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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: Funhouse Mirror, Kathleen/Wilson, E, hatesex [1/2]
(Anonymous) 2023-09-26 12:12 am (UTC)(link)The third kind of man was the father of her son. Though that position had been under contention, when it came down to it, there was only one who could fill it.
Even married, Kathleen still had a lot of fun with the second sort of man. She so adored playing the game—and especially liked a challenge! And the man she was currently after was the definition of a challenge. He was rather good-looking, and certaintly intelligent, but, well, he didn’t like her, and she rather disliked him. The trouble was that he enjoyed denying himself pleasantries. But given all that, how much more satisfying would it be to bring him round to her considerable charm? Freed from the pesky need to guard her virginity until marriage, she was quite free to show him what was really good for him.
~~~~~
Kathleen Scott simply would not leave Bill Wilson alone.
The two had gotten off on the wrong foot immediately. When Bill and Ory stayed the night at the Scotts for the first time—shortly after Kathleen had become Mrs Scott and while Captain Scott was away at sea—Bill had found Kathleen to be the most irksome hostess. She was gaudy and loud where he and Ory were prim and quiet; her sense of humour was decadent and literary where he only occasionally indulged in skylarking, which she deemed childish. All told, she seemed a proper show-off a complete lack of control of her tongue. It disappointed him greatly that his friend should have chosen a woman of such little real substance. He got the sense from her cold eyes as they said farewell that their negative impression of one another was mutual. It was just as well. He had little time to waste, and surely they would only be seeing as much of each other as their expedition duties (which, he reminded himself, on paper she did not have) required. The kindest adjective he could find for her hospitality in his thank-you letter to Scott was “abundant”.
Of course he had been polite. Having learned through harsh trial to control his temper, Bill was always polite.
But with the way she was torturing him now, Bill wondered if he had poisoned her tea by accident, and was unaware of it.
It started rather suddenly. At a dinner party, Kathleen had dropped a fork below the table whilst sitting opposite him. “Be a dear and fetch it for me,” she had ordered, cool as anything, and so Bill ducked under the table only to find himself looking directly at her wet slit. She had hiked up her skirts and spread her legs wide. She wore no undergarments. He had popped up, beet-red and only just remembering the fork, from under the table, and had to continue with the dinner as if without incident.
Things like this kept happening. On a train, Kathleen had stared straight at Bill while slowly running a hand up her husband’s leg, squeezing the softer fleshy upper thigh. Seeing her demonstrating her ownership over Con made Bill’s blood rise. No matter, he thought in anger, I’ll have him to myself for over a year while she is at home changing diapers. He spent a very long time on Communion that evening.
On the mail steamer to Australia, when Kathleen was so late to tea that Bill was obliged to knock at her cabin and inquire after her welfare, she had answered the door wearing only a sheer dressing-gown. Bill could not help staring down at the dark outlines of her nipples as his face grew hot and he tried to converse normally.
All told, when she started playing footsie with him at tea-time in their hotel in Melbourne, he had had it to the gills with her. It was already wearing at him having had the responsibility for fundraising and for managing the wives, and now there was little to do but sit around and endure a stultifying wait for the Terra Nova with a mix of intemperate personalities. Oriana had accompanied Hilda to meet some of the latter’s distant relations in town, but with the ship due any day Bill and, unfortunately, Kathleen preferred to wait at the hotel. Hence the dismal tea. And hence her resorting to further antagonising him. Well, he was done with it!
In one swift motion, he withdrew his legs from under the table and stood up, the chair clattering across the floor behind him more loudly than he intended. A few other hotel patrons glanced up for a second before returning to their tea, no doubt making knowing faces at each other about that couple over there.
Bill hovered above the table, standing over the still-seated Kathleen. As calmly as he could muster, he said “I should very much like to speak to you in private. We ought to make some things clear to each other.” Such as how he was a married man and she a married woman, and he had no interest in her. None whatsoever. She didn’t bother him in the slightest, so she may as well stop now.
Kathleen sipped her tea without a care in the world. “I’ll be up to your room shortly.” She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. Anyone else might have mistaken it for a smile.
