#(schizophrenic and violent)

[dogmaz]

[Skullduggery - 1983]

[henryisabigfatbitch]

Just saw someone say that they wish they had clinical lycanthropy

excuse me?

This isn't fun

I'm terrified at times that if I leave my room I'll attack someone, I'm SCARED

It's SCARY

It's not FUN

[npdkondraki]

never ever ever forgiving people for how they treated kondraki btw

[appendingfic]

I would love to search for what sort of characters people think are schizophrenic except 95% of the takes would be terrible

[secretlykoishi]

Additionally, more should make heroic characters schizospec. Schizospec is not inherently the dark, evil, dangerous, and or/violent things it's often seen as.

side note more people should make characters schizospec. just for shits and also because everybody loves us forever

[jilyandbambi]

I really wish the Yellowjackets fandom could accept Shauna is mentally ill in the same way Lottie is.

Obviously, yes, all of the Yellowjackets have severe PTSD. But it's like people get that Lottie is schizophrenic and that Tai suffers from some unspecified/undiagnosed dissociative disorder on top of having PTSD while Shauna's postpartum psychosis--the symptoms of which include but aren't limited to:

hallucinations

increased agitation/irritability

paranoia

persecutory delusions/feeling that others are out to get you

disruptive or aggressive behavior

withdrawing from loved ones & social activities

--is largely overlooked and instead her actions are treated as the result of her grief over losing Jackie and her baby.

Although it's understood that Shauna's labor and resulting stillbirth were uniquely damaging experiences that compounded her trauma in ways the others were spared from, she still gets lumped in with the other Yellowjackets as "only" suffering from PTSD. She just has *extra* PTSD. She suffered the most and it turned her into The Most Deranged and Bloodthirsty Yellowjacket.

But how would discussion of Shauna's season 3 arc look if her lashing out at Nat, her fixation on Ben as the culprit behind the cabin fire, her withdrawing socially from the group, and, yes, her extremely (often disproportionate) violent behavior were seen as being driven by her postpartum psychosis the way Lottie's faith in the wilderness is understood to be driven by her schizophrenia?

I don't know where I'm going with this, to be honest. I guess my point is that I think the fandom views the loss of wilderness baby as just a tragic event that compounded Shauna's grief and trauma when what we're actually seeing is the effects of an untreated severe mental health emergency not unlike Lottie's deterioration since running out of her meds.

[justiceiscalling]

random batkids headcanons cause i said so (some are good, some are bad, some are decent. you’ll live, i swear.)

damian wakes up at five in the morning everyday no matter what. he trains. he walks titus, sometimes he goes on runs with them. he showers. and he’s back in time for breakfast.

when duke can’t fall asleep and he’s really bored, he trails a random member of the family that’s patrolling and fucks with the shadows and lights to make them think they’re going crazy

tim zoned out once in class and when he came back to himself he had finished his entire homework, on a freshly learned subject, and not a single answer was wrong. it really inflated his ego.

stephanie was on patrol and was arguing with jason via comms while grappling and then there was a loud ‘BANG’ and she got so scared she fell. turns out the bang was jason falling on top of a trash can

duke, sleep deprived and stupid, was looking for damian once and walked into the barn. he had a four minute conversation with the cow, convinced damian was somewhere in the barn.

one time jason, tim, and damian got stuck in a month long n prank war with eachother and jason dyed batcow green. this lead to the prank war taking a violent turn because damian just started fucking with jason’s weapons and shit and tim was like ‘you either eat or get eaten’ so he started messing with their equipments. safe to say, bruce came back from space pissed off.

in that time when damian couldn’t get the green dye off batcow, dick visits gotham unaware of the prank war and absolutely shitfaced, he walks into the barn and has an hour long conversation with batcow because he thinks it’s beastboy. duke walks in on this and genuinely thinks that he made the same mistake duke had made previously and it leads to a lot of confusion.

duke and damian went ice skating once for publicity, because the tabloids were saying shit about duke not ‘really’ being their brother. damian never told him but it was the most fun he had with any of his siblings in a while

cass has a ballet recital in europe and doesn’t tell the family, not for any particular reason just because she was busy and had forgotten to mention it. EVERY single one of them show up anyway. no one ever says who it was that found out about the recital but cass knows it’s tim.

tim drake hallucinates dead damian more than once. idk if this is canon or not but him hugging damian and then him never being a hallucination again is shit so, he hallucinates dead damian a few times to be like ‘huh, i hope this isn’t like a i-need-to-be-hospitalized thing’ but not enough where he is convinced he’s schizophrenic

on the same page, dick hallucinated dead damian and dead alfred. im half convinced he had dinner with dead-alfred, dead-damian, and dead-jason, at a really low point in his life.

after alfred died, damian learned how to cook. he kind of knew how to before but he hadn't cooked a solo-meal ever, alfred was always there to help. after his death bruce cooked a meal and damian was like 'fuck. i have to learn how to cook now. for the safety of thomas, father, and i'

tim once got so drunk he confessed his feelings for kon to jason. jason teased him for years, using the exact same wording whenever kon was around. (‘i like the suit superboy’ - tim ‘yeah. the suit brings out your eyes. i feel like you—wearing that suit—could make someone forget how to operate so much that they fall face first into a bowl of cereal’ - jason ‘cool.. should that be, like, a goal?’ -kon)

damian has like this weird idea that jason gets around and is so fucking shocked when jason’s kiss count is less that the two hundred he had imagined.

damian does street art. he has a whole persona, he wears a mask, spray-paints, and has about a billion spray-cans. his art is widely known around gotham.

he tells none of his siblings but tim is the first to find out anyway.

