content: rated teen, fluff, light angst, royalty!au, arranged marriage, knight harry potter, prince draco malfoy, slight period-typical homophobia; for @drarrymicrofic's february 2024 prompt: royalty
word count: 1.0k
masterlist
draco tugs at his ruffled collar and long balloon sleeves. he doesn’t understand why he has to wear all these stuffy clothes while travelling. ser harry is the only one of importance that will be able to see him anyways, and he’s not even in the carriage with him.
ser harry is the coachman, as well as draco’s knight and guard on his journey to be betrothed to astoria greengrass. draco scoffs, his face turning an ugly sneer that his mother would scold him for. he’s never seen princess astoria, nor does he know anything about her. everything he knows about the greengrasses is simply about the elder sister’s rebellion, the princess daphne — stories about her eloping with a commoner and returning with a family of her own years later.
draco presumes this is the best arrangement his parents could have procured for him. after all, he has his own share of rumours that must have lessened his opportunities to tie with one of the more powerful families.
the carriage slows to a stop, the lulling falls of the horses’ hooves ceasing, much to draco’s chagrin. the constant clip-clops was the only aspect of the travel that draco can tolerate (with the exception of being in ser harry’s company, but even that is debatable, what with its influence on draco’s pulse).
the door opens and ser harry looks him over, like someone could have harmed draco while inside the carriage and while the knight was so near in proximity.
“how do you fare, my prince?” ser harry breathes.
“why have we stopped?” draco ignores the sudden heaviness in his chest at the sight of ser harry. his raven hair sticks to his forehead as sweat drips from his temples, to the ends of his curls, and then to his shoulders. he’s flushed and draco doesn’t want to think about how hot he’s feeling under all that armour.
“it is midday, my prince. the horses need to rest. under the shade, preferably.” he steps back a bit and looks around the edge of the forest that they’ve stopped in. he sounds genuine, the horses need to rest, not him. “i can scour the nearby areas and see if we can rest under the trees. remaining inside the carriage might be suffocating,” ser harry mutters, still roving his gaze on the trees.
“i shall wait here, then.”
ser harry turns back to him with a nod, then promptly disappears. unfortunately, ser harry is correct — the carriage is unbearably warm and stifling. like a summer wedding with a woman. draco dreads the very thought even though it will be reality in a fortnight.
draco pulls at his collar again, wanting to cry from the lack of comfort it provides. why must all formal clothes he owns be so itchy?
he sighs, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. it’s only ser harry. not a royalty, nor a nobleman, and very loyal to draco’s family. he will not utter a word that may stain draco’s reputation.
with that, draco opens the chest under the seat and fishes out the silk blouse that he stole from his mother’s wardrobe. the clothing is still cool to the touch, making draco smile.
he quickly takes off his vest, followed by the shirt that has been vexing him the whole ride through, and puts the blouse on. he leaves a few of the top buttons open and rolls up his sleeves to allow for more of the very little breeze that comes in contact with his flushed skin.
he sags on the leather seat, his head thrown back on the backrest. even if the weather is against him, he wishes this moment will never end. in a few days, he will be entering the greengrass castle, bowing to yet another royal family and kissing the hand of a princess he never wants to marry.
he imagines instead, a knight kissing his own hand, asking his parents for it, for their blessing. he imagines black curls tangled in his fingers, plump pink lips on his nape in the early hours of the morning. he imagines soft laughter around the dinner table and tight embraces at the randomest of times.
the door opens again. “my prince!” ser harry beams at him. draco cannot contain the smile that blossoms on his face at ser harry’s sanguine expression. “i’ve found us a spot, it’s near the river too, so you can—”
ser harry stops, more wide-eyed than when he burst open the carriage. he looks more fevered than before. he must have been exploring at a very brisk pace, or perhaps he covered more ground than draco expected him to. draco’s chest aches at the thought.
“i can wash?” draco asks after ser harry fails to continue his sentence. ser harry is still looking at him incredulously, the sounds of his erratic breaths clearly audible. “are you quite alright?”
“yes!” the knight stands up straighter, meeting draco’s eye for a second before quickly turning away. “please follow me, m-my prince. it’s only a bit of a walk from here.”
“alright, then.” draco says, stepping out of the carriage. ser harry is a few steps ahead of him, his strides longer and faster than draco’s. draco is walking silently behind him when he suddenly stops and turns around.
