#Viggo tarasov

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about the first John Wick and how SO many people just don't Get It. They don't get HOW John has no issue killing whoever he needs to, nor WHY his revenge against Iosef is so important to him. Just today I had friends complain "I don't know why he's killing that many people over a dog and a car." And it's like... You Wouldn't?

You lost EVERYTHING in your life that you held dear, and then you are given something new to cherish. To love and find meaning to continue living. AND THEN THAT VERY THING IS MURDERED IN FRONT OF YOU. Are you so sure that, if you had the means, you wouldn't want to get even? You'd shrug your shoulders saying "well there's nothing I can do." and scrub the blood of your dead puppy off the floor like its nothing? Bury the dog in your garden and go grocery shopping? Are you insane? I know from personal experience that to experience a pet integral to your life dying violently, is something that NEVER goes away nor does it heal. How can you cheapen the life of an animal so important to John by saying "it's just a dog, why go to such lengths?"

Not to mention that very question is asked multiple times by different people throughout the film. "It's just a fucking puppy." "All this over a dog." And John TELLS YOU. He spells it out.

"When Helen died, I lost everything. Until that dog arrived on my doorstep, a final gift from my wife. In that moment I received some semblance of hope. An opportunity to grieve unalone and your son took that from me. Stole that from me KILLED THAT FROM ME."

Does this sound like "just a dog" to John? Just a dead puppy he shouldn't get so worked up over? You SAW the scene. You SAW how they killed Daisy. And you're telling me it's not that big of a deal??

Insane. It wasn't just a dog.

[wickblr]

Can you make a poll for the best John Wick villain?

Voting ends in one week

[of-tatooine]

DULCE PERICULUM. | CHAPTER VI - CLEAR

supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

(John Wick x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader)

full work

This was the place.

It must have been. It existed in your memories, the forgotten crumbs of moments laying bare right in front of you.

Through the tinted windows of the backseat in the armored vehicle, an extension of Camorra’s constant protection over you - your eyes staggered momentarily on the grand 18th century wooden doors, encrusted in the brick and stone that stretched for floors upwards.

Hidden in plain sight. Evil, crime and all that was unholy, being led by the seemingly normal, historic building. Did the ordinary pedestrians, many who walked near or across the stronghold every single hour, have the slightest idea of what was transpiring inside? The extent of detail flowing through plans to spill yet more blood or to transport even more drugs? The bourbon and whiskey consumed by men after an operation that paid well?

Would they change their morning commute had they known?

With the amount of corruption running rampant in the city that never slept - people would always go out of their way to blissfully ignore.

It was not much different back in il Bel Paese, and you would be damned to be a hypocrite as a pin of the underworld yourself. Camorra’s limbs extending all over the crevices, stones and doors adorning the narrow streets of Napoli - yet, people still drank on the streets, chanting the songs of their victorious football team, melodies leaving their way into hurled curses on some nights. Almost every restaurant in the town owed something to a Camorra boss somewhere, with money flowing into eventually the lifestyle that you led, but did not ask for. Yet - people still frequented the establishments, ordering the finest the fair city had to offer.

And, to think, this was only where it began.

It often hurt to think just how vast and interconnected this web was, jumping from city to city, port to port. Just how many souls were involved. The notion of Camorra almost seemingly incorporated into real life itself - becoming one with the city, with the population, with the beliefs and the traditions.

It was embedded in the pavement stones of Roma, in the bronze of the angels that protected the holy land. Gleaming in the intricate cuts of pink and green marble adorning il Duomo, ever withstanding centuries. Etched onto the mosaics in their lazy trail across cliffs, into the deep, turquoise eternity.

A sentient presence among all corners of the country, blurring the lines of morality wherever it touched in the outside world.

Until it bled the people dry.

Until men were beaten to a pulp in the dimly-lit back alleys on a cold winter night, limping to get home till morning come - because the count had not been right. Until bullets started whizzing in the air upon a missing kilogram. Until an innocent died at a road ambush in the countryside.

For you, it had not taken years to grow accustomed to the ruthless truth of the source of your estate, the grandeur. Of your place in the world.

It was all you knew, your only version of reality, from the moment you gained consciousness.

Was it rightful? Earned? All you had to do was to be born into it, into the right family with the right connections. At least that was what the Camorra told you, when they took you under their wing.

Sometimes, in this life, there are choices.

Sometimes, they have already been made for you.

Everyone in the underworld was tied to each other by an invisible thread, that would get pulled on or snipped off sooner or later.

Tarasov had been no different. It was the same, when it came to members of the mob, they were all the same - except they were Russians.

