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#ashwinder
silvyadrakkon · 2 days
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Figured if Morgan the Chicken is going to join my Hoggurts fam, I better pay some attention to his human design. Dumb lil headshot I did of him cuz I could.
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ephemerasnape · 4 months
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Ashwinder Eggs 🤔🤔🤔
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Mystery solved!
Thanks to @alesalazar-ravenclaw for capturing this picture of Ashwinder Executioner popping a squat.
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embracetranquilityson · 3 months
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A Duellist's Redemption
Summary: A comfortable life, a well-paying Ministry job and a loving family— you would have had it all, had you never met Victor Rookwood.
Instead, blood fills your days and nightmares haunt your nights.
The rise and fall of an Ashwinder Duellist, whose conscience finally caught up with them.
[Y/N-You POV, gender neutral.]
TW: Blood and violence, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, physical abuse, implied/mentioned child abuse, implied/mentioned animal (magical beasts) abuse.
Chapters: 11 (fully published)
Full fanfic:
First chapter: Act I - The beginning
You didn't really know how you got where you were.
Once, you were a regular, naive, boring student and now… now you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror.
It all started in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, after a mock duel like many you had fought before; but that time your opponent was a boy named Victor Rookwood. You had seen him around before, strutting in the hallways like he owned the place but you didn't really know him, nor did you know any of the boys who seemed to escort him wherever he went.
Not that it mattered. You fought, you won, Victor got mad and threw a tantrum, the lesson was over and your life would go on the same as always, or so you thought.
You couldn't have known that day would have been the beginning of the end— of your end.
As mad as he had seemed in class, Victor Rookwood actually approached you a few days later, all smiles and arrogance, complimenting your skills like nothing had happened. He invited you to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and, Merlin knows why, you accepted.
Now, you cringed at the memory. You cringed at how much fun you had had that day with him.
Days and weeks and years blurred together and while life went on, you and Victor were always at each other's side. You knew everything about each other, about your families, about his father’s… business. Even that didn't deter you.
You, a regular no one from a family of regular no ones, didn't mind that your friend was the son of a gang ringleader. On the contrary, you found it fascinating, alluring even.
Man, you were dumb.
The first crack came in the middle of a summer night, when the air was warm and the fireflies danced under the moonlight.
You were twenty-two years old, doing odd jobs to make ends meet while you waited for a response from the Ministry; just a few days before, you had applied for a job in the Beast Division, with a stellar recommendation from your beasts Professor. You were hoping to end up in Troll Patrol or Werewolf Capture Unit but anything was fine really.
Victor had hated the idea since the beginning and tried to discourage you in any way he could but you hadn't budged.
You still remembered what you had told him the day he found out you had applied, and the words now felt like venom in the back of your throat: “Victor, I love you and I will always be there for you, but my future is at the Ministry. And if they reject me, I'll become a Dragonologist or something.”
Heh. Jokes on you. Jokes on that placid summer night. Jokes on your dreams and your future.
A tenday had passed since your fight with Victor— if you could even call it that, since he had stormed off without a word.
The night was warm and you couldn't sleep, worried about the long silence from the Ministry.
As you tossed and turned, a knock on the door was bound to change your life.
You had never seen the man in front of you, nor did his name mean anything to you, yet it only took a sentence for you to follow him into the darkness: “Victor sent me. He’s in trouble.”
Your heart raced in your chest as you took the stranger’s arm and, moments later, you were outside the Rookwoods’ mansion.
You had been there thousands of times during the years but the faces that haunted its hallways that night were all but familiar to you. Dozens of people stood watch, as still as statues, as you were escorted into the dining room, into a future that you would've never thought for yourself.
Your friend, Victor Rookwood, stood next to the dining table, his face bloody and raw and his clothes ripped and stained. He smiled a crooked smile when he saw you.
“Good, you're here. We're all here, then.” He growled, his voice hoarse and strained.
You noticed a few known faces in the room: old mutual friends from school, a couple of people Victor had met during the years and that you had gotten familiar with, and… Mr. Rookwood sat on a chair, slouched over the table with blood pooling under his head. He was mumbling something but you couldn't understand him. You couldn't understand anything.
Your heart rate sped up again, as your mind tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.
“See, father? Even [Y/N] came to say goodbye.”
