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Title: Thanksgiving
Pairing: Lister/Legion, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, despite my feverent wishes to the contrary. Ditto for making money off this.
Spoilers: Legion
Notes: Takes place directly after
roadstergal's Needs. Written as part of the
fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Somewhere deep within the bowels of Legion's massive station, Lister woke with a start, sitting up fast enough for the guitar poised atop his chest to fall to the floor in a cacophony of complaining string-wails.
"Wuzzat? Whu?" He twisted around to the left, then (seeing nothing) to the right, dislodging a mass of sugar-puff crumbs from the front of his long-johns. A few stray whole puffs rolled quietly down onto the fake leopardskin coverlet, getting ground into it beneath Lister's legs as he moved again, trying to see in the near darkness of the room. No shadows moved and no sound was heard, but something had definitely woken him.
"Is someone there?" There was no reply, and for the longest time the only sound to be heard was Lister's own over-stimulated heart, still reeling from the pleasure orgy of last night. Not that Lister had been in many, but this prison cell had to be the best in the smegging universe! He'd spent a good few hours just looking through the music collection and squealing almost girlishly at the rare Rasta Billy Skank bootleg tapes and obscure Funk Five Brothers B-side compilations, and felt he was in some kind of audio-heaven even before he'd listened to any of them. But then he had listened to them, playing along on the perfectly tuned guitar, guzzling beer and snacking on sugar-puff sandwiches and chilies until he passed out joyfully some time in the wee hours - not that time had any meaning in this place.
There was a slight crunching-noise somewhere near the door, where he'd spilled half a packet of prawn-vindaloo-flavored crisps in his enthusiasm over finding a "How to Clone and Breed Your Own Sheep" manual in the slim book-case with which the room was supplied. Presently, the door slammed shut, and Lister realized that was the noise he'd heard earlier, only much softer. There definitely was a figure there now, stepping out slowly into the dim light from the neon wall-sign, looking all too familiar. It was him. "What the smeg?"
"Hiya," his other self grinned.
Well, that was it, Lister decided; he must still be asleep. He was still curious though. "What... who..."
The copy snorted a laugh. "I'm you, ya goit!" He moved closer, taking in Lister's sprawled figure on the bed. "Enjoying yerself, then?"
Could it be a construct from the cyber-park? But no, those couldn't exist outside a confined holo-space. Lister squinted at the approaching whatever-it-was. It looked much fitter than him, really. Almost ruggedly handsome; like he might hope to look if he hadn't been as out of shape and pasty as he was. "How did you get here? The doors are locked!"
Sitting down on the bed without invitation, the copy shrugged. Lister scuttled towards the headboard, not trusting this apparition one bit. "Does it really matter?" He picked up a chili from the floor, brushed it off on his jumpsuit leg, and tossed it into his mouth. "You've got all ya want in here. Good eatin', good tunes, lager..." He leaned in, conspiratorially. "But not exactly everything, yeah?"
Lister shifted, uncomfortably. "I dunno what you mean," he mumbled, knowing exactly what the copy meant.
"Yeah, you do." The dried chili crunched between the copy's teeth with a slightly unnerving sound. Lister swallowed. "Ye've been drinking and workin' yerself up all night. It's a rush, innit, playing?"
"Look man," Lister leaned forward, exasperated now, "who are you?" Who the hell was he to come in here with insinuations like that! None of his smegging business, it was, whatever he was insinuating. Yeah, Lister knew very well what he was insinuating, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit it to... himself? This was all very confusing.
"Told ya," the copy grinned again, "I'm you. I know what yer like and what ya like." He patted Lister's thigh in a friendly manner, much like Lister himself (but wasn't this him too?) might have done to a friend in a pub after a few drinks. This version of him was stone cold sober though, at least judging by his breath. "No, I haven't been drinking," he said, as though reading Lister's mind. "But you have, and that affects me, see, 'cos I'm you. Geddit?"
Lister didn't. He didn't understand any of this, and it was starting to make him rather angry. "Who the smeg are ye? Did Legion send ye? What's yer game, man?" The copy did not flinch nor move away as Lister got right in its face, breathing lager-tinted breath straight into his nose and slightly open mouth.
