#drover drabble

[softfem-dom]

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drover

[1,]STAMPEDE - when lady ashley comes around to take the reigns of his late husband's bussiness, things seem to be going pretty well. Or, that is, until the abusive workers get fired and it's left up to you to cattle-drove. What happens when a stampede breaks lose? (platonic)

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Impatience of Agatha Harkness

Death is not patient. Death is violent, difficult to entertain, always hungry for more, more, more.

And yet even a being who might slaughter the world to sate herself, who cannot remain still for more than a handful of breaths, pales before the impatience of Agatha Harkness.

“Move!” Agatha yells at a line of drovers, men and cows patiently waiting to proceed into the city. “I don’t have time for this!” She’s wearing a tightly laced dress which emphasizes her bust, now slightly duller from the road dust. Some of the laces swing freely and Rio fights the urge to bat at them.

Instead, she bumps her shoulder against Agatha, leans her head at what would be an uncomfortable angle for most people to mouth her hair, then says, “You know you’re an immortal witch, right?”

“I’m an immortal witch with business in this damned city and if I have to stand behind these cows for one more minute—“

Rio mutters under her breath, picks and chooses the words that feel right and wind sweeps past them from behind, a gust that blows both of their hair into disarray and carries a scent to the nose of the waiting cows.

It is the scent of wolves in the night, the scent of men with knives, the scent of Death, somewhere behind them, nipping at their heels.

The ensuing stampede does clear the path to the gates faster than the waiting, with a few casualties as a bonus for her. But Agatha hasn’t moved, simply staring.

“How’d you do it?”

“Didn’t you want to get to the—“

“You can’t just do elemental spells like that! You didn’t actually do anything! I didn’t even feel it.” It drives Agatha to distraction, that she cannot understand how Rio’s magic works, which in turn never fails to delight Death.

Rio shrugs. “I just did it. It was easy.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, turn to stomp toward the city mutter ‘I just did, it was easy’ to herself in a mocking tone, then turns back when Rio doesn’t follow. “Yes?”

“Say something nice, Ags.”

“Something nice, Ags,” Agatha says, completely predictably, then runs her fingers through her disheveled hair, making it worse. “The sooner we get my business over with, the sooner I can take you to bed. How’s that for nice?”

Rio considers, then trots after her. That is, she thinks, pretty nice.

I write a lot of silly witch drabbles, check out my blog for more

[may85]

hi! new here! 👋 i spy you’re writing for Drover?! do you have a masterlist hidin’ out somewhere? 💙🖤💛✨

Hey Hun! I am writing for Drover! I don't have a masterlist at the moment. I need to hop to it and work on one! Here's the link to my first Drover drabble! Requests are open for him (I've got a couple requests lined up for him at the moment!), Logan and Van Helsing!

[krethes]

New Fic: Drover

It's cowboy wolfstar! A quick(ish) drabble(ish) delight! Rated M. 1,096 words.

Read Drover here!

It's early, just past dawn and the camp wakes up in stages. There's the crackle of ignition as the fire is fed, the groans of sleepy men, and the cracking of stiff, frozen joints as they rise from the unforgiving ground. The horses munch noisily on their feed, and the smell of coffee burns his nose, the familiar scent kicking his brain into habitual overdrive. But it's the feeling of someone watching him that makes Sirius actually open his eyes.

There he stands, leaning against the side of the wagon next to the remuda, their band of spare horses, casually picking dirt out from under his nails with the tip of a knife. He's just... watching him. He's dressed for the cold morning in the same brown coat they all wear this time of year, but it looks natural on him, like he was born in it. A small smile plays at the corner of his scar-slashed mouth, and heat floods Sirius face as memories of last night flood his mind, filtering through his groggy haze.

