#silly little yap

[that-girl-glader]

I personally believe if reincarnation is real. It's not limited to this world, this dimension. Reincarnation should work through other dimensions INCLUDING THE DIMENSIONS OF OUR FAVOURITE MEDIAS. EVEN THE FICTIONAL ONES. So, yes. I was fucking Will Solace and Thomas (Tmr) and Sydney Novak and Jeanette Miller in my past life. So what??? Yeah I'm Miles Morales too and Kenji Kon?? So what. Now THAT'S reincarnation. RAHHHHH.

[melouthechalk]

chipi chipi chapa chapa

ok people who is here: @tibbycaps @aresonist @vexdraticc @hopepetal @applestruda and @cherrifire wont tag anyone else under bc holy kittens there's a lot

I DREW AS MUCH AS I COULD.... OH MY GOD.... and Phil as breeze too lmao (i tried)

i know so many people here...oh my god... this is tragic.....

I HOPE I DIDNT FORGOR ANY LITTLE THINGS AAAGHHHHHHH

[incessantlark]

that one photo but hoffstrahm

[ch1zzie]

HAPPY (3 hours late) HALLOWEEN!

[dookiespooky]

Driftingstars and dreamcaptor fusion au thing! This takes place right after mabel falls through the portal ig dk what im doing lmaooo

(Dreamcaptor au belongs to @neonross )

[jenneyquinn]

just remembered the fact that dipper being the reason pacifica could actually sleep better is canon

meanwhile, dipper probably lies awake at night, still thinking about that party in northwest manor stuck in that hug and silently reminiscing over how she smells like champagne and flowers like the insomniac mf he is

[froggerland]

RARE SOLVING APPEARANCE!!!!!!!

(Based on something i saw on pinterest but i cant find it for the life of me)

[lovetommyactually]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3k Ι cw: Blood, Gunshot, Major injury

[read below or on ao3]

Buck’s world came back in flashes.

Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

“Come on, Buck. Come on, wake up.”

Dammit Tommy, it’s Evan, he thought.

The words were low and urgent, threading through the pain, pulling him toward consciousness.

“Hey, Hey, just open your eyes for me. You’re fine. You’re good—just wake up, okay?”

A hand pressed against his arm, steady and firm, keeping him anchored. The pain sharpened, burning through the fog in his mind.

Buck groaned, blinking against the blinding overhead lights. His throat felt raw, his limbs heavy. He heard a sharp exhale of relief.

“—What happened?” Buck barely managed to ask, his throat dry, words slurring.

Tommy’s face hovered above him, eyes sharper than usual, scanning him like he was an emergency call. His hands were pressing something—his own flannel, bundled tightly—against Buck’s arm. Blood soaked through.

“Just stay here,” Tommy whispered. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—controlled tension. “You’ll be okay, just don’t move now. I called 911. Help is on the way.”

Buck tried to shift, but Tommy’s grip on his injured arm tightened, keeping him still.

“Don’t move,” Tommy murmured, his voice quieter now but firm. “You got shot, but it’s not bleeding too bad. No exit wound, so the bullet’s still in there.” His gaze flicked over Buck’s arm, assessing quickly. “I don’t think it hit anything major, but I can’t be sure. Probably just the muscle.” He adjusted the pressure, tightening the fabric over the wound. “You’re stable, but you need to stay still, okay?”

Buck swallowed hard, trying to process the words through the throbbing in his skull. Shot. Bullet still inside. Probably just the muscle. That meant it wasn’t that bad, right?

His eyes flickered past Tommy, and that’s when he saw the gun in the distance—the shooter, pacing erratically near the overturned tables and shattered glass.

Buck’s breath caught, but then his gaze dragged back to Tommy, to the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were squared, body coiled tight like he was ready to move at any second.

His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out. “Are you okay?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. His focus remained locked on the shooter, assessing, calculating.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice even. Too even. His grip on Buck’s arm didn’t loosen, though—steady, grounding, a silent reassurance.

The man was yelling. “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?!” His voice cracked with unhinged desperation.

Tommy inhaled slowly and got up.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. They were supposed to meet up, talk—just talk. Buck had been anxious, uncertain, but then Tommy walked in—steady, put together, looking good, he always did. And when Tommy smiled— small, warm, genuine—hope flickered to life in Buck’s chest. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought. But now, none of that mattered.

