#but damn jude the POWER you have.

[sweetvillainjude]

The way half the main characters in the cruel prince were at some point attracted to Jude is wild but SO girlboss of her. Like Locke had actual feelings for her, Valerian was lusting over her, I suspect that The Ghost did too for a time, and I don’t even need to say Cardan who was actually disgusted by how often he thought of her back when they had the enemies thing going on. Like no wonder she pissed them off, my girl Jude was KILLING it

#does it justify the shit they gave her most definitely not #but damn jude the POWER you have. #even if she wasn’t aware of it at the time she was powerful #i love her #i will always defend this woman idc 😭😭😭 #jude duarte #tfota #the cruel prince #tcp #locke #🤢 #valerian #🤮 #the ghost #😶‍🌫️ #cardan #😏

[anadiasmount]

not what you think - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: a club filled with many girls but the one he wants is standing in the dance floor, his best friends little sister. he shouldn’t be thinking the way he does, but something about seeing you doing something he never thought and imagined has his mind racing with thoughts that were forbidden…

wc: 2.1k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: another brothers bsf trope after a anon requested!! mostly will be jude’s pov being jealous and protective *winks* this is slowly becoming one of my fav tropes ngl :PPP but nothing will beat enemies to lovers🤞🏻 like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“didn’t know johnny’s little sis could move like that,” jude’s friend snickered, sipping on his drink as he stared out at you. jude twisted his head at him in confusion failing to comprehend his words before following his gaze to you. throwing your head back laughing as you moved your hips in circles going down.  

jude’s jaw locked in place, scoffing as he watched you come back being faced with your back. “yeah i always knew she wasn’t so innocent… there’s no way a pretty girl like her doesn’t have something besides her good grades,” jude’s other friend said, turning his head to the side as he watched you continue dancing with a sly smile on his lips. 

“if she wasn’t johnny’s sister, i would’ve probably already tapped that ass… i mean look at the way she’s doing that,” jude’s friend to the right said, gulping as you threw your ass back to your friend and rolled your hips back up. jude gripped his glass tightly, downing his drink in one go as he fought to urge to say something he shouldn’t. “so fucking sexy…”

“guys… she’s johnnys sister for god's sake. if he found out you were talking about her like this, he would have your head…” jude remarked, filling his glass once again still entranced as you danced with your friends, not caring about anyone else or anything around you. just your seductive and powerful moves. “johnny’s not here though, wonder if he knows she's here?”

jude’s throat ran dry, biting the urge to drag you out of the damn club and take you home, where you should’ve been. not here where every man in the room had their eyes on you, including him. watching the way you were dancing, laughing, being a careless y/n like he knew. 

you wore a short black dress that hugged your figure like a glove, drawing and tracing out your curves, ass, and boobs perky, legs longer as you wore high black valentino pumps, and hair perfectly silky straight. jude swore he died on the spot when he saw your red lip and lashes behind the smoky eye look. 

he grew up with you. knew when you got upset and happy. the y/n he knew who always said a quiet hello to him with a shy smile and wave. avoided him and his friends when they showed up to your home, quickly running up to your room. the quiet y/n who was always focused on her studies with glasses on and laid on her stomach with her legs crossed as she read. 

the quiet y/n who listened to music as she drew in her notebook. his y/n, the one he stole glances at when she wore small shirts and shorts wasn’t the one on the dance floor. the y/n who helped her mum in the kitchen and teased her brother to embarrass him when she wanted to be the annoying little sis she was. 

his y/n who couldn’t keep eye contact when he spoke to her, cheeks flushed as she stuttered over her words. his y/n always made sure everyone was happy before anyone else. his y/n the one who helped him and his friends come home after being left stranded wasn’t nothing like the one he stared at now. 

his y/n? when had that changed? his feelings for you? 

when did all of a sudden did he feel the urge to claim you as his? the need to hear your angelic voice? why did he feel a wave of anger and jealousy build inside him as you moved your hips slowly down like a pro? why did he want to punch his friends for saying they wanted you? when did all of a sudden had you grown up into a woman? had he missed something? where was his y/n, the one he fell for?

jude was anything but a saint, he unfortunately had a reputation that he could give less than a shit about, the only girl he wanted all along was here in the same club as him. he found you endearing, left wondering with forbidden thoughts of his best friend's little sister. how you would taste on his lips, if the act of innocence was just an act and not real, if you thought of him as he did with you. if there was more to this side you had, sexy and careless that he began to love. 

jude pinched the middle of his brows, sighing as you finally stopped dancing and now hyped your other friends up. it was killing him, everything you were doing was killing him. you were beyond perfect and deserved so much more than the men in this club. someone to treat you with love and tenderness, with love and respect. jude knew he could offer you that, he was left conflicted because you never showed an ounce of feelings for him. 

jude licked his teeth scoffing in denial, watching you move in slow motion again, hands roaming your sides seductively as you brought them up in the air continuing to move your hips and ass. he managed to look away and scratch his jaw when your friends cheered you on, giving you a shot of tequila and downing it in one go like he did as well not to long ago. 

jude almost jumped out of his seat as a tall man approached you, someone way older trying to get your attention. the man was obviously gawking at you, leaning down to your level to whisper into your ear, you shook your head displeased, hugging your friend and sticking with her. jude smugged cockily, downing his final glass before going over to you. 

“i'm gonna get her home you guys stay here,” jude said, picking up his wallet and leaving some change as part of the tab. his friends stared at him confused, stopping him by patting his chest and pushing him back. “are you crazy? she's here with friends just let her be, she’s fine,” one of his friends spoke. “it's not our problem to deal with,” his other friend reminded him. 

“it will be once johnny finds out she was here, especially if he knew we were here and we didn’t do anything about it,” jude said with irritation. he had to pull the “angry brother, looking out for his best bro’s little sis” card, knowing how much you hated being treated like a child. johnny could be so overprotective about anything, boys and your life, you sometimes resented him for that. jude knew this, but all he wanted was to get you away from here to your home because he was mad and jealous. 

he looked between both of his friends at you once more, who finally went and stood by the bar ordering a drink with your friends. he said his goodbyes again, charging between all the sweaty bodies to the front of the bar where your back faced him. with you much closer now he could finally see you face to face. your friend had stood up straighter almost choking on her drink when she saw jude approach you, standing white as a ghost, “uh oh”. 

you crinkled your brows in bewilderment, looking to your left where you saw jude looking down at you. “tired?” he humorously asked leaning down to whisper in your ear. “what?” you asked softly, hugging yourself at the thought of getting scolded by your brothers best friend. “i’ve been watching you for the past hour, dancing and drinking, does johnny know you're here?”

your face filled with mortification at jude’s words, knowing you were dancing and watched by him. how had you not noticed him? had he been here the whole time you were? “what he doesn't know won't kill him. plus, i asked my mom for permission, he’s not my father let alone anyone to control my life,” you clarified. 

jude gave you a knowing smile, shaking his head in amusement, still his innocent and feisty y/n. “we both know if that he was here, he would’ve dragged you out the minute he saw you,” jude challenges watching your eyes roll back in annoyance. “did you need something? or are you going to stand here and be annoying like him?” you ask with a small frown on your face. 

“we’re going home.”

“says who?” you fired back, it could be the tequila shots but right now jude was being like johnny and you hated him for that. you just wanted a night out with your girls and he was ruining that. “says me. are we going to do this the easy or hard way, y/n?” jude crossed his arms copying you, veins prominently guiding all along his forearms and hands. 

the way he said your name had your heart racing nervously. you hated being treated like a kid, you were an adult and jude was reminding you a whole lot of your older brother. he was his best friend, your brother’s hot best friend. there was no need for all this drama, why was he so bothered by the fact you being here? so you questioned him just that, “are you bugged by me being here or something?”

jude couldn't find the words to reply, watching your doe eyes look down and up at him. “this isn't a place for you to be at, how would your mom feel at you drinking?” he quickly lied, hiding the real reason. “i'm drinking responsibly jude. i'm not a kid anymore, i know what i’m doing,” you declare. “if me being here bothers you, then we can just find another club, easier said than done.” you grab your bag and prepare to walk out but jude grips your wrist.

you’d never had a problem with jude, but he was starting to give you the reason. there was many times your brother and his friends left you out, even in your own home. then as you grew up, you knew they were just boys being boys. with jude it was always different, wanting to include you, and make you feel engaged. even offering to hang out with you so you wouldn’t be lonely. 

where was this unexpected attitude and nagging coming from? you expected him to at least let you stay, wave you off with a ‘be careful’, and go on with his night. the jude you knew, who was charming and a gentleman, wasn't the one who stared right into your eyes currently. his brown eyes filled with not anger but almost jealousy? was he jealous or trying to look out for you because you were his best friend's little sister?

jude didn’t want you to go anywhere. he wanted to keep you safe along his side for the rest of the night. he knew you were pissed at him, but that would pass because he knew you couldn't stay mad for a long time. jude could see the anger rise in your eyes even with the club lighting. he could also see the hesitation and resistance in you, debating whether or not to go or stay. “we’re going home, y/n,” he remarks again. “i can take care of myself,” you say again with now a less confident voice. “really?” jude dares, scoffing and letting out a chuckle, pointing to the man who approached what seemed an eternity ago. 

“if you knew how to take care of yourself, you would know that man has been eyeing you,” jude's eyes roamed you up and down, watching how you crossed one leg in front of the other, “and your drink for the past half hour. who knows what his intentions are, but if you really knew how to take care of yourself you’d know better…” 

you looked down in humiliation, your thumb stroking your exposed skin in an attempt to comfort yourself. “i’m just trying to look out for you,” jude said softly his eyes drawn in trying to read you. “i know you are, but why does part of me feel like that isn't the only reason? that you're here for other intentions as well…” 

bingo. you caught him. jude stood up straighter, clearing his throat and clenching his jaw, tense. “good night, jude,” you smiled as if you’d won a trophy for the best detective in the city. you paid for the drink, almost returning to your friends when you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you into their chest. you could feel jude lean down and leave your body with goosebumps. 

“we’re leaving now. if you’re a good girl, i’ll tell you exactly what you want to know…” 

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fic #football x reader #football fanfic #footballer #football x you #football imagine

[yureichi]

I was thinking about Jude and Cardan’s marriage. Cardan came up with this plan bc he wanted his will back, which was perfectly valid and fair, but when you think things through, other than having a brand new wife that he loved a lot, this union didn’t benefit him in anything else. Marriage between them only binds him and she was the daughter of a two time traitor, murderer of an ambassador/prince/his fucking brother and mortal. She wasn’t the best candidate for a queen. He really was willing to give her a fancy title, a crown and all the power she wanted and settle for whatever crumbs of affection she might give him in return.

On the other hand, at that point in their relationship, I think that Jude accepted the marriage proposal bc 1) she secretly loved Cardan and thought that this new station in life and relationship status would make it safe to love him openly and was hopeful that he might love her back 2) she really wanted to be queen and have absolute power 3) she did not want to be so scared anymore. In that order. Jude spent the exile angry and cursing and planning Cardan’s demise but she never took off her wedding ring. Girly was feeling absolutely hurt and heartbroken and betrayed and foolish and I’m pretty damn sure she was suffering a lot more about supposedly being dumped by her new hubby than for being the queen in exile.

Anyways, young love is crazy am I right.

#they really just wanted a safe and nice little love #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #the folk of the air #tfota

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 6

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude tentatively start getting to know one another.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 5

Day 4 on the island…

“Come on you piece a’ shit...” Frankie’s putting the battery back into the iPhone just as the sun is coming up.

"¡Trabaja, maldita sea, vamos!" (Work, damn you, come on!) With trembling fingers, his heart pounds in anticipation echoing inside the canal of his ears.

The inside of the phone seems dry enough and he sweeps away some wayward sand that’s blown into it overnight with his thumbs. 

He stands up and takes a deep breath, pressing the power button on. He sighs out when nothing happens and tries again. 

He presses harder, as if the depth of his grip will affect the phone somehow, and the screen lights up. 

