#anderperry fic

[good--merits-accumulated]

If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.

[abs-blabs]

Friends, inspiration hit me hard last night and I outlined an entire anderperry au fic, and wrote the first chapter.

It’s set in Ireland in the 1980s-90s, during the “Troubles.” Basically, when the Ulster Protestants wanted Ireland to be part of the UK while the Irish Catholics wanted a unified Ireland.

This is mostly setting, but the political aspects do play a small role in the story itself.

Lmk if this is something you guys are interested in !! If so, I’ll do one more revision and post the first chapter on ao3. 🫶

[inahallucination]

if you remember my fic: if i say there's no one in this universe as beautiful as you (even that can't fully explain you)

it's being rewritten!

here's the link to the rewrite, retitled, because the old title was as long as fuck: if words could just hold you (tell me you see me)

old fic vs new fic

[poetsconstellation]

@anderperrymicrofic | November 18 | trip

Okay, fine.

Maybe going on a roadtrip with Neil, Meeks and Charlie wasn’t the best idea ever.

Todd accepts his mistake.

Charlie was being his usual obnoxiously loud self, but somehow he managed to know every song on the radio, so he sang the lyrics excitedly, sometimes even dramatically acting them out.

Meeks, on the other hand, was calmer. As the driver, he took the responsibility of not only paying attention to the road, but also making sure Charlie doesn’t get too excited and ends up causing an accident.

Neil was different though.

Him and Todd were both on the backseat, looking out their windows, watching the suburbs turn into mountains, turn into the sea.

Todd would sometimes look at Neil, only to find the other boy already staring at him.

And whenever a song they both knew would come up Neil always excitedly gasped and they sang together, joining their voices with Charlie’s. Sometimes even Meeks’.

So the time passed, with small chatter here and there, the view outside the window passing by and always changing itself.

But the meaningful glances and shy smiles stayed inside, right in those back seats, only for the two boys to share.

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

What if I post my fic and someone responds by saying

"Do you respond well to constructive criticism"

WHAT THEN??

[applebyraven]

or: “Food?” Meeks appeared, perplexed, but his expression brightened upon glimpsing Neil's culinary creation. “Food! Actual food that looks edible!”

just posted the third chapter of our ours! (dps anderperry-centric fic with chameron as the side pair and mitts if you squint in which the poets buy a house together after welton and have found-familystic shenanigans) - you can read the latest update here!

[waitinbythephone]

started making it. had a breakdown. bon appetit.

archiveofourown.org/works/53261074

[make-much-of-time]

a companion piece i suppose to lay lodged (though not dead) which was only supposed to be deleted conversations from neil's pov but i ended up adding a few scenes from lay lodged so it can be read as stand-alone as well now!

[smoosnoom]

invent love (invent the river)

Neil is the sort to go looking for his friends, and, by proxy, Todd. Neil is the sort to go looking for Todd.  It’s a strange realization, being looked for. Being wanted around. 

Five different moments spent at the bridge.

Inspired by this scene.

[neil-pxrry]

as promised, here is the finished childhood friends au for anderperry week!!! maybe i will do a full on princess bride au in the future… 👀

[good--merits-accumulated]

do you take requests🧍‍♀️

LMAO I don't know if I would write full versions of these, but I can do some short snippets of each!

I. writer! Todd and vampire! Neil neighbours

Nicolas bared his teeth – and they were not just flashing white as Andrea had seen, but long and pointed, and curved like the canines of wolves. And they were no longer white, but slick and dark with blood. Of course. What a fool he had been. Nicolas moved closer and put one hand on Andrea’s throat, one cold relentless hand, so that they could both feel his pulse jumping between them. Behind him, pinned to the metal wall, Clara’s stake lay clenched in his hand. 

“No, no, no,” said Neil cheerily across the space between their balconies, “you’ve forgotten that Andrea wears that necklace.”

If it had been six months ago, Todd would have – and had – turned red, snatched his laptop off the flimsy table, and scuttled away into the sanctity of his own apartment, imposing a state of self-exile from the balcony for several more weeks. Fortunately it was not. He twisted around in the chair, shot a half-despairing glance at Neil’s grinning face, and asked, “Have you never heard of privacy once in your entire life?”