Buck blinked. “Tommy—” His fingers barely caught at Tommy’s wrist, but Tommy had already straightened up, stepping forward with careful, measured steps.

“What’s her name?” Tommy asked, voice low but steady.

The shooter’s head snapped toward him. “You—You know her? You her new boyfriend?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “No, I don’t know her,” he said simply. “But I know you don’t want to do this.”

The man’s breathing was ragged, his grip on the gun unsteady. “She won’t even talk to me! After everything I— I just want to see her. I just want her to listen.”

Tommy nodded, keeping his hands visible, his body loose. “I hear you, man. Feels like she shut you out, right?”

The shooter’s lip curled. “She’s been ignoring me for months! Like I don’t even exist! And then I come here, and—and she’s not even—” His voice cracked, his eyes darting around wildly.

Tommy took a slow step forward. “That’s gotta be frustrating. You came here to talk, and now all this happened instead.”

The man’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, this—this ain’t what I wanted. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, voice shaking. “I just want to know why. Why she left. Why she won’t answer me.”

Tommy’s hands were still up, his body still calm, every movement carefully controlled.

“I get it,” Tommy said. “I really do. It’s hard when someone walks away and you don’t get answers.” His tone softened, but not too much. He had to keep the shooter engaged, not coddle him. “But, listen—hurting people in here? That’s not gonna get you those answers, man.”

The shooter’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching around the grip. “It’s not fair,” he muttered. “It’s not fair.”

Tommy didn’t break eye contact. He took another slow step forward, careful, controlled. “I hear you. You didn’t come here to hurt anyone, right?”

The shooter hesitated, breath still ragged. “No, I— I just—” His fingers flexed around the trigger, shoulders tensing. “She won’t even listen to me. After everything I did for her—”

“I believe you,” Tommy said smoothly, voice steady. “I believe you just wanted her to hear you. And you deserve that. But this?” He nodded slightly toward the shattered glass, the overturned tables. “This isn’t gonna bring her back, man. You know that.”

For a moment, the shooter wavered. His grip on the gun loosened—just barely.

Buck barely heard the rest. His arm throbbed, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage Tommy had left behind. The coppery taste in his mouth made his stomach churn, but then—

A whimper.

Buck turned his head slightly, vision still hazy. A kid—barely five, maybe six—curled up behind an overturned chair, shaking, tears streaking his cheeks. His small hands clutched his knees, and he was whispering, repeating the same words over and over.

“Mommy, I want Mommy.”

Buck swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

“You’ll see her soon,” The kid’s eyes darted to him—red rimmed, terrified. “I know it’s scary, buddy, but we’re gonna be okay. See that guy?” Buck nodded toward Tommy, who was still keeping the shooter talking. “He’s strong. He’s gonna get us out.”

The kid’s lip wobbled. His small body trembled. “You’re… you’re dying.”

Buck forced a small, pained smile. “Nah. Just got a scratch.”

Tommy’s voice was still steady, but something about the way he was holding himself didn’t sit right.

His movements weren’t as sharp as before. His breathing—was it slower?

Buck frowned, barely able to focus through the haze in his head. His own arm pulsed with pain, but somewhere beneath the chaos, something felt wrong.

The kid didn’t believe him. His little hands clenched into fists. “I don’t wanna die. I want Mommy!” He hiccupped, panic rising, his breaths coming too fast now, too sharp. His small frame shook violently.

No.

Buck saw it an instant before it happened.

The kid snapped, bolting forward, little feet slapping against the floor, toward the chaos.

Straight toward the danger.

Buck’s stomach sank.

“Wait—!”

The shooter snapped toward the movement, instincts kicking in. His expression twisted, something between panic and rage flashing in his eyes.

“HEY!” His grip tightened on the gun—

Buck barely had time to react, his injured arm slowing him down as he lunged forward to grab the kid. The shooter lifted the gun. Buck saw his finger twitch on the trigger.

A flicker of movement.

A blur of motion.

Gunfire.

A choked sound.

Buck flinched, expecting pain—expecting the worst

But it wasn’t him.

Buck barely registered the body colliding with the shooter, the gun clattering to the floor, Tommy’s grunt of pain as he twisted, bringing the man down hard against the shattered glass.

