boltheal-blog - Tumblr blog

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i finally designed my oc’s look for when he’s younger and uhhhh he’s cute 

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Trick or Treat! 🎃

Send ‘Trick or Treat!  🎃’ for a moodboard // accepting

                                   //  Niccolò “Nic” Moretti //

             “ The ocean knows not of wrongs, just the gentle sway of her blue “

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zundkerze‌:

“ Oh my God, gramps, live a little. “ 

@boltheal​

“I think I’d rather not accidentally electrocute myself, actually.”

He looks a little  — haha  — shocked at her words.

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me: haha nic would look cute with earrings! moments later: his main weapon uses electricity that’s a terrible idea

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"it’s so rare that we’re actually given the opportunity to be honest about everything. we might as well try it once and see if we like it." (^:

critical role starters | accepting

“I give you the opportunity to be honest each time I open my door for you, Harold.” Niccolò says, his mustache twitching with a tension that is otherwise unexpressed. “I would appreciate the entire truth at some point with you.”

Silence, for several moments. 

“It is, however, entirely up to you when you choose to indulge me in that.”

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mekabound‌:

      Hana remains silent while Niccolò speaks, toying with her hands and picking at the cuticles around her nails. Huh. She hadn’t ever really thought of it like that, if she’s being honest with herself, and this whole thing makes her want to squirm. She isn’t used to people listening to her vents and picking them apart, dissecting them and laying them out for all to see. Most of them just console her, pat her back, and they both move on, pretending she hadn’t put on a display of vulnerability.

     She isn’t sure how to react to this.

      “If I’m really all that,” she finally says, mulling over Niccolò’s words, rolling them around in her head, “Why don’t I believe it? If I’m so great, why do I feel so… Fake? Don’t great people usually know they’re great people?” Hana doesn’t like this, she feels exposed. It’s uncomfortable at best, stripping herself bare down to the bone, bringing her walls down and setting her emotions before her. She’d almost prefer going back to suffering in silence. She knows how to suffer, knows how to bear that weight. It’s all she’s familiar with at this point, all she has left of her life back home.

     At the same time, though, there’s something about the way Niccolò lays it all out that makes her want to open up more. It’s a ridiculous notion, a ridiculous feeling; she’s fine. She doesn’t need a therapist, she doesn’t need someone with full access to everything going on in her head. She just needs to sort herself out and move on.

     Something Niccolò says suddenly clicks into place, and Hana finds herself swallowing against a knot in her throat. We are in this world to be real, not perfect. Now that’s definitely a ridiculous notion if she ever saw one. “It’s not that easy for me,” she mutters, voice a tad bit bitter. “I have to be perfect, I don’t have any other choice. Anything less than perfect gets people — innocent people — killed. I can’t afford to be human. ‘Human’ can’t stop the Gwishin. They don’t give me room to make a mistake.”

     But the Gwishin aren’t here right now, her own voice says back at her. It’s true; she’s all the way on the other side of the continent. The Gwishin can’t get to her here — and she can’t get to them. If — when — they come back, Hana won’t get there in time. She should go back. Sure, the pressure had nearly broken her, and she felt that if she stood in that tiny room for a second longer, she would suffocate, but… Better her than her people, right? 

He can see just by the look on her face that Hana is struggling within her thoughts. Niccolò keeps his composure, sits with a calm smile and hands folded into each other. The datapad beside him clicks off into idle mode, a pale blue flashing against the table as a screensaver. He glances at it only for a moment before speaking again.

"The greatest people do not know how good they are. Look at everyone around you, all the heroes - nobody here sees themselves the same way that the rest of the world sees them. And they are not fake in any way, and neither are you.”

He gives her a moment to think it over, hopes she considers his words well. 

“We are all human, here - give or take a few of our more metallic friends throughout Overwatch, but we all still must concede to the fact that we are not some heroic ideal. A mistake can be costly, sure, but that’s why we all have each other. To pick each other up, to help collect the pieces when we do slip up. Perfection is an impossible goal, and one that adds unecessary anxiety when we have others around us to support us.”

