bakerstreet | The Slave Auction Meme

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The Slave Auction Meme

• Leave a comment with the character's name, fandom, and whether your character will be playing the part of 'slave' or 'master', plus preferences for scenarios if you have any.
• Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
• Please remember to be respectful of others while you play

Warning: Be aware that this meme deals with dark subjects like slavery and may also contain non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex, violence, and kink.

SLAVES

1. The Newbie - This is your very first auction and you don't quite know what to expect. Hopefully you remember your training and don't disgrace yourself in front of your new master. Hopefully someone thinks you're worth buying at all.

2. The Oldtimer - You've been bought and sold and bought again so many times. You've seen it all before and don't think this time is going to be much different. In fact, the only real anxiety you've got is whether or not someone's going to pay for a more than slightly used slave.

3. The Pet - You're a pleasure slave. A bed warmer. A decorative piece of artwork. You're meant to look pretty and be pleasing and not much else.

4. The Guard - Your master hired you because of your ability to swing a sword or shoot a gun, not your looks.

5. The Escape Artist - Somehow you always manage to squirm out of your master's chains. Too bad you seem to get caught after a while. Maybe your next daring escape will be permanent. Then again, maybe your next master has special ways of keeping you locked up.

6. The Undercover - You aren't a slave at all, you're just pretending to be one. Why? Well that's up to you. Either way, your cover is blown if you don't act the part.

7. The Specialist - You have a skill that no one else has. Something rare and valuable. Something your master needs more than anything else.

MASTERS

1. The Customer - You've owned slaves before and this trip to the market is nothing new to you. Still, you're hoping to find something worth your while.

2. The Gift - Someone bought a pet for you, isn't that nice of them? Or maybe it isn't so nice. Did you even want a slave in the first place? Well you're stuck with one now.

3. The Giver - You're selecting a slave for someone else, and they need to be perfect. Perhaps you'd better test them out first to make sure you're getting your money's worth.

4. The Trainer - You specialize in taming unruly slaves and making them over into perfect, obedient, well-trained pets.

5. The Rebel - You hate the idea of slavery, but the system isn't going to go away any time soon, so the next best thing is to buy up any slave you can get your hands on and free them, right?

6. The Companion - You want someone to be with you always, someone you can talk to and depend on, someone who will never leave your side. It's a good thing that money can buy that these days.

7. The Undercover - You're not actually a Master. You're at the auction for an entirely different reason. Maybe it's special policework, maybe you're trying to hunt down a certain someone. Either way, your cover is blown unless you act the part.

As always, feel free to use a combination of scenarios or make up your own if you have other ideas.

Snagged from here.

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You must tell me if you need a break on the ride home. The horse may not tire quicker than you for once and I will be upset to exhaust you before you're well enough for it to be for any fun reason.

I will. I don't think I have it in me to be my usual stoic self and pretend I have no limits. I'll let you know when I start to tire.

Good. [He was satisfied that Maedhros actually would tell him for once. Mostly because Maedhros no doubt knew how upset with himself Fingon would be if they ended up slumping off of the horse or something equally as awful.

Fingon settles in, alert to their surrounds but unconcerned. A few of his guard catch up and ride not close to him (out of respect for whatever privacy they may wish to have, or pretend they have) but keeping watch for orcs or fell men or simply wolves while their King's mind was on his cousin.

They will ride like this, occasionally chatting but more resting together as his horse gracefully picks his way back towards home until Maedhros is tired.]

[He does know how upset Fingon would be should that happen and he has no wish to distress him further than this entire situation already has, so he'll be more responsible with his own health than he usualy is this time.

And for once he'll leave it to others to keep watch for danger. Prefering to simply lean back against Fingon to draw both strength and comfort from his steady prescence.

They go on like that for an hour or two before exhaustion starts to set in. Making Maedhros feel tired to his very bones and far too keenly aware of the dull ache of his injuries.] Finno... [He mumbles. Tired enough that he feels he's at risk of simply blacking out.] I... I think I need to rest for a while. I don't think I can keep myself upright much longer.

[As time goes on more and more of his soldiers return to their group carefully riding with the rescued, though the trail extends far behind them with only Fingon, Maedhros and Fingon's personal guard at the head.

He watches for signs of tiredness and is glad when Maedhros actually speaks up, right as worry is beginning to gnaw in Fingon's belly. Dawn was cresting over the horizon as he stopped his horse, the rest of the company stopping too.] Then we shall rest for a few hours. [He says privately for Maedhros before speaking to his men.]

Set up camp here for the day. We will rest and eat. Make sure there are enough blankets, send riders to the rest of the company if you run short.

[There is no hesitation in his men. They start talking to each other, cleaning out the meadow in which they have stopped, setting up fires and bed rolls and a tent for Fingon and Maedhros. It was only small, but Fingon thought it would bring comfort to his love to not be watched while he rested.

