Archive of Our Own ^beta

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I still can’t believe that my life has become a freaking manhwa trope. Is this karma for reading all those yandere fanfictions and trashy duke-of-the-north isekai “love” stories? I just had to be taken out by truck-kun and thrust into the body of the villainess of some story from my previous life.

Lila Rossi. The liar. The gaslighter. The manipulator. The fox. The chameleon. The one that I heard so many theories about before I died just from doom scrolling on TikTok, since I stopped watching the show around the third season. Don’t judge. Will-they-won’t-they plot lines are only good for so long, and love triangles are barely tolerable, let alone love squares where the ships are just two people in masks. There were more fun things to watch. Things with higher stakes than magical girl transformations where their detransformation casts a reparo retconning any damage (minus the mental trauma of all those who died…so fair, it could get pretty dark).

It’s been two months since I woke up here, and I still don’t know if I’m relieved that I have time to adjust before things start going down in Paris or horrified that I’m in a younger body and must face puberty and high-school all over again (Seriously?! I was 17! I just escaped graduated and now I have to go back and do it all over? What kind of sick god did this?).

A question I still don’t know the answer to. It was simply crash and then waking up here. No floating in space until meeting some higher power, no game system to give me objectives, but, thankfully, no nine months in the womb and living through the trauma of coming out the birthing canal. I knew this world had mini-gods tied to jewelry that could turn into giant gods when used to make wishes (I saw some art online of Hawkmoth finally making his wish and looked up the scene on YouTube; Tikki and Plagg looked EPIC!). It’s possible one of the personifications of concepts had something to do with my presence here.

Which doesn’t exist here by the way. YouTube that is. This universe seems to have similar media and products, but not necessarily the same. Kinda like those Nickelodeon shows where there were pear phones instead of Apple, here, there’s UView. Some are still the same, like Nickelodeon and Ke$ha, but others are missing. There is no Taylor Swift, and while I wasn’t a die-hard Swiftie, I still had a playlist of my favorite bops by her.

Megadeth and Metallica aren’t present, but a weird combination of the two called Metaldeth. Which, I supposed differences were to be expected, otherwise Jagged Stone would’ve been copyrighted out the wazoo by Mick Jagger and The Rolling Stones. I’ll have to get some more recommendations from Ivan when I arrive in Paris. I don’t know many french artists anyway.

That was another weird-ass thing arriving here. I have suddenly gained the ability to speak and understand multiple languages. I always dreamed of being a polyglot, but outside of Spanish, none of my DuoLingo paths made it past section 2. Now though, I have access to all of Lila’s memories growing up. Including all the countries she’s lived in thanks to her mother’s role as an ambassador. Surprisingly, not a lie. Who would have thought that was the one thing she was honest about?

My theory: memory is tied both to the brain and the soul. Her body is now my body, so my brain’s synapses were formed by her actions, but I still remember my previous life due to the magic of my soul. How else would the miraculous holders be able to share their past experiences using some quagmire-tama thing that pops up later (once again, brought up during fan theory videos about power boosts and sentimonster children...that’s going to be fun to face later). Therefore, I can now communicate in multiple languages, including English (duh), Italian, French, Greek, Chinese, Swedish and sign-language (plus the bit of Spanish from before). Score!

Possibly an insane thing to focus on considering the morbidity and absurdity of my situation, but I have to focus on the positives so I don’t lose my ever-loving mind. I don’t want to live constantly in denial or in fear of “changing the plot” like so many heroines in the trashy manhwas I used to decompress. Plus, it saves me some from having to relive the trauma from my own death and this girl’s memories. Like, seriously, she was vicious and attention-seeking, lying from an early age, but she had faced some shit. And it is not fun to relive. I’d rather read these Harry Potter books and see if anything in that story has changed. I was a major Potterhead in my last life; I so badly wanted to be a witch and practice magic. I would be disappointed if I no longer had the comfort of this series.

…it’s the same. Yay! Even if the movies don’t exist yet. :(

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When I startled awake, I was expecting to be in a hospital room or, maybe, in a coffin where I'd have to claw and dig my way out of the ground, since I wasn't chilling in the Fields of Asophodel. And I was right. I was in a hospital room. 

