Edit: So I Figured Out How To Change Text Color :D

Edit: So I figured out how to change text color :D

So I was combing though the Twins voicelines and story again because they're one my mind 24/7 and I've noticed some things. So now I have part of an analyst. This is actually a series of headcannons too because of I don't share my mind will explode.

1. Lyney only answers your questions half the time.

When looking through the interactions and voicelines, I noticed that for certain questions he won't answer and instead will just distract the Traveler or answers it in a roundabout way. I guess it's because he doesn't want you to know about it or it makes him uncomfortable to talk about. He doesn't really lie, but he doesn't answer either. He doesn't like to give information about himself unless absolutely necessary.

2. Lyney has a tendency to say some weird things.

Lyney says nothing about it, but Lynette has an idle line about it. What type of strange is unknown, but Lynette is worried about what he says. It also seems to be a pretty normal occurrence.

3. Lyney's chattiness is a front.

This one is actually talked about by both the twins. Lynette says that he's just more quiet when they're alone and Lyney says that he only uses "verbal" magic to get closer to other people. I have more to say about this but I'll wait until my headcannons.

4. Lyney isn't his happy or cheery as he initially seems.

This one is confirmed in his voicelines and story quest. He explicitly says that he believes Traveler would feel sorry for him if they knew his real personality. Then at the end of his story quest when you talk to him. He's a lot more subdued than he had been for most of the quest. He also says some questionable things and it leads to my next point.

5. Lyney doesn't really have friends.

He actually admits this himself at the end of his story quest with the empty auditorium analogy. He comments how the way he acts only pushes people away and after Cesar he doesn't really have anyone beyond family left.

6. Lyney hates how he lies.

In his character story quest and his actual Character story in part 4, he mentions how much is lying bothers him. It's practically effortless but by this point it comes so easy that it gives him an identity crisis. Lyney has lied so much and played the part so often, he isn't sure what his actual personality is anymore.

Note: I realized I have way more to say than I anticipated so now this is gonna be a series of posts.

Lyney Headcannons

Courtroom Headcannons

Mild spoilers for the manga up to this point and I'm too lazy to deeply proof read.

Ciel Phantomhive is all I can think about so here's my thoughts

He's 13. He's a 13 year old kid surrounded by death and dispare. It honestly haunts me how young he is. Like I have siblings that age so when people go on about how anyone he is, what would you expect? This a kid that's pretending to be an adult. He lost his family at 10; he kidnapped, violated, and enslaved at 10; he watched his brother die in front of him at 10; and all people can say is that he's annoying. He's traumatized and a teenager. I'm surprised he's still going.

I cannot stop thinking about how lonely he must be. He's right hand is a demon. His servants are all people who have lost something or had nothing. No one there is capable of having normal conversations or social behavior (besides maybe Tanaka). I don't think he could ever just be 13 and it's kinda upsetting.

Everytime I read about someone close to him dying and the way he just moves on? I know he sad but dang does it hit hard. He doesn't know how to grieve and probably no one will ever teach him how.

He's really alone. Everyone tries, but no one is ever allowed close enough. I think he does it out a fear or as a defense mechanism. It's so much harder to feel loss if there's no one close in the first place. Thinking about Agni and Soma and how it ended and how he was like "This is why I told you not to get involved with me". So he knows he's bad news. Then there's the fact he's pretending to be his twin.

So he surrounded by people who love him because they think he's someone else. He also knows he's the "spare." Which fueled his decision.

He also definitely has self depreciating tendencies as show in the manga. When he has his break downs, we get a peak of just how terrible his mental state is. Sebastian doesn't help either so this man is really going in no actual support system.

His life is on a counter. Once the contract he has with Sebastian is fulfilled, that's it. Even if somehow he doesn't die, what would that do for him? Does he even have a will to live outside this? No matter what happens there will be no real happy ending for our Ciel Phantomhive. His story will always be a tragedy.

Ao3 is down??? Wtf am I supposed to do with my life? Be productive? HA- Good Joke.

Bro this is literally everything I've ever looked for. How did they know?

ᵔᴗᵔ . . 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 !

ᴖ.ᴖ . . gen!reader ⁝ wc. 992 ⁝ reblog

𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶 [𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗼𝘀]

he was in the seventh heaven the second your answer loads inside his head. it feels like a dream come true playing right before his very eyes. you, in earnest, agreed to his request of braiding his hair. he knew you would almost always move away from his cheeky displays of affections, therefore, this was a giant achievement to him.