damian will use talia’s achievements in any and every argument he possibly can to piss bruce off. ( ‘just because you didn’t finish medical school and mother did does not mean..’ - damian. more than once)

duke and damian are the closest siblings. all the other siblings kind of drift apart, the way siblings do when they move out, but duke and damian both lived in the manor at the same time with each other as (probably) one of their only forms of communication.

duke doesn't hate dick, but he's definitely his least favorite sibling. for a bit, he doesn't even really view him as a sibling, he's just kind of his siblings-sibling, if that makes sense (ex: jasons

stephanie has an embarrassing love for the twilight movies. she has the books too and she loves them, but she’s always been a movie-girl and she knows every line in every one of the movies. she makes all her new friends watch at least one of them.

tim is the same but with the hunger games series, dick with any animated disney movie, duke with harry potter, and damian with the national geographic channel.

jason is a sucker for rom-coms.

cass favors movies where the actors are either bone-chillingly good or are in love with each other in real life, because she HATES that she knows that they’re faking it.

tim is falling behind on slang and damian and duke keep making fun of him for it. tim hates it. he feels prehistoric. like jason. or worse, dick.

for fun and out of curiosity, tim, dick, steph, and duke read fanfictions of themselves out loud. (like that one sturniolo triplets vid from however long ago). stephanie didn’t have any, and since she wasn’t related to any of them she’d be the reader and whenever it talked about how tim was in a relationship she’d say ‘WRONG’ and leave comments about it on the wattpad or ao3 fic

tim goes back to the fics written about him. he just wants to know how the public perceives him.

[galwithalibrarycard]

Finished season 1 of Yellowjackets. I like it, but it’s also the exact kind of horror that really gets under my skin. I’m gonna have to take it slow and read a lot of No Plane Crash AUs if I keep watching.

Finally started Yellowjackets and now I’m facing that annoying thing where I want to reblog gifsets and look for fanfic but it’s a four-year-old show so all the tags will be full of spoilers. Alas.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

Like people will tell schizophrenics "you have to take antipsychotics whether you want to or not because you are a potential threat" when the real problem usually is that ANY behavior associated with psychosis is read as scary/dangerous/threatening even though it's in most cases completely harmless and doesn't actually pose a threat to anyone. Like maybe the problem is that we have stigmatized psychosis to a point where people are inherently scared of anyone who "act weird" in ways associated with psychosis and not that psychotic people are so scary and dangerous that we just HAVE to medicate them for safety. (Last I checked, statistically speaking we are not actually more likely to be violent than anyone else.)

[autopsyfreak]

your reminder that the stigma that schizophrenics are violent is bullshit.

it’s more likely for a schizophrenic to fall victim to violent crimes than commit one. we aren’t dangerous, nor are we inherently violent because of our disorder. there is no known strong correlation between schizophrenia and aggression.

[felix-facade]

"OMG TWO TIME IS INSANE AND EVIL THEY WOULD MURDER MORE PEOPLE THAN AZURE!!!!!!!" no twotime is canonically schizophrenic, they dont kill/attack people bc they like it or theyre violent and twotime only took the risk of killing azure bc they though they would come back why do you think theyre praying under his corpse in this millestone.

Not to mention that azure as a killer is being controlled by the spectre to only feel hatred and malice. The actual azure does still love twotime dearly

[bradleysass]

fault - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 614 - Schizophrenic! Barty

Barty had been standing in the kitchen for hours before Evan found him.

It was always the same wall. The one by the old pantry, where the wallpaper peeled up in one corner and the pipes groaned when it rained. Barty stared like it was whispering secrets only he could hear—his spine rigid, head tilted, fists trembling like he was caught between fight and freeze.

“Did it say something again?” Evan’s voice broke the silence like a balm, soft and steady. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew.

Barty twitched slightly at the sound, but didn’t look at him. “It said you’re going to leave.”

The same words, every time. Not always in the same order, not always from the same source. Sometimes it was the wall. Sometimes it was the fridge. Once, it was the cat Evan had never owned.

“It said you were done pretending. That you’re afraid of me now.”

Evan stepped closer, bare feet silent on the tile. “Barty,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

It took a few seconds. But Barty turned, slow and unsure, his eyes blown wide with fear and something deeper—shame, maybe.

“I’m not pretending,” Evan said. “I’ve never pretended with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But—” Barty swallowed hard, words catching like thorns. “But what if I hurt you? What if I forget what’s real and—what if next time I’m not just talking to the wall?”

Evan didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll remind you. I’ll bring you back. Every time.”

Barty’s knees buckled. He crumpled to the floor like a marionette with cut strings, hands clutching at his hair. Evan went down with him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling Barty into his chest.

The shaking was worse now. Deep and full-body, like he was trying to shake off something embedded in his skin.

“I hate this,” Barty whispered. “I hate not knowing. I hate being scared of my own mind.”

Evan pressed his lips to Barty’s temple, not in a kiss, just a grounding touch. “I know. I know, love.”

“I keep thinking maybe this time it’ll get worse. That I’ll lose more of me and I won’t notice until it’s too late.”

“You’re still here,” Evan whispered. “Right now. With me. That’s what matters.”

“But what if one day I’m not?”

Evan pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes. And I’ll be right here when you come back.”

Tears welled up in Barty’s eyes, and he shook his head like he didn’t believe it, like it hurt more to be loved than to be feared.

“It’s okay, B,” Evan said again, more gently this time, thumb brushing beneath Barty’s eye to catch the tear before it could fall. “It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

Barty broke.

Not in the violent, dramatic way people always expected from him. Not like his father had warned, with broken windows and screams. No, this break was quiet. A single sob into Evan’s shoulder. A shattered breath. Fingers curling into his shirt like he was the last stable thing in a world built on fault lines.

They stayed like that on the cold floor until the sky began to lighten.

Eventually, Barty spoke again, barely audible. “Do you ever wish it was someone else? Someone… easier?”

