she's a carnival...

[heatherbecker]

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.

carrd. rules. memes. pinterest link. interest tracker.

[heatherbecker]

@sordidery

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.

“is that your favorite?” curious, joyful. she looks down, not shyness just. heather is aware of the intensity of her stare, piercing. she isn’t trying to intrude. this is just. new. seems like fate, awfully poetic.

[demobrat]

"haven't you heard? i'm as evil as they come." the words are bitter on his tongue, even though they're said with a smile. he hadn't always believed the whispers. once upon a time, he thought everyone in this podunk town was stark raving mad. lost in a world of domestic delusion, blindly following whatever yuppie doctrine nancy reagan came onto their television to preach. after the bite, though? he thinks maybe they'd had a point. maybe the whole town of hawkins had sensed eddie was a rotten egg from the start.

he pauses. be still his undead heart. like an animal, his head tilts to the side. he can hear the blood thumping through her veins, heart pumping faster. something has her worked up. eddie leans in closer, drawn into the pulse of life, the intoxicating thrum coming from inside her. "kinda weird, becker. hanging around the freak of hawkins, hoping to get bit." he's lucky he can't blush. her eyes are so clear, pretty and bright in the moonlight, lined with deep dark make up. eddie's eyes keep dipping to her black lips. if he kissed her, would the color leave a mark? her skin is so pale. if he bit into it, would it instantly bruise? "you could ask, y'know." he says, conversationally, head tilted down to meet her eyesight.

no one has ever called him pretty. it makes him nervous. it makes him hungry. he doesn't entirely know what for. eddie reaches out and grabs both her shoulders, gently tugging her to a stop, to face him. the direct contact was a mistake. he's lucky he can't blush anymore. "i like the pale thing you've got going on." he lets go of one shoulder, holds the back of his hand up near heather's cheek. eddie can feel the heat of her body radiating off of her. he tries to forget that his hand is so near her neck. he searches over her face, the contrasting pale and black makeup. it takes work to force himself to look to his own hand. "look at that. practically an exact match."

[heatherbecker]

weird. weird fits nicely in heather, it's a little funny how he seems to know. "gee munson if i didn't know any better i'd think you do wanna eat me." heather tries to sound as normal as it is allowed, however her tone is always a little deadpan, this has too much want. desire? whimsy? it's like his pale presence just drags this out of her heart and lays it neatly on the table. eddie isn't like the rest of the people in this town. and heather swore off, men, and everything else included with them. but she can feel his interest. his want. makes her eyes all half lidded.

his eyes move to her lips and she feels electric, zap! clear blue eyes even clearer. she bites her bottom lip. oh what a sweet sorrow, to be bit. in exile, this is the line in the sand, freaks beyond here only. he holds her, both her shoulders, and she looks up at him. it makes her giggle. shy, feelings outpouring contrasting largely with her neutral almost annoyed demeanor. it's everything about him, his hair, his smile, his nose. she feels on the moon.

and then, with ease, she follows. rests her cheek on the side of his raised hand. breath shudders, he feels cold. a smile slowly blossoms, an exact match. heather guesses if he did this with their hearts, they would be an exact match too. she has an idea in mind, a test. it's easy and she feels she knows his answer already. his eyes are big and dark and she can get lost in them if she tries to. clears her throat. "can you please bite me?"

[heatherbecker]

@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.

[greelin]

you can never escape a weird little freak that loves you

[heatherbecker]

@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.

[heatherbecker]

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.

[heatherbecker]

btw i am going to be here and also i should be working on heather’s carrd sometime soon.

[pwrballad]

eddie's always loved music. something is always playing in his vicinity, be it drifting from his turntable or rattling through his van or coming from his own hands. he needs it. he loves it. when he was first turned, everything was too loud. crickets and heartbeats and the chafing grind of every blade of grass down the trailer park drive. it took awhile before he was used to it. now, he's an old pro. the sounds of night melt into one buzzing little song. he likes heather for a variety of reasons, ones he's aware of and one's he's struggled to decipher, but the one that keeps him most entranced is this: her heart, beating, right in time with the music in the air around them.

