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alex and henry would absolutely have a secret private wedding before the big televised one, just like harry and meghan did

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wlw stickball jocks 🤝

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Alex: is an asshole to Henry for like 4 years

Henry:

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“He’s part of it all now, headlines and oil paintings and pages in the Library of Congress, etched right alongside. And he’s part of *them.* Goddamn forever.”

- *Red, White & Royal Blue* by Casey McQuiston

A bit rushed in the thick of Nano, but I am MANIFESTING GOOD VIBES, Y’ALL. 🇺🇸

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No thoughts head empty only soft andreil

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time to remember how to draw by going back to books i read as a teen huhu

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congratulations on 500!! feels good to finally be part of something!! for the prompts can i request neil and aaron becoming friends?

sure you can!

@leoisgayforwriting you also requested andrew, neil, and aaron bonding, so i got two birds with one stone!

---

Neil needs his appendix out. Really, it’s not surprising. Out of all the things Neil’s endured, an appendectomy is something incredibly minor. 

But he’s nervous. Sure, he’s been shot and stabbed and literally fucking tortured, but allowing someone to knock him out and then cut him open is a lack of control that he avoids at all times. But it’s better than letting his appendix explode. His abdomen has been on fire for the last eight hours, and Andrew skipped practice and drove him to the emergency room. They’ve been there for another three, and Neil’s going under in half an hour. 

He’s only moderately freaking out. There’s an IV port in his arm, which really didn’t hurt, and he’s holding Andrew’s hand with his free arm. The anesthesiologist was incredibly patient with him, but Neil’s just worried about loosening his tongue going into and coming out of surgery.

“Andrew,” he says quietly. Andrew hums. “What if this isn’t normal? You haven’t had surgery, I haven’t had surgery, what if they’re waiting for too long or they’re going to do something wrong-”

“Neil,” Andrew says, shifting his other hand to hold the back of his neck, grounding him. “This is a routine procedure. Breathe.”

Neil takes a deep, shuddering breath. And another. But he can’t seem to calm down. Andrew squeezes his hand twice, and then fiddles with his phone, placing it face up on Neil’s knee. Aaron’s voice, tinny and annoyed, comes through. “What is it?” He’s outside, and Neil remembers that he’s on his day off. He saw Andrew texting him in the waiting room. 

“Neil’s getting his appendix out and is overthinking everything.” Andrew says, bored, though his thumb is stroking the back of Neil’s hand, calming him. 

“What’s up?” Aaron asks, tone softening. They’ve gotten closer over the years, if only for a mutual desire to tease Andrew, and Aaron’s provided Neil with many valuable tricks over the years to calm his panic attacks. Andrew’s started keeping a bucket of ice chips in the freezer just for Neil to suck on when he gets nervous. 

So Neil talks him through their process, Andrew jumping in to correct Neil’s anxious brain. Aaron makes noises of affirmation at appropriate times, and once Neil’s done explaining, he sighs. “You’re overthinking, Josten. This is normal. Your surgeon has probably done this procedure dozens of times. Andrew will be there when you wake up, there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening. They won’t take anything you say literally when you’re all doped up. Okay?”

“Okay,” Neil sighs. “Sorry for bothering you.” Andrew rolls his eyes. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Aaron says. “Andrew, I’ll swing by with lunch in an hour? Kate has soup that I can bring for Neil.”

“Sure,” Andrew grunts. They hang up without much fanfare, and they sit in silence until one of the nurses comes in, bearing syringes. 

They push Valium through his IV and Andrew drops a kiss on his forehead as everything gets very loose. He doesn’t remember his trip to the OR, just closes his eyes and relaxes as best he can, replaying Andrew’s light kiss on his forehead and the brush of his thumb against Neil’s knuckles.

Waking up after surgery is strange and warm. There’s beeping coming from somewhere, slow and rhythmic, and Neil drifts in and out of consciousness for a bit, barely registering the pain in his abdomen. He feels a hand holding his, warm and familiar, and he knows he mutters something about Andrew. But it’s hazy. 

Once he’s properly woken up, he gets wheeled up to the room where he’s staying the night. Andrew’s brought him underwear, and it takes a little bit of wiggling to get it on, but he’s warm and comfy and he has soup that he takes occasional bites of while watching TV with Andrew.

Aaron swings by, plopping himself down in a chair and asking Neil how he feels. Thinking about it, Neil actually feels better. He’s still on a lot of painkillers, but there’s no more fire in his stomach, and he can eat. “See?” Aaron says, smiling slightly. “Nothing to worry about.”

