Fantasy sinner's paradise — cs.

[eyyliner]

sinner's paradise — cs.​

character sheet.
name;
nicknames;
perceived age;
actual age;
death date;

sexuality;
gender identity;
occupation;
sin type;
reasons for being in hell?

personality;
backstory;

roles available.
pride — 0/1.

envy — 0/1.

greed — 0/1.

wrath — 0/1.

sloth — 0/1.

lust — 0/1.

gluttony — 0/1.

 

[eyyliner]

NPCS.

[ -- main non-playable characters of the story -- ]​

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LADY THORN

the high priestess / founder.

© pasta

Traits

Patient

Soothing

Quiet

Agreeable

Academic

Emotionally mature

Intelligent

ANGELO CHO

death himself / financier.

© pasta

Traits

Resolute

Blunt

Cunning

Friendly

Condescending

Flirtatious

Brutally honest

LI WINDSOR

the female lover / caregiver.

© pasta

Traits

Considerate

Humorous

Bubbly

Realistic

Open-minded

Understanding

Perfectionist

SALEM SATO

the male lover / therapist.

© pasta

Traits

Studious

Personable

Curious

Self-sabotaging

Oblivious

Compassionate

 

[TerrorKitty]

Samantha Black​

Loves Stitching Clothes & People​

Has Traumatic Relapses​

Living Porcelain Doll​

Loses Herself to Desire Occasionally​

WHO WAS I?​

Name - Samantha Black
Nickname - Sam, Sammy, Doll
Perceived Age - 20
Actual Age - 26
Death Date - December 6th XXXX
Sexuality - Pansexual Homoromantic
Gender Identity - Female
Occupation - Seamstress
Sin - LUST

What was she Like?
Samantha used to be such a kind and caring woman. She was loved by everyone around her, even if she was a bit quiet and didn't speak up often people still enjoyed her presence. There was always something about her that made the room feel warmer and bright with her in it. The girl was often doing what she could to help people, going out of her way to do so even if it mean inconveniencing herself, she was always more than happy to do so.

Samantha surely had negative emotions as anyone did, though they were rarely seen; her composure was strong at all times, while also keeping a strong focus on whatever she was doing. Combined with her less than talkative disposition, polite manners, and natural beauty, people often likened her to a living doll.

She was deeply affected by her mother's teachings. Samantha's mother was a reclusive and paranoid woman who had been raised herself in a strict boarding school for women, and as such she passed on these lessons onto her daughter. Prim and Proper were two words that defined her household growing up, the practices she learned secluded with her mother made her feel like she was Carrie in her own special hell, but this was the real world. Samantha took her mother's teachings to heart, she had no other choice. She really was a doll in more ways than one.


History Tainted by Blood-Lust
In college, for the first time Samantha had found herself away from her mother and could truly begin to explore herself as a person, but she never took too much to the wild parties on campus or rampant hormones, at least, not until she had met her first girlfriend. Being with a woman was something that had brought out something deep from within her, a joy she had thought impossible. Even more was learning that women were more than just what her mother had taught her. There were so many female role models who revealed kinds of femininity Samantha was wholly unfamiliar with, and it was an incredible experience.

Years later after being cheated on twice she had found herself with a third girlfriend and they were going on strong. Samantha was sure she'd marry this woman, she was strong and took care of her little doll. She was loyal and kept the constant barrage of men she had normally dealt with constantly, off her back. They had a stable and evolving relationship, eventually moving in together. Samantha was at some point ready to take initiative for once in her life and propose.

Until.

She found out her girlfriend was cheating on her, but not just with anyone, but multiple people. Multiple men in fact. She had no idea why or how it all happened but it didn't matter. She was through being manipulated, being used, being toyed around with like a fucking doll.

Samantha kept the fact she knew the truth about her girlfriends adultery a secret for longer than she could truly tolerate. Eventually tracking down one of the men and for the first time put herself forward, with striking ease, she was able to capture his attention. Not long after she was fucking him in her own bed, at first it was just to spite her girlfriend but at some point a switch flipped in her brain, and Samantha wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed hard. He thought it was just fun at first, and she gasped, feeling a deep elation as things escalated, but soon his look of pleasure turned to one of panic as she her grip tightened, blood running down his skin as her nails dug into his flesh.

When everything was done and over. Samantha freaked out, she had just murdered someone... But she remained clear headed and cleaned up the crime scene. Somehow managing to drag the body to the basement and locking it away.

That was only the first.

Five more bodies stowed away under her feet as she kissed her girlfriend home, having been notified the police were investigating some disappearances, there was no suspicion on the kind cute lesbian couple next door. Everyday they continued to live this lie of a perfect life together.

