EOS sent me this asking for an explanation after John saw it and immediately scheduled “essential maintenance” in which he would be “unreachable” up on Five from April 30th to lunch time on the 1st of May…
I’m not an expert on gardening and couldn’t find much to verify this tradition, but John seems to be playing things safe…
It’s all a lie, he’s not unreachable because of this, he’s unreachable because I have another workshop at a festival and he doesn’t want me to drag him to it again. This one isn’t a small one for my local groups, it’s a federation run one, so it’s thousands of people. The cucumber is an excuse, he knows I don’t grow vegetables.
*heaves a deep sigh and picks up her comm* EOS? you don’t need to worry about cucumbers or why they were planted like that. In the old days the men worked the fields and they sometimes did it naked so that they wouldn’t get their clothes dirty.
*turns back to Scott, checking her comm was off* That’s a total lie, the tradition is there because of the peen. Apparently, if a woman or an old man planted them the cucumbers would be small and useless. If they were planted by a young man in the prime of his life the cucumbers…well, let’s just say that you’d pick the young man who already had an impressive… cucumber…as a way of showing the seeds exactly what they were supposed to be measuring up to. Their “visible virility” I believe was the term used.
I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to go into more detail about your brother in that way so it’s probably best we just let it go, yeah?
I’m aware I’m going to get hate for this. I’m aware that I’m basically committing fandom death. I’m aware that many are not going to like it. I’m aware that most won’t agree with it. I’m aware that people will probably stop reading (if they were even still reading in the first place).
I know all of this, yet I’m still doing it. Because I believe in it, I believe in my story, my vision, my reasons and you’ll just have to trust me with it.
Or don’t, that’s your choice. I can’t force ya.
But please, if you don’t like it, or don’t want to keep reading it, just keep on scrolling or unfollow. I’m not in the mood for an argument.
Thank you kindly.
Now, if you do actually want to read it, the chapter is here on Ao3.
Sorry for the breaks in posting, this is a lot to write and a lot to research and work out. Doing my best, and we’re getting there.
And hey, Selene’s home! Here’s a snippet.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“I am! Al, can you get the door?”
Alan scuttled ahead of the parade of people that were currently engaged in the extensive task that was bringing Selene home from the hospital. How one woman, who could barely get out of bed, had managed to acquire so much stuff in so short a time was beyond comprehension. They knew she had a habit of overpacking and could easily fall into hoarder territory if left alone for long enough, but this was ridiculous.
Alan held the door open and Scott pushed her wheelchair into the elevator that would take them from the hangars to the main part of the house. Virgil and John, who were acting as packhorses, weighed down by a million bags, would have to wait for it to return, there was no way they would all fit in. Gordon, who’s idea of helping had been to nose in said bags, snatched out the new head massager that Adam had given his sister, and darted into the elevator after Scott. In short the whole thing was a confusing mess of too many people trying to do too many things and Selene just wanted to sleep. Not that that would be happening any time soon, she was sick of lying in bed and was determined to get back to some semblance of normality as soon as possible.
“This thing is really cool, I have to get one,” Gordon said, dragging her attention back to him by arranging the thin, spindly finger-like prongs around his head and bouncing it up and down with far too much enthusiasm.
“Are you getting gel on that?” Selene asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded happily. “You had better wash it then, I’m not having that super hold stuff transferring to my hair when I can barely wash it as it is. Last time I used that stuff I looked like one of those old troll dolls.”
Alan snickered as he pressed the button for the lounge floor, remembering the incident well. Selene had not been impressed but they had found it hilariously funny.
The elevator doors opened to the hallway at the back of the lounge where they could enter the lounge area or continue up to the sleeping quarters. Scott pushed her out, guided the chair around the side of the panelled wall where his launch chute and their portraits were located and stopped beside the sunken seating area.
“Come here,” he said, bending down to allow her to loop her arms around his neck, then lifting her out of the chair. Steps and a wheelchair didn’t mix and she still wasn’t allowed to stand unaided. If she had just broken her ankle she could have used crutches, but her broken wrist ruled that out. If she had just fractured her pelvis she could have used a walker, but her ankle made that impossible. She didn’t trust herself with a motorised chair and couldn’t push herself with her broken wrist, so, for now, she was relying on the goodwill and patience of family to, as she put it, ‘cart her arse around’. None of them minded in the slightest, they were just grateful she was in one piece and home with them.
