ofsacrilegio

[ofsacrilegio]

Altered Carbon  |  2x06 - “Bury Me Dead”

[ofsacrilegio]

#a sweet, injured boy

[ofsacrilegio]

If you tried just a little more times

I would've made you a believer

Would’ve showed you what it's like (Like)

Every single night

To be born again, baby, to be born again

If you stayed just another few nights

I could've made you pray to Jesus

Would've showed you to the light (To the light)

Every single night (Every night)

To be born again, baby, to be born again

[ofsacrilegio]

ADDAMS FAMILY VALUES (1993) dir. Barry Sonnenfeld

[ofsacrilegio]

Oh, is that JAKORIS GILMORE? I heard the FORTY-ONE  years old is PERSUASIVE. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also VOLATILE. Makes sense seeing how they are a INTEROGATOR in the THE CRIMSONS gang.

✱ LAYER ONE … the basics.

full name: Jakoris Nathaniel Gilmore preferred name: Jack but only by those he actually tolerates date of birth + age: March 15th — appears 35, but is 41 place of birth: Classified zodiac sign: Pisces sun, Aries rising ⸺ the unpredictable firestorm as a Pisces, this person has an innate ability to read people, adapting seamlessly to whatever role is needed. They are imaginative, deeply intuitive, and hold emotions close to their chest. The Aries rising fuels a sharp edge, making them impulsive and volatile when provoked. gender & pronouns: cis male, he + him orientation: bisexual spoken languages: English, Russian, Spanish, Italian, ASL, and a scattered knowledge of several others due to his profession education: No formal education past adolescence but is highly self-taught in psychology, criminology, and various interrogation techniques occupation: Interrogator for The Crimsons faction: The Crimsons, fiercely loyal to those who proved their worth

✱ LAYER TWO … the connections.

parents: Unknown & long-forgotten children: None that he’s aware of pets: A jet-black German Shepherd named Havoc, trained for protection and tracking

✱ LAYER THREE … the appearance.

faceclaim: Sebastian Stan hair color + frequent style: Dark brown, often tousled or slicked back depending on his mood eye color: Icy blue, darkens when he’s lost in thought height: Six feet scars: Several, but most notable are deep lacerations along his wrists from his time in the facility and a jagged scar running from his ribs to his hip tattoos: A black scorpion wrapped along his forearm, a subtle nod to his past piercings: None notable features: A smirk that never quite reaches his eyes, an aura that feels equal parts alluring and dangerous

✱ LAYER FOUR … the observations.

handedness: Right-handed, but trained himself to use both sociability: Selectively social, prefers silence over small talk  emotional control: Erratic at best, dangerous at worst drug usage: Rare, but has used sedatives to quiet the voices in his head alcohol usage: Frequently, but claims he “never drinks enough to be weak” phobias: The idea of being locked away again voice / accent: Low, slightly rough around the edges with a calculated cadence that makes people lean in when he speaks

✱ LAYER FIVE … the tidbits.

Some people learn to control their demons. Jakoris doesn’t bother—he lets them run rampant, wielding them as weapons when necessary. He’s lived his life in the shadows, rewriting his identity with every bloodstain left behind. The world outside the facility was meant to be his salvation, but it only proved that he was just as much a monster beyond those walls as he was within them. - Jakoris thrives in chaos—whether it's manipulating someone into revealing their deepest secrets or setting a room on fire just to watch the aftermath, he feeds off the tension. - He wasn’t saved from the Classified facility; he was recruited. Someone saw value in his fractured mind, in his ability to break people down, and they set him loose in The Crimsons to do just that. - His name isn’t real. His past isn’t real. He exists in a carefully crafted lie because the truth is too dangerous to let surface. The few who know his real name? They don’t live long. - He has a strict rule: he never tortures for pleasure, only purpose. He tells himself that keeps him human. Some nights, he believes it. Others, he drinks until the voices of the past go quiet. - Jakoris doesn’t sleep much. When he does, it’s with a knife under his pillow and Havoc curled at his side. The nightmares are always the same—cold metal restraints, sterile white walls, and the sound of his own screams echoing back at him.

✱ LAYER SIX … the wanted connections.

