#atticus sinclair

[ittuatuq]

ID: A black page with white text that reads: There's something off about your friend, Atticus.

Part 1 of Your Friend, an Ittuatuq Side Story, is out now!

“Atticus knows his friend isn’t normal. He just wishes he didn’t think of that fact so often.”

Plain Text: Part 1 of Your Friend, an Ittuatuq Side Story, is out now! “Atticus knows his friend isn’t normal. He just wishes he didn’t think of that fact so often."

Big news! We’re thrilled to announce that Ittuatuq’s webcomic soft launch is here!

We’ve been working diligently on publishing our entire story on here, and Your Friend is our test run for our upcoming endeavour. For now, we will be posting this one-shot every Friday until April 4th as an easy introduction to some select characters of our story and the little town they live in, while we work on the official launch next year. It will also help us test out the publication format and workflow, of which we’ve already learned a lot while working on this!

ᖁᔭᓐᓇᒦᒃ! Qujannamiik! Thank you!

[myvelvetvows]

closed starter @oforchestralsteel

location: gunter’s

The rain had arrived suddenly, a swift and merciless downpour that sent London’s finely dressed patrons scattering beneath the awnings of Bond Street. Inside Gunter’s, the usual hum of conversation was accompanied by the steady patter of raindrops against the windows, blurring the world beyond the glass.

Alice Heywood sat alone at a small table by the window, her fingers curled around a porcelain cup, the lingering warmth of her tea seeping into her skin. After a long day spent bent over fabric and fittings, this was her ritual. A fleeting moment of solitude, a reprieve from the relentless demands of thread and silk. The rich aroma of orange pekoe mingled with the faint sweetness of sugared almonds on the untouched tray beside her. She exhaled, irritation flickering across her features as she watched the rain streak down the glass. The sudden downpour had thrown her evening into disarray. She needed to return home, yet the thought of stepping into the muddy streets, her gown at the mercy of the weather, made her grimace.

Her gaze flicked toward the gentleman standing nearby, his presence as composed as ever despite the dampness clinging to his coat. A wry smile ghosted her lips. “My lord, if you have an umbrella tucked inside that coat of yours, I shall owe you a favor,” she remarked. Had the recent whispers in Whistledown not revealed his family’s financial troubles, the request might have been a jest. Instead, it lingered somewhere between amusement and a test.

[agildedecho]

Domingo had not seen him approach—not truly. His mind had been elsewhere, as it often was when among crowds where masks outnumbered faces. He stood near the edge of the stables, gloved hands clasped neatly behind his back, eyes narrowed not with irritation but calculation as he observed the horses, their grooms, the quiet dealings behind the racing spectacle. It was only when a man nearly collided with him that Domingo turned his head, the motion unhurried, his expression unreadable. He did not stumble, nor startle. He rarely did. Atticus Sinclair. Domingo recognized the face—though more in theory than in familiarity. A name spoken in half-whispers at functions, often followed by the word unfortunate. The Sinclairs had seen better days, and the Ton never forgot such things.

Atticus spoke—rushed, polite, the kind of apology made by someone too used to bracing for disdain. Domingo’s gaze settled on him, quiet and discerning, the way one might study a painting whose brushstrokes revealed more upon closer inspection. “No harm done,” he said at last, his voice even, low, and marked with a cool civility that neither invited warmth nor dismissed it. “I’ve endured worse on Parliament floor.” A beat passed. He made no move to step away, nor to press the conversation forward. Simply existed there—tall, composed, a man formed by iron disciplines and velvet secrets. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he added, with that same restrained courtesy. “Sir Domingo Alvarado.” He offered his hand, firm and formal—the gesture of a man raised on decorum and diplomacy, but not untouched by steel. His dark eyes flicked across Atticus’s face—not in disdain, nor challenge, but with a quiet, appraising intelligence. “And you are…?” A pause. Then, with the faintest trace of wryness: “Forgive me. I’ve heard the name Sinclair, of course. I imagine most have.”

Who: @agildedecho for one, Mister Domingo Alvarado

Admittedly, Atticus was not having the best few days. His mind lingered not in the present but to the past, to a place in the woods where he and Josephine had shared yet another moment. Something that just left him more and more in a whirlwind of confusion. Each time he thought he had come to a conclusion, it fell apart. Each rationale seemed stranger and more far-fetched than the last. Then again, so did the event that began it all seemed just as far-fetched. To go from turned away confessions to kissing him in the woods was just…baffling to Atticus. More and more lately did the temptation to leave burned in him. A rare feeling.

