#Deryn

[mistfallengw2]

Learning quickness builds is quick and easy, they said

[kaereth]

Fanart for the book series Leviathan for a kofi!! I’ve loved these books for years and years and it was very fun getting to draw stuff for them :D

[colucana]

For all the aromantic people out there Deryn has a gift for you on this beautiful wednesday

Can also be used to smash a window and take the chocolate! :3

Reference image under the cut

[cirvat]

Perhaps Our Gods are Shared

“Well,” Odette grunted to herself as she was yanked up to standing by her chains, “that didn’t work.”

Escape plan number five had been just as productive as the other four. Meaning it had only made her captors angry. A sneer crossed her face as she got her feet back under her. (At least the pack was able to escape.)

A hard shove to her back almost sent her back to the dirt she had just left. She glared over her shoulder at the armored man behind her as he sneered back. 

He spat something probably insulting at her and she turned to meet him with a snarl. A yank to the shackle around her throat forced her to stop. 

The soldier in front of her, obviously more important as he was dolled up in fancier, cleaner armor, spoke at her sharply. Another Yank made her speed up a bit as she tried to avoid tripping over the chains at her feet.

“You know, if you actually unbound my legs I could probably walk faster.” Her tone was cheerful and when Fancy Man looked back at her she gave him a vicious grin. “We could even keep up with that ugly cart you’re following. I’m sure you want to fulfill your brown-nosing quote for the day.”

She almost ran into him when he paused. He lifted her leash until she was standing on her toes and whispered something short, dark, and filled with bloodlust.

“Oh, yes, sir.” She bared her teeth at him. “Right away, sir.”

The rest of the walk was heavy with silence. Odette strained her ears but couldn’t hear anything. It was as if everything living had been scared away or driven out. Up ahead, the carriage had stopped at the mouth of a massive cave. A curtain of flowering vines blocked the entrance, camouflaging it against the stone of the cliff.

They caught up with the carriage just as the doors to it opened. The men around her all crouched into a bow in unison. Fancy Man grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to do the same, holding her in place when she tried to lunge at him. 

She strained to look up, pressing against his heavy hand. Feet moved in the plant life to stand before her and words were exchanged. There was a jingle of chain links before Fancy Man yanked her up by her collar. 

She gasped for breath against the metal and tried to scrabble at her throat as he kicked her legs to standing. Gentle words prompted him to let go and she fought to stay upright as she wheezed.

A hand on her shoulder made her look up with a growl that fell short at the kindly old face in front of her. The person (a priest?) murmured something before they reached out to tug gently on her leash. She stumbled into following the elder as they led her to the cave mouth. Soldiers parted the vines with stoic expressions as the priest pulled her inside. 

The second the air behind the vines hit her nose she instinctively gasped as her hands tried to reach up and block the smell. She held her breath in desperation but knew it was already too late as the wolfsbane smoke clouded her mind. 

As the numbness set in, something heavy struck her head.

She didn’t even feel herself hit the ground.

-

(Someone is chanting,) her thoughts echoed.

(What are they saying?)

She tried to move.

(My head hurts.)

She gazed at the ceiling over her, eyes dazzling at the flickering lights bouncing off of it.

(Why?)

Darkness.

-

She comes to in stages. Her ears catch the echo of her breaths against far off walls. Her nose fills with musty air flavored with wet stone and still water as her tongue tastes the blood collecting on her teeth. As her eyes opened she stared in exhaustion at the candle dappled stalactites above her. 

With a groan she tried to wipe at her eyes only to find that her chains hadn’t been removed. Her wrists were locked tight to the thing she laid on, tight enough for the angle that they were held in to cause a prickling sensation in her hands. As she twisted her neck to try and look at her bindings she froze.

Odette was laying on an altar.

She whipped her head around to gaze at the wall of Idols with growing dread. Along the wall were frankly beautiful depictions of gore and the horrors of war. A deity looked down upon it all with a grin across ruby red lips. 

“Fuck,” she whispered into the air. “Fuck!”

She twisted her body again, eyes darting everywhere as her mind ached its way through possible escapes. After a moment of desperate shuffling she paused and glanced down. 

The bastards had left her feet free.

