#problemwithtrouble

[missanthropicprinciple]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Awwww thank you, my friend!!!

*points at friend's icon* We watched The Hour together. It was cool.

[camillekaze]

Hey I hope you’re doing okay. I really enjoy your blog and art and I just hope things are okay or at least get better.

y'all are going to make me cry. this really means so much to me (and I hope you don't mind me hijacking this very nice thing you've said to me) but I've been thinking about all the friends I have made and folks I've met across fandoms/shifting interests and it's such a damn special thing that any of you even think of me. Gives me hope that things are getting better (and they are!)

[theloccent]

from Sarah @missanthropicprinciple

send a valentine here

[ID white text on a pink background that says “ @problemwithtrouble Thanks for being such a wonderful confidant and fandom enthusiasm. <3″ END ID]

[mi6-cafe]

We’re still blown away by the enthusiasm the fandom’s shown for our miniBang (it’s now 26 fics and 26 pieces of art!!). And so to thank everyone who signed up, we’ve decided to rec their work in these posts and also to help you to get to know them better. You see, besides old favourites, we’ve also got quite a few newcomers! (See all the spotlight posts here.)

We know that we’ve advertised the miniBang as “one last event before the movie” and now the premier’s moved to November, but the Bond fandom has no time to sigh!

We’ll keep writing and arting and supporting our writers and artists with many reblogs and comments!

Now, give it up for:

Venstar

AO3 and @1amvengeance

What are your top three dream Bond-film destinations for a holiday?

Venice, Bahamas, Phuket

Do you have a favourite Bond film? 

Licence to Kill

What’s your Bond OTP/OT3? What’s your favourite rare pair?

Q/Bond, JAQ and my fave rair pair is felix/007

Choose your favourite child (fic, artwork). Tell us about it. (OK, you can pick 2. But that’s it!)

Memoirs of a Quartermaster  this is one of my faves because it's an AU beginning and backstory for our pair, i've only JUST re-read it again and i'm shocked i wrote something that poetic sounding. it's like omg who does she think she is, where did she come from? it's a pretty little story and i'm surprised that i was surprised all over again.

The Origin of R   i love this fic because as u can tell from the title we get introduced to my version of R and i love her. love me, love my r. and it's also an AU of Q's backstory and how he meets 007. so yeah, i love this one for sentimental reasons.

I’m doing art & writing a fic for the minibang. 

My partners:

@azure7539arts  JFC you WANT me to pick a favorite work? just ONE? ffs. ALL of it *waves hand at Azure's work I mean have you SEEN what they art and write? mmm fine. Sorcerer! Q i just love Az's au's and the way they've done this sketch so simply and how it fades at the bottom is just zooooooom up my alley

@problemwithtrouble again u ask me to pick a favorite and i could no more pick a star from the night sky. okay it's true i'm partial to orion's belt. but of problem's works i like A little less broken. there u made me choose. i hope ur happy. it's short, it's bitter sweet, it's to the point, i love it ok.

Ask your partner: “If you were an ice cream flavour what flavour would you be and why?” What was their answer?

i didn't ask because i didn't read this part of the test before getting to the bottom and u've made me choose so many things and i'm also lactose intolerant so i dun wanna talk about ice cream. but i love u all

[hermannsthumb]

Your writing is amazing!! I’ve been super homesick recently so if you’re still taking fall prompts would you consider doing one where after PR they get to go back to the northeast and Newt gets to have a proper fall for the first time in years. (Not a lot of hay rides and pumpkin patches in Hong Kong) THANK YOU!!!

Anonymous said: Hellomst :) Can I please request 28 and 29 (with possibly some 30 thrown in if you can manage it) for the Autumn Fic Meme you reblogged? (For Newmann ofc :) ) We don't get cold weather over here(currently it's 90 with 82% humidity....) so I gotta live that fall life vicariously

from autumn fic meme here: 28. flannel shirt + 29. hiking (and unofficially: bedsharing and huddling for warmth eyes emoji)

& of course @problemwithtrouble​!!! prefacing this by saying: @k-sci-janitor​ and i did a little collab fic with basically this plot back in march, newt and hermann taking a road trip around new england to look at the changing leaves, so if you want a LONG version of this idea feel free to check that out here

--------------------

“Smell that,” Newt says. “Do you smell it?”

"Smell what?” Hermann says.

Newt puts his hands on his hips and takes a long whiff--of the fresh mountain air, of the dying leaves, of plain and simple dirt--and smiles. “Nature, dude. Fall. Fucking fantastic.”

Hermann, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose and takes special care to tuck it beneath his scarf, then takes special care to tuck that into the flannel he borrowed off Newt. He’s been whining about his allergies since they set out this morning and whining about being cold even longer. “Decay,” he says, voice muffled. “Mold. Death.”

“Pretty leaves,” Newt counters.

