#toxic romance

[the-bar-sinister]

I adore toxic relationship stories. Stories where the love is there, and it's absolute poison to everyone involved.

Stories about people who love one another completely and desperately, yet are so deeply flawed as people that they each drag one another down, and make one another into their worst selves.

Stories where the characters are full of romance, and love and joy, and that love somehow turns everything around them into an emotional blasted wasteland.

[yanderes-for-everyone]

Title: My Charming Neighbor Has a Secret

Synopsis:

One day Fujiko gets a new neighbor. He's perfect! He's handsome, generous, and cool. They eventually start having beers every day on their terrace and occasionally he eats dinner at her place. Eventually, she finds out that he likes her and they kiss; what a dream come true. Fujiko enters his house and finds out that he has pictures all over his wall of her, has collected her trash, and keeps a diary of all of her actions. Will she be able to accept him, even though he is her stalker?

My Thoughts:

For those that like a more classic, more unhinged style of yandere, this is for you. He's pretty crazy. He had stalked her 5 years before moving in to the apartment beside her.

The fl is also sorta crazy lmao. She does end up dating and marrying him. I really like this one, because usually the fl doesn't end up the yandere if his actions are this severe. I love happy endings.

I don't see how you could go wrong with this one.

Yandere Rating*: 9/10

Overall Rating: 8/10

*This means the yandere's overall intensity

[savage-sinister]

partner just handed me the phrase "toxic service top" and it's never going to leave my vocabulary.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hit List pt. 2

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Pairing: Jason Todd/Red Hood X (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, toxic romance,dark romance, dark Jason, psychotic Jason, mean Jason, brain-washing, violence, Jason's death, threatening, stalking, intimidation, blackmail, unethical behavior, mafia au, exes, assassination, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, love confessions, mourning, ruined orgasms.

The door opening snapped you out of your concentration. Your head shot up, eyes wide with surprise as the imposing figure in the red helmet stepped into your lab. Then your heartbeat froze as you recognized the terrifying figure you've been seeing on the news for the past month. The red hood - the crime lord of Gotham - was in your lab.

"Uh... can I help you?" you asked, your voice wary.

The red hood sweeped the room. You shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ve got some questions,” his low baritone was distorted through the modulator.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Prior◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here.

Yeah... asking Batman to let him patrol alone was just another notch down the line of Jason's cocky mistakes. But after doing it for so long, being Robin has become a second nature. He could beat up henchmen with his eyes closed and his arms tied. So, of course, he thought he could handle Joker alone to save his mother. Hell, he might have even stood a chance, but the moment he'd entered the Joker’s hideout, some familiar scent hit him, and Jason became numb in an instant.

Joker had been at it for so long that the boy should no longer register the pain from the crowbar. Only... he did. He felt every cut, hit, punch, every bruising hit.

Joker needn't have bothered with the gag, Jason lost his voice from screaming a while ago.

The newly carved "J" scar on his cheek hurt like a bitch.

"Well? Looks like bats are going to be late to save ya, kiddo." Joker laughed. "Bad traffic, I guess."

Jason didn't bother talking. Too exhausted. Everything after that was blacked out. Then he stopped breathing.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason was in excruciating pain. He was losing his mind. All of the hurt from his torture, from the explosion that followed, attacked his senses all at once.

He was in Ra’s al Ghul’s hidden stronghold, recovering from his resurrection. The room was dimly lit, incense filling in the air as Jason lay on a cold stone slab, his body wracked with phantom pain from his death. Ra’s entered and stood beside him, offering him water and speaking with a calculated gentleness. "You’ve been through a lot, Jason. The cruelty of this world knows no bounds."

Jason spoke with a hoarse "Bruce… Did he…?"

Ra’s tone stayed calm. "Save you? He didn’t even try."

Jason struggled to sit up, his face contorted in confusion. "No. I dont believe you. He would have… he he’s my fath-"

Ra’s directed Jason’s attention to a screen showing pictures of batman running side by side with... Robin, "While you were rotting in a shallow grave, your so-called father was playing hero with the one who replaced you."

Jasons tone was angry yet desperate as tears filled his vision. "No. He wouldn’t - he didn’t forget me."

But seeing the images of the boy in the Robin suit, he shut his mouth.

Jason recalled moments of Bruce’s kindness - of patching him up after a rough mission, smiling at him when Jason mastered a new skill or got an award at school. "He saved me before. He would’ve done if he could-"

"But he didn’t, young one." Ras said. "I did. Who truly values you, Jason? The one who abandoned you to die or the one who gave you your life back?"

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's breathing quickened as his fists pounded the hanging punching bag in Al Ghul’s dojo.

