Preview for my second piece in the @yoiscifizine – it’s Vicchan!
Pre-orders are going on RIGHT NOW, and it all looks ~*~amazing~*~!
Go here for info or to buy: http://www.yoiscifizine.com/ – all proceeds to charity!
Finally, a preview for ONE of my pieces in the @yoiscifizine!
In a dystopian world SO TERRIBLE that not even Yuuri or Makkachin exist, can there be any hope of happiness for an orphan Vitya in the Dregs? This sci fi Cinderella fairy tale gets a spread in the zine and more in the extras PDF, so make sure to pre-order today!
A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have… so we’re providing you with one! Designed by the amazing @gabapple, this hand towel will be available in our full bundle and will serve you well on your intergalactic travels! The hand towel will be approximately 30cm x 20cm (or very roughly 8 x 12 inches)!
Pre-orders open on Saturday, September 8. Don’t miss out!
For full details on prices, bundles, and payment, see our posts here and here.
And now, a short story about young Vitya and his homework from me and @tosquinha !!! <3
~*~*~
It was late. So late. But Viktor was determined. If he finished his homework, Coach Feltsman would let him have the next day off, and he wanted it. No– he needed it. The hotels they stayed at for competition were normally so pedestrian, but this one was fancy. Fancier than almost any he’d ever stayed in. It had queen beds, not doubles, so he could completely stretch out, end to end, and the shower head came off in his hands which meant he could rinse off like an elephant. But best of all, the swimming pool was in an atrium with trees. They’d walked by it earlier, on the way to the lobby, and the rock feature at one end created a waterfall to keep the heated pool moving.
It would be like swimming in the jungle.
Like a tiger.
He had to. He just had to.
But only if he finished his homework.
“I could just go for a quick swim, though, Coach. Ten minutes.”
“No. I won’t be held responsible for slipping grades. You said yourself that your instructors were as strict as Lilia,” the old man said, clearing his throat with a glance to the North, toward Russia, as if he were sure they were watching them from afar.
He had a point. They would probably eat him alive.
Unfortunately, the homework in question was a world history report, which was one of Viktor’s worst subjects. It wasn’t that he was unintelligent. Far from it. It was just difficult for him to find purpose in busy work, and therefor force himself to do it. His teachers knew all about the collapse of the Soviet Union already, and all about the changing political atmosphere of the Western European front, but what did that have to do with him? Or dancing? And why was he having to cut and color hand outs? He was much too old for that. It proved nothing.
Groaning, Viktor scissored his feet in the air while he coloring the various pages in front of him, deciding that if he waited to cut them out after, he’d at least be able to clean up his messy lines. And, that way, he could draw in the margins. Adding unicorns and dragons and things between the Russian imports and exports seemed like the most natural thing to do. And a wolf could eat the potato that represented the 2.5% of vegetable products. Perfect.
“That’s how they cross the river, you know, Coach.”
“…What?”
“The wolf and the potato. It’s…” he yawned. “… ….never mind.”
The dragon curled around the 9.9% of of metals, which he colored gold. The unicorn stood majestically by the minerals. 48%. Probably salts and… he checked his text book, but found nothing of use in the two seconds he searched, so colored it pink. Because it was pretty.
“Vitya, you should finish in the morning.”
“What? No way. I’m getting really close.” He looked over his sheet, most of which was colored and ready to be cut out for gluing. “And I’ve learned a lot, surprisingly. Though I don’t know what ‘unspecified’ means. 16% of our exports aren’t defined. Probably crime. Right, Coach? Is crime an export?” Viktor picked up a grey colored pencil, because he had come to accept that crime was never black and white. Especially since his coach may or may not have been involved in the mafia if rumors were true.
“You’ve colored the flag wrong.”
Blinking, Viktor looked back down at the page. “No I didn’t.”
“It goes white, blue, red, not blue, white, red, Vitya. You’re tired. It’s time for bed.”
“…oh, no, that’s France, Coach. I… well, you know, because…”
“A sideways French flag?” Yakov arched a heavy brow, amused at the blushing student, but unimpressed.
Viktor turned the sheet 90 degrees. “Hey, why are you being difficult, little flag?”
“Bed, Vitya. You can finish in the morning.”
“But Coach! I have to finish! I wanna go swimming. Tiger swimming. I’ll make a new flag! Do you have any paper?”
“Tomorrow.” Then he laughed. He couldn’t help it. “You can swim in the morning and then we’ll ask the front desk for some paper. Now put those scissors away; if you’re tired enough to mess up the flag, you’ll end up cutting off your fingers.”
