Specify “established relationship,” “established enemies,” “established tension,” etc. at the top of your ask if you want John to act familiar with the character. Otherwise, he’ll respond as he would in canon.
NSFW asks are acceptable (though I'll answer or not at my own discretion).
Personality: As close to canon as I can get - highly protective, stoic with bursts of anger, depressed, and hopelessly romantic.
Sexuality: Pansexual, switch
Timeframe: After the fourth film. John has faked his death and returned. If you want to specify a different timeframe for your ask, that’s totally okay. It’s also totally okay to roleplay characters who are canonically dead.
Links:
Main blog, The Whump Caretaker, with info about the author
The Broken Veil, John x Helen fic masterlist
Beyond Judgement, John x Vincent fic masterlist
Those Who Have Something to Live For, Chidi x Vincent fic masterlist
John x Santino miscellaneous masterlist
Down with the High Table, finished roleplay masterlist
No spoilers summary: a fun romp, but, depending on how you interpret it, could break the themes of the canon in a really severe way. OR could be amazing! Just depends how you read it.
Spoilers Below the Cut:
We’ll make this a compliment sandwich. First, I really liked Eve. I know some people thought she was a bit of a blank slate, or too similar to John, but I thought she was great! Most characters in John Wick are a bit of a blank slate, with few lines, and are mostly open to interpretation based on the imagery associated with them and the way they carry themselves. With that in mind, I read Eve as curious and open to life in a way that John is not. She wants to find her place in the world. There’s vengefulness, but I don’t see the same shame and fear of being a monster that he exhibits. She’s not afraid of herself. She’s ambitious rather than just ruthless and she wants to make something of her life for her own sake, not the way that John found his self-worth through Helen loving him. But she does still have that animalistic quality, like the way that she carries herself shows that she was raised away from ordinary people and is hypervigilant.
That said: the film suggests something that would break the whole series if true.
The idea that “the door is still open” when John first talks to Eve, that she could have left the Ruska Roma, and that John himself could have left when he was younger, is antithetical to the entire conflict of the series. He is a man who was raised in violence, by a system he could not escape, and began trying to escape only once he became conscious of his potential to be more than that, and even then, he got out only in the final moments of his life. They all were raised that way. They are all trapped. That is the point of the High Table. The idea of creating a second group that is more controlling, where people are somehow more trapped, to make the High Table look better…it undermines the main conflict of the series in my opinion.
And it is all in service of creating this notion of choice, that Eve “has a choice.” As if she needs to be empowered by the Ruska Roma instead of examining and exploring the ways such an organization would in fact disempower her, and the way her loyalty might be misplaced. The conversations with Winston and The Director at the beginning, where they speak to Eve so formally and give her a choice to join or not, strike me as shying away from the reality of how a child would need to be controlled and indoctrinated from the beginning in such an organization. And the fact that Eve’s best friend could leave, knowing so much about the Ruska Roma…no. She would be killed, based on everything else we know about the series. It rings false, it seems sanitized and hollow.
However, we can interpret all of this “choice” business as false. Maybe John blames himself for not leaving as a teenager, when in fact, he never could have left, both because of the violence that had already been ingrained in him mentally by that point, and because there would have been a lot more backlash than he assumed if he tried to go. Maybe Eve’s sister is right when she says that the Ruska Roma really doesn’t give people a choice either. And the main villain (I forgot his name already) is definitely right that these systems will go on even if one person dies or one person escapes.
Eve doesn’t even really have a choice in her fight with John, at least not of her own accord. If the film wanted her to have full agency in that fight, she should’ve been given some line that persuaded him to spare her or done something that pulled at his heartstrings, but no. She really didn’t. He just…beat her in a fight and then chose to have mercy. It was out of her hands. Her only choice was to take the opportunity he offered her and go ahead and keep trying to get revenge. But whether she got that opportunity in the first place? That wasn’t up to her, it was up to John.
That is a much darker world than the “you have a choice” that seems to be explicitly intended. But I actually like it a lot better.
