Tfw you're stuck in a fatal timeloop with your worst enemy who happens to know you better than yourself
@pearlescentime 's Janka series Poison Garden got me in such a chokehold that I HAD to draw fanart of it before I even drew any other Gachiakuta stuff! Highly reccommend
Perfect stone for glorious evolution. Damn, these two star-crossed mothefuckers😭 Had this stone for a couple of years and finally used it, great base for this hextech space. Now I need a hundred of these
I know this is going to make me sound pretensions but I have to get it off my chest. I feel an unimaginable rage when someone posts a photo and is like "this picture looks like a renaissance painting lol" when the photo clearly has the lighting, colors and composition of a baroque or romantic painting. There are differences in these styles and those differences are important and labeling every "classical" looking painting as renaissance is annoying and upsetting to me. And anytime I come across one of those posts I have to put down my phone and go take a walk because they make me so mad
Oooh, thank you! I don’t know much about the differences of art periods and styles, so this was a very neat and concise depiction to introduce me to the idea. I’ll have to go read more at some point!
Okay so this got me thinking about game changer where this was referred to as like a Renaissance piece, and it seems much more romantic (but sad) to me:
Like, maybe it's none of the above? But the emotion is candid, and calm, and this could easily be part of a romantic series of images from the game changer set in the same way that an image of four exhausted factory workers slumped on a bench after their shift could be- there's a camraderie present even though the figures are so separated.
Now, THIS is a Renaissance picture.
LOOK how he's framed in the void! Staring at the wreckage of an item that represents his career and position! The slump of his shoulders, the inscrutable expression, the useless goggles loosely clutched in his hand! The instrument of his destruction behind him, discarded! AN EMPTY HOURGLASS AT HIS BACK AND AN EMPTY SPACE AT HIS FRONT god I wish I could paint this the composition is WONDERFUL
As someone who spent years working at a research facility, I periodically feel like dropping lore about what working with geniuses like Viktor and Jayce would be like.
Sky Young’s role as an assistant to Viktor could frequently become translating scientific jargon into something the average Piltovan would understand and find interesting. While Viktor and Jayce may be very excited about their breakthroughs, when a scientist gets rambling about their work they frequently are faced with glazed over eyes and polite nods.
Unless someone boils it down to basically just the selling points and future practical applications, no one gets excited. Look at the reaction to journal articles written for other scientists compared to articles written for magazines and newspapers for people with a casual interest and understanding.
As an assistant, a lot of the work is translating “nerd” into normal human language. This is critical when you’re looking for grants (or in Piltover, sponsors) or are preparing for speeches, presentations, and speaking points for social engagements.
We’ve seen that by season 2 when Jayce encounters Ekko, he’s gotten better at it as he explains the Wild Runes.
Now I’m tempted to share some of the eccentricities of the scientists I worked with because it can flavor a fic. And figuring out which of the projects I could adapt into a fantasy steampunk setting.
So, I wrote a whole long post about funding and patent ownership and how it would impact Jayce and Viktor’s work, but Tumblr ate it and I refuse to rewrite it right now because I hold a grudge.
If you ever need to know what kind of paperwork to have them frustrated over in the background, or why they’re still not rolling in money, let me know.
Instead you’re going to get some fun institute culture and tidbits for flavor, to adapt at will. This is based on my personal experience and is going to be written for humor, but I assure you—it is true.
Welcome to the ridiculous side of working with scientific geniuses.
First thing to know—research institutes are often incredibly siloed. That means that the people working on intelligent systems rarely know what’s going on in chemical engineering. You have your division and you know your own project(s), and maybe what some of what your friendlier coworkers in your own division are working on. Unless there is a specific RFP (request for proposal—see my now nonexistent funding rant) that requires collaboration, you’re usually deep in your own projects.
So the institutes I’ve worked for try to foster collaboration by dragging everyone in a division together to get them describing the barebones basics of their projects.
