#Rosemary Pearson

[a-froger-epic]

New Interview with Rose Rose (June 2023)

As some of you know, I have friends in the Russian Queen fandom (a handful of lovely Ukrainian and Russian ladies who are translating my writing) and so I was linked to this. It’s an exclusive interview Rosemary Pearson (Rose Rose) gave to the Russian translator of her books. The questions came from people in the main Russian Queen fan forum. The interview was posted in Russian. 

Here are some excepts in English.

Question: If you could turn back the clock, would you break up with Freddie again [...] or would you stay in a relationship with him, and what would happen?

Rose: I would break up with him again because he was, well and truly, attracted to men.

Question: Did you share the details of your childhood that you described in ‘Growing Up’ [Rose Rose’s new book, ‘Growing Up With ‘Filthy Lucre’’] with Freddie? If so, how did he react? Did he tell you about his childhood?

Rose: No, we didn’t tell each other about our childhoods, except that he and I went to boarding school. I mentioned this in my book.

[…]

Question: Which album covers and which Queen videos did you find artistically interesting?

Rose: The most interesting for me in that regard is the video clip for “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

Question: What are your favourite Queen or Freddie Mercury songs?

Rose: I like “Bohemian Rhapsody” the most.

Question: Did you and Freddie mostly coincide when it came to your tastes in music and art, or did you often have disagreements?

Rose: At the time, our tastes completely coincided. Jimi Hendrix is still my favorite artist.

Question: Which artists was Freddie particularly drawn to during his years at Ealing College? In your opinion, did Freddie imitate someone in his artistic work during his studies in Ealing? How would you describe his painting style in those days?

Rose: Freddie liked the work of Russian futurists especially and Russian ballet costumes. But, to be honest, he was not particularly interested in anything but his own imagination and the pop culture of the 60s.

[…]

Question: Did you and Freddie give each other gifts (like birthday gifts)? If so, which ones?

Rose: No, we never gifted each other anything. We weren't that sentimental about it.

[…]

Question: Have you seen the 2018 movie Bohemian Rhapsody? If so, how do you feel about the film?

Rose: I’ve seen it. About half of the movie is completely false.

[…]

Question: [...] Not so long ago, [Mary Austin] decided to auction off most of the art collection and personal belongings of Freddie’s. What would you have done with those things if you were Mary?

Rose: If I were Mary, I would donate it all to the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. Freddie would have preferred it this way, and it just goes to show how few people really understood him. It’s a shame that it won’t happen, as the museum staff are keen to preserve Freddie’s heritage for future generations. [The Victoria & Albert Museum researcher recently approached Rose for advice about the young Freddie Mercury’s interest in the museum’s expositions, in particular, of Russian ballet costumes, but this is a different story. - Note by the interviewer].

Question: What would you say to Freddie if you had the chance?

Rose: I’d say, “I’m so happy that you were able to realise your potential in such a brilliant way!”

[…]

Question: How do you respond to criticism of your work?

Rose: I ignore it!

Question: Did any of your children inherit your desire to become an artist?

Rose: No, they all hate what I do.

[…]

Question: What creative ideas or projects would you like to accomplish, but lack the opportunity? Does it bother you or do you prefer to focus on achievable goals?

Rose: I’ve done everything I wanted to do.

---

Honestly, I liked Rose Rose always, but now I properly love this woman. What a legend.

[freddie-mercury-rising]

All Through Our Splendour

Rosemary Pearson, who dated Freddie Mercury in the late 60s, said they went to see a French-Italian film: "Women in Love". During the film, there is a nude wrestling scene between two men.

Rosemary stated: "We had been to the V&A and seen Eadweard Muybridge’s photographs of men wrestling in the nude. I could see he was enamoured in a way that went beyond art appreciation. Then we went to see Ken Russell’s Women in Love and he was dumbfounded by the wrestling scene. He wanted to stay in the cinema and see the whole thing again."

In the late 1960s, Freddie Mercury, who is in a relationship with a woman, struggles to understand his ever present and pervasive attraction to men. He knows he's destined for greatness, but the one thing holding him back is something he is unable or unwilling to face within himself.

[insidecroydon]

Mayor acts on a wing and a prayer to give Bishop council role

WALTER CRONXITE, political editor, suggests that the ceremonial Mayor may have created an unfortunate precedent when she exceeded her Town Hall powers last week Diversity: Labour councillor Alisa Flemming, the council’s ceremonial Mayor It wasn’t just the unreformed Newman numpty Karen Jewitt who lacked disciplined self-control at last week’s meeting of the full council. Entirely out of the blue,…

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: After finding out Arthur’s secret you soothe your aching heart with a nice girls night out drinking in Rhodes. Unfortunately for you your problems seem to follow you everywhere. part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (a better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/no comfort, nothing a girls night out cannot cure ;) grammar errors for sure :(

a/n: I know you guys all wanted part 2 to be their happily ever after but,, I crave some more angst so yeah it gets messyy !! But nonetheless our girl gets some fun with the girls and some more information about Arthur and Mary’s hush hush meetings. Let me know your thoughts about it and if you sweets want part 3 !! P.S. I recommend you listen to “Rosemary” by Sierra Ferrell while reading. It’s so so good, it also kinda inspired this little fanfic here <33 (gif from pinterest)

“G’mornin’ sweet girl” Arthur groggily whispered against your neck giving you a light kiss, the movement causing the thick hair of his beard to tickle the space between your neck and your shoulder, before rolling out of bed with a tired groan, the mattress shifting under his movements unlike your unmoving form.

