#ot3 week

[ot3-week]

OT3 Week Prompts! (And dates)

March 17: Meet Cute

March 18: The cool kid, the jock, the nerd

March 19: Childhood friends

March 20: The knight, the princess and the dragon are actually all together

March 21: Nontraditional soulmates

March 22: No one wants to leave the cuddle pile

March 23: Free day

Be sure to @ot3-week and to use the tag #ot3week so I can find and reblog it!

These prompts can be used for otmores! You can also combine these prompts with any other event, as long as that event also allows it! (It seems like multiamory march might allow it)

Thank you to the people who sent in prompts!

[pqt-tumble]

@ot3-week Day 5: Nontraditional Soulmates

I'm that weirdo who puts Riku in the middle. You know Rikai is my favorite, and I hc Sora gay gray-ace and prefer queerplatonic Sokai. But I have a soft spot for all the ships.

Outfits simplified due to time.

[melted-mercury]

@ot3-week are ocs allowed? the prompt fits them so well and I love these three too much to not doodle them (with bad lighting but that can't be helped) :v

on another note I haven't posted about them before damn. anyway introducing the most autistic polycule in the realms

[thebluestbluewords]

ot3 week day two: the cool kid, the jock, and the nerd

Audrey/Lonnie/Jane, post-canon. Unfinished, this is just the teaser for now! Someday I’ll learn a better way to format text messages lol.

++

Lonnie’s phone pings. 

Txt from: Audrey Rose 🌹

break a leg! 

or your opponent’s face :) 

oops, autocorrect. I meant to say be sure to look your opponent in the face. :) It’s so satisfying to see people cry when you beat them! 

Lonnie laughs. This girl. 

There’s not a lot that Lonnie can say to the message. Both legally, because as a representative of the Northern Wei University women’s fencing team, she’s obligated by the intercollegiate board of athletes to practice good sportswomanship and not text her friends about breaking people’s faces, and also because… 

Well. 

Audrey’s been texting her a lot lately. And Lonnie’s not quite sure how to handle it. 

Maybe she should back up. 

+

Lonnie's in her freshman writing seminar when her phone chimes. It's a distinctive chime, not the usual half-second ping that means she has a text from one of her new school friends. Not the ding-a-ling sound of her mother's text tone either. 

No, this chime is a special one. One that she set ages ago, shortly after receiving her first cell phone as a going-away-to-school gift, at the start of seventh grade. 

It's Audrey's chime. 

It's not like Lonnie's close friends with her anymore. Going evil, trying to destroy the entire country, and also just generally being rude to anyone who exists outside of the pretty Auradon princess mold will break a friendship faster than Lonnie's been breaking her wooden practice swords. She's talked to Audrey a few times since the whole world domination incident, but they're not close anymore. Not like they were as kids. 

She can't take her phone out in class, but Lonnie slips the ringer to silent and makes a note in her planner to respond to whatever Audrey wants from her later. After class. Once she's got a handle on her old feelings again. 

It's so inconvenient, having a crush. 

+

So, they text sometimes now. Just a little bit. And yes, Audrey comes to her fencing competitions. Just a few of them. Audrey's doing a princess gap year before she goes to rule Auroria with her parents, and she doesn't have too many places to go on the weekends. 

It's not a big deal. Lonnie just has to squash down her teeny, tiny little crush on the prettiest girl she's known since high school, and ignore the way that her stomach flips over every time she hears Audrey's special text tone, and remember that Audrey isn't flirting with her, she's just a good friend. 

A good, bubbly friend who sometimes says how much she loves spending time with her. 

And said she loved her. One time. 

They were drinking. 

Txt to: Audrey Rose 🌹

Haha thanks! 

That’s normal. Cool. Yeah. Lonnie’s got a handle on this whole feelings thing. Her phone chimes again.

Txt from: Janey Godmother ✨ 

Hi!!! Me and Audrey are here!! 

We're on the top left side of the stands! We couldn't get seats any closer :( 

Audrey wanted me to flirt with the doorman to get us better seats but I don't know how to flirt with guys :( 

Txt to: Janey Godmother ✨

JANEY!! I'LL LOOK FOR YOU!

and don't worry about your seats lol I'll look out for you guys!! 

[howdoyoudothedew]

I want something highly specific so I'm doing it myself and seeing how many people I can drag along with me (making an ot3(or more) week for next year)

[notllorstel]

took 3 years… finally doodled brickoppy💪

[werewolfsmile]

Somethin' I'm Good At - Alec Hardison

Watch it on Youtube

Oh my gosh it's finally done!! I've been obsessing over this video for a few days now and ahhh I'm so excited that it's finished and I can share it with people!!