Getting off his horse, Fingon keeps his hands on Maedhros and then helps lift him off, scooping him up like he weighed less than a child and sitting by the freshly made fire while the tent is fully arranged.]

Could you eat? I have bread if nothing richer can be managed. There are more coming to help with the other rescues so there is no shortage of supplies. Do not hesitate to make use of them.

[He had promised he would and he'd rather not end this night falling face down on the ground because he was being unreasonably stubborn to the point of passing out.] Thank you. [He murmurs softly to Fingon as he feels his head starts to go fuzzy from tiredness.

He's vaugely aware of all the hustle and bustle of the guards setting up camp for them. He is very thankful for the privacy of the tent they set up for them, he does not want to have too many people's eyes on him right now. He just wants to lay down next to Fingon and rest.

Maedhros leans his head against Fingon's shoulder as he carries him, breathing in his comforting scent.]

I don't know. [He says. Tears pricking at his eyes for the first time since his rescue. For he'd not truly eaten in so long and he remembers how hard it had been to get used to food again the last time he'd been starved. It was unfair. So very unfair to face that struggle again.] But I shoud probably try. Just the bread, though... I'm not likely to be able to keep anything else down.

[At least it had not been years this time. Fingon had gotten on his horse the moment the panicked missive from Maedhros's men had made it to him. It had been too late in the day but they were elves, not men, and needed little rest under normal circumstances and so they had gone, giving men instructions to follow once they had time to grab more than the scant handful of supplies Fingon and his guards took.

Regarding Maedhros lovingly, he sighs, brushing his thumb over his cheek and brushing off his tears. He presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and then rests his cheek there.]

If you cannot keep it down we will just give it time and try again. I will rest with you in the tent, you can use me to keep yourself warm. [Often it was (physically) the other way around, but Fingon knows Maedhros needs time to rebuild his fires and he is never unwilling to help him keep going until he feels capable.]

[There is that. It had been such a struggle to get used to food again after that and, he had to admit, the memory of having to repeat even a fraction of those struggles scared him.

He leans into the touch and just let's himself feel cared for and protected for a little while.]

I'll try. If the bread proves too much perhaps I could try some broth when we get back home. Sleep is what I most need, though, I feel so worn out. [He even felt the chill for once. The fires inside of him feeling like little more than a few small, sad embers at the moment.] That sounds nice. I think I'll need to do so for now.

[Fingon supposes that a lot of Maedhros's fears about eating now have less to do with this relatively short captivity and its cost and more to do with the decades he was left to hang in hunger from the top of the mountain.]

They are making broth too, for the others. You can start with that when it is ready if you wish. We brought some from home.

We can sleep though. I am happy to hold you as long as you need me to and then a bit longer still.

[Food was difficult for him even at the best of times. Less for any physical reason than because of those terrible memories of hunger and depravation.]

Yes. I think... I think I'd like that better. [Broth was easier. Less likely to turn his stomach.]

But... maybe sleep first? I'm so tired and I just want to feel your arms about me for a while while I rest.

[The tent was finished by now. It was small by the standards of a king but more than enough to fit the two Noldor even with their impressive height. They had made up a bed, wide and soft and made of several bedrolls, furs and blankets. Fingon picked Maedhros up again from their place at the fire.]

We can sleep first. We will keep this camp for as long as you need to rest. There is no rush. We are protected. [That seems more important than usual as he ducks beneath the tent flaps and brings Maedhros into the much more private space, lit by a single lantern and the daylight that skims under the edges.

He gentle sets him down on the makeshift bed and begins to undo his armour, not calling for help so that they can have privacy.]

I can keep you warmer without all of this.

[He was honestly just thankful there was a tent at all. He needed the privacy. Needed to be able to cling to Fingon in a way he would not wish for others to see, and not for the usual reasons. He'd kept his emotions in check so far but now he was tired and could no longer keep it up. He would not be able to hide how badly this had affected him and he did not want anyone but Fingon to see that.]

Thank you. A long time, then. I am weary to my bones and I hurt. [And he wants nothing more than to rest beside Fingon and feel like, maybe, everything is going to be alright despite all of it.

Once he's on the bed he turns slightly to the side so he can watch as Fingon discards his armour.]

Yes. And you'll be a whole lot softer as well.

Do you want to see if the healer has arrived before we rest? I can offer you some help but not much. [Making war wasn't good for healing hands. He had long been out of practice of everything but the little healing they had been taught as children.] I left the palace without them because I wanted to travel quickly but they were coming straight after us, they may be here by now or at least within sight.

[Fingon asks, listening to see if he can hear them but there is too much chatter and horses for him to be sure. He undoes his bracers and shrugs off his breastplate.]