he's fighting to slow his pace to something respectable, something that doesn't have him walking miles ahead of heathers calm, steady pace, and he wasn't paying enough attention to the trap the black-swathed vixen was setting in front of him. eddie pauses, mid-step, turns fully to face her. does she know? is she angry with him? does she know? he hadn’t really considered what he would do if directly confronted him by asking 'are you a monster?'

eddie watches her skirt billow in the wind, and smiles, a little distantly. he doesn't want to look in her eyes and see her disappointed with him. thinks of doing something stupid, like dropping to his knees and confessing that yes, i'm a filthy, no-good low life bloodsucker and i think you smell like heaven and i know in my rotten, un-beating heart you’d taste like it too. instead, he gives a half-hearted bark, like a goddamn mutt, and turns to keep walking. "you don’t sound so torn up about it."

eddie shrugs his hands into his jacket, tries to pretend he can't smell her perfume and soap and sweat and the iron in her blood. he hates keeping anything from her. eddie wants to give her whatever piece of him she bothers to unearth. still, the thought of scaring her, the one person in the whole county who's never been afraid of the town freak. he tilts his head from side to side, then leans across the way to bump his shoulder into hers. "tell you a secret," he says, conspiratorial. "i got a sun allergy. 's why i'm fresh and pale as a daisy."

[heatherbecker]

heather believes that eddie munson remains an unsolved mystery, wonders how much of that is on purpose, how much of that simply happens. his hesitation, she feels it and it's like water hitting the rocks. washes over. doubt is planted like a seed and heather seems to rip it out of the ground. she giggles at the bark, head thrown back at the sky, snorts even. suddenly, rather honest. hands bracing to rub her arms. "i think there's worse things than being a monster. you could be evil. or boring." bright eyes linger along the road, shift to find the shape of him. ringlight that catches all the stray curls, moving with the wind as the clouds clear the path for the moon. the way the light hits his skin, bright. like he was made for the night. there's no complaints from her.

"-besides, i am rather fond of the monsters. they have a certain appeal." the real scary stuff, she believes is all human. and maybe she has been devoting her time to too much reading. but whatever this conversation leads them, it surely would be the right place. she feels like she's actively setting a part of her down, for eddie to see. her heart beats just a little bit faster. and she bites her lip, arms swaying lightly.

he's worked through her defenses, high and mighty, mainly to prevent heartbreak. the thought gets in her head often, she swore. she wouldn't feel something of the like. not from her own emotions, not from her own heart. but eddie's dark hair, and darker eyes make her falter. the smile he gives her, and how fond he seems to feel. adoration. want. need. they all bleed together, his and hers. drip, drip. he bumps her shoulder lightly and she looks away, just the tiniest bit shy. he smells nice, dressed up, dolled up. heather wants to keep him forever, one of her many quirks. bubbling up.

"a sun allergy." she repeats and heather nods agreeing. something in between the lines, that doesn't mean they can't pretend. "-well you are full of surprises, eddie. here i was thinking you were waiting for a bite." and she's teasing with a wide grin framed by black lips, warm suddenly as the thought overtakes her brain for a moment, teeth sinking into flesh. she clears her throat, calming down. "that pale look does wonders for that whole thing you have going. it suits you. porcelain pretty." as in, i think i really like you. and i need you to know that maybe.

[heatherbecker]

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.

[heatherbecker]

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?"

[pagent-archived]

stumped she is, hands on hips. there's a beat of silence, as silent as it can even get out here.. the perspective heather brings is not unexpected. not really. there are better ways seraphina could spend her night that don't involve trudging around in the boonies, getting eaten alive by bugs, and holding a conversation with heather becker. but it isn't about her, this is about charlie! polished hands now seek her opposite arms: less coiled up and rigid, more self-soothing. ‘ ok, well.. ’ sera's shoulders rise and drop, pushing the rest of the idle-relentment out of her system with the hope it clears the uncertainty about this brewing in he gut. how does that saying go? two heads, one stone? whatever.

totally vanished. right. sera starts one foot in front of the other, snapping twigs and crunching leaves as she tries to catch up to heather without tripping over all the fucking roots and branches around. ‘ very funny, becker. ’ maybe this was a mistake.. how hard was it to navigate the woods? at night? hawkins woods specifically, where everyone seems to be fucking disappearing.. if heather roams around out here doing, god knows what, what's stopping sera?

