#that’s hundreds of years old

[eddeearts]

When you’re writing (or character building) and all the symbolism and themes in the character, their visuals, and words/names is all extremely fitting despite being somewhat random

Fr though, my partially possessed “God-King” that I’ve been calling Raptor / Rook? Yeah all the themes of those words fit him to a T. I’m also counting things from the Etymology* of these words.

Raptor: bird of prey, plunderer, ravisher, to seize

Rook: corvid/crow/raven, cheater, simpleton/cheated, chariot

Chariot: a weapon of war that served as a dominant or large factor in warfare for several hindered years. It was useful and strong, but eventually was surpassed, in other words its time came to a close.

My poor possessed man who rose to power only to be corrupted and meet an end, cheated in that his power thwarted his goals, a cheater in that he lives on, hundreds of years after his human lifespan ended. My beloved “I became what I daughter to destroy” trope fulfiller: Rühk**, later known as King Raptores.

*etymology is word history/evolution

**name spelling is not final

[mccromy]

The Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan dynamic I need to see more of is Shen Jiu coming to see Shen Yuan as a father figure, perhaps even a mother figure. And not in the way you think.

We are always talking about Shen Yuan's wife beam, but we don't talk about his mommy beam. I think Shen Jiu could resist the wife beam if subjected to it, but I don't believe he has any defense against the mommy beam. Now, I'm not talking about Shen Yuan transmigrating earlier than canon, meeting a child Shen Jiu and adopting him.

I'm talking about Shen Yuan transmigrating after Shen Jiu has already taken over Qing Jin peak. I'm talking about 21 year old Shen Yuan transmigrating into the body of a nameless rogue cultivator, meeting fully grown man already in his thirties Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, and hitting him with his mommy/daddy-issuesinator and causing him a life threatening Qi deviation.

Shen Qingqiu can't help but trust him, and eventually looks up to him, sees him as a wise elder he seeks out for advice. He fucking hates it but he can't help himself. This homeless man he met in the forest is the closest thing he's ever had to a father. Also. He sort of wants Shen Yuan to breastfeed him in a, and he means this, non sexual way and he can't cope with that. He would just feel so safe!!

Shen Yuan, 21 years old, rogue cultivator, first time transmigrator and the father who stepped up, thinks he befriended the scum villain, and maybe? He can be a good influence on him? Be a good friend and guide him towards a fully limbed future. He's practically raising him but nobody tell him that.

Shen Jiu lost his childhood to slavery and his teenage years to violent madmen. and now he's behaving in ways he doesn't understand. He once lost sight of Shen Yuan in the town's market, ran towards a man who looked exactly like Shen Yuan from behind, and almost had a panic attack when the man turned out to be a stranger. It's all good because Shen Yuan found him before he started swinging Xiu Ya ("Have you seen my friend? He's this tall, clearly traumatized, but we haven't had the talk")

People think they're lovers at some point because Shen Jiu is quite possessive of Shen Yuan's attention, but everybody realizes that there's something way more innocent, and also weirder, and worse, going on between them when Shen Yuan drags Shen Qingqiu by the hand to apologize to the sect leader for being so rude when poor A-Yue is trying his best, and stands there with arms crossed, eyebrows raised, until Shen Qingqiu mumbles an apology, glances at Shen Yuan, and runs away.

"I'm sorry about that, Sect Leader Yue, he's had a bad day. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Yue Qingyuan, someone who did actually sort of raise Shen Qingqiu, who's stood in Shen Yuan's shoes before, extracting reluctant apologies from a sullen Shen Jiu, to authority figures so he wouldn't get in trouble, is overcome by an intense, never before experienced wave of jealousy, so sudden it makes him spit vinegar flavored blood.

Then, a panicked Shen Yuan accidentally hits him with the mommy beam by accidentally adopting him (trying to befriend this guy who clearly needs a friend he can confide in!). And now he's placed himself in the young step-mom role who's desperately trying to bond with her new husband's teenage children but they're wired to not like her! (He used those exact words when explaining to Shang Qinghua where that new tension he has with the Sect Leader came from)

Liu Qingge is afraid of him. Maybe. He runs away when their eyes meet but he keeps leaving dead things at his feet so like, he's probably threatening him? He feels intimidated by him? Or something?

(Liu Qingge thinks Shen Qingqiu's older brother is so cool and really wants to hang out with him, but if Shen Yuan calls him Didi one more time Liu Qingge's barely held back "Yes, Gege?" Is going to jump out of his mouth and he WILL Qi deviate and EXPLODE)

When Binghe enters the equation shit gets a lot weirder.

