waveswallowed

[waveswallowed]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝟎𝟏 . ( a collection of assorted prompts intended to inspire drabbles & maybe starters. adjust as desired. )

describe a time your muse committed a justified act of violence.

describe a time your muse felt truly free.

describe a time your muse just couldn't help themself.

describe a time your muse committed a crime.

describe a time your muse discovered something about themself.

describe the earliest birthday your muse can remember.

describe a time your muse broke the rules.

describe your muse's feelings on their gender.

describe your muse's feelings on their sexuality.

describe a time your muse felt truly loved.

describe a time your muse lost their temper.

describe your muse's very first kiss.

describe the moment your muse discovered their passion in life.

describe a time your muse longed for something so deeply it tore them apart.

describe a time your muse worked themself to exhaustion.

describe a time your character was treated medically.

describe a time your muse made an unheard cry for help.

describe a time your muse couldn't care for themselves.

describe a time your muse couldn't commit to something or someone.

describe a time your muse realized they were in love.

describe a time your muse felt betrayed.

describe a time your muse learned devastating information.

describe a moment your muse reminisces about often.

describe a moment in which your muse lashed out violently.

describe the first time your muse held a weapon.

describe a time your muse blacked out.

describe a moment your muse was absolutely terrified.

describe a moment your muse went into fight or flight mode.

describe a moment your muse had a big, life-altering revelation.

describe the first time your muse took someone's life.

describe a time your muse went somewhere they shouldn't.

describe a time your muse sneaked out of the house.

describe a traumatic experience from your muse's childhood.

describe the first concert your muse ever went to.

describe your muse's dream [ engagement / wedding ].

describe an outing that went terribly, horribly wrong for your muse.

describe a time your muse found themself somewhere unexpected.

FOR PAIRINGS:

describe a time our muses slept in late together.

describe the moment receiver knew they were in love with sender.

describe the first significant fight our muses got into.

describe a time receiver thought they were going to lose sender.

describe the first time receiver realized they were comfortable around sender.

describe a moment that receiver felt betrayed by sender.

describe a private thought receiver has had about sender.

describe a time our muses went on a long scenic road trip.

describe a moment where receiver held onto sender a little tighter.

describe a moment of pure joy between our muses.

describe a moment where sender made receiver feel safe.

describe a moment of grief and mourning between our muses.

describe a moment where receiver lost their temper with sender.

describe a moment where receiver broke down in front of sender.

describe a moment receiver jumped into action to protect sender.

describe a kiss between our muses that 'shouldn't' have happened.

describe a day/night our muses lost track of time together.

describe the first date our muses ever went on.

describe the day our muses got the keys to their first place.

describe a night our muses stayed out until ridiculously early.

[waveswallowed]

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THE DAY HAD COME — the day where a queen would replace an usurper on the throne and take back what rightfully was hers, and had been all along, even when it unashamedly had been stolen from her by her own kin, the day where, perhaps, a raging war would, at last, reach an end, though there was no denying that it would be difficult, that it would take time before peace could properly be restored within a realm split in half, marked by bloodshed and destruction. but, if a queen sat the throne destined for her by day's end, they at least had a chance of bringing it to an end, if slowly, an opportunity to bring forth a new reign and, with it, the beginnings of a new realm, even if it would not lessen the losses they'd suffered throughout this needless war, one of which was felt most prominently now, the gap jace's lack of presence caused beside him painfully palpable to luke in every moment. the last time he had taken off upon dragonback for battle, he had been with him, they had left together, but only luke had returned in the end, the morrow of the day afterwards, injured, though not fatally, but bearing the weight of a grief that would haunt him until the end of his days. now here he stood as the new heir to the throne they would seize back today, heart heavy, driven forward by the same furious determination that had guided him through the tragedy, made him and his dragon feared names across the realm, though none of his anger, none of what he had done that day could have brought his brother back, and given him the strength to endure not only the battle that had raged for long hours, but the aftermath as well.

despite the severity of the situation, the graveness of what they were facing, his stepfather had seemed nothing short of thrilled all morrow, to the point where he nigh had been insufferable to be in the same room with — a moment of quiet only had come when he had mounted his dragon and taken off towards the sky first, but only for a brief moment, for caraxes had soared up towards the sunlight reflecting off the black rocks of the mountains of dragonstone with a rumbling roar that had shaken the earth beneath their feet, the vibrations still palpable now, moments later.

