#'Ms. O'Deorain?'

[minzapinza]

Character interactions in OW pre-game lobby are so funny because everyone is having a grand old time bantering but then there's Moira who kinda hates everyone's guts

[complementary-oxymorons]

MOIRAAAAAAAA

gets on all fours and barks like a dog

[tlacehualli]

"I heard that Dr. O'Deorain has joined the scientific collective of Oasis." Features strained, with words pressed through tense lips, hand tightly clutching the pot of coffee almost desperately as she poured it into two mugs — Former mentor and colleague's name felt akin to poison on her tongue, one tried to hide the bitterness, but probably without much success. She observes the two mugs for a second, face eventually scrunching up in lament. Without saying a word, she turns around and opens kitchen cabinet, reached for a bottle of something much stronger, promptly setting it down on kitchen counter along with two crystal shotglasses. With an elegant motion, she fills both glasses to the brim, muttering ' prost ' before quickly emptying the glass in one go, and just as quick refilling it. "Tell me, has that snake finally figured out how to shed that skin of hers?"

Sombra's expression turns grim at the mention of her - una demonia. She takes a swig of coffee with no sugar, no cream, nothing. Whether the scrunched up expression on her face is because of the bitterness, because of the mention, or a combination of both - not even she knows. "Si. Few days ago. Worst news I've heard in a fucking while. Clever old bitch."

She's really not the type to call women bitches when it isn't a joke, but when it comes to Moira, she means it. So when a shot is given to her, Sombra knocks it back before following up the bitterness of the alcohol with the bitterness of plain coffee. Her expression is dire; she finds no humor in this, as she processes multiple trains of thought and leans forward.

"I don't know how she was back then but when I was a kid, she was good enough to fool me. She has charisma when she chooses to." Her eyes darken at the reminder; Moira would ask her such innocuous questions, and Sombra, young, foolish, thought nothing of it. Now that she's older, she understands just how easy it is to play into a role another has assigned to you. Just don't act out of turn, play the part.

"That's gonna be a real problem for us." The hacker reaches out for the sugar shaker and carefully shakes some into her coffee - Angie's sugar shaker was a little weird in the way it would release nothing at all or every inch of it's contents at once, as she once learned to her detriment. She takes a spoon and swirls the liquid around a little; the coffee is hot, so the sugar melts quickly.

"I still say we do it quiet-like. Make it look like something else. Most of those pendejos have no idea what she's capable of. What I'm capable of." Sombra isn't a killer - but for Moira, she would make an exception. Would feel no type of way if she had to explain the why of it to anybody. The quicker Moira was dead, the faster humanity at large would be safe. "But if you have any brilliant ideas, Ms. Genius, I'm all ears."

[angeltannis]

i finally, after avoiding it for 15 years, actually watched an episode of Yugioh GX and i can’t believe I’m saying this but I actually like Dr. Crowler as a character

[quick-drawn-a]

     @pilgrimms​ asked:            ↪ i’m sure this was a meme at some point

« stop fooling around! this is no time for games! » - from moira (i snooped ur tag hope thats fine quq)

          “C’mon, live a little — ”

     It’s said as both an offer and a suggestion — a woman as cynical and consistently DISMAL as her could use a little fun in her diet. Maybe if she experienced such a thing at least once in her lifetime she’d stay off his tail for more than TWO SECONDS —

     “We’re already sittin’ ducks waitin’ here anyhow.” he mumbles under his breath, a narrowed gaze shooting off into the trees of the dense forest as the gunslinger aims down the sights of Peacekeeper at another ripe fruit, swinging precariously in the wind before being knocked to the ground by the swift graze of a bullet.

          He finally turns to face the doctor, the handle of Peacekeeper extended out in an offering towards her. “Wanna give it a go?”

