#i wrote a whole ass review in my notes app the other day because I have So Many Thoughts

[teriwrites]

The temptation I have to make a GoodReads account purely to tear Ali Hazelwood to shreds for her portrayal of T1D in “Love, Theoretically” vs. the fear of the intensity her fans have for her work and not wanting to face even a fraction of that

[littlereyofsunlight]

The Fire is So Delightful

Hi @geekynerddemon, I’m your @steggyfanevents secret santa! You chose modern AU from the options I gave you, so I wrote you some firefighter Steve Rogers and a self-rescuing Peggy Carter. There’s a cat in a tree, plus a bunch of the usual suspects from the MCU. Chapter 2 coming shortly!

Read on AO3

ch 1/2 Rating: Gen Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Characters: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sif, Dum Dum Dugan Additional Tags: Firefighter AU, Modern Day AU, romcom, meet-cute, the gang’s all here Summary: Peggy rescues a cat from a tree. Steve doesn’t help.

“Will you look after Liho for me?” Natasha’s sudden request startled Peggy out of her contemplation of the drink in front of her. They were at their usual place, a dingy little bar down the block from work where the bartenders all knew them and they could hold a conversation without having to shout over music or dodge the advances of the neighborhood suits, who generally avoided the place owing to its distinctly aggressive lack of atmosphere.

“Sorry?”

Natasha kept her eyes on her own drink, fidgeting with the straw. Natasha, normally a beer drinker, or after especially difficult weeks just straight vodka, had ordered one of the bar’s ridiculous cocktails. It was tequila-based, neon orange, came in a Tiki cup and had what looked to Peggy like an entire mint plant sticking out the top. “I’m going out of town for the holiday and I need a cat-sitter.”

Peggy had worked with Natasha on the analyst team for six years now, but she’d only ever been invited to her home once, a few months ago. “I’d be happy to, I have no plans.” As a rule, she saved the trans-Atlantic flights for better weather. Her parents weren’t big on Christmas, anyways.

Natasha gave a quick little half smile, and Peggy noticed her shoulders drop a good inch. “Thank you.” She took a sip of her drink, holding the ostentatious garnish away from her face as she did so. “My, um, ex-girlfriend is also going to be home for the holiday, so I didn’t want to just do a short trip this year. I’ll get you a key next week.” Then she changed the subject back to work, and they strategized about their supervisor’s latest power play—and speculated how their beloved admin Darcy Lewis might undermine it—until much too late for a work night.

Two weeks later, Peggy set her bag down just inside the threshold of Natasha’s bright, clean two-story duplex. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

Nat waved her hand. “It’s such a long drive between your neighborhood and mine. If you’d be more comfortable at home, of course, Liho will be fine.”

Peggy looked around the downstairs living area, flooded with early afternoon light. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly comfortable here. I just know how very private you are.”

Nat gave her a shy smile. “I think we’re past all that, aren’t we?”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Peggy smiled broadly back.

“Okay, bedroom is upstairs and there are fresh sheets and towels and everything. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry, of course. I got some of those yogurts you always eat, plus this—” Nat thrust a nice bottle of red wine into Peggy’s hands, though Peggy wasn’t sure exactly where she’d been hiding it up until then “—Her food is on the counter, please just the listed amounts, because she is a terrible beggar and will try to weasel more food out of you.“

“Noted,” Peggy said.

“And her litter boxes are in the bathrooms, the litter is flushable.”

“Convenient.”

“Also, she sometimes tries to escape out the front door, so look out for that.”

“So to review, your cat is a cat who acts like a cat,” Peggy teased. “I have this handled, I promise. Liho and I will get some quality time on your couch with everyone’s favorite streaming network while you spend the holiday with your sexy ex. Now get out of here. Maria’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”

“Thank you, Peggy,” Natasha said, as she rolled her eyes but pulled her in for a quick hug nonetheless. “Liho’s hiding upstairs, but she’ll probably come down around dinnertime, so like, six, if she doesn’t get curious about you before then.”

“Is she very interested in people?” Peggy’s grandmother kept cats in her little London flat, and they were always all over the place regardless of who was visiting, though she supposed that could have been more out of necessity. The few times she and her brother Michael had tried to play hide-and-seek while visiting Nana had been very anticlimactic: there were only two good child-sized (or even cat-sized) hiding spots in the whole place.

