#listy thing

[celery505]

What if because Rimmer and Lister both know they read each other’s diary’s they put little notes in them to each other just for absolutely no reason.

[assortedvillainvault]

Okie dokie, silly me forgot to update the masterlists, so those should be fixed now!

[listywrites]

Zaphael's Journey, the rewrite, is going pretty well! I re-wrote everything that was posted, changing a great deal towards the end, and now I am writing the final chapters of the story.

I kept it in my MC's voice, and I think it is an interesting fusion of fantasy and drama and an interesting twist on the love triangle trope.

As soon as I have a concrete ending, I will edit and polish the first book, and hopefully have it out by the end of the summer for all to enjoy!

Wish me luck!

...but so much fun.

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #1: Memory

The memories didn't come back all at once, but gradually. Whether this outcome was preferable to the former was anyone's guess, including Lister's. Still, this meant they had to be careful, try not to disorient him or overwhelm him with the changes over the nearly three decades–plus three millenia–he needed to catch up on. At least not as much as was necessary; it would be difficult to keep someone completely oblivious when they saw a 50 year old in the mirror when from what they knew they should be 25.

     It might be surprising that Rimmer would try to be careful and wouldn't attempt to break the news as ungracefully and shockingly as possible. Indeed, in other situations, he would've gotten a bit of smug satisfaction out of seeing the Scouser's face when told some starling news. But with the enormity of the facts in this case, and after Lister's heart scare, false alarm though it was…well, perhaps Rimmer was feeling more gentle than he'd ever care to admit.

     “So, Lister,” Rimmer started as he strided into their quarters, a day or two into the loading of Lister's lifetime, “What bit are you up to now? Have you had the misfortune to relive Holly's ridiculous Queeg farce? Or maybe–”

     Lister was sitting at the table, shoulders slumped and head lowered. His old work jacket hung on the back of his chair, leaving him in one of his ratty, stained T-shirts. A few empty cans of lager sat in front of him.

     Rimmer realized with a jolt of alarm that he was crying.

     “Listy?” He asked uncertainly.

     “I,” a hitch of breath interrupted Lister's quiet response. “I remembered. Jim and Bexley.”

     Of course. Rimmer himself remembered now: Lister's heartbreak after the twins had been given over to Deb and Arlene, his days of drinking, of barely moving from his bunk. He remembered him watching those sappy old films he loves, tears running at any scenes of children. And he recalled his own pang of loss, having felt a similar (hidden) parental pride when he looked upon the boys for the first time and realized that he'd done what Holly had brought him back for–he'd kept Lister going.

     Rimmer didn't know what to say. He rarely did when it came to situations of comforting others; his time with the Samaritans proved that. Instead, he sat beside Lister and tentatively reached a hand out, then settled it on his arm. Lister jumped and looked at Rimmer in surprise.

     “I felt that!” He exclaimed, momentarily shocked out of his tears. Then the incredulity shifted to sheepishness. “You said you could do that now, even though you couldn't then. I forgot.”

     “I hate to break it to you, Lister, but you have forgotten a lot of things recently.” Lister snorted at that, but Rimmer continued in a softer voice, barely above a whisper, “I wish I could've done that then. When you first needed it.” Yes, he was feeling very gentle.

     It was Lister's turn to reach out, and he placed his hand over Rimmer's, thumb rubbing little circles. “Even without it, you got me through it, yeah?”

     Rimmer made a noise of noncommittal; Lister still hadn't remembered everything, not knowing all of it. He hadn't seen all the times he'd failed.

     Lister, still misty-eyed, looked down at their hands. “Things change, don't they?”

     “Over thirty or so years, it's fair to say things do tend to do that.”

     “You know what I mean, smeghead.” He gave Rimmer's hand a slight squeeze.

      “I…suppose so. I don't want to knock your teeth out whenever you use them to clip your toenails anymore.”

      Lister smiled, shook his head. “I can't imagine that.”

     “Well, keep remembering, miladdo, you'll get there.” Rimmer grinned the grin of a man certain he'll be proven right–not one he got to show off too often.

     “Yeah. I guess you did too.”

[chaotic-plumbob]

Milo is also getting more penpals across the Simworld who send him postcards - the latest one from a place called Apaloosa Plains. His listis going well...so perhaps...it's time to move things to the next level in the love department?

[meangreenbeanz]

Pictures I took to say goodbye to summer. I am happy for the fall, but there’s something bittersweet about loosing all the sunshine and happy greenery of summer. I embrace change, but summer always leaves an empty feeling in her absence that the frigid autumn can’t fill

"August evenings are especially stricken with melancholy - as if the ghosts of all past summers came rushing to haunt my heart"

-from Letters of Summer Past (Listy Tamtego Lata VI)

"It was September. In the last days when things are getting sad for no reason."

- Ray Bradbury, "The Lake", The October Country (via wordsnquotes)

“That old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.”

-Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

[strange-and-off-putting]

Smegtober Prompt Sixteen: Future

Also on AO3. Tooth-rottingly sappy:

“Knew you’d make it up here eventually,” Lister says, not turning around from his vantage point at the railing.  Rimmer can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Oh?” Rimmer tries to keep his voice dismissive. “I’m that predictable, am I?”

  Lister turns, his lips curled in a cheeky grin.  He is holding, in each hand, what appears to be a glass of champagne.  He offers one to Rimmer, who stares at it slightly slack-jawed before taking it and raising it to his lips gingerly. “Might’ve lost a bit of its fizz,” he says, as means of apology, with a penitent shrug.  “Knew you’d be coming, but wasn’t a hundred percent on when, so I took my best guess.” 

He chuckles as Rimmer takes a sip and lifts his brows in surprise. “Yeah, I nicked a bottle of the good stuff,” Lister says.  “Figured if it was really good stuff, it could hold its own even if it went a bit flat.” He raises his glass. “Cheers,” he says, taking a generous sip.  Rimmer steps forward, left hand wrapped around the stem of the champagne flute, right hand gently supporting the base, and looks at Lister suspiciously. “So you know me well enough to know I’d come up here,” he says, eyes scanning the observation dome, “but not well enough to know I don’t want to be reminded of my birthday?”

“Who says this is for your birthday?” Lister says slyly.  “Just ‘cause it happens to be your birthday–”

“You know I hate when you play games like this, Listy.” “Ok, well, first, I don’t think you do hate it actually,” he sniffs, leaning his hip against the banister, “and second, a day can be two things, ok?” A pause.  Lister twirls the champagne flute in his fingers.  He looks down. “This isn’t about your birthday,” he says quietly.

Rimmer watches him closely as he turns back out to the vastness of space and beckons him over.  Rimmer hesitates, the old patterns of mistrust and paranoia still hard to break.  But this is Lister.  He moves to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and stares off into infinity. “It’s not how I envisioned spending my sixty-fifth,” Rimmer sighs. “Stuck on an aimlessly floating rust bucket with you lot.  No offense.” Lister bows his head.  “Thought you didn’t want to talk about your birthday.” Rimmer scoffs. 

