#ffmb

Making moodboards for my favourite fics (1/?)

I promised myself that this summer I will start making moodboards, I decided to start with one of my favourites fics right now "Test Drive" by @aalyre. It's Jegulus HTTYD au and highly recommend it (other ships: Wolfstar, Marylily, Dorlene, Rosekiller, Pandaline).

With a groan, the door swings upward and open. The figure that emerges is dressed in black, but he lacks the green head dressing which had last concealed his shoulder-length copper hair. The wind tosses it now across the harsh line of his cheek and his glaring eyes as he assesses John from a distance.

John begins to laugh, deliriously, hardly believing that he had found the stranger once again. He doesn’t believe in God or fate. There’s no order to the universe, yet as the man strides toward him with a knife gripped in his hand, John thinks that he’s either come to save him or kill him - and either way, he would be delivered.

Stargazing with Sweet Pea and Fangs

There's a knock at his door, and he sighs. It's like they're in sync-- when he gets like this, he always manages to show up.

He opens the front door, and standing before him, is Silver, looking the same way he has for the past three hundred and three years.

"Hello, John."

“I don’t need you to tuck me in,” he says, and they’re the first words between them in some time.

Usually, they don’t even need words; they’re comfortable, the two of them, in shared silence, the kind that comes easily when sat in a room doing two different things, listening to each other’s white noise. God, it’s nice. They’re not the kind of people you think of when you think of nice, yet there you have it.

“No, I don’t think you do,” Silver says.

He smiles tightly and nods to himself, intends to leave.

It doesn’t work. Something stops him again, that blistering anxiety—and, fuck it’s going to suffocate him if he doesn't just say it, if he doesn't just put it out there, put it into words. It’s going to eat at him until it kills him, if he doesn’t make it so Flint gets it through his thick skull once and for all, if he doesn’t make it so he understands why Silver feels the way he does, why he hovers, why he lingers.

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to come this far. It wasn’t a good place for a young Lord to be, down by the docks, and the sky was darkening into night before his eyes. He kicked a nearby barrel in frustration.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a voice from behind him. Thomas turned to see the most beautiful man in the world standing at his shoulder. The man smiled and Thomas’s heart seemed to leave his chest.

Silly Wrong, But Vivid Right by @buildarocketboys

The next person introduced themselves and then the next, and as none of them were part of any of the programmes at which James taught, he didn’t really bother to try and remember their names. When the next to last person took the mic, James’s attention was peaked.

"Hi all. My name is Thomas, and I will be teaching Swedish and history at Vehicles and Electricity.” Those were two of the programmes that James taught. He allowed his gaze to linger for a while on the newcomer to try and assess what he would have to work with.

Thomas seemed to be in his thirties, like James himself. He was very tall and broad shouldered and he wore simple clothes, a blue dress shirt, dark jeans, and brown Chelsea boots. Rather stylish, James thought. Objectively good-looking. As the rest of the newbies introduced themselves Thomas listened intently and James noticed that he seemed to have a permanent disarming facial expression. The women would be swooning over him left and right. James knew what it could be like and had had to contend with unwanted gazes and raunchy compliments at after work dos for years.