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worldismyne · 1 year

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Piper Ch 1

Rating: T

Pairing: Harv/Finn

Summary:There is a common misconception that witches steal children. The reason why varies depending on who you ask.

The truth is, when people don't want their children in Cailburry, they'll leave them in the forest and wash their hands of them.

This time, Finn found one.

(Takes place during Finn's 3rd/4th year at WU)

Ao3 link

Finn hated going into the garden by himself, especially at night. He knew, logically, that the rose bushes were no longer looming towers and Hevvin was too afraid to be lurking between them anymore. All the logic in the world did little against the clamor of his heart every time he had to venture more than a foot away from the front door. Mother had a headache and the garbage needed to be taken out, so if he didn't want the kitchen to smell in the morning he needed to venture outside.

He lugged the indoor bin to the refuse heap where their discarded food slowly decomposed into a soil mother used for the gardens. Every light in the house was left on, but couldn't reach the far end of the yard where Finn had to walk. Dewy roses in the shadows always made a chill run down his spine. He dumped out the bin as quickly as he could when something shiny in the brush caught his eye. It was too slick to be one of the yellow roses, too pink to be a stone. Not that mother kept any stones in the flower beds anyway.

He grabbed a spade and tentatively poked it. It was soft, pitting under the pressure of the blade, with something hard underneath the surface. He recoiled, expecting something to jump out or run away. Nothing happened. He nudged it again with the space, this time rocking the mass forward. When it rolled back, more of it fell into the light. Finn immediately dropped the spade. There were few times he'd risk injuring himself to fish something out of the bushes. This was one of those times.

-0-

Harv was used to Finn having a very loose understanding of things like personal boundaries and time. Getting strange phone calls at all hours of the day was a common occurrence, especially when they had a day off from school and Finn was bored. That night Finn was in the middle of working on his midterm assignment, some kind of memorization thing. There was absolutely no reason Finn would want to call in the middle of the night, long after Harv's family had turned in for the evening.

"Can humans drink goat milk?" Finn had asked before Harv could ask him why he was even awake.

"Yes Finn, I- You know my family sells goat milk to people." Harv was ready to hang up the phone, but Finn started talking again.

"But, like, can babies have it?"

"...yeah, if you water it down and cook it." Harv groaned, longing to be asleep again. "Why?"

"I might need a few cups until the lost and found opens up. Someone dropped their baby while walking in the woods." Harv sat up, alarmed and fully awake.

"What do you mean someone 'dropped their baby'?"

"Well, I just assume that's what happened." Finn sighed at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She was naked and covered in dirt. I don't imagine that happens if you're keeping an eye on where your baby is. It was disgusting. When I was done hosing her off, there was white stuff stuck in her hair. It took three rounds of soap to get it out."

"You really shouldn't use soap on a newborn, Finn." Harv started gathering some of Puck's old stuff. The more Finn told him, the more sick to his stomach he felt. People normally wouldn't leave a newborn baby in that state if they wanted people to find them.

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave her covered in dirt and cheese, Harvey. I'm not a monster."

"I'm coming over." Harv filled a jar of milk and an old swaddle. "If she cries again, just give her something to suck on, like your knuckle." He wasn't sure what all Finn might need to know, given Finn had zero experience taking care of younger siblings. He could only imagine how much Finn would freak out if he had to change a nap. Was the baby even wearing one right now?

"She hasn't made a peep the whole time, but okay, weirdo."

"I'm not-" Harv paused loading up the basket. "She didn't cry when you were bathing her?"

"No, slept through the whole thing." That wasn't good. "Was she supposed to?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone and rushed to the cart.

-0-

Harv pulled up to the large house in the woods, a warm glow coming from the downstairs window. Before he got a chance to knock on the large double doors, Finn had opened the small entrance to the home and lifted a single finger to his lips, his other hand pressed to his chest.

"Mother's sleeping." Finn gestured for him to come inside.

"You didn't-" He received a sharp glare from Finn and lowered his voice. "You didn't wake her up for this?"