"Tell yerself it's a dream, if that'll work for ya." That hand, so much like his own, was still on his thigh, Lister noted. Why hadn't he pushed it away? The copy winked. "Yer curious, aren't ya? Yer curious, and smegging horny. You don't have to admit it," he waved his hands as Lister opened his mouth to protest, "I know. I can see yer mind; it's quite interesting reading. Open and closed all at the same time. Simple and complex." He licked his lips and Lister started, his duplicate's hand sliding a little further up his thigh at the movement. "Quite... delicious."
"Not smegging horny," Lister mumbled, looking into his own eyes. They were his own; it was like looking in a mirror. It had to be a dream. Yes, that would work. Some weird dream he would shake his head and laugh at in the morning.
"Liar," Lister's other lips said. They had a strange way of moving, all exaggerated-like. A familiar tongue prodded at the back of a set of teeth identical to his own, seeming to want to push out of its imprisonment at every syllable. It drew Lister in like a magnet, and before he knew it, he was prodding gently at the edges of those lips with his own. His copy did not back away, but rather just sat there, letting Lister explore the boundaries of his lips, staring intently into his eyes. When Lister tilted his head slightly, their noses touched, just enough to make him want to sneeze. The double's nose twitched as if in sympathy, and on impulse, Lister rubbed his against the other.
Because it felt right, Lister snaked his tongue out and slowly parted his lips. His duplicate copied the gesture, as though the two of them were opposite sides of a mirror. It was a little like making out with your own reflection, but the copy's tongue was wet and rough when it met Lister's, entirely unlike a harsh glass surface. Eyes still wide open, they each moved forward, pushing prehensile muscles into mouths in eerie tandem. Lister reached out with a strange sense of calm, and pushed his other self's jacket off his shoulders. It fell, as easy as anything; as easy as keeping this smooth, long, undeniably exciting kiss going.
The jacket gone, Lister began stroking gently where long-johns met soft, beige skin, slipping his finger underneath the hem. The duplicate laughed with some difficulty as Lister pushed him back against the mattress. The water-bed swayed gently in concert with their movements, never protesting, even when Lister's now eager hands tore open the front of his duplicate's jumpsuit violently. The long-johns underneath were dulled from years of wear and spillage; ancient, faded stains competed for space with new and vibrant ones. Lister ignored them all, picking, instead, at the buttons holding the threadbare garment together. His own face stared back at him from the undulating mattress, an odd sort of smile playing at his lips. The buttons were stubborn, and Lister was no longer in a hurry. Instead, he prodded curiously at the soon-exposed tan skin, marvelling at the strange-yet-familiar feeling of softness.
After a few moments of this, the body underneath him rose, impatiently, renewing their abandoned kiss with a passion Lister wished he didn't recognize. His double slid Lister's jacket off his shoulders in a single move, tearing at the jumpsuit zipper and growling. "Hang on, hang on," Lister protested, trying to will his very evident erection away. The duplicate paid him no heed, lowering his head instead to lick at Lister's chest. Licking gave way to sucking as clothing fell away, and soon Lister found himself naked to the waist, a panting, half-undressed version of himself attached to his abdomen with mouth and tongue. Finally, he lifted his head, leering at Lister.
“I know what you want,” he chuckled.
“What?” Lister asked, in genuine confusion. He was somewhat pleased to hear that at least one of them had some idea what they were doing.
Raising himself off of Lister, the alternate shrugged out of his own jumpsuit and long-johns top. About to lean down to resume his ministrations, he paused, grinning. “I just had sex with Rimmer, did ya know that?”
“What?” Lister tried to scuttle away on his elbows, but his copy was more or less sitting on him, his bulk weighing Lister down. “What makes you think I want to hear about that?”
“Don't even try, Dave.” Still leering, the duplicate tore down pants and undergarments in one swift move, licking his lips as Lister's erection broke free, defiantly standing strong against its owner's wishes. “I know ya want Rimmer. He wants you too – it's right at the forefront of his mind, but even he can't see it.” Laughter tickled Lister somewhere in the vicinity of his groin, and he shivered, not entirely from pleasure.
