#Rest in peace to your workplace's blue ink!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gonna use the color printing at work to get a copy of this I can hamg on ceiling above my bed.

I...am honestly stunned by how you've managed to collect nearly all the soggy LWJ's of Poorly-Drawn-MDZS into one image. May he absorb all the bad energy in your life and give you sweet dreams!

[baconsoupforthesoul]

The Ink Demonth- Day 8- Peace

Finally at Peace

A/N: This one-shot takes place after inkspottie’s wonderful fic, Monochrome Madness. If you haven't read it you’re missing out as it is one of my all-time favorite Bendy and the Ink Machine stories. This au and version of Henry belong to @inkspottie and I hope you enjoy~

Henry…Henry, my dear…It’s time to wake up…

Henry slowly opened his eyes as sunlight peeked through the blinds of his bedroom window. He turned his head to the empty spot next to him. Figures he would dream about her, considering what day it was. Henry sighed, wiping a stray tear off his face as he sat up. He stretched out his arms as his wings fluttered. It was crazy how much has changed since this time last year. On the first anniversary of Linda’s death, he had been an absolute wreck, staying almost the entire day in bed and only leaving the house so he could visit her grave. Now, well he had acquired horns, a halo, and wings for one thing. But most importantly, he wasn’t alone anymore. After returning to his former workplace that had been turned into an inky prison, he had managed to escape with most of his friends as well as his toons, Bendy, Boris, and Alice. Taking care of the toons gave him back the purpose in his life that he had thought he had lost with Linda. He had also formed a tight-knit support system with his former coworkers, each of them helping one another overcome the horrors they had experienced back at the studio. So, while the loss of his wife felt heavy in his chest, he didn’t feel like he was going to fall apart at the seams.

The smell of coffee pulled Henry from his thoughts though as he got up and walked out of his bedroom. As he entered the kitchen he was surprised to see Alice pouring out a cup of coffee, Boris scoping scrambled eggs onto four different plates and Bendy staring expectantly at the toaster.

“Mornin’ Henry!” Boris looked up at him with a friendly smile. “We made you some breakfast! We hope it tastes alright. And don’t worry, we have Bendy making the toast since that’s hard for him to screw up.”

“Hey!” Bendy protested, crossing his arms. “Just what’s that supposed ta mean?”

“It means the last time you tried to cook anything you almost blew up the kitchen,” Alice told him as the toast popped out of the toaster. “Now see if you can butter that without setting anything on fire, hmmm?” Bendy stuck his tongue out at the angel before going off to prepare said toast.

“Thank you.” Henry signed, smiling warmly at his toons. “You didn’t have to go to all the trouble.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Henry,” Boris said as he set the food on the table.

“Yeah, we just wanted to to a little something for you since… we know what today is…” Alice’s voice trailed off as she looked down at her feet. That’s right, Henry had explained to the toons earlier this month that this was the anniversary of Linda’s death and that it might sour his mood a little bit. He just didn’t want any of them to worry about him, he didn't expect them to go out of their way like this. He didn't want to bother anybody else with his grief.

“Are… are you feeling alright Henry?” The former animator looked over to see Bendy giving him a concerned look as he set the plate with the toast on the table. Henry realized that he had been lost in thought for a second and that his halo had dimmed and his winged were drooping. Even though he was no longer a toon, the new appendages he had gained still made him more of an open book then he would have liked.

“I’ll be okay,” Henry told him honestly. “Let’s eat, this food looks delicious.” Bendy still appeared concerned but took a seat with the rest of them as they dug in. The eggs turned out fantastic and Henry made sure to heap praises onto all of his toons for the meal.

“Aw shucks Henry, you’re making me blush.” Boris chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ll take care of the dishes,” Bendy announced as he cleared up the table.

“You better not break anything,” Alice warned him, a teasing smile on her face.

“Get off my case, Alice!” Bendy called back to her as he placed the dishes on the counter and started filling up the sink.

“I’ll help you dry them.” Henry signed before grabbing a towel.

“I can do it, Henry!” Bendy protested but Henry just chuckled. “You just go… rest or something, I don’t know.”