He had overheard an exchange between Ra's and his daughter. The topic of which was Batman, a word which recently became a trigger to him.

Jason continued olbiterating the punching bag, which had tore open where his fists landed, mixing with his bloody knuckles.

I wasn’t worth the risk? I was his son! How could he-how could he just let me die?!

Ra’s placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder making him stop his movements. "Its difficult to cope. You were nothing more than a soldier to him. A pawn in his war. But to me, you are a warrior. A leader."

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

"We found this in your bloodstream the night you were killed." Thalia Al Ghul held up a vial of clear liquid. Jason nodded, hunched over a table with his shirt pulled over. A medic was stiching up a nasty gash he got from a recent mission.

"It's relatively new," she continued. "Not FDA approved. Not even patented. But my men tracked it to a lab in Gotham University. It matches the research on several Academic papers published by a PHD student."

Jason frowned at the colorless liquid, hissing against the anchoring pain of the stitching. "What is it?"

"It's basic form blocks pain receptors. Joker played around with it and manipulated the chemical to immobilize people by overstimulating their nervous systems. It can cause a hallucinatory haze, so they're unable to defend themselves. Sound familiar?" She asked.

Jason ground his teeth and nodded, recalling how disoriented and agonized he felt during his torture.

Then, another memory surfaced his mind. One rainy day at school, when talking to you about your lab research.

"Im calling it 'Chill Mist,'" you said, proudly holding up a vial. "It'll be a breakthrough in healthcare, Jay. It blocks pain receptors and induces a calming state. For when people undergo trauma or surgery." You explained excitedly, spraying a bit of it in the air for him to smell.

"What's the name of the student working on it?" Jason's tone was grave when he asked Talia.

He anticipated the name before Thalia spoke it, but it didn't prepare him from the painful stab of betrayal in his chest.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Raw anger fueled him as Jason stared at the limp body of his duel oponent lying lifeless at his feet.

Ra’s clapped proudly once. "See what you’re capable of? This is just the beginning, Jason. You will become unstoppable."

Jason stared at the blood on his hands, the sword shaking in his grip.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Later ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dmitry, a lower level henchman in the Russian mafia, sat across the table from the red hood, swallowing thickly. He felt for his gun in his holster and was relieved it was still there.

He's heard stories about the Red Hood from rival gangs, and he damn near shit his pants sitting across from him now. Worse, so when the man finally spoke, addressing him in his native language. "Привет Дима," (hello, Dima)

Dima looked around himself nervously, wondering why he was here instead of his boss. "Г-где Сергей?" (Where's Sergey?)

"Сергея больше нет. C сегодняшнего дня, я твой новый бос. Продолжи�� на английском. "(Sergey no longer exists. Starting today, im your new boss.We're gonna continue this conversation in English.)

Dmitry paled, his eyes cast down to the duffle bag resting beside the Red Hood's boots, suspecting the worst. "Бляд..." He swore under his breath. "W-we didn’t know it was your turf!"

The hood let out a sound that might have been a chuckle, but it was distorted behind the mask.

He leaned against the desk, spinning his knife lazily in his hand. "The whole fuckin' city's my turf."

Danny tried to protest, but Jason interrupted. "Here’s how it works now. You want to work in Gotham, you pay me a cut. I keep the cops off your back, keep you alive, and make sure you don’t sell this filth to kids. You mess up, you disappear. Simple enough?"

When Danny hesitated, Jason flipped the knife into his hand and buried it in the table beside him. "That wasn’t a question."

Danny nodded frantically.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The by-now famous Red Hood walked into Arkham asylum to blaring sirens as inmates shook the bars of their prison cells, shouting his name. Under the fluorescent lights, he could make out some familiar faces. But he was only here for one.

Joker looked up as red hood approached, a grin spreading across his face. "What's this?" He asked. "A fan coming to visit -"

The gunshot rang out before he could finish talking. The smoke raising from the red hood's gun. He climbed out into a nearby window and jumped out, the jokers cold body on the floor behind him.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's eyes narrowed as he watched you through the window of you lab. You looked different now, older than the girl he once knew, but no less intoxicating. He clenched his fists, feeling the phantom pain of his death crawling all over his body.

You didn’t know. He reminded himself. You didn’t know what the Joker planned that night...

But you made it. That damn toxin that burned through his veins, twisting his screams into something unrecognizable even to himself.

Jason ground his teeth behind his mask. How was it fair that you got to walk away? That you got to live while he had to claw his way out of a fucking grave?