Evan smiled into his hair. “That would be boring.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No,” Evan said, pulling back just enough to tilt Barty’s face up. “I’m just yours.”

Barty laughed. It was thin, hoarse, tired—but real. He closed his eyes and leaned into Evan’s touch like he’d been waiting all night for that exact moment.

[reiderwriter]

Please Accept My Apology

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After three days spent trying to convince the BAU that they had made a mistake, Spencer Reid shows up at your door to offer his apology.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, smut 18+ minors dni, slight age gap, penetrative sex, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, hints of bdsm, implied creampie etc.

You can find my masterlist here and my 2024 song fic challenge here (don't forget to send song recommendations to my inbox!)

You never thought you'd ever see the inside of an interrogation room before this week. Now you didn't think you'd ever see the outside of it.

“Y/N, you're brother ran from law enforcement multiple times, if you know where he is you need to tell us or you'll be charged with accessory to murder and kidnapping after the fact. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it isn't what I want, but I already told you I can't fucking help you!”

You paced in the boxed room, feeling closed in and hot.

Your brother - your innocent brother - was the key suspect in a series of child abductions and murders, and as he'd ran from law enforcement multiple times, they'd dragged you into the police precinct to try to track him down.

For the last three days, you'd been stuck sitting at that table across from Doctor Spencer Reid, waiting for the worst news of your life, because you knew it was coming.

“He's not a murderer. He's mentally ill, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. I keep telling you that, why won't you believe me?”

“A lot of loved ones protest a suspect's innocence, right down to the last second.” You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from the depth of your chest.

“My brother is schizophrenic. He was violent before, sure, he had outbursts. But he has been monitoring his meds for the last three years perfectly. He has a job, he has a son. He would not hurt those kids.”

You had always looked up to your elder brother, even through the tough years.

He'd inherited both your fathers drinking problem and your mother's mental illness, each demon feeding the other until he had a breakdown at age 19.

You were only 17 yourself, but with no one else to hold him accountable, you'd been there. You'd checked him into a facility, you drove him to each of his doctor's appointments when he was clean. You'd been around for each sober anniversary, for each birthday and holiday and celebration that he'd made it one more year without falling into himself.

He'd reciprocated by being the most reliable man you knew. He helped put you through college when he was stable enough, he'd managed to work his way up in the ranks at his construction job. He had a beautiful wife (currently in another interrogation room with another agent) and the cutest little boy.

He'd promised you that your family struggles would end with the two of you. You'd promised each other to take care of each others families if anything happened to them in the future, and while you currently had no family to speak of, you sure as hell were going to make sure that your nephew never wanted for anything in his life.

Your brother wasn't a murderer, and you had proof enough.

“You know, you haven't asked me yet why I think he's innocent.” You took your seat again, and gathered your hands together on the table, leaning in closer to the agent in front of you.

You watched him think for a second, then mirror your pose, leaning in just as close, eyes locked with yours.

You'd talked about a lot of things these past three days, and you got the idea that he was a bit of a jackass. If not a jackass, then at least big-headed; he'd practically shouted his title of Doctor at you as he'd walked in, and made sure to correct you every time you'd called him agent or sir.

You kept doing it just to piss him off eventually.

“It's denial, Miss Y/L/N. You don't want to see the signs you'd ignored for that lingered, so you beg and protest and plead, hoping that eventually you'll turn out to be correct.” His voice was low, but you caught every word.

“While I am sure you know what you're talking about Agent Reid, that is not why I'm here still. I'm not being charged with a crime, and I've been here much longer than 24 hours. I'm free to go at any point, but I'm sticking around here, lawyer free, because I want to watch your face when you realise you'd been wrong this entire time.”

He shifted uncomfortably and you smiled, happy to get under his skin once again.

“Okay, Miss Y/L/N. What makes you so sure your brother is innocent?”

“Your profile.” His eyes slightly widened at that, and you basked in it, leaning back and waiting for him to take the bait as the tide turned in your conversation.

“We profiled that our unsub would be late 20s to early 30s, probably a family man who'd likely been abused as a child. The profile also suggested he may have had a psychotic break recently, likely as a result of coming off his meds. Your brother fits the profile, Y/N.”

He'd dug his own grave, and you were happy to see him getting ready to sleep in it too.

“No, he doesn't, Agent.”

A tense silence passed between you, and you knew his gaze was fixed on you. You let your eyes dart elsewhere, rolling down his body to his hands. They were totally still of course, but you could see how tense he was by the way he pushed them flat against the table, almost as if he were trying to ground himself, finding reassurance in the pressure.

“How does he not fit the profile?” His brows were knitted together, and his expression was one of annoyance now.

No matter how much you had shouted or let out your frustrations these past few days, he'd kept a placid look of sympathy plastered across his features. He hadn't listened, or even suggested he'd wanted to, assuming your brother was guilty.

Now he was annoyed, as if he had the right.

“Despite what your records supposedly tell you, my brother is not off his meds.”

“Miss Y/L/N, we know that your brother did not refill his prescription three months ago, and that he looked into some clinical trials in the metropolitan area and was rejected.”

“Congratulations for having 50% of the facts. My brother wasn't rejected from those trials, he withdrew because they changed the terms. They wanted to study my nephew as well to see if they could predict where hereditary cases of Schizophrenia would manifest.”

You leaned in again now, enjoying watching the thoughts rush through Spencer Reid's head once again.

“His health insurance had some issues after the withdrawal, so his prescription couldn't be filled until next week, but my brother always had six months of pills delivered.”

You watched the realisation come crashing down on the agent in front of you, though he was doing a good job of keeping himself out together.

It was time to end this conversation.

“To take part in the clinical trial, he needed to stop taking his regular medication for two weeks. Meaning he has two more weeks of his regular medication. I watched him take it Monday morning, right about when your second kidnapping occurred. My sister-in-law will confirm.”

