Lavh-lay!!!!!!!

richard siken, in pithead chapel

🙃 Regular reminder that while Hozier has amazing love songs, he is ALSO very outspoken about his leftist politics, specifically anti-fascism, anti-racism, reproductive rights, Palestinian rights and more.

Take Me To Church and Foreigner’s God are scathing critiques of organized religion, specifically the Catholic Church and the colonization of Ireland.

Moment’s Silence is about oral sex but it’s ALSO about how that specific sexual act is often distorted to a show of power rather than that of love.

Nina Cried Power is an homage to various (mostly Black) civil rights activists from the US and Ireland and a call to follow their path.

Be criticizes anti-migrant policies and Trump and his ilk.

Jackboot Jump is about the global wave of fascism and about protest and resistance.

Swan Upon Leda is about reproductive rights and the violent colonial oppression of Ireland and Palestine.

Eat Your Young is about the ruinous way the 1%/capitalism and arms dealers prioritize short-term profit over everything else to the detriment of the youth/99%

Butchered Tongue is about Irish and other indigenous languages being suppressed and erased by imperial powers.

If any of the above surprised you, please, please delve deeper into Hozier’s music, you’re missing such an important part of his work.

i couldnt get through this without dissolving into a mess of tears every two seconds!

@greyeyedmonster-18 YOU ARE THE BEST, I hv said it before but I'll say it every time you create this...THIS - gawd even the word masterpiece seems like an understatement!

Fault Lines pt. 6

Read Fault Lines parts 1-5 here (links to part 5 but the rest are there)

(final installment. thank you all for following along with the pain.)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and trying their very best.

--

December 1995

Sirius and Harry sat on the roof of Grimmauld Place, heating charm encircling their bodies alongside blankets that were thrown over their shoulders. Harry had a knit hat pulled over his head for good measure, hot butterbeer between them, as they talked into the open air about the past school year and upcoming holidays and of course, Remus, who had left hours ago on a date.

“Is this considered spying?” Harry asked

“No, we just happen to be on the roof, and if Remus happens to come back while we’re out there then…I call it coincidence.”

“I think he might call us nosy berks.” Harry grinned around the top of his cup, before taking a sip, clearly not caring whether or not Remus found them to be intrusive. After years of Remus insisting he keep his flat, despite not using it for 9 months out of the year, Sirius had finally worked out a situation that met both their needs: a guest house. The backyard of Grimmauld Place was spacious--Sirius and his brother and his cousins had gotten lost in it as children when they strayed from the path-- and there was room for an entire tiny house to be built. Sirius hired a magical contractor, Remus demanded he pay for part of it, and the rest was history, Remus moving into the house the summer after Harry’s third year. They both still had their own spaces. They both still had their own boundaries. Remus still asked before he came into Number 12, especially if it was later in the night, and Sirius knocked before going into Remus’ guest house. But it worked. Even if their view from the roof could see the house in the distance, a lamp left on shining through the windows and breaking up the darkness of the ground.

“I never thought Remus would be the one who was going on all the dates,” Harry added.

“Do you mind it?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, and paused “Hey, Sirius?”

“Hey, Harry?”

“Do you think Remus will marry again?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you? Want to get married again?” Harry asked turning his head in Sirius’ direction, green eyes catching starlight. Sirius reached a hand forward, almost impulsively, stroking Harry’s face lightly. Fifteen was older than fourteen, James’ jawline as Sirius remembered it making an appearance in Harry’s face; eyebrows filling in, a smile that no longer seemed too big for his face.

“Can I be straight with you?” Sirius asked

“I don’t know, can you?” Harry returned smartly and Sirius choked on the sip of his butterbeer he had taken at precisely the wrong moment, peels of laughter wafting into the night sky decorated by starlight and winter clouds.

“Your Dad would’ve loved that joke,” Sirius said once he finally had control over his breath and was sure he wasn’t going to fall to his death off the roof.

“Was he funny?”

“I don’t think he meant to be,” Sirius said, “He…we joked around a lot together, he was always the person I felt I could be the most ridiculous with but…I don’t know if people would’ve described him as funny. Your Mum though? Hysterical. She was really quick on her feet…she’d have me laughing so hard sometimes at her responses.”

“Like you?”

“She was better,” Sirius told him.

“You can be straight with me.”

