#prompted work

[Image description: Anonymous said

Hello,I’m not sure if you got this before but Tumblr said there was an error in sending it so I was just send it again if you don’t mind, Marcy screwed up on a mission and she feels bad but General Yunnan is here to cheer her up]

Okay so I feel this was meant to be a tickle fic but I just cannot for the life of me see Yunan doing that so I wrote some wholesome content instead. I hope this still works for you, Anon!

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Summary: When Marcy breaks her perfect mission record and screws up, she ends up receiving comfort from unexpected company.

Fandom: Amphibia

Pairing: None (Marcanne implied)

Features: None

Word Count: 1,300

Warnings: None

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“Stupid, stupid…”

Marcy sat alone in the castle hallway, head hanging in defeat as she muttered to herself in frustration. She had just gotten back from a mission, one that King Andrias himself had requested, and she blew it.

“My perfect record, down the drain.” She brought her palm to her forehead, eyes shut as she tried to keep her feelings from showing externally. She was Marcy Wu; Chief Ranger of the Newtopian Knight Guard. She couldn’t be caught crying over something like this.

“Master Marcy, is that you?”

Marcy snapped up at the sudden voice, staring down the hall to see a bright pink newt in silver armour approaching. She quickly tried to fix herself up, getting to her feet and almost tripping over her own boots.

author’s note: anon, that first prompt is my JAM!! this shit is what I LIVE for. it’s like you can see into my mind, I swear. also! for the second one, I feel like I couldn’t do it justice (tbh I’ve always just been a bit shit at writing fics like that) and so I don’t want to deface your wonderful prompt. if anyone reading this would like to take that and write it & tag me so I can share it, feel free!! hope you like this one anyways, anon; I had a lot of fun writing it :)

-it’s not usually like this, right?

-Steve’s pretty sure that, when they usually train, he’s not quite so distracted by how taut Bucky’s suit is, nor how well he gives and takes artificial punches. if anything, Steve thought the simulation was more difficult today than other days, but it seems Bucky is handling it better than ever.

-he can hardly focus, always casting his eyes over to Bucky, who he finds, needless to say, is absolutely built. this is something he’s always known - especially after his return to Steve after becoming the Winter Soldier - but for some inexplicable reason it hits him differently today, right in the heated pool of his stomach.

-he really needs to focus. 

-the training shifts slightly, and Tony calls in to tell them he’s taking away the fighting simulation and leaving them to fight with each other instead - and wittily remarks that they shouldn’t actually be trying to kill each other. 

-on his word, Tony’s simulation vanishes, leaving them alone in the barren room and- is that Bucky’s breathing or his?

-no, it’s both, mingling in the air. something about this realisation adds to the pressure lingering just above his groin: the thought of them coming together, part of them mixing so openly, so unafraid...

-his internal monologue trails off just in time, because then Bucky’s coming at him, all punches and kicks that he barely manages to deflect.

-he should tell Bucky to invest in a hair tie, he thinks comically. the man’s dark locks are flying everywhere, and he wonders how Bucky can see so well, thinks it’s a miracle in itself that he can even locate Steve to attack him. the man is a walking mystery; Steve is beyond intrigued.

-he desperately tries to pull his mind back to the real world, where he finds Bucky’s started to back him into a corner. dangerous, he thinks, gotta move.

-darting quickly, he jumps from the disadvantaged position and turns on Bucky, who he finds is already hot on his trail. the man just won’t stop, coming at him already, arms swinging, all lethal and hypnotising.

-maybe this is his tactic today, Steve ponders, to look all beautiful and take him off-guard. well, if that’s the case, it’s working fantastically, which is frustrating.

-Bucky kicks out at him, legs longer than his arms, trying to get a better reach, to get a better hit on Steve. even Steve’s surprised by his own quick reflexes, with how he manages to grab Bucky’s leg mid-air and toss him to the floor, wasting no time.

-now he’s got Bucky where he wants him, he thinks rather sinisterly, and just when he’s about to kneel and quip something about Bucky surrendering, their positions are switched.

-in the blink of an eye, Bucky’s got him on his chest on the floor, jaw hitting the hard concrete rather unceremoniously, making him bite his tongue.

-Bucky’s suddenly tutting behind his head, the sound coming closer as Bucky nears him, undoubtedly coming to kneel beside him and taunt him.

