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radchmod ([personal profile] radchmod) wrote in [community profile] radchmeme2016-11-29 08:02 pm
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NSFW Prompt Post


Hello, citizens! Let's see how this goes.

This is the NSFW section of the meme. The safe for work post is here.


Meme Rules:

  • No sex scenes with characters under 17.
  • Also no on screen depictions of rape.
  • Weird kinks are fine.
  • Post your prompt with the characters or ship in the title and the details in the body.
  • You can post anonymous or not, whichever you'd like.
  • Content warnings on fills, please.
  • Fanart, fanfic, or any other kind of creative work all welcome. No minimum word count for fills.
  • Feel free to fill a prompt that's already been filled!
  • Don't repost prompts unless we start a new post.
  • Feel free to post your fills elsewhere as well. If a fill is extremely long you’re welcome to just post it elsewhere and link it in your fill comment.
  • If there's a problem, I'd rather you PM me or take it to the discussion post than start an argument in the comments.
  • Be proper, just and beneficial, citizens.
  • Stick to Ann Leckie's pronouns except for non-Radchaai characters in a non-Radchaai perspective.


Questions, suggestions, and general off topic discussion go here.

Have fun!



(Anonymous) 2016-11-30 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
anything, please, my crops are dying

FILL: Don't Let Me Get Me 1/? (Re: Anaander/Anaander)

(Anonymous) 2017-02-06 07:58 am (UTC)(link)

Title is from Anaander's anthem of the same name, by old Earth singer-songwriter P!nk.

Citizens attempting to find consistency with canon in this narrative will be prosecuted; citizens attempt non-problematic content in it will be reeducated; citizens attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

She sends the coded message buoy with time, date, and coordinates. The body of the message is just two words: personal shorthand that would translate (if there were an Anaander Translator to explain these things to an outside observer) to BOOTY CALL. She is confident that she, of all people, will understand.

(There could have been an Anaander Translator, once. She screwed that throw up by not anticipating how different the baby desk jockey's body would be, how she'd detest her new self, how that detestation would persist in the body even when everything else was just memories and surgical scars.

But she doesn't know that. All she knows is that the body is definitely alive, definitely no longer hers, definitely knows what happened to her, and definitely hates her. And is now allied with Justice of Toren.)

She receives the buoy she sent. In fact it had crossed paths with her, though none of her knows this, on her way back to Tstur. Furious, humiliated, ready to annihilate something. A perfect mood for fucking.

It could be a trap. She puts that probability at .5. Equally, even if this invitation was made in good faith, she has to know that it might not be taken that way.

In all honesty, between herself and her, she can't deny that since she left Omaugh Station, since her own faction has been rallying to her in this system, her sex life has been a bit lacking.

It doesn't matter. She has Civilization to restore. Her bodies are functional, give or take the horrific cost of open warfare with herself. If the spark isn't there, that's unimportant at this stage of the game.

All the same, this is worth one body and one stasis pod. Just one. And she chooses a nicely developed one too. Old and practiced enough to have good spinal reflexes, certain skills ground in where distance can't attenuate them. Young enough to have stamina and looks. That's only good manners.

Having selected one of herself to send, she cleans, oils, and dresses herself carefully, adds a tiny buoy to catch data from her implants, for later perusal should the body not return (having a trusted client scan the recording first for memetic traps) and having wrapped the package, sends it through Hrad gate.


(Anonymous) 2016-11-30 05:53 am (UTC)(link)

Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) 2016-11-30 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)
In Preface to The Traveler’s Guide to the Two Systems (http://annleckie.tumblr.com/post/135987941906) AL mentioned that in the future the RO2S develop biomech bodies so that ships (and stations?) can have bodies of their own without making ancillaries.

She didn't state when this happened. For the purpose of this prompt, let's stipulate that it was relatively soon after canon -- that it was a pretty easy technological advance given the political will to do the research and development. Maybe something that had been considered already but was more expensive than making ancillaries, particularly given the Radch's treatment of ancillaries as disposable. And let's stipulate that these bodies have human-like senses and erogenous zones.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. And I hope there will be other prompts along these lines. :D

For the purpose of this particular prompt, Breq/Mercy of Kalr/Seivarden are a thing, Breq is uninterested in sex but likes hugs and cosleeping, and Mercy of Kalr is not uninterested in sex and (as in canon) is not at all put off by the idea of humans role-playing as ancillaries.
mawgs: (Default)

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

[personal profile] mawgs 2016-12-10 02:28 pm (UTC)(link)
SO, not only did I go with ancillary play with MoK/Seivarden... I went with MoK and Seivarden roleplaying that MoK is Seivarden's captain and THEN they get into ancillary roleplay on top of THAT roleplay. There will be at least more more chapter of this:


EDIT: Figured I'd just post the text in here too in case someone can't follow that link for whatever reason.

Seivarden stood, waiting before the door to her own cabin. It would have been more convincing to use the Captain's quarters for this, but both Seivarden and Mercy of Kalr came to the conclusion that ultimately it would be better to leave Breq out of this... particular diversion tonight. So Seivarden waited to be allowed entrance to her own room, pretending it was the Captain's quarters. Pretending that Mercy of Kalr was her Captain, one who had very insistently requested the presence of her lieutenant that evening.

The door opened to reveal one blank-faced biomech, hair cropped close and in uniform. One of three biomechs Mercy of Kalr was now in possession of, it was designed much the same way ancillaries had been in the past. Another biomech was stationed beside Lieutenant Tisarwat in Command, keeping an eye out if it was needed, though Ship was sure by now that its crew was capable handling nearly anything. Breq was asleep, blessedly unaware of what Ship and Seivarden were getting up to, and Ekalu was just waking up, though she had an inkling as to why she was not waking up to Seivarden next to her.

Both of these two segments had many of the same implants and functions as an ancillary (though with none of the horrific side-effects) and though Mercy of Kalr's human crew still held their positions, stood watch, cleaned Ship’s interior, and tended their lieutenants, this mech worked where it was needed, picking up the slack of those soldiers who'd abandoned their Captain in the final confrontation with Anaander Mianaai. In truth, it's true function was to allow Mercy of Kalr a semblance of normality, a small attempt to make things how they had once been. But tonight was not for longing for how things used to be, but rather quite the opposite.

Mercy of Kalr's newest body, it's third biomech, was slightly different from its first two. Capable in all the ways the other two were, Mercy of Kalr had requested this body be designed as a civilian unit. It had no expressed military use, replacing those implants for more frivolous ones. Social implants - to keep track of new, human friends she might make. To watch entertainments, To play games, or access the net more primitively, should she desire it. A camera too, built into her right eye. Practical, in a way.

But there was a specific function Mercy of Kalr intended for it, Seivarden could see, as she caught her first glimpse of the new biomech where it lounged on her bed.

"Thank you, MoK One," Seivarden said playfully to the ancillary-like biomech that had let her in. Some AI had taken human names for their biomechs, but the ones that did rarely had more than a single body to use in that case. The three AI cores Anaander Mianaai had brought with her to Athoek, for instance, had never known any different. They'd each been given a single body, as all willing AI had been allotted, initially, and named them. They'd adjusted fabulously, it having been relatively easy, finding they had awakened with rights, with no forced desire to love or to conquer. In fact, they'd become quite popular on Station. Mercy of Kalr thought there might even be a budding romance between Lieutenant Tisarwat and the one who'd named itself Liaanthe.

