round 3 overflow post

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Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

[Fill] Stained (38/?) Warning: Rape-Related PTSD

[(Anonymous)]

Mama. Mama.

A gun shot. And the metal is alive. He can feel it everywhere, but Mama. Mama. She’s on the floor. Mama.

Why?

And he is drowning in pain and suffocating on ashes. Knives glint and diamonds cut and make it stop, please –

Alone. So alone and cold, freezing, hungry, always. Pain.

A memory solidifies in the chaos and he is sucked in, a dark room. Empty. No, a man, in uniform a red band around his arm in front of him. Hands on his head. Holding him, touching him. On his knees. Being pulled forward. What, what –

His mouth is forced open. Sick, he feels sick, thinning hair pulled tight, the man’s dick being forced down his throat –

The door banging open. Doktor, there, monster, angry. So angry, but not at him –

The man, not him, in the chair now. Doktor’s hand on his shoulder, the knife placed in his hand.

Revenge. Make him bleed.

The memory burns. A farce or reality. A trick, always a trick to break him open, remake him in the image of his maker. And death. In death there will be peace. They’ll die together. Over. It will be over.

The water. Pressing down. Hold on. Hold on.

Charles managed to pull himself free with a gasp, freezing on the staircase where he found himself, his mind reeling.

He had experienced attacks like this in the past. He had suffered terrible things in the minds of other, had been terrified and confused and lost and angry along with those victims…but the first hand experience was different, he knew. So much worse.

He did not understand how that man is still going, still fighting. Charles can’t even begin to imagine what he would have done in the man’s place. He’d have gone made. He would have killed himself to escape it.

Not Erik. Erik was the man’s name and Erik had not succumbed. He was strong. Damaged and lonely, but so impossibly strong. Determined.

He survived. He had purpose. Erik was no longer afraid, he was making himself safe. Erik would never again roll over and play dead.

But he was going to die, Charles realized abruptly.

Erik was going to drown trying to stop Shaw’s submarine.

And Charles…Charles couldn’t let that happen. Not to Erik.

Charles pulled his hands from Raven’s and Moira’s grip. “Someone’s in the water,” he informed them. Then he turned and ran back up the stairs, heedless to their shouts. “Someone’s in the water,” he repeated himself as loudly as he could as he rushed blindly through the crowd of seamen. He tugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoe before throwing himself off the side of the boat.