TSAMS [+TSAMS AUs] Oneshots!

Endurance Has Its Limits. // TSAMS Oneshot - Sun.

Characters: Sun [Major}, Solar, Bloodmoon-Twins.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

I'M ALIVE AND OVERCAME MY SHITTY WRITER'S BLOCK WOHO >:D And damn it's 3 am BUT THAT'S JUST PART OF SUMMER  HOLIDAYS AM I RIGHT? >:D A ruined sleep schedule just adds to those ✨vibes✨

Anyway, hope you enjoy this rather... a bit different oneshot 😅

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CONTENT WARNING!!!

⇨ SUICIDAL AND DEPRESSIVE THEMES AND THOUGHTS

⇨ SUICIDE ATTEMPT

⇨ EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN

IF IT'S DISTRESSING/DISTURBING YOU, MAKING YOU UNCOMFORTABLE OR IT TRIGGERS YOU, DO PLEASE NOT READ!

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He didn't know how or why it happened.

Regardless of his assumptions, it still happened. Something he desperately didn't want to happen. Something he never thought would happen.

Was he blinded by his own perception of himself as a pacifist, as someone who prioritizes thoughtful peace and resolving communication over reckless violence and senseless chaos?

Or did he just... snap?

Couldn't he contain this whispering chaos and pile of thoughts inside his mind any longer? And lead this inability ultimately to that outcome where he couldn't keep himself in check? For quite a while, he only felt himself drowning, each wave that crushed down onto him letting him sink further into this black-pitched ocean of his own emotions.

But he thought he could manage his emotions all by himself. He didn't want to burden his already stressed-out family with his problems. Already, he relied on them so heavily, so he thought he could at least do this for them.

And he thought he succeeded. He thought he had all of his emotions under control, like having an animal finally herded in a cage. Seemed like he was wrong.

Awfully wrong.

Because the animal broke out of the cage.

Now, he held this weapon. Choking smoke rose from its muzzle, curled around his arms and spilled through the gaps between his shaking fingers to only continue to snake through his body like a hissing anaconda. An anaconda which tightened the hold around his whole body, around his throat, around his mind. It crushed and squeezed him until he gets splashed onto a ground as a poodle of oil.

Although he desperately tried to do so, he didn't look up. Each time he tried to see the consequences of his actions, to detect the screams of agony deafening his auditory perception, his gaze still turned downward and was fixated upon the ground. Even his body seemed to fear the situation he caused and was responsible for, that was HIS fault.

Still, he could see the finest spills of black blood dribbling onto the floor and trickling down the ground.

It was an awful stench that made him only feel nauseous, the intensity of the screams and cries, with the pure pain and despair lacing them, only caused his stomach to churn and twist into tightening knots, and the fog in his mind only seemed to thicken and mute every single rational thought.