When read that way, the film does hold true to its themes: that perhaps you are trapped, that perhaps the world is full of people stronger than you who would seek to use you as a tool, but the choice you have is whether to keep fighting despite your own damnation, clawing for freedom to the very end, and if it kills you, so be it. Even within systems too large to take down, which threaten to destroy you, you can hold onto self-love and love for others and do your best. That…that I really enjoy. If that’s the meaning, I loved this movie. I had to twist the lines around in my head to get to that interpretation, but shhhhh, I’m thinking of it this way now.
I love this scene so much. Santino's attitude, Winston not allowing him to act like this in his hotel, but he let him know that in such a calm but still confident way. There's so much I love what's happening here, but I'll write down these dialogs.
"Then you know that I have the right to demand..."
"Nothing. You demand nothing of me, Mr. D'Antonio. This kingdom is mine and mine alone."
I like how Santino didn't snap back, even though I love when he's snappy, but he used his attitude and confidence again and just said:
"Alright. Then enjoy your kingdom, Winston, while you still can."
The ability of Santino to appear calm in these types of situations is something I love about him. But also, here I believe Winston really knew what was going to happen, what could happen, so even before John arrived, he remained calm and didn't agitate Santino even more.
John Wick [writing a letter]: The High Table wants to know what kind of weaponry we keep in the house. I’m just letting them know that’s private information.
Helen [peering over John’s shoulder]: …This just says “fuck around and find out” in calligraphy.
The bust of Vincent is a truly beautiful and amazing work of art. Like genuine classical quality. I'm honestly awed.
Now I want a fic where he commissions it himself, in marble, out of vanity...but the sculptor puts the heart in on their own, to see if he notices...
Here is the sculpture anon is talking about. Wow!! Thank you so incredibly much. That really means a lot to me. I loved working on that project and I’m so happy people got some value out of it.
I went ahead and made a very indulgent fic based on this, with a random artist OC named Catherine Tucker (yes, shameless self insert).
⋆˙⟡♡ The Sculptor’s Statement ♡⟡˙⋆
No trigger warnings apply.
Catherine Tucker,
We have received your commission this morning in good condition, but I would appreciate a little explanation.
You've done my eyes in the manner of Michelangelo's David. An antiquated technique, no? A full line from top to base representing a streak of light, as in Bernini's Louis XIV, is more advanced. And even supposing you've chosen Michelangelo's approach for a reason, isn't it common practice to round the base of the pupil perfectly, not to create this tapered V? I look at it and look at it, but I can only read it as an intentional heart shape. If that is a joke, it's a bad one.
Do correct me if I'm mistaken. I would request a sculptural revision, but a mishandling of imperial portraiture would be so disappointing that it would warrant taking a chisel to your position at the Table, rather than merely chipping at some marble.
Dans l'attente de votre réponse,
Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont
⋆˙⟡♡⟡˙⋆
Dear Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont,
I will come to the main point first: yes, there is an intentional heart shape, in both eyes. While Michelangelo's technique is still very much in use, I admit there are many others, such as the one you named, and I chose this one deliberately. I could talk about the resurgence of pop art into contemporary realism and populism into contemporary underground politics, and the potential references to both anime and classicism that paints you as an adored idol in every sense. Such an artist statement would indeed be the interpretation gleaned by most audiences, but that is not my real reason.
Now, what should we do about this? I wish I could tell you whether the portrait really does call for an amendment. But in such cases as this, when working with a busy public figure whose inner life remains shrouded in mystery, an artist's view of the subject is so limited. I will tell you my reasoning. You alone must tell me whether I have gone wrong, and act accordingly.
Although I was provided with your formal photography and referenced it throughout for technical purposes, our brief meeting and the resulting sketches remained the chief source of my inspiration when depicting you. I worked, in the main, from memory. And what solidified itself most strongly in my memory when it came to you? What did I learn of you?
The answer is…almost nothing. You were cordial, pleasant. It was an uncommonly cold and clear morning when we met, and you were eating a parfait, and making delicate noises about it. You had the most subtle chin dimple I've ever encountered, apparent only when flexing the jaw. Your hair produced a satin sheen that I knew I had to mimic. Your eyes melted between green and amber, and they terrified me in the softness around their undershadow, the depth of your brow's awning. They did not move when you smiled. Yet I believed everything you said. It was terribly embarrassing for me to look at you, as if I was looking at God.
