peonychikh

[peonychikh]

It's (almost) time! My AF: PeonyChikh

[peonychikh]

It's (almost) time! My AF: PeonyChikh

[peonychikh]

100% lead free!

[peonychikh]

My Sprout Fight submission! ☕️🪷

[peonychikh]

Hey, would anybody be interested in buying the "commissions open" badge as a full color chibi?

- fanart or OC;

- one character;

- SFW only;

- please provide visual references!

dm me first please! I'll start right after receiving the badge.

you can see more of my art here.

general commissions are open too!

[peonychikh]

“Everybody is always in the middle of their own opera” — Greta Gerwig

For @theterrorbingo prompt "Opera"!

Thanks to everyone for participating in the round, you are all absolutely amazing! 🐻‍❄️🩵🎉

check out my bingo card under cut 👇

I planned to finish it with a "Discovery Service" prompt, but my idea turned into a comic that I would never be able to finish before the event ended lol

maybe I will finish it a bit later

[peonychikh]

for @theterrorbingo prompt "Francis Crozier"!

[peonychikh]

today is Tobias' birthday! 🎉🎂

besides the obvious choices (jfj, the Crown), I really love his role in Forget Me Not, the sweet and tragic musician Will Fletcher 🥺👉👈

[peonychikh]

today is my birthday! 🎉

here is a promo code for a 25% discount in my print shop - NZHX31PD (works until 13/03).

I added all my main prints for The Terror, The Quarry and Rusty Lake!

[peonychikh]

COMMISSION INFO!

DM or email me at chikhunchik@gmail.com

You can see more examples of my art here! Please consider visiting my shops: 1 and 2!

I will greatly appreciate donations, I always need some more for my meds ❤

Reblogs are highly appreciated too ❤❤❤

[peonychikh]

as I continue to celebrate my release from the ban, here's a wip from my current comic 🎉

[peonychikh]

yes yes yes, I'm freeee!!!

I was shadow banned right after posting the new art and commission info... not my day

[peonychikh]

what will we do with a drunken sailor when he promised himself that when he drinks the last of the last and his steward tells him there are no more he will cock the pistol, set the muzzle to his temple, and...

based on the chapter 16 Crozier for @theterrorbingo prompt "Alcohol"!

[peonychikh]

Inprint is always really good!! And I’d love to get your Hackearney piece and / or any of your terror stuff

thank you, Anon!

omw to figure it all out

[peonychikh]

Do you sell prints of your stuff I love it !!

Aww, thank you!

Not at the moment, but I plan to open commissions and a shop soon!

To Anon and everyone else - where do you currently prefer to sell/buy prints? And which of my drawings would you like to see as prints first?

[peonychikh]

Man's worst urges can be satisfied through Christian pleasures and graces, singing with friends, watercolors, study, climbing exercises.

(Thanks to @so-i-did-this-thing for sharing this amazing template!)

[peonychikh]

For @theterrorbingo prompt "Christmas"!

The postcard reference in the reblog.

Bonus drabble under cut (T, 424 words, gen, tw non-graphic death mention):

It was already too late and irrelevant, really. However, while sorting through Sir John's documents they had to take with them, Francis and James found a few blank Christmas cards. Perhaps he intended to send them to his family, or maybe to give them to special members of the crew. Christmas had long passed, and the wounds from the carnival had yet to heal, but laughing, they decided to write each other a couple of wishes. To have at least one good thing to remember when they returned to London.

On the card from James, Francis immediately smirked at the neatly written address – "to H.M.S. Terror, Captain F. R. M. Crozier." Following that was an ornate wish and a quick portrait of Neptune. His hand instinctively reached to stroke the silhouette of the shaggy head, but he stopped himself, fearing he would smear the still-drying ink.

Francis meant to keep it brief, but after the greeting, he wrote a few lines from an old song that his mother used to sing. They often sat in his mind, playing over and over again instead of any prayers. James asked what the tune was, but Francis couldn’t recall it exactly.

James promised that he would keep his card until the end. Francis knew that James had kept his promise – he found it in his pocket when the body was being prepared for burial.

***

Francis tried to push away the thought that the piece of paper Hickey was reading with a smirk was that damned card with the song with the forgotten tune. This isn’t yours – it pulsed desperately in his mind. It’s not for you.

***

Francis was sure he had lost his postcard, perhaps at the remains of the camp or in the jaws of Tuunbaq. But it was found in the inner pocket of his old vest. It was crumpled, stained with sweat and melted ice. Drops of someone’s blood had splattered on Neptune's pretty muzzle.

Something inside him insistently urged him to burn it, to throw it into the fire right in front of the concerned hunter who was watching over him as if he were a dear family member. But Francis couldn’t do it.

James was no longer here. There was no one left. As if they had never existed at all. Yet he read the lines over and over again, resurrecting the past so that every ink stroke would be forever etched in his mind. Gradually, the words gained a voice, and the crackling of the fire grew quieter.