dark eyes peeled away from the crimson blotch rising higher in the sky, circling above, and shifted to grey ghost, waiting at a distance for his rider, saddled for a change, but only because luke had been present for it early that morrow, the only time where he seemed to allow it — a large head moved and the gaze of silver eyes drifted his way. it did not take being a targaryen to understand the look in the beast's eyes: he did not like that red menace very much. and, truly, he could not blame him.

when his mother moved to climb aback her own waiting mount, lucerys, too, set feet into motion, glancing over to the rhaenyra as he uttered, “ are you certain we did not make a mistake, bringing him? ” a subtle gesture was made towards the red dragon and his rider circling above them, waiting — impatiently, if he had to guess, knowing what he knew of daemon.

[waveswallowed]

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @infamescoronam.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ WHILE LUCERYS HAD KNOWN some, enough to steer the blacks towards a seizing of king's landing that very day, he had known little for certain — aegon could have lied, spoken but hollow words, could have set a trap, could have done anything but what their last exchange, a little over a week ago, had suggested he would do, what luke, over the duration of several moons and countless of secret meetings within the capital, had slowly convinced him of being the right course of action. and he had been prepared for it all, even been, albeit only for a moment, when they had descended on the capital on dragonback and bells had rung out through the streets in warning, more certain of facing a betrayal than his uncle keeping to his word. however, he had. the red keep had seemed strangely quiet when they, at last, had reached and entered it, the throne room vacant, safe for a letter sitting atop of the seat of the iron throne, sealed in the colours the usurper had taken for his banners, penned by his own hand, a fact soon and easily confirmed by the one person he seemed to have entrusted with his intentions. clearly, his uncle had taken careful measures to ensure that its authenticity would be recognised, that it would, without doubt, be recognised as aegon ii yielding the throne to his sister rhaenyra, and, with it, he had disappeared.

it was not at his mother's behest that men streamed out to seek and capture the once usurper king, not initially — it was a suggestion that came from the lord commander of her queensguard, one she, only after a moment's hesitation, had agreed to with a nod the white-cloaked knight had seemed only all too thrilled to see. and so the swarm of guards and queensguard had set off, determinedly searching castle and city for the king who had abdicated, who never should have been king in the first place. whilst his mother had stayed within the throne room, letter clutched in her hand, her son and heir had followed the guards outside, soon discreetly detaching from them and heading down a narrow slope of serpentine stairs and along a dusty, dark corridor to a different part of the castle, one few were aware of, particularly those that were not of targaryen descend, that had no possible ways of knowing of the secret tunnels maegor i had built a century ago.

perhaps they'd gotten to know each other far more closely over the course of the bygone moons than either of them would be able to recognise, much less willing to admit, or, perhaps, aegon had intended to be found, but lucerys discovered his uncle still within castle walls, not too far from the unknown passage he himself had oft used to slip inside the keep during the time of their secret meetings and conversations, unmistakably him, despite the dark hood concealing his features.

“ aegon. ” he said as quick-paced steps slowed, mindful to raise his voice no louder then necessary, aware of the heavy footsteps echoing in the stony corridors located above their heads. for a moment, he merely stood there, gaze latched upon the figure before him, but had he intended to seize the former king himself, deliver him to queens and queensguard and, without doubt, condemn him to execution, or worse, a punishment he easily could push for as son to the queen and heir to the iron throne, break every promise he had made and prove right there that he had only lied for the sake of earning his mother's throne back, that he had been as ingenuine as aegon, too, could have been, but had not, he would've.

instead, with a brief glance thrown behind him and up at the ceiling, from which tiny particles of dust descended with each shuffling of heavy boots above, he stepped closer, the sharp blades at his belt remaining untouched, “ come, we need to get out of here. they are looking for you. ”

