#illusion star

[serial-designation-vee]

Can I end the illusion now? I will if I can

She watches as it glitches and disappears, her chest heaving. Their optics are still shaking. They hold their knees, burying her face into them as she shakes. She hasn't been this shaken up in a while...

[hollis-art]

au idea... tng but it's set in the 80s and the enterprise is an apartment building rather than a ship

other tenants of the building include: -Picard (the head of the college that Data attends) and Q (no one really knows what he does, he just pops in and out whenever he pleases) -Troi (high school guidance counselor) and Riker (personal trainer) and Worf used to live here too but he moved out -Beverly (still a doctor) and Wesley (burnt out college freshman) -Barclay (works at Blockbusters w/ Data and Geordi) -Guinan (bartender of a secretly gay bar)

the ds9 apartment is a whole other story

[remxedmoon]

seeing eye to eye.

im going to be real i only made this for the sake of the caption. i was proud of it!! aaaa i’ve had the sketch for this done for like… 2 weeks now? i just didn’t really know how i actually wanted to execute it!! and i remembered seeing that one 3d glasses trend on twitter a while back! and i think it worked pretty well teehee :3

also as a sidenote, this is probably the fastest ive ever finished a drawing? this only took, like, an hour. which isn’t that surprising, this is a pretty simple drawing, it’s just interesting to me! and a little funny given it took me 2 weeks to get back to this. i really procrastinated for weeks over this??

anyways!!! here’s some alt versions with both sides! because i think they look cool!

[hypertechnica]

straight up refusing to acknowledge star trek: generation’s existence. it didn’t happen

you mean to tell me, after an entire series and SIX movies dedicated to the triumvirate found family, kirk immediately goes missing, and then dies alone 80 years later because of time travel nexus bullshit?

bones and spock never see him again??? ever???

no. kirk, spock, and bones retire and grow old together. they’re married. they have 2 cats and love to play 5d chess with multiverse time travel. that’s the ONLY canon i accept

[crimson-chains]

Wanted to put together a fun little visual :D I realized that I can't really remember a large period in my life when I wasn't drawing comics. It basically feels like as soon as I started drawing I started making stories ^^ So, here are a few of the comics I've worked on over the years! I've definitely drawn way more (I think about 10) but, these are ones I consider major in my comic making timeline <3 It's really cool to see how much some things have changed and some of the things which still look familiar!

[nilpotence]

no comment

[theactualsunshinechild]

I think Aventio and Screwtio shippers shouldn't fight. After all, Ratio has two hands!

That's right. Two hands.

One for his chalk.

One for his codex.

Both of which he's holding in an embarrassed death grip as they chat away with each other about him.

[nappynappnapp]

Canon interaction between these 2

Inspired by @tomboyyyaoi 's art, thank you for allowing me to redraw it! :D

[rindough]

cw. i rllllly recommend listening to 'illusion' by dua lipa, i hope i did boothill justice here!! 🥹🥹

OMG imagine dancing with Boothill in the middle of a mission to hunt down Acheron. The disco ball shines through the dark room, bodies of the dreamscape residents bump against one another to the beat of the music and to be honest, the quest has come to its moment of being at a constant, of being at a... perfect standstill.

"We better make this quick, been waitin' for so fudgin' long it's getting borin' in here!"

He pauses at the hand that has reached out for him, holding him in place to prevent him from taking his gun out. "Oi!"

"Don't 'Oi' me." You groaned, your colleague rolls his eyes at you. "Control yourself."

"You... Then how are we gonna make sum' progress with this task?"

Hm? He thinks, watching as you've pushed yourself off from leaning against the counter, yourself being a step ahead of him causing him to stand straight too.

"Care to have a dance with me?" He blinks, he breath now hitched at the way your question was thrown at him, words that slipped through your plush lips? Eyes luring him in with your request through the strands of your hair?

"Boothill?"

Hell yeah he's in.

Without hesitation he drags you to the middle of the dancefloor, with how fast he's moving, it's no doubt he's skilled or he's done this before... in his bedroom you guess, from the way he mutters a few "Hm. Like this." and some "Okay, okay, okay." It was a teeny bit messy but honestly? You found some cuteness to it.

It took him less than a minute's time to have you be pressed so close to him, body swaying oh so sexily with your face inches apart. The hold of his hand on yours, fingers intertwining as he lifts it up with eyes not leaving yours.

You spin, catching that shark teeth beaming right back at you when your body comes back to face his.

Man, you swear you found the cyborg attractive and at times his actions have caused your heart to do summersaults but... this? What even can beat to this moment right now?

The beat, the smiles exchanged between you, it all leaves him giddy, that eat-shitting grin breaks when his laughter fills your ears. His automatic heart swirling all around just like the way these colorful dots dance across your face. It's intoxicating, really. He wants to lean in, perhaps this is the right time-

No... no, he shouldn't.

Without a word he whips your figure out by the arm in the small dance circle the crowd had given you. One second he's chuckling at the sound of your gasp leaving your lips, the next you're both in a giggling fit when you come right back in his arms. Boothill, no matter how many times he had contemplated this thing he's dealing, will bet an arm, or his whole body that he is NOT (Read: crazily, deeply) into you.

It was baffling really, how the both of you could follow up and be in sync to the invisible rhythm you have in that pulsing minds of you two. Body pressed and swaying to the rhythm, a hand or two on his shoulder, his two metal limps holding firmly to your hips. The view of the background swiftly changes depending who's on who's side of the room now.

The glimmer in his eyes were telling, you both knew this was something... deeper. A new side of each other the two of you are finally discovering after years of working together. And that glimmer in his eyes, though somewhat unfamiliar, was telling you something, and with the slow, yet daring grin playing on your lips, he takes that as a yes.

As the music comes to hit you again with its drop, he subsequently directs your bodies the other way and you hung your head back, eyes closing when his hand stays by the low of your waist, feeling the cold metal of his palm slipping to the back of your knee while you hung low from his dip.

"Atta, baby."

His words, his hold on you, this... it all brings you a sense of security and comfort, as if you're both just regular folks coming to Penacony for a trip together. Bubbles of laughter escapes your lips, especially with the way his strands of hair tickle your torso. He peers down at you across the valley of your chest, grinning at what your mission has come to.

He pulls you up quickly.

Your laughter dies down and you open your eyes, your hair guaranteed a slight mess but that's not of concern right now. Because who you both expect to find is right there staring back at you, amused.

"Great dance, you two."

want more? check out my master list!

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[endlesslytired]

Penacony.

more from the post looooop:

[serial-designation-vee]

Lower it to 3 asks?

"thank you.."

[im-yotsu]

POV: You open Sabine's room door on the way back home

[rocketqueen1989x]

me and axl last night 😋😋😋

[segacity]

Game Over 'Land Of Illusion Starring Mickey Mouse' SEGA Master System

[eobe]

why do you whitewash all your clone art

Dear Anon,

thank you for asking 🫶 I love Temuera Morrison and I want to improve my skill until I feel ready to honor his work 🤩

Until then I‘ll do the beautifully and diligently designed animation style because I honor the artist team and love what they made ☺️

I rather focus on enjoying this diverse and colorful universe and I don’t support separation in the name of an important topic that should actually be a uniting one 🫶✨

Only my own opinion, I‘m only one of the whole, so are you 🤷🏽‍♀️ Who am I to judge or even to tell 🫶

[feroluce]

Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.