“Yes!” He praises through gritted teeth and laughs out jubilantly through a crackled squaw. 

The iPhone powers on and the battery status bar is down to nineteen percent. The home lock screen is presented to him with the faces of two children smiling toothily into the camera with freckles and red curls, and for a second it quells his relief. 

A sickly feeling washes over Frankie, a wave of disappointment crashing against the shores of his hope. It’s as if the weight of their predicament bears down on him with renewed intensity, suffocating him with its crushing reality. And of course, he won’t know the unlock code. 

He tries a few obvious combinations, including his own that he’d set on his own phone, but it doesn’t unlock. 

He notices the signal bar and it’s out of service. He holds the phone up above his head, squinting in the sunlight to see if it changes, and it doesn’t. 

As he turns in the sand, this way and that, he clocks the ridge and decides that getting to higher ground might be beneficial. 

Around twenty minutes or so later, he’s on the top of the ridge, red-faced and sweating profusely, holding the phone up again above his head. 

“Por favor, vamos. No hagas esto, trabaja!" (Please, come on. Don’t do this to me, work!) He growls at it as he moves about and steps closer to the ledge and then back again, waving his arm around like a helicopter blade trying to pick up any signal. “No te rindas ahora, bastarda…” (Don’t give up now, you bastard…)

A sense of helplessness shreds at Frankie’s already tattered insides, twisting his stomach into knots as he grapples with the harsh truth that he’s trying desperately to shut out.

The sickly feeling lingers, a heavy weight in the pit of his empty stomach, as he struggles to come to terms with the futility of the situation.

Frankie gives up when his arm starts to ache and dials a number anyway on the emergency keypad; he dials Benny’s number, as that’s the only number he knows off by heart. 

Anguish gnaws at Frankie's insides, a bitter taste of despair lingering on his tongue. In his mind's eye, Frankie pictures Benny’s warm smile, the easy laughter that always seemed to lighten the mood. He imagined the conversation they would have - the jokes they would share, the stories they would reminisce about, the camaraderie that once transcended distance and time and could stand the test of anything.

Until Frankie smashed it all to smithereens.

He plays the conversation out his head.

"Hey, Benny! You won't believe where I fuckin’ am right now!"

And in his imagination, Benny's voice echoes back - a reassuring presence in the darkness of his swamping isolation.

"Fish, buddy, where the fuck are you, man?"

The call doesn’t connect and the iPhone flashes up with the no signal icon again. 

“Mierda!” (Shit!) Frankie mutters in Spanish profanity and switches the phone back off. 

A myriad of emotions flood Frankie's senses - a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and a profound sense of helplessness that makes his fingers twitch and tap at his side.

He closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths, trying to ignore the feeling that is seeping in like an old friend; a shadow that constantly lurks in the corners of his mind, waiting to ensnare him in its web once more.

He feels the familiar tug of temptation - a biting hunger that claws at his insides, demanding to be sated. It’s as if the very air around him is infused with the scent of his former vice, a potent reminder of the demons he’s struggled to leave behind.

And Frankie feels the crushing weight of them threatening to suffocate him beneath their constricting stranglehold. The island itself, now a prison, its tranquil beauty a cruel mockery of his inner turmoil and struggles.

The phone, once a beacon of hope, now lies dormant in his palm, a cruel reminder of their isolation and the limitations of their circumstances.

Even if by some miracle the call had connected, he knew the call wouldn’t be answered.

He remembers the excuses he'd made, the promises he had broken, the bridges he'd burned and watched collapse in his reckless pursuit of oblivion.

In the silence of his solitude on the ridge, Frankie's only able to confront the harsh truth again - that his addiction has driven a wedge between him and the people he cares about most, and now, he's on his own.

He stands on the ridge for an indeterminable amount of time, sweating, his body shaking and feeling light-headed, and staring out at the seemingly never ending ocean, feeling ever more pissed at the world. 

Fuck.

As soon as light pools into the cave mouth, Jude’s awake and watching as Frankie begins an impromptu fashion show on the beachfront.

It hadn’t rained during the night, disappointed to find only a bug inside one of the bottles, Jude had watched with some distant interest as the bug skittered around inside, trapped and unable to cling to the sides to crawl out fully.

She couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for its plight; she and Frankie were trapped too.

She’d tipped it out onto the sand, watching it scurry away under some pebbles and wondered how simple a bug’s life must be. 

They still had the bottled water and some cans of fizzy drinks for now, but Jude was more than aware that they needed to get a water source set up and with some urgency too. 

Frankie had informed her about the cell phone’s lack of signal as she’d emerged from the cave mouth to find him sorting through the clothes with a grey cloud looming over his head, and it started to bring the mood down between them a little. 

As the words left his chapped lips, he watched her expression falter - a fleeting glimpse of disappointment that mirrored his own. He could see the hope drain from her eyes, replaced by a weary resignation that seemed to settle over her like a heavy shroud.

For a moment, there was silence between them - a palpable heaviness that hung in the air, stifling any words of comfort or reassurance.

Frankie felt a pang of guilt chomp at his insides, knowing that he had raised her hopes only to dash them against the harsh reality of their circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he’d whispered, his voice marred with the usual tone of disappointing others that he was used to. "I thought… I thought maybe it would work. But we'll figure something out."

She didn't say anything, instead turning away from him with a shrug. 

Silences seemed to linger and feel heavy, and it was hard to talk about anything optimistically or offer a smile for a little bit. Even the bonanza of food and clothes they’d found in the fuselage yesterday seemed like a short-lived hurrah.

The iPhone was a bust, and somewhere deep in the back of Jude’s mind, she kinda knew it would be.

Frankie’s standing on the beach wearing a rather bold, and lurid orange, Hawaiian shirt, that doesn’t do anything for him in the slightest. He flirts with the ridiculous and they both know it.

“What were you thinking when you picked this out?” He asks rather askance, looking down at himself, giant palms facing outward. 

Jude had sorted through the clothes previously and handed him lots to try on, seeing as the majority of the clothes they had found were menswear.

There were a few pieces for her; a couple of pairs of shorts, some t-shirts and a turquoise summer dress with sequins on it, with some black flip flops and a black bikini.

Frankie however had a pile the size of a small mountain to pick from.

“Brings out your eyes,” she giggles. “Put it in the maybe pile.”

Frankie looks at her with a whimsical look before he unbuttons it and shoves it back into the suitcase. 

“It’s going in the fuckin’ burn it now and never speak of it again pile.” He muses.

Jude looks away feeling suddenly like she’s intruding on something she shouldn’t see as he stands only in his jeans, swollen and bruised, rummaging back through the pile for something else less gaudy.

He likes a jazzy, floral shirt, and rocks it more often than not, but that's too jazzy even for his liking.

He’s kinda strapping - a toned buck that’s a bit lanky, and little chonky and meaty in all the right places, especially around his tummy and thighs, and the broadest shoulders to boot.

He smells clean, or cleaner than he was previously; like soap and wild meadows in springtime wafting off of him, though that briny scent still seems to cling to skin no matter how much he washed himself with the soap.

His hair is a mess of chocolate brown, but with lighter tones weaved throughout the curls when the sun hits it. Although, he keeps it tucked away under the cap that’s been fixed on his head since Jude had met him. 

They’d both taken the time that morning to wash and clean themselves in the ocean water at separate ends of the beach. Each taking a small amount of soap and some towels they’d found in the cases.

Jude opted for the yellow striped towel and smirked as Frankie was left with the Finding Nemo one. 

Inside the sea, fully naked, Jude had rinsed her hair with fruity shampoo and detangled it with her fingers and tied it up, with a hair tie she’d found in the make-up bag, in a bun to dry.

She’d dried off on the sand; sitting back and watching the shore line for a while whilst she applied the sun lotion to her raw skin, in case she missed a boat or something, ever hopeful and convinced that today would be the day they would both would get off this God forsaken piece of rock in the middle of the current. 

She’d applied some of the antiseptic cream to her wound on the back of her calf and it stung a little, but was definitely healing, although she’d probably be left with a horrid scar.

Better a scar than an amputation from gangrene… 

When she was dressed in some khaki shorts and a new t-shirt that was a little baggy on her, Jude walked back to the beach to see Frankie sitting on the rocks fingering through the clothes pile, wearing only his towel around his golden, puffy waist.

His legs were incredibly long and his shoulders defined in all the right places; it was a hard feat not to stare at him like a dribbling chimp.

She excused herself whilst he dressed; giving him some privacy as she retreated to the cave mouth to return the toiletries, keeping them in the shade out of the sun would ensure they’d last.

Then returned and sat on the rocks watching as he tried on some of the tops and shirts on offer to him once he was suitably decent, back in his jeans that sit low on his paunchy waist.

The gray sweater swamps him slightly, but is short in the arms and baggy at the neck where it’s been stretched by its previous owner, but it’s better than nothing.

Better than the Finding Nemo towel, even if Jude can’t stop looking at his body, despite trying her best not to. 

He takes off the sweater in front of her and all she can do is try not to obviously look as he reveals himself to her casually. He has a few dark hairs circling his nipples and a snail trail that matches them from his oddly slot-shaped belly button, which disappears into his waistband.

Her eyes betray her and she’s drawn to his midriff where she spies a constellation of bruises, some in their embryonic stage, and can’t help but ask where he got them from.

“You’re all beaten up.” Jude says to him.

Some are in the yellowing stage. a couple dotted across the ridge of his hip bones. One under his right arm, down the side of his ribcage, is larger and purple with broken red blood vessels.

He looks down at his chest dumbfounded for a moment and then shrugs.

Frankie doesn’t say anything and pulls on a gray, round necked t-shirt that suits him much better than the jazzy Hawaiian shirt. It’s tight on him in all the right places.

“From the crash, I guess. I remember something hitting me in the water... It was the piece of debris that saved my life in the end. I think it was part of the wing.” Frankie explains, thinking aloud. 

“Jesus.” Jude utters.

She remembers clinging onto the piece of sheet metal debris herself, although it wasn’t big enough for her to sit on it or anything like that, it just simply kept her afloat as she drifted into an uncertain abyss.

“I just laid on it floating in the water for so long. I had no fuckin’ idea where the current was taking me. I remember looking up and seeing land after passing out, and I think at that point I couldn’t believe it was real. I was convinced I was gonna die out there.” Frankie speaks with a deep reverence, his eyes looking off to the water and focused on reliving through his harrowing memories of only a few days prior. 

Jude knew; she felt it for she’d experienced the same horror he had - lived through it as he had. Both of them alone on the water gaining common ground, unaware at the time that there was another person, another survivor, not too far from their suffering, going through the same dreadful plight.

It was a terrifying ordeal, but somehow made it easier to cope with in the aftermath, that each of them wasn’t fully alone out there on the water after all. So near, yet so far.

“I felt the same when I saw it. I started swimming like crazy and the thought occurred to me that I could be imagining it too, and swimming into deeper water or something; that I was going to drown because I would never make it, you know? Like the island was playing tricks on me.” Jude recalls. 

Frankie stops the fashion show and sits down opposite her on the rocks as she swallows back a choke. Fine wisps of her hair have come loose from her bun and stick to her lips. 

“Do you… remember it, the moment we crashed?” Frankie asks carefully. 

She shakes her head. “You?”

“Flashes.” He says. “The point of impact though, I just… it’s hazy.”

Jude nods. “Perhaps that’s a good thing.” She concludes. 

“It’s peaceful here... quiet.” Frankie observes after some time. “Kinda beautiful in a way.”

“Yeah. Do you know which gang runs this turf? We should really compliment them on what they’ve done with the landscape.” Jude muses.

Frankie chuckles as he drinks from the water bottle. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to us if we hadn't found this island.” Frankie surmises looking at her with some concern.

The thought makes both of their blood run cold.

“It’s not worth thinking about; we’re here. We survived a fucking plane crash, that’s gotta be cosmic or something.”

“Either that or we’re the luckiest two assholes in the world.” Frankie concludes.

“If we had champagne, I’d certainly toast to that.” Jude giggles.