[waveswallowed]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ LUCERYS' GAZE HAD LINGERED on the spot where daemon had slipped through the door long after their stepfather had left the room. he did this every eve after supper, silently departed after downing the last of the drink in his cup, always with a vague curve visible in the corner of his mouth as he cast a last glance towards the remaining sons within the room, which more oft than not would be aegon and luke, occasionally jace and joffrey as well, even rarer aemond who oft walked off first with a pointed look thrown at them as though he had something better to do than sit and drink with his brothers ( whatever that could be ), disappearing to . . . gods knew where. certainly not to bid his two sons goodnight with a kiss to the forehead and join his wife in bed as any normal husband and father would do. he was up to something, daemon always was. but he was not the only one.

the scraping of the chair next to him against the stone floor as aegon sank into it made him turn his head, hand closing around the cup on the table before him, lifting it to lips for a gulp of the wine it contained. his uncle brother ( that was more what he felt like ) was not wrong in assuming that he could do with something stronger than the red liquid currently sitting within his cup. a quiet huff sounded deep in his throat, before he responded, “ you being that willing to share something makes me wonder if can really be that good. ” the chalice was set down then, elbows bracing against the edge of the table as he turned his head fully towards aegon, voice lowering, curiosity, of course, sparked, “ sure, i am interested. where is that stash of yours? ”

the rare lighthearted au for @waveswallowed

dragonstone held numerous secrets within its walls and passages, some better known than others, and some likely already lost to time with none alive to recall them. some held little interest to aegon, though he had made good use of the passages that took him beyond the halls and gave him an easier path to the villages that lay closer to the ports. they may not share the vibrancy of king's landing, but it still sufficed for his own needs, when they could not be met within the castle itself. some had their benefits for eavesdropping, though this did not come without its risks either when he was not the sole holder of knowledge of such passageways and alcoves.

dinner had long since ended, rhaenyra being the first to leave with the two youngest boys, joffrey soon shepherded off as well, and it was anyone's guess where his step-father went to. catching the neck of the remaining bottle of wine sitting upon the table, he vacated his seat to exchange it for the one beside lucerys, leaning in as he refilled his cup and lowering his voice. "i don't suppose you would be interested in indulging in something a little stronger? i may have found a certain supply of spirits that i would be willing to share."

[waveswallowed]

༄࿔*·⋅ starter for @harrenhalheir.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THAT HARRENHAL WAS CURSED was no secret. it was one of the first things noan rivers, as he had come to be called, had learned, been warned about by many mouths of people encountered along the way, when he had set off to seek the large castle and claim it for himself, prompted by repeated comparisons to the man that had once stood to inherit it, notions of him, the famed harwin strong, called breakbones by many, being his father, the father to a bastard that very well could be the sole surviving person carrying the blood of house strong, aside from an uncle he was said to have in king's landing, one he knew some of the riverfolk who had chosen to follow him did not accept as heir to the cursed fortress, blamed for the deaths of lyonel strong and his eldest son who had been loved by many, thus offering their loyalty to the presumed bastard instead, easily planted into the head of somebody without name or memory, without a past, or any family he could recall, other than the fishing folk who had rescued him from the shores and welcomed him into their family as one of their own for a time, until he, though heavy-heartedly, had parted ways with his saviours in search of any clues regarding his forgotten past, a path that soon had led to him into the soot-stained, haunted walls of harrenhal.

as he entered his chambers that night, he spotted him at once, dwelling in the corner where he usually found him, long having caused him to assume that this may have been his chambers once upon a time, before his death, though the subject had not yet been brought up in their conversations, too mundane in comparison to what they usually spoke about for it to cross his mind to ask him about it. noan luke, as he was referred to here, in these quiet, shadowy rooms, during the conversations he so oft shared with his father, that he had become so fond of he always caught himself seeking him now, in every room, during every time of the day, knew he was not real, not exactly, that no one besides himself could see him, that he bore a risk of being considered mad if he was caught speaking to nothing in particular, that harwin strong was a person long deceased, life claimed by flames that had raged through these eerie castle walls well over a decade ago, the cold stones still bearing the black stains, an accident ( if it even had been one — from what he had heard, there was no true answer to what really had happened that night ) that would not be made undone, even if the apparition luke has been encountering since his first eve here convincingly made it seem as though he was alive. he was real enough, however, at least to him. alive enough.

