#Matilda Effect

[coochiequeens]

By Rachel May

Rachel May, English professor and author, came upon Elizabeth Wagner Reed’s book about a decade ago, on Reed’s daughter’s website.

Published April 22, 2023Updated April 24, 2023, 10:50 a.m. ET

This article is part of Overlooked, a series of obituaries about remarkable people whose deaths, beginning in 1851, went unreported in The Times.

In 1992, the geneticist Elizabeth Wagner Reed self-published “American Women in Science Before the Civil War,” a book highlighting 22 19th-century scientists. One of them was Eunice Newton Foote, who wrote a paper on her remarkable discovery about greenhouse gases, “a phenomenon which is of concern to us even now,” Reed wrote.

Foote was forgotten soon after the paper was read aloud by a male scientist at a conference in 1856 and published the following year. A male scientist was eventually credited with the discovery.

Like Foote, Reed herself fell into obscurity, a victim of the erasure of female scientists that the historian Margaret Rossiter coined the Matilda Effect — named for the sociologist Matilda Joslyn Gage, whose 1870 pamphlet, “Woman as Inventor,” condemned the idea that women did not have the skills to succeed in the field.

Reed, however, made significant contributions to the sciences.

She wrote a landmark study about intellectual disability genetics, helped found a field of population genetics and wrote many more papers on botany, the biology of women and sexism in science.

Reed persisted in her research even when she found herself a widow with a toddler during World War II. By the time of her death, in 1996, in spite of publishing more than 34 scholarly papers, public school curriculums and two books, the record didn’t bend in her favor. It wasn’t until 2020, when the scientist and scholar Marta Velasco Martín published a paper on Reed, that her legacy was resurrected.

Reed was born Elizabeth Wagner on Aug. 27, 1912, in Baguio, in what was then called the Philippine Islands, to Catherine (Cleland) and John Ovid Wagner. John was from Ohio and worked in construction there at the time; Catherine, from Northern Ireland, was working in the Philippines as a nurse.

The family later settled on a farm in Ohio, where Elizabeth grew up picking raspberries “from dawn to dusk,” her son William Reed said in a phone interview.

“She learned how to work really hard,” he added. “I remember her saying how much she loved school, partly because it wasn’t doing farm work.”

At the end of one summer, he said, she used some of her earnings to buy a book about wildflowers in Ohio — “her first purchase was a scientific book.”

She would go on to cultivate wildflowers in her backyard as an adult, volunteer at a wildflower arboretum in Minnesota and write about botany in scientific articles and in educational materials for children. Reed’s daughter, Catherine Reed, told Martín that her mother “loved nature, especially plants, and, wanted to be a scientist from a very early age.”

In 1933, Reed earned her bachelor’s degree at Ohio State University, where she also earned a master’s in 1934 and a Ph.D. in plant physiology in 1936. She put herself through school with a scholarship and by washing dishes and working in the cafeteria. In 1939 and 1940, she published her first two papers, one about the effects of insecticides on bean plants and the other about how various types of dusts affect the rate of water loss in yellow coleus plants by night and day.

In 1940, she married a fellow scientist, James Otis Beasley, and had a son, John, with him just after James left to fight in World War II in 1942. When her husband was killed in the war the next year, she supported herself and her son by teaching at five different universities. “The first part of her life,” William Reed said, “was sheer determination.”

She began working with the geneticist Sheldon C. Reed, whom she married in 1946, and together they helped found the field of Drosophila population genetics, which uses fruit flies as a simple and economical method of studying genetics in a laboratory while offering important insights into similar species.

Soon after, the couple moved to Minnesota, where Sheldon was hired as the director of the Dight Institute of Human Genetics at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. Elizabeth was denied a job at the university, which cited rules against nepotism.

The Reeds went on to write a book about intellectual disabilities that analyzed data from 80,000 people and their families; the study, they said, was “one of the largest genetic investigations so far completed.”

They found that disabilities could be caused by genetic or environmental factors and could therefore be heritable. They also proposed — to controversy that still exists today — that such disabilities were preventable through education of the general public and voluntary sterilization or birth control of potential parents with low I.Q.s.

Though Elizabeth’s name was listed first as author, a letter of acknowledgment calling the couple’s work “truly magnificent” referred to them as “Dr. and Mrs. Reed.” 

Reed was quite aware that her husband was receiving more credit, her son William said, but she never let it embitter her. In 1950, however, she published a paper on sexism in the sciences based on her study of 70 women working in the field. It found that marriage and childbirth decreased their productivity and sometimes even dissuaded them from continuing their careers. It led her to mentor women in the field through the advocacy group Graduate Women in Science.

“She was a scientist before it was popular for women to become scientists,” Nancy Segal, a psychologist at California State University known for her study of twins, said in an interview, “and she was a great role model for so many of us women postdocs at the time.”

In writing “American Women in Science Before the Civil War,”Reed corresponded with archivists and scoured card catalogs, journals and proceedings of associations and societies. In addition to recognizing Eunice Foote’s work almost two decades before other scientists did, the book included biographies of, among others, the astronomer Maria Mitchell; Ellen Smith Tupper, who was known as the “Queen Bee of Iowa” for her study of that insect; and the entomologist Mary Townsend.