“I don't want Rimmer,” Lister yelled in near panic. “I don't want any of this; get the smeg off of me!” He tried to push at the solid shoulders; at the hands latching onto his hips, but it was like trying to move a soft-light hologram.
His duplicate sighed, making sure to exhale directly on Lister's penis, which seemed to vibrate in response. “Oh, don't be such a baby. I can't do nothing to ya that you don't want done. I'm incapable of it.” He sighed again, closer to the erection this time, and Lister, to his considerable annoyance, felt like sobbing.
“Please...” Lister didn't know what he was asking for. Fortunately, it would seem, his duplicate did. Struggling out of the rest of his clothes, he climbed his way towards Lister's mouth, which no longer resisted him once he got there. As tongues met tongues once again, each man gripped the member of the other, stroking very softly at first, limbs intertwining.
“He wants you,” Lister's copy whispered into his ear, and Lister shook his head, trying not to pay attention. “He wanted to do this to ya.” A wet trail made its way down the side of Lister's face towards his chest. “And this.” A hand grasped Lister's buttock, squeezing hard, kneading. “And all sorts of other things he can't even imagine clearly.” Lister panted as images appeared unbidden in his mind, and he stroked his duplicate's penis harder as if to punish him.
“Don't want him,” Lister mumbled, stroking even harder.
The grip and pace of movement on Lister's own member intensified in turn. “Yeah, ya do. But never mind. Just you enjoy this. Be thankful.” There was a certain tinge in the duplicate's voice that Lister could not quite place. It would have made him wonder, had his mind had time for such concerns right now. “You have so much. So much... don't even know it...” The cock in Lister's hand began to pulsate, and he was dimly aware of being close to orgasm himself – so soon? No matter; no time for thinking, just feeling, as sensory impressions blurred together, and the world dissolved into pure, intense pleasure.
Ages; eons later, Lister woke alone, his thighs sticky from just his own come; his hand clutching his own cock. He snorted. Dreams, eh? Some pretty heavy stuff, but then again, this was a pretty heavy-duty kind of place. Spaced-out central, make no mistake! Yawning, he fumbled around for the remnants of the clothes he had no doubt torn off during the course of his uneasy night, and stumbled towards the door, now invitingly open. Scratching his head, he dragged his feet through the remnants of a bag of prawn-vindaloo-flavor crisps, erasing, as he did so, the unmistakable footprint of a boot just like his own.
Pairing: Lister/Legion, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, despite my feverent wishes to the contrary. Ditto for making money off this.
Spoilers: Legion
Notes: Takes place directly after
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Somewhere deep within the bowels of Legion's massive station, Lister woke with a start, sitting up fast enough for the guitar poised atop his chest to fall to the floor in a cacophony of complaining string-wails.
"Wuzzat? Whu?" He twisted around to the left, then (seeing nothing) to the right, dislodging a mass of sugar-puff crumbs from the front of his long-johns. A few stray whole puffs rolled quietly down onto the fake leopardskin coverlet, getting ground into it beneath Lister's legs as he moved again, trying to see in the near darkness of the room. No shadows moved and no sound was heard, but something had definitely woken him.
"Is someone there?" There was no reply, and for the longest time the only sound to be heard was Lister's own over-stimulated heart, still reeling from the pleasure orgy of last night. Not that Lister had been in many, but this prison cell had to be the best in the smegging universe! He'd spent a good few hours just looking through the music collection and squealing almost girlishly at the rare Rasta Billy Skank bootleg tapes and obscure Funk Five Brothers B-side compilations, and felt he was in some kind of audio-heaven even before he'd listened to any of them. But then he had listened to them, playing along on the perfectly tuned guitar, guzzling beer and snacking on sugar-puff sandwiches and chilies until he passed out joyfully some time in the wee hours - not that time had any meaning in this place.
