( UN ) CIVILIZED.

JOHN WICK written by kumi est. nov. 2018

[wightwulf-a]

❝ Things change. Now, it’s just war. ❞

                    “ I hate to break it to you, but it was war seventy years ago, too. ”

              Consider him on edge. At the very least, it would explain the stiff tone in his voice. Something’s eating at him, but, then again, getting shot at can do that to a person. An empty magazine falls to the ground from the assault rifle and Bucky quickly replaces it, giving it a strong tap with his palm to make sure it’s firmly in place. His eyes are scanning everything around them as they move forward. He keeps a secure grip on the weapon, seemingly ready for anything.

              Footsteps around the corner. Bucky doesn’t know if John heard, but it doesn’t matter – there’s a fight one way or another. He’s soon shifting the weapon toward his left while his right hand moves to his thigh, taking a knife from its holster there.  “ Three on our right, ”  he casually informs John, before gripping the knife tightly. He pauses for a second, sharing a glance with the  ( retired? )  assassin, as they approach the corner. Just as someone turns it, he forces the blade into a man’s shoulder in one motion before he delivers a swift elbow to the face, sending the man down. Gears shift instantaneously and his rifle is raised as he presses the trigger without hesitation, sending bullets flying into the second man’s chest, all while John takes care of the third  ( bullet to the head while pinning him down – effective )  .

              Bucky exhales through his nose while he pops the knuckles on his right hand. He surveys the scene for a second, dark brows furrowed softly. He takes a step back before reaching down and taking his knife from the first man’s shoulder. Head turns then and eyes come to rest on John :

                    “ The world hasn’t changed that much. ”

forgot what meme it’s from – @uncivilizes

[uncivilizes]

antisoldier‌:

         reluctantly, casey moves and the dog moves too  -  resigning himself to the edge of the couch. the teenage drug dealer watches him, it seems so strange to her after all this time. it’s one thing to joke and tease that he was definitely a hitman, it’s weird to see him in that role. it affects him, and he may not show it but he seems hollow. helen’s loss was felt everywhere, it turned the home into just a house, and turned john into a shell. he was still him, just the light wasn’t as bright in him anymore. he felt more machine sometimes.         ❛  a  dreamboat,  obviously.  ❜  the pink haired girl replies with a smirk tugged at her lips, and a small hand reaches for a plastic fork. she tucks stray tendrils behind her ears as those dark eyes of her’s watch him. she made a point of ordering his favorite, or at least it was. it’s apparent things have changed, john in particular.  ❛  what  about  you,  though ?  ❜

more on instinct, he checks the magazines on the two pistols, the motions mechanical. sometimes, if he thinks about it too much, it can unnerve him. just how quickly he could turn back. years of distance and time weren’t able to leech that out of him. it’s still there, right underneath the veneer. and maybe that’s something john should have expected too. he glances around the kitchen for a moment. everything is still spotless, a little too clean. that was his job more than helen’s. baba yaga, bordering on a househusband. who could have guessed, all those decades ago when he first left the marines?

“good. i’m glad.” he finally approaches the couch, reaching over to scratch the dog’s head a little. the question brings him up short. john is quiet as he settles on the couch, reaching for one of the cartons clearly left aside for him. “well,” he says, snapping one of the pairs of cheap chopsticks apart, “things went alright. didn’t get myself shot. think i might finally be getting closer to being done with all this, maybe.”

[uncivilizes]

rekant‌:

everything inside of her - instinct, sense memory - screams at her, prickles at the underside of her skin like her nerves are on fire, as she ducks to pat the dog. she knows not to trust men with dogs, even when you’re thirty-five, even when you’re on a public street in broad daylight, even if you can run really fast and have a boxcutter in your pocket that’d be in your hand in half a second. 

maybe she’s getting too comfortable. maybe the therapy’s working. maybe this is her way of forcing herself into a potentially dangerous but statistically completely fine situation just to see if she’s ready to handle it. maybe she’s just tired, and the dog’s the first thing all day that’s managed to perk her up.