“Which chair?”
She reluctantly pointed to one of the bucket seats, knowing it would give her more support and keep her more upright than the couches could. Scott lowered her carefully and gently into the chair, on alert for any kind of wince or pained sound that might indicate it had hurt her.
“Thanks, babe.” She settled in the chair as best she could, knowing that even if she didn’t like it she would have to put up with it. Ordinarily, she would never choose to sit in one of them, she was a snuggler by nature and liked to be close to people. If she had her way she would be squished up against someone’s side, leaning against them or laying on them in some fashion. On the rare times she found herself alone, she would take advantage of it and stretch out full length, taking up as much room as possible. The bucket seats that acted as a launch chute for Thunderbird Three and Shadow were comfortable to the extreme, they had to be to act as pilot seats too, but she found them too lonely and too confining for her tastes. Unfortunately, she had very little choice at the moment.
John emerged from the hall, empty-handed of all but her handbag -liberated by Virgil from the car after she and Alan had been extracted- and a tote bag full of the books and magazines she had been reading in hospital. Everything else had evidently been deposited in their bedroom for unpacking later.
“Hi, everything alright?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yep, managed to make it without trouble, but Gordon has somehow stolen my head massager.” She gave him a pointed look, like he had let her down in the relocation of her possessions.
“Not guilty.“ He held his hands up in mock surrender. "He took that from Virgil’s load, not mine.”
“He was so quick,” Virgil protested lamely, bringing up the rear with Grandma and Jeff in tow. Gordon grinned, totally unashamed of his thievery. “His hand was in and out before I even saw him.”
“Have you got that list?” John asked him, ignoring the rest of the information to focus on the important things.
Virgil nodded, scrabbled around in the pockets of his flannel until he located it, and handed it to him. “Here they are, doctor’s orders. Grandma has the rest.”
“I don’t need a list to tell me how to heal,” Selene protested, but Grandma cut her off.
“Yes, you do, I know you, young lady, you’ll be trying to get up the moment our backs are turned.”
“I would not!”
“Yes, you would,” Scott laughed, looking up from the wheelchair he was trying unsuccessfully to fold down.
“Unfair. I can be sensible.”
“When you’re asleep. Ah ha!” He located the hidden button that released the lock and the chair folded in on itself. “Got it!”
“Why are you all being so mean to me?” Selene pouted, ignoring his triumph. “Dad, they’re picking on me again.”
“I know you think they’re mean, honey, but in this instance, I have to agree with them,” Jeff answered firmly, trying to ignore the way her bottom lip wobbled in his direction. Maybe he was lucky he’d had all boys because no one ever told him daughters could wrap you so easily around their little fingers. If he’d seen Selene as a little girl he’d have been done for. As it was, it was a close call. He didn’t know how John managed, because it was taking all he had to stay firm and not give in to her. “How about we make a deal?”
“What kind of deal?” she asked suspiciously. Selene was nothing if not practical, but also easily placated if the right thing was offered. John snorted in amusement, but declined to step in and help.
“You keep your backside in that chair and stay put like a good girl and I’ll make Scott go out for food. How’s that?”
On paper that sounded like a good deal, but her daddy had taught her never to accept an offer without getting all the details first.“What kind of food?”
“What food do you want?”
Selene thought about it for a while. “I don’t know, surprise me.”
“Do I get a say in this, since I’ll be the one going out to get it?”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Virgil laughed. “Better get moving, bro.”
“Fine, I’m going,” Scott mock sighed, levering himself out of the chair he’d only just sunk down into. “Text me your orders.”
Once Scott had left and the others had either wandered off to parts unknown -as was the case with Virgil and Grandma or settled on the couches, as Alan and Gordon had- John folded himself into the chair beside her and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers.
“Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. Thinking I might just read quietly for a bit. I’ve got to behave, apparently.”
“What about for Yule? Do you want me to fetch anything from the apartment?”
Selene sighed, a short, unhappy little noise. “Ordinarily I’d say yes, or I’d be out somewhere joining in with a ritual, but I had it drummed into me by Vera that we shouldn’t practice when we aren’t in tip-top physical form unless it’s an emergency. She always says ‘the Gods will wait’. So I should probably continue to sit here and let my arse weld itself to yet another surface.”
“Yes, stay put, Scott will be back soon enough,” Jeff called from his desk. She lifted her good arm in acknowledgement, ignoring Gordon’s sniggering from behind his National Geographic.