Nat shook her head. “She and I get along because we’re very similar.”

“So if I lose her, I should just put out a saucer of vodka.”

“It might work,” Nat allowed. “Smart-ass.”

“Aren’t you leaving?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nat looked up the stairs one more time. “Thanks again. Text me if you need anything.”

“We won’t.” Peggy raised her eyebrow. “Text me if you get some this weekend.”

Nat actually blushed at that, to Peggy’s surprise. “You’re sort of wearing on my gratitude, here,” she grumbled fondly. She picked up her bag and took her coat off the hook.

Peggy threw up her hands. “Yes, I’m trying to get you to leave already!”

Laughing over her shoulder, Nat finally opened the door. “See you in a week.”

“Drive safe!” Peggy called after her.

“Oh!” Nat called, stopping beside her car. “My neighbors are all pretty friendly, don’t be surprised if someone pops by.”

Before Peggy could formulate a response (How friendly? Which neighbors? Why aren’t any of them watching your cat?), Nat was in her car and on her way. “Thanks for that advice, I guess,” Peggy said to herself. She closed the door and looked around. At least this Christmas she’d be alone in a new location, she mused. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a quick message to her friend Angie back home, even though Peggy knew she’d be asleep already. She scrolled aimlessly through the apps on her phone, hovering over the ‘dating’ folder she’d shoved Hinge and Bumble and all the rest into after the last in a series of disastrous dates over the summer. Peggy hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was lonely.

True to Natasha’s word, a small, sleek black cat poked her head through the top two spindles of the stairs promptly at six pm and, upon seeing Peggy on the couch but not Natasha, she let out a series of squeaking chirps. Peggy put down the novel she’d borrowed from Nat’s bookshelf—Lauren Beukes’s Broken Monsters, and here Peggy had thought Nat to be more of a nonfiction reader—and got up to see what Liho’s dinner situation was.

Natasha very clearly cared a great deal for the skinny little cat who, according to Nat, had turned up on her doorstep one day and invited herself to stay forever. There was a stainless steel water dish that continuously burbled up a little fountain, and two shallow dishes, one for wet food and one for dry. On the counter above the cat’s dishes, Nat had thoughtfully set out Liho’s food, all fancy brand-name specialty stuff. Liho chirped at her a few more times while Peggy dumped a can of wet into the designated bowl, and she kept making adorable little nomming noises while she chowed down. Peggy stroked her hand down the cat’s back and Liho jumped and shot Peggy an affronted look before she went back to her food.

“No touchy while eating, got it.” Peggy left the cat to her meal and grabbed her phone to see what delivery options were available in Nat’s neighborhood. As she tried to decide between Mexican and an interesting Vietnamese-fusion place, the doorbell rang.

Peggy opened the door to a barefoot, confused-looking man wearing a t-shirt despite the frigid weather. He sketched a brief wave before launching into a query in sign language, but she couldn’t hope to follow. Peggy waved back and gave him a broad “huh” gesture. He nodded and reached up to turn on the hearing aids hidden under his hat.

“Is Nat home?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, she’s not in,” Peggy responded.

“I’m her neighbor, Clint,” he said, pointing his thumb at the other side of the duplex. “I was hoping she’d want to split a takeout order.”

“Oh!” Peggy said, realization dawning. “I’m Peggy, Nat’s friend from work. I’m watching her cat for the week. Did she tell you she was going back for the holiday?”

Clint watched her lips closely and nodded as she spoke. “Right, sorry, I forgot.” He scratched the back of his head under his knit cap and squinted at her. “Do you maybe want to go in on some takeout?”

A grin spread across her face and she opened the door wider. “What do you think of the Vietnamese place?”

Clint gave her both thumbs up. “The báhn bao are freaking amazing.”

When Nat texted later that evening to let Peggy know she’d arrived, Peggy and Clint snapped a quick photo for her with their very impressive spread of food and Liho just barely visible in the background, creeping on the interlopers in her home from the top of the stairs. Nat texted back a laughing with tears emoji and then when you go to bed tonight double check under the covers. she sometimes attacks feet if she’s not expecting them

Noted, Peggy replied. More normal cat behavior.