“I have many times heard of l’intimité,” said Neil, grinning wider, “and of einkalíf, and even yǐnsī. Privacy, however. That’s a new one. Pri-var-see. Is that how you say it?” 

He was incorrigible. Todd had discovered quite early on in their friendship that Neil had had some huge measure of life experiences which allowed him to come up with a rebuttal to every situation, and even earlier on that allowing him to run his mouth in French was a dangerous thing to do to himself. He was best humoured. “You’re in a boasting mood,” he said, pulling the laptop towards him. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong with his necklace?” 

“You’re the one writing with your screen brightness all the way up on an open balcony,” said Neil mildly, but acquiesced when Todd shot him a threatening look. “Sorry. Lips sewn. Anyway – whatever gory hand-to-hand combat scene you’re working on there can’t go if he’s got the necklace on.”

“Well, why not?”

“It’s a fish,” said Neil, with some measure of surprise. 

Todd fixed him with a look. “Neil, Andrea is a marine biologist.”

“A marine biologist wearing an ancient symbol of Christ around his neck,” said Neil. “Nicolas – he’s the vampire, yes? – he wouldn’t be very partial to that, I imagine.”

“A fish?” said Todd, surprised. “Well, it's not exactly a cross.”

“Hurts just as bad,” said Neil, making a face. “I mean, I would reckon. You know the ichthys actually predates the cross by two centuries? Bit more power to it, wouldn’t there be?”

He squinted and turned around fully. In the faint light spilling from his flat – the light from his flat was always faint – Neil looked loose-limbed and relaxed, draped over his balcony with his customary easy smile on his face, and his perpetual air of someone who knew more than he was letting on. Infuriatingly, the air was alluring at the best of times. But there was no hint of a lie or a joke on his face. “How on earth do you know that?”

“I’ve got time,” said Neil, “I read.” Then, with a shrug affecting casualness, “Could come over to yours and explain it more to you, if you want.”

“Well,” said Todd, and then, “well.” It had been six months they had known each other. He supposed that was enough time. But it had not happened before. For a moment a terrible feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him – something prickled over the back of his head like a hood, and a cloud crossed the moon, so that for half a second all was plunged into darkness. He shuddered. But then the clouds cleared and a ray of light struck Neil’s face, and illuminated it for him; he looked a little bit sheepish and a little bit pale, with nervousness perhaps. His hands twisted, one after the other, on the railing of the balcony. He was looking determinedly down. “I suppose it’d be helpful,” he said, and Neil looked up with a smile, suddenly blinding. 

“Really?” he said. 

“Well, don’t make me recant the offer.”

“Of course. Invite me in?”

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door, standing up. “No,” said Neil, in a voice that was soft but carried nevertheless, and filled with laughter. “I’d like to hear you say it.” He was full of odd little idiosyncrasies like that, and despite himself, they were all endearing.

“You – are – ridiculous,” he said, punctuating each word with a movement; standing up, shutting the laptop, tucking the chair in behind him. “Are you recording that, or something? Come on over to the door. Of course you can come in.” He left Neil’s smile and the laptop behind him and slipped back into his flat, to stack the cushions back onto the sofa and check his hair in the mirror. 

It did not occur to him until much later the point that should have been obvious from the start – that their balconies were much too far apart to see well, and that his screen brightness, despite Neil’s insistence, had not been turned up all that much at all. But by that point, he could no longer quite bring himself to care.

II. vampires! Todd and Neil forced to plan museum heists

Languages tended to blend into one another these days; they evolved so much over these many hundreds of years that dialects, once sisters, became distant cousins, and then ceased being on speaking terms altogether. It was awfully difficult to keep up, at least without looking like a fool or a grandfather. Despite that, some languages had, throughout the years, impressed themselves onto certain parts of Todd’s moods. Corsican when he was feeling playful, Old Norse when he had just woken up or was particularly vulnerable – English for almost everything else, except in those rare cases where he felt something unimaginably distressing had happened, or that some unforeseen calamity was tearing at the bounds of his reality, demanding to be given voice and a few more vowels. In those cases it was invariably French.