After your late night discovery of not one, not two but a whole drawer full of your boyfriend’s ex-fiancé letters it was safe to say that sleep didn’t come easy for you. As much as you wanted for all of this to be a dream, to close your eyes, wake up and sigh of relief laughing about the ‘bizarre dream’ you had with your Arthur while cuddling under the soft protection of the thick bed sheets, reality decided to slap you right in the face instead, leaving you awake all night trying to hold onto all the broken pieces of your heart.

During your sleepless night you wandered to yourself your next move. Should you just throw everything into his face revealing to him that you knew that the ‘sorry fellow’ of the letter was, in reality, his ex fiancé and yell at him as soon as he wakes up or wait and find out more before confronting him ? Considering the fact that you couldn’t properly read, you just had Mary’s name on various envelopes as evidence. Maybe they’re catching up on each other’s life. Just harmless conversations.

Although your heart screamed at you to just confront him first thing in the morning you knew that with what little evidence you had you would just cause a scene. You needed to go deeper into this story. As much as I’d hurt you needed to know for sure if you wasted three years of your life going after a man whose heart had already been claimed a long time ago.

You brushed off Arthur’s affection muttering a quick tired ‘morning’ before stretching your limbs out and leaving the tent, ignoring the man behind you still sitting on the bed looking at you with a puzzled expression at the lack of your usual loving greeting. Even though you two had the biggest tent in camp, aside for Dutch, it felt claustrophobic being in there with him. You needed space to think, to breathe, to not hurt.

The fresh breeze of October grounding you from your spiraling thoughts as you walked towards the pot of coffee on the fire near Pearson’s tent.

“Well look who’s here in all her glory” a voice, which you recognized as Karen’s by the thick accent, basically yelled at you over the nearby round table.

“You look like you fought a damn herd of buffalos Miss. What the hell are you an’ that old man doing in the night” she cackled at the last sentence gesturing you to join her at the table. Seated on her left Tilly shook her head sending you a sympathetic look.

“Are you already drunk ? Why are you so loud for, it’s seven in the morning” you grumbled in your mug of coffee as you took a sip, instantly cringing at the burnt taste that filled your mouth before sitting down with them.

“I’m happy to inform you that I haven’t had a sip since yesterday at lunch” she smiled smugly lifting her chin up at her achievement.

“That’s ‘cause we haven’t seen Miss Grimshaw yet. Bet you by the end of the day you’d kill for a little bit of booze after that woman.” Tilly said fixing the buttons on her yellow blouse, her words reminding you of the long day ahead of you, making you mentally shiver. It wasn’t exactly that you dreaded the woman, after all, you all knew she cared about you in her own twisted way but her attitude didn’t help with making the camp’s chores more tolerable. It seemed like the warmer weather of Lemoyne was putting everyone on edge.

After a few minutes of Karen and Tilly arguing on what was the worst chore to do around camp Abigail and Mary Beth’s dainty figure joined your small group, Mary Beth’s eyes briefly locking on yours before greeting the other girls. You couldn’t quite understand the meaning behind that look but something told you that at some level she knew something about the letters. That possibility made you nauseous to even think of because it would mean that Mary Beth, the girl who always put a smile on your face, the one who always had your back ended up covering for your cheating partner. You needed to know the truth and you needed it now. But before you could even mutter a word to her Karen called your group to attention.

“Gals, I don’t know about y’all but if I stay just one more moment in this godforsaken camp I’m gonna lose my mind.” her statement gaining a few nods and grunts among your group. With the unnecessary gunfight in Valentine leading you all to move further away from the West and this absurd play at sheriffs in town, tension was undeniably high around camp. “I heard from a handsome fella I met in town that there’s going to be some famous lady from Saint Denis singing at the saloon this evening. Heard also there’s going to be some rich folks from Saint Denis with her. Are y’all thinking the same thing I’m thinking ?”

there was a moment of silence as Karen looked at everyone with gleaming eyes.

“Hells know I need a break from this. I’m in” Tilly was the first who broke the silence followed by Mary Beth, the two girls earning a big smile from Karen.

“I don’t know, I have Jack and,” Abigail never had a chance to finish the sentence as Karen immediately interrupted her, telling her to leave Jack with Hosea for a few hours at not make a fuss. It’s not like you were going to be there all night, plus god’s knows how that woman needed some well deserved time for herself once in a while.

You couldn’t lie, the idea of going out after weeks of being in the same spot with the same routine every day excited you quite a bit and if on top of that you add some good ol’ pickpocketing then consider yourself sold. You were going out this evening no matter what.

“Are y’all lazy do-nothin’ girls done chit chatting !? There’s so much work to do today and you’re all sittin’ there doing nothin’. This generation is unbelievable. Get your asses off to work. Now.” The unmistakable trill of Miss Grimshaw's voice shook you from your comfortable seats putting you all to work for the day. As you got up from your seat you tried your best to ignore Arthur’s piercing gaze on you.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was slowly setting over flat iron lake, the sky tinted with a mixture of oranges and pinks. You passed your day washing the camp's dirty laundry, scrubbing dry blood and dirt from the old fabrics of each camp’s member clothes. Managing more or so to avoid Arthur throughout launch, the task not easy as he sat down with you and wouldn’t stop talking to you or asking you questions. You tried your best to not straight up ignore him, answering with monosyllabic answers to his questions. Eventually, he understood you weren’t having it, his hands leaving their place on top of the one you had flat on the table. An annoyed expression evident on his face. Why all of a sudden were you ignoring him ? His mind working miles an hour to find out what he did wrong but failing at the task. You seemed fine last night so what the hell happened to make his darling so distant from him.