Maybe that is why he was so close to the horses, watching them get outfitted for the races. Maybe that is why he did not notice the other until he practically walked into him. And maybe once more fate was pulling a cruel joke on him to run into, of all people, Josephine’s match- not that he knew of that part. Yet. “Oh. My apologies, I was not paying attention to where it was I was walking. My sincerest of apologies. I hope I didn’t spill anything on you.”

[brbuttons]

"It ain't no private island... but look at us, kid- all've us. We made it."

This was meant to be a quick design sketch and now it's a part of a whole post-game au that's consuming my mind. 10/10, canon ending of our heart.

[ comms // shop ]

[congressoutofwedlock]

Some OC art/shitposts/doodles mainly featuring my friend’s OC, Atticus Blackwood & mine, Sinclair Hargrave.

Extras for old man yaoi enjoyers under the cut.

[kraken17]

CREEPY MYSTERIOUS UPDATE!

Prologue II: The Addams Family

Apologies for the lateness... ^^

[enbyhiro]

Hiii!!! <333

Your oc Annabella is so cool and beautiful!!! :3

I was wondering if you can do Annabella's opinions (+ interactions) with Lynette and Cecil (my oc's) if that's okay with you ^_^

(hiiii !! thank you soso much (^з^)-☆ also sorry this took so long i got caught up in some schoolwork💔)

Cecil + Annabella

“Cecil? Oh, Atticus! Hmmmm… He’s definitely dedicated and overly prepared for whatever career choice he has. I don’t even think I’ve seen someone as bookworm-ish as him, and trust, I’ve gone to a school that’s just full of bookworms and overachievers. Hell, I’m an overachiever, my damn self. To the surprise of no one, his grades are really good, and the only ‘struggle’ classes he has are non-academic ones. Y’know what? I actually need to talk to him about that ‘cause he’ll need those grades to be better if he wants a good GPA. But moving on, the kid’s a real hoot, like he’ll flip out if someone interrupts his personal study sesh’, not good. Depending on the path he takes, he'll need to exit his lil’ bubble and interact with others more often if he wanna make it far in his career. ESPECIALLY if he’s tryna’ get into politics, like boy, you’ll need to talk a lot and be more attentive to your surroundings rather than just your books. Overall, a good, hard-working kid who just needs a lil' work done on him. But at the same time, who doesn’t?”

Interaction

Cecil speedwalks past a dozen-and-one students as he travels over to Annabella’s office. She spoke to him briefly in the library about wanting to speak immediately after school & to not quote, “...give her any lip on the matter. He’ll find some time in his dorm to study.” Bumping a couple of shoulders, he finally steps in front of her office door, a door that will lead to a very much unwanted conversation on whatever she needs to talk about that he won't pay any mind to. He precisely knocks hard on the gold & orange-decorated door; a soft “come in” follows shortly after.

“Good afternoon, Atticus. How are ya’?” Annabella greets him as he steps into the office, placing his bookbag in the brown chair adjacent to the one he sits in.

“Cecil. And I’m okay. What is this meeting about?” Cecil replies quietly.

“Right, Cecil, my apologies. That’s good, also! Anywho, this meetin’s about your grades and whatcha’ wanna do after you leave school.”

Yep, called it. Cecil knew she wanted to speak about something he had already taken care of.

Annabella furrowed her eyebrows. “By the look on ya’ face, you-on wanna talk for long. That’s groovy, that’s cool. I just need ta’ know what you wanna do for your career, and I need ta’ tell you ‘bout your grades and how to improve them.”

“Great, I— wait, huh?” Cecil stammers. “My grades are fine. I have an A+ in every class.”

“Every class you deem necessary, not every class. Photography and music are fine, B’s are still good, but shop and gym are whoopin’ you. Ah, sorry, I meant that those grades aren’t lookin’ the best.” Annabella disagreed, “If you’re tryna’ get a better GPA, you’ll hafta’ pull those grades up. It’s definitely achievable; ya’ just need ta’ put the work in. Plus, you still got some time, abooutt like 6-7 weeks.” Annabella’s hand placed over her mouth slightly, she tilts her head to look over towards Cecil. He has a very distasteful expression on his face, a mixture of disgust & awe. “Orr, you could just stick with the grades you got right now. It’s truly up to you; I’m just givin’ advice.”

“Why would I pay attention to classes that mean nothing to my future? And why are they even required?” Cecil huffed, “These classes shouldn’t even be on my schedule.”

“I’m studying to become a prosecutor, you think I wanna do art class either? The only ones I’ve opted out of are the ones I’ve already taken at my former school. We’re in the same boat.” Annabella countered, “But guess what I do? I still do the best I can in those classes ‘cause I like havin’ a good transcript and GPA. Something you’ll need if you want a good, easy time with college applications and college in general.”

