Ghost Hunter Verse | Death Walks Among Humans; Wearing A Maiden's Face - Tumblr Posts
𝕍𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤
Alternative modern verse/Cryptid Ghost Hunter
After death/Hazbin-Helluva
Modern verse
Spiderverse ➡ @venomtorn
Apocalypse
Mafia
Life was a blur due to her lifestyle. Despite always going for the highest bounties with a famous catchphrase of ‘I don't get out of bed for less than $3000’ (which was only partly true), she wasn't collecting the money to settle. Most of the time she didn't even sleep in hotels, saloons but out in the desert instead. Money was spent spoiling her horse (Akhal Teke being a high maintenance breed) with quality grains, good equipment, if she liked something she bought or commissioned it and simply gave away what wasn't needed. Tipping mariachis, paying more than supposed when she felt the business owner is struggling, generously paying prostitutes even if she didn't sleep with them; acts of kindness everywhere. And it was natural to do so: those people needed money and she could always hunt down an another criminal to get paid a small fortune.
Karma was always fascinated by heartbeat, how a simple muscle kept someone alive, how the pulse spiked in certain situations. She loved to listen, to kiss and nibble at pulse points, as time went on stronger the strange craving became. His heart sounded like thunder, like a hundred men marching and she was lost in the sensation, only realizing what transpired when it was quiet. Too quiet. She had taken his life without intent and a weapon; her horror only heightening upon feeling her previously stiff joints work like a freshly greased machine.
She doesn't remember when she stopped aging. Doesn't remember when the shadows' whisper became audible words. When she started seeing things no human eye could. She only knows when her human time is about to end because she is cursed with a feeling of withering away alive, an unquenchable famine soothed only by an another life. It is usually drained by prolonged physical contact or through a deep emotional bond, the latter getting more rare since Karma figured out it also counts.
She can take by her usual means, it took a while to master. While otherwise immortal, she still can be wounded, the healing can be sped up by the process she reserves as last resort, the ability so strong to be able to fully restore her vitality even if the wound is fatal. Karma also can give. She doesn't fully understand how her curse sometimes can act as a gift, healing others similar way she would've taken their life.
Because of her bond with Villám, both the curse and the life force she takes is transfered into the horse as well, her weapons also tainted by it. More she was forced to take, more her appearance changed till her hair became bone white, eyes emitting an unsettling light in darkness, lips permanently tinted black. People began to whisper about a legend, an immortal gunslinger haunting certain places even into the 21st century. They say, unlike in the Bible, Death rides an oil black horse.
Karma has been dead in a way since she was accidentally fully given the Blessing of Death when trying to heal her from a deadly illness; one of the most powerful curses from an ancient coven originating from Mesopotamia worshipping Nergal, God of Death, Pestilence and Plague. Karma doesn't have a soul but a perfectly balanced essence between what divinely deemed good and bad. A true neutral. The hollow feeling during her first life was kept at bay by the constant adrenaline, risky behavior and sex. But her time had ran out and getting close to being done, the curse defends itself by hungering for an another life.
With her abilities sharpening, she also began to hunt the harmful supernatural entities as well as humans. Ghosts, ghouls, creatures from folklores; which one of them wouldn't leave when Death herself asked them to? And if they don't, well, her quickdraw only became more faster and lethal with the weapons absorbing her powers. Being around supernatural creatures cause her own features to surface even more: her sclera tainted dark poison green, ability to manipulate and transform into shadows or even the unique ink black and seafoam green decaying mist, move, shoot faster than sound & even curve the shot.
She cannot take a demon's life passively to add it to her existence, while she lacks a soul she doesn't need it, yet the victim must have one for her to be able to sustain herself. Trying to perform it on, let's say a vampire would feel like running into a wall, the channels of life flow are blocked/protected from her touch. But not from her bullet.
So it would seem she hasn't lost her allure completely. Although now it easily could be chalked up to her...condition. Her shadows stretched curiously at the creature, the last rays of sun and the lit oil lamp causing his to overlap with hers as he reached her lone table.
It wasn't often Karma got the chance to try this trick with supernatural entities; eyes averted as he spoke, hidden under the brim of her hat, well aware how her eyes will shift even more.
Churning sea soon to be colored crimson. A merciless father leading to extraordinary career heights. A pirate, mischievous, unfairly handsome with glinting dark eyes and messy hair filled with softly clinking trinkets. Trickster, thief and crafty, but not a cold blooded murderer. A young woman of high status, beautiful, a damsel at first then...a snarling pirate. But she never lost that air of haughty superiority that came with her birth. Brown doe eyes that seemed kind at the first look, yet such deception lurked underneath. And an another woman at last; a pirate just like the man but she was...vicious; like storm was forced into a human shape. Emerald eyes so bright, flashing like steel, insanity and intellect shining equally prominently. A greedy Brit dwarf thinking himself to be the king of the seas while according to myths it already had its Goddess and Devil. Creatures, more than fish than human led by the one resembling to an octopus.