When asked for anecdotes about yourself, you said…things. But they did not seem to affect you. You spoke to me in quotes and nuggets of wisdom, told me how I ought to approach the portrait. They were good quotes, and good advice, and I did approach the portrait that way. But I could not find you among any of these words. I think it's this quality which unsettles your enemies so deeply. How can anyone strike at you if you are entirely hidden? It's ingenious.
This was what I thought of constantly, for my entire period of work on the bust. I know objectively that your life so far must have been an interesting one, probably both adventurous and tragic, full of effort and sacrifice and advancement. It remains full to the brim with every excitation possible. And yet, I will never know that part of you, and none of our mutual colleagues have ever spoken to me about it, if they know. Do you know this part of yourself, do you live it fully, or have you given it up in favor of something even greater in your eyes? Who can say. That makes it all the more tantalizing. Your heart shines out persistently, drawing attention to itself in negative space, compelling and magnetic as a vacuum. Your every look blazes with that heart, which is, in itself, a play of darkness against light.
The news of your promotion reached me during the finishing touches, and if that didn't settle it, what would? It had to be hearts, in your eyes. If Wick looks at them too long, and is the kind of man who cannot endure a heart, I think it will be the end of him.
As a final note, congratulations on the Autem Imperatorship. It has been an honor to immortalize some portion of the mortal man, before you become a symbol and find yourself quite beyond all of us. Happy hunting.
⚜️ 3D Sculpt: Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont ⚜️
The heart inside the eye is a tradition of real sculptors, who use it to create the illusion of a reflection at the top of the pupil. But I do also love that Vincent has a heart in his eye <3
Background assets from Polyhaven. Sculpted in Blender. Rendered with Cycles. Mesh available as .GLB and .OBJ and is ready for 3D printing. Google Drive Link here.
Summary: Love, patience and understanding can heal a person, but it stays a slow process. John and Santino experience this truth after Santino goes through a traumatic incident and the resulting nightmares. John stays his biggest support, despite Santino trying to push him away time and time again.
Rating: Mature, graphic description of violence, TW - self-harm, blood, panic attack, emetophobia warning, intense nightmare, character having spiraling thoughts! Please read the tags on Ao3, I put trigger warning also here since this is a heavy fic!
Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick
Note: This fic wasn't planned, it just happened when I was in a really bad mental place and I needed to project. Some parts became harder for me to write due to a stressful situation I had not so long ago (emetophobia related), and I was worried this fic wouldn't be done how I wanted it to be. It's been really difficult for me lately, everything was too much... I needed to write it into a fic. I was self projecting into Santino, so if he feels OOC, I'm sorry, but it was how I wanted to write him for this specific fic. It's hard to deal with spiraling thoughts on a daily basis, especially when they convince you that your worst fears and insecurities are real, and you have to try and snap yourself out of it. It's not that easy, at least it isn't for me. I wanted to show in this fic how difficult that can be, and how with patience, love, no pressure and time, it can be slowly healed.
This fic means a lot to me personally and I really tried my best to write it and push through everything that was happening. Thank you anyone who reads it, it means a lot to me! <3
Not everything is so dark in this fic tho!! There are sweet moments with Santino and John being sweet fiancés and Dog is here too! :]
━─┉┈┈◈♡◈┈┈┉─━
Snippet
The room was dark, there was no sound except for the occasional sound of the wind, the floor felt cold under Santino's feet, as if he was walking on tiles. There was a foul smell of blood, cigarettes and dust in the air, making him feel dizzy and nauseous.
He couldn't move further away, there were chains on his heels, wrists… and on his neck. Cold and suffocating, aching with every swallow. It triggered his anxiety that quickly turned into panic. His throat was burning, his heartbeat speeding up, his body shaking and feeling tingly, like it wasn't his body anymore.
Santino knew where he was and he knew what was coming. He couldn't scream, he couldn't move, he could only freeze in a sudden horrible sensation.
It was warm, burning his skin. The blood. It was dripping down his back and chest, hitting the floor with a wet heavy splat. His stomach twisted to the feeling and noise, he felt acid sizzling along his throat.
