#hideaway header | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freyito · 2 months ago

Text

ᴅᴏɢᴘɪʟᴇ

✭ pairing(s): clive rosfield x gn reader

✩ inspo: i think he really just needs a nap.

✩ in which: you two (three) get caught in a rainstorm at your weariest.

✧ a/n: i really wanna write sooooo much for ffxvi but im like only halfway i think... so i shall stick to who i know. ALSO this is 100% NOT based off that one scene cause actually i didnt even know there was That One Scene UNTIL I WAS LOOKING FOR PICTURES FOR HEADERS. sigh. also the logic might not make sense bear with me guys i wrote this with a killer stress induced headache

✦ taglist: @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, idk you guys get nakey for a bit, just fluff tho, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

What a wonderful day it had been, the sun shining up high in its loft, smiling down at those of the Hideaway. You were sure it was, at least. You hadn’t seen a cloudy day plague the Hideaway, despite the many metaphorical ones. How you wished you were back there, lounging in your own room, huddled up under your nice and warm, dry, blankets. Instead, you were caught in a rainstorm in Rosaria, drops pelting you and your cloth, clinging to your body and making you all the more colder. It had started raining only after you had finished sloshing about in the swamps, putting a damper on your mood.

Ahead of you, Clive and Torgal were walking, seemingly unscathed by the rain, save for Clive blocking the rain from his eyes. You’re just a little jealous that he seems to be having it easier than you, undeterred by the circumstances. How foolish of you to believe it would be a nice little date between the two of you. When the storm started, he hadn’t even so much as looked your way to check if you were alright, no doubt too focused on the mission’s objective. He had a habit of that, getting too caught up in his work and ignoring the world around him. Aside from his dog.

Every so often, as you stumble several feet behind the two, shivering in your clothes, Clive reaches a hand out and pets Torgal, sparing the pup a few scratches behind the ears. You aren’t jealous of the dog, not at all. Surely you aren’t? You get it, the bond between the two. But there’s no way Clive had just up and forgotten about you, even with all your complaining. Maybe he got his best thinking done in the rain…? If you call out, perhaps he will spare you a quick glance at the very least.

As you open your mouth to yell, a lightning bolt strikes down particularly close to the two of you, causing you to yelp. You quite liked storms, in the comfort of your own bed, not when it was way too close. Clive finally spins around, casting a worried gaze towards you. You must look horrible right now, you realize. Your clothes soaked through, hair sticking to your face. Suddenly you find yourself shying away from his gaze, turning your head, you allow the rain to pelt your cheek.

“I think we should–” He calls out to you, but his voice is lost amidst the storm. Has Rosaria ever had such bad weather like this? Finally, finally, he has the right mind to backtrack and step towards you. “I think we should find some place to stay while the storm dies down.”

You two were too far from Martha’s Rest, and the next village over had already been reaped of all life. As well as it would be to stay there, it felt wrong to simply barge in. It was if you were defiling graves. Besides that, it was also too far. You weren’t familiar with Rosaria at all, so all you could do is look at Clive with a hopeless gaze.

The man feels as if he’d been pierced through the heart. You were akin to a soggy cat in his eyes, one he happily loved. With a sigh, he looks around. The winds had picked up, making the rain harder to see through. There were enough abandoned builds somewhere off the path that would at most stand tall for the next couple of hours. Ones that would hopefully not be struck by lightning. Well, it’s another little adventure, he supposes. With a huff, he nods towards the right of the path, and starts walking, Torgal eager to follow behind him.

The only problem with that is the fact he’s walking right back out to the swamp. Farbeit for you to feel so spoiled and posh, but you would rather stand still and weather the storm than walk back through the swamps with the ludicrous amount of water in your boots. You were cold as it is, might as well freeze to death then endure it any longer.

Clive looks back at you when he can’t hear your footsteps, and all you can do is pout. He doesn’t question it or call out, and instead makes his way back to you. Torgal looks back and waits patiently, as the man, without words, leans down and sweeps one arm underneath the back of your knees, the other holding you by your back. You aren’t unused to such things, he isn’t afraid to pamper you and shower you with the royalty treatment. Not that you were against this, either.

With a grunt of effort, he hauls you off and begins trekking through the swamp. Founder, he is warm. So very warm. Despite the rain that had showered his attire and soaked his hair, his warmth seeps through. You can’t help but nuzzle close, wrapping your arms around his neck. If you two were to sink into the swamp, at least you’d do so within your beloved Lord Rosfield’s arms, content in warming yourself with what you'd only assume is either the Phoenix’s or Ifrit’s blessing.