His gloved hand flexed over the hilt of his knife. He wouldn’t kill you, no. But he would make you pay. One way or another, he would make you pay.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Your hand reached for your phone charging on the table, but he noticed. He grasped you by your lab coat, easily pushing you against the wall. His grip was firm as he pinned your hands above your head. The sharp edge of his helmet pressed against your side. "What? Don't you trust me? After all this time..." the words released in a low chuckle.

Confused, you struggled against him. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t-"

He stepped closer, pressing you against the wall and locking your movement. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the quiet of the empty room.

You heard a click of metal and risked a glance to see him lift the helmet before dropping it to the ground.

Your breath left in a rush as your world tilted. Impossible...

"Jason...?" you whispered, barely audible.

He smiled down at you. Not the boyish grin you remembered. But a sharp, humorless. "Surprise."

You stared, taking in the stark differences. The Jason you remembered was cocky and boyish. The man standing above you now had sharper features, his body bulkier, and his eyes were hollowed pools of blue - once bright and mischievous - now held pain and anger aimed at you.

You stammered. “You - how - youre dead!”

"Aparently not." He drawled. “And congrats on being the first person to know who’s under the Red Hood.”

The Red Hood. That’s who he’s become. The vigilante-turned-crime lord everyone in Gotham feared or admired. And he was standing in front of you, the same boy with whom you did your homework, the one who pulled your hair at school, who took your first kiss, and more.

Jason’s gaze roamed over you, his expression unreadable. "What's wrong, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he said, his tone filled with amusement.

You voice shool as tears filled your eyes. "What happened to you?"

He told you. Step by step. Recounting the literal horror he'd experienced. By the time he finished his story, it was clear to you that Jason blamed you for hia death.

Jason felt a twisted satisfaction in seeing your head shake, guilt evident in your teary eyes.

His hand slid to your body, the leather of his glove cool against your skin. “Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Does it bother you? Knowing that every time I look at you, I see the reason I died?” he emphasized by wrapping around your throat.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jason’s lips crushed against yours before you could form a single word. It wasn’t tender; it was raw, punishing, a collision of teeth and desperation that left you breathless.

He lifted you with ease and put you on the table you were working on. Worrying about chemical hazards was the last thing on your mind when you were being kissed by a dark reincarnation of your high school sweetheart.

"Jason-" you drew back on a gasp.

His lips brushed your ear before biting your neck, “Do you know how many nights I dreamed of making you feel an ounce of what I felt?” His words terrified you.

"What will you do to me?" Your voice trembled.

"I don't know..." He sounded distracted as his finger glided over your lab coat, unbuttoning it and pulling it down off you, leaving you in your t-shirt and jeans. You were suddenly cold, feeling bumps along your arms. Jason's haze was heated, and you followed it to your chest, where your nipples pebbled under your bralette. You held your breath as he raised his hand to circle one of your nipples, not saying anything.

"If you were me," Jason drawled, attention back on you, though his fingers continued circling your nipple. You suppressed a whimper desperate to be let out. "What would you do to you?"

"I..." Your voice hitched when his finger brushed the spot you wanted him so desperately.

"What would you do if you've defeated all of your enemies, but one." He asked, tone heavy.

Your heart ached at his words, and you shook you head. "I'm not your enemy, Jay-" you wispered.

Something you said made him freeze, a moment passed before he gave your nipple a brief but harsh pinch. “You don’t get to say my name like that,” he hissed, his other hand tightening on your hair.

Removing his gloves and dropping them to the floor with a soft thud. You watched at his scarred, large hand lowered to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them one by one. The sensation made your body jerk, and you bit your lip to keep from making any sounds.

Jason noticed and brought his lips up to yours, biting down on your bottom lip before saying. "Dont hold back now, baby. You never did before -"

"I've missed you." The confession left your lips in a quick breath.

That made him freeze again. Just like when he did when you called him by his nickname. Carefully, you reached to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the "J" scar under his eye.

"Stop," he said under his breath.

"Jason," you wimpered, your voice strained. "I missed you so much-"

"Stop." He growled.

With tears in your eyes, you begged. "Please! Jason, I still love-"

He kissed you again, desperate to silence you. He was pretty sure the next words out of your mouth were going to break his conditioning completely. He couldn't pet that happen - not after how far he's come.

His fingers reached your sex, coating themselves in your slick and sliding up to rub your clit. "If you don't shut up for your own good, I'll have to find something else to keep your mouth busy."

The ministration on your sex, the words, and the fact that the love of your life was speaking them to you all sent your mind spiraling. But the sensations he caused in your body overtook any intentions in your mind, and you arched against him, desperately pushing yourself closer to him.