[astarlow]

Interactions you have with them

Characters: Tracer, Zarya, Sombra, D.Va, Brigitte, Mercy, Moira, Symmetra, Widowmaker, Sojourn Warning: None Word Count 417 A/n: Have you all seen the new trailer? I'm hyped up for what they have in store, especially the PVE. And the Junker Queen is magnificent

Teammates

Y/n: Ready to kick some asses Tracer? Tracer: Aye, aye love!

Y/n: Zarya! Hit the gym with me once in a while! Zarya: Hahaha, alright. I expect you to give your all!

Sombra: You should totally join Talon, we could use someone like you. And I'd love to chat with you Y/n: If you're the one asking then I might be considering your offer hehe. D.Va: You should totally take a look at my MEKA when you can Y/n! I've heard great things about your work! Y/n: I'm flattered by your words. I will whenever you want to! Y/n: Brigitte! When are you letting me see your pets? It's been years since you've promised me! Brigitte: Hehehe, sorry Y/n. I'm not often home. This Christmas though, I'll be sure to invite you! Y/n: That's good to hear!

Y/n: Finally picking your weapon back? Sojourn: I guess. A new adventure is awaiting us after all.

Partners/Love Interest

Mercy: Please, be careful out there Y/n: You'll be here to patch me up anyway, right? Heroes never die after all.

Tracer: Let’s wrap this up and go home, right love? Y/n: Safe and sound! You say it!

Y/n: Any groundbreaking discovery made lately Moira? Moira: Science cannot be rushed, but if you'd provided your body to me, maybe I would Y/n: Hahaha! I'll have to consider it then if it comes from you

Enemies

Widowmaker: What a shame  to be put in the same team as you Y/n: Come on, I  could teach you a few tricks in no time! Widowmaker: Teach me something? In  your dreams

Y/n: Those are strange and quite shady experiments you're conducting Ms O'Deorain Moira: In the eyes of a fool certainly.

Y/n: Care to share information with me Pharah? Pharah: When you'll be in jail Y/n: This isn't quite how I imagined it haha

Symmetra: To have your talents wasted in Overwatch is truly heartbreaking Y/n: If you'd only see what Vishkar is hiding from you, maybe your stance would change. Symmetra: Maybe you're the one covered in lies given to you by Overwatch Y/n: I guess things like these can't be rushed

Y/n: You're only delaying the inevitable. Overwatch will fall once again and you'll be here to witness it, just like old times, what a bittersweet ending to go through it again. Mercy: The only fall we will witness is your downfall Y/n: I wouldn’t be so sure about that

[iwouldfuckblackwatch]

i saw a tag on an ao3 fic that said "ms o'deorain please carve me up like a christmas ham" and i have no clue what that implies but i'd sure as hell let her do it to me anyway

[sturmfreition]

@nochtsisin asked: ' what an interesting little bird you've got there; a cardinalis cardinalis, northern cardinal, if i'm not mistaken though one of an unusual coloration . . . '

Ganymede gave a small beep accompanied by the minor head tilt in response as if he understood the direction of topic was on him. In an almost imitating manor Bastion gave the scientist a curious beep. The robot hadn’t learned from books of the true name to birds, simply observed enough of them to understand that it’s companion had been strange, but similar to other birds in beak shape, wing length and other characteristics. 

“Bee bee bweep” The tone of the robots chirps raised in an almost cheery simulation followed by smaller chirps from the bird in question, their speech showing that the two communicated together in response to Ms. O'Deorain, however their words lost in obvious translation. The robot brought its hand up between them and gestured towards her eyes, clearing up that it was expressing her own uniqueness. “Breeep Bwee Bee” The tones and chirps stayed in a higher tone.

[ask-team-talon]

Moira, do you pity Satya at all for being so disillusioned by Vishkar and their shady behavior. She could do so much more with her talents. Or is trying to get through to her like talking to a brick wall? It's amusing, I read someone online that referred to the two of you. "Ms. Vaswani truly believes she is a god, where Dr. O'Deorain is." Apologies for the ham-fisted flattery.