Reed wrote that it was a testimony to the strengths of these women that they pursued science despite the fact that they were “often denied entry to colleges and unable to attain professional status.”

Reed also supported teaching children about science so that they would have the tools to solve what she called the “current crises of exploding populations and deteriorating environments.” She published papers about teaching proper scientific methods in schools and created curriculums with the University of Minnesota.

“Classrooms always house some living organisms,” she wrote, tongue-in-cheek, in the Journal of the Minnesota Academy of Science in 1969. “In many, unfortunately, all are of a single species, Homo sapiens. The population consists of many immature species (children) and a few adults, usually female (teachers). This makes for a certain homogeneity, but it can be alleviated by introduction of other living species, animal or plant.”

The fact that Reed was, like so many of her predecessors, lost to history is indicative of the pervasive sexism of her era. But women today continue to face hurdles in entering scientific fields. A report from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology this year found that “the underrepresentation of women in the science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) fields continues to persist,” with women making up only 28 percent of the STEM work force.

Like Reed, her daughter, Catherine, was a scientist, having earned a Ph.D. in ecology, but she ultimately became so disillusioned that she held a ceremonial burning of her degree and instead turned to artwork and championing her mother’s legacy. She published her mother’s book on American women in science on her website in about 2010. She died in 2021 at 73.

Elizabeth Wagner Reed died at 83 on July 14, 1996, most likely of cancer. She recognized her symptoms, but, knowing what the treatments would be like and, to her mind, the probable outcome, she never sought a diagnosis. (Sheldon Reed died in 2003.)

William Reed said there was no joy like taking a walk with his mother, who could describe every plant and animal they passed. She and Sheldon were avid bird-watchers (and occasional polka dancers), and the family spent many vacations at Lake Itasca, Minn., relaxing under old-growth Norway Pines.

Reed’s favorite flower was the showy lady’s slipper, the state flower of Minnesota, an orchid notoriously difficult to cultivate, like the careers of many of the women she wrote about. Its Latin name is Cypripedium reginae, with reginae meaning queen.

[grandwretch]

im literally so obsessed w/ sonetto btw like something about her being the perfect child soldier and being so excited to be a martyr but then when she gets older she starts to yearn for the outside world and softness and humanity and rebellion because she can't be a perfect robot forever but then when she's reunited w/ vertin, vertin needs her to be a perfect soldier, and vertin is so sad, and none of that excitement is in her anymore like aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh sonetto just wants to be free and her one chance of freedom is slowly dying in front of her. watch me fucking lose my SHIT

[wonder-worker]

"Any assessment of the emotional component of the reconciliation of [Empress Matilda and Geoffrey of Anjou] remains speculation: the chroniclers are silent on the issue of whether [they] grew to love, hate, or like each other. We do know, from their movements and actions, that Matilda and Geoffrey eventually arrived at a businesslike arrangement with a united viewpoint toward the dynastic, geopolitical goals that had dictated their marriage in the first place."

"Matilda and Geoffrey effectively transitioned from a Divide and Rule model to a Collaborative Union from 1144 onwards, in which they worked together throughout their marriage to ensure rulership over their territories and gained their rightful lands, as well as ensuring the inheritance for their children. Matilda and Geoffrey’s political partnership can effectively be argued as the most successful through applying different models of rulership. Ultimately the Plantagenets regained Matilda’s inheritance through Henry, conquered Normandy, and produced several male heirs."

Charles Beem, The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History / Gabrielle Storey, Co-Rulership, Co-operation and Competition: Queenship in the Angevin Domains, 1135-1230

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

@hilda-appreciation-week Day 5 - Favourite Relationship(s)

Kaisa + Tildy

Who is the witch she taught her to be, anyway? 🧐

Uncoloured versions under the cut

[gerrycoco]

Never did I ever think when starting the series that Brom would be the one who would change the way I set my standards for men from now on

[fireworkss-exe]

On My Own, Somewhere That's Green, Letter From the Refuge, and When I Grow Up all have the same effect on me

[the-meme-monarch]

my high school is actually doing matilda right now as our spring play! i am one of the assistant stage managers for it and have been able to go to some of the rehearsals and even though they’re still just practicing choreography it already feels more exciting than the movie musical.

but yeah i thought some design aspects of the movie were really cool, (i loved the way the school looked) but i feel like the relationship between ms. honey and matilda could’ve been done better. and also i think matilda and her family could’ve been done better as well, like she doesn’t seem like a hurt child as much as you’d think she’d be, as she’s already really brave. (if that makes sense?) anyways, still don’t know why her brother isn’t in the movie, but oh well.

apologies for the long ramble, this musical is one of my favorites and is really important to me. have a good day/night :]

I've never read the original book so idk if michael was originally in there but I'm actually p ok w him not being in the movie, he kinda just reads as an ableist stereotype to help serve that matilda is Smart compared to her family who Isn't.