And of course I know Hardison is insanely competent at anything and everything, but this song just fit his personality so perfectly, I had to make the video! No insult towards him, just a fun and silly video that I can't stop dancing along with. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

[ibahibut]

Loving both of you is breaking all the rules.

[wizardlyghost]

so funny to me that moriarty paints an enormous and exquisite oil portrait of joan from memory, has joan's other nemesis murdered for daring to intrude on her territory, and joan has the audacity to tell sherlock "the difference between you and me is she's not in love with me". girl, there is no heterosexual explanation for what is happening here.

[hyolks]

idk if you still care about tpn BUT! your art for it is sooo good. and your art in general is so lovely. it makes me really happy :D i hope you have a wonderful day whenever you read this!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I MISS THESE GUYS SO BAD.... the halcyon days,.....

[potato-lord-but-not]

I’ve been so normal lately just completely and utterly normal (:

[ot3-week]

Give me some prompts for the ot3 week!

open till january fifteenth!

[pqt-tumble]

@ot3-week day 3: Childhood friends

Maroloquin! Raise your hand if they were your first polyship!

DO NOT REPOST! Reblogs encouraged. All other uses please ask!

[not-poignant]

Tradewinds Launch - A Fae Tales Novel - Jan 31st

FULL NOVEL RELEASE on JANUARY 31st - EXCLUSIVE to REAM & PATREON ONLY

In the dangerous, ethereal realm of the fae, alliances between the Seelie and Unseelie fae merchants are few. Some say impossible. Matan, a Seelie fae and peacock pheasant shifter with a talent for trade, must keep his Seelie alignment a secret as he embarks on a perilous journey to gather wealth and save a loved one from a terrible curse. He joins an Unseelie merchant caravan of fae who would surely eat him if they learned of his alignment. The enigmatic Udir, a paranoid Unseelie master of poisons and bearded vulture shifter, discovers Matan’s secret and threatens to blackmail him in exchange for vile favours. But Udir’s bravado and bluster hides a painful past and Matan isn’t as innocent or as naïve as he seems. Amid bustling markets, savvy clients, and travelling to new lands Matan has never seen before, Tradewinds is a story of love, found family, trust, betrayal, and the healing that can grow in the shadows of the vibrant, perilous southern fae lands.

Foxhall @ Ream (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers or higher) Foxhall @ Patreon (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers of higher)

[thebluestbluewords]

OT3 Week Day One: Meet-Cute

a sea ot3 meet-cute of sorts :) I'm going to be trying my best for the @ot3-week prompts! Mostly Gil and Uma, pre-ship, more of a meet-ugly than a meet-cute. Because they're terrible adorable children and I think Gil is an underrated sweetheart even when everyone else is being terrible all around him.

+

“I HATE YOU!” 

“I HATE YOU MORE!” Uma shouts back, balling her hands into fists so she’ll be ready when he stupid slimy ex-best friend starts swinging at her. “YOUR MOM IS STUPID AND YOU’RE EVEN STUPIDER BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST MINI-HER.” 

Mal, daughter of Maleficent, the undisputed queen of the Isle of the Lost elementary school playground, narrows her eyes. “Take it back.” 

Uma, daughter of Ursula, the queen of nothing except for possibly her mother's bad graces, sticks her tongue out. “No. You’re mean and boring and so’s your mom.” 

“Take it back, Uma! Or you’re not invited to my birthday party!” 

“You’re not having a party,” Uma sneers. “Nobody has parties anymore, not after what your mom did to the last girl who left you out. You’re the one who ruined parties for everyone, because you’re the worst, and you’re not even interesting about it. You’re just a baby who hides in your mom’s shadow all the time, and you–” 

“TAKE IT BACK!” Mal screeches. Uma’s plenty accustomed to screaming. It’s her mom’s main way of communicating with the staff at the chip shop, and Uma is seven years old now, which is more than old enough to be considered part of the staff, by both her mother’s expert opinion, and her own assessment of her precocious skills. She can catch fish with her mom, and slice the bones out of a flounder faster than any other kid she’s pulled off the docks, and she hardly ever drops ice cubes into the fryer anymore, even when she’s carrying a whole tray of drinks from the icebox and has to lift it over her head to dodge the knives Petey the main cook throws at her sometimes. 

What she’s less accustomed to is her former best friend launching herself at her teeth-first. 

“FUCK!” Uma screeches back. “Biting’s cheating! You’re not just a boring baby, you’re a boring, stupid, mean cheater!” 

“Take it back!” 

“No! You’re a boring baby and so’s your mom!” 

“You’re boring! You’re so boring that you don’t even know how to use the swings!” 

