🌵 | JUDGEMENT.

"...BUT I WONDER, what is that bond he longed for? Now I understand, even only a little. pain, sadness… and joy -- these feelings allow you to understand others."

#sandshield: a private gaara roleplay blog, written by maggie. read the rules on @rabbitprose before interacting. verse info here.

the violently protective sentence starters. / accepting!

"because they tried to hurt you," his voice was blunt and cold as usual, standing ahead of lee with arms folded. sand ghosts back into his gourd — he wondered if such a sight was frightening for lee, still. however, there was little time to think about that now — the enemy, crushed into bone-dust and torn apart muscle, now rested in that gourd alongside… every other person gaara had killed.

that was the reality of his sand — he could never rid the smell of death from those grains.

"…" then comes chilling silence, after gaara gave his answer. he tries to find soothing words, but alas, was not a soothing person.

and it was evident, gaara was beginning to change. ever since that day during the chunin exams — gaara had come back home with a different energy entirely. one could see the gears in his head turning; trying to consider the lives of others now, trying to re-center his approach in battle towards compassion.

but it was difficult, and accidents still happened. years of killing others, especially those who provoked — had left an impression on gaara that was going to take a while to steer away from.

"…i know," there's an emptiness in his eyes still, "but i still want… to do better."

he still evoked so much fear. he still thought murderously. he was still a demon, even when he made the effort to try to be anything else.

his father, however, is the only person gaara cannot forgive. gaara starts to heal his trauma, and is able to continue healing his trauma, while simultaneously entirely loathing his father.

resident evil requiem prompts. / accepting!

"…" gaara considers her words, as the two of them sit under the moonlight. it was funny, how natural the environment seemed to her — sitting in the shadows that only a powerful light could produce. it was something he'd long-since abandoned.

but he still looks up to that full moon, like an old friend. and his only friend, during those darker nights.

"it's hard to think about it that way," he finally says, "as if it was something like fate."

he then looks over to her, "if fate had its way, my name would have amounted to a grave, and nothing more."

"i worked myself to the bone for a sliver of acceptance," he continues, "so, there is no 'need.' fate is not my companion — fate would have killed me."

"i create my own fate," and despite the bluntness of his words, he still gives a small smile to her, before it eventually falls back to a neutral expression, "i am not my father's son; he wanted to survive, but i make the choice to live."

send, "you're okay, just breathe for me." for sender to find receiver in the midst of a panic attack. / accepting!

and breaths come out gritty, like coughing out dust from dead lungs. he sputters and tries to revive himself — he wanted to heal, he wanted to survive; it was all he could do and yet it felt like his body was beginning to wain, and wither.

"i can't!" scratchiness to his voice shows that he'd been crying for hours, "i can't trust anyone — i can't trust y—yashamaru, i can't trust my father, i can't trust YOU…"

sand whips angrily at his sides, burying into the ground and creating more material to kill.

it was all he could do now.

bloodshot eyes look up to her in betrayal and rage.

she was too late. he was a lost cause.

"get away from me—!! leave me alone and never come back!!" sand is at her feet, it's surrounding her; a warning that his inner beast would never have the luxury of giving.

"or—or i'll…!!"

send 💬 to hear how my muse feels about yours. / accepting!

"…you're misguided," words felt like sand in your eyes — gritting into your sockets and causing so much sting, never holding malice... but creating it regardless. gaara doesn't mean to hold bite to his words, true as he believed they were, "but you can find something worth holding onto; something that will save you."

"even if it's clinging, rather than holding," a small frown, "you can turn your life around at any point. you don't have to sit in your suffering; you can get up whenever you want."

pain still rests fresh in his chest, "nobody is doomed to an eternal loneliness. there comes a point where you have to choose to stop the pain with your own hands — to stop hurting yourself and losing yourself. you can pick up the pieces. you can put yourself back together—"

he starts sounding desperate, "if i can be saved, then…"

he quiets, a sudden anxiety that he would not, could not, reach her.