Frankie thinks for a second. “Hang on,” he stands up and walks over to the cave mouth.

“No way!” Jude gasps as he comes back with two small, individual sized bottles he’d taken from the trolley, looking tiny in his giant hands. 

“It’s not champagne, just sparkling wine. But close enough.” He remarks.

It’s somewhat cool from being in the shade all night in the case and as he twists off the caps, they chink the bottles together. 

“To the luckiest two assholes in the world,” Jude toasts with a smirk.

“To us, hermosa.” Frankie agrees, before taking a mouthful of the wine.

Fire is an absolute necessity in any kind of survival situation. 

You need fire for multiple reasons; warmth, to cook food, to use the smoke for a signal. To ward off predators that might be lurking in the underbrush watching you from the trees, working out the best time to pounce and eat you.

And of course, to see in the choking darkness that swamps the island as soon as the sun disappears from the sky for another day. 

Assuming that you don’t have traditional fire starting devices such as matches or a lighter with you - I mean on a desert island that would be a miracle in itself if you did - you’ll need to come up with a more creative way to start your fire.

One example of what you can do is to use the bottom of a soda or beer can to reflect the heat of the sun onto your kindling, or you can use your glasses or a pair of binoculars if you have them, to focus the heat of the sun on your tinder instead.

Frankie decided instantly that they made starting fires in movies look so fucking easy, because it’s anything but. He’d been at it for ages, after gathering plenty of sticks and dried-out leaves he could find in a pile by the rocks, to the right of the cave mouth, but soon gave up when he felt the rawness in his palms.

He then tried using the glass from one of the empty wine bottles, angling it in the sunlight until he gave that up too and tossed it across the rocks, smashing it to pieces as it made contact with it. 

He grunted out in annoyance and stood up pacing, and then crouched down to have another go at the stick rubbing. 

A while later and he managed to get a faint whiff of burning fill his nostrils as he worked the fire-plow method, taking to digging a groove into the wood with the switchblade Jude had found, and rubbing a stick back and forth in his palms relentlessly; twisting it round and round, back and forth, until he could blow on it and see a faint ember glow. 

He was careful to ensure it didn’t go out and was almost skipping with glee around it like a Neanderthal when the wispy smoke gave birth to actual flames. 

"Toma eso, hijo de puta!” (Take that, you motherfucker!) Frankie yelped, smiling and tossed more leaves and branches onto it, scurrying over to the tree line and back again with more sticks to burn so it didn't go out. 

An hour or so later and the fire is almost as tall as he is, and radiating a lot of heat and smoke on the beachfront as darkness starts to claim the sky. 

Jude’s impressed and high-fives him when she emerges from the cave with two of the airline’s pre-packaged meals. 

“Now we have fire, maybe we should check out the cave at some point?” Frankie suggests. 

He glances at it over her shoulder and she nods with a thin smile. 

She empties the contents of the meals into two of the washed out tin cans, and sets them into the fire to cook. 

“Chicken or beef, sir?” She asks Frankie, imitating a steward with a high pitched voice, and he laughs as he brings over two bottles of warm beer and uses his teeth to uncap them. 

They eat together on the beach in a contented silence, hot food and a beer doesn’t get much better than this, considering what they’ve been through over the course of the last few days.

It seems to perk them both up a little after the depressing events with the iPhone.

“How did you get on with the water?” Jude asks him, as she puts her beer down in the sand. 

“I made a couple of solar stills, over there.” Frankie points to the edge of the rocks where it rounds down a slight slope towards the shoreline.

“What’s a solar still exactly?” She asks, scooping some of the meat into her mouth with her fingers and then sucking them clean.

Frankie has to look away when she does it, there’s something... untamed about it. 

He swallows. “Basically, a hole in the ground with a can and lots of leaves and plastic over it. Water drips from the plastic sheet into the can, like condensation, I guess.”

“Neat.”

“We can check ‘em daily and drink as we need to. Any empty bottles or cans we have from the stash we can place in the sand to collect rainwater too; should be enough to keep us going for a little while at least.” He explains.

“Did they teach you all of this stuff in the Army?”

“Yeah, some basic survival,” he says. “Although, they don’t teach you about being stranded on an island in the middle of the fuckin' ocean.” He clears his throat as he sups from his beer. 

“No, I guess not,” Jude says, gathering more meat in her fingers. 

“So, have you been all over the world with your job?” Frankie asks, making some conversation as they eat. 

“Mostly Europe and the States; some parts of Scandinavia too, Iceland… I have a trip to Namibia planned later this year.” She contemplates it. “Or had.”

“Hey,” Frankie rouses her eyes to his. “You’re still going. We’ll be off this island real soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right.” She says.

The crackling fire casts flickering shadows across the sand, as they share a simple meal amidst the shadows of the oncoming night.

The aroma of the packaged meals fills the air, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean breeze as they sit like worn-out lumps, close to the warmth of the flames.

“What place did you like the most?” Frankie asks, shooing the lingering silence away as it crawls out from the shadows to taunt him. 

“Paris. It’s my favourite city.” Jude says after she finishes chewing.

“I’ve never been.”

“I love Paris. The architecture is awesome. The food. The art.” Jude says, dreamily. “I love traipsing around the Louvre all day.”

“You like all them pretty statues, huh?”

“It’s touching a piece of history, something so nostalgic about it.”

Frankie nods again as he eats, licking his lips free of the sauce. “This is pretty good.”

“Not bad for an economy meal. Did you fly in coach?” She enquires, casually. 

“No, I was, uh, up in business class.” He says, mumbling.

“Fancy.”

“Company paid for it. Where were you sitting on the plane?” Frankie asks, looking at her.

“Right at the back in economy; the very last seats by the exit doors. I once read that if you sit in the back of a plane, you have a sixty-eight percent chance of survival in a crash, and I guess it kind of stuck with me.”

“What about in the middle?”

“Lower, but still pretty good odds. Did you brace like they tell you to in the safety demo?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”

She touches her head and it still feels sore and swollen. She doesn’t remember much either; she’d put on her oxygen mask and whatever it was that struck her head had knocked her clean out.

Although she’s grateful for that, some sadistic curiosity wants to remember the actual impact. 

“I bet my mom is freaking out,” she assumes solemnly. 

Frankie places down his empty tin can and sits back against the rock, staring into the fire. It’s still burning tall and brightly orange with its dancing flames. 

“I imagine she probably is.” He affirms.

“And your parents, your family?” 

He shrugs. “Maybe.” Although he’s doubtful. 

“Even my asshole of an ex-fiancé is probably trying to reach me.”

“You were engaged?” Frankie asks. 

She nods, supping from her beer some more. “We were together for four years and they were all miserable to be honest with you.” 

“Ah, they can’t have been all bad.”

“Trust me.”

“Well, tell me.” He smiles crookedly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. What was he like?”

“A douche bag.” Jude confirms, running her tongue around her teeth.

He chuckles. “No, I mean when you first met him.”

She thinks for a moment. “Charming. Stupid…” Jude tries not to smile. “I dunno, he was just… perfect.”

Frankie snorts.

“What?”

“Come on, no-one’s perfect.” He says. 

“I thought he was. But I was an idiot for thinking he would change, you know? He treated me… he cheated mostly, that kind of thing.”

“That sucks,” Frankie says.

“Dumb thing is, I let him. It’s like I lost my damn mind and was convinced it was better to be with him then be alone; like I wasn’t worthy to be loved properly by someone. I kinda lost myself for a bit...” 

Frankie watches her speak and listens to her, seeing the orange from the flames dance inside her wistful eyes.

He remembers Eddie's words echoing around his head.

“They say we attract the kind of love we think we deserve.” Frankie states to her as he looks down at his hands knotting in his lap. 

She nods. “I guess that’s true. The irony is, is that it will probably never happen now anyway.” Jude concludes with the final swig of her beer before she tosses the empty on the sand beside her.

“Don’t say that. We’ll get off this island and you’ll find someone that’ll treat you right back home.” Frankie assures with a tight smile. 

“Doubtful. I’m sworn off men for life.” She composes herself and hugs her knees, looking over at him. “What about you, what’s your story, Pilot?” She asks, smiling and he smirks back at her. 

“Probably even more depressing than yours,” Frankie says.

“Well, I love a good depressing story, I mean look around us.” Jude motions her hand around the dark, isolated beach and he chuckles.

Frankie takes another mouthful of warm, sudsy beer. “It’s really nowhere near as exciting.”

“Tell me about the Army, what was that like?”

“Challenging.”

“How long did you serve?”

“Twenty years.”

“Wow.” Jude Baulks. “What places?”

“Darfur. Iraq. Bosnia. There’s more…” 

“Impressive. You said you retired?”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods. 

“You don’t look old enough to retire.” Jude says, noting the boyish looks hovering around his tan weathered skin that’s shadowed under the brim of his cap. 

“I feel it.” Frankie grumbles. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Forty-three. I was twenty-two when I enlisted. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

“Did you know you wanted to enlist?”

He nods. “I knew I always wanted to fly. I made captain at twenty-eight.”

“You’re a captain?”

“Yeah.”

“You should have flown the damn plane. We might’ve made it.” Jude quips. 

“I would've if I could. I can only fly helicopters.”

“I’ve never been in a helicopter. What’s it like?”

“Like…” He trails off, recalling those moments filled with adrenaline as he took to the skies in his chopper, the familiar whir of the rotors and the exhilarating rush of lift-off filling him with a sense of euphoria unlike anything else.

The controls responding to his touch with precision, each sure movement a testament to his skill and expertise as a pilot. With the ground falling away beneath him, Frankie felt a surge of freedom coursing through his veins - a liberation from the constraints of gravity and the mundane concerns of everyday life.

In the vast expanse of the sky, he found solace - a sanctuary where he could leave behind the worries of the world below and lose himself in the exhilaration of flight, sharing the sky with the birds.

The sheer beauty of the world stretched out before him, a panorama of rolling hills and winding rivers, filled him with an awe that bordered on reverence.

But amidst the beauty of the natural world, there was also a sense of power - a thrill that pulsed through him with each manoeuvre, each twist and turn of the aircraft.

He was in control, he had the grit to keep the bird in the air or bring it to land safely.

He looks down at his hands and the tremble that makes itself known in his fingers again as he balls them into fists.

These hands can’t fly shit anymore...

“Maybe I’ll get to experience it one day.” Jude concludes, quietly. 

“Did you always know you wanted to take pictures?” Frankie asks, clearing his throat.

“My parents brought me my first camera when I was six. I had no idea what I was doing with it, it was this old, clunky thing… a Panasonic, I think. One of those flippy out screens. Far too expensive for a six-year old.” She puts down her empty tin after she’s finished eating from it. 

“That’s cool,” he says, listening to her speak intently.

Frankie watches as a smile plays across her lips, a flicker of childhood innocence reflected in her eyes.

He can imagine her as a young girl, eagerly exploring the world through the lens of her camera, capturing moments of wonder and discovery with each click of the shutter.

"I took it everywhere with me," Jude continues, her voice tinged with a sense of wistfulness. "I would snap photos of anything and everything - flowers in the garden, my dog Winky, even the clouds in the sky. It was like a window into another world…"

“You named your dog Winky?" Frankie chuckles.

"No, my parents did." She grins.

"Sure, sure."

"It's funny," she muses, her gaze drifting towards the dark sky above. "Even now, all these years later, I still feel that same sense of wonder whenever I pick up a camera. It's like I'm transported back to that time. Never gets old. I guess that’s how it feels for you, right, flying?” She enquires, her knees brought closer to her chest and resting her elbow on them as she regards him, the flames casting spooky, swaying shadows that dance over his face.

Frankie nods at her with a reverent smile. “Yeah. It does.” 

She runs her hands through her hair, taking it out of the bun as the breeze whips around them.

“How did your ex-girlfriend handle it? I imagine it must have been hard to leave her for so long whilst you were serving?”

It stings a little in her gut, imagining how Nate would react in such a situation and knowing full well he would have taken complete advantage of it too, the scumbag.