“my prince,” ser harry starts. “how would you feel about delaying your arrival at castle greengrass? i—” he averts his eyes from draco’s, fiddling with the indentations on the hilt of the sword strapped to his belt. “i saw a town not far from here during my search and it looked beautiful. houses with climbing vines, a bakery, i believe, and a library, possibly, i didn’t get quite a good look, i did see a couple of stray cats, tho—”
“ser.” draco stops ser harry’s rambling, something of a plan forming in his mind. perhaps daphne greengrass will not be the only sovereign infamous for deserting their royal duties. “that would be lovely.”
the brilliant grin that ser harry gives him only emboldens him more. draco cannot suppress the dreamy sigh he lets out as both of them continue on their way to the spot beside the river, this time side by side.
one of the greatest tragedies in life is that you will always be loved more than you will ever know. someone in class finds your presence inviting and warm, even if you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with them—maybe none at all. someone on the street loves your smile and it gets them down the next few streets. someone you used to be friends with still wishes to fondly call your name. someone you used to be friends with five years ago would give anything to be in the same room as you today. someone who regularly comes into work is disappointed when you aren’t there to brighten their day. someone missed you today. someone noticed you were gone. someone loves you when you’re there; someone loves you when you’re nowhere to be found at all. you think you have always disappeared when you’re no longer in the picture, but you’ve never left the frame.
idc how hard you try you will NOT get me to stop using snorted in my dialogue. i will always use growled and choked and hissed and huffed and grunted and breathed and frowned and sniffed and scoffed and spluttered and purred and snickered and exhaled and whimpered and smiled and laughed and sneered and frowned
i love you words that indicate sound and tone i love you poetics i love you dialogue tags they will never take you away from me i love you i love you i love you
“love, please turn off the lamp.” harry raises his head to look at his husband, bent over the corner desk of their room, hook on one hand and thread on the other.
“just one last square, potter,” draco mutters. harry highly doubts that, sighing. draco probably didn’t even register his question and only gave the automatic reply. he just wanted a nice night cuddling with draco, but apparently not. rose’s blanket is so much more important than giving harry attention.
he sighs again, a heavier one for more dramatics. he’s putting on his pout, fiddling with the blankets that draco also crocheted, although it took way less time because he wasn’t obsessed with microcrocheting of all things at that time. “you’re making a face.” harry hears draco say, almost in a whine, as he raises his gaze.
the blond is twisted around in his chair and wearing his own pout. there’s a fond look behind it, though. harry inwardly cheers, a smile overtaking his put-on sulk.
“we have lamps right here, love.” he gestures to their night stands. “come crochet here.”
“you’re impossible, potter.” draco turns back to his desk, gathering his things and hiding the grin that harry knows he’s sporting.
“you know it doesn’t make sense that you’re calling me potter, right? because you’re a potter too?”
“whatever, potter.” draco kicks him lightly on the leg, laying down his materials on the spot harry vacated. after draco settles in, however, harry goes back to invade his space and lays on the other’s lap. draco sighs, exasperated, but doesn’t say anything.
“i love you, draco,” harry whispers, staring up at draco’s rapidly blushing face. draco simply hums, but after harry closes his eyes and burroughs his head further into draco’s stomach, he feels a brush of soft lips on his cheek.
i love you too, harry.
harry wraps his arms around draco’s waist and snuggles down for the night.
for shin’s spotify wrapped 2023: kamado tanjirou no uta by akano [#3]
cw: demon slayer type violence
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” harry hears a very familiar scoff from behind him.
“nice to see you too, malfoy.” he surveys the forest once again, looking for whatever hedwig thought demanded his presence. there’s a newly made path, but by something nonhuman. such is the most obvious evidence of a demon lurking about, though there are more pressing details that harry’s eyes are landing on.
malfoy stops walking two metres away from him, slightly in front because he’s insufferable even in such a moment of trouble.
“well? are we just going to stand here and gawk at the remains of the corps in front of us?” malfoy’s voice wavers slight enough to be unnoticeable to someone who didn’t suffer through the final selection and go up the ranks with him.
but harry is indeed that very person so he’s more than aware of the anxiety that’s running through the blond’s veins at the moment.
“remains my arse. a bunch of broken sticks and a bit of splashed blood, that’s all,” harry tries to reassure them both.
