Fake News: Battered Rose

Title: Battered Rose
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: "Stephen"/Jon, Olivia/Kristen, assorted correspondents
Warnings: Sex, emotional abuse, (skip) consent issues, choking
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement. Characters belong to the Report. Names of real people are used in a fictitious context, and all dialogue, actions, and content are products of the author's imagination only.

By, um, popular demand: the alternate ending to the Castles In The Sand in which Jon refuses to give Stephen up.

(Or, to put it another way: an extended argument for why the canon ending is the happy one.)

( 'Mine. In body and heart, to do with as I please. That's the deal, right?' )

First Lines Meme: 2011 Fic Edition

First lines of fic posted each month. Nine are fake news, two Madoka Magica, one Sailor Moon. Favorite bit: the year starts and ends with the Castleverse :D

January: Her Majesty's Great Hall had never looked more splendid.

February: The figure on Goldman's arm was unmistakably not his wife, a fact which Stewart knew better than to mention.

March: "Double whipped grande black mocha venti latte with cream and sprinkles, on the rocks. And make it snappy."

April: When Olivia appeared at the door, stashed her backpack under the counter, grabbed a lollipop from the dish next to the register, and came straight back to say hello, Jonathan didn't think anything of it.

May: The first time Stephen shows up for lunch after summer vacation, there's a hideous knitted thing slung over his shoulder.

June: Someone opens the door to the coatroom, and Jon and Stephen spring guiltily apart.

July: The ensign operating the transporter was about to tie hir tentacle in a knot in agitation.

August: The cat gyrated her hind paw in the direction of her chin, and only barely managed to bump her knee into the side of her head.

September: She should have waited for Homura.

October: The game was in full swing, and there was one girl kicking circles around the rest of the third-grade class.

November: On the first day at the Foreign Planets Academy, the members of the youngest class milled around in tiny, species-segregated clusters.

December: Belowdecks was a hive of anxiety.