#vii easter

[deathberi]

FINAL FANTASY VII EVER CRISIS: A TEA PARTY & FESTIVE EGGS

#ffvii #final fantasy vii #aerith gainsborough #aerith #ffgraphics #gamingedit #gaming #* #ff7ec #final fantasy vii ever crisis #final fantasy #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #ffedit #videogameedit #dailygaming #easter #easter eggs #ff7 remake #ff7 rebirth

[kay-i]

Easter Sephy🥚🐰

Art © Me

Sephiroth © Square Co Ltd.

#sephiroth ff7 #sephiroth #ff7 #ffvii fanart #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy #ffvii #happy easter #easter bunny

[darthjader2005]

Our Final Fantasy 7 friends say Happy Easter as well!

I made these posters in Canva.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #cloud strife #haha #sephiroth #zack fair #zack the puppy #funny #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough #happy easter #easter #bunny ears

[meiko333]

Easter Aerith and Tifa icons

Like and/or reblog if you save/use

#final fantasy vii #FFVII #final fantasy vii remake #FFVII remake #concept art #aerith #aerith gainsborough #tifa #tifa lockhart #aerith x tifa #tifa x aerith #aerti #hearts #easter bunnies #icons #square icons #icons by me

[saucyzoo]

Easter Cloud!

#ai art #stable diffusion #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #saucy easter

[chicagamingzee]

The worst(best) thing I've ever made

Bunny Sephiroth and Bee Cloud lmao

Bunny Bee if you may ~

Aaand outfit swap because why not lmao

#sefikura #sephiroth #cloud strife #sephiroth x cloud #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #square enix #fan art #art #ibispaintx #digital art #look closely on the actual easter eggs #what you may find is a bIG ONE!!1!!1!1 #easter #i mean.. it was supposed to come out at easter but i procrastinated and now we at the end of april lmao

[6ad6ro]

#resident evil #elza walker #tifa lockhart #resident evil 1.5 #gaming #girl #ps1 #final fantasy vii #horror #italy #photo #mine #the 2022 build of re1.5 is amazing #and this easter egg is cute lol

[flying-princess]

“You’re late for our very important date, Cloud.” ☕️ 🫖 🥚

I love this outfit. Tifa looks good in everything. ❤️

#final fantasy #fanart #tifa lockhart #final fantasy vii #ever crisis #final fantasy vii ever crisis #easter #clip studio paint #bunny

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #103

Today passed by in a bit of a blur.

This is mostly due to the fact that I certainly did not get enough sleep last night. Given the reasons for it, I am not sad about it. But my brain is soupy nonetheless.

J and I went to the good place earlier than usual because a great big breakfast was planned. I signed up to bring bacon, which Br cooked yesterday in the oven (I was pulled in many directions yesterday, so I wouldn't have gotten a chance to do it!). Br made AMAZINGLY CRISPY BACON, oh my goodness!!! And everyone thought it was really good!!! There wasn't any left by the end!!!

The awesome leader of the place talked on a really sad story about some guy from a really long time ago getting terrible punishments for being so kind to everyone that he was upsetting the social order. This guy liked to hang with and to help the rejects and the socially outcast, and I guess a non-trivial number of folks thought he was arrogant and creepy and kinda gross for this (whoof, that's kind of relatable), so although lots of ordinary folks followed him around while he was useful and helping, when push came to shove and the folks in power came around to put an end to him because they didn't like the fact that he was helping the people that they were trying to oppress, most, if not all of his followers turned tail and ran off like cowards. It seems like nobody tried to protect him at all. And uh. Well. The whole notion of "people chilling with me while I'm useful and then fucking right off when the going gets rough" is also, sadly, kinda relatable.

And you know? He was found by the folks in power in the first place because some selfish, short-sighted prick sold him out for a few coins. It's the lamest fucking shit. It is the LAMEST FUCKING SHIT.

