#Emptiness and form
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turiyatitta · 1 day ago
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Beyond the Threshold of Awareness
The Unutterable Presence There exists a state beyond all conceptual understanding, a dissolution of every boundary that once defined existence. It is not merely an experience but an annihilation of the experiencer—a cataclysmic merging into the unfathomable. This is not illumination in the conventional sense; it is the collapse of all divisions, the vanishing point where emptiness and form cease…
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crescentfool · 3 months ago
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my longest friend and companion
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divineandmajesticinone · 22 days ago
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TOP FORM (2025) I EP. 1 & 2 "Is there any way for me to stand beside Akin?"
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willyhoos · 2 months ago
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you, and what little remains of your brother.
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anniilaugh · 2 months ago
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🖤 The Emptiness Machine - Part 1.
A lyric comic + an AU where Sanji has had a kind of ”Gollum-Smeagol” situation with Stealth Black for all his life. Tired of being in the back seat Black’s gaslighting intensifies to fully take control. But does Zoro know?
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Visit me and this comic at bluesky!🦋
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iknowicanbutwhy · 5 months ago
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sometimes I think about some Loop designs and how Loop could secretely be made to last no longer than the 2 days inside the loop and just a few days afterward. Like the luna moth. no mouth or digestive system. They starve.
(Also referencing this art, because I TRIED not looking but I don't doubt this fella was in the back of my mind when I drew this)
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silvertherogue715 · 28 days ago
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Briar is having. Such a bad time.
Anyways @naffeclipse here are more doodles of scenes that gave me an ungodly amount of brainrot. thanks for writing such an awesome piece of work
EDIT: totally forgot to include links to other art for this lovely fic
Previous art of these two: First - Second - Third - Bad end - Fourth
EDIT: IM EATING THESE COMMENTS/TAGS LIKE KIRBY THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH YOU'RE SO SWEET AAAA
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ribbonsaikeaux · 5 months ago
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Doll: Miss? Can this one ask you something?
Witch, smiling: Go ahead doll. I'm all ears.
Doll: This one was... wait... Miss is all ears?
Witch, nodding: Yes sweetie I-
Doll, eyes filling with alarm and awe: Butbutbut where are they?! Are they like really really small? Are they invisible?! Are they magic ears?!
Witch, rolling its eyes: Dear that-
Doll, starting to whisper: This one must be very quiet. All those ears must make everything super loud. I'm just gonna go clean Miss. It loves you.
Witch, shrugging and sighing: I wonder what it wanted to ask...
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taitavva · 1 year ago
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[Worlds in Worlds — Danusha Laméris]
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turiyatitta · 2 years ago
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Beyond the Verbal Abyss
Embracing the Indescribable in the Pursuit of Nondual Consciousness The realm of metaphysics has been exploring the uncharted territory of human existence since the inception of philosophical thought. The concept of ‘Turiyatita’, borrowed from the ancient Vedantic wisdom, invites us to delve into the mystery of the Ultimate Nondual Presence. In a state of supreme transcendence, Turiyatita…
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cent-scratchnsniff · 3 months ago
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green apple flavor
#library of ruina#lobotomy corporation#lobcorp#lobotomy corp spoilers#lobcorp spoilers#couldnt help it. the box. the meltdownerr (going though severe mental agony manifesting in a form bursting forth from metal)#i have ao mant sketches... i havent finished.... lor angela floor of lit drawinfs.... but my motivation is ASS and most of what ive made#recently also feels like shit. mind empty doodles w netz to try and get myself out of the gutter#.... murky. gutter wky dont ask me w#trying to find time... ahhhh the time. the TIME .#anyways. netz :)#actually i forgot to tag him#Netzach#netzach lor#netzach lobotomy corporation#netzach lobcorp#covers it i think. yippee wahoo aghhbvabnamkpeiu#right giovanni too o guess. hey king. itty bitty tiny one. littlr guy.#the goodbye tender one was just because i was listening to it and dongdang kills the cover per normal#i really love fragment of the universe. one of my favorite abnos. i got it on day 6 ish in lobcorp. its not hostile or meaning to cause harm#it wishes to communicate and to be heard to to share knowledge and thoughts. yet it is also persistsnt and insistent to communicate the#whole of it. wanting the other to know and learn the entirety of it. to be heard and understood in full. the ways of doing so is forceful#and causes harm. which then causes a dynamic of it wishing to have full knowledge and understanding while the other party rightfully shuts#it out and refuses to listen. in the ego and in lor mentioning ignoring it and not paying it any mind. even though it trys to go out of its#way to communicate itself as friendly and around ideas of joy such as a childs scribble of hearts. plus with the sounds of something akin to#a whale iirc. then tying together with the line of singing and song. i love u fragment of the universe
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frindoka · 2 months ago
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my sketchbook doodles from today
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patchworkcuddlebug · 3 months ago
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The Rain Storm
God, please, somebody open.