Now, most scientists I’ve ever worked with are introverted neurodivergent nerds (I am absolutely including myself) and dread this sort of forced interaction. So, how do they pull this off without making it mandatory?
Food.
The Cake Is A Trap
Imagine you have been holed up in your lab or office the entire day. You have a cup of stale coffee and, if you thought about it in the morning, maybe a sandwich in a mini fridge.
It’s after noon, and suddenly you are assailed with the smell of actual food. Something catered if you’re lucky, or even just pizza and cookies—the kind of thing you would scorn from managers in retail as ‘employee appreciation’ can absolutely still be scientist bait.
One by one, heads pop out of offices like prairie dogs warily sticking their heads out of holes. An assistant is sent to research what’s available and gives the scoop on what food there is.
You have been captured.
For forty-five minutes or so, in exchange for an actual meal that you neither have to pay for nor leave the building for, you are encouraged to give a thumbnail description of your work so that everyone can feel like a team. You volunteer your principal investigator to do the talking, stuff your face, and maybe something interesting comes up from another team and you say ‘we should talk about this.’
Your division head feels very accomplished. You scurry back to your lab or your office.
Food is always bait. And it almost always works.
The Lab Is A Cult
Everywhere I’ve worked, every lab has its own culture. You will see cyber security labs with pirate flags covering the glass or Spy Vs Spy figures you’re supposed to greet. You will walk into an intelligent systems lab and there will be a propaganda style poster that reads “Only You Can Prevent Skynet” and people salute it before executing a command. You will see a small pile of candy stacked on top of a piece of equipment in an engineering bay—it is not for you, it is a bribe to keep that machine working.
These are rational, brilliant minds… and in the comfort of their lab they have developed incomprehensible in-jokes and complex superstitions.
Do you watch an experiment because if you look away it will fail, or do you let it do its thing so you don’t jinx it? Is there a mascot to the lab, some outdated prototype or random trinket that now is integral to the operations? Do you hold a funeral for broken equipment or do you shame it as a warning to other equipment? Do you all turn at once to look in horror at someone who says ‘so far so good’ and keep something wooden in the lab to make them knock on?
You enter with skepticism into every lab and judge them for the specific eccentricities… and then you perpetuate them and find yourself adopting them.
You are now an apostle of the lab traditions. Do you believe the scripture of the horrific looking Troll Doll that is older than you and is passed down for luck?
No.
Are you going to risk it?
Also no.
Your Office, Your Playground
In a building full of other neurodivergent nerds, your office is a canvas for you to project all of your other special interests onto. Your research may be your life, but the LEGO replica of Frodo’s trek through Middle Earth that wraps around the walls of your office is your passion. The cardboard cutout of Darth Vader with a cowboy hat perched on his head may raise eyebrows, but they can take it up with him. The vintage wind-up tin toys may be absurd when you’re working on advanced robotics, but they’re where you got your start. The models you built of past projects may be outdated, but they are your children now.
Then there’s the practicalities. Do you believe that a catastrophic system failure could delete all of your work? Good thing you have built a fortress of two inch binders full of every bit of research you have ever done. And if you’ve been there long enough, you may even have to carve a path through it to the postage-stamp sized area cleared just for your chair. Your assistant dreads the impending day that you retire and they have to sort through your important work on railway technology from forty years ago.
You keep a hanger with a full change of respectable clothes and your lucky suit jacket hanging on the back of the door. Just in case someone needs you to look presentable.
Any important meetings are going to happen in a conference room somewhere anyway. Your office is yours, and you owe no one an explanation.
…But come on, it’s better if they ask, so you can infodump.
I could keep going. I may keep going. But please enjoy these real-life examples of scientist absurdities while I decide if I’m going to rewrite the practicalities too.
I hope that these spark ideas for you. Go forth. Write mad scientists. And know that they are fully aware that they’re eccentric and embrace it enthusiastically.