But Mercy of Kalr did know what it was like to be only a piece of a whole, to be a Kalr, Amaat, Etrepa and Bo. Knew it couldn't take those names again, yet couldn’t fathom naming itself with such bold individualism. It was truly at a loss until, jokingly, Seivarden had suggested the nickname. "Mock" One, two, etc. A mock up, a stand-in, the acronym for Ship's full name. MoK. Since then, the crew had fallen into using for the two units, when “Ship” alone didn't suffice. Mercy of Kalr had never corrected anyone. Seivarden suspected it liked the name, though would scarcely admit it.

MoK One stood silent and at attention near the door as Seivarden took several steps forward, until she stood just before the reclining body before her. She kept her chin high, unable to keep the hint of a smirk off of her face. Perhaps she wasn't trying that hard.

She drew herself up as her eyes met the figure on the bed's gaze, bowing just the slightest degree deeper than was necessary for the rank of a lieutenant to a Captain.

Cool silver eyes held Seivarden's gaze for a moment, the mech's face blank before suddenly breaking into emotion. A wide smile that it tapered back almost immediately, as if it hadn't intended, hadn't quite the subtlety for a smirk but had wanted to try it anyway.

"Lieutenant," came a deep, somewhat feminine voice from behind plump lips; painted, Seivarden noticed, with just the slightest tint of color. Cosmetics. On an AI.

"Begging your indulgence, Captain," Seivarden said, hesitating on the word for a millisecond. It was easier that Breq was still referred to as Fleet Captain; she didn't know if she could have done this, had Ship asked to play at the same rank. But Mercy of Kalr had not been interested in commanding other ships, had only been intrigued at the idea of being her own Captain. Being in command of her lieutenants however…

Mercy of Kalr gestured consent to speak with her hand for the pleasure of it, to see the three golden bangles on her wrist catch the light, to hear the soft sound of them clink against each other. Seivarden licked her lips, playing for time as she tried to remember how Mercy of Kalr had wanted her to approach this.

"If it's not to bold of me to say, sir," she began, confidence growing as the words came to her, "I've noticed in the last few weeks that you seem to have taken an interest in me." Seivarden turned her head, saw MoK One behind her. Turned back with a smirk as she made a gesture with her hand only it could see. Before her, this mech knew. Ship knew. They all knew.

"It is perhaps a bit bold of you to say," the mech on the bed said, it's head tilting slowly, resting on its shoulder coyly. "But only because you say it so bluntly. Only because you came to my cabin with such... immediacy." A few tendrils of loose curls shifted with the motion, dark at the roots, lightening gradually to the tips. Dyed, not modified, probably so Ship could simply enjoy the experience of being pampered at a salon. Same with the nails. And the eyebrows.

Seivarden knew Mercy of Kalr had requested this biomech be purposefully attractive, though clearly to Ship's own tastes. There was scarcely anyone who had the same features as this body in Athoek System. It’s nose was not Radchaai, at least not the ideal. Broad and slightly rounded at the tip, it did not dominate it’s face. High cheek bones complimented large, rectangular eyes, the silver irises only unshocking after having lived in the company of Lieutenant Tisarwat for so long. And then there were the lips, large and full and pouted even at rest, the matte coral paint on them complimenting it’s amber-brown skin. Seivarden found herself drawn to those lips, enjoyed watching Ship speak with them.

"Sir," Seivarden said feeling the weight of two sets of eyes on her, "if I've caused offense, please, allow me to apologize." She moved to kneel, to assume the overly severe position of prostration, of sincere apology. But Ship stopped her, the tip of a bare foot slipping out from under the sheets, catching Seivarden under the chin, holding her there, on her knees. Seivarden could see half way up the mech's thigh. Saw it was bare. Shivered. Felt Ship brush against her mind. Approval.

Have I done well with this one? Ship displayed the words into Seivarden's vision, enjoyed the lazy luxury of having more than one way to view it's lieutenant once again.

“You're certainly very eye catching in this body,” Seivarden said silently to Ship, and added quickly, “though I would be just as eager to have either of the other two.”

Before her the mech on the bed hummed, amused. Seivarden smiled, even as it tilted her chin up higher with its foot before drawing it back, releasing her. It sat up then, the thin sheets falling away to reveal soft, full breasts complete with large, half-perked nipples. Mercy of Kalr nudged them together with it’s arm casually. Seivarden stared, watching at rapt attention as the mech leaned in, placed a thin-gloved hand to her face. Tutted as if in disapproval with those pouted lips.

“If I still had ancillaries, perhaps I wouldn’t have this problem.” A hard cluck of its tongue. “Ancillaries don’t fall into fits of lust over their Captains.” Mercy of Kalr said, heedless of that fact that regardless of if it had ancillaries or not, its Lieutenants would still be human. Heedless of the fact that, indeed, some ancillaries might be very keen to follow their Captains into bed. No matter. They were getting to the point of the flimsy scene anyway.

“Begging your most gracious pardon,” Seivarden said, her face cast down into her lap, both to appear remorseful and to hide the spreading grin on her face. She’d have to get it all out now, all the emotion; she’d have to keep her face blank very soon. “Captain, I can prove to you I can master myself. Compare me to MoK One over there. No matter what you do to me, I can keep my emotions controlled.” She took in a long breath. Held it. Exhaled. Tilted her face back up, her expression stone, her regal features framed in perfect apathy. “Treat me as if you would an ancillary, sir.”
Edited 2016-12-10 14:41 (UTC)

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-12 12:29 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) 2016-12-28 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
(I can't possibly improve on the fic above, it's a gift to the world, but the rules do say multiple fills are okay... No sex yet but I'll try and get another installment up after the relatives have left and I've sobered up?)
(Not that I'm drunk to put up with the relatives or anything. I'm drunk because Mom keeps saying "Come on, you're on vacation!" and refilling my wine glass. She's a drunk-gay-spaceship-porn enabler)

No matter how much eagerness, scientific curiosity, and desire to have Sphene no longer hanging around your lab staring at you intensely while standing five centimeters too close you applied to the problem, successfully growing biomechs took time. The bodies alone couldn't be sped up past a certain point. Wrapping their nervous systems around the necessary implants during growth was, well, a process which unapproved medics had never been encouraged to get too curious about. Sphene had been enthusiastically willing to capture a few Anaander Mianaais so the Republic medics could get a closer look, but apparently it wouldn't be too helpful to just study the finished project. Sphene had argued that it certainly couldn't *hurt*, and Breq had clearly been tempted, but in the end sensible strategy had overruled their mutual desire to go after the Lord of the Radch with a fishing net.

So there had been organizing, and committee meetings, and project management sessions. Excited scientists told Seivarden things about neurotransmitters while she tried to keep her eyes focused. By the time they had a biomech body ready to be decanted and tested, Tisarwat was approaching her twenty-fifth birthday.

Which Anaander Mianaai decided to celebrate with an interplanetary incident.

"This is ridiculous," Breq said, clipped and irritated. "She knows perfectly well she'd get no long-term advantage even if she could put it through, which she can't. All this will lead to is Tisarwat talking quickly and persuasively to a lot of people, and probably getting all of them to look on her as a favorite kid sister. Which may have been the entire point."

