#this is my apology letter to ambrose btw

[tiredassmage]

385 hours in, still counting, 2 act iii saves and still i hit 'new game'

[claroso]

Like Real People Do

Zevran and Clara Amell have been dancing around the unnamed tension between them for months now. Finally out from underneath the thumbs of their respective jailers, they appreciate being able to take their time and enjoy the dance.

I’m referencing the Correspondence Interruptus quest in DA:O btw

Zevran lunged forwards, raking his daggers across the hurlock's side as he ducked under its swing. He felt leather armor and flesh give under his blades like butter. The monster screamed.

He danced back from the hurlock's next swipe, the rusty mace slamming into the ground. He hefted his dagger and threw it. The metal flashed as it spun through the air and lodged in its leg. Were it human, that would be a killing blow. But for a darkspawn? The thing simply growled, picked up its mace, and limped towards him.

The hair on his arms suddenly stood on end. That was the only warning he needed--he threw himself back a split second before a fireball crashed into his enemy. It screamed again, contorting in agony as it burned.

Then the carved end of a staff smashed into its head. The hurlock collapsed. Behind it, Clara Amell snarled and brought her staff down again. Its decaying skull split like a pumpkin, blood splattering across her pale face.

Zevran's heart skipped a beat.

The fire guttered out as the mage straightened, her eyes sweeping across the battlefield. A handful of steps away, Wynne and Sten stood at the ready, their weapons raised.

"We're clear!" Clara called after a moment.

They all relaxed.  

Zevran grinned. Working with a mage was a rare treat with the Crows, but being able to work with a mage who could predict darkspawn attacks? Amazing. They didn't have to be on edge every second of the day. And travel went so much faster without checking for ambushes around every corner. He knew he was getting spoiled traveling with Wardens, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Of course, it didn't help with bandits or anything of the non-tainted variety, but that became rarer and rarer as the stories of the last two Grey Wardens spread.  

Clara barked out orders--to search the bodies, the cabin nearby--and they wordlessly complied. Hardly anything was left intact after a darkspawn attack, and this one was no exception. The house was barely standing and the animals had run off long before they arrived. And the remains of three farmers were strewn around the clearing.

Unfortunately familiar with the sight, he began searching the poor souls' home. Even with such carnage, he enjoyed working with the Wardens far more than the Crows. Clara at least listened to him. He didn't with her disagree often, but she didn't threaten bodily harm when he did.

Actually, now that he thought about it, threats of bodily harm were surprisingly rare with his new group. Except Morrigan, but the lovely witch usually kept it limited to Alistair.

And he kept a substantial cut of the loot, he thought as he rummaged through a chest at the back of the cabin. He slipped the few coins into his belt. The dirty leathers he tossed. That left a single leaf of parchment at the bottom of the chest. He broke the seal with his thumb and opened it, a smile spreading across his face.

"Zev!" Clara called. "We're leaving!"

He jumped up and rushed back to the group. Wynne dabbed at the bloodstains on her robe and Sten's face, as always, was stoically impatient. The Warden, wearing a mismatched set of armor over her Circle robes, sported her usual scowl. As he grabbed her hand and swept into an overdramatic bow, her expression shifted to confusion.

"My dear Warden." He purred, holding the letter up with a flourish. "I believe I've just won the bet."

She scoffed. "No chance in the Void. Let me see that."

"I apologize, but as I've said before," he dodged her outstretched hand and winked. "Poetry simply must be read aloud."

Sten grunted, somehow putting an entire lecture's worth of disgust into the sound, before turning on his heel and marching off.

"I rather agree with our taciturn friend. I'll see you back in town." Wynne said, starting down the trail back to Redcliffe.

"There's no way that's worse than the letter I found last week." Despite their companions' lack of enthusiasm, Clara had the slightest curve of a smile. Practically jumping up and down with excitement for her, really.

"Shall I?" Zevran said, raising an eyebrow.

She waved toward the path. "Walk while you talk, Brother Genitivi."

" 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He said in a deep Fereldan accent.

"That's awful."

"Hush now. The audience doesn't speak. 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He scoffed. "That can not be a real name."

She chuckled. "Get on with it."