Nat sent back the eye-roll emoji.

Have you seen Maria yet? Peggy hoped she wasn’t being too nosy. She and Nat had been friendly for years but this new level, with in-home cat-sitting and ex-sex-discussing, was still pretty new for them.

In response, a photo appeared of Nat’s slim fingers around a half-drunk pint glass. she’s meeting me in 30 minutes, got here early for some liquid courage

Peggy sent her a string of crossed fingers and martini glasses, punctuated with a purple heart.

Nat sent back a purple heart and Peggy felt it in her chest, warm and liquid. She didn’t have many good friends, and all of them were back home in the UK. Nat, standoffish, prickly, elusive Nat, was turning out to be her first real friend in the States.

Just then, Liho jumped up into Peggy’s lap and butted her head against the hand holding her phone. Now she was ready for Peggy to pet her.

Clint was good company, and he turned out to unabashedly love Love Island, which Peggy watched to keep up with Angie’s opinions on the subject, so he and Peggy re-started the beginning of the third series together and talked about how Camilla was too good for the rest of the crowd.

While Peggy got ready for bed, she poked her head around the upstairs, looking for Liho as she brushed her teeth and slathered on moisturizer, dipping back into the bathroom to spit and then to dab on a spot treatment.

“Where are you hiding, miss?” She peeked behind the door of Nat’s second bedroom, set up as an office. She spun the desk chair around, but there was no cat curled in a ball in the seat. Peggy went into Nat’s bedroom and threw back the covers, but no luck. She called and called, but Liho didn’t poke her head out, didn’t answer with a chirp. Peggy searched the whole house twice, and then remembered what Nat had said about the front door. Had it been open too long when Clint left? Peggy had said goodnight and gone to put away her leftovers, she hadn’t watched to see if the cat stayed inside. She couldn’t remember seeing her after that.

Feeling out of sorts, Peggy grabbed her phone and Nat’s key, tossed a hoodie on over her sleeping shirt and shoved her feet into her sneakers. She opened the door and stepped onto the stoop, calling softly for Liho as she shut the door firmly behind her, in case the cat was still inside. “If you’re out here, darling, please come back inside.” Peggy shivered as a cold wind blew down the street, throwing the bare branches of the tree in Nat’s yard against each other. A full moon and a cloudless sky, plus the street lamps and the festive lights on many of the houses meant the street was fairly well-lit, even at this hour.

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and swept the light around the walkway, focusing on the spots in shadow. “Liho!” She stepped off the stoop and into the yard. Over the wind, Peggy heard it. An unmistakable chirp. She spun around, trying to see the cat. “Come here, kitty!” Against her better judgement, she made kissy noises and thanked the lord no one else seemed to be out at this hour. Another chirp, and this time Peggy realized where it was coming from. She aimed her light at the tree. Standing in a vee about halfway up the old oak was Liho, shivering in the wind.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peggy said, “did you get yourself stuck up there?” Liho chirped back at her and stayed put.

Peggy eyed the tree trunk. She’d climbed more difficult ones, to be sure, but not since primary school. She tucked her phone and keys into her pocket and zipped her hoodie up to her chin. “I’m gonna get you down,” she told the cat. “Don’t worry,” she said, mostly to herself.

As Peggy climbed, Liho retreated further up into the branches. “That’s the wrong direction!” Peggy complained. But she could keep going, so she did. The street lamp provided decent illumination, and it was a dry, cold night, so the bark wasn’t slippery against her rubber-soled shoes.

A truck rumbled down the street and stopped at a nearby house and Peggy hoped the occupants wouldn’t notice her, climbing a tree at midnight in her pajamas.

“Uh, ma’am?” A voice called up from below.

“Bugger,” Peggy cursed. No such luck.

She didn’t dare look down, the branches were starting to get thin. Liho watched the man on the street with some interest, though, which might work in Peggy’s favor. “Ma’am I’m with the fire department. Is everything okay up there?”

Peggy had to laugh. “I’m fine, just retrieving a cat. But you seem to be short a hook and ladder, or even a siren. So try again, Mr. Fireman.”

