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The August and Eccentric Blog of JKL-FFF

@jkl-fff / jkl-fff.tumblr.com

PARAPINES: The Joyous Amalgam of Gravity Falls and ParaNorman!
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The Empty House - part 3

"I moved my head to look at the cabinet behind me. When I turned again Sherlock Holmes was standing smiling at me across my study table. I rose to my feet, stared at him for some seconds in utter amazement, and then it appears that I must have fainted for the first and the last time in my life. Certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared I found my collar-ends undone and the tingling after-taste of brandy upon my lips. Holmes was bending over my chair, his flask in his hand. “My dear Watson,” said the well-remembered voice, “I owe you a thousand apologies."

also - shoutout to @haedraulics for doing a sketch of mid-hiatus Holmes with long hair that captivated my heart so much I needed to include that idea!

there's some kind of a capella happening in my mentions

Watson: *slaps him*

Holmes: Was that to confirm I'm not a spirit?

Watson: H-How did you deduce that?

Holmes, rubbing cheek: It appears to be a common reaction.

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Reblogged

The Empty House - part 2

"I struck against an elderly deformed man, who had been behind me, and I knocked down several books which he was carrying. ... I endeavoured to apologize for the accident, but it was evident that these books which I had so unfortunately maltreated were very precious objects in the eyes of their owner. With a snarl of contempt he turned upon his heel."

THE EMPTY HOUSE, part 2 - (part 1) - Several reunions, which do not go exactly to plan.

Mrs Hudson: *slaps him* Oh, you know how we women are. *slaps him* So prone to hysterics. *slaps him* We really can't help ourselves. *slaps him*

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Reblogged

the Empty House - part 1

It is the spring of the year 1894, and Sherlock Holmes has been dead for three years. Watson's Sketchbook returns with THE EMPTY HOUSE - part 1! Bonus points to whoever recognizes what classic of Victorian literature Holmes is quoting on the first page.

notes under the cut:

Thank you to my friend @arythusa of the excellent Glass Scientists webcomic for helping me find the right Jekyll & Hyde quote for the opening ✍️

And Holmes' eyes go straight to the hat band--straight to the still present sign of Watson's grief even years after the fact. Is he shocked, I wonder, to see that Watson mourns him even now?

This sorta tyrannical fascism would NOT be okay--would not be lawful--EVEN IF Trump's fanatics were only snatching up people with criminal records. And they absolutely are snatching up people with NO criminal records whatsoever. Along with actual citizens, asylum seekers and refugees following US laws, and Native Americans. Because it's based on appearance--skin color, hair style, clothing, and tattoos.

The Choctaw-Irish Brotherhood(via)

I love stuff like this. Didn’t a tribe in Africa send America some cows after 9/11? Like this is holy and the most valuable thing we have. We hear your suffering and want to do anything in our power to help

It was not a potato famine. The famine didn’t happen because of the potato yeald failing. Ireland was actually producing more than enough food. However it was almost all land owned by Brittish landowners, who took all of the food out of the country to sell in UK. Potato was what the Irish farmers ate, because it was cheep and could be produced in worst parts of the land, where more profitable food couldn’t be grown. When there were no longer potatos, the decision for the farmers was to either starve and sent the food as rent to the landlords or loose their homes and then starve.

The Brittish goverment was unwilling to do anything for two reasons. First was the laissez-faire capitalistic ideology, that put the rights of property owners to make profits above human lives. Rent freeze was unthinkable and they even were unwilling to do proper relief efforts as free food would lower the cost of food. The second reason was distain for the Irish, and the thought that they were “breeding too much” and the famine was a natural way to trim down the population, aka genocidal reasoning.

This is why it’s important to stress it was not a potato famine. The potato blinght was all over Europe but only in Ireland there was a famine. The reasons behind it had nothing to do with potatos and everything to do with the Brittish.

Apparently what made Choctaw want to offer relief to Irish was the news about the Doolough Tragedy. Hundreds of starving people were gathered for inspection to verify they were entitled to recieve relief. The officials would for *some reason* not do that and instead left to a hunting lodge 19 kilometers away to spend the night and said to the starvqing people they would have to walk there by morning to be inspected. The weather conditions were terrible and many of them died completely needlessly during the walk thoroung day and night.