JAKORIS GILMORE, our SEBASTIAN STAN, would like their PLATONIC (CRIMSON MENTOR) connection and they look like MAGGIE Q , JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN, BRIDGET REGAN, IDRIS ELBA, UTP, are 40+ and should be a CRIMSON MEMBER. You CAN BUT DON’T HAVE TO contact GIA before applying at @ofsacrilegio. (This is the person that saw value in Jakoris when no one else did. They broke him out, gave him a purpose, and shaped him into the weapon he is today. Whether they see him as a son, a tool, or a ticking time bomb is up for discussion.) JAKORIS GILMORE, our SEBASTIAN STAN, would like their ROMANTIC (TOXIC LOVER) connection and they look like JESSICA CHASTAIN, ANNA SAWAI, YAHYA ABDUL-MATEEN II, are 35+ and should be a UTP. You CAN BUT DON’T HAVE TO contact GIA before applying at @ofsacrilegio. (They met in the underbelly of crime, and whatever they had wasn’t healthy—it was consuming. They loved each other in the worst ways, dragging each other deeper into the darkness. Maybe they tried to make it work. Maybe they almost killed each other. Maybe they still can't quite let go.) Rival interrogators: Those who match his skills or challenge his methods, whether as competition or enemies. Fellow Crimsons who don’t trust him: Allies in name only, people who question his loyalty or his past. People who knew him before he became Jakoris: Figures from his former life, those who remember the man he was before the lies. Those who suspect there’s more to his past: The ones digging too deep, getting too close to unraveling his carefully crafted identity. Casual flings & bad decisions: Connections born from impulse, moments of recklessness that leave lasting marks. Those who want to save him (good luck): The rare few who believe there’s something human left in him—and are willing to try pulling him back from the edge.

[ofsacrilegio]

 Oh, is that  ARIYA KENNES ? I heard the THIRTY-TWO years old is SENSUAL. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also HAUGHTY. Makes sense seeing how they are a LEAD RECRUITER in the THE SYNDICATE gang.

✱ LAYER ONE … the basics.

Full name: Ariya Kennes Preferred name: Ariya, though a select few have gotten away with "Ri" Date of birth + age: May 16th — 32 Place of birth: [REDACTED] Zodiac sign: Taurus Sun, Capricorn Rising ⸺ the iron-willed storm Gender & pronouns: Cis woman, she/her Orientation: bisexual Spoken languages: English, Thai, French, Mandarin. Education: Attended a prestigious university before being disowned; no formal degrees, but a masterclass in survival Occupation: Lead Recruiter for The Syndicate Faction: The Syndicate, but her loyalty is first and foremost to herself

✱ LAYER TWO … the connections.

Parents: Estranged, cut off all contact after disowning her Siblings: Two, younger sister Children: None, though she’s been accused of treating younger recruits like lost pets Pets: None—Ariya doesn’t want anything dependent on her

✱ LAYER THREE … the appearance.

Faceclaim: Davika Hoorne Hair color + frequent style: Deep brown, silky and often worn in a sleek ponytail or tousled waves when off duty Eye color: Dark brown, but flicker gold under certain lighting Height: 5’7” Scars: A faint, jagged scar across her collarbone from an old knife fight Tattoos: A serpent coiled around a dagger along her left ribcage, a Syndicate brand hidden beneath her wristwatch Piercings: Triple lobe piercings, helix ring on her right ear Notable features: Regal bone structure, always smells faintly of expensive perfume and cigarette smoke

✱ LAYER FOUR … the observations.

Handedness: Left-handed Sociability: Ambivert—knows how to command a room but prefers to observe first Emotional control: Cold under pressure, but when she snaps, she snaps Drug usage: No longer—once used to self-destruct, now keeps herself sharp Alcohol usage: Frequently, though rarely, to excess Phobias: None she’d admit Voice / accent: Smooth, slightly husky; an enigma wrapped in silk

✱ LAYER FIVE … the tidbits.

It’s easy to mistake Ariya for someone entirely in control—her measured movements, the way she sizes up a room before speaking, the lingering smirk that never quite reaches her eyes. But beneath the surface lies a woman who learned the hard way that trust is a luxury, and survival is a skill. - Ariya was born into wealth, but she never fit the mold. Her family expected obedience; she gave them defiance. She pawned jewelry, antiques, and even her mother’s engagement ring—anything to feed the growing hunger inside her, whether that was an addiction or just the urge to run. -The Syndicate gave her purpose when she had nothing left. As their lead recruiter, she’s the one who finds the lost, the desperate, and the reckless—people just like she once was. She doesn’t offer salvation, only opportunity. Whether they thrive or fall is their business. - Ariya plays her cards close to her chest. She enjoys watching people squirm under uncertainty, shifting between warmth and ice depending on what suits her. If she’s smiling, she’s already decided what she wants from you. - She doesn’t believe in debt, but she does believe in favors. If she helps you, you owe her, and she will come to collect. The price is always steeper than expected. - In her penthouse, tucked away behind a locked door, is the only remnant of the life she left behind: a single, untouched piece of jewelry she never managed to pawn. A reminder of what she’s lost—or perhaps what she’s still running from.