It wasn't until one day, the day Samantha had taken her seven victim, a new boyfriend her girlfriend had clinged to after the previous six vanished one by one. That her girlfriend came home early, finding the shadowy figure of a small petite woman violently hacking away at something in the dark of the basement, pulling up her phone light she was able to fully witness the gruesome scene before her as Samantha sat there frozen, as still as a doll, staring at her with surprisingly cold eyes. The re headed woman stood up from the partially mutilated and pieces of a man's corpse. Slowly walking towards the panicking woman who claimed to be her girlfriend now backing up the stairs.

There were no words exchanged as Samantha quietly stalked closer step by step until she stopped, examining the bloody cleaver still she paused. Unsure of herself, she didn't actually want to hurt her girlfriend, the woman felt betrayed but she still loved them.

Right?

Samantha's moment of hesitation would be her last as her girlfriend shoved her tiny body down the stairs, and everything went black with a single sickening crack.

A shattered doll.

[/i]​

WHAT HAVE I BECOME?​

Corrupted into Despair
In hell as a lust demon she was quickly overtaken by her LUST for countless days, weeks, months, or more. When she eventually regained a more coherent sense of self she was no longer the same woman she had been when she was alive on earth. She was now quite literally a porcelain doll of demon physiology and corrupted by an insatiable desire for pleasure and debauchery. She started going by Madame Black, and weaved her way through the streets one person after another, amassing power, eventually becoming the Head Mistress of her own brothel; Dollhouse, Corsets and cocktails - A rather popular establishment where she holds an iron fist under her warped sense of what is considered 'proper' though as one of the few establishments in hell with heavily enforced rules however strict it has gained quite a bit of notoriety as a 'high-class' business.
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© pasta​

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[solanaluvs]

name: Nkosazana Achebe | (NKo-Sah-Zah-Nah Ah-Chee-bey)
nicknames: Niko, Zana
perceived age: 24
actual age: 19
death date: 05/21/1982

sexuality: lesbian
gender identity: non-binary, female aligned
occupation: botanist
sin type: envy
reason(s) for being in hell: murdering the two children of her boss

personality
​

Listed as an ENFJ in her psychological profile, Nkosazana is known for her extraverted, intuitive and judging personality. Family members would joke the young girl was born with an upturned nose, casting a judgmental eye upon anything placed before her. However, she proved herself to be a thoughtful and idealistic girl in her early years. They’re the main character of their story, rarely shying away from an opportunity to follow their hearts calling. Nkosazana is a born leader, assuming the position in all her group projects during school. Adults never had to ask them to step up, chances were they were ten steps ahead and had already done so. She’s the perfect leader; receptive, reliable, passionate about anything she placed her hands on. A light in every room they stepped into, Zana boasts a larger than life personality. Of course, there were holes in their entertainer facade. Zana is often unrealistic, daydreaming of a life unattainable for them. They get caught up in realities a world away from their own, and assumes everyone holds the same fundamental principles as them. So whenever people violated her core values, it always came as pure shock and betrayal on her end, leading to much conflict in her personal relationships. When she’s upset, she’s intense, her emotions boil up and bubble over like a mentos mint to a coke bottle. She says whatever in the moment that she knows will hurt the worst, and can e condescending to those who try and point it out to her. All in all, the young woman is much like a double-edged sword; neither friend nor a foe, but it’s best to stay on her good side at all times.

backstory/life before becoming a demon
​

Born to teenage parents in the Virgin Islands, Nkosazana’s upbringing was anything but easy. Her father, an absentminded bum of sorts, had no intentions of raising a family and spending his time raising a daughter. Against his better judgement, he’d snag a job at the local market in town and begin providing for his newly formed family. Her mother, a 17 year old girl with no clue how to care for a child, would use tips from hair-braiding and shoe-shining to make ends meet. Nkosazana did not know luxury. Her childhood was either spent downtown, close to her mothers sad excuse of a shop, or behind a register, playing with whatever she could get her hands on. And though she’d spend most of her days with her mother and father, they were still absent from her life. They only existed to provide monetarily. She never got motherly nurturing or paternal guidance. She knew nothing of family. Nothing of her grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, on either side. If she even had any.

Despite the tumultuous start of their childhood, like a rose through concrete Nkosazana would persevere. They were the brightest kid in their daycare, having known their alphabet and colors long before the rest. Their signature was flawless for a six year-old, having been practiced countless times outside the market in which their father worked. They’d be moved up several grades in elementary, perfecting sight words and acing phonetics like a pro. School was her only escape from the ruin that was her home. She cherished her moments there, cherished her friends. Nkosazana dreaded when the bell rang. It meant 12 hours back home, drowning out the war zone that lived between those four walls.

