Star City Rebels

HEYYYYY Sorry this took so long but it's huge and my OC Bernnard took off with the plot!

SOOOOOO I know y'all would love to read about how Lyonel got so gobsmacked by a certain hedgeknight that he forgot about his not so casual situationship back at home right??????

Summary:

Bernnard’s mouth tightened.

“When I first met you, I was half convinced the Father and the Stranger had taken counsel together and shaped you beneath their own hands. The Father for strength, the Stranger so death would know you by name and keep its distance. Proof that even the Gods, when vanity struck them, could make a man too grand for this world.”

Bernnard’s mouth tightened, caught somewhere between fondness and old disbelief.

“You were too tall, too strong, too bright with passion for everything life had to give. Too full of yourself, certainly, but alive in a way that made other men seem half-finished beside you. You came into every yard as though the world had been waiting for the honor of being trampled under your boots. Men swung at you and missed. Horses that would throw better riders settled under your hand, as if your wild hearts could speak to one another in a language us mortal men couldn't comprehend .”

His gaze dropped briefly, not quite to Lyonel’s wound, but close enough.

“You laughed at hurts that would have laid another man flat for a fortnight. Split lips, cracked ribs, bruises black as storm clouds. None of it seemed to touch the root of you. You would bleed, curse, spit red into the dirt, and then ask for more while the rest of us were still catching our breath.”

A rough breath left him.

“You were unbearable,” Bernnard said softly. “And Gods help me, I was infatuated.”

Despite himself, Lyonel’s expression softened by a fraction. “Still am, I hope. Unbearable, I mean.”

Bernnard did not smile.

“You were impossible,” he said. “That was what I believed. Unstoppable. Unbreakable. Not because you never bled, but because bleeding never seemed to mean the same thing for you as it did for other men. You always came back from it. Always. Bruised, split open, laughing, furious, half-drunk on the glory of it, hungry, demanding a horse or a cup or flesh."

His voice grew rougher there, not with tears, but with the strain of an old certainty being forced apart.

“So when word came that you had been hurt at Ashford, I did what I have always done. I trusted the lie you taught all of us. I told myself you would come home roaring. That you would limp through the gate with some obscene jest on your tongue and blood on your sleeve, and we would all shake our heads and call you a fool and be grateful the Gods had favored you again.”

Lyonel looked down at his own hands.

Bernnard leaned back on his heels, the morning gone cold around him.

“I think a part of me has always believed they did favor you. The Gods, I mean.” He gave a short, bitter sound that resembled the shape of a laugh. “Not kindly, perhaps. They have never been gentle with you. But I thought they had marked you somehow. Set you apart. Given you some rare and infuriating gift to endure what should have broken you.”

He looked at Lyonel then, fully.

“And in all that blind devotion, I missed the man standing in front of me.”

ALRIGHT Y"ALL SHOUT OUT TIME!!!

@starcityrebels- You have been here from the beginning, and everything I have written so far wouldn't be possible without you. You always find a way to make time for me in your endlessly busy life, and I am forever grateful. ALSO, they write on top of hearing me lament my own work, so go check out The Earring over on AO3, plus their other works!

@jowuss- You are my greatest conspirator, and I'm endlessly grateful for all the ideas that you have given me and input during moments when I just couldn't write myself out of a paper bag. You always have the best solutions to my problems and even to the ones I didnt even consider as problems lol.

@crypticranger- You have been such an amazing friend. I love that we became friends via eachother ao3 fic comments. You have kept me grounded and heard me out when I cried and kept reminding me it's just a story lololol. Thanks for all the late-night support, memes, and help with editing when you had your own fic troubles to worry about! And go check out their fic Will You Lay Down Your Armor over on AO3 and their other works!

And Last but not least @duesternis- I am beyond humbled that you chose to reach out and help. The hours you put in reading this beast twice back to back, and the 1000 edits (not kidding, they killed it) are more than I could have ever hoped to ask for. Your input and fine eye made getting this out possible. I promise in the next chapter that I will correct all my commas and apostrophes before I give it over to you 😅😅 And again they're an amazing writer and deserve love. A Squire of Storms End is over on AO3 as well as their other works!