It was disgusting, gruesome, painful and shameful. To be seen like this, to be in this position in the first place.
There was a punch into his ribs, then a knife into his back, then into his thigh, then hands suffocating his throat. It was too much, he could hear them yelling, he could hear them cursing at him.
I don't want this. Stop. Make it stop. Please, stop, stop, stop!
Santino woke up with a choked sob, gasping as his body jolted against the mattress, completely disoriented.
“Hey, hey, you're okay. You're safe, it's okay.” Came from a familiar gentle voice.
It took Santino a few seconds to blink away tears and focus on his surroundings and his fiancé, John, who was next to him, brushing a wet curl off his forehead, trying to ground him.
“Shh, you're here with me. Breathe, love. You're at home with me,” John murmured, gently taking a hold of his fiancé's hand, giving a light squeeze on it.
The other man made an attempt to speak, but all that came out was a whimper and the embarrassment overflowed him so he turned his head away from his partner, squeezing his eyes shut hard, enough to feel them pinch.
“It's okay. Try to take some deep breaths for me. I'll help you, okay?” John waited for his companion to show him any sign that he was going to cooperate, he knew he had to be patient and gentle. Santino in this state was the most sensitive.
With another sharp inhale, D'Antonio nodded, and that was his partner's cue.
John helped him sit up, adjusting the pillows so he could lean against them, moving the sheets off his chest so he could breathe better. He noticed how sweaty he was, his shirt soaked over his chest and his skin glistening from the sweat as if he was hit with a fever.
He kissed his temple, murmuring to start breathing like they practiced before. Santino followed after a failed first attempt, he closed his eyes, inhaling, holding his breath for a couple of seconds and exhaling deeply.
“Good, keep going,” John praised, inhaling with him, holding his hand while with the other one he rubbed his thigh. Although breathing deeply worked most of the time, Santino often needed John's touch to work better through it.
I've done it! The 3D model can be downloaded here.
Some logistical notes: Be aware that the poly count is high - this is not an optimized mesh, but it is watertight and therefore printable. If you choose to print it, please attach a pin backing separately. I should also say that the real prop auction I was referencing has the marks of metal casting - very mottled surface. I actually thought it was embedded with glitter in some shots of the film, but no, it's spots from the casting process. I'm unsure whether this was intentional on the part of the costume designers, or just a matter of expediency. I've decided to leave my version "cleaner" at least for now.
References: Auction Listing | Film Still | PNG traced in Illustrator to Create SVG | Background lighting .exr is from Polyhaven, and marble and fabric materials are from 3D Textures.
Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont x Reader (gender not specified). CW: nightmare, implied past child abuse, crying, Vincent gets defensive/rude with you.
Summary: You and Vincent have been together for a while now, and he's starting to trust you. But on your first full night sharing a bed, he has a nightmare.
Image Source | Banner Source
The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont's master suite is such an amalgamation of contradictions that sometimes, you wonder how it even holds together. Delicate, antique decadence wars with something harsh and calculating. The custom chandelier, sparkling with real crystal across from a canopy bed, activates via "smart house" voice command. The velvet, tasseled curtains, closed against the midnight, rest just inches from a high-tech alarm system that will trigger if an intruder crosses the windowsill. The 17th century rococo nightstand holds a top-of-the-line gold encrusted handgun and a list of people Vincent wants dead. As if he'd ever forget.
And the man himself? He's the head of the most powerful international crime syndicate, driven forward by endless expectations, innate appetites for ruthlessness, and relentless lust for power. And he's also…troubled. He's whimpering in his sleep.
You roll over, tensed, listening. He's laying on his back. You read somewhere that that's a common position for sleep paralysis, didn't you? You rub a hand over his bare chest, trying to sooth him without waking him up. You can feel the tightness under that porcelain-soft skin. Shit…his heartbeat is so fast. Another strangled noise escapes him, almost words this time. It's French and you can't really make it out, but then he speaks again and you can. "Je suis désolé papa…s'il vous plait…" By the way his forehead knits together, it seems his apology is not accepted.
No, you don't care to let him suffer for another second. You activate the lights and shake him gently, calling his name.
A wide-eyed gasp answers you. He shoves you away and almost rolls out of bed before realizing it's just you.