“I didn’t really want to get married in the first place, love.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So…why did you?”

Because it was never 50/50 in a relationship. Because there was always someone who gave more, and someone who took more. Because there was always someone who worked hard to keep things running smoothly, and the other sailed along for the ride. Because after everything that happened, marrying Remus felt like the least Sirius could do to make everything feel normal again.

“Remus wanted to.” Sirius told him simply, “And I love Remus. Always will, and I’d do anything for him. If he woke up tomorrow and said he wanted to marry me again, I’d probably do it.”

“Really?”

“It’s what…you do.” It’s what I do.

“I know you’ve told me…why…did you two end, do you think? You know, now that you’re older and wiser.”

“We were kids when we fell in love, Harry,” Sirius told him after considering for a moment, his hand still on Harry’s face, thumb stroking cheekbone. “We were…two kids just trying to hate ourselves a little less and saw each other and didn’t want to let go. We were young and…then there was a war and we were terrified all the time. When your parents died it was like this…scary, massive space that was left behind. And…we held onto each other because who else did we have? We started because we wanted to hate ourselves a little less and ended up hating each other a little bit more.”

“But…now?”

“I love Remus, you know. We love each other, even if we’re not together. I loved him even when I hated him and he’d tell you the same thing, I hope.”

“Do you think you’ll ever…find love again?”

“I think, that the love I have to offer is best given to you. And Remus.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely once I move out…”

Sirius gasped, “You’re moving out? What? When?”

Harry cracked a smile, “I just mean…eventually.”

“You can stay forever.”

“Don’t…you want another love? Isn’t that what…makes the world spin and all that stupid stuff?”

“I had that once, Harry. With Remus. It was…passionate and wild and…sometimes I think about the time we had in our little flat after graduation and the early days here at Number 12 and they’re so…beautiful. I had that kind of great love once. Some people might get more than one shot, but I…don’t think that's me. I think I am just supposed to have you.”

“Seems…unfair that I get all of it.”

“Nah.” Sirius said, “Why are you wondering?”

Harry paused for a long time and then broke eye contact to look at his feet, stretched out in front of him, “I mean there's…a girl. And…I might have snogged her before the hols and I’ve just been thinking about it. Love? I know that makes me a tosser but…”

Sirius grinned widely, watching as his godson fidgeted nervously as he revealed the information, “Well first things, was it a good snog?”

“I…think so.” Harry said and looked up again, “I told her she could write me over hols and she didn’t say no…so I feel like that’s a good sign, right?”

“Very good.” Sirius nudged Harry with his shoulder, “Second…your parents had the greatest love on this Earth. Your Dad would talk about your mother like she opened the sky and love was this big thing that could move mountains. I think you inherited that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Sirius nodded, and then picked up his wand, waving it in a pattern in front of them, light appearing in the shape of two trees twisted around each other, “See these trees? How they’re wrapped around each other?” Harry nodded, “They can grow like that for a little bit, using each other for support, but eventually the branches get knotted and they knock leaves off one another because they’re too close and they stop growing,” Sirius waved his wand again, the trees unraveling into two separate ones, extending taller and he watched as Harry’s face lit up at the magic. Still a child in the way the little things expanded his mind. “But separate? Look what they can do. Sometimes they need to do that to grow. And I think…all relationships are about finding someone you can grow with.”

“That…” Harry smiled a little, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now tell me, who is--” but the sound of the back door of Number 12 opening and closing cut Sirius off, Remus’ form walking onto the path towards the guest house, looking upward to spot the two of them on the roof. “Welcome back, Moons!” shouted Sirius.

“Room for one more up there?” asked Remus back, his wand up to his throat to magnify his voice magically

“Depends, can you make the climb? You might hurt yourself!” Harry responded and Sirius laughed. He and Harry used the trellis on the side of the house, the same way Sirius had snuck out as a teenager, not bothering with magic or brooms. Remus apparated though, appearing next to Harry and nudging him for the cheek.

“I’m as fit as I ever was, thank you,” Remus said absorbing into Sirius’ warming charm.

“You’re just in time,” Sirius told him, “Harry was going to tell me every last detail about this girl he snogged.”

“Oh, Ms. Chang, wasn’t it? It was the talk of the staff room before the break,” Remus grinned back and Harry’s eyes went wide. Sirius laughed, taking his sip from his butterbeer as Harry proceeded to follow up with Remus about what the teachers all knew and how they found out, thinking this was all he could ever want. Thinking that there were no people more deserving of everything Sirius had to offer than his best friend and his kid.

