an t-eolaí

indie Moira O'Deorain from OVERWATCH Headcanon-heavy 18+ only loved by Anna

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expect me for starters & replies this weekend-- this week got kinda busy & I haven’t been awake enough to actually write when I can get on. 

[gxnxticist-blog]

@violentnonretirement   ❤︎  for a starter

The labs were being closed for the night--     for the.... (week? month? year?) She isn’t sure, can’t quite be certain if these laboratories would ever be used again    in the foreseeable future.   (She gazes back upon them),   looks at the covered chairs, the tabletops & equipment,     draped with   t a r p s, like ghosts.  It’s a sad sight. It makes her chest clench.     (it fills her with bitterness.)  She has nothing left to clean. Nothing else to be rid of.     Nothing left to take home-- the last small box of belongings have already been placed,   tucked away in the trunk of her ride,       the third one there. It was all she had. All she was willing to take.    Three small boxes............ Blackwatch had been her family. These laboratories had served their purpose,            & had been, dare she say, a   h o m e.                              & now?   The lights turn off, drowning the haunting sight in inky blackness.  Moira O’Deorain cannot bear to think about it--  cannot bear to see the remnants of the place she had felt, perhaps, truly welcome in a long while. Another home stolen away. Another chance at true success & acceptance stripped from her hands. Venice, & the events that transpired,  had taken everything from her.    The scowl upon her face is cold, & set, & determined not to break----  (& then she turns.)           & she sees    h i m. Jack Morrison. In the flesh. (She can’t help but stiffen.) Her hand, disfigured, rotting, stays rested on the doorway. Her eyes are locked upon his,     her expression venom. & when she speaks, the poison is not hidden.           “Morrison,      come to personally escort me out, have you?         Shouldn’t have bothered. I was already on my way.”

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 Do you have a taste         for the morally ambiguous,            & those of the unethical variety?   feel free to give this post a quaint little REBLOG if you are interested     in interacting with an INDIE, MUTUALS-ONLY         MOIRA O’DEORAIN from OVERWATCH. 

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@goesonrising  ❤︎ for a starter

Times were getting hard,       seasons changing too soon--    It had all the scientists  b u z z i n g, she knows,   worrying that something larger was at play,    that something world-shattering would be on its way.   Interesting though it was, for the Geneticist, it mattered little.  They did not bother to ask her what her own opinions on such things were,    & so she did not give them.  Besides, the smaller people like them deserved not to hear the thoughts    of a woman like she.   Meetings ran long & Dr. O’Deroain sat through each of them, patient,     still & cool & silent through all the scurrying & worrying, until at last all were dismissed. The day was at its close. There was no work left to be done.    & so, the tall woman goes, collects her paperwork, her bag,    & leaves---  She did not anticipate the woman on the sidewalk    as she walked to her car,  nor did she anticipate bumping into her. Though perhaps the latter was because the scientist was not looking at where she was going, focusing on pulling car keys from her bag--  The impact comes quick, & Moira stumbles,      catches her balance but loses the things in her hands. The bag falls,   the keys drop, & paperwork  s c a t t e r s,     & as all does so, Moira curses.    A cruel look is shot at the other as she stoops,  moving to pick up the research notes she fears might be damaged--   (her shoulders are tense. Her lips are pursed. & when she speaks, it’s with Irish velvet, twisted with coldness--)  “Is it a habit of yours?      Standing outside busy facilities                & idling about?”

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Hey! I have am overwatch sideblog (@jesuispurple) and I was wondering if it is okay if I follow you?

Hey there!! Yes, yes yes, of course it’s okay if you follow me!Whether or not you have a muse or sideblog with a character from Overwatch, you are always free to follow me. I have always been open to interacting with muses outside of my muse’s source material, & have no intention of changing that. That being said, I don’t mind personals following, either, as long as they do not reblog my threads with other people. Me saying I am highly selective only means I am very picky-choosey with who I follow back & what threads/muses I gravitate toward. If that makes sense??But yeah!! Feel free to follow– I have no qualms with it. :)@theveryfirst

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 Do you have a taste         for the morally ambiguous,            & those of the unethical variety?   feel free to give this post a quaint little REBLOG if you are interested     in interacting with an INDIE, MUTUALS-ONLY         MOIRA O’DEORAIN from OVERWATCH. 