Moira: Vaswani doesn’t believe herself to be a god, at most she sees herself as a hand of the gods, bringing order to a chaotic world for the benefit of humanity.Moira: My personal and professional feelings are two differnet things. Professionally I feel we need to restore Satya’s loyalty as we have sway within Vishkar so if a skilled Architech like herself defects it threatens Vishkar’s monopoly and potential control of their cities and developments. personally, I do feel for Satya and I were I not invested in Talon’s grand plan I’d wish her the best finding her path. I see similarities between us, both skilled in our fields, both seeking the best for the world, both scorned by the bodies that oversee our work. If Sanjay ever intends to bring her into the fold I’d take her under my wing

[muushbi]

Ms. O'deorain

[nitewrighter]

What does Grandpa Reinhardt think of this odd little scene of dips being palyed out by Ms Shimada and Mr O'Deorain? Does he find it amusing?

(In regards to this ask)

Reinhardt: Your problem is, you treat the dance like a problem to be solved, and by extension, Rei. There is precision, yes, there is technique, but there must be connection, mutual interest.

Aedan: *bitterly* Your best dance partner is a bloody hammer.

Reinhardt: And what a dance partner she is! *puts a hand on Aedan’s head and gently turns him to look at Rei* You look at her, do you see a flower?

Aedan: *muttering* I see a dragon in a dress.

Reinhardt: There’s a start! *pats Aedan’s shoulder* Not a flower, but a force of nature! Fire! Wind and lightning! Something you can never hope to control, only to show the world in its awe-inspiring glory!

Aedan: *looks at Reinhardt like he’s crazy*

Reinhardt: *shrug* Just a suggestion.

[deathtouch]

⋆ femfeb day 2 // my femfeb masterpost ⋆ xposted to ao3 ⋆ moira / symmetra // 2k // explicit ⋆ alternate universe, demon symmetra, occult, demon summoning, demon sex, oral sex ⋆ moira attempts to summon a demon

From Light Into Being

Moira checked her pocket watch in a manner that would appear to others as anxious. She wasn’t anxious. She was simply tight on time. There was a difference. She had no reaction at all to the position of the minute hand, but she certainly didn’t like it’s placement. She glanced around the jewelry store again.

It was a lovely place, really. The walls and cases were all a deep, rich wood stained a color so dark it almost seemed black. The lighting was low and the scent of the shop was earthy. This particular jewelry store had been in the same spot for a hundred years. The business had been passed down from family member to family member. The building was steeped in history. She would have liked it better if she didn’t have to deal with another setback every time she came here. Moira took a quick breath, approaching the clerk who was standing behind a case full of diamond necklaces. “Could you just tell your boss-“ “He’ll see you when he’s ready.” The clerk replied. She was a pretty girl with a beautiful cupid’s bow of a mouth. Moira had thought her quite appealing the first time she’d come in here. In the dozen or so times since that first meeting, the clerk had grown less friendly and less prone to smiling. Somehow she didn’t seem as cute anymore. Thankfully at that exact moment, the jeweler emerged from the back of the shop. He was an older man with strong fingers and a slight stoop to his back. He wore thick framed glasses and clipped to them were a set of magnifying glasses. He walked over to the two of them, hand cupped to hold what he’d been working on. “They’re all done then?” Moira asked, a touch of hopefulness in her voice. “Yes, they’re finished,” He said warily. He’d been working on them for weeks. “Cut to the exact specifications I asked?” She pressed. “Yes, Ms. O'deorain. The exact specifications.” “Because even a millimeter off and-“ “They won’t work.” He finished the sentence for her. Yes, yes. He’d heard this a hundred times by now. “And what exactly are you needing them for?” Moira straightened, lips pursing into a tight line. She didn’t like that he kept asking. It’s not like she could tell him the truth. He wouldn’t believe it for one thing, and if he did he wouldn’t be too pleased to know what he was complicit in. “Just so long as they’re accurate,” She said after a long pause. The jeweler extended his hand, passing along the precisely cut prisms of topaz, diamond, garnet, hematite, onyx, obsidian, quartz, sapphire, tanzanite, and zircon. Some of the stones were worth more than others, but it wasn’t the cost that mattered. It was the cut. They needed to be precise; they needed to be perfect. The Goddess only responded to perfection. Moira appraised them in her hand. The bright colors stood out against the pale skin of her palm. They seemed right. The shape matched the drawings and sketches in her gramarye. It had taken months to collect stones big enough, and to find the right jeweler to cut them. All that time and effort whittled down to a handful of colored rocks. “Thank you,” She replied sincerely, producing a small drawstring pouch from her breast pocket to rest the stones in. She paid the man in cash, a fat stack of bank notes wrapped in a band. She had plenty of money to spare and left the jeweler a hefty tip for his fine craftsmanship. +++