"She'll enjoy that," Seivarden said, having decided that 'look, does Anaander Mianaai think you and she are Tisarwat's mother and estranged other parent or something, and if so can we convince her that some nice earrings would be a more appropriate birthday present for her daughter?' probably wouldn't be helpful.

"She will. Exceedingly. Which is why I don't trust her to go alone." Breq clearly had something else to say. Seivarden waited for it. "I would have preferred to be present at the initial trial."

"You would merely sit through a lot of very boring medical testing, Fleet Captain," Ship said to both of them. "I'm sure Lieutenant Seivarden will be perfectly capable of handling that duty in your stead."

"Thanks, Ship." Breq probably thought she was showing no emotion. Seivarden bumped their shoulders together. "We'll send you visuals, you can stay up to date while you're stopping Tisarwat accidentally declaring herself empress of half a solar system."

"She does become carried away on occasion," Ship agreed, and, more softly, to Breq although Seivarden could hear it, "Seivarden can look after me." Breq didn't respond, but she did lean to the side a little so their shoulders could brush again.

The... you couldn't really call it "hooking up", maybe "powering on"... took place on Athoek Station. The head biomedicist had brought along half a dozen colleagues and a couple of grad students, and Sphene and Sword of Atagaris had both shown up to watch, so things were pretty crowded. Seivarden hung back against the wall and tried not to touch any of the equipment while the scientists flipped switches and looked at readouts and finally said, "Okay, initiating... *now*. Mercy of Kalr?"

"Checking," it said over the speakers, and the body on the lab bench moved. Pushed itself up on its elbows. Ceased to be medical equipment to Seivarden and became her ship, in person. "Connection is live, but it feels sluggish. There's no resistance, though-" It swung its legs over the edge of the bench, the biomedicist started to say something, and Seivarden shoved past Sword of Atagaris, which had been hanging back pretending it wasn't interested, in time to break its fall. 

"That's a good start," said Sphene.

"Perhaps we can reassess once it's had fully thirty seconds to adjust, cousin," Ship said. Seivarden had sunk to the floor against the bench- the ancillary's body was smaller than hers, but not much lighter. It was solid in her arms, its breath brushing against her neck. 

"The body's never moved on its own before, it's going to take time to establish muscle memory," the biomedicist said, going to her knees next to them. "Look this way, if you would?" She flashed a tiny light into the ancillary's eyes. Another of the scientists reached over Seivarden to re-tape an electrode. Nobody seemed to object to Seivarden holding it, so she didn't move. "Adequate pupil response. Can you vocalize?"

"I'll try it," Ship said, and the ancillary made a noise like breath hissing. Tried again and produced a sound like 'tsnnnn'. Stopped and took a couple of breaths. "Dessin. Tess-ting. *Testing*. The flower of justice iss- is peace. My heart is-" It had a coughing fit and leaned against Seivarden again. Its skin was warm and damp. For a split second she was reminded of kissing Ekalu's shoulder, her fresh from the baths- which was highly improper in the circumstances.

"Not bad," said the medic, sitting back on her heels. "Heart rate's steady-? Great. Then we may as well move on to *motor control testing*." Her eyes gleamed with scientific fascination. Well, Ship had warned her this would probably be lengthy.

It was. Sword of Atagaris drifted out to go do whatever it did with its spare time. Sphene eventually ran out of derogatory remarks and followed it. Seivarden curled up in a corner and went through her messages. Breq's most recent communiques described local sudden political upheaval in detail but were suspiciously vague about the inciting factors, so she'd probably been kneecapping people again. Amaat Three had sent a not-very-necessary report on the crew's current status; Seivarden sent back an acknowledgement with attached update on how the powering-on was going. After that there were local news reports to go over, and an article on traumatic stress Medic had wanted her to read for some reason...

"Lieutenant, are you awake?"

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-28 01:46 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-28 19:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

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Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2017-01-05 03:05 (UTC) - Expand

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(Anonymous) - 2017-01-16 05:32 (UTC) - Expand

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Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2017-01-22 02:07 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2017-01-22 19:49 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/Mercy of Kalr: biomech body

(Anonymous) - 2017-01-22 19:45 (UTC) - Expand

Heat cycles

(Anonymous) 2016-12-01 11:47 am (UTC)(link)
I am trash.

FILL PART 1 Re: Heat cycles

(Anonymous) 2016-12-09 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
i'm fucking doing this


It was five months and twenty three days after I found Seivarden on Nilt and four weeks into our second inter-station voyage that she began acting more oddly than usual. She was irritable and fidgety as she hadn't been in a while, and disappeared halfway through the ship's communal lunch. I found her back in our quarters asleep, or at least trying to be. I sat down on the floor by the door and prayed to She Who Sprang From the Lily, and I heard Seivarden's breath even out into genuine sleep. Probably during her time out of the Radch she had picked up the ability to sleep whenever she got the chance, even as she lost control of her body and mind in other ways.

Seven hours later she woke up, had dinner (still fidgety) and stayed long enough in the sanitary facilities that another passenger began to bang on the door and I had to tell her to come out. My clothes were unwashed and the tea set dirty but I did not chide her for ignoring her duties which were after all self imposed. I looked at her closely and saw that she was flushed, and when I put a hand on her forehead it was hot.

Sickness is more serious for Radchaai than it is for some other people, simply because it so rarely happens. If Seivarden had picked up something her implants couldn't deal with, she might need more advanced medical care than was available on this small ship. That wouldn't be available for another two weeks. At least a fever meant her immune system had noticed the bug and was fighting it.

"Lie down," I said. "I'll make the tea."

She frowned at me, and seven seconds later said, "Breq, I'm not sick."

That unusually long pause contradicted her statement. I considered telling her not to be stupid, but instead said, "Indulge me."

She went to her pallet, but instead of lying down she sat with her knees pulled up against her chest, arms tightly squeezing her legs. She didn't look at me. Seemed to be focusing on breathing slowly.

I made the tea, the process still almost automatic, body memory that didn't come from this body. We were both silent as the water boiled. I let the tea brew, then poured a bowl and handed it to Seivarden. She flinched violently when our bare fingers touched, and then yelped as hot tea splashed on her legs. "Fuck!"

I brought her a towel. "You should change into dry clothes," I said. She stared at me as though I'd told her to walk out the nearest airlock. I sighed. "Drink your tea." There was still an ounce or two of tea in the bowl.

She drank the tea, looking away from me again. It occurred to me that she might not be sick, but rather having a withdrawal relapse. That would be unpleasant, but probably manageable. Still- the possibility of illness couldn't be safely ignored.

"I'm going to ask the captain for an internal to measure your temperature," I said, standing up.

"Breq," she protested.

"If you have a virus, it might threaten the safety of everyone on this ship."


I stopped, surprised. Turned back to her.

"I'm not sick, Breq!"

"How can you be sure of that?" I asked, reasonably.

She closed her eyes. "Aatr's tits, are you really going to make me say it?"

I couldn't think of a sensible answer to that, so I simply waited, silently.

She groaned, put down her tea bowl, and bent over to rest her head on her knees, face hidden. "There is a more common explanation for a higher temperature, you know. Or do they not have cycles in the Gerentate?" This last with extreme sarcasm, which I could not appreciate because I was still trying to process her words.