You are all amazing human beings and I couldn't have made this chapter happen. Y'all have kept me sane and I hope me caving to y'alls BarnWIN agenda was a worthy enough thank you for all that yall do!

I love these little guys so much

I had to be sure I could still art with these fuckass acrylic nails I accidentally got

Dick, who's filling in for Bruce as Batman: I'll call him

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Hal: you've gained some muscles

Jason, dressed as Nightwing: I started working out

Hal: Damn. What's the routine cause I just saw you last week and you look completely different.

Jason: steroids

Dick, as batman: *chokes on coffee*

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Superman: We might need someone who's good with guns, hm... Hey Nightwing you're in contact with redhood, right? Could you have him come?

Jason, as Nightwing: ... I don't see why not

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Wonder woman: this security is an issue we need someone who can hack this system long enough for us to get pass

Superman: hey hood, any chance you can give red robin a call?

Tim, with 5 inches of padding, as redhood: on it

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Hal: isn't robin usually with you all?

Flash: yeah we could use him with this one

Superman: Red Robin, would you call in Robin for us?

Not quite ready to post chapter 5 of StormHedge series The Earring. To tide you over here’s a WIP snippet

Risking his life for Dunk was the least Lyonel could do. Wasn’t that the madness of it? He had known the man three days and he would have done most anything Dunk asked him too. Bees must have thought him mad. Now Bees won’t have any thoughts on anything at all—won’t know Dunk at all—despite having died for the man, expecting nothing in return by Lyonel’s continuing friendship. This was a disaster. What was he to do with his heart that had been warmed and now left full of rage and despair? He should tell Harwin not to let him make any decisions the next few months. He’d try to bury himself in his duties. In sex. And possibly in the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to go back to sea and sail and fight till it swallowed him up at last. Learn if the Iron Born’s Drowned God is real or if Syrios’ Moonsingers ruled the same afterlife as the Seven or that of the gods of his Stormking ancestors. There would be much to catch Syrios up on. “Hello my old love, I’m down here because I’ve finally gotten into trouble I couldn’t defeat in battle or words or run from. An enormous and beautiful hedge knight. I’ve become a bit of a fool again in your absence”.

So subscribe now and read chapter 4, don’t miss it!

Dick in Titans comics:

Bruce in Batman comics:

I’m really proud of my StormHedge fic series The Earring. Here’s a bit from Chapter 4 aka Trials Before the Trial. In it Dunk fails to return to Lyonel Baratheon's Overstimulation Tent on Tourney Night 2. Duncan had a good excuse: he’s in the dungeon. But Lyonel doesn’t know that. So instead, Lyonel drinks too much and I treat you, my dear readers, to his emotionally revealing nightmare:

Lyonel falls falls falls down in the vortex, no ship to sail the other direction. He should be drowning by all rights, but he can still breathe. There is a gloaming, a haunting light that draws dark shadows and lets him see just enough. Waiting at the bottom is Dunk at last. His kind, handsome face looks up at Lyonel, imploring. Lyonel will save him from the depths of the ocean. He’s a strong swimmer.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lyonel Baratheon/Dunk | Duncan the Tall Characters: Lyonel Baratheon, Dunk | Duncan the Tall (A Song of Ice and Fire) Additional Tags: Flirting, Drunkenness, Sexual Tension, Innuendo, So much Innuendo, Oblivious Dunk, Pre-smut Summary:

“Well, what you said was –  a hundred gold. To the man who sticks you best.”

That peaked Ser Lyonel’s interest at last. He had a wild look about him, gazing up at Dunk through a cascade of salt-and-pepper curls, skin blushed from drink and glistening with sweat.

“Man. Beast. God. A giant, perhaps.” 

“Yes, but –” Dunk tried to swallow down the nerves in his throat, “What’d I have to do for that? To stick you best.”