✱ LAYER SIX … the wanted connections.

ARIYA KENNES, our DAVIKA HOORNE would like their PLATONIC (GHOST FROM HER PAST) connection and they look like CHRIS EVENS, Aja Naomi King, alfred enoch, are 30+ and should be a UTP. You CAN BUT DON’T HAVE TO contact GIA before applying at @ofsacrilegio. (Someone who knew her before the Syndicate—before she became the woman she is now. A friend, a former lover, or even family, they remember the girl she used to be, the one she buried long ago. Do they want to save her, or simply remind her that she can’t outrun her past forever?) Confidants / best friends (1-2): Someone who knows what’s behind the walls she puts up—whether they love her or resent her for it is another question. Syndicate recruits: The people she brought in, whether they thrived or failed. A rival within the Syndicate: Someone who doesn’t trust her, or maybe just wants her position. A “client” or “debtor”: Someone who took a favor from Ariya and now owes her more than they bargained for. Hookups / occasional entanglements: She doesn’t do love, but she does enjoy distraction.

[ofsacrilegio]

She  slid  into  the  seat  with  the  kind  of  practiced  ease  that  suggested  she  belonged  anywhere  she  damn  well  pleased.  She  tilted  her  head,  lips  twitching  at  the  assessment.

"Unicorn?"  A  slow  blink,  then  a  smirk,  sharp  and  knowing.  "Sweetheart,  I  don’t  do  soft.  Try  something  with  a  little  more  bite."She  drummed  her  fingers  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  considering.  "Or  better  yet—surprise  me.  Just  make  sure  it  tells  the  truth."

She  settled  back,  a  challenge  glinting  in  her  eyes.  "Let’s  see  if  your  brush  is  as  sharp  as  your  read."

Location: Face painting Status: open @sinnerssquarestart

Derin was happy to get put somewhere her talents could be put to good use. Being an artist was paying off. Though the little designs were beneath her talents, she was still happy to do it. It made the night suck less. "And what would you like." She said as the next guest took a seat in front of her, "You are giving unicorn."

[ofsacrilegio]

She  leaned  against  the  railing,  one  boot  casually  crossed  over  the  other.  The  air  reeked  of  artificial  romance,  of  people  trying  too  hard  to  make  something  stick.

"Bold  of  you  to  assume  Cupid's  got  that  kind  of  aim,"  she  murmured,  the  edge  of  amusement  sharpening  her  words.  Her  gaze  lingered  on  Bianca—just  a  second  too  long,  just  enough  to  suggest  she  noticed  more  than  she  let  on.

Then,  with  a  lazy  shrug,  she  flicked  her  gaze  toward  the  archery  range.  "But  hey,  might  as  well  take  a  shot."  A  smirk,  slow  and  deliberate.  "Sometimes  it's  not  about  the  target.  Just  the  thrill  of  pulling  the  string  back  and  letting  go."

location: archery challenge open starter ( @sinnerssquarestart )

The Cupid’s Archery Challenge was all flashing neon hearts and cheaply painted bows, the air thick with the scent of kettle corn and desperation. Bianca should’ve been paying attention—should’ve been watching the targets, the contestants, the ridiculous pageantry of it all—but her gaze was locked onto the dim glow of her phone screen.

The image stared back at her, frozen in time. Her husband—late husband—grinning at her from across a candlelit table, a glass of wine raised in a mock toast. Their last Valentine’s Day together. A lifetime ago.

Her jaw tensed, the moment slipping through her fingers before she killed the screen with a quick tap. By the time she looked up, the carefully curated mask was back in place, lips pulling into something that resembled a smile.

"Care to shoot your shot?" she said, voice dry as she turned to the newcomer. A pause, then a smirk—this one just a touch more real. "Maybe Cupid’s arrow will find your true love." A beat. A slow, knowing tilt of her head.

"—Or a lover for the night."