When you were getting up from the table to put your dirty dish in the washing bin he tried to stop you, his calloused hand delicately taking your wrist. His confused face met with your tired one. He studied your face almost as if the secret to your behavior was hidden through your mesmerizing features. He tried to say something but the words wouldn’t come up, leaving both of you staring into each other eyes, his aqua ones filled with turmoil, before Uncle's voice burst your bubble calling Arthur for work.

After that, you only saw him half an hour later mounting on his horse before riding off.

You definitely needed this night with the girls.

Putting on your last finishing touches to your lipstick you met with Tilly and Abigail near the horse-drawn carriage that Lenny swiftly stole from a nearby town.

“Hello ladies,” you faked a bow lifting your skirt up by the sides the action causing the other two girls to laugh “ready for this eventful evening ?”

“Well of course I’m ready” Tilly replied mimicking your fake posh accent before getting on the carriage helped by Lenny who was your driver for the night since he also had some business to attend to. You waited for Karen and Mary Beth before going off to town, the drive to Rhodes filled with light chit-chat and silly songs, your mind and heart already feeling at ease.

As you all thanked Lenny for the drive you looked around noticing the numerous people around you, the town buzzing with life but most importantly buzzing with opportunities to steal. Before entering the saloon you strolled through the town, Abigail and Mary Beth’s skilled hands already pickpocketing around while you, Karen and Tilly distracted the poor fellas.

Twenty dollars in your pocket and half an hour later you entered the saloon, gladly finding an empty table to sit near the stage that was occupied by a tall blonde woman in a fancy dress who you deduced was the famous singer from Saint Denis.

With drinks on the table and the sweet melody of the guitar, a light conversation about your successful operation sparked amongst your group until a man approached your table, the heavy scent of alcohol evident on him as he tried to drunkenly flirt with Tilly, ending up insulting her rather than woo her earning a slap in the face from the girl, attracting some attention to your table. Luckily the slimy man was too drunk to react and decided to wander off as you all giggled at the situation.

Round after round you all let loose getting up to dance to the merry melody of the music. Tilly standing near the table swaying in her red dress, with Karen by her side singing her heart out, already too drunk for her own good, while Abigail chatted with one of the men from Saint Denis. You shot her a wink as soon as you noticed the wealthy man making her face light up with mirth.

What an absolute fool you are John Marston.

The only two sitting down were you and Mary Beth, whose eyes never left you since sitting down. Her presence a reminder of your cracked heart. It was supposed to be a fun night at the saloon away from your problems, but your curiosity and need to be wrong about Mary and Arthur gnawed inside of you.

“Mary Beth,” you cautiously greeted her, scooting your chair closer to hers so the other girls wouldn’t hear the two of you from their nearby positions. You didn’t want any more drama to spread around tonight.

“Hi,” there was a long uncomfortable pause before she looked up to you again and started blurting everything out. “I’m sorry, I really do. I should have told you he was receiving letters from her again I just didn’t know how to tell you. When I found the first letter two weeks ago he told me he was gonna tell you. But then I saw how you reacted yesterday seeing her letter and I knew he didn’t” She took your hands in hers before continuing, her words coming out fast, the alcohol in her system making her accent heavier “Oh I’m such a fool, please forgive me, I just didn’t want to come between your relationship”.

You were taken aback by her sudden confession, you thought it would be a tad more complicated to let her open up to you about it. Hearing her point of view definitely helped you clear your mind a bit, she had a fair point. It wasn’t her fault Arthur decided to hide something like this. Your anger towards that man growing more and more. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but notice one thing.

“You said the first letter arrived two weeks ago ?” you asked her. His drawer was full of letters, it was impossible to send that many letters in just two weeks.

“Yes, then I gave it to Arthur, I usually pick up the mail but Arthur has been helping me lately, why?” you started to fidget with the bracelet Arthur gifted for your first anniversary, a small gesture you did when thinking or anxious. The dots in your mind slowly connecting.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

You were about to go back to camp, everyone was on the carriage. Lenny, who had come back from his business with some intel, was back in his driver seat ready to go when you noticed you forgot your gloves at the saloon. Quickly apologizing you clumsily hopped down the carriage, your tipsy state making your movements far from gracious, giggling to yourself you walked back to the saloon to retrieve your gloves. Thankfully they were still on the table untouched.

As you walked back to the carriage enjoying the chilly weather of October from the corner of your eyes you noticed a familiar figure standing outside a building. Maybe it was the alcohol running through your veins or perhaps your curious nature but you turned to steal a glance at the figure.

All color drained from your face as you saw who it was.

As you saw her.

You met her just once in the past but the figure you saw was unmistakably the one of Mary. Smiling up at a man you instantly recognized.

You felt your heart cracking even more. You ran away as fast as you could, leaving pieces of your shattered heart behind as you reached the carriage, quickly hopping on.

During the whole ride, you tried your absolute best to not cry in front of everyone and ruin the cheerful mood, biting the inside of your cheeks as a distraction.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

You were back in your tent when Abigail stopped by.

“Hey, I saw you earlier and you didn’t look so good, are you ok sweetie ?” she asked, her sweet voice full of concern as she put her hand on your shoulder moving it in a calming manner, the tone of her voice and her action causing you to break down in tears like a child to their mother. She quickly pulled you into one of her comforting hugs as you violently sobbed your heart out. Soft ‘It’s ok’ left her lips as she held your shaking form in her arms. Managing to let out a small ‘Arthur’ to answer her question on what was wrong.

Seeing him with Mary tonight was the final straw. You didn’t need any more evidence, you already had everything you needed. He lied to Mary Beth about the letter, he lied to you about it too, matter of fact he lied to you about everything. How could he walk around kissing you, touching you, acting all caring as if nothing. As if he didn’t have a drawer with Mary’s letters, as if he didn’t lie to you this whole time.