"No? Mother has a strict 'outside things stay outside' policy." Harv gave him a mortified look. "I'm not completely useless in a crisis, I can handle a tiny human for twelve hours." Finn rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. "...but I'm glad you're here, I kinda need to use the bathroom." Harv looked all over the living room. There was a huge mess of blankets on the couch, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Where..." Harv turned and saw Finn open up the strange robe he was wearing and realized Finn's hand wasn't pressed against his chest, but holding the baby. As soon as her pale skin was exposed to the outside air, dark red spiderwebs spread across it. She was smaller than a head of lettuce with a puff of auburn hair. She didn't shiver or make a face, but she was breathing. Finn handed the unswaddled baby over to Harv and ran to the bathroom. Harv wrapped her in a blanket, but the webbing continued to spread up her cheeks. She couldn't keep herself warm. "Finn, how long has she been sleeping?" Finn popped his head out as he washed his hands.

"I don't know, a few hours." He dried his hands and came back into the room. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Finn, I don't know how to tell you this, but feeble babies usually don't..." He bit his lip. "If she doesn't eat, there's nothing we can do." She wasn't reacting to the sound of their voices or touch, but Finn scooped her up none the wiser and put her back against his chest. The warmth of his skin chased away the chill and the mottling in her cheeks disappeared.

"Then get her milk ready."

There was no telling how long she'd gone without food or when she was born, but Harv knew what his brothers looked like and all of them were twice her size and loud. Sleeping babies didn't latch to a bottle or breast. You couldn't just make a baby eat before they were ready. But Finn was insistent and there really was no harm heating up milk just to throw it in the trash.

Harv boiled a small batch on the stove in heavy silence, then poured the milk into a jar and ran it under a cold stream of water until it was a safe temperature to drink. He poured the milk into a small wooden boat called a pap. When he came back into the living room, Finn was cycling through scenes on the crystal ball.

They both tried to offer her the pap. Her mouth was slightly open, but she wouldn't latch or suckle. Neither the smell of the milk or a drop on her lips got her to move.

"Finn..." Harv didn't know what else to say. Finn dipped his finger in the milk and put a drop on her tongue. It rolled down and finally she closed her tiny jaw and gave a weak swallow.

"She's eating." Finn insisted, hoping to inspire confidence, but his expression was far grimmer. "Go get mother."

-0-

Just like Finn had feared, he was in trouble for dragging some strange thing in from outside, even if it was a baby. He had explained to both her and Harv how he'd gone outside to take out the trash and found her in the rose bushes. At first, he thought the unicorn had gone and left one of his 'presents', but when he realized what it was, he couldn't in good conscience just leave her there.

"If I had a nickel for every time a dying kid ended up in my roses..." Leenan said. "What? I'd only have two, but it's weird it happened twice. I mean, the trash can was right there."

"Mother!" Finn knew his mom had a dark sense of humor, but Harv was not used to hearing such horrible things said for the sake of levity. Besides that, it was becoming clearer that she had not just been dropped, but purposefully left behind. Finn understood not wanting to deal with children, but not to this extent. He had managed to get a few drops of milk in her, but after a while, it was too hard for her to close her mouth and she had fully fallen asleep again. "Is there a spell or something you have that could make her better?" Finn said. Leenan sighed and sank into her chair.

"If she was sick, maybe, but she's not. She's just tiny and weak." Leenan said. Finn looked to Harv. He dealt with small living things all the time, but he also seemed to be of the opinion their options were limited. No lost and found or whatever peasants called it would take a child that couldn't eat. "We can keep trying to get her to eat little bits every few hours and hope she finds the energy; other than that, the best thing you can do is keep her warm." Leenan said with a shrug. Finn looked down at the little puff of hair that peaked through the folds of his robes, denial creeping back in. He had seen her swallow. There was still a chance they could make her eat. "You know, Finn didn't eat the first day either." Leenan recalled with a sad smile. "Then he vomited up this clear stuff, next thing I know he's hungry. So, there's still time." He knew she was trying to be comforting, but still.