Uma shakes Mal’s teeth out of her arm, and shoves her back with both hands. “I know more than you.” 

Mal bares her teeth again. One of her front ones is loose, and there’s a scrape mark in the neat imprint on Uma’s arm that matches up with it. “Do not.” 

“Do so. You’re not invited to parties because everyone hates you. Because you can’t do anything without your mom there to make people do it for you.” 

Mal narrows her eyes. “I bet you I can make everyone kick you off the swingset. And the climbing bars. And the tower.” 

“You can’t.” 

There’s a dangerous green light in her ex-friend’s eyes. “Can so. You can have the sandbox. It’s for babies. Not even a baby like you can have fun in there.” 

The sandbox is widely regarded as the worst part of the school sulking ground. It smells like cat pee and cigarette butts, and not even the cats that pee in the alleys around the school will go in it anymore. 

It’s also boring. Nobody ever falls off and breaks their face on the sandbox, and you can’t do flips off it or anything. There’s no gold coins buried in the sand like there sometimes are on the real beach, and there’s not even any sharp shells left after the first group of elementary school kids, the ones a year or two or even three older than them came through and pulled them all out for makeshift knives. 

Sometimes being the second group of kids born on the isle sucks even more than usual. 

“Make me.” Uma snaps. 

Mal’s eyes flash green. “I will.” she spins around to the crowd of dirty boys who’ve been climbing up the rickety wooden tower that’s the best place to play. “HEY GUYS. I HAVE A NEW GAME. IT’S CALLED KEEP SHRIMPY FISH LOSERS OFF THE TOWER.” 

The boys stare. 

Mal sighs. “I mean, GET HER OUT OF HERE.” 

The future brainless henchmen of the isle already understand how to follow orders. “GET HER” is pretty clear even to a brain-damaged kid, so Uma makes her second smart decision of the day (the first being ditching Mal, because ugh) and turns to sprint to the sandbox before the boys realize that the base of their precious tower (with all the cool climbing spots and platforms and places to hide and pretend to stab each other) is built on a pile of small, easily throw-able rocks. 

“This isn’t over, princess!” Uma shouts. Even though it is. She’s smaller than the henchmen boys, even though she’s strong enough to work in her mom’s shop already, and she can throw rocks back, but she’s better than fighting against henchmen. She’s going to be a captain of her own crew someday, and she’s got to out-plot her slimy, cheating ex-best friend. 

“IT TOTALLY IS.” Mal shouts. 

“It’s totally not,” Uma grumbles under her breath. “I’m gonna be so much cooler than that ass-kissing baby. She just follows her mom and calls it cool, and everyone’s too scared to tell her anything else. I’m not gonna be like that.” 

She kicks a lumpy patch of sand. “Stupid. Stupid slimy Mal.” 

The sand– 

Uma kicks the sand again. Sand isn’t supposed to move like that, and even though she’s pretty sure that nobody at school is powerful enough to do magic under the barrier, because even her mom can’t use magic with the spell, and nobody at the elementary school is more powerful than a real sea witch, even one without most of her powers, there’s a lot of bad stuff and dangerous stuff and stuff that wants to hurt kids on their island, and she’s not too sure that the sandbox is actually clear, because it’s the worst and nobody’s played there for weeks. Partly because they haven’t had school in a week, because they only have Dr. Facilier and Mother Gothel as teachers, and they both left to do some other stuff that was “more important than teaching brats like you lot” last week, but also because the sandbox is the worst and nobody wants to play in it. Because it sucks. 

“Hey!” The lumpy sand says. 

Ume jumps back. “Are you a creep? Are you going to start licking my toes? My mom says creeps do that to little girls who don’t stay away.” 

“I’m hiding.” 

Her mom’s stories about creepy men don’t include many details about them hiding in sandboxes. “Have you considered not hiding?” Uma asks. “I could use a minion right now.” 

“Oh. No. No thanks.” 

Thanks? 

“Who the fuck says thanks?” Uma asks. “Are you sure you’re not a creep?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“That sounds like something a creep would say. One who’s lying.” 

Finally, the sand shifts again. “I’m not!” it says indignantly. “I’m just hiding a little bit.” 

Uma plops down next to the sand, which now that she’s actually looking at it, is all disturbed in a big pile right around where the kid is hiding. She hadn’t noticed before, due to being so mad that she wanted to spit on everything and maybe burn down the stupid play tower. Which isn’t even real. She’s not even kicked off a real tower, which would be something cool and evil and not lame at all. 

“Why’re you hiding anyway? All the kids are busy kicking me off the fun stuff anyway.” 