"That's right," he chuckled, his mind back where he deeded it to be. "Give up control, baby."

You were so close.

"Give me my revenge." He laughed, grinning against your ear.

You moaned just as you were nearing your climax.

He withdrew his fingers, ruining your orgasm.

"No!" You protested.

Pleading, your eyes sought his out in the darkness. He wore a wolfish smirk as he reached up and licked his fingers. His eyes were hooded as he glared at you. He didn't say much. Just hummed as he slowly approached you. Frightened, you tried backing away as far as you could. "Dont! Jason, I'll call the cops. I'll tell them -"

"Tell them what?" He pulled you by your hair. It was not a playful tug like he used to do in school, but a harsh grasp that had you gasping. "That the Red Hood fingered you? That he didn't let you finish?" He said in a mocking tone.

You swallowed harshly, not saying anything. This version of Jason was so cruel that you couldn't comprehend it.

"You're not gonna go to the police." He informed you. "You're gonna come to work wearing a skirt tomorrow." He finished before giving you one last kiss.

Before you could come up with anything more to say, he had put on his gloves and helmet, saluted you, and walked out the door.

[morallysuperiorlips]

Oddly Specific Romance Prompts Vol. 3: Toxic Romance

“You are so fucked. You are so unbelievably fucked.” “Yes, I know. And that’s why I’m saying we can be unbelievably fucked together.”

"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me." "That means you'll never forget me, then, huh?"

"Your love has absolutely ruined me."

"I know you're going to leave, but I also know you always come back. You're incapable of functioning without me and you know it."

"You and I were a match made in fucking hell."

"I could not survive if you left. I can't live without you." "The solution is simple, then. Don't give me a reason to leave."

"Nobody else could ever put up with you like I have."

"Every little part of you belongs to me. Your love. Your hate. Your body. Your soul. It's mine. You're mine."

"You could try to find somebody better, but I know you won't. You can't."

"I hate you. It physically pains me how much I hate you." "I know." "But the thought of leaving you is so much more unbearable." "I know."

"I don't know what sounds better: breaking your heart by leaving or watching you break yourself by staying."

"I never loved you." "That's a fucking lie if I've ever heard one. You and I both know you can't fake that passion. Admit it."

"You're psychotic. You're despicable. You're unloveable." "And yet, here you are. Loving me."

"You're everything that's wrong with my life, and yet I don't have the strength to get rid of you."

[slutforspungen]

Sid Vicious’s Letters to Deborah Spungen following the death of Nancy Spungen (his girlfriend).

(TW MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

(FIRST LETTER)

Dear Debbie, thank you for phoning me the other night. It was so comforting to hear your voice. You are the only person who really understands how much Nancy and I love each other. Every day without Nancy gets worse and worse. I just hope that when I die I go the same place as her. Otherwise I will never find peace.

Frank said in the paper that Nancy was born in pain and lived in pain all her life. When I first met her, and for about six months after that, I spent practically the whole time in tears. Her pain was just too much to bear. Because, you see, I felt Nancy’s pain as though it were my own, worse even. But she said that I must be strong for her or otherwise she would have to leave me. So I became strong for her, and she began to stop having asthma attacks and seemed to be going through a lot less pain.

I realized that she had never known love and was desperately searching for someone to love her. It was the only thing she really needed. I gave her the love that she needed so badly and it comforts me to know that I made her very happy during the time we were together, where she had only known unhappiness before.

Oh Debbie, I love her with such passion. Every day is agony without her. I know now that it is possible to die from a broken heart. Because when you love someone as much as we love each other, they become fundamental to your existence. So I will die soon, even if I don’t kill myself. I guess you could say that I’m pining for her. I could live without food or water longer than I’m going to survive with out Nancy.

Thank you so much for understanding us, Debbie. It means so much to me, and I know it meant alot to Nancy. She really loves you, and so do I. How did she know when she was going to die? I always prayed that she was wrong, but deep inside I knew she was right.

Nancy was a very special person, too beautiful for this world. I feel so privileged to have loved her, and been loved by her. Oh Debbie, it was such a beautiful love. I can’t go on without it. When we first met, we knew we were made for each other, and fell in love with each other immediately. We were totally inseparable and were never apart. We had certain telepathic abilities, too. I remember about nine months after we met, I left Nancy for awhile. After a couple of weeks of being apart, I had a strange feeling that Nancy was dying. I went straight to the place she was staying and when I saw her, I knew it was true. I took her home with me and nursed her back to health, but I knew that if I hadn’t bothered she would have died.

