#helltownhqtask

reflecting is a part of the human experience; looking back, sometimes thinking too long or too hard, or even glancing in a mirror to gaze upon oneself. reflecting is natural, it's common, and sometimes . . . it can lead to us learning something about ourselves that we never anticipated. for this task, we are encouraging our members to have their muses, or themselves as muns, REFLECT; and you can do this however you so choose.

some ideas:

a reflection of your muse looking back on something that has happened to them in the recent or distant past, self-para style. or maybe through poetry or some other expressive means.

creating a moodboard, graphic, or visual that reflects elements of your muse; aesthetics, colors, textures, etc. . .

making a playlist that reflects or encompasses your muse and their life experiences. or maybe it's one your muse listens to when they journal or meditate or to wind down, or maybe it's one that reminds you ( the mun ) of them. . .

explore how they're currently handling themselves and their lives: how are they coping with recent events ?? have they looked in the mirror at themselves lately ?? do they journal or write a diary — maybe write out an entry.

the possibilities are quite literally limitless.

reflection is cool because, much like what we see in the mirror, it looks different for everyone. we encourage you to take this time to reflect with your muses and get to know them and how they express themselves on a deeper level. this reflection can be current, it can be distant, it can be literally whatever you want it to be !!

>> ✉️ 1 new message a covert invitation, little info, out of the blue -- it is exactly the vague and sinister intruige jude longs for. he'd like to believe he's been invited to join a secret society that dwells beneath city hall, or his blog has finally caught the attention of someone with answers. and he'd like to know who else can't say no to the request. 

(shout to the blueprint w/ eliza <333) 

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚑𝚚𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔𝟷

beyond the church that sits on the edge of town, there lies a wood. this wood, this forest, is filled with trees that stretch their branches so high the birds dont fly above them in fear of finding heaven before they are meant to. the wind whistles between branches that struggle to grow leaves even in the warmth of spring, babbling brooks winding between weary trunks that seem to stop without reason — drying up at both ends, but flowing in the middle.

no one in 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐎𝐡𝐢𝐨 is brave enough to venture into the woods, especially on their own. . . well, no one of sound and sane mind, that is. many say that the whispers often to be confused as ones from the church are actually coming from the trunks of old oak trees and the wildlife that live amongst them, deer hooves snapping twigs being confused for murmurs of a foreign language, murky creek water bubbling over mossy stones sounding more like a shush than an instrument of nature.

shh. shh. shh.

one day . . . you open your phone to find a message. the number is blocked, untraceable, and the message that follows either plagues you with excitement, morbid curiosity, or a deep, harrowing sense of dread.

an invitation . . .