He looks over at his gear, the gauntlets laid out across one of the countertops, the coat hung up on the hook near the door. Tattered, battle-worn, he’s seen far too many front lines than he’d like, but he’d always been able to be there as a support for his teammates, helping someone up off the ground or protecting an injured civilian with his shields. There’s one memory in particular he’s suddenly reminded of that makes him take a quick, sharp intake of breath. The first Crisis hadn’t been kind to him, nor was it kind to so many others.

He’d once had thoughts much like her - and it had caused so much distress, so much anxiety when he’d failed to save people. Shaking the memory from his mind, Niccolò clears his throat to continue.

“We rely on our teammates to help us when we need it most. To fill in the gaps where we are lacking, and together, we cannot be perfect, but we can be close enough.” He says, his expression turned serious - but his voice is so soft, so gentle. “Humans do many things. In fact, we do the impossible every day. And each person relies on their friends and fellows to help them achieve their goals, whether that be getting up from bed in the morning or saving a hundred people. And that’s enough, at the end of the day. I hope you understand that simply existing and fighting for those you love and care for is so much more than enough. And that you’ll always have people to lean on.”

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Today I’ve learnt that there’s a word in italian (”solare”) to describe a person who brights the room, who is warm and good and cheerful and worries about others and I think is so cute??? I love it

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happier | marshmello, bastile

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so if anyone is curious about what nic's voice sounds like just think of chiron from the percy jackson musical

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Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

Kurt Vonnegut

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❝ … I really hate the awkward silence in elevators, you know? ❞

first interactions | accepting!!

“Oh, me too. Elevators should have - something. Something to do. Trivia games?” Niccolò taps his chin, brows knit together in thought. Now, he hadn’t thought the elevator ride to be quite so awkward this time around, but then again…

They’d both been completely silent from the moment they’d stepped inside. 

“Sorry, sorry, I thought that would lighten the mood, Doctor Ziegler. You’re, ah, headed to the medical wing as well, yes?” So much younger than him, and yet here he was, getting nervous around her! He had a lot to be nervous about, though - Angela had accomplished so much in so little time, was a beacon of kindness and grace among her colleagues, had invented the tech that had allowed him to save so many lives years ago! 

Maybe it was a bit awkward, now that he thought about it. Perhaps his professional admiration of Doctor Ziegler was obvious in the way he rocked on his heels, hands fidgeting together. 

That wasn’t strange, was it?

The elevator dinged. He stepped forward, stiff, raising his hands palms-out as he backed toward the door. 

“Apologies, Doctor, if I made this short ride awkward for you.”

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First Interactions / Break the Ice Starter Sentences

❝ Hey, excuse me, you dropped this! ❞ 

❝ Don’t get wet, stand under my umbrella with me. ❞ 

❝ I’ll pay for your [meal/coffee/groceries/etc] ! ❞ 

❝ Hey! Watch where you’re going! ❞ 

❝ This seat’s free. Come sit. ❞ 

❝ Sorry, I couldn’t help but to stare… ❞ 

❝ I wasn’t staring! I was just.. spaced out! ❞ 

❝ Is that… blood? ❞ 

❝ Woah, you look pale… are you okay? Do you need to go to a hospital? ❞ 

❝ I can give you a ride if you need it, beats walking. ❞ 

❝ Did you just breathe in my direction? ❞ 

❝ Don’t look at me like that. ❞ 

❝ I don’t know you, but I really want to hold your hand. ❞ 

❝ … I really hate the awkward silence in elevators, you know? ❞ 

❝ Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else. ❞ 

❝ Don’t look now, but this person has been following you for two blocks so I thought I’d approach you and act like your best friend or something. Sooo, how have you been? ❞ 

❝ Is there something in my teeth? ❞ 

❝ Did you just hold my hand? ❞ 

❝ Um… that’s MY seat. I ALWAYS sit there. ❞ 

❝ Hey um, that guy/girl is totally eyeballing you. ❞ 

❝ Let me buy you a drink sometime? ❞ 

❝ Oh my god don’t move there’s a spider on your shirt- ❞ 

❝ What… are you doing? ❞ 

❝ Oh! Can I have one of those? ❞ 

❝ Hey! Can you help me out? ❞ 

❝ Can I walk with you? ❞ 

❝ Oh, you live here? This is awkward… ❞