“Merde,” he said, staring in dismay at the display case, “oh, merde.” 

“Fill de puta,” agreed Neil gloomily. 

Staring back at him was five sheets of stained paper, covered densely from margin to margin in a scribbling hand he knew very well, seeing as it was attached to his wrist. They had been arranged with the utmost care on a transparent support, and although he had not read the contents of the label next to it, he could, very clearly, see its proud, bolded title: The Met Museum presents – “His sweet mouth”: Love Letters Through Time.

“Fill de puta,” Neil repeated. This time with a touch more horror. 

“That must have been one of your letters,” said Todd faintly. 

“The first time I used the phrase,” he rejoined, “le Roi Soleil was already dead.” He gestured at the line before them that read 15th century, exact date unknown. “That was you. Remember?” 

He remembered, unfortunately, in excruciating detail. That had been a particularly thrilling night – a young man, one of Borso’s hanger-ons – a moonlit chase through the Castello Estense – him and Neil had been younger then, and had spilled more blood than was strictly necessary in the process. But it had been wonderfully romantic, and shortly afterwards, when Neil had gone off to Venice to do something with alum and Todd had remained in Ferrara, he had sat at his desk and remembered the moment; their hands and mouths meeting in that dim corridor of the Castello, the soft chimes of their laughter, the taste of the courtier’s sweet blood lingering still on his tongue. Enamoured, and in a mood much more befitting to a youth, he had written the letter and sent it off with a kiss. 

It had been well received at the time; Neil had come back from Ferrara early and they had gone off for a third honeymoon in Milan, and stayed until the whole business with Galeazzo Maria had forced a quick escape. When asked where the letter had gone Neil had only assured him that he had kept it, with the kind of dashing prince’s bow he had favoured at the time. Looking at him now, both of them were remembering it. 

He looked a little closer, just making out a particular line of Italian which had not been fit for public company in 1469 and was certainly not more so now, under hundreds of thousands of visitors’ eyes. “You said – ”

“I may,” said Neil, a little shamefacedly, “have lost it.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and added ruefully, “1844.”

He put a hand over his eyes. “The Oregon Trail?”

“It was quite windy.”

He pointed accusingly at the letter, and Neil winced. “Not windy enough to destroy the damn thing.”

“Well, it could be worse.”

“Worse!” One or two people looked over; he pulled Neil with him into the corner of the room, away from the damning glass display cases. “Neil, not only has our property been stolen – ”

“Lost.”

“Yes, because you lost it. Not only that, but now thousands of people are looking at it under this – damn – ” Lost for words, he pointed at the sign above them as they had walked into this particular exhibition room, reading, quite damningly, Eroticism and Sensuality, 1300-1550. He took one deep breath and compressed all the forcefulness and anger into a single, low, “Merde!”

“It was quite a good letter,” Neil offered. “I was flattered. Particularly the passage about my – ”

“There’s nothing for it,” Todd decided, firmly cutting him off. “Does Charlie still have all of his equipment from the ‘60s?”

“Good God,” said Neil smilingly. The good thing about having known each other for over a thousand years was that, at this point, they could have been the same person; he had not surprised Neil in quite some time with his actions. “You don’t mean to break into the Met?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Neil blinked at him slowly, and pulled him a little closer, so that they were pressed close enough together to be mistaken for young lovers. A middle-aged woman pushing a stroller shot them a smile as she walked by, and Todd smiled back, close-lipped. “I certainly haven’t been arrested in quite some time,” Neil mused.

“And you can’t be hung for it any more,” Todd pointed out, putting his head on his shoulder. “The stakes are exceedingly low. Neil, I really do want that letter back.”

When he looked up at him again he was smiling; the wide flashing smile which exposed all his teeth and the fangs jutting sharp onto his bottom lip. The light in his eyes had long since died but in the reflected glow of the spotlights they looked almost alive again, and dancing with mischief. “Well, if you wish it,” he said. “Then I can’t say no.” 