He stood from his chair slowly and nodded at you, making his way to the door.

“And Agent Reid?” You said making sure to hold his attention one last time before he could leave. “If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you responsible.”

He slipped from the room without another word, and you relaxed into the chair, letting your eyes fall shut as you waited patiently.

Xxx

It was another week before your brother was totally cleared. He'd turned himself into law enforcement the same day you'd forced the BAU to reevaluate their profile, and both he and his wife had cracked up your story.

With nothing else to distract them, you'd been happily informed that they'd caught the actual perpetrator, and saved another victim.

You were back at home now, trying to relax, to get back on track.

You knew by the knock on the door that you weren't going to get back to your normal routine just yet.

“Agent Reid, I wasn't expecting you.” He was there at your door, and you had to brush off a wave of annoyance, forcing yourself not to slam the thing in his goddamn face.

“It's Doctor Reid. You know that, though.” He mumbled the words, jaw tense as he heaved out a sigh, trying to get to his point but being distracted by your prickly words.

“I came to talk. May I come inside?”

“We talked for three days straight, Doc. What else could we possibly need to discuss?” You made sure to block the door with your body, one arm resting on the doorframe as you leant across it, the other holding the door tightly next to you.

You thought he'd get the idea, tuck his tail between his legs, and swiftly leave you alone, but you were sadly mistaken.

Instead his eyes raked over your body as you put it on display, curiously exploring every inch you put in his eyeline.

“May I come in?” He repeated, eyes still trailing down your body. If it weren't for the heat building inside of you, you'd have slammed the door in his face. A moment's hesitation was all you got instead, as he locked eyes with you again, and you reluctantly moved an inch to the side.

You stayed there in the doorway even as he entered, his body brushing against yours almost intimately for the second, his hand faintly tracing over your hip as he stepped inside, watching you all the time.

Needing desperately to gain your composure back, you jumped into asking questions. “You're in now. What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologise.” He hadn't moved far into the apartment, and you realised aa soon as you turned away from locking the door, overestimating his distance. You spun right into his arms, one of his palms coming to your waist to steady you as the other steadied the two of you against the wall.

“And whatever would the wonderful Doctor Reid need to apologise for?”

Your words were venomous, but the heat in them rose from somewhere deeper than the acid in your stomach, somewhere more fiery than the burning sensation at the back of your throat.

“I'm trying to do the right thing here, Y/N.”

“After a week of doing the wrong thing, Spencer, I'm not sure you're fully capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he pouted, and you hated his proximity, both too close and too far at the same time. You wanted to run him apart, and then delicately sew him back together.

“I was doing my job.”

“You almost got my brother killed.”

“I'm sorry.” He heaved out an exasperated breath with the words, body relaxing and pushing your back fully against the wall. His eyes widened, and you could tell that he hadn't meant to move you in that way, but you just stared at him still, eyes flicking down to his lips with every intrusive thought.

This was how close you needed him.

“I don't give a shit if you're sorry.” You meant the words to be harsh a warning, but you hadn't realised your heartbeat bursting from your throat, your breathy gasps for air making it sound more erotic than angry.

He blinked once, then twice, slowly as if he was a scientist observing an experiment, not wanting to take his eyes off of it until he was certain something wouldn't happen.

“You're enjoying this.”

“I'm not.”

“Your heart rate is at 127 bpm, your pupils are dilated, your breathing is shallow. You're enjoying this. Why?”

His hands didn't let up, even as he shot out his words, brows furrowing further as you resisted the urge to push him away.

It was more comfortable keeping him close.

“I told you I am not enjoying this. You're just too close.”

“So, you're having a physical reaction to me?” He asked, almost quizzically. You had expected to hear a triumphant smirk or something in his voice, but he seemed genuinely curious.

“For God's sake, Spencer, yes. Yes, you're close and it's making me uncomfortable. You spent three days making me feel uncomfortable, and now you've come back for round two, are you happy now?”

“You're not uncomfortable,” he shot out again, almost as if he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. “You're aroused.”

“Know it all.” He laughed at that, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You weren't sure what the hell was going on with your body, because you'd spent the week despising the man in front of you, but now a simple hand on your wrist and a laugh had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“So what if I am aroused? You're touching me, you have me pinned against the wall, really this is your fault, Agent.”

“It's Doctor, but you can call me Spencer. Or you can go back to another colourful insult if you'd prefer?”

“You're pretty full of yourself, I thought you came to apologise.”

“I did, it's not exactly me that is acting like they want to be filled right now though.”

“Jackass,” you snapped, as he lowered his hand around to cup your ass, finally allowing himself a tiny hint at the smirk you'd predicted earlier.

You gasped as he took a handful of your ass and pulled you flush against him.

“I want to say sorry, I want to make it up to you. I'm being quite charitable here.”

“Charity, my dear Doctor, is where you give something and expect nothing in return. It seems like you want something in return.” You spat the words again but you let your hands press lightly against his chest, waiting for him to make the next move as you played with the buttons of his shirt.

“I'd be more than happy to do that, too.”

You weren't sure who reached for who, or which one of you made the first push, but you were suddenly joined together by your lips, each of you battling furiously for dominance.

Your hands pushed up desperately, clawing into his long, busy strands and pulling him down further into you as you worked against him.

He was still stronger than you though, so when he forced your head back an inch, you moved out of necessity.

“Is that enough, or should I keep apologising?”

“Nowhere near enough, jacka-” he cut you off by pushing the tip of his thumb into your mouth, using one of his legs to spread yours so he could nuzzle himself between them.

“Why so quiet now? We couldn't shut you up in those interrogation rooms, but now you're so polite and obedient.” You moaned around his thumb as he stroked your tongue, encouraging you to suck it.

