Thank You, Reading People


Today marks half a year in our challenge to write one story and make one picture each day for a year.

So, Thank You to everyone who has followed along. It’s been interesting. A lot of positive feedback from everyone has really helped when we are drunk at 11PM and go “oh-shit, we need to post.”


Привет. Нашему проекту исполняется полгода, и нам становится все труднее не думать о нем серьезно. За эти 6 месяцев мы:

1. Написали и проиллюстрировали более 185 историй.
2. Безнравственно оклеветали пожилое поколение.
3. Убили Фрэнка около 30 раз.
4. Превратили полицейских в гиппопатамов.
5. Начали рисовать графическую новеллу.
6. Поработали во владениях доктора Курпатова.
7. Отчаялись пытаться понять потерянную петербургскую молодежь.
8. Научились играть тоническую гамму на виолончели.

И много всего другого.

Будем честны, я тут просто картинки рисую, шрифты меняю и идеи подкидываю. Огромное спасибо Бенджамину Дэвису за то, что терпит отчужденность и холод ради творчества.

Спасибо всем, кто читает, читал как-то раз, прочтет как-нибудь.

– Никита

P.S. In light of the half-year mark, here is half a story as a bonus for today:


As a kid, my family had the nasty habit of murdering small animals; there were children in the house, and children are, by nature, murderers. The odd thing was that they always seemed to die in winter. When this would happen, Mother would take the critter and place it in a shoe box. Then she’d stuff it into the big box freezer next to the popsicles and two years’ worth of bagged chicken soup.

“We’ll bury it in spring,” she’d say, before we all went off to shop for a new victim. But, spring always blankets the bad memories of winter in a bed of flowers, buried and forgotten. So, by the time we grew out of murder, the freezer was well-stocked.

Twenty years later, in the seventh month of winter, in Russia, I sit thinking;

Karma is a bitch.


**For anyone who would like, check us out on instagramfacebook, or VK. We are going to try and be more proactive on those in the next six months.**


This coagulated mess of limbs and liquids you all call Ben and Nikita is a monster. For six months they’ve kept me here, drawing, writing, wiping whatever needs to be wiped. In Russia! Someone. Please. Save me.

– Sasha



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