::Okay people. I have no Shin muse, which is probably to do with the screaming psycho and a screaming psycho’s brother in my head. I promise I’ll do replies as soon as I can!!::

Hello new followers!

consultingcriminaltobe:

irishtoffeekisses:

I’m really not too sure. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it happening, but, then again, I’m sure there’s a lot of things I’ve never heard of.

It was probably an exaggeration, you know how ordinary people so adore exaggerations. Jim shrugs.

[Isobel smiles/] As do poets.

Hello new followers!

consultingcriminaltobe:

irishtoffeekisses:

consultingcriminaltobe:

irishtoffeekisses:

Exactly! Can’t forget to learn English ‘cause you’re learning other ones. 

Jim nods. What if I tried to learn so many languages at once that I forgot english? That would be awful.

I’m not too sure that that’d happen. I think so long as you keep speaking it, you’ll be fine. She smiles.

Yeah I guess so, but aren’t there stories like that?

People who go to bed one night and wake up knowing a completely different language? And no longer knowing english?

I think I read that in Ripleys believe it or not or something.

I’m really not too sure. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it happening, but, then again, I’m sure there’s a lot of things I’ve never heard of.

cardsharper is now following you

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

cardsharper:

irishtoffeekisses:

“Hello, who might you be?”

I ‘might’ be anyone. Luckily for you, I happen to be someone.

But that fact, kid, is just a detail.

Mo Dhia. Talk like that a lot?

Mo Dhia, mo neart, i lena mbeidh mé muinín… Didn’t mummy ever tell you not to take the Lord’s name in vain, hm?

And no, I don’t. Too much effort.

She might have done, but she’s dead now. Dead people tend not to complain.

Bring me a dead person that does and I’ll give you Canada, kid.

Only reason I can think to go to Canada is for the guns.

I didn’t say you had to go there. 

Now… Who exactly am I talking to, hm?

But what’s the point of owning something if you don’t use it?

I’m Sinéad ó Néill, you are?

Just for the reason that you can? I don’t know, kid… I’m sure you’ll find an answer.

James Moriarty. The pleasure’s all yours.

Y’know, it’s amazing what people seem to think I have time enough for.

I wouldn’t exactly call it a pleasure, James Moriarty.

You’re right; you’d call it a ‘pléisiúir,’ I suppose.

My bad…

Aren’t you lovely?

No I wouldn’t. I can speak Irish as well. I can also speak some Italian.

Big whoop.

You sound thrilled by your talents.

All I’m saying is that I can speak other languages; that’s not a bad thing.

||♥~YOU ARE MY TREASURE~♥~GIVE THIS MESSAGE TO YOUR TEN FAVORITE PEOPLE WHO CAN ALWAYS MAKE YOU SMILE~♥||

//lolwut?

crocodilesinbusinesssuits is now following you

crocodilesinbusinesssuits:

irishtoffeekisses:

crocodilesinbusinesssuits:

irishtoffeekisses:

crocodilesinbusinesssuits:

“Moriarty.”

“And I’m swell.”

“Mr Moriarty. Can I help you?”

“Does it look like I’d need help from you?”

“Ní mór duit i ndáiríre a bheith ag obair ar a bheith taitneamhach.”

Lovely.”

“Our native tongue.  How trite.”

"Yeah, because that’s what happens with me. I like to remember these things. Call me sentimental; you probably will."

sh-thescienceofdeduction is now following you.

Sherlette joined her hands together beneath her chin and waited. She raised an eyebrow when Sinéad mentioned the injuries. “Clean? Are you positive? Where? Was it confirmed in the autopsy that it was death from the car crash? Did you see the car?” She asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth quickly, trying to grasp at the edges of the case. It had potential. “Family feuds? Decisions?” She prodded further. “When did this occur?” 

Wordlessly Sinéad undid the zip of the handbag that sat on her lap, pulling out a folder. It contained photographs of everything; she wasn’t exactly bad at getting things she wanted. She leant forwards and passed over the folder, letting out a quiet sigh. The moment of truth, she supposed. Sinéad felt warmth flush through her body; embarrassment. Her face probably matched her hair. She felt silly, small and pathetic, grasping at straws; there was no two ways about it. But there was something burning behind the cloud of the familiar emotion. She had to know one way or another; giving attention to her occasional awkwardness would only hinder her journey. 

“My decision to leave Ireland. They were ridiculous, but there’s people like it in every country, isn’t there? They hated me for it, hated my parents too; raising someone, I think the word they used was disloyal. And my parents hated me for that. I think they would have accepted it, but, y’know, how am I supposed to know now? The dead don’t tend to reveal their feelings all that much.”

Sherlette couldn’t lie, she was surprised when Sinéad pulled out a folder. She was expecting to just be told a story and have to put the pieces together with no visual proof. She took the folder from Sinéad and opened it, examining the photos, the lacerations. She had been right, there was something off-putting, something not quite so. 
She didn’t notice Sinéad’s embarrassment as she was too wrapped up in taking in every inch and detail of the photos on her lap. She shook her head, “They look as though they were definitely inflicted by something other than a car.” She mumbled, head down and still looking at the photos.

She looked up at Sinéad, “They may hate your decision, but why murder your parent’s for it?” She asked with genuine curiosity in her voice.
“Were they by any chance a member of any group…they sound patriotic, so perhaps the I.R.A?” She questioned, she had read articles about the troubles many times and there could be motivation behind this had they been, but it was still puzzling. Why murder the parents rather than the one they view as making the wrong decision? 

Sinéad sighed, fidgeting with the handle on her bag, eyes tracing out the pattern as Sherlette looked through the folder. Hearing her companions mumbled words, her eyes flicked up quickly - disorientating her slightly. She had been right? Or at least to some degree. 

Sinéad sighed sadly, the emotion probably expressed in her eyes as well. “I don’t know, I don’t know about their involvement in the I.R.A, or if there was any at all. I don’t know anything; they’re complete strangers to me. They could be, and I can’t see why they wouldn’t. But I just don’t know.” 

Growing up it had always been sit down and shut up. Don’t question anything. Not the sounds, the smells or anything you might happen to see by accident. Ignore any visitors. Pretend everything was fine, or else. And the ‘or else’ wasn’t something Sinéad desperately wanted a definition for.

irishtoffeekisses started following you

aloneprotectesme:

Right. You know a lot of things.

Fortunately I do. 

I got told something the other day, but I’m not sure if they were trying to trick me. Is the pressure needed to bite through a human finger the same as it takes to bite through a carrot? Because people think I’m gulliable and they try to trick me a lot.

worldsonlyconsultingcriminal:

irishtoffeekisses:

worldsonlyconsultingcriminal:

irishtoffeekisses replied to your post: 

//I’m really rather sorry, but Shin is cackling in my head. Irishly. Though I blame the fact she’s /cackling/ at all on Isobel, but still….whoops…?

YOU

What?

X_______X

worldsonlyconsultingcriminal:

irishtoffeekisses replied to your post:  

//I’m really rather sorry, but Shin is cackling in my head. Irishly. Though I blame the fact she’s /cackling/ at all on Isobel, but still….whoops…?

YOU
 

What?