hollow house

I really want to pitch an idea for the fourth book/movie

Disney Parks had this thing in 2013 called “Long Lost Friends” where all those unappreciated characters came to light; so what if there was a place called Forgotten Hollow or something that houses those characters in the Descendants universe? They’re not heroes or villains, just… Forgotten. And while some might be chill about it others are salty af
it’s a nice way to introduce characters who are neither like Jessica and Roger’s daughter. Also, it’s proven that the universe doesn’t host only fairy tail characters since Cruella ain’t one and she the mvp

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

Keep Reading (Ao3)

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10

The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city,
Over the pale grey tumbled towers,—
And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls.
Along damp sinuous streets it crawls,
Curls like a dream among the motionless trees
And seems to freeze.

The House Of Dust - Conrad Aiken

10

I built this Victorian style home for my vampire Akasha. I’ve never built a Victorian style home, so this was certainly a challenge and it took forever!! It’s quite spacious, with a few modern items. The landscaping is also simple compared to what I usually do because Akasha isn’t a huge fan of landscaping. This home is CC free and can be found on the gallery. 

Origin ID: SkaoiSim  

Vampire Abode

  • 30 x 20 lot size
  • 4 bedrooms + a crypt 
  • 3 bathrooms  
  • §246,999
8

 Widowshild Townhome

A Forgotten Hollows house renovation. Without tearing down the outer walls the home has gotten an overhaul on both the inside and outside, including a garden addition.

  • Type: Residential
  • Value: 58,011 (Furnished)
  • Lot size: 30x20
  • 1 bathroom. 1 bedroom.
  • No custom content.

This lot can be downloaded in The Gallery under Origin ID TheSalatus or #alcyonesims

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12th house. Beneath the hollow black 12th house hole awaits a matrix of power, a fortress of divine wisdom, and God’s cradling arms. This is the spirit that supports is in the blackest times, the times we feel the shards of our broken souls cut us from the inside. And the secret is that only we know the secret of the twelfth house, because it can only be accessed when we are alone. There is the trauma of cutting ties with the unity we delighted in through the eleventh house and ascending into another dimension of collectiveness, transporting through the frequencies of the oversoul, but we have lost our body and seemingly all of our defenses. However this is the sort of emptying out, the piercing the veil, the susceptibility that opens up the twelfth house treasure box, this is incandescent glory, this is reuniting with the star that birthed us, the support network that has guided us since the very beginning. 

Its wisdom transcends all time and space and speaks through symbolism, vision, and emotion. It is something that flows like a fountain of oceanic bliss, comfort, and knowing when the tap has been turned on through divine love and homecoming

-C.

Connor Kenway x Reader: I Wish For A Family

Originally posted by urogiri

The soft crackling of the fire and the steady sound of raindrops hitting the windows were the only sounds that were competing to fill the silence that seemed to hollow the house. You were accompanied by a collection of books; an intriguing series that you were determined to finish as the storm outside weakened. There wasn’t much conversation anymore. Your eyes departed from the words on the page to gaze over to the chair Achilles used to sit in. It was times like these where his absence was palpable in an almost painful manner. You wished that he was here to offer his advice on how future events should be handled, to defeat you in every board game you played and to argue with the Native Assassin who now carried an even bigger load of worries and responsibilities than he did before.

With a sigh, you gently closed the book and placed it in its rightful place atop of the others. The soft silk material of your skirt trailed behind you as you stepped into the kitchen and found the necessary ingredients to make a delicious stew to feed yourself and the man who had sealed himself in his room upstairs. It all felt strangely domestic as you placed the apron over your head and tied it firmly behind you. Being trained by the French Brotherhood as if you were one of their own, you were a fierce assassin; as deadly as you were sophisticated and graceful. George Washington knew you by name, Lafayette could give testimony of your skills and Haytham Kenway himself had surprised his son when Connor was in the middle of introducing you but the Grand Master already knew of you.

