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Christ alive this writing! My heart!

Smegtober- Day 1 (Memory)

TW: Arnold Rimmer's Terrible Childhood

Rimmer stood at the railing of the observation deck, his eyes fixated on no particular point of the swell of inky darkness that painted the sky. The letter from his mother wasn't a shock; they're all dead, aren't they? Three million years had passed. Of course they would be. 

The news of his father's death, the letter in her rushed hand, lax and uncaring, reminded him of the way even tender and emotional moments were cut short; she had no time for fools. That's all Arnold was to her, wasn't he? A fool. A rather unfortunate mishap. 

On a good day, he was a stain on his mother's record; at least his brothers bore a resemblance to their father: intelligent, masculine, full of potential. Arnold was far from the standard of the boys that came before him. He was weak. 

Rimmer shuffled uncomfortably, the pressure on his hologramatic feet from the floor of the observation deck not quite right. He wasn't real anymore.

Looking out at the stars, every speckle of light gleaming, their beauty unreachable, untouchable, he knew they were also dead, like him, only they were something to behold. They were wondrous. 

He relished every second he spent with his telescope as a young child, the domes of lo separating him from the vastness of space. Nothing ever changed. He was still the dullest light in a sky full of potential. He would never escape who he was. Nothing. It was something he was unable to forget.

He hated his father, he hated his mother, his brothers; most of all, he hated how he still yearned for their approval and adoration. More than anything, he needed someone to tell him he was worth more than what he could give. 

He longed to devour love if anyone had ever been willing to offer; he clawed and spat, the bitterness dripping from his tongue, sharp and silver, warding off anyone who dared pry into the carcass of his soul. 

Lister prodded; he pried and poked at Rimmer's mind as if he was a sleeping bear, luring him into sharing his secrets with his honey brown eyes and sticky, sweet words that dripped from his lips. As sickly as they were, they made Rimmer feel weak. 

Even now, he was still chasing adoration.

@a-wild-rat-man thank you thank you thank you! I love her so much!

Shame and Secrets themed OC Ask Game

A bit of a specific one, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind…I like when oc questions are very prying. I tried to make them more serious as it goes along. Send in a number (or multiple) and and oc and I’ll answer!

Does your oc have any secrets? Whats their biggest one?

Does your oc have any embarrassing memories?

Is there any weird habits your oc has?

Are there any secrets your oc has shared with other characters? If so, who, and what secrets?

How good is your oc at keeping secrets?

How does your oc react to being told someone else’s secret? Do they lock it up tight, or spread it around?

How honest is your oc’s personality? Do they act how they feel, or do they tend to put up a front?

What’s something that your oc is insecure about? Something that someone could say to them that would really get under their skin?

How much shame does your oc feel about themself or their past? Do they brush stuff off and feel carefree, or stay up at night recounting mistakes?

Is there anything your oc wants or likes that they have to keep secret, like a guilty pleasure? Anything that would get them ostracized, attacked, or just insulted for saying it out loud?

If your oc could go back in time and change one moment from their life, would they, and what moment would they change?

If your oc had one day of their life where they were being monitored for a full 24 hours, and they knew this, what would they change about their routine?

If your oc had one where they could do anything without being caught, what would they do?

Has your oc ever done anything illegal or immoral?

How far would your oc go to keep their secrets secret? How low would they stoop?

Could your oc be effectively blackmailed with any of their secrets?

I don't know why I love it so much when someone calls Lister David, but I do. We should do it more often.

Wonderful as usual darling. ❤️

Smegtober- Day 11 (Jelousy)

“A touch-T,” Howard practically purred, his smile off putting to Rimmer as he watched him practically plead for Lister's touch. Benign as his intentions were outwardly, Rimmer wasn't an idiot; he knew Howard. He also knew Lister just as well. Lister eventually clutched Howard's head in his hands…

Even then, Rimmer felt sick. His brother's lustful smirk, eyes roaming over his bunkmate’s body in that tight elasticated jumpsuit. Taking his chance, Rimmer pried his brother away from the liverpudlian, his ears practically ringing when he suggested Lister try again.

A wave of relief washed over the younger Rimmer as he convinced his brother to accept a tour, though the thought of Howard's hungry gaze still made him nauseous. 

“What's the matter, Arnie?” Howard spat as he asked, naturally smug.

“You know what, ‘Howie’,” Rimmer hissed in return, “the way you're drooling over David. It's disgusting.” 

Howard let out a chuckle, “Am I sensing jealousy, brother? Am I a threat?”

“Not at all,” Rimmer scoffed, albeit unconvincingly, “I have no interest in men.” 

Howard squawked, a nasally laugh, “Aww, little brother,” he pinched his cheek, “you really aren't fooling anybody.” 