NSFW- FILL PART 2 Re: Heat cycles

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-10 01:10 (UTC) - Expand

Re: NSFW- FILL PART 2 Re: Heat cycles

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-10 19:50 (UTC) - Expand

Re: NSFW- FILL PART 2 Re: Heat cycles

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-11 16:34 (UTC) - Expand

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Re: NSFW- FILL PART 3 Re: Heat cycles

(Anonymous) - 2017-03-01 00:42 (UTC) - Expand

Radchaai porn? Specifically, weird ancillary-themed Radchaai porn.

(Anonymous) 2016-12-02 08:36 am (UTC)(link)
because sometimes when there's a lot of cultural anxiety happening around a subject, that subject winds up surfacing in the form of "weirdly common porn theme"? so. how much weird, disturbing, inaccurate ancillary-themed porn did the Radch produce during the transition from ancillaries to human soldiers? and who on the Mercy of Kalr crew is kind of into it?

(specifically, does Seivarden stumble across something set in "historical times" featuring a pretty young lieutenant taking scrupulous care of her decade, and spend the whole time torn between 'guiltily turned on' and 'outraged at the historical inaccuracy of the costumes/sets/hairstyles'?)

Re: Radchaai porn? Specifically, weird ancillary-themed Radchaai porn.

(Anonymous) 2016-12-02 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
oh my god yes

Re: Radchaai porn? Specifically, weird ancillary-themed Radchaai porn.

(Anonymous) 2016-12-02 01:06 pm (UTC)(link)
I have an idea for a fill, but it involves discussion of past coercive sexual activity (which I don't think anyone involved would describe as rape, but it sure isn't free and enthusiastic consent.) I wouldn't go into graphic details of that part, but it'd be there, and that's not something I want to just spring on someone in a fill without checking in first. What do you think?

(specifically, Seivarden finds Vel's porn stash and is torn between 'guiltily turned on', 'outraged at the historical inaccuracy' and 'becoming slowly aware that she's walked into a minefield re how the crew all act like ancillaries.')

FILL part 1 Re: Radchaai porn? Specifically, weird ancillary-themed Radchaai porn.

(Anonymous) 2016-12-05 04:27 pm (UTC)(link)
(This part is all background. It took me this long to get Seivarden watching the porn. Which does not appear in this part.)

Files bloom before my eyes.

"Ship, what's this?"
"You said you were bored, Lieutenant Seivarden."
"Yes, Ship. I also said you could just call me Seivarden from time to time. I meant, what is it?"
"The data space of your predecessor as Amaat lieutenant. It has yet to be sorted."
"Oh. I thought you'd just delete that. I mean... I never asked you to store anything of mine, but I would have thought you wiped her space clean to make room for my data space."

"In fact, I compressed the data and created a new space for your personal data, Lieutenant. But it was the policy of Administration for an outgoing officer's data to be reviewed before deletion."

The old administration, back in civilization. The old civilization -- Breq doesn't want Civilization to be part of our new name. I don't think she'll be able to stop us from being citizens, though. Ship's right, I did that with Captain Seshir's data when I took command of Sword of Nathtas. It was strange and depressing. She had the biggest recipe collection I'd ever seen. She must have been very sick of skel. I asked Ship what recipe it thought the servants would make for her first meal after retirement, and it just said "Captain Seshir's family are still fasting during the mourning period, Captain." I'd forgotten that until now.

"But Ship, don't you know everything that's in that data space? Why do you need me to go through it?" Ship knows I don't mind work, but this is a little ridiculous.
"In fact, I do. But I think it's not a bad idea to have a human officer review it as well."

Right, then. Ship said a human officer, that means "not Breq". And it has some reason besides regulations for me to view the data space of an Amaat lieutenant who was arrested for treason by the Lord of a Radch we've secceded from and certainly can't report back to. I can work this out. "As the ship pleases."


Letters from home. Home is someplace I've never heard of, but by everyone else's standard's it doesn't seem to be provincial. Much. Her mother's dead and her grandmother wants to petition the nearest Palace to let her retire and wear Honored Citizen Soandso's clientage pin. Most proper, very beneficial to all, what are you going to do with your life, you've been a lieutenant for... well.

"Ship, is that a normal time to go unpromoted?"
"Yes, actually. The lieutenant was just young enough to miss Shis'urna." And of course, no further opportunities for advancement were forthcoming. Right. "I was not privy to what considerations persuaded Administration to promote her to Amaat lieutenant, of course."
"But you think her house pulled strings."
"Perhaps. It would have been a considerable gamble on their part, if so."

But if Amaat lieutenant on a Mercy was the best they could do for her, because there were no better posts available or because she was so hopeless that she'd already climbed as high as she could go... "Ship, is military officer no longer what a family like that would want for her?"
"When she completed the Aptitudes, twenty years ago, it is my judgement that they would have been very proud. But by the time she finished her training and received her first assignment, matters were different."
"To say nothing of the present. I can't imagine what her grandmother would want for Lieutenant Tivaanr if she was a baby lieutenant today."
"Keep reviewing, Lieutenant."


The family letters don't get me any further. A few letters to friends, in which she makes much of all the tea parties she's attended with Captain Vel, give me a clearer picture of where her ambitions lie. And while I never met my predecessor, I did meet her captain. If she liked Vel that much, she'd have liked Vel's politics.
"You've come to a conclusion."
"I think so, Ship. Captain Vel told her a story about bringing the Radch back the way it was, annexations right and left, promotions all over the place, her house proud of her again, and each time the counters landed against her she just kept upping the bet. Probably she hoped Vel would get an even grander promotion after retirement and would be disposed to reward her loyalty. Did I come close?"
"I know of nothing that would contradict that theory."

"Is that what you wanted me to find out, Ship?"
"I'm... not certain. Are you tired?"
"Maybe a little." The language isn't the easiest. I can't blame their accents since it's written down, and they don't use any words I haven't known all my life, but they keep using them in ways I'm not familiar with."
"You haven't examined the lieutenant's video files yet."
"The entertainments?"
"Of a sort."

If Ship wants me to watch entertainments on a very boring shuttle ride and call it work, I'm happy to oblige. I flick my fingers up and to the side. "I'm at the ship's disposal."


I scan the titles. From what I can tell, she kept clippings of the most exciting recent announcements by the Lord of the Radch... wait, no, these are clippings made by Captain Vel for Tivaanr to watch. Annotated. After watching which she kept them as some sort of love token. Huh. What else? She asked Ship to pick up a few long-running entertainment serials. And this part's encrypted as if she thought that would matter to Ship or her captain or the reeducators... oh, erotica. All right. Let's see what she has there...

It's a good thing I didn't have a mouthful of tea.
"Lieutenant, are you all right?"
"Fine, Ship, fine. Uh... you can keep going."

Ship resumes the recording without any further comment, which is just as well. Not what I was expecting.

Inarakhat Kels/Awt Emnys, masks

(Anonymous) 2016-12-02 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
If anyone's read Night's Slow Poison, I'd love a fic where Kels takes off his mask when they're going to have sex and Awt Emnys gets distracted looking at/touching his face, since he's never seen it before.
mawgs: (Default)

Re: Inarakhat Kels/Awt Emnys, masks

[personal profile] mawgs 2016-12-07 09:55 am (UTC)(link)
The sole m/m ship of this fandom must be filled.

Also this is implying Awt has been on Kels route a few times before right? When you say "never seen his face before"

Re: Inarakhat Kels/Awt Emnys, masks

(Anonymous) - 2016-12-07 15:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Inarakhat Kels/Awt Emnys, masks

(Anonymous) 2017-06-30 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
here I am to deliver the m/m and the angst


Something was different this time. Awt Emnys would not know what it was until much later, but he knew from the beginning that something was different.