--

May 1996

“It….seems you get full custody now,” Minister Fudge said carefully, examining the paperwork in front of him.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it just…is, Mr. Lupin,” he said signing on the line on the bottom of the page, “You are granted custody and all his possessions…there's a list here of things he wanted you to have. He left quite a lot to Mr. Harry James Potter, but of course, he stipulated that you manage the money and the estate until…” Fudge laughed, though it was hollow and empty like the air in the room. Like the cavities of Remus’ chest. “He is of age and passes his NEWT in Arithmancy and can look at the Black Estate ledger without getting a tension headache.”

“Sounds…like Sirius…” Remus mumbled, clenching his fists to keep his hands from shaking. Not even 36 and Sirius had thought about a will. So like him to be well-kept and organized, a tragedy turned into a political affair once there were massive amounts of money to be allocated. Sirius knew that though. Sirius…prepared for every emergency.

If disaster struck, there was a chance Sirius has already thought about it ten times over and had come up with a plan to get them out of it in three different ways. Flood or hell-fire or duels or a second plague and Sirius had prepared for it.

Except he didn’t prepare Remus for what it would feel like when he was no longer there. He didn’t leave behind a set of instructions for Remus to follow that included what to do when their fifteen-year-old kept waking up in the middle of the night screaming and calling his name or recipes for the fudge he made every Christmas or even how to be the person in the room who made everyone feel like they belonged.

Because Remus had never felt more out of place in his life.

Every space felt emptier now.

--

June 1996

“Normal” for their house had shifted drastically. Morphing from high thread count sheets to a thread barren blanket that was too short for a bed. Some days, it covered them just fine; most days…it left them cold and shaking, and worst of all Harry never knew which one it was going to be. He slept on the couch of Remus’ guest house, not strong enough to walk the several feet into the back door of his home. Not certain he’d be able to look at the empty kitchen chairs without falling to his knees and crying until tears dried out.

Normal--Sirius and Remus; Remus and Sirius-- was no more.

It was just Remus now and Harry found himself wishing for the days he spent as a child living out of a suitcase. Because even if it was hard, and Harry hated when he forgot his favorite pair of jeans in his dress, it meant that there were two places he could count on. It meant that eventually, the clothes would run out and Harry would return home and Sirius would be there.

Smiling.

Waiting.

With clean sheets.

And his favorite pair of jeans.

And two tattooed arms that wrapped around him tightly and made sure everything was okay.

It wasn’t okay.

--

“I want to leave,” Harry said one evening, pretending to eat dinner across from Remus. Both their plates were still full despite sitting there for nearly a half-hour. “I don’t think I can be here.”

“Okay.”

“Where do we go?”

I’m not sure anywhere is going to feel like home again.

“We…can figure that out. Wherever you want. Whatever you want.”

“It hurts too much to be here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I…he worked so hard to make sure that…this big house was good. He let me paint on the walls and…there's still a scribble in the sitting room…I feel bad leaving it behind but I can’t breathe here.”

“Me neither.”

“I think we need to start breathing again.”

Somehow.

“It’s yours, you know.” Remus told him, “Whenever you’re ready…it’ll be waiting for you.”

--

May 2003

Harry was surprised the house still recognized him, Grimmauld Place appearing as he approached the front door, magic searing through his palm as he touched the knob.

It was quiet. So unlike what he remembered from the house who built him. He remembered music playing. He remembered the way it smelled--spices and sandalwood, sometimes fresh mint, Sirius telling him it was relaxing and Harry would roll his eyes. His shoes made the floorboards creak, the house moaning at someone else's presence.

Do you belong here?

Harry walked through, using cleaning charms along the way, thinking of how Sirius would’ve hated the cobwebs hanging on the stair railing banisters and the dust clinging to picture frames of his parents in the hallway. Neither Remus nor Harry had been back to Number 12 since the day they moved out of the guest house all those years ago. He had cried on the driveway for an hour before taking the welcome mat that said wipe your paws as the only reminder of Sirius, everything else too painful to even touch. Remus had waited for him in the car, the two of them finding a nicer flat in no time at all, almost taking the first option they saw because anything was better than a guest house on your dead godfather's property. It had been a long set of years, filled with trying his best to move on in a world that had much less laughter and light in it.

