she's a carnival...

HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN. independent selective & private portrayal of heather becker, an original empath character. written by rat / joe / seth. (21+). est. feb 2020 & revamped july 2022. please read rules before interacting. psd + most graphics credit to @666psds.

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heather enters the cemetery just like any other day, her hands running through the tombstones, hand on the only mausoleum in this place as she runs her nails on the textured structured. it’s peace, quiet, then…something else entirely. desire, longing, a sorrow so profound, and emptiness so vast. it’s like the call of a siren, her head tilts, and her heart guides her. she doesn’t feel the bleeding of her nose as the feelings intensify, she finds her then. a girl. heather stops in her tracks, the blood hits her lips and she wipes her cupids bow delicately. there’s a slight reverence, a sense that heather doesn’t feel very often. less at this place, the sadness is too overwhelming when someone else is here. this is different, different enough.

her eyes are wide, her lips break into a smile. and she wonders then, questions, doubts, they all suddenly bubble up, up, up, she doesn’t move, she doesn’t want to scare her off. and usually that is the effect heather has on people, she takes a deep breath, she has been drowning this entire time, and maybe this is the first sign of land, moonlight in a dark night, just enough to see and make the shapes of it. she clears her throat.

@outoft0uch not a chance.  never again.  where you go,  i go. 

heather suddenly feels flustered. the blush doesn't make it pass layers of make up, she just stares wide eye at annie. the hand she is holding out is petrifying. there's a moment of not only hesitation, but doubt. she feels so sincere, heather can feel like as if a blanket is neatly put upon her shoulders. it's a warm embrace, and heather is unfamiliar with it. it's too hot, too much.

it's a scared animal response, it takes her a couple of minutes to sit with it. it wasn't such a big deal, eating alone, sitting alone, loneliness is no longer an affliction but a part of heather. "you seem so sure." heather starts, regaining some sort of hand in this situation. "-what if you don't like where i am going, annie." it's a soft statement, a thorn made human. a warning. heather feels something else, something she does not want to admit to.

@demobrat

it's a night off. no souls to feast upon. more like hex's hunger is sufficiently satisfied, heather's anything but a bad host. the music is loud and heather can feel it in her bones already. the vibrations reach the uttermost deep chasms of my essence, i enjoy it, we enjoy it. and heather decides to merrily move past that. the lights dance around as the venue sort of envelopes her. hands in her long jacket, more matrix than anything else. she gets a couple of looks, the intention behind them none of her concern, she's not here for them. as much as they bring forward the carnal and overall human pleasures of a show, she is trying to disconnect.

then. a feeling, a sensation. raising from the bottom of her spine to the back of her skull, a creature of instinct first. questions soon following after. it fades out the shrill of guitar, just slightly. i can feel it too, it is nearby. it, heather thinks, should take a break tonight. not in the mood. and the calling isn't something that respects moods. bright eyes pealed, looking around for danger until.

until her eyes land onstage. and the sensation boils, bubbles over and it's like static one second as if a radio is trying to reach the same frequency. and it does. it only does when her eyes land on the guy playing the guitar. it. hex's thinks. conveniently. we should eat him. all heather can do is say no and tilt her head. entranced, enchanted. trying to read him. everything sort of fading away. trouble, hex wants to say but heather isn't listening. she just stares and looks, and then smiles. slowly. surrounded by a sea of people. who would've known? he's here.

heather feels warmth, it doesn’t usually goes like this with others. they tend to have much more stronger less feel good feelings about heather in their orbit. not chris, heather isn’t blind she can see the effect she has on her way before her third eye can sense the fact that there’s this honey soft warmth feeling in her direction. heather smiles, it’s a slow thing framed by black lipstick, they’re far away in their own little world. the forest surrounding hawkins high makes a beautiful backdrop.

her hands are delicate with they pick up @drunivers's hand. she has the touch of a ghost as her fingers run from her wrist to her palm. bright eyes curiously linger, as if she’s reading. in a way she is. tilts her head and long blonde hair follows through, like a curtain. “you have to take care of these…” she starts, her voice echoing and soft. her index finger doing circles on her palm. “…your hands are like your tools, and you make such beautiful things with them.” she finally looks at chris, as if she can really see her.

the night is endless, like a warm blanket. it embraces heather, keeps her safe despite the dreadful feeling that haunts her. the stars are so bright and she notices it. the indication that something is changing tonight, she doesn't care to divinate what exactly. she tends to like surpises.

they're walking along one of those roads in hawkins that stretch long, nothing but street signs, dirt and grass spanning miles. what little light they have is under the street lamps heather is walking down an imaginary line, @pwrballad not too far behind, eddie makes her feel all sorts of things, intrigue, most of all. she's playing one foot behind the other, the fabrics of her skirt flowing with the light breeze. she turns to face him, he feels. content. and something else, she can't quite find what she's feeling because of him.