You didn't need much instruction, desperate now to show off your superior skills to the man in front of you.

“That's it, show me how much you want it, my little whore.”

His hand slipped into your pants quietly, but you twitched as his hands feathered their way along your pelvic bone, twitching at the sensitivity of the connection.

His hands slipped into your panties and you knew immediately it was over for you. You were so wet, and he was going to be able to tell just how much you apparently wanted him.

You moaned as he roughly pushed your pants down, finger teasing your cunt through your panties as you still struggled to suck his thumb so you didn't make any louder noises.

“You're enjoying this.” It was no longer a question, but a confident statement, no curiosity but simple satisfaction at how good he was making you feel.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, rubbing some saliva across your lips to make them shine before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. Your hands barely pushed out in from of you before your chest collided with the wall, and he was close behind you.

As he coaxed your panties down your legs, you closed your eyes and tried to keep your breathing steady, desperately clinging to some high ground where you could find it.

His fingers were hot and long, and they quickly found your clit and got to work as he ground his hard cock against your bare ass.

His pants were still on, but you could feel the outline of his dick against you, hips rutting back into him with each flick of his wrist.

“Now, come on Y/N. You said it's not charity if I receive something in return, right?” He whispered into your ear as you tried to reach behind you to grab his dick.

“We're going to take this nice and slow, and you're going to enjoy all of it.”

His fingers slowed to an aching pace as he finally pushed a first digit inside of you. His hips finished moving and his free hand held you still too, so the only friction was coming from that one hand between your legs, practically edging you.

“Fuck me, just fuck me Spencer.” You moaned in frustration.

“Doctor.” He whispered in your ear, the glee in his voice igniting your hatred of him all over again.

“What?” You spat out.

“Call me Doctor Reid, and I'll give you anything you want. You want to cum, right?”

His fingers kept their slow pace, and you could feel yourself growing more impatient, even as you grit your teeth together.

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid.”

“What about please?”

“Fuck you.” You instantly regretted your words when he pulled his hands off your body completely, retreating further into your house.

“No, shit, wait.-”

You scrambled after him as he took a seat on your couch, removing his jacket and loosening his already dishevelled tie.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asked, palming himself through his pants as he watched you practically fall at his feet, needing his hands back on you.

“I want you to f-fuck me, please Doctor Reid.” He nodded slightly, pulling your remaining clothing off as he responded.

“That's a good little slut.” He led your hand over his cock and let you undo the buttons and pull him out. You needed no other instructions as he leaned back and pulled your legs into a firmer position.

You gave his cock a few strokes before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him.

“So fucking wet for me, you were so aroused, baby.”

He didn't let you control the pace, but held your hips still just above him as he began pushing into you from below, lifting his hips to fill you up with each thrust.

You couldn't bite back the screams as his balls slapped against you, Spencer trying his best to fit his entire length into you with each deep thrust. You wanted to kill the man only an hour earlier, and now you were sure you wanted to have him inside you like this forever.

“Oh fuck, just like that, just like that Spencer please!”

Your hand drifted down to your cunt and you're began to rub feverishly, even as you felt the pressure build up from your gut.

The pressure was almost unbearable and before you knew it you were squirting on his cock, fingers splashing wave after wave of your arousal over his cock and clothes.

“Already squirting for me? I thought you didn't want anything to do with me, Y/N. I guess you are just a little whore.”

You twitched, but couldn't respond, as he began thrusting sloppier than ever before, grunting in your ear as he finally joined you in your mess.

His grip on your hip slipped as he finally started cumning, and you moaned feeling him so deep as he gathered you in his arms and pulled you chest to chest.

You sat there panting together for an eternity before you even thought about detangling your limbs from one another.

“You made a mess of my fucking sofa.” You said as you finally rose up slightly, looking down at the mess beneath you.

“No, Y/N, that was you. I simply helped.”

“Jackass.”

“Whore.”

You gasped as he laughed at you again, pulling your hips back down over his so you couldn't slide off his cock again.

“Don't act so scandalised when I can feel just how much that turned you on. You're enjoying this.”

You pouted a little, but let your head fall back against his chest.

“And what if I am, Agent Reid?”

[schizononagesimus]

ill level w y'all im a hardline "harrow isnt autistic she's just schizophrenic" truther. there's just no casual representation for ppl w psychotic disorders so it's important to me to just Let Us Have This instead of muddying the express representation w autistic headcanons (i say this as someone who is both psychotic & autistic for the record). a LOT of symptoms of psychotic disorders overlap w autism, but ppl just dont know what psychotic disorders look like. see: dislike for flavourful foods, sensory issues like bright lights or high pitched sounds, isolating behaviours, violent outbursts when overstimulated, self harm, strange posture, and so on. im glad yall r happy projecting onto blorbo but MY projection onto blorbo is leaving her w what she canonically has! ill hope that someday half this fandom will join me in accepting psychotic ppl for what we are instead of trying to tack other labels on out of seemingly ignorance. Peace and love

[g4rvez-r3id]

No One is Alone

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: Spencer realizes you guys might have more in common than he thought when he finds out your parent also has schizophrenia.

Category: Angst, mostly Fluff

Warnings: poorly written one-shot (sorry y’all), crying, reader’s father has schizophrenia, concerned spencer, reader tells a story about her father having an episode, reader’s father is a violent schizophrenic but this does not reflect on those who have schizophrenia! reader has semi-daddy issues, reader has hair but hair color and length is not mentioned! spencer being such a sweetheart! <3

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! back at it again with another lil fanfic one-shot? so i wrote this one to be kind of a personal one since my own parent has schizophrenia and honestly it’s one of the reasons i relate to spencer so much. i’m sorry if this affects anyone, but i wanted to write this one for myself :) i don’t know too much about schizophrenia, i only just know what i was feeling so a lot of this is just reader feeling a lot of feelings and spencer comforting them! i hope you like this one nonetheless! <3

You were constantly checking your cell phone. Every two minutes and ten seconds, you kept checking. And after that, you’d sigh in relief, rub your temples and go right back to work. You’d repeated this for over an hour and a half.