Hermann shuts up while Newt helps him over a particularly large root and around a felled tree, but the second Newt’s hand slips away from his arm and he’s left to fend for himself once more, it’s back to complaining. “When’s the trail meant to end, anyway?” he says, breath rising up in small white puffs. “I’m starved.”

“I told you to pack a lunch,” Newt says, because he did, about fifty times. (I’ve just eaten breakfast, Hermann said with a little sniff. I’ll be fine.) “I told you you’d get hungry.”

“I didn’t realize we’d be out all day!” Hermann snaps.

It’s only been an hour. They left for their hike at eleven sharp on the easiest trail possible (no incline, a nice, easy, flat loop around the park lake, beginning and ending right by their rented cabin), and they’re already halfway finished. They can’t have more than another hour ahead of them. Hermann’s managed much longer under much worse conditions willingly, and it’s not as if he didn’t have the choice to let Newt go alone. He’s the one that insisted on coming. Still--the more well-fed Hermann is, the less likely it is he’ll annoy the shit out of Newt for that hour and the hours following when they get home. (Newt can already picture Hermann hovering over his shoulder and making snide remarks while Newt tries to cook dinner.)

He fishes an apple from his backpack and tosses it over; Hermann catches it. “Here, just take mine. I made a sandwich too.” He waves his reusable sandwich box. “You want it?”

“What sort of sandwich?” Hermann says, narrowing his eyes.

“Fluff and Nutella,” Newt says.

Hermann makes a face. “The apple is satisfactory.”

“It must be hard to have no taste,” Newt says, and digs into the sandwich himself.

Hermann stops complaining after that, and Newt is left--in peace--to enjoy the scenery and the simple knowledge of it being autumn. He hasn’t had a proper autumn in years. Not since MIT. Maybe not even since before the kaiju. He still decorated the lab for Halloween every year and donned dumb costumes, of course, tracked down as much artificial pumpkin-flavored junk he could find, but it just wasn’t the same. No hay rides. No pumpkin patches. No changing leaves anywhere within decent distance. He explained as much to Hermann when he talked him into this little excursion in the first place: they deserve a good nostalgia-fueled autumn, and together, at that.

Last week, he took Hermann on a hay ride to a pumpkin patch, and they carved pumpkins for their tiny front stoop on the floor of their equally tiny kitchen. (Hermann claimed he’d never done it before, but his design kicked Newt’s design’s ass by about one thousand percent.) The week before that, he sat Hermann down for a good old-fashioned horror movie marathon and threw popcorn at him each time he tried to critique the logic or explain how the science really wasn’t all that accurate. This week, he’s tossed a disgusting amount of his PPDC savings at a log cabin rental in the middle of scenic, autumnal nowhere and only managed to talk Hermann into accompanying him under very select conditions: one, Newt would foot the entire bill, two, Hermann could have the big bed, and three, he’d swear to leave Hermann alone for at least an hour every day to read or knit or brood or whatever the fuck it is Hermann does in his kaiju-free time these days.

Newt agreed to the conditions. Mostly. Half an hour seems more than enough time for Hermann to chill alone, is all.

“Look,” he says. He stops and points through a break in the trees, where the mountainside is newly visible on the horizon: the treetops form a swaying, vibrant blanket of red-orange-yellow that seems to stretch on forever. It’s beautiful. Newt whips out his phone and snaps a quick photo of Hermann framed against it and privately considers having it framed.

"’S just a load of trees,” Hermann grumbles, but Newt catches the ghost of a smile on his face as he turns away.

Dinner is an uninteresting affair of canned clam chowder Newt heats up over the shitty electric stove with no small amount of difficulty. Only one burner is working, and it seems to have doubled in inefficiency since last night. “I’m starting to think we should’ve just gone into town for dinner,” he calls to Hermann from the kitchen; Hermann looks up from his crossword puzzle, eyes owlish behind his glasses, cheeks rosy from the fire he’s nestled himself in front of. He’s still in Newt’s flannel. “Gotten Chinese or something.” He pokes at a lump of clam with the end of a warped plastic stirring spoon. “Ugh.”

“It’s soup,” Hermann says. He bustles in to shove Newt aside and deal with it himself. “How hard can it possibly be?”

“Don’t push me--”

“I’m not pushing, you moron, I’m--”

“It’s the fucking stove,” Newt says. “It’s, like, eighty years old. It’s--”

“Then use a different burner--”

They get the chowder heated up eventually. Hermann takes more than his fair share of both it and the sleeve of saltines Newt cracks open, and when he’s finished, feigns sleep back by the fire so he doesn’t have to help Newt with the dishes. “You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Newt says, kicking the foot of Hermann’s rocking chair.

Hermann doesn’t even crack an eye when he tries to trip Newt with the end of his cane. Jerk.

