One Shots with Epic/Art Book/Possible HC's

I'll Fall Asleep (and Choke Myself with the Pillow Case)

YALL,  Hefty trigger warnings for this chapter, please proceed with caution.

TW's: Mentioned Suicide, referenced suicide, referenced Self-harm, temporary death(?), idealizing Death in a way, Insanity. (I feel like it sounds worse now)

This Story will Explore Epic's mind and thoughts in the 'No Pain No Gain' comic (Which is the actual name oops) So I'll try and stick closely to cannon, however I added some things to make the story flow better. Epic's also around 27 here and I like to call this time period his 0!17-self which will make sense later ;).

((P.S to my Ao3 pals, stick around for this chapter, I added some new bits to the story and fixed some things up!))

Last Trigger Warning! I don't wanna hear any complaints!

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    Epic was no fool. He knew his life was fucked, just like an infant knows that it's mother means safety and warmth.

For years sleep had evaded him, monsters prowled his consciousness, yearning to roam free in his mind and wreck havoc upon him. He would collapse after weeks of no sleep, the monsters finally free.

A normal body could go 3-days without sleep before it started shutting down, you lost control of your mind and body in just the span of three days. It didn't seem real to be out of control so fast, and much like any degree winning scientist he worked past that hurdle, with varying degrees of success.

He refused to acknowledge the suffering it induced to his already fragile mind.

Throughout his Crusade he's had a many assitaiants, though none quite like the immortality that courses through his veins. It stuck beside him through it all, in the lab it was his number one helper, it pushed him past his limits and made seemly impossible (deadly) tasks, suddenly very real and very less terrifying.

He could down a vial of searing hot chemicals without batting an eye, he could survive a blast from one of Mettaton's smaller sized blaster. Getting off mostly with 1st degree burns.

———

It hadn't always been like this. Not until he discovered how blissful death was, how tantiliziling close it was, and how decivingly far away it seems to stray from him.

It had been an accident when he first died.

He had stayed after work, to run more tests on the lazar he and Alphys had spent most of their days on. He will admit he had nodded off more than once, sleep had once been so close, so infuriating close. It had fallen away faster than his mind could catch up with. Now with every blink came with it the deafing waring to stay up, to not fall into the intoxicately warm embrace of sleep.

Even if it clouded his mind, like fog clouds a tree on a rainy day, hugging and not letting go.

His eyes had stayed closed to long, and simple slip of his fingers was enough to seal his pitiful fate.

The lazar turned on him swiftly, the obnoxious blue searing through shirt and skin. He fell back with a choked scream, he saw stars, the starburst of pain laced across his chest and partly down his stomach. It burned so bad and Epic choked on tears and blood alike, he landed on his back almost paralyzed with pain. The lazar had felt like molten lava had been used to paint a diagonal line across him, his insides sreamed in pain.