~~~~~
“What are you playing at?” Bill demanded immediately when Kathleen closed the door behind her. She had expected he might at least feign calmness in his usual manner. Kathleen had never understood why others called him serene, or, god-forbid, easygoing—to her, his placid surface clearly hid a dangerous current. That was precisely what made him interesting (if infuriating) rather than just boring. If he could no longer even muster that façade, well, then her game to provoke him was very successful indeed.
“Oh, you are riled up!” She winked at him, then took in the room. The expedition was hard-up for funds, she knew, but the Wilsons seemed to have drained this room of what little personality it had to begin with. It looked as if no one had lived there in years. “My, this place is drab. But what else would I expect? I haven’t seen Ory wear a different tea dress yet, and you hardly need more than a pair of binoculars to be happy, don’t you?”
Bill ignored this. “Mrs Scott-”
“Dr Wilson.” Kathleen intoned, very formally. She was being a menace and enjoying every second of it.
“Your behaviour,” Bill continued valiantly. He had clearly rehearsed something. “-has been entirely inappropriate towards me. Given such behaviour I think it is fair of me to admit to you that I find you to be rather an inflammatory person. Since you have married my dear friend and colleague of nine years I have endeavoured to show you every courtesy. You have repaid me by parading your vulgar person about.”
“You find my art vulgar, don’t you, Dr Wilson?”
“I am not speaking of your art-”
“Oh, but you do, nevertheless. It’s altogether too gay and fun for you. It’s not a dour little painting. You don’t know how to have fun—at least, not the way adults do. You would rather lie down in a field covered with bird droppings for hours and dig worms out of bird corpses.” As Kathleen said this, she made her way toward the bed, the creaky springs of which sagged in the middle. She sat down on the edge, the picture of innocence.
Bill’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “I’d rather you didn’t sit on the bed.”
“Is it sacrilegious?”
“What do you want from me, Kathleen?”
“You’re the one who asked me to come here.”
“Because you keep-”
“What do I keep doing?” Her voice was low and soothing. She sometimes spoke to Peter this way. Bill was flustered, searching for words and rules to fit a situation that needed none.
“I told you, parading your vulgar person about.”
“Oh, do you mean all the free shows I’ve given you!” Kathleen put a hand on her heart, feigning ignorance and concern. “My dear Dr Wilson, of course I want you to know what good hands Con is in, what forms I’m capable of moulding him into!” Of course she wanted to see him squirm. To show him how much better she was than he.
At this, Bill paused, then said in a scarily quiet tone. “Mrs Scott, I do not know what sort of person you seem to have mistaken me for.”
She paused, then prompted. “…but?”
“But what?”
“If you wanted me to leave, there would be a ‘but’.” Kathleen stood. A few seconds passed, though it felt like much longer, and still Bill said nothing, so she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack without breaking eye contact. “I have a proposal.” Bill was a statue. Kathleen was familiar with statues, and he made a poor one. For one thing, he was quivering with rage. She continued, “Let us drop all pretence. We shall be completely honest with each other, here and now, and then after today we shall never speak of this again. It’s easier than pretending we aren’t interested in each other because we both value the same man. It’s easier than pretending we don’t dislike each other with every fibre of our beings. What do you say?”
Bill Wilson closed the distance between them in two strides of his long legs, which Kathleen always found reminiscent of a wading bird—a very ugly creature. His face was more beautiful, and his expressionless eyes looked down his long straight nose at her. “I say,” he began, and then kissed her on the lips, close-mouthed. A cruel little peck. “That I quite honestly haven’t the foggiest idea what he sees in you.”
This set Kathleen off, agitating her emotionally and physically, as she felt her thighs clench and the area between them grow damp. Oh! But she had him. Nothing was more satisfying than bringing an angel crashing down to Earth. She grasped his starched collar, sharpish, and cared not for the integrity of the shirt as she swung him round and pulled him down on top of her onto the bed. Bill Wilson was light for his height. Perhaps his bones were hollow, like his precious avian friends, she mused. Taking advantage of his surprise, she shoved her tongue down his throat.