“Well, clearly you do!” he says, exasperatedly.  “You get me alone up here, you bring champagne–” “Rimmer, this is not about your birthday,” Lister says placatingly. “Then what are you playing at?” he says irritiably.  Lister shrugs.  “I thought maybe it’d be nice if you had something different to celebrate on this day.  In the future, I mean.” He goes quiet.  Rimmer stares into his champagne, the soft hiss of bubbles all but dissipated, the pale liquid catching the soft ambient glow of the under rail lighting.  Lister bends to place his empty champagne flute on the floor, groaning as he pulls himself back up to standing.  He stands slightly breathless, bracing his hands on the bannister, and staring out at the darkness ahead of them.  He seems, suddenly and uncharacteristically, slightly nervous.

“You know, when I met you,” Lister says slowly, “I didn’t actually like you.” “Oh, don’t drop too many bombshells on me all at once, Listy, I don’t think I can take it,” Rimmer snarks. Lister rolls his eyes. “Look, man, I’m building a certain kinda atmosphere here, ok?” he sighs.  “I’m trying to create a bloody heartfelt moment, so could shut the smeg up for five seconds, please?” Rimmer rolls his eyes, but does, to his credit, shut up.  Lister scrubs his face with his hand. “Smeg,” he mutters.  “When I first met you, I didn’t like you, right?  I thought you were snobbish, neurotic, cowardly, self-serving, and petty.” He sighs.  “And that hasn’t changed.” He slides his hand across the banister, nudging Rimmer’s hand with his own, and linking their little fingers together. “But the way I feel about you has.” Rimmer stares at their hands, at all the lines etched in their skin, at the faint blue of his simulated veins, and the ragged edges of Lister’s nails, at Lister’s finger, crooked gently around his. “Lister…?” “Here,” he says, digging in the pocket of his leather pants with his free hand.  “Now, it’s not a birthday present, all right?  I told you this wasn’t about your birthday, and I meant it.  This is something else.”

He pulls his hand out.  In his palm are two plain gold bands.

“Nice, ain’t they?” he says softly, pride evident in his voice.  “Nicked them from one of the officer's suites ages ago; had to.  Couldn’t say why at the time.”

He grins.

“Think I know now.”

“I…” Rimmer stares at the bands, clearly flustered.  “I’m not sure what this is…?”

“Well, it’s not a birthday gift,” Lister says.  He lifts their linked hands and gently turns Rimmer so his fingers spread.  He slides the gold band over Rimmer’s ring finger and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Christ, I was so worried it wouldn’t fit,” he laughs.  “Pretty sure mine’s gonna be a tight one.”

He runs his thumb over Rimmer’s knuckles, admiring how the gold band catches the light.

“Rimmer, whatever else the future holds, the reality is, we’re going to spend it stuck with each other,” he grins.  “And at some point --I'm not quite sure when -- but at some point, I realized that that started sounding less like a prison sentence, and more like a promise.”

He shrugs.  “So that’s what this is.  A promise.”

Rimmer stares at their hands and slowly extends his free hand, palm up.  Lister furrows his brow.  It takes him a minute to understand.  He laughs.

“Oh, smeg, sorry,” he says, dropping the gold band in Rimmer’s hand.  He studies it for moment before slipping it on.  It’ll only slide on Lister’s little finger.  Rimmer shakes his head disapprovingly.

“It’s you and all those damn curries,” he grouses.

“Lagers, too,” Lister grins. He turns back to the sky, to the endless darkness, pinpricked with light, and leans heavily on Rimmer, his head resting against his shoulder.

“So next year, instead of your birthday, we can celebrate out anniversary,” Lister says with the air of someone who has done something very clever.  “Better?”

“Better,” Rimmer agrees.  He looks down at his hand, the band a pinprick of light in the dark.

“Infinitely better.”

[spookybunnybabe]

she's in my head, so long ago - chapter one

Rimmer reminisces about the only meaningful relationship he had when he was still alive - and how he ruined it as always.

Relationship: Arnold Rimmer/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Arnold RimmerDave ListerKristine KochanskiThe Cat (Red Dwarf)Kryten (Red Dwarf)Original TransCharacter(s)

Additional Tags: TransFemale CharacterBittersweet EndingGender IssuesGender IdentityEventual SmutEventual RomanceAbusive ParentsImplied/Referenced HomophobiaTransphobiaAlcohol Abuse/AlcoholismFlashbacksTimeline Shenaniganstold from different timelines

link to ao3

authors note: hello! my current long fic just ain't angsty enough. just as a warning, we will be looking at topics of transphobia, body dysmorphia and other lgbtqa+ issues. if these things are triggering for you, please consider reading something else. other than that, i hope you enjoy

Lister was sprawled lazily on his bunk, strumming his guitar as each note came out worse than the last. Rimmer stood in front of the mirror, obsessively smoothing his uniform, making sure every crease was perfectly in line. Who was monitoring? Who knew? But that wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the whole thing. 

“Lister, please, I don’t want to burst my eardrums from your... whatever you call that noise,” Rimmer muttered, straightening his tie for what had to be the fifth time that day. Lister, lost in a daydream, pretending he wasn’t stuck on a ship with a hologram, a cleaning droid, and a humanoid cat, continued to play, blissfully unaware of Rimmer’s growing annoyance beside the bunk. 

Rimmer’s eye twitched as another discordant twang rang out. “For smeg’s sake, Lister, do you have to practice right now?” 

Lister finally acknowledged Rimmer’s annoyance, though he continued to play. “It’s not like I’m stopping you from doing anything important. You’ve been preening yourself as much as the Cat, but unlike him, you’ve got no style.” 

Rimmer scoffed, lifting his chin as he turned away. “It’s called discipline. It’s a habit worth developing.” 

Lister rolled his eyes, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Oh yeah, and how’s that working out for you? Discipline and all that. You’re the most undisciplined smeghead I’ve ever met in my life. The skutters have more discipline than you.” 

Like a cat feeling threatened, Rimmer puffed out his chest as he spun back to face Lister. “Undisciplined? I was the model of discipline back when the ship was still running. If everyone had followed my example, we wouldn’t have descended into chaos.” 

Lister snorted, strumming a particularly off-key note for emphasis, making Rimmer wince visibly. “Yeah, or we’d all be ghosts in uniforms whining about directives.” 

Rimmer’s jaw tightened. “It’s called setting a standard, Lister. You wouldn’t understand.” 

Lister rolled his eyes, leaning back as if he’d heard these excuses a thousand times before. “Standards? Like those standards that got you to the grand old rank of... oh, what was it?” He pretended to think thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, second technician.” 

“Second technician was a vital part of the ship, Listy,” Rimmer crossed his arms defensively. “It’s about discipline, responsibility—” 

“—And not being able to fix a smeggin’ vending machine without short-circuiting the whole deck,” Lister interjected. “Face it, man, you’ve spent your whole life worrying about things that don’t even matter, and what do you have to show for it?” 