the door was shut quietly behind him as he entered the room further, removing his sword and setting it carefully upon the table, “ i was not certain you would show today, father. ”

[waveswallowed]

a wholesome starter for @sorrowknown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ IT HAD BEEN SOME TIME since he'd last seen king's landing — his initial departure nigh two years ago now had been a reluctant one, one lucerys had put off for as long as possible since his mother's ascension to the throne that was rightfully her own. only when he could be certain that his mother would be in good hands with a council of truly loyal lords and ladies sworn to her, and would not only be accepted, but respected by the remaining realm, and a state of peace that seemed to have intentions to last had settled over the land once again, though it had taken some time, did he decide to settle in dragonstone with his wife, rhaena, permanently, or, at least, until he would inherit the throne from rhaenyra upon her passing — a day that, hopefully, still laid far in the future. where visits had been quite frequent in the beginning days, what with king's landing only a short distance away on dragonback, they, with the arrival of a new addition to the family, and, with it, the arrival of new responsibilities and the surfacing difficulties of travelling with a small babe, had decreased over the past year, the last one now several moons in the past. so all the more thrilling was it now to be back here, to see his mother again, even if the initial meeting had been brief, the queen allowing them to first get settled in their chambers before they could all share supper together outdoors — and, in their chambers, rhaena had remained, more worn by the journey, albeit brief, even by ship, than expected, an exhaustion she, with a fond, tired smile and a hand resting on her middle, had lightheartedly blamed on the new babe growing in her belly, a fact they had only learned of weeks ago and intended to share with the queen during their stay in the capital, before lucerys had left the room with their daughter, allowing his wife to find some much-needed rest.

little jacaera, just short of her first nameday, clung to her father's neck now as he walked the lengthy path winding through the gardens with her propped against his side, gazing up at the world in wonder, pointing at the blossoming tree crowns above their heads whenever something of interest caught her eye, “ kepa, kepa— ” he nodded at her enthusiasm, a fond smile pulling up lips as his gaze elevated and followed a chubby finger upwards to the trees and the plump red fruit hanging between the green leaves, “ yes, apples. prūbresse. ”

luke soon enough found his mother waiting by a richly set table near the part of the gardens that overlooked the blackwater rush just beyond the walls encasing the keep, coming to a halt with a smile, “ somebody wanted to see you. ”

his daughter's squirming against in his arms told him all he needed to know about her excitement to see her grandmother again and he set her down, her first eager step a wobbly one that sent her staggering and half-falling, little hands grappling her father's trouser leg to straighten herself as his palm came to rest at the back of a head full of dark curls. she managed and, at once, the little girl who only recently had begun walking, toddled over the trimmed grass, her little legs moving faster than they were able to stay steady, causing her to falter again and drop to her knees, catching herself on her hands, but, like everybody else who bore the blood of the dragon in their veins, she was adamant by nature, and quickly rose again, without any help, and crossed the last of the small distance, promptly hugging the queen's skirts, partially to save herself from another stumble.

[waveswallowed]

LIKE MOTHER , LIKE SON .

mother , forgive me , i'm lost , but i'll find my way home , whatever the cost .

@sorrowknown

[waveswallowed]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝟎𝟏 . ( a collection of assorted prompts intended to inspire drabbles & maybe starters. adjust as desired. )

describe a time your muse committed a justified act of violence.

describe a time your muse felt truly free.

describe a time your muse just couldn't help themself.

describe a time your muse committed a crime.

describe a time your muse discovered something about themself.

describe the earliest birthday your muse can remember.

describe a time your muse broke the rules.

describe your muse's feelings on their gender.

describe your muse's feelings on their sexuality.

describe a time your muse felt truly loved.

describe a time your muse lost their temper.

describe your muse's very first kiss.

describe the moment your muse discovered their passion in life.

describe a time your muse longed for something so deeply it tore them apart.

describe a time your muse worked themself to exhaustion.

describe a time your character was treated medically.

describe a time your muse made an unheard cry for help.

describe a time your muse couldn't care for themselves.

describe a time your muse couldn't commit to something or someone.

describe a time your muse realized they were in love.

describe a time your muse felt betrayed.

describe a time your muse learned devastating information.