Yes. Much better to curl against.

...It would probably be for the best. [He admits, though he is not too thrilled at the prospect.] Better to make sure it is just bumps and bruises instead of something more serious. [He had, after all, taken more than just one beating there. Not to mention the other things he'd suffered there...

Despite his discomfort he manages to scrounge up the strength to give Fingon a fond smile.]

It is, in my opinion, the most comfortable place to curl up against. I never rest half as well as I do when I am curled up against you.

I agree. [He wanted the healer to come the second they arrived but if Maedhros was to refuse he would have held off until they were at home and Fingon could insist on it without the full company having to witness them arguing.]

I will send my squire to find them. [He is still taking off parts of his armour as he rather literally but surprisingly gracefully hops out of the tent flap and calls for his squire and then gives him his orders before coming back, now free of more metal which he gently places in the corner on the floor.]

We are going to have a wonderfully long nap just as soon as you have been looked over, I promise. I will even sing to you if you wish.

[He'd never much liked being seen by healers, but he knew it would be foolish of him to put it off. If he had something more serious than bruises and tears letting such injuries to remain untreated could make them worse.]

Thank you. [Maedhros keeps his eyes on Fingon as he goes, simply enjoying the sight of him. A sight he had always found comfort in.]

A long, long nap. [He mumbles tiredly.] Would you? I have missed your singing, love.

Thank you for being willing to see someone. [Fingon knew better than perhaps anyone how much Maedhros did not want to deal with healers or show any vulnerability to anyone currently outside of this tent. He finishes unbuckling all of the armour on the top half of his body and everything down to his plated boots. He bends down to undo them.]

I will. I forgot my harp in my rush but I can sing for you. [As he pulls off his boots the healer appears at the door, hesitating until Fingon motions him in.

He was a lovely, golden haired elf. As tall as Fingon but with the softer Vanya features that had been drowned out but Noldo blood in Fingon's line.]

My Kings. [He says, with a small bow before he looks between them and then settles on his patient.]

My lord Maedhros. May I come over? [All of Fingon's people had already learned the lesson of how to handle Maedhros, and really any survivor of this horrific war.]

I need to do it, I know. I... I don't like it but I know I must. [It's hard to be vulnerable around anyone but Fingon, especially when he is not feeling well. It is hard to trust others with such obvious weaknessess when he can't entirely bring himself to believe they won't use them against him. Which he knows is irrational. Few elves would do something so dishonorable, and even fewer still would be anyone who's devoted themselves to healing.]

Your voice will be sweet enough for me, but I will be very happy if you play for me once in a while when we are home. [He stiffens a bit when he hears the healer approach and he needs to fight the impulse to burry himself in the furs and blankets to hide.

The man looks kind, though, and that eases him some. He still spends some time observing him before he nods slightly in assent to his question.]

[The elf easily could have been one of their cousins. More than the golden hair, he had the kindness and soft eyes of Finrod and that same gentle approach. Only, it was Fingon who had taught him, advised him in how to handle the very ill and traumatised after he had been forced to live through several crash courses in the art with no forewarning or practice.]

I am Haldamir, my lord. [His tones were hushed and gentle as he approached, kneeling beside the makeshift bed and shifting his pack he had been carrying around to his front. He frowns softly as he looks at Maedhros, sure that there is more than what he sees.] What if we start with these cuts and bruises? [He asks, letting the fact he is worried there might be more sit, unspoken, in the chill morning air as Fingon pretends to be busy adjusting the last of his armour and then arranging the pile of silver metal into something that won't send his squire into fits if he sees it.]

[His long recovery after Thangorodrim had been one long lesson on how to deal with and treat such trauma. His mood had fluctuated so swiftly and suddenly back then. Going from rage to fear to grief with little to no warning even for himself. Not even he was always sure what would set him off in a panic at first. But Fingon had always been so patient with him, so kind, even though he knew he had been hurt and scared as well.

His eyes follow the healer silently, only breaking away from him to scrutinize his pack instead when he sets it down.] Yes... that's probably the best place to start. [Not too invasive and easy to pull away from if it get's to be too much, yes that would be a good place to start. It would help him get used to the healer poking at him. Fingon's prescence would help as well, even if he kept to the background.]

[Fingon rarely let on what he had truly felt in those days aside from the obvious and unavoidable like how sad he had been. In truth he had been terrified. It was true, he had known Maedhros had a softer core than most people thought he did and that he had known that since he was a child but that still had not prepared him for the horrors that would come of being so soft in such a harsh land. He had had to put aside his own softness, and he did so again now, slipping closer, sitting beside Maedhros on the furs and smiling kindly at Haldamir.

The healer was from Valinor but he had been a boy when they set out. He has been maybe eighty years old at the time, tall and strong enough but not grown, not really. Not to elves. Now he was an elf, fully grown and with a sadness in his heart and gentle hands that wanted to fix all of it.