First, he believes Shen Yuan to be Shen Qingqiu's neglected spouse (Shizun keeps leaving his poor wife alone when he goes out on night hunts and to visit brothels! Shen Yuan has needs!! He should be with someone who cherished him!! Someone who would treat him as he deserves to be treated, someone who'd wait hand and foot on him!!!) needless to say, Luo Binghe's teenage fantasies take on an even more illicit turn than in canon (it goes from "STERN TEACHER POUNDED BY STUDENT AT BAIZHAN TRAINING GROUNDS" to "NEGLECTED WIFE CHEATS WITH STUDENT ON HUSBAND'S BED!! IMPREGNATED WHILE HUSBAND IS AWAY")

Luo Binghe, of course, does his best to seduce him, but ends up being coddled and cuddled.

"it's like I'm his handmaiden, his shadow, the only witness to my lady's heartbreak at her husband's cold regard and indiscretions. Shizun won't spare him a moment if not to discuss cultivation or business! He won't allow Shen Yuan more than a head pat! and move away from any other touch! How ungrateful! They don't even share a bed! I brush his hair, I dress him every morning, I pour him tea and he lets me rest my weary head on his lap. The intimacy we share is not sexual, but Ning-Shijie, I wish it was! I saw the outline of his dick yesterday and I need it!"

"A-Luo please stop talking."

Then, he realizes he misunderstood. Shen Yuan is a cultivator so of course he looks so young! Shen Yuan is clearly Shen Qingqiu's father. He's constantly worried for his un-filial son and remains by his side!! That explains everything!!!(LONELY DILF RIDES YOUNG MAN ON QING JING'S LIBRARY!! HE WISHES YOUNG MAN WAS HIS SON!!!!)

He goes from trying to steal Shen Qingqiu's wife to steal his father. He could be Shen Yuan's friend, lover, and son. His student. His confidant. His silly rabbit.

Shen Qingqiu KNOWS this. But nobody will fucking believe him!! The jiejies at the pavilion giggle and tell him he must be exaggerating, and when he went to Yue Qingyuan so he could intervene and fix it, Yue Qi just looked at him dead eyed and said to "Let him." !!! Let him what?? Deflower our father Qi-Ge??? Shame on you!! That beast is trying to break this family apart!!

But wait!!! look!!! a crack opened in the fabric of space and reality, leading directly to hell. Wouldn't it be a shame if someone were to, accidentally, drop kick this homewrecker inside it?

Luo Binghe is gone when Shen Qingqiu realizes oh wait, that was a demon mark on his forehead wasn't it. Oh good, now he has an excuse. Baba will understand.

(Baba doesn't understand. Baba acts as if he's lost his soul and won't look him in the eye. He's also growing mushrooms bodies in the garden, and added a drop of Shen Qingqiu's blood in the seeds before planting? Which is odd. but at least if he's gardening then he's not staring at that swordmound for hours on end)

I don't even know where I'm going with this

[blondie-drawings]

Good lord this tomb is full of shitposts 😳😳 pt 1/pt 2

[lazycranberrydoodles]

english translation book 5 baby we are in the ‘people assuming kid form hua cheng is xie lian’s son’ era 🔥🔥🔥 / follow for more hualian silliness

[markscherz]

Look at this friend I made on my way home the other day! What a glorious creature! So gracile and smooth! Truly a peak being. What a privilege it is to share this time in Earth’s history with creatures like this.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 187

Clockwork would openly admit that he couldn’t see Danny’s timelines. Not since the moment he stepped into that portal and became something more. A child of Infinity, of the very Realms itself. 

But he’ll also admit that it always meant that the child surprised him all the time. This just happened to be a startling surprise, and an admittedly amusing one, even if Danny was openly complaining about the situation. 

“It’s not fair! You have to be able to fix this, right? Right?!” the ghostling, quite literally now, practically yanked at his cloak. “Clockwork, I was going to graduate, I can’t be two! Please, you’re the master of Time, you can fix this right!?” 

No, no he could not, seeing as young Daniel was in fact, immune to timeline machinations, doubly so for his own. To the ghostling’s open distress, which he did his best to soothe. What he could do instead, was stop time in his home dimension, and instead let him age back up again. 

Which the young halfa wasn’t happy about, but it was the best thing they had, so Clockwork supposed he had a ghostling now. A tiny adorable ghostling who kept pouting each time his much younger body had any sort of effect on his behavior. 

He’d never exactly had a ghostling before, nevermind one who was part human, but he would admit he honestly was enjoying it. Most time was spent alone, something he hadn’t realized until Danny ended up crashing into his unlife. 

Honestly he would openly admit that he absolutely adored his little ghostling. Who was now around four, at least physically, and had gotten into the adorable habit of curling up in the pendulum in his chest. Which was honestly the safest spot in Long Now, he’d admit. 

The singular issue however, with this habit, was that when someone attempted to summon him, they got his ghostling as well. And well, normally he could very much control himself for these summonings that happened every few hundred or so years, but well. There was a reason why even the Observants had stopped popping in the moment they realized he had a ghostling. 

Nesting ghosts do not mess around should they feel one is messing with their very vulnerable child, and really it’s not his fault the mortal cultists woke up and startled Danny. Perhaps deleting them from the timeline was a bit too far, if the other mortals rapid paling was to go by, but oh well. 

