lordgortrash

[lordgortrash]

// just as a heads up, most of my activity is over on my OC's sideblog @solomage right now!

#I always mean to work on G's stuff but Solomon is so EASY to write I just fall into it #at this point I should probably move him to his own blog but I don't wanna jinx anything #you said it was under control ( ooc )

[lordgortrash]

#you said it was under control ( ooc )

[lordgortrash]

❰❰ TILT ❱❱ sender tilts the receiver’s chin with their hand

what if i just…. :)))

#ok but look at this LOOK #author of justice ( images )

[lordgortrash]

Got inspired by @/vaniri 's version lol She be looking at his tiddies tho lol

#author of justice ( images )

[lordgortrash]

@bardchoices asked: ❝i like myself just the way i am.❞

“But where is your ambition, Liana?”

The growl of his voice rattles through the room, punctuated by the crackling of the fire in the silence. His office is smaller than he’d like; the humble office of an old warehouse, dark and stained with the decay of time. He’s done his best to dress it up to his liking—draped curtains over window with an uninspiring view, stacked bookshelves with his vast collections. A rug sprawls over the uneven floorboards, once lavish, now dingy and threadbare. A sofa sits facing the hearth, shining with fresh upholstery; it does well to disguise the worn cushion, a lumpy seat abused by too many years of service.

He is not rich, nor is he especially powerful. But someday he will be—and that’s what matters above all else. Until the day he claims his crown, he’ll live like it’s already in his hand.

Liana, though, has started to exhibit a marked hesitation regarding his plans. Once upon a time, she feasted on his ambition—laid with him at night, watching him with eager eyes as he described his schemes. At the time, it seemed as if he’d found himself a match. A woman who adored him, who was clever and resourceful—who had the potential to become a true partner in his life’s work.

That work is well underway, now. And suddenly she’s found it’s not to her taste.

“I will not keep living like this—in squalor, pretending I’m a prince among paupers.” He catches the back of the newly upholstered sofa and flips it onto its back, pacing across the stained rug like a tiger in a cage. In spite of his best efforts, it’s trash, and he knows it. They’re just things, after all—he’d sacrifice them in a heartbeat if it meant getting what he wanted—but it’s the status they represent that frustrates him. Or rather—the lack thereof.

“I won’t settle for just anything. I mean to have everything. And if you haven’t the stomach to come with me, then—” he freezes, fists clenching and unclenching. Something wrenches deep down inside; a raw, animal longing that fears waking up in the morning without her warmth at his side.

“You know where you can find the door.”

#bardchoices #oh just their first breakup it's fine :) #that'd be fun to see ( queue )

[lordgortrash]

He bristles at the remark, dark brow furrowing. He’s been called many things over the years—a bastard, a brute, a dictator. Insults he bears as badges of pride. But boring?

“I’m not here to beg,” he retorts sharply. She may be the daughter of Bane, but he is his Chosen. It would be blasphemy in the Tyrant’s name to back down in the face of her resistance. But she is the very picture of stubborn, isn’t she? He is an unstoppable force met with an immoveable object, and though he holds no illusions that she’ll yield to his persistence, she ought to know better than to think a common rebuttal will send him on his way.

He sighs, heavy footsteps carrying him toward the counter. It’s a fine little shop, certainly. But it’s still a shop. It’s so… humble. He frowns at the assorted cosmetics adorning the shelves, as if staring at them long enough will yield some answer that can make him understand.

“You could be more than this.” His voice is softer when he speaks again, dark eyes shifting to settle back on Sigilina. “You deserve more than this.”

@lordgortrash liked for a starter !