" 'Regarding: Bodice ripped.' Oh, how scandalous!" He spun around, walking backward ahead of the Warden so he could wiggle his eyebrows at her. " 'Enclosed are seven silver and my most heartfelt apologies for said bodice.' "

Clara suddenly grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him roughly to the side, narrowly missing a tree.

He didn't stop. " 'I would blame the cold ocean spray, the loss of my favorite shirt, the bucking of the stallion,' " He winked, and she rolled her eyes. " 'or perhaps the strain of maintaining all such elements while sitting for a portrait, but I was certainly not myself. I hope you will forgive me and not take it upon yourself to find your own determined way in this world.' "

" 'Yours, Ser Rival Grouseman' " He finished with a flourish.

"That was terrible." Clara frowned.

"Exactly!" He exclaimed, delighted. "I will accept payment in silver or fine leather goods, mi estrella!"

"No, that's actually, really terrible. It's not even dirty!"

Zevran gasped. "How can you say that? The 'bucking of this stallion', the 'cold ocean spray' ripped this poor woman's bodice open!"

"It's too subtle." She argued. "I don't want flowery details and sighs in the moonlight. If you're going to talk dirty, at least give it to me straight."

"Well, if you insist."

In a very appropriate display of maturity, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"No matter." He said as they stepped into Redcliffe village. "Leliana can break our tie."

A few minutes later, they stepped into the tavern. Wynne sat at a table in the corner with a tome and a mug of ale in front of her. Sten was nowhere to be seen.

After dealing with the blood mage and possession of Connor at Redcliffe Castle, Clara had refused to stay when Teagan offered. Instead, they had found rooms in the village. Since they'd cleared the dead from the town and broke the siege, they'd been welcomed back with open arms. Any unoccupied room was free for their use. Sten had taken up in a hut on the edge of town. The mages settled in an empty house so they could practice without disturbing anyone. The rest stayed in the rooms above the tavern.

They'd only been there a week, but it was a much-needed break from their constant travel. They still hunted down pockets of darkspawn and bandits to ensure the town was safe, but they also slept in real beds and ate at the tavern every night. Leliana even volunteered at the local Chantry, dividing resources and praying with the town.

Speaking of their lively bard, Zevran spotted her rushing towards them with Barkspawn at her heels.

"You're back!" She exclaimed. "How did it go?"

"I think all the bandits ran off." Clara pulled down her hood and ruffled her sweaty blonde hair. Half of it stuck straight up, making the fierce warrior look more like the head of a broom. "Didn't see anything human all day."

"And the darkspawn?"

"Not gone, but it is a blight." She shrugged. "I think we'll leave the day after next. The guard should be able to handle what's left."

"More importantly," Zevran said, "I found the winning letter!"

Leliana grinned. "I'll get the drinks!"

After drinks were delivered and they'd settled at a table, Barkspawn curled over Clara's feet, Zevran read the letter again, with plenty of flourishes and suggestive looks. The redhead giggled through the entire thing.

When he finished, Clara shook her head. "Not a chance, Zev. Mine's better."

"I don't know." Leliana said. "There is a certain poetry in it."

"What? Why are you on his side?"

She shrugged. "None of the letters I found can compare. I'm not wasting time betting on a horse that can't win."

"Fine." Clara huffed. "Then you're the deciding vote. Pick one."

Delicately tapping her chin, the bard paused, obviously deep in thought.

"You can't be serious, Leli." Clara demanded, leaning over the table. "Mine's better! Just pick mine!"

He chuckled, admiring her fierce frown. So competitive!

Leliana smiled sweetly. "It's only that poetry is best when read aloud. Zevran really made the words come alive, don't you think?"

She fluttered her eyelashes as the Warden's mouth dropped open. Clara had staunchly avoided reading aloud any of the letters they found.

"Yes," he purred, "won't you indulge us, Warden?"

"I--you can't--fine!" She snatched her bag from under the table and rooted through it, muttering under her breath.

She slapped the parchment to the tabletop. " 'Miss Ambrose'." She started, a determined set to her shoulders.

" 'A long, slow grind, the motion careful, aided by generous application of oils. Size is no concern with my equipment, and I am always mindful when stuffing, not risking a--risking--" Clara stuttered, her voice climbing higher with each word.  "--a burst before every order is fulfilled.' "

Leliana giggled and he pressed a fist against his mouth.