With a whoop she pulled herself up and flipped over her wrists. Some small part of her thanked her captors for using wolfsbane in particular as her hands twisted and ached. She was sure that it would have hurt more without the numbness hanging in her joints.

She was quick to snag a rock from the ground with her toes, though it took a couple tries to toss it up to her hands. As she set to the task of grinding stone against metal she kept her senses vigilant. 

A god had been summoned and she didn’t really feel like being its sacrifice.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been filing when a distant scent of fresh rain and blood caught her attention. Her heart caught in her throat as she redoubled her efforts. A final good yank cracked one side of the link and a few more bent it enough to unhook herself. She skittered into the shadows as the vines parted.

“Huh.” A woman’s voice, gruff but achingly beautiful, filled the cavern. “The Steeled Workers have never skimped on a sacrifice before.”

“What do you mean, my dear?” A different woman responded, soft and just as beautiful as the first. “I see more than enough food and drink.”

“There is no blood on the altar.” Odette covered her mouth and nose, tucking her face into her knees, at the sudden closeness of that first voice. 

“There may not be blood on the altar, my love, but there is blood in the air.” Odette whipped her head up, blood pounding behind her ears, as an ethereal woman bent over her with a smile. “Hello.”

Odette whimpered and pushed back against the wall as the woman, red haired and glowing, reached out toward her. Beyond her stood the other woman, obviously the war god with all of that armor and the stern expression she wore. Beauty and Death coming to call.

“How odd.” Death said as she approached. “They didn’t kill you for me.”

With that Odette’s fear urged her to fight. She lashed out with deadly sharp claws and lunged through the opening it made as the women carelessly dodged her. She leapt over the altar and sprinted for the vines.

A flicker of light in front of her had Odette redirecting. She scrambled over a mountain of boxes and chests, lifting a smaller one to launch at another flicker of light. She dove off of the boxes and landed on all fours, ducking under a swipe aimed at her head.

(Go, go, go, go!) She made another break for the vines. When arms suddenly wrapped around her and lifted her off the ground she screamed. 

The arms faltered.

Maybe it was her voice, maybe it was the ferality of her scream, but whatever caused the lapse in her captor’s focus allowed her to whip around and sink her fangs into their throat.

A wash of golden ichor dribbled out of her mouth not stifling the growl rumbling through her. The arms around her fell away as the god in her jaws gasped in pain.

Odette pinned her eyes on Death reaching for her and resisted the urge to shake her prey dead. Her growl grew louder as the god moved as if to step closer. 

(Try it,) Odette tried to say with her eyes. (See what will happen.)

“Let her go.” Death’s voice had the cavern walls shuddering.

Odette snarled, a clawed hand raised to her prey’s hair. She yanked once to expose more of the other god’s throat. 

“I swear no harm will come to you from either of our hands.” Death did not move. “Please, let her go.”

Odette paused, taking in the god’s expression, before slowly unlocking her jaw. Her prey fell to the ground with a thud. She spat the ichor on the floor, wiping at her mouth with her sleeve.

Beauty slowly lifted herself to standing as Odette took several steps back. 

The taste of ichor still clung to her tongue, metallic and so different from the iron in mortal blood. She wiped at her mouth to try and erase it.

“Who are you?” Death demanded, although she still stood frozen. “With this ability to injure gods?”

“I am Odette, Sharpest of Tongues, Alphadaughter of the Reeds Roaming Pack.” She moved again, trying to keep both gods in her line of view. “I will not be any god’s sacrifice!”

“Odette?” Beauty whispered.

“You are a long way from home, Alphadaughter.” Death slowly shifted toward her companion’s side.

“Not by choice, I assure you.” Odette wiped at her mouth again.

“Odette? Hailed from the Place Where the Water Sings?” Beauty brushed off her friend’s touch. “Of the Reeds Roaming? She who built our temples?”

“What?” Odette froze.

“Linnéa?” Death murmured.

“It’s her, Deryn!” Beauty turned to her friend. “We found her! Our priestess!”

“Linnéa? Deryn?” Odette’s hand rose to cover her mouth. Memories of little stone cairns decorated with offerings and flowers flashing clarity into her mind. “Linnéaflur, Goddess of Serenity and Order? Dederyn, Goddess of Chaos and the Wilds?” 

“Yes! Yes! Odette!” Linnéa smiled, reaching out to her. 

