Julian and Keiko headcanons because Keiko gets sidelined so much and deserves the world and I wish we got to see them interact more
when they get stumped on their respective projects, they'll do late night work sessions together and bounce their research off each other to see if the other can help them figure out where the problem is. they'll do this in person when theyre both on the station, but also over call if one of them is away, and after the O'Briens move back to Earth
they edit each other's papers (Keiko marvels at Julian's ability to spell out complex chemical compounds with his eyes closed, and somehow use 'their' instead of 'there') (in his defense he wrote that bit at 4 in the morning after going 2 straight days without sleep) (she threatens to sedate him)
Julian sometimes brings back plants from planets they explore in the Gamma Quadrant and gives them to Keiko. sometimes he does it because the plant has medicinal properties and the two of them can do a joint research project, but most of the time he does it just to give her a nice gift
when Miles goes away for particularly dangerous missions, Julian will keep Keiko company and help keep her mind off of it. sometimes she has trouble sleeping because shes so worried, so he'll hang around and start rambling on about whatever he's currently working on until she falls asleep. he jokes he's boring her to sleep, but it actually means a lot to her
they have a weekly tea date. this is their prime gossip time. sometimes Jadzia is invited
when Keiko's mad at Miles she'll rant to Julian about it. Julian learned very quickly that this is not a time where advice is wanted, so he sits back and lets her get it all off her chest, because she really just wants someone to listen and let her blow off some steam
Julian makes a concentrated effort to learn more about plant husbandry and care after the incident where he accidentally killed some of Keiko's prized plants because he actually does feel very bad about it
Julian hovered over Keiko nearly as bad as Miles did when she was pregnant with Kirayoshi (and then he hovered over her even more after the pregnancy transfer, and he wouldnt tell anybody why, but Keiko knew it was because nearly losing her shook him up pretty bad)
when Julian gets outed for being augmented, Keiko goes to him and gives him the tightest, warmest hug he's ever gotten in his entire life
Julian gets invited to girls nights with Keiko and Molly (steady surgeon's hands make him the best one to paint nails) (he pretends to complain but he loves it)
anytime Julian has to go away for a scientific conference of any kind, if he gets to bring someone with him, his first choice is always Keiko
in short: theyre besties they told me so themselves <3
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it doesn't look like much, but it's my first yarn off the supported spindle! all twelve metres of it 😂
i'm a pretty adequate spinner on wheels and drop spindles, and was surprised at how much of that didn't translate for me. the mechanics of really needing to do point of contact long draw and keep the spindle going were a trick, and i spent the first go hour or so flicking the spindle, starting to draft, and immediately, reflexively stopping the spindle. i'm an impatient raccoon and have never been much for park and draft, so i have no idea where that instinct came from. i think i'm getting it now, though!
(yes, it's two different yarn weights in the same skein; i knew i was going to chain ply and wanted to see what was comfortable on the spindle, so i just kinda went with it and aimed for consistency across each individual rolag.)
fibre was some of the hated superwash bfl that i dyed a while back, carded into rolags with sari silk and angelina.
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@reversescale asked:
(What would it be like if Ratio got the acknowledgment of Nous? Would anything change? Furthermore, what if he was invited into the Genius Society? Would he accept it?)
Sleepless nights had grown more frequent as of late, with the addition of the Divergent Universe to Ratio's workload. None of it had been obligatory, none of it at all. But, not for the first time, he finds himself strung up in a strange sense of restlessness -- almost anxiousness -- as he parses through the compendium he compiled, again and again and again.
...Why?
Not even Screwllum, with his far superior ability to take in information on a page, would read through this entire document, and he'd told the Trailblazer this himself. Realistically, the likelihood of even half of the data within making it into the Divergent Universe was slim at best. It would take an entire Amber Era to even get through all of the pages. So why did he?
...Not for the first time, the thought crosses Ratio's mind about how disproportionate his visible effort is to his declaration of involvement. Yet how could he settle for anything less? Screwllum, surely, knew he would receive more than he asked for by enlisting Ratio's aid. The doctor was never known for half-assing anything, after all. And still, it was not enough. He hadn't done enough, compiled enough, found enough of the evidence Screwllum he needed.
It is not his project.
He sighs, rubs his temple (his headaches seem as though they're growing worse with the sheer amount of data he'd been sifting through lately), and rolls the tension out of his neck as best he can. There is no need to get worked up. Thankfully, the sky is clear tonight; he'd already taken a bath recently, so laying on the grass to trace the constellations would surely be enough to quell his mind.
