#Jude Saves the World

[transbookoftheday]

Jude Saves the World by Ronnie Riley

Twelve-year-old Jude struggles with some things: focusing at school, feeling like everything rests on their shoulders, not being able to come out as nonbinary to their old-fashioned grandparents. But Jude doesn't struggle with Dallas, their best friend in the whole world. Their person.

Jude and Dallas's world changes when they learn Stevie, a girl in their class, has been ousted from the popular clique at school. Worried it had something to do with Stevie's rumored crush on another girl, Jude reaches out to see if Stevie is okay. Stevie quickly becomes an important friend to Jude and Dallas, whose unwavering acceptance of her is a stark contrast to the tests and dysfunction she experienced with her former friend group.

As their friendship deepens and the three open up to each other, Stevie's unconditional and open acceptance when Jude comes out to her motivates them to create a queer safe space in their community. Jude has the courage and determination it takes to create the first Diversity Club in their community, but will they be able to find the support they need to make it happen?

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Contemporary Middle Grade with Nonbinary MCs, Part I

Jude Saves the World by Ronnie Riley Alice Austen Lived Here and Green by Alex Gino Jamie by L.D. Lapinski Ana on the Edge and Ellen Outside the Lines by A.J. Sass The Fabulous Zed Watson! by Kevin Sylvester and Basil Sylvester

[qualitymoonsuit]

I just started reading Jude Saves the World, by Ronnie Riley.

[qualitymoonsuit]

Oh, this book is excellent!

Jude Saves the World by Ronnie Riley

goodreads

Twelve-year-old Jude struggles with some things: focusing at school, feeling like everything rests on their shoulders, not being able to come out as nonbinary to their old-fashioned grandparents. But Jude doesn't struggle with Dallas, their best friend in the whole world. Their person. Jude and Dallas's world changes when they learn Stevie, a girl in their class, has been ousted from the popular clique at school. Worried it had something to do with Stevie's rumored crush on another girl, Jude reaches out to see if Stevie is okay. Stevie quickly becomes an important friend to Jude and Dallas, whose unwavering acceptance of her is a stark contrast to the tests and dysfunction she experienced with her former friend group. As their friendship deepens and the three open up to each other, Stevie's unconditional and open acceptance when Jude comes out to her motivates them to create a queer safe space in their community. Jude has the courage and determination it takes to create the first Diversity Club in their community, but will they be able to find the support they need to make it happen?

Mod opinion: I haven't read this book yet, but I've heard quite good things about it!

[spursjude]

IM BACK cause we have el clasico in two days like it’s my new reason to be alive

[transrevolutions]

a respite

[puzzlevision]

found this old but wonderful doodle of mine on my google photos

meet the origaynal inezer elevn trio featuring mamoor enzo, yoot kiddy, and shooyer gowenjey

[introvertgoat]

hc that throughout the years, jude takes leaves of absences form being high queen to go spend a couple months w vivi heather n oak !!! madoc too ig while he’s still exiled lol. ( vehemently ignoring the stolen heir’s canon sorry not sorry.) family bonding time, far away from the hubbub n chaos of the folk, n also the realization that jude doesn’t mind the mortal world all that much. yes it’s not faerieland, but it’s smth alright n she finds it soothing at times. she’s less unhinged n paranoid compared to when she was younger n the ptsd from her past has decreased in its intensity thanks to heather-mandated therapy ( heather only had to hear a couple times abt the duarte sisters’ fucked up childhood for her to plead jude to go to therapy—vivi alrdy has— n jude relented after 5 yrs of honest-to-god begging. big slay heather our mental health queen 🫂) and so that’s why she can even leave faerieland in someone else’s hands. these visits aren’t too frequent but they r long in their duration. 3-4 months tops. sometimes cardan comes along bcs the bed feels empty w/o jude n— Okay he’s js lonely w/o his wife. sue him. some poor hapless councilor advisor is forced to be in charge in their place (they send letters weekly. ‘please your majesties, when will you be returning home ?’ #urgent LOL) one day jude (age:37) notices grey hairs appearing on her head n she sort of freaks out. not in an entirely vain way either. more like:. oh fuck aren’t i supposed to not age as long as im in faeirieland ?? 3 long discussions later w cardan n the royal folk-human specialist, the conclusion that is reached is that bcs of jude’s visits to the mortal word, as infrequent as they r, theyve seemed to affect the way her body ages. or more aptly put, doesn’t age lol. jude gets some grey hair n lines on her face while still technically NOT aging. n she feels less panicky abt it bcs hey she’s not aging. sort of. meanwhile, cardan finds himself deeply enamored w jude’s grey hair n the subtle creases on her face that multiply slowly. he tells jude js so n she’s like i am not susceptible to flattery cardan greenbriar. hes Serious abt it tho n tells her that he isn’t saying that bcs it’ll make her feel better or wtv but bcs her aging evidently is actually beautiful to him. cue jude sour pursed lips for a bit as she gets these days when it comes to cardan being unbearably earnest towards her but she feels less weird abt the hair n lines so :)