a lot, actually. and deep down she knows this. once she matches heather's pace, sera sighs. ‘ it's a ballcap, for— ’ jesus, what was that team charlie was always going on about.. imagine that: the only reason her brother can't be found is because sera couldn't even remember what the fuck was stitched on his hat. still, despite her opinions on the forest, the forest spirits, the missing kids, or her.. tour guide. sera sticks close to heather. ‘ —it's dark blue. red bill. and it has like, a white c on the front. some chicago team, or.. whatever. ’

[heatherbecker]

it's a stupid plan, heather wants to say. but seraphina is truly set. they're out here playing scooby doo when the lingering sentiment of something evil still lurks. heather can sense at times, this great evil, the type that gives you goosebumps and keeps you awake at night. "you don't need to feel uneasy. you got me now. just don't piss me off and you'll be home in one piece before you know it, not a little blonde curl out of place." it's meant to be reassuring. whether it carries or not is a whole different thing.

"must be some ballcap." to go through all this trouble, whether it is sentimentality, or a connection to something greater heather doesn't know. but what she does know is that the dead (or almost dead) do not like when their shit goes missing. when their shit is unfound or left in the middle of the dense hawkins woods.

"-and i know i might just be wasting away my breathe carrying on a conversation neither of us want a part in, but this is important...where did they last see your brother exactly?..." heather turns something solemn. she doesn't play about these things. maybe sera's brother is not entirely dead, but she treats this with the same respect. she is not about to bring upon herself an unnecesary curse of some kind.

[pagent-archived]

ok, so.. what the fuck! coated lashes blink, squinting in the already darkened space sera regrettably finds herself in, and at heather. god, what the hell is she doing out here! a mirror she is, as sera scoffs back, arms winded tightly beneath her chest as she doubles down on her spot in the soil. berry lips part, but nothing comes out of them. there are plenty of things seraphina could be hiding! does she not look the secretive type? the double-life type? the gun tucked in the waistband of her pleated skirt type?? well, alright.. maybe heather has a point. ‘ uhm, and what's THAT supposed to mean, freakshow? ’ call it a hunch, call it insecurity, just don't call heather becker right!

here she goes, talking about some witching hour.. heather doesn't own hawkins' forests (right? right..). if sera wants to creep and investigate around on her own, digging for clues for her woes and worries about the state of the town: then she should be able to! hell, why the fuck was heather here then? ‘ so? what'cha gonna do about it? turn me green? ’ yeahhhhh.. some circles, come circles sera is most definitely in, have a thing or two to say about heather becker.. lurking in the woods and turning people green are just some of those things.

‘ look, ’ relent, concede, white flag. ‘ is it.. do you want me to like, keep my trap shut or something? seeing you here? ’ straws. sera is grasping at fucking straws. ‘ i'm just tryna.. find something. ok? my brother's hat? ’

[heatherbecker]

it draws a wicked little smile out of heather, she can feel the frustration after being perceived "you know what i mean, barbie." it makes her chuckle, framed by dark black lips. heather seems thrown off her game a little. "turn you green?" who the hell started that one. it's so fucking lame, unoriginal and uninspired. she would go on about until something much more interesting occurs, sera folds. the deck is right there for heather to look at and she doesn't know if she likes that. but it's after all what's been presented.

heather senses honesty, which is, frankly, refreshing. "what? no. who cares? everyone knows already, the problem here is that it's almost the witching hour and you are outside skipping merrily along all on your own." this isn't heather scolding her, this is heather putting into evidence what should be obvious to anyone who can see and hear what goes on in this town. "-it's like you want to get..." and heather pauses, recalculates her words. "-totally vanished like every other kid. and teen. lately." blood in the soil, seeping through and through.

no see this is an opportunity, up close and like never before. heather can stick her nose in where it does not belong. "-you are going to get lost. so. i'll help you find your brother's hat. we can even ask the forest spirits." the last part is ambigious, as in, sarcastic. but also not entirely false. "what does it look like?" heather folds her arms, turns and starts to walk, waiting for sera to keep up.

[heatherbecker]

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.

[heatherbecker]

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."

[heatherbecker]

like this to plot stuff with heather perchance maybe

[heatherbecker]

like this to plot stuff with heather perchance maybe