"you know..." she starts, holding her zipper hoodie closer, actually zipping it all the way up. "-i just noticed, we never see each other during the day. are you keeping me a secret, munson?" not the first time that this would happen, there's a sting and hope that it isn't that. "-or are you like secretly a vampire? creature of the night? definitely not a werewolf, i think i would have heard a bark or two at this point." she's teasing, heather's been devoting her time to tales of beings who eat fair young ladies such as herself. but she can never count herself to be that lucky. bright eyes linger on eddie and his reaction.

Send 💡 for our muses to wait out a power outage together /+ eddie @pwrballad

it doesn't really rain this strongly often. but the earth feels angry, maybe she's angry at hawkins. that would make some sense, this place feels cursed. the house is empty, save for heather and one eddie munson who has been trying his very best to earnher favor. and he has, very succesfully absolutely done that.

they're talking, listening to some vinyls. smoking, even though that thing traps itself and it's smoke clings to the fabrics in the room. she'll cover it up with some incense. mother never passes past the imaginary threshold, the invisible spell that keeps her out of this sacred place that is his room. suddenly a surge of power and the lights went out. suddenly quiet.

she isn't scared of the dark, there's a couple of candles lit. her hand reaches out for him, his hand, his arm, on instinct, to check on him. in a way. turns to look at him, both of them laying down on the floor. she can see the shape of him, the lightning illuminates his profile and heather is a little distracted. unconcerned for the storm. the power will come back eventually. time passes by slowly and she had been rather...special about eddie not staying over, a nervousness that comes after paying a high cost. not his fault, and not his burden to carry.

"i'm not letting you drive in this weather." it's soft, the way it leaves her lips. "-i'm many things, but i'm not cruel. and i'd like it if you stayed." it's a lot, she recognizes it for what is...letting him stay the night. butterflies, bats, and all sorts of crawlies in her stomach. eddie is staying, she's decided. "someone or something looked upon you with grace this night, eddie." she taps his shoulder. it's teasing, nature somehow concocting this scenario. her face feels hot, it's not entirely noticeable through the washed down make up. "you get to skip curfew. how fun is that?"

the shuffle of leaves, the snap of branches, all too familiar in the midle of the woods. heather tends to make a home out of the darkest of places, a sense of serenity and peace in which she lingers. bright eyes trail after sera, who she recognizes. barely. sometimes here, sometimes not. she doesn't move, not until she speaks.

why are you lurking out there? are you spying on me? @pagent

heather scoffs, a quiet thing as she approaches. "spying? please. like you got anythin' to hide." no no no, upon first examination sera alderman appears to be as transparent as most people are. she senses her being shaken, frightened? and then something else, a feeling she needs a closer look upon. "unless you do. hmm."

"well haven't you heard? i practically live here, the question is really what are you doing out here so late? don't you know it's close to the witching hour." no it's not. but heather does not expect her to know that. if she were any crueler she would have simply ignored her and left. but there is something strange, something hiding between the trees. whether it's just a gut instinct or a correct reading heather does not know. but kids go missing now, people die. blood has spilled and the soil just sucks it up.

They're splayed out on Violet's crappy twin bed, a movie long since ignored buzzing on her VCR TV. It almost feels like a sleepover — Violet had never had any of those. It felt both funny and tragic that she's having one now. Right down to gossiping about boys. "It's like I can't stand him," She sighs. Her fingers entangled in a section of honey blonde hair, worrying it this way and that as she fights to turn thought into word. "But I go crazy when he ain't around? Not like seein' him makes me happy or sane either, t'be fair. It's confusin'. It's bullshit!"

back in the real world. heather had a sister.

that didn't mean much, because they wouldn't do anything like this. heather would much rather rot in some cemetery in the outskirts of town. and well, if she ever figures out @antlurabbit's deal maybe shit isn't like so different after all.

this place is dark, twisted, a never ending cycle of misery that pushes heather once more out to the outskirts of it. too many years reading poems that detailed death and destruction, they had sounded so sweet. and yet. here it's miserable. maybe this, a sense of twisted normalcy was what those poems were talking about.

she feels the buzzing sickly sweetness iminating from violet. she's familar with the feeling. there's something else attached with it. something that someone that isn't heather would be unnerved by. heather pretends, for a moment that they are talking about any other boy. and not the killer in the mask who's been getting familiar with everyone's insides.

"i think that might be just. a guy thing." heather sits up, resting on her elbow. grinning, black lips framing her smile. "-like what you are feeling feels like when you like a guy. which. yeah, confusing. but i think you'd find it boring if it wasn't just a little bit of bullshit."