Supposedly, they all loved this guy, but if they loved him this much, then why did no one try to take the punishment in his place? I'll never understand it. And you know what else I'll never understand? I'll never understand how seemingly the vast majority of people who hear this story and believe it end up using it to justify hating and oppressing certain kinds of people. People like me, for example. It seems like the vast majority of people who believe in this story REALLY SUPER DESPISE people like me (and they also hate people like the leader of this place I go to! can you imagine it??), for a wide variety of reasons.

…It's complicated. In my world, in order to be "normal", you're supposed to believe in this story in such a way that it denies humans of their humanity and inherent goodness in a variety of respects, and I just… I can't bring myself to do that. Not anymore. The place I go to doesn't teach the story in the "normal" way that I'm used to hearing, though, so although I cannot bring myself to speak most of the words (especially not the weirder ones revolving around being "punished" and whatnot… it sounds too close for comfort to living with an abusive parent and begging for their "mercy"…), I still go, because the leader says the things from a loving, self-and-other-celebrating, and courageous lens rather than the typical self-loathing, humanity-denying, fear-driven lens that is most common where I'm from.

I don't really know how to describe my own relationship to this story. For a very long time, this story has been and continues to be used by others to justify saying and doing all kinds of horrid shit to me and to the people I love, as well as to justify oppressing and even torturing and killing certain groups of people on a mass scale. And this is NEVER acceptable, so needless to say, I tend to view the more ah… enthusiastic… believers of this story with a hefty dose of caution and hesitation; I don't wanna write anyone off, but at the same time, for my own safety, I also don't want to end up getting caught off-guard around people who could potentially think and behave abusively. I am terrified of the kinds of people who wanna see me locked away into some institution to be electroshocked until I'm forced to psychically amputate aspects of my being that hurt no one, and the fact that there is still a non-zero number of people who advocate for these kinds of facilities is VERY alarming. I've already had other aspects of my being beaten out of me, and I've been desperately trying to regrow them.

But in this place, I feel safe. This group that I go see once a week is filled with lots of people like me - "non-standard" folks who would be ostracized, hated, and oppressed by more "traditional" folks. And this place does not teach people to hate themselves or view themselves as dirty, wretched, or shameful; rather, this place teaches people to love themselves and each other as-is, and to use that love in order to be brave enough to do kind and helpful things for others and for oneself, even when those kind and helpful things are difficult or unpopular. This place paints the main character of this story as a bizarre but gentle man who rejects arbitrary social norms in favor of doing that which is kind and good. They paint him as some guy who has a VERY good sense of what he's doing and why, while simultaneously learning as he goes.

Though I have my own take on this story that maybe some folks would be uncomfortable with (my own beliefs system is eclectic, and it weaves elements from various systems, including this one, other traditions, quantum physics, as well as beliefs from more recent fiction and my own realizations together into something that makes sense to me in light of my own perceptions, abilities, and experiences; it's constantly changing as I learn new things, and it'll likely not work for someone else, and that's okay), I do find aspects of this character to be relatable and worthy of emulating in a variety of respects. Being reliably kind to myself and to the people society says I shouldn't be kind to is something I am constantly striving towards.

I think it's important for people to believe in whatever makes them reliably brave enough to be good to all other humans (whatever shape that takes, even if it's a belief in nothing), just as long as whatever that is does not justify the suffering of someone else. And I do mean ALL other humans. Even the ones you don't like spending time with. And even the ones who don't share the same beliefs. I sure as heck don't like spending time with people who think that certain kinds of people don't count as people (sadly, it's popular here to treat non-white, disabled, non-straight, or non-cis-male people as though they are subhuman, for example), but nonetheless, I do understand that dehumanizing beliefs come from being traumatized and conditioned into carrying them as a child (I was raised in this shit), so if I see someone like that in trouble, I'm still going to help them, if I'm able. I wasn't able to do better until I learned better, so I don't belong throwing stones at other people's beautiful glass houses; the only thing for it when people get weird is to wish them well and move on.

