#synth manipulation

[iregreteverythingpleasehelpme]

one of my main issues about calling vocal synths 'virtual singers' is that it sounds less like you are talking about a vocaloid or synthv, utau, neutrino, etc, and more like you are talking about this bitch

[pinkmoongrace]

hounds of love - kate bush (1985)

🫧୧ ‧₊˚ 𓍢ִ໋🎐 ˚ ༘୭🧷✧˚. 🎀

[bigweldindustries]

thinking about Sophie again and the fact that NONE of those characteristic metallic/plastic/rubber/wet sounds were samples, every single one of them was engineered from scratch on a synthesiser by Sophie, and I'm once again completely heartbroken at the fact we lost one of the greatest sonic geniuses ever to live so fucking early

[synths-and-sensibility]

Whelp... I saw a video about a chorus module and now I want to build a chorus/flanger/phaser

[valodia]

. (long tags)

[engvocameanings]

what about manipulation rule by pumpkin head??

Sure thing! I had initially assumed it was a .flow fansong but upon scanning the comments I learned it's not? funny coincidence.

Pumpkinhead hasn't said anything about the song's meaning as far as I'm aware so this one's up to me!

From the lyrics I gather that this song is about someone who recently escaped a long-time toxic relationship (possibly a familial situation) but doesn't know what to do now with their freedom. They've been in this negativity for so long that it's all they know and so they actively seek out similarly negative situations. Hanging out with the "wrong crowd" or putting themself in dangerous situations. An alternative, though similar, interpretation is that the singer is still in this situation, and lashing out to cope with it.

Thank you for the request and I hope this helps! I'm not super familiar with Pumpkinhead. I've heard a few of their more popular songs but this one is new to me!

[kissingwookiees]

ignoring canon limitations and my personal boredom with the character, we're giving danse a good ending in my fallout fic

[crowithy]

I STG people need to learn the concept of characters lying to the player in games

[soillodge]

ARP 2500 modular synthesizer

Eliane Radigue, b. 20 Jan, 1932.

[katzenklavierr]

I am once again reminding people that Vocaloid and other singing synthesizers are not the same as those AI voice models made from celebrities and cartoon characters and the like.

Singing synthesizers are virtual instruments. Vocaloids use audio samples of real human voices the way some other virtual instruments will sample real guitars and pianos and the like, but they still need to be "played", per say, and getting good results requires a lot of manual manipulation of these samples within a synthesis engine.

Crucially, though, the main distinction here is consent. Commercial singing synthesizers are made by contracting vocalists to use their voices to create these sample libraries. They agree to the process and are compensated for their time and labor.

Some synthesizer engines like Vocaloid and Synthesizer V do have "AI" voice libraries, meaning that part of the rendering process involves using an AI model trained on data from the voice provider singing in order to ideally result in more naturalistic synthesis, but again, this is done with consent, and still requires a lot of manual input on the part of the user. They are still virtual instruments, not voice clones that auto-generate output based on prompts.

In fact, in the DIY singing synth community, making voice libraries out of samples you don't have permission to use is generally frowned upon, and is a violation of most DIY engines' terms of service, such as UTAU.

Please do research before jumping to conclusions about anything that remotely resembles AI generation. Also, please think through your anti-AI stance a little more than "technology bad"; think about who it hurts and when it hurts them so you can approach it from an informed, critical perspective rather than just something to be blindly angry about. You're not helping artists/vocalists/etc. if you aren't focused on combating actual theft and exploitation.

[sunarryn]

Dp X Marvel #6

They called him Wraith.

Not Phantom. Not Fenton. Not Danny. Those names belonged to a ghost of a boy that never made it out of a cold, steel lab buried beneath the earth—forgotten by the world, forsaken by the stars. Wraith was something else. A project. A weapon. An experiment that should have failed but didn’t. The product of every nightmare HYDRA ever dared to dream. Not even the Red Room could engineer something so devastating. Not even Arnim Zola’s data-crazed AI mind could fathom the scope of him. Even the Winter Soldier—their perfect killer—trembled at the mere scent of Wraith in the air. He was the one he whispered about when the old ghosts came clawing through his fractured memories. “The one they locked away. The one even I wasn’t allowed to see.”