[the-poppy-outie-effect]

I have polls now ahaaahahhhahahaaaa

[incoming-wormhole]

kinda disappointed that SG1 never used the translation error of offworld locals getting confused by Daniel Jackson, and going on to believe that somehow Daniel is Jack's son.

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[wide-eyedbrowns]

i think it would break jack to know that river is so similar to him and the doctor loves her so deeply and he thinks oh you were capable of loving me too then.

[sergeifyodorov]

hockey is bad in many ways but they did go off with making the most important trophy in the sport a semi-living magical entity you can have sex with

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

RAGATHA HE CALLED YOU OLD YOU'RE ONLY 30 DEFEND YOUR HONOR

[beescake]

oh to trust another troll w a sharp object against yr head

[calware]

JOHN: that's kind of a weird question, but sure, i'll answer, haha.

JOHN: it's kind of funny, when i was a kid it really confused me when dirk would talk about "ante diulivan terminology" and all that. that stuff seemed so important to me when i was younger, like if someone was gay or what ever, but it really doesn't matter after all this time has passed. being a god for hundreds of years really puts stuff into perspective, i guess. JOHN: but my identity has definitely changed since i was that age. JOHN: back then, manhood always felt like an inevitability. i was going to become a man, like my dad, like every other boy does. and i was okay with that, in the same way we're all okay with breathing. like, what else is there to do? we don't question it. JOHN: so it took me a REALLY long time to really get that it wasn't that way, and that there were no inevitabilities. like my whole life i'm on this path walking toward a destination, but after walking it for a hundred years, it starts dawning on you that there is no destination on that path. JOHN: just the journey. JOHN: you can't see it but i am making a very wise expression right now. JOHN: not to be confused with harry anderson, a very different wise guy who has stood the test of time. JOHN: just wanted you to know that. JOHN: any way, after that, i started to understand that i could do things on my own terms. i'm not bound to masculinity, or anything at all really. JOHN: i don't know if it has something to do with my classpect, but i like to imagine it's like the breeze. it just does its own thing, traveling regardless of any path. it's freeing. JOHN: so i don't care what you call me, really. JOHN: for gender stuff, i mean. i'm still not attracted to guys. JOHN: but i don't care if you call me straight or a lesbian? so i guess i don't really care about that either. JOHN: it's more complicated than that, but i'm not going to get into it when none of it is really accurate to me anyway. JOHN: like i said, it doesn't feel important anymore.

[somerandomdudelmao]

I just wanna know your opinion on Apriltello? Do you ship them? Do you see them as platonic?

No I don't ship them. For me they are friends. Besties. Siblings. Anything but romantic couple.

For some reason, I don't really want to ship anyone in turtle fandom🤔 I think I just enjoy it's family dynamics so much I don't want to mix them with anything else haha

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 87

“Mother, I crave violence.” 

  Danny paused in the middle of his work, turning off the torch as he turned towards Dan. Who had once again be de-aged for destroying a world a few years before. (Ellie had cackled for hours about her being the older sibling now) The currently-six year old was scowling, definitely not pouting. 

  He raised an eyebrow, setting his tools down. “Jordan, we’re literally in an assassin’s den right now-” Honestly running into someone he’d met in his time-traveling was rather interesting, apparently his old rival had become so ecto-contaminated that he was immortal now. “-and I know you just got out of sparring, so are you really ‘craving violence’ or are you just bored?” 

  Dan pouted, sorry, he scowled. “Your ‘friend’s’ kids kept tryin’ to copy me and got in the way.” He hopped up onto one of the chairs, visibly not happy about not being able to fly as he glared at tiny legs. Tough shit, he knew better than to destroy worlds, they couldn’t always reverse time. 

   Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re just trying to play-” Maybe to a human they wouldn’t, but honestly everyone here was so liminal they were probably closer to ghosts than anyone except for Amity. Which had also been displaced in time after getting dragged to the ghost zone, so it had been soaked in ecto longer anyway. 

   “They got in the way and I almost stabbed Dusan!” Dan whined, despite what he’d insist. “At least Elnath can go intangible and Nyssa can dodge!” Ah, that was the issue. He’d been worried. 

   “Little sunbeam, you don’t have to worry,” Danny soothed, scooping up the ghostling. Even though he had been an adult, the chemicals in the brain and body were still that of a child’s. A young child at that. “The trainers are there to keep an accident from happening.” 

  Not to mention that he was rather confident that between Ras and himself they could keep any injuries to minor ones. Sam would have loved to meet him, Danny thinks. Honestly they would have been best friends, but Sam was off on another world on a mission to collect every plant in existence, so good for her, and Tucker was back in the reincarnation cycle. 

  Oh well, at least he wasn’t waiting for them alone, and maybe Dan having more siblings would help stop another timeline-breaking accident from happening.