Your heartbreak slowly turned into anger, the more you thought about it the more your blood boiled.

“Wanna talk about it ?” sensing you calming down from your sobs she gently fixed a strand of hair behind your ear, a concerned expression evident on her fair features. You dried your tears, your hands stained with mascara. You undoubtedly looked like a mess, or at least you felt like it.

Then, a familiar sound of hooves on the ground could be heard from the entrance of camp.

Arthur was back.

“Oh, so help me God I’m gonna strangle that piece of shit”.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Without thinking of Aeon for a second, what do you expect for RE9? I'll go first:

Jill Valentine, she hasm't been in a mainoine re game in a while now, last being RE5;

Aeo-

Leaks suggest it's gonna be open world kinda like "The Evil Within" and I heard good things about it so yeah, I also expect open world;

I wanna see how Rosemary ended up. I always immagined how a potential RE with an adult Rose could end up. Maybe she's with a husband and child and becouse she had no contact with her mother for a lot she despises Mia.

Old Leon finnaly playable but also Jill being playable, maybe a coop mode.

Don't know what else really, dunno who's gonna be the next antagonist, maybe Jake Muller or sombody new. Something else could be a post credit scene placed before RE9 where we play as Ada first pearson waking up next to Leon in his appartment, reaciving a message in her comms and we discover she has to do a mission where Leon is going to, hinting to maybe a future expansion. Who knows? What about you heartie? What do you expect in Re9 that is not neccessarly Aeon?

ahhh i've said before that i don't care too much speculating on re9! but i'll post this for other people if they wanna engage :3

[treleaven]

Publication date: 10 October 2024

A Garden Manifesto Edited by Olivia Laing and Richard Porter 

❀What do gardens mean and how can they change the world? A Garden Manifesto gathers radical visions rooted in the earth from artists, writers, gardeners and activists, among them Lubaina Himid, Derek Jarman, Jamaica Kincaid, Ana Mendieta, Dan Pearson and Wolfgang Tillmans. It’s a seed box for an uncertain future, packed with anarchic dreams of Eden-making and humming with resistance to the colonial project of homogenisation and destruction. ❀ Featuring 

William Blake, Joe Brainard, Jonny Bruce, John Clare, Gerry Dalton, Ellen Dillon, Baha Ebdeir, Alys Fowler, Magdalena Suarez Frimkess, Gaylene Gould, Green Guerillas, Joy Gregory, Fritz Haeg, Lubaina Himid, Philip Hoare, Rosie Hudson, Derek Jarman, Chantal Joffe, Laura Joy, Jamaica Kincaid, Elisabeth Kley, Olivia Laing, Jeremy Lee, Siobhan Liddell, Alison Lloyd, Hilary Lloyd, Jo McKerr, Lee Mary Manning, Ana Mendieta, Bernadette Mayer, Rosemary Mayer, Huw Morgan, Eileen Myles, Hussein Omar, Palestinian, Heirloom Seed Library, Ian Patterson, Dan Pearson, Jean Perréal, Charlie Porter, Pat Porter, J. H. Prynne, Claire Ratinon, Jamie Reid, Lisa Robertson, Kuba Ryniewicz, Saadi, Sui Searle, Sei Shōnagon, Colin Stewart, Tabboo!, Edward Thomasson, Wolfgang Tillmans, Scott Treleaven, John Wieners, David Wojnarowicz, Matt Wolf and Sarah Wood ❀ Design and typesetting by Richard Porter Cover artwork: David Wojnarowicz, What is this little guy's job in the world, 1990 © Estate of David Wojnarowicz

Paperback

148x190mm

ISBN: 9781068758607

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

After (rightfully) dragging and being skeptical of Rudi’s book, I thought I’d talk about major books which I consider to be the most reliable about Freddie.

Books:

Mercury and Me by Jim

Phoebe’s first books

Don’t Stop Us Now by Thor Arnold and Lee Nolan

I’ve had my disagreements with Phoebe, but that’s more about his assessment of things, not the actual events he presented. I think he’s a pretty good source for information pre-2010-ish (some of his stories took a weird 180 after that to the point where he contradicts himself and other reliable sources). Just keep in mind he presents his own opinion on Freddie’s emotions as fact sometimes even in those books, which, isn’t great. Jim was seen as a good, honest man by those who knew him and the only “agenda” he had for writing his book was grieving and to let the world know Freddie didn’t die alone, and Thor and Lee only wrote their book because they felt like Freddie was different and nicer than how he was portrayed in the film. I see no ulterior motives from Jim or Thor and Lee, especially when nothing they said contradicts other reliable sources in a notable way.

Other books need to be taken with a lot of salt, even if they’re worth checking out. Even David Minns got basic information about Queen like, blatantly wrong (I think the user rushingheadlong talked about this), and it’s difficult to trust him on intimate information about Freddie as a result. Obviously, he was really in a relationship with Freddie lol, it’s just that I don’t consider him to be very factually reliable, and many have noted his intense bitterness, which creates a bias larger than in many other resources (also...he hit Freddie first, so. A hell of a lot of bias comes from someone like that). Rosemary Pearson’s book seems accurate from what I can tell, but since she wrote about an era in Freddie’s life no one else really has, her stories can’t be corroborated by other sources, so keep that in mind.