However, I was confused why everyone around me was speaking Italian. And how I could understand it. That's when I felt the headache hit as my brain was blasted with memories that were entirely unfamiliar. They were the memories of one Lila Rossi, whose body I had taken over while it was in a coma after she had been…assaulted? Murdered? Does it count as murder if the victim is still walking and talking after recovering even if her body has been hijacked? 

The nurse was recording my vitals as a doctor was asking, “Sig.na Rossi, are you with us? Can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?” He then went through a litany of questions to gauge my coherence. 

While he was talking, in runs a pale woman with long dark hair, down to waist, and she hugged me without a word. I awkwardly patted her on the back bug-eyed, watching another woman in a pantsuit stroll in. She had warm brown, almost red hair in a pixie cut and bright red, flawless lipstick. Her face looked relieved but stern. I knew them instantly as Lila's mothers. 

“I'm glad to see you're awake, finally. It's been 6 weeks,” the stern looking woman said to me in Italian as she came closer to where I was propped in the bed. The long-haired woman finally let me go and started gesturing with her hands. The auburn-haired woman translated her sign language. Whether that was for my benefit since I probably looked like a wreck, or for the hospital staff, I couldn't tell. “We were so worried when we saw you in that state. I couldn't…I'm so happy to see you're alright…well, you should make a full recovery physically anyway. You have been through such an ordeal. We'll both be here for you through every step of the way.” 

The doctor, finally finished with his charting, spoke up, “The important thing is that Sig.na Rossi is alive and we will be providing her with the best possible care in the country.”

Alive? I'm not sure if this is real life. I'm in the body of a fictional character. I think. The show might not have given her much of a backstory, but my new memories include a lot of primping in the mirror, and it's hard to mistake both the name and distinct features. The foxy green eyes are a dead give away. I doubt this is a coma dream since I can't see my body surviving having its skull completely crushed. But I also certainly don't feel dead. I work through my 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique and instantly regret registering the moth ball, aged taste in my mouth. 

Either way, I'm pretty sure the original Lila is dead. My death was pretty instantaneous; a blow to the head by a two-ton chunk of metal going at whatever-miles-per-hour would do that. Hers however, was drawn out. I could feel her give in and almost detach as she slowly bled to death before everything faded to black in what is now my memory. 

She certainly got her last laugh in though. I am actually impressed how she was able to convince her attacker to die with her after being stabbed so many times. “I may have been putting on a facade for the rest of the world, trying to fit in, but you saw through it. You always saw the real me. Only YOU truly understood me, the same way only I will ever understand you. I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner. I just wish we could've had more time together. I hope we will find each other again quickly in the next life…but that can only happen if you join me now.” Bitch, if I'm going, I'm taking you down with me. I assume the speech only worked because her attacker was already obviously deranged. As we know from the show and salty fanfics, her lies are as shallow as a puddle. Usually easily dispelled by a quick Google search. But work it did, and Lila got to watch her murderer kill herself before she passed as well. 

After waking, facing all the tests by the hospital staff, having a quick introduction to my new moms, and being assured that I'll make a full recovery, just with some gnarly scarring, I was questioned briefly by the police about what I remembered before they went on to explain what they found. Turns out a fellow student of Lila's, Cerise Bianca, had been stalking her for months now and finally snapped. 

Lila moved around frequently due to her mother’s job. Starting from the age of six, Lila hasn't gone to the same school for more than a year, once she and her mom started traveling with her ambassador mother, Hayden. Whereas before, she had stayed at home in Italy with her mom, Francesca, until she was considered “old enough” to travel regularly. Also, they were waiting for the adoption to finalize before they could take her out of the country. 

Hayden and Francesca were a couple that adopted Lila when she was five, after her biological grandmother passed. Hayden Rossi was an Italian ambassador; she works incessantly and is distant because of that. I was kind of hoping that Rossi + ambassador!wife = David Rossi's secret love-child from Criminal Minds. However, low and behold, I have no sister named Joy, just a hyphenated last name. Francesca Rossi, nee Laurent, was originally from France (ironic). She's a painter that is hard of hearing after an incident with Lila's bio-mom, who was Francesca's best friend before she died during childbirth. She's where Lila learned FSL and was the one that wanted to adopt Lila after all her blood family had passed. 