Anyhoot. I've probably prattled on long enough. I had other things to say, I think, but I've gone and forgotten them because I am sleep deprived and my brain is soup. Oh well. Maybe I'll remember tomorrow.

Please stay safe out there. Please learn to believe kind, gentle, and loving things about yourself, about the world you live in, and about the people in it. I'll be rooting for you, always.

Your friend, Lumine

#sephiroth #ThankYouFFVIIDevs #ThankYouFF7Devs #ThankYouSephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #ff7r #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy 7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy 7 ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis #ff7 ever crisis #ffvii first soldier #easter #beliefs systems #wholesome

[terra-fatalis]

FFVII Remake Easter Eggs and compilation continuity - Part 5: ON THE WAY TO A SMILE

FRUITS AND VEGETABLES

Jessie: I make a mean pizza, I’ll have you know! Marche, luche, black milly, red shelly - I use only the best ingredients! Sound good?

Cloud: Never heard of any of that stuff.

A NEW BAR 

Some months after Meterofall, Barret, Tifa and Cloud opened a new bar in Edge.

Barret: I guess...we’ll build another bar.

Tifa: Yeah. We will. You’ll help too, won’t you?

Cloud: For a price.

DENZEL

Cloud found Denzel, an orphan in need affected by Geostigma, in front of Aerith’s church and decided to bring him home. In remake Aerith used to visit an orphanage placed near her house, in Sector 5.

BARRET’S MISSION

After Metorfall and the defeat of Shinra, the world lost its primary energy source and got plagued by Geostigma. Barret embarked on a journey to amend for his sins and he finally resolved to do it by finding a new energy source and so help people start a new life. 

You’re lying to yourself, even now. (...) Picture it! Picture a world without Shinra. Without Mako energy. A stagnant, impotent world. Now picture a natural disaster. Who would help the people? Help to recover and rebuild? You? With their old world ruined, will they thank you for the new?

MEMORIES

After being killed at the end of FFVII, Sephiroth tied his existence to Cloud’s memories, creating a bond between them.

Were the planet to die, so many things would be lost. (...) That which binds us together would be no more. And I would be loath to live in such a world. 

(...)

Our world will become a part of it...one day. But I...will not end. Nor will I have you end. (...) The edge of creation. Cloud, lend me your strength. Let us defy destiny...together.

GUILT

In the OG Tifa doesn’t show much hesitation about AVALANCHE methods and the regret for the victims of Sector 7 is just slightly mentioned a couple o times, while that’s one of her major traits in the Remake. This characterization comes from Episode Tifa, that fully explores her feelings about her past actions and their consequences. 

A whole lotta mormal people with families and friends work for Shinra. People just trying to support their loved ones as best they can. I know it's not exactly a revelation, but... It's easy to forget.

#final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii remake #On the Way to a Smile #easter eggs

[finalfantasytrivia]

BOO!

In the Gold Saucer's Ghost Square, there are some little details and secrets to discover:

1. Outside the hotel, if you hold R1, L1 and circle (generally, the buttons you use to escape battles + confirm) simultaneously, one of the bats will fly towards the screen. You can see how it works in the video below (by Sega Chief).

2. In the lobby, the ghosts play chess with pieces resembling the game's summons.

3. In the shop, there is a pumpkin with which you can interact to hear a slowed-down version of Kefka's laughter from FFVI.