Pain seared through Odette’s mind as she fell to her knees. She bowed so deeply her forehead pressed to the ground. Fear choked her as she tried to speak. “My deepest and most desperate apologies, Your Serene Grace. I take full responsibility for my transgressions against you. They were mine and mine alone.”

“Odette-.”

“I beg of you! Spare my pack, my family! Please!” Odette felt tears sting her eyes as she sobbed through her begging. “They had no part-!”

“Odette!” A hand laid upon her head, gentle and light. “I accept your apologies. I understand. You were scared, weren’t you?” Beauty, Linnéaflur, (the god her grandmother taught her to pray to at the age of three ‘and if you pray to her you shall pray to her treasured wife as well for she goes nowhere without her’) whispered to her. “It is alright, my dear. No harm shall come to you nor your pack.”

Odette raised her head to meet Linnéaflur’s endless green eyes.

“Rest now.” Beauty’s hand passed over her eyes. “You are safe. We shall keep you safe. Sleep, my dear. Sleep.”

Odette slept.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

She dreamed, as she had before, of her sister.

In her dream she was laughing, sparkling, as beautiful as Deryn remembered her. And then the laughter bled out of her, and she looked calmly and quietly at Deryn, and then Aelwen whispered, "I didn't mean to."

It looked like it! she wanted to scream back, but she could not shatter this perfect moment, this dream that she ached for in reality. How can you say you didn't mean to! I saw you! And she would never unsee it. It always came back, in her dreams.

"What did you mean?" she whispered back.

"All I wanted was for things to stop. It hurt, Deryn. Living hurt."

And now you're dead. The sparkle was dying out of Aelwen's eyes as it had died moons ago. "How could you do this to us," whispered Deryn. She tried to phrase it in a way that was empty of accusation, but the echoing spaces were large enough that accusation fit snugly in.

"I didn't mean to...."

And Deryn awoke, cold and shivering and alone, as she had been for many moons. She couldn't even make plans to visit her sister, not unless she wanted to go to the cemetery.

Rage ached in her bones and called to be set free: rage and - yes, grief, a weight in her ribcage. She wished she'd told Aelwen she loved her, the last time they met alive. Perhaps something would have been different.

Perhaps Aelwen would have said something about the choice she was making.

Things might have been different, if only.

They were fixed, and nothing could ever change again.

"Dear God, no," breathed Deryn, half lost in her pillow, and rolled over and got up. The clear bright moonlight silvered her hair as she stood at the window, looking out on the empty land.

[wingedluminarytyphoon]

[vorpalbun]

MY BOY

Deryn's head is lemon - custom head mod

[sgtbutterben]

I really need to remember to post on social media thats not toyhouse 

anyyways look at these losers, i have non refs to post but im posting refs first cause,,,, i want too :D

[randomrecsknifedrawer]

Leviathan Series Rec

Most of these are Deryn/Alek tbh <3

Two Maids Dusting by psocoptera

They've been back in London less than twenty-four hours - but Dr. Barlow already has a first assignment for Deryn and Alek.

Word Count: 9,813

if it all fits by zelly

A short little humorous piece involving a little cross-dressing and experimentation.

Word Count: 1,214

Humor

Clanker Yackum by InfernalPlume

Prompt: Glorious Clanker yackum and Deryn's reaction to said yackum -Anon

Word Count: 1,483

Study Shows by InfernalPume

Anon asked: "According to studies, Hungarians have the largest average "Manhood" size in Europe. How accurate is this in your experience Deryn?" and I was dumb enough to actually answer it.

Word Count: 1,169

Complex Relationships

(nur bei dir) by lagazzraladra

kann ich so sein wie ich bin

oder vorher schon war

--

only with you can i be who i really am, or who i used to be

Word Count: 1,019

Homecoming by InfernalPume

Alek receives a letter from the Czech Republic, of all places.

Word Count: 3,246

Okay by aghostlygalleon

"I am not a girl!" Dylan cried, whirling on Volger with fury in his eyes.

My take on trans!Dylan.

Word Count: 1,236

AU

Strangers on a Plane by InfernalPlume

PROMPT: Write about modern day Dalek meeting on a plane for the first time.