There was a slight crunching-noise somewhere near the door, where he'd spilled half a packet of prawn-vindaloo-flavored crisps in his enthusiasm over finding a "How to Clone and Breed Your Own Sheep" manual in the slim book-case with which the room was supplied. Presently, the door slammed shut, and Lister realized that was the noise he'd heard earlier, only much softer. There definitely was a figure there now, stepping out slowly into the dim light from the neon wall-sign, looking all too familiar. It was him. "What the smeg?"
"Hiya," his other self grinned.
Well, that was it, Lister decided; he must still be asleep. He was still curious though. "What... who..."
The copy snorted a laugh. "I'm you, ya goit!" He moved closer, taking in Lister's sprawled figure on the bed. "Enjoying yerself, then?"
Could it be a construct from the cyber-park? But no, those couldn't exist outside a confined holo-space. Lister squinted at the approaching whatever-it-was. It looked much fitter than him, really. Almost ruggedly handsome; like he might hope to look if he hadn't been as out of shape and pasty as he was. "How did you get here? The doors are locked!"
Sitting down on the bed without invitation, the copy shrugged. Lister scuttled towards the headboard, not trusting this apparition one bit. "Does it really matter?" He picked up a chili from the floor, brushed it off on his jumpsuit leg, and tossed it into his mouth. "You've got all ya want in here. Good eatin', good tunes, lager..." He leaned in, conspiratorially. "But not exactly everything, yeah?"
Lister shifted, uncomfortably. "I dunno what you mean," he mumbled, knowing exactly what the copy meant.
"Yeah, you do." The dried chili crunched between the copy's teeth with a slightly unnerving sound. Lister swallowed. "Ye've been drinking and workin' yerself up all night. It's a rush, innit, playing?"
"Look man," Lister leaned forward, exasperated now, "who are you?" Who the hell was he to come in here with insinuations like that! None of his smegging business, it was, whatever he was insinuating. Yeah, Lister knew very well what he was insinuating, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit it to... himself? This was all very confusing.
"Told ya," the copy grinned again, "I'm you. I know what yer like and what ya like." He patted Lister's thigh in a friendly manner, much like Lister himself (but wasn't this him too?) might have done to a friend in a pub after a few drinks. This version of him was stone cold sober though, at least judging by his breath. "No, I haven't been drinking," he said, as though reading Lister's mind. "But you have, and that affects me, see, 'cos I'm you. Geddit?"
Lister didn't. He didn't understand any of this, and it was starting to make him rather angry. "Who the smeg are ye? Did Legion send ye? What's yer game, man?" The copy did not flinch nor move away as Lister got right in its face, breathing lager-tinted breath straight into his nose and slightly open mouth.
"Tell yerself it's a dream, if that'll work for ya." That hand, so much like his own, was still on his thigh, Lister noted. Why hadn't he pushed it away? The copy winked. "Yer curious, aren't ya? Yer curious, and smegging horny. You don't have to admit it," he waved his hands as Lister opened his mouth to protest, "I know. I can see yer mind; it's quite interesting reading. Open and closed all at the same time. Simple and complex." He licked his lips and Lister started, his duplicate's hand sliding a little further up his thigh at the movement. "Quite... delicious."
"Not smegging horny," Lister mumbled, looking into his own eyes. They were his own; it was like looking in a mirror. It had to be a dream. Yes, that would work. Some weird dream he would shake his head and laugh at in the morning.
"Liar," Lister's other lips said. They had a strange way of moving, all exaggerated-like. A familiar tongue prodded at the back of a set of teeth identical to his own, seeming to want to push out of its imprisonment at every syllable. It drew Lister in like a magnet, and before he knew it, he was prodding gently at the edges of those lips with his own. His copy did not back away, but rather just sat there, letting Lister explore the boundaries of his lips, staring intently into his eyes. When Lister tilted his head slightly, their noses touched, just enough to make him want to sneeze. The double's nose twitched as if in sympathy, and on impulse, Lister rubbed his against the other.
