Science, Art and Shitposts

my partner was a TA for an intro-to-subject course in grad school. finals week rolls around and the students are required to submit this big module assignment they've had like a month to do for a decent chunk of their grade. if you've submitted everything, you'll see a summary screen with a star beside each module name showing it's been completed.

an hour before the assignment deadline, he receives an email from a student claiming they completed the assignment, but the system is not allowing them to submit. there's an image attached to the email. partner goes to open what he assumes is a screenshot of that summary page.

instead, he sees that the student has taken a photo of their laptop from about 2 feet away, with that page open. strange, but it wouldn't be the first time a college freshman has lacked the tech literacy to take a screenshot. he almost doesn't look twice at it, but he realizes something about it just feels a little bit...off. so he zooms in.

the student had CUT STARS OUT OF CONSTRUCTION PAPER and TAPED THEM TO THEIR LAPTOP SCREEN BESIDE EACH MODULE NAME. you could see where they actually had completed the first couple of modules, but the stars for all the subsequent ones were like, double the size of the first two and exactly as uneven/irregular as you'd expect if you were freehanding them with scissors.

In the first panel, SG sees TG playing on the computer and is disappointed. SG puts a lot of value in the idea of “making things,” specifically “art,” and thinks TG is just wasting their time

So he asks them if they wouldn’t rather be “making something” instead of just playing games and listening to music, implying that TG isn’t doing anything worthwhile or creative with their time

But TG replies that “interpreting is generative,” meaning that even if they spend their time just doing fun stuff, the mere act of enjoying something is creating an experience and an interpretation. Talking about something, dancing to music or sharing a piece of art with your friends IS “making something,” and each of those can be worthwhile and artistic.

SG leaves, complaining he “can’t be an auteur of [interpretation].” Auteur is a movie term that refers to a filmmaker with artistic control and vision enough to be considered essentially the singular creator of the resulting work of art. Turns out, SG doesn’t just want to “make things,” he wants to make things he and others see as “important.” He wants to make art not for the sake of art, but for the sake of being recognized and praised for his art.

This comic really speaks to elitism within the artistic community, the idea that art needs to meet certain standards to be considered art. SG’s viewpoint is really traditionalist, that art need to be “approved” and validated in order to be considered “really art;” while TG recognizes that art can be as little as just talking about what you love.

1. Fellas is wrong to support your queer homies

2. The closet

he's from Blacklight

he had a client who he let die fighting alone 2.a he doesn't feel particularly bad about that

he hates Skyrim but wants to go there if on Solstheim

he hates Solstheim but goes right back there when dismissed

he tells you to be cautious in unfamiliar places but then aggros the first thing that looks at him funny and walks on pressure plates

you can't see his face without mods/maxxed out pickpocket skills

that's literally it.

Sleepy doodle

Watson cradled it carefully next to his heart, as if it needed protecting. But it was, he knew, stronger already than a sprout, unfurling and growing all by itself even as he tried to carefully nurture it.

Holmes, too, though in his own way.

"Come, Watson," he said as he made for his bedroom, and Watson lowered his book with some astonishment. Holmes turned with a look of impatience. Or was it something else?

"The day has been disappointingly barren of crime. The criminals of London seem to be resting, and so shall I."

Still he stood with an air of expectance, but Watson was not sure what was being expected of him.

"And?" he said, inclining his head. He looked at Holmes. Come, Watson, he had said. "You... you wish for me to join you?"

"Naturally."

Not naturally at all! Watson sat flabbergasted.

"Holmes, I- I would love to join you," he finally said, and anything he might have wanted to add was cut short by Holmes.

"Very good. Come along, then."

And Watson came along. He walked as in a dream, following his friend and lover (for that was what they were, now, was it not?). He lay down beside him.

They had never done this before.

"You may hold me," Holmes said generously, as if granting him a wish, when clearly it was his own. Finally, Watson smiled.

"Gladly," he murmured, and readily turned to embrace Holmes. His heart sped up, even now. Such an intimate gesture! His arms pulled taught, and Holmes sighed with something like relief.

"Is this alright?"

"Wonderful, my dear fe- my dear."

Overcome with emotion, Watson pressed his face into Holmes' shoulder, inhaling deeply, and then pressed a kiss to him. He smelled faintly of tobacco.

"A stellar idea," he whispered, and though he could not see Holmes' face he knew his schoolgirl blush. "Just splendid."

"Be quiet, now," Holmes instructed, "for if you are not then perhaps we will not slumber after all."

"Oh?" With closed eyes, Watson smiled into him. "I would be amenable. But I feel you are right. You should rest. I am sure very soon an exciting case will make its way to our doorstep."

"Mmh," Holmes said, and said nothing else. He was warm and surprisingly still in his arms, the restlessness that had plagued him all day slowly draining from his high-strung frame as he relaxed into Watson, who was grateful for it.

Watson bent his knees, pulling them upwards into Holmes, moving their legs together, and with a rather content sigh Holmes snuggled backwards against him. Snuggled! Holmes!

Cool, so you want natural fiber costumes with no/nuanced corset slander, people wearing colors, historical hairstyles, people wearing hats or headcoverings and long sleeves outside during the day, no potatoes or pumpkins in pre-columbian Europe, actors with textured skin and wrinkles, minimal makeup, consulting HEMA groups and weapons scholars for all the weapons and fight scenes, a good soundtrack that includes traditional instruments?

It started with someone listing "places with uncanny energy," like gas stations on a road trip, empty movie theaters, etc.

Then someone reblogged it and said those are called "liminal spaces," defining liminal as in-between, neither one thing nor another.

Tomorrow (July 4th, 2026) is the 10 year anniversary of the-crepes-of-wrath's comment, which:

Predates the 2020 spike in interest by four years

Predates the original backrooms post, and the the creation of r/liminalspaces by three years

Predates the earliest mention that KnowYourMeme attributes to Twitter by two years

I'm pretty sure this is the moment the term "liminal spaces" was attached to this sort of imagery, and it's TEN YEARS OLD TOMORROW!

However, the bathtub setup immediately reminded me of a classic cartoon sketch by Loriot, a true german comedy staple. It's so famous it even got a statue erected.

(Image taken from the German Wikipedia article.)

And honestly I can see our favourite war criminals arguing about a rubber duck and bathing together like those two gentlemen.

Please see for yourself, if you are unfamiliar:

I did it! I got out the brain worm! Or a fun thing inspired by @mareenavee From Hell Prompt