"Must you embarrass me in front of my friend?"

"It's the middle of the night, you'll be lucky if that's the worst that happens." Leenan warned sternly. "Now then, let's get some tea going, hunh?" She went into the kitchen to grab the kettle and froze. Dirty towels and other gross things had been tossed around the floor and sink. "Finn did you put that baby in the good saucepan!?"

"Where else was I supposed to put her?" Finn shouted back. "She'd sink in the tub!" He heard the pan get tossed in the trash with the linens. "Well, don't throw it away if it's ruined, what if she gets dirty again?" Finn said. Harv pat him on the knee.

"I'll handle the cleanup." Harv could tell this was going to be a long and stressful night. At least they didn't have school to worry about tomorrow. They'd try to feed her again in an hour and hopefully at some point get some rest.

-0-

Finn had dozed off on the couch sometime after sunrise, having been unable to get the baby to take more than a few drops at a time, when suddenly a small sound came from under his robe. It was so quiet and short, Harv thought at first that a cat or a bird had wandered into the yard outside. A few minutes later, another short peep, more of a grunt then a cry. Finn was sleeping through it, but Harv wondered if finally the baby had woken up. He opened the front of Finn's robe and the small babe scrunched up her face and peeped again. As soon as Harv tried to lift her off Finn's chest, there was a hand on his wrist, and Finn sniffed as he woke up.

"What, what happened?"

*peep*

He looked down, shocked.

"I've never heard a baby cry like that, but maybe..." Harv tilted the pap to her lips, both of them too scared to move her. Finally, she took a full swallow of milk. She smacked her lips and stuck out her tongue, unable to root or open her eyes, but hoping another drink was out there waiting.

"Thank god." Finn was too exhausted to cry. She fell asleep after three swallows of milk, but it was more than she'd taken in twelve hours.

"Will you finally hand her over and get some sleep?" Harv asked. Finn looked down at her.

"You're going to hold her, right? You're not going to put her down?" Harv nodded, but Finn was still guarded. "Cause she starts changing colors if she's not on another person, I don't like it."

"I'll hold her the whole time, I promise." Finn sat up and carefully moved her from his chest for the first time in hours.

"Open your tunic."

"What, why?"

"Well, if you're not going to do it right, I'll just..." He went to sit back down.

"No, I'll do it. I just can't really." He lowered the neck of his shirt and Finn slipped her down his front. "Why's this so important?"

"She changes color less against skin." Finn said and yawned. He laid down on the couch, too tired to make the journey upstairs to his own room. Besides, part of him was terrified if he wasn't in the same room as her, she'd disappear or cry the whole time. He didn't want to risk it. He couldn't fight sleep any longer and drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Harv sighed, and leaned back in the chair, unable to do much now that he was stuck being a baby bed for the next hour or so. He felt her warm back up from the journey from one chest to the other. She opened and closed one of her hands, a single nail scratched gently against his chest. Her tiny breaths synced up with his, and each time seemed deeper and fuller than the last. When he accidentally held his breath too long, so would she. Weak as she was, she was listening to them. She was aware.

His time raising animals had taught him to try and be realistic, to not get too attached to a baby who'd yet to make it a hundred days out of the womb. It was easy to say Finn was being too stubborn when she was just a lump in his robe. It was harder to stay objective with her sleeping on top of him like this.

"If you don't keep eating, Finn's gonna kill me." Harv murmured. She moved her hand closer to her face.