-almost as if on cue, Bucky’s low voice appears in his ear, humming, “you’re getting slow, Steve. not much of a super-soldier now, are you?”

-this rhetorical question makes him feel a complex concoction of emotions. in one way, he feels anger bubbling inside him. it feels like he’s the little scrawny kid in Brooklyn again, getting beat up by just another bully. but then again, he knows this is Bucky, and something about that registering in his mind shifts his emotions entirely, and he begins to feel...

-this can’t be happening. not now, anyway. he’s hardly going to pretend he’s Mr Clean, never having had a single dirty thought in his life, but getting turned on at the sound of your best friend’s voice? that’s got to be a no-go scenario, right?

-fuelled by his desire to get out of this compromising position, he manages to channel all of his strength and push Bucky off of him, jumping to his feet and preparing to fight again.

-”this is more like it!” Bucky calls, standing and facing him, a wide grin spread across his face. this time, Steve’s the first to go in for the punch.

-naturally, Bucky expertly dodges him, then tries his own luck. they go around in circles for a short while, dancing this sort of strange dance, until Steve finally finds he’s got a chance, and he pushes Bucky against a wall.

-he leans all of his weight into his hands, pushing with a might that would break a regular human, but between Bucky’s metal arm and incredibly firm shoulder, Steve doesn’t think he has to worry much about that at all.

-they stand like that for a moment, and only after about twenty seconds, give or take, of them not moving, not speaking or spitting or hitting, nothing, he starts to think something strange is happening.

-absently, he begins to tilt forward, and a spark of frightened delight ignites within him as he sees Bucky’s face tipping upwards, just a little, just the right amount.

-they’re on the same level now. it’s the same playing field, finally equals after all this time. are they really going to do this?

-this is something Steve’s kept locked away in the deepest recesses of his mind for the longest time, never letting himself believe it could actually happen. he occasionally accesses these thoughts when he needs them most, but otherwise he doesn’t dare go near them.

-now, though, it’s really starting to look like he’s going to- oh, Lord, are they finally going to kiss? will he finally be able to say that, on this day, he finally dared to take what he’s wanted for seven decades or so, conquered his greatest challenge to date?

-no seems to be the answer as, just when he feels capable to close his eyes without feeling strange and vulnerable, Bucky suddenly kicks up, kneeing him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards. well, that hurt, in more ways than one.

-”rule number one, Stevie,” Bucky mocks, cracking his neck in a grotesque manner, “never let yourself get distracted.”

-Steve thinks he’s been distracted for a good hour now, but he won’t admit that.

-they continue training, and Steve makes sure to work extra hard, trying to stop himself focusing on all the wrong things - like Bucky’s deep laugh, Bucky’s healing smile, Bucky’s swirling gray eyes, Bucky. he just prays that his red face will be chalked up to overworking himself in the fight, not anything else.

-they finish up training soon enough, and as they head out to go shower and continue with the rest of their independent days, Bucky approaches him.

-”good job out there, champ,” he speaks to Steve, in his ear, only to Steve, “you did good.”

-Steve turns to gauge Bucky’s expression, and he swears that in the split second he has to see the man, he witnesses the stern features turn dark, something wicked and wanton, almost like there’s an implicit invitation of something.

author’s note: no such thing as too dumb around these parts! me and my 3 brain cells love this idea, anon, and hope we do it justice. :)

-”you know, Aziraphale,” Gabriel says, voice dark and mysterious as he circles the angel, “I have absolutely no idea why you thought it’d slip by me.”

-Gabriel’s infiltrated the bookshop. only just renewed, only just returned from ash, Aziraphale’s more than a little afraid the archangel is going to take his revenge by burning it down again. he can’t start over again, doesn’t have the energy, even if he has all of the time in the world.

-”and what did I think would slip by you?” Aziraphale asks innocently, despite already knowing what Gabriel’s talking about. what else would it be regarding?

-”you don’t fool me,” Gabriel stops, eyeing him intently, shaking his head slowly, “with your accent and books and fancy little bowties... I see through it all, Aziraphale.”

-Gabriel sounds so sure of himself, it sends a shrill running down Aziraphale’s spine. he’s careful not to let it show, however, because he can never let him know he’s winning.