“See, Dad’s orders,” she grumped lightly, not really meaning it. “Talking of Yule though, what about Christmas? It’s not like I can do much to help but I have a few days to order some shopping if one of you can pick it up?”
“Stop right there,” Jeff ordered, apparently still listening in and taking his self appointed role of Selene wrangler seriously. “There’s no need for you to worry your head about any of that stuff, we’ve got it covered.”
The look on Selene’s face said she very much doubted that.
“You think we can’t fend for ourselves now and then?” He actually moved his glasses further up his nose to peer at her. She was not intimated in the slightest.
“Yes!”
“We’re perfectly capable of putting together a meal and decorating a tree. We can invite your mom and brother and have ourselves a nice, relaxing,” that last was said with a pointed look in her direction, “and above all, quiet, christmas.”
“But-”
Jeff lifted his hand. “No, don’t even think about arguing. You’re going to do as you’re told and leave it to us. You do enough around this place, now it’s time to let us look after you for once.”
“Better do as he says,” Virgil commented, catching the tail end of the conversation as he came back into the room. “That’s his dad voice, you can’t argue with that.”
“I can argue with anything,” Selene answered back, just to be petulant, but there was no real threat behind it. Honestly, it was nice. She’d lived away from her parents for some of the hardest times of her life and then, just as things were starting to go right for her, she’d lost her father. She’d never expected to get as close to Jeff as she had, but she’d realised while she’d been in hospital just how much he cared about her in return. After the first night he’d visited her, the nurses had continued to refer to him as her dad and she’d just gone along with it, to the point that she hadn’t realised she’d taken to saying it to him too. Now it actually felt awkward to call him Jeff. He’d fully adopted her as one of his kids and even if there had been anything she could do about it, she wouldn’t want to. Though it appeared that being adopted meant that he could pull the dad card and boss her about just like her own had. She hadn’t realised just how much she missed it.
As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, John squeezed her hand, offering his silent reassurance and support.
“Fine,” Jeff replied casually, adopting the same tone that he used to use on the boys when they were small and refused to go to bed even when they were tired. “But I bet you wouldn’t argue with Grandma or your mother, maybe I should let them tell you.”
“Fine! You do Christmas and I’ll just sit here. Damn, you play dirty,” she accused, craning her neck to fix him with a squinty-eyed look.
“Never claimed otherwise.”
“Now I know where John gets it from.”
“Hey, unfair,“ John protested. "I never play dirty. I always follow the rules, I just use them to my advantage.”
“That’s still playing dirty, babe. Now, if you’ve all finished picking on me, can one of you pass me my book, please?”
“Which one?” John asked, letting go of her hand to drag over and start digging through the tote bag. “There’s five in here.”
“That dragon romance one. If I’m not going to get any action for weeks I might as well live vicariously through sassy women in New Orleans.”
It was Alan’s turn to giggle at the look of martyrdom on John’s face as he searched for the right book.
“Don’t get any ideas, you’re sassy enough as it is,” John warned her as he handed the book over, pointedly ignoring the comment on lack of action. She had been told, very firmly, that she wasn’t allowed to do any strenuous form of activity until she got the all clear from the doctor.
“A woman can never be too sassy,” she argued, awkwardly opening the book with one good hand and the fingers of her broken one. “Besides, I need to keep my sass up otherwise I’ll be so bored I’ll waste away to nothing.”
We finally have a chapter people! Woohoo! I’m getting back on track, everything is planned out, life is slowing down and I just have to write it. We got this shit!
Things are getting serious now and John is out for blood.
‘I think Virgil will always put others above himself. He seems to just be that kind of guy, whether it be offering his seat on the bus or risking his life to save someone. He shows it when he relates to his brothers as well. He is such a softie yet strong guy.’
-o-o-o-
I said this in a comment to someone back in 2018. Came across it today. Considering I had only known him for five months at that point, it still rings true today four years later. Gotta love da boi :D
But then all the Tracy boys fall under that description really, but I’m me and I said it about the Virg :D
Nutty
(cos Virg :D )
Absolutely
Wholeheartedly agree. We see it a lot in the show, particularly with him and Grandma.
I don’t usually do self promotion, I very rarely, if ever, reblog my own stuff and especially not on someone else’s post, but I feel that I need to reinforce this Virgil moment with one of my own. The most Virgil “Be more V” story ever.