‘ it’s fine. ’

she looks up at the crowd, but hardly even has to when they’re almost stepping on her as they pass. thanks, new york. if not for the complete disregard for others when you’re in a rush, then at least for the overwhelming sense that you’re never alone once you’ve left the house. not physically, anyway.

she scratches the dog behind the ears,  ‘ he got a name? ’

really, the dog and john are nothing if not contrasts. the dog’s tail is wiggling, short as it is, and he seems to be very eager to say hello. scratches only encourage this behavior, his blunt square of a head knocking against her knee as if to encourage more attention. john, on the other hand, is distant. he isn’t quite pulling as hard as he ought to in order to get them back on their route, but there’s no real closeness. the crowd shifts around them, adjusting, compensating. new york city is good at that if nothing else. nothing can really ruffle feathers any more unless it’s a major tragedy.

unfortunately, the woman then asks the question that everyone asks. it reminds john every time that he really needs to get around to that, but it’s just not something that really seems important in the grand scheme of things. “not really,” john admits, a little rueful. “he responds to just about everything. you probably looked at him and he figured that was a sign to come say hello.”

they really have to work on the walking thing. daisy was an excitable puppy, but this dog is older and somehow has the exact same eager personality. 

[johnswick]

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. Now he’s free of the marker, what do you think he’ll do? He had a glimpse of the other side and he embraced it. But you, Signor D'Antonio, took it away from him. He was already back. Oh, he came back for love, not for you. He owed me. I had every right. And now he’s coming again. He did tell you not to do this. He did warn you.

[johannescena]

42 character development questions!

PHYSICAL PRESENCE AND GESTURE. 1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? 2. How much physical space do they use, active and at rest? 3. How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd? 4. What is their size and build? How does it influence how they use their body, if it does? 5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why? 6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these? 7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these? 8. Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell? 9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions? 10. What energizes and drains them most? 11. How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use? 12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands? DISPOSITION AND TEMPERAMENT. 13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed? 14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? 15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives? 16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like? 17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person? 18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why? CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS. 19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why? 20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships? 21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why? 22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ? 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? 24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference? 25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? 26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does? ACTIVITIES AND PREFERENCES. 27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why? 28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why? 29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative? 30. What is their preferred level of activity and stimulation? How do they cope if they get either too little or too much? 31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why? 32. Do they have any “props” that are a significant part of their life, identity, activities, or self-presentation somehow? What are they, how are they used, and why are they so significant? How would these props’ absence impact them, how would they compensate, and why? THINKING AND LEARNING. 33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things? 34. How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why? 35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them? 36. How much do they rely on their minds and intellect, versus other approaches like relying on instinct, intuition, faith and spirituality, or emotions? What is their opinion on this? 37. Have they had any special education or training that colors their means of learning about or understanding the world? Conversely, do they lack some kind of education considered essential in their world? What kind of impact has this addition or lack had on them? 38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? 39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction? 40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is? FREE FOR ALL. 41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why? 42. I have a question of my own!

[julietscapulet-deactivated20220]

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum

[uncivilizes]

trying to decide what blog to be on today

[uncivilizes]

realizing that all my blogs are extremely sad dumbasses whose lives are in ruins either by their own hand or systemic ones. wonder why this could Be

[uncivilizes]

trying to decide what blog to be on today

[johnswick]

[uncivilizes]

wightwulf‌:

              What a pair. He never imagined finding an ally in anyone at this point, much less a stranger. His past was still a tangled mess that he was trying to untie and sort out. His present? Even worse, believe it or not. But things seemed to be just as bad for this guy. Not for the same reasons, but, they had mutual ground to stand on – which was nice. At the very least, it was relieving. Even if John had originally come to kill him.