Direct, straight to the point. In times, even more ruthless than what your clan could become. A little too reckless at times, yet devout to tradition. To the century-old ways of living and letting die.

Like every crime lord you had the luxury of being in their vicinity in this lifetime - they always got what they wanted, one day or another, late or early.

As the car stalled in the empty space, the chauffeur respectfully waiting - you would take out your phone, nimble fingers typing a quick sono qui to the one who waited for you back at home.

I have made it.

He had briefly mentioned plans to take a couple of days to travel to Piacenza, to his father’s estate, where he resided with the looming sickness, far out in the countryside with an army of doctors and guards. Time had not been on his side, and would never be at his age. As much as Santino wished health on his father - decay was the one thing he could not change, even with all the power and funds he had. It could not be stopped.

Time.

It either healed you, or it broke you down.

“Grazie, amore,” came his fast text momentarily, making your lips curl upwards in a moment of courage.

“Buona fortuna.”

Packing up your tote and thanking your driver, the suited guard on the passenger seat exited quickly to help you down the backseat of the tall SUV. Clicking heels across the concrete took you to the doors, guards giving you a quick once over and opening the gates to the dark, moody entrance covered in the deepest mahogany paneling.

The door closed right behind you in a fleeting moment.

“Welcome to New York,” your escort that appeared out of the shadows would speak in a heavy Russian accent, earning a nod from you. “Viggo had been waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” you responded, walking through dimly lit halls leading up to an elevator. The seemingly short ride up would take you to the top floor, exiting out in a grand foyer with windows overlooking the silhouette of the city, filling in the moody room with slivers of natural light behind crimson velvet curtains. The distant crackling sound of a fireplace echoing in the tall ceilings. Finest examples of taxonomy glared at you from the walnut-paneled walls, doors opening up to you as a known voice welcomed you in. The guard staying right outside, clicking the door shut - sealing you in for the job.

You had been here before, but not like this. Everything felt so familiar, yet so alien. The passing months and years seemed to long, yet it was closer than you recalled. The days had flown by, memories fresh yet forgotten, human beings being lost in the cacophony of everyday life.

The dreams, however, did not cease to remind you from time to time.

Dreams that took place in this very room, a fleeting moment in time, etched onto unknown corners.

Where you had met him.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you in our fine city,”  the older Tarasov spoke in the deep accent, slowly getting up from his vast mahogany desk, polished shoes tapping against the hardwood as he took your outstretched hand to press a fleeting kiss on your knuckles in greeting.

“Thank you for having me,” you offered with a respectful smile as you unbuttoned the coat with a single hand, gesturing the armchairs sprawled across the burning fireplace, the center of his office. “May I?”

“Please. Coffee?” he asked, as he walked to his perfectly stocked personal bar that was places as yet another center of attention, dark walnut and black marble blending in seamlessly, contrasting the bright bottles and glasses.

“Or better yet, as is tradition - some vodka?”

“Grazie,” you would politely declined, even though you knew the jetlag would get the worst of you by the evening as you took your coat off with habitual ease, draping it across the armrest and sat with your legs crossed, waiting on the mob boss to join you for the long-awaited chat.

Business. That was what you were there for. The atmosphere was eerie, in the early lights of the quiet and calm morning, with Viggo pouring a small drink for himself as the glasses clinked. It was always unsettling and intimidating to get into the conversation - after all, with men this powerful, all bets could be off the table. Unpredictability came with the occupation most of the time.

Your eyes would trail to the tall windows, lazily letting in sunlight - now partially covered in thick, velvet curtains. Unobstructed views that many could only wish for.

That had been where he stood as you had stormed in the room, one of the times where the anger had manifested externally.

With his hands in his pockets, deep in thought, his hair slicked back in what you would discover to be his signature style. His dark stare catching you by surprise from the first time your eyes met, it did not matter if it had been a millisecond.

The first time you saw the man behind the rumors, in flesh, in this very room, mere years ago - the details of the snapshot of a moment carved in stone.

There had been no curtains back then.

A man of fine taste, Viggo tended to change things up every once in a while. The furniture had changed, no expense spared - yet the comfort was there. As comfortable as you could get with a mob boss who had districts under his thumb, that was. Your body straightened itself as Viggo took a seat in front of you, setting his crystal glass on the nearby drink table. He had donned a thick gray suit to combat the icy New York cold that morning, complete with a red shirt and burgundy tie tucked into his three piece.

His presence could be felt, just as much as his style and décor choices, as he spoke, albeit his voice was of a leisurely nature.