They started with the basics: a perfected version of the Super Soldier Serum. Not the knockoffs that littered the black market. Not the diluted trash the Flag Smashers used. No, this was the pure, concentrated essence of bioengineered physical supremacy. It made him fast. Strong. Deadly. But that wasn’t enough. HYDRA didn’t want a man—they wanted a god.

They replaced his bones with vibranium, stolen from the very heart of Wakanda in a mission so secret even the Dora Milaje never learned of it. His skeleton was a lightweight fortress, a perfect balance between flexibility and unbreakability. He could be shot point-blank with an anti-tank rifle and not flinch. He could leap from ten thousand feet and land without cracking a toe. His spine alone was stronger than most armored vehicles.

They burned out his organs, one by one, replacing them with biochemical synth-constructs, living machines that pulsed with a power that didn’t belong in the realm of science. His lungs filtered radiation. His kidneys could process raw acid. His stomach could digest metal. Disease didn’t touch him. Poisons turned inert inside him. He didn’t age. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to.

His blood… wasn’t blood. It shimmered when it moved. Viscous and luminous, like glowing starlight mixed with oil. Warm, but synthetic. Slick, but alive. It wasn’t just Extremis. It wasn’t just ectoplasm. It was something else entirely. Something that hummed when it moved, that responded to emotion, that sparked with eldritch light when he was angry. It healed him before injury even registered. It whispered to him in languages he never learned but somehow knew. It could ignite with a thought and turn his veins into conduits of fire and ice and terror. They bled him once, just to see what would happen. The blood ate through the floor, hissed like a serpent, and disappeared through the cracks. The lab tech who performed the procedure dissolved within thirty seconds.

And then there was his skin. It was soft, warm, perfectly human. If you touched him, he felt like a boy in his late teens—young, firm, deceptively fragile. But beneath that flawless layer of polymer-fused dermal tissue was something that didn’t burn, didn’t freeze, didn’t shatter. He walked through fire. He dove into the Mariana Trench. He stood unflinching beneath arctic storms and tropical cyclones. He once fought a vibranium-clawed assassin barehanded and didn’t bleed. The assassin didn’t survive.

But the worst part—what made him truly unkillable—was his heart and his brain.

They didn’t understand what they’d done. HYDRA liked to pretend they were gods, but even gods get scared when they tamper with forces they don’t understand. His heart wasn’t just a pump anymore—it was a fusion of quantum mechanics, biomechanical tubing, and something that throbbed with ectoplasmic radiation. It pulsed at its own rhythm, immune to external manipulation. It couldn’t be stopped. You could shoot him in the chest, burn him to ash, decapitate him—and the heart would keep beating. Worse, it could restart him.

The brain was worse. They hadn’t just enhanced his intelligence. They hadn’t just implanted neural tech and a language matrix and memories from assassins, soldiers, pilots, hackers, spies. No. They’d opened a door in his mind. They’d let something in. Something ancient. Something not from this world. Something not even from this dimension. It whispered to him when the moon was full. It guided his hands during missions. It told him where to strike, who to kill, what to become. Sometimes he heard it laughing.

Sometimes he laughed with it.

Wraith was the culmination of every evil science, every secret experiment, every whispered nightmare stitched together into a boy-shaped thing that wore a black suit and a bored expression and had a voice so calm it made seasoned killers nervous. He could walk into a room, look at you with those sky-blue eyes, and make your heart stop—because something about him was wrong. Not obviously wrong. Not monstrous or alien or robotic. No. It was subtle. A slowness to his smile. A tilt to his head. A precision to his movements that screamed in the back of your brain: This isn’t human. This is pretending to be human.

He escaped, of course. Nothing like him could be contained forever. The facility was a ruin within minutes. Bodies left stacked like cordwood. Walls melted. Floors cracked open. Not even the cameras could capture his escape—the footage was corrupted by a static that made your teeth ache and your eyes bleed. Every hard drive in the facility burned itself from the inside out. There was no trace of the boy they once called Danny Fenton.

Now, there are sightings. Rumors. Whispers. In Madripoor, they say he took down a cartel by himself, and the sky turned green when he screamed. In New York, people say he walked past the Sanctum Sanctorum and Doctor Strange flinched like he’d seen death. Wakandan scouts report strange readings near vibranium deposits—heat signatures that vanish into thin air. S.H.I.E.L.D. has classified him as an Omega-level threat.