Info and image source: https://finalfantasy.fandom.com/wiki/Gold_Saucer_(Final_Fantasy_VII_field)#Ghost_Square

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #squaresoft #square enix #final fantasy trivia #video game trivia #final fantasy easter eggs #video game easter eggs #gold saucer #gold saucer ghost square #Youtube

[flowerdante64]

❗️cw: suggestive-ish idk❗️

e g g

timelaspe:

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #cloud strife #fanart #bunny suit #easter #easter egg #procreate #i spent a day on this so that's something #other than that tho happy egg day

[willosword]

tseng’s little scene in remake where he was like “we’re saving someone else the burden of a guilty conscience: maybe that will ease yours” is SO before crisis coded

#almost done watching the crunchy before crisis youtube vids and yeagh #tseng is like an actual character to me now it’s wild #willow whispers #final fantasy vii #they should sneak a verdot easter egg in somewhere. like tseng should reference him at some point

[saucyzoo]

Easter Aerith!

#ai art #stable diffusion #aerith gainsborough #final fantasy vii #saucy easter

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You

Hello! This is my first time ever posting onto here, so please excuse any mistakes or any tags that may be missing. I wanted to write about a poly!ghostface au and age up all the characters and place them into college. I hope this gets at least a few reads!

Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Context: Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

You bit down on the tip of your pencil, chewing the metal part of it as you spaced out for the hundredth time today. A few days ago news broke of one of your best friends being killed, Casey Becker, and like every day since that fateful night, news reporters were swarming the campus. Woodsboro University was famous overnight for it, a crazed killer on the loose in the town and no one knew why Casey and her boyfriend Steve were the victims. What made it truly unnerving was that no one knew if they were going to be the only ones.

It didn’t make you scared, not really at least, you were more intrigued than worried if you were going to be the next person to get a mysterious phone call. No, you spent the next morning with Randy and learned all about what happened. How Steve was found bound to the chair, duct tape and blood practically branded onto him, and how the Beckers found Casey. She was one of your best friends, you couldn’t deny you felt like you needed some therapy for not crying for more than maybe an hour over her, but something in you was more interested in who did it.

That was what was on your mind for the hundredth time today, any of Casey’s boyfriends all the way to fucking pre-k could be a suspect, maybe her family, or maybe it was some random stranger who decided to take their anger out on an unsuspecting teenage girl. Randy and you talked all first period about your suspicions on who it could be, even accusing each other of being the killer, it did fit after all, the two horror buffs who knew every goddamn easter egg in every horror movie there was, it seemed perfect.

“Sidney, can you please tell your friend the answer to at least make it seem like she was listening?” Ms. Crane asked, Sidney nudging you and whispering the answer as the class laughed. “ah, um, phosphorus gas.” You answered, looking at Sidney with wide eyes after you answered. “Phosphine, but I will take that. You guys can pack up, let me take role before you all leave.” Ms. Crane said with a sigh.

“What’s up with you? Are you totally sure you don’t want to go to the grief counselor after school? I mean even Tate went-“ “Sid, I’m fine, seriously. I just, it’s freaky is all. I mean not knowing who did it? What if they have a thing for college chicks, I think we fit into that category very well and-“ “And we will be fine, it was probably just a one-time thing…I mean it's more likely that it is, right?” Sidney asked as she packed her bag, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, if you want you can stay at my place for the week, my dad’s on a trip and I would kinda enjoy the company,” she offered, smiling at you reassuringly. You gave a nod, “yeah, let me just at least spend tonight at my place, my mom will kill me if I miss dinner tonight and take off for a week out of the blue.” “Are you sure you’re really 19 and not 9?” Sidney asked jokingly, earning a laugh from you.

After dinner you had taken a shower, your parents had gone out for the night to take a late-night date- which you theorized was them renting a motel to not risk traumatizing you. You brushed out your hair as you sat down on your vanity chair, putting it into a braid before you went to bed. Your cat was sitting peacefully on your bed, moving every now and then to change her position before darting out of your room. “Irena!” You called after her, scoffing when she didn’t come back to the room. You put your hairbrush down onto your vanity, taking a look in the mirror before getting up from your seat. “I hope you don’t think you are eating even more food, missy, you got fed so much while I was at class today,” you said, acting as if Irena could really understand you. You made your way to your door, nearly walking out before noticing a paper had fallen onto the ground near your desk. You picked it up, reading the headline, Casey Becker and Steve Orth- funerals to be held on Friday the 27th at 9-11 AM. You sighed and set it down on the other papers stacked on your desk.