-”I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” Aziraphale looks at him pointedly, holding his head up, hoping the archangel reads his posture and not the frightened look in his eyes.

-”oh, so you’re telling me if I snapped my fingers right now and transported you into holy fire, you’d just walk straight out again? is that right?” Gabriel barks out a laugh, though it sounds about as far from humorous as possible. “well, your little friend has been put somewhere you’ll never find him.”

-”Crowley?”

-”yes, that’s right, Crowley,” Gabriel makes a face like the demon’s name leaves a bad taste in his mouth, “he’s with some cult members, or Christians, or something. I didn’t put him there myself, to be honest, but rest assured he’s having the time of his life... which is a good thing, because he’s never leaving.”

-Gabriel only shoots him a smug grin before he’s gone, vanishing into thin air, leaving only a cold breeze in his wake. Aziraphale finally drops his facade, and hurries about, trying to find something that might help him save Crowley, before it’s too late.

-he tries so very many places. just about everywhere he can think, visits every infamous cult and underground less-than-holy church. he gets himself into more than a few pickles, what with once appearing right in the centre of a seance, but that’s not his problem.

-he’s always been rather good at getting himself out of things, but when it comes to saving others he’s, well, useless, and that’s putting it lightly. although he loves to do so, he sacrifices sleeping for a while, figuring the extra hours might provide him with more time to find leads and the like.

-they don’t.

-in a matter of weeks, he’s wholly burned out, and yet he’s nowhere near ready to give up. he’ll never give up, he promises, and perhaps this is why, on the night that it happens, the call is so clear and vivid.

-it even makes him scan his surroundings, because it sounds like it comes from right behind him. out of nowhere, he hears Crowley say his name, and then again. once he’s searched under every table and beneath his bed, popped his head into every room and such, he realises what’s happened.

-Crowley’s praying to me, he tells himself, finally understanding. the demon who lost his faith so long ago is now praying to me, of all beings, like I’m something comparable to God. and, above all, I’m hearing him.

-he feels a sudden adrenaline rush. he scrambles about, not quite sure of what to do, but he follows the sound. by the time he’s nearing the source, it’s almost deafening, but he couldn’t even dream of turning it down.

-after his long, gruelling search, he finds the demon trapped in the basement of a woman he’s never heard of before. she’s not on the records of occultists, satanists, witches, extremists or anything of the like, then he supposes she wouldn’t be; Gabriel wouldn’t want to make it too easy for him, would he?

-”Aziraphale?” Crowley says, sounding hoarse as he squints over at the new, unfamiliar-yet-all-too-familiar frame walking towards him.

-the demon’s not wearing his glasses. as Aziraphale nears him, he finds they aren’t even beside him in his cage, either, and this is how the angel knows something is severely wrong.

-”Crowley,” he says, voice hushed, “we’ve got to be quick. here, let me...”

-he doesn’t manage to finish before he’s holding out a hand and snapping his fingers. to his surprise, this is all it takes to unlock the door of Crowley’s makeshift prison, and yet the demon still seems reluctant to exit.

-”come on, Crowley,” Aziraphale insists, though he’s sure to keep his tone friendly; he figures the demon has gone through enough lately. “we have to get out of here, before she-”

-”is it really you?” 

-Aziraphale can only look at him incredulously, then furrow his brows with concern. “of course it’s me. who else would it be?”

-Crowley sits up straighter, but does not stand. “it could be another trick. I’ve seen this situation before, a hundred times. how do I know it’s really you, and not Elena?”

-”well...” Aziraphale thinks, then slowly extends his hand to the perched demon. “let me show you.”

-Crowley seems reluctant as he takes Aziraphale’s hand, but he does. his hands feel somehow rugged and worn yet gentle as they take Aziraphale’s, and then in an instant they’re back at the bookshop, back in the safety of his little space, his home and somewhere Crowley’s familiar with.

-he doesn’t seem to be able to speak for a short while. his mouth falls open, Aziraphale notices as he watches him, and when he tries to form something like a word, he breaks into a flood of tears.

-”oh, dear, come here,” Aziraphale’s maternal instinct immediately kicks in, and he envelopes Crowley in his arms. usually, he suspects Crowley would push him away and tell him he’s not a baby, but this time he lets himself be held, buries his face into Aziraphale’s neck and weeps uncontrollably.