After he gets dinner cleaned up, Newt pulls a blanket over his lap and curls up comfortably in the second rocking chair at Hermann’s side. He’s contemplating getting up and finding his stash of s’more stuff for dinner round two (which would be a much more satisfying dinner) when Hermann startles him by patting his hand. “Thank you for cooking,” Hermann says, stiffly and awkwardly, while Newt blinks. “I...appreciate it.”

“Oh,” Newt says. Lately, Hermann’s been working on communicating his emotions better in methods that don’t involve just shouting at Newt. This is probably part of it. Yesterday, he clapped Newt’s shoulder just as stiffly in thanks for driving them here. “No problem.” Newt smiles.

“Or,” Hermann says. “Your attempts at making us dinner, I should say.”

“Ah,” Newt says. Yeah, that makes more sense.

“Seeing as I had to step in--”

“I get it,” Newt says. “Thanks, Hermann.”

He gets another rare Gottliebian smile, though this one seems slightly more amused than the last, and Hermann pats his hand again before pulling away. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow afternoon?” he says. He slips his glasses back on and resumes his puzzle. “The old quarry? A drive into town?”

Newt saw a signpost for the abandoned quarry when they were driving up to their cabin yesterday. It’s only a ten minute hike away. He doubts there’s anything substantial worth studying left in there, maybe some larger chunks of that dusty red rock he’s been finding around, but it could be fun to play geologist for a day nonetheless and show off in front of Hermann. On the other hand--there’s a harvest festival in the town tomorrow, which they also saw a sign for, and Newt’s never been one to pass up rides and junk food. He bets he could even coerce Hermann into getting on a ferris wheel with him. “Whatever you want,” Newt concedes.

Hermann nods. “We ought to wait and see what we’re in the mood for tomorrow.”

Newt watches him fill out another few clues, lulled into a strange relaxation by the crackling of the fire and the scratch of Hermann’s pencil. Hermann himself. Hermann is always unfairly cute when he’s lost in thought like this: he fiddles with his glasses, he frowns, he hms under his breath, he mutters things like no and maybe and it could be to himself. He used to do the same in the lab at his chalkboard. “Forty-two down is spelled wrong,” Newt says. (A strand of Hermann’s hair is sticking up funny. He wants to smooth it down.) “It should be an E, not an A like you have.”

“So it should be,” Hermann says. He fixes it. “I must’ve written it in a hurry. Thank you, Newton.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt says. 

It’s all very domestic. Newt thinks he’d like to get used to it.

Hermann takes the big bed again that night as per their agreement. It’s full-sized and lumpy, with a quilt that looks at least a hundred years old, and it sags so deeply in the center Newt is half-worried Hermann will sink down into it and never be seen again. Newt himself takes the small twin bed in the loft above. There’s no central heating, just the fireplace, and it’s a bit of a pain to hustle up and down the stairs to toss on more logs when the fire starts to die, but it sure as fuck beats shivering to death. Or being bitched at by Hermann to death. “They have luxury cabins,” Hermann says, cacaooned in a blanket and watching Newt stoke tonight’s fire, “with bathtubs with jets, and working stoves, and radiators, and yet you’ve condemned us to--”

“Stop whining,” Newt says. He hefts another log onto the fire and has to dodge the resulting spray of sparks. “It’s about the experience. Luxury cabins are for wusses.”

“Hmph,” Hermann declares.

Newt’s woken up three hours later by three things: the intense shivers that wrack his body, the realization that the fire’s gone out, and the heavy pounding of rain on the roof. On the leaky roof. A droplet of water hits Newt’s forehead. Newt curses, louder than he intends, and rolls out of bed to his socked feet. Another raindrop hits his shoulder.

“Newton?” Hermann hisses.

“Sorry,” Newt hisses back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to bed.”

“You didn’t,” Hermann says. Normal volume. “I was already awake. It’s cold.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Newt sighs. He tugs a sweater on over his head--the only sweater he owns--and slips down the creaking staircase. “I’ll do up the fire again.”

Or he would’ve, anyway, if their stockpile of logs wasn’t totally used up. Hermann apparently stayed up longer than he did and had been steadily tending to the fire the whole time. A quick foray out to the woodpile confirms Newt’s suspicions: the protective roof didn’t manage to save the other logs from the wind-blown rain, and they’re all totally soaked. Completely unusable. “I should’ve just grabbed more after dinner,” Newt says, kicking off his muddy docs. He finds Hermann crouching at the hearth in front of the pitiful ashy embers with two of Newt’s flannels and the quilt from the bed pulled on. “We’re kinda screwed.”

Hermann mumbles out a stream of curses and something that sounds suspiciously like the luxury cabins would’ve had dry wood. Newt drops down next to him and also tucks himself beneath the quilt. “Do you want to borrow one of my blankets?” he says. “I have an extra up in the loft.”