She heard a sigh from down below, but Liho was cautiously creeping towards Peggy along one of the topmost branches. “That’s it, come here.” Peggy reached out her hand and Liho came closer. Peggy braced herself against the trunk of the tree, hugging it with her thighs, and then she grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. Liho let out an undignified squawk but didn’t fight her grip, allowing Peggy to drag her close to her chest and hold her there.

“Good job,” the man encouraged.

“No thanks to you,” Peggy muttered. She climbed down. Liho, to her credit, submitted to Peggy’s hold like a kitten in her mama’s jaws. Soon enough, they were both out of the tree.

The supposed firefighter stood several feet away on the sidewalk, watching. “All set?” he asked.

“We’re fine.” She finally got a good look at him then, and well, he did look the part. At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, fair hair, and a clean-cut All-American sort of look, if the chiseled jawline throwing shadows under the streetlamps were anything to go by. He wasn’t in his gear, of course, just jeans and a short leather jacket. It was still a good look on him.

He looked back up the tree. “You, uh, you’re pretty good at that.” He looked back to her and gave her a small smile.

“It’s not my first tree.” She looked him up and down. “Are you really a firefighter?”

He hooked his thumb back at his truck. “Not on duty. I heard the call on my radio, and I was nearby.” Now Peggy could see the bar of lights on the top of his truck. “I’m guessing you didn’t call this in, though? You definitely had things under control.”

She smiled despite herself. “I did have it under control.”

He nodded. “Well, glad I could be of no help at all.”

“You certainly did get here quickly, so points for that, I suppose.” She shifted the cat against her and took a tentative step closer.

“I live in the neighborhood.” He took a step closer, too. Peggy could see the wry smile on his lush mouth now. “Steve Rogers,” he offered.

“Peggy Carter. I’m just cat-sitting for a friend.” She cut him a look under her lashes, having a bit of fun. “But I’m starting to see why my friend likes this location.” Steve open and shut his mouth a few times, and then his reply was cut off by the wail of a siren. They both turned to look as a fire truck careened down the street. Steve stepped into the center of the road to flag them down. As the siren got louder, Peggy felt Liho tense under her hands, her front claws digging into Peggy’s sweatshirt. She tried to hold her close, but the cat squirmed away and bounded right back up into the tree. “Oh, Bloody Nora!”

He came back to stand beside her, hands on his hips. “Did the cat just run back up the tree?”

Peggy sighed. “The cat just ran back up the tree.”

“Well,” Steve scratched at the back of his head as he looked up to where Liho had perched herself, “I have that ladder now.”

“Captain Rogers!” Someone called from over by the truck. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Steve checked his watch. “Lieutenant Barnes, somehow I made it here a full five minutes before you did.”

“Aw, Steve, it’s a cat in a tree.”

“I told him we should get our hustle on for any call in your neighborhood, Cap,” another firefighter piped up.

“You should hustle for any call anywhere, come on, team” Steve’s voice got more commanding as he spoke with the members of the crew.

“Is that the cat’s owner?” another crew member piped up, gesturing at Peggy as she climbed down from the truck.

“I’m caring for her, yes,” Peggy replied.

The woman looked up at the tree and back at Peggy. “Would she let someone hold her if we got the ladder up there?”

Peggy considered. “She’s not great with new people.”

The firefighter nodded and looked back at Steve. “Cat bag.”

“Cat bag,” Steve agreed. “Ms. Carter here already got her down once, so I don’t think this one’s a jumper.”

The rest of the crew all exchanged looks, disbelief clear on their faces despite the truck’s flashing lights throwing strange shadows over the group. “Uh, what?” The handsome one Steve had called Barnes broke the awkward silence.

“I got her down,” Peggy explained. “Then your siren scared her and she went right back up.”

Another firefighter—also a handsome man, Peggy noticed—looked slowly between Peggy and the tree. “So if you didn’t have any trouble getting up there, then why …?” He squinted back at Peggy.

“She didn’t call this in, it must have been a neighbor.” Steve clapped his hands together. “All right, it’s cold out and I’m sure that cat wants to be warm inside, just like the rest of us. Who’s going up?”