You cut the carrots, the meat, and everything else before adding it into the pot and stirring it as it heated. You wiped your hands on the apron and turned to ready the bowls and utensils. The American Revolution had been fought and the colonists earned their victory. The United States of America had been the title given to the liberated nation and though now the people could take a break and celebrate their success, the work of the Assassins was just getting started. The American Brotherhood needed to be built to ensure their presence in the states was firm and lasting for the war with the Templars was far from over. The threat of Templar Order had been almost completely eradicated, yes, but the Assassins needed to be established for the freedom of the people and their posterity.

Ratonhnhaké:ton had this weight on his shoulders as well as the burden of knowing his people were driven from their land. In his life he had lost countless people. His story was painful in so many ways that you only wished for happiness to finally find him.

You carefully placed the bowls of hot stew on a tray along with two glasses of water. You carried these across the threshold and into the dinning room where you placed the bowls across from each other in the seats that Connor and you usually sat in. You could not help but look at the head of the table where Achilles used to sit. You walked up the stairs and towards the room where Connor resided to knock on the door.

“Connor,” you called out as you heard movement in his room.

The door opened to reveal the assassin who was not wearing his trademark robes but a simple white shirt that reached his elbows and blue pants.

“Dinner is ready downstairs. I was hoping you’d join me.”

“Of course.”

The both of you made your way downstairs and towards your respective seats. Connor thanked you for the food and you assured him that it was nothing. The same silence that you were trying to escape returned as the two of you enjoyed the flavors of the stew and the refreshment of the water. You knew well that he took notice of the way you examined him with concerned eyes looking for something to let you know how he was feeling but he had become extremely proficient at hiding his emotions.

You knew well the incredible warrior Connor was, you knew that he had the strength to survive any hardship that life placed in front of him but you had been his partner for years and had hoped that the trust you both shared was enough for him to know that he didn’t have to do this along; that you were more than willing to help. But before you could aid him you had to know what was wrong.

After eating, you stood to pick up everything and return it to the kitchen but Connor stopped you with a gesture of his hand.

“Please, allow me.” He said, lightly taking the bowl and cup from your hands and gathering them with his own before he walked to the kitchen.

He was fully aware that you followed behind him; walking in that soft, graceful way that made it seem as if you were gliding with your long skirts trailing behind you. There were many things on his mind, some that he was willing to share and others that he wanted to keep to himself. Connor knew that it wasn’t fair to you. He knew that you spent your days recruiting and training new assassins, just as he did, chatting with the other women in the homestead that you had become close friends with and making sure that everything in this home and outside ran smoothly. He did these things as well, obviously, but when he was away strengthening relations between the Caribbean brotherhood and his own, you were placed in charge.

You were the person he most trusted, a woman he admired for your strength and intelligence. He was sure that you already began to formulate your theories as to why he had been so distant suddenly and Connor felt guilty for making you worry. With all the courage he possessed he suddenly vulnerable under your analyzing gaze and he didn’t know how to explain what had put him in such an isolated place.

He finished washing the dishes and moved to go somewhere but he was suddenly stopped by your small hand grabbing his. All movement halted as he felt the coolness of your hand invade the warmth of his. Connor wasn’t one for physical contact but he always welcomed yours. Whether it came in the form of hugs or the rare kiss on the cheek, the gravitational pull he felt towards you was something he could never explain when he was younger.

For some time he felt as if he would never feel the love of another, especially from such a beautiful and refined lady like you, because of his heritage. He learned from others that women did these actions, gave these hugs, as a sign of friendship and that is what he took them as. For such a long time that had been enough…but his mentality began to change as he grew older.

“Connor, do you trust me?”

The inquiry in her voice saddened him. This shouldn’t be a question that needed to be asked.

“You are one of the persons in this life that I trust most.” Connor reassured, the depth of his kind eyes meeting your own. “Never place in doubt my trust in you.”

“Then tell me what you are thinking. The house already feels empty without Achilles and without your presence it just becomes more hollow.”

Upon hearing your words his hand moved to grab your upper arm and hold it in sympathy; as a way to comfort you.

“That is not what I wanted…I am sorry, (Your Name). I…” He trailed off as he took his hand off you and moved around you and towards the living room. “The things that burden my mind are not what you expect.”

“Explain it to me.” You told him. “You’ve helped me dozens of times. I wish to do the same.”