[moonlight-prose]

𝑵𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧

── ms. witch ✧ 24 ✧ latina ✧ part time lover ✧ full time dumbass ✧ #vibes ✧ #la luna

❗️minors get blocked (this is an 18+ blog) as well as blank blogs.❗️

❗️IF YOU SPAM LIKE MY FICS OR MY SERIES MASTERLISTS YOU WILL GET BLOCKED.❗️

♡ inbox open for logan requests/drabbles + just any convos!♡

moon lovers/celestial darlings ✧ kofi

✧𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚✧

under no circumstances can you steal my work, copy it somewhere else, or say it is yours. the writings i put on here are mine unless stated otherwise.

main blog ✧ star wars ✧ ao3 ✧ #mywriting ✧ library ✧ fic recs

NEW WORKS:

right where you left me - logan howlett

nameless as a river undiscovered underground - logan howlett

bound in the strands of permanence - van helsing

hopelessly devoted to you - eddie alden

UPCOMING WORKS:

fuel the pyre of your enemies - old man logan

never lovelier - drover

the sweetest perfection to call my own - van helsing

is it new year's yet? - jake "hangman" seresin

sleeping in the forest - frankie morales x f!reader x santiago garcia

[ollieofthebeholder]

16 :)

(You didn’t give me a pairing, so if you do want a drabble, just let me know and I’ll totally write one for you. ;) Or...at least I’ll try.)

The Drover’s Dream - Seamus Kennedy

I was traveling with the sheep And me mates were fast asleep No moon or stars were shining in the sky I was dozing, I suppose And me eyes had hardly closed When a very strange procession passed me by...

Send me a number 1-100 and I’ll tell you what the song is on my 2020 Spotify Wrapped playlist (add a pairing and I’ll write you a drabble)

[lafiametta]

Daydream

@demie1, I hope this was what you were looking for as well!

As he rises from the breakfast table, Damiano’s attention catcheson an unfamiliar object, sitting inconspicuously next to the pewter flagon ofwine.

It could only belong to his nephew, he realizes, the onlyother person to share the meal with him, and who has just vacated the adjacent seat.

He thinks for a moment to call Benvolio back – or at leastcall for a servant who might discover wherever his wastrel nephew has run offto and deliver it back into his keeping – but curiosity gets the better of himand he reaches over towards the object, taking it in hand for better inspection. It is a small book,not much larger than his palm, made with cheap paper and bound togetherroughly. Looking at it now, he realizes that has seen it before in his nephew’spossession, in moments of quiet solitude when Benvolio believed himself aloneand unobserved.

Recalling such moments does little but irritate him further:in truth, there are times that Damiano can only curse his brother for leavinghim with such a feckless youth, content to waste away his days drinking andwhoring – at Damiano’s expense, no less – or else lounging about anddaydreaming as he scribbles nonsense in his book.

He opens it, surprised for a moment to find not wordsbut images, a host of rough sketches made in charcoal and red chalk, some solitaryupon the page and some crowded together as if meant as studies for the samesubject.

There are gentle landscapes and scenes of city life – a droverand his flock, a veiled matron at market – along with reconstructions of churchfaçades and wide-spanning bridges, and various attempts at anatomical practicein the shape of an outstretched arm or a hand. As he continues to turn throughthe pages, the human figures become more and more frequent – and more familiar –until Damiano realizes he is looking at the eyes of his own son, eyes that heknows he will never see again in this life. On the facing page is Mercutio’ssmile, recognizable even to a blind man. Another page, and there the two youngmen stand in partial profile, his son’s arm clasped around Mercutio’sshoulders.

It is all too much – he wants to close the book and pretendhe never found it – and yet he cannot stop, for each image is so true to life thathe half-expects them to transform into flesh and blood before his eyes.

As he makes his way towards the middle of the book, though, thereare fewer sketches of Romeo and Mercutio, increasingly replaced by studies of afar more feminine subject.Damiano swears roughly under his breath, for had he not made it perfectly clearto his nephew that he was no longer to frequent brothels or any such houses ofill-repute? But this face, too, becomes more familiar as he gazes upon itsconstituent parts: coiled ringlets of hair, a strong and square-cut chin, adirect and rather unmaidenly gaze borne out of a pair of wide, dark eyes. Thereare pages and pages of her, as if she somehow embodies a question his nephewcannot fully answer, and while Benvolio has offered no full and completeportrait, there is little doubt in Damiano’s mind who all these features belongto.