Because it felt right, Lister snaked his tongue out and slowly parted his lips. His duplicate copied the gesture, as though the two of them were opposite sides of a mirror. It was a little like making out with your own reflection, but the copy's tongue was wet and rough when it met Lister's, entirely unlike a harsh glass surface. Eyes still wide open, they each moved forward, pushing prehensile muscles into mouths in eerie tandem. Lister reached out with a strange sense of calm, and pushed his other self's jacket off his shoulders. It fell, as easy as anything; as easy as keeping this smooth, long, undeniably exciting kiss going.
The jacket gone, Lister began stroking gently where long-johns met soft, beige skin, slipping his finger underneath the hem. The duplicate laughed with some difficulty as Lister pushed him back against the mattress. The water-bed swayed gently in concert with their movements, never protesting, even when Lister's now eager hands tore open the front of his duplicate's jumpsuit violently. The long-johns underneath were dulled from years of wear and spillage; ancient, faded stains competed for space with new and vibrant ones. Lister ignored them all, picking, instead, at the buttons holding the threadbare garment together. His own face stared back at him from the undulating mattress, an odd sort of smile playing at his lips. The buttons were stubborn, and Lister was no longer in a hurry. Instead, he prodded curiously at the soon-exposed tan skin, marvelling at the strange-yet-familiar feeling of softness.
After a few moments of this, the body underneath him rose, impatiently, renewing their abandoned kiss with a passion Lister wished he didn't recognize. His double slid Lister's jacket off his shoulders in a single move, tearing at the jumpsuit zipper and growling. "Hang on, hang on," Lister protested, trying to will his very evident erection away. The duplicate paid him no heed, lowering his head instead to lick at Lister's chest. Licking gave way to sucking as clothing fell away, and soon Lister found himself naked to the waist, a panting, half-undressed version of himself attached to his abdomen with mouth and tongue. Finally, he lifted his head, leering at Lister.
“I know what you want,” he chuckled.
“What?” Lister asked, in genuine confusion. He was somewhat pleased to hear that at least one of them had some idea what they were doing.
Raising himself off of Lister, the alternate shrugged out of his own jumpsuit and long-johns top. About to lean down to resume his ministrations, he paused, grinning. “I just had sex with Rimmer, did ya know that?”
“What?” Lister tried to scuttle away on his elbows, but his copy was more or less sitting on him, his bulk weighing Lister down. “What makes you think I want to hear about that?”
“Don't even try, Dave.” Still leering, the duplicate tore down pants and undergarments in one swift move, licking his lips as Lister's erection broke free, defiantly standing strong against its owner's wishes. “I know ya want Rimmer. He wants you too – it's right at the forefront of his mind, but even he can't see it.” Laughter tickled Lister somewhere in the vicinity of his groin, and he shivered, not entirely from pleasure.
“I don't want Rimmer,” Lister yelled in near panic. “I don't want any of this; get the smeg off of me!” He tried to push at the solid shoulders; at the hands latching onto his hips, but it was like trying to move a soft-light hologram.
His duplicate sighed, making sure to exhale directly on Lister's penis, which seemed to vibrate in response. “Oh, don't be such a baby. I can't do nothing to ya that you don't want done. I'm incapable of it.” He sighed again, closer to the erection this time, and Lister, to his considerable annoyance, felt like sobbing.
“Please...” Lister didn't know what he was asking for. Fortunately, it would seem, his duplicate did. Struggling out of the rest of his clothes, he climbed his way towards Lister's mouth, which no longer resisted him once he got there. As tongues met tongues once again, each man gripped the member of the other, stroking very softly at first, limbs intertwining.
“He wants you,” Lister's copy whispered into his ear, and Lister shook his head, trying not to pay attention. “He wanted to do this to ya.” A wet trail made its way down the side of Lister's face towards his chest. “And this.” A hand grasped Lister's buttock, squeezing hard, kneading. “And all sorts of other things he can't even imagine clearly.” Lister panted as images appeared unbidden in his mind, and he stroked his duplicate's penis harder as if to punish him.
“Don't want him,” Lister mumbled, stroking even harder.