“Not it,” both Barnes and the other one said at the same time.

“Wilson,” Barnes whined, “I got the last one.”

“Allergies, man. You’d have to dose me with Benadryl if you want me within five feet of a cat.” Wilson shrugged. “Sif, can you take this one?’

The female firefighter—yet again a very attractive person, statuesque with dark hair and big, dark eyes, Peggy was starting to wonder if the entire engine company put out a calendar every year—already had a burlap sack, which Peggy assumed was the cat bag, in her hands, along with a length of nylon rope and carabiners. She rolled her eyes at the other two. “Well, it’s not like Cap’s going to send Dum Dum up after her, is it?”

As if on cue, a fourth fire fighter stuck his head out of the truck’s door. “Everything okay out here?”

“Thanks for the help, Dugan!” Steve shouted back.

“Oh! Cap! Didn’t realize you were here!”

Steve waved him off and turned back to Sif. “You don’t want the ladder?”

Sif looked at the tree. “Nah, it’ll go faster and scare the cat less if I climb up. What’s her name?” The last part she addressed to Peggy.

“Liho.”

Sif nodded, put on some thick work gloves she produced from a pocket, clipped the cat bag to her belt and up she went.

“You know,” Peggy said, standing next to Steve as they watched Sif’s ascent, “if you lot hadn’t showed up I’d already be back in the house with the cat I’ve been entrusted to look after.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “But then you wouldn’t have met me or my motley crew, and wouldn’t that have been a shame.”

Peggy eyed him speculatively and took a breath. “Jury’s still out. Perhaps you could buy me coffee sometime, Captain, as an apology for keeping me up so late. Give me more time to decide.” She felt brazen, hitting on a man who was there to do his work, but he wasn’t her neighbor, after all. And she was intrigued by this man, his apparent kindness, how he showed up even when his shift was over, not to mention the easy way he had with the people under his command. Captain Steve Rogers was the sort of man she wanted to get to know better. And, not to put too fine a point on it ... he was sexy.

Half his mouth quirked up in a self-conscious smile and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Coffee, huh?” He looked at her, his ridiculously long eyelashes casting shadows on his face in the strange light. “Could we make it dinner? Tomorrow?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “With the upcoming holidays, I’m going to be working ten days straight. Better to get it out of the way.”

“Oh.” Peggy’s spirits fell.

“No!” Steve backtracked, eyes wide. “That came out all wrong. That was me trying not to uh, sound too eager? Also, I’m tired, and one of my firefighters is up a tree, and you are a very attractive woman and you just asked me out and my brain might be short-circuiting right now?”

Peggy had to laugh at that. “Okay, okay, stop digging.”

“You have to forgive Cap,” Wilson said from behind them. “We don’t let him out much.”

“This may in fact be the first non-work conversation he’s had with a woman,” Barnes chimed in. “Sorry it was so bad. He’s terrible at flirting.”

Steve took the good-natured teasing in stride. “Watch it, you two,” he warned them, but there was only wry warmth in his tone as he shook his head.

“I agree, it was very lacklustre flirting,” Peggy said. “You’ll need to step up your game for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replied, a broad smile on his face.

“Got her!” Sif called from above. “Coming down. Good job securing a date, Cap.”

Peggy had to agree with that, too.

[laniakeabooks]

Free to Fall by Lauren Miller, A Rant Review by Laniakea

Hello. How are you?

It’s been a long ass time. Why? My dumbass decided to take summer courses. You know those super condensed ones? The ones that make you want to rip your eyeballs out? Yeah... I took three at once. What was I thinking, right? I couldn’t tell you. I regret it. 

BUT. I still managed to read. And in July I read this gem of a book dubbed Free to Fall, written by Lauren Miller. And oooooooooh boy do I have shit to say about this... shit. So, brace yourselves, because this is a long and angry one.  

So, this is how this review is going to go:

       The major issues I had with this book and its narrative (when I say major issues, I mean MAJOR ISSUES… like, dare I say, problematic aspects of this book).

       Because it’s me, the deplorable excuse for science/neuroscience that Lauren Miller apparently didn’t find the need to take five minutes to google-check the concepts she was using.