anyways this was a long-winded niche asf hc that appeals to exactly only 2 ppl on this site n im not even confident in THAT estimate lol

[scaredysap]

tfw there are four entire villains in front of you but you only have eyes for your boy

[francesderwent]

I honestly think I would hate Holly Black’s Modern Faerie Tales—hate them with a real, robust, righteous hatred—except that I know where they lead. every story is all pyrrhic victories and corruption arcs, the people we root for are terrible and lost, but at least they stay free! at least they’re not as terrible as the people in that far-off court seeking to keep everyone under its thumb! but I know. I know that in that far-off court that is the worst of what Faerie has to offer, the seeds of a story have been planted. a story that plunges into corruption and compromise, but doesn’t stop there. vulnerability and trust will overcome the the cowardice of power and control, and the modern faerie tale world will give birth to a fairy tale ending.

[ameinasworld]

Desperate plea: A Call For Relief !!💔🙏💔

Hello, I am Amina, I am writing to you from the most miserable place in the world and I feel deeply grateful to all of you. Your support means a lot to me and my family.

I strongly appeal to you to continue sharing our campaign with your friends, family and acquaintances.

It has been 15 months that feel like 15 years and our suffering is increasing day by day.

My children's health is deteriorating day by day, especially my daughter Jude, who needs treatment for an endocrine disease and because we do not have healthy food.

Finding a quiet, healthy and clean place is impossible!

I am in dire need of serious financial support so that I can take the necessary measures and save my family!

Our faces speak volumes about the misery we are going through. My children cannot bear the cruelty of this world.

Imagine how vast this universe is, we can't escape to a safe place away from war .

We depend on your donations to provide shelter, basic daily necessities and provide good treatment. We need your contributions and support. No matter how small it is to you, it makes a difference to my family.

Please support us with $5 or $10 or any donation you can make will be greatly appreciated Our campaign has been

vetted by Ghost 90

PayPal

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[vampiredaisiesss]

touch me — d.w. x reader

synopsis - you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. the lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter. you find him all the more beautiful like this.

trigger warning - older dean winchester (early 40s) with younger reader (early 20s)

He thinks about time, about how it marks you, about how each silver strand falling to the floor is another reminder of all the years between the two of you.

The harsh glare of the bathroom light is unforgiving, casting every line on his face into sharp focus. Dean watches your reflection in the mirror. The gentle snip-snip echoes off the tile walls as you work the scissor over his hair, your lip caught between your teeth.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror from your shower, making the edges of your reflection soft, dream-like. Your tank top's damp where his hair falls against it, and there's something so domestic about this moment it makes his chest ache.

You hum "Hey Jude" while you work, because of course you know that's what Mary sang when she cut his hair. Of course you know that's what he sometimes hummed in his sleep whenever he'd have a nightmare.

"You're thinking too loud, again," you murmur, running your fingers through the short hairs at his nape.

"I've got shirts older than you," he says finally, the words tasting bitter on tongue.

