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 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 smiles 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?

Current Status: CLOSED.

♱﹒ Fanwork﹒ToS

♱﹒ Derivative﹒Works

As an individual content creator and VTuber, Bonehead Venom welcomes fan-made derivative works inspired by their original content. A derivative work must incorporate new creative elements beyond the original material to qualify as such.By creating derivative works based on my content, you grant me (Bonehead Venom) permission to feature your creations in stream thumbnails, social media posts, and other promotional avenues—some of which may be monetized indirectly. However, I will never use your work for merchandise or directly monetize/paywall it without your explicit consent. Credit will always be given.Guidelines for Derivative Works:Fan/Hobby-Level Creation
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♱﹒ Restricted﹒ Derivative﹒Works

When creating fan-made content based on my work, please avoid the following:Misrepresentation
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