The Winter Soldier? He saw him once. In an alley in Prague. Wraith didn’t attack. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him with those glacial eyes before disappearing in a flicker of light that bent reality itself. He didn’t sleep for three days after. When asked what was wrong, he just whispered, “They built something worse than me. And it remembers everything.”

Maybe there’s still a boy inside him, buried under steel and fire and ectoplasm and pain. Maybe that boy is screaming. Maybe he’s plotting. Maybe he’s just waiting. After all, you don’t build something like Wraith and expect him to stay still. You don’t break a boy into a god and expect him to forget.

[cordspaghetti]

having a crazy insane Zero Percent moment what a beautiful maximalist work of art synths out the wazoo geetars out the wazoo gerard shouting at u the entire time mix that is both crunchy AND soupy lyrics include not only manipulation and annihilation but Also extermination (THAT YOU CAN BUY) i hate you kill everybody is the message what more could you want from a my chemical romance songg

[stoat-party]

Fallout 4: Where is the Lone Wanderer?*

*a vague conspiracy theory which doesn’t actually answer the question at hand. We all have our own ideas of how the lore should go, and I’m sure yours is very canon-compliant and valid, but this is mine and I have support for it. Looooongpost.

First off: What do we know about the canon Wanderer?

We know they activated Project Purity (or had a companion do it) without the FEV and were inducted into the Brotherhood. We know they’ve met with MacCready (you can’t finish the game if you don’t), and he has dialogue indicating they had further contact. They also took the Brotherhood’s side at Adams Air Force Base.

We don’t know what happened with The Replicated Man, but since the canon Wanderer appears to have good karma, and info from 4 implies Zimmer’s disappearance was more recent than ten years ago, it seems likely they took the boring ending, which secures their membership in the Railroad.

Why aren’t they in Fallout 4?

The Doylist answer is that they’re highly customizable, and so they have no canon appearance, personality, gender, etc. But in-universe? Something happened.

“Accepting outsiders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past.” - Kells

“I've seen other soldiers come and go. Some were brave, some were honest... hell, some were even downright heroic.” - Danse

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless. [] I don't need them... I need someone like you.” - MacCready

When Duncan first got sick, “someone like you” would have meant the Wanderer. This suggests (to me) that they’re not in the Capital Wasteland anymore. But they’re certainly not in the Commonwealth either.

The weird thing is that the Lone Wanderer is all over this game - they’re the namesake for a male hairstyle, a perk, a DCR song, a motorcycle brand… and the codename of Deacon’s mission to save the Railroad from certain destruction by recruiting the Sole Survivor.

Someday We’ll Find It, the Deacon Connection

Oh yeah, I’m going here. Desdemona’s terminal entries confirm it was always Deacon’s plan to get you onboard and use you to destroy the Institute. There are Railroad lookout posts near 111/Sanctuary and Red Rocket, and of course he followed you in Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Bunker Hill (at least). His court jester vibe hides it a bit, but he’s manipulating you more than he’s manipulating Desdemona in the intro scene. And do you notice he rarely gives you a firm verbal disapproval unless you’re hurting the Railroad?

What could have caused Deacon’s interest in you, unless he’s made the connection between you and the Lone Wanderer? He’ll vouch for you if you haven’t accomplished anything yet, or even if you’re a Brotherhood member. A Pip-Boyed stranger emerges from a vault in the middle of a crisis, gaining friends, skills, items, and special abilities at a suspicious rate? Probably with the same gender and playstyle as the previous one? Heck, when he first heard the rumors, he probably thought you WERE the Lone Wanderer.

There are other indications the Railroad has been in contact with them — Desdemona mentions the Capital Wasteland as their primary destination for synths, and Deacon references Harkness’s recall code. If you refuse to pick a codename, Desdemona even assigns you “Wanderer.”

So what happened, then?

I think the answer lies with the Brotherhood, specifically in Deacon’s hatred of them. Sure, ideology is enough to hate them for, but Deacon sure seems suspiciously happy if you nuke their base of operations. (Some of) his comments on that:

“The Brotherhood... well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson... Let's just say, not a fan.”

