wє αℓℓ ∂єѕєяvє тo ∂ιє
There's a hole in the world, like a great, black pit, and it's filled with people who are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it; but not for long . . .

outofrazors: gonna watch a movie or something, be back soon 



+4 have entered the barber shop. 

miss-johanna-barker:

fleetstreetnightmare:

image

— “Is that so true? Forgive my indulgence, miss, but how so? There ain’t been nobdy in this old shop for ages, apart from myself. The Barkers were the only resisdents here, ‘m afraid they…left ‘bout fifteen years back.”

{ Primarily, the barber woukd show no interest in such matters. He only asks now because of the very same reason this young woman claims to have. }

"My father, sir." She explained softly, a sad sort of smile touching the corners of her lips. "He was arrested—um, I mean he had to go away when I was very young. It’s just that, well…i’ve a portrait of him and my mother, you see, and you bear a striking resemblance to him. But I was mistaken, obviously." This man before her who was so similar to the man in the picture was also so very different, far more weathered and worn, features far more sunken, eyes hardened. It couldn’t be, and Johanna wrote it off as her imaging things. "You must forgive me, sir, i’m not quite certain where i’ve placed my manners today. I’m Johanna, Johanna Barker, and i’ll be out of your hair if you wish."

image

image

Her father…? No. That couldn’t possibly be true. But, then…her yellow hair, paled skin, and those ocean blue eyes. No other woman could have features such as those, in fact, if the younger hadn’t mentioned whom it was she was in search of, the former Barker would have sworm he was speaking with a younger version of his deceased blushing bride. }

— “I ‘fink it should be myself apologizing, Johanna. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got something that might answer bof’ of our questions.”

{ This is quite unlike the barber to act in such a manner, though this may be the only way to confirm whether or not he’s gone mad. Turning his back to the blonde, the raven-haired man saunters across the creaky wooden flooring over to his desk, fingers grasping a framed photo of he and his beloved family only months before the event that would ruin his life from then on. The frame is held out to the other, Mister Todd himself, still rather unsure. }

— “Before you take your leave, do any of the people in this photograph resemble who you’re looking for?”



; send me ❛ brush ❜ for my character’s reaction to your character running their fingers through my character’s hair. 

bonus if you add description!



wxrstpies whispered:

"{ //I'd say that's a good close to our wee little thread! (Unfortunately. Geez Sweeney y u gotta be like that). I'm looking forward to writing with you more in the future ^-^ ♥"

{{ Yes, Mr. T is a giant ball of hate and sadness, but future writing together may just change that c: . All the more reason to <3}}




Anonymous whispered:

"*Nuzzles into his neck*"

image

— “..I’d adivse you to stop that immediately if you’d like to keep your ‘ead, mate.”




cryingclxwn whispered:

""So, I 'eard ye sell pies...""

image

— “Aye, me neighbor bown below does. Most famous meat pies in London, they are.”



+1 has entered the barber shop. 

wxrstpies:

 

image

     And once more — quite like a needle stuck into her vein — the barber’s words tranquilized whatever emotion had begun to rise from the deepest pit of the baker’s gut, smothering it with his apathy and slitting it’s metaphorical throat ear-to-ear. Whatever brief flicker of luminescence her pallid complexion had attained by hearing her first name flow beautifully through his tight, grey lips, deteriorated until she was once again left with nothing but an inquisitive expression and a nearly empty bottle of gin. 

   Ay, i’ is. she began, offering him a rather deplorable attempt at an acquiescent smile. Forgive me, jus’ gave me a bi’ ‘a a shock is all.

     The atmosphere of the solemn shop had begun to weigh and crush down mercilessly upon her, and all at once she felt a touch of cursed tears begin to well and sting her tear-ducts, bringing a rather distinguishable glint to her wide, cocoa hues. She turned away from him then, a deep mortification of her wretched emotionalism had begun to warm her ears.

            Best to take her leave of him before it intensified further.

                                                 ”I’ll be jus’ downstairs if y’appen t’a need me, love.
      The more logical portion of her knew he would not be calling upon her, though she found it almost second-nature now to reiterate the fact nearly every time she planned to depart from him.
She was a mere ghost to him, quite like everything else: and twas a fact she had been perilously attempting to grow accustomed to.

     Maybe one day, she thought, it would be 
                                                                     d i f f e r e n t .

                                                                                                        But not this day. 

image

{ With alcohol warm in his stomach and mind whirring about, Sweeney gave no reply but the slightest nod of the head. It was obvious this conversation was coming to a close. Thank Heavens for that. Distracting though these talks may be, he never has the faintest idea of how to make one last. }

{ Eleanor’s usual departure was given, now confirming that the sullen man would be left by himself once again. Whether this was a good thing or not was unknown, he finds too much of this loneliness only causes this depression to only sink deeper. Oh, well. As if there were any ever hope for the poor man, anyhow. He’d practically driven himself mad with his own emotions, or what remained of them. }

The chiming of the bell is his queue to bid her goodnight, yet another rarity. Though, the gin has muddled his mind some, perhaps that is the reason for this sudden change in behavior, slight though it may be. He suspect it will only last this night. What a miricle it would be if he were incorrect. }

— “Right… G’night, then.”

A l o n e again. It seems he is destined to be, for even when accompanied by others, he feels so very locked away, iscolated in his cell of a brain. Alone it shall be, then. Alone with his thoughts, alone with the cobwebs and dust; alone with the ghosts and demons, never to be excorcised. }



+4 have entered the barber shop. 

miss-johanna-barker:

fleetstreetnightmare:

miss-johanna-barker
oldstxryanew
susie1x1
pluto-the-hound

image

— “Benjamin Barker, hm? No. I ‘fink you’ve got the wrong man.”

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion, Sir; It’s just that—Um…" Johanna’s ever fidgeting fingers fiddled with a locket that hung at the hollow of her throat, a tattered and worn thing of silver that contained a family portrait of her and her parents when she was but a baby. "My apologies, sir, you just look like someone I thought I knew."

image

image

— “Is that so true? Forgive my indulgence, miss, but how so? There ain’t been nobdy in this old shop for ages, apart from myself. The Barkers were the only resisdents here, ‘m afraid they…left ‘bout fifteen years back.”

{ Primarily, the barber woukd show no interest in such matters. He only asks now because of the very same reason this young woman claims to have. }




Anonymous whispered:

"-takes mun's advice and ninja hugs the cutie-muse-"

image

— “…Are you fairly aware that I’ve got r a z o r s on me, Grayface?”



+1 

image

— “Come for a s h a v e,have you, sir?”