SCIENCE WILL REVEAL THE TRUTH

For the first time your right arm becomes useful As you sin with it you want to cut it off But instead you thank God for all of the wrong you do +++ P R I V A T E + S E L E C T I V E MOIRA O'DEORAIN from O V E R W A T C H canon divergent

[uilechumhachtach]

(Wakes up from a three-month-long, unintentionally self-induced coma.)

“Hm. Fascinating.”

[uilechumhachtach]

{ @fromtheshadcws​ liked for a starter }

“You look unwell- tell me what you’re feeling. Inaction could quickly turn catastrophic for you if something is wrong.”

[uilechumhachtach]

{ @wachter--engel​ liked for a starter }

Moira makes a face-- the twisted expression of a woman who took a sip out of the wrong cup of coffee.

“Oh-- Dia. What is this? It’s revolting.”

[uilechumhachtach]

{ @greenxscarves liked for a starter }

“If you’re here to get something looked at, you’ll want Doctor Ziegler. I’m a little preoccupied to be dealing with...” She looks over her briefly. “Whatever it is you need.”

[uilechumhachtach]

unbreakingthoughquaking‌:

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Olivia chuckles softly in response. Moira is a woman after her own heart, that’s for sure; the two women were relentlessly dedicated to their work, and if there was anything Liv respects, it’s a woman who knows her way around a laboratory.

Eyebrows raise, interest piqued, as the taller woman hook an arm in hers and begins to lead the pair towards her lab. Subtly was not something Moira tended to be entirely proficient at; at least- not when it comes to the more… personal side of things. She tended to be very straightforward and, again, that’s something Liv respects in a woman.

“I thought you might be a little more interested in the cellular decay.” The hand hooked around Moira’s arm gives the other woman a soft pat. “But if you’d rather be alone, this can wait.”

“Science never waits, Doctor Octavius.”

Normally she would chide someone for the suggestion, there’s an edge of playfulness to it with Liv. Although, Moira is completely serious. Science is constantly moving, growing, changing... cellular decay is especially aggressive and can mutate quickly. Missing these early stages could prove detrimental to further study-- as much as she would like to spend more time with the Doctor, duty calls. Moira would be beside herself if she didn’t put the proper time and care into her work.

“Perhaps after,” she continues until they come upon Liv’s lab. “Though it depends on how long this will take and what exactly you need me for. I get the impression you didn’t just call me here because it’s visually appealing.”

[uilechumhachtach]

enemigodetectado‌:

“There’s my girl!” 

The answer takes her somewhat by surprise, and Sombra practically beams at Moira as she relents, hooking an arm around the taller woman’s waist and giving her a- perhaps a little overenthusiastic- half hug.

A beat and Sombra remembers herself, and she withdraws the arm with a bashful shrug.

“…Please tell me you drink something besides whiskey.”

Overenthusiastic is certainly one word for it-- Sombra has always been particularly touchy, though more so as of recent. Moira tenses at the grip around her waist, exhaling sharply as the smaller woman squeezes her. Still, she doesn’t try to free herself or push away. Sombra leaves on her own.

Moira suppresses a smile; the whole thing is much more endearing on Sombra than it would be on anyone else.

“Of course I drink more than just whiskey,” she answers, vaguely offended at the implication. Of course... it’s not so much an implication if it’s true, she supposes. “I just have a preference. What exactly did you have in mind?”

[muggertime]

Buddy!

[uilechumhachtach]

mcnegasque‌:

@uilechumhachtach  liked this for a starter!

“Dr. O’Deorain… what exactly is that?” 

The Omnic seemed curious, yet repulsed all the same. Something within him was telling him that something- everything- about what the Doctor was showing him was simply wrong. 

“Relax-- it’s a plant.”

Always with a flair of the dramatic- him and everyone else associated with Talon, apparently. Moira removes her gloves, pushing the tangled mess toward him. A plant, though it bears little resemblance to one anymore. Misshapen, miscolored, with thick and matted pale green vines; it’s not necessarily attractive, though it is thriving, in its own right.

“I’ve been splicing. General experimentation, nothing too intricate. This one is only in its second week of observation, but it has made impressive strides, entirely unassisted.” She smiles at it, almost lovingly, running a thumb over one of its waxy leaves. “You should be impressed.”

[uilechumhachtach]

{ @unbreakingthoughquaking | continued }

Painted lips curl into a smirk as the question is posed at her and, in one smooth movement, Ashe unholsters her Viper and points the business end at the intruder.

❝ Awful bold question for someone in shootin’ range… ❞

Ashe whistles sharply and, from seemingly out of nowhere, the large, hulking form of her butler appears behind the woman. He’s prepared to grab Moira should she decide to make a break for it.

❝I’ll be askin’ the questions here, sugar, thank you very much. ❞

She looks the taller woman up and down, gun trained on her all the while.

