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Polar Explorer RPF - Prompt Post 1
This is for prompts for all things general Polar Explorer RPF.
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
Under this umbrella you can prompt:
Prompts in line with adaptations of Heroic Age stories can also fit here, for example if you want to specifically prompt Hugh Grant!Cherry from The Last Place On Earth getting wrecked (which someone really should).
No blorbo too obscure for this post! EXCEPT: NO PEARY ALLOWED. God I hate that guy.
Rules:
Regular view: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html
Regular view, last page: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html?page=999#comments
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
Under this umbrella you can prompt:
- Historical versions of Franklin Expedition(-adjacent) guys (Rossier, Gore/McClure, etc)
- Madhouse at the End of the Earth/Belgica Expedition
- Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration - Shackleton, Scott, Amundsen, Mawson
- Andrée Expedition
- Karluk Expedition
- etc
Prompts in line with adaptations of Heroic Age stories can also fit here, for example if you want to specifically prompt Hugh Grant!Cherry from The Last Place On Earth getting wrecked (which someone really should).
No blorbo too obscure for this post! EXCEPT: NO PEARY ALLOWED. God I hate that guy.
Rules:
1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Mertz/Ninnis, sex crying
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Emil Racovitza, discovering a crazy new fish
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Very Next Day, Cherry/Birdie, E, cw self-harm
5. One prompt per comment please.
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome!
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please!
8. Feedback on prompts and fills is AWESOME; please take longer conversations to the discussion post.
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FILL: Pale Lacuna Agape, Kathleen/Oriana, M
(Anonymous) 2023-07-09 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)“What’s troubling you, dear?” Oriana asks, stubbornly refusing to be forgotten about.
“Do you think they’re on the ship at all?” Kathleen asks.
“Of course they are. We’d have heard already if that weren’t the case,” Oriana responds without thinking—she has never allowed herself to dwell on the possibility that they may not be. But Kathleen just sighs again, and Oriana gets the strange sense that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
She feels it, too, the awareness that this is likely their last time together like this, at least until the men leave again for whatever reason and they may once again seek comfort in each other. Although Oriana doubts that’s how Kathleen perceives this arrangement of theirs. She would not seek out comfort in another, Oriana doesn’t think. But that leaves the distinct possibility that Kathleen may really love her, and Oriana shies from that.
“Things will be back to normal,” Oriana attempts, “and we’ll see much more of each other. They are close, my Bill and your Con.”
Kathleen purses her lips. Oriana knows she’s missed the mark, but it’s the best she can conjure—the vision of the two of them, hanging off their husband’s arms and chatting politely, is far from an appealing one, and after all that has happened between them, will feel the furthest thing from normalcy. But all Kathleen says is “please, don’t call him that.”
“Alright. But you understand what I’m trying to say,” Oriana goes on, “This isn’t the last night on earth. I won’t go anywhere.”
“But suppose I’ve had a lovely time,” Kathleen says, tracing her fingertips down the bare length of Oriana’s back, trailing goosebumps in their wake, “playing at being a man. Being your man.”
Oriana laughs, knowing full well that Kathleen doesn’t take kindly to being laughed at, but she can’t help herself—Kathleen has never reminded her of a man. The only people who have ever described her as mannish have been men. She hauls herself up and kisses Kathleen into silence before she can protest. Incredibly, she relents, handing herself over to Oriana, her soft mouth, her warm breath, the way she nips at Kathleen’s lips.
The longer Oriana kisses her, the further Kathleen sinks into that foggy, comfortable state of mind, the redder her lips and the ruddier her cheeks, and Oriana would reduce her to the basest of states, one that, by Kathleen’s confession, Scott himself has never reduced her to, but for her impatience. When Oriana pulls back prematurely, Kathleen’s lips are bright pink and shining, but her eyes, as usual, are hard, and fix onto Oriana’s like an anchor hitting bottom. “Part of me will always be yours,” Oriana reassures her, but she is fairly sure she knows Kathleen, by now, and can be certain that it isn’t near good enough for her.
But she holds no answers past this, so she lowers her head again and resumes her work. Lavishing Kathleen’s neck with kisses, her right hand trails blindly down the course that has engraved itself in her muscle memory, over Kathleen’s belly, languid and deft as she dips below the naval, and then settles with her fingers hooking around to dip shallowly into Kathleen’s soaked slit while the dark, thick hair of her mound sits soft below Oriana’s palm. Kathleen keens and shifts.
Oriana’s lack of patience makes itself troublesome again, and soon her head is between Kathleen’s thighs, tasting her deeply, and Kathleen, never one for restraint, cries out openly in pleasure. Oriana adores how she’s softened. There is a fire in Kathleen that she’s managed to dampen, a misdirected anger that she has tamed. She is no less intense, but Oriana no longer bears the brunt of her fury, and she pities whoever it falls upon next. What an incredible woman, Oriana thinks, as Kathleen seizes, gasps, and comes.
-
In accordance with Oriana’s prediction, Terra Nova steams into port the next day, her whole muster intact, but with tales of near brushes with death. As it happens, their expedition has not been altogether a success, having narrowly lost the race to the pole.
It is wonderful to have Bill back in her arms, Oriana thinks, embracing him while the crowd swarming the quay roars. But she feels dishonest, almost duplicitous as she does: there is still love here, that much is certain, but there has been love in his absence, and Oriana can hardly claim to be the same person she had been when he had left. She doubts he can, either.
They are welcomed the way they were seen off, with lavish parties, sumptuous dinners, and late evenings full of music and dance. From the way they carry on, the lost victory in Antarctica must be the last thing on anyone’s mind. Kathleen is stunning. Oriana admires her, but keeps her distance.
She knows that Kathleen seethes with jealousy. There is a certain ire in her eyes as she watches her husband and Bill converse—she’s furious at their liberty to go off to the most isolated places on earth to be in the exclusive company of their own sex, while she and Oriana have only been granted their time with one another on their husbands’ whim.
Kathleen corners her in the restroom late in the evening, and drunkenly kisses her. She looks a mess, her face red and flushed with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat of the crowded hall, her hair falling loose. Oriana must grant that she has at the very least made an attempt to enjoy herself, even if she danced more of a military march than a waltz. “You must think me horrible,” Kathleen says miserably. “Of course I’m happy he’s back. I’m elated. It’s only, I didn’t expect this, and I didn’t get to plan for it. I don’t know why it’s so damned difficult to take it in stride.”
Oriana has her suspicions, but she won’t be presumptuous as she dabs the sweat from Kathleen’s brow and gently pins her hair back up into place. “I was prepared to raise Peter on my own,” she goes on, fixated on her own reflection in the mirror while Oriana busies herself behind her. “I was prepared to raise him with—you. Seeing how you never—” Kathleen cuts herself off, and Oriana is grateful for it.
Oriana squeezes her shoulder and drops a kiss on her forehead. “There is a reason for this that will be clear, someday,” she promises, and she knows once again that it’s not what Kathleen wants to hear. She is far too attached to her own agency to put her happiness in the hands of a higher power, but Oriana hopes she might unburden herself this once, as their choice has been so decisively made for them.
She exits and finds her way back to the festivities. Wilson’s arms take her in easily.
Re: FILL: Pale Lacuna Agape, Kathleen/Oriana, M
(Anonymous) 2023-07-11 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)