#SLEEP DEPRIVATION

[tightsweatyclothes]

With the crunch in the service industry worsening year on year, the government has started a new program, fitting female prisoners with AI service programs, turning them, on the surface, into elegant-looking robot assistants who carry the luggage, clean the rooms, and even in some cases, make reservations for the guests. The great advantage of these assistants is that apart from the time needed to charge up their systems, they can work at any time, constantly at the beck and call of the guests.

Breathe in, breathe out. The helmet is dark, stinking, sweaty. Except for her own laboured breath, she hears nothing. Except for the pitch black in her mask, she sees nothing. Trickles of sweat run down her forehead, her temple, her thigh, her back, but she cannot wipe them away. Itching nibbles at her privates, at her armpits, all over her torso, but she cannot scratch. Drool drips out of her gag, stains the tight mask, runs in a tickling and annoying line down to her chest, but she can neither swallow it nor wipe it away. The tight collar presses at her neck, insistent, unceasing, reminding her of what will happen if she disobeys an order, but she cannot loosen it even a little.

The AI transmits the sequence of blips and squeaks which means she must turn right, and she turns right, keeping her movements smooth, resisting every urge to tear at the thick layers imprisoning and stifling her. She walks forward, grips the handles of a push-cart, brings it to the elevator, each action a different command, a different sequence of annoying and overloud beeps and squeaks and crackles, whose meaning has been drilled into her by countless hours of torture. Her bladder presses at her, and she presses her sphincter tight, trying not to leak into the suit.

Finally, she is commanded to head back to her charging post, still unable to make a single movement out of line. Breathe in, breathe out. Try not to scream, try not to fidget, try not to claw at the heavy padded layers, try not to claw at the places where it itches and tickles. At the charging station, she presents herself with feet together and hands behind her back, whereupon she is force-fed another portion of slurry. The cable connects to her collar, locks the shackles about her wrists and ankles, and only then, with her hands shackled tightly behind her, with her ankles locked together, is she allowed to curl up in her cage to sleep.

Even her sleep is curtailed, constantly interrupted by her own full bladder, tickling sweat and drool. She bucks and strains against the shackles, screams into the gag in frustration, the only time she is allowed to struggle against her predicament. Finally she falls asleep again, but barely an hour later the AI shocks her awake, forces her to check-in a customer who has just arrived in the dead of night. She pushes down her growl of frustration, makes her way to the counter without missing a single step, where the customer only sees an elegant android who asks in a dulcet AI voice for his ID, assigns him a room and follows him along with his luggage.

[maybe-in-another-universe]

i hear your constantly sleep deprived tim drake. allow me to raise you one sleep deprived BUT prone to napping/passing out tim drake.

after a 72 hour mission, with no sleep, tim finishes up his report at the bat computer, stands up, takes three steps to the left, and curls into a ball on the floor and sleeps right there. Bruce finds him and moves him to somewhere more comfy.

alternatively, when he’s stressed and doesn’t want anyone to bother him, Tim finds the most inconvenient, out of sight place to nap so he can get back to work once he’s done. unfortunately sometimes he gets caught.

Jason: Why is Tim in the tea cabinet?

Dick: He’s tired, leave him be. I think this is the first time he’s slept in like two days.

———

Damian: Father, why is Drake currently unconscious in the cave under the medical gurneys?

Bruce: He likes it there.

———

i just like the idea that the family just rolls with it and accepts it as one of his many quirks. maybe even young justice gang gets in on it and is like oh yeah that’s tim for ya.

[turtlesandfrogs]

I'm taking this free online class from Yale on the Science of Well-Being,

and it's free, so I'm gonna share the extremely short notes about what I'm learning. Why does well-being and happiness matter? Because people have more energy and more capacity to effect change if they are doing well mentally.

And because I think American culture in general is structured in a way that ignores human needs and leads to increased suffering in all sorts of ways.

[rainingbicycles]

Me: I should really get back into a healthy sleeping pattern

Also me: Proceeds to open Ao3 instead and read about the same two people falling in love 151738515163 different times until morning

[prokopetz]

In principle, I know that sleep deprivation aggravates inflammatory conditions, but in practice I'm always genuinely surprised when I get to bed at a reasonable hour and my RSI feels much better the next morning. This may be because I'm stupid.

[warmblanketwhump]

a whumpee who’s getting sick and kicks things off with a miserable night of sleep.

And when I say miserable, I mean they. don’t. sleep.

maybe it’s because they’re aching and can’t get comfortable, or they’re chilled/shivering no matter how many layers they cover up with, or they have a terrible headache/nausea, but whatever it is, they toss and turn and see almost every minute tick by on the clock and it’s horrible.

just when they feel like they might finally drift off to sleep, their alarm goes off, and they try not to whimper because they’re so tired. but it’s too late to try and sleep anymore, and they’ve got to face the long day ahead of them before they can crawl under the covers again.

bonus points if they come downstairs with dark bruises under their eyes, blanket wrapped around their shoulders, and tell the others, “I didn’t sleep at all.”