              Bucky doesn’t get too comfortable, of course.  ( He couldn’t even if he tried. )  Coat and jacket stay on, saying he’s ready to bolt, if need be. But there’s breathing room : ball cap been placed, upside down, on the table, black gloves tossed in, leaving silver digits exposed on his left.  ( A  ‘ you know who I am, but that doesn’t mean I trust you yet so don’t try anything ’  sort of gesture. )  

              Brows knit together softly when the bottle is presented and set in front of him.  ( A peace offering? )  He doesn’t drink much, truth be told – not right now. Maybe he used to, he can’t remember, but he hasn’t wanted to risk inebriation in his situation. Still, he reaches out, turning the bottle by its neck and looking over the label in curiosity. For a second, something flashes in his head ; a picture. Five other men laughing, cards spread across a makeshift table of crates, and a bottle.  ( His commando unit – he can remember that much. )  

              He takes a breath, sitting back in the chair, trying to seem unaffected by his memory, even if it was a good one. Bucky gestures lightly with a hand in vague confusion :  “ Where d’you even find liquor that costs that much? ”

there are many ways in which this arrangement is an oddity. john has a pattern, though, of showing up to kill someone and deciding not to. his reputation makes him seem like someone who does nothing but kill, but that's a limited view on the whole thing. he can often let people live. he doesn't enjoy killing - doesn't indulge in it, but it's the work and it's what has to be done. sometimes he will inflict violence more as a warning - an incision in the right place, a warning that they can come after him or die, and he gets to walk away having something of the upper hand.

he can't quite call it a moral decision, but maybe that really is what it is.

either way, they've reached what john would call a stalemate. there isn't total trust - but can there ever be total trust, between two people like them? there is only a release of mild tension. they can converse. they can even be honest, quite possibly, and john feels comfortable enough to offer some kind of reassurance that they are not here to kill each other.

"technically, i didn't find it. i was given it." that and two coins, a bottle as a bonus for getting the job done quick and clean. "not everyone wants to pay how they usually ought. or they figure it's a bribe to encourage work later. something like that." he doesn't play at that level. manipulation isn't his forte. he is direct and thorough in what he does, and he gets the payment that he was promised. "it's from kentucky, apparently, and i'm still wondering if any bourbon is really worth five hundred dollars. it's not like it fucking pours itself or anything."

[uncivilizes]

kiyote‌:

     mateo follows john suit and steps out from the car, closing the door with more care than he has to as he sweeps his eyes over the parking lot and the building’s facade. he, though, does so more from a simple curiosity than john’s brief cautious glance. of the spaces, half are full; the bar, simple in name, seems just as simple in appearance. 

     “ uh, ” john’s question gives pause - mateo stops just in front of the car and glances over, unsure. he hadn’t thought about it before, and as is with many things, he’d assumed he’d know what he wanted once they got in. it isn’t really a question worth spending much time on, anyways: something mixed is his usual go-to. “ maybe, margarita. somethin’ like that. ” he answers, shrugs a don’t know, not sure.

     and if mateo suspects anything–john being less than honest what this is, perhaps–he doesn’t show it. he’s fine enough either way just being along. “ what about you? ” he doesn’t know john’s preferences, but the reaper strikes him as someone who likes his drinks straight and on the rocks. or neat, maybe. 

his gaze drifts over license plates for a moment. still nothing that he remembers, and maybe that bodes well. a bar that’s a little out of the way like this can be one of two things - entirely distant from the world he comes from, or deeply fucking involved in the world he comes from. this seems to be the former. it would be nice to believe that, mostly because john is still trying to claw his way back out of what all of this means for him.

he tells himself that, sometimes. you can always get out as long as you’re willing to keep paying for it.

“alright.” john seems noncommittal about the whole thing. he heads towards the door, quiet for a long moment. he can exist in silence like this for long hours, talking to nothing, engaging with no one. “bourbon, probably. or maybe whiskey. depends on how i’m feeling, or what they have.” his tone makes it sound like it’s barely a choice on his part. just wherever the cards may fall.

john reaches for the door, holding it open and gesturing for mateo to walk through.

[uncivilizes]

continentalhunter‌:

“ mr. wick. “

when the whispers had reached her ears, that baba yaga had returned to wreak havoc on the tarasovs, zehia had nearly brushed them off. she remembered how fiercely he’d fought to leave the business, that for him to have returned. it must have taken quite a bit to break a man like him. and then she’d learned of his wife’s passing, and the antics of that annoying brat of iosef.

“ a pity- “ she placed her hand on her chest, the expression on her face more mocking than regretful. “ you and i would have been beautiful together. “ she waved down addy.