But YEAH i loved some the set design and costuming from the movie too! the escapologist's bird cage hat fucking rules. also is it just me or is the acrobat like nevwr even wearing her white scarf even when they talk about it. also how does the movie manage to be two hours long Just Like The Musical and still remove whole songs and a lot of lyrics from songs they Did used.

also this one is more Whatever but i liked how the musical had matilda's parents call themselves the escapologist and acrobat, it feels more like matilda is basing this story on her life, before finding out who's life it really was about. idk i just like it being a funny coincidence that her parents called themselves that over her making it all up on her own

BUT Still Holding My Hand from the movie is a good finale song i like how it wraps up matilda's home life storyline instead of Revolting being the finale song to wrap up her school life storyline when it doesn't end There

[trustherkindheart]

Australia strikes first!! 😮😮

[redladydeath]

I thiiiiink I've gotten my Seven patterns down

[russellsppttemplates]

Lando calling his wife "lovie" got me 🥹🥹🥹

And just the image of him cooing about a milk drunk baby is enough to send my ovaries into combustion!

Would you maybe write a little bit more about it, like maybe Lando posting or sending his family pictures of his milk drunk babies because he thinks it is the cutest/funniest thing?

Note: you and me both, anon!

"Tell me this isn't the cutest, squishiest face you have ever seen!", Lando groaned softly as he admired your babygirl while he walked in the Silverstone paddock, "I have to admit that's a pretty cute baby", Ted said into his microphone.

"Pretty cute? Tilly is the cutest", Lando stated, adjusting the hat on her head to shield her face from the sunshine that graced his home race weekend, "she has her tummy full and she was out like a light, nothing can bother her, she's in her own little world", Lando smiled, delighting everyone who saw the infections of the new father and his babygirl.

"It's extra special, no? Your home race, your family is here - the youngest Norris is here too - and a pole position that by the looks of it could get you a home race win", Ted wondered.

"Yes, it definitely is, we're not taking anything for granted until we race, obviously, but the spirits are definitely high", he smiled, kissing Matilda's cheek as she made a little noise, "I had another question to ask you but this little one made it fly out of my brain, actually", Ted chuckled as he shook his head.

"She usually has that effect on people, you can't really pay attention to anything else", Lando smiled proudly.

.

"Little man is down, was absolutely milk drunk and went out like a light", you said as Lando stepped out of the en suite bathroom, crawling up to you in bed and stroking the baby's soft cheeks, "He's so sleepy, look at him", you cooed, "he fell asleep with my nipple still in his mouth, I barely got a burp out of him before he was knocked right out", you smiled.

"We make really cute kids, don't we, lovie?", Lando said, resting his head on your chest and facing Fraser, and from your point of view, it was clear this baby would become a Lando clone soon enough.

"So far, they all look the most like you, so you're really just tooting your own horn", you scoffed playfully, "these cute cheeks and pouty lips, lovie? They're all you", Lando charmed, making you blush.

.

"Can you give her the bottle, please?", you asked Lando, "I need to make sure Matilda is not doodling instead of doing her homework", you kissed Lando's lips and baby Charlotte's cheek.

"Let's warm this up for you, babygirl", Lando said as he put the milk in the bottle and popped it in the warmer, "you're hungry, aren't you? And fighting sleep so I've heard - you gave mummy a full on afternoon", he giggled, pulling funny faces as she giggled at her father's antics.

"Off we go then, open up - there we go, Lottie", he smiled as she suckled, finally get her tummy full as he walked around bouncing her, "hopefully you'll sleep because you really need it, and that way you can also give mummy a little bit of a rest, just so enough me and her can have a cuddle, you know?", he playfully tsked, "you've been stealing all of my cuddles", he giggled as he looked at her precious face. Life had been generous enough with him - he had the woman of his dreams, a career he loved and their three little ones. Life was good.

After burping Charlotte, Lando rocked her to sleep, which didn't prove to be very hard as she was milkdrunk as ever, her little mouth opened as she rested on his chest.

"Tilly is doing fine and Fraser is happily playing with his toys", you said as you sat down on the sofa next to your husband, your daughter happily sleeping on his chest, "take a picture of this cute face and send it to the groupchat, please", Lando whispered as he gave you his phone so you could dot it.

Lando: Look at this cutie 🥰

Flo: Look at her chubby cheeks, I can't!

Cisca: She looks so out-of-it-milkdrunk, I bet she's having a good nap!

Lovie: Seeing her like this almost makes it look like she wasn't wide awake the whole afternoon - she never closed those big eyes, she was always staring at me!

Adam: look at our little girl 😍

"You're so loved, babygirl", you said, brushing the hairs on her head, cuddling closer to your husband.

"Finally I am the one getting a cuddle from mummy", Lando cheered, kissing your lips, "jealous much, handsome?", you teased, "just wanted a cuddle from you, woman! This one has hogged your boobs from me - I have to take what I can get!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[prettypitofyourheart]

to this day I still eat red and blue m&ms like the boy from that scene in Matilda and I don’t think I’ll ever stop

[trulyhblue]

Carded

Alessia Russo x Aussie! Arsenal! Reader

Warnings: Little bit of angst, fluff, coarse language, suggestive if you squint.

Masterlist

________________________

Alessia were a bit like Katie in the sense of your aggression — or, rather 'passion' as you put it gently — on the field.

Arsenal had a rocky start to the season, with a loss against Liverpool to being dubbed as 'second-halfsenal', as your fans and rivals alike found the comedy in your troubles. There was no technical malice behind the name, the girls would joke about it ever so often during training, but that didn't stop the hidden linger of doubt among the team. As the season proceeded, with the crucial derbies of both Chelsea and Tottenham, you started to notice how it was having a negative effect on your girlfriend.