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason, after coming back to Gotham and taking over the criminal underworld— is burnt out.

He’s exhausted, he can’t sleep, he’s pretty sure he broke some ribs somewhere along the two month mark of being the Red Hood and he just wants to go home.

So he does, entering the Cave near deliriously while Batman and Robin are out on patrol, shattering the stupid memorial he comes across while he’s at it, and— huh, well, that actually looks like a pretty comfy spot to take a nap. He’s just gonna— one minute. He just needs one… minute…..

When Bruce and Tim return to the Cave it’s to a dead boy passed out in the shattered remains of the memorial case, wrapped up in the tattered cape Bruce pulled from the rubble in Ethiopia.

[agoraphobia-anxiety]

[undead-knick-knack]

Little does Ashton realize, Essek does in fact want to know more about the Hat Man

[100percentwhump]

a sleep deprived whumpee.

Begging whumper to let them sleep, even if only for a few minutes. Anything to get some semblence of energy back.

struggling so much to just stay upright, let alone move around. They do it anyways because whumper will make it so much worse if they disobey.

That dead look in their eyes, the way they struggle to think, like their brain has been deagged through molasses.

Collasping as soon as theyre safe, bonus points if its in caretaker's arms.

Alterbatively, doing everything to stay awake. Drinking caffine, doing exersise, cleaning. Anything to keep from drifting of into dreamworld. Because everytime they did that, it would hurt so much afterwards.

And nightmares! All that trama forcing its way into your brain, makeing dreams worse than reality, replaying all the awful things that happened to you, horribly disstorted with that terrifying dream filter.

I am indeed writing this very late at night why do you ask.

[thinkz2do]

If I'm going to feel this way for the rest of my live I'd rather not live at all.

[tightsweatyclothes]

At the very least, she is allowed to sleep on the bed tonight. In the morning it will be back to the cage for the rest of the day, and if her master finds even a drop of urine leaked onto the bed, there go her bed privileges for another month, in addition to another few km on the cage floor treadmill. Just before bed, she is forced to drink a whole litre of water, giving her the cruel dilemma of wetting the bed for a single good night's sleep, or holding it in so that she avoids the punishment. In the end she does neither, trying to hold it in all night until a few drops leak onto the pristine sheets, and even then she does not let go, hoping her master will be lenient if she does not stain the sheets too badly, trying to hold her bladder as much as possible as the seconds of the night tick cruelly by, feeling each of the countless trickles of sweat and each gnawing itch in the sticky suit worse than ever. In the morning she is punished with the same severity anyway, her whimpering pleading falling on deaf ears.

[whumpster-dumpster]

"Think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

[sigh] "Do I ever?"

[written-by-jayy]

Prompt #4

Masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Whumpees misinterpreting or taking too literally something caretaker says always gets me, but there's one specific scenario that I don't ever see, but it's been on my mind a lot lately;

Whumpee was kidnapped and has been held in a basement/prison/etc. for quite some time now. Months or maybe even years at this point. They've been severely injured (maybe by torture, failed escape, etc.) and finally they're being rescued. Only, the person rescuing them is a stranger (Caretaker). Not that Whumpee minds, at this point they just can't care. Anything is better than this, anywhere is better than here.

As their bindings are being undone, Whumpee's eyes begin to flutter as a wave of exhaustion comes over them. Caretaker notices this and they lightly tap Whumpee's face, "c'mon, I need you to keep those eyes open for me, alright? Stay awake, you can't go to sleep yet."

Whumpee, to the best of their ability, listens.

Infact, they listen so well that a few days into recovery, Caretaker notices how tired they seem.

"You alright there? You can take a nap if you need."

Whumpee looks at them in surprise as their eyes begin to well up, a slight, grateful smile creeping its way to their face. They begin thanking Caretaker profusely.

Confused, Caretaker questions them on their reaction and as they piece everything together, they ask Whumpee if they've not been sleeping.

"When you came for me, you said I have to stay awake. And I think I was good, I did good right?" They ask, proudly and excited to finally sleep.

Or they feel guilty and admit that they think they passed out a few times but they're so sorry and they didn't mean to, and they'll be good from now on, they promise!

Either way, Caretaker feels a combination of concern and guilt. They hadn't specified when Whumpee would be allowed to sleep, becuase they didn't think they had to.

They apologize to Whumpee and explain that that's not necessary and that it was a misunderstanding and miscommunication.

Idrk where it goes from here, so if you have any ideas, or you want to write something based on this, lmk or tag me! I'd love to hear some ideas!

[arrowheadedbitch]

Jason steals a sip of Tim's drink and the immediately spits it out

Jason: What the fuck IS this

Tim: Uh, Monster Energy mixed with some limited and a couple of 5 hour energies and a little something extra

Jason: What's the something extra?

Tim: What are you, a cop?

[jax-kinner]

Am I the only one who noticed this little detail?

That line at his eyes look like they want to describe sleep deprivation

Bc like...

What else would it be?

When ppl give their oc's tired eyes this is how like everyone describes sleep deprivation or it's just me idk...