Then—sirens.

The piercing wail cut through the air, growing louder, flashing red and blue outside. Someone shouted, but Buck didn’t hear the words.

Tommy wasn’t moving.

Buck struggled to sit up, adrenaline forcing him through the pain. “Tommy?” His own voice sounded distant, the rush in his ears deafening.

Tommy was on his side, breathing shallowly, fingers still twisted in the shooter’s jacket, keeping him pinned even as his strength faded.

His other hand—Buck’s stomach dropped.

Blood.

Pooling beneath his fingers. Dark. Spreading.

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his vision narrowing. No. No, no, no—

He scrambled closer, ignoring the fire in his own arm, pressing his good hand against Tommy’s.

It wasn’t just pooling—it was creeping outward, slow at first, then faster, seeping into the cracks of the floor, staining everything it touched. The warmth of it spread beneath Buck’s palm, slick and wrong. He pressed harder, but it kept coming. Too much. Too fast. The coppery scent thickened in the air, curling in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped. “Hey, Hey.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched weakly against the shooter’s jacket, his breath uneven. His eyes barely opened, unfocused.

Then, voice barely above a whisper— “The guy?”

Buck swallowed hard, blinking through the sting in his eyes. “Yeah, out. He’s out. I think he hit his head.”

“…Good.” Then his fingers slipped from the fabric of the shooter’s jacket. His body sagged, the last of his strength givingout.

“Shit—Tommy.”

Buck shifted quickly, his free hand moving from the wound to ease Tommy onto his back, trying to keep him steady as his body went slack.

Tommy grimaced, a sharp, pained inhale slipping through his teeth.

“I got you,” Buck murmured, his hand pressing down firmly on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Just stay with me, okay?”

Tommy gave a slow, unsteady nod.

Then his eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, Buck saw it—the pain breaking through the steel.

“…Fuck,” Tommy muttered, voice weak, a bitter, almost amused breath leaving him. “Didn’t—didn’t even feel that one.”

Buck barely breathed. His hand pressed harder against Tommy’s side, warm blood slick against his fingers. Too much blood.

Tommy exhaled sharply, shifting just slightly—and then he winced. His brow furrowed, like he was noticing something for the first time.

He blinked down at himself. "...Huh." His voice was almost puzzled, like the thought barely registered.

Buck followed his gaze and froze.

A second patch of blood—darker, smeared along Tommy’s jeans. His thigh.

Not from the gunshot just now. From before.

Buck’s stomach dropped. “Are you—” His voice broke, panic surging through him. “You were already shot?”

Tommy let out a breathy chuckle, dazed. “Guess so.” His fingers weakly gripped Buck’s wrist, half-hearted reassurance. “Didn’t notice.”

Didn’t notice.

Buck wanted to cry. "Okay, okay, you're okay—just breathe."

Tommy’s lips twitched—or maybe they were just trembling now. “Didn’t I t-tell you not t’ move?”

Buck let out a strangled laugh, something close to a sob. “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

A noise outside. Help was here. But so was the blood pooling beneath Tommy.

Buck leaned closer, grip tightening, his pulse hammering in his ears. “You stay awake, okay? Help is here. Just—just please stay with me.”

Tommy’s fingers curled weakly into Buck’s sleeve, his grip barely there, but there.

“Bu—Evan…” His voice was thin, broken by a sharp inhale. His body shuddered.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Tommy’s hold tightened for just a second.

“Evan, I—” His voice cracked, a faint wheeze threading through his words. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize—”

A cough tore through him, wet and weak. His breath hitched, and Buck felt the tremor beneath his hands.

“Tommy, stop,” Buck pleaded, panic thick in his throat. “You’re gonna be fine, just save it, okay? You can tell me later.”

But Tommy shook his head—just barely.

“Had to say it,” he murmured, voice slipping. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. “Was h’rd the…’thout you…”

Buck swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I know,” he whispered.

Tommy’s lips barely moved, but Buck caught it.

“…Loved…” It was barely more than a breath—a whisper, slipping between them.

The word faded on his tongue, unfinished. His grip on Buck’s sleeve slackened.

“Tommy?” His voice cracked, sheer terror ripping through him. “Tommy, hey, no, stay with me—”

“Tommy!” Buck’s voice rose.

But Tommy wasn't answering.