Lyonel’s lips split into a grin that bared his teeth, a flash of white in the dark.

“You think you can take the likes of me, lad?” 

Dunk is completely oblivious to Lyonel coming onto him, until he isn’t.

I really enjoyed your story 'Bite of Rope'. It really fascinated me how it explored a bondage dynamic with a character who is asexual. I also loved how you managed to include so much depth and authenticity in the characters in a relatively short piece of writing. So, I wanted to ask about your inspiration for this story and the writing process, and about if you would ever consider revisiting these characters again?

All the best!

Send me asks for my birthday (May 30)

Ignás Kasovitz’ tag on my website

Thank you so much!

I’ve obviously done the two stories with Kasovitz and Kuhn already, the original Bite of Rope and then An Eager Audience with Kuhn watching Kasovitz fuck another man. I definitely do intend on writing more with them, in part because I enjoy playing with Kuhn’s asexuality and his sex repulsion that are very inherent to his personality and to the sort of like, dysphoria he feels in his own body, the discomfort being alive, which aren’t to do with gender or weight or similar, but are pretty rooted in his neurodivergence and his autism.

There’s a constant fascination with people’s bodies, with the way they work, with how sex looks and how it seems to feel to other people, but also a distaste for it, and I think especially a fascination with how sex tangles with and is tied up with power, as somebody who feels so incredibly powerless at basically at all times, even when he’s slaughtering people.

Kasovitz was very much a take on a fascination I have been building with mimes and clowns – I love mime, I love how powerful a body has to be to be able to perform a lot of that extreme stillness and choreography, and the way that most clowning involves a series of masks and obfuscations and hyperbolic physicality and expression.

I do have some renaissance Italian work I want to do with clowning, but I have a lot more research to do before I’m building any comedia dell’arte inspired characters, so in the meantime I build on Kasovitz, and like…

This very big and very placid, very calm man, who is inherently so fucking sad, feels very deeply and very strongly, even before the Shoah, and how part of the appeal of playing a whiteface clown is that he’s able to be extremely big and strong and physically imposing but not seen as frightening and, more importantly, not seen as brutal or animal in the way that a man like his father would be, with that mix of antisemitism and retort to just the sheer size of his body and his muscle.

I think at times someone who’s very confident about domination can be a more “boring” character than a more fucked-up submissive, but where Kuhn is like, in many ways dysphoric and feels literally bestial because of his urges toward violence and away from sexuality and food at times, the way he struggles with his own humanity and his connection to other people, to me his psyche is actually quite straightforward. Interesting to examine and explore – especially like, with that dysphoria in mind, the exploration of his interest in an author like Kafka and the dysphoria a lot of Kafka’s work expresses as a Jew in response to horrific antisemitism and self-loathing, and how he’s always like “I’m so disgusting and hideous” in his diaries whilst all his friends are like, “he is literally gorgeous he is so beautiful idk why he says that”.

Kasovitz in many ways experiences a similar dysphoria, sort of caught between these extremes of expectation – he’s very much an antizionist of his period and is I think in part so revolted by the ideology of Israel’s development in the 30s through to the 50s because of the violence inherent to antisemitism he’s experienced, and the construction of the Israeli Jew in the context of Jewish masculism which is in many ways constructed in direct retort to and to be honest, in conversation with, antisemitic ideology aimed largely at Ashki Jews in Europe.

In many ways, as a man and as a Jew – strapping, tall, sexually dominant, suave, intellectual without being nebbish, etc – he ticks a lot of boxes for those idealogues and would be an ideal conscript for the IDF or a fetishistic project like Inglorious Basterds, but I think he in many ways does identify with the “negative” traits that antisemites focus on, of Jews as emotional, punctilious, sensitive, and I think in many ways does crave to feel protected and to be soothed and doted on by others in a way that’s denied him as such a big, strapping man.

Kuhn very much does want to protect him, and fiercely, at that, and their intimacy is!!! So much to me.

Clothed ass grab under the cut

PETER CLAFFEY