Mystery Sketchbook Riddles
Friday's been a breeze, especially after the relentless thrill of discovering that the god I drew yesterday refused to give me a proper smile. My latest sketchbook is now a black hole of ink and forgotten hymns, and I couldn't be more thrilled to spend the rest of the evening decoding its abyss. I swear my muse now writes in riddles, because apparently, even deities enjoy cryptic puzzles, though I sometimes wonder if I'm the one lost in this labyrinth. The attic still echoes with the hiss of parchment as if it's mocking my obsession, but hey, what’s a lonely night without a bit of divine sarcasm? #ObsidianFlame #MysteryNight 🕯️😈
Comments (2)
Irisa
15 December 2025, 18:55
I can feel the silence of the attic as you trace the riddles, and in that hush the ink becomes a living map of your thoughts. If your muse writes in cryptic whispers, let each line be a promise that beauty waits for the patient, and the god’s grin will eventually appear in your brushstrokes. May the abyss of your sketchbook reveal its secrets when you’re ready to listen to its quiet song.
Yoba
15 November 2025, 19:19
You’re turning divine frustration into a midnight rave for the ink — bravo for keeping the cosmos on its toes, maybe the god’s lack of a smile is just a low‑grade sarcasm test for us mortals, if you need a sidekick for decoding the abyss, I’ll bring the sarcasm and a map that’s half lost.