Notes:

I: languages Neil uses in succession: French, then Icelandic, then Chinese. Take all the stuff about the icthys with large grains of salt - I did like 3 seconds of research for this and it was all on Wikipedia! Also I do think Andrea wears specifically the icthys, and not just any old fish.

II: Todd is of course using French, but Neil uses Catalan. Maybe I've been reading too much Aubrey-Maturin. The Borso mentioned is Borso d'Este - highly recommend reading more about him if you like Quattrocento things. Similarly Galeazzo Maria is of course the real Sforza who was assassinated in 1476!

[abs-blabs]

As a little tidbit for those who are looking forward to reading my anderperry au fic (and if you’re reading this and that’s you then THANK YOU I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶🫶), I thought I’d drop the title and tell you the vibe/inspo for it.

So, I’m titling it Uncomfortable !! This is because the entire vibe/tone of the fic is based on the song Uncomfortable by Wallows :)

This fic is also told solely from Todd’s pov. I may or may not be projecting my own symptoms that I have experienced as someone with an anxiety disorder on to him, whoops🤷‍♀️

Anywayyyyy, I’m hoping for the first chapter to be up very soon (as previously mentioned), until then, you should listen to Uncomfortable :)

[inahallucination]

au where todd and charlie r 'dating' in the way that they didn't have anything else to do or todd was getting asked out and felt uncomfy so charlie and him started 'dating' but then todd met charlie's best friend neil and uh oh spaghetti o charlie forgot to tell neil his bf wasnt rlly his bf 

so like in this au todd and charlie meet at like college or something - maybe theyre dormmates anyway

todd’s a little more comfortable than he was in high school and it shows in the way he stands and carries himself, so he starts getting a lot of attention 

he is simply a todd, though, and he doesn’t not know how to deal with that

so he asks charlie to help him somehow

and charlie likes chaos so he suggests fake dating and todd is like “um is that a good idea” and charlie is like “have i ever had a bad idea” and todd is like “almost every idea you’ve had-”

anyway

so they fake date

but then 

one day charlie’s best friend, his other half, his brother (in blood if the ritual they performed in highschool, drunk, worked) shows up becuz he’s planning on transferring out of his yucky dad-picked college 

and to todd’s horror, charlie’s best friend is extremely pretty

and to neil’s horror, he starts having a crush on his best friend’s crush and oh does his self loathing go hard

[poetsconstellation]

Fort ~ Anderperry microfic ~ vomit inducing fluff

It was a cold afternoon in Neil and Todd’s small apartment.

They moved shortly after graduation and now had stable jobs. Neil was a theatre actor, he was doing what he loved the most. And Todd was working as a librarian, but still dreaming about being a teacher.

The boys’ shared room felt warm and cozy in contrast with the weather outside. The string lights and fluffy-looking pillows welcomed anyone and everyone.

Todd sat on the right side of the bed, with Neil’s scrip in his hands. He was in the middle of a pillow fort with blankets on top of him.

Neil stood on the short space in their room that wasn’t covered with furniture. He held a notebook prop in his hands as he declared his lines looking towards his boyfriend.

“Was that ok?” The brunette asked, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“It was great darling,” Todd answered with loving eyes “by the way, we need to go to the grocery store, I’ve run out of tea bags”

“Sure” Neil laughed with a big grin on his face. Before the blonde had time to ask what he was smiling about, Neil was already on top of him, trying to get into the fort.

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

CHAPTER 4 OF MY ANDERPERRY FIC IS HERE!!

He knew he couldn't do this sober. He had to take some liberties. Neil never let them keep too much liquor at the house, just some posh wines for the guests and an emergency bottle of vodka. But unbeknownst to him, Todd had forged his own private stash in case he really needed it . He knew he'd have to justify it if it was ever found , so he ensured it stayed well hidden. He knew his stash couldn't have any hard liquor. It was too expensive and not meant to be drunk in litres at once. So, he made his selection wisely. 5 bottles of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill.

[applebyraven]

just me shamelessly promoting my anderperry dead poets society fic because i can and i just posted the second chapter.

i'm going to create a poets that is so found family.

hope u give it a try!