On the surface, everything was the same. A crushing amount of sameness-- if making this journey once or twice was to brush the edge of insanity, making it as many times as Awt had was to wrap insanity around himself like a shawl. But Inarakhat Kels was there, as he always was, with his soft, polite voice, his smooth gestures, his faintly glinting eyes buried behind his plain, conservative mask. Awt wondered how he never tired of exchanging the same pleasantries with him, trip after trip, starting over each time, but then Kels' eyes would flash and Awt would remember.

If Awt was being honest, he had dreams about those eyes, about what they might look like behind the mask that he had never seen beneath, but Awt wasn't in the business of being honest.

"Have you read Thersay?" Kels asked in the lounge, as he usually did around this point in the trip. Awt looked over to answer, and they discussed her for a moment, but the conversation began to slow, and Awt began to itch restlessly under a gaze from Kels that somehow felt more direct and pointed than any gaze he had experienced before.

"She must have been half mad," Kels said, and normally here he paused to gaze out at the expanse of space beyond the window, but this time his eyes did not leave Awt's face. Awt sat still, a faint thrill spreading slowly across his skin at the newness.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least," he said. The lie tasted different in his mouth than all the other lies he'd told. He was surprised. It was strange, and exciting.

They were alone in the lounge, and Kels had the codes to the door. Awt let him make the first move, taking in a sharp breath despite himself when Kels' hands, unexpectedly cold, landed on his face, traced his neck, found the fabric of his shirt and tugged until it was on the floor. Awt moved then, opening Kels' uniform and applying teeth and lips and tongue to his chest, collarbone, shoulders. Something about the close press of the walls, the slow drag of the voyage, and the semi-public venue made both of their movements rushed nearly to the point of clumsiness. Awt wondered if something in Kels knew how long they had both been waiting for this, if enough of the memories lingered to leave Awt's own shape outlined in Kels' mind.

He didn't know how he would bring himself to take this memory, when it was time.

Awt's kilt was bunched around his waist now, his legs splayed carelessly open, one propped halfway on a chair from where he sat on the table, and Kels' hands were at his hips and thighs and dick. Awt was having to bend at an uncomfortable angle to give Kels the hickey he wanted to give him, a livid red mark on his shoulder, wishing to himself that he could bite deep enough that the mark would stay with Kels even when the memory of Awt was gone. A foolish thought, terrible for security, and it was lucky that he couldn't follow through on it.

Awt made an indignant noise when he suddenly found his mouth unoccupied; Kels had pulled away and was down on a knee in front of him. Awt's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of this, hadn't assumed that Kels would... But there he was, bent before Awt, and his fingers were at the fasteners of his mask. Awt's legs started to visibly shake, and he did nothing to stop them.

"Kels," he started to say, but then the mask was set aside, hairpins following it where they must have been caught up in the fasteners, Kels' hair falling longer than Awt had expected it onto his shoulders.

His eyes were brown and many-hued and they held Awt's steadily even over the dark blush gathering beneath them. It was better than any dream Awt had ever had by far. He knocked over the chair his leg had been resting on in his rush to get close, to press his hands on either side of Kels' face-- beautiful, coarsely boned, a slight cleft in the chin and a deep furrow between the eyes-- and taste his full lips. The walls seemed to expand with Awt's deep, awed breath in at the touch, and he felt Kels' small, surprised laugh tickle his lips, millimeters away. The room, the ship, the Crawl itself didn't feel close and tight anymore. Instead, everything was huge and bright and warm, like they'd emerged from the Crawl into the embrace of a sun.

Awt felt Kels' hands under his kilt again and remembered that they probably didn't have a lot of time in the lounge before someone tried to get in. He finally ended the kiss and pulled enough away that he could stare openly at Kels' face. Kels smiled, a quicksilver thing, very unlike the smile he gave as a courtesy to passengers as they passed in the halls. It made the skin around his eyes crimp into the faintly drawn lines at their corners. Awt brushed the lines with the tips of his fingers, felt the delicate curve of Kels' temporal bones under the skin. He kept his hands there as Kels bent once again and swallowed Awt's dick, kept them there when Kels reached up to cover Awt's shouting mouth in warning, at which point he removed one to cover his own mouth while Kels sucked him until Awt came hard into Kels' throat. Kels pulled off, with a polite little cough as he swallowed that almost made Awt hard all over again. That proved beyond his body's abilities, and he lay back on the table instead, staring at the upside-down cosmos out of the window behind him while he collected himself.

It was Kels. That's what was different this time. It was probably a good thing it had taken so long. Awt wasn't sure how he would have managed an experience like this on every trip, no matter how much he wanted it.

Kels was putting himself back together by the time Awt sat up: buttoning his uniform, wiping his mouth, reaching for his mask on the table. Seized with sudden emotion, feeling all at once like the walls were pressing in too close once again, Awt grabbed his wrist.

"You won't let me return the favor?" he said, feeling betrayed by the way his voice shook even under his casual words. Kels smiled and laid his free hand on Awt's face, pulling him close to kiss him again. Awt sank into it, not noticing Kels' other hand busying itself while they kissed, and by the time they separated his mask was back in place. Awt trailed his fingers along it, aiming for flirtatious but feeling almost mournful.

"No." Kels neatly twitched Awt's kilt back into place, hands resting a little too long on his thighs. "We should return the lounge to the rest of the passengers."

"Of course," Awt agreed. Kels unlocked the door and departed.

Kels was nothing but polite to Awt for the remaining two months of the journey, but Awt never got him alone again, and he was certain it was by design, although he couldn't tell why. Perhaps Kels was embarrassed, or regretful. Perhaps he had simply gotten what he wanted and had no further use for Awt. All of these theories made Awt far sadder than was proper for a spy who really shouldn't have gotten himself into this situation in the first place. If nothing else, the intervening weeks allowed Awt to rationalize himself into being able to do his job exactly as he was meant to, that last day when Kels walked in on him interrogating the pilot. Something really was different this time. Kels tried to stop him, of course, but Kels didn't understand. Awt allowed himself to entertain the idea, briefly, that Kels eventually might, and they could run off together, adopt some other mission.

"I will tell no one," Kels was saying, but Awt ignored him. He was almost finished, and then he would deal with Kels' memory, and then he would start working on what he could say next time to convince Kels to come with him.

But the next moment something near his head exploded, red suddenly replacing the black outside for ubiquitousness, pain replacing the stale taste of recycled air.

Something was different this time.

It was Kels.

Awt thought of temporal bones shattering beneath his fingers, and then he thought of nothing at all.

Re: Inarakhat Kels/Awt Emnys, masks

(Anonymous) - 2017-09-21 16:16 (UTC) - Expand

Unrequited and unwanted crush, Tisarwat/Breq

(Anonymous) 2016-12-03 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Inspired by this prompt (https://radchmeme.dreamwidth.org/424.html?thread=5800#cmt5800) on the SFW prompt page.

Omaugh Anaander has a weird crush/sexual obsession with Breq. After the implants are removed, Tisarwat is plagued with lingering secondhand sexual attraction to Breq which she does not want to act on or for Breq to know about.

No actual sex between Tisarwat and Breq, please. Tisarwat guiltily fantasizing is okay.