At the age of ten, their father would randomly disappear from their lives. Leaving her mother with nothing, the woman struggled to keep Nkosazana in school and for (though scarce) on the table. The young girl knew her world was coming to a crash landing all too soon. Though it had already been chaotic, it’d been an organized chaos. Their father, having now owned the market, was rarely home to begin with. But his checks kept the lights on for the time being. Their mother was home after-school, though she never helped with homework or bathing or anything of the sort, Nkosazana could count on her presence. The world felt less lonely knowing they weren’t the only one in the house. But with their fathers sudden withdrawal…all would come crashing to a screeching halt. She would no longer be allowed to attend school, as the fees were too much for her mother to take on. She’d begin helping in the downtown square day in and day out. Hair-braiding in the mornings, and shoe-shining in the afternoons, when the businessmen got off of work. They imagined what it’d like to be the men. To wear their suits and carry those suitcases, of which Nkosazana was sure were empty. They spoke on flashy cellphones she could only hold in dreams. It was backbreaking work, but even more so than that, it was soul-crushing. A child who once had dreams and aspirations, reduced down to nothing but a shoe-servant.

It was then at age 15 she’d be offered a job as the maid for a new family building their house in the richer parts of the island. Whilst shining a man’s shoes, he spoke of how his wife couldn’t keep up with her duties and such. He then glanced down at Nkosazana, noting their quick but impeccable work on his shoes. They took it without hesitation, the pay was immaculate and the change of environment would be exactly what Nkosazana needed. It was a step-up from the square, and she’d have enough left-over to enroll back in school. She’d be fed twice daily, and given a stipend for her uniform. It was almost like a divinely placed gift from above.

The man had two children, ages nine and twelve. Both too much for Nkosazana to keep up with. They left nothing but destruction and mess in their wake, and the teen began to see why the last maid had given up. But it was eat or starve in Nkosazana’s world, and they wouldn’t let muddy shoe prints or syrup stains get in the way of that.

Despite the kids willingness towards mess, and their clear lack of respect for the privileged lifestyle they lived, the parents showered their offspring in love. The children were gifted whatever they asked for, never wanting or longing for anything. And on rare occasion, they’d shower Nkosazana with such praises too. Having never received it from her parents, it was a rarity that they cherished. Their boss asked if they were doing well in their studies, exchanging sweets and candies for spotless report cards. They began to see their employer as a sort of second family. They even gifted Nkosazana a room in the newly built house. Such luxuries had been out of the teens reach for so long…it almost felt too good to be true.

She was hesitant to return home at the end of her workdays. Her mother, having grown jealous of the position Nkosazana had been gifted, would degrade and belittle her. It did not matter that the teen was doing what she could to provide for the two of them, it only mattered that she saw Nkosazana being given a better life than the one afforded to her. Her mother would become convinced her child liked it better over at her employers, or that Nkosazana felt too good to live in her own home anymore. Whilst the former held in inkling of truth, Nkosazana was much too humble to forget her roots. Their mother would not be convinced, and began to lash out, leaving the teen covered in bruises for weeks. This constant cycle of abuse would last four years, before Nkosazana would make a life-changing move, ultimately ending her own.

The contrast between Nkosazana’s home life and work life might have been the final push that would lead the teen to snap. At least, that’s what the investigators covering her case established in order to come up with a motive.

On the early morning of May 14th, 1982, Nkosazana would make her daily trek up the mountain to her employers house. Nothing out of the ordinary, except they were technically off today, and had little to no reason to be making their way to the freshly built mansion at these hours. Little was known of the circumstances surrounding her actions. What was known, however, was that the two children of their employer would be left unattended for the day, as their parents would be making a day trip to Puerto Rico.

Slipping into the house using her key, she would enter silently, so as not to wake the children. The dogs would not bark, as they knew her scent. They’d only lift a sleepy eye in her direction before returning to their slumber. Her slender frame would make its way up the steps, silently creeping towards the upper level of the house, where the children slept. Their rooms were across the hall from one another. They’d chosen it that way for the children’s benefit. In this instance, it would be their downfall.

45 minutes. Forty-five minutes was all it took for Nkosazana to take the lives of the 14 and 17 year old inhabitants of the house. She would smear their blood on the dogs beds, down the stairs. She’d bait the animals up and down the stairs so their prints lead from the room down to the bloodbath that was the dog beds. They then took to ripping and shredding the pajamas the children had been sleeping in and sprinkling it over the scene. And for her final touch..she’d feed them to the dogs. It was a foolproof crime..or at least she thought so.

For the next six days, Nkosazana would spend her life in luxury. Sleeping in a queen sized bed. Access to a hot shower or a hot meal whenever she wanted. Her employer had requested she stay with them in order to help with the grieving process. All the newspapers read of how three family dogs turned vicious killers in a matter of hours. Devouring two full sized children was an explainable task for dogs of their breed and size. They’d been euthanized the day of the crime, when their parents came back and discovered the horrors awaiting them. It was an unthinkable tragedy. And no one suspected the maid.