He stopped walking once he reached a place near the window where he could survey the storm that thrashed the nature outside. He contemplated the words he wanted to say to her and how he was going to do so while she leaned against the archway giving him the time he needed.

“The war has ended and the tyranny of the English crown and the Templar Order have been warded off.” He began. “What do you wish to happen now?”

You crossed your arms and rested your head against the doorway. “Well, I wish for the our influence to grow stronger here in to make sure that future attempts from the Templars to rise up again can be stopped. I wish for there to be a strong connection between not only us and the Caribbean brotherhood, but also the ones in Europe and around the world. I wish for the homestead to thrive always as it has been-”

“No. What I had meant was…what do you wish to happen to you, personally.” Connor tried again, looking a bit flustered because he hadn’t been clear enough the first time.

“Oh, to me? Um, well, I wish to be of service for as long as I can and help mentor the new assassins under your leadership.”

Connor’s eyes left yours as he shook his head and looked down to the floor. You suddenly felt as if you had answered the wrong thing and you didn’t understand. After the death of your father and the abandonment of your mother, you were sent to a family friend in France where you were raised in the creed. You had been working for the assassins all your life and could not imagine doing anything else with the knowledge of the evil that was found in this world. Your thoughts wondered if Connor was thinking about leaving the assassins but you quickly dismissed the idea. That was not something Connor would ever do.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?” You asked as you moved into the room.

“No. It is an honorable thing to want.”

You waited a moment before asking.

“What do you want, Connor?”

He took a moment before answering.

“I wish for a family.”

You are not going to lie and say that you weren’t surprised, even shocked, at his answer. Years ago, the both of you had been on aboard the Aquila resting inside the captain’s cabin after defeating a number of ships that had been controlling the bay around a lighthouse that they shouldn’t have been in. During the battle you had been slightly injured and now sat in his chair bandaging the wound when conversation between you two started. You talked the war, the homestead, the past and what waited ahead of you. It was in that conversation that you learned that Connor did not have time for romance. Members of the homestead were always asking him when he was going to find a nice girl during the times where all of them gathered to eat and have a good time. He had told you that he had other priorities with his people that came first and they would always come first, as would the fight for freedom.

You had agreed with him and somehow convinced yourself that his mentality would never change.

“Two weeks ago we all gathered in welcoming the child of Myriam and Norris’s to this world. I had returned days later to ask if they had a sufficient amount of firewood for the night or meat, since Myriam is now too busy to hunt, and she asked me if I could hold him for a moment. She placed her child in my arms, her small baby boy and I was overtaken by a strong feeling in my chest.” He said as he tapped his chest for emphasis, trying to get you to understand . “I want that. I want to be able to hold a child of my own. I want to watch my little one grow, watch him learn to form words and take his first steps. I want a wife. A woman whom would love me just as much as I would love her.”

The emotions in his words were so strong they touched your heart. In the long time that you had known Connor, you had never heard him speak as he was now. His eyes were filled with such emotion as if his wishes were never going to be attained no matter how much he wanted it. It was the first time that you had seen him want something other than freedom for his people and the death of his enemies. This time he wanted something that everyone wanted to have but it seemed as if a part of him believed he would not achieve this.

“Connor you will have that.” You tried to reassure him. “You will find a woman who will you love immeasurably, you’ll see. You will also have children who will adore you and see you as their hero. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be a wonderful husband and an excellent father.”

Connor’s desperate eyes once more looked away from yours. He shook his head again, running a hand through his hair which had begun to grow back to how it used to be. You didn’t understand why this was causing him such anguish. You moved closer to him and placed a hand on his face so that he was once again looking at you. You held his gaze and looked deeply into his eyes so that she can find the source of his insecurities and extinguish it.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton, it will happen. You are such an exemplary person. You are brave beyond compare and never in my life have I met someone who can even come close to having the same amount of goodness that lives in you. Life may have been cruel to you like that storm outside but soon the storm will end and the sun will shine. And when the sun shines upon you, Connor, and it will, you will have everything that you want and more.”

Your words were so sincere that they softened his expression but not what burned in his eyes. You wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him closely. He laid his head on your shoulder and after a bit he wrapped his arms around you to hold you as tightly as you were holding him. You could feel his breath on your neck as you rested your head on the side of his. You had never been this close to Connor. Yes, you had given him hugs before, but nothing like this. Your heart began to beat a little faster and you hoped he could not feel it.