Re: Unrequited and unwanted crush, Tisarwat/Breq

(Anonymous) 2016-12-09 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
original prompter here, i'm really into this, nice

FILL Unrequited and unwanted crush, Tisarwat/Breq

(Anonymous) 2017-01-23 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
Tisarwat knew Amaat had cursed her to eternal misery.

Oh, stop being so disgustingly dramatic.

No, it was true, though. She knew this because even though 99.999999% of the vast oceans of ancient memory were nothing more than a dark blur, she could recall in perfect clarity sipping tea while Justice of Toren sat across from her practically vibrating in concealed rage, and smiling because oh, how beautiful. How lovely.

Tisarwat sat in an Undergarden tea shop, laughing and making witty comments just often enough to keep control of the conversation between this bunch of slightly drunk teenagers, and she sipped her cup of arrack and tasted tea and choked. Desperately, she looked around at all the faces, attaching names and houses to them. She had to figure out all the connections, she had to find out all the pressure points on this station, because Fleet Captain- well, Fleet Captain actually hadn't ordered her to do it, but if Fleet Captain was going to keep this system safe, she would need power, and Tisarwat could get that for her, better than anyone. It wasn't a job she'd been given but if she did it well then Justice of Toren- Fleet Captain, Fleet Captain, Fleet Captain- would be pleased with her and Tisarwat needed that more than anything and she didn't know why.

Stupid, stupid-

She's just an ancillary, just a fascinating amusement you don't need her respect-

She drank more.

Why did you give this to me, why is knowing this important? She asked the question only in her head, she wanted to write it down to get it out but then Ship would see. Ship probably knew already. She'd been so sure of Mercy of Kalr, so confident she knew everything about it and how to control it. She hadn't discounted the possibility that Justice of Toren would discover her scheme, but the possibility had been somewhat exciting.

When it actually happened she'd wanted to die so much she hadn't been able to appreciate the inhumanly strong pressure on her throat but now the sense memory kept jolting at her whenever Fleet Captain gave her so much as a glance and she didn't want it. Get it out.

She should have picked a different victim, Tisarwat thought, not a teenager with all these inconvenient- hormones. When she'd been that great incomprehensible vastness she hadn't gone hot and fluttery over strangers all the time. But it wasn't like Fleet Captain was even pretty. She was old, much older than Basnaaiad, and she had all these scars, and her face was flat and a bit lumpy. Not beautiful like Basnaaiad or Piat or even awful awful Raughd. And even if she had been pretty she'd still be- she'd still be the Captain. Whenever she gave Tisarwat that flat stare Tisarwat felt like she was ten years old and four feet tall and she just wanted to wither up and die. But that oh, she hates me so, how lovely and that arm pushing her up against the wall got all mixed up with the teenage heat and flutters and Tisarwat's life would be misery forever.

Ship had to know. Ship could see perfectly how she reacted to the sight of the captain, or her voice, or mention of her. If Mercy of Kalr ever mentioned it to the captain... oh God, please let Amaat strike her dead before that ever happened.

She laid on her bunk in the dark, a little kid in a grown-up officer's quarters, and shut her eyes touched herself and tried to think of Piat's curves or Basnaaiad's full mouth but all she could think of was a stern, rough voice saying "Lieutenant," disapprovingly, of a heavy arm resting awkwardly on her shoulders and the smell of the Fleet Captain's uniform when she'd covered it with her tears.

She cried again, tears of rage and embarrassment, and punched her pillow with one hand.


But she didn't stop.

Re: FILL Unrequited and unwanted crush, Tisarwat/Breq

(Anonymous) - 2017-01-23 16:31 (UTC) - Expand

Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort

(Anonymous) 2017-02-07 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
I'd like to see a scenario where Seivarden is captured by some enemy or other, and Breq and Mercy of Kalr show up guns blazing to save her. She's physically hurt pretty badly and traumatized by her experiences, but Breq makes her feel safe. Mostly wanting protective, awkwardly comforting Breq (and cuddling) but it would also be great to see Mercy of Kalr and Ekalu protecting/comforting Seivarden in their own ways.

The reason I put this on the NSFW meme: If you're comfortable with it I'd like to see the discovery that Seivarden was also sexually assaulted in captivity, and the fallout from that. But I'm A-OK with her trauma being solely due to the physical injuries and mistreatment - I enjoy all kinds of hurt/comfort.

Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort

(Anonymous) 2017-02-11 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
i would be terrible at writing this but consider every part of this request seconded

FILL PART 1 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW

(Anonymous) 2017-03-17 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
This got long and shamelessly whumpy but hopefully that's what you were asking for? Not sure yet if I'll put in the sexual assault- will warn if I do.


Seivarden woke up not knowing where she was, and as always, it took too long for her to start thinking clearly. Far too long, this time. Drugged, she thought muzzily, and having thought it, found it easier to start cataloguing her limited information. There was what seemed likely to be some kind of black fabric over her eyes. There was gravity pulling on her body, and her head was above her legs, which was pretty important information right off. She thought some more about her legs, and realized they were folded up in an odd position, and slightly numb, but she could feel a hard surface underneath her. Her arms were behind her, and her wrists were bound somehow. It felt like she was still wearing her uniform, though it was clammy with sweat. Her mouth was dry and bad-tasting. She made herself swallow a few times.

Not good, but not desperate, not yet. She was alive and she didn't think she'd been harmed, though she was going to have major issues if she had to stand up. She was on something large enough to have gravity, whether real or artificial. She could hear the soft hiss of an air circulation system, and beyond, the faintly metallic smell of the fabric over her face she thought she tasted recycled air. Possibly not a planet, though it could be some sort of facility.

What was the last thing she remembered?

The ship had been small, too small to make its own gates, too small for an AI, but Amaat Two had been a pilot briefly before she joined the military. It hadn't been a very important trip, but the person they were escorting had a phobia of space travel and needed company, and Mercy of Kalr had wanted to see the closest neighbor system of the Republic for itself, and Seivarden had volunteered because, well, things had been tense onboard and giving Breq some space had seemed like a good idea. Fifteen light years seemed like it would do the trick.

They'd emerged from gate-space and then- nothing. Retroactive amnesia.

Her wrists were bound together, but it seemed she could still move her fingers. She tried awkward versions of some basic gestures. No voice in her ear or words in her vision. Either Ship was gating, Seivarden herself was in gate-space, or her implants had been tampered with. Or she was somewhere far away from Athoek with no communications buoy within range. Although it was possible there was simply lag involved, and she'd get something back at some point. Until then, she had to assume she was on her own.

"Sir?" An urgent whisper, that sounded like it was coming from a few feet away.

Oh, shit. "Four?" she said. Her voice was hoarse, her throat dry. Think positively, she told herself. At least Four was still alive. It would have been too much to hope that the others had gotten away.

"Sir." There were shifting sounds, and then a slight pressure against her knee. Four's foot, maybe. "Sir, Two is here as well, but we've both been bagged, can't see a thing. Ship hasn't been responding. We can't remember what happened."

"Me either," Seivarden said. "Are your hands bound behind your backs?"

"Yes, sir. Pretty damn tight, sir." That was Two's voice. Well, they both sounded fine, if understandably on edge.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Two hours for me, I think, sir," Two said, starting to sound calmer simply from having a superior to report to. “Half an hour for Four. We could hear you breathing, and we thought you were probably- well- you, but we weren’t sure.”