describe a moment your muse reminisces about often.

describe a moment in which your muse lashed out violently.

describe the first time your muse held a weapon.

describe a time your muse blacked out.

describe a moment your muse was absolutely terrified.

describe a moment your muse went into fight or flight mode.

describe a moment your muse had a big, life-altering revelation.

describe the first time your muse took someone's life.

describe a time your muse went somewhere they shouldn't.

describe a time your muse sneaked out of the house.

describe a traumatic experience from your muse's childhood.

describe the first concert your muse ever went to.

describe your muse's dream [ engagement / wedding ].

describe an outing that went terribly, horribly wrong for your muse.

describe a time your muse found themself somewhere unexpected.

FOR PAIRINGS:

describe a time our muses slept in late together.

describe the moment receiver knew they were in love with sender.

describe the first significant fight our muses got into.

describe a time receiver thought they were going to lose sender.

describe the first time receiver realized they were comfortable around sender.

describe a moment that receiver felt betrayed by sender.

describe a private thought receiver has had about sender.

describe a time our muses went on a long scenic road trip.

describe a moment where receiver held onto sender a little tighter.

describe a moment of pure joy between our muses.

describe a moment where sender made receiver feel safe.

describe a moment of grief and mourning between our muses.

describe a moment where receiver lost their temper with sender.

describe a moment where receiver broke down in front of sender.

describe a moment receiver jumped into action to protect sender.

describe a kiss between our muses that 'shouldn't' have happened.

describe a day/night our muses lost track of time together.

describe the first date our muses ever went on.

describe the day our muses got the keys to their first place.

describe a night our muses stayed out until ridiculously early.

[waveswallowed]

it's been a minute.

[waveswallowed]

her second son, LUCERYS, would be recognised as the rightful heir to DRIFTMARK, and the lands and holdings of HOUSE VELARYON.

༄࿔*·⋅ WAVESWALLOWED. independent &&. canon-divergent LUCERYS VELARYON from george r. r. martin's fire and blood, heavily based on book and personal headcanons with only minor influences drawn from the show. by cae.

[waveswallowed]

plotted starter for @zaldriz3s.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ SUNFYRE'S BRIGHT GOLDEN FLAME lit up the still-dark blue sky of early morrow as though it were imitating the sun itself; a bright flash of blazing yellow fire that illuminated everything in its surrounding, spread over the vast peaks of dragonmont, reflecting on the black stone like a feigned sunset. lids lowered, eyes shutting temporarily against the blinding onslaught of light, only to reopen a moment later when the pulsating red hue behind his lids faded away and watch moondancer, who had taken the unleashed flame to the eyes, falter, yet still make for another attack, slamming into sunfyre, claws latching onto his neck. the struggle both faced was clear, the younger dragon flapping her wings to stay aloft, the older roaring as he fought back, troubled by his crooked, injured wing, twisting shapes of green and yellow scales in the murky light of a rising sun not yet visible on the horizon.

he could not make out much of his uncle aback the larger beast from this distance, could merely guess at his thoughts. what an all too spectacular entrance it would have been, had it not been for two other dragons joining his wounded mount in the sky. how tired lucerys was tired of these grand entrances and flaunts of triumph by the wrong people, how tired he was of mostly everything. quite simply put, he was tired. dragonstone was not aegon's, never had been, though he may have convinced himself otherwise. just as little as the iron throne was his.

perhaps there was little that could be called honour to battling an injured dragon and his equally afflicted rider, but had anybody spared such a thought for his brother, when he'd been on the ground, barely holding onto the wooden remnants of a sunken ship, struggling to stay above the tumultuous waves. no, with arrows he'd been struck, dozens of them, over and over again . . . fingers tightened on the reins, clenching in a white-knuckled grip. the very rage lucerys had carried since that day, something fierce, equal parts flame and ice so cold it would leave frostbite on an instant if touched, seized him then. they'd dealt too many losses already, there would not be another. aegon would not get dragonstone. sunfyre would not get the glory of tearing moondancer to shreds as he had grey ghost, baela would not fall as jace had, rhaena would not have to mourn her sister by the time day broke in earnest as he was mourning his brother, his betrothed would not have to face that same excruciating pain he faced each day, an unfading grief carried so deep inside of him it had become part of his very being. no.

