DC supervillain of the week who traps the justice league(in their league disguises) in a reality tv show like love island. it airs on tv and everything like they use supervillain powers to forcefully broadcast "love island: justice league edition" while the supers have to try and figure out how to escape. during a personal squabble wondy steps up and says "everyone calm down, we're all a team, we each have our strengths and weaknesses, we need to work together to solve this" and then it cuts to her talking head segment and she says "im not a fan of green lantern."
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thinking about post-yotsuba light going about his new life and never outrunning himself.
it starts out relatively innocent: adding extra sugar to his coffee in the mornings and when he realizes it he dumps the lot in the sink.
opening his mouth to say that he’s done in the shower, then closing it right back up.
having a brief conversation with the task force and getting frustrated when they don’t catch onto his point immediately.
seeing a pair of baggy jeans and a white longsleeve tee in the window of a store, walking a little faster on the street.
developing the habit of circling his hand around his other wrist like a phantom handcuff.
checking the weather report almost obsessively, staying inside if it rains.
throwing out the worn chess set in his bedroom when he can’t stand to look at it any longer.
then it gets worse; glancing at his own reflection in the mirror, dark circles underneath his eyes, before always turning off the lights whenever he’s in the bathroom.
visiting bookstores to buy armfuls of shitty ‘who done it?’ mysteries, promising himself to get some reading in before sleeping, but they all end up beneath his bed as he pulls more and more all-nighters.
turning into somewhat of an adrenaline junkie, allowing his family (who are all so proud of him) or misa to rope him into day trips to amusement parks, if only to feel his heartbeat go faster and his palms start to sweat (all natural human reactions).
scrolling on his laptop and encountering this stupidly colorful ad for a dessert cafe that just opened, turning in his chair to ask a ghost if it wants to go.
curling up below the covers in the dark, twisting around absentmindedly to pose a riddle or protest another accusation, and only finding a cold dip in the mattress where L used to lie next to him.
but it’s fine. it’s fine because he’s kira, and this is his new world, and he won. he has won, alone in his room, his life, and living — he is alive, he’s sure of it. and that’s more than his equal can say.
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everytime sunghoon wins a rugby match he pulls at his jersey and jumps with his friends, sweat clinging to his hair and gleaming over his perfect skin. he’s so attractive when he’s victorious, a knowing smirk as he hears the intercom announce yet another smashing win. and yet through all the noise, through the pats on the back and the itch of the padding, he sees you near, jumping to your friend in a jersey identical to his—you’re wearing his old jersey with 12 to represent december, and the number on his to represent your birthmonth.
and the kiss after? oh, you’d kiss him no matter how gross he is. park sunghoon with a smirk and your number on his jersey is a man you are lucky to call yours.
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