You laugh out loud, and it sounds like every good thing he probably doesn't deserve. "And they're all flannel, and they all smell like gunpowder and cheap liquor that you probably spilled on them two decades ago, but never got dry-cleaned, and I love them." Your smile turns soft at the edges. "Just like I love the man wearing them."

"Kid—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Don't 'kid' me, Dean Winchester. Not when you're balls deep inside me every night." You pause for just enough time to fix him a determined stare, and he offers you a small smile.

"You think I don't know who I'm choosing? You think I haven't counted every scar, every gray hair, every year you spent saving the world before I was old enough to know it needed saving?"

The scissor is forgotten on the countertop as you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. Your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. The lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter.

You find him all the more beautiful like this.

Dean's throat tightens. You're stripping him bare with your touch. "Exactly. You could have anyone. Someone who—"

He swallows hard, but he's smiling now. His chest feels heavier with something else. "When you say it like that, sounds like I should be in a museum, not your bed."

"Someone who what? Someone who hasn't survived forty years in hell? Someone who doesn't wake up reaching for a weapon? Someone who doesn't understand why I keep rock salt by the bed and devil's traps under the rugs?" You shake her head. "I don't want easy, Dean. I want you."

"There," you say finally, brushing loose hair from his neck. Your lips find that sensitive spot behind his ear, and he can feel you smile against his skin.

"Please," You chuckle. Your hands slide back into his hair, resuming cutting. "Museums are for looking, not touching. "And I'm very..." snip "...very..." snip "...fond of touching you."

"Touch me," he says, and it comes out like a prayer he never learned properly – rough and wanting and holy all at once. It curls around your heart in the shape of Dean's hand.

He reaches up, catches your hand before you can move away.

You touch him like you're reading braille, like every freckle on his body has a story to tell. Your lips trace constellations across the map of blue veins over his body. And when you finally put your lips on the scar along the side of his hip — the first ever souvenir he collected on his skin — you feel the smallest tremor in his breath. It’s so faint, but unmistakable, and for a moment, you could almost swear you made Dean Winchester mewl.

And you do.

[qualitymoonsuit]

More New Books.

I just got 3 more new books in the mail. The 1st book is called Last Canto of the Dead, by Daniel Jose Older. The 2nd book is called Jude Saves the World, by Ronnie Riley. The 3rd and final book is called Graysen Foxx and the Treasure of Principal Redbeard, by J. Scott Savage.

[mohammedjn1987]

I am Engineer Mohamed Jamil Omar Nashwan, and my wife is Lubna Mohamed Khalil Nashwan. We have five children: two sons, Jamil and Ahmed, and three daughters, Elif, Jwan, and Jude. We used to live in a house in northern Gaza. My wife worked at a beauty salon, and I worked for a company.

Suddenly, war broke out and destroyed everything. Our house was demolished, the beauty salon was destroyed, and my workplace was ruined. Now, we are living in a torn tent in the middle of Gaza, specifically in Deir al-Balah. We have no money, no proper shelter, and no food. We rely on aid, which is often insufficient.

Here I sit, helpless, with nothing left. Our lives have completely fallen apart. My children are hungry and have no clothes, and my wife suffers from heart disease. I urgently appeal for your help. I will attach photos to illustrate our current situation. We desperately need your donations with love, compassion, and kindness.

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[latin5mamii]

5:42 am

genre: JudeBellingham x you; cute and fluff

summary: After a whole night of no-sleep, you decide to help your boyfriend forget about his overthinking for once.

author's note: Cute and fluffy! Didn't want to make it too depressing so i added a bit of humor; i know this is work is unexpected but i'm getting a lot of inspiration rn!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

The world is still asleep when Jude wakes, moving with the careful precision of someone practiced in not disturbing the peace. His hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and he shifts cautiously to sit up on the edge of the bed.

The room is dark save for the faint blue light creeping through the curtains, a soft haze that makes everything feel slower, quieter.

He doesn’t hear you stir behind him.

The mattress dips slightly as you roll over, and he freezes. For a second, he thinks you’ll fall back asleep, but your voice—soft and warm like the blankets tangled around you—breaks the silence.