The sky was dark overhead, flickering with lightening and rumbling low with thunder. Gusts of warm wind swirled the brittle brown leaves on the ground. Moira found her ginger hair and the lapels of her jacket fluttering in the wind. The incoming storm was a good sign. There was energy and electricity crackling all around her. It would suit the summoning ceremony nicely.

She went over everything again in her head as she walked, recounting the instructions for the ritual. She knew them all by heart. The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement, sidewalk passing underfoot as she hurried back to her apartment. It was only a temporary living space. She’d really only rented it because of the proportion of the room. It had taken her a long time to find the right place to conduct the ritual. She needed a perfectly square room, equal on all four sides.

She must have visited over a thousand apartment buildings, homes, hotels, hostels, and hovels in the city before she found the right one. She’d gotten down on her hands and knees and measured the baseboards with a tape measure. Often times rooms were off by centimeters. That just wouldn’t do. The apartment she finally found wasn’t in the nicest part of town but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the perfect proportions.

“Moira?”

Moira glanced up from the sidewalk, breaking away from her thoughts.

“Moira O'deorain, is that you?” To Moira’s surprise, an old colleague of hers crossed the narrow street to greet her. Angela Zeigler. They’d gone to school together a long time ago. She didn’t look much different, in fact she looked positively the same. Her light blonde hair was still done up in that insufferable messy hairstyle she seemed to think was casual and cute. Her modest clothing, a turtleneck sweater and an ugly brown pencil skirt, made her look like someone’s mother. “Mercy,” Moira greeted, somewhat unkindly. “Oh goodness, no one’s called me that in ages.” Angela laughed. It was an old nickname from their medical school days. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to catch up another time. I’m on my way and I’m in a hurry.” Moira told her plainly. “Moira,” Angela reached out to clutch her by the arm and stop her going. “Are you alright? You look a little…” Her voice trailed off. Moira stared down at her, filling in the blank with her own words. Rushed? Yes, she was rushed. She needed to begin the ritual soon. It was so close to sunset. The sooner she got home the sooner she could set up. She couldn’t stand around chatting all night. That wasn’t what Angela was thinking though. Moira realized then that Angela didn’t look concerned. She looked frightened. Moira could see it in her pale blue eyes. There was fear in there. “Look a little what?” Moira asked suddenly, wanting to know the answer. Dark? Dangerous? Powerful? Does what you see scare you, little Mercy? Are you remembering all the rumors back at school about the meddling I’ve done with dark forces. Satan worship they called it, the imbeciles. Moira didn’t say any of this out loud but she wanted to. She was tempted to. “No, it’s nothing.” Angela forced a smile and stepped back. “Sorry to have bothered you. It was nice to see you.” Moira hurried on her way, barely listening to the niceties Angela muttered behind her. +++