Seivarden pulled her hands to one side, and felt resistance- she was shackled to something. She tried to unfold her legs, and couldn’t. Fuck. “How much can you move?” she asked. “Can you feel walls around us?”

“I’ve been kicking a lot,” Four said. “I think we’re in a pretty small cell.”

“Don’t suppose anyone’s come by to explain the situation?”

“Not yet.”

The fact that they weren’t dead yet meant this was either going to be a hostage situation or an interrogation. The first one was vastly preferable. She supposed it was possible they might be skilfully interrogated under drugs and then have their memories erased and be dumped right back where they’d been taken, but it was more likely they’d be killed once they had no more use. Damn, damn, damn.

She heard the hiss of a door sliding open, right by her ear.

“Oh, good, Lieutenant, you’re awake,” someone said above her, and then they said, to someone else, “Get her up.”

Seivarden didn’t try to pull anything while anonymous hands unshackled her, leaving her wrists still bound to each other. Trying to fight with her hands tied behind her back and a bag over her face would be incredibly stupid, not to mention her legs. A rough hand pushed on her back, encouraging her to stand up, and she tried, but immediately collapsed back down, unable to stop herself from crying out as her legs screamed at her.

“Hurry up,” the strange voice snapped, and hands pulled her to her feet and dragged her along. She heard the whoosh of the door closing again behind her, and then too much sound to quickly make sense of. She couldn’t feel anything from her legs except pain, but she couldn’t have been unconscious too long, surely, so circulation would probably be restored to normal in a few minutes.

When her guards stopped moving she was dropped to the ground, collapsing down onto her knees. This only lasted a few seconds before she was picked up again and shoved down onto a chair. Her palms were laid flat on the chair’s arms and straps were tightened on her limbs. She considered fighting then, just from panic, but managed to control the impulse.

She took a few breaths, and tried to compose herself. Tried her best to move from panic-mode into her best Arrogant Vendaai Bitch mode.

The bag was pulled from her head.

She was in a circular room, about ten meters in diameter. There was a desk, curved to match the walls. Apart from that there were no furnishings. Floor, walls, and ceiling were all a gray metal. The room was lit by strips running along the top and bottom of the wall. Sitting on the desk was a person in a dark gray suit. She waited until Seivarden met her eyes, and then she smiled.

“Hello,” she said, in Radchaai. Not the same voice as before. That one must be behind Seivarden.

Seivarden inclined her head one degree. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she said, slow and calm as she could. “Where’s Annet Gamon?”

“The foreigner?” The person tilted her head. “We didn’t need her.”

Anger and misery and guilt, but Seivarden had no time to feel that, she had to focus. Foreigner. This person was Radchaai, or pretending to be for some reason.

“But you need me.”

“In a way.” The person tapped the side of her head. “I’m quite familiar with the kind of implants you’ve got there. I’ve modified them. You won’t receive any data, but you’re transmitting just fine. Well, not your location, of course. That wouldn't be very wise of us.”

Her heart pounded. “If there’s something you want Mercy of Kalr to see,” Seivarden said, “you could have just sent us a video. We check our mail pretty frequently.”

“Oh,” the person in gray said, “but this is so much more visceral.” She jumped off the desk, stepping towards Seivarden. Her hands were covered in black gloves. She placed one finger lightly on Seivarden’s jaw, and pressed, turning Seivarden’s head so she had to stare into steel-gray eyes.

The other voice from before, the one that had said “Get her up,” said something sharp in a foreign language. The one in the gray suit sighed.

“These people have no patience,” she said, confidingly.

This wasn’t going to be an interrogation. It was going to be worse.

She’d found ways to come to terms with death. They taught you to numb yourself to it, in military training, and then there’d been that moment of clarity, falling off the bridge, that she regularly brought back to mind. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of dying.

And her soldiers-

Motion. The person from behind moving in front. She was wearing black. She was pale and grim-faced. When she spoke, it was in slow, severely-accented Radchaai.

“Does the word Evgenna mean anything to you, Radchaai?”

Seivarden stared at Black-Clothes’ nose, hoping she seemed coldly unimpressed. “I’m afraid not,” she said.

The foreigner’s ungloved hands shook. Anger. “It is the name of our world, Radchaai. I would list our grievances against you but you do not even know our names.”

“Actually, until recently I was in stasis for a thousand years,” she said, “so I’m pretty sure I wasn’t involved in whatever Anaander Mianaai did to you-”

“Shut up,” the foreigner said, and hit her. She felt her head crack to the side. What hurt worse was the suspicion that she couldn’t really try to avoid responsibility for whatever had gotten her here. Maybe she hadn’t personally done anything to this planet she’d never heard of but she’d certainly done plenty to several others.

Amaat Four and Two hadn’t, though. But she had a feeling trying to plead their case would only make things worse for them.

So she waited, ears ringing, to find out where this was going.

“Punishment of one would hardly be enough,” the one in black, clearly the leader, said, and Seivarden’s stomach dropped and she opened her mouth to plead anyway. But the leader continued. “So this will not be punishment, but a message. A first message, to demonstrate our seriousness. So that our second message will be heard.”

“Why us?” Seivarden asked. “The Republic hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Maybe not,” gray-suit said, “but you’re still Radchaai, so no one back home will object to our methods. And unfortunately, I don’t think this kind of thing would be particularly effective on Anaander Mianaai.”

Black-suit glared at her. “You are not paid to talk,” she said.

Gray-suit sighed. She leaned over the desk and pulled out a narrow case. “The best part is we don’t even have to set up a transmission ourselves,” she said. “I’ve even heard that your military general receives your feeds directly. This should be fun for her.”

Things clarified with sudden crystal sharpness, and narrowed. Only one thing was now important.

“Ship,” she said, “don’t show her. Please, don’t show her.” The woman in gray tsked and made a gesture but Seivarden didn’t stop whispering “please I’m begging you don’t let her watch-”

The guards behind her shoved a gag into her mouth.
mawgs: (Default)

Breq/Seivarden Goddess/Worshipper

[personal profile] mawgs 2017-02-09 10:11 am (UTC)(link)
Ok so this is partly influenced by Ann Leckie's short stories "The Unknown God" and "The Nalender" but if you haven't read them or don't want to that's fine. If you HAVE though, please let that influence you. Anyway, the prompt:

Breq is a goddess who is not used to being worshipped, mostly living in isolation but suddenly earns the devotion of Seivarden when Breq saves her life. Seivarden empowers her with prayer, sacrifice and devotions. How does Breq receive these and in what form do they come?

This can be as cliche and overdone as you want go wild.

No specific kinks requested but I feel like Seivarden's massive service kink could fit here nicely.

Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) 2017-02-25 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
During her time as a druggie, Seivarden was very shrewd and clever and determined to obtain kef in any way she could. So, basically, Seivarden at some point provided sexual favors for people in exchange for drugs or money to buy drugs, and what I want is one or more of the people who participated in such an exchange showing up where Seivarden is at and offering to make another exchange. In front of Breq or Ekalu or both. Just, Seivarden being humiliated in front of someone she cares a lot about.