-”I- they- you-” Crowley tries three unique sentences, all of which are smothered by his cries. he sounds terrible, Aziraphale knows it all too well, and so he hushes him, knowing just how this sort of thing feels, and how long it takes to blow over.

-”that’s alright,” Aziraphale says soothingly, running a hand through Crowley’s matted red hair, trying to calm him though he can’t tell how successful he is in doing so. “you just let it all out, and you can tell me later, hmm?”

-his question is rhetorical, and yet he still feels Crowley nod against him. the image of the demon’s chartreuse eyes watering and spilling over like a poorly poured drink, or a well after a heavy the Great Flood, will stick with him forever, he knows.

-slowly, the demon begins to still against him. he’s still sniffling, still keening into Aziraphale’s touch on his head like a contented cat, but his tears gently begin to stop.

-for the most part, they end. he pulls back just a little to look Aziraphale in the eyes, still looking scared of the unnamed events that had transpired, but there’s a newfound hope that Aziraphale can see reflected in them that inspires him.

-”let’s go to Alpha Centauri after all, hey? just for a little while. wouldn’t that be nice?”

-his voice steady, sounding more sure of himself than ever before, he proposes the idea. it’s not original by any means - if anything he’s a little late to suggest it - but that doesn’t matter, because the smile that spreads across Crowley’s features makes the wait completely and utterly worth it.

author’s note: oh, what a prompt to work with! scenarios flooded my head as soon as I read this. such a lovely experience as a writer! thank you, anon, and I hope you like this little piece :)

-Steve watches as Billy drops to his knees, looking defeated. from just the expression on his face, he can tell that thing’s gone, it’s out of Billy’s body, and all that’s left is the shell of a broken, scared little boy trying to do the right thing.

-he doesn’t even take the time to look around at anyone else, just darts out, straight for Billy, catching him just before his head falls and hits the hard floor of the mall.

-”hey,” he calls to Billy, frightened by how quickly the life seems to be draining from his eyes already. “hey, stay with me, alright? people are on their way, you’re gonna be fine, Billy. we’ll get you bandaged up, and-”

-Steve stops when he realises that he doesn’t know that this is true, exactly. he looks down Billy’s body to assess the damage, and has to force himself to not wince as he does so.

-there’s blood everywhere. he can’t see where it’s stemming from, because Billy’s white wifebeater is stained crimson. his face is so pale, so gaunt and there’s tears leaving marks down his cheeks. his hair is matted, curly, dirty, and yet he still looks beautiful.

-just when Billy looks like he’s going to close his eyes and surrender, Steve shakes him, making him look up at him again. “hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

-this seems to have more impact. it’s less of a long-term promise, not something that could ultimately turn out as a lie. Steve doesn’t know there’s an ambulance on the way, paramedics equipped to deal with whatever’s happened to Billy. they both know, however, that this is real, that Steve is holding Billy’s head up, cradling him as well as he can in his arms, and he’s got him. that’s a fact.

-”you did it,” Steve tells him, trying to keep him listening and at least semi-conscious, “turns out you’re not so bad after all, huh? you’ve saved us all, Billy. Billy the Hero. sounds good, hey?”

-there’s the hint of a smile that creeps up on Billy’s lips, tilting the corners upwards and creasing his eyes just a small bit. this action squeezes out another waiting tear, and makes Steve’s stomach drop.

-he feels like he’s just validated Billy’s giving up. now he knows he’s finally redeemed himself, he’s going to hang up his hat and leave him. he knows that, even though he doesn’t know it for certain, and he just can’t let that happen.

-in a fit of desperation and with a solemn voice, he says it. tells him the one thing he’s been holding back, in the hopes it’ll coax Billy back to him.

-”I like you, you know,” Billy’s head tilts in his arms, studying his face, looking from his hair to his chin, stopping in the process to watch his lips as they move. Steve hopes this doesn’t mean his hearing’s going. “I really like you, Billy.”

-Billy looks a little more present, and seems to nod, wanting him to go on, like he’s expecting a ‘but’ or a ‘however’, or just some way for Steve to take back any kind words he spares him.