“I shine through deeds, not words.” She hissed into his ear as he scrambled to hoist himself up on his elbows.
“Funny. So do I.” And he buried his lips in her neck, sucking hard enough to send shivers down to the tips of her toes, but halting before he left a mark.
When they kissed, it was as two drivers fighting over the reins of a hansom cab. Kathleen was fluid and electric. Bill was precise and formidable. Kathleen rucked up her skirt, freeing a leg to wrap up and around one of Bill’s; he reached his free hand down and traced up to her knee before sliding back down and gripping her bum, pressing her sex against his clothed crotch.
“My goodness, Billy,” Kathleen breathed as she palmed the needy tent that had formed in Bill’s trousers. “Tell me again how my vulgar person repulses you.”
He got up suddenly, taking away her prize and standing at the foot of the bed to unbutton his shirt. “As you wish. You are hedonistic, you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself, and above all you are selfish.”
“And you are nothing but a self-deceiving prig who thinks himself above these things.” She registered the flush spread over his chest as he discarded the shirt.
“Certainly not.” He extended a hand to her, and when she too was standing he started working her dress off, long fingers going like knitting needles. “But I find a relationship with God helps. You ought to consider spending more time on your knees.” He undid the last button of her dress and pressed her hands to his belt.
Grinning impishly, Kathleen tore at the buckle. “Are you sure you want my teeth on your prick?”
“You’ll treat it with care.”
“It’s not as if you’ve found any use for it.” Kathleen teased viciously, sinking onto her knees as she yanked Bill’s trousers and undergarments down. And there he was, erect and flushed. She was just about to take him in her mouth when she felt his soft fingers wrap under her chin and tilt it up. His eyes shot daggers down at her from their lofty height.
“You’ll treat it with care or I’m afraid you’ll make your husband very unhappy.”
And because Kathleen knew nothing would please him more than the abnegation granted if she refused, she nodded. He released her, and she choked on him with a vengeance. The wave of hot pressure overpowered him and he slumped back on the bedpost, gripping at her hair as he momentarily lost balance. She aided in steadying him by grasping his arse, making sure to scratch him while doing so. Breathing in his scent, she ran her tongue up and down his shaft, up and down. When she focused in on the sensitive head, Bill Wilson produced the most undignified whimper, which would have made her lips curl into a smile if they were available for that purpose. Involuntarily, his hips bucked into her face. She was ready for it. How wonderful, to see such animal instinct from the man. To see this stiff haughty man reduced to something she could control with the pull of a lever. He was just like the rest, after all.
She spat him out, before he came. She wanted to save him, to fuck him properly. This was the only chance she was ever going to get to show him her art. Her clay was now workable.
Re: FILL: Funhouse Mirror, Kathleen/Wilson, E, hatesex [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2023-09-26 12:13 am (UTC)(link)“You are maddening.”
“The way I see it, as the daughter of a clergyman myself, is that God helps those who help themselves.”
Bill flexed his leg muscles to extricate himself, coaxing her back onto the bed with one arm on her shoulder and the other cupping her back. Delicately, he laid her down and himself on top. “You’re all force and no finesse. Is that what you do to your clay? Mash at it relentlessly?” He must have been filled with need, but Kathleen would give him this: even if he was no saint, he had the patience of one.
“What rot! You enjoyed me immensely.”
“Anyone can do what you just did. True art is about observation, practice, and reaction.”
“You-” then she gasped, for he swiped his fingers just over a spot beside her breast, between two ribs, where she happened to be intensely ticklish.
“Observation.” His hand swirled round her pert breast, then he gently cupped it and gave it a squeeze. “Practice.” His ministrations continued at her bust as his other hand travelled south, over her sensitive stomach, and her breathing quickened. “Reaction.” She jolted as Bill’s pointer finger dipped into her aching slit.
“Fuck you,” Kathleen sighed out in rapturous exhale.
“If you insist.”
She wanted to slap him. “Shut up,” she said, undignified, and guided his stupid ginger head down where she needed him.
