No.
No, FUCK that.
You did not deal with all the bullshit you've been through, didn't constantly nag and bitch at Gamzee for months trying to get him to quit, didn't sit with him and deal with his rampant mood swings and whining through every withdrawal, did not lose who knows how many hours of sleep worrying about him, didn't make it this far to lose everything to a fucking PLANT. Watching the mist slip away between the thorns, you clench your fists, and scream again, but this time you're not afraid, you're fucking pissed. To hell with the thorns. To hell with this crazy, fucked up world you're trapped in. To hell with the fucking monster that has the gall to actually pretend it's your Gamzee.
Fuck this shit. You're going home and no fucking plant is going to stand in your way.
With a yell, you kick at it, not caring as some of the thorns claw at your foot. The branch you kick at breaks away, but before you can celebrate, a thin, spiny tendril begins to creep across and take its place.
Oh hell no.
You swear, and grit your teeth, and, ducking under another branch, you push through the small opening you've made in the wall. There's even more thorns guarding the path in front of you, but you are so pissed off at this pathway for trying to fucking trick you that you don't care. No, that's a lie, you do care - every last fucking one of them is one more staring person in the crowd you've felt on your back all your life, each of their disbelieving stares saying that there's just no way this scrawny little nobody can do it. And it fuels your rage. This world really thinks it can beat you? They're just going to underestimate you and not even give you a chance? Well, if fucking THORNS are the worst it's got, this is gonna be a short fight, isn't it?
You repeat thoughts like this over and over in your head as you push onward, even though the spines snag your clothes, rip at your hair, cut your skin. You're done running away from everything.
And apparently the pathway knows it. Because the thorns are getting thicker, and the cool air in the pathway starts dropping in temperature, until you can see your breath in front of you. Icicles start forming on some of the branches. Whoop-de-fucking-doo. You've got enough anger in you to keep you warm. You're a little fire, burning through these branches, and you could swear the icicles start to steam as you come near them.
From the sound of things, that monster is still lurking just outside this tunnel. And he's not happy. You can hear him, howling wordlessly, an indescribable screech of rage. But you're angry too. He's part of the reason you're stuck in this mess. He does still scare you a bit, if you're to be completely honest, but the fact that he scares you is all the more reason to be fucking furious at that imposter. You're not gonna be stopped by his horned, psychotic ass.
"Aren't you now?"
You stop, halfway through breaking off another branch with your elbow. Through the web of thorns in your path, you can see two glowing red-around-indigo dots. You swallow hard. It's easy enough to be brave in theory, but in practice, with the thing staring you down, it's harder...You shake your head. No, no, dumbass! You're not giving in, you're mad! HE sent you down this path. HE chased you, threw you, made you think you have no other choice. And he still thinks he can hold you back. Well, he's wrong!
You shoot him a look of pure loathing, and pull back your elbow again, snapping the branch in your path right the fuck down. And suddenly, all hell breaks loose. Out of nowhere, the little tendrils that have been growing back to replace the branches you break off snap out at you, grabbing at your wrists, your arms, your ankles, your neck, pulling you back, growing as fast as you can snap them off. They're thin and should be easy to break, but they're everywhere, no matter how hard you squirm you just can't shake all of them off, and finally they hold you immobile against the wall behind you.
And the thorns in front of you part, and the monster just calmly walks in, and with every step he takes toward you, the temperature drops. The cold clings to you, saps at the warmth you've kept inside yourself, even as you struggle to cling to the rage that's been fueling you. All too soon, he's right in front of you, and you can see defined features in the shadow. He's got long streaks going diagonally across his face, and instead of the clown makeup that your Gamzee sometimes wears for whatever reason, he's painted to look like a devil. His grin is full of long, sharp fangs, and a small part of you is still screeching with rage because how DARE this fucker pretend to be Gamzee looking like that, how DARE he, but it's one tiny shriek in a hurricane of fear. He uses something that feels like a club to force your head up, and exposing your neck to this thing is the last thing you want to do right now but you can't not do it, you can't move, can hardly breathe from the cold and the fear.
Oh god what the fucking hell were you thinking, you can't do this alone, you should have known...
"Aww, what's wrong?" He whispers in your ear as you shake, before pulling back, bellowing in your face, "THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T GONNA LET ME MOTHER FUCKING STOP YOU ANYMORE, MOTHERFUCKER!" And he pulls away his club, and turns away, cackling.
As he turns, the tendrils tighten, their tiny claw-like thorns carving small gashes wherever they touch. More than any others, you notice the ones around your neck, as they keep pulling tighter and tighter, slowly constricting your throat, and all you can think is that you're going to die, you can't do this, you're scared, oh god someone, anyone, help, please!
Wait, did...did one of the tendrils on your wrist just flinch? You look as best you can without moving your head, and...and there's this thin mist, and wisps of it are running over your hand. It's warm, and wherever it touches one of those little vines, the plant twitches violently. You can feel that same mist elsewhere, dancing along your skin, and wherever it is, the vines jerk, and loosen. That first vine to twitch starts writhing as the warm vapor engulfs it, and then you hear what's like the whisper of a sound, an agonized shriek so high pitched it creates an uncomfortable pressure on your ears. The monster whirls around with a snarl, his eyes flashing, as other vines start to writhe, twist, curl up on themselves, and withdraw, the mist gathering around you rapidly the whole time. For the first time in a while, you're not cold, you're not hot, you're just comfortably warm. You suddenly drop to the ground, the plants no longer holding you back, and glance up at the shadow-creature.
The mist doesn't seem very thick to you; in fact, you can see perfectly, but it seems to be a different story for the monster. He's flailing around his club, roaring and screaming wordlessly, attacking nothing. Except, now that you look, he might be swinging at a weird shape that keeps forming in the mist, but it's hard to tell, and might just be your imagination. And anyway, you don't have time to wonder, because you realize that this might be your only chance - he's distracted, the thorns are out of the path, nothing's holding you back anymore!
You take a deep breath, look straight ahead, and take off running. When you pass the monster, he almost hits you, and for a horrible moment you think he sees you, but his savage eyes are unfocused, like he's looking right through you. You take the hint and keep running. It's an undignified scramble, but there's no time to worry about that right now.
When you leave the covered path, you're plunged into a wave of heat that knocks you off your feet for a moment. You forgot how fucking hot it was outside that tunnel of trees. Scraps of mist cling to you, though. They're comforting. They whisper to you, in voices too quiet to understand, but it's comforting, encouraging. Somehow you get the feeling that as weird as this mist is, it's on your side. At least something is. You swallow, and take a moment to glare at the path you just left.
Even now, it fixes itself up, tries to look inviting and harmless, but it doesn't fool you anymore. You snarl at it, spit at it, and turn to face the red path from before.
It gets rocky up ahead. The air up above the stony ground flickers and twists in the boiling heat. Black lightning flashes overhead every now and then, and you can hear the distant shrieking of the monster.
You're cut up, you still ache everywhere, and it's unbearably hot, but you know what?
Fuck dying. Fuck giving up.
You start walking.
OMFG IT ACTUALLY DIDN'T UNDO MY ITALICS AND BOLDS THIS TIME YESSSSSSS
sorry that's all I had to say back to feels