Your car stalled out about a mile back. You swear it's raining hard enough to have flooded the engine. You tried waiting by your car, to hitchhike or borrow a toolbox or find someone with cell service, but hours passed with nothing but the rain keeping you company.
This was the only house you passed for miles on this backwater forest-dense road, paved with loose gravel and prayers. You don't know how you even got here. Slowly, the highway, your highway, began to shift into something less and less familiar. You must've missed your turn.
Finally, someone opens the door. The young woman is surprised to see you, and quickly ushers you inside. She takes your coat and asks you kindly to sit on the couch, saying she'll inform a "Miss" that you've arrived. You don't care for her word choice.
The manor is extravagant. The walls are aged, but thick and sturdy enough to last many lifetimes more. The rug has a pattern too ornate to make out in the darkness, and every piece of furniture seems like a precious heirloom.
"So, you'll be our little visitor, then?"
A woman... no, something more. She's otherworldly. Her face looks sculpted from marble by the most talented visionaries, but her skin looked as soft as silk. Her hair flowing down her shoulders like a river from a mountain, perfectly framing her lovely silhouette. And her voice, lord above her voice, it was an orchestra, a distillation of beauty, every husky syllable like a kiss from a rose.
You somehow answer her.
"Well, aren't you a dear. Rosemary, refreshments."
There were two other women by her side, one now scurrying off into another room. The other brings over a large comforter, which it unfolds and places around you in a single swift act of elegance.
The lady sits in a loveseat across the coffee table. She asks you how you managed to find this neck of the woods. Where you where going before you did. How well the job is going, if your coworkers treat you well. Friends, hobbies, sex life. It doesn't occur to you that you can refuse her. She seems so radiant, her inquisitions so genuine and thoughtful, that the prospect of denying her seems too disrespectful.
The girl from earlier returns, and your eyes are caught by everything on her tray. It's your absolute favourite, the epitome of comfort food. If you were on death row, this would be your final meal. What a coincidence.
You thank the maid and immediately dig in. The lady seems fit to observe you in silence as you enjoy your meal. With the last of it gone, the maid returns and collects the tray.
Maybe it was the light. Surely, it must have been. At first you figure it was an eccentricity of her uniform, before you notice how abruptly the sleeves end, much earlier. Perhaps it's some sort of disability, but you can't imagine how she'd work in such a profession if that were the case.
"Is something bothering you, dear?"
You muster the courage to ask about her maid, only after she's returned to the kitchen, hopefully out of earshot.
"I can't say I know what you're talking about, dear. You've had a long night, surely you must be seeing things. Perhaps it's time for you to get some rest. I'll have you shown to your arrangements."
Another maid emerges. She's the same as the other one. She may not be identical, with differences in the hair and minor ones in the face, but they still look like variations of the same toy.
She leads you to your room. You have plenty of time to analyze her now. There's something artificial about her. Something off about the texture of her skin, the way it doesn't seem to catch the light quite how it should. Her movements are unnatural, like something prerecorded and edited. It's too even, too smooth, and much too stiff.
And then there's... the joints. She doesn't have elbows. She doesn't have them, not nearly the same way you do. Her bicep and forearm simply stop at a point of connection. It seems manufactured, unnaturally round, with lines where she's allowed movement.
You hesitate once you reach your door. You tell the maid you want to ask her something. She bows respectfully, saying you are allowed one question before she returns to her duties. You ask her what's wrong with her body, worded inelegantly from a night of exhaustion and confusion.
The maid bows respectfully. "There's nothing wrong with this one's body."
. . . . .
You're woken by knocking.
You allow the maids to enter your room. The serene morning sunlight gently pours into the room as they greet you, offering to help you prepare yourself for breakfast. You refuse and politely ask them to provide you some privacy, to which they happily comply.
Your body feels stiff as you pull yourself out of bed. There's a soft crack whenever you struggle to bend and stretch.
Your clothes have been washed, dried, and folded for you through the night. They feel even softer than they did when you first bought them.
You finish as much of your routine as you comfortably can in a stranger's house before leaving the dormitory, making your way to where you remember the kitchen to be. It's eerily quiet, with only your footsteps to hear.
