#licoricewhipit

He has never known a home other than this, really; other than the cool, green depths of the forest, the sun dappled leaves, the soft, rich earth under his bare feet. 

Nic was turned out of a village when he was too young to remember the community that hated him, hated his mother, hated what they could do. He never understood how people could be so mean, so callous as to let someone die and leave a child to starve, but that is the past now. 

Now he has a cottage in the forest, the cold, clear stream, the trees, bowing and bending endlessly in the wind, bushes with lush, sweet berries, wildflowers poking their heads out wherever there is sun enough for them to grow. It’s lonely, but it’s peaceful, and it’s his.

I’m always up for cooking together. But also sometimes someone bringing me food they made is the best thing. Also please god, I need a massage and cuddling so bad. That sounds lovely!

This, this was why she hated having neighbors; they were always rude and loud, and either someone was having very strange sex, or there was a murder going on upstairs. 

“Merlin, give me strength,” she muttered under her breath, stirring her tea with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, and it was luck she didn’t chip the china; or cause the ceiling to catch on fire from the force of her glare when the odd sounds turned into the scraping of furniture against the floor. 

Alright, that was quite enough. She headed up the stairs, ready to destroy whoever was responsible for disturbing her afternoon cuppa, only, of course, when she banged on the door, it was opened by none other than Harry Potter himself. 

“For fuck’s sake,” she said, and considered banging her head against the wall.

It was followed immediately by a cringe and a wince and okay, maybe not marriage because that’s creepy and Oreos aren’t a strong foundation to build a lasting partnership on but damn. No one else but him liked the odd lemon creme Oreos, and seeing someone else buying them was like finding the flash of a kindred spirit. 

He could introduce himself he supposed, hello my name is Destiny, and we’re meant to be, but that was hokey, and half a lie at the same time. 

A quick comment maybe would work; point out the strangeness of the cookie and the fact that he also had a pack (okay three packs) of them in his cart: kismet (or something much like it)!

Super detailed questions about my OCs! || accepting

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Nic is not big on exercise, really. He walks a lot of places when he can and sometimes does yoga when he’s stressed, but other than that, it’s not something he does often. Pre-workout he’s all grumbly about the prospect of working out and post-workout he is whining for a shower and a massage.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

TMI Tuesday: Ask Me About My OCs!