Defensively, Rimmer straightened up. “I had ambition, I had goals. Something you wouldn’t understand.” 

Lister, growing tired of hearing the same nonsense, sat up on the bunk and swung his legs over the side. “Yeah, yeah. And look where it got you. Still stuck on this ship with me, as a hologram. Some ambition.” 

“At least I aimed higher than lounging around with a curry and a lager, hoping someone else would do the hard work!” 

“Yeah, but I actually lived,” Lister said, finally getting up and walking past Rimmer. “When was the last time you went on a date? McGruder doesn’t count, seeing as she had a concussion and thought you were someone else.” 

Ah, yes. It always came back to making jabs at each other’s love lives. Instead of getting defensive, Rimmer shook his head. “Who are you to talk about dating history? You spent half your time on the ship following Kristine Kochanski around like a dog in heat.” 

Lister snorted. “Hey, at least I had a chance. I didn’t follow her around; I just happened to be where she was.” 

Rimmer rolled his eyes. “Right. You were about as subtle as a smelly sock in an air vent. You had no chance with her.” 

“Better than you ever had with anyone,” Lister fired back, leaning against the wall. “Other than McGruder, you’ve had less luck with women than anyone I know.” 

Rimmer huffed. “McGruder was an isolated incident. I’ve had plenty of opportunities with women.” 

“Name one,” Lister said immediately. “And the woman who reported you for inappropriate comments doesn’t count.” 

Rimmer’s mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but words failed him. “I... I don’t have to prove anything to you!” 

Lister leaned back with a grin. “Come on, man. We know you’re all talk and no action. I mean, there were even rumors you pulled Kiran Smith, but I know for a fact you probably didn’t—” 

“Wait—” Rimmer froze, then turned to Lister, his face pale as if he’d seen a ghost. “What are you talking about?” 

Lister shrugged. “Oh, come on, Rimmer, you must’ve heard. The rumors spread like crazy. You know, the pretty blonde technician who used to be mates with Kochanski.” 

“Oh...” Rimmer’s response was quiet. “I... I—well, you know what rumors are like. Complete rubbish. I never spoke to Kiran.” 

The way Rimmer responded to her name made Lister raise an eyebrow. Instead of challenging him, Lister continued to play dumb. “Yeah... I mean, someone said they saw you leaving her room one Sunday morning. I didn’t believe them. Kiran was really pretty and a nice person. You’d be totally out of your league if that was the case.” 

It was telling how Rimmer refused to look at Lister as he fumbled with his uniform. “Of course. I’d be out of her league. She was a... very busy person, and so was I.” 

And he had Rimmer on the ropes. 

“Responsibilities, eh? Sure, mate. Fixing vending machines and alphabetizing the inventory sheets must’ve been real demanding work.” 

Rimmer clenched his jaw. “That’s right. As I said, we never spoke.” 

Lister had to admit, it was rather enjoyable watching Rimmer squirm. “But if you never spoke, why are you sweating so much?” 

“I can’t sweat, idiot,” Rimmer sneered. “I just don’t appreciate these rumors. It’s all incredibly juvenile.” 

“Juvenile, huh?” Lister had Rimmer where he wanted him. “Then what about the fact that I saw you leaving the bar that night with her? And the conversation you were both having looked a little too friendly...” 

Despite being caught out, Rimmer still danced around the topic. “Ah well... we just so happened to be leaving at the same time, and we were colleagues.” 

“Colleagues? Didn’t look like you were trying to carry her toolbox.” Lister grinned. “You know, maybe it was too good to be true. Kiran is totally out of your league. Although...” Lister paused, trying to recall a memory. “I do remember the guys used to talk about her a lot. They thought she was... weird. I always felt bad for her. She was nice.” 

Rimmer’s face tightened as he tried to suppress the memory of the cruel things he’d heard. “You know what it’s like. People talked about everyone. What makes her so different?” 

“But it wasn’t just normal banter. Some of the stuff they said was nasty. There were...” Lister hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...Some of the guys used to give her shit, because she was transgender...” 

Clearly not the best way of putting it, Lister cleared his throat. “I... I felt bad for her. Your gender shouldn’t matter. She was a nice woman.” 

Rimmer stood there facing away from Lister, stunned into silence as he remembered. He remembered the conversation; he remembered her hands in his hair and her head in his lap. There was so much about that night he committed to memory. A beautiful girl like Kiran, who was all over him, felt like a dream. 

“She was... she didn’t deserve those words.” 

Finally, they were getting somewhere. 

“Mate, what happened between you and Kiran?” 

It took Rimmer a moment, but when he was ready, he pulled up a chair and sat down, Lister following suit. It took him a few minutes to compose himself, but he started talking. “We... I had just come to see you about my missing revision timetable. Do you remember?” 

“The one I’d been using to roll up my cigarettes?” Lister asked. 

“Yeah, that one. Well...” 

- 

And he remembered. The scene played in his head as if it happened yesterday. The ship's bar was packed with the late-night crowd—tired technicians, off-duty officers, and anyone else looking for a distraction from the monotony of deep space. The soft hum of the jukebox played a familiar tune, one of those sappy, overplayed love songs that made you wish for earplugs. 

The air stank of cigarette smoke, stale lager, and cheap cologne. It wasn’t exactly paradise, but it was the only spot they had to escape the endless corridors and fluorescent lights. For a Saturday night on a spaceship, this was as good as it got. 

Rimmer wasn’t one for nights out. He usually spent Saturdays cramming for his Astro-Navigation exams, trying to claw his way up the ladder. Tonight was supposed to be the same as ever, but somehow, he’d ended up here, standing in the middle of the bar. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on his target—Dave Lister. Once he spotted him, he headed over, already bracing himself for the usual jeers. 

“Lister,” Rimmer said, ignoring the smirks from Lister's mates. “I’m looking for my revision timetable. Where is it?” 

Lister turned, a pint in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Oh, you mean the one with all the colors on it? That one?” 

Rimmer’s patience was wearing thin. “Yes, that one. The one I spent hours organizing. Where is it?” 

Lister shrugged lazily, “Funny thing—might’ve used it to roll up a ciggie earlier. Thought it was just scrap paper.” 

The group erupted in laughter, and Rimmer’s face hardened. “You... What? Lister, I’m already behind on my studying. I need that timetable.” 

Lister leaned back, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Come on, Rimmer. We all know you’re gonna fail those exams anyway. Why bother stressing about it?” 

One of Lister’s mates snickered. “Yeah, if you spent half as much time revising as you do ironing your smegging uniforms, maybe you’d actually stand a chance.” 

The group’s laughter intensified, and Rimmer’s hands clenched into fists. He tried to keep his voice steady, but his frustration was clear. “I don’t know why I bother. I’m trying to better myself, unlike some people.” 