You grew up in Melbourne, Australia, playing for your local club before being scouted by recruits when you were in High School. You joined Melbourne Victory at Seventeen, playing alongside your future Matildas teammates, Kyra and Courtney. The three of you went to school together, before graduating and parting ways. While they moved to the Sweden league, you chose to head to Bayern Munich, where you spent four years strengthening your skills and gaining wider international attention.

The move was incredibly difficult. You did not understand a word of German walking into your first day, and still struggle to communicate in the foreign language. It definitely helped when Lioness player, Georgia Stanway transferred from Manchester City, and you ended up spending a lot of time with the English girl.

Due to this connection, you had met the other Lionesses by association, one girl sticking out to you specifically.

You had properly met Alessia in a friendly match against your two National teams. It hadn't taken long for you to realise your feelings for each other, but the timing never seemed right. She was in Manchester, playing for United, and you were in Germany, both consistent in your hard work for your respective teams.

You both were called up for the World Cup squad, you playing as a regular starter in the Midfield. From your early career, you always had a deep-rooted chemistry with Kyra and Courtney, so the opportunities the three of you created set the scene for your forwards up front. It was heartbreaking losing to England in the Semi-finals, especially in a home World Cup. You remember how Georgia sat with you after the game, waiting until she knew you were okay before she went off to celebrate.

You reciprocated the kindness by watching the final, feeling upset for the Lionesses when the score did not turn out their way. The two of you wondered what the next step was for you.

You had trouble mulling over the end of your contract, knowing Georgia had just renewed hers. After the World Cup, the recognition of the public had a great turnout, and your agent was met with many expressions of interest.

When Arsenal's name popped up on that list, you knew it was a no-brainer.

You and Alessia had both transferred in the same week, Kyra a few weeks later. The blonde and you moved in together, having both no place to live and hit it off from there. Now, a few months in, you've never been happier.

"Alright girls, we can do this." You heard Kim shout from beside you. Alessia was holding your waist, fiddling with the hem of your shorts as the team huddled around each other.

"Go out and set the scene. First tackles, first corners, everything, alright?"

You were versing Chelsea, the London Derby, in a sold-out Emirates, and you could feel the nerves radiating off Kyra from in front of you. Kim was the Captain today, her Scottish accent shouting as both the starting eleven and subs hugged one another. The lead-up to this game was beyond stressful, the pressure of starting in such a critical game building on Alessia and you over the past few days. The whole ordeal was daunting, having not ever played in a derby of this significance before.

"London is Red, girls, let's go!" Katie shouted, earning the huddle to disperse as everyone took their starting positions.

You could feel the sweat compile over the creases in your hands, wiping them twice over before jogging to your place on the wing. You found yourself looking out to the crowd, waving at the group of fans chanting your name. Erin Cuthbert was quick to join your side, standing close by as the cheers grew louder in anticipation.

Alessia was upfront, watching you with adoring eyes. You offered her a tight-lipped smile, pursing your lips and blushing when she sent a toothy grin and thumbs up your way. However; the moment was short-lived as the referee was quick to blow her whistle, commencing the game.

It was apparent that Chelsea was not expecting the energy Arsenal brought to the game. Errors and miscalculated passes were being carried out left and right, the chemistry between both sides slipping beneath the heightening apprehension.

“I'm here!” You called, speeding along the wing as Katie hesitated on the other side of the pitch. The Chelsea girls had left your front wing open, crowding in the midfield, evidently oblivious to the mistake they’d produced. You heard Emma Hayes yelling to cover your end, but Katie had already seen you, crossing the ball to your end. Cuthbert was on your tail, trying hard to stub your sprint in an attempt to stuff you up.

Victoria was to your right, onside yet swarmed with about three defenders. Beth was not far behind; Chelsea defenders were swarming the box in a desperate endeavour to clear Arsenal’s attempt.

You had no other choice but to nimble the ball through Fleming’s legs and towards Vic, who helplessly maneuvered the ball through the maze of defenders before passing to Mead. Cuthbert had put her hands behind her back, using her body to shield Beth’s fake attempt at the goal. You watched with your breath hitched as Beth powered the ball to the goal, observing the swift motion of the back of the neck.

Alessia was the first to wrap your arms around you, holding you up, carrying you over to where Katie was gripping Beth for dear life.

The rest of your team celebrated around you, screaming among the thousands of people in the crowds, smiles etched on all your faces.

“You’re doing so well.” Less yelled, hoping you’d hear her praise over the booming echo of cheers circling the Emirates. She knew you heard her from the blush that spread your cheeks, making your already flushed face all the more flustered. Your girlfriend wrapped her hands around you, swaying you from side to side one more time before you patted her back and let go.

Her eyes watched your figure jog back to your spot near Cuthbert, who pushed her way into your shoulder before the whistle for the restart blew. You tried your best to ignore her antics, using your legs to propel you towards the ball.

Turns out, Chelsea didn't like what you just did.

Erin followed you up and down the pitch, tugging your shirt everywhere she went. Whenever you tried to run forward and make a chance for your team, the Scottish woman would yank you back, locking her arm around your body, keeping you glued to the sideline.