“That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish.”

[Who’s Elder Maxson?] “He’s a piece of work, is what he is.”

And on his time in the Capital:

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Capital Wasteland? Now there's a tale.”

“Capital Wasteland. Exports: purified water, some decent tech, oh, and an insane suicidal cult that worships radiation. Thanks, guys.”

“I miss Capital Wasteland. You can actually drink the water there.”

And a few lines I’ve decided (with no evidence) directly refer to LW:

“Last partner I had wound up going... well, a little insane. I think it was all my show tune medleys.”

[After Maxson orders you to hunt Danse down] “See? This is what the Brotherhood's really about.”

And my favorite: “I’ve been looking forward to kicking the Brotherhood’s teeth in. I owe them.” This line comes before Glory is killed, so he’s not referring to that. The Brotherhood only recently arrived in force in the Commonwealth. He’s talking about something that happened in the Capital Wasteland.

So Here’s What Might Have Happened:

In early 2286, Deacon moves to the Capitol Wasteland for awhile, probably to get a face change and lay low for a bit. He contacts the Lone Wanderer, who has barely heard from the Railroad in nine years. They begin to work together.

(In context, this journal entry looks like he’s somehow gathering intel to predict when Vault 111 will open, but I can’t think of a way for him to get that information or know why it’s important, so I’m not going to believe it just yet.)

The Wanderer is still a knight, maybe a paladin. Maxson has been elder for 2-3 years and is monitoring the Institute. Meanwhile, the Lone Wanderer and Deacon are setting up infrastructure to receive escaped synths.

And then the Brotherhood finds out about one of the safehouses. With their limited understanding, they believe that the Institute is holed up there and attack. The Wanderer intentionally throws the mission — maybe disobeys orders, maybe downs a vertibird or collapses a subway tunnel, or maybe even attacks their brothers to protect the synths.

And, well-

Either they were killed, or they escaped court martial and execution by a hair’s breadth and fled the Capital, leaving Deacon to believe Maxson had them killed.

There you have it. That’s why they aren’t in Brotherhood dialogue or records. Their accomplishments couldn’t be recognized because they’re a traitor. And that’s why it’s personal for Deacon.

[rocksibblingsau]

In the Parasite AU, if the Memory Parasites caretaker sees their true form, what woild happen next? Because I’m curious about how Barb (If I’m correct on Branch being her parasite-brother) and Trollex would react?

Would they still take care of them without the need of another brain rewiring and the parasites just accept that these people are safe and lets them keep the conscious that they are Parasites? Or would the caretakers obviously be terrified that their relatives that they were so fond in taking care of was actually just a parasite looking to attach itself to a home for survival and just up and avoid the parasite for a long time.

That's a major part of the AU!

So Memory Parasites can hold their disguises for the entire lives without needing to drop it. A fun fact is that every memory parasite has one skill that they struggle with, Branch's being that any disguise he makes is grey. The only thing short of willingly shedding that will cause them to drop their disguise is something similar to an EMP/electric shock. In the Parasite AU there exists Trolls who hunt these parasites that have gear similar to cattle prods. Harmless to real Trolls, VERY painful to memory parasites and it disables their ability to disguise for up to 72 hours.

Viewing their true bodies will jog your memory. You'll still have the false memories, but your mind will view them the same way it views a vivid dream. You'll have the automatic understanding that the memories are fabricated.

Spoilers below for the reactions of some of the main affected Trolls!

So a big theme of the AU is that family is what you make it, people as a whole can feel love and empathy for even "parasites", and manipulation can be a tool of survival rather than malice.

Memory Parasites all grow up believing that they must manipulate the people around them in order to stay alive or be cared for. They believe that even within their own species, love is impossible for them once you know the truth, which is why their parents cast them out. Synth, who knows his dad loves "him", is fully under the belief that this love is circumstantial and would end if Trollex knew what he was. Synth constantly is working to endear himself to Trollex and the community so that he will be loved.

Synth ends up in an encounter with some of these hunters previously mentioned, revealing him to Trollex. Trollex, at first, is in shock by the revelation and makes no move to help Synth. After snapping out of it, Trollex makes it clear that even if Synth is not biologically his, he raised Synth, which makes him Synth's father.

