#john wick chapter 2

[greenmanalishi]

*watches John Wick for the first time*

[beenumber6]

I should never have doubted them. John Wick Ballerina is now my, very fucking close, second favourite John Wick movie

I was doubtful that they would make a succinct plot, not just because the fourth movie was lowkey a little long, but also spin offs are usually a hit or miss

But fuck was this one a hit

From the amazing, as always, choreography, to the acting of Ana de Armas, just a banger scene after a banger of a scene

Huge props and shoutouts to the people working on these movies

I love them

[e-adlirez]

Little John Wick 2 detail I noticed

(For those who've watched the rest of the films, no spoilers for Parabellum and Chapter 4 please! I haven't seen them yet.)

So this bit where Santino d'Antonio is talking to Winston about the completed marker, right? See the statue behind Winston, the one bathed in blue?

And as the scene progresses, Santino leans forward so it's on his side of the shot, only to fall away from it as soon as he leans back, having completed the marker he originally bound John to?

That statue, identified by the many arms sticking out (as well as the lotus platform the deity is standing on), is the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, also known as Guanyin in Chinese Buddhism.

The bodhisattva of mercy and compassion.

Something something John through his signature blue light being associated with a deity of mercy and kindness. Guanyin is one of if not THE most well-known and worshipped Buddhist deity, because Guanyin extends compassion and mercy to everyone. That's why she has so many arms-- the Buddha gave her a thousand when she tried to reach to every cry of help she could hear and shattered her two regular arms into a thousand pieces from the strain (prior to this her head tore apart into eleven fragments from the strain of trying to respond to every single call for help she could hear in every direction, thus she was given eleven heads that could look in every direction).

If we're gonna tie Guanyin to John, John is the absolute opposite of mercy, but he is in a weird way fitting as a connection. John is so skilled at his craft he may as well have a thousand hands able to kill anyone he so desires or needs, but he left this life of murder behind him when he married Helen, offering a form of mercy to the entire world. To use Buddhist terms, he's achieved enlightenment and has ascended to a higher state of being by leaving behind an endless cycle of life, death and murder (samsara).

But then the events of the first movie happen, and he goes on a rampage. How does this tie to Guanyin? Not that much, but hear me out.

In one story of Guanyin's path to enlightenment, she is incarnated as the daughter of a tyrant who tries to decide her life for her (in this case, marrying a super-wealthy guy for obvious marrying-a-super-wealthy-guy reasons). She refuses and offers conditions for her marriage and groom that her dad doesn't like, so he turns her to a servant girl and works her to the bone, making sure her life and living it the way she wants it to is as humanly difficult as possible. Somehow, Guanyin perseveres through all of it, though, and after a bit of her dad being pissy, she dies and is sent to Hell, and after seeing all the suffering going on, unleashes her good karma on the place, completely turning Hell on its head and turning it into a paradise-- a deed the King of Hell kicks her out for lmao. Skipping forward a bit, she eventually becomes a bodhisattva for realsies and is about to ascend to Chinese heaven. However, she's stopped when she hears a call for help and, deciding she can't let that slide, Guanyin chooses to stay on Earth until all suffering goes away.

Now John was the underling of a Russian Mafia boss (Viggo), and was given an impossible task he has to fill in order to live his life on his own terms, which he fills. He successfully achieves enlightenment and ascends to live life with Helen, but then Helen dies, and before he can even begin to process it, Iosef Tarasov does a Iosef Tarasov, and John faces the gates of Hell and destroys it with his bare hands while putting an end to Viggo's empire. One could even argue that the shit Viggo pulls to try to futilely save Iosef can draw parallel to the trials Guanyin is put through in her mortal life-- Viggo loads the Red Circle up with a shit-ton of guards to protect Iosef from John and thus giving John a ridiculous body count to mow through, Guanyin is forced into doing servant's labor escalated to the level of basically putting a single clerk in charge of an entire supermarket's facilities but doesn't give up in spite of such brutal conditions. Viggo gets Perkins to break Continental rules just to kill John (which doesn't work), Guanyin's tyrant dad tries to burn the monastery she was staying in to kill her and it doesn't work. Viggo puts a goddamn bounty on his head which John is able to get him to call off, Guanyin's dad sentences her to death but the executioner literally finds it impossible to kill her (that is, until she technically lets him kill her) and even then in some versions of her story she doesn't even die but is sent somewhere far and her dad thinks the deed is done.

And then we get to the second movie and how John operates here.

Before being held up to a favor by Santino, John offers mercy to Abram Tarasov. Again, Guanyin is the goddess of mercy, and John offers this mercy even after his goons spent five whole minutes trying to run him over and kill him. In the end, Abram erh, marginally accepts and respects this mercy, and John keeps his word on it (as far as I know anyway, I've not seen Chapter 3 and 4 yet). But then as he tries to rest and fully return to the peace he has regained for himself, Santino shows up at his door to cash in his favor.