“are you okay there, venti?” you wave a hand across his face left then right. honestly speaking, his silence causes shivers down your spine… it was never a good sign.

he blinks once, twice until he was fully out of his trance-like state. his lips curve into a coy smile, as he tells you, “he, he. it’s nothing you should worry your pretty head, darling; ‘just deep in thought is all.”

you eye him skeptically, you didn’t buy it. however, you ease off after you figured he had no intention of confiding a word to you.

“if you say so…”

excitement cannot describe the gamble of emotions he felt. if he had a tail like the hybrid citizens, it would’ve been wagging along throughout the whole ordeal. his avidity was staggering to witness in real time. he had the stubbornness of a mule and you frequently needed to pester him to move.

it all happens in the blink of an eye. he stands up to grab his brush from his bathroom then sits down in front of you with his hair down, bangs perfectly framing his face. he didn’t waste a moment to steer your hands to start working on his messy locks.

he hums a random tune to himself to keep him occupied as you part the side of his bangs into three sections.

what would typically cost him five to six minutes of his time took you nearing sixteen. admittedly, when he did his hair at the early break of dawn, it was braided haphazardly. you, on the other hand, wanted it to at least look neat.

“are you done yet?”

“um… not quite…” you mumble, as you comb the rest of his bangs on the other side.

the couple minutes of braiding you’ve just done will take as long as a whole go-round from there, so you think. he huffs at you as if he weren’t an almighty archon but the common rascal and hums another soft tune to keep himself company. as you reach halfway, your hand shakes from the concentration it exerted while you work.

alas, it was a matter of time before his boredom won and he did what he can to humor it in the meantime—you only wish he didn’t do it to the detriment of your progress by closing his eyes then leaning in with his lips pursed, ready for a kiss.

“stay still!” you giggle, trying to dodge his attempts to place a chaste peck on your lips. your words falls on deaf ears and he connects his lips with yours, emitting a pleased sigh.

𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲 [𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿]

he feels pathetic for crawling into your window during these late hours into the evening. he swears under his breath; if passersby were to catch sight of him, they’d believe he was another hormonal village juvenile, desperate to see his lover in absence of parental authority. swinging his other leg over the ledge, he steps into your room with the grace of a feline.

a corner of his mouth lifts when he spots you flinch from his unexpected visit. based on what he had observed, you were in the middle of preparing for bed. you were by your dresser, fixing your hair to avoid any tangles while you slept.

“scaramouche?!” you gasp.

he swiftly places a hand over your mouth then counts to ten in his head to survey if anyone heard you. he lets go once he believed it was safe enough to speak.

“i need your help,” he whispers by the shell of your ear. your eyes meet his through the mirror, it trails after his hand as it traces to the end of your braid and tugs at the fabric that held it together. it didn’t take long for you to understand the gist of his request.

motioning him towards your bed, you gesture at him to stay while you grab a brush from the top of your dresser. he toys with the ends of his hair and tsks at the length… how did he fail to notice it had grown past his shoulders?

the bed dips behind him; his shoulders stiffen at the feel of your brush combing through his mane. his body unwinds when you start parting his hair into sections. he can tell the uneven cut poses as a challenge by the string of curses you whisper. warmth spreads across his chest at how domestic the moment plays out.

it didn’t feel real at all.

minutes pass and he could feel himself melt into the tender ministrations of you braiding his hair. he never knew such a mundane act can be this calming to the mind. his eyes were beginning to flutter shut until you pull away, telling him you were done.

touching your work, scaramouche was silently impressed at your efforts to tie everything together. not a strand wanders loose; and at that, you return to your dresser without a hitch. you had barely taken a seat when you hear him let out a loud cough. turning around, your brows raise to find him… with his hair down?

“can you fix it again?” in his right hand, he exposes the split ribbon hair tie.

you didn’t think twice; nodding, you search your drawers for one made from better material. scaramouche smirks at your gullible nature and waits with no complaints—a big first. there, in his other hand is the letter opener you keep by your bedside; on its blade lays specs of fabric frays. it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and understand what he had done…

This stupid funky little magicman has taken my thoughts hostage. What the hell- I'm just constantly thinking about him. He's got so much angst potential.

Lynette is also there. Just being her amazing and cool and Iive for it.

I've been here for a year??? What??? How??? I've posted absolutely nothing.