Not that it was a large number anyway. The only blood family Lila had ever known personally was her grandmother, Rosalba Bianchi. Her mother found out she was pregnant after being abandoned by her boyfriend. She sent him multiple letters trying to let him know about his daughter, since he wouldn't answer her calls, but he never responded. Eventually she gave up writing and planned to go in person but was relegated to bedrest. She had a stressful pregnancy and ended up dying shortly after giving birth. She took the name of her father to the grave with her, and as it was apparently some regret-filled, whirlwind summer romance, she didn't want to tell Francesca about it. She even left the birth certificate blank. 

And get this, her name was Lila. I don't know what kind of narcissistic-Gilmore-Girls ideas she had going on, but the feeling of being a replacement for Francesca's best friend due to her name and looks, on top of the abandonment daddy-issues and lack of lasting friendships from the constant moving, all kind of explain Lila’s obsessive need for validation, whatever the means. Sure, her new moms provided everything she needed, including therapy which clearly didn't do enough, but Lila was a force unto herself. She felt empty since the loss of her Nonna Rose, and was constantly trying to fill that hole by claiming anything she desired. She accomplished this by lying, stealing and cheating her way into the good graces of any adult she came across and manipulating the other children around her with rumors and boasting. I knew middle-school kids were bitchy and vicious, but this girl took it to a whole new level. Hayden wasn't around enough to pick up on the nuisances of her character, and Francesca's Lila was an “outspoken go-getter” as well, so she didn't read into it much. 

Cerise Bianca came into play when Lila Bianchi-Rossi was eleven and living in Stockholm, Sweden. Cerise was thirteen but in the same grade as Lila, though in a different class, having been held back the previous year and now separated from the few flimsy connections she had with her previous grade group. I recalled from my new memories of when Lila arrived at her new school; she started gathering a crowd of sycophants right off the bat. She played her role as the sweet and supportive new girl, name-dropping celebrities that she'd met due to Hayden's job (lies) and “repeating” false rumors to instigate fights between old friendships and divide friend groups under the guise of concern. Cerise loved listening to Lila’s stories, but had trouble getting into Lila’s inner circle as both a quieter, less noticeable individual and having less access to her with different schedules. That didn't stop her from sitting on the edge of the glamorous group surrounding her school's new star, soaking up all the knowledge she could about her when the opportunity arose. She learned what Lila liked and tried to copy her. She started wearing her hair in those same silly sausage-looking side bangs, dressing in similar clothes and even joining the same after-school clubs. Unfortunately, Cerise lacked the skill for gymnastics, her focus was on running, not flexibility. So, she thought she could bond with Lila about being a foreigner, since Cerise's family moved there from France, and that they could talk in French together. That didn't work either as Lila wouldn't give her the time of day with her pathetic attempts at talking with her. Cerise would raise a hand and stutter and Lila would just keep walking by with not even a glance. 

After a couple months of trying to gain Lila's attention directly and failing, she decided to change her strategy. Cerise started leaving little gifts of things she knew Lila would like in her locker, such as a specific brand of chocolate and other snacks, little fox-shaped plushies and miniatures, and it eventually grew into more elaborate gifts such as expensive accessories and drawings of Lila herself. Lila, of course, thought why shouldn't she have nice things and enjoyed the gifts left for her. She figured it was simply an admirer of some kind, as who wouldn't love her, she was someone who deserved to be admired. Meanwhile, Cerise was overjoyed to see Lila accepting her gifts and the art she made of her. She simply wished they had been locker neighbors as they should've been based on the schools alphabetical assignment system. Bianca and Bianchi-Rossi, destined to be together. If only her stupid parents hadn't started Lila so late. Cerise built up this imaginary relationship in her head that the two of them had, reading into the smiles Lila gave upon discovering her gifts as some secret language between the two, believing they were soul mates. 

This was all recorded in the journals the police found in Cerise's room. They included all of her rants about her feelings for Lila and a minute by minute timeline detailing Lila’s life for the past six months that she'd gone to school there. What time she walked through the school doors, what she wore that day and how beautiful she looked in them, when she went to the restroom and for how long, what she ate for lunch that day, which friends did she directly talked to and what stories she told, how many laps she ran in gym, how soon did she eat the chocolates left for her, how big was her smile, and on and on in tiny handwriting.