       The little things that just kind of twisted the knife of annoyance

You may be saying: “Wait a second, she isn’t going to be talking about anything that the book did right.” And to that I say: “The things that the book did right? Nothing, IN MY OPINION. The thing that Lauren Miller did right, though, was write in a style that jives with my personal tastes. She didn’t beat around the bush to say something, she just said it outright. WHICH I LIKE, because, I don’t have time or the patience to suss out all of those little details and symbolisms just to get to the point that (for example) it’s a beautiful day.” There. Positive point. Hey, I didn’t rate it one star because it had a lot of positives.

So, let’s get started, shall we? (Shout-out to Corrine and Rob because damn, they’ve had a tough year.)

Issue #1: This is the biggest issue I had with this book. It has nothing to do with the plot or the characters or anything like that, but it’s what bothers me the most. What is it, you may ask? Well, it’s the simple fact that everyone in this book (and I have to assume Lauren Miller too) refers to the mentally ill as “crazy”. If you don’t understand my issue with this, let me explain. Calling someone who is mentally ill “crazy” is equivalent to calling a black person a “nigger” or calling a gay person a “faggot”. The word crazy is used as a slur to put someone beneath you, to make them less believable or trustworthy… to dehumanize them. It’s derogatory and offensive. It’s time that we stop using that word when talking about mental illness. It’s 2019 (2014 in the book’s case). Unacceptable.

So, when do we see the mentally ill referred to as crazy in Free to Fall? Throughout the entire book pretty much. It’s just said over and over and over again. But the worst instance? Here it is as a direct quote from page 127 (Oh, and mind you, the character saying this is a psychologist teaching a cognitive psychology class. Let that sink in.):

“You’ve all been given limited access to the Department of Public Health’s medical records database,” Rudd said as he returned to the front of the room.

(*record scratch* Wait a second, high school students having access to medical files? Absolutely not. Would never happen. You usually can’t even get your hands on medical records unless you’re the patient’s doctor. So that’s a technical issue with this book… one of many. Again, five minutes on Google, Lauren. Okay, back to the whole “crazy” thing.)

“Your login has been coded to the research topic you selected, allowing you to review the med records for patients who suffered from the mental illness you’re studying.” He picked up his tablet off his desk and tapped the DPH icon. The app launched on the screen at the front of the room. “Now, I know what some of you are thinking,” he deadpanned as he logged himself in. “You’re hoping this means you’ll be able to prove once and for all that your frenemy in a certified nut job. But, alas, your access is limited to dead crazies, and this particular database is anonymous anyway, which means the only identifying information you’ll have are gender, ethnic origin, and birth and death dates.”

That’s right. Lauren Miller had this character say, “dead crazies”. Dead. Crazies. The note I wrote in the margin right beside this passage? Word for word: FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. Not sure if I’m directing this at Lauren Miller, Rudd or both, but I stand by it. In reality though, I don’t think there are any words to describe how disgusted and offended (and it’s VERY hard to offend me) I am by those two words. At this point, page 137 out of page 469, I decided this book would get a 1 star and a damning review.

“Oh, you’re being so petty.” Yeah bitch, I sure fucking am.

“It’s just a word.” No bitch, it fucking ain’t.

“You shouldn’t read books that say things like that.” Well bitch, I didn’t know books written in 2014 would use derogatory words like crazy. And I’d rather it be me who reads it and warns people about it than have someone who is vulnerable read it and take it seriously.

I am a huge advocate for mental illness and destigmatizing it. It’s time we stop using this disgusting derogatory word when talking about mental illness. And a good place to start is right here in the media.

Issue #2: Rory and North are preparing to roofie someone. That’s right. Roofie. As in drug them against their will. Assault them. Violate them. And to make it worse, they’re planning to administer it intravenously, because the whole assault thing wasn’t despicable enough. BUT DON’T WORRY YOU GUYS! North says he’ll get some legal drugs from a pharmacist because that makes it okay.

He objects for 0.5 seconds… but it doesn’t last. Here’s how the conversation goes:

“The only question is, how do we take Liam out of commission for a couple of hours?” North asked.

“We roofie him” I say without hesitation. “It’ll incapacitate him without killing him, and it’ll screw with his memories.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just grab the bottle of date-rape pills I have in my medicine cabinet.”