Nancy was just a poor baby, desperate for love. It made me so happy to give her love, and believe me, no man ever loved a woman with such burning passion as I love Nancy. I never even looked at others. No one was as beautiful as my Nancy. Enclosed is a poem I wrote for her. It kind of sums up how much I love her.

If possible, I would love to see you before I die. You are the only one who understood.

Love, Sid XXX

P.S. Thank you, Debbie, for understanding that I have to die. Everyone else just thinks I am being weak. All I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say “you must have really loved her.” So they think I don’t still love her? At least when I die, we will be together.I feel like a lost child, so alone.

The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn’t have nightmares and I just can’t sleep without my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me. My heart.

Debbie, please come and see me. You are the only person who knows what I am going through. If you don’t want to, could you please phone me again, and write.

I love you.

NANCY

You were my little baby girl

And I shared all your fears.

Such joy to hold you in my arms

And kiss away your tears.

But now you’re gone there’s only pain

And nothing I can do.

And I don’t want to live this life

If I can’t live for you.

To my beautiful baby girl.

Our love will never die.

(SECOND LETTER)

Dear Debbie, I’m dying. Slowly, and in great pain. My baby is gone, without her I have no will to live. I love her so desperately. I know I can never make it without her. Nancy became my whole life. She was the only thing that mattered to me.

I’m glad I could make her happy. I gave her everything she ever wanted, just for the asking. When we only had enough money for one of us to get straight, I always gave it to Nancy. It was less painful to be sick myself than it was to see her sick.

When you love someone that much you cannot lose them and still be able to go on. I know that if I lived to be a thousand years old I would never find anyone like Nancy. No one can ever take her place. I love Nancy and Nancy only. I will always love her. Even after I am dead.

I have only eaten a few mouthfuls of food since she died. I may die of starvation in this place. I just hope it comes soon, so that I can be with Nancy again.

We always knew that we would go to the same place when we died. We so much wanted to die together in each other’s arms. I cry every time I think about that. I promised my baby that I would kill myself if anything ever happened to her, and she promised me the same. This is my final commitment to the one I love.

I worshipped Nancy. It was far more than just love. To me she was a goddess. She used to make me kiss her feet before we made love. No one ever loved the way we did, and to spend even a day away from her, let alone a whole lifetime, is too painful to even think about. Oh Debbie, I never knew what pain was until this happened. Nancy was my whole life. I lived for her. Now I must die for her.

It gave me such pleasure to give her anything she wanted. She was just like a child. She used to call me “daddy” when she was upset, and I used to call her “mamma” and she used to nurse me at her breast and call me her “baby boy”.

I tried to kill myself but they got me to hospital before I died. Nancy knows that I will soon be with her. Please pray that we will be together. I can never find peace until we are together again.

Oh Debbie, she was the most beautiful person I ever knew. I would have done anything for her.

Nancy once asked if I would pour petrol over myself and set it on fire if she told me to. I said I would, and I meant it. If you would happily die for someone, then how can you live without them. I can’t go on without her. She always said she would die before she was twenty-one, and I never doubted it.

Goodbye, Debbie. I love you.

Sid XXX

[nerdby]

I think toxic romance should qualify as a subgenre as horror, and I can't stand horror nerds that don't believe in subgenres. Like the kind of people who think that anything that isn't oozing shock value and gore doesn't count as "real" horror. The kind of people who say Flowers In The Attic is a psychological thriller or tragedy instead of a horror-tragedy.

Like how is tragedy not horrifying???

What is not horrifying about children being locked up, starved to death, and so completely cut off from human interaction that they develop an incestuous bond as a coping mechanism???

[zaphs-lost-cat]

I love the taste of your name in my mouth.

Even as I notice the cracks in my heart and the blood on your knuckles.

[darklinaforever]

Oh my fucking god... But look at this shit !

I don't know what's worse...

Believing that it's so problematic that women like fictional romances with villains.

That it's the reason why women would end up in abusive relationships if they were in them...

Seriously, wtf ?!

They literally say it's normal if men act like shit to her, because that's the kind of men they themselves are trying to attract. It's disgusting !

Or finally, the stupidest analysis I've ever seen on fairy tales ! Especially Beauty and the Beast, for fuck's sake...

Oh, and then I forgot the comment that implies that it is up to fathers, men therefore, to educate girls properly so that they are not idiots looking for toxic men...

Like @lizzie-queenofmeigas said : The whole thing of thinking every perceived misbehavior in a woman's life is because of her father is some bullshit.

I don't know if these people realize that it's actually this kind of discourse that is deeply toxic and dangerous, not the consumption of fictional romances.