❝ Now… How’d you get in here? What’re you after? ❞

Mismatched eyes look over the woman before her; Moira doesn’t flinch at the weapon pointed in her direction, nor the enormous omnic that appears behind her. Chuckling softly, she steeples her fingers in front of her chest.

“I have my ways- I wasn’t anticipating company, though.”

Casually, Moira avoids the second half of the question. Until she figures out exactly how much of a threat the other woman is, there’s no need to say more than necessary. Moira is not interested in a fight, least of all one with an omnic of this stature. While she considers herself adequate in combat, adequate was enough to get her killed under the wrong circumstances.

She pulls her eyes away from the woman, instead observing the marvelous creature behind her. Moira is not an expert on omnics by any means-- with no organic cellular structure, there hadn’t been ample opportunity to learn about them outside of acquaintanceships-- but she certainly hasn’t seen one like this. Especially not one traveling alongside what appears to be a single human.

“I’m not familiar with this model. Is he custom?”

[uilechumhachtach]

yes i am learning irish because of moira and yes i only know the answers to some of these because of her voice lines

[uilechumhachtach]

sends me url

{ Performance Review | accepting }

MY OPINION ON ≫

Character in general: of course this is on your multimuse lmao-- your current muses are some of my favorite characters from their respective universes! sora is my son, nick is disgusting and i love him, and you know i have a horrible gross crush on liv so. the only exception being ashe who i still have a weird relationship with! in a roleplay context i like her when she’s played well, it’s just blizzard’s character i tend to lean a little more negative lol.How they play them: ARIEL you. are like a sponge. you take any character, absorb them, and are able to capture their character SO exquisitely. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again- you are a master of characterization, tone, and character voice! your nick and ashe are especially spot on. i know playing an obscene amount of l4d probably helped, but it helps that you’re so good at understanding characters and their voices. also your dialogue is always so good and like reading your stuff is genuinely enjoyable experience EVERY timeThe Mun: so fucking talented, so sweet, i love you!!!

DO I ≫

RP with them: i consistently have like ten threads with you so uh. YEAHWant to RP with them: OF COURSE I DO we have benefits that other people don’t (yanno, knowing each other for nearly ten years and like. being married) and it just makes it SO easy and fun to rp with you and i will continue to do it until i die probably

WHAT IS MY ≫

Overall Opinion: i love you and you are so talented and i hope that eventually work stops eating up so much of your time so you can do as much as i know you want to!

[boysnsplinters-blog]

Send me your URL and I'll tell you

My Opinion on;

Character in general: How they play them: The Mun:

Do I:

RP with them: Want to RP with them: 

What is my;

Overall Opinion:

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[uilechumhachtach]

modernenmedizin‌:

“Eifersüchtig, ha!”

She repeats the word back, biting back the string of choice words that threatens to follow it. The nerve of the woman. To insinuate that her concern for Gabriel is anything more than just that makes her blood boil, and Angela clenches her fists into tightly wound balls. 

Moira would love for her to make a scene tight now, Angela is certain. She’d love for her to do or say something out of turn. Something- anything, for the geneticist to keep in her back pocket and throw in her face the moment the two disagree again. Ugh, she can hear them now. ‘How can you be expected to be in charge of the medical staff if you can’t keep your own disagreements with a colleague in check, Angela?’  Swallowing thickly, Ziegler collapses against the back of the rolling chair with another defeated huff, and rolls herself away from the other woman and back to her desk. 

“His blood will be on your hands, Moira- if it goes awry. But you’re not a stupid woman, you know what will happen to you if this- whatever it is, fails. “

Her tone is hollow- resigned almost, as she picks up the phone on her desk and begins to dial a number. She’ll see this as going over her head, or something equally as slighting, but she cannot- will not- in good conscience let this go on without bringing her concerns to someone’s attention.

“I will bring up my concerns with Reyes, and Commander Morrison as well. I have very little hope to stop what you two are doing, but I can at least bring this to the proper people’s attention.”

Moira can tell she’s struck a nerve- Angela’s relationship with Gabriel has teetered along the line of unprofessional for the better part of the last few years. But, of course, that’s none of her business. How backward it would be if Angela got a taste of her own medicine for once; someone’s nose in her business instead of the other way around. Moira bites back another comment, reminding herself that Gabriel’s matters are private. She already said more than enough.

She scoffs. “I don’t fail. And I don’t harbor guilt for people who come to me, explicitly, asking for my help. You act like I’m strapping the man down and forcing medicine down his throat. Your impression couldn’t be further from the truth.”

As she says it, she knows it’s like talking at a wall. People’s opinions on her are not so easily swayed- especially not Angela’s. The Doctor had sealed in her opinion of Moira that moment the geneticist didn’t bend a knee and kiss her shoes. 

Moira rolls her eyes, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Not the first time Angela took a complaint regarding her associate to Morrison, and likely not the last. What bratty behavior- God forbid she leave well enough alone.

“Please do. Relay the message you receive back to me, I’m dying to hear how I may be reprimanded for doing my job.”