It was around the five month mark, when Lila started claiming certain artists had written songs about her to impress some rich-kid boy in her class, that Cerise started to doubt her love's stories. She couldn't find any trace of this song by such a famous artist and hated the doe-eyes that her Lila was making at this boy. Cerise, anxious, went back through her journals, trying to verify everything that Lila had said. There she found little nuggets of truth…hidden amongst falsehood after falsehood. Just enough to make Lila's stories seem plausible. Her logs had color-coded ink all over their pages, and they were dripping in red. Red for every fabricated claim that remained unsubstantiated. The last log, written in French, simply said, “Salope traîtresse. How could you lie to me?”

For the next week, the drawings of herself that Lila received grew increasingly more disturbing. A close up portrait with her eyes crossed out with, unfaithful liar, written across it. Her body strung up, covered in cuts or bruises. Lila kept them to herself at first, worried that someone was going to try and out her lies. But on the seventh day, when she received the image of her corpse, laid out and bloody in a field of red spider lilies, she finally decided to take this concern to her moms. She didn't make it home that night to bring it up though. 

On her way walking home, passing by an alley on her usual route, Lila felt something hit her in the back of the head before suffocating on some sweet smelling fabric and blacking out. She woke, tied up in a shed with the windows covered by some silver looking sheets off which the light of a lone bulb reflected. Its string dangling above her. In the corner stood Cerise holding a bat…and a knife.

Chapter Text

“‘How could you betray me like this?’ It was the first thing she said to me when I came to,” I informed the officers sitting in metal folding chairs at the end of the hospital bed by my feet, for what felt like the hundredth time. My moms were in the more comfortable cushion chairs provided in each private room, basically armchairs on wheels. They were on either side of me further up where the bed was raised so I could actually sit up. 

“And what happened next?” The larger, male cop asked. 

“Whatever you feel comfortable sharing,” the younger and more feminine looking cop interjected. 

I'm not sure if their bad cop/good cop routine is planned to throw me off balance or if they just naturally give off such different energies. The older cop hasn't necessarily been malicious or mean, just gruff and disagreeable, and directing most of his attention towards my moms. Not in a sleazy way (despite looking like the typical moustached middle-aged man with a receding hairline and beer-gut) or I'm sure Hayden would've had something to say; he was simply dismissive of me. That could've been because of my age or the distrust of anything I'd say due to all of Lila’s lies they discovered in Cerise's journals. He was all too happy to show them to me where she'd broken down all that she'd uncovered.   

“As I told you before, she ranted at me about allowing ‘my radiating light’ to be blocked by ‘some creep’ and marred by ‘filthy lies.’ Of course it was all in French. Do you need one of us to translate again, officer?”

“That is unnecessary. Continue,” he intoned. 

“After her rant about how unclean I became, she said something about how once I was cleansed through the blood that everything would be forgiven and we could be together again. Then she cut me on the neck with her knife.” That cut was shallow and right on my jawbone. She wasn't trying to kill Lila, I don't think. I continued, “After that she focused mostly on my thighs and torso when cutting. She didn't want to ‘damage my lovely face,’ but she wanted to leave her mark, ‘like an eternal hickey, proof of our love.’” 

Francesca grabbed my hand in a bid to comfort me. My hands had been shaking. It may not have happened to me directly, but the first-person point-of-view images flashing in my mind were harder to handle than the slasher-flick movies I used to enjoy.

He interrupted in a judgemental tone, eyes narrowed, “And how did you react to her calling you out on your lies?” 

I continued like he hadn't said anything, “‘One cut for every lie, and then we'll be even.’ She would recite things that I had said to my friends at school word for word, even though I'd never spoken to her before. I struggled and tried to fight her off, but I guess those ‘escaping-your-captor, self-defense how-to videos made by the oh-so-great Carabinieri are kind of useless when your captor never leaves your side while you're tied up,” I said referring to the videos made by Italy's special police force that are both a civil police force and a branch of the armed services. Lila had been made to watch them due to her mother's government status. 

Hayden grabbed my other hand and gave a warning squeeze. My mother dearest had been translating for my mom this whole time. At home, Lila would usually talk while signing herself to make sure Francesca was included in conversations when her hearing aids became uncomfortable (unless Lila wanted to cause confusion or it would work against her in some way). However, my arms felt like lead, and the only reason I'm able to sit up is because of the adjustable bed. 

That also could've been why the larger cop was either snapping at or ignoring me. Hayden was probably providing him with hush money to ensure the details of this case remain known to as few people as possible. Can't have it getting out that the ambassador's orphan daughter is a compulsive liar. Otherwise, people would question if she was really the victim, though I would think my injuries speak for themselves. Her role might not be an elected one, but she had an image to keep, and a history of smoothing things over before Lila figured out what she could get away with. 