" come now, gortash, have we not discussed this many times already? you'll start to bore me. frankly, i do not understand how you have yet to bore from trying to convince me. " whether the man was doing it on bane's orders or because he himself also wished it, sigilina did not know. the last to bring up this topic, aside from her father, was her half-brother. things had not quite gone so well for him.

a soft sigh as she reached behind her shop's counter and placed a bottle of wine and two glasses onto it before beckoning him closer. no harm in indulging him, though her answer was always the same. " you hardly need me on my father's side. i am certain your fervour makes up entirely for my absence. " pouring one glass, sliding it over to him before tending to her own. wine would be sorely needed, matters regarding bane often did.

#lovedominion #that'd be fun to see ( queue )

[lordgortrash]

// Hey dash. Are you ready to have your entire day wrecked? :)

Gortash could've fixed Karlach's heart.

Hell, he probably helped design the damn thing.

#I'm mad I didn't realize it sooner #anyway now I have to put away my phone until lunch and I'm gonna be internally screaming about this all day #you said it was under control ( ooc )

[lordgortrash]

// For the time being, everything across my two blogs will be going into a queue, and the queue will only be 1x a day until I can get a little ahead. I'm traveling for the holidays next week and travel always strains my muse, so I'm hoping I can keep things alive around here by having the queue well stocked by then. Feel free to toss some memes to my boys to get something going! I'll get to as much as I can.

I might also be clearing out my follow list this week, idk. The dash has been moving pretty damn fast this weekend, it's getting hard to keep up with.

#you said it was under control ( ooc ) #tbd #just blog maintenance stuff nothing exciting

[lordgortrash]

Confession: I’m not even into Gortash like that but seeing how he doesn’t have claws on those two specific fingers makes me insane…… and his fingers are thick as fuck… who thought that was okay

#cackling about people just noticing this for the first time #author of justice ( images ) #NSFT

[lordgortrash]

He’d kept busy at her bedside with correspondence and study. He wasn’t the type to play nursemaid—his nature had never been to nurture, and the same remained true now. But, Astaria was an old friend. A dear one. An ally, a lover, a confidante. She was close to him, and that made her a vulnerability. Someone had made an attempt on her life—and in doing so, had caused him great personal insult.

The world of underground brokerage was a tight-knit one, a spiderweb of contacts that stretched all across the Sword Coast. If one contact was killed, it threatened the integrity of everyone around them. The attack on Astaria was an affront to Gortash—and he wasn’t about to let it stand.

Revenge, however, would have to wait. She’d survived the attack, if barely—now the priority was getting her back on her feet. She would be cross with him if he attempted to act without her, so he would have to bide his time: after all, who was he to deny the assistance of a woman scorned?

“Congratulations,” he murmured, not looking up from his reading as she tried—and failed—to sit up. “Someone tried to assassinate you. There’s no measure of success quite so flattering as being the target of a premeditated murder.”

The sound of her voice drew a healer from the other room. He considered waving them away, but only briefly—she needed the attention. As they leaned over her bed, he shifted, closing his book to evaluate her condition. She seemed relatively coherent, at least. That was a good sign.

“We’ve work to do, it seems. An offense such as this can hardly be allowed to stand.”

@lordgortrash gets a starter !

even before her eyes opened there was already a sense something was not as it should be. or rather, as had been expected. unless floors had suddenly become the softest thing on this mortal plain, it was not where she was at present, which in turn meant there was a chance someone had moved her. and somewhere rather comfortable at that.

soft groan upon awakening properly, taking in the vaguely familiar room as her mind tried making sense of the situation. the attack had been methodical and well-planned, a credit to whoever had coordinated it for it was notoriously hard to catch her off guard in such a manner. especially on her own turf, in her own warehouse. soft frown upon her brow, disorientated still from the confusion of finding herself in a bed and not upon the floor where she had collapsed. and then, with a turn of her head, he came into view. " ... gortash ? " a most unexpected sight, finding him at her side like this. perhaps she was still on that floor and simply dreaming this up. the mind did work in such mysterious ways and it would be plausible to assume it worked up pleasant imaginations to distract from the agonising pain. from her memory of the fight, the injuries inflicted should be nothing to be laughed at, bound to incapacitate and restrict her. shame whoever had done it had not achieved their goal, for the killing intent had been unmistakable.