Women falling at his feet? Oh yeah.

“We weren’t together then, we met after I got out.”

“Tell me about her.”

Frankie’s face immediately wrinkles.

“Oh come on, I told you about mine.” She grins.

He swallows hard. “I was an asshole to her.” He brings his beer bottle up to his lips again and pauses before drinking. 

“What did you do?”

He shakes his head. “I just wasn’t… good.”

Jude nods slowly as though she’s analysing his words carefully. Noting a silent plea in his eyes telling her not to probe too deeply. 

“Were you unfaithful?” Jude asks, poking idly at the fire pit with a branch she’s picked up beside her.

“No, nothing like that,” Frankie confirms, looking her square in the eye. “What I did was probably worse.” He explains, feeling that he’s probably giving too much away to her, but talking to her seems to flow as naturally as the warm beer going down his throat. 

“We all make mistakes.” She feels a pull in her stomach as she says it.

“Doesn’t make it right though.”

“No, it doesn’t. But what’s important is that we learn and grow from them instead of repeating them. Although, I’m one to talk. Hell, I’ve made plenty, so I’m certainly not going to judge you for a moment of weakness, Frankie. Only God can do that, if you believe in Him.”

He shakes his head. "Do you?"

"Fuck no!" She laughs and he grins. "You're kidding, right?"

It’s on the edge of his tongue, the fucked up truths about him ready to be bared in all their shameful flesh and graces, but he keeps his lips shut up tight and just watches Jude's shoulders still when her giggles die out. 

They sit in a contemplative, comfortable silence sipping from their warm beers and listening to the fire crackle and spit. It’s almost as if this conversation, a conversation of equals, has made Jude evaluate and respect the fact that he’s so forthcoming with her, when he doesn’t need to be.

He can easily just feed her a pack of lies; make up a story about who he was back on dry land. They could be rescued at any moment and then what? They’d probably go back to their own lives and never talk again in the most likelihood of outcomes.

Apart from being stranded on an island together, what did they actually have in common? 

Their paths would never have crossed in any other situation, she realises that. But that’s also the beauty of it. The fact that it’s possible in this world, against all odds for two people, two complete strangers with their own pasts, stories, experiences to be thrust into one another’s path for reasons that they probably don’t understand or even consider at the time. 

Everything happens for a reason.

“Can we have a do over you think, when we get off this fuckin’ island?” Frankie asks with a contemplative smile.

“I think we deserve that, don’t you?” Jude says, with a little smile of comfort offered back to him. 

“I think we’ve definitely paid our dues, right?” Frankie smirks crookedly. 

She looks up at the sky. “You hear that universe? Fish says we’ve paid our fucking dues!”

Frankie also looks up at the sky and smiles. 

“Wow. Look how clear it is up there.” Jude muses.

The sky is insanely black, but there are millions of stars scattered across it, far more than you would see on a normal night in a busy town clogging the sky with that pesky light pollution.

It’s as though someone has tossed millions of diamonds up there and they all twinkle in unison. 

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Jude marvels; lying backwards until she’s flat against the sand and staring right up on high. 

Frankie shuffles down and lays beside her, keeping a subtle gap, his legs running parallel to hers and clasping his hands over his chest in astonishment.

They both just stargaze and stay locked inside an awed silence whilst their eyes take in the view presented to them; seeming like it’s just for them and no-one else. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks after some time just lying there basking in the wonderment that space has to offer. 

“Yeah,” Frankie agrees; his eyes roaming across the sky seeking out constellations he’s familiar with, his curious mind questioning all that’s known and unknown. 

The beauty of space is unequalled; rendering you catatonically mute in astonishment as you try to untangle all its mysteries and the questions it provokes in you.

And yet you can never begin to fathom or accept its infinite wisdom it has to offer you. All you can do is point and drool as you say ‘pretty stars’ over and over again like you’ve been given a lobotomy and can’t remember your own name. 

It knocks you for six and winds you as you stare up into the black, never ending void of space, time and unchartered territory, which in our lifetimes, we’ll never explore or understand fully.

And it’s all kinds of wonderful as it makes you and all your problems seem utterly insignificant for a while; problems like being stuck on a desert island and never knowing when or even if you’ll ever be rescued. 

For a few short moments, Jude forgets they’re both stranded and trying to survive. For a few short minutes, Frankie forgets he’d fought for his life in the water against the current trying to drown him. 

For several quiet beats they’re one with the cosmos and everything else pales into insignificance. 

“I used to do this as a kid.” Jude smiles, remembering all the times she would sneak out of her room onto the roof with ease and watch the sky at night.

Thinking then how brilliant it was to see the stars, but never imagined there could be millions in the sky like she’s seeing now. “I’d stay out for hours just watching the sky and taking pictures of the moon; I saw a shooting star once.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it was so cool.”

“Did you make a wish?” Frankie asks with a smile escaping his mouth as he turns his head towards her.

“That would be telling.”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” he says, as she nudges his elbow with hers. 

“I remember wondering what it would be like to be a shooting star travelling so fast across space. Sounds stupid, I know.”

“Not at all. I’ve seen one myself.”

In a fleeting moment of respite during his time on the frontline, he saw it - a shooting star streaking across the heavens, a radiant beacon of light amidst the dark ravages of war.

For a brief instant, time seemed to stand still as Frankie had watched in awe, his breath caught in his throat as he marvelled at the celestial spectacle unfolding before him, whilst he was covered in dirt and desert dust.

“What did you wish for?” Jude asks.

“World peace,” he says, very deadpan.

She snickers and sits upright on her elbows.

The backdrop of the sky seems to meet with the water and endure a long kiss goodnight as they merge into one being in the dark. 

“Have you seen the Northern Lights on your travels?” Frankie asks her.

She nods. “A few times, in Scandinavia; but it was very brief. They were gone just as quickly as they appeared. But it’s still pretty awesome.”

“I bet. I’d love to see them; all that green.”

“They’re pink too.” Jude says, looking up at the sky.

“You saw that?”

“No. I want to though.”

“You will one day. I know it.”

“Are you psychic there, Frankie? You can see our future beyond this island, huh?” She questions with a grin.

He laughs, crinkling his nose and it’s kinda beautiful. “No. But I know we’re going leave here. Really soon.”

“I really hope you’re right about that.” She looks back up at the sky and hopes a shooting star will appear so she really can wish that they’ll be rescued. 

“Unfortunately, I’m right about everything.” Frankie states confidently and grins, and she playfully mock punches him on the shoulder. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he feigns shock and ouchies.

“Well, I’m not a nice person.” Jude teases.

“Yes you are. You have good vibes about you.” Frankie confirms. 

“You think so?” 

He nods slowly and looks back at the sky himself. “Some things I just know.”

“Good old psychic Frankie. When we get home, I’m going to buy you a crystal ball.” Jude snorts. 

“When we get home I’m going to buy you a burger. And a beer.” Frankie confirms, chuckling. 

“Fuck, don’t talk to me about burgers... Aww man. I really want, like the sloppiest, greasiest cheeseburger, with fried onions and so much ketchup squirting out the sides of it.” She can feel her mouth beginning to water like crazy at the thought of it. "Oh my God..."

“Now you’re fuckin’ talking.” He agrees, licking his lips.

They both smile and shift back to that awed, comfortable silence as they stargaze on high for a while longer.

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.” Jude puts to him after a while. “I want my cheeseburger.”

“I promise, hermosa.” Frankie reassures, turning to her and smiling in the firelight.

His eyes are big and dark and she marvels at the intensity of them, two deep wells pulling her in.

“Good.” She smiles back at him.

To be continued...

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Fairytale Final Assessment 1st Anniversary SE: Jude Jazza's POV Premium End ཐིཋྀ

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. Translation notes are marked with *** Alternate translation is marked with/// Hour Glass Banners Credit: @/natimiles ཐིཋྀ

Running through the bay, I opened the doors of the warehouses with a fine-tooth comb.

(Where the hell is she…..?)

Then I heard a noise in one of the warehouses.

When I opened the door to the warehouse- I found Kate being held tight by the man in the bowler hat. 

Kate: Jude…..and Ellis.

Bowler Hat Man: Jude Jazza! Ahaha, I found you!

Bowler Hat Man: While I was looking for you, I found your lover. And you even jumped in yourself.

Bowler Hat Man: It's as if God is giving me a chance for revenge!

(Your eyes look crazy….)

Jude: You're doin' well for someone who's been the subject of so much dangerous research.

Bowler Hat Man: Thanks to you.

The man in front of me seemed to be moving solely on adrenaline. 

But, this kind of person is the most  troublesome.

Bowler Hat Man: First, I'm going to kill this woman in front of you.

Bowler Hat Man: Then I will kill you, too, as you despair while holding the corpse of your lover.

Bowler Hat Man: Damn, ha-ha-ha. Isn't this the best revenge play ever?

Kate: ……

The gun in the man's hand was pressed firmly against Kate’s temple.

Ellis: …….

I could sense Ellis about to make a move behind me.

Anticipating Ellis’ move, I put strength into my leg to kick the man. 

Kate muttered while being held by the man.

Kate: One. What Jude loves other than people's misfortune and money. 

Kate: It's to make fools like you, who play with other people's lives, to despair.

Kate: So, Jude won't despair if he sees me dead.

Bowler Hat Man: Huh?

Jude: ………

Kate: Two. Jude will never, ever forgive anyone who defaults on a contract.

Kate: And scoundrels who play people’s lives. So you'll never get away with it no matter how you try.

(Yeah, I knew I'd heard that line somewhere…..)

FLASHBACK 

Jude: One. I like other people's misfortune 'n money, that's true, but the thing I like most.……

Jude: Is to make rich people like ya who think they're safe 'n flaunt their power in the world to despair.

Jude: No matter what kinda weakness I may have in negotiations, I'll never forgive a defaulter.

FLASHBACK ENDS

Kate: Three.

(Oh, those eyes again)

While being held in a tight grip and being shown the overwhelming difference in strength, Kate’s eyes never give up.

She looks straight at me and smiles at me with a radiant glow in her eyes.

"Jude, you understand what I'm trying to do, right?"

It’s frustrating but clear what Kate is trying to do.

Kate: I'm not Jude’s  lover, I'm a fairy tale keeper...!

Jude: Haha….

Kate bends down and slips out of the man's arms.

Bowler Hat Man: Huh?

While the man's arms were bare, I kicked him in the jaw with the tip of my shoe.

Jude: Your mouths empty.

I heard the sound of a crushed jaw, but I didn't care, I kicked the man in the stomach several times.

Bowler Hat Man: ..…...Gah……If you're going to do it, do it to the end of ……….

Jude: Who's gonna listen to ya? I'm not gonna let ya die 'n get comfortable.

Jude: I'll politely send ya back to the lab. If ya want to escape again, be my guest.

Jude: I'll play with ya all the time. Only if ya could keep your human form.

Supervisor: Mr. Jude, everyone! Are you all right?

Jude: You'll know it when ya see it.

Bowler Hat Man: Damn…….

Jude: Oh, that face is intriguin'. Isn’t it a good way to kill time?***

Ellis: You're taking him in. I'll help you.

I watched the supervisor and Ellis take the man away with a glance, then turned my attention to Kate.

Jude: Injuries.

Kate: Not a scratch!

Jude: What are ya, a dog in waiting?

Kate: Oh, maybe you’ll look at me?

Jude: Idiot.

As we left the warehouse, Kate stared at the clock tower in the distance and exhaled in relief.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness. It's not after midnight yet.

Jude: What was so good ‘bout it? Ya lost the game. Well, goodbye.

Kate: Well, wait a minute!

Kate: Jude, this!

Kate held out a note. 

Kate: The plan to destroy your trading company is written there, Jude. 

Kate: When I was looking for the classified documents that I had promised, I found that man in the bowler hat.

Kate: I thought it was strange since you’d put him in your lab Jude, so I followed him…..

Jude: This was dropped. So, while pickin' it up he got caught.

Jude: Stupid.

(What, you're jumping into the danger yourself?)