Annabella stares into Cecil’s eyes sternly but with some compassion. She’s had this exact discussion with plenty of different students, each giving their own excuses & pushback. She understands, but she also knows that electives are required just as much as regular courses. Cecil looked ever so slightly perturbed, staring back into Bella’s eyes. They had a mini staring contest until Bella looked over to her clock, which read “3:56.” She did not feel like keeping them both here longer than needed.

“Look. I’m talking with you not just ‘cause Crab-apple will get on my case about it, but also ‘cause you’re a smart kid. Like, a super-duper smart, phenomenal student. Yeah, some of your grades don’t reflect that, and it’s okay. You can still get into a nice college even with grades that are a lil’ messy, so don’t freak out on that, but I don’t need you getting comfortable with flunking classes you don’t think are needed. ‘Cause trust, that’s a great way to get your lil’ self kicked outta college or on academic probation.” Annabella never liked lecturing any of the students because it mostly goes through one ear & out the other. However, Cecil seemed to be listening & was very silent, & one thing Bella knew was that he’d voice his opinion pretty openly & quickly. Glancing back over to her clock, it now read “4:05.”

“Let’s leave this meetin’ at that. I’m glad you found the time to talk with me, and I hope you take this into consideration!” Annabella concluded, closing the “Atticus Cecil Sinclair” labeled manila folder.

“I’ll think about it. It would be better to have higher grades, even if it’ll be a pain to raise them. Gym, especially.”

Bella giggled at the moping, “Yeaaa, gym’ll definitely do that to you. Well, I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day, Cecil!”

“Au revoir, Annabella.” Cecil bids his farewell, thankful she didn’t notice they never spoke on his career choices. Else, the conversation would’ve lasted another hour.

“OH, we still need to talk about what you wanna do after you graduate! Let’s discuss that next week!”

…Marde.

Lynette + Annabella

“She. Don’t. Play. And I do like that part about her a lot. This school’s all fu- messed up to the point where if anyone stands against bullyin’, they’re gonna crucify you. Though, sometimes she can be a bit much, which then I can understand why some may not like her. But even then, I know her persistence has helped somebody not feel alone and that there are people who care about them. Would’ve been real helpful at my last school. She puts up a good fight, and we need more like that around this bummy school, and once you get to know her well, she’s a super fun girl who has a heart of gold. I can definitely see her being in politics, law, or counseling."

Interaction

Fights. The average student loves them, the average student council member does not, and the average prefect has to break them up before blood splatters everywhere. This time it was two female students, loads of hair pulling & nails scratching away layers of foundation seeped into the other's skin. Annabella is the unfortunate prefect to have to see them fighting. ‘Man, why couldn’t one of the other ones see it first?!’ she thinks to herself. Seeing students run over to the fight, she knew she had to break it up before some others jumped in because kids just love to jump right into danger for some reason. She rushes over & grabs the shirt of one of the girls while pushing the other girl away with her leg.

“STOP! BEFORE I DRAG BOTH Y’ALL BY THE COLLAR UP TO CRABBLESNITCH!” Annabella demanded.

“SHE TOOK MY DIARY, SHE WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE. TELL HER TO—”

“PFFT, WHY WOULD I TAKE YOUR STUPID ASS BOOK, SNAGGLE-TOOTH?!”

“BECAUSE YOU WON’T LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, YOU STUPID BI—”

Yeah, this is getting bad. The supposed victim of the book snatching was starting to break down, which made her more irrational. Her swings were beginning to strike Annabella, biiiig no-no. Annabella lifted both the blonde & the brunette by the collars, like she said, & began walking over towards the school’s front doors. Bella heard a collection of ‘woah,’ ‘narc, ’’& ‘ugh, buzzkill’ as she walked away from the well-formed crowd of students. She spotted a male prefect texting on his phone (amazing) & death-glaringly asked him to help with the escort. As the quad traveled up the steps, Annabella noticed the brunette sobbing quietly, her head hanging low to keep her face & tears from showing. This left a sting in Annabella’s throat & an ache in her heart. She knew that feeling all too well & just simply rubbed the girl’s back softly.

One long half-assed scolding from Crabblesnitch & Danvers later, the girls were given the option of either discipline or detention, but the catch was the girls couldn’t do the same thing so that they would be away from each other. The blonde obviously chose detention since it’s much better to sit around doing nothing than doing a ton of manual labor for 3 hours. It felt like some kind of extra bullying through school-mandated punishment. Annabella spoke up, stating that this isn’t fair punishment for one to do labor while the other gets to do next to nothing. Either they alternate punishment, 1.5 hours of detention & 1.5 hours of discipline, or they both get the same punishment. Soon after she spoke, Lynette walked in to agree, & she explained better on how one discipline & one detention is a lazy attempt at stopping a bigger issue at hand. The blonde girl slightly twists her head to look at the two, prompting them to stare back intensely. Crabblesnitch & Danver glance at each other before nodding in agreement.