He’s still there when a nurse comes in to check on Neil and make sure he’s feeling alright. He and Andrew shrug at each other when the nurse says that the procedure went completely as planned, because while Neil and Aaron have bonded over teasing Andrew, the brothers have grown closer over Neil’s disregard for his well being and the slightly hilarious stories that come from it.

Either way, Neil has to concede. Aaron’s right. He really didn’t need to worry.

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When Henry gets a new portrait

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this blog turned three years old today.

I’ve been on tumblr since I was fifteen (my main: leaping-blizzards ....but I won’t say what my username used to be in 2012, it’s too embarrassing haha) and somehow I’ve stayed on this dumb app for 8 years and counting. I made this blog as an outlet for all my fandom posts so I wouldn’t annoy my irl friends that were following my main. It was mostly just a place for me to reblog all the trc and aftg posts that were overwhelming my feed. I didn’t expect anyone to actually follow it or like my shitposts or care about my thoughts.

And now it has almost 1200 followers?? That’s so wild to me. Anyway, I know I’m not as active on here as I used to be (adulting leaves little time for tumblr, lol) but I just wanted to come on here and say thanks for following, thanks for the love. I’ve loved reading all your thoughts and fanfics, reblogging your fanart and obsessing over all these incredible works of literature with all of you.

xo, Rachel💗

(p.s. I know some people do like...fics or art to celebrate milestones on their blogs but I can neither write nor do art so lmk if there’s something y’all want me to do)

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during the height of the minyard-josten rivalry, a tiktok account is made titled “andrewminyardshusband”

At first it’s believed to be a stan account or something similar, since all they do is post clips from his games and interviews, half the time zoomed in on his arms with a ridiculous commentary dubbed over it

No one knows who makes the videos, mainly because they always use voice filters

But then the account starts posting videos of andrew?? Like at home?? And they’re not like reposted Instagram stories, it really seems that this person is living with andrew

(these videos coincidentally start posting around the same time that neil josten joins andrews team)

Even weirder, they actually seem to be andrews husband, which astounds literally everyone because how did no one know about this???

The account blows up, obviously. Like, millions of followers, gets verified, the whole shebang

And it isn’t always Andrew, half the time it’s videos of their cats doing cat things (he tried out the tinfoil thing to get them to stop jumping on the counters and eating his sandwiches, king got so scared by it that she hid on top of the fridge for an hour. Meanwhile, sir didn’t give a single fuck and layed down directly on the tinfoil)

The account’s most viewed video is of a slow zoom of andrews biceps with the careless whisper intro played over it

He starts answering questions in the comments while pointing the camera at andrew

“‘How did we get our cats?’ we found them in a dumpster. As far as we can tell they were raised together and fell in love. I’m 99% sure they’re lesbians”

“’why does andrew wear armbands?’ because his forearms are too powerful to be viewed by the general public” *the video is a slow zoom up to andrew’s glare*

“‘are you and andrew actually married?’ yes. fuck you.” (andrew flips off the camera with his left hand) “wrong finger, dumbass”

“‘how did you two get together?’ he threatened to kill me and I thought that was hot"

“’can you two kiss?’ like, physically? yeah. right now though? i dunno, i’m comfortable sitting on this table and andrew is all the way over on the couch”

“’whats your opinion on neil josten and the whole rivalry he has with Andrew, especially after he joined his team?’ I really don’t give a single fuck and neither does andrew”

“Have you met neil josten?” is one of the questions he gets asked and no one knows why he’s laughing so hard or why andrew rolls his eyes when he answers with “yeah he’s pretty cool”

Sometimes the other foxes make appearances in the videos, like Renee baking in their kitchen while Andrew is filching cookie dough or Nicky, Aaron, and Andrew all sitting on the floor and feeding the cats catnip.

the speculation on who andrew minyard’s husband is is astronomical. it grows beyond the exy sphere and practically every comment is “who is this guy??”

People keep asking but all he answers with is “I’m andrews husband, can y'all read?”

People ask the other foxes (who don’t say shit cause why would they), comb through their social medias to see if he’s in any pictures or videos

It is then believed that andrews husband has to be one of the foxes from Andrew’s sophomore year, and due to half of them being related to him, one being married, and one being neil josten, it is then believed that andrews husband is Kevin

At least it is until the account posts a video of kevin being asked “thoughts on being andrews husband?” “like of you being his husband?” “no, you being his husband.” “what?? Ew, no, gross” “I cant tell if that’s more insulting to Andrew or to me”

