#it’s unneeded over exercise the fucking tiny ass kids in my school don’t need

[moonysfavoritetoast]

“gym is the best subject in school”

i’m sorry what? it’s not even a subject. it’s just a pervy teacher who went to watch the girls on the run 5k in may even though he doesn’t have a daughter or neice or sibling or ANYTHING that would be in it because he has two adult sons and a twelve year old niece and girls on the run is third through fifth grade and he stares at girls running and makes girls feel like they shouldn’t eat because they’re fat (they’re not, i was in classes with some of the skinniest kids in my school)

why is gym your favorite subject the teacher makes you do jumping jacks sometimes for twenty minutes straight for warmups if health class is there bc if ONE PERSON stops you have to all start over again and go for a full minute why is gym your favorite subject

[alittlemissfit]

The Bodyguard Ch. 1

So the lovely and talented @contrivedcoincidences6 and myself started up an MSR AU fic. It’s inspired by the film “The Bodyguard”, with a slight twist.  Please check it out under the cut and let us know what you think! 

@how-i-met-your-mulder @sunflowerseedsandscience @edierone @blackcoffeeandteardrops  @whatfallsaway  @kateyes224 @2moms-0fucks

“I’m in security.”

“Sec...security,” he repeats, mystified. She certainly knows how to keep him on his toes.

“What do you secure? Servers, palaces?”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head. “People.” 

From his seat at the bar, Fox Mulder looked into his sixth beer morosely. His heated conversation with his father still lingering in his mind. He’d argued with Bill for at least an hour before storming out of his office, fed up with them having the same damn discussion. Only this go around that discussion came with an unnerving situation attached to it.

Bill Mulder had made it clear for years he wanted his son in the family business. What exactly the business consisted of, Mulder wasn’t entirely sure.

Growing up he knew his dad put on a suit, went to work, and earned enough to keep food on the table and an expensive roof over their heads. Mulder quickly learned though even a New England estate wasn’t enough to keep the darkness out.

His father’s line of work was mysterious, and over the years it became increasingly dangerous. It posed enough of a threat to cost his kid sister her life. Samantha’s abduction and death haunted Mulder on a daily basis, and now it seemed an anonymous threat wished to join in on that action. Yesterday he received an intimidating, graphically worded letter in the mail. He would’ve been content ignoring it if his mother hadn’t received the same one. Teena had called him in a panic, informing him that their security would escort him from his Boston apartment to their mansion in Cambridge.

Not feeling the need to disrupt his son’s life that significantly, Bill sent a car for Mulder to bring him to his office. There, he presented his son with an alternative to protection at the family home under lock and key. A close protection agent.

The idea infuriated Mulder, left him ready to walk out the door in a huff. Until his father told him about the panic attack the letter had sent Teena into. That her worst fear in life was that she’d lose her last, living child. Mulder relented. Reluctantly agreed to be assigned an agent from his father’s security team until another was brought up from their sister agency, Artemis Security.

It wasn’t until Bill played on Mulder’s receptive mood, tried to talk him into fighting this threat from within the company by joining forces with him, that he took off. Content to never set foot in the damn office building again.

Heavy drinking though at a nearby bar was not a coping mechanism Mulder was used to. After his third beer he was feeling lit. Now drunk on his sixth, he knew he was going to have a rough time of it tomorrow morning. Not that that thought was stopping him.

His nerves had given way to him feeling restless, predictably horny. If only the thought of going home to jerk off to the Playboy channel didn’t depress him so much.

Looking around the space for prospects he sees two leggy brunettes leaned over the bar in attempts to flirt with the bartender. He also spots a redhead who’s having none of it, shoves past them so she can take a seat.

...

“Vodka on the rocks, please…”

Placing her order, Scully rolls her eyes at the two tall brunettes who stalk off, annoyed seeing as she’s got the bartender’s full attention now.

“Would you like to start a tab?”

“Please.”

Reaching for the drink she swishes the clear liquid around the ice, takes more than what’s considered a ladylike sip from the glass. Not that she gives a damn. She’s a sailor’s daughter  trained with NCIS to become a special protection agent. A freaking bodyguard. If there’s one thing Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully is not, it’s delicate. She has to wonder though if she had been, if she’d remained the sweet, studious, med schooled apple of Ahab’s eye, maybe she wouldn’t be so haunted by his ghost. No doubt looking down on her right now in complete and utter disapproval.