Chelsea evened the score only a couple of minutes later. The sweat dripping down your forehead was enough to tell anyone how hard you were trying. Erin wasn't the only one giving you grief; Fleming was always a few metres away, darting through the midfield easily without you to worry about.

You were finally given the ball from a cross from Victoria, who mustn't have realised how cornered you were. You hadn't left the sideline in twenty minutes now. Fleming was now to your left, running up against you with Erin’s arm holding your waist. You struggled to keep the ball at your feet, the crowd watching in delight as the three of you battled it out alone.

You had managed to dart the ball between Jessie’s legs, causing an audible reaction from the fans, but it seemed that your face was too preoccupied with meeting the grass to soak up any type of honour you were receiving.

You felt the ground against your cheek, your body falling from stubs to the foot. You groaned at the instant pain up your leg, causing you to hold your shoe and roll onto your back. The adrenaline from the game made the pang bearable, but you knew the tackle was far from clean way before the whistle had blown.

“Oh, get up. What a fucking baby.” You heard Erin say, her Scottish accent full of malice.

“I didn't know Chelsea hired my Nephew.” An Irish accent quipped nearby. “Cause all he does is throw a tantrum when he doesn't get what he wants.”

“It was clean.”

“Oh, fuck off, you slimy t—”

You didn't get to hear the rest of their dispute, too busy nursing your foot with your hands. Steph had broken the two up, ordering Katie to run back to the other side. Sam Kerr was also around, kneeling beside you amidst the strain.

“You ‘right, mate?” Your Aussie Teammate helped you up, holding out her hands and rubbing your back as you regained balance. The Skipper had been your mentor since you joined the Tillies. The older woman was an idol of yours, and you looked up to her despite the few years between you.

However, you couldn't respond to Sam in time, for she was pushed away harshly by a certain blonde, her blue eyes reeling with anger at the sight of the tackle you endured.

“Stay away from her, Kerr.” She snarled, using her arm to support your weight onto one foot. You put your hand on her chest, shooting a silent apology to Sam, who shrugged nonchalantly before sauntering off.

“Y/N, are you alright?” The referee asked the yellow card still in her hand. You knew you had the power to play it over the top, but this game was everything to you. You didn't want to be subbed off any time soon.

But your girlfriend wasn't having any of it.

“She,” Less pointed to Erin, who was standing by a regretful Fleming. “Needs to be sent off for that. She's been harassing Y/N all game. It was obviously on purpose. Did you see it? It was stubs to the—”

“Lessi, stop, it's alright. I'm fine.” You swapped glances from your girlfriend to the Ref, who was still looking at you for reassurance in regard to your physical wellness. “I’m fine.” You repeated, and the whistle was quickly blown for a free kick, and a yellow toward Cuthbert.

Alessia looked down at you cautiously, eyeing your leg and the slight weariness in your step. “Are you sure?” She asked.

When you nodded, she jogged over to her position once more, sighing at your stubbornness as you prepared for your kick.

Ilestedt’s goal only a few minutes later sent all of the girls into a frenzy. You sprinted over to the Swedish player, jumping onto her back and kissing her head, laughing as you felt the rest of your team surround you in hugs and celebrations. The screams and cheers in the stands were phenomenal. No one expected the Reds to be beating the Blues so early into the game.

Erin was hot on your tail when Caitlin punted the ball towards you. You made the sprint down the line, your Aussie teammates Steph and Caitlin both yelling out for a pass. You were about to boot it behind you, where Steph was waiting for the assist when you felt your legs give out for the second time that game. The grass met your face, the power of the fall leaving you in shambles, the ball long forgotten by the time your hand shot up to the blood running down your nose.

Steph was by your side, forgetting all about the game still in play. Alessia had gained possession of the ball, holding it in her hands by the time you had sat up, the whistling blowing when the Ref noticed the amount of red spilling down your shirt.

“Move your hand.” Steph uttered, holding your face and using her own shirt to hold your nose. “It’s not broken.” You did as you were told, your nose warm at the contact of the ground, only slightly sore. She looked up to Kim, who you knew was fuming underneath her worried gaze.

“I don't want to be subbed off.” You said, and you saw Kim nod, agreeing before storming up to the Referee, who was talking sternly to Erin.

Beside her was Alessia, with her arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed into a furious knot, you watching in horror as a yellow card was shown her way. Katie had made it just in time to take her away, gripping the girl’s shoulders and guiding her towards you.

The medics had come on to see to your nose whilst handing you another shirt to change into. They assessed the blood, which was slowly halting, and declared that you had just knocked it. You told them you didn't want to go off, and with a nod from Katie and approval from the Referee, you stood off the field patiently before you were allowed back on.

During those painstaking moments, you pondered on what Alessia had said that made her get the yellow. You knew Erin was already on thin ice, and in yesterday’s training, Jonas had said that if given the chance, Alessia was to take the penalties. You knew the English girl. She was never much of a violent person on the field, choosing to stay calm and collected rather than angsty and irate when something didn't go her way.

But in games like this, where everything was on the line, it was hard to deny the apparent tension behind her actions. When it came to you, she’d sacrifice everything. For you, she’d take a million yellows if it meant sticking up for you.