-”even though you’re a bit of an asshole,” Steve laughs breathily, though it sounds strangled and forced, “I think we’d get along well, don’t you? maybe we should go out, after this is all over-”

-”Steve,” Billy finally manages. his voice is croaky, hoarse, sounds like he’s been crying, screaming on the inside for the last week or since whenever this thing got ahold of him. he pauses for a moment, and the world seems to slow. 

-they hold each other’s gaze, and Billy’s arm gently comes to brush his fingers through Steve’s hair. then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone. Billy smiles brightly at him, though it seems to pain him at least in some measure, and then he’s fading.

-it happens so fast, Steve can’t even try to stop it. one minute he’s staring up at Steve, looking at him with admiration or something, and the next he’s falling limp in his arms. Steve tries to shake him, calls out to him, become frantic, but nothing happens.

-by the time help arrives, he still hasn’t moved. when he finally takes his arms out from under Billy’s body, they’re painted a vibrant red. it’s almost beautiful, in a psychotic way, and Steve might not pay it much mind after everything he’s been through, only he knows how it got there.

-he knows Billy’s strife. he knows how he must have felt, so very alone, so isolated in the world. he understands him, for the first time in forever, feels the burden Billy must have felt wash over him, sitting on his shoulders and weighing him down, and then he becomes worried sick.

-he watches Billy get taken away by the first ambulance on the scene. the doors shut, he wishes he could go with them but knows that’s going to be impossible. he tries to fathom a world without Billy in it, a world that now seems all too close to a reality, and all he sees is a world so much worse off.

-holy fuck. What the shit was happening? 

-Steve's brain, mid-collapse, could form little else, except minorly altered versions of these two phrases. 

-just a minute ago, he'd been talking to Nancy and Jon, having been sitting with them at lunch, but now - since Billy walked in - he'd forgotten just about everything he'd ever known, ever. 

-Billy was Billy alright: severe lack of shirt, curly mullet, pretty eyes that Steve liked to mock but secretly adored. But now... something was different. It hadn't taken him longer than ten seconds to figure it out. One quick scan over Billy's body, from the feet up, and he saw: Billy had a beard. 

-dark hairs usually sprouted from his jaw, and sometimes he'd even shave in a moustache, but it was never big. Now... now it was full-on. Undeniably, Billy had up and got a beard. Steve didn't even think he could grow a beard, let alone one of that size and vitality. 

-the longer Steve looked, the more detailed the beard got. He swore he could see the individual hairs, even from across the cafeteria, even though that was humanely impossible. His mouth hung open, and he was sure somebody would make a 'catching flies' joke soon enough, but it was so hard not to gawk.

"Steve," Nancy called his name absently, then upon seeing his state raised her voice. "Steve!"

-like he was hypnotised, Steve snapped out of his trance and looked straight at Nancy, shutting his mouth with a slight-but-still-audible 'clack' of his teeth. "Hmm?"

-Nancy stared at him for a moment, then at Jon, who had obviously seen what she had, then shook her head and returned to her food. Steve and Billy? Really? She didn't think she'd been more disappointed in Steve, and that really said something. It was just... Billy was so bad. Billy was so Billy.

-still, she began eating once again, telling herself to mind her own business, because she was becoming like her mother, times ten, and she didn’t want that even so, she didn’t miss how Steve turned back to staring at Billy, mouth falling back open.

-although Steve was pretty rude to Tommy and Carol, people still respect him and (of course) think he’s cute. This isn’t really a problem for anyone, until he and Billy finally get up the courage to get together - not just sex, not no feelings, but the lot of it - but can’t go public because of homophobes and such.

-even still, this isn’t so much of an issue, up until valentine’s day. Steve’s at his locker, ready to pretty much empty his bag into it at this point, when he sees it: the little, white note, which he knows immediately is a love note when he reads it. A little embarrassed, he hides it in the back of his locker, and hopes to whatever god there is or isn’t that it just goes away.

-it doesn’t.

-one day, Billy’s at his locker with him, after quietly offering to help him carry his stuff (because he’s had home economics and gym today, so what sort of boyfriend wouldn’t?). When Steve opens it up, however, another little piece of paper falls out and, unfortunately, Billy doesn’t miss it. Trying to be nonchalant, Steve starts packing away his things, pretending to have not seen it, but Billy isn’t having any of it.