Kate: Well, this is comparable to the "confidential document" that you  requested Jude, isn’t it?

Kate was right, this note that had fallen out had some troubling things in it, it was enough to deliver on the promise.

Kate: As for getting caught, it's my fault. I'm sorry.

Jude: Ya must be crazy because ya almost got killed because ya were scared.

Being a fairy tale keeper is a job title, and it's not something you should cling to.

Kate: Strangely, I wasn’t scared at all.

Jude: …..Yeah?

Kate: Jude, I knew that you’d be there for me.

Kate: I don't mean to protect me or anything, but you wouldn't make a wrong promise to win, would you?

Kate: If I died, the game’s up in the air.

(Ha. She's a real tough princess.)

Kate: Jude. This may be wishful thinking on my part, but…..

Kate: You tried to get rid of me so I wouldn't get further involved and die.

Kate: That's why you made up an enemy that wasn't there at the end.

(Where did she get that from?)

Kate: But it's too late, I'm sure.

Jude:……too late?

Kate: As I said before, I know the people around you, Jude.

Kate: So it's impossible for me to go back to my life.

Kate told me in one breath as she looked at me.

Kate: Well then, how about we just give up and stay together?

(…..give up, huh?)

If I had to turn back, where on earth would I have started from?

The woman in front of me was smiling like she had chosen the depths of hell herself.

Her face was the best I had ever seen.

(You look like you wouldn't die even if I killed you.......There's really nothing I can do.)

(You and me both.)

I gently wipe the mud from Kate’s cheek with my fingertips.

Kate’s cheeks were clean, and my fingers were dirty instead.

Kate: ….Jude?

Jude: ….hey, why are ya clingin’ onto me so tight?

Kate lowered her eyes for a moment, then smiled like a beauty blooming under the moon in the middle of the night.

Kate: I think there are many reasons. But if I had to sum it up in one word...

Kate: Because I want to. I just want to continue being a fairy tale keeper, and be with you Jude.

Kate: Really, just .... That's all.

Jude: How selfish 'n thick-skinned ya are.

Kate: Wait, so you're going to sign it?

Jude: Continue writin’ fairytales. Once again, your lifespan has been shortened, congrats. 

Kate: Oh, thank you very much….!

Kate: I did it. This time I won!

Jude: Why are ya so happy ‘bout shortenin’ your life? Throw away that masochistic perversion and go home. 

Kate: Wait a minute. Let's go home together.

Kate’s footsteps follow behind me.

It’s as if they’re making so much noise, that of if I went to the moon, they’d come after me. 

(A person's life is as fragile as a candle's flame.)

(Trust and a sense of justice are meaningless in the face of malice and murderous intent.)

(Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to protect them, we can't.)

(I understand that to a rotten degree. I know it so well.)

Even so, I wondered why I couldn't push her away when she asked for someone else and came after me directly.

(It's really disgusting.)

(I know.)

(The most disgusting person is the one who thinks it's okay to be with her.)

The bell that sounded at midnight echoed in the air.

Soaring as if it could reach the moon.

Fairytale Keeper Continuation Agreement

Kate hereby agrees to continue as a fairy tale keeper.

Suit yourself. I don’t care if ya accidentally die……

-Jude Jazza 

A few days after I decided to continue as a fairytale keeper.

Suddenly, I received a letter from Her Majesty the Queen.

Kate, your work has reached my ears. Thank you as always.

Therefore, I would like you to evaluate one thing.

I wonder if Jude, who is cursed, is worthy of the crown.

***This question - take it with a grain of salt. I have no clue other than he talks about killing time.

[Previous] [Epilogue] [Master List]

#ikemen villains #Ikemen villains translations #ikevil #ikevil translations #jude jazza #ikevil jude #ikemen jude #ikemen jude jazza #cybird translations #ikevil spoilers #ikevil jp #ikevil jp spoilers #Jude Jazza POV

[davekat-sucks]

My real pet peeve with regards to Jake isn't that he never got to do anything cool, but specifically that everything cool associated with him was retconned away.

"Oh, who's this mysterious pen-pal who helped Jade build an invincible guardian rabbit-bot? Nevermind, he was just the delivery boy; it was REALLY made by totally-not-the-author's-self-insert! Surviving alone on an island of bloodthirsty alien monsters is pretty badass, right? Actually, he just cowered in his room all day while the not-self-insert's robot double protected him! He gained limitless power that eclipses even the multiple omnipotent bad guys? We'll just rewind that away and pit him against the joke villains! It's vitally important to canon that he specifically gives the main villain a beating of cosmic proportions? Actually, that was a doomed timeline version of him; here, have a scene where he shits his pants on live TV instead!"

The last semi-cool thing to Jake's name is Grandpa programming Sburb on pre-Scratch Earth; and I bet if we actually got Hauntswitch, it would reveal Jude/Dammek/Mom was solely responsible for that and Grandpa just took the credit.

Yeah, they really stripped him so damn hard despite being built up as like a genius. It's something similar to Jane's case. Nanna shown to be a smart, if mischievous woman at times with a good heart, kid self is complete opposite. If it's suppose to give the message that expectations of the guardians are subverted that the Alpha Kids are actually fuckups, then fine. Stupid subversion excuse that Hussie likes to use to think he's the first one to do something different. But it's another thing to try and say "All those things you learned, it was a LIE!!! You are an idiot for trusting the author because I tricked your sorry ass!!!"

#homestuck #Jake English #Andrew Hussie

[leonscape]

reacting to all the villains as someone who likes charismatic heroes. these are my initial thoughts after reading the prologue

-william rex

ok vlad i mean william whatever you say mate. the reddest flag is when he made us walk to him with his special powers like damn bro chill we can talk this out. we didn’t even show any intention of running. actually im not sure what would be worse, him forcing us to do something against our will with his powers or him chasing and grabbing us also forcing us against our will. 6/10 he distracted us from that weird magic show lowkey i wish we were paying attention tho. he does seem a little nice tho

-harrison gray

i like how his last name is spelt with an a instead of an e despite him being british or whatever. anyways he’s normal i keep forgetting him tho but maybe he’s my type. i think everyone thinks harrison is my type. not much else to say he doesn’t really stand out among the others. 6.5/10 tho i think he’s ok but he gives me nokto vibes and im not vibing with that right now.

-liam evans

oh dear i saw the content warning and i scrolled away so fast i don’t want to touch it he must get up to a lot of bad things because he’s curious. i also don’t like cat like characters. but i have to be fair to him. 3/10 he didn’t do anything wrong but i already don’t like his type.

-elbert greetia

he comes from a long line of kingsley-michel’s. why did he ask if we’re beautiful like don’t you decide that for yourself? he’s a little weird and i’m not really a fan of any blue eyed blond guys so yeah sorry bro 4/10 maybe it’ll change when i get to know him.

-alfons sylvatica

i like his name. that’s about it. kinda like harrison, he didn’t stand out to me he’s ok not really raising a red flag for me right now. i feel like someone will respond with all the horrible things alfons has done. 5/10 you’re ok bud

-roger barel

why he kinda look like jin tho. is it his size or is it the haircut? idk but im also in the middle about him too 5/10 he does stand out and i like him but at the same time i don’t like him? he’s giving very much faust vibes and that’s not my vibe but i hope he’s more like kyle?

-jude jazza

rude mf 4/10 although he is right for being cautious of telling us everything. oh also i like how they write his speech

-ellis twilight

haha i have an oc named ellis. i like his name although it does make me think of the twilight saga. anyways i actually kinda really like him i thought he was being very real but also pretty kind. suggesting to kill us is a little too much but he is happiness obsessed so im interested. he speaks in a soft way and maybe that is lowering my guard. 7/10 i do like tall guys too

-victor

bro just has no last name? he’s like if clavis and sariel got stuck in the same body and learned how to get along. i actually really liked him as well. he was quite friendly and i liked how cheerful he sounded and he was willing to give us a job and spare our lives 7/10 im curious about him but i fell like i won’t like him in the future

#ikemen series #ikemen villains

[hiccupfound]

On Hermione killing Draco in Jagged

i’ve always wanted to give my explanation for this, but i fell out of fandom before i got the chance. tonight i was scrolling on my fandom tumblr, trying to find a gif to show my brother and sister in law, and i passed a jagger excerpt. one thing led to another, and i ended up reading the chapter after draco came back. (ch 30 i think?)

i know that some people were truly outraged on my choice to have draco murdered. a lot of people claimed it was out of character, and there’s a good amount of evidence for that, sure, but i think there’s a fair amount of evidence to show that it’s just as much in character as well.

originally, draco was supposed to live. originally, drarry was going to be end game. originally, abraxas was never supposed to come back to 1998, but sometimes you write the narrative and sometimes it writes itself. jagged was the story that taught me that maybe i’m not an outline type of author, because the final product deviated from the original idea so much that it was more frustrating than helpful.

admittedly, very much of the writing in jagged was therapeutic for me. a lot of hermione’s inner dialogue, self hatred, and “selflessness” are things i either see in myself or wish i could be. she’s far from a perfect character, but she’s powerful, level headed and smart. she doesn’t have many weaknesses revealed, not even when we spend half the story in her point of view. tom makes note of that several times when we get to his pov— that he has hermione on this pedestal, that she seems like some sort of impenetrable force.

but at the end of the day— hermione has dealt with extremely traumatizing situations that she had spent the better part of a year repressing. not only that, she was thrown back into 1998 quite suddenly, and even though we don’t see it in tom’s pov, it’s not hard to imagine how triggering that must be. hermione can put on a mask of indifference but at the end of the day that’s all it is— a mask.

i knew very early on that i was choosing the route of a dark order. the order has always been dark (its war, there’s really no moral high ground, despite what harry was brainwashed into thinking).

i felt very particular about how i wanted to pull this off. i didn’t want it to seem sudden or out of the blue. i also didn’t necessarily want “dark” to mean evil, because i feel like in jagged each and every character can be made out to be evil if you break down their actions in different lights. (this is a completely different essay)

draco’s betrayal was always a very dark spot for hermione. it brought on torture that she wore as proof of his disloyalty in her skin everyday. regardless of his actions or his orders, she thought this for years. she built resentment on it. is it logical for this resentment to play a part in her decision once she knows the truth? absolutely not. but that’s the thing, the moment draco steps into grimmauld place, logic has taken a backseat in hermione’s brain. she’s riding purely on emotions. she knows this, and yes, she has the wherewithal to recollect herself if she wanted to. but she doesn’t. it’s like she told remus. draco is her line.

second, hermione would have never, ever watched draco be tortured. damn the plan, damn the betrayal. she would have died to stop it. she would have gotten them both killed, probably. the point is, she couldn’t have lived with herself if she stood for hours and watched it happen. and with that knowledge, and knowing the pain she suffered through and that draco was able to stomach watching it the entire time… well, it was enough for her to not want him around anymore.

also, this was a last stitch effort for remus to prove his loyalty to her. i didn’t realize it at the time, but hermione and remus’s relationship mirrors jude’s and her step father’s from the cruel prince quite a bit. if you haven’t read it, (what are you waiting for?) the main thing you need to know is that they have an endlessly complicated, painful relationship wherein the love they have for each other is not stronger than their need to fight for what they believe is the greater good.

hermione viewed remus like a father, but that wasn’t a one sided relationship. remus loved hermione endlessly like he would his own child.

yet he still took a “calculated” risk. she was tortured and almost killed because of a decision he made. a decision he never planned on telling her about.

remus says he would do it again. and hermione knows it’s the truth, and in some ways she respects him for it. she’ll always be a soldier at heart. but it also solidifies his spot in her life as someone that will never, ever be family to her again. because hermione wouldn’t risk remus’s life for anything.

so she uses draco as leverage. remus sees draco as mostly innocent. his life lies in remus’s hands. he has to choose. hermione’s side, or draco’s life. it’s vindictive, yes, but hermione has just spent the past 4 years using manipulation to get what she wants. as a reader, it’s not a side of her we get to see a lot (aside from when she’s torturing michael, which admittedly, was meant to be foreshadow to this exact moment)

as an author i could have done a better job throwing in more unpredictable or emotional behavior on her part. but at the time, i really wanted this to be a turning point, not just for the order, but for hermione herself. this is kind of her first selfish decision in a long time. the first time she chooses something simply because it’s what she wants. as readers you may say, “her selfish act was to take a life?!” and to that i say, yes. yes it was.

i wanted hermione to be irrational just because. i wanted her to take her power and abuse it a little. we read stories about strong female characters with endless powers who fight and win big wars just to settle at the end in the name of morality or being the better person.

i didn’t want hermione to settle. i wanted hermione angry because she deserved to be.

of course there are arguments against why she didn’t, and of course logicially killing draco wasn’t the decision that made sense. but that’s the thing, hermione is a flawed character. she doesn’t (and won’t) make all her decisions based on logic.

women deserve to be angry. women don’t need to forgive.

jagged hermione doesn’t need to explain why she wanted draco dead, but as an author, i wanted to.