So everyone is back to square one

Until

Until

there’s a new video on the account

And it’s of andrew on the couch reading a book and he gets asked “what’s it like having me as your husband?” but!!! There’s no voice filter?? And it sounds vaguely familiar, like they’ve heard it before?? And he wasn’t even answering a commenter question. and then Andrew grabs the phone and turns it to show neil josten, neil josten!!! sitting on the other side of the couch in a bright orange sweatshirt and a smirk while Andrew says “fucking infuriating”

Needless to say, all four million followers implode upon seeing it

Keep reading

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the gang on their way to get shitfaced in columbia

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andrew minyard, drumming on the back of the stadium seat in front of him during night practice: bored in the court and i’m in the court bored, bored in the court and i’m in the court bored, bored in the motherfucking in the court bored, and i’m bored in the motherfu–

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Andrew, plucking petals off a flower: I love him... I love him not... I love him... I love him not... I love him... fuck

andrew shredding the flower to pieces like a subway sandwich (jalapeños and lettuce only): fuck flowers renee, sitting beside him, peeling blades of grass apart to add to the growing pile in her lap: I don’t think I’ve heard of that kind, actually. Is it a type of rose?

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“When I was younger,” Henry says, “I had this very elaborate idea of taking somebody I loved here and standing inside the chapel, that he’d love it as much as I did, and we’d slow dance right in front of the Blessed Mother. Just a... daft pubescent fantasy.”

- Red White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

(Cue up Elton John’s “Your Song”) ❤️💙❤️💙

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Oh maybe for the aftg drawing recs, some Andreil judging eachother’s coffee orders or something? If you’re still doing them that is,,, Also I love your art, and have a good night or day!

ive been thinking abt this ever since i got this req... sorry it took so long hehe

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Alice in wonderland fix but I really don’t know what character Andrew would be. Like the twins seem so obvious but I think the Cheshire Cat would be better bc of the smile and also how extremely unhelpful he is? Or maybe the mad hatter idk. Riko’s definitely the queen of hearts, and Kevin’s the white queen. I just think the concept of Neil running from his parents and falling down a rabbit hole is neat.

brUHHHHHHHH

(i didnt bother with the anthropomorphic shite because effort)

*

Neil flattened his palms on the hem of his sky-blue skirt, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this place. He’d followed a harrowed-looking man with three red hearts tattooed and a pocket-watch clutched in his hand into a rabbit hole, and now he was standing in a field of talking flowers after growing to the size of his father’s manor and back down to an eighth of an inch. 

His father would be furious. He’d vanished from a very important gathering, of which Nathan Wesninski’s son was expected to attend. Then again, his mother would be relieved he’d found an escape, even if it meant she paid the price for his absence. 

Neil was terrified of his father, but he didn’t want his mum to bear the weight of his actions in his stead. So he had to find a way back. 

“Why,” said a voice. “Are you lost, young one?”

Neil looked up. Perched on a large mushroom was a woman, not too much older than himself. She had a head of golden ringlets and a superior-esque smile: between her fingers she held a pipe, smoke drifting and curling in an absent breeze. 

“Who are you?” Neil demanded. He was sure she hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She shrugged. “People call me Allison. You can, if you like. Would you like a puff?”

Neil, who missed his mother already, reluctantly nodded and clambered up the mushroom to sit beside her. 

“A lovely day for a stroll,” she said, slotting her pipe between his fingers. 

Neil took a drag. “What is this place? How did I get here?”

“How would I know?” Allison retorted. “I’m just a girl sitting on a mushroom, smoking. Breathe out, won’t you?”

He did: she curled her finger and he watched in awe as the smoke warped and rippled, forming shapes in the air. The young woman frowned, squinting. 

“Change is imminent, boy. You’d best be off.” 

“How did you -” 

“Goodbye, Neil,” she said, taking back the pipe and disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. He blinked. How had she known his name?

He slipped off the mushroom and lost a black slipper on the way. He walked around the dirt pathway’s bend and found a large, gnarled tree, the path splitting around it and veering off into two directions. Both were shrouded in darkness. 

Neil huffed. Refusing to overthink it, he veered towards the left. 

A new voice stopped him. “I wouldn’t go that way, if I were you.” 

“Well, you’re not me,” he said, petulant. The voice had come from above him: looking up, he spotted a short man, perched on the old tree’s thinnest branch. Another blonde, another strange place, another cryptic message. Neil was beginning to understand this place: it sucked. 

The man hummed, eyebrow arched. “Not many have been stupid enough to ignore me. What did you say your name was?”

“Neil,” Neil snapped. “And I want to go home.” 

“Really?” He fell backwards off the branch and swung, holding on with his knees to look at Neil whilst upside-down. “Why are you here, then, if you’re so keen on where you once were?”

“I just followed the man with the watch,” Neil argued. “I wasn’t looking to get stuck here. Wherever here is. Which is where, exactly?”