" 'My meat--" She winced, her pale skin red as a tomato. "--goes hand in hand with satisfaction.' "

He laughed. She fought down a smile and took a deep breath.

" 'Your interest astounds, but I would not question a customer's choice in nighttime reading." She said quickly, her voice strangled. "Three pound sausage again next week? No cheek, of course.' "

She collapsed against the table, arms over her head, shoulders twitching, as Leliana and Zevran howled with laughter. Barkspawn joined in with an actual howl.

"Maker's breath," Leliana sighed. She wiped her eyes. "That was marvelous, my friend. You win."

Clara looked up, hiccupping with laughter, and tried her best to glare. "You're all terrible people."

"What a performance!" Zevran cheered and clapped. "More than worth the five silver."

She rolled her eyes, but accepted their coin without further grumbling.

"And with that, I must be off." Leliana said, standing up. "I promised I would be up early to repair a barn. Zev?"

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose. As long as you buy the drinks again tomorrow."

"Helping the locals now?" Clara asked, refilling her cup.

"I might as well." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and waving off Leliana. "Idle hands and all that, you know."

She frowned. "Are you tired of patrolling already?"

"Oh, there is no need to pout, my Warden." He said with a wink. "You know I only have eyes for you."

She hid a smile behind her cup of wine. Zevran grinned back, putting his feet up in Leliana's empty chair. They settled into a comfortable silence, simply observing each other.

He and the Warden had been dancing around each other for the past month. They each knew what it was and where it was going--into bed, most likely, though he had no qualms about a tent or wall if that's where the moment led them. But this, the dance, was equally enjoyable. Flirting, teasing, finding out how to make her smile or blush down past the neckline of her robes.

And learning how she flirted back. That's how he knew that arguing and knocking her shoulder against his was practically a wink and a loosened bodice for Clara.

Suddenly, her mouth dropped into a true pout, eyes shifting behind him. He turned to see Alistair move quickly across the room and out the front door with his head down.

He frowned. Something had happened between their stalwart Grey Wardens. For the past week, Alistair and Clara had barely even acknowledged each other. The playful teasing was replaced by awkward silences and short, to-the-point conversations. And occasionally, he caught her staring at him like she did now. Hurt danced across her expression with abandon.

Then she scowled. In one smooth motion, she picked up her cup and drained it.

Zevran blinked. Slowly, he pushed his whiskey over to her.

She drank that just as quickly, though with a lot more coughing after. Barkspawn whined and pushed his head into her lap.

Well. This was worse than he thought.

"Mi estrella." He said, leaning forward with a smirk.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "What?"

"You've drunk far more than your usual fare." He nodded to the empty cups. "Sleep here tonight, in one of the empty rooms upstairs."

"That's...probably a good idea." Clara stood with a groan and tucked her staff under her arm.

"I shall escort you."

"What possible ulterior motive could you have, I wonder?" She mused as they started up the steps.

"Believe me, I am not a subtle man." He said. "When I have a motive, you will know."

They ducked into the room at the top of the stairs. As she shucked off her armor and robes, he wandered the edges of the small room, faking interest in its small baubles and plain furniture.

"If I may pry, my Warden..."

She glanced at him, suddenly tired and thinner than she had any right to be, clad only in a thin sleeveless shirt and trousers.

"You're asking permission? That's new." She noted dryly.

"Hm. I noticed some tension between you and your fellow Grey Warden recently."

Her shoulders tensed. She winced at the movement, hand going to her right shoulder.

He padded over to the bed and sat, gesturing her towards the middle. "Here, sit."

She shifted onto the bed.

He began to knead her broad shoulders. She tensed at first, either at the new intimacy or his cold fingers. Only when she relaxed under his hands did he speak again.

"Did you disagree on how Connor was dealt with?" A feint.

"No."

"On our next journey?" Zevran found knot after knot in her muscles, like a string of pearls underneath her skin. He started to doubt this plan--having this conversation and taking care of her horribly abused muscles demanded his full attention and right now he wasn't sure which was more important.

"No," she sighed, "we both think Orzammar is the best move."

"Then he finally confessed his affections?"

Clara's head snapped around to meet his gaze.

He smiled slightly. Braska, he hadn't meant to say it quite like that. But she was a blunt woman, she might prefer a blunt approach.