Everything had gone dark for a little.

And Harry did his best to learn from Remus and Sirius's mistakes and tried not to cling to the first person who felt familiar. He did his very best to grow and learn, now expecting his first child with Ginny, who had come along years after Harry had found the shore again, and they needed a home.

Height marks carved into the threshold in the kitchen.

The desk where Harry used to do his homework in the library, a book left open from Christmas of 1995. An unintentional time capsule.

Harry took a breath as he approached the door at the end of the hallway on the first floor, pushing it open, immediately hit with the overwhelming sensation of Sirius and his study.

It felt like he should’ve been there. Standing behind his desk, because Sirius never worked sitting down, always moving around, using the walls and the entire space to craft his ideas and write his essays. As if a mind so big and so brilliant needed an entire room to organize everything clearly. The walls were bright violet. Harry remembered painting it with him. Pale blue shag carpet. A picture of the two of them on Sirius’ desk.

Harry sat down in the leather chair behind his godfather's desk, closing his eyes. If he stayed there long enough, maybe Sirius would just…appear. Like he had been tucked away, just out of sight, for years and he’d come around the corner with his comforting smile and loud laugh and say did you miss me?

Yes.

More than you could possibly know.

He opened the top draw of Sirius’ desk slowly, hands gravitating towards a simple black journal. Sirius wrote in one because his Dad had written in one.

I started after your Dad died, and he might have been onto something.

Harry wrote in one as well.

It felt wrong, but Harry opened the journal to a random page, his godfather’s neat cursive handwriting across the top of the yellowing paper, and his heart stopped.

February 1996

Remus and I. We had our time. I keep telling myself that no matter how…real it feels now when we’re alone in the sitting room, our time has passed. Our love was another century ago and we can’t go back.

I wish I could.

He tells me I'm the brave one but...not this time around. I fucked it up once already.

I would ask to try again if I thought he wanted to.

Right person.

Wrong time.

Listen, this is gonna get sappy but I don’t care.

I am so grateful to be a young person right now. I will never take it for granted that growing up, I am being raised at a point where loving who you want and being who you are is being normalized.

I will never take it for granted that on TV, I could watch two men kiss and not bat an eyelash. I will never take it for granted that I could see a cast with so many POC and it not even register with me that it was that diverse until someone pointed it out. It was just kind of, normal. (And so well done on the part of the makers of the show.) There are so. many. people. before me that did not get that kind of representation. Even people just a little bit older than myself were so excited after Stede and Ed kissed, because they finally hadn’t been let down or queer baited.

I will never take for granted the beautiful and rich representation that I and many others got from a show like Our Flag Means Death, (and the future shows that do it as well that will one day be made)

wow.

FUCKING WOW.

Maude Apatow you genius of a human being, YOU KILLED IT! YOU LEGIT DID! god what an episode!!!!!!

alsooo maddie dear sweetheart, god that made me tear up!!!! how could you fucking do that cassie?? how could you?????? btw thats a dom-sub relationship (cassie & nate) right there, right??? wht do y'all think????!

now, fez was a sight, wasnt he?! holy frking moly that SUIT!!! THE ROSES!!!! THE LOOK!!!!

not to mention the fucking locker room scene!!!! yeeeeeeeeeeeeee! that was fucking EPIC. alsoooo lexi's mum aaaaahh!!!!

GOSH CANNOT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART!!!! how in hell am i supposed to go on for a week. A WEEK. until the next part comes out!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

*heart eyes*

February 14 means love and love means wolfstar 💕

ayeeeeeeee! ;)

Re-blog this if:

- you’re gay - can read - support gay people - want to hold a match between your fingers as you wander the halls of an ancient castle because it’s your only source of light amidst the ghosts of people long past - are an antelope - or want a chocolate bar.

No one will know which applies.

A stack of books that were either never finished, never published, or were destroyed.

Pratchett’s unfinished works were run over by a steamroller as per his wishes, Waugh set fire to his manuscript, Sappho’s poetry was burned by order of the Pope and Lady Wortley Montagu’s daughter threw her journals in the fire for being too incendiary, ironically. The others were either started or planned out but never completed.

shit man i thought i was e-x-t-r-a-o-r-d-i-n-a-r-y!!!!