“ just tea for now, and whatever mr. wick would like. “

more than one person has made a mild comment - nothing rude, of course, but merely a remark - about the nature of john’s return to this world. some part of him hates how easy it was to drag him back in. but there is something to be said about what iosef is done. it didn’t leave him much of a choice, because sitting by and doing nothing isn’t an option either. it isn’t in his nature. john can be cold and professional, but there is a moment wherein he takes offense when things can turn badly very quickly.

“sure,” he says, clipped and easy. it isn’t unfriendly. but he is suspicious of anyone a little too high ranking who tries to talk to him. the assumption might be that he is back in, rather than struggling towards retirement. “how’s the family?”

he hasn’t seen a member of the avci family since he was last in istanbul, which was years ago. but he nods over at addy, accompanying the motion with a small flicker of a smile. “the usual, addy, thanks.” meaning: bourbon, of course.

[uncivilizes]

armsdealing‌:

understandable that marcelo pauses when he hears that voice, the voice of no other but the underworld’s latest exile. quickly enough, the initial surprise gives way to bewilderment: both the continental and the high table want him dead, and of all options (though there aren’t much), he goes for le six,  a place that light up like a concert when news of his status broke. 

for some reason, marcelo can’t help but respect the man’s nerve.

“not interrupting anything,” he responds nonchalantly, his voice low enough only john can hear. “except maybe a work day’s peace.” he pours the bourbon and makes a glass for himself, tipping it lightly in the manner of a toast before a swig. he could feel his parents in his demeanor: father in his gestures, mother in his voice. he assumed their mannerisms when it was clear he had to assume their place as well. “i guess a rough few weeks would be an understatement, hmm?”

the thing is that he knows that this place is dangerous. a club, now, just reminds him of that moment that he almost caught iosef, early on. he doesn’t like it. doesn’t like the influx of people. crowds are a double-edged sword. on one hand, they can hide him; on the other hand, they can conceal others. with the typical lighting and everything else, he knows he won’t be anything but on edge for a long while here. but they might not start a fight until he’s out on the curb, at least. he can bet on a temporary safety, an odd one suspended delicate and thin.

he tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“yes. i apologize for that. i’m not exactly showing up on the best terms.” that’s an understatement beyond belief. either way, john tries his best to lose some of the tension in his shoulders, even though he’s still accounting for exits and any notable eyes on him.  “it’s been difficult.” okay. his eyes drift back to marcelo after a moment, observing. “so you can probably guess why i’m here.”

[antisoldier-deactivated20190129]

the city carved a silhouette on the ocean after dark, over the lonely and the holy and the red blood beating hearts. up from the dirty black water, the shadow void of form: raised itself out of the river and it climbed upon the shore. neon on the black top, there’s a gentle rain downtown. the shadow pooling underneath me as it follows on the ground.

[uncivilizes]

sometimes i think about how ready i would be to tank my own follower count by merely insisting that various canon characters are trans, to me

[uncivilizes]

antisoldier‌:

                       ❛  john  wick  talking  sense ?  color  me  shocked !!  ❜  the cheerful sarcasm is taken down several notches by grogginess evident in her tone. the pitbull hasn’t moved from her torso, and she’s not surprised because these days she seems to be running hot. moving to sit up, casey’s brown eyes fixate on the man she’d come to lean on as a parental figure in absence of her own as they were in… prague? or was it paris? it was ‘p’ european city. that was all she could recall. still, she had ordered chinese food and his was still present on the coffee table.  ❛  c’mon,  you  need  to  carb  up  if  you’re  gonna  go  all  ass  -  kicking  on  anyone,  my  dude.  ❜

“don’t sound so surprised.” he makes his way into the living room and stops, observing the scene. 

first, the dog has made himself comfortable by just laying on casey, which is fair enough. second, he can see the boxes of takeout arranged haphazardly on the coffee table. food is probably a good idea. 

before that, though, he busies himself with shrugging off the jacket and stripping off the belt and holsters. the pistols end up on the kitchen counter, and the spare magazines are neatly aligned next to it. almost as an afterthought, john slides the knife out of his pocket and sets it down on the counter, the edge of the blade catching the light. at least he wasn’t stabbed or shot tonight. some grazing, sure, but that’s normal. “how’s the dog been?” 

[uncivilizes]

starter call..