[ofsacrilegio]

Lingering  at  the  edge  of  the  booth,  hands  tucked  into  his  coat  pockets, amusement  flickered  in  his  gaze.  The  whole  scene  was  decadence  wrapped  in  sugar—a  confectionery  dream  for  those  who  still  believed  in  things  like  fate  and  forever.  He  wasn’t  one  of  them. A  slow  smirk  curved  his  lips  as  he  stepped  forward,  his  presence  stretching  long  against  the  carnival  glow.  He  was  used  to  the  smoke-filled  rooms  of  the  jazz  club  where  she  performed.  Jazz  wasn’t  his  thing—not  really—but  her  voice—there  was  something  about  it.  Something  that  quieted  the  cacophony  of  demons  rattling  in  his  skull.  He  was  starting  to  think  she  looked  good  in  any  light. "A  picture,  "  His  voice  was  low,  edged  with  something  dark  and  knowing.  "  Frozen  in  time—an  interesting  way  to  put  it." His  gaze  flicked  over  Victoria,  assessing  and  intrigued,  before  he  exhaled  a  quiet  chuckle.  "And  a  serenade  too?  You  know  how  to  make  a  man  feel  special."  The  teasing  lilt  in  his  voice  was  deliberate,  but  beneath  it,  there  was  something  else—something  unreadable. He  tilted  his  head  toward  the  camera,  then  back  to  her.  "Alright,  Songbird.  Let’s  make  it  a  good  one."

location: photo booth open starter ( @sinnerssquarestart )

Victoria stands with effortless poise behind the photo booth, her presence like a breeze of silk, as if she belongs among the stars. Her eyes gleam with knowing charm as she watches couples and friends approach, her lips curving into a smile that holds the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to commanding attention.

"Ah, welcome, darlings, to Cupid’s Carnival," she purrs, her voice smooth as velvet and every word wrapped in grace. " I have the perfect way to immortalize your time here—a picture, yes, but more than that. A moment frozen in time, captured with elegance and just a hint of enchantment."

Her smile deepens, playful and knowing, as if there’s a secret only she’s privy to. "And perhaps, just perhaps, a little serenade from yours truly might add a spark to the memory. Something sweet, something soft, something only the songbird could offer."

She motions to the booth with a flick of her hand, a graceful wave that seems to invite them into a world of whimsy. "Now, step right up, my loves. Smile for the camera."

[ofsacrilegio]

Ariya  had  been  watching  the  exchange  from  the  periphery,   a  ghost  of  a  smirk  played  at  her  lips  as  she  finally  stepped  forward,  eyes  flicking  with  idle  curiosity.

"Hate  to  break  it  to  you,  but  I  think  you’re  about  to  disappoint.  I  don’t  see  mythical  purity  and  rainbows  in  this  one."  She  nodded  toward  Zed,  smirk  deepening.  "More  like…  a  particularly  cocky  stray  cat.  Charms  his  way  into  places  he  doesn’t  belong.  Probably  leaves  a  mess."

Her  gaze  lingered  on  the  tarot  deck,  fingers  drumming  idly  against  her  knee.  "But  I’m  curious.  What  do  the  cards  say?"  A  slow  tilt  of  her  head,  the  challenge  woven  into  the  lazy  cadence  of  her  voice.  "Think  they  can  tell  me  something  I  don’t  already  know?"

location: fortune teller booth open starter ( @sinnerssquarestart )

Zed lounged behind the fortune teller’s table, one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other lazily swirling a deck of tarot cards between his fingers. The dim glow of the booth’s decorative lanterns cast just the right amount of mystery—totally unearned, of course, but he did have a flair for the dramatic.

As someone approached, he leaned forward, smirk firmly in place.

"Ah, welcome, weary traveler," he intoned, voice rich with mock mysticism. "You stand before the great and all-knowing Seer of Staten Island—who, for the low, low price of your dignity and maybe a drink later, will unveil the secrets of your destiny."

He plucked a single card from the deck, flipping it over without looking.

"Let’s see… oof." A pause. His brows lifted in feigned concern. "Wow. That’s unfortunate. But, hey, look on the bright side—at least it’s not the ‘your love life is as dead as Blockbuster’ card. That one’s a real heartbreaker."

He leaned in conspiratorially.

"So, what’ll it be? Love? Fortune? A totally made-up prediction that’ll keep you up at night? Dealer’s choice."

[ofsacrilegio]

He’d  been  too  busy  watching  her—  with  that  sharp  little  smirk  and  the  confidence  of  someone  who  either  knew  too  much  or  cared  too  little.  Maybe  both.

His  lips  twitched,  "Oh?"  A  slow  tilt  of  his  head,  like  he  was  humoring  her.  "And  here  I  was,  thinking  I  had  mystery  on  my  side."

He  flicked  the  cigarette,  embers  scattering  at  his  feet.  "Alright,  then.  Let’s  hear  it.  But  make  it  good—"  His  voice  dipped,  smooth  as  honey,  dark  as  promise.  "I  don’t  waste  my  time  on  cheap  tricks."