You had sprinted up near Fleming when the girls ran towards your goal. The stadium stood in anticipation, the adrenaline of Arsenal’s streak pumping through their cheers. Alessia found the ball under her feet, her shot hitting the back of the net with a swish. You couldn't hear anyone but yourself, the pain and exhaustion from the half leaving your body the very moment you wrapped your legs around Less’s waist.

The girl held you up with her hands, holding under your thighs, squishing the skin just under your arse before putting you down. You laughed at her cheeky grin, relishing the private moment between the two of you before the rest of the girls stampede their way around you.

“LESSI RUSSO!” Beth screamed, hugging the two of you as she jumped in excitement. Arsenal were beating Chelsea — the top of the ladder — three-one going into the second half. If they scored once more, it’d be the Blue’s worst defeat in five years.

The thought was the utmost motivation.

You would be lying if you said you weren't surprised to find yourself walking back on in the second half. Your nose had stopped bleeding during half-time, but the ache was still attending when you made your way to the wing.

Just before you went out, you felt familiar hands grip your waist, pushing you against the wall of your cubby. You saw Alessia’s glare eye your kit and the way she licked her lips at the sight of your flushed countenance. Her starved eyes roamed your face. Your lips met hers in a hungry kiss, knowing the rest of the girls were in their own world as they prepared for what was to come.

“You’re playing really good.” You said, holding her biceps, your finger drawing circles against her skin.

Alessia hummed, meeting your lips again, nipping your bottom lip before pulling away. “So are you, baby. ‘Making me so proud, you are.”

The compliment went straight through you. Her eyes continued to linger on you as you walked back out onto the pitch. You swallowed any pre-existing desire you had for the girl as Jessie Fleming walked by your side, offering you a curt, determined smile, then going stone-faced.

The rivalry in the second half displayed by both sides was nothing in comparison to the anger radiating in the last forty-five minutes of the London Derby.

Katie and Caitlin both got cards in two minutes of each other. Lauren James, Chelsea forward, fifteen minutes later. Illegal tackles were thrown left and right, pushing, shoving, ploughing everywhere you looked.

Emma Hayes must've thought Erin would've been sent off if been marking you for another second. Jessie was a much cleaner opponent, but as the time ticked over, the end of the match and the taste of victory near, the Canadian found haste in her decisions, making a rather late decision in tackling you near the sideline.

“Fuck, sorry.” She spoke, and while remorseful, she seemed too engulfed in the loss to speak much truth. She took her yellow graciously but made no attempt to reconcile with you. She walked over to Sam, who gave her a scornful glare, making the younger girl cower. You took your time getting up off the grass, stretching out the tension in your hamstrings before straightening back onto your feet.

On her way over to you, Alessia shot the dirtiest glare she could muster towards Fleming, not realising that many fans would catch the interaction on their phones. She made her way over to you, kissing the top of your forehead, making no endeavour to hide her public affection towards you.

Your relationship with Alessia was extremely private. You didn't want the public to know every detail of each other, and how you lived day to day in each other’s company, but that didn't mean you didn't like to tease your relationship over social media every once and a while. The Arsenal girls were all for a photo dump on Instagram, and many of the fans had caught onto your close proximity in some of the photos.

One of them in particular caused the rumours of your relationship to form. It was in Katie’s dump, a couple of weeks after your move to Arsenal. A group of girls were all sitting together in a booth, somewhere in a random London pub, but there wasn't enough room, leaving you to sit on Alessia’s lap when the photo was taken. From there, everyone assumed the two of you were dating, and while neither of you confirmed anything, it wasn't a secret you were trying hard to keep.

The game proceeded and not long after, an easy penalty was given to your side after a Chelsea defensive miscommunication. It was Alessia who took it, and the crowd made deafening sounds of joy as the Reds crowded around each other in celebration.

You were beating Chelsea 4-1.

The feeling was euphoric. Nothing could beat the sour, everlasting annoyance planted on Cuthbert’s face. Nothing could take you away from the overwhelming happiness that overtook your body when the full-time whistle blew, leaving Arsenal in glee at the massive takedown on the reigning top-of-the-ladder.

Alessia was up against you the moment you met each other’s glance. She pulled you off the ground, spinning you around in circles, making you squirm and squeal as she tickled your sides.

“You did so well, baby.” She sounded, her breath tickling your ear. You shivered, trying hard to hold in your yearning. Alessia knew how to rile you up, hands coming up to glue to your shoulders, massaging the knots that had formed from the tiresome run you just had. You groaned at the relief. Alessia smirked at the whines coming from your mouth.

“All for me, baby?”

You hid your face in her chest at that, face red at her undistinguished connotations. She laughed, holding your chin, placing a quick peck on the side of your lips, pulling you back into her afterwards.

You waited until she was soaking up the silence, a small smile decorating your sweaty face.

“Did it all for you, Lessi.”

____________________________

[wonder-worker]

A central element of the myth of [Eleanor of Aquitaine] is that of her exceptionalism. Historians and Eleanor biographers have tended to take literally Richard of Devizes’s conventional panegyric of her as ‘an incomparable woman’ [and] a woman out of her time. […] Amazement at Eleanor’s power and independence is born from a presentism that assumes generally that the Middle Ages were a backward age, and specifically that medieval women were all downtrodden and marginalized. Eleanor’s career can, from such a perspective, only be explained by assuming that she was an exception who rose by sheer force of personality above the restrictions placed upon twelfth-century women.

