keep me away from you." She told him, trying to smile through the tension and tears pooling in her eyes.

He couldn't stay away from her any longer when she buried her face in her hands and started crying, the soft sniffling and hiccups coming from her had Bucky closer in a heartbeat, his arms enveloping the love of his life gently. Protectively.

"I'm telling them I'm out for good," Florence mumbled into his chest, her voice thick. 

"Are you sure? I know you said--" 

"Yes. Fuck, Bucky. I don't want to do this anymore. I wanted normal too, you know. I wanted to *be* your normal, your safe space. I want to keep coming home to you and telling you stupid stories about my kids, I want to keep having lazy weekends with you and late night grocery store runs." 

Bucky laughed wetly, pressing a kiss into her hair, careful of her shoulder as he held her tighter. 

"I want that too," he whispered, "just, no more secrets, sweetheart, I don't think my old heart could take it."

They sat quietly, as if counting their blessings, murmuring their wishes and promises for their lives moving forward, everything now out in the open.

They were interrupted by a rapping at the door and both of them turned as it opened. Sam poked his head through. "I was just checking in, Bucky..." he began. "Oh thank god you're awake, Ren, Bucky was out of his mind..."

"Is there any wonder?" Bucky retorted, turning back to Ren. "I thought I'd lost you for sure."

"I've told you, I'm not going anywhere, Buck. We're going to grow old together," Florence smiled, moving to sit up. "Ooh that fucking smarts."

"I'm sure you're due some more pain relief by now," Sam responded. "Let me go find the doc to sort you out, and start arranging  for the airlift home."

Bucky watched Sam leave before turning back to Ren. A soft grin spread across her face as her fingers traced along the edges of his scruffy face. "You know, seeing you in action was pretty hot." She said lowly. 

He laughed and shook his head. "Me? What was that outfit you were wearing and why the hell have I not seen you in it?" 

"That old thing?" She whispered, "was cheap and not my style." 

Bucky leaned down, bringing her hand to his lips kissing the inside of her wrist, "Could it?" 

Florence raised a brow at him with a smirk. 

"I mean when you're healed." He clarified, "You aren't doing anything for the next few weeks except bed rest." 

"It's a shoulder wound." Florence laughed at him. 

"And you are my wife." Bucky countered, "Which means I get to dote on you until you're better." 

Her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs there, "I could get used to that." 

"Good." He said as he leaned into her, whispering against her lips before kissing her for the first time since he left home that morning, letting the monotonous beeping and horror of the day disappear until all that was left was them.

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