earlier in the week i saw this post while mildly sleep deprived and was immediately struck by dumb romo disease so now, without rhyme, reason, or prompting, i present to you:
- ̗̀ stricklake love language headcanons ̖́-
walt's love language is touch. the first time we see them interacting, all the way back in the beginning of season one, he kisses her hand (!). and then look at how he is in season 3—always holding barb's hand, or touching her shoulder. i'm having a hard time imagining something more serious for a changeling: coming from the massively fucked up social situation of the darklands, what could be a more overt declaration of affection? what could be more valuable, more precious, more secret? in a world where any and every word could be a lie—what else carries the potential for such honesty? changelings' entire existence, especially around humans, seems predicated on the concept of look, but don't touch; let them see you, let them see you pass, but let no one in, let no one close. (they can't see you, they can't know—)
BONUS 2x angst combo every time he thinks about the familiars getting returned. because—well. it just hits home this idea that he's only playing house: as soon as they're returned, as soon as she knows, as soon as she sees his real face—
T-T-T-TOTAL ROMANCE KO the first/any time she realizes the difference in how he's acting and initiates physical contact after the eternal night. it's not like i have two separate fics touching on this exact concept or anything. get it? like, 'touching'?
barb's is acts. making dinner (even badly), running up to help him and jim against angor (even badly), helping him up after the play, going with him to the museum. we know from very early on that she barely has the time and attention to take care of herself; taking the time to do things for you is. a high indicator of how much she thinks of you. (where exactly do you think jim gets it?)
the annoyance, the frustration of not knowing (initially) what she can do for him—not knowing what would be welcome vs. what would be an insult. where the fault lines are, where old scars (literal and metaphorical) run.
the pleasure, the delight when he finally starts to open up to her about it—knowing, finally, what she can do for him. knowing what it means that he's baring the vulnerability of intimacy; taking up that trust like a sacred charge.
anyway i briefly contemplated putting this post under a cut but i am Gay and Sappy so if you have thoughts...smash that rb