As he understood the request, he started “Ah, this, too, is-” but she jerked his head into her mound and rubbed herself up on him mercilessly. A ragged, taunting “Observe…” was all Kathleen could manage, as his warm tongue dug into her greedily. Bill raked his hands up and down her thighs, her stomach, clutching at her hips as she tore his hair in her agony. Despite herself, she had to admit it did feel more artful than when Con did this. There was more of a pattern—he was better at matching her own movements like clockwork, and her ramping joy felt deeper and longer. She was a marionette on strings, and ever so happy to go where led.
A loud cry brought her to her climax, and Bill immediately sprung up and kissed her, forcing her to taste herself off his lips.
“Have you had enough yet?” He asked, so smugly that Kathleen almost did slap him.
Instead, she bucked herself up, forcing herself past her post-orgasmic bonelessness because she could not let him get away with this. He was going to be alone with the man they both loved for a long time, and she had to burn her memory into both of them, to keep them warm with it in the cold. With a grunt, she flipped him over and straddled his ridiculously waspish waist.
“No. You’re not finished, Bill.”
Indeed, his mast was still high, making its presence felt behind her against her bum. He wanted to leave it, Kathleen was sure; ironically, Bill would probably get off on her being unable to finish him. He was exactly the sort of joyless Mrs Grundy who derived pleasure from pain, and he had grown a big head from others celebrating him for it. She was going to pulverise him down into the bed. Divide him into his individual cells.
“Surely you don’t want me to come inside you?” He said, aghast.
“No.” Kathleen produced a condom she’d secreted out of her coat pocket. “You’re quite right, the risk of you becoming the father of my next son—however slight—” She did not know whether it was he or Oriana who was the cause of that couple’s misfortune where begetting children was concerned. “—is not one I’m willing to take.”
“You’re a horrible woman, Kathleen Scott.”
Cheeks flushed with a perverse pride, Kathleen slid down on top of and enveloped Bill’s prick. Groaning slightly, he held onto her waist as she rocked up and down. Kathleen was not tender. Bill did not want her to be. The mattress springs shrieked in protest as they went at each other, each hanging on for dear life and determined not to be the one to let go. Leaning forward, Kathleen rubbed herself up against Bill’s pubic bone as he thrust up. With her breasts now closer, Bill could reach up and twist her nipples attentively.
As a result, they both came at once.
They had to lay there for a moment, catatonic. Neither had anything much to say. Kathleen was both pleased and dismayed with herself. Bill Wilson was everything and nothing like she thought he would be. Uncompromising yet searching, righteous yet with a curious tendency for self-reflection. An absolute nightmare hiding a careful lover.
“I have an inkling of what he might see in you, now.”
“Oh?”
“You’re decisive. He needs that.”
Kathleen rolled over and stared at Bill, who was still lying spreadeagled over the bed and looking up at the ceiling. Decisiveness. Art. Hidden reserves of strength. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, and that truth made her want to retch.
“You’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” It hurt her to ask this.
“I will.” To his credit, he did not gloat.
A few minutes later found Kathleen fully-dressed on the threshold. By way of farewell, she reached out her hand and said “Let’s never do this again.”
“Agreed,” Bill nodded, shook her hand, and then slammed the door.
Re: FILL: Funhouse Mirror, Kathleen/Wilson, E, hatesex [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2023-09-26 09:34 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Funhouse Mirror, Kathleen/Wilson, E, hatesex [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2023-09-27 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)And EVERYTHING about this para:
"Bill Wilson closed the distance between them in two strides of his long legs, which Kathleen always found reminiscent of a wading bird—a very ugly creature. His face was more beautiful, and his expressionless eyes looked down his long straight nose at her. “I say,” he began, and then kissed her on the lips, close-mouthed. A cruel little peck. “That I quite honestly haven’t the foggiest idea what he sees in you.” "
WILD APPLAUSE, ANON, WILD APPLAUSE
The ending though, is just chef's kiss -- because at the end of it all loving Scott is their weird truce, the grudging trust that the other will make him happy...