Lister raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” 

Rimmer opened his mouth to retort but let out a frustrated sigh instead. There was no point in arguing; he was miles behind his studying, and he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Lister tonight. Resigned, he turned on his heel and made his way to the bar. Maybe one drink was what he needed—something cheap, strong, and numbing. He pushed through the crowd and found a seat at the end, away from the noise. 

The weight of another Saturday night pressed down on him as he ordered his drink. The chatter, the laughter—it all felt distant as he stared into the glass, watching his distorted reflection. 

“Why do I bother...” 

His eyes flicked up, scanning the room out of habit, watching everyone else enjoy their night. That was when he saw her—Kiran. 

She was sitting with Kochanski at the other end of the bar, her head tilted back in laughter. Even from a distance, she stood out. She was in her jumpsuit, like always, but her blonde hair was loose around her face, her eyes bright under the dim light. She had that presence—something he never had. 

Kiran laughed at something Kochanski said, and Rimmer felt his chest tighten. She was... so alive. And here he was, alone. 

Then, as if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, he felt a warmth spread through his chest. He froze like a rabbit in headlights, half-expecting her to look away or ignore him completely. But she held his gaze and, in that moment, she smiled. Just a small smile—but enough for him to notice. 

Rimmer quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the bubbles in his drink. Stupid. Why would someone like her be looking at him? She was everything he wasn’t: incredibly attractive, bright, and lively. 

He glanced up again, half-expecting her to have moved on, but she was still looking at him. Every now and then, she nodded at something Kochanski said, but her eyes would flicker back to his. He watched her lean in and whisper something to Kochanski before getting up. 

His mind raced. Was she... coming over to him? 

Okay. Stay calm. Act natural. Don’t look like a total smeghead. 

When she finally reached his end of the bar, she leaned against it and smiled. “Hey. Rough night?” 

He forced a grin, though it came out tight and awkward. “Oh, you know... lost my timetable, can’t revise, got laughed at again.” 

“Lister and his mates?” she asked knowingly. 

He shrugged, trying to act unfazed. “Yeah, who else?” 

She tilted her head, studying him with an open, curious look. “Do you mind if I join you?” 

Rimmer blinked, unable to believe his luck. She wanted to sit with him? This had to be a prank. “I... Yeah... I mean, no, of course not. Please, go on.” 

When Kiran slid onto the stool beside him, he felt his heart race. For a moment, he wondered if Lister had put her up to this, but there was a warmth in her eyes and a gentleness to her smile that made him think otherwise. 

“So,” she began, her voice soft, “I don’t think we’ve ever really spoken. I usually see you with Lister.” 

His nerves were all over the place. This pretty girl was making casual conversation with him—this had to be a trick. “Oh... yeah. Well, ‘working with’ Lister is a stretch. More like working around him. More like undoing the damage he causes.” 

Kiran laughed softly, and it was genuine. “I figured as much. I’ve seen the way he acts around you. It doesn’t seem... easy.” 

“Ah, it’s just the usual banter... you know how it is with the guys.” He tried to play it cool, but he didn’t want her thinking he was bothered. Not at all. 

But instead of letting it go, she gave him a look. “Still, it must be tough. You don’t deserve that.” 

He blinked, caught off guard by the sympathy in her voice. “Well... uh, thanks, but you really don’t have to. It’s just... banter.” He wasn’t sure what to make of her. Was she genuinely interested, or was this some prank he hadn’t figured out yet? “Why did you come to talk to me?” 

Kiran shrugged. “Do I need a reason?” 

“Not at all,” Rimmer hesitated, studying her. She looked sincere, but he was used to being the butt of the joke. “But a girl as pretty as you doesn’t normally talk to someone like me.” 

Kiran’s smile softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “Is that what you think?” 

Rimmer nodded. “Well, that’s been my experience. Usually, if someone like you is talking to me, it’s because I’m about to be the butt of a joke or I’ve got something on my face.” 

She laughed again, a genuine, warm sound that eased his nerves. “I promise, there’s nothing on your face.” She paused, her eyes holding his with sincerity he wasn’t used to. “I came over because, well, you seemed like you could use some company.” 

“Company?” 

“Why not?” Her expression was open and unguarded. “I see you around, and you seem... different. Not in a bad way. Just different.” 

For a moment, they both sat in silence, and Rimmer found himself surprised at how comfortable it felt. Usually, he was on edge, waiting for the next insult, but Kiran didn’t seem to be looking for any weaknesses. 

“Do you...” Kiran started, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, “...want another drink?” 

“Oh, uh, sure. I mean, if you don’t mind.” 

Kiran smiled warmly. “Of course I don’t mind.” She waved the bartender over and ordered another round. When the drinks were set down, she slid one to Rimmer. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” he replied, clinking his glass with hers. 

As the night went on, Rimmer found himself genuinely laughing and enjoying her company. Kiran drank a lot quicker than he did, and he was struggling to keep up, but he didn’t mind. It felt good, being with someone who was interested in talking to him. 

As time went on, Rimmer found himself enjoying Kiran's company more than he expected. He wasn’t even aware of the occasional glances from other patrons as Kiran laughed at his jokes. She was drinking a lot quicker than Rimmer, and he struggled to keep up, but he didn’t mind. The drunker she got, the louder and more animated she became, but for once, it was actually kind of nice to have someone interested in talking to him. He felt himself laughing more, the tension in his shoulders easing. Her laughter was infectious, and her energy made him feel... light, like he could relax for a change. 

Kiran finished another drink and leaned in closer, her eyes bright but a little glazed. “You know... you aren’t as bad as people say you are. You’re... different than I expected.” 

“Oh?” he asked, half-joking. “What were you expecting?” 

She grinned, propping her chin on her hand. “Someone stuffy... someone who would talk about space regulations or some other nonsense.” 

He chuckled. “I mean... I wouldn’t say I’m not all those things, too.” 

She placed her glass down, swaying slightly. “I like that you can have fun, though. I like you, Arnold Rimmer.” 

His heart did a little flip. He tried to brush it off, laughing slightly. “Well, you’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not sure you’re thinking clearly.” 

Kiran shook her head, her words slurred. “Nooo, you’re... you’re really nice.” 

He felt awkward. It wasn’t unwelcome, but he just wasn’t used to this kind of attention. “I... sure, I mean, thank you.” 

Kiran leaned back, downing the rest of her drink, and then impulsively grabbed his hand, pulling him off the barstool. She was loud, clumsy, and starting to draw some stares. “Come on! Let’s go back to my room. It’s... much quieter.” 

His heart raced as she pulled him along. Her grip was surprisingly warm and firm, even if her steps were unsteady. Normally, being watched like this would’ve been highly embarrassing, but there was a thrill to it—being seen with a pretty girl like Kiran. 

“Are you sure...” he started as she led them through the crowd. “I mean, we could just sit down for a bit longer...” 