“Not pills,” I corrected. “Has to be injectable. There’s no way we can guarantee that he’ll drink whatever we put it in.”

North gave me an incredulous look. “You’re actually serious?”

“What? It’s what the society uses. And it’ll do exactly what we need it to do.

North tugged at this Mohawk. “I know we don’t have time to get into this right now, but, holy crap, Rory, this shit is seriously messed up.”

“You’re right. Not the time. We have to go buy roofies.”

“Where, at Walgreens? I’m sure we’ll find them right next to the Advil.”

I crossed my arms, irritated by the sarcasm. “You’re a guy with a Mohawk and tattoos. Don’t you know people?”

“People with Rohypnol?”

“So, you don’t know anyone who can get it?”

He started to shake his head but seemed to think of something. “One of my clients is a pharmacist in Greenfield. I could probably get a prescription sleeping serum from him. Something potent but legal. I can message him from my apartment.”

North said it, this is so messed up… but is surpasses the “messed up” title and deserves the “fucked up” title. By the way, they never talk about it again. Getting “legal” drugs does not make the act of drugging someone okay. Ever. And on top of that Rory wants someone that will mess with Liam’s memories? I guess assaulting him and revoking his control over his own body wasn’t evil enough for Rory, she had to fuck with the essence of who he is.    

Moving on to the… “science”. Listen, I get it, this is fiction. It doesn’t have to be 100% in line with reality. But do you know what isn’t fiction? Neuroscience. Science that has already been researched and accepted. Why does this matter so much to me? I hate misinformation. It leads to fear and people doing stupid shit. Also, I am an aspiring neuroscientist myself and would like for people to understand how the brain works on a physiological (and psychological) level. That way there will be less of that “vaccines cause autism” and “sunscreen causes ADHD” crap, because they don’t, by the way.

Lauren Miller latches onto the term “synaptic pruning”. This is a real thing. During your first few months of life, unused/rarely used neurons will die (don’t worry, this is perfectly normal and an essential step in neurodevelopment). How does Lauren Miller incorporate this into her story?

“Now we knew that the inner voice was nothing more than a glitch in the brain’s circuitry, something to do with ‘synaptic pruning’ and the development of the frontal lobe.” (p.13)

My response went something like this: NoOOoooOOOOoOo! It’s only page 13 and I’m being subjected to poorly researched scienceeeeeeEEEeEEEeeee.

It would have taken five minutes on Google to look up: Which areas of the brain have to do with hearing voices? Answer: temporal and frontal lobes. Done. Next: why do people hear voices? Answer: potentially neuronal death in said brain regions (not synaptic pruning, very different concepts). Why? We don’t know yet. Anyway, the voice they are talking about here is “The Doubt” which is basically intuition so that would most likely relate to the hippocampus (and other memory-storing regions) and the prefrontal cortex. But then again, “The Doubt” is supposed to be altruism… but it’s written as intuition, so I’m just confused.

Next in bad (neuro)science, Lauren Miller claims that enzymes for memories (this relates back to the whole roofie scene where Rory wants to mess with Liam’s memories too). Basically, neurotransmitters are responsible for memories, namely glutamate and dopamine. I’ll be talking about glutamate here because dopamine forms the “do that again because it made us feel good” kind of memory, and glutamate forms the kind of memory Lauren Miller is referring to. You need to glutamate for LTP (basically a memory) which, in short, is strengthening the connection between two neurons. If you’ve ever heard the term “Neurons that fire together wire together.”, that’s exactly what I’m talking about here. So, no, enzymes do not form memories. (P.S. LTP is really interesting... if you’re interested in brains, so check it out!)

Onto “SynOx” (synthetic oxytocin) which is really, from what I understand, simulates oxytocin but activating oxytocin receptors on neurons (Lauren Miller doesn’t go into this much detail on how SynOx works, but I’m just trying to understand by talking through it so bear with me). First of all, Lauren Miller describes oxytocin as the “love drug” which isn’t exactly true… it’s more of a bonding “drug”. Love is a little but more complicated than oxytocin release. Not that big of a deal, but I thought I’d point it out.

