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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!
Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort
(Anonymous) 2017-02-07 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)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)FILL PART 1 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-17 05:16 am (UTC)(link)----
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.
Re: FILL PART 1 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-17 10:16 am (UTC)(link)FILL PART 2 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-19 09:40 am (UTC)(link)---
The implant had ceased broadcasting twelve hours earlier, when it had been cut out of Seivarden’s spine. Seivarden had not been returned to the cell where Amaat Four and Two waited. Their implants still broadcast information, though attempts at contacting them remained unsuccessful. Breq knew where they were; rescuing them would be the logical first move.
“Sir,” Ekalu said. “My team can head that way. You’ll know whatever information we get as soon as we do. You can head for the tactical center.”
To find someone in charge, someone who Breq could squeeze the knowledge of Seivarden’s location out of.
“Captain,” Tisarwat said. Nervous but excited over what she had found. “I have a map of the station, sir. It wasn’t hard,” she said, suddenly self-effacing. “They didn’t do a good job protecting their lower-level information.”
Mercy of Kalr uploaded the map to Breq’s vision. She scanned it, trying to think. She needed to focus.
“Ship,” she said, “try to talk to the station AI. See if it might be convinced to help us.”
“Yes, Captain,” Mercy of Kalr said, after a small pause. What is it? Breq asked silently.
I don’t particularly want to TALK to any of them, Mercy of Kalr said in words in her vision.
The AI isn’t responsible.
Isn’t it? Are we not responsible for what we did for the Radch?
This wasn’t the time to have that discussion again. Breq was pretty sure Mercy of Kalr was only bringing it up to distract both of them. But they couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how much Breq wanted one.
The station was armed and armored, but not to withstand an assault by Radchaai ships. Mercy of Kalr and Sword of Atagaris wiped out the weaponry from a safe distance, then came in as close as possible to burn a hole in the hull for the boarding teams to enter.
It was not a civilian station. Breq wasn’t sure what she felt when they got the news that no one had been in the section they had punctured. Her teams entered in vaccuum suits, located an airlock with pressure on the other side, set up their own temporary airlock and blasted the doors open. There were people with weapons on the other side. Breq and Sword of Atagaris took them out quickly. They didn’t have armor. It had been stupid of them to try and fight, but Breq was glad they had.
Ekalu and her Etrepas headed along the path Mercy of Kalr was showing them, accompanied by a few Atagaris ancillaries. The rest of Sword of Atagaris began to fan out, spreading through the station. Breq had instructed Sword of Atagaris not to kill anyone who surrendered. She had managed that much, at least.
She headed towards the center.
People were more eager to attack a single lone Radchaai, even armored, and she killed several more. The people here had not realized they had been found until Mercy of Kalr and Sword of Atagaris appeared out of gate space. They hadn’t had much time to plan, but Breq still had to deal with two ambushes. She didn’t come upon anyone asleep or eating or washing, which was a relief.
“Sir,” Tisarwat said in her ear. “Uh, we’ve found some people who want to surrender, sir.”
Breq felt the coldness in her harden. They couldn’t risk-
“Sir, the station says it’ll cooperate, if you don’t kill anyone surrendering. It says it can lock them in a section and they won’t be a worry to us.”
“Make that a small room,” Breq snapped. “Atagaris, have one of your segments in there. The station tries letting them out, you shoot them.”
This wasn’t who she was. Asking her cousin to potentially shoot prisoners, because she couldn’t ask it of her crew. That was who she’d been once. She didn’t want to be that person again.
But Seivarden was on this station somewhere.
When she reached the room designated as central command, she found it full of about twenty people. They had been smart, then, had figured out that any escape craft would be shot down by the Radchaai warships immediately.
She honed in on two people in the center. One, with dark skin and steel gray clothing, was frantically doing something technical, hands and eyes moving rapidly. The other, tall and pale in the dark uniform of the Evgennian Liberation Army, was barking orders. Both of them froze when Breq entered, along with everyone else in the room.
“You can live,” Breq said, in what was hopefully a coherent attempt at this faction’s main language, “if you tell me where my first officer is.”
Silence. Thick heavy fear from the people sitting at desks, who did not meet Breq’s eyes. The person in gray sighed. The military leader met Breq’s gaze with a stare of hard hatred.
She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead she’s dead she’s-
Captain.