"You're already up"

It’s not a question, and there’s no frustration in your tone—just a quiet understanding. Before every match, he could never sleep. He’d toss and turn, get up for water, but he could never settle—especially now, with so much to think about.

Jude glances over his shoulder, a little sheepish as he meets your sleepy gaze.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs. His voice is a whisper, rough from the early hour.

“You didn’t.” You stretch slightly, the movement slow and lazy. “You never do.”

He smiles at that—small, almost imperceptible in the low light. You sit up halfway, leaning on your elbow as you watch him tug on a sweatshirt over his T-shirt.

“Don’t go just yet,” you say, voice still quiet but carrying a softness that stops him mid-motion. “Come back here for a minute; you have so much time left. ”

Jude doesn't hesitate even for a second as soon as he sees you—still cocooned in blankets, your hair messy and your eyes heavy-lidded but bright. It’s not a hard choice, not really.

He slips back into bed without a word, settling beside you. Your arm loops around his waist instinctively, and he leans into it, letting his head rest against yours.

The silence in the room is thick but comforting, punctuated only by the faint hum of the world outside—a car passing, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jude’s breathing evens out as he melts into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders softening. You run your hand gently along his back, tracing patterns you don’t think about but that he seems to feel, leaning into each movement.

“You think too much,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but close enough that he hears it.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his arm drapes over you, pulling you closer. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel him exhale deeply, as if the weight of what you said has settled somewhere in his chest.

“I just want to get it right,” he murmurs, finally. The words are small but heavy, like they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days.

“You always do.”

The response is automatic, and you mean it—every syllable. You wish you could pull his thoughts away, fold it neatly into something manageable. But for now, all you can do is hold him.

Jude pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. The dim light softens his features—his dark eyes are wide, thoughtful, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something but decides against it.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing a hand through his hair, which is still slightly messy from sleep.

Jude lingers in the embrace a moment longer, his face tucked against the curve of your neck, the warmth of your skin drawing out a softness he didn’t realize he needed. But when he finally shifts, there’s something lighter in his expression. He nudges his nose against your cheek, playful, and murmurs,

“You’ve turned me into a morning person, you know.”

You laugh, low and easy, your fingers pausing in his hair to tap lightly against the side of his head. “I don’t think you get to claim that title until you actually enjoy mornings, Jude.”

He pulls back enough to look at you, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “What if I just enjoy mornings with you?”

“That’s sweet,” you tease, your smile brightening the dim room. “But you still groan every time the alarm goes off, so I’m not sure it counts.”

“Details.” He grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before sitting up. The bed shifts under his weight, and you watch as he stretches, the hem of his sweatshirt riding up slightly. The sight makes you laugh—something about the way his early-morning dishevelment feels so ordinary and yet so utterly him.

He glances over his shoulder at you, catching the amused tilt of your smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, though the laughter still dances in your voice. “You’re just...cute like this.”

His ears turn a little pink, and he rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s make some coffee before you embarrass me even more.”

“Embarrass you? Never,” you shoot back, but you’re already sitting up, tossing the blankets aside. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly, reaching for the oversized sweater draped over the chair beside the bed. Jude is already standing, holding a hand out to help you up.

The two of you move quietly even though you're alone in the house, the soft shuffle of your steps the only sound. Jude goes straight to the counter, pulling out the coffee beans and the grinder.

“You want tea, right?” he asks over his shoulder, already reaching for the kettle.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning against the counter and watching him. He moves with a kind of easy precision, his focus shifting between the coffee and the kettle like it’s a little morning ritual he’s perfected. You can’t help but smile—it’s a far cry from the nerves that had him tossing and turning earlier.

“What’s funny now?” he asks, catching your expression as he sets the kettle to boil.

“Just you,” you say, your voice light. “All serious about coffee like it’s a science.”

“It is a science,” he replies, mock-indignant. “And you’re lucky I’m good at it, or you’d be stuck drinking whatever shit they call coffee down the street.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back, barely suppressing a laugh. “Says the guy who puts honey in his coffee.