“This is the third time I've had an issue with that girl & her bullying Angelina. That was genuinely the first time Crabblesnitch had punished her, & WE had to tell him how to!” Lynette was exasperated. Annabella has heard her complain about this situation between Joseline & Angelina more than she’d like to, but that fight gave her a good reason as to why Lynette was so keen on this hot mess. “When Angelina was crying on you, I heard her say that Joseline had ripped pages out of her diary & hid them. How insane do you have to be to do something that heinous?!”

Annabella pondered, looking at her grotesque pizza, before she slowly said, “I’m more concerned that Crabblesnitch don’t give a shit about the bullying ‘round here. Like, I knew he was an idiot, but damn, that is a great way to end up getting sued & for this school to goin’ down the drain.”

“RIGHT?!” Lynette shouted, & this caused a few to turn their heads. “Sorry, sorry, …But seriously though, he’s terrible for this school. His ignorance & encouragement is going to end up with a student ... harming or killing themself.”

The thought alone disturbs the both of them deeply, eliciting a shudder from Lynette & a deeply concerned expression to dash across Annabella’s face. They both feel the urge to do something, but what exactly could they do? It’s not like they could release a newspaper story on the severe bullying students experience within Bullworth. …Actually, yes, they can. That’s literally the newspaper club’s job. And on they went to bother Cecil & the others with their amazing plan!

thank you for the ask !!! heres my poor chibi interpretations of lynette & cecil🙏🏾🙏🏾 (i think the student council would have their own uniforms like the prefects)

[gildedxthorns]

starter status: closed, atticus sinclair!! (@oforchestralsteel) location: baron's cup!!

the baron’s cup was many things — loud, gilded, restless — but above all, it was predictable. the same names, the same feigned delight over old money parading in new waistcoats. acelya kara did not bore easily, but repetition had a way of coaxing her toward cruelty if left unchecked. and then— him. she knew lord atticus sinclair only in the way one might know a storm from the scent of rain before it breaks. never properly introduced. never needed to be. he carried history like a second coat, heavy and tailored, lined with debts no one spoke of. she found herself beside him not by accident, but with the kind of precision that suggested a decision had been made long before she stepped into his orbit. from her perch on the balcony, the racecourse below looked like a toy diorama — horses no larger than breath, men reduced to noise. “a beautiful thing,” she said, voice like cooled wine, “to watch so many people pretending they’re not at war.” she didn’t look at him — not yet. only the track. only the shifting tension in the crowd. “your name carries weight here. doors open. glasses refill themselves. and yet…” she turned then, gaze sliding toward him with slow intention, “you don’t look particularly pleased to be holding court.” a pause, just long enough to press meaning between syllables. “tell me, my lord — what does a man with everything actually come to win?” a question cloaked in civility. but the steel beneath it? that was unmistakable.

[folanoflimbo]

There is an unofficial 'hotline' (psychic projection) for Akedeimos students on Krakoa that they use if theyre ever in trouble called "Mom/Dad Pick Me Up", which instantly summons any of the New Mutants to their location. Usually Rahne or Atti turn up, since they get the least mad, but Dani and Xi'an turn up as well.

[whispercd]

with: @oforchestralsteel (atticus) where: sinclair manor, late morning

It felt like months since the ordeal at the Sinclair's Nottingham estate. Of course, this was largely due to the the fact that it had been months. Which was worrying for a number of reasons (such as the profound question of the speed at which time moved), but only one thing had wrenched Emma from her bed in a cold sweat. She had forgotten to send something by way of a thank you. In her defence (not that anyone had brought it up), there had been bigger, more pressing things on her mind. Chief among them the wellbeing of Maude, and what the news of her parentage meant for the family. But still. The ton was nothing if not judgemental, and Emma could not help but worry this would be a mark to go on her permanent record.

It is driven by this latent sense of anxiety that she appears in their foyer, bouquet in hand, intent on leaving them with a maid and disappearing before anyone realised she was there. But of course, like most plans, it is doomed before it has been fully conceptualised. For who crosses into her path but Atticus Sinclair, heir presumptive? Her terrible timing should be studied. "My Lord," she says, shifting the bouquet slightly. "Is your mother around? I never had the chance to say thank you for the invite the other month."