Until May 21st, 1982. Upon doing the laundry, another maid would find a blood soaked shirt from Nkosazana’s room, hands shaking in terror as she came to the relevation. The teen had been there, despite providing an alibi when the police asked. But the maid had noted several weird things following the murder. Nkosazana slipped up when she told the story, always giving several different accounts. All eerily in more detail than the last. It could also be noted the teen was nursing a wound on her hand, one she claimed was from a fall making her way down the mountain. But she’d gotten a peek at the wound itself…it had been a human bitemark.

Outraged, maid acted quickly, grabbing the emergency revolver from the hallway closet before making her way to Nkosazana’s room. When asked to recount their death, Niko always gave the same five words. “I inhaled. Click. Exhaled. Boom.” She could never recount much about her last moments. Just that the maid had been hailed as a hero for killing a monster like Nkosazana. Headlines raved. Reporters hunted her mother like an endangered animal. They were buried in a shallow, unmarked grave. They guessed it was in some sort of last-ditch effort to serve justice. Wouldn’t matter in the long run, they thought. No one won that game.

 

[FolKinPunk]

Hi I'm Kin, this is my character. I'd love to join, if not I understand. Thank you for consideration! (: (If he can be approved but it would need changes, I'm flexible.)

Spoiler: Character: Alec

Alec Paz

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Perceived Age: 23 at age of death.
Actual Age: 43~ (20~ years passed in Hell.)
Death Date: 23/10/2017

Sexuality: Oriented AroAce
Gender identity: Agender
Occupation: Student.
Sin: Sloth.
reasons for being in hell?: Helping hide the body of a murder victim.

Personality: Lazy, bored, insecure about his size (feeling too small, feeling too large) he acts as apathetic as he can to hide his insecurities. Easily startled. Extremely loyal to those he cares about.

Backstory: Raised with his adopted brother who was born on the same day as him, he grew up in a small town in a small two bedroom house with just their mother.

He was born premature after his mother went into early stress induced labor after her best friend (Alec’s brother’s mother) passed during childbirth. Smaller than his brother, smaller than most kids, he was bullied growing up. Harassed for looking different, harassed for acting different, gained interest in people for them rather than gender, bullied for not being straight. It was a small religious town.

Bullied so vigorously, he was pulled out of school at 14 after two particularly aggressively cruel jokes by peers. Once, tying him to the train tracks when a train was due to pass through. Another, stripping him nude and locking him in a teams locker room before a game was due to start. His mother pulled him out of school and home schooled him from there on.

He was 17~ when he started taking hormones, he never went through puberty naturally. Puberty hit him fast and hard then, growing tall and lanky. He’d never been one for eating a lot, he couldn’t put weight on, he just got these long awkward limbs. He’d always been insecure in his looks, never looking like his brother or other people his age.

Once it was time for College, Alec had the chance to really grow and bloom. His brother, suffering from cancer, swapped their college entrance exams. He knew Alec had struggled in school, never paying enough attention, always too anxious when he went to actual school, and once out of school he lacked. His brother knew he was failing, but he was smart. Getting Alec in college, one last thing he could do for his brother.

During a break, Alec was home one basic weekend. The door rang, and it was his friend. One of his only friends, at that. Dirty, clothes messy, and dark red liquid in random spots on him. His friend had been hurt, and he killed the person in self defense. He was Alec’s best friend, it was an easy decision to grab a shovel. They’d bury the body, instead of deal with whatever they had to deal with in the Law.

The simple act that casted his soul into hell before he’d gotten the chance to grow. It was after he started opening up more. Feeling confident in his friendship, feeling confident in himself. He’d manage to go to college, and make friends. He was tall, he was awkward, but no one seemed to care about that in college. It helped that college was a few towns away. He was away from his hometown.

By the time Alec was 23, it was time for his brother to pass. He’d gone on long enough. He’d hid it from Alec for years. Their mother called Alec, on one stormy morning. He was hours away from home, why had they called him when he would pass so soon? He’d try to make it anyway.

He had to.

Running red lights is a bad habit no one should partake in regardless, mixing it on a wet street with the lowered visibility of a storm? He turned his head to meet the grill of a truck. He didn’t stand a chance.

Hours later, his brother would pass. Hours before his brother passed, Alec was dead at the scene of the accident.

He’d never meet his brother in hell. Maybe doing such kind acts helped him get into Heaven instead. Either way, Alec was alone. More un-motivated than ever, he’d form into the life of Sloth easily. No aspirations, never cared to explore himself more. It was all easier to not move, lay down, curl up, cry or stare at nothing. It was nice, to not care about anything anymore.