Now I'm gonna fast forward quite a bit to when Santino tries to kill John after his assassination job is done, and puts a massive bounty on his head. You'd think that this is where the Guanyin analogy ends (if it didn't one entire John Wick Chapter 2 ago lmao), but uh not quite :D

Because you see, while Guanyin is a merciful bodhisattva of compassion, one thing that must be remembered is that you do NOT exploit Guanyin's mercy, or even underestimate her. Whatever you do, do NOT fuck with Guanyin.

Red Boy would know.

(Images from Overly Sarcastic Productions' Journey to the West video)

The Tarasovs would know, the living and dead, and Winston would know, too! "You stabbed the Devil in the back and forced him back into the life that he had just left. You incinerated the priest's temple, burned it to the ground. He had a glimpse of the other side and he embraced it, but you, Santino d'Antonio, took that away from him. He came back for love, not for you. And now he's coming again. He did tell you not to do this. He did warn you."

Santino just committed the worst form of sacrilege against the goddess of mercy. With the completion of the mark, her favor or even protection has completely left him, and John, unbound, is more than free to go after Santino, and go after him he does. No matter what he does to prolong his life, mercy has forsaken him, and John even resorts to breaking Continental rules to kill him. Not even the unconditional mercy of Continental can save Santino, now that he's slighted John Wick and forsaken what mercy he could've possibly been given.

He could've just walked away. He could've just shaken hands and quietly thanked John for his service, maybe make a pretend effort to hunt down the one who did this to his sister, and prayed on the off-chance (and a generous payment of gold) that John would be satisfied enough to just leave him be. He could've tried to at the very least build some rapport with John after causing him the trouble. Some may say that Santino's fate was sealed the moment he burned John's house; I say his fate was sealed the moment he gave Ares (the badass mute assassin, also haha funni mythological name) the order to also kill him, with the nail in the coffin being the bounty that was oh so clearly set by him. Sure, the High Table probably would've gone after John either way, since John's mission was a bloodbath that definitely had the goss about spread like wildfire; but in his grasp for power, Santino made the mistake of thinking that a loose end like John Wick could've been taken care of with a simple "eh just kill him", and he made the mistake of standing up tall and proud at the High Table, giving John a very convenient head to shoot.

In other words, skill issue, Santino. Maybe John would've gone for you no matter what you did, but you could've at least pretended to not put a target on your back to prolong what little bit of your lifespan was left after cashing in that marker. I would argue cashing it in in the first place fucked you over, but even if not that, come on dude, you did NOT think this through.

ESPECIALLY SINCE THE TARASOV EMPIRE'S FALL AND COLLAPSE LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED LIKE DUDE DID YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK AND/OR DECIDE TO JUST NOT LEARN FROM HISTORY???

[wiuvxqqq]

Gianna but ♂️ ver.

I miss her so much 🥺 pls come back.

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

Have you seen John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017)?

Yes

No

Haven’t even heard of this movie

Voting ended onMar 31

[acid-headache]

the last thing you see before you die is a tortured wife guy

[boardsdonthitback]

Keanu Reeves - John Wick: Chapter 2 (2014)

[yaboyguzma69]

The Quiet Inbetween (John Wick x Assassin!Reader) sfw-hurt/comfort

Hey there, it's me. Ya boy!

This is my first ever fanfiction on tumblr dot com, so there isn't really any layout going on here, but anyway.

Kinda takes place right after the end of Chapter 2 and we're just assuming the reader was there the whole time lol.

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst? idk, non-sexual intimacy/nudity, shower scene, injuries, mention of blood, no 'y/n', I think that's it, lmk tho!

Wordcount: (Exactly 1400 woo!)

-Pls don't copy, translate or feed to an ai, thank you-

~

It was a shitty safehouse. Not the typical sort of place people like you and John frequented, but exactly the type needed in an emergency. Especially since it was one of the few not connected to the Continental.

It was rundown, doors sagging, windows cracked. The only half decent thing in the place was the bed. But for now, it was an island in the sea of guns pointed at you.

Helping John may not have been your best move, keeping-yourself-alive-wise, but you could never have done anything differently. That's how it has always been; you and John saving each other's asses when the going got tough - and it would take more than an excommunicado order to change that.

~

With the last of the curtains closed and every possible precaution has been taken against all entrances, you both finally allow yourselves to rest, plopping into the ancient couch with exhausted groans.

“Oh, John…” you whisper into the stillness. The reality has come to bite you as you knew it would. This time, it could really be the end for you. But you can't think of anything more important than protecting him, even if it really is the last thing you do.

He grunts in response, his left hand gently patting your knee to acknowledge you while his right sits gingerly on top of his barely healed gunshot from the subway. It probably hurts like hell.

A frown of concern forms on your face and you force your tired body to move, sliding down onto your knees in front of him. “Lean back. Let me see.” Tending to John's injuries was no strange event to you either. Nor was it the other way around.

He huffs and carefully pushes himself back, gritting his teeth as the tender skin stretches around the wound. You take his hand away from it, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze before moving to peel open his shirt. It wasn't bleeding, just bruised to hell, the skin turning all sorts of colors. 