[ela-kara]

closed starter @oforchestralsteel (atticus) || the baron's cup

The sun was warm upon her shoulders, the air thick with laughter and excitement, but Ela Kara stood quite still by the edge of the crowded pathway, her gloved hands clutching the strings of her bonnet with mounting distress. Somehow—though she had no notion of how—she had lost her way back to the private box. She’d only stepped away for a moment, to admire a ribbon seller’s display, but in the shifting sea of silks and top hats, her aunt had vanished from sight. The race grounds were a dizzying maze of cheering crowds, glossy horses, and the scent of brandy and wildflowers. She turned in place once, twice, looking helplessly between the towering backs of strangers. Her throat tightened. And then—there. Just ahead, near a refreshment stand, stood a gentleman who looked as though he might know what to do. He was not too stern-looking, not like the officials with their brass buttons, nor too unapproachable. And he looked rather like he belonged, which was more than she could say for herself at the moment. Swallowing her nerves, Ela stepped delicately through the crowd, skirts brushing against woven picnic blankets and stray clovers. Her voice, when it came, was soft and tremulous, like the wingbeat of a nervous bird. “Pardon me, sir,” she said, stopping just beside him, her cheeks already flushed pink with embarrassment. “I—I do beg your pardon for interrupting. But I seem to have quite lost my party, and I’m afraid I’ve no idea how to return to the Kara box. The crowd shifted, and then they were simply… gone.” She smiled faintly, hoping it might cover the sheer mortification pooling in her chest. “I know it’s terribly silly of me. But I was wondering—might you be able to help me?” She added quickly, “Only if you’re not terribly occupied, of course.” Her fingers twisted together anxiously as she looked up at him, hope fluttering in her wide, earnest gaze. “I should be most grateful.”

[ittuatuq]

ID: Atticus is sitting on a log in a forest clearing. He stares very nervously at the scratches and notches all around the log. End ID.

“Dude! What the hell?!”

Part 3 of Your Friend is out now!

Plain Text: “Dude! What the hell?!” Part 3 of Your Friend is out now!

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[promisedhexvens]

who: josephine & atticus ( @oforchestralsteel ) where: the hermance grounds

With everything that was going on at the moment, Josephine felt like she needed a little bit of an escape. But it wasn't like she could leave London after having just come back from the countryside so, instead, she decided to call upon Atticus. She had asked him to meet her at the place where they would meet when they were young - a secluded little spot within the Hermance grounds. A smile sprung to her lips as she saw that he was already waiting there for her.

Quickly, Josephine closed the distance so she could greet him. "Thank you for coming to meet me, robin." She smiled before she moved to sit down within the grass. Josephine lent back a little, her head forward back to bask in the sun for a moment. "I feel like I haven't had a decent bit of fresh air in so long." She sighed. She tilted her head to look at him, then, "How are you? How is Callum?" She hadn't had a chance to check in on the Sinclairs since after the Whistledown papers and she felt awful about it. She hoped the younger man was doing okay.

[whispercd]

The silence lasts no more than a second. Just enough to catch a glimpse of the slight shift in his demeanour, before returning to some perceived sense of normalcy. Thea leans back, letting her back rest against the wall of the gallery, taking him in. "How dreadfully boring. I was hoping there was more to it than that. Some long lost love you cannot get over, or, oh!" Here, she claps her hands together as the thought forms "–perhaps a vow of celibacy. A personality match is so terribly mundane."

As the question is turned on its head, Thea can't help the grimace her face stretches into. Her mother's voice rings in her head, clear as a bell: 'Don't be childish, Dorothea. It is not proper.' But it's instinctual, almost, driven by some deeper, subconscious part of her being. "I can think of nothing worse. As backwards as it may seem, I quite like being Thea Alwyn. I have no desire to uproot my life and reconstruct my identity around someone else."

"Possibly, but that is moot. Not my responsibility that the bar for things like that is on the floor."

A small smile appeared on his lips at that comment. "Now that? That is an idea I very easily can agree with." But just as quickly as it appeared, the smile turned away at her follow-up question. His dark eyes narrowed for a second, just a tiny giveaway to the annoyance suddenly running through his veins. What once was a light discussion had turned something more needling.

But the instant after the first, Atticus breathed. In and out once, to turn the blade pummel side first and react accordingly.

"You are not the first person to ask me that, likely not the last, and if I'm being honest- there is not a single, one reason. I just am...not. Some women were not for me. I was not for some. We'll say a difference of persons. And you? Are you looking to be wed this season?"

[brbuttons]

Thank you.

made art for a video game zine jam. chose emotional self-warfare.

[ comms // shop ]

[congressoutofwedlock]

Emeralite Evenings (OCs, 1 2)