He chuckles quietly, remembering his nephew’s strident protestations about spending time with the Capulet girl, a sentiment decidedly at odds with the frequency of her image in his book. Foolish boy, he thinks, a small smile of satisfaction curling ontohis lips, You really have no idea, doyou?

[send me a word, I’ll write you a Rosvolio drabble]

[krethes]

Thanks, @theresthesnitch, I've actually been wanting to do this for a while but wasn't as brave as you to just DO it. :D

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

From most recent(ly updated) to oldest!

1. Floozy: Freshers season! Going to check out the fresh meat! Who's with me?

from: Did You Miss Me? (Rated E) [textfic/narrative, wolfstar/jily/other, mixed POV]

2. Down, the softest feathers, plush under his head as he pants on the pillows.

from Evolve on a Word (Rated E) [smutty wolfstar drabbles]

3. He's fourteen when he realizes.

from The Valentine Moon (Rated T) [valentine's day full moon 4th year, remus POV]

4. For skin roughened by years of brutality, this spot is a hidden treasure.

from When the Tide is Sinking (Rated E) [smutty wolfstar drabbles]

5. Goosebumps shatter across his skin, like watching a storm come in over the lake, raising fine, golden-brown hairs.

from When the Mountain's Rising (Rated E) [sirius waits for remus, bound - sirius POV]

6. It's early, just past dawn and the camp wakes up in stages.

from Drover (Rated M) [wild west wolfstar, sirius POV]

7. Pale eyes like snowdrifts, glacial fractals pin me to my chair, unyielding.

from Toujours Pur - Poems (Rated T) [various poem about the Black daughters]

8. She is fire.

from Hell and High Water (Rated T) [wild west pansy x susan, alternating POV]

9. The Ballroom was not what it once was.

from Hubris (Rated T) [new year's resolutions at malfoy manor, lucius POV]

10. Moonrise is near.

from Thirteen Seasons (Rated M) [seasonal wolfstar-esque drabbles, mixed POV]

11. It's just an audition.

from Quintuple Meter (Rated E) [classical musicians au, sirius POV]

12. The medallion resting against his sternum vibrates, a silent, insistent push against the leather, and Remus opens his eyes.

from Silver for Monsters (Rated E) [wolfstar!witcherverse, remus POV]

13. He grew up surrounded by silver, green, and black.

from Aureate (Rated T) [alliteration about adoration, sirius POV]

14. It’s reckless.

from Moonfever (Rated E) [first war full moon smut, sirius POV]

15. It's funny, Sirius thinks, how familiar the mechanics of this feel.

from Dominus (Rated E) [Dom!remus/sub!sirius, sirius POV]

16. Sitting in a two-stall box with the door shut and lit only by candlelight, flickering and haunting, he waits.

from White Collar (Rated M) [priestkink!remus drabble, remus POV]

17. The days they spend together pass as tiny, beautiful miracles.

from The Violence (Rated M) [first war wolfstar angst/remus big mad POV]

18. Remus went to sleep with a pale arm slung over his stomach and a slender ankle hooked around the back of his knee, like always, but he wakes up alone and...hot.

from Heatwave (Rated E) [dilf!wolfstar pwp remus POV]

19. Dorcas can’t remember a time when she wasn’t in love with her.

from Shut Up and Dance With Me (Rated T) [dorlene feelings-admission, dorcas POV]

20. Remus had never wanted for anything before.

from Hunger (Rated T) [drabbles about Remus, remus POV]

Casually tagging @de-sire-blog, @sketchyblondes, @fvckyouimaprophet, @elder-millennial-trash, and @signifiquint. As always, no pressure. :D