Discoball: SF/F

How do you get the name Discoball? Well, you take drugs and go on a really bad trip, as my grandpappy would say, and you bash your face into a mirror. Let's not get into the deep-level analysis of what the drugs brought up, eh? Let's just leave it at this: now I'm straight-edge, and I've got a face cracked with scars that looked pretty ugly. I got sick of the pitying glances, so I went with inserts and piercings and tats and...well, pretty much anything I could think of. I don't get pitying glances anymore. It might hurt my job prospects some, but let's face it (ha-ha, see, I've still got a sense of humor), nobody was going to hire me for a receptionist even before I got a face full of mirror and the resulting jigsaw of scars. Basic medical wouldn't cover the plastic surgery to fix it, and besides, the idea of getting surgery to fix how I look felt--wrong. I came back to myself with a little bit more than a fucked-up face, you see. Well, I guess you don't see. I haven't showed you yet. Let's fix that.


Inspiration: "Here to Stay" - Korn
Story potential: Medium
Notes: Could be paranormal powers, could be mental for having crossed beyond, could be from some of the "inserts." Could be supervillain, superhero, or just a person with some extras. Eh.