“Before business, let us be friends,” he offered with a slight smile. “Tell me, how’s life been on your side of the world?”

“As you know - business as usual,” you would start, as old-fashioned as you could be sometimes, taking out a small notebook from your purse. “Trying to help a friend out.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” he nodded, taking a sip of the drink. “I gathered you are here to ask something of me. Must be very important if it had you travel all the way over here.” Tarasov leaned back, sitting comfortably with the glass resting in his hand.

By that point, you had understood the sarcasm slightly laced in his voice, yet you had a feeling it was not targeted at you necessarily - but for what you stood for.

He believed your efforts were futile, a hint of a smirk stretching his lips.

He believed it could not be done.

“Santino requested I help with the fulfillment of task. I need names, Viggo,” you spoke, clear, articulate yet soft, looking to meet his eyes.

“And your word to honor what you promised John.”

The man first looked amused, letting his drink rest on the coffee table, learning towards you. “Now, why would you think I would not?”

“Just covering my bases this time.”

“I am a man of my word,” he added, voice lower, his jaw clenching slightly. “I suggest you do not pry that further.”

The air in the room tightened.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a knowing yet kind smile.

It did not make sense to ever anger a Russian mob boss.

Much to your slight surprise, the man offered a light chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “I will give you whatever information I have - not that I have much,” he would concede without much of a fight required.

“But, just so we are clear,” he would start, elbows on knees as his icy stare got closer to yours, “ - there is a reason this is called an impossible task.”

“It simply cannot be done.”

Another crackle of the burning wood would echo across the wood paneling, the orange flames illuminating the side of your face, lips tilted upwards as you opened up your small notebook, looking through your lashes as the words flowed.

“Let’s see what we can do, Mr. Tarasov.”

[r1-jw-lover]

This is my first time editting, but I made some for my John Wick friends, inspired by this Rogue One gifset. I unfortunately don't know how to make gifs yet, so stills will have to do for now.

(Please do not repost. The images are on lousy resolution anyways.)

Tagging @evren-sadwrn, @tobytheeggo, @professor-sandalo-fakemonblog, @babayagaiscomingforya, @thewhumpcaretaker, @treedaddymcpuffpuff, @chaoticgardenbread, @saengak, @jotunvali02

More characters under the cut. <3<3<3

[kavalyera]

5 DILFS of the John Wick franchise who aren’t John Wick: very put together list by me and I’m definitely not writing this after getting up from like an hour nap

5.) Kirill - he may not be a father but Daniel Bernhardt is so he counts. I love how constantly stressed he looks in every scene and at this point we might aswell consider Iosef as his kid from how many grey hairs he has because of him💀 anyways, dilf bodyguard. Pros: strong, hot, actually a quick-thinker, cool. Cons: pushed a woman, will continue to push women.

4.) Viggo - what else do you want. Mob boss, actually does have a kid, probably the most coolest mafia boss I’ve ever seen. He’s the funniest guy ever and also I will romanticize his actions from hell to back. He’s also a shit father but let’s not talk about that🥰 (He literally put his son in danger) (He punched said son two times) (He ALSO grieved his son BEFORE he died). Pros: generally powerful socially, has networks and influence across New York, the only villain who knew John’s power. Cons: shit father, punches his own kid, still stupid enough to fight John in the rain without a weapon but at least he looked cool doing so.

3.) Harbinger - im sorry I find Clancy Brown hot that’s all there is to this. He’s enigmatic, he serves as a (kind of) father figure to Marquis if you really think about it. He’s also dressed in black always, and also he has a sick ass scar. John Wick Chapter 4 screenplay calls him a “behemoth of a man”. Michael Finch and Shay Hatten’s words not mine. Pros: actually chill, wiseful and mindful👍, the most respectful High Table emissary. Cons: high table emissary.

2.) Koji - Hirouyuki Sanada with a sword. He’s also a father of a very mean daughter which is funny cause he’s actually really chill (what is it with mean kids and their chill dads in this movie series??) anyways. He owns a cool ass hotel, he’s hot, I don’t think he has a wife (or a husband.) Pros: he’s super respectful and gracious!!! Also, really puts relationships above all things. Cons: he gets betrayed.

1.) Caine - now we have mean dad and chill daughter. Well, we don’t know exactly if Mia is chill yet but she kinda looks chill so. Anyways, Caine!! Ngl the cuntiest person in JW4 I don’t care if John Wick is there or Akira or Vincent, Caine is by far the coolest fucking guy in that movie and I will die on this hill. Pros: will fight for his family, funny, won’t kill certain types people. Cons: pissed off a friend’s daughter😨

[pedroam-bang]

John Wick (2014)

[bluelolblue]

John Wick (2014) - Viggo Tarasov

[tobytheeggo]

John Wick characters with pokemon teams!!