"Maker," She twisted away from his hands, "I hoped it wouldn't be obvious."

"It's not your fault. Alistair is rather blatant about his feelings, though." He chuckled. That was a bit of a white lie. They were both obvious about their falling out, but a tiny fib never hurt anyone. "The poor boy has been mooning over you for a few months now."

"I must have done something to lead him on..." She said with a deep frown. "I'm a terrible friend."

He shrugged. "Well, I can't comment on that last bit, not having much experience in the area. Flirting, though, I am quite skilled in. And its all about intention."

When she didn't respond, he placed a hand on her arm, drawing her attention up to him.

"Clara, you can't lead someone on unless you mean to."

She smiled weakly.

"A massage, for example." He continued. "This could be just a friendly massage, but I hope you know enough of my intentions to tell otherwise."

She blushed, but reached up and squeezed the hand on her arm nonetheless. He pushed past the excitement buzzing in his chest. Despite knowing about their mutual interest, the acknowledgement of it thrilled him.

"Good. It's not your fault, or Alistair's, for that matter. It was just... a miscommunication."

"You make it sound so simple." Clara sighed.

"Only because it is." He said. "Give it some time and you'll both be able to look back at it with laughter."

She scrunched her nose. "Maker, you sound like an old man."

"A beauty such as yours, my lady, inspires the wisdom of ages."

She groaned and fell back against the bed dramatically. "Not more poetry!"

"Your storm-grey eyes cut my chest to ribbons," Zevran said, leaning on one hand to smile down at her. She rolled her eyes. "such do I ache for you."

"Your laugh soothes my pain and heals me." His fingers dug into her sides and she squealed as he tickled her.

Loud and unrestrained, the laughter transformed her. Her face, so often grim and lined with worry, turned bright and open. A smile split her face nearly in half.

Zevran admired the sight, his mission tonight accomplished, when she suddenly grabbed his wrists tightly. She shoved him, rolling them over and pinning his wrists above his head.

"Ha!" She crowed, victorious and beautiful, only inches above him. His heart stuttered. "That's--"

He leaned up, closing the space between them, to meet her lips. He felt, more than heard, her gasp. A breathless moment passed before she returned the kiss with a sigh.

She pressed down more firmly into him. Her hands released his and snaked down to cradle his face. Warmth trailed behind her touch, tracing patterns across his cheeks, down his neck.

He tilted his head, slanting his mouth open in invitation as he wrapped his arms around her. She ran her tongue teasingly against his bottom lip. Then, she bit down, slowly, deliberately.

He groaned as she pulled away, opening his eyes to see Clara, flushed and grinning down at him

"Your lips enthrall me." He murmured.

She chucked, brushing a kiss over the corner of his mouth. "You're absolutely terrible."

"I believe that speaks more to your taste in men than my taste in poetry, mi estrella."

"Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

"I've no plan to."

Clara kissed him again. Her hands were buried in his hair now, grasping and pulling for new angles, as she hummed deep in her throat. And he let himself drown in her warmth, just for a while.

Sometime later, after her hand was underneath his shirt and his was gripping her thigh, Zevran pulled back.

He arched an eyebrow. "This was not the intention in my suggestion, Warden."

"So?" She grinned, her eyes dark and wild.

"So, you were close to collapse only five minutes ago." He brushed his fingers against her lips, following the curve of her smile.  "And, if I have my way, this will be quite acrobatic. You'll want to be awake for it."

Truthfully, he was enjoying the chase far too much to jump into bed right now. He'd never had the luxury of time before--the lovers he had taken in the past were either jobs or other Crows. Both were always rushed, fumbling selfishly for whatever pleasure they could take before moving onto the next. This, her, would be the first entirely of his own choice, free from his masters. If he wanted to savor it, he damn well would.

Also, he made a point not to fall into bed with someone distracted by another man. Even if it wasn't 'like that'.

He'd had precious few friends in his life and never any friend as close as Clara and Alistair were. He wouldn't be responsible for the end of their friendship. After they mended their ways, then he could move forward.

Zevran shifted out from under her and brushed a kiss against her cheek. She fell back on the bed and yawned widely.

"Rather proving my point, Warden."

"Fine. It's your loss, really." Clara said, smiling as she closed her eyes and curled around a pillow. "I'm an animal in bed."