Word Count: 3,778

in search of your own happy ending by mirkandmidnight

The medieval AU that no one wanted and no one asked for but that I think we can agree we all collectively deserve and that you're all getting anyway.

Alternately: Alek is a princess, Deryn really has no idea how she got tangled up in this whole thing, and Lilit just wants Alek to leave the nest.

Also Germans.

Word Count: 11,048

Regret by Vontar

Aleksandar von Hohenberg made his decision years ago. Now, on the eve of what may be a second world war in his lifetime, he finds that he may have made a crucial mistake somewhere along the way. How did he ever think that power was more important than love?

Word Count: 3,747

Countdown by theladysherlock

Soulmate AU where everyone is born with a number on their wrist that counts down until the moment they make eye contact with their soulmate.

Word Count: 1,262

Other

Pas De Trois by psocoptera

October 1917. The 1915 Coexistence Treaty ended outright warfare in Europe, but the continent still seethes with tension, between enemies and between allies. A lonely mission in Paris reunites Deryn with an old friend - but will their allegiances put them at odds?

Word Count: 9,208

[ghostofazalea]

when you fumble the bag so hard she judges you from the mirror dimension creating lasting paranoia

[mistfallengw2]

Big batch of stuff from 2021, from a bunch of attempts at drawing various OCs (and something other than charr!). Some of them got more or less major redesigns, but I'm posting them anyway.

[vrahful]

Sorry for the reupload image dump! I realized I never actually tagged the last batch of art I uploaded, and...it's been too long to scroll back and find it tbh lmao

[colucana]

Oc’s Doodles!!! :3

Been having fun doodling, helps me develop them :3

From left to right

Digit and Marzell Aka the guy who almost killed father Orsi while possessed by an elf and my gay fish truly i don’t know how it happened but enjoy :3

Deryn’s voice i’ve only had Macaroni for a day and a half but if anything happens to her i’ll kill everyone in this continent and then myself (Kaiser easteregg >:3) (yes there are giant bees on clovers fauna, maine coon size)

Lil Remy and Mimosa, they beans.

Alary used to help her grandpa with harvesting and mowing, she likes shaping plants into scythes or other familiar tools.

Listen, had Mar meet Lutea during the elf battle, his gay ass would almost get him killed because 1) Shiny and 2) Respectfully admiring the sudden surge of power (one’s gotta respect the power!).

More info on

Remy — Alary — Deryn and Marzell

[soranatus]

I just wanted to make a post showcasing some of my favorite illustrations by Keith Thompson for the Leviathan Trilogy.

The art went so hard in these books, it’s crazy. The plot is basically an alternate universe WW1 about the major two powers, the Darwinists, and the Clankers. The Darwinists genetically engineered animals to fight for them creating huge flying whale battleships, while the Clankers made huge robot mechs and powerful guns. A few historical people and places show up in these books, like Nikola Tesla.

But my favorite parts of the books were the art, truly breathtaking, it was beautifully grotesque at times. But that’s not unexpected, after all Keith Thompson helped create the design of Moder from The Ritual!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

💬

I would say 'stop stop' except that I do love this story and I do want to share my favourite bits xD

This is later on in the scene at the waterfall that I just shared, the end of the scene.

The wind was cold in her face, and held a taste of victory. She could feel it. It was by no means a one-way road, back to life and living and happiness, but it was a start. A start was all that she needed at this point. A way to see that there was a road ahead of her, not the terrible darkness that seemed all she’d been able to see since her father’s announcement. “What would I do without you?” she murmured, and this time she didn’t try to make sure Deryn heard it. If she did, well and good—and if she did not, also well and good. God be thanked for true, staunch sisters who would stand by through thick and thin! What would she be without Deryn, whose companionship she had known for all the years of her growing up? She bent, and splashed icy water on her face. Some of it ran down her neck, freezing cold; no matter. She could get warm again on the companionable journey home, as she and her sister had a talk such as they had not had in years.

I just - when I was writing this scene I had one particular sister in mind - and I still love her and still feel this way about her, but it's interesting because now I would also include my brother in this kind of particular closeness. I don't know. I love this, anyway. I would love feedback too!

(This is excerpt #7. #5 and #6 are in the same post, all the others are separate posts, and at least approximately suitably tagged. Chronologically ordered also.)