And Spencer had been watching it. Watching you. Of course, not to be creepy or anything. He’d just happened to notice and he was concerned.

You’d joined the BAU a little over less than a year ago and still not one person knew anything about you. Except Spencer. You often kept to yourself but somehow opening up to him was just easier. He never judged, never pried. Some might say that maybe that’s because he had a bit of a crush on you and you wouldn’t exactly deny the fact that you thought he was cute.

Spencer had looked away as he went to focus back on his work and then your phone started to vibrate and you quickly picked it up, nearly knocking over your coffee off your desk — and walked away from your desk.

“Hello?” You’d asked a little frantically as you marched out of the bullpen.

Spencer had looked around before leaving his desk, deciding to follow you out of the bullpen to see what you were up to. He’d followed your voice to an empty office and peeked in as he saw the back of your head.

“So you’re both okay?” You’d asked and waited for the response on the phone. Your tense shoulders sank in relief as your head bowed down and you nod, “That’s good. And Dad’s back on his medication?” Medication? Spencer furrowed his brows as he watched you nod along to the conversation.

“Okay, that’s good. And you sure you’re gonna be fine?” You asked and waited once more. “Okay, well, I’m at work, so I got to let you go.“ A small pause. “Okay, I love you, Mom. Bye.”

You hang up and put your phone back in your pocket and you take a minute. Your head bows down once more and Spencer all of a sudden sees your back bouncing up and down and he can hear you crying. He frowns, he hates seeing you cry.

Spencer decides to back away, going to leave you alone since it seems like you need it right now. But the floorboard creaks underneath his shoes and you turn around with a gasp and you finally see the man with a guilty look on his face.

“Reid…” You turn away quickly as you begin to wipe your eyes and your nose. “What are you—?” Spencer shakes his head and holds his arms up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just… I saw you kept checking your phone and I was worried so I just wanted to… check on you.”

Spencer walks into the room more and he can see just how puffy and red your eyes are and his heart aches at that. “Are you okay?” He asks in a small voice and you take a deep breath and nod your head but your eyes say it all.

“I just… I don’t want to bother you with it.” You say in a hoarse voice and Spencer wonders if your voice has sounded like that all day.

He walks into the room fully and shuts the door behind him as you sit on the floor and Spencer’s heart breaks even more as he sits next to you on the floor.

“You are not bothering me with anything,” Spencer tells, placing an arm around you to comfort you. Granted, he’s a little awkward when he does it but he still does so. “Will you tell me what’s the matter?”

You sniffle and look down as you fiddle with the ends of your sweater. “Uh… it’s my dad.” Spencer sighs, thinking that something may have happened to him. He didn’t know that he wasn’t far off from his hypothesis. You didn’t talk about your family much, just that you had parents that were still together and that you had a fairly normal childhood.

“He’s, uh,” You sniffle once more. “He’s not… well.” From your sentence, Spencer would’ve assumed that maybe your dad was physically ill but the way your tone sounded, something was off.

“What do you mean ‘not well’?” Spencer asked and you looked down at your hands, avoiding any and all eye contact. But nonetheless, you decide to rip off the band-aid. “My dad, uh, he has… schizophrenia.”

“And he had one of his episodes because he forgot to take his medication. And my mom called me and she was scared because he keeps thinking that there’s a family living in our basement. Or that I’ve been kidnapped by them. And my mom was so scared he was gonna hurt someone. And… he…” You pause and try to hold it together. “He… threw a knife at my mom.” You wipe your eyes once more. “They’re at the hospital now and he’s medicated and my mom is okay. But the way she sounded, she was so scared, Spencer.”

“He… he’s usually violent when he has his episodes. And the medication… the medication helps. On the medication, he’s normal. But he’s… forgetful sometimes. He was, uh, diagnosed when I was ten. I can’t tell you how many times I had to lock myself in my room when he got like that.”

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. And it was like his childhood seemingly flashed before his eyes. He’d been through the same thing with his mother. Hell, they probably shared the same story at one point. He had no idea you went through that, too. And suddenly all he could envision was a young you, going through the same thing with your dad and his heart broke again.

“It’s like… sometimes, I can’t escape it. And it’s like I’m a kid again and… sometimes, I fear I may… end up like him.” You start to sob again and this time, Spencer pulls you in close and holds you as he cry into his dress shirt.

You stay like that for a good thirty minutes until you finally pull away. Your eyes have gotten even more puffier and you wipe them with the ends of your sleeve.

“You must think I’m such a wreck.” You attempt to joke. But Spencer shake his head and pulls a strand of hair behind your ear and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I definitely don’t. In fact, I understand.”

You nod at him, knowing his own history with his mother having schizophrenia. He was open about it but you never felt like talking about it, in fears no one would understand. And you never told Spencer because he had his own fair share of “crazy”, you didn’t want to burden him with that.

“I wish you would’ve told me this sooner so that you weren’t dealing with this all by yourself.” Spencer tells, he strokes your arm with his hand as you shake your head, “I didn’t want to bother you with it.” You reveal.

Spencer shakes his head at you, “You could never bother me. I understand this subject all too well. Do you know how many times a day I fear the fact that I may receive the schizophrenic gene? Let me tell you, Y/n, a lot.” You look down and Spencer looks at you, “I just want you to know that you’re not alone. No matter how much you think you may be. You’re never alone.”

With a nod, you grab his hand and hold it and he rubs his thumb against your knuckles, as if it’s serving as a reminder that he’s here, with you. And he understands.