Scowling, Rimmer felt his blood run cold, pushing his brother back and huffing as he abandoned Howard and Crawford, storming back to the drive room. Lister ,still stood with his phone pressed to his ear, leaning over the top of a control panel, lips pursed, turned to face him ipon his entrance, concerned.

“Hey, Rimmer, man,” he lowered the phone, already noticing the hologram's blotchy cheeks and watery eyes, “What happened?”

Frustrated, Rimmer rubbed his face, “Nothing,” he growled, defensive. 

Lister wasn't stupid…

Footsteps echoed as The stimulant and other hologram approached; Sparks went off in Lister's mind, a beautifully evil idea, perfect as it was sinister.

He cupped Arnold's cheek and gushed dramatically, “Oh, Arnie.”

The hologram met his eyes with confusion; Lister pulled him into a kiss, groaning over-enthusiastically as Howard strutted in, smugness draining from his features at the sight. His eyes span. A resentment jam.

Grinning like he had won a prize, the human pulled away, proud of his work, “That'll show the smegger.” 

Who'd be interested in reading random drabbles? I'm thinking Sephy's diary from when she first woke up on Red Dwarf, or maybe Timeslide Sephy's diary?

Yes, I know I should be writing Dimension Jump but honestly, I'm feeling the pressure.

That opening, I still love it.

Show the love my darlings.

Amelia the dark one

A story with really short chapters

1

That was the wrong straw.

Incidentally, that particular one may also have been the last straw.

Lister sighed and leaned further over the trolley.

Rimmer was now, once again, blustering about that single straw being the wrong size and shape and colour. He surely was losing his marbles. Lister rolled his eyes. Now he was shouting about threatening reporting him again.

Lister thought that was unfair.

"I bet you're not even listening, are you?"

He thought that was unfair too. He hadn't been listening. He had been humming and reminiscing about the good old days back in Liverpool.

He missed the pub.

Lister sighed again, even louder, and pulled his hat over his face, rubbing his eyes.

"Why does it even matter?" He groaned.

"It's not like we have to perform a life- saving manoeuvre with a straw!"

"Unfortunately for you, Lister, I take great pride and responsibility in doing the job properly!"

"Yeah and unfortunately for me, you're a total smeg head!"

"That's it, millado, you're on report!"

Lister made a face and leaned back, holding onto the bar at the back of the trolley. He put his feet onto the wheels and felt it rock slightly under his weight. He smiled quietly to himself as Rimmer waffled about job numbers and cleaning blocked nozzles. He'd get him soon.

15 minutes later, they bumped into Todhunter.

Literally.

Much to Rimmer's dismay, Lister had begun using the trolley as a go-kart, and had, completely by accident, raced around a blind corner, totally out of control, and smashed, dirty nozzle end first, into Todhunter.

Who wasn't angry.

Who wasn't instantly filing reports for Lister, like Rimmer expected.

Who was actually laughing with Lister on the floor, head in an odd position between the third technician's legs, chicken soup stains on his shirt and combat boots.

What a world.

Rimmer: does something stupid

Sephy: I'm gonna kiss him.

Lister: You mean kill him?

Sephy: That too.

Rimmer snuggling a kitten! Be still my heart!

How do you always see into my soul? ❤️

Smegtober- Day 12 (Promises)

Stumbling into the room, Rimmer returned from Z shift, exhausted and ready to collapse. He considered revision before he had even finished his shift and decided against it today, something was just not right with him; from the moment he woke up, he felt heavy. Greeted by the sight of Lister sat hunched over on the floor, legs crossed and button up shirt pulled to shield whatever was in between them, Rimmer closed the door behind him. 

“Lister, what the smeg are you doing?”

He turned his head to look at him, not moving his body and pulling his shirt harder to cover whatever rested in his lap. The shirt rustled and meowed. 

“Nothin’,” he defended,” It's none of your business.” 

“You are unbelievable,” Rimmer scolded, crouching down at Lister's side and lowering his voice, “do you have any idea of the penalty for smuggling an unquarantined animal on board?”

“Yes, Rimmer,” he hissed, pulling his shirt  back to reveal a rather large, black cat, “I'm aware… but she needed a home. She's pregnant.”

Sinking further down to sit next to the third technician, Rimmer stared at the cat momentarily as though it was an alien, her large green eyes seeming to plead with him. He shook his head. Cats aren't that smart, Rimmer thought to himself, then again, neither is Lister.

The scouser gave him a similar look, brown eyes wide and pleading, just like the cat, “Please, Rimmer. Don't tell anyone. She's gentle and well behaved and I promise, I swear on me life, that she's clean. Cleaner than me even.” 