another scorching gust of dragonflame was spat into the sky by sunfyre then, one moondancer, smaller and faster, albeit wounded, skilfully managed to evade. the chase he made, one he evidently struggled with, with his injured wing seeming to threaten to drag him down towards the yard each time he moved, after her opening an opportunity, one he felt arrax spotted as easily as he did as the winds bit as his skin and pulled on his clothing as they both descended, a hand finding the rough hide of the she-dragon's neck, the familiar warmth her scales exuded palpable against his palm. “ angōs, arrax . . . get him. ”

[waveswallowed]

Nikolay Punin, from a diary entry featured in The Diaries of Nikolay Punin: 1904 - 1953

[waveswallowed]

not to expose my inbox but i love how you all came in with the protector for these when i fully had lucerys " i don't regret what i did because i did it for you " overprotective velaryon in mind when i reblogged that and didn't even think of the other option where he might be the one getting protected.

‘ always the saviour, never the saved. ’ not anymore, alexandria.

[waveswallowed]

the violently protective … sentence starters  lots of mentions of violence and death throughout 

the protector 

“Of course I killed them. they hurt you.”

“They made you cry…? Where are they?”

“Don’t feel sorry for them, they deserved it.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t be bothering you, again.”

“These bruises are worth it to make sure you’re safe.”

“Why would you want to protect them? They hurt you.”

“Who did this to you? No, don’t lie to me… who did this?”

“If they even step foot near you, again, I’ll take care of it…”

“No, they don’t deserve any mercy. Not after they hurt you.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to rip him/her/them apart for this.”

“Stop? Why? Don’t you want them to pay for what they did to you?”

the protected 

“Make them hurt for this… please.”

“Stop! Stop, don’t hurt him/her/them!”

“There. That’s the one who did this to me.”

“Violence doesn’t solve anything, just let this be.”

“They made me bleed. Maybe you should return the favor.”

“I don’t want them dead, I just want them to leave me alone.”

“Why did you do this? Why…? I never asked you to fight them.”

“No, I don’t want you to fight them for me. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I don’t care what you do to them, just keep them away from me.”

“I’m not worth you risking your life for… for what? Getting even for me?”

[waveswallowed]

@suthsayer sent: My  muse  wipes  away  the  blood  from  your  muse’s  face,  their  hands  trembling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ THE BLOOD RAN IN RIVULETS, slim crimson streaks against pale skin, adopting a more pinkish hue where it mingled with a thin, glistening layer of sweat — he was not even sure where he was bleeding from, could feel little of the wounds that had caused it themselves, aside from the undeniable damp, the palpable heat of it as it oozed out and ran down his skin, whatever pain would, undoubtedly, follow later, when adrenaline spreading like fire, and feeling equally as fierce, through veins carrying, and currently gracelessly spilling, the blood of the dragon, at last, waned and something quiet settled not only around him, but also within him, still feeling far from him in these current moments as dark brown eyes trailed helaena's form as she drew near, brought up hands to wipe at the mess coating features, the first contact drawing a quiet, barely even audible hiss of breath from between his teeth — not from pain, for he still couldn't feel much of that yet, rather surprise, a gesture so tender feeling nigh so surreal in the wake of violence, of a fight, that it was startling.

“ it's fine. i'm fine. ” perhaps futile attempts at reassurance left lips in a quiet tone as the long blade within his grasp was relocated to the other hand and his right drifted up slowly, hovering over helaena's, barely settling, barely brushing, yet still at once feeling the tremors that coursed through her fingers, palpable against his own, against his face, all too quickly becoming aware of the tension that seemed to reside within her, a brow furrowing with the realisation that she was shaking as he sought her gaze with his own, fingers now closing around one of her hands to halt the movements, “ helaena? ”

[waveswallowed]

i dare every single person who sees this to send me something from here and let me ( affectionately ) bother you with angst or fluff or whatever else your heart desires.

[waveswallowed]

MY  MUSE  HAS  BEEN  MISSING ,  YOUR  MUSE  HAS  HAPPENED  UPON  THEM.  TELL  ME  YOUR  MUSES  REACTION.