#goreconte

[thesilliestpotato]

just two normal boyfriends coping with the death just fine and not turning into monsters in the Arctic. Right? RIGHT?

check out the fic by @werewolfsone this fanart was based on (hint: it's not about goreconte, it's about Jirv)

[tsarjozinzbazin]

[sunlaire]

Puppy on ice comic for @strogoff-era because its so nice and lovely and has amazing au ideas and deserves nice things <333333

[grahamgored]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Fitzjames/Graham Gore/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Graham Gore/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte Characters: Graham Gore, James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848), Henry T. D. Le Vesconte Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, everyone lives no one dies because these guys are nottt going on that expedition, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Power Dynamics, Anal Sex, Sexual Overstimulation, james fitzjames intimacy coordinator for the win, i would not. call this cuckolding, theyre a throuple and james likes to direct from his chair, Anyways, Anal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Groping, tipsy sex, blink and youll miss it scent kink, Rough Sex, Kissing, absolutely gratuitous sweat mentions i think, but not perversely enough to merit a tag Summary:

As they took to the loveseats, James remained apart from them, taking to his own grand chair and propping his boots up on the footstool, the buttery soft leather gleaming in the light as he watched his lovers exchange smoke and careful glances, drinking their wine, wetting their appetites.

“Henry,” James had said, “take Graham to bed.”

[nahaerya]

This Wednesday I've got wip - thanks to @rain-fall-down and @thesilliestpotato for the tags. Much appreciated :D

@grahamgoreweek starts on Sunday, and this 👇 is what I'm going to drop on day one.

Goreconte party porn plot.

++

“What do you want?” and Henry is balancing on the windowsill, forearm holding him up while he rakes his nails on Graham’s chest. “Do you want me to suck your prick? I could—” and he’s found a nipple through the fabric. Pinches it, gives it a little twist, grins when Graham arches into it. “—I could, without unfastening your trousers. Just bring you to relief like that, through the fabric. Ruin your new uniform—”

Oh, fuck, yes, he’d like that.

“Make it an order.”

++

@corinnasstays @the-golden-vanity @la-reina-del-norte @parhelios @westerlywayward @13hemoglobin :D if you have anything and want to share :D

[werewolfsone]

I wish you would write a fic with Graham/Dundy where Graham is hurt and Dundy-

Oh, right.

I mean - I wish you would write ANOTHER fic where Graham is hurt and Dundy comforts him

The world needs about 2,000 of such fics so I can only trudge forward and spread the good word about Goreconte hurt/comfort.

Since the one fic is canon-era, here is a tiny thing from an AU discussion between @westerlywayward and @nahaerya which is vaguely... office AU + silt verses inspired (not really anything to do with the Silt Verses story but using the idea of many eldrich cosmic horror gods and deities that people are doing nasty stuff with, lots of sacrifice and worship of old gods.)

The scenario: We're a totally normal, modern office, and we make all of the deity worship so easy and clean. We really want this particular god to like us. Everything is assigned by corporate to please the beast (who we just call 'the shareholders'): your weekly assignments, your schedule, who you work with, even who you're to have an office romance with. The best part: we've been grooming the perfect willing sacrifice, one brilliant Golden Boy who will make the god so happy!

But we're struggling to find a replacement for our Golden Boy. So we're doing the sacrifice part in bits and pieces. We've also been letting him have a "secret" forbidden office romance. But only because we want to have blackmail material on the guy he's with for later.

Dundy and Graham meet at a park an hour north of their offices, like they do almost every Friday evening. They make this trek on the regular- they're not supposed to be together. Nobody is supposed to be with Graham, not now. He's there for the shareholders, and he's happy to be, and he's signed up for that, and he's shot up the corporate ladder. He just didn't realize it was going to happen so soon.

In his slacks, shirt, and coat from work, Dundy looks perfectly normal in the little city park, holding an late-in-the-day coffee because he rarely gets more than a few hours of sleep anyway. Perks of the company; the better the shareholders are doing, the more benefits the employees get, of course. But he's unhappy; barely sipping his espresso, scanning the walking paths anxiously.

It takes Graham almost thirty minutes longer than usual to show up. Dundy's tense body unclenches in relief, half-convinced that today would be the day Graham doesn't show up. He makes a b-line for Graham as soon as he sees him.

Graham's bundled up like it's winter, his long winter coat over his work clothes, scarf and mittens. He's looking particularly pale, circles under his eyes (usually a sign that the shareholders are cross with you, and it's unsettling to see on their Golden Boy). He's... shivering. Usually the cool evening air isn't an issue for him. But after what he went through today-

- nice and easy, just take the last digit-

Dundy hands Graham the coffee, which Graham takes immediately, then looks a bit disappointed.

"It's cold," he says, giving Dundy his best attempt at a smirk.

"You're late," Dundy counters, taking Graham's other hand in both of his. As if he could see through the layers- mitten over glove over bandages- and see how Graham's fingers were doing. Graham flinches, but doesn't take the hand away, takes another sip.