[uilechumhachtach]

Moira, casually over coffee: I mean, you drop acid one time and suddenly you’re “morally reprehensible” and a “bad doctor”. 

[violentnonretirement]

uilechumhachtach replied to your post: Jack is 6′1 and towers over all y’all

Moira: *interacts*

this is why u got fired from Overwatch

[uilechumhachtach]

Because I threatened your masculinity? Could I get that in writing, Commander?

[uilechumhachtach]

💀 💀 💀

{ If I must die, I would prefer it to be at your hand. | tentatively accepting }

Crossing a line was an inevitability.

Moira accepted this some time ago- there was no reward without risk. The risk, in this case, tangling her already sullied name with the likes of Talon. From the start she walked a tightrope; already frayed and worn, practically begging to snap under the weight of each step. Moira was light on her feet, but as always, there was someone waiting beneath her with a pair of scissors, waiting for the ideal moment to-

Snip.

Behind her, Widowmaker cuts the zip ties from Moira’s bloodied wrists. She’s not sure what this is- perhaps an act of compassion, although Moira finds it difficult to fully believe that, given her current state. They’d been at it for some time, with little success. The Spider couldn’t have possibly known better- as Moira had told Akande time and time again, she wasn’t made for recon. Nor torture, nor retrieving information, nor dealing with interpersonal matters. Only for the kill. But he never was a good listener, and Moira herself had never really made the effort to make the Widow aware of her penchant for secrecy.

In fact, she may have given her the wrong impression entirely. A foolish mistake on Moira’s part.

Now, frustration is knotted in the Widow’s brow. Perhaps she had wished for an easy mission- for the Doctor to divulge all of her secrets and allow the assassin a swift, merciful kill. Something that would be less painful for both of them. Unfortunately, Moira seldom took the easy road.

“I have nothing else to say,” Moira mumbles, her head bobbing forward. At once the Spider crouches before her, grabbing her face with both hands. There is a desperation that glints in her eyes– she doesn’t want to be here. Cruel to have to murder someone you love. To do it again- that’s torment.

“There must be something,” she says, an edge of pleading in her voice. What drives it is hard to tell- passion, or duty? They both knew which it was supposed to be, but the brain was a strange and fickle beast. No amount of conditioning and surgery and medicine could change that. Especially when Moira had made certain to not do her best work on ‎Amélie. “He will not kill you if-”

“He will not kill me regardless.” Moira coughs, blood dribbling down her chin. The fog is making it difficult to think clearly. “You will.”

Silence falls between the two women. They both know that this is a fact. No matter the outcome of this conversation, it will end with Widowmaker taking her Doctor’s life. It is what she has been instructed to do, and it is what she will do. But there is unsteadiness in her grasp and depth in her eyes that shows resistance. A good sign. Not ideal, considering the circumstances- Moira would very much prefer to stay alive. There is still so much work left to do. But she helped program the woman before her, and she knows better than anyone that she will see the mission through to the end. As per usual, Moira’s luck runs short- there is no scenario where she leaves this room alive. She would laugh if she thought her body would allow it. But she is exhausted and struggling to maintain consciousness as it is.

“‎Amélie,” she continues, voice hoarse. The Widow’s eyes widen, pained, but attentive. “There is a box for you. Gare du Nord- you will need to trust your intuition to find it.”

“Intuition. I can’t-”

“You can and you will. Do you trust me?”

A long silence once more. Widowmaker releases Moira’s face, drawing a blade from the table beside them. She stares at it, observing her own misshapen reflection in the metal. “What is in it? The box?”

“Something to help you remember.”

Widowmaker turns the blade over in her palm, caked with dried blood. Her eyes are glazed over now, lost in thought. “…I trust you.”

Leaning forward, Moira draws a shaky breath and rests her head against ‎Amélie’s shoulder. ‎Amélie– she would have liked to see her perform, just once. But there would always be regrets. Unfinished work. Unspoken words. Such was the folly of human nature, she supposes.

“Then finish your mission.”

Widowmaker shifts slightly beneath her, the room quiet for all but the creaking of a floorboard. In her gaunt, miscolored hand, she turns the blade once more, gripping the handle until her knuckles turn white. Nothing but a weapon– she plunges the blade into Moira three times, quick succession. It’s cathartic, in a way, and agonizing all the same; Moira’s hands reach up to grab Widow’s arms, and they hold on for a moment, nails pressed into muted flesh- but the woman was already hanging on by a thread. Hands slip off, dangling by her side. Widowmaker remains still for a long time, unmoving, ears trained to the rhythmic pattering of blood dripping against the wood floor.

“Gare du Nord,” she repeats, voice barely more than a whisper. Delicately, she touches Moira’s arm with the tips of her fingers, withdrawing the blade from her body. “Jusqu'à la prochaine fois.”

[descanseenpaz]

                                                   … I still got a purpose to serve

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