Without much to do about fixing it, you lean forward to press a featherlight kiss to the wound. Too bad ‘kiss it better’ only works for people under ten. John seems to appreciate the thought anyway, a ghost of a smile barely quirking his lip as he regards you with tired eyes.

“I'll go see if there's any ice.” You murmur, standing with effort and trudging towards the kitchenette. He doesn't respond save for a tiny nod before his head sags against the back of the couch.

You're surprised to find luck as a single tray of ice greets you. Snatching up a kitchen towel, you wrap several cubes and bring them back to John. You lean on the armrest and carefully hold the ice to the bruising. He gasps, a not-so-subtle reminder that he's only too human; despite his nigh-inhuman abilities.

“I know,” you coo, your free hand coming around to tuck his hair back from his face before resting across his shoulder. “Stay still.”

His jaw clenches against the pain and cold, but he still manages to voice his gratitude, however quietly. “Thank you.”

You smiled down at him, accidentally hurting the two-day-old cut on your lip, but you refrain from wincing and suck it into your mouth instead. “Anytime.”

His eyebrows pinch together, gaze flicking to the cut as you let it go from your teeth. He reaches for you with his left hand and caresses the wound with his thumb. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” you murmur immediately, “It's not your fault.”

“It is.”

Stubbornness. That unshakable will. One of John's utterly defining qualities and the most infuriating. You loved it though, you love all of John's qualities. He was an intense and devoted man, the likes of which you'd never seen.

You shake your head, fighting a smile as you take his hand with yours, pressing kisses to his bruised knuckles. His eyes fluttered shut as a sigh pushed through his nose.

Feeling more tired than ever, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his temple. You can't be sure, but he seemed to relax a little more. You listen to his breathing for a while, his shallow breaths betraying his bruised body.

“This might be the only chance we have to get cleaned up.” You whisper regretfully. 

“Yeah.”

After a while of sitting together, you both move to rise before your bodies stove up for the night. You stand first and help John to his feet, he could move on his own power, but it was somehow comforting for both of you that he allowed himself to be helped.

The safehouse was tiny, so it wasn't far to the bathroom. You left John leaning against the sink and turned on the shower to let it warm up. 

He further loosened his tie and let it fall to the floor and started on his shirt buttons as you started on your own. Soon, a matching pair of blood-soaked suits were piled on the linoleum. John glanced at your bare body as you stepped into the shower, frowning at all of the bruises and cuts marring your soft skin and thinking that someone like you doesn’t belong in his world.

He hesitated, unsure if he should join you, or if you would be uncomfortable. It’s not that you haven’t seen each other at least partially naked; you don’t get far as an assassin if you’re squeamish, but he still didn’t want to cross any boundaries. His question is answered soon enough as you peek around the curtain, “Come on. I don’t know how much hot water this place has.”

He pushed himself off the sink and stepped in with you. You shifted aside and allowed him to reach the water. He sighed with relief as the steady stream began to soak him down, relaxing and seeping into his skin. You watched as he leaned forward into the stream, his arms pressed against the wall for support, his head bowed almost automatically. Like a ritual.

Before you can stop yourself, you find your fingers have a mind of their own to trace the shapes of his tattoos. You've seen them before, in bits and pieces as you tend injuries here and there, but never this close. Now, they painted a complete picture. 

A picture of his faith, of what drives him. Fortune favors the bold. You read it to yourself, the sharply lined scrawl over his shoulders. A fitting or cruel sentiment, depending on one's definition of fortune.

His deep voice startles you out of your thoughts, “Why… did you do this?”

“Do what?” You continue to stare at his back.

He finally turned to face you, his eyes haunted beneath the dripping strands of jet-black hair. “Come back for me?”

You meet his eyes, conviction threatening to close your throat, but you force through, “What choice did I have?”

“Life. Your other choice was life.” He sounded impossibly sad, like he was on the edge of breaking entirely. 

You came closer to him, drawing the space between you to mere inches. Your hands lay gently upon his chest, fingertips unable to find purchase upon his wet-smooth skin. While tracing patterns of nothing there, you whisper only the truth. “I have no life without you, John Wick.”

He stiffened, confusion etched upon his brow, you can almost feel the opposition on his breath. You continue, “And don’t start. I have known no other life and I have no regrets.”

You find his hands with yours and look up at him, tipping forward to meet his gaze where he’s hidden it. “My eyes are wide open, John.”

He clenches his eyes shut at your words, as though you’d physically stabbed him in the heart. He had wondered, hoped even, that he could have convinced you to change your mind; to run. To get away and have some kind of life. But now… You had sentenced yourself to death as surely as if he were the one pulling the trigger.

As he pulls you further into the embrace, tightening his arms around you while the water relentlessly rains down, he resolved within himself to see you out of this mess of his alive. No matter what it took, no matter who he had to tear apart. You would live. In that moment, in your own mind. You also made a vow. John Wick would live.

End~