#krakenflaying

Something’s definitely off with Theon.  Like—not just off, but really off.  Like, no, he doesn’t feel like chatting up that girl even though she’s looking at him and sizing him up, and his eyes all distant, and he’s jumpy.

It was the jumpy thing that Robb had noticed first, but Jon had suggested that it might just be something that he picked up doing his work in Egypt.  ”Sometimes you get jumpy when you don’t have a desk job, Robb,” Jon had said, rolling his eyes.  Jon doesn’t like talking about Theon much, though, so Robb always lets it drop.  Even if Jon’s probably the most helpful.  Jon knows how to deal with people who’ve gone all jumpy because of something…

Something bad.

Something bad had definitely happened to Theon, and he isn’t talking about it, isn’t acknowledging it at all, and he’s fixating on it—Robb can tell, because Theon’s eyes are distant and he’s not chatting up every girl he sees.

He can't sleep.

He can't sleep--not because Asha's having sex very loudly in the next room--he's slept through louder, and been louder in his time so it's poor form to complain about that--but because when he closes his eyes every night the still air of the guest room in Asha's flat seems to compress around him, and in the darkness, his own breath doesn't sound like his own.  

He doesn't know what his own breath sounds like anymore.  He's used to gasping, hyperventilating, in the first few moments after Ramsay shuts him in for the night, before he remembers that he needs to try to keep his lungs inflated because if he doesn't keep them inflated he'll run out of air, but he can't stop exhaling--can't hold his breath and preserve oxygen because he can't just hold his breath forever.

Yesssss, this was great! I love Winter Soldier and the Marvel universe myself, so tying that in is just yes. Very well done, thanks <3

so this went from “fake relationship AU” to “SHIELD AGENTS AU” in a flash. oops. in my defense, I watched TWS again last night and also watched AOS promos and SIMMONS.

title: this is the golden age

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"Wow," Theon says, once Robb steps out from behind the dressing room, tugging down the sleeves of his undoubtedly-expensive tuxedo, "you’re sure you’re not related to Tony Stark?”

Robb's late, and Theon checks his watch again.  Robb's always had an interesting relationship with time, but this is late, even for Robb, so he orders another firewhiskey, letting it burn the back of his throat as he downs it.  He forces his hand not to tremble as he puts the tumbler back on the table.

There's nothing to be nervous about.  He's back, now.  Back, and on leave, and nothing to worry about.  Robb's just late, is all.  He's being silly.

Robb bursts out of the fireplace and dusts himself off, catches sight of Theon and grins broadly.  "Welcome home!" he calls, edging his way through the cramped pub and giving Theon a quick hug before settling down next to him.

"Thanks," Theon smiles.

"Did you chip a tooth?" Robb asks.

No. Theon wants to say, but he shrugs and says, "Occupational hazard," as nonchalantly as he can.

Depends on how hairy the dude is, since sometimes it isn't so bad. But uh, for your tag, you sometimes get hair in your mouth and you kind of have to ignore it unless you want to interrupt things and pick it out of your mouth every so often.

Part of Drabbleverse.101 - Weary

He got out of the car and hobbled up the walkway to the apartment building, grocery bags in hand, stooping slightly because it helped him balance better.  He fucking missed those toes. 

People always looked sadly at his hands, made cooing sounds of sympathy and offered to carry things for him.  And that was good if them—it was.  But he was already typing near as quickly as he had before, his remaining fingers accommodating for the ghostly missing ones.  But he’d be stooping and off balance for the rest of his life because of the toes.  And there wasn’t anything he could do about it except to keep going.