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Wings of the Hastily Assembled Angel by Flying_Fangirls for bagelistyping, SeerOfTime
Fandoms: Malevolent (Podcast)
30 May 2025
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Summary
John could not stop staring at hands.
His, to be exact, and Arthur’s. The left hands.
He supposed he could call them both his hands, but that felt… wrong. Or, not entirely wrong, but mostly wrong. Much as the grooves along Arthur’s palm— kept hidden and intimate within the hold of thin fingers— felt like an old home to John, he could not bring himself to leave his signature on the deed.
Instead, over the days, his eyes kept tracing the line of fine bone across the back of the hand, following them to their ends to find the start of fine, dark splinters laced into flesh.
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John has a body. Whose it is has yet to be determined.
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Bookmark Notes:
i'm normal.about the subject of this fic and there are no tears in my eyes oh my god
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The name started as a touch to the palate, soft yet definitive. It moved wider, taller, coaxing mandible to part with its base above. But only for a moment, as the name just as soon pulled the mandible upward once more to reconnect the tongue with the roof of the mouth, drawing a small hum up into warm nasality.
Then the name easily slid into its second half, as though each word was designed to be interwoven into a single note, one continuous sound that announced the undefeated, unwavering strength of the soul for whom it stood. It laid the tip of the tongue against the ridge just behind the teeth once more, and pushed air to the space just beyond the teeth in miniscule explosion of force. Only, then, to cradle the air with rounded lips, showing the soft side of this forceful soul.
And then the name ended.
It did not end the way it had started, securely hidden within the mouth— it ended outside, spoken into the world not just in intention of the unseen soul, but in the journey of matter as it echoed past the lips. And the lips, left behind the word’s departure, did not close upon the name’s ending; rather, they stayed parted, open as they moulded to the roundness of the final sound, remaining loose almost as if they were promising the possibility of more sound, more breaths and words and life that would eventually pour forth from this soul that had just given itself shape in the form of sound.
It ended with hope.
It ended with life, tangible.
It ended with John Doe, undeniable.
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Bookmark Notes:
John Doe.
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7k of horrible horrible angst and some of the best john characterization on the whole damn website <3
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casually bashes my skull into the nearest wall ok cool cool