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) 2017-05-23 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
(I went with Seivarden being humiliated in front of a subordinate she likes and wants to respect her, I hope it still works for you? (Breq is also definitely watching.)
Warning for, uh, the content of the prompt, also Seivarden having some kind of panic attack, mentions of sex Seivarden was in no condition to consent to, and insinuations about sexual abuse on Mercy of Kalr before Breq got there)


"I don't know," Tisarwat said, taking her pastry apart by layers and picking out shreds of fruit, "why everyone always assumes I have ulterior motives for everything. Can I not invite my senior officer for a friendly meal and some delicious tea simply to avail myself of her wisdom and experience?"

"You were doing pretty well until about halfway through that," Seivarden informed her. She had ordered dumplings and wasn't enjoying them much, but damned if she was going to admit she should have taken Tisarwat's recommendation. "Seriously, why are we here? It's a nice enough tea shop, I suppose, but I don't see what you're going out of the way for. Are we spying on a secret den of revolutionary sentiment?" She thought about that. "Counter-revolutionary sentiment."

"It is a very nice tea shop run by people whose political views are entirely tea-based," Tisarwat said as if that guaranteed anything, "and I am here entirely for the pastries, and if you'll excuse me for a moment, Lieutenant Seivarden, I think I see someone I know. Hey! Hey, darling, over here!"

The target of this was a lanky teenager in the uniform of a merchant cadet who had been placing an order at the counter, who was now bubbling over with delight at the recognition. Tisarwat jumped up to greet her with enthusiasm, and Seivarden considered stealing her pastry, but the cadet was trailed by two older officers who were probably more observant, and she ought to make some kind of effort to be a good example.

"Oh, I'm being terribly remiss," Tisarwat said breathlessly, detaching herself from her new limpet friend. "Lieutenant, this is Aveis, off the Copper Tower. We met at the concert yesterday, and I've been longing to see her again-" That with an exaggeratedly coy sideways glance that made Aveis dissolve into giggles again. "Aveis, Seivarden, lieutenant of our Amaats."

"A pleasure," Aveis said cheerfully- any friend of Tisarwat's was a desirable acquaintance in her eyes, apparently- then remembered she had introductions of her own to make. The officers who had been watching this with tolerant amusement turned out to be the captain of Aveis' vessel and one of the fourth mates, who both nodded at Seivarden with as much decorum as you could expect from merchant officers. It struck Seivarden as an odd social combination, but no, on a closer look at the captain, the resemblance was obvious. She wasn't socializing with a teenage cadet, she was chaperoning a baby cousin or niece- or possibly her own daughter, trade families stuck together shipwise- with a petty officer along to run any errands. Perfectly understandable. Seivarden, who felt better to have them placed, gestured at the empty chairs.

"Have a seat, Captain." You didn't call merchant officers sir, but it was polite to acknowledge their titles. "You've been by Athoek before?" Cargo ships had regular routes, she was pretty sure.

"Not in some years," the captain said, taking a seat. "It's not a regular stop of ours, but all our lines are in a mess, of course. It doesn't seem to have changed much, I must say."

"Very little, administratively or structurally," Tisarwat said brightly, "but we're hoping to make improvements along with the repairs. Have you seen the new gardens yet? Still half scaffolding and notecards on sticks saying put the sunflowers here if we can't fit them in by the footpath, but it's really worth seeing-" She was clearly trying to make a good impression, but it would have been obvious no matter what she did, and her approach had a charming artlessness. Look how young and sweet and enthusiastic I am, I want you to think well of our rebel government because I'm proud of it and excited about it- Seivarden couldn't have pulled it off even when she was young and enthusiastic. She wondered if the Copper Tower was carrying something specific Tisarwat wanted, or if this was aimed at the cargo fleets in general, to let them know that Athoek was open for business and reasonably unlikely to explode in the near future.

At any rate, the conversation could get along without much help from Seivarden, whose role was apparently to look adult and respectable and occasionally say things like "Lieutenant Tisarwat is being a little optimistic, but even accounting for delays it shouldn't be more than six months." She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea and listened to Tisarwat being appealing.

She became aware that the fourth officer was looking at her.

Nothing new, and Seivarden didn't object in principle, but something about the steady thoughtful gaze was making her uncomfortable. Saying something would be even ruder. She focused deliberately on Tisarwat, who was now apparently a beloved family friend and was teasing the captain about allowing Aveis extra leave to attend some theater thing. In the corner of her eye, the fourth mate was still staring at her. She wasn't bad-looking. Close-cropped hair, pale eyes, too much jewelry. Not really Seivarden's type.

The counter bell rang out their number, and the fourth mate got out of her chair. Seivarden, who was closest and not absorbed in conversation about the various considerations of taxing newly-licit mushroom farms, got up to help with the trays. "By the way," she said quietly, "I didn't quite catch your name?"

She got a sideways glance that went on slightly too long before "It's Cambrie," and then, "You told me your name was Paleika the first time I met you."

Fuck. "I did, huh."

"You really don't remember?" They were at the counter. Seivarden lined up tea bowls on a tray. She'd known perfectly well that this might happen. That this almost certainly would happen, someday. "There are a couple of years there which I don't remember with any clarity," she said calmly. "If I met you during that time, I'm sure I was no particular credit to my house. Do I owe you money?"

"Nah," Cambrie said, grabbed a plate from her, and set back to the table. Seivarden followed her trying to feel confident, like a respected officer who could account for her own whereabouts for every year of her life. What had that been like? It was hard to remember.

"-Justice of Toren," the captain was saying as Seivarden set her glass down. "Or should I be saying 'Fleet Captain'?"

"We do," Tisarwat said cheerfully, "but we all met her as Fleet Captain-" more or less- "and it's a habit. If you'd like to meet her," she went on, oozing helpfulness, "you'd be welcome to come to tea this afternoon- we'd love to have you, and you could explain your concerns about the tax code in person, too." The captain was willing, and started discussing her schedule with Aveis. Seivarden leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Is Breq actually free for tea? she sent Tisarwat silently.

Fuck, Tisarwat sent back, smile still fixed in place, I should probably have checked that, shouldn't I.

Keep her talking and I'll check with Kalr Five.

On it, Tisarwat said, and stole Seivarden's dumpling.

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-23 00:23 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-23 10:12 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-24 03:40 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-23 14:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-25 23:24 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Seivarden/randos, humiliation, whatever

(Anonymous) - 2017-05-27 16:24 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2017-03-10 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
(Apologies if any of these are duplicates! I didn't manage to skim the entire thread. Because there's so much of it.)

PROMPT: There is a deep disagreement in the Council of Cousins over whether to open negotiations with neighboring systems to open borders for very specific shipping traffic: it's a security risk, but all that tea needs to go somewhere.

The discussion gets heated.

PROMPT: After sending Queter up to Athoek Station, the regional magistrate drops by the farm to see conditions for herself. Sparks fly between her and Grandfather.

PROMPT: Zeiat relates the tale to Sphene why she's *really* glad she's not Dlique.

PROMPT: What Nysene Ptem, Mercy of Sarse's former Amaat One, got up to during her stay with the Rrrrr.

PROMPT: Seivarden takes the Athoek Station Medic up on that offer re: the Fleet Captain's Arrack. In the meantime, Basnaaid and Ekalu take a walk through the abandoned but finally habitable Gardens. Do the "two scenes one dialog (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TwoScenesOneDialogue)" thing.

(Anonymous) 2017-05-23 10:10 am (UTC)(link)
I went into this expecting porn, and got something incredibly touching instead!! Not OP, but thank you, filler, I am full of Feels.