You walked out of your room, heading downstairs “Irena! Come on, I wanna go to bed,” you whined out, calling the cat to your room. You found her in the living room, hiding under the couch and refusing to come to you. “Fine, I’ll leave you a blanket out and don’t you dare come scratching at my door at 3 AM,” you told her, going to the hallway closet to get a blanket out for her. Once you had gotten one, you spread it out across the couch for her and said goodnight.

You were about halfway to your room when your phone began to buzz, digging it out of your pocket and seeing your mom's number you quickly answered. “Hey, what's up? You guys heading back already,” You asked, continuing up to your room.

“Heading back? Who said I ever left?” A strange voice asked on the other line, making you pause for a moment as you moved to make sure it was your mom. “Listen asshole, I don’t have more than 15 dollars in my bank account so have fun with whatever hot cheetos and mountain dew you can get with that,” you said before hanging up on them, putting your phone back into your pocket. You were up the stairs now, deciding to use the bathroom before you went to bed for the night but before you could open the door your phone rang again. “Didn’t I already say I don’t have money? What the fuck do you want?” You asked angrily, “Irena, right? Like Irena Dubrovna? Who did you prefer, Simone or Natassja?” The same voice asked you, making you look down the stairs. Irena hadn’t moved yet and no one was around her, or at least from what you could see. “If you hurt my fucking cat I will personally cut off your balls and feed them to he-“ A laugh from the caller cut you off, “I don’t have fun with animals. I’m not Bundy or Dahmer, I like to see my victims, human victims…struggle.” You heard your parent's bedroom door open, letting out a scream before running into your room and slamming the door shut, locking it quickly before the person began to bang on it. You looked around, going to your window and trying to lift it open.

The door cracked, it was like the scene from the shining, except this killer bore a white mask, you recognized it from the Halloween store- father death. You struggled with the window again, before giving up and grabbing the lamp from your bedside table and throwing it at them. The killer moved out of the way before they were hit, pushing their body against the door once more and climbing in through the opening. You could see them fiddle with their knife as if they had held it in their hands a hundred times already and were skilled at fidgeting with it.

You grabbed a glass organizer from your desk, taking the scissors from it before chucking the holder at them. The papers you had stacked before scattered from the throw as they fell down. You rushed to the window as they struggled to get up but never heard them stand. When your head whipped around to check if they were behind you, you instead saw them looking at the papers around them.

Masked killer, Casey and Steve headlines, Maureen Prescott, Cotton Weary trials, even the cutouts you had of Sidney from court. You were obsessed. There were drawings, suspects lists, hell all these needed were red kiss marks and ‘please fuck me mr ghostface!’ written in pink glitter pen ink.

You stared wide-eyed at them when you saw their gaze now on you, their head cocked to the side as a laugh sounded from behind the mask. Just then you heard the sound of gravel being crushed around from the driveway, your parent's car was pulling in, you saw them getting out from your window. When you turned back you noticed the person was gone, you ran downstairs and met your parents at the door, crying and beginning to blubber on about what nearly happened. 

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream au #poly!ghostface x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #scream

[greenhousethree]

Good Enough

100-Word Drabbles for Arthur and Ginny Weasley

Fifteen drabbles written for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week, Oct 16th: Arthur Weasley. Read below or on AO3.

i.

“You’re joking.”

Molly chews back her smile, shakes her head coyly. The house isn’t quiet, per say, but in a rare stroke of luck the twins and Ronnie’s naps have aligned.

And he’s wedged around the bathroom sink with his wife, giggling like children over a potion that’s just changed color.

“A girl…”

The day she’s born, Fabian is there. Peers over the bassinet for so long, Arthur wonders if he too is counting ten perfect pink toes.

