#weeoo weeoo

current ep: s3e7 – the walk

favorite moment from previous ep (2shy):

nnnFFFFNNNn. that’s my initial thought.

again with the unnecessary touching. i’ll be doing an ENTIRE post about this shit, mark my words. but like. if I have to pick one favorite thing about MSR, it’s probably this. the fact that no matter what is happening, mulder is always going to put his arm around scully or put his hand on her back or touch her in SOME capacity to guide her somewhere, usually through a doorway. I mean. he is aware that she can walk, yes? that this is not her first time using legs? which means that the mulder logic here can only be “I will, at any time, use literally the smallest justification possible to put my hands on this woman.” mission accomplished. also bonus moment:

current emotional state:

i love your wee-oo wee-oo account background <3

     the blood on his knuckles is seeping into the cracks of his skin, so he pushes the back of his hand flat against the fabric of his jeans and rubs, but it’s too late now for the privilege of clean hands.  he’s small and bony and bitter and angry on the side of the road, knees pulled up to his chest, outside the only bar in this town, and they won’t let him back in.

     (he didn’t start the fight, but he ended it.  at the bar, head down, hair coiling in front of his eyes, running his finger down the condensation on the side of his glass.  there were three of them and he thinks they wanted to take everything: the change in his pocket, the shirt off his back.  he didn’t let them.  he knocked two down before the third got a hand in his hair and put his face to the side of the bar, and there’s blood on his cheek, dripping down his neck.  he left three dropped bodies and a molar on the floor inside.)

     anger rolls under the surface of his skin with a physicality verging on visible; he thinks if he saw himself in the mirror he’d be undulating, unsteady, like a vcr flicker.  holding his breath doesn’t help.  his fingers curl into his palms, nails pushing into the soft, lined flesh.  he knows there’s someone watching him but he doesn’t look up until they’re standing close enough behind him to block out the sunlight.