[perry-fics]

Steve and Neal: My analysis

I decided to put together an analysis on Steve and Neal’s relationship and why is still ongoing in a way, even though so many bad things have happened between them. So I’m gonna start with a little introduction to who they both are and then see how those two look put together 🧐

Who is Neal Schon?

Neal’s parents divorced when he was young, and from what we know, neither of them paid much attention to him after that. His father was also a musician, and from what Neal has said, he was strict and kind of impatient trying to teach him different instruments. Neal himself admitted that he chose to learn guitar because it was an instrument that his dad didn’t know, so he couldn’t control his learning.

When Gregg picked him from school and introduced him to Santana, he was just 14/5. I think this is crucial: Neal was a kid in that world and he never really learnt to function outside of it. He doesn’t know what a normal life is. When he first left Santana, he tried to settle down with a regular girl, but Herbie ruined that for him, claiming he had his best interest at heart (I don’t buy it). Herbie saw Neal as a rockstar, not a husband, and he pushed him to keep moving, keep playing, and keep making money. And that’s basically what he’s been doing for the rest of his life.

He married like six times, all of them ended the same way: messy divorces, huge payouts, and children he never really stayed in touch with. He wants love, but he doesn’t know how to exist in a relationship after the honeymoon phase.

As a guitarist, Neal is great but underrated, and he knows it. He feels he’s not given enough credit so he constantly posts videos of himself playing and tries to make clear to people that he was the one that came up with this or that. He’s begging people to acknowledge him, to validate him. His massive ego just covers his insecurities. Same reason he clings so hard to Journey, he’s nothing outside of it.

So Neal is a kid who never grew up. He found his identity in music and never built a real life outside of it. He jumps from marriage to marriage, tour to tour, chasing the next new and exciting thing, because without music and the attention it brings, he doesn’t know who he is.

Who is Steve Perry?

Steve admitted that, as a child, he couldn’t say things, so he sang them. Music was his voice and his way to express himself. I think that followed him into adulthood since he’s clearly not the best at saying things out loud. He feels a lot, he’s very sensitive but all he can do with that is put it into a song or bury it so deep no one can see it.

Steve’s parents divorced when he was very young, younger than Neal was. His father was an alcoholic, he left their home early on and Steve’s mom became his closest relationship until her death in 1986. There’s another trauma in Steve’s childhood: he admitted to being abused. He never gave details but that experience could explain a lot about his issues: his need for control, his perfectionism, and his difficulty trusting people.

Steve didn’t make into the music industry by luck; he had to fight his way in. He spent years struggling, with no money and waiting for a break. Herbie said that during that time, Steve was using drugs and manipulating his cousin (?) to get them. Assuming this is true, it shows a guy desperate, he had nothing to lose and was willing to do anything to survive.

When he joined Journey, he didn’t take that opportunity for granted. He soon wanted control over the band. He had fought too hard to get there and he didn’t want to risk anyone taking it from him. I don’t think it was just about his ego, he felt it was necessary to save his opportunity, his fate, to save himself.  

Steve found his identity in being a singer, like I said it was his way of communicating his emotions. So of course he was very protective of his voice. But Journey’s touring schedule was brutal, forcing Steve to keep singing even when it was damaging him. This is the root of his problems with Herbie in my opinion. So it wasn’t just a physical problem, it was an existential problem. Who is he without his voice? That fear and the overwhelming fame was probably the reason why he eventually walked away.

Steve is not better than Neal at relationships. His longest was with Sherrie, he tried to build something normal with her, but it didn’t work. Maybe it was his incapacity to commit, the pressure of fame, or something deeper.

Years later, Steve started a relationship with a woman (Kellie) knowing she had terminal cancer. They were together for a year and a half I think, and he said he even considered marrying her. It’s a sad story but I can’t help wondering what’s behind his decision here. If his problem is commitment, then maybe he felt safe knowing it had an expiration date. Or maybe he wanted to prove (to himself and others) that he could do that, love someone till the end without running.

He later said Kellie was "the love of his life." That’s a safe thing to say because she’s gone, there’s no risk or complications in that relationship. It’s a nice thing for Steve, he can keep it closed and sealed, something that worked well and there’s no chance of screwing it up.

Like Gregg said, Steve handles everything behind closed doors. He is obsessed with his image, and I don't mean his looks, more about the way he presents himself to the world. He knows how to build a narrative, how to sell an image of himself. That image is the angel Steve 😇 we always talk about.

So Steve is always chasing and running:  he chased success, but when he got it, he hated what it did to him. He wants love, but he can’t really let anyone in.

Steve and Neal together

Even after so many decades, breaks, fights, a divorce, a couple of lawsuits and a coup attempt, Steve and Neal are still linked.  Their relationship isn’t just about music, its way deeper. It’s about their identities and their need for validation.