“what the fuck is this?” he shoves the paper up towards Steve, who looks blankly at it. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

-with Steve barely able to hold a coherent thought let alone form a sentence, he can only watch Billy stalk away, still holding onto the paper and his chem book, though he doesn’t really care about that now.

-Billy spends the remainder of the school day mulling things over in his head, with one recurring thought: he can’t believe he’s let his guard down again, for nothing. He’s so bad that he can’t even conjure a single decent insult to throw at Max on the drive home - he just sits, quiet, until they arrive, and he doesn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night.

-well, he tries not to.

-that night, when he can’t sleep at all, there’s a knock at his window.

-no, not a knock, but a single, sharp sound. then another. it’s almost like... it’s like there’s a handful of pebbles being chucked at the window and bouncing off.

-furrowing his brows, he goes to inspect, and throws open the window when he sees Steve ready to throw another

“christ, Harrington, could you be any more of a cliché?” he tries to sound his angriest, so Steve knows not to fuck around with him again, like he’d already done. “do you know what time it is?”

-”don’t challenge me.” he retorts, looking up at Billy who’s perched, leaning over his window frame down at him. “can I come in?”

-Billy knows he can't just stand outside. Neil doesn't sleep that heavily and if he sees an intruder in the back there's no doubt he'll shoot, so Billy reluctantly ushers him inside.

-trying to avoid looking at Steve as much as possible, Billy shuffles on his feet, and gestures in the general direction of his shelf. “your chem book is over there, I figure you’ll need it for tomorrow.”

-Steve stops and looks at him. Voice warm but serious, he says, “I’m not here for my book, Billy. I want to explain what that note was to you.”

-sitting him down, Steve explains that it was pretty much just like a secret admirer that he didn’t want. Naturally, Billy interrupts a bit, questioning some things he doesn’t quite understand, and Steve makes sure his qualms are all laid to rest by the time he finishes talking.

-'so, you mean...' Billy stops, pausing to look nervously at Steve, 'you're not actually cheating on me?'

-'what?' Steve's voice isn't mocking at all, but completely shocked. He shakes his head, 'No. I couldn't. Not ever.' -billy looks down and smirks, then feels incredibly stupid for having believed such a heinous thing.

-he thinks about the situation so much (primarily how he could have lost everything - lost Steve, most of all - and would have been back at square on, with his drinking, smoking, partying and hiding his sexuality from everybody, simply because he didn’t understand what was going on) he starts tearing up, and Steve sees.

-'hey, come on, man,' Steve stands, not stopping to think about his actions once, and pulls billy into his chest as he starts sobbing.

-Billy lets himself just completely release the waterworks. He knows Steve isn’t just doing this out of requirement. If he was, he wouldn't be there in the first place, he'd have moved on to sleeping with the admirer who’d left the note in his locker instead of trying to fix things with him, right now. Crying in a way so ugly even he can't picture what it looks like, hugging Steve so tightly he thinks he might just suffocate him, he thinks about how not-awkward this is.

-him, in Steve's arms, against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart, it feels... it feels like home. He’s never really known what that word means, but now, he thinks he just might be beginning to, even if he’s still learning.

-Steve waits for him to pull back first, then look up to him through matted eyelashes.

-there’s a hundred and one things billy wants to say to him right now. One thing that terrifies him more than the others, but he says nothing. Steve just runs a soothing hand through his hair, and hums to himself, until Billy's feeling more like himself and he stands suddenly quickly wiping his face, then makes Steve leave with a hand firmly on the base of his spine.

-back at the window, billy slaps his ass, making Steve look around and roll his eyes, but he’s smiling. He eyes up Billy briefly, before the latter drags him in by his collar and kisses him. It’s sweet, and something they don’t share often. To his own embarrassment, Billy thinks it’s almost even poetic, whatever that means.

“You’ll never make a good Centuarian. That’s what they told me. Right before they cut off my headfin and kicked me off the planet. I miss that place.”

Character: Yondu Udonta

Additional Tags: Abuse, Alien Rituals

@ravagerweek day six: Comic 616 Ravagers

Yondu tries to run.

There are trees all around him. If he’s fast enough, he can leap up, grab one of the lower branches, and haul himself to safety. Then he will run through the trees and get away as quickly as he can, hopefully losing his pursuers - the people he had thought were his family - in the dense foliage.

He’s not fast enough.