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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[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.

[Haldamir had still been in Fingon's company when Fingon had rescued Maedhros and brought him back. He hadn't been a healer then or even really an apprentice but he had heard the screams nonetheless. And in truth, as fearsome as the Fëanoreans were he had heard and seen worse in the centuries since. Many a horror came back to their lands even if evil never breached their walls.]

They may have, in truth. We could not get much out of them they were so ashamed. Fingon came to check on them which made them even more unable to speak. He did not even yell at them and still they quaked. [Since it's helping, Haldamir focuses his efforts on this, putting his energy into it and letting his warmth and power press through Maedhros's weary bones and muscles.]

Showing fools I am watching them is usually more effective than yelling at them. It even sometimes works on Celegorm.

Sometimes.

[Whatever the reason Maedhros was thankful for it. Despite the fact that his fearsome reputation could be useful he'd be lying if he claimed it did not hurt at least a little to see people flee from him as if he were a wild and unpredictable animal.]

Well... can't say I'd have been to generous with the information had I ever thought to attempt something like that. Certainly not in the face of Fingon's disappointment. [The feeling of pain leeching out of him is soothing enough he needs to lean against Fingon just in case he loses his battle with his exhaustion and falls asleep in the middle of this examination.]

Yelling rarely works with him... makes him feel defensive and self-righteous instead.

I'm surprised you never did attempt something like that. [Fingon teases. There had been hunting in Aman, after all, and many a brother to goad him on.] Clearly my looming disappointment prevented you from trying to break in any swine as a steed.

[Haldamir smiles but he is still looking over Maedhros, trying to see what else may be wrong other than the battery of bruises that are slowly changing colour and fading as he works.] What else hurts, my lord?

A swine would be to small for me, even if it were the biggest boar around. [No amount of brotherly goading could entice him to do something that, even should he succeed, would make him look utterly ridiculous.] And I'd not be able to live down the ridicule that would come with attempting that. Now a stag, on the other hand...

[There are other places that hurt, and not all of them places he want's to talk about. So he simply motions to his abdomen to begin with.]

I don't know, you weren't always a tree... There was at least a few years there when you could have managed it. [The conversation is light but Fingon's worry deepens as Haldamir moves, still asking when he comes to a new place if he can touch, still as tender and gentle as if he were handling a newborn babe.

Fingon had been trying not to think about it much because there were things men considered that most elves could barely conceive of, but he worries as Maedhros grows quiet again. He captures his lower lip in between his teeth, pressing the pink flesh white with concern.] Did you really try to ride a stag? A wild one?

My love if you tell me what happened I can guide him, you need not say another word. I assure you he has seen... many results of the war. He will not be repelled. Nor will I.

Managed it, yes. Managed it without looking like an utter fool? Less likely. [Maedhros keeps his tone light and jovial but there is a visible tension on his face. He knows he can't postpone the conversation of what happened forever, but that does not mean he dreads it any less.

The worst is he knows he does not need to dread it. He has nothing to feel shame for... and yet still he does. Still he feels as if there is a stain that's been put upon him by it.] Tyelko, the little rat, had assured me the stag had agreed to it. Turns out it most assuredly had not.

[Maedhros turns his face towards Fingon before he awnsers with his own mind. Bitter tears welling in his eyes.] I... they... they hurt me. They took what wasn't theirs to take. Bent me to their whims whenever they felt like it. It hurt so badly, Finno... it still hurts.

[The story of the stag is quickly forgotten, or at least filed away for another day when the mood hasn't turned so suddenly dire.

It was what Fingon had feared, one of the few evils that to his knowledge no one in Aman had ever dreamt up even at their darkest and yet it had come up time and time again here in Ennor. Sometimes even amongst their kin.

But it had never been this close to him. His eyes turn glassy but he doesn't let himself cry, he simply stroke's Maedhros's cheek tenderly and through their bond shares the immense feeling of love he holds for him regardless of anything else.

Haldamir cannot avoid noticing something is happening, but what he is not sure and to give them a moments privacy he goes back to sorting through his bag for more salves and then sticks his golden head out of the tent to ask for some water and, if they have it, broth. He waits there for a soldier to fetch him some.]

I feared as much. That placed wreaked of it, sounded like it too. There were cellars I think. [Fingon had not checked himself, he had come in, "bought" Maedhros and then sent his army barrelling down on the place while he extracted his love to safety but he was sure he had heard people beneath the floor.]

Will you let him help? We often see this in refugees and the secondborn we rescue. You do not need to be ashamed.

[Once upon a time they had not even had a word for it. So unthinkable had it been. He missed that ignorance of such terrible actions.

He'd learnt before this, of course, that such things occured. Had had to bear witness to such depravities in Angband, feared that it would happen to him also but for all that he had suffered there he had managed to escape that. Even though the threat of it always hung above him.

Leaning into that soft, comforting hand he let's his own tears fall. Weeping silently except for a few miserable sniffles. He leans into the bond too, clinging to it almost as he let's some of the fear and grief and confusion he feels show through it as well.]

It was never quiet there. The smells were unbearable, as were the sounds... [Worst of all was knowing the people who came there paid to violate them. Made a commodity of their suffering. Made what should ever only be given freely into a thing to be bought and sold at a whim, made it something filthy and wrong.]

I'm going to have to. Sometimes there would be blood... and it hurts inside of me. My fëa aches as well and I am afraid. I try not to be, but I am.