“No, no, no!” she insisted with a giggle. “It’s too loud here, and I wanna talk to you properly. Just us, yeah?” Her eyes were bright with excitement, and the effects of the alcohol. 

He nodded before he could think about it. “Okay, okay. Fine, just lead the way.” 

They made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the ship, Kiran’s laughter echoing as she stumbled and tugged him along. Rimmer was still trying to wrap his head around this—being dragged around the ship by a bright, lively woman who genuinely seemed to want his company. It was surreal; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so... wanted. 

She still held his hand, dragging him like she was on a mission. It was hard to keep up with her, even as she stumbled. When they reached her cabin door, she fumbled with her keycard, swiping it a few times without success. “Oh, these smeggin’ things...” 

“Here, let me help,” Rimmer offered, taking the card and scanning it for her. The door hissed open. “There—my one useful skill.” 

Kiran leaned against the doorway, grinning warmly. “See? What would I do without you?” 

He chuckled, his nerves and excitement mixing. “I think you’d manage fine.” 

She rolled her eyes as she pulled him inside. “Oh, come on. Sit down, get comfy.” She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of cheap whiskey, then flopped onto the couch, patting the space next to her. “I don’t bite... unless you want me to~” 

She was clearly joking, but it didn’t stop him from feeling his face grow warm. Laughing it off, he sat down next to her. “Alright, alright... but no funny business, okay?” 

Kiran laughed again, more relaxed now that they were alone. She rested her head against the couch. “Look at you, being all cautious.” 

He shrugged it off. “Someone has to be sensible.” 

She sighed, her gaze softening. “I like it. It’s... comforting.” 

He wasn’t sure how to respond. It felt... good. Different. He smiled awkwardly, trying to mask how much it meant to him. “Well, you know, someone has to keep an eye on you. Can’t have you wandering into the wrong cabin.” 

She chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle before passing it to him. He hesitated, then took a small sip, trying not to grimace at the burn. 

Kiran watched him, laughing. “Too strong for you?” 

“Of course not,” he insisted, putting on a tough act. “I can manage.” 

She leaned in, her expression turning thoughtful. “You know... you don’t have to do that in front of me.” 

He blinked. “Do... what?” 

“You know,” she said softly. “You don’t have to put on a bravado with me.” 

The tension returned, but it was different this time. It felt like vulnerability. “I’m not pretending,” he insisted. 

“It’s okay,” she said, placing her hand over his. “I get it. Honestly, I do. It’s hard to put on a front around people.” 

He stared at her hand, feeling a warmth that grounded him. “Yeah, well, sometimes it keeps things simple. It’s all about appearances.” 

Kiran nodded. “I know... but I’m not judging you.” 

He felt a vulnerability rise in him, wondering if this was all a cruel joke. “It’s not easy, though. Sometimes, it’s like no matter what you do, people already have their ideas about you, and no matter what, you can’t change their minds.” 

She nodded. “I know that feeling. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to show people who you really are, they only see what they want to see.” 

His chest tightened. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.” 

Kiran’s smile faded slightly, and she stared at him, a melancholic look replacing her earlier bubbliness. “...Kiran,” he found himself saying, “Are you okay?” 

Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, she looked taken aback. “I... yes, I am. Sometimes it just... it’s a lot.” 

Rimmer frowned, feeling the weight of her words. “I... should probably say that you don’t have to pretend with me either...” 

She gave him a small, glassy-eyed smile. “I... thank you, Rimmer.” They both sat quietly for a moment, the hum of the ship the only sound around them. Then, Kiran shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know this sounds silly... but I really like being around you, Rimmer. I know this is the first time we’ve hung out, but...” 

His breath caught in his throat. Her head resting on his shoulder was both comforting and terrifying. “It... no! It doesn’t sound silly at all,” he said, his voice soft. “I... I like being around you too.” 

She looked up at him, her eyes warm but unfocused. “You’re... really kind.” Her fingers tightened around his. “And... maybe we don’t have to be alone tonight.” Her hand brushed up his arm, fingers lightly trailing over the fabric of his neatly ironed uniform. 

“Kiran...” 

For a moment, the closeness was thrilling, the possibility of something real. But then he noticed how slurred her words were, how her eyes, despite their warmth, struggled to focus. She was too drunk. 

“I... I don’t think we should do this.” 

She blinked, her warmth fading into confusion. “What? Why not?” 

He steadied himself. “Because you’re drunk. I don’t want to... take advantage of you.” 

Her face fell, and for a moment, she looked hurt. “You... you don’t like me?” 

His heart could have shattered. “No, it’s not that,” he said quickly. “I just... I think this should be something you remember. You deserve better.” 

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his. “I...” She sighed, slumping back against the couch and covering her eyes as she let out a shaky cry. “I... I’m so sorry...” 

He felt completely out of his depth, helpless as he watched her cry. “No, no, please don’t apologize—” 

She sniffled, “I... I just... I don’t know why I’m like this. I thought... Maybe...” 

Her voice broke, and he felt a pang in his chest. He wasn’t used to handling emotions, especially not like this. But he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay... I’m not offended. If you weren’t drunk... I’d be crazy to say no to you, but... I just... I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” 

She peeked out from behind her hands, her eyes softening. “Really?” 

He nodded. "Of course. I mean, you want it to be real, right? Not something you look back on and regret?" 

She moved her hands away from her face, offering a small, shaky smile. “I...” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I... You’re a good man, Rimmer. I don’t know how many people would do that...” 

His eyes softened. “Don’t go telling everyone that. I’ve got a reputation as a complete smeghead to uphold, you know.” 

She laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “That is true. But I mean it... you are a good person.” 

And just like that, Kiran rested her head on his shoulder again. Her breathing was soft as they sat in comfortable silence. Rimmer couldn’t quite believe how he’d ended up here. How had he gone from having zero luck with women to turning down one of the most beautiful girls on the ship? Who knew? But as he heard her breathing grow softer and slower, he realized that this was okay. 

“Can... you just... sit with me?” she murmured, her eyes heavy and barely open. 

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice soft. 

She reached for his hand again, her grip firm and reassuring. A faint smile touched her lips as she drifted off, and Rimmer felt an unexpected warmth settle into his chest. For once, he felt like he was doing something good. 

“Good night,” he murmured, leaning back as the steady hum of the ship filled the room. 

- 

“Wait a second,” Lister spoke up. Rimmer had just finished recounting his story, but Lister remained unconvinced. “You went back to her cabin, and nothing happened?” 

“Weren’t you listening?” Rimmer rolled his eyes, exasperated. “She was drunk. I didn’t think it was right. Anyway, I stayed there the entire night—nothing happened.” 

Lister leaned back, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “So, you’re telling me that you had a chance with one of the prettiest girls on the ship, and you said no? That just doesn’t sound like the Rimmer I know.” 

Rimmer huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean, Listy?” 

“It means,” Lister began, “you’ve been pining after anything with a pulse since you were a cadet, and now you’ve suddenly decided to become noble?” 

