Q: What animal would the character be? Or what do you associate them with?
Alright! This might run a bit long. Bear with me.
A black dog. That kind. No pedigree, no collar. Ears sharp like something carved in stone, eyes lit up like bad intentions. The sort of creature that drags centuries of superstition around like it owns the weight.
If youre shopping for a totem, dont go reaching for eagles or wolves. Too clean. Too noble. Johnnys got none of that polish. Johnnys a black dog. No flesh to speak of, sure, but plenty of attitude. No body, technically - but teeth? Oh, hes got teeth. And trust me, you`ll feel them when they sink in.
This isnt the kind of dog that curls up by the fire and waits for scraps. This is the one you see on an empty road, no moon, no witnesses. The kind you weren`t meant to notice - but now you have.
Guide to the dead. Omen of things going south. Gatekeeper to places you don`t come back from.
Thats Johnny to V. Not a guide, not a savior - more like a warning thats already too late. He doesnt take your hand, doesnt lead the way. He just walks beside you, steady as a bad feeling. Hes not actively trying to kill V, doesn’t even wish it, not really. but he does something worse: he makes going back impossible. Clean break. No returns. Like any proper psychopomp, he doesn`t pick the road for you. He just burns the one behind.
Now heres the twist. The black dog. Not just death and doom. There`s loyalty in there too. Funny that.
Dogs stick. Even the wild ones. Even the ones raised on scraps and violence of war. They know how to walk beside someone. And Johnny -angry, bitter, ready to tear the world apart still stays. He argues, shouts, pushes, wrecks things, drags you closer to the edge, but he stays. Even when it`d make more sense to go cold and let the clock run out.
Hes not a good friend. Hes a real one. And real ones? They`re rarely comfortable.
Wars always had dogs. Real ones, symbolic ones. On leashes, off leashes. In trenches, in rubble. Johnnys cut from that cloth. His war just wasnt flags and borders, not always, it was systems, corporations, rot in every direction. He doesnt negotiate. Doesnt compromise. Doesn`t even pretend to.
So yeah/ You can say - Johnnys a rabid dog. And rabies? Thats truth with the brakes cut. No fear, no limits, just instinct. Attack. Break. Tear it all down. In the grand scheme of things, a rabid dog isnt just madness. It`s rebellion stripped of excuses. No ideology, no speeches. Just action.
You dont fix him. You dont reason with him. You don`t sit down and "work it out." You either live with him or you try to get rid of him. And even then, no promises.
"Black Dog" isnt just a song name - its a signal, a symbol. It`s been shorthand for depression, for that creeping darkness that sticks to you no matter how fast you run. And Johnny fits that bill too. Hes weight. Guilt. Memory. Unfinished business with a nasty habit of sticking around. He doesn`t leave. He sits inside your head, looks out through your eyes and every now and then, grabs the wheel.
He`s not something you can cut out.
Because by then he`s already you.
And maybe that`s why the fit is so clean.
The black dog is always a line in the sand: life and death, man and beast, sanity and the drop beyond it. Johnny doesn`t just walk that line.
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
snowghoul