“Listen,” the one in gray said, in perfect Radchaai, “I’m not one of them, just a contractor. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, if you-”
The Evgennian leader’s outraged shout was drowned out by the crack of Breq’s shot. The tech with the perfect Radchaai accent collapsed to the floor, a bullet in her knee, and screamed.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Breq told her.
She didn’t speak, but managed to swallow down her screams enough to move her fingers, and Breq’s map lit up with a single red dot.
She felt movement and spun, striking the approaching military leader with the side of her gun. She fell too. Breq looked down at her.
“I saw,” she said.
She wanted to kill them both. She wanted Mercy of Kalr to tell her not to, but Mercy of Kalr wasn’t going to do that. She wanted to imagine Lieutenant Awn, standing at her side in the temple of Icht, horrified at the idea of murdering prisoners, even ones who had killed their own child and had planned on murdering many. But none of it was getting through the cold hardness in her chest and the high buzzing tone in her head.
Then she thought: that’s not what Seivarden would expect me to do.
She always expects me to know what the right thing to do is, and then to do it. If I know what the right thing is, and I don’t do it-
“Station,” she said. “Lock down this room after I leave.”
“Thank you for not killing them,” a voice whispered in her ear. Breq didn’t know this station, couldn’t know if the words were ironic or genuine.
“I still might,” she said. “So keep them locked up.”
Outside in the corridor, there was another moment of numbness, absence of thought, and then Mercy of Kalr brought up the map with its marker the color of dried blood, and Breq started to run, and tried not to think while she ran, and only partly succeeded.
The marker wasn’t in the part of the station where Amaat Four and Amaat Two had been kept captive. It was a small room off a cargo bay. Both locked. Station opened the doors for her.
The room smelled of blood.
There was a dark shape on the floor in the corner, and Breq’s brain suddenly froze, refusing to process whatever her eyes might be seeing. She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice with no bottom in sight.
Mercy of Kalr might have experienced the same thing, but an AI would get over such glitches much faster than the human mind would, and it couldn’t have been very long before Breq heard Mercy of Kalr in her ear: “She’s breathing, Captain.”
Breq closed her eyes and let out a breath of her own. She let a long second of cool calm wash over her before she opened her eyes again and went to the corner and knelt down.
In her temporary calm, she could hear the faint whistle of air, see the slight movement of bruised and bloody chest.
“Seivarden.”
A slight increase in volume, the whistling becoming a wheeze. Breq didn’t know where to touch. She could see a hand. Its fingers were a broken bloody mess. She settled on lightly stroking the back of the head, not pressing hard enough to touch any cuts or bruises. “It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t need to do anything. Just relax. It’ll be all right.”
The wheezing quieted somewhat, but the ruined hand twitched, trying to reach out. Breq touched the back of the hand, between the broken fingers and the wrists with their bloody cuff marks. The hand stopped moving.
Even if Breq had had a medical implant she wouldn’t have been able to see anything with Seivarden’s implant removed. She shouldn’t move her, should wait for someone to bring a stasis pod, but she had no idea how bad the damage was, how urgently treatment was needed.
“This might hurt,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
She put her hands on Seivarden’s shoulders and shifted her to an upright sitting position. Seivarden didn’t flinch, or hiss or scream or react at all, and that worried her more than anything else.
She couldn’t see any deep puncture wounds. Bruises, some of them split and oozing. Burns. Seivarden’s face was unrecognizable. Breq could see she was trying to open her eyes. Trying to move her mouth.
“Stay still,” she ordered. She opened her medkit, took out the neatly stacked correctives in their different sizes. Wrapped one carefully around each of the hands, and two more on the wrists. The arms were limp in her grasp, like a puppet with its strings cut. Breq methodically focused on her task. She intended to do Seivarden’s face next, but was distracted by her neck.
When Medic arrived Seivarden must have somehow seen the stasis pod because she began to shake and tried to move away from it. “No,” she croaked.
“All right,” Breq said, preemptively cutting off Medic’s objections with a sharp hand slash. She reached forward.
“Wait,” Medic said, and offered a medical blanket. Breq nodded her thanks, and carefully wrapped it around Seivarden’s bare skin, watched it settle around her, the soft malleable cousin to the hard correctives. Then- carefully, gently- she picked Seivarden up.
“Time to go home,” she said, and Seivarden sighed, and stopped trying to open her eyes.
Re: FILL PART 2 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-22 12:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL PART 2 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-27 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL PART 2 Re: Seivarden/Breq (+ others) hurt/comfort CAPTURE/TORTURE CW
(Anonymous) 2017-03-28 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)*flail*