“Can we just stay here for a minute?” You ask, quietly — almost wanting to kick yourself in the head for even suggesting it in case he didn’t or had other things to attend to.

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Spencer assured and you smile at him and thank God that he was the one that followed you and not anyone else.

You handled things by yourself since you were a kid. You’d always been independent and that meant you were so used to being alone and dealing with your dad’s schizophrenia, you didn’t think twice when you decided not to talk to Spencer about it. But he’d made it clear that you could talk to him if needed.

And maybe for once, you didn’t feel alone. And maybe somebody else could understand.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How would you go about writing someone with mental issues? Conditions like schizofrenia?

There is a lot of awful takes that essentially end up being caricatures while actual people wity the condition are often quite chill. It's difficult to do them justice while also not being able to fully understand how it is

Writing about Mental Health Conditions

Questions to Ask When Reporting on Mental Health

Is mental illness relevant to this story? If not, there is no need to mention it.

What is your source? Don’t rely on hearsay to report that a person has a mental illness. If you are reporting on a specific condition, make sure you are talking to a mental health professional to provide the facts. Mental health organisations like the APA can connect you with experts to discuss a wide range of mental health and substance use disorders, as well as the medications and techniques used to treat them.

What is the most accurate language to use? See below for advice about language that is specific and avoids derogatory terms.

Choose Your Words Carefully

The words you use to write about mental health are very important, and can help reduce stigma around mental illness if carefully chosen.

ONE. Focus on the person, not the condition. The basic concept is that the mental health condition (or physical or other condition) is only one aspect of a person’s life, not the defining characteristic.

Preferred: She is a person with schizophrenia.

Not preferred: She is schizophrenic.

TWO. Be specific. Mental illness is a general condition. Specific disorders are types of mental illness and should be used whenever possible (see below for a brief list and definitions of common disorders).

Preferred: He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder

Not preferred: He was mentally ill

THREE. Avoid derogatory language. Terms such as psycho, crazy and junkie should not be used. In addition, avoid words like “suffering” or “victim” when discussing those who have mental health challenges.

Preferred: She has a mental health illness. She has a substance use disorder.

Not preferred: She suffers from mental illness. She’s a drug abuser.

Common Mental Health Terms

The following are definitions of some of the most common mental health disorders. For more complete descriptions, consult Understanding Mental Disorders: Your Guide to DSM-5 or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Addiction - a chronic brain disease that causes compulsive substance use despite harmful consequences.

Alcohol and Substance Use Disorders - the overuse of alcohol or drugs leading to effects that are detrimental to the individual’s physical and mental health, or the welfare of others.

Autism Spectrum Disorders - a range of complex developmental disorders that can cause problems with thinking, feeling, language and the ability to relate to others.

Bipolar Disorder - (also commonly known as manic depression) is a brain disorder that causes shifts in a person’s mood, energy and ability to function.

Depression - a common and serious medical illness that causes feelings of sadness and/or a loss of interest in activities once enjoyed; it can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems.

Eating Disorders - illnesses in which people experience severe disturbances in their eating behaviors and related thoughts and emotions; anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa and binge eating disorder are the three main types.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) - an anxiety disorder in which people have recurring, unwanted thoughts, ideas or sensations (obsessions) that make them feel driven to do something repetitively (compulsions).

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - a psychiatric disorder that can occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, war/combat, rape or other violent personal assault.

Schizophrenia - a chronic brain disorder with symptoms that can include delusions, hallucinations, trouble with thinking and concentration, and lack of motivation.

Facts about Mental Illness

Misconceptions and myths about mental health are unfortunately common. The following are a few facts about mental illness in the United States, as well as key resources for the latest statistics on mental health:

In any given year, more than 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. has a diagnosable mental disorder.

One in 20 adults has a serious mental illness.

One in 6 adults has a substance use disorder (including alcohol use disorder).

Half of all chronic mental illness begins by age 14.

Suicide is the 11th leading cause of death for all ages and the second leading for people ages 10 to 34. It is more common than homicide.

Most people with mental illnesses are no more likely to be violent than those without a mental health disorder. In fact, people with a mental health disorder are at significantly higher risk of becoming victims of violence compared to the general population

Excerpted from The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH):

Write often about mental health challenges—the greater awareness generated about mental health, the more chance there is of helping people who have problems associated with these illnesses.

Let us know if you are looking for story ideas—we have lots of them and would be more than happy to share these ideas with you (you can find their contact details here).

We are asking for your help in reducing the stigma around mental illness including addiction because stigma is a huge problem for people living with mental illness.

We can accomplish this by dispelling some of the negative stereotypes that follow people who have mental illness such as: people with mental illness including addictions are all potentially violent and dangerous; are somehow responsible for their condition; and have nothing positive to contribute.

Labels matter. Don’t describe a person with a substance use disorder as a “heroin addict,” “drug user,” or “alcoholic.” Defining a person by their disorder makes the disorder become that person’s “master status”—the reader or viewer will only see the person as defined by the illness not by who they really are as an individual.

Help reduce stigma by not leaving the person out when describing an individual. When a person is called a schizophrenic, the reader will only see the disorder and conjure up mental images that are likely negative and stereotypical. The same can be said for a person who is called a “manic-depressive or a "depressed person.” Chances are they could be receiving treatment for these symptoms and are in fact not feeling depressed at all.

Exploring Mental Health in Fiction

As fiction writers, we take normal, everyday conflict and crank it up to a 10 to make our stories compelling.

In a mental health focused novel, it’s the absence of and quest for mental health that’s the meat of the story, the source of the conflict at its heart.

What drives the plot is not what happens in the story, but the interplay between external factors and the hero’s response to them.