“that and ripped clothing that is, mind you, supposed to be near indestructible.”
harry hums and takes his fourth form stance — distant thunder. he feels his temperature rise and the pressure in his ears increase, the crackling of electricity surrounding him before spreading latitudinally. he feels the vibrations from where his lightning touches the motionless trees, the unmoving bodies of his fellow demon slayers on the ground, and, most importantly, the heaving figure of a demon about a couple hundred metres northeast of them.
he turns his head back to malfoy, who is now also looking towards the direction of the demon. “that stung, potter. mind telling me first you mean to do something that may hurt me before actually doing it?”
harry shakes his head and starts on a run, malfoy already sprinting right beside him despite harry’s headstart.
“like you didn’t jump up right before. seventh form, no? gale something or other,” harry grins.
“you’re lucky i’m competent or else i would’ve slashed you to pieces. bit careless of you, potter.”
harry doesn’t reply, focusing on his breathing. malfoy doesn’t need to know that harry trusts him with his life — apart from the fact that both of them are pillars and such a mistake is far from expected from either of them, they’ve been fighting together since their rookie years. familiarity cannot be beaten, in his opinion.
if charging headfirst towards a potential member of the twelve demon moons with only malfoy by his side does not scare him, simply scoping out the enemy is nothing.
notes: i got so mad at j*r i started writing again lmao, transman!harry and enby!draco for the masses <33
“stop pulling at my hair, potter,” draco chastises him for possibly the fifth time that day.
“can’t help it, love,” harry chuckles, twisting a strand between his fingers again before letting it fall against draco’s nape, harry’s fingers lightly dancing on pale skin. draco shivers. “you’re just so pretty today,” harry adds.
he’s not lying. far from it, in fact. his partner looks absolutely beautiful, with the white dress that molly practically mandated for draco to wear, handmade and specifically tailored for them. it’s loose and freely flowing, making the illusion of a being more enchanted than common folk, something that glows and allures with such ease you wouldn’t even realise it happening. something similar to a veela, with less avifauna and more god-like characteristics. but maybe that’s just harry being biassed.
“i told you flattery isn’t needed anymore,” draco twists in their chair and looks up to meet harry’s eyes. “i already said yes, remember?” there’s mirth in their eyes, but their smile is soft, like the word yes is only just formality. like they’ve been looking forward to this, like they’ve dreamt of this.
like harry was a part of that dream from the very start.
he gives a smile in return, cupping draco’s cheek and pressing a chaste kiss on their lips. “i don’t know why this whole ceremony is necessary, though. we already know who’s going to be the surrogate.”
both of them look towards luna, curls going past her waist, a flower crown full of bright flora contrasting with her near-white hair. the smile never leaves harry’s face.
they’ve talked to the closest people in their lives and luna was the most willing (and most excited) to carry their child, already talking about supplements and activities to do during the pregnancy — both alone, and together with harry and draco — before they even started trying. harry was so relieved draco didn’t even try to talk him into carrying their child for them, but he should have had more faith in his partner. they’re aware of the dysphoria harry experiences on the daily and is more than considerate of harry’s well-being.
“it was molly’s idea,” draco scoffs fondly, their eyes straying to the matriarch, grey hair moving with the breeze while dusting off rose’s dress. she must have fell while practising for the dance. “who are we to say no?” draco gestures at the interaction. all parties are smiling, just happy to be present for the ceremony; happy to be together with family.
harry hums. “yeah. who are we, huh?”
harry puts his hands back on draco’s shoulders, taking another strand of their hair, weaving them between his fingers once again. draco sighs, but harry can hear the smile in it. he puts a kiss on the crown of draco’s head, for good measure.
harry potter who constantly has nightmares about almost being a murderer at sixteen. harry potter who thinks his most grievous mistake is uttering a spell that caused horrifyingly great pain, so much so that it haunts him through his time on the run with his friends, after the war, and even into his career as an auror. harry potter who, despite having seen death and cruelty before, had never seen so much crimson at once, mixing with water and painting an illusion of slow, agonising loss that’s so unlike a particular flash of green.
harry potter who hears a loud thud and a ghost screeching — the putrid smell of rust — whenever he sees draco malfoy. harry potter who apologises with shaking breaths and salt tracks on his cheeks months after simply existing in each other’s presence, sick of heavy silences and the blaring depth of their lack of interaction.