" ... am i awake? it feels i am not quite so, seeing you are here... godsdamnit - " attempting to sit upright to try and touch him proved a wrong move, pain shooting throughout her body. a good sign, however, for one generally did not so vividly experience it within a dream. " - not dreaming then. very awake ... where am i? what is going on? "

#starsblooded #that'd be fun to see ( queue )

[lordgortrash]

#I don't have a music tag but listen..... #this song has real strong dancing with the villain vibes and it does good things for my muse

[lordgortrash]

Reposting the NSFT headcanons from my sideblog:

Above all else, it’s worth noting that Gortash is versatile, owing to the fact that he uses sex as a tool to get what he wants. He can make love soft and slow or he can fuck hard and fast. It depends on the occasion and the partner. That said, the following are preferences, not hard rules.

Although he may be the Chosen of Bane, his taste for dominance doesn’t mean there’s no room for dominance in others. He respects those with backbone, who are willing to make moves and take what they want. He can be topped, but it has to be earned.

When it comes to soft and slow, it becomes a power play—teasing, stern commands, orgasm denial until his partner is begging for it. If he’s got a proper sub, he can go all night.

When it’s hard and fast, he likes it messy. Half dressed against a wall, or with his partner thrown down on the desk.

He gets the most enjoyment out of a partner who’s highly reactive without faking it—whose body responds to his and has no inhibitions about making it known.

Marking. He likes biting, scratching, rough play. He’ll get even rougher—knives, waxplay, choking—but his limits are very much defined by the comfort level of his partner.

When I tell you that this man is weak for having a mouth on his dick—

It’s a power thing. That’s that.

He will absolutely conduct entire political negotiations while fucking someone senseless. He’s learned that it’s a great way to make someone susceptible to his will.

His guards have absolutely walked in on him having sex in his office. Or wherever else. Gortash has slept his way through half the wealthy elite of Baldur’s Gate—at this point, it’s nothing new.

#happy Sunday :)

[lordgortrash]

Gortash learned a long time ago not to examine the peculiarities of circumstance too closely. Because—if he did—he would find it absurd to be sitting here in the company of a succubus, passing time as comfortably as with an old friend. He has nothing against devils and their kin, despite his upbringing—but he’s versed enough in their ways to know that caution is always warranted.

This isn’t how he would have expected his dealings with a succubus to go. But there’s much about his life that’s played out differently than he imagined it, so if this evening means indulging in a bit of fair company while he reads—no claws or weapons required—then it’s not worth making a fuss. That said, the effect of her physiology on his is still a consideration. Even when she isn’t actively hunting him, his body’s reaction to her presence is difficult to ignore. A quickened pulse, a thick tongue; the hallmarks of attraction are a heady drug, but he is a creature of discipline above all else. If being in the presence of Nepharia means learning to turn off his baser instincts, then so be it.

And—he can’t deny that he enjoys her company. Beyond her aesthetic appeal, she has a certain undeniable charm. She’s dangerous, impulsive. Something about her demon’s blood gives her a feral edge not unlike an animal, her instincts honed by years of self-reliance on the streets. She’s a survivor above all else, and in spite of their differences, they have that much in common. It’s a quality he respects.

He pays little mind to the busywork of her pencil. Beyond the basic lure of his body to hers, like an omnipresent hum that sings through his skin every time she’s nearby, he’s fully engaged with his reading. His latest selection is an analysis of the city’s recent political history—a succinct but incisive summary of the last fifty years of patriar squabbling, including the revolving door of grand dukes. He devours every book on the subject that he can get his hands on; it’s valuable research, information to be added to his internal repository of insight regarding his enemies.

But every book has room for improvement. Hence the pause when he shifts, dipping a quill in ink and scribbling notes in the margin. He looks up at Nepharia only when she speaks, one dark eyebrow lifting in mild curiosity.