Rimmer’s expression shifted to something almost sincere. “Well, yeah, I mean... it just didn’t feel right. She wasn’t herself, and... I didn’t want to be a mistake.” 

Lister blinked, genuinely surprised. “You... actually did the right thing?” 

“I stayed there, made sure she was alright, and I wasn’t inappropriate,” Rimmer replied. “I was... decent.” 

“Okay, okay... color me impressed.” Lister raised his hands, surrendering slightly. “So, what happened next?” 

Rimmer took the opportunity to stand, trying to end the conversation. “What do you mean?” 

“Come on.” Lister stood up too, clearly not letting this go. “You stayed in her cabin, and that’s it? You never saw her again?” 

“Yep. That’s how it went,” Rimmer replied, his arms crossed defensively. 

“You’re such a liar,” Lister smirked, seeing right through him. 

Rimmer crossed his arms tighter, trying to look unfazed. “I’m not lying. She woke up the next morning, I made sure she was okay, and that was it.” 

Lister shook his head. “There’s no way that’s the whole story.” 

“Look, we don’t have time to keep talking about this,” Rimmer deflected, clearly trying to dodge the conversation. “We’ve got... things to do.” 

“Alright, alright...” Lister raised his hands again. “But let it be known, I don’t believe you one bit.” 

“Fine, fine...” Rimmer replied, waving it off. “Don’t believe me, but I’m telling you, that’s all there is to it.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.” 

“Look, Lister,” Rimmer scowled, turning to face him. “Not everything is some grand story with a big twist. Sometimes, things are just... the way they are.” 

“Right,” Lister replied, still grinning. “But if you ask me, there’s more going on in that smeggy head of yours than you’re letting on.” 

Rimmer rolled his eyes, turning back to fuss over his already-perfect uniform. “Think whatever you want, Listy, but some of us have to get back to actual work, you know.” 

“I wish Kiran was still alive,” Lister chuckled, “then I could go and ask her myself.” 

“Pity, though, because she died alongside the rest of the crew,” Rimmer responded dryly. “But she’d definitely tell you the same story.” 

“Well, whatever.” Lister shrugged as he walked past Rimmer. “But this isn’t over.” 

“Fine.” 

Rimmer watched as Lister left the room, letting out a long sigh once he was alone. Hopefully, Lister would forget about the whole stupid story, because it definitely wasn’t the full truth—and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the rest of it himself. 

[sunmontuewrites]

Weekend To-Do Listy-list

3-day weekend and I want to get my vegetable garden up and going this weekend, as well as the regular household chores which are never ending. Hmm. Might make myself biscotti. I LIKE biscotti, where as last weekend I made banana cake and I am not a fan of banana cake. 😅

5.15pm, and I am home. Got an active-resting weekend planned and am feeling energetic and excited to have three days at home.

d20 of Doom - decision making

Write 250 words (+20)

Load of washing / Fold 10 pieces of washing (+1)

Clean toilet

Water plants + trim

Write 250 words

Load of washing / Fold 10 pieces of washing (+5)

Dust bedroom (+6)

Dust dining room (+7)

Dye hair (+8)

Write 250 words (+9)

Load of washing / Fold 10 pieces of washing (+10)

Dust lounge (+11)

Cat litter tray (+12)

Manicure / Pedicure

Write 250 words (+14)

Load of washing / Fold 10 pieces of washing (+15)

Change sheets on bed (+16)

Facial (+17)

Dust and tidy/clean end room (+18)

Write 250 words

EVENTS

Go to Gardens for cultural event

Vegetable garden weeded and planted out

Make almond and dark chocolate biscotti

Go and cut dad's hair

Buy cat biscuits

Buy new steering wheel cover

Standard chores

Morning routine - Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Evening routine - Friday / Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Go for a walk - Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Breakfast - Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Lunch - Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Dinner - Friday / Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Moisturise - Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Clean CPAP machine

Hubs & Kids

Mow the lawn

Change sheets on their beds

Clean cat feeders

Mirrors and basins

Vacuum

Shower

Mop floors

Wash cars?

Weeding

Water blasting?

DnD game

Creative goals

Friday - 1k / 2k

Saturday - 1k / 2k / 3k

Sunday - 1k / 2k / 3k / 4k / 5k

Monday - 1k / 2k / 3k / 4k / 5k / 6k / 7k

StT chapter

250 words on Thermodynamics

250 words on FFSD

SoS chapter

Another thing updated

Another thing updated

Sketch - Friday / Saturday / Sunday / Monday

Water colour x 3

Download Wacom tablet software

Do a sketch in Krita

[ostaramaclay]

I'm watching Lemons (skipped the first two episodes of X because I saw them a couple weeks ago) for the first time

I wasn't expecting Lister and Rimmer to be so... soft???? with eachother? It feels like there's so much less bite in their words than there used to be; especially for Rimmer. Rimmer now says "Listy" like it's the most natural thing ever. He only used to say it when he was being a smug git, but now it's just an affectionate pet name and no one bats an eyelid.

Also the fact that Rimmer is allowing Kryten to do operations on Lister now is weirdly wholesome? Lmfao. He knows that Lister would never agree to these operations or check ups if he knew, and it's not like Rimmer gets any benefit from saying yes. Maybe you could argue that it brings Rimmer peace because it stops Lister from whining about the stomach aches or whatever, but I don't think that's it. I was gonna write about this but now it's turning into a short fic so maybe I'll post that separately lol

ANYWAY I CAN'T COPE WITH THEM, THEY'RE SUCH AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE

[no-where-new-hero]

Do you have a bucket list? If yes, are you comfortable sharing an example from it?

I don't really! There are certainly things I hope to do before I die, but they're more like...big life choice things than bucket list items. I guess the most bucket-listy thing would be to travel to Seoul and Edinburgh someday! I've never done any international travel before and I think I probably romanticize it too much, but both cities seem just so damn beautiful.

[miniherodesktales]

Advent 22: Jingle Oms Part 1

'Must you clip your toenails in our room? It's disgusting!'

Lister lent over the side of the bunk.

'Yeah, I do 'cause I need to lie down to reach my feet. Now be quiet and finish your ice cream.'

Rimmer wrinkled up his nose as he took a bite out of his Mr Whippy cone.

'Are you sure this meant to be relaxing, eating ice cream in bed?' he mumbled. 'I'm scared of swallowing one of your clippings.'

'I keep telling you it's an ancient monk practice, an exercise in mindfulness as you have to catch all the drips and - oh, no!' Lister recoiled in disgust. 'Are you biting your ice cream? Who does that?'

'I do, Lister,' Rimmer said thickly. He took another chomp. 'I don't have sensitive teeth.'

'I can feel it! Have you always bitten your ice cream or this a new development?'

Rimmer shrugged. 'I haven't eaten much ice cream in my lifetime or deathtime, for that matter. I imagine I licked things as a baby. I'm bored of this, finish it for me?'