Buck pressed harder against the wound, his palm slick with blood, his hands shaking.

“Tommy,” Buck rasped, shaking him slightly. "Come on, open your eyes baby, just—just look at me."

Nothing.

No response.

The flashing lights flooded the room, red and blue bouncing off shattered glass. Boots pounded against the floor, heavy and fast. Someone was shouting orders.

A hand gripped Buck’s shoulder, trying to pull him back. but Buck fought them, twisting, shoving—he couldn't let go.

"No—wait, wait—he's not—Tommy!"

But the world was spinning, voices blurring together, hands forcing him away.

But all Buck could see was Tommy, unmoving, eyes slipping closed, blood staining his shirt, and the word echoing in his mind over and over.

Loved.

Loved you.

Loved me?

Loved.

-

The world swam back into focus slowly, thick and disoriented—white lights, the steady beeping of a monitor, the distant murmur of voices. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tight, lungs struggling to expand properly.

A hand pressed gently against his shoulder. “Easy, easy, Buck. You’re fine.”

Buck’s head turned sluggishly. “…Chim?”

“Yeah, you got me,” Chim said. “Maddie was just here—she’s coming back in a minute.”

Buck barely processed it. His body felt heavy, numb, like he was floating—but then—

Tommy.

Buck’s pulse spiked. "Tommy—? TOMMY!"

“Breathe, Buck—”

“No, Chimney, Tommy, he was—he was—”

“Buck.”

A new voice.

Buck whipped his head toward it, eyes still bleary but instantly locking onto Maddie as she entered the room.

“He’s fine, Buck.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. "Fine?"

Chim nodded, his tone light. “He’s alive, Buck. Just got out of surgery about an hour ago. Woke up for a minute, but then drifted back off. Surprisingly, you’ve been out longer than he has.” He gave Buck a teasing grin, trying to lift the mood.

Buck sucked in a breath, his throat tight, burning. “I need to see him.”

Maddie exhaled, already knowing there was no point arguing. “Buck, you just had sur—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chim cut in, sighing as he got up. “He won’t listen. Let’s take him to his room.”

"You need to be checked first,” Maddie insisted.

The minutes the nurse checked him, and the surgeon explaining his injury, felt like a lifetime.

-

Tommy was awake.

He lay still in the bed, his face pale, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. When he turned his head and saw Buck, a faint smile tugged at his lips, weak but sincere.

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath, something tight, angry, relieved twisting in his chest.

“Tommy, if you try to leave me again in any way, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Tommy huffed out the smallest, breathy laugh. “Violence? Really? I just woke up.”

Buck’s throat burned,, a mix of worry and relief. His hands curling into fists. “And it’s Evan!”

Tommy blinked at that, lips twitching like he wanted to say something smart, but all he did was nod, slow.

Before either of them could say more, the door swung open.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Sargent grant.” “Athena.”

Tommy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “The guy?”

“He’s in custody.”

Tommy exhaled, half-relief, half-exhaustion.

“He was on drugs,” Athena continued, arms crossing over her chest. “Apparently, his ex-wife used to come here a lot. He must’ve been high, looking for her.”

“Anyone else?” Tommy asked.

Athena shook her head. “Just you two.” She paused. “Because you were sitting closest to the door.”

Tommy shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but winced, the movement clearly uncomfortable. “Huh.”

Buck studied him. “Huh?”

Tommy looked at him with half-lidded eyes, his voice slow and groggy. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

Athena watched them both carefully, then sighed. “I’ll be back later for your statements, and I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake. And—” she shot Buck a pointed look “—that you snuck in here before you were cleared.”

Buck didn’t even react, his focus locked on Tommy.

A nurse came in to check Tommy’s vitals, adjusting the IV and making sure everything was steady. After a moment, she helped him sit up, propping him against the pillows. Then, she stepped back, nodding to the surgeon who entered next.

Then the surgeon explained Tommy’s surgery— The first shot, the one in his thigh, hadn’t gone deep—just a graze, but deep enough to bleed. The kind of wound that looked worse than it was. The kind of wound Tommy had barely even noticed at the time.

The second bullet had hit his spleen, causing major blood loss. The surgeons had been able to repair the damage, but in the end, they had to remove it.

He’d be okay. It would take time, but he’d be okay.