While you busied yourself with fantasies and the like, Clive had found suitable shelter. A rundown shack that had a few planks that weren’t rotting. It wasn’t as warm as Clive was, but it was dry enough. Gently, he sets you down on your feet with another grunt, and you wince as your boots squish the minute they hit the floor. It is almost painful to part with Clive, suddenly aware of the bite the rain had. You can’t help but shiver again, plucking at your soaked tunic and pulling it away from your skin. It allows you a moment of respite for a second, though the cold still lingers. When you let go, it sogs and sticks to your skin once more. Needless to say, it felt very unpleasant.

“Come here,” Clive urges gently, beckoning you over with his hand. Of course, you won’t deny him. A flicker of fire bursts from the palm of his hand, before calming into a small orb, producing a soft light, and an even gentler warmth. While it isn’t enough, it’s certainly better. “Does this work?”

You purse your lips, like this is something you need to ponder. It sure soothes the ache beneath your skin, and as much as you’d love to rid yourself of your clothes at any chance to feel warmer, suddenly you're so very shy. But taking them off would be for the best…

“Yes, but…” You look away from him for a second, before shuffling closer. “I still feel so cold…”

You bat your eyelashes up at him in an innocent and teasing way, and you watch his resolve waver so easily. Well, that was an over-exaggeration. Of course he’d give you what you wanted. You wouldn’t even need to ask. But all this rain has you acting a little dramatic, and it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?

“Well, that won’t do,” He smiles softly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close. “All better?”

Certainly. Perhaps not all better, with that odd gnawing sense of embarrassment that lingers. You both know that it would be for the best to strip, but why not enjoy this oddly romantic moment for just another second?

Wordlessly, Clive leans in and presses a warm kiss to your temple. You feel your knees weaken for a moment, before you clear your throat. The time for theatrics is over, you surmise. Clive gets the hint, pulling away reluctantly and turning away to afford you what little privacy he could.

He starts a fire while you strip, the little firelight turning into a wonderful source of mending when treated with just enough kindling. You have seen Clive bare before, of course, and vice versa. Yet you can't help the embarrassment and fluster that follows when you turn to the man in your smallclothes. What a relief it was that they were dry enough. You huddle up near the fire while you give Clive the same courtesy he gave you, head down, mind occupied by the flames. When he joins you by the fire, he is left in his smallclothes too. You can't help but thank the Founder for the fact that you two can still be decent. In a way, at least.

As much as you had seen, for all that Clive had gone against, suddenly being in close proximity with your loved one was cause to fluster. While you two sat next to each other, you were quiet, the only sound breaking the silence was the crackling of fire and Torgal’s shifting as he found a comfortable position to lay, all four paws in the air. You can’t help but snicker softly, the way the wolf worms around in such a silly way, perfectly content with the conditions of the rundown shack.

While you and Clive wait for your clothes to dry, bashfully looking away from each other when you so much as brush against each other, shuffling only a centimeter away. You, inevitably, would come right back, too attached to the warmth he provided, and, well, too attached to your partner regardless.

You two sit there for hours, waiting as your clothes dried. The storm showed no sign of relenting, unfortunately for the two of you. Well, more unfortunate for Clive. You were happy to hoard the man to yourself, essentially. Even if you were drenched, or near naked sitting by the fire. The man had a habit of making himself too busy. And in doing so, the only time alone you got with him was when you were accompanying him somewhere. Otherwise, it was him meeting with a contact, or slicing his way through men, or monsters, or beasts. Of course, he put in so much effort when he came back to you, showering you with compliments, even sparing you a good night’s rest together. But by the morning, he was off making his plans again. Where he’d move next, this and that, it was all becoming a blur to you.

Even when your clothes had dried, finally affording you two some more decency. It had been however many excruciating hours as you two sat and prodded at your clothes over the fire. Furthermore, you were too exhausted, and it seemed like it would be another long while before the skies weren’t hurling down on you. You were warm enough, at least, and you could hold on for the rest of the night without the fire. Needless to say, there was no reason to stay up. In your eyes, at least.