'Seriously?'

'Don't worry, I don't have germs. They can't survive on light. I don't even have saliva, too complicated for my Light Bee to replicate.'

'I'm looking more at the state of this chocolate flake. You've nibbled at it! It looks like a pencil.'

An explosion in the bunk room quickly put an end to this riveting conversation.

There was a flash of blinding red light and an ear splitting bang. When the light faded away again, Rimmer and Lister were both startled to find that they had been joined by a second Lister.

He seemed completely unfazed by the explosion. Instead he whipped off his star-shaped sunglasses and glanced causally around the bunk room. When he spotted Rimmer and Lister his smiled widened to breaking point.

'Hey, guys, this totally shady but the Dimension Hop device totally worked! I'm Danny, Danny Lister, BTW, cool to meet you both! Sorry to crash in on you guys, totally without warning, but, man, I'm buzzing to be here!'

Rimmer laughed. 'Another, cooler Lister? Oh, Listy, it's your turn!'

'No, it isn't!' Lister said, looking pale.

Danny smiled politely. 'Turn?'

Rimmer circled him closely, taking in every inch of his appearance.

'Going by the bracelets, sunglasses, freshly washed hair, biceps, and smaller bum, I'm going to guess you're a successful rock star?'

Danny laughed. 'Yeah, man! Well, I do ok.'

Rimmer nodded happily. 'And I'm guessing that you're so filthy rich that you invested a lot of money into this Dimension Hop device and so bored that you volunteered to try it out?'

Danny beamed. 'Rimsy, you were always the smart one!'

'I know! Listy, Listy, come say hi to Danny! It's you from another dimension only more successful and better looking!'

Danny playfully psuhed Rimmer away.

'No way, man! I can see Listy is the better looking one. You own this spaceship, right?'

'Do we own this spaceship?' Rimmer mused. 'Mmm, I'd say by default because the rest of the crew all died in a horrible, horrible accident!'

Danny's smile faltered ever so slightly. 'Uuuh, Ok....You don't seem too shocked to see me? Do you know about the other dimensions?'

'Oh, we've got experience,' Rimmer nodded sagely. 'It was only last week that Lister was advising me never to be jealous of your better selves -'

'That was years ago!'

'But be happy for them. That was good advice, Lister. Don't you want to come down and say hello properly? Don't be shy.'

Lister slowly dropped to the floor and held out a hand, but it was ignored by Danny who went straight for a tight hug.

'I'm so happy to meet you,' Danny sang.

'Yeah,' Lister said, uncertainly. 'Me too.'

[dustedmagazine]

Jennifer Castle — Camelot (Paradise of Bachelors)

Singer-songwriter and acoustic guitarist Jennifer Castle kept things spare on 2020’s Monarch, recording most of it solo and at home. She returned to the studio on her latest, Camelot, and enlisted the aid of other musicians. The core band is guitarist Paul Mortimer, pianist/keyboardist Carl Didur, Mike Smith, bass, and drummer Evan Carwright.

Among the guest musicians, Cass McCombs provides guitars for the folk rock song “Lucky #8,” playing the Byrds-inspired 12-strong and tasty slide guitar lines. Alongside this is a rollicking groove and background vocals from Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig that channel early Fleetwood Mac. This was the first single released from the album, and one can well understand why. It is one of the best songs on Camelot.

The title and leadoff track sets the stage for two themes that are combined throughout the album: a postmodern riff on the legendary city from the King Arthur stories and the onset of middle age. Don’t worry, there is no jousting involved. Instead, Castle uses mythical archetypes to discuss interiority, with its fantasies, delusions, dreams, and desires.

Castle addresses middle age through the complications of relationships and concomitant richness of family. Her sister worked with her on some of the visuals for the release, and she captured both sides of the album’s content. “Louis” begins with a narrator wondering if talking to a departed friend is something he can hear. This question from the place of grief is balanced with mythic tropes, the Pleiades, unicorns, the Fountain of Youth, and the Blue Lagoon. Its lyrics may be oblique, but “Louis” is an affecting ballad.

There are songs with other topics too, such as the puzzlements of the news cycle. “Mary Miracle” is about a bleeding statue similar to the one in an episode of Derry Girls. It frontloads the hook and then has a listy chorus, and features excellent playing by the group and guest musicians Jeff McMurrich and Jonathan Adjemian, who add mellotron, organ, and electric guitars. While Castle still orients her work towards folk, this is another song that provides a splash of rock to the equation.

Owen Pallett is on board to provide string and saxophone arrangements. “Full Moon in Leo” features the latter, R&B charts played by Stuart Bogie. There are also Motown style vocals and classic ace organ stylings to channel the period. “Blowing Kisses” is a ballad that seems to be about the Lady of the Lake, but also the vagaries of linguistic expression, which the narrator decides to give up: “I’m not a beggar to language any longer, it’s a state of mind, only a god could come up with it.”

As much as the songs with the band click, “Earthsong,” which features just voice and acoustic guitar, is moving. While I hope that she continues to make vibrant music with others, Jennifer Castle can reveal vulnerability, eloquence and imagination all by herself.

Christian Carey

[listieshadows]

Listie's 600+ words about Random Access Memories (Drumless Edition) or: (Listie didn't write all this for nuthin' and she ain't getting a RYM account)

It's kind of impossible to listen to Random Access Memories (Drumless Edition) without just knowing in the back of your head that this is a low-effort cash grab. As much as I honestly wanted to give this album a fair shake, I just know that someone up top figured they could squeeze a little extra out of Random Access Memories' anniversary by having someone go in and just mute the percussion track. I mean, I know there's a section of people out there who actively seek out and enjoy drumless versions of popular music, but was there really enough of them to justify this? Were people really clamoring for this? Was anyone back in 2013 listening to Random Access Memories and being like, "Man, this is fantastic and all, but I just can't stand having a backbeat lock in the groove"?

The best thing this edition does is really make you appreciate the drums on the original. Which, it's not like they needed to be appreciated any more, but it's remarkable how many tracks on this album are downgraded to just "fine" at best once you remove the drums. "Get Lucky", "Beyond", "Instant Crush"... Sure? They're OK? I guess? But would anyone regularly reach for these over the original? I don't think so; the change isn't really substantial enough.

The track that gets it the worst, I think, is "Lose Yourself To Dance". The drums and percussion are a huge reason why that track works so well. I mean, who the hell wanted this disco dance song to have its four-to-the-floor beat removed? What the hell's even the point of it, then? It just sounds so... Sparse.

(Well, actually, the track that gets it the worst worst is "Doin' It Right", because once you remove the drums from that it's literally just an acapella song. But that's kind of funny, I think, and, hey, if it can provide me some kind of entertainment... It doesn't stop it from being bad, but still. And shoutout, too, to "Giorgo By Moroder" losing its click track.)