“She kept her cuts shallow until she cut too deeply once on my thigh. She stared at my blood gushing out as if mesmerized before her body jerked, and she started panicking. She was yelling ‘No! No! Not like this!’ She then ripped off her hoodie trying to use it to stop the bleeding...I must have passed out soon after that,” I finished, making sure to leave out how long it actually took to “pass out” and give no mention of Lila’s speech to convince Cerise to off herself. 

“Hmmmm,” he hummed as he wrote more in his notebook. 

“She struck her femoral artery. It's pure luck that our daughter didn't completely bleed out before help arrived on the scene,” Hayden translated for an impassioned Francesca before continuing in her own words sternly, “The Swedish police determined Cerise Bianca committed suicide by slitting her own throat. She must've believed she had killed my daughter.” 

Cerise's saddened voice rang in my head, ‘You promise?’ My thoughts automatically translating the French.

“The girl was a seriously disturbed individual.” 

‘Of course. I wouldn't want to move onto my next adventure without you,’ Lila rasped out, trying to keep her voice sweet despite how dry her mouth was. 

“She'd created this fictional relationship with my daughter in her head, and decided to lash out rather than accepting it wasn't real.” 

Cerise looked at her knife dripping with Lila's blood and smiled, ‘I'll see you soon, my love and light,’ before bringing her knife to her own neck. Their blood mixed together, dripping down her neck and hand in thin stripes that looked like the petals of the red spider lilies she often included in her drawings.

“There's no telling how much of what she wrote were her own delusions. I think my daughter has suffered enough. You have asked her to recount her story plenty. The only person she is required to talk to now is her therapist,” Hayden brought the cops to task. 

“It's normal procedure to have any witnesses go over everything multiple times to ensure nothing gets missed,” the smaller cop tried to reassure her. 

“You have the testimonies of Lila's classmates confirming Lila had never talked to that girl before. They reported that the girl was quiet and unnoticeable. Lila was very popular among her peers, people often covet what they don't have. Nothing she wrote in those journals can be taken at face value. Furthermore, any of the supposed lies she may have disproven in her journal were nothing more than gossip about celebrities, akin to children playing make-believe with fictional characters.”

“Like how Cerise Bianca believed in her own fantasies?” The older cop questioned. 

“The difference being my daughter knows where fantasy ends and reality begins. Lila was cleared of any charges the Biancas tried to bring against her for ‘leading their daughter on’, their second attempt at slander since any arguments for bullying or ostracization by my daughter were disproven by those horrid logs. That is why we were able to bring her back home for care while she was still in a coma,” Hayden argued, her gestures getting more agitated. Her privileges due to her diplomatic status going unvoiced. “A coma she has just come out of, and is still recovering from. Now, as her guardian, I insist you let her get some much needed rest. Please, follow me to the door.”

Hayden wasn't accepting any answer but compliance from the two as they all stood. The good cop gave me a small smile, thanked me for my time and wished me a speedy recovery. The other was guided to the door by my mother's hand on his shoulder, the two talking too lowly for me to hear. Francesca started petting my oily hair, lulling me to sleep. 

I wasn't sure how much tension or toxicity there actually was between Lila and her moms. What was real versus what was colored by Lila’s bitterness. I wanted to keep an open mind while getting to know them for myself, but it's been difficult to remain objective in this stressful situation. I'm hoping once we're out of this stupid room and I can finally take a shower, things might settle. Right now though, it's kinda nice to see Hayden defending Lila, even if it ends up being for self-serving reasons. 

Chapter Text

I was thankfully released from the hospital after a week. There were going to be some pretty large scars across my torso and thighs, but everything should heal up nicely so long as the cuts and stitches are kept clean. I was given strict instructions not to move too much to prevent them from tearing or re-opening. Thankfully, this body wasn't in the coma for long and was already rather fit, so physical therapy isn't a must. Unfortunately, psychological therapy is, as Hayden reminded me on the second day back home as we sat at the outdoor dining table with brunch.

“Even though the therapy sessions are court mandated, we were still able to select an appropriate child psychiatrist. You will be meeting with Dr. Costa once a week for the next few weeks. Then we can work our way down to once a month when you're back in school.” The Italian flowed out naturally in her calm and firm voice. 

