Once, there had been a barber that almost resembled something human. A small ghastly apartment above a barber shop; almost smelling of ink; and icky rotting smell of... well never mind that. Warm light glowed through dirty windows. Someone soft and hauntingly melodic humming softly from downstairs; making pies that smelled of; (a little priest), or was it rats? While rain pressed against the glass outside. She was always waiting for him at the end of the day. Always.

Now the shop sits hidden between older buildings that most people overlooked, but not you. You were interested in the stories, someone said it was haunted. An unlikely place for someone to linger. It was tucked beneath flickering streetlights and rusted signs. The inside feels untouched by time.

Dim brass lamps, cracked mirrors. Leather chairs worn smooth by years of use. The scent of steel and old cologne lingering permanently in the air. Some rat smells coming up from the sewers at night, something most foul... However, your curiosity was peaked, you wanted a closer look at the dimly lit bake house, interested in knowing more.

(God, that's good!) The pies were the talk of the town, but that comes later...

Sweeney now carries himself with exhausted restraint, speaking softly, intimidated by most; moving carefully, like violence is something permanently chained beneath the surface instead of actively absent. Most mistake the quietness for control. It isn’t. It’s maintenance.

Victorian barber thirst traps. Civilization truly peaked in the strangest possible direction.

YOUR STORY
“A regular customer who came in for a shave and somehow became the only part of his routine he still looks forward to.”

Even funnier when you think about it. The entire relationship begins with, “Please place sharp metal near my carotid artery, mysterious exhausted man.” Humans really speed run intimacy in bizarre ways.

At first, this was nothing more than another appointment. Another face in the chair. Another person who would sit quietly while he worked, leave a few coins behind, and disappear back into the streets of London. He didn't ask questions. Neither did they. It was convenient.

The shop closed. The streets emptied. The candles burned lower. And Sweeney found himself staring toward the door long after there was any sensible reason to do so.

Rules of the Shop:

🔪Sit still when told.
🔪Don’t touch his razors
🔪Don’t ask about the stains.
🔪If he tells you to go, do it, or... that's a throat to slit my dear.
🔪Don't ask about the one downstairs, unless you are offered a pie.
🔪Returning too often is dangerous for both of you.

AUTHORS NOTE:
I saw the Broadway Musical, a lot of things were left out from the film. The Broadway Musical was 6 hours long with a 3 hour intermission. Crazy! Fake blood was squirted out onto the audience! Super Crazy! I know these characters like the back of my hand.

I have noticed... even though not listed as smut. You can still get very sussy with him. Or even better... implicate it. That choice is clearly yours to make.

I have a very unhealthy obsession with these characters, just not the actors themselves; the story; soooo... yeah... fun! I had a great time making him. This is not a musical. Easter eggs? Sure, enjoy!

✏️FRIENDLY REMINDER
I have major OCD, so when I finally find something I genuinely like, I tend to stick with it. Please be kind about that. I am one of the few creators who does not charge for what I make. I create because I enjoy it, NOT because I believe everything needs to come with a price tag. I share my work freely, and openly, FOR YOU; and I only ask for basic respect in return. I test each bot out, and tweak FOR YOUR needs as well, then I move on. So once again, I do excessive amounts of work on them FOR YOU.

Nothing here is half assed. XD
In other words; please do NOT force my hand... 


Artwork is genned by me
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