He would not be able to, but like many others Fingon could call his people, he would try.

Haldamir starts with the bruises and wounds on Maedhros's wrists and hand. He was gentle and slow and asked when he wanted to touch before he did. His salves smelt sweet, like honeysuckle and roses and he applied them with the same tenderness he did everything else as he hummed softly, healing warmth pouring from him as he did.]

Try not to leave him too many dashing scars. [Fingon says, feigning levity while they still can.] He already has so many he won't be able to pry the ladies off of him. [You will always be wanted no matter what has happened.]

[Softness was a thing not often rewarded in these lands. It, he'd found, more often than not made you a more tempting target. And so he'd learned to build an iron wall around that soft core of his, in a vain attempt to try to shield it. When Fingon sits next to him he breathes easier, his prescence becomes something to ground himself with and helps to keep his mind from drifting to darker memories.

Young. Too young, this healer, to have faced so much darkness. For he knows no one so obviously of Vanyar descent had come across with his fathers host. He must have had to walk across the ice with Fingon and the others.

His approach is much appreciated by Maedhros, and makes it much easier for him to allow this examination. It makes him feel more in control of it, less like it is something that is simply happening to him.

Fingon's jest actually makes him laugh, though his voice is weak from exhaustion and pain.] I'd hate to have to break too many hearts. [For I only really want to be wanted by one.]

[It was luck, mostly, that had kept Fingon from a similar fate. He was certainly no less of a tempting target for Sauron or Morgoth, especially now, but he had slipped by them unnoticed. A gift of the Valar, perhaps? He tried not to think too hard about it because he could never believe even the most fell of the children of Eru deserved this sort of fate.

He was not even sure that the orcs deserved it.

Haldamir smiles softly at the joke but keeps working, gently turning Maedhros's hand over in his own, smaller hands to check for any broken bones now that the bruises are fading before their eyes.]

I'm sure a lot of them would be heartbroken by the thought of going to Himring. It is very cold there and not so many flowers grow. And your pretty face in all that cold with not a flower to be seen? A tragedy. [It was easier to joke than to face the truth of things. So much easier.]

You have had my heart since I first heard your voice. Though it is funny to watch ladies flirt with you. [Maedhros was nowhere near as comfortable or smooth with interested elves as Fingon was. Sometimes to the point that it meant dinner came with a show. It could be quite entertaining.]

May I check your upper arms and shoulders? [Haldamir asks quietly when he is content that he is not missing a smashed finger somehow.] Is Himring very cold? The King never takes me. This is as far east as I have yet come. [His speech is light but he does shoot a look at Fingon as if to say and I have survived it just fine. Haldamir was one of the elves Fingon kept safe and hidden from danger, deep within the walls of his protected city. Almost like he was his own son, one Fingon would never have.]

[They would have danced in glee had they ever gotten their hands on Fingon, even more so now that he'd deprived them of their prize captive the way he did. Some power had wanted Fingon to find him, it seemed, there were so many small coinsidences that helped him along for Maedhros to believe otherwise. Though it frightened him a bit what purpose he was being saved for.

Maedhros sighs in relief when some of his pain fades away, even if just a small part of it.]

I'm sure a lot of people are heartbroken to go to dark, drab Himring. It is, very much, an aquired taste in location. And no flowers, just the odd scraggly bush. [Much easier.]

And glad I am of it. Though I'd be gladder still if you did not take so much joy of my awkward attempts to let them down gently. [Dealing with anyone but Fingon being interested in him had never been an easy feat to him. As wrong-footed as an adolescent youth he turned when that occured.]

Allright. [He says, starting to feel more comfortable around the young elf.] Very cold. Especially at winter when the snow sets in. It's more a military outpost than anything else, in truth, even the staff is made up of mostly auxiliary soldiers. [So he can understand why Fingon has not brought this healer there. It is a dangerous place, far too close to Angband to risk having many civilians there.]

It is not my choice of climate but the company is good enough to excuse that. [Haldamir gives him another look but is quickly back to his work, now gently moving Maedhros sleeves up so that he can look for any wounds.] I may take you sometime if you really wish, it is not as drab as my dear cousin pretends but it is not Dor-lómin either. Some of the plants I took to you took root though, did they not? [Distraction, thy name is Fingon.]

It is not my fault you are so funny. You cannot blame me. I have given you ample chances to learn how to flirt. [:)]

Perhaps the king in his great wisdom and mercy will allow me to see it some day. [Definitely an elf raised around Fingon, he had the same incredibly polite sass.] Are your joints troubling you my lord? Have they been pulled or strained too hard? [Or worse?]

Edited 2025-04-26 15:48 (UTC)

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