[The appointments are always scheduled for 1400, so we'll just skip school those days, and go to lunch beforehand. Make it a fun mother/daughter day.] Fran signed, [She'll also be available for emergency sessions.]

Right. Middle school. Or lower secondary school, as it's known here. Just what I want after finally graduating: to hang out with a bunch of tweens and pre-teens. Whoo…please note the sarcasm. 

“Thank you for setting it up. Making a day of it sounds fun,” I sign and address Fran as sincerely as possible before turning to Hayden. “Have you already enrolled me in another school?”

“Not yet. We have your transcripts ready to go, but we're seeing how my work plays out. Things in Sweden have been smoothed out, and I have some leave, but even before the incident we were discussing my transfer to the States.” 

“The United States?” I perk up.

“Yes. We'd be moving to Washington D.C.” 

I absently replied, “That's new. It'd be a good chance to practice my English.” New for this body that is. I, however, used to be a Floridian, and yes, I knew how to shoot a gun fairly well and all my friends and family were varying types of unhinged. No, none of us had a pet alligator. I did like the gator jerky from the gas station we'd usually stop at though. Right now though, I mostly just want something familiar, even if it's not the same state, and-

“The embassy wants to build better relations with the United Heroez, so we would probably be spending a lot of time between Washington D.C. and New York City,” Hayden's remark startled me out of my brewing homesickness. 

“Wait, what? What heroes?” 

“You know who I'm talking about, Lila,” Hayden says exasperated, like this is common knowledge I should be aware of. “Magestia, Knightowl and that bunch. Victory recently revealed her identity as Camilla Hombee and is running in the democratic primary.” 

“Right, how could I forget,” I replied, dazed and confused. “It's not everyday a hero reveals their identity.” I guess I haven't processed as much of old!Lila’s memories as I thought. I sign to Fran as I talk, “Thank you for the food, but I'm still kind of tired. I'm gonna head back up to my room.” 

[Okay, sweetie. I'll be in my art studio. Text me if you need help accessing anything or want a bath and need to change your bandages. I'll let you know when dinner is in the works.] Fran smiled sweetly.

“We'll be here. Be careful, don't try lifting anything heavy. We can finish unpacking the rest of the boxes later,” Hayden waved me off. 

I don't think Lila's laptop would be considered too heavy, and that was the only thing I'm going to be interacting with for the rest of the day. How could I miss existing superheroes? Looking back through Lila's memories, I guess I just assumed they were shows or something. I didn't really register that the TV playing in the background at the hospital was on the news and not a sci-fi channel. 

I finished walking up the stairs and into Lila's loft of a bedroom. The Rossi home in Rome is too big for just three people, but at least it means I have a private area to figure things out. Hayden makes good money as an ambassador, but the lavish and comfortable lifestyle is afforded by Francesca. Apparently the Laurents are old-school money. My new mom's parents don't have much to do with us but they didn't, or maybe couldn't, cut their daughter off. Neither woman really ever talked about them to Lila, but if they're old money, they're probably unhappy about their daughter not continuing the family lineage or some bullshit. 

Francesca seems happy spending most of her time in Italy rather than France, painting and sculpting her days away. She is rather popular in the art scene and sometimes would take Lila to shows featuring her work. She was classically trained, and even taught Lila piano when she could stand wearing her hearing aids, always trying to include her daughter while Hayden was absent. But most of all, she loved oil paints. 

She and Lila would go on trips out to different Italian sites so that Fran could paint. Cities, mountains, beaches, vineyards, all over the country. They'd take train rides and hike to out of the way spots. Lila didn't care so long as she had her phone with good cell service. She was just happy to get out of class. The walls of the Rossi household were covered in Fran's work. 

Even Lila's room had a couple of her pieces, already removed from their boxes and hung up. Though most of her stuff was unpacked, including the furniture and decor, there were still plenty of boxes taking up space from the rush back to Italy. Mostly clothes based on the labels. However, if we're moving to America soon, I don't see the point of unpacking it all just to pack it back up. Though…the potential move might be an opportunity to change up some of this decor. It's very 2000-2010s with the zebra print and excessive pink and lime green accents. I'm honestly surprised there isn't an Eiffel Tower print somewhere on the walls. 

I grabbed the laptop from the changer and got comfortable for a research binge. 

…oooOOOooo…

I was not expecting the lore drop of this world to be so interesting. Though I guess it does make some things from the show make a bit more sense.

