Harleen burst into the room with the flurry and snap of a closing textbook - the one she’d been scanning on her way here. She collapsed onto the foot of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“I can ace Cognitive Behavioral Therapy like it’s nothin’, but I still can’t figure out how to unsuck a dick. Is it wrong to gaslight a gross boy into thinkin’ it never happened?”

     ❝ THIS IS -- your voice ? ❞

     THE TIMID little murmur manages to barely etch out from beneath the belting tenor, Mercury’s vocals rippling in a sheer sonic soundwave from the crackling speakers.  Mismatched eyes pry away from the spinning record to stare, wide and wondrous, at the man before him: what a curious way to use voices.  It’s illogical -- impractical, even, given the context that speaking is performed with the intent of clear communication.  The cacophony of noises woven between his words like a tapestry ( not that 683 knows what tapestry is ) makes it difficult to clearly hear his words, and the meandering way he speaks masks the clarity of his intent.  But it’s nice, isn’t it -- for all this seems to serve no purpose, he finds that he enjoys listening to it for the sake of listening and nothing else.

freddie mercury for @belladoniic ! thank you so much for donating !!

556 $ raised so far !

“You don’t think this is catchy?” The blond singer looked slightly perturbed by Freddie’s words, and completely incredulous. He stopped chewing on the end of his pen, setting it down next to the papers on which he had been scribbling song ideas. “You don’t think this is the kind of chorus people will want to sing along to?” Frankly, Felix didn’t believe it. Despite his upbringing in classical music, he was quite good at writing pop songs. He picked up the plastic pen again, tapping it thoughtfully against the table for a moment as he eyed the other singer. “Right, I’ll ask the expert. That’s the only way to know.” 

He turned to call over his shoulder into the next room. “Hawley, could you come in here for a moment?” Almost immediately, a small towheaded boy ran into the room and straight over to his father, looking up at him expectantly. “Do you like this song?” Felix questioned the toddler in a sincere tone, before picking up the sheet of paper. “Do you like the words?” Casually singing a couple of crucial lines to the child, part of the would-be chorus. 

When he was done rattling off the lyrics, his son clapped his small hands together excitedly and exclaimed. “Yes!”

He smiled down at the child, reaching to fondly ruffle his pale hair, which was the perfect match to his own. “Thank you, Hawley. You can run along and play now.” 

❝ What happier fortune can one find than with the boy who pleased their mind, to leave their home and friends behind, and sail on the first favouring wind? ❞