His memories sharp and crystal clear like reflection on lagoon surface. Aching for telling, understanding and absolution. How...strange the contrast.
“It was an observation, vampire.”
Said so confidently yet casually as she raised her poison eyes to meet his again at last with a small smirk of ink lips.
“Worry not, vampire hunting isn't my work. Too many crosses facing the right direction and too many encounters with priests.” for further strengthening her point, she raised her jacket high enough for the metal fringes to be seen; the crosses at the ends were inverted.
“Sit” perhaps a bit too long fingers gestured to the unoccupied chair a bit further from her right, porcelain skin rivaling with her hair regarding color
“For the first time, I have a question.” it may have been a little rude to look into his memories without asking, at least she was courteous enough to not stay for his death
“You may not talk, but your shadow does. Surprisingly talkative in fact. It showed me three people who were very important to you, they must have been if you still remember them this sharply.” Karma mused out loud; the pattern was the same. Parent then loved one. She had seen two occasionally, but never three. She decided to gloss over the fact that the last woman, the swordfighter, the killer had the same eyes she once had.
“Which one did you truly love?” came the piercing question laced with genuine curiosity
“The black eyed pirate, no-” an another detail fluttering across her mind, causing a softer smile “The black eyed sparrow, the deceitful doe or the wild jaguar? Only one of them would've returned your affections with undying loyalty.”
(Yes you reblogged memes but...sort of wanted an official meeting ask before the dynamite coffin🤣)
Springrose became a ghost town after the Orphan returned to take revenge on the superstitious townfolk encouraged by their preacher to murder her family. They long forgotten her name, her face; nobody knew Death was riding into the town on an oil slick black horse. Most tales focus on the spreading fire; just like how her house burned. Others lay the weight on the act of hanging the preacher. Some mention both. What remains the same in each version is the endorsed murder, the arrival of the gunfighter more than a decade ago to settle a long overdue debt and her disappearance after.
Springcreek was established around 50 miles away, survivors afraid of her possible return even though it has been over a hundred years. Many swore they saw a ghost, a wraith with the same horse as the orphan turned gunslinger in the abandoned town. A few, extremely brave people has left flowers, small trinkets near the once beautiful burned down house as condolences.
“I have seen men almost driven mad by lust.” the voice mused from a shadowy corner of the saloon after observation, one loud clank of steel heels as the other foot was set down
“Also familiar with the phrase ‘good enough to eat’, but.” there was always a but whenever she intervened “You seem to take that saying quite literally from what I see in your gaze.” and the woman leaned forward, pure ivory strands of hair falling from her hat, her eyes perhaps too bright emerald that almost seemed to glow in the setting dusk.
“It couldn't be that long time, stranger.” it could be said the newcomer can be considered a fine man appearance vise, surely working girls would even fight for his attention in any establishment. “And this area has an already bloody history, sure the locals already told their ghost stories. No need to add an another one.” soft spoken yet firm, not a threat, barely skirting a warning. Only her stare was akin to being caught in the crosshair, quite literally with the scarring around her right eye.
Inhuman green eyes people watched as if he were looking over feast instead of human beings. Yet, a voice managed to reach him through the noise of the ruckus. He sat with no drink infront of him, but full glass of water untouched. ( Un touched water.. in the desert??? )
Tortuga or Tombstone, Norrington saw these rowdy folk the same as pirates. They were the same rogues and ne'er-do-wells, just with a different accent.
Yet someone had noticed the vampire, her voice was exotic and cut through the minutia.
He listened to her words, each one a precise observation that struck at the heart of his condition. The mention of men driven mad by lust and the unsettling glint in her eyes spoke volumes about her experience and the battles she had fought.
Approaching her table, with a deliberate grace, the floorboards creaked under his boots. His gaze met hers—bright emerald eyes that seemed to pierce through the dusk matching the neon of his own, brought out by her very presence, the vampiric nature of him .
"I appreciate the poetry, Miss, but I'm not in the market for a lecture on my appetites, literal or otherwise."
He crosses his arms leaning back, hat tipped back. His voice-- accent too posh and English to be a cowpoke.