“I’m not sick Bendy.” Henry let out a huff of laughter. “I want to help. It keeps my mind occupied.”

“Okay… if you say so.” Bendy pulled up a footstool and started scrubbing the dishes. The two of them worked in silence for a moment, while Boris and Alice idly chatted at the table.

“Are ya… are ya gonna visit her grave today?” Bendy asked nervously, a little afraid to breach the heavy subject. Henry nodded as he placed a mug in the cupboard. “Would… would you mind if I came with you?”

“Of course not.” Henry signed before reaching over and rubbing Bendy in between his horns. Bendy leaned into the touch and gave his creator a small smile.

“Is it alright if we come to Henry?” Alice asked from across the room, turning around in her chair to face Henry with her hands gripping the back of it.

“We can all go together,” Henry told her after he had put the last dish away. “We’ll leave in just a moment, there’s just one thing I have to do first.”

As the toons got ready to head to the cemetery, Henry went out back and snipped a couple of the sunflowers from his garden. He remembered Linda showing him how to make a proper bouquet when she used to work at her flower shop but Henry still doesn’t think he can do them any justice. Still, he did his best as he wrapped the flowers with green tissue paper and secured them with a ribbon. By the time he had finished, the toons were all waiting by the car. The drive to the cemetery was unusually quiet. Henry was used to whenever he drove the toons anywhere to hear them either singing to the radio or having Alice and Bendy argue while Boris laughed at their antics. Henry felt uncomfortable under the stares they were all giving him as if they thought he was about to burst out into tears at any moment. It was to be expected though, he knew they were just concerned about him. He just wishes this day didn't have to make them feel as sad as he did.

After Henry pulled up at the cemetery, the toons slowly exited the car and followed their creator up the hill to the final resting place of Linda Stein. Henry clutched at the bouquet in his hand as he remembered the last time he had been here. He had been a broken man, sobbing at her gravestone, wondering why it had been her time and not his. Standing her brought back so much of Henry’s grief as struggled to keep himself composed in front of his toons. Suddenly, he felt a hand slip into his and he turned to see Alice holding his hand. Boris rested his head on Henry’s shoulder as he hugged him from behind. And Bendy latched onto Henry’s leg, squeezing it tight as he rubbed his cheek against him. The former animator managed a smile as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. “Thank you.” He signed with his free hand, hoping all three of them could see it.

“I really wish we could have met her Henry.” Alice’s voice quivered. “I’m sure she was wonderful.”

“Do ya… do ya think she would have liked us?” Bendy asked, sounding unsure of himself as he looked up at Henry.

“She would have loved you. All three of you.” Henry told him and Bendy sniffed, wiping away a stray tear of his own. Henry bent down and picked Bendy up, wrapping the little demon up in a hug. Bendy sniffled into his shoulder as Boris and Alice joined the impromptu group hug. Henry really wished Linda could have been alive to see the toons. She would have absolutely adored them and he was sure that the toons would have been just as charmed by her.

“Would you like a minute alone here Henry?” Boris asked as he and Alice finally let go. “I mean, we didn't really know her so if you want a moment alone with her, we’d understand.”

“I’ll just be another minute. I’ll meet you all back at the car.” Henry signed after he set Bendy down. Boris and Alice nodded as they made their way down the hill but Bendy still looked unsure.

“You gonna be alright, old man.” Bendy looked up at Henry with concern.

“I will be, I promise. I won’t take too long.” Henry leaned down and gave Bendy one last hug before the little demon scampered off after his friends. After the toons had left, Henry knelt down in front of the gravestone, placing the bouquet in front of it before rubbing his hand over Linda’s name.