"Hey. You're safe. You were having a nightmare." You keep your voice quiet and monotone, trying not to fuss. The urge to pull him into your arms is so strong, but his own arms are crossed over his chest now, defensive. He didn't want tonight to go like this. "Are you okay?"
He rubs at the bridge of his nose and doesn't answer. His chin is trembling slightly.
It was difficult for him even to let you sleep by his side. You'd been dropping hints about it for weeks. He doesn't normally bring his consorts to his own bedroom, let alone keep them there all night, cuddling. You were…different. Safer. But now, you're worried he won't want to do it again. He so hates to be seen this way. "Vincent."
"Mm." He turns away from you. It's an almost childish effort to hide. He's retreating into himself, embarrassed. If you don't handle this carefully, you'll completely humiliate him. You feel like the whole room is made of glass and based on the way his fists are balled up, he wants to break something right now.
"Vincent, don't you dare go silent. Get mad if you want, I don't care. I trust you. Just talk to me. You know I'll never judge you."
His words come out in a rush, a fist striking the duvet. "Oh, fuck off with that condescension! It's disgusting. Crawled into my bed just to see what a pathetic spectacle I can make of myself. Well you don't get the satisfaction."
"That's not - "
"Of course it is."
Your heart twists. It really hurts, to be spoken to like that. But he's hurting even more, and that's what really gets to you. Any more words will irritate him now, so you just offer your silent presence.
Eventually he speaks again, flushed, frowning. "I'm not some helpless thing, okay?"
"That's right, you're not. You're strong all the time, and it amazes me. You have so much willpower - there's never been a question of that. If anyone has ever tried to convince you otherwise, they're wrong." The words come out pointed, protective. "You've done more than enough. You deserve to rest without being criticized even in your sle -"
"Stop it. Stop, it's too much. Why would you - why do you always -"
There. He's breaking. Too choked up to speak any further. You're honestly not sure if that's good for him or not, but it's happening now and all you can do is hold the pieces. He collapses into you, face buried in your neck, and sobs the way his body clearly wanted to do from the moment he woke up. He just can't hold it back anymore. "Because I love you," you say through kisses at the crown of his head. "I love you. Do you believe me?" He just cries harder. It won't reach him now. These things take time. But you will be here.
You clean him up, floppy and soft and pliable in the wake of tears. You bring him water, and a washcloth for his face, so his eyelids won't be puffy in the morning. Little actions like this will be the proof of your words, day after day. He stares at you with those big doe eyes like you hung the moon, and you're just so glad to be alive and with him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, facing away from you on his side as you slide back into bed next to him. "You - you shouldn't have had to deal with that. I told you this was a bad idea."
"It's alright."
"It's not. You should go."
"Do you want me to? I'll go if you'd rather be alone but…I'm not upset at all, okay? You don't have to be sorry." You kiss the back of his neck, where his pretty brunette hair has turned into a mess of cowlicks overnight. He smells sweet and perfect to you, even after the cold sweat of fear. "Do you need space?"
There's a long silence. You wait. "No." He swallows hard. "I would like…to be held. Please." You're so proud of him for saying it.
You pull him close. The chandelier goes dark. Concealed by shadows, he snuggles into the pressure at his back, holding your arm as it laces over him, and kisses the center of your palm. He's hardly breathing. If he's crying again, it's too quiet for you to tell. "…Thank you." He IS crying, then, by the sound of his voice. But in such a different way this time. You can feel him smile against your hand before hugging it to himself and settling in. The room falls still again, thick with a heavy contentment.
But you can't sleep. You feel drunk on compassion and don't ever want it to stop. All you want is to listen to his breathing, to keep vigil, to feel the temperature of his skin and the patterns of his chest moving up and down, every tiny sign of his joy or distress, and to know that you're making him feel safe. You coil around him, your fragile emperor, the most pitiful and most majestic thing you have ever held. You don't sleep for a long time, no. You rest in bliss.
Thinking about how John Wick finally got to just be and it was all taken away from him. The way he finally got to be human, instead of a machine and they took that away from him. The way he loved so desperately that he looks for her in everything, she was his reason to live even after death parted them.