"Your insight is sharp," he admitted, steady and measured. " I've no doubt this town has seen its share of darkness, but I assure you, I am not here to add to its legends." Although the lost Dutchman mine in the superstitions did pique the pirate he was once and he would be adding to the blood spilled. There was no getting away from that.
god The Last Dance looks like it’ll be a really fun time-
A city was built in the sunkissed desert. Karma, seemingly eternally frozen in time only watched from her ebony mare as it grew, more vibrant, loud, populated, suffocating in crime. Witnessing its advancing was among her most surreal experiences. Her own realm, the unforgiving heated sandy wastelands were getting smaller, the city's thrum reaching far. With the ever growing crime rate more hastily or not even buried dead littered the outskirts.
Karma setting a foot in this town was a rarity, especially this deep but the shadows kept whispering, urging her to come. She had left Villám long before entering, thankfully the intelligent horse understood well why she had to stay behind.
The gunfighter's clothing barely changed throughout centuries, only she allowed more prominent metal chain fringes on her jacket, the decorations chiming with a soft finality with each move. The shadows led her to a museum, by then she also could feel it. Not sparing much attention to the displays nor the people; few, probably around closing time, that was good. She didn't know yet what would happen.
The aura was akin to a harsh push when she sensed it full force. Close, not too much but already enough for her eyes to morph even more. Her stainless steel heels a steady thunder of something unavoidable approaching.
Burgundy was a stark contrast against her bone white hair and skin, the chain fringes giving one final clink as she stopped at the entrance.
“This shithole is your doing.”
A statement bold and sure, the modern disguise of the demon incapable of fooling her senses. Poison eyes flicked to the criminal decorated wall.
“Along with other deeds indirectly leading to deaths of the undeserving.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
“Humans can be more than vile without any intervention.” when did she start speaking like she isn't one of them anymore?
Inky lips curled into a sneer at the so blatant display of control over the mind; subtlety was certainly lost on this one. Soon the corner of her mouth quirked up at the now visible crack of the mask, the gunslinger unmoving from her previous stand. Her trustworthy Colts by her sides a comforting weight as always.
“Death.”
Her expression briefly contorting into confusion after the immediate, confident reply...she never could quite name exactly what was she. Or maybe she never wanted to dig deeper in fear of what she might find. This felt frighteningly fitting.
“Therefore I don't give a fuck where you crawled out of. You've done more enough here. Leave to ruin an another place; your time here is up.” Karma always warned once, only fair this way.
His shadow was overlapping hers, better said the ever growing shadows accompanying her. She easily could've read the past from it, yet her gut advised against it. Especially after spelling ‘get the fuck out’ to the demon who apparently had himself on a high pedestal of vile glory.
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
Silent as marble, she had to get used to such title herself.
“I didn't say where to go, only to away. And the why is because I feel imbalance. Too much evil influence outweighing good. Life cannot flourish.” curt explanation soon followed by ire laced words “I'm a drifter. Go wherever I'm called or feel like. Don't think yourself so highly. You aren't special when it comes to personal visits. Mortals, divine and demonic; all the same at the end. And don't even bring God into this. Give even less shit about him and ‘his ways’ than I do about you.” the spark of the old fire long thought dead flared viciously in acid green glare
Karma didn't dignify that with an another reply. Unnatural darkness rolled into the room like a tidal wave, the ivory haired woman dissolving into black mist with green tints. Faster than any eye could follow, the shade whirled into the center of the room accompanied by the ever growing undechiperable whispers of the abyss. Lights suffocated, glass shattered, portraits dissolved, rot eating away the rich burgundy tapestry.
The shadows formed her body again, this time with revolvers already in hand, crosshair scar glowing seafoam green.
“I don't like repeating myself.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
The entity grinned, inky abyss where her lips should've been at the reveal in return, not sheathing her guns just yet.
“Excess sin leads to an unnatural spike of deaths. You can imagine how the world wars felt like. I feel it. Every demonic, divine interference, presence and the ones existing in between.”
“Bad experiences with that opening.” she refused to elaborate further, since that incident she started with guns ready and a simple get the fuck out before shooting if the entity didn't comply.
“You leave somewhere else. When you ruined that place too, travel again. I'm not policing where. But if I sense you near Vegas ever again I will kill you without hesitation. Same goes if you touch my horse. That's my word and deal which I will honor.”
His agreement was slightly surprising, it was an extremely small percentage of her encounters where a negotiation could be reached. Keeper of Balance...no, not quite. And the shadows told her Balance exists in form of a cosmic phoenix. She was Death, so it seemed. And for certainly she will be looking into the history of the town to find out exactly who could get this answer out of her.
“In old times, they called me Karma.”
Sin City
Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.
A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.
Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.
@deathshadowed
If you think you could beat this woman in a quickdraw & accuracy in any of her verses;
I have news for you.
