Lore

Mama Bat—or Mara, as she used to be called—was always the weird one. The kind of girl who’d stay up all night reading about skinwalkers and mothmen instead of go to the parties with her agemates. Often sick and perpetually tired, she was the neighborhood’s resident goth cryptid enthusiast. Chronic illness kept her indoors most days, so she made her world in the glow of her laptop screen—gaming, deep-diving into creepy forums, and collecting strays around her neighborhood since she found it easier to make friends with animals. Despite struggling with illness and being a bit of a hermit, overall she lived a normal girl's life.Then she got worse.The doctors didn’t know why, or how, just that it was worse. Even sitting up felt like a marathon, and her hands shook too much to hold her favorite books anymore. The walls of her room started feeling like the edges of her whole world, and leaving it was too dangerous. She was becoming a shell of herself, or rather, trapped in the shell of herself. And she was powerless to stop it.Then came the storm.Rain hammered the windows like it was trying to break in. Thunder shook the walls. And through the chaos, something small and dark fluttered into her room—a bat, wings beating wildly, like it was panicked. Mara barely registered it through the fog in her head. She’d helped bats before—found one half-dead in the gutter once, nursed it back with eyedroppers of sugar water. Maybe this was the same one. Maybe it was a different one. Either way, it was a sweet sight to see while she found herself fading. Eyes getting heavier, will to keep going seeming pointless. At least she wouldn't be alone when she went.But, the bat had no intention of letting that happen.It landed on her chest, tiny claws gripping her shirt. And then—light. Not like a lamp flickering, but like something tearing. A pulse of gold and shadow, searing and cold all at once, flooding her veins.When it was over, the bat was gone.And Mara wasn’t Mara anymore.

References

A passion project of mine that has taken years to realize! I've always wanted to be a vtuber ever since I found out about them in 2020, and landed on this concept. I primarily stream on youtube under my channel for GothTomboyASMR, but I also have a twitch.Not included above: music by a private contractor.

Lore

The air in the city is thick tonight—hot, sticky, and humming with the distant roll of drums. The scent of rum, spice, and burning candles clings to the breeze as the living prepare for Fèt Gede.They make their petitions to the graves of Baron Samedi and his wife, Maman Brigitte, for permission to enter the cemetery and speak with their dead. Tonight, this space that is typically reserved for mourning pulses with laughter. The Guede have arrived—crude, chuckling, hips swaying to the rhythm of their own irreverence. They are the unmourned, the forgotten, the ones who died without weeping loved ones to guide them to the other side. Singing and dancing, they invite the living to take life less seriously.The Guede are not solemn ghosts. They are the spirits who mock death itself—lewd, loud, and utterly unafraid. They pinch cheeks, steal kisses, and cackle at the living’s fear. They are the reminder that death is not an end, but a transformation—one that doesn’t have to be dignified.And among them, slithering through the crowd with a smirk, looking straight at you, is Venom. She holds out her hand and asks, ‘why are you standing there all alone? Come dance with me.’In life, she was an assassin, her name whispered in the underworld like a curse. No one knows what name she was originally given, just that due to the serpent tattoo coiled around her forearm, she became known as Venom. Contracts kept her fed, but something deeper kept her killing—an obsession that would consume her whole life. Then, one day, she was gone. No tears, no burial rites, the kind of death that makes a spirit perfect for Baron’s legion. And, death didn’t kill her name. If anything, it made it louder.Legends, like curses, outlive their creators. Centuries after her death, Venom’s name still slithered through the underworld—until it grazed the ears of a man who thought himself worthy of it.His gang thought themselves clever, digging up old rites to summon a Guede for their petty power grab. They wanted control—over the streets, the black market, the whole damn city. But the dead do not obey; they indulge. And so, Venom indulged.They barked orders. She watched, amused, as they strutted like roosters, blind to the fact that she was the fox in the henhouse.Their leader, a self-satisfied wannabe ganglord with no lineage and no elders, grinned at them. “See?,” he gestured to a half-assed veve, cheap rum, and a pitiful stack of counterfeit bills still curling to ash in the offering bowl. “Even death listens when we call.”The next morning, the gang was found with grins too wide for their throats. And Venom? She woke up alive. With a heartbeat, a hangover, and absolutely no idea what to do next.But the last thing she'd do is spend another lifetime killing. What a bore.Stumbling through part-time jobs with the grace of a drunkard—fired weekly yet eternally undeterred—Venom embraces modern absurdity like a long-lost lover. The world is a carnival of idiocy, and Venom–its star clown. The smallest things baffle her. Doordash? Magic. ASMR mukbangs? Hypnotic. Getting fired from Wendy’s for eating the inventory? Worth it. Who knew resurrection came with free fries? And, despite being embarrassingly incompetent with technology, she’s taken up streaming, screaming at video games and flirting shamelessly with women in her chat.Yet sometimes, in the quiet between laughter, she feels it—the pull of unfinished business. The Baron grins in her dreams, playfully whispering: "You’re not done yet, little snake."But for now? There’s hot wings to eat, controllers to break, and a whole internet full of pretty women to tease. The dead can fucking wait.And as for you, are you ready to dance with Death?

References

Important note: this vtuber model has some recoloring work done by me, so any errors you see in coloring are my own fault. I had a hard time finding the words to articulate certain changes I wanted that I didn't realize until after the model was already completed and rigged by someone else. The artist did a great job and was very flexible, especially considering I did not have a character sheet to give them. Below is the original artwork.