She swigs down the rest of the drink, motions to the bartender for another. She’s caught the eye of the guy with the tie but she continues to look straight ahead at the TV behind the bar. There’s a basketball game on. She couldn’t care less about sports but if it comes to watching it or watching a man leer at her, she’ll take the Knicks.

She overhears tie guy order his drink and she cringes. Whiskey sour, fucking whiskey. She’ll never touch it again.

He had a bottle of it stashed in the drawer beneath his desk along with some short glasses. Crystal, if she had to guess.  

“You have a fully stocked minibar under there?”

“Not presently but I can get my hands on whatever you’d like. After all this is a celebration.”

He’d poured them both doubles, raised his glass to clink to her’s. She’d clinked back, a smile on her face so huge it made her cheeks hurt. He was proud of her. He was actually proud of her. All the simulations and target practice and defensive maneuvers and tactical exercises, he’d watched her and mentored her and to come this far at Artemis, this fast. She’d never expected to gain her license in less than a year, let alone be put onto a detail. In the back of her mind it all felt too easy. She wished that thought had moved to the front of her mind before Daniel had poured them each a third drink, suggested they move this celebration to his office sofa.

She hadn’t drank so much as nursed the second whiskey sour. She’d been tipsy but not to the point that her boss sliding his hand up her skirt went unnoticed. When she backed away he moved in more, this time his hand drifted to the front of her blouse. He started whispering boozy compliments and sweet nothings in her ear, was close enough for her to smell whiskey on him and that same smell wafting into her nose, right now...

She looks away from the Knicks to the tie guy who drunkenly smiles, shifts closer.

“It’s a whiskey sour. My favorite. I can buy you one if you like.”

“I already have a drink.”

“So have another!” he laughs, shifting closer still two of his friends down the bar stroll over.

“C’mon, I won’t say ‘nothin.”

“Go ahead sweetheart. Let Billy here treat. You…you look like you’ve had a rough day,” a larger man to Billy’s right says, slurring his words.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Well you don’t look fine to ‘ol Donny.” a third creep pipes up. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a whiskey. Bartender, buy this pretty gingerbread girl over here a whiskey.”

“I told you already. No thank you,” Scully cautions as they close in. Their whiskey breath making her stomach roll.

“You don’t want a drink from us? C’mon! Billy and Matt and Donny and I, we’re the life of the party right now!”

“What exactly don’t you understand?” she snaps. “Let me be clear. I don’t need or want a drink from any of you.”

“Well that’s not a very nice way to talk to us, now is it?” Donny asks, sloppily reaching over to poke her in the shoulder.

All it takes is the one poke and prod to set her off, get her blue eyes narrowed in a glare. Reaching she grips Donny’s wrist and uses leverage and muscle memory to throw him over her hip, land him flat on his back on the bar floor.

...

Before Mulder can cross the room to make his move, hopefully break away from his hired goon long enough to do so, he freezes, watches as the redhead stares down three large drunks.  It was obvious that their attention towards her was unwanted and that they were not taking no for an answer. Luckily with the excess of liquid courage in him Mulder feels heroic. Ditching his guard he cuts towards her side of the bar as fast as he can in his inebriated state. Keeps a watchful eye on the damsel who to his surprise, doesn’t appear overly distressed.  Before he can get closer, he’s taken aback by her taking one of the men by the wrist, using leverage to flip him with a loud thud onto his back. Putting a heel to the foot of the guy inept enough to come up behind her, she follows it with an elbow to his face. The crunch he hears when her elbow hits indicates nothing short of a broken nose for the dumb son of a bitch.

“What the… you goddamn bitch!”

He lunges at her and Mulder makes a move forward to stop him but once again finds that his help is unneeded. The small woman lands a knee to the guy’s gut, hard enough to make him double over. It all happens in less than a minute, and before he can make sense of what he’s witnessed three men are lying on the floor at the redhead’s feet, swearing and groaning in pain. The crowd at the bar applauds as two bouncers step in, haul the drunks to their feet one by one before escorting them out. Mulder wonders what the two hulking men had been up to when one of their patrons was being harassed. When the crowd clears he gets a better view of the woman than he’s had all night, and immediately feels self conscious and simultaneously turned on. She’s stunning.

Her short hair is a deep red that sets off her blue eyes, the style framing her porcelain face. She’s tiny, can’t be much more than five foot two sans high heels, but it’s obvious her slight build and short legs aren’t a detriment to her. Far from it. She’s wearing a jet black pantsuit, strappy stiletto heels, no jewelry aside from a small gold cross dangling from a delicate chain around her neck.

