something i just find so hilarious is how obsessed with being comfy and cosy jude and willem are. like okay grown man shuffling about in his wee blanket in the morning and jude staying for five more minutes
jude in dear comrade:
guess where i was today
jude just got his spotify wrapped!
one of the ways i am like jude st francis is that if there isn’t a lock on the door or i’m unable to close it i WILL have a panic attack😆
yeah there’s no way
i was really fucking stoned okay. 💔
the peeta and jude parallels lowkey…
Their (the boys in the hood) last canonical hangout all together was in April
I DIDNT NEED TO SEE THIS !
it’s just. the way to the man in rome, jude is just a good looking boy who he complemented to his father, but the man will never know everything that happened to jude. that jude thinks he’s horrifically ugly. the way jude’s story ends. it makes me so fucking ill
not going to lie a specific scene in the book that really fucking hits me sometimes and i need to double down is when someone tells harold jude is beautiful . i just can’t. there’s something so solemn about it
Thinking about JB and Jude lately…
JB, who was Jude’s first friend. JB, who carried Jude to the college hospital when he witnessed him having an episode in their dorm.
JB, who shouted and made a scene in that same hospital until a doctor finally saw Jude - and that doctor was Andy, the only physician Jude ever allowed to care for him for the rest of life.
JB, who helped Jude move into the apartment he shared with Willem on Lispenard St. JB, who brought along his friend Richard to help that day. Richard, who later sold Jude his beautiful apartment on Green Street that Jude loved so much. Richard, who secretly looked after him more than Jude ever imagined, who at one point saved his life, and at another point reminded him his birthday was worth celebrating, when Jude himself had forgotten and his world was bleak.
JB, who envied his life, his looks, his career, his relationship (even his limp!). JB, who saw him as competition, rather than someone to pity. JB, who thought he was beautiful, who thought killing something small and adorable was worth it if it meant looking like Jude.
JB, who brought him to parties, who showered him with laughter and provocations.
JB, who asked too many questions and wanted all the answers but got none of them. JB, who then asked Harold to back off from asking all the questions and wanting all the answers as well.
JB, who captured his life in galleries, on canvas, on film. The good and the bad.
JB, who’s art invaded and celebrated and decorated. JB’s, who’s art froze Willem in time for him.
JB, who was Jude’s last friend. JB, who Jude resented, who Jude hated, who Jude never forgave, who Jude wanted dead.
JB, who found him at last, who put away his suits, who handed out his letters.
JB, who outlived his friends, who was left alone, with his pictures, and his paintings, and his pain.
i just wanna let everybody know that i'm never not thinking about jude st francis. he is my every thought and i love him sm and he means the world to me