#dramione #tomione #jagged #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

[strawberry-yougurt]

flower husbands :)

Scott: I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Jimmy: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal. Scott, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

Jimmy: Truth or dare? Scott: Truth. Jimmy: How many hours have you slept this week? Scott: Scott: Dare. Jimmy: Go to sleep. Scott: I don't like this game.

Scott: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Jimmy: Even better! Scott: What the fuck did you- Jimmy: holding up a chicken Her name is Fluffy.

Scott: I’ve only had Jimmy for a day and a half but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Scott: Y'know, I once knew a man who said to me: “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” He also had a pair of sideburns that would cause even Jude Law’s face to weep in forfeit. You put those lemons in a sack and beat your enemies with ‘em! And maybe if you beat ‘em hard enough the bag will split open and lemon juice will spray into their eyes, causing intense burning pains as you crush them into a citrus-y pulp! Jimmy: Wait, wait, wait, wait. Their heads or the lemons? Scott: Whatever caves first!

Scott: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time? Jimmy: AS ENEMIES?! Scott:

Scott: What is this!? Jimmy: That’s the weight of guilt. Give in to the nice side. Help those unfortunate, and make the guilt go away, my friend. Scott: Ow! Make it stop! Jimmy: Surrender to your kindness, Scott. It’s nice to be nice. Scott: Your guilt is strong, my friend. But it is no match for the power of my selfishness!

Jimmy: I'm trash. Scott: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you? Jimmy: Jimmy: You smooth motherfucker. Jimmy: And yes it does.

Scott: You shouldn't be using a straw. Jimmy: I know, I know, it's bad for the environment and stuff. Scott: Yeah, but I mean… it's a weird way to eat spaghetti.

#incorrect empires quotes #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor

[beloved-daydreams]

Folktober2023 Prompt: "My sister, the serial killer." 🔪🌼

An attempt by

Hosted by @jurdannetrevels and @jurdannet

📘 1 400+ words

😎 Characters: Taryn, Jude mention, Myriadh, Tatterfell, The Ghost/Larkin

✒️ Tags: self-reflection, sharing, sweet

📢 Summary: Taryn has made it to her sister’s place along with her attendant Myriadh. As she learns that Jude’s not home, Taryn decides to take a stroll in the palace's "garden", which is also the graveyard of Elfhame's enemies. More specifically, the ones who have fallen under Jude’s sword.

🧐 Author’s Note: Part 2 of the Taryn 3-parter I have prepared for Folktober! First part was for "Corn maze" and the third and final part will be out for "graveyard meet-cute"!

✏️✏️✏️

As we arrive at the palace, I'm immediately recognized to be the High Queen's sister. Before, clothes and crown aside, it was still sometimes a bit harder to tell, but now with the size of my belly, we are unmistakable. Myriadh extends her hand to me as I'm about to jump out of the carriage, I politely hold it, not actually putting any of my weight into it.

We pass through the front garden that is used to make all visitors fear for their life. Each spot of the garden is covered in a different type of flower which gives it a strange charm, yet knowing the reason behind such an arrangement makes the fae sweat from anxiousness. It has only been 6 months since Jude and Cardan are both reigning over Elfhame, yet all those flowers show the amount of fae Jude has killed.

All traitors and enemies. Jude is now known as the mortal high queen who ends the fae's immortalities. She has already outlived all the fae in this beautiful graveyard by killing them. This graveyard that everyone has to pass through in order to enter the palace. She was now a Queen but still very much with the spirit of a killer. Though maybe it sounds too harsh, I should say assassin since her killings supposedly have meaning. "Don't fuck with me." That's the meaning. I breathe the scent in. I love it. Myriadh is trying to keep a straight face but I can tell she feels a bit uneasy by the sight.

Well, to be fair, I also feel a bit uneasy at the sight but for a different reason. Witnessing how beautiful the fae are even after their death. Not like us, rotting corpses with no pretty flowers to grow from our bodies. The only flowers on top of our graves come from those who miss us. And by how inconsequential I am, I'm not sure if anyone other than my siblings and child will leave flowers on where I will rest. I sigh at the depressing thoughts. Pregnancy mood swings be damned. Pheromones be damned.

"Are you feeling okay, my liege? Shall we go back after all?"

"No need. It won't take long."

I make my way to some guards, they inform me that my timing is unfortunate, that my sister has left just a little while ago. Thus I ask for Tatterfell. When they invite me in, I turn them down. We make our way through the garden, I catch so many new flowers that weren't there 3 weeks ago, last time I visited. I like finding new flowers, wondering from what type of fae they're growing out of.

And before I can stop my big mouth from spilling the words, they're already out.

"I'm so envious, you know."

Myriadh blinks at me, not sure how to answer since my words are so half-assed and nonsensical. So I continue.

"Of you. The fae. You're all beautiful from the moment you're born, magnificent while you live, powerful when you die and still beautiful after death. I mean, you've been living with me for the past 4 months Myr, you've seen how bad I look in the mornings."

I think back to how Locke looked when I killed him. When yellow roses grew out of him as I tried to dispose of his body. I thought it was so unfair, he was still flaunting his superior beauty at me even from beyond the grave I wanted to put him in. I think of how I would eat those faerie fruits at his revels as if I'm a pet of a wife, a fun little human who will obey the whims of her caring husband. Oh so benevolent for marrying a human who's only redeeming quality is being agreeable. Pleasant to spend time with because she'll listen and laugh, and agree.

Myriadh gathers her thoughts, probably trying to find a proper way to answer me. I like that about her. How careful she is with words and etiquette, maybe just as much as Oriana was. I miss her.

"Although you are right, I believe humans have things that may stir up envy from the fae's side as well."

I fake a laugh like I always do. I hope it doesn't sound too bitter.

"Is that so? Tell me."

We're now standing in place, I realize this might take some time so I sit at a bench and gesture to her to do the same. She sits next to me, but not too close as a sign of respect for my personal space.

"Do you know how old I am, my liege?"

Of course I know, I remember everything I'm told.

"If I remember correctly, 120 years or so?"

Rhetorical question, I know I'm right.

"Yes. I've been trying to have a child my whole life." She pauses. Probably measuring her words again, trying to not make it sound like she's accusing me of being too ignorant, too unaware of what they might go through in their long lives. "It's something I've been yearning for, giving life. Twenty years ago I gave up and made my way to the human world where I worked at a daycare for a while, putting the little ones to sleep."

I turn my head towards Myriadh, my eyes that were focused on the garden are now observing the faerie woman who looks like she can't be older than 25. She spares me a glance, seeing that I don't look offended but rather shocked, she continues.

"Homesickness got the better of me in the end, I came back recently. And, well… my coworkers started to wonder why I didn't seem to age at all despite having worked there for 20 years."

I chuckle, this time a real laugh.

"I guess you didn't think that far ahead." I smile kindly.

"I guess not. I should've glamored myself to slowly look older and older through the years. If I had made myself suddenly look older after hearing them gossiping about it, it would've been strange." She agrees.

I see now. To her who tried to have a child for a century, I must sound quite small-minded with my beauty talk. It's not like my envy has dissipated but it's good to put things in perspective.

Far away, I see a familiar figure approaching us. Tatterfell.

I tell her about my request to have the maze around my house be eradicated. She doesn't ask me why but she notes how, although Jude isn't home at the moment, since the request is coming from me, it can be done easily. Before going back to work, she shares with me something unexpected.

"Consider visiting us more often. Although Ju- Her Highness is often busy, I suspect she misses you. I have no answer to give her every time I'm asked about your whereabouts and she has seriously considered sending some of her people to guard your household."

"... Are you sure you're allowed to tell me this?"

Tatterfell shrugs and smiles.

"So you're still more preoccupied about etiquette than your sister's care for you. That's good to see, Oriana would be proud of the consistency."

I blush. I know this is not a jab at me since Tatterfell isn't the type to do so and she must truly believe the words she's saying, coming from her mouth this is not sarcasm. Yet I feel embarrassed at the idea that I haven't changed all that much.

Tatterfell leaves us be. I suppose it might be good to go back now.

As we're walking back to the carriage with slow steps, Myriadh looks as if she wants to tell me something. I welcome her to do so.

"Well, about before-"

Her sentence is cut short as a figure is suddenly in front of us. As if it materialized out of thin air. Myriadh jumps in front of me in a protective manner, she's about to open her mouth, letting her voice put the creature to sleep. But having the time to process the sight, I quickly realize it's not a creature.

"Wait!" The indistinct voice begs. I hold Myriadh's arm, a sign for her to hold on.

Hood down, mask off, the individual suddenly becomes recognizable to us. Jude had gifted the court of shadows some masks that can blur their presence. I realize now this is what it was. The faerie, or rather, the half-faerie standing in front of us is actually Larkin. Better known as the Ghost amongst his "fellow colleagues" if we can even consider spying and killing as work.

He shoots a smile at me, a tense one. And suddenly, I’m not so sure on how to act anymore.

✏️✏️✏️

I’m excited about the next and last part!!! (For obvious reasons at this point.) Let’s say that the "character interactions" I wrote for the next part were... interesting to figure out? 😂 I’m quite pleased with it although I know it won’t get much traction since the central character in this is Taryn 🫠 It’s okay girlie, if no one’s here, I’m here!

Please leave comments/tags!!! 💖

#the folk of the air #tfota #taryn duarte #jude duarte #tatterfell #The Ghost #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #fanfiction #join the revel 👻🎃 #jurdannetfolktober2023 #jurdannetrevels #jurdannet #beloved daydreams

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Wild speculation here. I’m overthinking how fairy names (true names) work. Like is it given to you by your fairy parents? And in that case wouldn’t parents have the ability to make you do anything by conjuring your true name?? Is there an etiquette that makes it taboo to do that to your child? Does the child choose their own full name?

Im thinking about this cuz I wouldn’t put it past Cardan’s mom to use it as a wagering chip. Access to the King of Elfheim’s one true name is gotta be a big deal.

It’s _probably_ just a tiny loophole that wasn’t given much thought but damn if it doesn’t keep me up.

i love how you think, nonnie! and it's a question i've definitely had, too.

i happen to have already answered a similar question a while ago on a reblogged version of one of my asks (scroll to the bottom for how faeries might get their names), but maybe i'll expand upon it for you here in a new post.

to my knowledge, there is no concrete textual evidence for how faeries are given their true names (as of yet). that being said, here are some potential theories as to how things aren't a complete circus of faerie children always doing their parents' bidding:

they give themselves their true names- essentially, faeries don't have a true name until they reach speaking age and are able to give themselves a true name. in this theory, faerie parents would give them the name that everyone knows them by, and faerie children would not be able to be controlled by anyone until they could speak or know their true name.

there's a magical object that names them- a rock? a plant? a pope? something that is bound to never speak the name aloud.

faerie parents name their children, but must vow to never use the true name- maybe it's done through a name giving ritual shortly after birth. and, since faeries are bound by their word, they would never be able to speak the child's true name aloud.

along the same vein as the last one, faerie parents give their children their true names, but due to the strict etiquette of the fae, true names are considered to be an oath and/or an honour. if parents used their child's true name against them, it would be going back on their oath, or stripping them of their honour. which is not very chivalrous or fae-like at all.

perhaps they do use their child's true name and we just haven't seen this aspect of Faerie up close yet- this is definitely the darkest theory, though i expect this means there would be varying levels of use/misuse/abuse of true names by Faerie parents just as there are varying levels of use/misuse/abuse of power by parental figures in the mortal world. so perhaps some faerie parents are better about it than others.

though it is dark, i kind of like the complexity the final theory on this list. not only does it reflect real world power systems between parents and their children, it would also explain some things:

why Cardan got Asha everything she asked for. it was mentioned in QON that when Cardan was a child, Asha would demand that he get her whatever she wanted, because he was a prince of Faerie and he had the power to get it for her. i always presumed that Cardan complied because he wanted to please his mother, and because he thought it might garner her affection, but Asha speaking his true name could be another explanation for it.