Honestly, I don't think it got any better than the first single they released for this edition, "Beyond". It's ambient enough that it can work without the drums. If that had been the only track released drumless—and maybe "The Game Of Love" as well—sure, fine. Just an odd little experiment that doesn't mean much. But once you start trying to remove the drums from the groovier, dancier tracks, that's where everything falls apart.

I can't imagine Daft Punk themselves approving this. I mean, I know if I were them I wouldn't have signed off on this. But I guess they did, 'cuz here it is. I suppose they just heard something in it that I can't. And I wish I could, because as it stands, like I said above, this is just a nakedly lazy cash grab. If they really wanted to release another Random Access Memories album for its anniversary, I think a true remix album would've been a lot better. Let some other people come in and give these songs a fresh spin. I know they weren't entirely against remixes of these songs; they did do their own 10-minute remix of "Get Lucky" back in the day. So what would've been the harm in letting some other people give it a shot?

I certainly know the fans are gonna remix it. That's probably gonna be the best thing we get out of this release, since removing the drums makes each song a lot more conducive to a lot more than they were before. (And we might get some more drum covers, too, if that's more your thing.) But as it stands, as a listening experience on its own, I think everyone would be fine going drumlessless.

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #16: Future

     “No.”

     “Look, Lister–”

     “Sir–”

     “C'mon, buddy–”

     “No, absolutely not! The fact you're all even considering it is crazy!”

     Though that, perhaps, wasn't far off. They'd definitely gone a bit crazy over the past few years, cooped up on Starbug. Stir crazy, space crazy, likely some combination of the two. Tensions frayed more than ever before, Rimmer's temper erupted with growing frequency, The Cat had practically reverted to his early day habits of slinking off alone, away from the group like a stray–as much as one could on a vessel as cramped as this, and Kryten fretted and hovered with an energy bordering on obsessive.

     It's your fault, whispered a small part of Lister's mind he was forced to push down more and more frequently these days. After the accident when they found the time drive, Lister was no longer able to take shifts in the cockpit, no longer able to go along on derelict raids (and neither was Kryten, who was adamant about staying to look after him), no longer able to do much of anything. He regretted any callousness he showed Rimmer before the hologram had become hardlight; he now could empathize with the feelings of helplessness and frustration that came from the lack of a body. Perhaps that's why it was Rimmer waiting to explain things to him once he regained consciousness. That, or Kryten was too hysterical and The Cat would never be an ideal candidate to break bad news.

     But despite that, now that they recently found a faster-than-light drive on board another ship and got it running, the other three had turned to him as the last word on this proposal, even though they all seemed set on convincing him.

     “It's not like we're going to be dining with Adolf and Eva!” Rimmer exclaimed.

     “No, but it'll be close! In some court of Elizabeth where they'll be looking down on the rest of the country and saying, ‘Let them eat cake.’”

     “Wrong royals, Listy.”

     “The attitude's the same though, eh? I thought you learned that after your 600 years by yourself–selves.”

     Rimmer grimaced, but it was The Cat who continued. “You don't have to worry about taking care of a body anymore, man, you already lost yours. But what about me? I've still got to eat. Some of my favorite suits are getting baggy, and that is a greater tragedy than anything they’ve done.”

     “I'm afraid, Mister Lister, that the recent raids haven't provided much in the way of a food supply.”

     “Haven't provided much of anything, really,” Rimmer cut in. “The faster-than-light drive we found was a miracle, as well as the only useful thing we've come across in ages.”

     Lister did notice then, through the optical equipment to which Kryten had hooked him up, that Cat's jacket was hanging a little loose, that the outfit itself was not as pristine as it would have been in years past. There were deeper lines in Rimmer's face, some slight graying along his temples. Kryten looked the same, but he could guess that the stress and effort of their time on Starbug (of caring for Lister) had taken its toll on his internal wiring.

     “So we're going to go up to some crazed dictator for help? That's the solution?”

     “What would you have us do? Go up to some peasants’ hut, knock on the door and say, ‘Sorry there, miladdo, we know you're starving and probably dying of the plague but could you spare us some fresh fish?’”

     “What about a later time, our time?”

     Kryten and Rimmer shifted uncomfortably. The former replied, “It might be best, sir, to try to avoid a time when JMC and Diva Droid are operational. Not to mention that, in such times, we'd have more advantages.”

      “Technological?” If Lister could, he'd sit up straighter. “Are we gonna threaten to blast people out of existence?”

      “No!” Rimmer replied hastily. “...Not unless we really had to. But–” he continued quickly before Lister could speak up again– “we were thinking more along the lines of financially.”

      “Turns out some of my shiny things mean a lot to some of those old monkeys.” Another warning sign. The fact that Cat was open to the idea of trading away some of his stash of trinkets meant things were dire.

     “They could buy us food, good food, something other than weevil and moss.” Taking in Rimmer's look of longing, Lister wondered, under these circumstances, if he had eaten anything recently. He didn't need to, but now had the ability to. And he knew, from the incident when they'd swapped bodies, how desperate he could get to sate his hunger.

     “And materials for new clothes. I haven't been able to make a new vest in years and that is way too long!”

     “Yeah, food and cloth only possible through the suffering of the people under them.”

     “Was our period any different, Lister?” Rimmer shot back. “You think some of your t-shirts didn't come from people slaving away in some sweatshop on Titan? Do you think JMC was a humanitarian effort? Of course not! That didn't stop you from buying those shirts or working for this company. You benefited from that, and we can do the same thing now. Or would you rather we wither away here in this crowded scrapheap?”

     If Lister still had a face, it'd be twisted in disgust. Not just towards Rimmer, but towards himself: a bit of him could see a logic behind what he said. “What about you, Kryten?” He turned to the mechanoid for some support.

     “Mister Lister, you know that I'm programmed–”

     “Don't give me that ‘programming’ smeg, Krytes; you've broken from it for years now.”

     Kryten, with the decency to look apologetic, said, “Human morality is a very fluid thing, sir. What was permitted one century becomes reprehensible in the next. We can't change that, but we can do what's best for the crew.”

     “Exactly! I don't care what your dozen-greats grandparents did, bud. I hate to say it, but I agree with Goalpost Head.” They all agreed: a rare thing to see from them, especially these days.

     Lister, who always thought he was a decent man, who thought he could do the right thing, felt something in him relent. If he didn't, he'd have to live with the guilt as his crew–his friends–wasted away, and that was something he didn't think he could endure. Taking a first step into their new future, Lister agreed. It's not the worst thing they could do, the most immoral people they could turn to. Of course, they knew better than that.

[reiketsui]

wish listy

psychological manipulation horror threads

off-duty threads of any kind this man needs to learn to exist outside of work

make unexpected friends

him teaching someone to do an autopsy

childhood/young adulthood threads

interpol stuff always fun

more interactions with other rockets i beg

SPARRING (or just physical fights in general)

doing makeup with someone

bonding/sharing interests with other dubious doctors

sharing his passion in cooking with someone

shared lore/pre-established things