But the red glow outside indicates otherwise. A glance upwards is more than enough to rob all the breath from Ratio's lungs, leaving him choking on nothing. All at once his head expands, compressed by the confines of his skull -- it shrinks to nothingness then expands once more, splitting and breaking down his skull to encompass the planet, the galaxy, reaching to the outer stretches of the universe -- who he was and what he is no longer matter, Veritas is as much an ephemeral, minute, pitifully small concept as Andreas -- he knows so much. He knows too much. And as that thought concludes a new one is born, a new path stretching outwards -- everything and every life that will ever come to be and has come to pass is known to him, but not by him, far more than he could ever fill a book with, or ten books, or a thousand books -- lives and people and worlds flash past his mind, too fast for him to take hold of and look at any single one -- there is simply no storage system in the known universe large enough to record it all -- he is ignorant in the wake of the mind and might of THEM, and he feels so strangely detached from the muted despair he vaguely acknowledges is his own and suddenly he is slingshotted back into his body, gasping for air and gripping onto his windowsill so hard his knuckles turn white.
"You..." Andreas' knees threaten to buckle as another pulse of pain lances through his skull. Something hard and cold clinks against his palm as he clenches his hands into fists. A divine, shimmering key lays nestled between his fingers, only tangible in the barest definition of the word. Should he look away, should he let it wane from his mind, the key would fade, too. It takes all his effort to keep his hold on it. "You," he repeats, mouth dry, mustering up all the willpower and strength he has to glare at the impossibly massive entity that had manifested in the sky. He is shaking, trembling from head to foot. "After all these years... after all this time, now you show yourself?" He can feel the absence of that sudden pressure of knowledge like an abyss separating his brain from his head, and his heart beats too quickly, too loudly, too softly in his own ears. Every second is a fight to remain in his own mind, and it feels like mockery of his own insignifance, or perhaps a test -- but the Aeon does not respond to him. THEY do not do anything but simply wait, and stare back at him.
It becomes unbearable to hold Nous' gaze, and as Andreas looks away the key slips from his grasp. He realizes, then, Nous did not come for the boy who spent his nights looking to the sky. Nous came for Veritas. THEY will only respond to Veritas.
"Keep your key," Andreas spits around a closing throat. Veritas will not speak. "I want nothing to do with your Temple. I have no place with the likes of Kuwabara or the Lord of Silence."
Nous holds THEIR silence, and THEIR gaze, for a moment longer, then fades. The oppressive noise lifts and Andreas feels himself fill the space his body takes up and only that and he can breathe, finally, and his lungs expand and contract with every breath as a human's should. He feels all ten fingers and toes and the wind on his skin and he is, once more, unremarkably and inconsequentially human. Except...
An invitation to the Genius Society is not something that can be refused. It is not a request, nor an inquiry, nor some offer that can be turned down.
It is a claim.
So No. 85 of the Genius Society requests a temporary leave of absence from the Intelligentsia Guild. He visits his hometown. He tells his parents the news. His father, quiet as ever, beams with pride. His mother weeps, not only with joy, but for the sudden shock of sheer white that has woven itself into his hair. (How strange -- he is only 38, but this fails to bother him in the slightest.) He visits Herta's Space Station once more, and the eyes on him are different; numerous as always, yes, full of awe, certainly, but full of ignorant admiration, worse than he'd ever experienced before. He feels those eyes even through his headpiece. He is to be the newest member of the Simulated Universe project. Screwllum introduces him properly to Herta, Ruan Mei, and Stephen, and he can't help feeling slightly sick as they look into his eyes with recognition. Stephen isn't there in person, but he shakes the puppet's hand, then Ruan Mei's. They're both cold. The sensation doesn't leave for hours. Screwllum's hand on his back, meant to be reassuring, makes him want to remove his skin instead.
He lays in his bathtub for hours upon his return home, half-drowned in steam and bubbles until his skin prunes and his bathwater cools to a temperature he can scarcely feel. He should get out; he will get cold.
He doesn't know what to say to Aventurine. If he should say something to Aventurine. Given the speed of the IPC's news network, Aventurine probably already knows. The next time he meets Aventurine, he will no longer be a Mundanite. He, realistically, has no need for Aventurine any longer. But Aventurine -- the IPC -- has all the more need for him. His value has fundamentally increased. The unfairness of it makes him sick. Eventually, he resigns from his job as a professor. There is no point in a genius teaching that intelligence does not belong only to the elite. The irony behind it is nothing but cruel.
Occasionally, the Key of Wisdom surfaces in his mind; it appears on his desk, under his pillow, beside his chisel.
He refuses to touch it.
He is unable to let it go.
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