The dining table is long, with the lady sitting at the furthest end, illuminated by the morning sunlight. She is surrounded by empty chairs, and a collection of maids standing at the ready against the walls of the room.
"How nice of you to stay for breakfast, darling. You wouldn't want to miss it for the world."
A row of maids emerge from the connected kitchen, all carrying a hot plate of food. They place each one in front of you; pancakes with syrup, waffles with fresh fruit, scrambled eggs with a side of bacon cooked to perfection, golden hash browns, french toast with butter still melting, and a smoothie and a coffee to drink
All the plates are placed in front of you. The lady only has a mug of fresh tea.
You choose a food at random to pick at, not feeling very hungry. You want to strike up a conversation with the lady, eager to ease your mind, but it only now occurs to you that you never exchanged names. You apologize for this and ask for hers.
"Oh, don't worry about a detail like that." She gave a carefree smile as she shook her head. "If you simply must use something for me... I suppose Miss will work for you."
Miss. That fits in place in your brain more naturally than it should.
You've barely touched all the extravagant food before you start to feel satiated. "It's okay if you're not feeling hungry." Says Miss. "Don't worry about the waste. I promise it'll be eaten."
You thank her, believing her, as the maids begin to collect the plates. As one steps behind you, reaching around to grab the pancakes, you try to get her attention and ask if-
"The maids don't like to be bothered when they're working, dear." Miss chimes, almost playfully. "But please, ask me whatever you like."
You ask her if she comes from money, commenting on how many maids she has. She looks to the side, thinking for only a moment. "My... darlings aren't concerned about something as silly as money. Service is their purpose."
You ask her to elaborate. Lightning strikes, audible even over the sound of the rain storm crashing against the windows.
"Oh, what a mess. Seems like you'll have to stay another night. Don't worry, we don't mind the extra company."
You excuse yourself to the bathroom.
It's untouched. It's kept in spotless condition just as the rest of the house is, but the toilet paper that hangs from the roll is fresh out of the package, and the plastic for the hand soap on the sink is the only thing in the trash can.
You flush the toilet and leave, hovering off to the side across the hall. Within seconds, a maid wanders in to clean. You politely stop her, desperation clear in your voice as you ask if she's human.
The maid bows respectfully. "Not anymore."
You make a break for it.
You open the front door, only for a sudden burst of wind to blow you backwards, slamming the door shut in front of you. If you were of sound mind, you may have noticed the decorations were all still in their place, as if such a harsh wind didn't blow at all.
You stumble backwards, your mind racing, before you bump into her. She's tall enough to rest her elbows on your shoulders.
"I know you must be so worried about your life, dear. You must have people waiting for you, a place in society that you have to act out... but you don't have to worry much longer. I'll take care of everything for you. Would you care to follow me?"
Of course you follow her. You're terrified of what could happen if you don't. Your body moves on its own. It must be the fear, surely.
Miss guides you to a room you don't recognize. It's an uncanny cross between a dentist's office and a mechanic's workshop, each schema just barely wrong enough.
She gestures to the structure in the middle. It's an operating table. "Go on cutie, you know what to do."
With as much apprehension as you can afford to muster, you do as Miss says. You climb onto the table, laying down with your hands resting on your torso. You try to ask what she's going to do to you, but she interrupts you with a hand cupping your cheek.
"I'm going to make you mine."
. . . . .
This one holds the warmed leftovers out on the tip of its hand. Miss's treasured carnivorous plant feels it with the tip of its mouth, expertly taking small chomps until it reaches this one's fingers, stopping just as the meat does.
This doll feels an emptiness dissipate through its body, a reward for a job well done. It feels just a little less like a person, its old life being lifted off its shoulders and taken further and further away.
It begins to walk towards its next task. Its movements are exactly what they need to be, elegant and intentional. A pretty doll for Miss.
Just as it returns to the manor, the rain begins. It starts slow, convincing, picking up ever so slowly into a storm.
After a long, pleasant moment of stillness, this one hears knocking. It waits, convincing, just as it was told. The doll is surprised to see its guest, and quickly ushers them inside. It takes their coat and asks them kindly to sit on the couch, saying it'll inform a "Miss" that they've arrived.
The guest doesn't care for her word choice.
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writesology · 1 month ago
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my love letter to you (happy early white day chat)
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creativesparkz · 2 months ago
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theres a light in your eyes that never goes out
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 2 years ago
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He dies if you don't pay attention to him, its a very urgent situation for an uncle to attend to.
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