"It's fine," Graham offers. "Let's get something hot, I'm freezing."

Dundy finally looks up into Graham's eyes. They take a beat to just stare, their customary exchange-by-way-of-expression of stressors and grievances which must go unsaid, but are still on both their minds. Usually those worries are, Franklin assigned extra paperwork, or Fitzjames wants me to work Saturday. Today it's They took off two of your fucking fingers and I'm freaking out and They were only supposed to take one of my fingers today and they did an extra one and I'm freaking out.

Dundy takes the lead tonight. Steers Graham back through the park toward the closest cafe, orders them both something hot. Graham's smile is appreciative and ungaurded, and it hurts Dundy's heart. Graham's never like this, all soft and quiet, plastering himself against the far wall while Dundy orders a box of treats. Like he's a shy, small thing, and not Graham Gore, the shareholder's golden lamb.

Dundy steers them to one more shop, since it's nearby, to buy them hot pies to take along. They'd reheat in the microwave, they've done it a dozen times before. Then they walk downtown, to George's spare flat, which they've been using every weekend for the past year. Safe, discreet, far from everything else.

Graham lets Dundy ease him onto the couch. He cranks the apartment heat up (it's unused during the week, heaven knows George is off in one of his several other family properties). He throws some blankets over him. Reheats Graham's pie and puts it on a tray. Does all of this in silence. Then gets the first aid kit, like he knows what the hell he's doing.

It doesn't matter, though. Graham's smiling up at him even through the pain as he peels off his mitten, glove, and then the bandages beneath. He likes the attention, likes Dundy scrutinizing the wounds, likes feeling those careful fingers use the alcohol wipes, examine the first wound on his pinky- half healed already, thanks to the shareholder's direct touch, a mix between cauterization and natural scarring- and the second wound on his ring finger, which the shareholders hadn't healed, they hadn't even taken the digit- and this one was sewn up, and had bled a bit in the bandage and stained Graham's glove.

Dundy is careful as hell with the alcohol wipes, and Graham does his best not to flinch, though it's blindingly painful- it's a dull throb in both fingers. But then his lover is wrapping them again, fresh clean bandages being lovingly folded over both wounds. Dundy wraps his entire hand, to discourage Graham from trying to use it.

By the time they're done Graham's managed about half his meat pie. They're both on the couch, Graham still half-burried under blankets and taking forever to warm up. Dundy is glaring at him still.

"Don't worry so much, old sport."

"Don't old sport me."

"I will until that scowl is gone."

Dundy doesn't want to talk about it, but he's still upset.

Graham takes Dundy's hand with his good one. Squeezes it, then brings it up to his own face and puts it on his cheek. He just looks at Dundy, eyes big, and tries to beam as much love and affection as he can, mind-to-mind.

"Don't puppy-dog eyes at me," Dundy says, but he has no resistance, not when Graham is so tired, still shivering under all those layers. He pulls Graham's face to his and kisses him, tastes the meat pie and coffee and Graham's shaken morale on his tongue.

Then Graham's pulling him in, reminding Dundy how strong he is, even down one hand. He pulls Dundy to him until he's practically on his lap, pulls the blanket over them, accidentally knocks his little tray and meat pie onto the floor. Graham laughs.

"You oaf," Dundy chastises, but doesn't move to get up and clean it. He lets Graham press another kiss to him.

Graham can't offer an it's gonna be okay, I'm alright, things are fine. Nothing felt fine; he was scared and couldn't say it out loud. But holding Dundy close was enough to calm him and finally start banishing the cold.

[princessesaphi]

I made this little thing for @earl-goupil...

It's actualy a redraw of one of it's sketches.

[bluesurreal]

ok but what if Neptune really was Graham’s dog? because one day he leaves and never comes back and Neptune doesn’t understand, he just knows his best friend is gone

maybe he used to sleep at the foot of Graham’s bed but now he just curls up in some dark corner of the ship and whines late into the night, until one evening Dundy finds him. and the thing is, Dundy’s been pushing forward and ignoring the grief that’s weighing on him heavier and heavier, but to see Neptune look so lost, to hear Graham’s dog whimpering like this... it nearly collapses him. so he gives Neptune a few head scratches until the dog isn’t crying anymore, goes and retrieves a treat or two to coax him out of the shadows, and maybe Neptune follows him back to his cabin.

Dundy sits, Neptune waiting expectantly at his feet, looking up at him with round eyes through a mess of black fur. there’s a sound ringing in his ears, almost like it’s travelling across a great distance, but he swears it’s Graham’s laugh. his vision blurs and the warm salt of his tears wet his cheeks. the dog licks at his hand and nuzzles into the crook of his knee as he cries. in the dim candlelight of his cabin he makes an earnest promise:

You don’t need to worry, Graham. I’ll take care of him for you.

Neptune huffs a little bark, his fluffy head shaking forward almost in a nod, like he’s promising to take care of Dundy too. he falls asleep with Neptune on the floor beside him that night and every night thereafter.