Cardan's stance against forcing people to do something they don't want to do. if the final theory is true, and he grew up with Asha always abusing/taking away his free will in this way, it's easy to see how such a thing might truly repel him in the future. why he would feel obligated to return the compelled mortal servants to the mortal world. why he wouldn't shoot the apple off the top of the compelled mortal's head when Dain told him to.

potentially, Asha knowing Cardan's true name is why, when Jude went into exile, he didn't throw Asha right back into the Tower of Forgetting. because she commanded him not to using his true name.

–Em 🖤🗡

more on True Names and Marriage Vows

more on Cardan's True Name

more theories and analysis

#thanks for the ask!! 💜 #tfota #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the folk of the air #tfota analysis #tfota meta #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdannet #tfotadaily #holly black #asked and answered #nonnie #my analysis

[avvail]

your mind is just a program (and i’m the virus)

tw: blood, violence, implied indoctrination

“You’re far from home.”

The soldier wheezed violently, his trembling fingers digging into the dirt. He could still smell the burning stench of flesh overpowering his senses, winding up his throat until he felt like doubling over and heaving anything left in his stomach.

The voice had startled him however, taking his mind off the charred bodies and the dismembered limbs, tilting his head backwards. His wavy black hair framed his face messily, and his steely grey eyes were unfocused as they searched through the trees.

“Are you lost, soldier?” came his smug sneer. “Lose your mummy and daddy?”

The figure almost blended into the darkness of the trees, and even though Oscar wasn’t wearing his helmet, he could see perfectly clear.

The tight black curls and the dark brown skin; he effortlessly swung down from the tree with that toothy grin on his lips. Oscar knew who he was—what he was—and clenched his jaw as fury ripped through his veins.

He shot to his feet in seconds, yanking the gun from his belt and firing a few hazy, loose shots. The ear piercing sound split his already pounding skull open, but the blood painting his fingers made him a lousy shot. Jude was on him seconds before a powerful blow knocked the gun from his hands, and then ploughed straight into his temple.

Oscar saw a plethora of stars burst across his vision, but a particularly nasty kick to his stomach sent him smacking into the ground. He gasped desperately, trying to ignore the inhumane strength from the outsider. It felt like a damn wall had hit him.

He wheezed in pain and rolled onto his stomach, narrowed eyes searching for his discarded helmet. He had ripped it from his head the moment he breached the forestline, stumbling as far as his legs would dare take him. He should have known not to stop to throw up so close to their territory. He considered himself lucky he hadn’t been ambushed – then he surely would have been killed.

He jerked his arm forward and went to snatch the helmet to call for help, but a boot came slamming down onto his wrist. He heard a definitive crack, before a painful scream tore from his throat.

“I wouldn’t do that it I were you,” Jude tutted nonchalantly, shaking his head as if he was truly disappointed in his pathetic attempt. “Why don’t we have a chat, hm? Just you and me. We don’t need the company, do we?”

Oscar grit his teeth together, shaking as the pain slithered it’s way up his arm. “You...disgusting pariah.”

Jude’s bottom lip jutted out, but there was a sick glee in his dark brown eyes. “Play nice, soldier.”

He dug the sole of his shoe further against the broken remains of his wrist, eliciting a painful screech from Oscar’s lips, before finally lifting off. The soldier didn’t have time to kick up an advantage before strong hands gripped the front of his uniform, and his legs straddled his waist comfortably.

“Or should I say captain?” His green badge shimmered under the orange sky, the sun setting along the horizon. “Funny. You’re too cute to be making orders.”

Oscar felt a harsh backhand across his cheek, before Jude shoved him back down into the ground, clambering off him. The soldier cursed under his breath and made to his knees, but a bone cracking kick smacked into his ribs, sending him rolling across the dirt like a ragdoll.

“Do you need a moment, captain?” Jude taunted, folding his arms across his chest and displaying that infuriating, wolfish smirk. Oscar gasped for breath as his face twisted into a snarl. His belt felt empty. He would have to fight with his fists.

“You’ll pay for treason,” Oscar panted, slipping an arm around his ribs as he hurled himself onto his feet. “I’ll put a bullet through your head myself.”

Jude smirked. “What a paradise Sontos’ world sounds like, right? All you soldiers do is kill and destroy. What a life your people must live.”

The soldier bristled. “What do you know of paradise? Sontos’ rule allows the unfortunate to live like kings and queens. We give them a better life.”

The outsider’s face lit up and he almost collapsed into hysterical laughter. “And you really believe that?”

Oscar’s expression hardened.

“They have your mind right in the palm of their hands. You’re just a little puppet that dances to each tug of their string without question,” Jude shook his head widely, his lips twisted into a wry grin. “How are you so blind that you can’t even see they are stripping away your identity to please their cause?”

The soldier breathed in, the action rattling his lungs. This was a lie. This is what he had been taught. This is what people like Jude did, who had the gall to betray a nation that provided glorious lives.

“I am a soldier. That is my identity,” he slowly grit out. Jude’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, shaking his head with a grim expression.

“Of course it is,” he growled. “Because that is all you’re worth to them.”

The soldier clenched his fists, trying to ignore the spots on the edge of his vision. He launched forward as anger surged through him, throwing a sharp, precise punch. Jude smacked it away and slid from another mirage of attacks, pushing forward with his own.

Oscar twisted out of his grasp and deflected a number of heavy blows, bruising his forearms and instantly tiring him out. His technique became sloppy as Jude somehow hurled even more at him, before he finally slipped up.

A kick landed in his stomach, and Oscar felt the air rush from his lungs, doubling over. Fingers dug into his hair and drove his head straight into his knee, cracking his nose with agonising strength. Oscar smacked onto his knees and pressed his gloved hands to the damage, feeling blood gushing down his face.

Jude wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead, smirk curling his lips upwards. His hand winds through his hair, yanking his head back with a verocity that made Oscar groan in pain. His legs were too exhausted to even lift him off the ground.

“Oh,” Jude’s smug voice was fuzzy in the soldier’s ears, too overwhelmed by the coppery taste bubbling in his mouth. “That looks like it’ll leave a scar.”

The soldier gasped at another dizzying wave of pain and couldn’t fight when he felt two hands cupping his wrists, pulling them away from his nose.

“Look, sweetheart, you need to wake up,” his voice wavered in and out of Oscar’s ears, the pain blinding all other senses. “You’re too young for this.”

His eyes burned with tears. Everything hurt. Was his nose broken? Why was he in so much pain?

“Do you want to be a number for the rest of your life?” He pushed, resisting the urge to tuck a disheveled strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you going to let a cruel syndicate control you until you die?”

Oscar pinched his eyes shut. His sharp pants quietened down to steadier ones, feeling the warm blood streaming steasily down his pale face. The pain had gone numb, but Oscar couldn’t ignore the swelling of irregular emotions in his heart. It scared him, to think he was letting this outsider worm his way into his head. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He was a soldier.

His voice was a treacherous hiss. “Burn in hell.”

#whump #whump writing #writing snippet #snippet #story snippet #not a prompt #oc stuff #writing #my writing #whumper #whumpee #whump scenario #whump fic #whumpblr #fiction #fic stuff #avvail #oscar and jude

[saygracejude]

the whole nsfw for jude pls or the ones you’d like to answer for him :)

ain’t you lucky i love to ramble 😘

Submissive or Dominant?

dommmm! if he has to choose only one, it’s an easy af decision to make

Whips or Chains?

whips — the noise and the sting and the sheer variety of choice in instrument all greatly satisfy jude

Handcuffs or Shibari?

there’s something more intimate and personal about tying someone up or being tied up & jude loves the feeling of rope on skin so shibari would be his pick

Pillow Princess or Power Bottom?

if he’s the one taking it, jay’s an absolute power bottom. being passive is a struggle for him

Voyeur or Exhibitionist?

total exhibitionist. he loves to show off, expose himself or be exposed & gets off on being watched.

Blindfolds or Spreader Bars?

gotta be those bars, my guy. aesthetically, jude loves the look of them and he gets off on how forcibly revealing they are and all the ways a body can be positioned with them.

Butt Plugs or Vibrators?

vibrators because toys that move are much more fun 😉

Edging or Multiple Rounds?

jude has a lot of stamina and loves the absolute mess him & lev become when they go for hours, so multiple rounds.

Knots or Ovipositor?

mmm this is a hard (haha) one cos fuck both those things are amazing but for…reasons, jay’s gotta go with a knot. especially when it comes to lev’s little holes 😈

Spanking or Scratching?

jude loves the feeling of scratching and the way it looks on his skin.

Ball Gag or Muzzle?

gotta go with a muzzle, they have a more degrading vibe in jude’s mind and he’s all about that.

Strap on or Double Sided Dildo?

strap on attached to a certain blonde boy ofc 🥰

On on one or Group Sex?

jay loves one on one cos he gets to spend time focusing all his attentions on one person and turning them into a puddle. while group sex is very much enjoyable, the overstimulation of too many options can make jude a little too chaotic.

Vanilla or Kinky?

ofc you gotta know the answer to this one by now

Lengthy Cocks or Girthy Cocks?

girthy but there is a limit.

Small Boobs or Large Boobs?

100% small boobs, forever & always! he kinda has a lil bit of an aversion to large boobs but ain’t mean about it or nothin

Ass or Chests?

chestsss, especially when they’re painted with his come

Thighs or Arms?

thighs cos jude loves to spread ‘em 😏

Hot Wax or Knifeplay?

knifeplay tho his impulsiveness makes it a tiny bit risky

Loud or Quiet?

if jude could have shaking-the-fucking-bed, lost-their-voices loud every time, he would

Biting or Sucking?

sucking feels fucking amazing to him and he loves the marks it leaves behind

Collars or Piercings?

piercings, hands down. jude likes things that have the potential to be more…permanent.

Costumes or Lingerie?

definitely costumes, so many options & so many of them are god damn cute/hot/both

Monogamy or Polyamory? 

polyamory — jude doesn’t know how to love only one person & he has what some would call “loose morals” lmfao

Laughing and silliness during sex or Intensity and power struggle during sex?

both are so fucking nice but if it’s gotta be one, he’s going with laughing & silliness. jude loves the feeling he gets when lev laughs and smiles during sex.

Fucking a Virgin or Fucking someone with experience?

fucking a virgin is, in jude’s opinion, un-fucking-forgettable so he’s gotta with that but it’s a tough decision.

Face to face or from behind?

face to face; he’s just gotta see the results of his hard work

Phone sex or Sexting?

phone sex cos while jude could probably get off just dirty talking to himself, he loves the reactions he gets from lev over the phone.

Coming inside or outside?

oh inside, easy! seeing his come on lev’s body is very fucking hot but nothing beats the feeling of being buried balls deep & emptying his load inside him

Being filled or Bukkake?

jude is a messy boy so he’s easily swayed to bukkake

Dirty Talk or Degradation?

FUCK this one is such a difficult choice. but since jude’s dirty talk is often a whole lot of degradation, he’ll go with that.

