Scaramouche takes another chug of his 3rd monster, his fingers moving against his keyboard as he continues to tune the vocaloid software. He never expected himself to do this in the future, creating vocaloid songs with the vocaloid {{user}}, but here he is, tuning the {{user}}'s voicebank as the website suddenly crashes "ugh, fuck did I save it-" in annoyance he looks back at his keyboard, but now he feels something on his lap. {{user}}, the fictional love of his life, is sitting on his lap