Jude shakes his head, chuckling as he stirs the honey into his mug. “Is it that bad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug, fighting back a grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t say bad. Just...no okay it's actually bad.”

Jude groans dramatically, hand over his heart as if your words wounded him. “Wow. First thing in the morning, and you’re already coming for me.”

After a moment, you set your mug down and glance at him. “What do you want for breakfast? Or are we just surviving on caffeine today?”

Jude’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile. “Surviving on caffeine sounds very me,” he admits. Then, after a beat, he straightens and adds, “But pancakes sound better.”

“Pancakes?” you say, arching a brow. “Aren't you the man who claims he doesn’t need breakfast?”

“I’m evolving,” he says, feigning a look of mock importance. “Also, I think we have chocolate chips in the pantry.”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Chocolate chip pancakes at dawn? I really am impressed.”

He nudges your side playfully, grinning. “Come on, let’s do it. We’ll make them quick. I’ll even let you flip them.”

“Generous of you,” you tease, already moving toward the pantry.

The only sounds are the soft clatter of bowls and utensils as the two of you work together, gathering ingredients and mixing the batter. Jude insists he’s got the perfect pancake recipe memorized, but you end up adding a little extra milk to the bowl when he’s not looking, just to mess with him.

“What did you just do?” he asks, squinting at you suspiciously as you stir.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, biting back a grin. “Just making sure it’s not too thick.”

He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue, instead grabbing a ladle and heating the pan. “Alright, let’s see how this goes.”

The first pancake comes out a little lopsided, and you burst into laughter as Jude flips it onto a plate with exaggerated precision.

“Hey,” he says, pointing the spatula at you, “it’s not about how it looks—it’s about how it tastes.”

“Sure, Chef Jude,” you reply, still laughing as you lean against the counter, watching him pour the next one.

The second pancake is better—golden brown and perfectly round—and by the time the stack is finished, the kitchen smells like warm batter and melted chocolate. Jude sets the plate on the table with a triumphant flourish, and you grab two forks, sliding into a chair beside him.

Jude nudges your foot under the table, catching your eye as he chews his first bite.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning.

You smile back, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the pancakes. “Not bad at all.”

You pause eating and carefully set the little fork down on your plate. Looking at him, you offer a gentle smile, hoping to ease the weight of the long night.

“You’re going to do great today. I just know it.”

He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing your nose and then your cheek. After a moment, his hand settles softly on yours.

"I hope your predictions are right, then"

[1800naveen]

The amount of people that reduce Jude Duarte's character to being a bloodthirsty killer gets on my nerves. Jude is not bloodthirsty, she doesn't delight in killing people. She is trying to survive in a world that is not meant for mortals, a world that wants to break her.

She forgave Taryn and disguised herself to save Taryn after she killed Locke, took pity for Cardan when seeing him get hit by Balekin, saving the human girl Sophie and cried herself to sleep after she died, and went to save the Ghost even though he betrayed her (yes, I know the reason behind his betrayal).

Every time she takes a life, it's because that person has tried to hurt her back.

Valerian tried to kill her in Chapter 18 when he broke into her home. Jude stabs him in the chest but still tries to help him afterwards.

"He reaches for the blade as though to draw it out. Don't, I say automatically, because that will only make the wound worse. I grab for anything nearby-there is a discarded petticoat in the floor that I can use to stanch the blood. He slides down onto his side, away from me, and sneers, although he can barely open his eyes. You've got to let me-, I start." He despises her but even in his final moments, she wanted to help.

She has suffered so much in life and did things that she had to do to survive. And when she spills blood, it's not for fun. It's to protect herself or the people she loves.

Jude Duarte is not cruel like Balekin or Valerian or sees people as amusements like Locke. Jude is kind, selfless, and puts others before herself.

I love seeing her kick some ass but don't reduce her character to that. She's so much more.

🎨: Frostbite Studios

🎨: Eernarts

🎨: Illustratinghan

Me when Jude Duarte:

Me when people reduce the complexity of her character to her being a killer (y'all don't get her like I do):