#wheeeeeeeew

listen, i feel you, but i think the best advice is to just ignore them. i feel like they come in 3 categories, all of which i see but don't spend any real energy on:

ex-bughead stans who are still pissed on jughead's behalf and wouldn't blink if jughead did what she's doing but are being weirdly performative because they really think they're making a point (see also: the people in my inbox who want tabitha for jughead because they think she'll make him better but also want betty alone to work on herself. feels like internalized misogyny to me but eh...internet gonna internet) about betty's choice of career like this show wasn't full of law enforcement before, especially because i think most of us remember all the thirst posts about jughead in that police (FBI? i don't remember) jacket when he was doing that whole training thing.

people who'd be like, "awwww, date night 🥺" and "kidnapping is a form of foreplay, right?" if bughead were working together in 5x13 but have a real problem with betty doing it alone or with tabitha. i don't really remember anyone having issues when they had chic tied up in the cooper's basement do you? or when jughead punched him? it's not like the guy she knocked out and took was trying to kill her or anything, right?

some twitter stans are really young and just repeat everything they read in an echo chamber and they don't want to fight with their mutuals or dissent from "popular" opinion.

♣ BLOOD LUST MEME.

@littlevictorys​ said:  our muses sharing a kiss that accidentally draws blood. // bruce, LISTEN...

     WASH AWAY, WASH AWAY, WASH AWAY—

Everything. The drowsiness seeping through the cracks in the asphalt, the strange faces making a home in the peripheral vision, the searing pain nesting in the eye sockets. But most of all…

     LEAVE MY WANTS AND MY FAULTS.

Not a siren wailing in the distance, no blinding lights to melt down the wet pavement. There’s just the smell of dust, the troublous pitter-patter trying to steal his undivided attention and then there’s HIM.

Joker’s rain-soaked purple coat is almost as dark as his cape. The scarlet sprinkled across the fabric of his much brighter shirt has nearly faded. Just like the ashen indifference curling up in his hues moments ago.

If he were to twitch in a way revealing he’s still up to something, would the Bat make the striking more? After all, it feels like tonight he hasn’t battered the clown enough. And that leaves him… INSATIABLE.

Unfamiliar warmth flames up at the bottom of his chest and he lifts his hands to the level of his waist. Sliding off the drained gloves, he shoves them into the pocket. Throughout all this time, his piercing gaze doesn’t let go of his. It’s like he fears that if he looks away for a mere fraction of a second, again he will disappear into the night.

     HOLD YOUR BREATH—

A part of him wants to LUNGE at him, test his reflex. But instead, he approaches him calmly, without rush. As he gets close enough, making sure there’s hardly any space between their chests, cold slender hands rest on the sides of the other’s face. Before he gets the chance to push him back, Joker’s eyes slam shut and his red-painted lips mark his.

To keep himself steady, his arms soon snake around the body he’s been this close with only when its every muscle wanted him PERISHED.

He’s GREEDY; he doesn’t even notice when his teeth gently nibble on his enemy’s bottom lip. Yet it’s sufficient to now paint HIS lips with crimson. Taste of iron at the tip of his tongue, the jester can’t help the satisfaction tugging on the corners of his mouth.