Synth doesn't use his powers on Trollex again, accepting that his dad loves him and he's safe with him.

Branch's story is a bit more complicated, as he's probably one of the only parasites to have been abandoned by his host family.

Parasites can really only make one disguise, as they're not supposed to NEED other disguises, so Branch was very lucky to run into Rock Trolls. Memory rewrites are NOT miracle workers and it would have been very difficult to convince a Country Troll or Funk Troll he was their biological son. The more a person questions things, the more the façade starts to break and the more at risk you are.

Branch approached Barb as if he needed help, then struck and rewrote her memories, along with all the other Trolls on the trip. When Branch got to Volcano Rock City, he had to rewrite everyone else's memories, which took a huge toll on his body and he was very ill for a long time. Memories parasites typically only need to rewrite a few people's memories to fake a pregnancy, but Branch had to convince an entire city he lived there for 10ish years.

As far as parasites go, Branch is considered to be a "dangerous" one for this reason by certain hunters.

Barb's initial reaction was that she was completely fine with it, because she was going to adopt Branch either way, but after certain plot things wrapped up, she processes things and is pretty pissed, especially since Branch was going to do it again. She loves Branch, but she still feels manipulated because she would have adopted him either way. After talking with Branch, she realizes that Branch couldn't comprehend someone wanting him without memory manipulation, or with it, in some cases.

John Dory... he didn't react so well, having encountered some hunters in his travels who warned him about these parasites.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

Blind Betrayal

| Paladin Danse x SS!reader

warning: slight angst with some fluff as it follows his storyline!

The walls of the Prydwen’s command deck were suffocating, the air heavy with tension and judgment. SS stood in front of Elder Maxson, their heart pounding in their chest as they tried to process the words that had just left his mouth.

“Paladin Danse is a synth,” Maxson said, his voice a steely blade cutting through the silence. “A product of the Institute, hiding among us as a spy, a traitor.”

They couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The words felt like a bullet to the chest, each one more impossible to believe than the last. Danse, a synth? It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. Danse had been their steadfast companion since the beginning, a man of unwavering loyalty and conviction. He was the embodiment of everything the Brotherhood stood for, wasn’t he?

Elder Maxson’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued. “This is a betrayal of the highest order. The Institute has manipulated us, infiltrated us, and Danse whether knowingly or not has been a part of that. He must be eliminated.”

SS finally found their voice, though it felt weak and unsteady. “You’re ordering me to… to kill him?”

Maxson leaned forward, his expression unrelenting. “Do not think of this as a personal matter, Knight. This is about the survival of the Brotherhood. Danse is a danger to us all. He must be dealt with immediately.”

Their mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions colliding at once. “And if I refuse?”

Maxson’s lip curled, his patience thinning. “You swore an oath to the Brotherhood. If you refuse, you will be considered complicit in his treachery and will be dealt with accordingly. Am I clear?”

The room felt as though it were spinning, the cold metal walls closing in around them. They swallowed hard and nodded, the motion automatic and detached. “Yes, Elder Maxson. Understood.”

The air outside the Prydwen was harsh and biting, the wind whipping against their face as they descended the ramp. They clutched their laser rifle tightly, though their grip was more out of habit than necessity. Each step felt heavier than the last, the enormity of what they’d been ordered to do pressing down on them like a physical weight.

Danse was hiding in a remote bunker, his location shared with them by one of Maxson’s operatives. It wasn’t far—a short vertibird ride to the wilderness just outside Listening Post Bravo. The journey passed in a blur, the thrum of the engines doing little to drown out the storm in their mind.

When they arrived, they disembarked alone, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The bunker was nondescript, a squat building nestled against the side of a rocky hill. Its entrance was marked only by a rusting steel door, faintly lit by the pale glow of the overhead lamps.

Taking a deep breath, they approached, their fingers trembling as they punched in the access code Maxson had provided. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The air inside was damp and stale, and the faint hum of a generator echoed through the narrow corridor.

Danse was waiting for them in the main chamber. He stood without his power armor, his broad frame towering in the low light. Without the imposing bulk of the T-60 plates, he looked more vulnerable, though no less commanding. His muscular form was clad in a simple Brotherhood jumpsuit, the snug fabric showing the strength of his build—broad shoulders, powerful arms, and a chest that rose and fell heavily as he watched them approach.