And then they were alone.

Tommy let out a breath, then huffed out something resembling a laugh. “No appendix, and now no spleen. What’s next?”

“Not funny.”

Tommy blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder weakly. “A little funny.”

Buck didn’t even bother responding. This wasn’t funny. None of this was. And then the words slipped out before Buck could stop them— “You said loved.”

Tommy blinked. “Did I?”

Buck didn’t waver. “You loved me.”

Tommy opened his mouth—then closed it.

Then, slowly, he sank deeper into the bed, exhaling softly. His gaze flickered away for just a second—like admitting it would make it impossible to take back.

Then, barely above a whisper—raw, honest, a little tired— “I did… still do.”

Buck let out a slow, shaky breath. The weight of the last few hours, the last few months, settling all at once.

His fingers moved before his mind could catch up.

His fingertips ghosted over Tommy’s knuckles, tracing along the edge of his hand, before finally curling around it.

Warm. Steady.

For a moment, Tommy stayed still—then, with a quiet inhale, he shifted his hand, palm turning slightly, fingers twitching before curling weakly around Buck’s. Holding on.

Buck swallowed, held Tommy’s gaze, and nodded once.

“Good.”

[hughesfilm]

actually quinn not wearing his yankees hat the one time he's at a yankees game is the most quinn thing he could've done

[puppppppppy]

What did they do to you

[arthursfuckinghat]

The sun is your halo, for it is always above you.

Arthur and Weetabix 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Scarlett Meadows

[mellohiizz]

wanted to throw together a small eclipse fed sketch with the girlies <3 partly because i miss them a lot, but also to celebrate how many of you are here, hello?? silly number

just a quick thank you to everyone who have supported me and for my wonderful mutuals who i love very much. <3 making this blog was one of the best things i've done last year, considering how horrible the rest of it was.

[suugarbabe]

have you ever tried this one? || slytherin boys

Summary: pansy can’t get enough of a new artist she discovered and everyone else is dealing with the consequences

an: my first and last modern-esque au; you’re welcome I love you @musingsofahufflepuff ; also doing this so I can selfishly have all of my crushes say my name

Warnings: slight nsfw suggestions, 18+ suggested content, be mindful of your consumption online, modern-esque au, pretending any of these slytherins dgaf about is music is muggle or not, slytherins being silly goofy.

“How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?” Enzo sang the lyrics under his breath as he flipped the page of his herbology text and scribbled a few more lines down for his upcoming essay due. The lengthy and lazy boy had brought a side table in front of a sofa so he could lay down while working.

“Do not tell me that Pansy has gotten to you too, I’ve been listening to Mattheo get lyrics wrong all week,” you plopped down on the lounge chair across from Enzo who wore a small smirk.

Mattheo scoffed as he sat down on the arm of your chair, “I have not been getting lyrics wrong. Pansy said Sabrina changes them during concerts!”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, Sabrina does, does she? You two on a first name basis now are you?” Enzo bit his bottom lip to stifle a giggle before shooting his hand out to block a cushion thrown at him by Matty.

“You’re just upset because Pansy showed me what Junior positions are and your jealous of the ones I’ve been coming up with,” Mattheo stuck out his tongue and you quickly reached out like you were going to grab it.

He let out a small yelp, leaning backwards and unceremoniously falling onto the common room floor, “You’re an idiot, Matty. Serves you right. And it’s Juno positions, not Junior.”

Enzo nodded his head in agreeance with you, “Yeah, Matt. Have you ever tried this one?” Enzo sang his last sentence before sticking his long leg straight up in the air and hip thrusting slightly.

You groaned, slapping a hand over your face as you heard Mattheo bark out a laugh before standing up and walking over to the table in front of Enzo. “Have you ever tried this one?”

Matty placed one foot on the side table before miming grabbing someone’s hips in front of him and humping the air twice. Both boys started cracking up, nearly doubling over with laughter.

Much to your dismay, Theo had made his way over and asked what was so funny. Before you could throw a silencing charm their way they informed him. Causing Theo to grow a devilish grin before singing himself, “Have you ever tried this one?”

Theo stood near the arm rest of the couch, a fist out in front of him miming what you could only assume was him grabbing someone’s hair while swinging his other hand in a motion similar to smacking someone’s ass as he trust his hips forward a few times.