-Michael R. Evans, Inventing Eleanor: The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine

"...The idea of Eleanor’s exceptionalism rests on an assumption that women of her age were powerless. On the contrary, in Western Europe before the twelfth century there were ‘no really effective barriers to the capacity of women to exercise power; they appear as military leaders, judges, castellans, controllers of property’. […] In an important article published in 1992, Jane Martindale sought to locate Eleanor in context, stripping away much of the conjecture that had grown up around her, and returning to primary sources, including her charters. Martindale also demonstrated how Eleanor was not out of the ordinary for a twelfth-century queen either in the extent of her power or in the criticisms levelled against her.

If we look at Eleanor’s predecessors as Anglo-Norman queens of England, we find many examples of women wielding political power. Matilda of Flanders (wife of William the Conqueror) acted as regent in Normandy during his frequent absences in England following the Conquest, and [the first wife of Henry I, Matilda of Scotland, played some role in governing England during her husband's absences], while during the civil war of Stephen’s reign Matilda of Boulogne led the fight for a time on behalf of her royal husband, who had been captured by the forces of the empress. And if we wish to seek a rebel woman, we need look no further than Juliana, illegitimate daughter of Henry I, who attempted to assassinate him with a crossbow, or Adèle of Champagne, the third wife of Louis VII, who ‘[a]t the moment when Henry II held Eleanor of Aquitaine in jail for her revolt … led a revolt with her brothers against her son, Philip II'.

Eleanor is, therefore, less the exception than the rule – albeit an extreme example of that rule. This can be illustrated by comparing her with a twelfth century woman who has attracted less literary and historical attention. Adela of Blois died in 1137, the year of Eleanor’s marriage to Louis VII. […] The chronicle and charter evidence reveals Adela to have ‘legitimately exercised the powers of comital lordship’ in the domains of Blois-Champagne, both in consort with her husband and alone during his absence on crusade and after his death. […] There was, however, nothing atypical about the nature of Adela’s power. In the words of her biographer Kimberley LoPrete, ‘while the extent of Adela’s powers and the political impact of her actions were exceptional for a woman of her day (and indeed for most men), the sources of her powers and the activities she engaged in were not fundamentally different from those of other women of lordly rank’. These words could equally apply to Eleanor; the extent of her power, as heiress to the richest lordship in France, wife of two kings and mother of two or three more, was remarkable, but the nature of her power was not exceptional. Other noble or royal women governed, arranged marriages and alliances, and were patrons of the church. Eleanor represents one end of a continuum, not an isolated outlier."

[sleeplesssmoll]

HC: What if Vertin is actually less human presenting but it's harder to tell because of her suit?

For example, there are a lot of human passing arcanists like Sonetto, Matilda, Melania, etc. Then there are arcanists like Shamane and Pavia where you see them reveal inhuman qualities at Insight II. Even further down the line you have Getian and Jessica. Arcanists vary so much in shape and size (not unlike humans tbh who also have a lot of variation among our species).

Here is what I conjured up:

Vertin's Silver/gray hair and eyes have a reflective quality to them so they reflect the color of things around them. This would also explain the inconsistencies in her hair/eye color. Her hat reduces the effect since it covers her head and she usually hides on eye. This way humans don't freak out as their talking by then changing color due to changes in light around them. You'd also end up staring at your own reflection in her eyes if you stare too hard.

If you could take a mirror and weave it into threads, that's Vertin's hair. Eyes have similar effect, they're like pools of liquid mercury.

Vertin might be able navigate through dark caves, labyrinths, and streets at night because she has a better night-vision than most. If you shine a light on her in the dark, her eyes do a that thing where they light up a like a cats. Just Sonetto lighting up the kitchen with her wand and Vertin's there nomming Picrasma candy like a naughty cat who got into the treat jar.

Then what about her suit? Maybe Vertin can temperature regulate like Sonetto, AEB her crossing the dessert in it, but she's sensitive to sun? The actual UV is bad for her skin if she's out there too long. Also her hair color is not good for protection either since she has negative melanin (this would also go for her eyes and be another reason for hat).

Or you could go further off the deep end. Embrace the arcanists blood!

What if Vertin barely even has body hair so she's more vulnerable if she doesn't cover up? What if you can see arcane shenanigans under her skin so she covers it up in public? Like her veins being a weird color instead of the blue-green humans are used too. Or maybe it's her overall body type in general?

Sonetto's parade uniform is shows off more skin. The Foundation...knows that she's pretty. They know what they're doing. There was even a trail about them using pretty girls as a distraction toward the beginning of the game. While her normal uniform covers up everything, the Foundation can make exceptions.

So what if Vertin's body doesn't conform to what humanity accepts? She has a lot of androgynous features and a lot of humans we see in-game like to put things in boxes. However, there's no box for people like Vertin who show a mixture of masculine and feminine features (although we see a more than few arcanists carry these traits). Because the Foundation wants humans to feel comfortable with arcanists, it's easier to only show off things they'll accept and quietly tuck away the things that they might not be as open too. Now that Vertin isn't a little kid anymore, those contradictory features are going to be more obvious. While Vertin is free to pick her own outfits, the stigma is still there. It actually gets worse with each Storm too.