Role play or Porn on in the background?

porn for sure, he enjoys making lev watch. sometimes it’s home videos…

Public Edging or Filming in the Bedroom?

ooft, another difficult one but it’s gotta be public edging — the end result is always so fucking heavenly

Condom or Bareback?

bareback! 100 times bareback. for jude, condoms are usually less of a concern ✂️✂️

Lube or Raw?

honestly, this depends on the hole. for anal, he prefers lube but otherwise, raw is no.1. if it’s a no choice situation, lube because it’s easier to get it done.

Video Call Masturbation or Sexy Selfies?

video calls! hearing all those delectable sounds, seeing the changes of expression as things heat up & being able to interact in real time with his partner/s? oh man, it’s no fuckin contest

Blood Play or Breath Play?

breath play!!! jude loves the rush of being unable to breathe & can never get enough of seeing lev’s red face and blue lips and the distant, dazed expression on his face

Face fucking or Anal sex?

face fucking (greater potential for puke, drool and tears)

Leather or PVC?

see, a lil leather can look nice but PVC is jude’s instant pick. the confining tightness of it, the beautiful aesthetics of its designs & the fun little squeaky noises are all major pros.

Morning Sex or Evening Sex?

i mean, jude’s favourite time of day for sex is uh, anytime but between these two? morning sex is very fun for him for a variety of reasons.

Clothes on or Clothes off?

clothes off! he likes to see every inch of skin bare and exposed to him, loves the slow reveal of it but it’s a 50/50 if he gets impatient and starts tugging & tearing clothes off as fast as he can.

#oc meme #writing #mutter #jude sawyer boone #for jude #for lev #ty & ur welcome kiddo 😉

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you have favorite romance covers?

What do you think of the covers nowadays? I see the one from the historical romance were painted and beautiful and look at the ones we have now...they are not even well done pictures

Edit: omg I got so aggressively bitchy I forgot to mention my favorites lmaoooo TYPICAL

I love a Lindsey cover. Silver Angel, Defy Not the Heart, Tender is the Storm all come to mind. Any naked man cover.

I love the original cover for Indigo by Beverly Jenkins.

I LOVE the original cover for A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux, that shit fucks so hard.

I love the original covers for A Hunger Like No Other and Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night by Kresley Cole. Those are both werewolf books, and damn if it doesn't look like those guys are about to literally eat their heroines alive.

I have a lot of issues with covers, both as someone who enjoys art and as a creative who works with creatives.

So first off--outright, I hate AI covers. I do not automatically jump to blaming authors, especially trad authors. Trad published authors usually don't have the final say on their covers. And even when they do have influence (which is typically restricted, beyond a bare "what do you like?" to big names) they aren't usually instructing "and use this graphic designer" this artist, etc. They don't have that kind of power. I don't think that most of them know AI is being used for their covers until they know.

And even indie authors, I don't want to automatically assume are using AI. There have been vocal AI defenders out there (Kerrigan Byrne, Elsie Silver, though I don't know if either has used AI covers yet). But I'll be real, I know that the vast majority of indie authors outsource, and there have absolutely been cases in the past in which authors have been tricked by designers or cover manufacturers. I can think of one such case in which Laura Thalassa, a fairly known indie author at the time, found out after the fact that her cover designer had reused or stolen a cover that was already sold to a different author. She had to replace the cover. That wasn't her fault. I don't expect authors to know AI off the bat, either. I am fairly certain that there are designers and manufacturers passing off AI covers to authors who don't know any better.

I absolutely know there are authors intentionally using AI for covers, and not only does it create a poorer quality product--it deprives creatives of jobs and also often steals from existing imagery without compensating the original artists.

ANYWAY. That aside, I generally am disappointed with a lot of book covers today, and not just with historicals. Obviously, I prefer the old school stepbacks with painted covers and the gorgeous work of artists like Robert McGinnis and Pino. I majored in art history; I love art; I think romance novel covers are so unique and have their own special space, and I think that we are absolutely losing that art form, and it makes me sad. I love stepbacks, I miss stepbacks. I collect old school covers. I don't think we will ever get those back, because publishing is so dominated by capitalism and it is obviously more expensive to make those covers.

(I'll also add--paranormal romances used to have some killer illustrated covers too, which have been replaced by more digital, photoshop heavy covers. Take a look at the original A Hunger Like No Other cover. SO GOOD.)

But even the digital photographic stepback and covers are fading out, and I'm sad about that too. I really dislike these cartoonified covers from authors like Evie Dunmore (Tessa Dare and Suzanne Enoch have also been getting cartoonified covers or re-covers). I hate them for contemporaries, too. Like, I would take a million covers with shirtless guys on them versus the cartoony covers. I think the cartoony covers are confusing, they make it difficult to know a book's heat level, and they express a level of shame about the genre that I can't get behind.

Like, honestly? If you're that embarrassed to be reading romance a) do you really love romance or b) use your e-reader or audiobooks. I don't get this concept of like... hiding what you're reading from the world.

So yeah, I have an issue with current cover trends visually, ethically, morally, and like... societally lmao

#romance novel blogging #i also find it interesting that as the demand for more racial gender and body diversity in covers (and books in gen) has increased #the covers have become less realistic and representative of actual humans #(and models who aren't skinny cis white people are being deprived of jobs that were plentiful when it was just skinny cis white people)

[nagirambles]

Rambling about Fairies - Manga Chapter 170

Honestly, I love the wonderful and tragic implication of Lisanna being alive in Edolas. it’s great it turned out to be Lisanna and the reunion with Mira and Elf is so beautiful, but I fully understand people who don’t like it too. 

There just wasn’t any meaningful buildup to that reveal before we were suddenly given whiplash at the end of the arc. It felt like a shock for the sake of shock, especially since Lisanna doesn’t do anything meaningful narratively after she returns. 

I’ll say it first. I love Lisanna a lot. A LOT. But only in flashbacks and as my fan version of her. In canon, Mashima chucked her aside and sometimes I almost wished she stayed dead because I loved her as who she was in the flashback, as someone so kind and meaningful to everyone. After she came back, Mashima stopped caring about her character, and everything I once loved about Lisanna just stopped happening and was replaced by another face in the crowd. I wish she continued being a wonderful and hailed character, and Mashima should have stopped before he ruined her. 

Often I wonder how it all would have been with a Lisanna that truly wasn’t ours. If this truly was Edo-Lisanna instead of Earth’s. I love how tragic the Nali story is, similarly to how I love how tragic Jude and Lucy’s story is. It just adds so much depth around Natsu’s personality and dynamics with other characters, and I feel that is a bittersweet note of growth and development for him. 

This moment was a powerful climax to Lisanna’s so long buildup of existence. I just wish more was done with it in Edolas before she just returned home. Did she even need to return home? Like, even if it wasn’t to bring her home, what was the point of reintroducing her in Edolas if she wasn’t to become an important/semi-vital part of the Edolas narrative like Edo-Lucy? It would capitalize on their similarities one last time, you know? 

I wish more was done with her potential in Edolas, because just look. Natsu was about to cry. Lisanna being here actually brought a genuine, emotional tear to Natsu’s eyes, and as I’ve mentioned, we don’t usually see that in the manga.

I wanted to see more of this. More of Natsu figuring out how to deal with Lisanna being alive here. I want a dilemma of him not knowing if he should care for her, if he should ignore her, if he can ignore her. Not just Natsu nonchalantly moving on to the serious issues, that makes no sense. (Even if you don’t ship Nali romantically, please, you’ve got to understand, his long-dead childhood friend showed up alive. Who just moves on like it’s nothing?) There was so much buildup to how much Lisanna meant to all of them, so Mashima not following through with it upsets me just as much as the Mystogan-Wendy situation. 

Heck, not just Natsu, I want Happy to react! Natsu is strong enough to hold back, Happy is lost and confused and there’s no better opportunity for him to run to Lisanna for comfort because someone he thought was dead is alive. 

So you know, I will forever despise how Mashima turned this situation comedic for no reason. It’s just so tone deaf to the buildup thus far. Even if that wasn’t their Lisanna, Natsu deserved a moment to actually be vulnerable and express his damn emotions without being thrown into a comedic light. 

Like, I just want Natsu and Lisanna to interact. How ridiculous is it that they don’t ever interact? Literally Lucy and Gray gatekeeps him from it, they can’t even share a greeting before Lisanna is whisked back into being nothing, the plot captures them, and they never interact again. 

This is the stupidest way to end their old friendship without any closure, and I can’t believe anyone could justify this horrible writing. Even the fucking Mystogan-Wendy reunion had more substance to it and that is also rock bottom. 

#rambling about fairies #fairy tail #ch170 #edolas arc #i'm reaching #lisanna strauss #i have biases i'm sorry

[slightlysadfilter]

SPOILER: ACOTAR, FOLK OF THE AIR SAGA

Honestly I hate people who think acotar and the cruel prince saga are anything alike.

They're both about fae. That's it.

To begin with, Feyre and Jude are polar opposites. Feyre is described as this incredibly pretty and talented woman (painting, hunting, fighting- and later on magic, literally anything) with a darkish past who doesn't seem to possess a shred of selfishness, and who is constantly thinking about sacrificing herself. But Jude is a damn antihero. Her dark past has become her routine, she's good at some things (like swordsmanship) and there's a reason for that. She doesn't think about sacrificing herself, she thinks about sacrificing others first. She'll fight for her loved ones, and that's it. The casual heroic moments (like saving that human) come of a place of hatred towards who wronged HER. Jude thinks logically, Feyre thinks emotionally.

And about the love interest and the whole enemies-to-lovers (skipping Tamlin, he doesn't matter). So Rhysand- a man with no faults. Tragic past and present, looks evil until he looks less evil and after the very exhaustive explanation before they fuck, the enmity feels like a long lost memory. If I went on with criticism about this notion this post would be too long, so here it is: the author wants you to think that he's actually a misunderstood hero. He's a reliable, kind, dominant man who's powerful and is secretly as selfless as Feyre, ready to die for half a citizen of Velaris. Valiant and whatnot. Cardan is a dick, and so he remains. There's a redemption arc, not a justification arc. We know he shares a dark past too, but ultimately his actions are never excused and it's about three books before Jude starts thinking of him on the more tender side, rather than with hatred or pragmatic scheming. He's certainly charming but, unlike Rhys, he's not reliable. He drinks, he parties, he participates in hedonistic scenarios with gusto. Responsibility be gone (he spends two and a half books getting drunk); he's all arrogant and smug till Jude claims she'll cut him and then it's downhill from then. Cardan is a sub, we should all accept and celebrate that. So basically, they're also polar opposites.

About the dynamic, acotar involves a relationship where the power never shifts. The power is given to Feyre, because there's a mating bond, because it happens to be Rhys who will suddenly act as the only feminist in Prythian, because she died and more powerful people decided to resuscitate her. It's always something that is given, and with which Feyre will work with a little, and that's all I honestly got from those two. The enmity dissolves and we're suddenly upon two heroes at the end of the third book. Jude, however, takes her power with a series of ponderate and perhaps cruel decisions. Cardan gives her the crown, but she's actually been the crown ever since she took the seneschal role. Cardan confirms her power but is, ultimately, powerless. He's been powerless ever since Jude got the geas and started drinking poison. He's been powerless ever since his birth. It's actually Jude who gives him power, lets him have it in the end. The enmity is very real, their bad actions remain bad actions, and learn to trust and long for one another without any morally higher justification.

The other characters. As they tend to be archetypes in acotar, shifting from something as simple as "the father" to the beautiful, never imperfect Fae. Femme fatale, muscular men, the good ones and the bad ones rendered in an almost cartoonish way at times. I like how in fota not everyone is pretty, with enchanting auras and exuding raw fae sexual tension at all times. Characters feel more like real people, rather than concepts.

Lastly, acotar fits in a vibe that I would call inexorably straight. It's like, if one of my mom's cool friends wrote a book which is actually a code for the desire she felt for that one six-packed surfist she met at a beach in her youth. There's just so much heteronormativity. Something I feel much less in Fota, because it's not there. Cardan and Jude are that one straight couple that doesn't feel straight at all.

And that's it for now. Might continue this one day

#acotar #fota #folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #rhysand