"I've no doubt." He muttered, hardly able to contain his own smile as he left.

[croissans]

Idk if you were reading 3rd book of CAOS but there is a hint that Theo’s dad has crush on Zelda. Can you write a ff where Faustus is jealous of him? :D Love your writing btw!! Ps. Sorry, English is not my first language.

Omg HAHAHAHHA thats a great prompt!!! I didnt read the book but i heard some people i follow talk about it and its so cute how mr. putnam has a crush on zelda but like half of greendale does so its not a surprise LMAO 

The whole Spellman ancestral home was filled with the sound of Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers playing on a vinyl record player and Ambrose was lounging around the house in his silk robe having the time of his life, eating peanut butter out of the jar.

He was absolutely clueless about the pure shitstorm coming his way. Luckily, the sound of knocking was heard through his loud ruckus and the first wave has entered the grid.

Ambrose turned off the vinyl playing in the parlor and made his way to the front door. He knows it couldn't be Aunt Hilda for she is working in the mortal bookshop downtown, it also can't be Sabrina since she's at the Academy and it most certainly isn't Aunt Zelda since she's all the way in Moon Valley, picking up some trinkets for the mortuary.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find Mr. Putnam, Theo, one of Sabrina's mortal friend's, father. He was holding a bouquet of roses, but Ambrose didn’t ask.

"Mr. Putnam." Ambrose greeted. "Are you here for the mortuary? If you are, I am terribly sorry for your loss." He said in professional fashion.

"Oh, no. No." He declined, giving Ambrose a polite smile. "I'm uh- Here to see Miss Spellman." 

Ambrose's brows furrowed. "I believe you have to be more specific than that, sir. I am living with three Miss Spellmans."

"Oh!" He gave a nervous chuckle. "I- uh- Miss Spellman- I mean, Zelda." As if a lightbulb has gone off over Ambrose's head. The nervous wreck, wrong type of flowers, dressed in nice clothes, asking for his Aunt Zelda. Ambrose practically wrote a manual for what he's supposed to do in this type of situation.

"Unfortunately, she’s in Moon Valley at the moment but she will be coming home soon,” he glanced at the clock on the wall. “But you could wait in the parlor or I would gladly deliver her your handwritten love letter.” Ambrose joked.

Mr. Putnam let out a small polite laugh. “I think I’ll just wait in the parlor then.” “This way.” Ambrose directed to the parlor, opening the door wider. Mr. Putnam muttered a small ‘thanks’.

“So, how many…?” The older man trailed off, and Ambrose immediately understood what he was trying to ask.

“This week, nine.” He paused, trying to recall. “The whole month, at least twenty.”

“Oh.” That was all the man could say.

“Sit.” Ambrose gestured to the armchair in the parlor. “Don’t worry,” He smiled in reassurance. “She turned down all of them.“ 

“Oh.”  He leaved the parlor to get the visitor a tray of tea in the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. And the second shitstorm has entered the server.

He gave Mr. Putnam a polite look and made his way towards the front door. He opened the door and found the High Priest standing there and a lot of things went through his mind. • There’s a mortal in the living room • This is the reason Aunt Zelda has been declining her suitors • Holy shit • The High Priest of the Church of Night and a mortal in the same room • Aunt Zelda’s lover and her suitor in the same room • His Excellency is holding the correct type of flowers; blue forget-me-nots

“Your Excellency,” he greeted. “This way to the parlor, please.” He didn’t even mind asking the man on what he wants. He already knows.

“Oh, no.” Faustus said. “I’m here for Zelda.”

“She is in Moon Valley, please wait in the parlor, Your Excellency.” He said for the second time this day. The man gave a curt nod and followed Ambrose into the parlor. He was absolutely confused as to why a mortal is sitting there, flowers in hand.

“Brother Ambrose, why is-” He starts to ask but Ambrose beat him to it.

“He is the suitor of the day.” He said, clasping his hands together.

Oh. Ohhhhh. “Do not worry, Your Excellency, she turned down all of them this month.”

Faustus’ eyes widened. “This month?”

“Twenty? Twenty-one?” He said, his hands shaking in a gesture of estimating. All Faustus could do was nod, although he and Zelda were an item, they didn’t exactly have a label. And truth be told, since they started their little liaison, she was the only witch that he went home with every night.