harry potter who kisses draco malfoy’s scars with tender care, both those caused by his own hand and those he failed to protect. harry potter who makes tea for two in the mornings — his with a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk, and the other with a drop of cream and a generous amount of honey — and eats an already-prepped dinner for two in the evenings. harry potter who loves so wholly, so purely, and draco malfoy who loves in synonym, building a life of healing and forever.
content: rated teen, angst, light fluff, hermione pov, unspeakable partners (and besties) hermione and draco, draco-centric but still drarry i promise, loneliness, pining, emotional breakdown, hopeful ending
word count: 1.6k
masterlist
hermione sips at the elf-made wine — draco insisted they were ethically sourced — as she flips through their current case report.
they’ve been forced to take overtime lately, what with the uprise in crimes and seizures of several trafficking headquarters. draco’s been blaming the upcoming elections, but hermione doesn’t have the energy for blame anymore. she just needs all of this over with so she can spend her night with ron and not her unspeakable partner.
she loves draco, she really does, but seeing him everyday for months because of lack of personnel is just a bit much.
“i can hear you thinking, granger. would you mind cursing me out in your head so i can’t actually see it on your stupid face or hear it?” he comes back into the sitting room, carrying a plate full of more cheese, biscuits, and dried fruit. they’ve probably ingested way too much wine for their reports to be written according to the s.o.u.p. (sober, objective, and unerring protocol) and hermione winces at her nearly-incoherent handwriting as she looks back down at her parchment.
“don’t be an arse, i’m about to cry over here,” she says, nearly in a whine, making her want to cry even more. she does not whine.
“please, like you weren’t this stressed out when we were studying for our n.e.w.t.s.”
“i wasn’t!”
“i distinctly remember you taking up the table next to mine, not even pausing to go down to the great hall even when your great weasel begged you to.” he sits down on the floor beside her, crossing his legs before draping his body on the foot couch. he lets out a heavy sigh that hermione can relate too much to.
“well i distinctly remember you not going down either,” she retorts. draco scoffs in return, flicking her hair in front of her face. sometimes he feels like the sibling she’s never had — for better or for worse. “i’m not the one who's about to cry over a backlog of reports,” he says.
hermione agrees, but also almost complains that at least he doesn’t have a husband waiting for him to go home until she realised instantly, thank merlin, that draco would probably like the idea of that — not ron per se, but someone.
the man has been too lonely lately and one of the reasons hermione’s not as chagrined as she ought to be about the whole overtime issue is because draco’s been liking this. she’s seen his lips twitch whenever he has to open his door a little longer and a little wider for hermione to get in. she’s noticed an increase of the snacks she likes in his cupboards, and the way he insists to wash the dishes even though he can easily magic them clean.
there’s evidence of another person living in draco’s space, and he’s grateful for that. in his own quiet way.
the two of them work in silence for another hour before hermione throws her quill on a finished report and thuds her head on the table in front of her.
“i’m on break, don’t speak to me,” she says, closing her eyes. draco makes a slightly offended noise, his own quill not pausing. the scratch lulls her to a calmer state, but she refuses to fall asleep for fear that she won’t wake up and finish the rest of their tasks for the night.
draco declares his own statement being done before slumping over hermione. she smiles at the gesture and they stay mildly cuddled together for a few moments.
much to hermione’s surprise, draco is a tactile person and will touch you whenever he gets the opportunity to without making himself look like he was craving for it. it’s the most adorable thing; him squeezing hermione’s arm after an eventful raid, laying his head on her shoulder in contempt when the cafeteria doesn't serve his favourite apple pies, and sometimes even playing with hermione’s fingers during long wait times pretending he was judging her nail art choices.
“i want to cuddle some more, but my back’s cramping. can we move to a bed or something?” she mumbles against her sleeve.
“a bit soon, innit, love? whatever will the king say if he knew his wife’s falling into bed with another man?”
hermione laughs, slapping draco on his back as he gets up. “probably accuse me of something immoral, having the hots for a ferret and all.”
“you take that back, granger!” he exclaims, extracting the hand he was offering her and walking away from their table completely. “i’ll have you know that my patronus is a black mamba, so that will most likely be my animagus form as well. not some prissy ferret.”
“you’re the prissiest person i know, draco.”