In a world like that it might be easier to navigate to cover up as much as possible so people don't have time to dwell on what you look like underneath. Perhaps arcanists don't have that same obsession of what's going on underneath other people's clothes but they are subjected to it.

What if arcanists react to the full moon? Pavia needs to howl at it. Sonetto gets restless. Druvis NEEDS to bask in it and won't be interrupted. Then how does Vertin react? Turning into an Udimo? Big naps? Or she doesn't sleep at all. She becomes a menace! Becomes super strong! Or just lays on the floor and cries.

I forgot where I was going with this but here we are.

Embrace the arcanist blood and give me your "arcanist Vertins"! I will consume.

[radiant-reid]

I love the idea of Spence getting home late from a case and reader was planning to wait up, but their daughter found out and decided she wanted to wait for him too, so they both end up falling asleep on the couch. So he gets home and finds them both right there because they were so excited to see him🥹

Spence as a girldad makes my ovaries go feral

It had been a particularly grueling case for Spencer, one that kept him away from home, as well as you and Matilda, for days on end. The exhaustion clings to his bones as he drags himself through the front door, longing for the comfort of his own sanctuary.

Unbeknownst to him, his daughter had discovered his impending arrival when he text you and she saw and was filled with anticipation.

"Mommy, can we wait for Daddy to come home? Please?" She had pleaded with you, her voice sweet and earnest.

Those puppy dog eyes that match Spencer's had the desired effect on you. "Alright, sweetheart. We'll wait up for him together."

The hours seemed to stretch as you sit on the couch, far enough past Matilda's bedtime that the little girl was struggling to keep her eyes open. She fought bravely against her fatigue, her excitement outweighing her weariness. Until she fell asleep around the time you did.

Finally, the front door creaks open, and Spencer's tired but familiar figure comes through the doorway. The exhaustion that has weighed him down vanishes when he sees both of you sleeping on the couch.

Matilda's a light-enough sleeper to be awoken by him putting his things down and she blinks before sitting up. "Daddy!" She squeals, her voice filled with delight as she launches herself off the couch and into Spencer's waiting arms.

Spencer's heart swells with affection as he catches his daughter and holds her tightly, savoring the warmth and love.

"I missed you, Daddy." She whispers, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Spencer presses a tender kiss to her forehead. "I missed you too, my little princess." He whispers as he twirls her in the living room. "Did mommy let you wait up for me?"

Matilda pulls away from his shoulder sleepily. "Mm-hmm."

He moves his wrist to check his watch. It's far past her bedtime. "Are you tired?" She nods, resting her head sleepily on his shoulder, and Spencer carries her down the hall to her bedroom. She's asleep before he can put her in bed, and he pulls the covers over her before kissing her forehead. "I love you, sweet baby." He whispers.

Spencer walks back to the living room, finding you still curled up on the couch. He takes a minute just to look at and admire you, stunned by how beautiful you look asleep.

It doesn't look comfortable, and he touches your shoulder softly to wake you up.

You're slightly startled, blinking quickly to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings. "Hey." You mumble sleepily, stretching out. Your eyes flick to the gap on the couch next to you.

Spencer explains before you can panic about Matilda's whereabouts. "I took her to bed."

You nod, rubbing your eyes. "She wanted to stay up to see you." You reach out for him, and Spencer pulls you up, wrapping you in a hug.

He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you for both staying up for me."

You chuckle, pulling back to look at him. "We did both fall asleep."

He laughs, but you both know what he meant, how grateful he is that you were both so excited to have him back that you wanted to stay up to see him. "I missed you." He whispers before leaning down to kiss you.

"I missed you too." You say. "Bedtime?"

Spencer nods. "Haven't slept in a day." He admits, but he doesn't immediately move you to bed. You know he needs it so you're more than happy to stand enveloped in his arms for a moment. He relishes the feeling of being home and feeling full of love, reflecting on how lucky he is and how much better everything feels.

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

NSBU finale predictions

zombie agent Haldwell

they rewind to the beginning and have to find each other while St Jude remembers and hunts them down

Ally intentionally gives themself a third injury level for the turbo tokens

Izzy dms and permanently wildly changes the rules, Brennan spends five minutes afterward justifying why it makes sense actually

everyone briefly switches characters

Jennifer and Matilda make out during the final fight

Doug Meat's a real person

Usha teams up with G13 to double hack the white house from one body

6 wildcard effects go off in sequence and cause dice chaos

Kingskin eats the nuke

there's more poison gas (so Brennan can use the smoke effect again)

right before they get out Bad Bunny (but not J-Kwon) appears with a restored macguffin

Never Stop Blowing Up, the vhs, blows up

Wendell bikes donuts around his siblings and still sees Vic smiling at him through the rear view

Paula steals something

Dang gives his radio equipment a viking funeral in Wolfman Ann's honor

Dang takes over the store

Russell starts HRT

Usha sends her granddaughter an email

Liv and Wendell go on a road trip to vegas

Rashab is real