[Fingon presses a kiss over those tears. Haldamir isn't looking, and in any case the younger elf is as loyal to him as a son and would never say anything if he took it for less than platonic. Gently, Fingon pulls Maedhros closer so that he can rest his head on Fingon's shoulder or even fully slump against him if he wishes to.]

Do you want me to tell him? I can bear the words if you cannot. I do not want you to suffer.

[If he was not so hurt, so unmoored by what had happened perhaps he would care that they do not exactly make for a platonic picture right now. But he does not care, he want's this closeness, he want's the intimacy of it. He want's the comfort of his husband without having to be careful about it.]

Please? I... I can't. I just can't bring myself to say those words.

Haldamir... [Fingon says softly as the healer receives a pot of water that had been bubbling gently over a fire not moments before and a metal cup with a lid and spoon that doubtlessly contained some kind of broth. The Vanya ducks back into the tent, securing the flap behind him for the modicum of privacy it at least allows them to pretend they have in a camp almost wholly occupied by elves before he looks to his King as he sets both items down, the pot on the floor and the cup of broth on a small stool that had been places in the tent near the bed.]

Your grace? [The soft, worried tone of Fingon's voice is enough to make him go back to titles even if he had been only a minute or two before teasing Fingon and calling him by name. If Fingon and Maedhros's positions seem unusual to him, he makes no sign that he thinks so.]

The place I rescued Maedhros and the others from was a place of great harm and human vices. [Fingon begins, his voice still hushed to keep the whole camp from overhearing him even if it is almost inevitable that someone will if they are choosing to be nosy.] Being a King did not spare him the brutalities of it all. They have assaulted him. Intimately. I believe he is hurt inside as well as out. He has said there was sometimes blood.

[Haldamir pauses, thinking through how best to respond to that when this is not just a Fëanorean but at the very least his King's favourite cousin and dearest friend, but he settles after a moment on treating this like he has treated many other things: with gentleness.]

My lord Maedhros... I can help you. Would that I could say that you are the first but you are not and I have practice and a sad amount of skill in this area. If you will allow me to help you, we can go as slowly as you wish. I will stop any time. You are no longer amongst monsters.

[Maedhros waits as Fingon speaks to Haldamir, his hand picking nervously at one of the pelts upon the bed. He does not look at either of them as Fingon quietly explains things to the healer, instead he pretends he's somewhere far away where none of this can touch him. Back home in Valinor, perhaps, where it would all have been naught but an evil dream.

He's brought out of those idle fancies when Haldamir's gentle voice brings him back to the here and now. Back to reality. He gives the healer a weak smile, for the kind gentle way he goes about this.]

Not the first, no, and not the only one brought out of that place to need such aid either. [He murmurs softly.] I... I would be grateful for your help, Haldamir. And I'll try to remember things are... not the same here when it get's difficult.

[Then he looks up at Fingon with pleading eyes.]

Stay? [He begs, even though he knows Fingon is unlikely to leave him unless he asks for it.]

I rather thought you might like to use me as a pillow and something to grab while Haldamir tries to help you. In case you panic. [Fingon doesn't even bother to call him ridiculous for implying he would ever leave unless Maedhros threw him out. He understood that he felt vulnerable and stripped down in a way that only marginally had to do with clothes or their lack. Of course Fingon would have gone if Maedhros truly could not bear him to be there but he would have only been outside, waiting to see if he was needed.]

The other healers are helping them. I am Fingon's favourite, sent to help Fingon's true favourite. [He says kindly, not smiling because this situation is dire and he is unhappy at the news even though they are neither friends nor kin but there is a soft warmth to his tone like the heat of embers on a fire that had almost burned out. There, but gentle, not enough to disturb or burn.]

Is there a way you would like me to start?

Yes, I'd like that. I need to... need to feel that you are here. [So that he does not start screaming, or worse. He does not want to end up kicking poor Haldamir in the face in a moment of blind panic.

His lips twitch slightly upward. Fingon's favorite. He does like the sound of that despite the circumstances and he's quite determined to hold on to whatever brings him even the slightest bit of joy right now]

Just... just slowly. And... perhaps if you kept speaking to me. They never spoke to me. [He's not sure it would help, but he thinks he'd have an easier time to keep his head straight if there was something to remind him he was not there.]

[If Fingon was anyone else he might have felt a little abashed at Haldamir's astute observation, but he merely shrugs slightly because it is true. Of course there were older healers that were just as good or better but Haldamir had a certain warmth that still reminded him of home and a gentleness that in many got worn down by the cruel passage of time. He was a good choice for Maedhros, and maybe enough like their cousins to comfort him in that way as well.

It was hard to look upon a Vanya and not feel affection, especially when you had been raised amongst Finarfin's children.]

You may use me for an entire mattress if you need too. He will not tell anyone or shame you, no matter how you react. Though I would prefer if we don't accidentally eject him from the tent with great haste. [As had happened to many a healer before for far lesser problems.]

Ah, yes. Well your dear cousin likes to tell me that sometimes I talk so much I'm going to wear the tips of his ears off so that I can do.

You had been explaining your new salves to me for twelve hours, somehow without pause.

There were quite a lot of them! [Haldamir protested, fondly but also somewhat embarrassed.] In any case, if it is okay with you we may have to pull down or even pull off your trousers. I am sorry to ask but it is hard to assess otherwise. [Power only helped so much. It was not as thought he were one of the ainur.]

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