“I’ve always found it a matter of interest why artists choose the subjects they do. It’s my understanding that they gravitate toward the objects of their fascination, whether they be the beautiful or the grotesque.” Lips twitched upward in amusement. “I wonder, which am I?”

* closed starter | @lordgortrash

pale eyes flicker up from her sketchbook every so often, the book with loose, tattered pages, full of messy depictions of the people, animals, monsters, and places she’s encountered on her journey. though, gortash’s face seems to be making an appearance within these weathered sheets more often these days. the room is quiet, but it’s a peaceful silence, the crackling of a fire making for the perfect ambience. it offers just enough light for her to see what she’s doing. her sketchbook is in her lap on top of a soft pillow, as she sits cross legged on the other side of the couch in his office. he’s reading— something, she hadn’t noticed what, too busy taking in the details of his face to etch them onto the paper forever. her tail slowly sways behind her back, as if it has a mind of its own, as she concentrates on every line, every shape. his eyes are soft when he reads. she likes seeing them like that, almost as much as she likes seeing the furrow in his brow when he means business — each one striking visuals in their own way. she likes the darkness of his gaze, and the lines on his face, the scar on his chin.

she likes where she is, decidedly. things have been going — well, here with lord gortash. and there’s a part of her that is terrified of that very notion, because if things seem too good to be true, they usually are. she’s not ready to throw all caution to the wind, men like gortash always have something up their sleeve. there will come a time when the other shoe with will drop, and she won’t let herself be caught off guard. she refuses. but sometimes, when he looks at her, with those soft eyes, it’s almost like he actually cares.

until something bad happens, nepharia will continue to enjoy living life the way she was accustomed to living it before. however the fuck she liked, and how she liked to live it was in silence and luxury. the silk gown against her pale, gray flesh feels heavenly compared to constantly lugging around armor that clinked and chaffed, and the sleeping conditions are far more comfortable than sleeping outside on the ground every night.

` you have really intense features, i like drawing them, ` she mutters aloud, breaking the silence, but not breaking her focus — lead of her pencil still scraping away at the paper. finally, her eyes glance back up from the page, but she doesn’t lift her head, only her gaze, ` i like drawing you. `

#abyssmarked #by all means make this shorter whew #that'd be fun to see ( queue )

[lordgortrash]

// So I've mentioned it to some people privately already, but Gortash's gauntlet is as much a holy symbol to him as a convenient housing for his Netherstone. Descriptions of Bane's appearance always make special note of the jeweled gauntlet he wears on one hand—so Gortash's gauntlet is actually fashioned after the image of his god.

Prior to Gortash securing wealth and power in the city, I like to think he still wore jewelry on his right hand in homage; if not a custom piece similar to the one we're familiar with, then an interconnected bracelet and rings that span across the back of his hand.

#let me clear up some mysteries ( headcanons )

[lordgortrash]

SB: threatens Gortash's life Gortash: stop being so dramatic

#I am working on things and queuing them and this is a pretty solid summary of a LOT of the stuff in my inbox tbh #you said it was under control ( ooc )

[lordgortrash]

// Ok, did a bit of cleanup across my blogs to keep things manageable, especially on Gortash. Purged not-quite-half of his inbox—mainly stuff from inactive blogs or that I don't really think I'll get to answering—and did a pretty aggressive cull of old drafts.

Gortash: Drafts: 6 Inbox: 104

Solomon: Drafts: 8 Inbox: 41

#putting all my threads and asks into Notion was the best thing I ever did I swear #not being able to organize things makes it difficult for me to function #you said it was under control ( ooc )

[lordgortrash]

pssst. your boots are awful.

"You should be commended. It's terribly brave of you to show a face like that in public. In broad daylight, no less."

#me: doing blog maintenance because things have gotten a little messy over here #me also: there's always time for crack with Tori