The fandom has largely discussed how notoriously unreliable Lesley Ann Jones is, even with celebrities other than Freddie (Brian said she barely knew Freddie btw), and that the Brett biography is also too sketchy to really be taken seriously. I’ve already talked about how Rudi’s grifting and history of sensationalist stories, exaggerations, and outright lies make him an unreliable source and his book difficult to believe, so I won’t repeat myself here. Side note: I don’t think it’s a coincidence that a documentary which has some of the most Mary and her egotistical narrative (The Untold Story) was directed by Rudi, either, but this post is about books. I can talk about docs another time.

Tl:dr If only Freddie were here and people were normal instead of straightwashing him and selling sketchy, sensationalist stories that ~just so happen~ to align with the WILD stories tabloids have been pushing for decades; then, we wouldn’t have to act like freaking historians sifting through different narratives and determining which are solid out of the pile of shit (and if only people had an ounce of critical thinking skills and didn’t believe everything they read).

[kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon]

Spooky writing music shuffle, Oct 15

One of my former favorite movies that I haven't been able to watch since having a kid unfortunately :D May give it another try some day.

Here's a lovely piano version by Duke Pearson as well: Theme from Rosemary's Baby

[universalvsprivatehealthcare]

Article References

de Oliveira Costa, Juliana, Sallie-Anne Pearson, David Brieger, Sanja Lujic, Md Shajedur Rahman Shawon, Louisa R. Jorm, Kees van Gool, and Michael O. Falster. 2023. “In-Hospital Outcomes by Insurance Type among Patients Undergoing Percutaneous Coronary Interventions for Acute Myocardial Infarction in New South Wales Public Hospitals.” International Journal for Equity in Health 22(1): 1–11. 

Kesici, Zeynep, Volkan Yilmaz. 2023. “Insurance-based disparities in breast cancer treatment pathways in a universal healthcare system: a qualitative study.” BMC Health Services Research 23(1):1-10.

Korda, Rosemary J., Mark S. Clements, and Chris W. Kelman. 2009. “Universal Health Care No Guarantee of Equity: Comparison of Socioeconomic Inequalities in the Receipt of Coronary Procedures in Patients with Acute Myocardial Infarction and Angina.” BMC Public Health 9(1): 460–71. 

Rashford, Marleise. 2007. “A Universal Healthcare System: Is It Right for the United States?.” Nursing Forum, 42(1): 3–11. 

Sneed, Rodlescia S., Alexander Stubblefield, Graham Gardner, Tamara Jordan, and Briana Mezuk. 2024. “Chronic Disease, Functional Limitations, and Workforce Participation Among Medicaid Enrollees Over 50: The Potential Impact of Medicaid Work Requirements Post-COVID-19.” Journal of Aging & Social Policy 36(3): 380–98.

Saydah SH, Imperatore G, Beckles GL, Sharon H Saydah, Giuseppina Imperatore, and Gloria L Beckles. 2013. “Socioeconomic Status and Mortality: Contribution of Health Care Access and Psychological Distress among U.S. Adults with Diagnosed Diabetes.” Diabetes Care 36(1): 49–55.

[a-froger-epic]

People in Freddie's life 4/?

Rosemary

- - -

Kashmira

Joe

Jim

[queen-thinky-thoughts]

I also never understood Freddie’s point of getting into a relationship with another woman if he already knew he was gay it doesn’t make sense and it’s very selfish of him in my opinion what he did to Mary he basically knew he was gay or suspecting he was and still lead her on and was cheating on her too

Woah, woah. Hold up there, anon.

Who says Freddie knew he was gay when he started dating Mary? Were you in his head? How could you possibly know that? We can speculate that he suspected he was gay. We know he told Rosemary he was bi. Whether that was what he believed himself to be at the time or if it was just what he told her, all the while knowing he was gay, is something we will never know. Personally, I think he was very confused and frightened.

There are several things which may have happened when it comes to Mary.

1) He knew he was gay, but thought this was something he could "cure" if he really wanted to. (Not an unusual assumption at the time, when sexuality was still largely understood as depending on actions rather than urges.)

2) He really wasn't sure. He was aware that he was attracted to men, but he wasn't sure that he really wasn't attracted to women, the very thought that he might be gay was too much for him to handle. Basically, denial.

3) He did feel some attraction to women. Now, listen, some of my gay male friends - who 100% identify as gay - have told me that they have occasionally, rarely found a woman attractive here and there. Attraction isn't all that black and white. It's entirely possible he was attracted enough to Mary in the beginning to believe that this could work for him. Only to discover that it really didn't.

We will simply never know what exactly was going on in his head at the time.

[floor-archivist]

Edited the original post to include these as well, but here's the IDs for the images just so ppl know they're there:

Image 1: [ID: A cropped screenshot of Library Genesis, showing the result for Biological Science, which reads, “Biological Science 5th Scott Freeman Pearson 2014 English 0/1418 187 MB pdf“ End ID]

Image 2: [ID: A cropped screenshot of Library Genesis, showing the page for the book, Biological Science. It lists all the previous information in the last image, as well as a description of the book, the edition ID, when it was added to the website, when it was modified and the ISBN number. The cover of the book, which appears on the left side of the picture, shows a green reptile. Along the bottom of the picture is a smaller version of the book cover, which is circled in red. End ID]

Image 3: [ID: A cropped screenshot of Library genesis, showing the cover of the book, Biological Science, as described previously. Above the book in a box, is the word “GET”, circled in red. End ID]

Image 4: [ID: A cropped image of a library search for the book, The First Days of School by Harry K. Wong and Rosemary T. Wong. To the left is a picture of the cover of the book, showing the name and authors in green lettering. Along the bottom of the search result is a section that shows the location of the book, the first part of which is blocked out, and reads “Reserves (Circulation Desk) (PERSONAL COPY)” End ID.]