Clive, however, was raring to go. He had the right mind not to leave while it was still raining, but that didn’t mean he sat still. While you cozied up next to Torgal, running your hand through his fur, Clive was pacing back and forth. Mumbling to himself about losing time, how he’s certain your targets have moved by now. It was important, of course, but you could see just how tired he truly was. In the dim light of the fire, his form was only slightly hunched, rather slack for how tense he usually was. His voice had a scratch to it, as if his throat was raw from using it. His feet dragged ever so slightly, and when he looked at you for a few seconds, his face just seemed oh so tired.

All of these were little details, of course. Ones you had never failed to notice, whether you were out on your excursions, or back at the Hideaway. He stressed himself out too much, bit off more than he could chew at once, and yet most of the time he didn’t even realize it. During or after the fact. Despite everyone else’s protests, Clive had always pushed past. Perhaps it was time to help Tarja tie the man down to his bed. Or do so when you two come back.

“Clive,” You call out softly, tilting your head up. “Come sit down, at least?”

He only responds with a huff, shaking his head as he continues pacing, mapping out what his next strategy was, and several other plans if one didn’t work.

“I think we should sleep.” You state firmly, gazing up at him.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea–”

“We’ve been up for quite some time, and the storm shows no signs of dying down,” You give him a gentle tug, urging him back. “Besides, you seem tired. So, we should sleep.”

Worry flashes across his face for a minute, biting his lip slightly as he thinks of a way to worm out of a healthy habit. “And if someone finds us? If we were caught unawares, what do you think would happen?”

“Who in their right mind would go searching through a swamp first thing after it rained? Soldier or not?”

Silence stretches between you two as Clive tries to figure out another way to avoid something as simple as sleep. While he had a good point, you were ready to lie and bluff your way into forcing the man to sleep. He looked so ragged, and at the moment, you were traveling light. The only way you could care for him was to, at the very least, force him to sleep. Even an hour would be fine, as long as he got some rest.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat, his body untenses. Oh, how it must be so hard for him to look out for himself every once in a while. He snuffs out the fire, kicking at the wood, making sure there was no trace of the flames left. You two stand still for a moment, allowing your vision to get used to the dark. Quietly, as if he was embarrassed, he shuffles to the spot you were, sitting down with a huff and a grunt as his armor clinks. Torgal eagerly cuddles up to him, wagging his tail happily. It seems the wolf was just as glad as you were that Clive had finally relented.

The man waves you over, and you don’t even allow your brain to process before you hurry over the short distance. You take a seat in his lap near immediately, shuffling back so you could press your head against his shoulder, looking up at him. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before wrapping his arms around your waist. Turning his head, he presses a kiss against your temple, lingering for another moment and smiling. Beneath you, Torgal readjusts, laying down across your lap. He’s a lot heavier than you expected, and yet you welcome the pup with eager arms. Or hands, in this case.

What a heavenly existence. Wrapped up in an outlaw's arms, with a big ol’ puppy in your lap. For a moment, you catch yourself thanking the heavens for the storm. Annoyed as you were, suddenly you couldn’t care less. Even as the chill settled within the shack after the fire was snuffed out, you still had perhaps the warmest man in existence there, and a wolf to boot. Both were happy with a little impromptu cuddle session.

While you were dwelling on your own perfect world, it seems Clive had finally fallen asleep. His chest rises and falls against your back steadily, paired with light snoring. For all his stubbornness, it only took him a couple of minutes to fall asleep. It’s a little endearing in its own way. Perhaps he fell asleep quickly because he really was too tired? Or maybe it was because of you. You’d stick to believing the latter. As much as you wanted to reach up and pet him now, you’d rather not disturb his sleep. Even if he fell asleep fast, he was a rather light sleeper. So, you do your best to settle, fingers buried within Torgal’s warm fur.

Shutting your eyes, the sound of the wind howling and the rain beating down wasn’t so fierce now. It was kind of calming, in a way. Paired with Clive’s breathing and warmth, and Torgal’s soft grunts and groans as he settles, as well. You run your hand down from his head to his torso slowly, a soothing motion that allowed your mind to calm down. Somewhere along the fifth pet, you stopped, the weight of your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

#⁺◟freyito #ffxvi x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #ff16 x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #clive rosfield x reader #clive ffxvi x reader #clive ff16 x reader

54 notes · View notes

dreamfyre03 · 10 months ago

Text

A Dragon's Love

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of injuries, alcohol consumption

Chapter 3: Hideaways and Motivations

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

the weeks that followed his accident, Aemond refused to let anyone see him but his mother, and his half sister Daenys. He could not even bear to let dear Helaena see him, for he knew she was soft of heart and probably couldn’t stomach the sight of him anymore. He stayed in his chambers, being attended to by an army of maesters and nurses, but he would only let Daenys touch him for long, wiping his skin clean, or to cool it, changing his bandages as the maester showed her, she was the only one who he felt any sense of ease with. As he remained locked in the dark, gloomy chambers that mirrored the growing spot of black now etched onto his soul, his sister was his shining light in through it all.

