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vulturer:

Fic Rec: sun doesn’t rise in space, by FerrisWheeling

I was going to hold off for a day or two and work on other things, but I just read this story today and it has less than 10 kudos and is already buried in page 2 and I just WILL NOT STAND FOR THAT, NO SIR I WILL NOT.

Pairing: Rose/Dave, Rose/Kanaya (poooossibly Rose/Dave/Kanaya? if you squint)

Rating: teen and up

Warnings: depictions of violence, gore, kids in space au

Quick Summary: Rose and Dave left Earth for their own particular reasons to join a expedition into space. They pass their time with conversations, until they encounter a strange alien race and shit hits the fan. When everything settles, they find one left alive.

Why You Should Read This: So this FerrisWheeling individual just sort of emerged from the ether with fantastic writing, snappy dialogue, and a damn good eye for setting. I would, in fact, like to subscribe to their newsletter because this is a Human Kids Encounter Weird Aliens sci-fi pulp fic done right. It never lingers too long on scenes for melodramatic effect, and Rose’s point of view is written carefully and concisely. And it’s exciting! The language barrier lends itself to the barren, shit-outta-luck atmosphere really well. I would read a 100K+ of this world and can’t wait for the second part.

Excerpt: “My name is Rose.” You repeat from yesterday. “Rose.” You point at your chest. Then, more slowly, “Rose Lalonde.”

Dave groans in dismay behind you. “Please do not go Dances with Wolves on me; space madness isn’t supposed to set in this early…”

“Rose.” You repeat, looking her in the eyes and pointing at yourself. She clears her throat a little and makes a sound that could be misconstrued as your name. She tries again, this time making it more believable. Then again. She ends up close enough, hissing the ‘s’ and curdling the ‘r’ in her throat like a strange hybrid between a French and Russian accent.

Dave snorts. “Tatanka, tatanka.” He chirps mockingly behind you, hunching his back and sticking his pointer fingers above his head in a distasteful emulation of buffalo horns.

Without missing a beat, you point at him and say, in the same clear voice you used to get her to understand your name, “arrogant fuckwit.”