Image 5: [ID: A cropped image of a library search engine. It reads as follows, “Search criteria. Search for: Books, articles and more.” The second option is blocked out. “All (Redacted) Libraries’ Catalogs.” is circled in red. Below this lists options for fields of search, material types, languages, and dates. End ID.]

Image 6: [ID: A screenshot of a google search. The search bar contains, “filetype:pdf "El español a través de la lingüística”” The images shows the first three results of the search. The first is a pdf file titled, “felix-brasdefer-2008-cortesia.pdf” the next is a website titled, “Introduccion A La Linguistica Espanola Azeveado 2009 (PDF)” the last is website titled, “Introduccion A La Linguistica Espanola 3rd Edition Spanish...” End ID]

How to spend less (maybe even no*) money on college textbooks:

Preface: This isn’t my first year of university, however this is the first semester I was determined to not spend any money on textbooks. I think I’ve managed it! I also work in my university’s library, so I know a bit more about book loaning than the regular student lol.

Now, this may not work for everyone. I know larger schools are weird about online program codes and such. If you have a class that needs a book and an online access code or something, see if you can buy the access code separately.

*click images for better quality

Keep reading

[freddie-mercury-rising]

Finally, an update to my Rosemary fic:

All Through Our Splendour

Chapter 7: Enough

Rosemary put a hand over her mouth. She breathed deeply, willing herself to calm down, even though the adrenaline coursing through her body made her feel light-headed.

—

[midnighvtm4ss]

Omg i absolutely loved rosemary!!! Also the fact it’s based on a Sierra Ferrell song is amazing. That brings me to my request to maybe an Arthur fic based on her song “I Could Drive You Crazy” 🤭🤭🤭 I feel like that song is so Arthur and his darling girl coded

I COULD DRIVE YOU CRAZY

cw: fluff, hunting, pre-canon, two idiots in love, arthur is crushing so hard it’s actually embarrassing

wc: 3,3k

a/n: the way I SCREAMED when I saw your request anon !! i loove Sierra Ferrell she’s one of the few artists i have constantly on repeat. Sorry I took my sweet time replying but I had to make this piece good. This is a little insight on Arthur and his darling girl pre-relationship dynamic ! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it <3

The late noon sun bathed the camp in a cold, bright light, casting the long shadows of the nearby douglas fir trees stretching all around you as it began its slow but steady descent behind the rolling hills of the Tall Trees region as afternoon approached. The smell of woodsmoke and simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the earthy scent of pine and the faint aroma of freshly turned earth. You stood beside Pearson, by the cooking wagon. Your hands busy chopping vegetables while the man stirred the stew pot, his gruff voice occasionally muttering to himself as he adjusted the few seasonings Miss Grimshaw desperately requested to add into his infamous venison stew. Abigail stood nearby, cleaning the dishes used in the morning. Her laughter light as she shared stories about young Jack with you.

“Jack’s been askin’ after you,” Abigail said with a fond smile. “Ever since he learned how to say your name he’s been saying it non stop. Makes me miss the time when the only things he could say was ‘mama’ and random bubbling noises”

“He’s a sweet kid,”

“Yes, and a spoiled one too. No matter how much I try, he refuses to go to sleep until he hears your voice telling him a goodnight story”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of the boy’s eager face. “I’ll have to think up a good one for him tonight, then.”

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew your attention away from the conversation. You glanced up just in time to see the men returning from their latest job. Dust and sweat clung to them, their faces weary but carrying the unmistakable look of men who had just succeeded at their mission. Among them, a particular figure caught your eyes. Arthur Morgan dismounted with practiced ease, his broad shoulders slumped slightly by the fatigue of the day’s event. Even from a distance, his presence was commanding, a strong aura following him as he led a tired Boadicea toward the hitching post.

Even from a distance, there was something about Arthur that drew your eye—his quiet strength, the way he moved with precise purpose, his steady presence that always seemed to bring a sense of security to the camp. You watched as he handled the reins, hitching Boadicea and patting her dark brown mane, undoubtedly praising her for a job well done.

Was it possible to be jealous of a horse ?

His gaze briefly scanned the camp before it landed on you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you felt a flutter in your chest. You quickly returned your attention to a particular interesting piece of tomato you had cut, wishing for your burning cheeks to calm.

“Mister Morgan!” Pearson’s booming voice cut through the air, making you wish the earth would swallow you whole. “We’re runnin’ low on meat. Reckon we’ll last two more days with what little I have.” Pearson’s voice lowering to a more quiet tone as Arthur inched closer to the wagon. “Can you head out and bring somethin’ back before it gets dark?”

Arthur looked over at the stew pot, his face churning with an unreadable expression, then back to Pearson with a nod. “Sure, Pearson. I’ll head out now.”

As he turned to leave, something inside you stirred. You weren’t sure if it was the desire to escape the mundane tasks of camp, to immerse yourself in the unknown beauty of the wilderness or, more than that, the desire for a chance to spend time with Arthur, to learn from him, to be close to him. Nonetheless, before you could second guess your action you placed down your knife, stepping forward, the words hurriedly leaving your lips as in fear you might stop them if they took a second longer to pronounce.

“Mister Morgan,” you called out, your voice a little hesitant. “May I come with you?”

He paused, turning to face you fully. A faint hint of surprise washed over his face. His aqua eyes, always so full of depth and intensity, softened slightly as he considered your request. “You sure ‘bout that? Huntin’ ain’t exactly a walk in the woods.”

“I’d like to learn,” you insisted, your heart beating faster as you met his gaze under his worn gambler’s hat. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a gesture that seemed almost shy. He nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s get goin’.”