The grip and pace of movement on Lister's own member intensified in turn. “Yeah, ya do. But never mind. Just you enjoy this. Be thankful.” There was a certain tinge in the duplicate's voice that Lister could not quite place. It would have made him wonder, had his mind had time for such concerns right now. “You have so much. So much... don't even know it...” The cock in Lister's hand began to pulsate, and he was dimly aware of being close to orgasm himself – so soon? No matter; no time for thinking, just feeling, as sensory impressions blurred together, and the world dissolved into pure, intense pleasure.
Ages; eons later, Lister woke alone, his thighs sticky from just his own come; his hand clutching his own cock. He snorted. Dreams, eh? Some pretty heavy stuff, but then again, this was a pretty heavy-duty kind of place. Spaced-out central, make no mistake! Yawning, he fumbled around for the remnants of the clothes he had no doubt torn off during the course of his uneasy night, and stumbled towards the door, now invitingly open. Scratching his head, he dragged his feet through the remnants of a bag of prawn-vindaloo-flavor crisps, erasing, as he did so, the unmistakable footprint of a boot just like his own.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 02:06 am (UTC)I love the way you worked the details of his room into the first few sentences.
How to Clone and Breed Your Own Sheep
Oh dear. Ewe had to put that in.
Heh - Rimmer verus Lister self-image...
Open and closed all at the same time. Simple and complex." He licked his lips and Lister started, his duplicate's hand sliding a little further up his thigh at the movement. "Quite... delicious."
Oh, yeah. That's good stuff.
"No, I haven't been drinking," he said, as though reading Lister's mind. "But you have, and that affects me, see, 'cos I'm you. Geddit?"
I just love the self-talk in this. Like:
Oh, don't be such a baby. I can't do nothing to ya that you don't want done. I'm incapable of it.
Wanted to do - yes, good stuff.
Self-love love!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 07:09 am (UTC)I was curious about the room. There are a lot of things in there wanted to describe, but couldn't quite fit in, like the topless boxing vids and a few others, but Dave claims to be a man of simple wants and needs. Right. *looks at him askew*
Was it just me, or did you get the feeling Legion was either going to have sex with Lister or eat his brain? I was a little worried there, for a moment...
Oh dear, the self-talk... This was one of the most confusing things I've ever written; it was exceedingly hard to proof-read. Letters were swimming before my eyes in the end.
Ahhh... There ain't nothing like Lister/Lister. He enjoyed it much less than I expected him to, though. Probably the whole setting.
Thank youuuuu! :D
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Date: 2006-10-10 04:48 am (UTC)That Legion guy....
That was lovely. But it once again gives me the urge to bang the boys heads together. Well, no matter. Two Listers...
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Date: 2006-10-10 07:10 am (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2006-10-10 07:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 08:51 am (UTC)Poor Legion. I just want to pet him now. And then let him eat my brains.
It's interesting, reading the Rimmer piece, it really felt like Legion was seducing Rimmer in order to keep him prisoner, like a possession. But with the Lister-love, it felt a lot more like aggressive yenta work. It raises the question, if Legion is giving them each what they want, whether he's lying about Rimmer's affections to keep Dave happy, like RB-34 in Azimo's Liar.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 10:52 am (UTC)You raise an interesting point, and OMG... Azimov love! Susan Calvin love! :D However, that's not exactly how I see it. When Legion became Kryten in the episode, he was Kryten in every way. That included his motivations, his priorities, his perspective and his moral code. He also seems to be hyper-aware of the personality-traits he has taken on. When he becomes Lister in this story, he not only reacts, thinks and acts like Lister; he has far more insight into Lister's personality than Lister does himself. He reacts to this as (I think) Lister would; by gently mocking Lister, and trying to prod him in the right direction. Of course, he is still Legion, with Legion's memories. So he's a Lister that remembers what it is like to be Rimmer! I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like...
I was going to conclude that Lister wouldn't lie to himself, but you know what? I'm actually not sure. He does lie to himself; Kochanski's affection for him being a prime example, the chances of any human life still existing on Earth another.
Regardless, the end result is just as you say. Rimmer!Legion manipulates Rimmer to do what he wants, in order to ensure his own survival. Sounds rather Rimmerine, doesn't it? Whereas Lister!Legion tries to have sex with himself, and attempts some heavy-handed matchmaking. Listerine, no?