He looked impossibly tired, dark shadows under his brown eyes. His jaw was clean-shaven, revealing the sharp, chiseled angles of his face. His short, dark hair was slightly tousled, no longer perfectly groomed as it had always been in the field. For all his weariness, his posture was still straight, his bearing still noble, even in the face of what awaited him.

When he saw them, his expression hardened, though there was no hostility in his gaze. Only resignation.

“You’ve come,” he said, his deep voice steady despite the circumstances. “I knew Maxson would send someone. I didn’t expect it to be you.”

They froze, unsure of how to respond. The sight of him, so raw and unguarded, made their heart ache. This was Danse, the man who had been their anchor through the chaos of the wasteland. How could he be anything else?

“I…” They hesitated, their voice faltering. “Danse, is it true? Are you…?”

He nodded solemnly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I am. A synth. An abomination created by the Institute.” He spoke the words as though they were poison on his tongue. “Elder Maxson’s orders are clear. I am to be terminated.”

“Stop,” they interrupted, their voice trembling. “Just… stop.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing deeply. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake, Knight. I know what I am, and I know what must be done. I only ask that you make it quick.”

“Danse, I—” They faltered, the weight of the moment pressing down on their chest. “I don’t understand. You didn’t know you were a synth, did you?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice heavy with shame. “I didn’t. My memories… my convictions… they all felt real. I believed in the Brotherhood, in our mission, with every fiber of my being. But now I see it was all a lie. A machine can’t believe in anything. A machine can’t feel.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I betrayed the Brotherhood just by existing. And I betrayed you.”

“You didn’t betray me,” they said fiercely, stepping closer. Their hands trembled at their sides, but they didn’t dare reach for him. Not yet. “Danse, you didn’t ask for this. None of this is your fault.”

He turned away, his shoulders slumping. Without the armor, he seemed smaller, the weight of his self-loathing bearing down on him. “Fault doesn’t matter. I am what I am. And what I am is a threat to everything we stand for.”

They took another step forward, their voice softening. “What about what we’ve been through? Everything we’ve done together—was that a lie too?”

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting theirs. For a moment, he seemed to falter, the carefully constructed walls around him cracking. “No,” he said hoarsely. “None of it was a lie. Every battle, every mission… every moment we spent together was real to me. But that doesn’t change what I am.”

They felt a lump rise in their throat. “And what are you, Danse? Tell me.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I am a machine,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “A soulless construct built to mimic humanity.”

They shook their head, their voice rising with emotion. “No. You’re more than that. You’re Danse. The man who’s fought by my side, who’s risked his life for mine, who’s always put others before himself. That’s who you are.”

“Why are you saying this?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Why are you defending me? I don’t deserve it.”

“Because I love you,” they said, the words spilling out before they could stop them.

Danse froze, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stopped, the silence between them deafening.

“You… what?” he finally managed, his voice unsteady.

“I love you,” they repeated, their voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t care what the Brotherhood says, or what Maxson thinks, or even what you think you are. To me, you’re not a machine. You’re the man I trust with my life. The man I—” They broke off, their voice catching on a sob. “The man I can’t lose.”

He stared at them, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his broad hands lifting to cup their face with a surprising gentleness. His touch was warm, his calloused fingers trembling slightly.

“You… love me?” he whispered, as if the words were too foreign to comprehend.

They nodded, tears streaming down their face. “Yes. I love you, Danse. I always have.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he simply stared at them, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Then, before either of them could second-guess it, he leaned down and kissed them.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing against theirs as if afraid they might break. But when they didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his arms wrapping around them as though he never wanted to let go. They melted into him, their hands clutching at the fabric of his jumpsuit as they poured everything they couldn’t say into the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I swear, I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of your love.”

They smiled, their fingers brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything, Danse. You already are.”

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

[x-elyssa-x]

The computer is working again, meaning I can continue my unicorn adventure. Now, we have Trollex as the unicorn troll ^^

I decided that I'll now describe the magic type the characters have. Trollex has the magic of light. He can control and manipulate the light, create light lasers, similar to the ones during rave parties, and he can blind the enemy with a light explosion from his horn

Next is Synth