It took an immeasurable amount of strength to refrain yourself from smiling brightly at the man in front of you. You promptly returned to your cutting station, untying your apron in quick movements. Abigail came closer to you, taking the apron from your hands and putting it on ready to replace you in your work. As you two locked eyes, a knowing smile adorned the brunette’s face, making you flush.

Your steps were quick as you followed Arthur to the hitching post, your Hungarian half-bred just a few feet away from Boadicea. You gently pat her, giving her a stalk of celery you stole from Pearson. Circling around to tighten the strap of your saddle you felt the heavy gaze of the outlaw follow your every move. His muscular form already mounted on his horse. You mounted your horse, not wanting to trouble Arthur and make him reconsider his decision. He cleared his throat before speaking,

“We’ll go through the woods on the left near the lake,” he stated, tutting at his horse to move forward “Mac told me he found a few deer tracks down there.”

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to give away your feelings.

The air was cooler than the already crisp air in camp. Beneath the canopy of trees, the sun’s rays filtering through the needles of the pine trees in dappled patterns on the forest floor. The smell of pine and earth was much stronger here, mingling with the fresh scent of moss and the faint musk of animals that had passed through earlier. Arthur led the way, silent and sure, while you followed close behind, too occupied by taking in the view to initiate a conversation.

Passing through a particularly steep path Arthur signaled you to stop. He hopped down from his horse, walking a few feet forward before stopping. You copied his action. The ground beneath your boots was soft, a carpet of moss and pine needles that muted your footsteps.

“First rule of huntin’,” Arthur began, his voice low and steady as he crouched down to examine a set of tracks in the soft dirt, “is patience. Animals can sense when somethin’ ain’t right, so you gotta move slow and stay quiet.”

You nodded, kneeling beside him as you peered at the tracks. They were faint, just a few indentations in the earth, but Arthur pointed them out to you with practiced ease. The proximity of him, the way his voice dropped down on to a near whisper, sent a thrill through you that had little to do with the hunt and everything to do with the outlaw beside you.

“There,” he said, his hand brushing against yours as he pointed. “That’s a deer track. See how the hooves dig in? Means it was here not too long ago. We follow these, and we might just catch up to it.”

His touch was fleeting, but it left a warmth on your skin that lingered long after he pulled his hand away. You nodded again, trying to focus on the task at hand, reprimanding your mind for wandering to such thoughts. But it was difficult with Arthur so close, his presence almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity.

Together, you moved through the woods, following the tracks with Arthur’s guidance. You moved in silence. The woods offered you the calm noises of the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a bird, and the soft crunch of your boots on the forest floor. Every now and then, Arthur would pause, his head tilting slightly as he listened for any signs of movement, his sharp eyes scanning the space surrounding you.

Finally, after what felt like hours to you but was probably only a few minutes, you spotted the deer—a lone buck grazing in a small clearing, its head down, completely unaware of your presence. Arthur’s hand came up in front of you, motioning you to stop and you both knelt down behind a fallen mossy log, using it for cover.

He handed you his rifle, his hands steady as they helped you position it against your shoulder. His touch on you gentle, guiding you with the same care and precision he used in everything he did. You could feel his breath on your neck, making the small hairs on your nape stand up. The brim of his hat grazing your hair as the heat of his body so close to yours made your heart beat so violently that you were sure Arthur could hear it.

“Alright,” Arthur whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in even close. “Here’s where it gets tricky. You gotta stay calm, keep your breathin’ steady, and line up your shot. Don’t rush it. As long as we don’t make a sound the deer will be there. Let the moment come to you.”

“Steady now,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and soothing. You took a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs. “Just like that. Breathe in… and out. Always pull the trigger on empty lungs”

You tried to focus, tried to steady your breath as he instructed, but the closeness of him, the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, made it difficult to concentrate. You aimed at the deer, your finger brushing the trigger, but your hands were trembling ever so slightly.

“Breathe,” Arthur reminded you, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder grounding you, steadying you from the imminent recoil of the rifle. “You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and then you squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

A second passed where it was deadly silent, you opened your eyes to check on your target but your aim had been off. The bullet whizzed past the deer, embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. The deer’s head shot up, and in an instant, it bolted, disappearing into the underbrush before you even had time to lower the rifle.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Mister Morgan,” you muttered, gloomily handing the rifle back to him.

But Arthur wasn’t upset. Instead, he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm as he shook his head with a strange myrth. “Don’t be sorry. You did good for your first try. Takes time to get the hang of it. Deer’s easy to track but a damn tricky target, especially when you’re just startin’ out.”

His words were kind, but you couldn’t help the sense of failure that settled in your chest. You had wanted to impress him, to show him that you could be just as capable as any of the men in the gang, but instead, you had let the moment slip away making a fool of yourself in front of him. You lowered your gaze to your lap, playing with a stray cotton strand of your blouse.

“Come on,” Arthur said, standing and offering you his hand. “Let’s see if we can track somethin’ else. We’ve still got some daylight left.”

You took his hand, feeling the roughness of his warm calloused palm against yours as he pulled you to your feet. The warmth of his touch, the easy way he smiled at you, made it hard to stay upset for long. There was something about Arthur—something steady and reassuring—that made you feel like everything was going to be alright, even when things didn’t go as planned.

You dusted off your skirt, it definitely wasn’t the best clothing choice for hunting but you had little to no time changing into a more comfortable outfit. You thanked whoever was above that this week wasn’t your turn to wash the camp’s clothes. Karen sure had a great load of work ahead of her.