Goodbye? Why would you…— Mr. Rookwood spat a bloody drool and Victor slammed his head —again, apparently— against the wooden table.
You froze. It was as if time itself had stopped.
“Now, now, where are your manners, boy?” he laughed as he quoted what his father used to tell him time and time again, usually before beating him bloody.
Was that what it was? Was that Victor finally snapping? If so, why were so many people there? Why were you there? Why did he send for you?
It took you years to realise what had happened that night, the manipulation and coercion that he used to get you there.
But you didn't know then. All you knew was that your friend needed you and that no matter what your bleeding heart thought, his abusive father deserved everything that was happening to him. Or at least that was what Victor had told you after. After his father was dead, after he had become the new Mr. Rookwood, leader of the Rookwood gang, and he needed you.
Your skills in a duel were unmatched, he said.
He didn't trust anyone else to watch his back, he said.
The Ministry will never hire you now that you're an accessory to murder. He didn't say that, and it took you years to realise that that was the reason why you were really there that night.
He wanted you: your wand, your skill, your loyalty… your dreams were a hindrance he could no longer tolerate.
So you pledged yourself to him; to keep him safe, you said to yourself as you laid awake that night, Mr. Rookwood’s death mask seared into your mind, as guilt and fear and horror bubbled in your guts like a cocktail of poisons.
“My closest friend, my Ashwinder, my Duellist.”
You still remembered his smile while he said that, his hands, still smeared with his father's blood, cupped around your cheeks.
You felt bad for him, then. Now, you wished you had punched him right to daddy dearest.
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kaminari-taimei · 1 month
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Strega Putryd, the Ashwinder
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muzzzzle · 10 months
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Volatile Times. Chapter 15. Rookwood
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“What do you think of your new accessories?” Rookwood followed her gaze. “I think it's much better than it was. Adds, you know, some zest!” “What do you want?” Montgomery tried to wheeze in a wooden voice. “What's that?” he theatrically put his hand to his ear, sitting down beside her. “I believe our birdy is trying to sing!” The henchman, standing in the rounded passageway, roughly carved in stone, again produced a sound similar to the grinding metal. Nancy twitched helplessly. Rookwood clicked his tongue. “Where are my manners, I beg your pardon!” He shook her unceremoniously by the shoulders and forced Montgomery into a sitting position. Nancy bit the inside of her lip again to keep from wailing at the pain that pierced her ringing head. “I'm not a monster, Ms. Montgomery, I'm just a man with ambitions.”
Oh, poor little Nancy. Ended up captured by no other than the Mad Hatter of the Ball, so to speak. No time for joking, though - it seems her life is at stake after all. What would she do? Find out for yourself in the fifteenth chapter, which is out on ao3!
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nocturnus33 · 2 years
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Take yor Time Turner back to 2007. This fic won a lot of awards then.
Summary:
For nearly thirty years, Hermione and her family have lived in peace and prosperity. When the unexpected occurs, buried secrets of a time long forgotten vie to make themselves known. Confronted by her daughter, Hermione allows herself to remember her past. What she doesn’t expect is to come face to face with it.
Awards:
OWL Awards 2008: Fire & Ice, Order of Merlin 3rd class; Tearjerker, Order of Merlin 1st Class; Nineteen Years Later, Order of Merlin 1st Class. SSHG Awards: Best Novel-Length, Round 3.
Links:
Ashwinder
A03
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wildmelon · 4 days
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most mopey girl writing love songs for the most precious boy (wyll ravengard obviously)
gorg gorg gorg verity comm by @gunthermunch / @glockzap <3333
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ephemerasnape · 27 days
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Dark Wizard D Voice Clips
And last but not least in my Dark Wizard/Witch unused voice clips series... I present to you.. the best mostly unused Poacher Tracker lines!
There are some really golden ones...
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@beany122 has named him Philip. So what have we learned about Philip? 🤔
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Playing Hogwarts Legacy as an adult, a different POV. (Possible SPOILERS ahead, please beware)
Okay, hear me out:
When the game was announced I was super excited about the Dark Arts path, so of course as soon as I was able to play I immediately headed for that route.
But then that scene where you have to duel Sebastian happened and I thought "damn, OC is an insane duelist!" soooo... I guess my mind kind of spiraled from there because I somehow got this headcanon that OC was actually undercover at Hogwarts.