When Steve joined Journey, he and Neal built something together. It was magic and timeless; it made them both famous and rich. It didn’t last because Steve started to pull away.

Steve explained in 94 that he felt pressured to work if he was close to Neal and Jon. So Steve fears is not a real friendship, it’s a work thing. This is the same thing he said a few years ago while explaining why he refuses to have coffee with Neal.

But Neal is different, he doesn’t have a life outside of music so of course he wants to record with Steve, he doesn’t know how to connect in any other way. Journey was never just a job for Neal, it is his home and the only thing in his life that has lasted him more than a few years. So pulling Steve back into that makes Neal feel like he’s getting back all the magic they used to have together.  

At the same time, Steve feels betrayed because Jon and Neal moved on without him. Journey is Steve’s legacy so replacing him with another singer means losing control over his creation. This is Steve’s pain and I think is ongoing.   

But Neal has never let Steve go. Even after having different singer and all that, Neal keeps publicly begging Steve to return, not to the band but to him. He follows Steve fan pages, watches his interviews, always brings him up…

They reconnected briefly in 2022 and it ended badly with Steve suing him over the trademark thing. I’m sure any fan back in 2022 felt like that was the end of this relationship, the final nail in the coffin, but nope! Neal still won’t let go.

So why doesn't Neal let go?

Neal is underrated and he knows it, like I said early. His only way to feel relevant is next to Steve. Without Steve, he’s nothing. Neal may not be aware of this, maybe he feels like his love is pure and selfless but the truth is that in his mind Steve is connected to his best times, the golden years. And he feels that getting Steve back would mean magically going back to these times.

But what about the bad times? The fights? The way Steve controlled the band? Neal doesn’t care. He has been through all that hell and he has decided that he can take all that as long as he gets what he wants. And what he wants is Steve.

Steve doesn’t want to reconnect, but he hasn’t completely shut the door either. Why? Because Steve still wants to be the most important thing in Neal’s life. He won’t give him what he wants, but he also won’t give him closure.

Steve wants and needs Neal to keep chasing him. If Neal ever truly moved on, Steve would…I don’t know, die?

We establish Steve is very controlling, in every aspect really. During the 80s and 90s Steve would let the band in limbo for years; he didn’t officially left so they were just waiting for him. He had the control…until they got tired of it.  

Now, he’s out of the band but he’s doing the same thing with Neal. He won’t see him, won’t work with him, won’t even meet for coffee…but he still throws little bones that keep Neal chasing him.

Steve won’t let Neal have him, but he won’t let him forget him either. That’s a power move. If Steve gave Neal closure, Neal could move on. But Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Neal to miss him, to want him, to feel that hole in his life.

So what does Steve feels for neal?

I think Neal reminds Steve of his best era too, Steve has said that himself. The best and bigger times of their lives together. So he misses that, he misses Neal but he’s afraid he will expect more than he’s willing to give. Like recording, making music, putting Steve out in public in ways he has done before in social media.

So in conclusion…

Neal still believes there’s hope. He still talks about Steve like there’s a chance they’ll reunite, still follows his every move, still begs for him to give him a hug, a smile, a song...

And Steve lets him! Why? Is he evil?

I don’t thing he is evil. He’s been hurt, he’s been abandoned, and he’s learned to control and hurt others before anyone can hurt him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, I think he cares too much and suffers for it. He fears Neal in a way, fears he would use him or that being close to him would bring back old wounds that never close for Steve.

He’s conflicted. He loves Neal in some way, but he’s too scared to open that door again. So instead, he keeps it a little open, enough for Neal to know he’s still there, but not enough to let him in.

So, is he manipulative? Yes.

Is he cruel? Yes, a little

Is he evil? No.

He feels a lot, but only allows himself things that he can control. And he can only control neal from a distance.

So neither of them can fully let go. They're gonna be together in some way forever ♾️

[girlypopinspos]

"You can write about this, but only to condemn it. Don't romanticize or sexualize it!!"

Oh, sweetie, not only will I romanticize and sexualize it, but I will do it even more so now, just to piss your controlling, self-righteous, dictator ass off! 😊

[bone-trash]

COD Headcanons #5

Fantasy AU - Part 1

Kingsguard!Ghost x BratPrince!Soap

(GOT/HOTD inspired — continued in my series The Hunt on AO3)

Prince John is not first in line to the throne, though as the “spare” to his father’s heir he must be protected at all times.