#warrior u #fanfic #harvfinn #little finnharv things

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Gang of Four Box Set Review: 77-81

(Matador)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Gang of Four cared about “injustice, oppression, and having a good time,” as stated in the book that’s a part of their essential new box set Gang of Four: 77-81. The set, which includes remasters of their first two albums, the GOAT-worthy Entertainment! and its underrated follow-up Solid Gold, a singles LP, and a double LP of a never-released-often-bootlegged 1980 show at the American Indian Center in San Francisco, is only possible now that the post-punk greats have gotten out of their shitty record deal with Warner. We should be so lucky: While any time’s a great time for Gang of Four, their anti-capitalist, anti-racist, and anti-sexist jams fit the post-2020 environment of COVID-induced rejections of late stage capitalism and racial reckoning of the ever-strong Black Lives Matter movement. On a simpler note, the death of founding member Andy Gill last year (which occurred during the process of putting together this set), a Run The Jewels sample, and a similar box set treatment from good friends/tour- and bill-mates Pylon (the last of which details the same legendary story of Gang of Four’s first U.S. show featured on 77-81) have all caused renewed interest in the band. Perhaps Steve Albini puts it best: “They were engaging because they were equally committed to two principles: one, capitalism is a toxin that poisons all human interaction, and two, it’s your turn to get a round of drinks.”

When Gang of Four started, they were perhaps geopolitically aware and involved, but I’m not sure how much it shone through at the very beginning. (Indeed, they picked their name not really knowing anything about its namesake.) What was always consistent about them were their class politics: In Thatcher’s UK, where the poor got poorer while heaps of trash both literal (garbage) and figurative (Nazis) freely roamed the streets, Gang of Four stood for economic equality. They decried advertising culture on “I Found That Essence Rare” and American capitalism on the satirical “Cheeseburger”. “A Hole In The Wallet” and “It’s Her Factory” stood in favor of the wages for housework campaign and against gender-based economic oppression. “To Hell With Poverty” and “Capital (It Fails Us Now)” were perhaps their funniest expressions of radicalism, re-appropriating siren-like guitars into a disco stomp on the former, telling the story of a newborn reaching for a credit card on the latter. (“Oh no! I left it in my other suit!” they exclaim in a bout of absurdism.)

Better yet, Gang of Four offered an example to follow for other all-white, all-male bands at the time and now, that intersectionality and the class struggle go hand-in-hand. The anti-patriarchy scratchy stomp of “He’d Send In The Army” closes Solid Gold but anchors the live disc in terms of emotional intensity. The book details the band’s participation in Rock Against Racism and Rock Against Sexism concerts, where Black bands and bands with female band members were given the headlining slot over the more popular Gang of Four, who believed that music was not only inherently sociopolitical but alternate to nationalism. And almost as much as the tour-mates and musical peers quoted in 77-81′s book talk about Gang of Four’s originality, they talk about their generosity as a form of community building, going out of their way to share instruments, the stage, and even food with them.

Of course, Gang of Four’s music itself continues to be unrivaled, and band members from the likes of Mission of Burma, Pylon, and New Order wax poetic about Gang of Four’s precision, the controlled spastic interplay between Gill’s guitars and Hugo Burnham’s drums. They weren’t minimal, per se, but they were lean, every element in every song essential. They were the type of band that could put perhaps their best-known song, “Damaged Goods”, fourth in a long set and maintain its and the crowd’s energy throughout. (If bands often close a live set with a comedown, the fact that they closed this show with the blisteringly poppy “Glass” made me realize Gang of Four don’t have any songs that could be described as a “comedown.”) The opening guitar growls of “Love Like Anthrax” are amped up live, as are the nerves of “Guns Before Butter” and the canter of “At Home He’s A Tourist”. I got to see the somewhat maligned final lineup of Gang of Four in 2015, and listening to Live At American Indian Center 1980 confirms for me what I always thought: that Gang of Four were one of the best live bands to ever do it.

I haven’t seen the physical release of 77-81, which further features a cassette of unreleased outtakes, rarities, and demos from Entertainment! and Solid Gold, but the opportunity for Matador to present the band’s recorded music and the first official publication of their lyrics and contextualize it with live recordings, photos, commentary from their peers, and analysis makes it the indispensable reissue of the year so far. It makes it possible to imagine what it was like to be at that first US show, where Pylon had to play two sets because Gang of Four was hours late due to a van breakdown, eventually showing up hours late to absolutely burn the place down for 15 minutes, inspiring generations of bands and radicals for decades to come.

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