#daggermxchanic

Some Fun Munday Meme -- > @daggermxchanic -- > Accepting!

☑: An OTP with your Muse in it (if you have any)

Ragnar & Lagertha, hands down. They are my OTP when it comes to Ragnar, on the show, everything. I would die for this ship pretty much.  Other people are important in his life, played significant parts, but for Ragnar, even at the end, it was Lagertha he saw and she saw him a lot last season too. 

☒: A NOTP with your Muse in it (if you have any).

Ragnar/Aslaug. I’ll explore the ship in roleplay, because she’s a part of his history, but yeah, I’m not a fan of the ship overall, hated her and it with a passion. Also, Ragnar/Yidu, and sometimes Ragnar/Athelstan in terms of being seen as just a ship.  I believe in their connection, but to say it was a ship cheapens it because their connection transcends that.

✉: Any RPers the Mun admires.

That was the thing with her brother - he always visited so randomly and unannounced that Kit had to quickly adapt any plans she had. Not that she wasn’t willing to do it, or that she’d actually had anything arranged for the rest of the day but still........it was a touch on the annoying side. Still, she wouldn’t let the shock of his appearance bother her too much and instead, treat it as the wonderful surprise it was. A whole 48 hours with Kal, before he jetted off to God only knows where and what again, made her instantly as giddy as when they were children again, but with the prospect of doing things very un-childish. Especially this afternoon and evening. First would be Tate Modern - a shared love of art dictated it, even if they’d been there several, or even a hundred times together in the past. Plus the exhibits changed very often and the current Dorothea Tanning collection was something Kit had been dying to view again. Then, most likely it would be cocktails at Dandelyan on the South Bank, followed by dinner at The Ledbury. Kal, just like his sister, liked the finer things in life. And who was she to deny him those, seeing as she could do with a bit of overpriced luxury herself.

All that expense and frivolity led to them both exiting the taxi with wobbly legs and raucous laughter, Kit holding onto her brothers arm and leaning against him for support, so she didn’t fall arse-over-head on the few steps it would take to walk to her house.

            “The healing power of alcohol only works on scrapes and nicks, and not on girls in seedy bars, who drown themselves in it.”

Closed starter for @daggermxchanic.

She should have known better. Should have seen the car who’s driver was in too much of a hurry to notice the low set bike. She should have laid it down on the sidewalk, but there were so many people that she would have possibly injured more than her self. Even then the driver took off giving her the bird as if she  was that one that cut them off. 

It took her a while to find some kids to help her get the bike back to her shop and home whee she paid them to put it in the back of her Caddy. It was already late when she was left with the broken pride and joy of her life laying all but life. She  didn’t know who to take it to. Until she recalled the grease stained hands of her not so friendly drinking partner. 

Though to be fair, Clyde would have probably bitched about that. It did not matter what she called him at the end of the day. Still she turned and headed into the kitchen of her shop, pulled out a few mounds of dough and set to work making donuts. 

An hour later she was out the door and off into the streets with the sun setting. It took her a few a while to find him shop. Stopping to ask one of the regulars at the bar, and another fifteen minutes fighting traffic. She pulled into the garage place of business, holding out hope that Clyde was still there. She knew he’d probably be upset that she just showed up, but she didn’t know where else to go. Instead she sucked up her few nerves and slid out of the Escalade, box of goodies in hand, and headed for the inside. 

The room filled with soft trilling laughter, hemmed in around the edges with a slight hint of embarrassment. She wasn’t used to being called woman the way only Clyde could inflect the word and she couldn’t help herself. She also couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of various tattoos and scars littering his skin and feel them grabbing hold of her curiosity with both hands. She tries to mount a defense for herself.  “Sorry! Jus’ had t’ shi-shi,” she confides, because he couldn’t be mad at her for needing to pee. No other shady ulterior motive, and Beth is comfortable enough that hearing the water running, she imagines he is grabbing a shower to combat the oppressive heat of his apartment, which she suspects was what woke her in the first place. Not that she’d intended to fall asleep here but they were both going on days without proper rest.

“Make ya a deal... ya let me in t’ do dat, an’ den I’ll leave ya t’ wash up an’ we’ll nevah speak a word of it later. An’ if ya still mad, I even show ya my tats, kinda like fair trade.”

Evan regarded the grizzled man in the distance. This was a dive bar in small town and it was his town, not Evan’s. And because of this he tread lightly. “Thought I’d come here and run into strangers,” Evan quipped, his short glass of whiskey in hand. “I was obviously very wrong.”