Mulder desperately wants to approach her but fears the worst, what with seeing firsthand what happens to drunken mortals who dare approach her.

He watches the bartender offer her a beer on the house and is tempted to go behind the bar, ask to cover the rest of his shift. At least by serving her he’d get to speak to her.

Mulder’s well aware he’s still incredibly drunk, but nowhere near drunk enough to speak to a woman who’d just soundly kicked the asses of three guys bigger than him.

But then she turns her head, and even in the dim light of the bar he sees her eyes glistening. Sorrow, anger, the onion in the martini of the woman seated two stools over. Whatever is making this woman tear up he plans to forcibly remove from this bar. By whatever means necessary.

He sits down, making sure to leave a stool in between the two of them as a buffer. The last thing he wants to do is make her feel trapped. The exit is closer to where she’s sitting, he’s not about to compel her to use it if he can help it.

Raising a finger he signals the bartender to bring him another beer. The man looks at him dubiously but turns to get the drink for him anyway.

Slowly turning his head he looks over at the pretty woman, now acting as if she just noticed he was there. She doesn’t turn to look at him, rather glances down to study her fingernails.

Taking a quick swig of his beer Mulder clears his throat to try and get her attention, looks at her with a smile. “So, uh...that was pretty awesome.” As soon as the words leave his mouth he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself out for sounding like such an idiot.

The look she gives him indicates he did sound as stupid as he’d thought.

Smooth.

Still though he feels compelled to introduce himself. Sober, he would have known that it was a lousy idea, but drunk he’s desperate to know her name. He just wishes his wasn’t so recognizable. He’d been with women before who weren’t interested in him so much as his family and more importantly, his bank account. This woman though wasn’t giving him that impression at all. Anyone who could defend herself like that didn’t need a man with deep pockets to ride to her rescue, far from it.

Considering the fact though this was a bar, that she hadn’t even said a word to him yet he plays it safe, only offers up his first.

“I’m Fox. You are?”

She turns to him now with a different look, one that screams ‘get the hell away from me’. But she still manages a polite reply.

“Your name is Fox?”

Cursing his parents for the millionth time over the stupid name, Mulder shuts his eyes.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ve already heard all the jokes.”

She gives a soft, small smile that he would have missed had he not been gazing at her heart shaped lips.

“I’m Katherine,” she introduces.

“Katherine. That’s a beautiful name.”

“I guess it’s alright.”  She looks him over again and he straightens his tie, hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. “Rough day?” she asks.

Mentally high fiving himself Mulder grins. She was talking to him. A girl was talking to him.

“Yeah. Family shit.”

She nods in a way to show she’s no stranger to it, swigs down her remaining drink.

“What about you?” he asks, earning a frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not drinking water over there. Rough day for you, too?”

She shrugs, speaks after a beat. “Work shit.”

Mulder smiles and to his surprise, earns a small one back. She swivels her stool towards his and between her deep blue eyes, her cherry lips, if he thought his head was spinning before..

“What do you do?” He asks as her smile flickers, fades.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Looking down at his beer he wonders what to do next. Luckily she decides for them.

“What do you do?” she asks.

Relieved she was talking again but not sure how to respond, Mulder chews his lip. Wonders how the hell to explain his work situation to this gorgeous stranger.

“Well, it’s not your average job. I work with a group of guys and we- uh- we consult.”

“Consult on what?”

“We consult with cops sometimes, or detectives. We work on cases, ones that have gone cold or that the boys in blue don’t have time for. Sometimes we get called in on the cases that they can’t look into, you know?”

“Wow,” she says, looking genuinely interested. “That sounds pretty neat.”

Mulder gives her a smile, tries his best to stay cool even after seeing the tip of her pink tongue poke out between her lips.  “Yeah, it’s a good gig if you can get it.”

She nods, signals the bartender for another drink before slipping off her blazer, revealing a crisp white blouse. At the movement her breasts push out and he’s too fixated to even try and look away.

“Like what you see?” she asks, making him blush. Apologizing he looks down, suddenly fascinated with his coaster.

“It’s alright”, she absolves, suppressing a smile. “I can tell you’re pretty loaded.”

“I’m pretty sure one more will land me on the floor,” Mulder scoffs as a small smile forms on her face.

“Then I guess I’d better catch up.”