“shut it. you know where my room is?” he asks, going to his storage closet down in the hall, probably to get more blankets because he’s thoughtful like that.
hermione enters the room, noting the haphazardly made bed and the bins under the frame. despite his appearances, hermione’s curiously pleased at draco’s lack of care for complete order in his private spaces. there’s just something so ordinary about it that makes her smile even with all the tiredness she’s feeling. a fond smile reserved for those closest to her; she’s glad draco can elicit such now.
there are plenty of miscellaneous things that are sticking out from the boxes — clothes in one, trinkets in the next, and a couple of books in the last one. she recognises their sixth year potions book that hermione slightly detests, a muggle football issue, and a roughly shoved front page of the daily prophet.
nosy as she is, she takes out the paper and straightens it, lightly gasping at the title and the implications of why draco chose to keep this one out of all the others that are more relevant to the wizarding world, or even to draco’s personal life. but then again, one’s desires are also a part of their personal life, are they not?
she pulls the crate out completely from under the bed, scrounging through the material and hoping that draco takes his time to consider her dislike for overly fluffy blankets.
there’s a quidditch magazine, one from the fall of 2002, where hermione knows harry was featured as the newest captain of the ballycastle bats; another thick publication, a copy of the brilliant history of the battle of hogwarts for the fifth anniversary of the early hours of may second with printed interviews of people such as her and ron and harry. she searches more and finds a collection of daily prophet cutouts, all of harry, with ranging topics: his break-up with ginny shortly after the war, his supposedly unusual and recent proclivities for wizards, his appearance at one ball and then another appearance at a gala. some mundane, some note-worthy, but all including harry potter.
hermione knows that she must be making a lot of noise, what with her heavy breathing and the scrunching of the paper she’s holding, but she cannot give a damn. draco’s been collecting these things about harry. for years.
what the hell.
“i give up,” he hears draco say from the hallway. hermione can’t move. the magazines and the journals are on draco’s bed, the cut outs splayed on top of them and hermione’s still holding the first page of the most recent issue about harry potter on the prophet in a fist, effectively crumpling it. it’s titled harry potter visits wizarding orphanage: simple benevolence or longing for a family? and hermione can’t imagine the thoughts draco must have running in his head if he’s been at this for as long as hermione presumes.
“i know you don’t like fleece or cashmere blankets, granger, but they are quite literally the only ones i have. do you not care for comfort at all? i understand that—” draco’s opened the door and quiets his rambling. what follows is erratic breathing, hermione realises with immediate horror, that is not from her.
draco strides up to her, snatching the paper from her grasp and scrunching everything on his bed into a ball before bunching it up into his bedroom closet. he blocks the door, his back on it and his face focused on hermione’s baffled one. his eyes are wild, pupils dilated but still so strikingly silver.
“you didn’t see anything,” he whispers, firm and defiant, yet so utterly broken that hermione wants to cry.
draco beats her to it.
his breath shakes as he quickly lowers his head, like it will hide the teardrops that are clearly falling from his eyes. it shines in its descent in the harsh light of the bedroom. the lack of reply lets her hear how it drops on the hardwood floor, a soft sound but an undeniably audible break in draco's heart.
“you didn’t see anything,” he says again, though he sounds like he’s begging this time and hermione can’t help but rush forward and bring him into a hug.
“oh, draco.” she feels arms around her, and he squeezes, seemingly wanting to feel every bit of consoling as he can get. the sounds he’s making, whimpers and heaving breaths and please hermione please don’t say anything, are so tragic that it takes every bit of her to stop this and simply tell him that harry’s been pestering her about him these past few months. it’s not her place to tell, though. she’ll nudge them both in the right direction after.
but now, now she simply holds draco malfoy and promises him that everything will be alright. because everything will be; she has absolute confidence in that statement.
for @drarrymicrofic's november 2023 prompt: indulge
cw: depression, grief
draco hears harry before he spots him.
with heavy sighs and leaden footsteps, harry enters the room wearing his invisible cloak, just as how he’s been going back to their shared dorm room for the past week now. draco stares at the dent currently on harry’s bed, still with no harry in sight. he remains observing and after a few moments and another sigh from harry, he finally shrugs off the cloak.
he uses it as a blanket instead as he burrows into the mattress.
“you’re wearing your cloak again?” draco asks and harry simply answers in a low hum. harry’s eyes are closed and he’s curled into a foetal position, so unlike the warrior that draco saw at the grounds of hogwarts just a few months before and at his manor months before that. it’s terribly disconcerting.