Oddly got their letter at a later age, mad skillz™️, really polite and mature... Makes sense, right?
But I don't want to be an Auror. I want to be EVIL!
So, how about an Ashwinder? Victor Rookwood is a pretty cool villain: charismatic af, kinda good looking; I can see us chilling while watching dragons fight- no wait, I hate poachers with a passion. I love magical beasts. No way my OC would ever harm one or stand by and watch as one gets hurt.
And theeeeennnnn... I met professor Aesop Sharp. 10/10 "your daughter/son/adultchild calls me daddy too". I'd like to say it was love at first sight but it was the whole "acknowledging responsibility" speech that got me.
And before you call me weird... I'm in my twenties and as much as I love the "companions" that the game lets you have, I can't physically bring myself to ship my OC with a teenager. Big no no. Weirds me the f out.
So behold, the ultimate headcanon that has been living rent free in my head since the release:
OC is a rogue ashwinder who betrayed the - organisation? Cult? Club? Ah whatever you get it - and somehow found a way to disguise themselves as a student to avoid repercussions. After all, hogwarts is a pretty safe place. They could easily stay under the radar until things had calmed down a bit.
Unless... Unless some students decided they were tired of poachers and ashwinders and decided to take the matter into their own hands. So what was oc supposed to do? Just look the other way and hide while kids got slaughtered?
Nope. Their conscience was screaming enough as it was, they couldn't let it get any louder. So they help Poppy and Nat and try their best to keep Sebastian safe while he dabbles in the dark arts (after all, they know first hand how futile it is to try and smother that fire. You need to get burnt to learn.).
Until they go too far, they become a problem. Rookwood is pissed. Avada Kedavra pissed. Life or death. Their young and foolish friends or them.
It's an easy choice, really.
They drop the spell/potion/ancient magic/whatever that made them seem younger, so the focus is on them. Rookwood's rage is on them.
The shock, the drama.
Your trusted hogwarts companion was an Ashwinder all along. Former ashwinder, but does it really matter to a teenager who only sees the world as black and white?
Would it matter to the professor OC fell for? To the other professor, the one who guided them through the keepers' trials? Or to sweet professors Weasley and Garlick, who went above and beyond to teach them everything they knew?
Would it matter to the aurors who would eventually capture them?
Ladies, gentlemen and fine people, this is my headcanon. This would be my OC (if I was a skilled modder).
Thank you for coming to my -delirious- TED talk.
(and if you have similar or opposite headcanon, please drop them below. I would love to read them!)
Edit: I actually wrote a fic inspired by this! It's gender neutral (You POV) and I had a lot of fun with it!
Here's the link:
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theepicmirroregg · 4 months
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MC in trouble
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ominiscient · 1 year
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get fucked
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wwheeljack · 6 months
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Interior of the Ashwinder hideout tent.
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okeydokeylackey · 1 month
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Infamous Foe
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drawing @theepicmirroregg's boy Maxwell finally broke me free of this art block curse (seriously I have been absolutely fighting for my life recently) if i owe you a comm please just shoot me a DM so I remember to do it, I have the memory of a goldfish
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wildmelon · 1 month
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verity don't pout it's unbecoming!!!
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lara-kaminari · 3 months
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👉🏼👈🏼
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silvyadrakkon · 17 days
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Why Lyssa Always Wears Vests and Ties
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Alternate title: Why Lyssa Should Prolly Stop Wearing Vests and Ties
For many reasons.
The “Post Now” on my poll won out by about three people, but I finished the second page sooner than I thought I would. So everyone can be happy.
I’m trying to remember why this dumb scene popped into my head. Maybe it’s because I was trying to rationalize why my girly is always wearing her vest when many of the other MCs forgo them. (The real reason she wears it is because I like drawing it lol.) Like Lyssa, I live for hand-me-downs, but hand-me-downs are often a little worn by the time I get to them. I lose so many buttons.
Alternate ending bonus panel if Lyssa had been wearing her vest and tie.
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I flipping hated Ashwinder/Poacher Soldiers in particular. Executioners were annoying, but at least you could kind of ignore them for a minute. Soldiers were always. Getting. In. THE. WAY!!! Wasted so many scout-intended purple spells on them.
Part 2:
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