“Shit,” he says to Arthur over a cigar that night, after talking war, “this world will never be good enough for her.”

ii.

It’s his turn tonight, when they hear little feet across the kitchen floor. He’s not surprised it’s her, face still blotchy, hair sticking up everywhere from this afternoon’s tantrum that left her knackered.

She whips around in the pantry doorway, eyes like saucers. “I’m hungry.”

After leftover stew from her yellow paisley bowl, he lays in bed with her. Grants her request for a story on the condition she doesn’t suck her thumb.

“Once upon a time, there was a witch named Ginny who lived in a deep, dark wood…”

“No, Daddy,” she whispers, eyes nearly closed. “I’m a dragon.”

iii.

Molly tells him she cried the whole way home from King’s Cross. By early afternoon, he can still tell— the aftershocks seem to surprise her, those gasping little breaths. 

“You know the best part of being the last one left,” he divulges over homemade strawberry ice cream that has yet to do the trick, “is that no one’s here to fight you for your pick of broomstick.”

The rest of her bowl melts on the porch swing. She’s out until it gets dark in the orchard, comes in for supper with leaves in her hair and the biggest jack-o-lantern grin. 

iv.

The day they bring her back home, he carries her trunk upstairs and sits beside her on the bed. Apologizes for ever blaming her, even for a second. 

She counters by saying something lifeless and self-loathing and broken. Eleven-year-old fingers pick at bruised nail beds— tiny, perfect hands. He still can’t fathom it.

That night, Molly brings her dinner and doesn’t come back down. When he heads up to bed, he sees they’ve clearly emptied all her shelves, stacked every novel and journal and textbook outside her door where they can’t hurt her. 

He’s never been angrier in his life.

v.

Since this morning, he’s meant to tell her he’s sorry— sorry they couldn’t offer her anything better on her birthday than this condemnable house-turned-war room. Sorry for the second-hand leather satchel wrapped in faded Christmas paper, even though she wanted a broom; sorry everyone’s thoughts are on tomorrow’s hearing.

After dinner he finally says it, out of Molly’s earshot. Sitting on the stairs leading from the kitchen, plates of fudgy cake in hand. 

“Don’t apologize.” She’s still smiling huge, bumps his shoulder. The Flatulence Fez the twins crowned her with slips down over one eye. “I really love the bag.”

vi.

It should’ve been the day that made them proudest as parents, marrying off their firstborn. It wasn’t. 

This morning, they boxed up centerpieces and charger plates in the shed, repaired all the furniture, met with the Order. His ears still ring. The house is eerie without those three. 

He finds them in her room. His wife is clutching their daughter as she sobs harder than he’s ever seen, inconsolable, wracking herself hoarse. He feels it like a sword to the chest.

In bed later, Molly shakes her head with that look he earns sometimes when he’s being thick. “She’s heartbroken.”

vii.

Friday before Easter, he changes from work robes into something Muggle and tweed and itchy. Platform 9¾ is packed with people avoiding eye contact, and the Express is late. It was late in December, too— arrived without Luna. He waits, terror tightening his throat.

He’s numb with relief when he sees her, one of the only kids lugging a trunk like he advised. She’s swimming in a jumper he’s sure is Ron’s, and that twinges a bit. There’s something different, he notices, walking to the entrance. Colder. Quiet. He doesn’t ask… can’t quite bear to.

Four days later, they flee.

viii.

She’s fighting him. Kicking, clawing.

He holds on with everything he has, arms clasped around her chest, and it’s like he can feel her breaking inside. But if he lets go, he’ll lose her, too. Like Fred. 

Like the body they’re all staring at, lifeless at Hagrid’s feet.

Weeks later, when the Boy Who Lived finds him in the shed one night, hedging, guiltier than anyone he’s ever seen, he already knows. For a moment he considers letting the kid squirm, like the father ought to do.