This apparently reminded the Choctaw of their own very recent (and much more explicit and bigger scale) experiences of ethnic clensing, where they were forcibly relocated. It was basically a death march and thousands of Choctaw died from the terrible conditions also completely needlessly.

In 2015 a memorial named Kindred Spirits was installed in Southern Ireland to commemorate the Chactow donation.

Funny how all these instances of suffering happened because of callous and incompetent, imperial governments. Yet the marginalized recognize the suffering of another group, and thus are moved to help

Silly Game Time!

Who is your favourite artist (Of any medium), and how would they fare in a zombie apocalypse?

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I know you were tyring to make it easier for me by allowing them to be for any medium. But, truthfully, I am drowning in this ocean of choices ...

So, in the end, I'll answer with the first artist whose name came to mind: Caravaggio.

He'll be fine. It'll likely be a relief to him to kill people without then having to go into exile and beg absolution of a Pope.

UNO REVERSE SILLY GAME TIME:

You have been cursed by The Evil Goose Wizard to have only one word in your vocabulary for an entire day. You can understand everyone else, but you can only say this one word.

And you cannot communicate via any other means during this 24 hours, just this one word.

And you cannot just ignore when people are talk to you. If you are actively asked a question, you have to reply.

Luckily, The Helpful Duck Wizard added a caveat that you get to choose this word.

What word do you choose?

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I choose the work "okay". A lot can be communicated with just that one word using the right intonation.

Thanks!

EMIT EMAG YILLS ESREVER ONU!

enoemos txet.

Tnaw uoy reveohw, tnaw uoy revetahw egassem nac uoy.

Yhw meht llet tonnac uoy dna esrever ni ebbot sah ti tub.

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Dehsilpmocca saw siht yas ot togrof.

Revelc ylemertxe neeb syawla s'ehs esuaceb, ylkciuq yrev S'loof Lirpa rof esrever ni saw ti tuo derugif ohw, retsis redlo ym ot ti tens.

Emag nuf eht rof sknaht hcum!

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Look yonder! Someone has writ upon that ceiling that thou art most easily gulled!
Elizabethan Peasant 2: More fool they, for I cannot read.
Elizabethan Peasant 1: *sighing, lowers his visage unto his palm*
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amityravenclawelf

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Lo, hast thou learned to read?

Elizabethan Peasant 2: Verily, and to compose as well.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: With haste, then, how is the word “i cup” composed?

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hi-def-doritos
Elizabethan Peasant 1: what ho, I know a sporting jest! What art thou when thou art a peasant and art occupied in a privy?
Elizabethan Peasant 2: I wist not, but certain am I that thou shalt tell me speedily.
Elizabethan Peasant 1: Most verily, thou art a peon.

Elizabethan Child: Father, I have not yet broken fast and am filled with pangs of hunger.

Elizabethan Father: Hail, Filled With Pangs Of Hunger! Mine own name is Wybert.

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Alack, I have in my purse but sixty-nine pence.

Elizabethan Scholar 2: Lusty fellow, knowst thou well what such a sum portends!

Elizabethan Scholar 1: I…I have not sufficient to sup on fowl.

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Mine name is verily Micheal with a ‘b’, and I hast been afraid of insects mine entire life.

Elizabethan Scholar 2: Cease cease cease. Wither is the bee?

Elizabethan Scholar 1: Thither is a bee?

Elizabethan husband: Wife, ho! Bring forth my keys!

Elizabethan wife: [throws a writing slope before him]

Elizabethan husband: My keys, my keys! What, hast thou not ears?

Elizabethan wife: I thought thou said writing slope.

Elizabethan husband: Devil take thee; why would I say writing slope?

Elizabethan daughter: Harken father! Tis the valorous kush!

Elizabethan father: Thou art in the petty market; how valorous mayest it be?

Elizabethan Peasant: Good morrow, my fine fellows! Thou mayest call me Jared, I has’t seen 19 years upon the Good Lord’s green earth, but I am melancholic, for I must admit it was not my privilege to learn to decipher script.

Elizabethan Scholar: whosoever didst throw that crumpled parchment: thine mother is naught but a poxy trollop
Elizabethan Parent: pray tell, what hast thou?
Elizabethan Child: a dagger!
Elizabethan Parent: NAY

Elizabethan Peasant, holding a wine bottle: Behold a strumpet now barren. YEET!

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