the ocean burned

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

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!