I was confused as to how the entire world didn't have a complete shut down when supervillains and heroes were introduced. If there was a media blackout surrounding Paris or something to keep it under wraps? Or why governments were letting two unknowns handle a terrorist? But it turns out this world already has a history of heroes and villains, and pretty well documented at that. 

Since ancient times, there's artifacts that show individuals with exceptional abilities well beyond the sciences of their era. Each continent has at least a dozen people with super abilities that seem to have popped-up in an increasing number with each generation. The United Heroez alone is made up of at least 11 people, their rogue gallery bumping up the number even more, and some powered people not even doing heroics, like some dude just selling hotdogs out of his flying hotdog stand. Meanwhile, most of Europe's heroes seemed to be based out of the UK and Greece to cover northern and southern countries. They're stationed and sent out to help according to the EU. We must be pre-Brexit then. 

People for the most part seem to just accept their existence as a part of life. The sky is blue, money talks and there's a mutant long-legged crocodile-human hybrid guardian in Africa that's been around for over 50 years. The United States has a knock-off Batman and Robin that goes by Knightowl and Sparrow, a hereditary title that's been passed down since the start of the country. Of course, there's always extremists and assholes, but they're few and far between. Any movement that has tried to take out those with such powers for being “devilish” or “impure” get crushed with extreme prejudice so as to prevent anymore witch trials. 

The United Nations takes such threats and discrimination seriously and provides anyone with powers or mutations the support they need, ranging from mutation accommodations to extraction to safer counties. There were a lot of super powered players in this world's version of WWII (including a suspiciously fox themed one fighting Mussolini in Italy). In the aftermath, people wanted to ensure that no-one without powers could experiment on those with again and that those with powers had no reason to gather and take over anything. The wars showed that even one powered-up person could cause a lot of damage. 

One downside I've found was the media's hyper-focus on superhero themed stories, movies, plays, etc. This has led to a major shift in what movies have been made, so plenty of my favorite shows haven't been produced. Most of the books are the same, but I guess what makes it to the big screen or stage depends greatly on expected audiences. Magic and vampire stories (yes, I'm guilty of participating in the cliche vampire phase in my previous world) are considered niche rather than mainstream. The Lost Boys (1987) barely broke even and The Lord of the Rings movies fall more under “cult classic” than a massive, mainstream success. Justice for Frodo! 

So many stories have been adapted to feature powered individuals and not always for the better. The whole point of Romeo and Juliet was that the two families were “both alike in dignity” and no one knew what was the start of the feud. If suddenly one family is normal humans and the other has powers, then it becomes about discrimination and not how feuds are stupid wastes of time that just bring harm. But I shouldn't be surprised. There's so many iterations and adaptations of Shakespeare's works that of course some get distorted. Book to movie adaptations are always hit or miss. 

Furthermore, the amount of hero merch and hero biases just reminds me of Boku No Hero Academia, which is obscenely popular here. So many manga and anime feature superpowers, and I'm relieved to see them. However, skimming different chat rooms online show some of the fandoms being just as toxic as my previous world. 

I've seen a lot of speculation about where these powers come from, and magic as a possibility is mentioned. However, the know-it-all academics online brush that off as the old wives’ tales of pre-enlightenment cave people or some rot. Scientists call it superstition and focus more on evolutionary reasoning. Archeologists and historians have no such issue using the word magic, but nothing that mentions magical girl transformation jewelry. 

There's probably more super-powered people than I can find online. Luckily, this isn't like the X-men and there aren't any registries for mutants. But that doesn't mean everyone different wants to advertise what they can do. Most of those with powers are very much in the spotlight and not everyone enjoys the blinding glare. 

Either way, it's good to know why Paris just accepted the existence of Ladybug and Cat Noir. I can kind of also understand why none of the more experienced super-powered individuals stepped-up to intervene on the behalf of the kids. Could you imagine Hawkmoth making one of these people even more powerful and taking them under his control (not that he didn't already have some outrageously OP!minions)? Or have him reveal their identities? It's like the Danny Phantom × DC crossover fanfiction trope, where you don't want the supers getting possessed by the ghosts, so they kept the Justice League well away from Amity Park. So the UN possibly put a ban on their interference? Or will put a ban? I don't know. Especially since I haven't seen any other countries having a disappearing object undo button.