Cursed Headcanon Time!

Cursed headcanon time!

Karma can't use anything to masturbate with because everything she inserts erodes before she's finished and she's stuck waiting for plastic and battery acid to break down completely.

It happens with both organic (aka, dicks, fingers, tongues) and artificial materials. She cannot control her passive decay, especially after she's fully back in the bounty hunter business. Objects erode, beings age if she's in their presence for long enough.

If something goes INSIDE the vicious power that already cannot be contained, the process is sped up significantly despite she does not want that.

Some beings are immune either by sheer fucking luck or that high level in power, or their power counter her passive. Otherwise...don't stick anything into her and expect to keep it.

🖤.

"Am I....not suppose to be here?" From Rovéna, surprise me with which verse lmao

What could she say to that?

“Probably not, sweet child.” how old even was she? And why would she end up in Hell, to top it off in the wrong ring. Was Karma supposed to lead this sunshine to the slaughterhouse they called Pride?

“What's your name little one?” her voice calm and melodic, trying to keep the twinge of melancholy out of it. No use in frightening her even more.

The bringer of surprise was Villám who after a short inspection of the girl, nickered and rested her head on the newcomer, as if she had known her for ages.

“And uh, she's my horse.” Karma added with slight disbelief at the displayed behavior from the always careful creature

" Now I remember why I don't come here very often.. " ( From Sinner James )

The target never knows she's coming until the brief second till death kisses them on the forehead; except for this one. Thick moss green smoke slithered from her side, the bastard aimed at her horse, this was the only possible choice. At least the gun wasn't blessed.

Her seat was far back, cloaked even more so in shadows, only her piercing eyes glowing through the inky darkness everyone instinctively leaned away from. Distaste pulled at her black lips, not like she was nursing the most quality whiskey of her life but still. Something like that was a sure way to get yourself into an early second grave.

“Care to elaborate?”

The marksman spoke before the inevitable bar fight, already irritated by Pride's constant noise and by her injury. Oh plus the possibility of the client warning the victim, which resulted in her beloved horse almost getting shot.

Silent. Efficient. Quick. Without a trace. All of her skills that classed her above the rest of assassins, bounty hunters, hitmen; however they called themselves. With her...unique methods Karma managed to get to a level where she got to choose which job to take, driven by her moral compass: no petty skirmishes, unnecessary assassinations, nor final revenge by the abuser.