Moira stopped at the top of the staircase, laying eyes on her apartment door. Her heart was beating a little quicker in her chest and she had to tell herself it was from rushing up those four flights of stairs. As she reached out with the key to unlock the door she found her hand was trembling, just a little. She stopped to steady herself, drawing in one deep breath after another. There was no need to be nervous. She wasn’t nervous. She just wanted this to go right. It pained her to imagine what might happen if she messed up the ritual. The Goddess might be angry. She might come bringing pain and death. Moira found that she wasn’t scared of dying. What worried her was the idea that The Goddess might not come at all. That had happened to others. Others who had done the summoning ritual perfectly. The Goddess simply hadn’t been interested in appearing for them. “Not me,” Moira told herself. “I’ll summon her.” She unlocked the door with a click and pushed it open. The room was precisely how she had left it; nearly empty. It was a blank slate of a room to begin with. She hadn’t moved any furniture in. The only thing she’d brought to adorn the place were candles and dried flowers. Purple irises, yellow daffodils and pale gladioluses. The candles, free of scent and white in color, and the dried flowers were both elements required for the ritual. The most important part, however, was the sigil Moira had carved into the hard wood floors. The sigil was almost as big as the room itself. It was a painstakingly intricate piece of work containing circles inside circles, shapes, symbols, runes, and interconnecting lines and curves that crossed one another a thousand times over. It had taken her a week’s worth of endless toiling to complete. It wasn’t good enough to simply make the impression of the sigil, she had to get it exact. Perfect circles, perfect angles, perfect shapes. She’d used protractors and rulers, checking and double checking her work. If one line was off by a centimeter, if one circle wasn’t exact in its circumference The Goddess would not come. Moira took a deep breath, stepping into the large sigil. She produced the drawstring bag of jewels from her pocket and emptied them into her hand. She knew the sigil by heart. She knew which gem went where. She got down to her hands and knees, finding the crevices she had carved into the wooden floor. She placed each gem in its carved slot, adoring the sigil with small twinkles of sparkling color. When she was finished she sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead. The gems were evenly dispersed around the outer circle. She hoped this offering of beauty would please The Goddess immensely. Moira checked her pocket watch, noting that it was almost exactly sunset. She need only light the candles and begin the prayer. +++

