#mr. todd

[johnny-depp-is-loved]

ANTHONY HOPE

[candycorn-system]

It’s true though isn’t it

[robin-the-enby]

If you’re taking requests right now could you do a Sweeney Todd one shot or scenario where his s/o convinces him to give them a haircut? Tysm 🖤

A new haircut

Pairing: Sweeney Todd x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: murderous thoughts (I mean, what did you expect)

A/N: You have no idea how excited I am for this. I hope I did it right and that our dear barber isn’t too ooc. I refered to the reader as they/them (because of how the ask was frazed), if you want me to change it, just say so, I have no problems with that ^ ^

* * * * *

     It was a silent, cloudy morning in London. The sky was gray, gray like his razors. Sweeney sat on a chair which he put next to the window in his barbershop and polished his beloved helpers, the only reminder of who he used to be. He hated everything. The gray sky, the smoke, the rich and the poor, yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate his razors. Just like he couldn’t bring himself to hate Y/N.

    Sweeney held the razor he just finished polishing against the faint light coming into the room. Gray and glum like the sky above, yet so different. His metal companion shone like a star, a very dangerous one. Their smile shone too, he thought, but it was far from dangerous. Their smile was more...carefree and joyful, sometimes he wondered if they truly were that naïve or if they were lying to themselves, always so happy and bubbly.

    He could never bring himself to ask, seeing their smile was somewhat refreshing from all those indifferent faces he saw every day. That’s why he still kept them around he supposed. Surely there couldn’t be a different reason.

    So engrossed in his thoughts he was that he didn’t hear the familiar footsteps approaching his barbershop, only the sound of knocking, gentle and patient, broke his train of thought. Sweeney looked up from his work and rose to open the door to whoever was on the other side.

    Talk of the devil and he shall appear. Y/N stood outside his barbershop with a smile on their face. With a slight wave they greeted him “Good morning mr. Todd! Can I come in?”

    Sweeney nodded in response to their energetic greeting and stepped aside to let Y/N in. Closing the door he turned to look at them, awaiting the reason for their sudden visit.

    But Y/N was looking out of the window with their back turned to him “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?” they muttered absent mindedly, Sweeney had to step closer to hear them. Looking out of the window at the still gray sky from behind their shoulder, he answered truthfully “Not really.”

    His sudden closeness seemed to startle them and Y/N jumped a little. Trying to nervously laugh it off they shrugged “Well, I think yesterday’s rain cleared out the air quite nicely.”

    Sweeney didn’t reply to that, instead he stepped next to them and asked, not particularly fond of small talk “May I know the reason behind your sudden visit?” Y/N stepped back from the window “Well, I was on my way to the market, so I said hi to Nellie and I thought that if I’m already here, why not come and say hi to you as well. It surely must get lonely here.” they said with nonchalance that sounded way too forced.

    Y/N wasn’t one to lie, unlike most people he encountered, why would they lie now? With a deep frown on his face he closed the short distance between the two of them with only a few steps. Looking Y/N deep in the eyes he nothing but hissed “Don’t lie.”

    Worried, Y/N took a step back from him, their demeanor suddenly shy. They sighed and with apologetic eyes said “Forgive me. In my defense, it wasn’t a complete lie! I really was just saying hi to Nellie and...” they seemed to hesitate “I hear so much praise left and right from men who have been to your barbershop, so...I was wondering if you could give me a haircut!” Y/N rushed out the last bit.

    The air grew silent around them and for a moment it looked Sweeney was actually taken aback by the request. Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, Y/N quickly added “Of course, I don’t expect you to do anything for free! I’ll pay you, like any other customer would. I just thought...Well, we’ve known each other for quite some time now and...”

    It was clear to him that Y/N was getting lost in their unnecessary rant. If seeing them in joy was refreshing to Sweeney, seeing them nervous and coy was downright amusing. Although women weren’t his usual customers, seeing as killing a woman was different from killing a man and he had a target after all, not to mention how much they liked to talk, it didn’t mean he could not use his skills on them.

    Pushing lightly on their shoulders, Sweeney directed Y/N into the barber chair. Keeping a neutral expression on his face, like usual, he couldn’t help but feel an odd rush of excitement at seeing them so stiff in a place where he murdered so many men. They weren’t scared of him, he didn’t give them any reason to be...yet. He imagined they were just nervous about the whole thing.

    It turned out Sweeney’s assumptions were correct. He never really agreed to cutting their Y/N hair, what if he was doing it only to shut them up? It wasn’t like they would ask him about it and he wouldn’t tell them by himself, it would be best to just enjoy it, Y/N decided.

    Not sure where to look, Y/N decided to close their eyes and concentrate on the feeling. First the feeling of a soft plaid being draped over them and the slight cold feeling of it, like walking through a foggy street. Then Sweeney tipped the chair backwards, the sudden movement startling poor Y/N, before they relaxed again. He supported their head on one of his hands, while he pulled their hair from under them and over the chair with his other, then gently placing Y/N’s head back. And then it was just scissors and the occasional tug of a hairbrush.

    Now that Sweeney was this close to Y/N, he noticed certain things about them. For example, how soft their hair felt or how they relaxed in the barber chair completely over time. Something about seeing them in such a relaxed state made him relaxed too and if his movements were even a little stiff, now they were completely fluent.