“Well, anything's cleaner than you,” the second technician mumbled with a sigh, slowly holding out his hand for the cat to sniff. She nuzzled into him, a soft purr emanating from her and reverberating on his hand as she pressed against him. 

“Rimmer, please promise me you wont tell anyone about Frankenstein.” Lister begged again. 

“Fine, I promise,” he tried his best to sound cold, failing miserably as the feline continued to pander for his attention, “But Frankenstein? Really?”

“It's a class name,” Lister protested, A grin plastered over his features, “and when I first got her I thought she was a boy.”

“You’re a total gimp, Listy,” he finally let a smile creep onto his lips, cooing as he picked up Frankenstein and pulled her onto his own lap, planting a small kiss between her ears and stroking her gently.

Dimension Jump guys, come and get it!

The problem with making the headcanon that Rimmer smells of sandalwood is that I can now no longer smell sandalwood without going feral.

I must now come with a warning that if you smell of sandalwood there is a high chance I will attempt to, at the very least, crawl into your lap.

A poll for Persephone fans because, you know, fun!

Another amazing ficlet from my bestie hubs (hubby? Idk). ❤️

Smegtober- Day 14 (Nicknames)

“Why do you call me that?” Lister enquired, out of nowhere, propping his head on his hand, elbow resting on his pillow. 

“Call you what?” Rimmer responded from the bunk beneath him.

“You know what I mean. ‘Listy’”, he continued, realising the hologram might overthink, “Not that I mind. Just curious.” 

Rimmer was silent for a moment, wringing his hands, staring at the underside of Lister's bunk as though he would miraculously be able to see his face- read what he was thinking. Finally, he willed himself to respond, “I don't know... I can stop.” 

“No. It's fine,” the human persisted with damage control, “You don't need to stop.”

The second technician shook his head, shortly feeling ridiculous at the realisation his bunkmate couldn't even see him, “I don't even notice I'm doing it most of the time.” 

“Well, there you go, then. It's all fine.”

“But it isn't.”

Lister rolled his eyes, “How isn't it?”

“Well,” Rimmer paused for a moment, in thought, “for one, it's not even like we both do it. It's just me,” another pause, this time shorter, “ and I'm pretty sure it started maliciously.”

Lister chuckled, a cheeky grin bestowed upon his face, “Awwe, are you tellin’ me it's affectionate now?”

“Shut up,” the older man sulked.

“Don't be like that,” the third technician teased, “I think it's quite cute how you secretly adore me.”

Rimmer jumped up from his bunk to face Lister, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “I do not adore you!” He exclaimed defensively, his fists balled by his sides. Lister's smirk was unbearable. 

“Hey, don't be like that,” he said in his usual sickly sweet tone of mockery, “you don't need to tell me. It's been decades and we're still sharing a room.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he folded his arms, a scowl on his lips that didn't quite convince Lister. 

“Listen, man, I'm just sayin’ I know you, and you know me,” Lister sat up, attempting to look Rimmer in the eyes, “and on a ship the size of a small city, after all this time, we still sleep in the same room.” 

Rimmer avoided his gaze, “that's irrelevant. It is JMC regulation that-”

“And who exactly is still around to hold you to that?” Lister cut him off, “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”

“It doesn't,” he hissed, “I just don't like what you're implying.”

Lister sighed heavily, a huff of annoyance, “and what exactly am I implying?”

He had no reply. Pushing himself off the bunk, the human groaned at the ache in his knees; he took the hologram's hand between his, rubbing small circles on the back of it. Rimmer, sight fixed on his encased hand, stood frozen in place, as though in a trance. 

“Look, Rimmer,” Lister began gently, “all I'm sayin is I care about you and, I think, underneath all this neurosis, you care about me too.”

Smiling weakly, Lister moved one of his hands from Rimmer's own to his cheek, standing on his toes and chastley connecting their lips. Rimmer blinked. His expression read as though he had short curicted, like he was learning how to breathe again; his face finally decided to congeal into a slack jawed impression of disbelief. Lister playfully stuck his tongue out, breath caught in his throat when his bunkmate gripped his lapels, pulling him back in.

New RD fanfic! Wee!

Also read it, its like reading the books

Amelia the dark one

Chapter 1 available on ao3

If I could draw I'd draw my Persephone like this. Except not pink, obviously.

Note, this art does not belong to me, it belongs to Rachel Smythe, author and artist of the incredible Lore Olympus webcomic.

This is ... I can't ... oh my god! ❤️🥲

If I could draw I'd draw my Persephone like this. Except not pink, obviously.

Note, this art does not belong to me, it belongs to Rachel Smythe, author and artist of the incredible Lore Olympus webcomic.

I'm half tempted to book myself into a local hotel and spend the whole weekend writing by myself.