• Feel free to request anybody :3

Note: it was only after Viggo that I realized I could’ve been using Pokemon HOME instead of just Scarlet/Violet, soooo pretend everyone before him isn’t stuck in the Paldea region

[marquisedegramont]

Congrats on your greatest work yet! I’m sure it will be amazing to see. Is it Marquis related????

Maybeeee

It’s me putting all my analysis works (on my main) into a fic! All of the knowledge I’ve acquired and all the theories I’ve conducted and all the character analysis I’ve written are finally being written and laid out!! So excited to finish it heeheheeheh ^_^

More on the story under the cut

So basically it’s like a High Table prequel, and it starts off with Gianna and Santino (Gianna mostly because I’ve decided Santino has had too much time in the spotlight) and then eventually it branches out to people like Charon, John, Helen, Adjudicator, Harbinger, Viggo, Marcus and of course— Marquis.

I’ve decided to fully delve into my more “artistic” kind of writing style in which I write it flowery, and of course with symbolism and distinct imagery (which I unknowingly copied off of @thewhumpcaretaker HAHA i stole ur writing style you can’t have it back >:) /j)

I can give a small snippet right now

AT THE BASE of everything that makes a person a human, they are an animal.

The illusion of it is the belief that humans aren’t animalistic. Gianna thinks otherwise. She has seen the ends of both sides; her as an animal and others as animals— ripping away flesh with bare hands and teeth sunk, grasping onto the thin thread of power. That’s the life philosophy that Gianna and Santino were both destined to learn and uphold.

I’m trying to put all my knowledge of the mafia/crime itself, human nature, and some other John Wick lore

Of course, it’s a multi-protagonist thing. Sort of like Arcane, but of course with a clear protagonist duo which would be Gianna and Santino.

I want to write it, I want it for people to read so they can find it both entertaining and in a way, insightful!

Can’t say when I would release the first chapter since I like to write three chapters before releasing the other one

Would love for some advice on how to write long fics tho dhsndhdh

The title is TDFP. Try to find out what that means :)

Love all of you guys who support me and my writing, I know it takes me a long time to write and I love all of you who have the patience <3

[mrssimply]

One of the best John Wick video in my opinion. The hits just hit right ;)

Adding it here for safe keeping

[babayagaiscomingforya]

Guys I made a funny

[evangelifloss]

John Wick 1 is so funny in hindsight for a multitude of reasons, but I think my favourite is watching how far Mafioso Supreme Viggo Tarsasov is willing to go for his failson. The boy can't even handle himself without a bodyguard and you really think that he's going to valuable to your empire? My brother in christ, he is cringe.

You killed John Wick's dog? Ok here's 10 million, get out of my house and good luck.

You can't look me in the eye and tell me that Russian lad is worth dying for, let alone giving up your entire empire in the process since you have no heir. Like... Viggo, there's a reason 'Heir and the spare' is a popular mentality adopted by the elite.

Entire Russian Mafia syndicate toppled by single soy boy son of the leader

[andarthas-web]

What if Viggo Tarasov had offered John Wick a different kind of deal? What if the offer was good enough for John to take it? What if Iosef had to pay the price, not a life for a life, but a dog for a dog?

Iosef has more time to feel and to reflect on things than is healthy.

[blairwick]

Hi there, fellow Wickblr mutual. I would like to get to know you more. Who are your favourite John Wick characters? (Mine are Akira and Caine.)

Oooh Akira and Caine!🤩 I really liked Donnie Yen’s performance in particular. For her first time acting in a big movie, Rina Sawayama was really great and I’m a fan of how she translated the written screenplay to the scenes that happen on screen.

For me, I liked Viggo and Katia among the rest. How they were written and their relationship to John really fascinated me when I first watched their respective movies. I like Viggo the most because of the question: “How do families function under the High Table?” Too bad the Tarasov family isn’t quite talked more often than they were.

[kavalyera]

90s john wick fic would go hard because it’s him still the underworld, younger d’antonio siblings who probably haven’t thought of betrayal since their father is still alive, mafias in new york are struggling to climb to power, the high table has a tight grip on the entire underworld, political systems were reforming, sofia would have been an assassin, teen akira and vincent, viggo could still be climbing to the top, caine would be struggling to find a way out of the table, and also helen is alive