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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[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)

[Maedhros glances at Fingon out of the corner of his eye, amusement and fondness glimmering within them.] Quite a few of them took, actually! [He says with obvious pride. The hot houses built for their plants were one of his most treasured projects there.] The hot house gardens I've managed to set up, I think, is one of the few sights truly worth making the journey for. But then I am very proud of them, so I might be biased. [Well, it works well enough to make Maedhros perk up a bit at the mention of his pride and joy.]

But I don't want to flirt with anyone but you. [:/]

I'm sure he will. [Maedhros says with a small amused smile. He can see why Fingon likes this healer so much.] The ones on my right side hurts. [The old injuries there had not held up as well as his left side with the new abuse put upon them.] I spent some time... restrained in ways that put a strain on my shoulder there.

I love to garden. [Haldamir says, smiling easily as he fixes an especially dark bruise with a mix of a salve and his healing.] The king built us hot houses as well to grow the plants we need for our salves and tinctures. When he was prince, I mean, they're quite well established now.

Father was too busy to handle the gardens. I found it quite a relief. I think we will need to build more soon. Perhaps you will help with that, Maedhros? [He asks, as if he doesn't already have plans and architects spilling out of his fine ears. If Maedhros was to stay for even a while he would need more projects than scheming with the blacksmith to make Fingon better armour.]

Which is good, since you do not manage to my love.

[Fingon frowns softly, helping the vanya move Maedhros's tunic to better see the muscle that is strained and giving his cousin the comfort of his touch while he does.]

Do you think it is dislocated? Or broken? [Haldamir asks, tenderly probing the area to find the greater injury.]

It is a very soothing passtime, I've found. [Maedhros agrees, he'd certainly found himself enjoying it when he had the time.] Aye. He did tell me about that. They are good to have so you can plant things unsuited for the climate or that are simply not suited for the season when you need them.

Seeing how much I enjoyed building the ones at Himring I don't see how I could say no to that. [Fingon knows him so well to know just what sort of projects to tempt him with to make him less likely to change his mind about staying. And he is indeed already imagining all sorts prelimenary ideas on how to go about such a task.]

That is exactly how I wish it to be.

[He winces a bit despite their care. There is almost always some level of pain in his right side, but this is worse than usual and so he knows it's something other than just his old injury troubling him.]

Maybe dislocated. It does do that at times when pressure is put on it the wrong way. [He hopes it's not broken, but he can't be sure of that either.]

I think so. It does not snow for us the way it must for you but still the winters are cold and long. [Especially if Morgoth is influencing the land, but Haldamir is hardly going to bring that up while his King is clearly enticing Maedhros to safer lands by dangling projects in front of him that might appeal.] And there is seldom too many healing herbs in stock. Even with peace there is still many an elf who does something foolish like shoot their friend in the foot. [The relative peace didn't mean the rest of the elves didn't find ways to make trouble for themselves. Haldamir has not been learning all of this time by healing deer and bunnies.]

There was the group that fought a boar and lost, as well. Last month, I believe? [Fingon supplies. None of them had died so he merely rolls his eyes before going right back to frowning.] If you thought it dislocated you could have told me. [THAT he could fix. He sighs. Haldamir is gently testing the shoulder, and then with a sudden movement and a quick "this will hurt, I'm sorry" he pulls the arm back into the socket correctly, immediately pushing healing warmth through it when he is done to try and take away the edge.]

And some healing plants are very sensitive to temperatures, I wager. [Especially if it comes on swiftly and with little warning.] Now that I do not find hard to believe. Six younger brothers have taught me long ago that they are most dangerous to their own health and safety when they are bored and have too much time on their hands. [No doubt they are not alone in getting themselves into enough trouble to supply more than enough training opportunities for apprentice healers.]

A boar?! Truly? Hunting accident gone wrong or were they just bored? [Sounded like something his brothers would get up to, honestly.] Ah... I'd grown so used to it that it honestly slipped my mind. [The pain had been there, of course, but it'd been there so long it had just become part of his normal state after a while and once rescue came he'd just been so relieved it had not even occured to him to mention it. He takes a couple of deep breaths in anticipation of the comming pain and then swears loudly once his arm is pushed back in place.]

They are. [If Maedhros, an elf who many feared suddenly cursing and raising his voice startles the healer he doesn't show it, not even faltering in sharing his healing touch to sap that pain away as quickly as he can.]

They were bored and hunting. And cousins, too. I'm sure you both know how that goes. [Haldamir says with a sudden bright smile because what trouble were all the grandchildren of Finwë, even the ones who behaved more like Fingon and Maedhros. Fingon snorts in amusement, though his face is serious as he keeps gently touching Maedhros, patting and trying to soothe him.]

Is this helping? I can try something else if it is not enough.

[He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths through his nose until the pain fades. Once he comes back to himself a bit he is mildly impressed by how unfazed Haldamir is by his outburst. A lot of people unused to him usualy fled the moment he raised his voice, whether they were the cause of it or not.]

Oh, I do. I guess we should all be thankfull they did not get it into their minds to attempt to ride the thing. [If trouble did not seek out the grandchildren of Finwë then those same grandchildren would seek it out instead if things were calm for too long. Maedhros leans into the touches.]

It is. It's helping.

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