There are dos and don’ts to writing about neurodivergence or mental illness that will make your characters and their struggles ring true—not flat and stereotypical.

Origin of Your Character’s Mental Health Issue. This can be rich in terms of your story creation. Even if you only hint at it in the narrative, as an author, you need to understand the root cause of your character’s struggle before you decide what the manifestation will be. Family quirks, trauma, relocation, immigration—all of these can impact mental health.

Your Own Past and Life and Family. The old write-what-you-know adage can prove fertile ground for character development.

Understand the Role Mental Health Will Play in Your Story. Is the story about mental illness? Based on something very familiar that you know well? Is the book set in a psychiatric hospital? Is the condition a side issue, a challenge that makes your protagonist’s life a little more complicated?

Be Accurate and Avoid Stereotypes. If you are not writing something autobiographical, drawing on your own personal experiences, make sure to do your research. Interview people, read articles by and about those with the psychological challenges you intend to feature. Make sure to keep it three-dimensional, even if your book is about being mentally ill. No one is just depressed or just anxious. No character is the sum of their quirks and ticks. Make sure any character with a mental health issue is well-rounded and interesting in other ways.

Don’t Be Afraid to Lean Into the Humor. Par for the course with mental health issues are misadventures, foibles, and overcorrects that can end in comically disastrous results. As long as readers can laugh with rather than at the mix-ups, it’s all good. In fact, if everything we wrote about mental health were tragic, if everything we wrote about trauma were traumatic, the work would be pretty hard to stick with as a reader or as a writer. Whatever story structure you employ—classic three-act, spiral, or what have you—a well-drawn main character is essential. The interplay between the self (Passenger B for example), her circumstances (air turbulence), and others in her life (the frightened son and the maddeningly calm Passenger A) creates conflict, obstacles to resolution. Your hero’s place on the mental health continuum gives her texture and relatability. Her mess-ups, embarrassments, and misunderstandings are what resonate for readers and make your work thrilling, agonizing, and yes—satisfyingly fun!

Characters with Mental Illness. The megalomaniacal CEO. The sociopathic killer. The suicidal teen. The anxious woman self-medicating with booze and pills while caring for her demented mother. As writers, we invite these characters into our stories because they are true-to-life and because their psychological problems invite curiosity and compassion.

To avoid stereotyping and caricature—and to keep your story believable—try these 5 strategies and tips:

Make the character relatable. Although common, mental illness is not the norm, so characters with such disorders, especially psychoses, are imbued with “otherness.” The writer must provide a way for the reader to relate to the character despite the illness and because of it. 

Keep the narrative front and center. Stories work best when they are spun around a person and a set of relationships, not an illness. Even “issues books” are successful only when the story focuses on what happens to a particular cast of characters. Mental illness can be debilitating and all-consuming, but it does not define a person. That job still rests with the writer.

Balance internal and overt symptoms and behavior. The internal world of a mentally ill person is fascinating but can readily overwhelm the reader. It doesn’t take pages of suicidal ideation, obsessive thoughts or internal word salad to deliver the message of an altered mental state. Go easy on the subjective "craziness" and opt instead to show how others are reacting (or not) to what is going on inside the ill person’s head. Also, not all mentally ill people have insight; they don’t necessarily know that their behavior and thoughts are abnormal. Obviously, if the person doesn’t realize they are ill, or if they become confused about it, then they might be an unreliable narrator. This can be a powerful tool but it is important to know upfront what relationship your character has with his or her illness, how that affects the interplay of external and internal worlds and the access others have to the character’s problems. It can be as complicated as you wish, but don’t leave the reader behind.

Specify the disorder, at least in your head. Generalized “craziness” does not exist. A mental illness can elude diagnosis, or have a complicated diagnosis, but as a writer, you should try to pinpoint the disorder, even if your character is never properly diagnosed. Why? Disorders are defined by specific behaviors and cognitive flaws, so the more you narrow down the diagnosis, the more you know about how your character might behave, feel and think. For example, mania is evidenced in several disorders, including bipolar disorder, drug-related disorders, and some sub-types of schizophrenia. Knowing the underlying problem has ramifications for your character’s other behavior, their prognosis, treatment, and whether the problem might have a genetic component.

Get the details right. For instance, relief via medication, if it comes, can begin after 2 weeks but the maximum effect can take 8 weeks. Details like this matter not just because they satisfy knowledgeable readers but also because spreading misinformation about mental illness does everyone a disservice. Mental health is a rapidly changing field, so ensure your information is correct for your time period. Terminology, diagnosis, treatment options, and prognosis can be vastly different from one decade to the next.

Fortunately, there are resources at your disposal:

Consult the relevant version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), the official guide to mental disorders. The American Psychological Association updates it periodically, so use the one corresponding to your setting.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) is also an excellent resource;

Seek out mental health professionals and those who have first-hand experience with the disorder (patients and/or loved ones) to lend authentic details;

Visit online forums, but be discreet, respectful, and appropriately cautious.

As with all research, don’t rely on a single source.

The credibility of your story is worth the extra time it takes to gain a deeper understanding of your mentally ill characters.

Knowledge, profound knowledge, engenders respect and compassion, two traits we all could use more of, both as writers and as people.

Writing about Your Own Mental Health

Writing about mental health is one thing, but making yourself vulnerable and disclosing your own illness, especially a serious one, is another.

First-hand accounts, though, are essential in making this national discourse authentic and true to life.

Writing to explain your experience to someone else can help you understand it better as well, leading to additional closure.

Writing fosters personal sense-making, especially when you learn how to reframe your experience more positively.

Exploring meaning in your traumatic experience through writing can mark a turning point in your recovery.

Your increased awareness and articulation of feelings and thoughts can be beneficial to others who may be going through a similar experience.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks for the question. This is important to write about. All the best with your writing!