I Don't Have A Problem What Are You Talking About I Can Stop Anytime I Want.

I don't have a problem what are you talking about I can stop anytime I want.

JMC uniform, green uniform, red uniform.

Sigh

sorry I wasn’t listening I was too busy thinking about how pretty Rimmer is the early seasons.

Guys, I'm a Rimmer girl but seriously, wtf? Look at that cheeky little face, how tf did Craig lose?

Craig Charles Vs. Daniel Dae Kim

Propaganda

Craig Charles - (Red Dwarf (Seasons 1-8), The Governor, Doctors) - Multi-talented Craig is also a DJ, performance poet and presenter, but I'm nominating him primarily for his long-running acting role as protagonist Dave Lister in sci-fi sitcom "Red Dwarf". He's played the role of this cheerful but tough, self-described space bum since 1988 and emotionally anchors the show as he and his small ragtag crew of accidental space adventurers wander deep space three million years into the future and attempt to find Earth. He may be the last human alive but he won't let that get him down. He can and will befriend any sentient life-form, plus his semi-canon homoerotic relationship with his neurotic hologrammatic bunkmate Rimmer adds slashy vibes. Last but not least, they're hilarious.

Daniel Dae Kim - (Crusade, Angel) - No text propaganda

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

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Additional propaganda below the cut

Craig Charles:

Daniel Dae Kim:

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.

The child came on stage and she was struggling to hold her fidgety son while she continued her performance. The wording on this post and its caption is very manipulative:

There was a time when appeals to emotional fallacies like “the beauty of motherhood” and guilt tripping worked on women to provide free labor, get no help or compensation, and take disrespect… that time is over:

I do not have a crush on Audrey Hepburn. I admire her, I revere her, I look up at her from my grotty little place on this planet and wonder what we ever did to deserve such an angel in our midst. She is my religion.