“well,” draco says. “i’m experimenting again.” he hopes harry would at least entertain his attempts at conversation. while their relationship before the war had been full of spite and venom, the past few weeks had been amicable. being forced to share a space has helped, but moreso harry’s subdued behaviour has provided relief where draco expected disdain.
draco is concerned nonetheless. with the sleepless nights together, companionable silences, and a tragic understanding of what the war has done to them, potter became harry — and consequently, malfoy became draco — and harry is lost.
and draco is so, very tired of watching the people around him deteriorate.
he stares at the square brownie in front of him. he’d just finished making it earlier that day and had let it rest before trying it himself. it tasted like the apple pie that his mother used to make for him when he was younger, despite its chocolatey appearance. cinnamon, lemon, and powdered sugar including. it finally worked and he was excited to show harry, his designated taste tester, but alas.
getting up from his spot at his desk, he slumps beside harry, sitting up against the headboard. “hey.” he pokes at harry’s cheek, earning a huff. “can you try this one?”
harry opens an eye to look at what draco’s holding before closing them back again and placing his head on draco’s lap. the new weight and close proximity should feel awkward, but draco feels only content. he brushes his fingers through the tangles of harry’s hair.
“it’s a good batch this time,” he whispers. the quiet is both comfortable and delicate and draco’s afraid that one odd inflection of his voice may break their solace. yelling and harsh taunts have been completely void, replaced by low murmurs of sleep well and a small private smile following how was your day.
draco smiles, something secret and fond.
“if you say so,” harry finally says, further burrowing his head in draco’s lap. he’s breathing against draco’s abdomen and draco can feel every inhale and exhale, such physical evidence that despite everything, harry’s still here. here for draco to share his days with, here for draco to care for.
draco takes that as permission, taking the hand he’s using to hold the pastry to caress harry’s face. it’s an unnecessary gesture. draco could’ve just told harry to open up, but he—
he wants this. the tenderness, the ease, the feeling of adoration that he hasn’t felt this wholly since he was a child. he’ll indulge himself in this, he tells himself, because harry needs this and draco wants so badly. and it’s not bad to want, not at all. it’s never bad to devote yourself to another so utterly that a simple touch can elicit a kaleidoscope within.
harry takes a bite of the brownie, chewing once, twice, and then pausing.
his arms, the ones that were curled around his abdomen, circle around draco’s own, effectively nestling his head along draco’s hip. draco hums in question.
“tastes like remus’s chocolates,” harry mumbles wetly against his uniform.
I am so sorry to bother you with this stupid question, but Bisan has asked for a complete stop in economic activity. Can I still donate to help Palestinians or is it better to avoid any transactions for the week ? Thank you so much for what you're doing
hello anon. don't apologise, you're a breath of fresh air after the recent visitors in my inbox. I think a slightly more accurate description of Bisan’s ask is to stop or minimise all economic activity not in direct support of Palestine. Now more than ever, I would encourage people to donate to escape funds for Palestinians, to direct aid organisations like CareforGaza and the PCRF, and to buy e-sims as they’re running low.
Below I’ve compiled a list of resources below but this is definitely just a small sample size of what you can do to help during this strike. This post here is an extremely comprehensive resource that I’d recommend you have a look at.
credible organisations that are doing work on the ground in Palestine:
Care for Gaza:non-profit charity that distributes money, food and other resources directly to families in Gaza.They maintain a regular presence on Twitter and Instagram. You can donate to them via Paypal here.
PCRF / Palestine Children's Relief Fund: non-profit organisation that distributes essential food and resources to families in Gaza. Most recently, they delivered 30 tons of vital medicine, and 82,000 pounds of flour.
Medical Aid For Palestinians: deploys medical teams to treat Palestinians suffering under Israel's malicious bombardments.
Donate e-sims to Palestine: massive post with tutorials and relevant links, with discount codes included in the post and in the replies.
help people leave palestine (donate what you can)
Help a Family Evacuate Gaza (GoGetFunding)
Save Sanaa and her Family (Gofundme)
Save Amjad Saher and his family (Gofundme)
Help a family of 13 escape Gaza (Gofundme)
Help a Palestinian children's book illustrator save her family of 12 (Gofundme)
endless dream,
good night. @byanteros - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
