#;oc}

Every single comment ever made about you has been logged in your mind, most compliments forgotten and every insult or slight retained. When you mess up, when you hear someone say something about you, it becomes an obsession. Like a single drop of dye falling into water, something that everyone else will forget about in an instant becomes a fixation that spreads through you like poison. 

Every obsession in that fashion ultimately comes down to this one fact.

After all, you’re pretty weak and pathetic. Your stamina and physical strength is laughable. You’re slow on the uptake. You’re not good at making and keeping friends. You’re clumsy and butterfingered. You get anxious over stupid things easily, and you can’t look people in the eyes when you talk. You have no viable talents. You’re ugly, your proportions are all messed up, and some days you don’t want to go out because you can’t bear the thought of living with your own face. With your own body. Hell, you’re not even a guy like you claim to be.

You don’t have anything that makes you special. If you do, it’s something that makes you the circus act—the laughingstock, the one getting booed off the stage. 

…So why? Why did you have to end up with… all of these other people? 

Everyone is so much more unique than you. So much more vibrant. So much kinder, or dedicated, or capable, or confident, or good-looking, or talented. They’re all something, compared to your nothing. You’re all from worlds that aren’t this one, but they’re all so much more than you could ever hope to be. So much closer to “perfect.” Even the ones who are just from Earth, even the ones who are the same species as you.

It doesn’t sit quite right with you, to be lumped together with everyone else. If you had to make it an analogy more digestible for your own incoherent thoughts, it would be like putting a useless NPC with the cast of main characters. 

You simply aren’t good enough to belong. 

But the feeling is so strong that it overflows into your thoughts about others. It’s exhausting trying to get along with these “perfect,” “better” people. You’re bitter about being so obviously inferior and you hate the fact that you are. If you have to put up with another day of pretending to like people you don’t, you think you might just lose your mind and quit.

(You won’t. You won’t, and you know it.)

But you’re so tired of this. It would be so nice, to let loose. To be able to tell someone that you hate them. That you’re praying for their downfall. Except—that’s not quite right, and that’s not the “nice” or “situationally correct” thing to do. Besides, it won’t do anything to them. Everyone has friends and supporters, people who would choose them over you in a heartbeat.

They won’t lose anything. You will. Because they’re “perfect,” and you’re not. 

The thought of it pisses you off. 

What can you do about it, though? When you hold this anger in your chest, so hot it runs cold, do you really think you can let it out? Will you simply cry it out futilely, like a child? Or—

Without thinking, your body moves of its own accord. The aged wall gives way under your fist, crumpling and cracking around the edges. Classic Ramshackle dust attacks your senses as you retract your hand. The pain waits to set in, and then your knuckles sting. The joints of your fingers complain from being clenched so tightly.

Sure, it hurts. But it feels good, at least for a moment—to hurt something, to break something, because everyone else feels so untouchable and invulnerable. 

And then the “moment” wears off, and you stare at the hole in the wall in horror. 

first: discordianyx's ( pandora's ) real form. she is planetary sized, sus earth is there for scale. her eyes remain close due to the fact that opening them will unleash irreversible chaos that only The Natural Order can undo. she has uncanny realistic wings ( i tried ) on the sides of her head to help cover her eyes in case she accidentally opens them for one reason or another. she wears a slice of the cosmos, and the ends of her dress are strings of stars. she has a black hole in her midsection. and she wears several "evil eyes" across her dress and on the palms of her hands. these "evil eyes" represent her reign over different parts of the world ( gravity falls is the biggest eye on her dress ). the eyes on her palms are where her powers ejects from her person: the white eye she uses to regulate chaos and the black eye she uses to disrupt peace. it's clear she has an obsession over eyes ( which i thought was funny bc it's like her way to cope of her not opening her own or something like that ), and it shows where her inspiration to create bill came from.

second: pandora's human form. it is the form she takes to walk amongst humans. 10ft is the shortest she can go that won't end up upsetting the balance ( damn The Natural Order ), but she can definitely go shorter if she had no restraints. i changed her lore to where she can open her eyes in this form ( bc im a sucker for eyes and i just had to have her open her eyes plz ). her real eyes are covered by the human eyes she gives herself, so there is still the potential of her accidentally unleashing forbidden power if she's not careful. she also wears gloves to cover the "evil eyes" in her hands to prevent people from seeing them and freaking out ( you'd think her size would raise eyebrows but the people in gravity falls are too brain drained to even put 2 and 2 together ). she goes with the yellow scheme to emphasize her "gemini" attributes ( ex. night to day, cold to hot, down to up etc. ), and there is more of a resemblance between her and bill considering bill was created to be a "mini" version of herself. ford and dipper absolutely lost their shit when seeing the similarities. ( also i did my damnest to make her look like sabrina carpenter and djfnsjknfjksfns )