    Sometimes he had to catch some loose strands of hair and so accidentally brush his hands over Y/N’s exposed neck. Just looking at it, craned into his touch, felt so enticing. How easy would it be to plunge those scissors into the soft flesh, see the blood gush out, and their wide eyes and helpless gasps leaving their mouth until it would fill with the red essence to the brim.

    It would all look lovely, but there wasn’t the satisfaction he felt while envisioning killing his other customers or the judge himself. The death of Y/N would be just a mess, without a reason, without passion and if he’d kill just for his belief that all people deserve to die, he wouldn’t be any better than any drunken aggressor. He was better than that.

    Y/N wasn’t sure if they dosed off, but when Sweeney’s touch disappeared, taking the snipping of scissors with it, it felt like rising from a dream. They opened their eyes just as Sweeney pulled the plaid from their frame and proceeded to straighten the chair once more.

    Y/N stood up and smoothed down their clothes. Clearing their throat, they asked “So, how much do I owe you?” Without actually looking at them, Sweeney made his way around them to put his tools on a table at the wall behind the barber chair “It’s nothing. I just trimmed your hair, since you never told me what you wanted me to do.” Y/N had to admit that they kind of got lost in the moment.

    Deciding on a rather bold decision, they approached him and placed a quick peck on the barber’s cheek “Thank you mr. Todd!” they said with their usual cheerful attitude and made a beeline towards the door, fearing that if they stayed just a while longer, he’d throw a razor at them or something, judging by the expression on his face.

    Minutes went by and Sweeney still stared at the door, unblinking, unmoving. He didn’t know how to feel about the payment he received, but the new sides he got to see of Y/N were definitely enough for him to keep around. Seeing them so nervous was definitely amusing, to say the least.

[shckespeare]

*blows kiss straight into hell* for mr. todd

[lemoncielart]

"They all deserve to die. Even you, Mrs. Lovett Even I. "

Today I bring you some cosplays!

Zihark Cosplay as Mr. Todd and me as Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street  by Tim Burton! Picture by Zihark Cosplay too, he is amazing go and check his cosplays! Thank you to Cristina for help us. ♥

[sureinsunlight]

aaaaright sid sent me three more of these beauties so let's continue with another

Jukebox Meme!

Character: Mr. Todd

Random Song: Major Crimes by HEALTH & Widow Winter

Life's short Why does it take so long? We're only here once Blame someone

(cw for gore, murder, and description of a generally unsavoury individual)

Why did Mr. Todd first start hurting people?

It's a question few have had the opportunity to consider, and fewer have taken. His victims, they rarely had the time; his family had better things to do. Even the sweet little slip of a thing that wound around his legs, perhaps he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. So the question must be considered, from without; as idly as if Todd himself had wondered it, half-recalling and half-imagining.

Why did Mr. Todd start hurting people?

Was it from the cradle? Was he doomed from the start, born wicked or wrong? Hardly, but for as much as anyone is. Todd was born in Redding, Ohio, and that was enough. He was a healthy baby boy, born to loving if inexperienced parents who died while their child was still kind. There was no fuss at the hospital, no solemn faces on the doctors there. The worst he ever had it was pneumonia, walking pneumonia in first grade, and that was through in a week.

Perhaps some tragic accident later in life, or else a radicalization as so many are prone to fall to? Again, sensible; it was in accidents that he found the method, his parents dying on the stairs, or driving home late. When later he would hurt, would kill, it would always be in these staccato bursts; watching the world change so violently, so sudden as to almost forget itself. But into his teens, and he was wewll-adjusted; living without his family, empancipated early, he had enough to fall back on, and the skills for a good local job. His record remained clear even then, grief did not move his hands. Neither did creed make him kill; the worst thing to say about Todd's politics were that they were ruggedly centrist-liberal. He made uncouth jokes, he did not observe or consider the greater harms he was systemically complicit in; to some people he was even an asshole. But he was an asshole seemingly at random, and mixed in enough good humor and apparent kindness into his life, and he was openly loathful of those who claimed the excuse of superiority when they punched down. Perhaps this was a violent life, but not exceptionally; he certainly didn't attack anyone for a reason.

Then, perhaps a crime of passion was the thing that did it. Perhaps he was undone by the first instance of bloodshed, and thereupon detached from reality? This would be a closer guess, certainly he was detached enough by the time Redding's papers started speaking of the Mousetrap Murderer (which really gave him undue credit, he never planned things out), but his first time was anything but accidental. He meant to trip that Josiah Parker into traffic, he'd checked for cameras at the intersection first and everything. There was no revelation, no clean inflection point where this nice young man went from average to calm and collected serial killer. His life had already slid firmly into violence by that point. Neither had anything suddenly reared its head within his, we must be clear. Redding was a town free (at the time) from the supernal and supernatural, and attempting to diagnose the good Mr. Todd with anything mundane would be post-hoc at best and, frankly, insulting to anyone who could ever share a label with him.

The answer, which no one will ever come to on their own, is of course quite boring, because Mr. Todd is and will always be quite a boring man. He had an idea, and felt like trying. He had played his hand at life and found it gently monotonous, and when he pushed that man he thought it'd make something powerful of life. He'd read tea leaves in the red smear that the man's head left under the tire tracks and decided, simply, that it had. By bookending someone's full and nuanced life with such a sudden, strange end-- it was like a punchline. Like wordplay in a poem.

Todd began to kill for the same reason a painter signs their work; to end something.

[candycorn-system]

Vile.

[candycorn-system]

I’ve found my blade, kept exactly where I had left it.