His mother had just bid him goodnight, and he laid in his bed, alone, but he couldn’t sleep. He barely slept since that night, always dreaming the same nightmare, a blade cutting through his eye, the blood, the pain, and half his vision going black. The moonlight poured in through his windows, and he shifted in discomfort, unable to lie in any other way except on his back, due to his injury.

Suddenly he heard the door creak open, and a head of cascading long silver hair poked in. “You’re awake, aren’t you brother?” She whispered. “I can’t sleep.” He sighed, looking at her as she slipped in and shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry I was away for so long. Helaena was particularly inconsolable this afternoon, after your mother informed her of the date for her and Aegon’s wedding.” She explained as she climbed up next to him.

He sat up, trying to hide his struggle to do so, but she saw, and helped him up gently. “When?”

“Five months’ time.”

Poor Helaena. She didn’t deserve to be shackled to his foolish brother in marriage. “Aegon said he’d have preferred to marry you, not Helaena.” Aemond told her, but she just nodded as if she already knew. “I know. He told me when they were first betrothed, and I told him even though he and Helaena might not have a lot in common, once they have children to satisfy your mother, they can just live as brother and sister again, as I’m sure Helaena would prefer.” “Do you want to marry Aegon?” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I love our dear brother, but I’m afraid I might drive him madder than Helaena. At least she’ll turn a blind eye to his more depraved ventures, I’m afraid I wouldn’t stand for it.” She said. “You deserve someone that would be eternally loyal to you, sister, and love you with all he has.” Aemond said quietly, shocking himself, for he had never voiced such things to her before. She sighed, absentmindedly combing his stray hairs back into place with her fingers. “That sounds lovely, sweet boy, but I suppose such things are only found in stories. I’ll have no choice in who I marry, but I will pray at least for someone who honours his marriage vows, and me.” Aemond, the young boy he was, didn’t fully comprehend the extent of what he was beginning to feel for his sister, something so strong, and overpowering, he had no idea it was no fleeting feeling, but it would follow him for the rest of his life, for better or for worse.

“How is the pain?” She asked. “The milk of the poppy helps. I long for the day when this scar is nothing but a scar, and I no longer feel this plaguing throbbing pain in my head.” He said.

She nodded, listening intently.

They sat in silence for a while again, until Aemond spotted his sword in the corner, a real sword, that he never got to wield yet, for his was still training with wooden ones in the courtyard. He wondered if he would ever wield a real sword.

“I’ll never become a swordsman, I’ll never be able to do anything for this family. I am already a second son, I might have at least married for the family’s benefit, but now, not a maiden in the land will come near me.” He confided sadly.

She sat sharply, turning to face him, and spoke clearly, and almost sternly. “Stop this self pitying, Aemond. I won’t have it. Your situation will make it harder, yes, but it does not change what you can achieve, what you can become. It matters not what any of them think of you. You are a prince, you are the blood of the dragon. You are the rider of the largest dragon in the world. If you want to become the realm’s greatest swordsman, then you shall. If you want to become a great scholar, then you shall. You do not deserve what happened to you, but you will not let it define you. Find something, anything to motivate you, and use it.” He was surprised, he had never heard his sister speak in such a manner, but he saw it for the first time, the dragonfire within her, as she spoke with such passion. About him.

But he realised she was right. He wouldn’t let his bastard nephews get the last laugh, and change the course of what he could be.

That night, as she softly sang to him, in words of High Valyrian only they would understand, Aemond decided on the two things that would motivate him, that would push him to exceed all their expectations that night. The first, getting vengeance for his eye, making sure little Luke paid his debt. The second, was the girl lying in bed next to him, who helped him find peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks.

“You’ve been indispensable in caring for Aemond, my dear. I am most grateful.” Queen Alicent said to Daenys, as they took tea together in her solar. Helaena sat not too far off, reading a book about some rare beetle or butterfly.

“It is no bother to me, Your Grace. He is my brother, and I only wish to do what I can to help.” She replied. The Queen smiled tiredly, but genuinely at her. “Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Daenys enquired.