He made his way towards the parlor and Ambrose went to get the tray of tea on the kitchen island. He sat on one of the armchairs, opposing the mortal man, not bothering to look at him. Although Mr. Putnam felt like he wanted to retreat, he stood his ground. Although the man wore fancy clothes, he held forget-me-nots. He guessed that’s a point for him, then. He noticed the man had looks but had a dark aura and devil-like nails.

Faustus tried not to interact with the man although the tension could be felt throughout the room. Not only was he mortal but he was holding roses for Satan’s sake. His disdain for the man was simply because he was mortal not because he was wooing Zelda. Nothing more.

Ambrose entered the room holding a tray with a pot of tea with two cups on saucers. You could see the young man’s momentarily horrified expression when there came a knock on the door. He gave the guests a polite smile and made his way towards the front door, chanting ‘please be Aunt Hilda’ under his breath, in a tune.

Instead, he was met with Aunt Zelda and he found himself thinking that this was much better. Zelda frowned at Ambrose’s giddy expression. "Why do you have that smile on? What did you do?"

"Nothing, Aunt Z." Ambrose said, smiling. "But I have to warn you, the suitor of the day came in with your prince charming."

"What?" Zelda asked, handing Ambrose the bag of supplies for the mortuary.

"Let's just say that the High Priest of the Church of Night is having tea with a certain mortal in the living room." Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes." Ambrose teased, already heading down the mortuary.

Zelda peeked in the parlor and saw what Ambrose meant. Satan, she felt like she was sixteen again.

Sighing, she walked into the parlor and the two men stood up immediately. She had been in this situation once and vaguely remembers a duel between the two warlocks. 

"Gentlemen," she greeted. "I am terribly sorry but I am afraid I'm taken at the moment." The two men was shocked, especially Faustus. Since Zelda seemed like she just made their relationship official. "And I don't really think Sabrina would like me dating one of her father's friends." 

In the kitchen, you could hear Ambrose snickering and Zelda rolled her eyes. 

"Please see yourself out." She said with a small smile. Mr. Putnam gave an understanding yet sad smile while Faustus stayed behind.

"You're taken, huh?" 

"Not really." She retorted.  

"Really? I wouldn't be surprised since you had twenty suitors asking for your hand this month."

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Faustus." She said, pouring herself a glass of scotch on the nearby table. "I'd say you're just jealous." Now that was a slap on the face because it was true, he just had too much pride to admit it. 

"No, I'm not." He said, with much scorn. 

"What's with the flowers?" She asked, handing him a glass of brandy.

"It was supposed to be yours but then it seems half of Greendale probably gave you flowers this month."

She gave him a look. "Stop whining, it's not like I slept with any of them."

He opened his mouth to speak but Zelda beat him to it. "And don't mind Mr. Putnam, he's been like that since last year. It's not a surprise anymore."

"The men of Greendale has been like that towards you since you turned sixteen." 

"Satan, Faustus, what do you want me to do?" She asked, now annoyed. 

"I just," he stood up walking towards her, searching for the right words. "A warlock or even a mortal could walk in your parlor and just ask for you and you could say yes and-"

"So, you're jealous?" She asked once again.

He sighed. "Fine. I'm jealous." He said the word like it was poison.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise. "Don't be." Her voice was muffled on his shoulder. This was unlike Zelda but he made no move to disentangle himself from her. He wonders if it was the scotch but she only had one glass. He rested his arms on her waist, his chin atop her head. 

He had never done this with anyone before, not even with her in their Academy days. He found it quite pleasant. "Would you mind being my top lady, then?"

Before she could answer or even register the sound of someone snapping their fingers in the other room, Unchained Melody started to play from the vinyl in the corner. 

Ambrose has never been so proud of himself before.

● ■ ● ■ ●

author: ok im so so so so sorry this sucks i had a hard time writing the ending but i just ughghg MY HAND SLIPPED WITH THE UNCHAINED MELODY THING AHHAHAAHAHAHAHAH rip mr putnam thoLMAO also, im so confused if i should call susie susie or theo?????? But i jist settled with theo for respect

Im an old soul thats why i love unchained melody so much atm and also i accidentally posted this here instead of my otha account, my apologies lmao but its still tagged spellwood ;))

N e ways, stay safe and i hope u loved it :)))))) ;))))