“You sods are fucking disgusting,” you pointed a finger accusingly. Enzo rolled his eyes, “You’re just jealous because you wouldn’t be able to come up with a good one.” You raised your eyebrows challengingly.

“Have you ever tried this one?” You sang as you flip yourself on the lounge chair until you were upside down, head hanging off the edge and opening your mouth is a small *pop* sound.

All three boys’ mouths fell open slightly before clearing their throats, Enzo shamelessly tugging on the crotch of his trousers, “Merlin, have you actually done that position before?”

You shrugged your shoulders, turning to sit upright, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Here's a fun little Kyle Rayner headcanon for y'all:

You can gauge how serious/pissed Kyle is by how fancy his constructs are

Like his default mode is making goofy jokes or elaborate works of art just because he can. Whether it's a giant teddy bear or a floating head with a straw, if the constructs are funny or cool, you know Kyle's just chilling or having fun like he usually does

If he's up against a more dangerous enemy though, Kyle will resort to simpler stuff. Mostly weapons, like arrows or swords, but without any of the flair that he usually adds to them. Those are the signs of Kyle Rayner focusing his full attention on a fight and forgoing his usual lightheartedness

But if Kyle's not using constructs at all? If he's resorting to pure energy blasts and raw power? That's a sure sign that shit's hit the fan and the bad guys are about to learn some very hard lessons

[xxgoldie]

Do you think Seth has that instinct cats do where he “play bites” or love bites sometimes and if the reader pulls away, again he does what cats do, and his prey drive is activated and he chases after?

I could definitely see that. I feel like Seth, like a lot of Thirens, would suppress a lot of his more animalistic instincts, especially while on the job. But when it's just the two of you, he lets down his guard and sometimes he just gets the urge to bite. Usually when your hand is near his face, like if your arm is round his shoulder or you're petting his hair - he's perfectly content, and then something kicks in and he has to give you a little chomp. While idt his prey drive would be that high, if you move your hand away too fast his head will automatically follow and try to give you another bite before he realises what he's doing. If you make any indication it actually hurt, though, he will Definitely do the cat thing where they immediately apologise by giving you little kisses where they bit you, reminding you you're only playing. and then bite you again.

I also think his cat tendencies come out extra when he's sleepy. If you catch him when he's just woken up you could so get him with a laser pointer. he won't get up and chase it but if you keep it in his arms reach he'll try to catch it. also if you get him a body pillow (PLAIN ONE, I KNOW THIS SITE WELL ENOUGH) he will hold it like a kicker toy and sometimes, especially if he has an intense dream, he'll start actually kicking it in his sleep. like the crazy superspeed scratch-kicking. goofball that he is.

[sageiii]

Hc that when Jason got adopted and was introduced to the giant ass manor library, he was determined to read every book there(like any reasonable 12 year old would do upon finding out there was a whole ass library in their house) but he needed a way to remember what he thought of the books, and Alfred or Bruce or someone suggested some sort of social media or blog, so Jason made his new super secret social media book review blog

At first it was just another one of those random accounts, until it got more and more followers over time, and Jason expanded from book reviews to just random stuff, and eventually his acc was pretty well known. Only nearly a year into this endeavor(before the acc really got rolling), Jason got his first hater. This hater was Tim, who had discovered the acc while testing his online stalking skills and, still annoyed at the change in Robin, decided to be a little hater about it.

Time went on and the accounts following only grew with everyone knowing about Jason's very dedicated hater that was constantly arguing with him over random shit, either just on website or in dms. Then the acc stopped posting cause Jason, yknow, died.

Some years went by and Jason's acc turned into a little story of "hey you guys remember that one book review acc that made new reviews scarily fast then just dissapeared one day?" "Oh yeah, you remember their super dedicated hater? Such a funny time lolol."

Then the acc came back. And with the accs return came the little hater's return(with Tim now extra hate fueled) and the arguments continued but over time Tim became less and less cruel as his relationship with Jason got better and better(this is an au where they actually yknow, bond and stuff) and eventually, Tim admits to being the hater behind the acc and stops his shenanigans

When someone asks about where Jason's favorite hater went, he just replies "turns out it was my brother the whole fucking time." And Tim, having seen the reply some way or another, would never admit that he teared up a little at being called Jason's brother after so many years of hatred.