Alicent sighed. “I’m afraid something always is, my dear. Your father’s worsening health, your sister’s recent marriage. There is always another challenge that the gods throw our way to strengthen us, I’m afraid.” “Has father gotten worse?”

“As of now, no, but the maesters see no improvements.” Alicent replied, sipping her tea. Daenys was saddened by her father’s worsening health. Perhaps if he were in better health, better spirits, they might have been able to have any relationship, but alas, she, just like her half siblings, were invisible to him much of the time. To Daenys, it felt like her father only ever saw Rhaenyra.

“I’ve heard from Rhaenyra. I received a raven, from Dragonstone this morning.” She told her. The Queen looked at her expectantly, and Daenys hesitated before pulling the parchment out from the pocket of her riding leathers. Before she could continue, the Hand entered, and greeted them both. “Father, Daenys has just told me she’s received word from Rhaenyra.” She told him.

Otto Hightower, always a scheming, slippery man for as long as Daenys had know him, looked at her in interest, a rare thing, and said, “Indeed?’ As he sat down with them. Daenys sighed, feeling the familiar feeling of hurt she felt when she read the words this morning. “I wrote to her, to extend my best wishes to her and Prince Daemon, on their marriage. It was months ago, and I’ve just received a reply this morning. Her words…were not of the kindest variety.” She told them. She unfolded the parchment and read the message aloud;

Princess Daenys,

Your best wishes are acknowledged by me and my husband. As you may have heard, we plan to reside on Dragonstone for the foreseeable future. I worry not for you, as I’m sure you are as happy as you’ve always been, under the Hightower Queen’s watch and protection. I did not forget, sister, the way you ran so readily to Prince Aemond, after he slandered my sons, and attacked them maliciously. We might share the blood of our father and mother, but it appears that your blood is just as Hightower green as the rest of my half-siblings. I only hope that in the midst of your obvious loyalties, that you look out for our father, as I’m sure the Queen and the Hand continue to sink their poisonous claws deeper into him. It is the least you can do.

-Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone.

Daenys looked up from the parchment, to see the Hand’s unreadable expression, and Alicent, whose face was a mix of fury and sadness.

Daenys felt tears brimming her eyes once again, and wiped them hastily, cursing her fragile heart once again.

“The Princess is in no position to speak on who influences the king, she hides on Dragonstone and abandons her role in the King’s court as heir. No doubt in an attempt to keep her bastard sons safe.” The Hand finally said.

Alicent nodded in agreement with her father, before reaching out to touched Daenys’s hand and say, “I am sorry she spoke to cruelly, to you, my child. You are undeserving of such words, just as she has always been undeserving of your kindness.” Daenys forced a smile and nodded, knowing that the Queen wasn’t wasn’t always the of the kindest temperament, and appreciated her kindness all the more.

She soon left the Queen and the Hand to discuss their politics, and she walked Helaena to their rooms, and left her there, to be in peace with her bugs, she continued to walk the Keep, until she bumped into Aegon.

“Is something wrong, sister?” Aegon asked as he noted the redness of her eyes from her earlier crying. She shook her head, smoothening the leather in her riding clothes, and noticing two jugs of wine in his hands.

“And pray tell, what scheme are you up to this time, brother?” She asked him with an amused smile.

Aegon grinned and said, “My sweet sister, aren’t I always the image of discipline and grace?” They both snorted in laugher, and she walked with him through the halls.

“I’ve something to show you. But you mustn’t tell anyone, or show them. Do you promise?” He asked, knowing that she was lying about something being the matter, and wanting to make her feel better, as she had done for him countless times, whether it be helping him with a nasty hangover, or consoling him after his mother was particularly brutal.

“Of course.” She replied, and he took her by the hand and led her through the secret passages they were traversing since they were children.

“I know of the passages, Aegon, lest you forget, I’m the one who showed them to you.” She said as he pulled her along. He simply rolled his eyes and scoffed affectionately until they reached to the apparent destination, and Aegon bent down and lifted a hidden notch, causing the wall to slide open.

He pulled her in with him, and the walls closed behind them, as she looked at the room in wonder. “I’ve never seen this room before,” she whispered, taking in the shelves that went up to the ceiling, filled with books, the desk and chair, and the long settee, all of which looked decades old. There were also blankets, empty wine bottles, and other nick nacks that clearly belonged to Aegon.

“That’s because no one knows about it. It’s completely within the walls, this is the only way to enter. I found it one night, utterly drunk of course, and since then, I’ve claimed it as my secret hideaway. And now it’s yours.” He shared, as he sat on the floor, after lighting the candles.