“So much has happened since I was last here.” Henry signed as the wind whipped around him, ruffling his hair and feathers. “I was so lonely after you died, my love. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I still miss you, every day. Not a day goes by I don’t wish you were here.” Tears trickled down Henry’s face but he made no effort to wipe them away as he kept on signing. “But after so long, I’m not alone anymore. I hope you can see the toons from wherever you are, I know you’d love them with all your heart. And I have everyone else too now. Sammy, Susie, Wally, Norman, Tom, and Allison. They’re all still recovering from their time stuck in the studio but they’re all doing better than ever. I feel so blessed to get to spend time with all of them.” Henry looked up at the sky, it’s endless blue stretching to the horizon with only a few clouds drifting by as the sun beat down on him. “I’ll always miss you, my love. But… I feel at peace now. I hope wherever you are, that you’re at peace too. I love you, Linda, I love you so much.” Henry took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. The wind whistled by him again and for a split second, he felt as if someone had pressed a gentle hand to his cheek. He quickly looked around and touched his face but nothing was there. Chalking it up to the breeze, Henry got up, stretched out his wings, and walked back down the hill to his family.

[dr-mizmix]

Name

Crawley …

Anthony J Crowley, that's his new name. Known for being one hell of an demon, what it also meant a ton of paperwork. Something he left for the people he now needs to get the name change done. And they weren't quite happy with Crowley's work methodology.

Hell's office of legal department, as you can imagine, is not a nice place to be in. It is said that only the worst kind of people, only the ones who dare to commit the worst kind of atrocities end up working there; such as the human who created paperwork, it is said they are the ones in charge of the place.

The light is dim and flickers every thirty seconds; halls are thin, covered in black goo and terribly signaled, you would get lost at least five times before arriving to your destination, even if you knew the place; nobody really has an office technically speaking, their workplace is more similar to an overcrowded cubicle maze and if the ambiance wasn't enough to make you leave at sight, the marvelous treatment you are bound to receive from it's workers certainly will.

As you can imagine the process of changing one's name through Hell isn't an easy one. And the demon in charge of it seemed to take pleasure in making the process as tedious and intrusive as possible.

“And the reason for the change is?” the voice of the demon attending him was high pitched, he spoke above the ordinary volume level, still not loud enough to be considered screaming, all of the above accompanied with a southern US accent, as if it was specifically designed to piss off people.

Crowley smiled impatiently tapping on the desk while the fiend stamped one by one the largest tower of certificates he'd ever seen. “Most humans have a name and a surname, it would make my job of bleeding in a lot easier.”

“But why would you change your given name?” He stopped stamping the pile with the excuse of needing more ink. As if he couldn't miracle it. “And given that you are doing it so, why stopping at the change of one only vowel?” He tilted his head in search for an answer.

“Humans can't seem to pronounce it right.” The demon didn't quite accept the answer but went back to the stamping, thankfully faster than the before.

At one point the demon turned the paper stack as in to say 'sign it now'. Crowley picked up a pen ready to get it over with, when the demon in charge of the paperwork grabbed his wrist and staring directly into his eyes threateningly and asked “And why would you add a simple letter in between? A 'J' ? What's that all about?”

Crowley freed his wrist from his tight grasp, it left some burnt marks on his skin.

“S'just a simple J. S'nothin' to it.”

He rapidly signed everything and turned around with the intent of leaving this cursed place as soon as possible.

“We'll be watching you…” The creature smiled widely as he gave the scripted send off characteristic of their workplace. “Anthony J. Crowley”

Of course they would, they always do, but it's not like he can't lie to them. He just did.

Crawley. That's the name of an evil creature. While Crowley's kind is technically "evil", he doesn't want a name that automatically puts him on a box.Crowley isn't one to like pretentious names. He wouldn't obviously slap a J in the middle of his name for the sake of aesthetic. But there was something about this word. This new addition to his name. That needed to be kept private. This name was a way of acknowledging what he was and coming to terms with it.

In the end, why he added 'Anthony' was the only truth he said during the whole interview.

Most people were quite accepting over Crowley's new name. The fact that he is a demon who could make the life of anyone who dared to pronounce his deadname miserable, might have helped in the process. Although that wasn't very important to him, they were just mere mortals and ,as much as it bothered him, sooner or later they would end up dying along with the existence of his deadname. Time would keep going without them.

