This is a collection of various drabbles I've written for the TPM 100 Drabble Community. The newest ones are listed first, and they are sorted (and linked to) by drabble themes.
Drabbles are stories that consist of exactly 100 words. No more, no less.
Please be warned that some of these stories contain major adult themes!
Drabbles for the followign challenges are on this page:
"Children
"Nervous Breakdown - 2nd drabble"
"Nervous Breakdown"
"Night"
"Winter"
"Dress Up"
"Drabble Inspired by a song"
"Space"
"Quotes - 2nd drabble"
"Quotes"
"Silence - 2nd drabble"
"Silence"
"Rain"
"Stay Down"
"Don’t touch me!" Xanatos growled at Qui-gon who had just begun to massage Xanatos’ tense shoulders. "You’re the one who’s to blame for this," he said, pointing at the visible bulge that was his belly. "I swear by the Force that I will never have sex again if this is --"
Qui-Gon rubbed his temples as he tried to ignore Xanatos’ rant. Four weeks were over. Three more to go. He breathed deeply.
Serenity.
With a smile, he started another massage and Xanatos finally relaxed.
"That’s much better. But I swear, next time you’re --"
Qui-Gon just sighed.
August, 9th (Nervous Breakdown)
Xanatos cursed silently. He just ran out of luck.
Earlier that day he had been walking through the forest, hoping to find the cool pond again that he knew was there. It had been another hot day and all he had wanted was to get cooled down.
Now he was trapped, underwater, three bounty hunters waiting on the shore. He hoped to find another way out before he'd run out of air.
Suddenly, something was thrown into the water. Explosives.
He barely managed to come up before the shockwave would have killed him.
Shit. Now was the time to panic.
August, 9th (Nervous Breakdown)
Worried, Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan sleeping. He could tell that Obi-Wan was having nightmares again. He was sweating, his breath coming in gasps. Obi-Wan hadn't been sleeping the past four weeks - after the mission that had gone so horribly wrong. And neither had Qui-Gon. He was tired, constantly worrying.
Obi-Wan had never talked to him about what had happened. Not to him, nor the Council, not even to the Soul Healers.
At least he doesn't jump at every touch any more, Qui-Gon thought silently as he cradled his sleeping Padawan in his arms, trying to give him some quiet nighttime comfort.
Qui-Gon soothingly rubbed Obi-Wan's back as he held his shaking Padawan in his arms and listened to his story. Finally, Obi-Wan would talk. His stomach turned, his chest tightened and his eyes watered as he listened to what Obi-Wan, only fifteen years old, had had to go through.
Xanatos. Qui-Gon silently wished he had killed him back then. He also wished they hadn't gone on this dangerous mission, he wished he had paid more attention to who was present at the auction that night.
But this was not the time for feeling guilty. This was the time to comfort Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan buried his head against Qui-Gon's chest as he told him. Everything Xanatos had done to him, every painful detail. How it hurt, how he was humiliated, broken, how much he wished he'd been stronger.
He had kept it all to himself in the past weeks, but today, he broke. He'd been looking for a datapad and gone through one of Qui-Gon's drawers, thinking it was there. At the bottom of it, he'd found Xanatos' padawan braid.
And it had all come back to him.
But he was safe now, in Qui-Gon's arms. And finally, he started to trust again.
At night, he remembers. His Master's touch - wanted, yet not. Gentle, yet cruel. His Master's voice - soft, yet demanding. Soundless whispers of encouragement. At night, the anger creeps up at him, anger and hurt. At night, his soul screams, almost breaking.
He lies awake - as always, after the countless rapes, because that's what they are. He promises himself not to give Qui-Gon Jinn that much power over him again. And yet, it keeps happening.
The upcoming mission would offer him a chance to leave Jinn, to join his father instead.
At night, Xanatos is counting the days
I look down at Xanatos. He's lying on the floor, a deep sabre burn across his stomach leaving him unable to move. The self-inflicted branding on his right cheek is starting to blister. I reach out for him through the bond, but I'm met with a cold darkness.
"Finish it, Master. Come on, kill me," he whispers, pain audible in his voice. Still, his blue eyes are meeting mine, almost mocking me. He knows I can't do it.
As I turn around to leave him to his fate, I can feel a different coldness creeping into my soul.
I've failed.
Xanatos smiled grimly as he slipped into the brown, heavy robe. Years ago, he had been familiar to it, along with the sash, the tunics, the pants - clothes of a Jedi. Today he would wear them once more, twelve years after he left Qui-Gon Jinn.
Today he would wear them to take the opportunity to change the fate of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Qui-Gon had rejected Obi-Wan. No one could be good enough to please the Jedi Master, Xanatos thought with a smile. Just as well. Dressed like a Jedi, it would be easy to walk into Agricorps and get the boy.
July, 6th 2003 (inspired by songs - here: "Duel of the Fates")
I've found Obi-Wan years ago, severely injured and abandoned on Bandomeer, in the middle of a civil war. Left to die by his Master - Qui-Gon Jinn, who else could do such a thing? I've taken the boy under my wings, nursed him back to health and trained him to lead Offworld, should anything happen to me.