He’s disinterested in the political goings on of court life and is the epitome of a degenerate royal, drinking and whoring all he can with the most beautiful girls and boys available and generally being a twat

He picks out his bodyguard personally, the Knight in question had been a bastard once but was relegitimized due to his valor in battle and many wins on the jousting fields

The Ghost is a weapon in combat and a vision to see. Sword arm thrusting through the enemies’ shield as though it were butter, blood splatter bright against the ebony armor, (gone rusty at some edges if John is honest with himself, better fix that right away the look of the knight will reflect back into him) faceplate depicting the vision of Death itself, a grinning skull molded across his helm

When he wins his match and is bade to come close and kneel before his new Lord, The Ghost does, but with visible tension in his shoulders and removes his helmet as requested. Though his eyes are downcast John can see the fire of indignity as clear as day (hmm may need breaking in then)

Still, he’s pretty enough despite the unfortunate scars, a fresh slice above his eye drips a crimson line downward and looks lovely against the paleness of his brow. The wide set of his shoulders and thick corded muscle of his neck testify to the brute strength hidden below the hand-me-down armor

When the tourney ends Prince John retires immediately to his rooms The Ghost following rather somberly behind, helmet securely in place again

John, though his reputation is cruel, has had enough of the game and drops his robes almost immediately, striding up to his new Guard and wrapping his arms around the gorget at his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to the grim faceplate.

John has him there on the furs in front of his grand fireplace. Like many of the men sworn, or hoping to be, to his father’s service The Ghost (or Simon as he so prettily begged to be called instead) had been unspoiled. There on the floor, miles of pale scarred flesh spread before him like a palace feast, and John can hardly believe his luck (Hm, maybe not so hard to break after all)

He leaves behind cruel bites and bruises all over the taut muscled thighs and firm chest of his loyal lapdog, the whining beast already half in love with John before the spend even dries on his stomach. Nectar sweet noises of pleasure die in his throat as John gets up and redresses without ceremony

Eyes gone cold again The Ghost reaches for his shorn mail as well and makes to take his post back outside his Lord’s quarters when John snatches for his hand, still uncovered by his left gauntlet, and presses his warm lips to Simon’s knuckles. He can’t let this be the last time.

He’s always had a fondness for pretty things

[yanderes-for-everyone]

Title: I reincarnated as the Little Sister of a Death Game Manga's Murder Mastermind and Failed

Synopsis:

One day, Mai remembers that her perfect stepbrother is actually the main antagonist in a death game manga. In the story, he eventually grows bored of only killing insects and other animals and decides to slowly pick off his classmates. Mai, now remembering all of this, decides to try and make her brother's life more interesting by constantly trying to surprise him with her weird antics.

My Thoughts:

If you've read any of my other recommendations, then you know that my favorite kind of yanderes are two-faced; they are seen as a perfect, kind, and handsome, but in reality they are secretly manipulating things from the shadows to try and get the fl all to themselves. This manga is the perfect example of that trope. This manga makes it so that the ml doesn't understand his feelings at first; he's a psychopath and has never felt connected to any other being. It's really fun to see him slowly become infatuated with the fl and have him not even realize it until halfway through.

I don't want to spoil it too much, but he is incredibly possessive and manipulative. I also enjoy whenever we get a yandere in manga; it always feels more intense than manwha yanderes.

Yandere Rating:* 8/10

Overall Rating: 9/10

*this means the ml's yandere intensity

[the-bar-sinister]

The inherent romance of the toxic, doomed relationship where the participants have been making each other miserable for years. Where the love has turned to bitterness and thorns and poison and spite, but they refuse to completely give up on one another.

The eyes meeting in silence.

The single touch of each other's hands after a long time with no contact.

The rough gestures of romantic intent that come with no apologies.

[fuckboysfm]

Me when the guy I’m seeing says he’s bad for me:

[dweetling]

Second Thoughts & Cold Feet

slightly suggestive but relatively tame prompts fitting for one night stands & unhealthy relationships - written by max

“Are you saying last night was a mistake?”

“Last night . . . was a mistake.”

“I’m not sure if I can go through with this.”

“It wasn’t meant to last, you and I.”

“As much as I’d love to do that again . . . I can’t.”

“As much as I loved every second of it . . . never again.”

“We really shouldn’t . . .”

“I can’t do it. I can’t quit you.”

“I’m not sure I can be with you . . . like this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet . . .”

“What, you’re having second thoughts?”

“Does it scare you? The way I can make you feel?”

“If you want it so bad, why can’t you let yourself have it?”

“I’ve seen how this story ends. One of us gets left at an altar somewhere and the other is never the same again.”

“I want you. But I shouldn’t.”

“Damn it. I can’t do this anymore.”