The two of you mounted back up on your horses and continued deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser as the light began to fade. Arthur was patient, showing you how to look for signs of wildlife, teaching you how to move quietly through the underbrush without making yourself known to the animals you were tracking. His calm demeanor, his quiet confidence, made you feel more at ease, and slowly, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the hunt.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in a soft, amber glow, you spotted something moving in the distance—a wild boar, its dark shape partially hidden by the underbrush as it ate the roots of a bush near a fallen log. You felt a surge of excitement, your heart beating faster as you pointed it out to Arthur.

“There,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you hopped down from your horse. “There’s a boar!”

Arthur followed you down his horse. His eyes followed your gaze as he nodded, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. “That’s a good target. Boar’s got tough skin, but he’s not too fast. You ready to give it another try?”

You nodded, your grip tightening on the rifle as Arthur handed it to you once more. This time, you felt more confident, more focused. Arthur had shown you what to do, had taught you how to read the signs, how to stay calm and patient. You could do this. You needed to do this.

You crouched down behind a bush making sure you had a clear view of the target. Arthur stayed close, his presence a steadying force as you lined up your shot. “Remember,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper, “breathe slowly, keep your hands steady, and don’t rush it. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs as you focused on the boar. It was still rooting around, completely unaware of you and Arthur watching from the shadows. You steadied the rifle, your finger brushing the trigger, and then, with a calmness you hadn’t felt before, you squeezed.

The shot rang out, sharp and clear in the evening air. This time, your aim was true. The boar let out a sharp squeal, its body jerking as the bullet hit its mark. It staggered for a moment, and then it collapsed, its movements ceasing as it fell to the ground.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring in disbelief. You had done it. You had actually done it.

“I did it,” you whispered, a smile slowly spreading across your face as the realization sank in. “Arthur, I did it!” you said turning to face Arthur. You couldn’t believe yourself. You actually hunted down some game. A laughter came up to you, heartily and genuine.

Arthur’s face lit up with a grin, his eyes shining with pride as he clapped you on the back. “Good girl. Nice work. That’s some fine shootin’.”

His praise warmed you more than the fading sunlight ever could, and you felt a surge of joy and accomplishment. But it wasn’t just about the hunt—it was about the way Arthur was looking at you now, with a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was seeing you in a new light.

The two of you approached the poor boar, and Arthur knelt beside it, inspecting your handiwork with a nod of approval. “Perfect shot,” he said, glancing up at you from under his hat with a smile. “Damn, you’re a natural.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, and you couldn’t help but brightly beam at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the successful hunt and everything to do with the man beside you.

As Arthur worked skinning the animal and preparing the boar to transport it back to camp, you found yourself stealing glances at him. Although he was now covered in blood you couldn’t help but find him even more attractive. You watched the way the fading light played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his plump lips, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to soften whenever he looked your way. There was something different about the way he was acting around you now, a quiet affection in his gaze, a tenderness in his touch that hadn’t been there before.

Once the boar was ready, the two of you began to head back to camp, the weight of the animal stowed on the back of Boadicea as you carried its pelt. The forest was quiet now, the sun nearly gone, leaving the trees bathed in the soft, dusky indigo light of twilight. As you rode, side by side, you could feel the connection between you and Arthur growing stronger with each step, an unspoken bond that neither of you had to put into words growing evermore.

“Thank you for teaching me, Mister Morgan” you said softly, stopping your horse just a few feet away as the camp came into view, the warm glow of the firelight welcoming you back. The distance giving you both one last moment of privacy. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I didn’t think I’d be any good at it.”

Arthur glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t need to be so formal with me now, you can call me Arthur,” he started. “Besides, you’ve got a good eye,” he said, his voice sincere. “And you listen, which is more than I can say for most people in this godforsaken gang. You did real good out there.”

The praise made your cheeks warm, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “I had a good teacher.”

Arthur shook his head at that, hiding his face under the brim of his hat as he mumbled to himself something you didn’t quite catch.

“Maybe we’ll do this again sometime,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying amusement that betrayed his carefree tone

“I’d like that,” you replied, your voice soft as the two of you approached camp, the sounds of the gang's usual chatter welcoming you back. “I’d like that a lot.”

As you helped Arthur carry the boar to Pearson, who greeted you with his usual gruffness but a nod of approval, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you and Arthur. There was a new understanding, a deeper connection, something that went beyond the simple companionship you had shared before when you occasionally chatted while you worked on the camp’s chores.

As the evening wore on and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, you found yourself glancing over at Arthur, who was seated by the campfire, his gaze occasionally drifting your way. And each time your eyes met, there was a spark—a shared smile, a lingering look—that hinted at something more.

And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something special, something that neither of you could quite put into words, but that you both felt growing with every passing moment you spent together.

[queen-for-life]

“I didn’t know he was going to become a singer then. But I had a suspicion he might. He didn't do that much work. In the studio, he just sang all the time. He was charismatic, dressed outrageously – sometimes in shorts, no top and a fur coat – and was determined to make it as a singer. He always behaved as though he were in front of an audience, even if he was just with me. His gestures were theatrical, and often he’d break into song embarrassingly in the street. Yes, he liked to be the centre of attention, but he was sometimes remorseful about that, and was always genuinely interested in me and my work.

He was a clown, so much fun to be around. Freddie was also the only truly fearless person I ever met. I haven't acknowledged until now the massive impact knowing Freddie had on me. For me, he was the ultimate model of how to follow your dream. The experience of loving him left me feeling rejected and uncertain, but in the end, it gave me the impetus to be my own person, to try and do what he had done." - Rosemary Pearson [Freddie’s (girl)friend]

[targentis]

I'm dating a gay man.jpg