But then he remembers her first year, and wordlessly hands over a screwdriver. 

ix.

“One more,” she tells their waitress, pointing at a coaster she’s put in the middle. “For my sixth brother.”

The table falls quiet. But then George chuckles and they all take his cue, except Molly.

Snow collects on the windows as the bangers and pies and chips are served. She laments early-morning practices to them all, pretends she’s already bored of all the travel.

“Knock it off,” Charlie snickers, grinning. “Rookies can’t complain. We know you’re having a blast.”

At the end of the night she beats everyone to the bar, pays their tab. Arthur suspects it’s her whole paycheck.

x.

“I definitely saw you cry,” she accuses. She’s graceful even in smugness, grinning something wicked over her lipstick-stained champagne flute.

He pretends to grumble, but he knows she knows. “Hard not to, with the bloody groom getting all choked up.”

The band calls them up soon after, and he pulls her close. “It’s okay,” she murmurs as her face starts to blur again, inches away. “Just admit you’ve gone soft, Dad. I won’t tell.” He tugs on her hand to spin her, chuckling.

They cut cake, and Harry whispers something that makes her laugh, and she lights up the room.

xi.

Predictably, the stadium loses it when she flies out with a new surname on her kit. Ron rolls his eyes as she lands on the pitch with a bit of swagger.

She flies well today, but he reckons she could miss every shot and the commentators would still talk of nothing else. In the stands, Harry laughs when Arthur leans over to ask how it feels to play second fiddle. 

“I’ll never be good enough for her,” he snorts over the rim of his pint. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

She scores twelve goals, and the Harpies clinch playoffs.

xii.

“I’d kill for a drink about now,” she mutters, leaning against the railing. He knows better than to say she probably shouldn’t be out here, either— the venue’s porch, serving as refuge for men who normally never smoke.

He takes a long drag as they watch her boys toddle after their dad on the lawn. “Nearly there, sweetheart.” Treading lightly with his words, lest he incur any of what Muriel’s other well-intended mourners did with their attempts at small talk (“Like a fucking whale, thanks for asking”).

“Hey,” she smirks, “maybe you and Mum can buy a beach cottage now.”

xiii.

The mug Molly poured when they arrived is tepid now, sitting on the table. Shadows lengthen like ghosts beneath his daughter’s eyes; he suspects they’re five days old.

The kids are all asleep, Molly updates them.

Her jaw tightens. At her temple, he notices a couple of gray strands. “I can’t—” she whispers. Squeezes her eyes shut; nothing else comes out. “They need their dad. I’m not good enough on my own.”

“He’ll come home safe, darling. Always does.” And he makes her promise to never say that again. 

He takes both of her hands in his, and they’re cold.

xiv.

They’re celebrating Ted and Vic beneath a canopy of fairy lights. Bill’s weepy toast prompts Fleur to frisk his brothers till she finds George’s flask.

She never realizes Ginny’s stowing the bottle. 

His children outlast their kids and spouses. It’s one of those nights he can’t let himself miss, tired as he is. 

His daughter points a wobbly finger. “Lils has a boyfriend, by the way. Doesn’t think we know. Harry’s going spare.”

He chuckles. “Now he gets it. Imagine trying to justify hating the Chosen One.”

She laughs, nearly tips her chair. “You should tell him that. Might help.”

xv.

It comes in waves. Feels like a lifetime has passed since yesterday; another before that. Molly— bless her— tried to prepare him for it. Tried to comfort him. Imagine.

It feels too big now, their little house on the beach. Perfect for two lives, cavernous with just one. 

She finds him in the garden before sunset. Small, warm hands enclose his. 

“Look, Dad.” 

It’s a delicate, fluttering thing with blue wings, bobbing on the wind. Molly’s favorite. 

“She’s found us again.”

He smiles and tucks a silver lock behind her ear, meeting her gaze— precisely the same shade of brown.

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