“Everywhere,” the man said, voice flat and ineffectual. “Nowhere. You’ll never find answers with questions like those.” 

“Fuck you,” Neil said with false cheer, walking around the man and continuing on the path he’d been told not to take. Spite was a powerful motivator, after all. 

“Neil,” said the man. “Say hello to Betsy for me, won’t you?” 

Neil flipped him off: the blond barked out a single laugh, which echoed in the darkness. 

Neil wasn’t afraid. There were worse things than the dark. His own skin was proof of that. 

Wherever he was going, he hoped to never encounter blonde men lazing on tree branches again. This day was already strange enough: he didn’t need a headache on top of that. 

A house appeared on the edge of the darkness, the dilapidated cottage on a cliff overlooking a large forest. In the distance was a looming castle, shrouded by a melancholic cloud that occasionally sparked and rumbled. A gust of wind sent shivers down Neil’s spine and he curled his arms around his stomach, wishing for a cardigan. 

Behind the cottage was a long table, set for tea. Despite the dozen spots, only three individuals were present, each one as perplexing as the next. 

The first was a tall man, bronzed, hair curling around his ears. He was practically hopping up and down in his chair, talking a million miles a minute. 

The second was a tiny man, sleeping inside of a teapot on the table. With dismay, Neil realised he looked exactly like the blond man who he’d encountered in the dark woods. How had he already arrived, when Neil had just spoken to him?

The third was a woman, oddly calm and composed. She was plump with greying brown hair and smile-wrinkles around her eyes. When the bronzed man poured the teeny blond into his cup of tea, she plucked him out and sat him in a teacup full of sugar cubes. 

“Who are you?” said the tall man, finally acknowledging Neil’s presence. “Are you here for tea? Betsy! We have another guest!” 

“Quite,” the woman said, smiling. Neil didn't trust that smile one bit.

“So you’re Betsy,” he said. 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Come across Andrew, did you?”

“He said to say hello,” Neil curled his fists in the hem of his dress, ignoring the tall man’s lavish stares. 

Betsy’s laughter tinkled like bells in the wind. She readjusted her hat. “Sit Neil. We were just about to serve tea.” 

“Next time, don’t serve me,” the tiny blonde grouched, crossing his arms. He wasn’t Andrew, Neil decided. It was rather plain to see, now that Neil had heard him speak.

“That’s Aaron,” Betsy said. “Andrew’s twin. This is Nicky, their cousin. I am Betsy, though you already knew that. Sugar?” She picked up the cup that Aaron was still in, ignoring his squawk. 

“No, thank you,” Neil said, remembering how his father would pinch his side if he forgot his manners. “It’s an odd time for tea, isn’t it?”

“We are always having tea,” Nicky said, voice saddened. “We are doomed to a constant tea party, where no one ever shows. But it is what it is!” He and Betsy clinked their teacups together and took a sip. “How about you, Neil? What did you do to the King?”

“I’ve done nothing to the King,” Neil said, affronted. “I don’t even know who he is!” 

“But you will,” Aaron said, clambering out of the teacup. “Not knowing him is a grievous offence. Everyone must know and adore the King.” 

“But I’m not from here,” Neil said, miserable.

Without the constraints of a teacup or teapot, Aaron grew to a normal (albeit still short) size, identical to that of his brother. He immediately yawned and ignored the broken crockery and spilled milk, curling up for a nap. 

“Don’t mind him,” Nicky said. “It’s better that he sleeps. He is brilliantly angry when awake.” 

“None of this makes any sense,” Neil insisted. “I just want to go home. Where can I find the man with the pocketwatch? He was the one I followed.”

“Three hearts on his cheek?” Betsy inquired. Neil nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the large castle. “You’ll find him in the castle. He is cursed to never be quite on time: you should be able to catch up with him, if you hurry.” 

Neil looked at the castle’s horrid silhouette. “You’re mad.”

“Yes,” Betsy agreed. “But aren’t we all?”

“I’m not going there. I don’t want to die.” 

“Craziness or death,” Nicky said, sullen. “You can’t escape your fate, and there's only two options.”

“You should visit the Queen before you go to the castle,” Betsy advised. “He may be able to help.”

Nicky was right: Neil was still alive here, so he had to be going insane. “He?” 

“Indeed,” Nicky said. “Why, is there something wrong with that?”

Neil just blinked. There was something wrong with everything here. He hadn’t once encountered something that behaved in a way Neil could predict. “No. Let’s go visit the Queen.” 

*

in a hypothetical pt. 2, we’ll meet the others!

(renee as an enslaved human form of the Jabberwocky??? anyone????)