[gxnxticist-blog]

@massiif  ❤︎ for a starter

 The dropship shakes,      trembles with momentary turbulence,  that jostles gear & tired soldiers,      & The Geneticist, as she sits next to the big man.   The mission had been a relative success, & much as Moira hated doing field work,      it was exhilarating to be a part of the action,         to offer healing to her allies,    to suck the life out of her enemies until they were nothing but husks.  Their target was eliminated. Their troupes were, for the most part, alive.     & the data had been pulled effortlessly, as it always was.  In & out, no questions asked, enough lives taken.  It was, however, the big man she found herself most entranced with--  a brute, unlike any other she had seen on the battlefield.     She figured him a weapon, even, something barely human,   for all the fighting & struggling & slaughtering he had done.  (Her eyes flicker over to him, stare up at him, even as she cranes her neck,) & somewhere deep within that gaze of hers bubbles up    a crazed sort of    h u n g e r.  (Like she longs to tear him apart & learn how every bit of him functions.) “Mauga,”   When she finally speaks, it’s with a coolness not uncommon to her tone.  It slinks out from within her,  & even though she’d been staring a moment before, Moira turns her face away,  finds something distant to focus on.  Her hands clasp in her lap. Her lips are pulled tight into a wicked smile. “You truly are a sight to behold, out there.        I had been reproachful when I was given this task of working with you,    but I see now that you are both a trustworthy ally & a formidable opponent.          How are you faring?”

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@miracleworkcr​  ❤︎ for a starter

Steady, long-fingered  hands hold    two steaming-hot mugs,  (as the Geneticist practically glides down the laboratory halls) on her way to make a   v i s i t a t i o n.    (Anxiety beats heavy in her chest),    for doesn’t she always get this way, when it comes to The Medic? Moira knows the coffee isn’t much, but it’s an excuse to see her. It’s an excuse to spend some time next to her, enjoying her company.     It’s only when she reaches the door to Angela Ziegler’s lab    does she realize that she has no free knuckles     to wrap against the door.   She stands, awkward, for a moment, swallowing hard,      before, gently, bumping the tip of her shoe against it--         thump           thump            thump --            “Dr. Ziegler?              I know it’s quite late, but I’ve brought you some coffee,                 ..............   if you’d like it.”

[gxnxticist-blog]

@harnessedtogether  ❤︎  for a starter

  The lab smells sickly-sweet,      the scent of dead air & old flame,    of lingering iodine & chlorine.   The walls, sterile & white, are dark against the dimmed lights,   & reflect only the blue shimmer of the screen that is projected up,     up into the air.   Words, thousands of them, & pictures are on this screen. Pictures of formulas & mathematical components, & a file--      a file stolen from a government facility many years ago.       S U B J E C T    S I G M A.   Moira O’Deorain’s head turns     when she hears the door open, & when she feels the atmosphere change,      prickling the hairs on the back of her neck,  she cannot suppress a shudder of discomfort-- & anticipation.  ( It was her visitor, after all,  who was her most interesting subject yet. )   “Sigma--       so glad you could come.” Her voice is Irish velvet, purring out from between her lips as she turns,     as a disfigured right hand minimizes the hologram, as thin lips part into a smile  that bleeds wicked intent,         “Come, have a seat my friend.     & tell me   h o w   y o u    f e e l. “

[gxnxticist-blog]

  give this post a  ❤︎ if you would like a starter           (verse + length vary)

[gxnxticist-blog]

𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜                            [ home - rules - about ]                   &  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎

[gxnxticist-blog]

 Do you have a taste         for the morally ambiguous,            & those of the unethical variety?   feel free to give this post a quaint little REBLOG if you are interested     in interacting with an INDIE, MUTUALS-ONLY         MOIRA O’DEORAIN from OVERWATCH. 

[gxnxticist-blog]

  give this post a  ❤︎ if you would like a starter           (verse + length vary)

[gxnxticist-blog]

 Do you have a taste         for the morally ambiguous,            & those of the unethical variety?   feel free to give this post a quaint little REBLOG if you are interested     in interacting with an INDIE, MUTUALS-ONLY         MOIRA O’DEORAIN from OVERWATCH. 

[gxnxticist-blog]

𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜                            [ home - rules - about ]                   &  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎

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