Connor had not had the blessing of living that normal life that so many seemed to have. He did not grow up in a home where he had both his mother and his father. He had been denied both from an early age. He did not know what it was like for a family to be together and united because he had no example of it but after seeing the joy Norris and Myriam had…he wanted it. He wanted it badly.

“I want to have all of that with you.”

That’s when you were sure he wasn’t going to feel how fast your heart was beating because your heart stopped. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard.

In the years following you meeting the native, you had harbored feelings for him. Everything about him, to you, seemed perfect. You had fallen in love with the way he carefully enunciated every word to make sure that he was pronouncing it correctly, the way he would let his guard down around you sometimes and smile, the way his eyes held pride when he watched you in battle, with his morals and the way he would do anything to protect those he loved. You thought then, and now, that he was incredibly handsome but that conversation you both had on the Aquila made you hide your feelings and even try to ignore them.

Because you thought that he would never feel the same way.

He had held you but your silence was all he needed to confirm his doubts. He remembered the day that you had arrived to the homestead. You arrived wearing expensive clothing with your hair braided up and pearls pinned in the elaborate braid. Even in the city he had not seen a lady like you. Your eyes were bright and warm. Your smile was directed at him with no prejudice. He had not believed that someone that looked so delicate and elegant could be a skilled assassin. He was proved wrong many times over. Especially the time when you had been the first one to swing off the Aquila and attack that Man O’ War which surprised Mr. Faulkner who had first been against you boarding the ship (saying woman on board brought bad luck). After that his crew affectionally had nicknamed you the ‘Pirate Lass’.

He always sought to be near you. He wanted to be near you but you did not feel the same way.

“I should not have said that. I am sorry.” He said with fear and regret coating his words.

“No, wait, Connor-” He tried to slip away from you but you didn’t let him. “I…”

How were you supposed to explain how you felt for him for so many years? How you suppressed it in fear that you could lose his friendship? That you were so shocked and happy at his words that you didn’t know how to tell him?

He waited because you stopped him. His eyes urged you to go on even if it was to tell him the hard truth that you did not feel the same way.

“I’ve felt…I…” You sighed to shake off the sudden nervousness that now filled you. “I had feelings for you. I’ve always thought you were one of a kind, handsome and gallant. I had so many feelings I was afraid you would notice the way I smiled too widely. I always thought I was a bother to you. And then that night on your ship, after we defeated those ships that were controlling the lighthouse, you told me that you weren’t interested in a relationship and I respected that. You were right. I saw why you would want to make that decision and so I concealed my feelings.”

“I spoke those words while a war raged among us.” Connor clarified. “I could not allow my emotions to show. Our lives were threatened. At any moment anything could have happened to either of us.”

“I know,” you nodded.

He looked at you intently. You had taken small sections from the front of your hair and braided it so that it almost appeared as if you were wearing a crown; half up and half down. You didn’t have pearls pinned in your hair nor flowers but you looked no less radiant.

“I see things differently now.” The Master Assassin said with conviction. “The brotherhood is growing at a steady pace. All of our goals can and will be attained rather quickly. Perhaps it is time for the rain to cease and for the sun to shine.”

You turned to look outside and smiled when you saw that the storm had stopped. The only thing that remained from the brutal downpour was the crystal clear droplets that slid down the surface of the windows. It was only a matter of time before the sun broke through the clouds and basked everything in its golden light; you both knew that. Connor, still slightly timid, takes a hold of your hand.

“(Your Name)…I will do everything in my power to have the feelings you had for me return.”

“You already have them, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

“But you said ’had’.” Connor said, his expression twisting in confusion.

You gave him a sweet smile before using both hands to bring him close enough to kiss. And kiss him you did. It had been Connor’s first kiss so despite not knowing that to do he followed your movements and kissed you back. It was that kiss that told him that your feelings had never left; they were only hidden but now, since the sun was going to shine, there is no need for them to hide from the storm any longer.

“You know, secretly, I’ve also always wanted to start a family.”

The joyful and hopeful grin he gave you was priceless.