“You’re getting me wet,” Hermann sniffs, but he shifts the blanket over to give Newt more of it. He’s shivering pretty badly. The guy needs some insulation, man.

“Okay,” Newt says, nursing another thought. “What if we double up?”

This makes Hermann freeze. “Double up?”

“You,” Newt says, “me, together, in your bed. It’ll be warmer.” He grins. “I’ve been told I’m a very good cuddler.” He snakes an arm around Hermann’s waist and squeezes it just to make his point. Hermann jumps.

“Ah,” he says. It could just be a trick of the low light (the single lamp they’ve turned on is resting on the bedside table across the room), but Newt could swear he’s blushing. “Well. That’d be--you don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” Newt says, and then lies, because he, on the other hand, can generally get by with his own natural insulation, probably even tonight if he tosses on an extra sweatshirt, “You’d be keeping me warm too. Symbiosis. It’s biology.”

“How scientific,” Hermann says.

“Also,” Newt says, “the roof’s kinda leaking above my bed.”

“Ah.”

Hermann surprises him by automatically adopting the position of little spoon when they slip under the covers. In Newt’s occasional fantasies of sharing a bed with Hermann--occasional, very occasional, he’ll admit to that--Hermann has always been the opposite. He’s got those gangly skinny limbs, you know, perfect to wrap around Newt like a bony octopus. It seems like a shame to waste them. Tonight is probably just a special case. “You’re like a bloody hot water bottle,” Hermann declares after ten minutes.

“Who the fuck still uses hot water bottles?” Newt says against his neck. “Are you some Victorian dandy?”

Hermann bristles. “They’re perfectly common.”

“They’re one step up from tossing a bunch of coals in a pan and calling it a day,” Newt says. “Just buy a space heater. They cost, like, twenty bucks.”

“Fire hazards,” Hermann says.

“You can have mine,” Newt says.

Hermann pinches his arm. “Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Dick,” Newt says.

He snuggles a little closer to Hermann anyway. Lack of fire and Hermann’s bony elbows aside--between their combined layers of blankets, the gentle rise and fall of Hermann’s chest against his arm, and the patter of rain on the roof, Newt’s feeling pretty damn cozy. Even Hermann’s stopped shivering. (Newt could definitely get used to this.)

Before he can help himself, he plants a small kiss to the borrowed plaid fabric at Hermann’s shoulder, then follows it up with a gentle nuzzle against his neck. “Mm. G’night, Hermann.”

“Goodnight,” Hermann says, oddly breathless. He curls his fingers through Newt’s.

[kryptaria]

Hey! Am I totally out of my mind or did I see that you wrote like a book-book? That I can buy and love and adore?

I did! It’s called CHANGE OF ADDRESS. It’s about a bisexual cinnamon roll, a gay wounded warrior, and the service dog who’s thinking, OMG JUST KISS ALREADY for about ¾ of the book.

Rating: ExplicitArchive Warnings: NoneFandoms: Original (Hartsbridge Island)Category: M/MRelationship: Michael Baldwin/Josh Goldberg

Additional tags: Bagel Shop AU, Small Town AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Traumatic Brain Injury, PTSD, Aphasia, Extremely Tolerant Service Dog, Bisexual character, Disabled character, Overweight character, Jewish character, Awesome background characters, Warning for delicious bagels and chicken soup, This story will make you hungry, Happily Ever After, Ownvoices

Warnings: One instance of homophobia (not from the main characters)

It’s available in ebook format, paperback, and audiobook!

Amazon: https://smile.amazon.com/Change-Address-Jordan-S-Brock-ebook/dp/B01M4MT35B/

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/change-of-address-jordan-s-brock/1124207152

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/change-of-address-3

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/change-of-address/id1139821770?mt=11

@riptidepublishing: https://riptidepublishing.com/products/change-of-address

And you can probably request it at your local library, especially since the American Library Association’s Booklist gave it a starred review! :)

[missanthropicprinciple]

For Valentine’s Day asks 14, 26, & 27?

Thank you, my friend! 

14) favorite candle scent?

Generally, I’m not a fan of scented candles. But I love orange, and lavender. I’m picky, haha.

26) do you believe in soulmates?

As much of a realist as I am, yes, I believe in soulmates. I think some people just fit together in ways that can’t be defined. 

27) denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets?

Leather jackets, but denim jackets are comfier. Bomber jackets look cool though. 

[missanthropicprinciple]

Touchy-feely Newmann headcannon: after they start dating every time newt finishes work before hermann he goes up and wraps his arms around Hermann’s waist from behind and rests his head on Hermann’s shoulder and then asks how long Hermann’s gonna be before he comes to bed

At first Hermann is like “what is this? to be needed? I know not what to do.” But he seriously loves it. Sometimes he works even longer than he needs to just to get a lovely embrace from Newt.