But there was someone who knew it and wasn't going to die anytime soon. Worst case scenario he would get "inconveniently discorporated" and that isn't enough for erasing thousands of years worth of memories which made the situation far more inconvenient. Aziraphale, his college for weirdest job anyone has ever had, his best and only friend through the milenia, is the one that troubled him.

As much as he had wished been able to properly plot their reunion, there was not time because when it comes to this angel, you don't even need to speak about him for something bad to happen.

Once again duty called and the demon saved his angel (and his books, because Aziraphale loves books oh so much and Crowley knew making him happy would help him overlook the fact that he just bombed a church)

"Care for a ride?"

Aziraphale got in the Bentley with the biggest smile Crowley had ever seen. He beamed happy and peaceful but at the same time anxious, as if something was bothering him. Fidgeting with the piece of rope he had previously used to transport the books and checking the drivers sit every few minutes. This went on until they arrived to their destination. None of them were leaving the car.

"Crowley, my dear… " he looked just exactly as the last time Crowley had seen him. But this time he could feel grief radiating from his eyes. It had almost been a hundred years where people come and go, but pain cannot be erased.

“Yes angel?” His mind could only wonder. Last time they talked, it didn't end up well. He's had almost a century to plot this but all the scripts, all the plans, all the words he carefully schemed throughout the decades didn't seem to make any sense now. It wasn't as bad as he expected tho.

“I am sorry for what I said in the park.” His voice, even softer and higher pitched than usual, the look in his eyes… “I got carried away, but the thought of losing you, my dear?” He faced the floor closing his eyes and clenching his fists. “I know I was being egocentric but I couldn't bear with it.” He looked up again, opening his wet blue eyes; he was really sorry, wasn't he?

Crowley sighed. He placed his hand under the angel's jaw, raising his head so they could make eye contact “I know angel, and I am so sorry too” He took of his sunglasses. His eyes were now in the verge of tears and his voice started to crack “I know what it sounded like and I understand why you got so upset. Is just that…” He made a brief pause in order to take in some air and placed his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders “I need you to trust me, Aziraphale. I am a demon and even if it sounds stupid, your trust is the only good thing, the only thing I have left.”

Aziraphale was speechless for a minute. Then he smiled as he offered his hand for a handshake, bursting into laughter surprised, when Crowley pulled him into a hug. The demon quietly sobbed in his arms not wanting to let go as the angel gently patted his back, whispering words of reassurance.

“I'm here.” “I will never let you go.” “You are my best friend.” “We're safe.”

When they finally separated Crowley was as red as red wine, trying to clean himself but needing to stop every now and then because of his own embarrassment induced laugh. Aziraphale thought it was adorable and the color of Crowley's skin gave him an idea to stretch the meeting just a little longer. 

“If you're up for it, I've got a few bottles of Spanish wine in the backroom.” He puts his best effort in sounding as confident as possible. It's not even worth mentioning how much he absolutely miserably failed.

Crowley nodded displaying a playful grin, following Aziraphale to the backroom of his bookstore a place he hadn't visited in a very long time. Everything was almost exactly as he remembered: bookshelves filled with rare books as far as the eye can see (now filled with even more books); the familiar bookstore aroma formed by a mixture of hot chocolate, old books, rare wine and Aziraphale; the candid light that covered the entirety of the bookshop making it feel warm and cozy… One of the few changes he noticed is the telephone Aziraphale had proudly hanging among his various antiques. Crowley had not been awake for a long but he could tell it was already antiquated. He wondered amused with the new communication possibilities and keeping in touch of this new century.

Once in the backroom, Aziraphale offered Crowley to open the first bottle which he proudly did, serving a glass of wine for Aziraphale and then one for himself.

“Cheers!” 

The angel smiled as he raised his cup. “Cheers!” 

A few bottles in, Aziraphale was sitting on the couch playing with Crowley's hair, who laid horizontally resting his head over his friend's lap.

“You know what darling, I've always fancied your eyes. Is such a shame that you don't expose them more often” Aziraphale started to draw circles in Crowley's hair using his fingers.