“It’s lovely. Rather dusty, but we can fix that. And look at all the books! Most of these titles I’ve never seen in the Royal Library.” She exclaimed, pulling out a book and brushing her fingers over the old, dusty, leather bound cover.

“Of course that’s what would excite you,” he shook his head affectionately as he took a swig of wine. “It’s all in High Valyrian, so it’s a bit of a headache to read.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing that Aegon was never quite interested in their lessons, and wasn’t as fluent in their mother tongue as her and Aemond, or even Helaena, knowing enough to be able to communicate with his beloved beast, Sunfyre.

“Thank you for sharing this with me Aegon.” She said as she sat next to him, a book in hand.

He shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind the company, and I suppose you’re the only one that doesn’t despise me, so.”

“No one despises you, Aegon.” She leaned on him playfully.

“Mother does, grandfather, but it matters not, I suppose. You don’t mind me, so I’m content.” He said.

Daenys shook her head, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise, but glad that he at least felt like one person cared about him.

So she and Aegon spent the rest of the evening, in their secret room, Aegon getting lost in wine, and Daenys lost in a plethora of books.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #aegon ii #helaena targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower

32 notes · View notes

micahruiz · 7 months ago

Text

Save Gaza. Image descriptions under cut and in alt text.

[donation stickers in my ko-fi shop] GazaFunds.com Crips for eSIMs for Gaza

[Start ID/ 6 slides with a flame background.

Slide 1: Header reads“DESTROYED!” in broken cracked red text. A sim card colored like the Palestinian flag is in the background. Overtop the sim card, text reads “Gaza needs eSims. You can help.”

Slide 2: Header reads “YOU CAN HELP” Text reads: Directly donate eSims. there is a full internet and telecommunications outage in Gaza. eSims are the only way Palestinians can stay connected to the outside world. Scan here for more information and guides on how to donate.” A QR code is in the bottom right corner.

Slide 3: Header reads “YOU CAN HELP.” Text reads: “Fundraiser stickers available in my shop.” To the left, there is a drawing of a white and grey striped cat playing with a ball colored like a watermelon. Centered below, there is a collection of cats surrounding the phrase “All my friends want a free Palestine”. A black and orange spotted cat plays underneath the cardboard box. A white and gray striped cat plays with a ball colored like a watermelon while sitting on top of a tree trunk. A orange and white striped cat is sitting inside of a cardboard box. An orange and cream spotted cat is grooming its face. A white and gray striped cat is playing in a cardboard box shaped like a truck. An orange white and gray striped cat has its legs sticking out of a pile of autumn leaves. A white black and orange spotted cat has its legs sticking out of a food delivery box. White cat with a half orange face is playing in a pink bucket. A black cat with yellow eyes is playing with a small pink ball. An orange and cream colored cats has its butt facing the viewer. A white and orange cat sits on top of a yellow and orange cat hideaway in the shape of a cube. inside the cube, a white and gray striped cat is sitting content with its eyes closed.

Slide 4: Header reads “YOU CAN HELP” Text reads: “Sticker fundraiser benefits Crips for eSims for Gaza. Pay what you want for fundraising stickers in my shop or donate directly and send proof of donation to get your stickers. All sales go to Crips for eSIMs.” Below the text, the same sticker designs from slide 3 are shown.

Slide 5: Header reads “What else can I do?” Text reads “Keep talking about Palestine. Spread information about what’s going on in Palestine. Participate in BDS supported boycotts. Donate to fundraisers that benefit families trying to evacuate Gaza. GazaFunds.com spotlights random active fundraisers.”

Slide 6: A screenshot from bdsnationalcommittee on instagram. Header reads: “Boycott these companies, now.” Below it, smaller text reads “The only list of companies to boycott for their complicity in the genocide of Palestinians that you need to share.” Another line of bold text reads “Consumer boycott targets of the BDS movement:” Below that, a collection of logos for AXA, Puma, Carrefore, Caltex, Siemens, HP, Chevron, Re/Max, Texaco, Ahava, Soda Stream are shown. Another line of bold text reads “Organic boycotts supported by the BDS movement:” Below that, a collection of logos for McDonald’s, Domino’s, Burger King Pizza Hut, Papa John’s, Wix are shown. /END ID]

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #fundraiser #donation stickers #sticker shop #neko atsume

13 notes · View notes