The pile shakes a bit more, and a blue eye emerges from the sand sort of near where Uma’s feet are. “Are you sure?” 

She snorts. “Sure’s snakes.” 

“Shakes?” 

“Snakes. Like, hiss hiss?” 

“Oh.” The pile shakes a little bit more, and a freckled nose peeks out. “I know what snakes are. I’m only a little bit stupid. My brother Third, he brought home a dead snake one time, and he wanted to put it in a stew, only my dad wouldn’t, and Third put it on a stick instead and roasted it over the fire, and then Dad said we couldn’t eat it cause the scales weren’t safe for kids, only I was awake later, and he totally said that ‘cause he was just waiting for us to go to bed so he could eat it himself.” 

Uma wrinkles her nose. “Gross.” 

“No, it looked good! I mean, wicked. It looked– tasty, I mean. Yeah.” 

Uma snorts, but not because she’s annoyed anymore. “You’re not very evil, are you?” 

“I’m super evil!” 

“Then why’re you hiding?” she shoots back. “Evil kids don’t hide from each other. We fight, like villains.” 

“You’re hiding,” the sand-kid points out. “In the corner with me. That makes us both not very evil.” 

Uma’s chest does a little flip at that. She’s the most evil. She’s just…plotting. “I’m taking a tactical retreat. To plot my next move. I’m super evil. Even more than you, blondie.” 

The kid shakes his way loose of the sand pile. He’s really blond, more than just the little pieces of hair that were sticking out with his nose before. He’s like a bleached broom, all pale and fluffy and covered with dirt, even though it’s mostly sand.  “It’s okay to hide with me. If you want. I’m Gil.” 

Uma sticks out her hand to shake like her mother does with new staff. “Uma.” 

She squeezes, just like her mom does. It’s not quite the same, because she doesn’t have tentacles and octopus strength behind her grip, but that’s okay because she shouldn’t care what some loser who buried himself in the sandbox thinks about her. 

He squeezes back. And smiles. 

What a weirdo. 

“You’re cool!” Gil announces, dropping her hand abruptly. “You should come meet my other friend!” 

“We’re not friends,” Uma says, because this is important to her. She doesn’t have friends anymore. She has enemies and people who aren’t her enemies yet, and she’s the coolest, evilest, most independent future-ruler of the school. She doesn’t need friends, not like that stupid fairy. She’s better than that. Better than all of them. “I don’t have friends.” 

Gil blinks at her. He’s tall, and he’s got big arms, Uma realizes. He could probably throw a rock a lot further than she can. He could get one all the way up to the second or third layer of the tower, maybe. “I have friends.” 

“No, Gil. Villains don’t have friends. You can be…” 

It’s a bad idea. It’s a monumentally bad idea. Villains don’t have friends, and she shouldn’t want to use weird boys who hide in the sandbox, but she doesn’t have many other options. “You can be my sidekick,” Uma finishes. “Just for today.” 

Gil beams at her. “I like that! I’ll be your sidekick every day, Uma. Let’s go get Harry now!” 

He grabs her hand and starts tugging. 

“Gil.” 

He stops. Perfect. A useful sidekick follows orders. 

“What?” 

“I’m the leader,” Uma explains, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “That means I lead the way, and you’re the one who follows me.” 

“Oh. But– but I know where Harry is, and you don’t know him yet, so I could show you? If you want?’ 

Sidekicks. Never the brightest. “You can tell me where he is,” Uma explains. “And then I can lead us both to him. Because–” 

Gil picks up on the cue this time. “You’re the leader, and I’m your sidekick. Got it, Uma.” 

“Perfect! Now, where’s my sidekick number two?” 

Gil frowns. 

He spins in a circle. 

“Um.” 

Oh, evil.

 “Is he real?” Uma asks, with enormous patience, considering the circumstances. Playground exile is no laughing matter, and she can still ditch this kid if he’s the sort of baby who still talks to imaginary friends. It’s not like anyone still believes in ghosts, not when they can’t die on their island. 

“He’s totally real!” Gil instsis, still spinning. “He’s the coolest ever except for you and he’s got a red coat and he steals crocodile teeth from his sister Harriet and he’s got real fish in his lunch and– there he is!” 

He points to a teeny, tiny little stick of a kid with the craziest black hair Uma’s ever seen, and yes, okay, a red jacket. 

A kid who’s in the middle of being thrown off the tower. 

Perfect. 

“Okay, blondie,” Uma laughs, over the sound of Harry’s shriek as Gaston Junior pitches him off the tower platform. “We’re mounting a rescue mission.”

[quinns-art-box]

rarepair week day 1: cookies/cupcakes they're having a nice summer tea party :]

@dr-rarepair-week-blog