Qui-Gon had never managed, or never tried, to find us. Until now, three years later. I'm watching Obi-Wan fighting him. As their sabres clash, their actions resemble a dance.
I smile, satisfied, as Obi-Wan's sabre finally cuts through Qui-Gon's throat; I've trained him well.
Obi-Wan tried to stretch his legs experimentally, only to find that he couldn't. The cage barely left him space to move. He and Qui-Gon were on an undercover mission, requested to investigate who had tried to kill K'zahrr, a tycoon. In order to act as an unobtrusive observer, Obi-Wan was supposed to be sold to K'kahrr. Right now, he was trying to meditate. He didn't hear the auctioneer calling "Number thirty-six, sold!"
A slim hand was reaching through the bars of the cage and lifted his chin. As he looked into the face of the man, his blood froze.
Xanatos.
Obi-Wan cried out in protest as he was dragged up and tied to the rack again, another torture session ahead, another violation of his tired body. He tries to retreat into the space of his mind, tried to force himself to ignore what was happening to him. He tried not to feel how Xanatos drove into him, how he beat him.
Every now and then sparks of pain reached his consciousness and he screamed, weak protests against what was happening, teardrops joining the drops of blood. Obi-Wan retreated further to where he was safe - to the space of his mind.
Obi-Wan looked out of the window next to the bed he was lying on. The space outside was cold, but it gave him comfort. The stars seemed to move away from him. It's been two days now, since Qui-Gon had rescued him, two days he had spent with Qui-Gon in Outer Space. He was still too weak to move, IVs pumping fluids and nutrition into his body. He hadn't spoken much the past days. He flinched at every touch, had panicked when Qui-Gon had tried to tend to the injuries of the rape. Xanatos had broken his trust to Qui-Gon.
Quote: "I'm not afraid of death; but dying scares the hell out of me."
"I am scared," Obi-Wan whispered, not able to do much more than that. The illness spreading in his body making him too weak to speak.
"I'll stay here with you, Obi-Wan, I promise." Qui-Gon cradled his Padawan in his arms, his face buried in Obi-Wan's hair, hiding his own tears. "You don't have to be afraid."
"Promise to help me, once the end comes."
"I…" I don't know if I can; was what Qui-Gon wanted to say, but then he saw the fear and silent plea in Obi-Wan's eyes. Fear of a slow, painful death. "I promise." He said instead.
"There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread." (Mother Teresa)
He's spent all those years in the shadow of Obi-Wan Kenobi. All those years he's never been anything else but someone to show off Yoda's favourite pet Padawan. Just another pawn in the game.
But not any longer. He had enough of trying to show them what he was worth - when they didn't want to notice him anyway. He had enough of hearing them praise Obi-Wan every single day of his life, for today he's finally found appreciation. Someone, who knew what he was worth, what he could do.
Bruck smiled as he felt Xanatos' hands resting on his shoulders.
Silk, everywhere on his body. Around his wrists and ankles, his throat, just tight enough to make him feel his heartbeat right there. Silk covering his eyes and mouth. A soft, almost sensual touch - like a lover's kiss - yet not. He's taking a breath, enjoying the feeling of it as it gently presses against his lips, making him taste it.
His breathing and Qui-Gon's are the only noises in the room. The silence is slowly drowning him. Qui-Gon's breathing is getting faster as he's stroking himself while watching Obi-Wan's struggling. Then a strangled cry as Qui-Gon comes.
Breaking the silence.
May, 31st 2003 ("Silence - 2nd drabble")
I know I did wrong. I know I hurt Qui-Gon, more than I ever did before. He is angry at me, I can see it in his face, can see it in the way he acts, his stiff-legged walk. What is the worst though, is the silence. He shut off the bond, doesn't talk, disappointed by me. He left our quarters to meditate, ordered me to do the same. But I can't. I can't concentrate. I'm too distracted by the silence. I jump as the door opens.
"Xanatos."
His eyes are warm on me. He forgave me. No more silence.
With a loud crack, the whip dug into Obi-Wan's back. A high-pitched scream filled the room and then silence for what seemed like an eternity to Qui-Gon, before he heard the dreaded word.
"Rain."
Immediately, he released the chains Obi-Wan was hanging from. He cringed at Obi-Wan's whimper and the thin trickle of blood that ran down his back.
"I am sorry, Obi-Wan," he whispered as he cradled his Padawan in his arms.
The safeword. He had always hoped he would never have to hear it.
It was bound to happen.
He had pushed too far.
And destroyed it all.
Qui-Gon smiled down at his panting Padawan. A lesson in serenity.
The boy was lying down on their bed, covered in sweat, brows furrowed, concentration written all over his face, while Qui-Gon nibbled at the delicious skin of his scrotum.
Xanatos arched up, his shoulders pressing back into the pillows.
"Stay down!" Qui-Gon ordered, gentle hands on his hips pressing him down again.
A frustrated moan as Xanatos tried to will his body to calm down; the pain from his bitten lips a welcomed distraction.
He cried out as he felt Qui-Gon's tongue entering him. And he came.
Too early.
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