Hehehe... Sorry for the lengthy reply, I got a little excited. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 08:55 am (UTC)As you said, Legion!Lister is a Lister who remembers being Rimmer. And - in the long run - neither Rimmer or Lister are unopposed to sacrificing others if it saves their hide. So while I do like to encourage the part of me that goes "OMG, Legion says they're in luuuurve so it must be true!", another part of me remembers Legion's outbrust when the Dwarfers tried to leave. I think, even as Lister and Lsiter alone, Legion could justify mind-fucking them all into submission.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 10:48 am (UTC)And you are right, Legion absolutely could have mind-fucked them totally up, in either personality. The boys do have their dark sides... I wonder if bringing Rimmer and Lister together would make them more or less likely to want to escape though. I think that in Lister's case, it might actually make him want to escape all the more. It would give him a renewed zest for life, and he's not the kind of person to want to live in captivity; he relishes freedom. You are of course welcome to interpret the story as you wish, but for what that is worth, I intended for Legion to be telling the truth. ;)
One minor point I do disagree with you on is that Lister would sacrifice other people to save himself. Oh, he'd manipulate people, sure, but sacrifice? No. I really don't think he would, but I'd be interested to know why you think so. Difference of opinion = good! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 10:57 am (UTC)sacrifice? No. I really don't think he would, but I'd be interested to know why you think so.
The end of season VIII - in 'Only the Good' the Starbuggers cross into the mirror universe with the crew of Red Dwarf (minus nano!Rimmer) but the inmates get left behind. With the process of getting the entire RD crew into the second universe, there's no way Lister could've missed that no one in a lilac jumpsuit wandered through - losing Rimmer I can understand, but not 'forgetting' the entire prison population.
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Date: 2006-10-12 11:17 am (UTC)Basically, I see this as being a case of either them having gotten as many of the inmates out as they could before the machine was destroyed (or perhaps they just had time to get through themselves), or... Well, there's another possibility, but that's explored in a fic I'm writing. ;)
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Date: 2006-10-12 11:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 11:20 am (UTC)On a potentially brighter note: Oooh, fic!
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Date: 2006-10-12 11:27 am (UTC)Blah, now I have the image of Lister stubbornly remaining behind, the ship falling apart all around him, waiting for Rimmer to return, but he doesn't, and then the machine starts to melt, and he has to chose, even though it is killing him inside... Heh, I promised to ease up on the angst, or I'd write that. ;p
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Date: 2006-10-12 11:32 am (UTC)There's a lot of fic potential there - the only two RD fics I've seriously worked on both addressed what happened to Rimmer and the Starbuggers.
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Date: 2006-10-12 11:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 11:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-12 11:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 10:19 pm (UTC)Having read the other fic, I have to say that I love the disconnect between what Lister's likely picturing when he hears that, and what actually happened. Lister's mental picture would probably lead him to feel subconciously jealous, slightly concerned (since the duplicate's obviously playing some sort of mind game with Lister...) and have disturbingly exciting mental pictures.
Whereas if he saw what actually happened, he'd probably laugh himself silly. And have disturbingly exciting mental pictures.
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Date: 2007-09-05 08:08 pm (UTC)Yummers!
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Date: 2007-09-05 08:13 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it!
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Date: 2008-03-08 03:32 am (UTC)This was brilliant. Others have already pointed out the lines I too found especially clever (i.e. Legion's pointing out in impeccable Lister-diction that he cannot do anything that Lister doesn't want him to do, the line about drinking affecting them both which makes sense because it affects Legion when the crew members go unconscious or to sleep.) Of course, Kryten never goes to sleep so I wonder how Legion managed to be "just" Lister. That and... there were a few words that seemed almost Rimmer-esque... the use of "ya goit" and "Liar!" Is Legion acting like Rimmer but looking like Lister for Lister's benefit? Ahh, my poor brain.
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Date: 2008-03-10 08:01 pm (UTC)Thank ye! I can't remember what I thought writing this, but there's certainly something not-Lister in Legion!Lister. Legion has a core personality, if a very weak one. It's all so much fun to ply with. :)