“They are a constant reminder of how I'll never fit in.” He turned his body slightly, facing Aziraphale's stomach. He would be really comfortable if wasn't for the topic of the conversation.

“But demons don't look 100% human.”

“And?” He replied roughly but without raising his voice. His anger didn't have to do with his angel. He was angry with Her and Her 'ineffable plan'.

“Oh.” Even though Aziraphale knew he didn't like the other demons, for some reason this felt more personal. “If I'm not misunderstood, humans love this kind of diversity.” he made his best attempt in comforting him.

“Only when it contributes to what they consider acceptable or pleasing, if not they tear the odd one out to pieces physically or psychologically.” At this point Crowley's mind was filled with memories of countless occasions in which humans have persecuted him for being an evil spirit. They were not wrong but it still hurt.

“If I were a human and I saw someone with such a precious pair of eyes, I would only be able to admire their beauty.” And the beauty of their owner, Aziraphale thought to himself which made him smile.

“Oh shut it, angel! If you were a human you'd probably end up chanting 'Burn the witch!' among with the rest of the people, 'cause the clerks thought taking the younger monks to the pyre was a great field trip idea!” Crowley started the sentence with confidence, almost shouting, progressively backing down as Aziraphale's face became more unreadable.

Then there was silence. Aziraphale started at Crowley with a blank expression, then he chuckled loudly.

“No, no, no I would probably be the scared monk who tries to convince everyone not to burn the 'witch' ending up getting myself burnt for obstructing the inquisition”

Crowley breathed again in relief. “I can imagine you falling in love with the alleged witch”

“If the alleged witch happens to have beautiful amber eyes, don't even doubt it.” Luckily for him, Crowley was way too drunk to understand any kind of flirting. He took a long sip of wine finishing his glass.

“But now, seriously” Aziraphale rubbed his eyes a bit thoughtful “What does the J stand for?” Aziraphale giggled “Anthony Jennifer Crowley?”

Crowley sat down and poured more wine into his glass “S'just for aesthetic”

“Anthony J Crowley, we've known each other since the garden of eden, the creation of this planet, and you expect me to believe you've change your name for the aesthetic?” He placed his hand on the serpent's shoulder. They should sober up for this kind of conversation but none of them seemed to want it.

“What if I told you that it means Anthony Janthony Crowley, would you believe me?” he smiled sadly, trying to dismiss him.

“Dear, you've literally been through hell to do this? Why do you keep lying?”

“S'a secret.”

“Oh. Then how about if I tell you one of my secrets and you tell me yours?” Aziraphale knew his secret wasn't going to be nearly as juicy, but he lose anything by tempting trying to convince the snake.

“I don't see why not…”

“Here goes nothing.” The angel nervously patted his lap, like a drumroll. “I've learned how to dance.”

“That's not a secret!” Crowley yelled disappointed. With all the set up he expected the angel to say something like 'I accidentally started the prohibition'.

“Maybe not in your lot, but angels are not supposed to dance. I am the only angel who knows how to dance.” The demon then smirked. He had an idea.

“If you want me to tell you my secret, the price just raised”

“What , you cannot do that!”

“Well my secret is really secret and if you really want to know it then later you shall let me dance with the only dancing angel from all heaven” He knew how sappy that sounded like, and hated himself for it, but alcohol often encourages him to erratically loosen up about his feelings.

“I accept your conditions. Now tell me.” His face was almost as red as a rose, he would later blame that on the alcohol. “What is your full name?”

“Anthony Jettison Crowley. Find it fitting, find it ironic.”

The angel stood there, thoughtful. Jettison . He never thought of it that way. Crowley often said that he didn't mean to fall. Aziraphale was hopeful that meant one day he could be redeemed: because he regretted his bad deeds. But such an specific word. Jettison, thrown away, abandoned. Is that how Crowley felt about Heaven? Did Crowley ever try to go back?

“What you don't like it?” 

“No, it's not that.” The angel realized his friend wasn't more evil than the ones in charge of giving him commands. “I just realized that Heaven can burn in Hell.” 

Crowley smiled nodding “Yeah, Heaven can burn in Hell.”