Moira’s tongue felt thick and dry. Her voice was raspy and cracking from the chanting. She repeated the words of the prayer again and again, a kind of musical cadence to them. She’d said them so much they were no longer words in her head, just noises. It didn’t even feel like she was speaking them anymore. She was so entranced, her lips and tongue were moving by rote. Her voice was not her own to control. Her body overrode, acting compulsively. She couldn’t mess up now, couldn’t deviate, couldn’t stop. She had to keep going, keep repeating until The Goddess arrived. Her knees ached from kneeling on the hard floor. The room had grown hot, unbearably hot, as she chanted. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been kneeling here repeating the words. She only knew that she had to continue. Sweat prickled all over her body, beading on her forehead. She didn’t think of it. She repeated the words, willing her desires into being. Perfection, she thought as she chanted. Come to me, please, Goddess. I’ve done it all perfectly for you. The air burned her lungs as she drew in breath. It was so hot in here. Though she was uncomfortable, sweating through her clothes and desperate for water, she didn’t have room for those thoughts in her head. Perfection, she thought again. It’s all perfect. It’s all for you. A crackling sound nearly made her miss a beat in her chant. The sounds of distant thunder had been rumbling in the background all night but now it sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit the floor in front of her. She opened her eyes, not knowing when she’d close them. Her eyes watered from how hot it was. Heat waves shimmered in front of her. She squinted painfully, noticing something was falling from the ceiling. Her chanting quieted but continued as she looked up. Ash. Ash was falling down, and flakes of something smoldering with the spark of fire. Her heart leapt in her chest. Before her The Goddess appeared, a shimmering mirage. She was molten like magma, a burning heat radiating from her chest. Her eyes were bright, white hot beacons. Dark horns curled back from her head. Her skin was a breathtaking mottling of black purple and burning orange and bright white gold. She was so much more beautiful than Moira ever could have imagined. “Symmetra,” She whispered The Goddess’s name, bowing before the demon. “I’m honored.” Moira didn’t even have time to be proud of her accomplishment and the fact that she’d actually done it. She was too busy being in awe. She had summoned other demons before, but never one so powerful as this. Never one she had such reverence for. “You called?” Symmetra mused in a dark voice, heat radiating from her body. “I beg of you,” Moira whispered, “Bestow upon me your knowledge.” “You must please me first.” Symmetra told her. Moira looked up, not daring to look The Goddess in the eye. Instead she stared at her cloven feet. “Does the sigil not please you?” She asked, confused. She must have done it right or else The Goddess would not be here. What more could she offer? The flowers? The candles? “You’ve done fine work with your hands.” Symmetra replied. “Now show me what your tongue can do.” Moira gasped softly, the realization flooding through her. Again her heart leapt in her chest. Yes. Oh, yes. She never dreamed she would be worthy enough to touch The Goddess, let alone use her mouth. The privilege was not lost on Moira what-so-ever. She crawled, hand and knee to the demon’s feet and sat back. She raised her hand to part Symmetra’s skirts and found that this time her hands were not trembling. Though it burned her to be so near the molten skin of The Goddess, this did not stop Moira. She buried her face between the thighs of the demon and licked at her folds hungrily. She felt like she was licking hot fire. A sharp taste burned her tongue. It was delicious. She licked for more. She put an unmatched enthusiasm into the task, her own body alight with pleasure. She couldn’t believe this. To taste the sweet juices of The Goddess, Symmetra. How could she be so lucky? Pleasure thrummed through her own body. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She got lost in the task, the same way she had gotten lost in her chanting. Her tongue worked tirelessly, attempting to please The Goddess with all she was worth. The heat intensified around her, becoming insufferable. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. Blackness washed over her and even in her last waking moments she gave her all to satisfy the demon. When she came to, Moira was dusted with ash. Her lips and tongue tingled in pain. She was sprawled in the center of the sigil. Crisp flurries, alight with fading fire still floated down from the ceiling. She pushed herself to sit up, trying to get her bearings. In the dark she saw a pair of bright yellow eyes, burning intensely. Moira stiffened immediately, suddenly aware that she was still in the presence of The Goddess. “Thank you,” She whispered hoarsely, offering her appreciation. She was at a loss for words for a moment. “Have I pleased you, Symmetra? Will you bestow upon me your knowledge?” The demon shifted, stepping forward. Her chest began to glow yellow. The room grew hot once more. She came closer and closer, crossing into the sigil to where Moira lay. A terrible energy clouded her, something dark and dangerous and powerful. Something Moira ached to have. For a moment she was sure The Goddess was approaching her to kill her, to rip her throat out, to devour her whole. She accepted her impending death. Instead, Symmetra bent at the waist. “From light into being.” She said calmly, as if these words held all the answers of the universe. She reached out, tapping a finger to Moira’s head. The world cut out. +++

Moira woke with a choked cough like a woman drowning. She turned on her side, coughing and hacking miserably. Her head was burning, a massive migraine making her nauseous. She tried to remember what had happened but it was all a mess, bits and pieces coming back to her in chopped and screwed memories. She could barely even remember what The Goddess looked like. Only those burning eyes and the seam of hot lava that ran down her chest. The candles had burned down to nubs and the room was in darkness. In the slim light she could see that the dried flowers had shriveled to brittle brown clumps. The gems in the floor did not sparkle, they were dull and sad. She reached for the nearest one and found it was cracked in two. She held it in her palm, staring at it as if it held some answer. A corner of the garnet prism caught some light source and it sparkled, barely. Light. From light into being. Moira gasped, choking again. Her head pulsed with pain but she remembered. She remembered. She remembered everything Symmetra had shown her. The intricacies of the universe and all that it had to offer. How she need only bend the light to make it hers. The broken gem clattered from her hand as she began to make the motions she had learned. A soft wave, a pinch of her fingers. It took all her energy but a soft blue light blossomed in her palm. A new gem formed, perfectly shaped and whole. Tears sprung unbidden into Moira’s eyes. She laughed. She’d done it. She’d called upon The Goddess and gained her knowledge. She felt more powerful now than ever before.