Location: Outside of the Fortune Teller

Tagged: Open! @sinnerssquarestart

"––You don't need all that." Smoke billowed into the air, mixing effortlessly with the cloud of her breath while Cat spoke. Was it still considered loitering and heckling if she performed it at a public venue? Intentions mattered, one might suppose. The unmistakable tilt of a grin curved into her lips along one side, amusement dancing faintly behind her eyes when they raked over the other individual. "I can tell your fortune right now. Want to hear?"

[ofsacrilegio]

 He's  a  ghost  lingering  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  half-interested,  half-amused.  The  spectacle  of  it  all—the  neon  lights,  the  desperate  smiles,  the  eager  exchange  of  cash  for  a  fleeting  moment  of  affection—was  almost  laughable.

At  her  call,  he  stepped  forward,  slow  and  deliberate,  hands  sliding  into  the  pockets  of  his  coat.

"Generous  of  you,"  he  mused,  voice  low,  rich  with  amusement.  "Selling  affection  by  the  second.  Almost  makes  a  man  believe  in  love  again."

His  gaze  flicked  briefly  to  the  line  of  waiting  participants,  then  back  to  her,  blue  eyes  dark  with  something  unreadable.  "But  tell  me—  Miray"  He  leaned  in  just  enough  for  the  words  to  stay  between  them.  "Do  they  get  their  money’s  worth?"  A  pause.  Then,  just  to  twist  the  knife,  his  smirk  sharpened.  "Or  is  this  just  another  charity  case?"

open starter | @sinnerssquarestart location: the kissing booth

Miray had unbuttoned a bit of her coat for her shift at the kissing booth, letting the black lacy set she had on under it peek through. Whoever had been in control of the shifts had been particularly irritating putting a taken woman on the kissing booth but she'd already spoken to Liam about it, she'd do what needed to be done for the cause. Miray had always been charitable. "Okay come on, who's next? Unfortunately for all of you this experience does have a time limit. I'm not here all night."

[ofsacrilegio]

She'd  had  been  leaning  casually  against  a  nearby  booth,  one  brow  arched  in  mild  amusement,  took  a  slow  drag  from  her  cigarette  before  exhaling  a  ribbon  of  smoke  into  the  night  air.

"Just  enjoying  the  show,"  she  drawled,  voice  smooth  as  silk  but  edged  with  something  sharper.  "Gotta  say,  you’ve  got  a  real  way  with  people.  Ever  considered  customer  service?"

She  flicked  a  glance  toward  the  retreating  mother  and  her  spawn,  then  back  to  Rosalia,  a  smirk  tugging  at  the  corner  of  her  lips.  "Kid  deserved  the  verbal  ass-kicking,  though.  Some  people  like  to  pretend  their  little  demons  are  angels."  A  beat.  "Spoiler  alert—they’re  not."

Ariya  tilted  her  head,  studying  Rosa  with  something  akin  to  approval.  "So,  what’s  next?  You  taking  a  victory  lap,  or  we  getting  a  drink  before  you  verbally  decapitate  the  next  poor  soul  who  crosses  your  path?"

open starter | @sinnerssquarestart

Rosalia was not in a happy, loving mood. The last thing she wanted to do was stand around surrounded by happy people but arriving with Ludovica had at least gotten her into the carnival without running away. It was how she'd cope with the rest of the night that remained a mystery. It had only taken her a couple of hours to get into an argument with some annoying mother about her douchy child. "I said getting your fucking braindead child away from me now. He touched my ass, little perv. I don't care if he's ten maybe don't care your children to be creepy little fucking weirdos." Rosa shouted at the woman as she walked away before turning to the person next to her who'd likely seen the whole thing. "The fuck you looking at?"

[ofsacrilegio]

Davika Hoorne as Nico Robin ( One Piece ).

[ofsacrilegio]

SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THUNDERBOLTS*

[ofsacrilegio]

#ofsacrilegio  :  as  adored  by  gia  (  26  +  she  /  they  )  for  sinnerssquarehq .  .  mature  themes  may  be  present  and  tagged  ,  please  read  at  your  own  risk  .  do  not  interact  unless  part  of  the  rp  ,  or  you'll  be  blocked  .

kennes  ,  ariya  ⸺  O1.  dossier      O2.  interactions  O3.  extras gilmore  ,  jakoris  ⸺  O1.  dossier      O2.  interactions  O3.  extras