Unfortunately, SynOx has a major role in the plot… and it doesn’t… work. Basically, the big bad corporation is relying on SynOx to make consumers trust their products unconditionally by injecting people with SynOx nanobots under the guise of a flu shot. That way the nanobots can get into their brains and they can be forced to trust everything Lux suggests. Essential mass mind control. Theoretically that could actually work… BUT the nanobots would never be able to cross the blood-brain barrier to actually get into the brain, and therefor wouldn’t be there to allow Gnosis to control people. Did that make sense? Basically, SynOx is the soldier, the brain is enemy headquarters. But enemy headquarters is so highly reinforced that the soldier can’t get in to do its job, so it’s left out in the cold with no power. Maybe I just confused you, but what I’m saying is that this SynOx would never work as a mind control device unless it is injected directly into the brain (or even spinal cord)… through the skull and everything. That being said, the evil plot would have failed form the get-go.

And yes, I do hate being this rational sometimes because suspension of disbelief is very difficult and makes it very hard for me to enjoy some works of fiction.      

Now the little things.

In the synopsis: “Rory Vaugh: a brainy sixteen-year-old…”. She’s also a “hepta” which means she shows aptitude in all seven liberal arts at Theden and makes her the smartest kid at school. Well, she sure doesn’t act it.

She can’t tell the difference between Arabic and Hebrew writing. I mean… are you serious? Have you seen them? They look nothing alike.

Doesn’t see the value of experiments in ethics such as the Trolley Problem. I mean, one of the liberal arts is philosophy and she’s supposed to be naturally gifted at it… but I guess not.

Proudly states she took human anatomy in grade nine (and considers herself an expert from that one class in middle school)… but doesn’t know how ABO relates to blood. I guess she forgot the mention she failed the class.

Also seems to consider herself an expert in genetics but never thinks to ask herself as to why she and her father share zero genetic traits.

She can’t figure out a simple riddle (You know that one about the letter e? Yeah that one)

It takes her forever to figure out who her biological father is (should be glaringly obvious from a certain physical description and all the other evidence Rory gathers)

Doesn’t know what a USB is or what it does (Oh, I’ll get to that in a minute)

There’s so much more… but the review would have to be a whole book if I were to list them all. Basically, if you’re going to call your character a genius, MAKE SURE THEY ACT LIKE ONE.

It seems that Lauren Miller forgot Rory’s blood type (little detail, I know), but instead of going back to look at what she wrote, she just gives her a new blood type. Rory goes from being A+ at p .226 to being AB+ at p. 237/238. That’s just lazy.

When Rory finds out the man that raised her and loved her doesn’t share her genetics, all of a sudden, he’s no longer her dad. Imagine being a vulnerable teenager who is being raised and loved by someone who may not be biologically related to you and reading that a character you may look up to goes through the same thing and says that that makes that parent’s love irrelevant. They aren’t related to you, so they’re not your dad/mum. How sad. 

Now, the USB thing. This book is set in the mid-2030s and they don’t use USBs anymore. Basically, they’re obsolete technology. And that’s fine! There will come a day when this is a reality. Here’s the thing, though: Rory the “genius” doesn’t know what it is or what it does. You expect me to believe that? When I see a floppy disk (which I have never used), I know what it is and how it works. Even a telegraph! I’ve only ever seen pictures of telegraphs, but I know what they are and what they do.

Page 229. North says (in response to Rory talking about research and science):

“Whose research are we talking about here?” He scoffed. “’Science’ with a capital S? The same geniuses who said the Earth was the center of the universe?”

Um… the church actually said that. And then they murdered anyone who dared to say otherwise. Wrong “geniuses”, genius. (Also, scientists rethink their beliefs all the time, and are more than willing to accept discoveries that overwrite their previous beliefs as long as there is evidence. Just saying.)

Rory goes from relying solely on Lux to make her decision to criticizing everyone who does the exact same thing within a few pages. Hypocrisy, not my favourite.

Hershey is described as a naturally beautiful woman who wears makeup to highlight that beauty… but the tone of the narration suggests that that’s a bad thing? Gross.

When they are preparing for the final boss fight, Rory wants North to write an algorithm that will reverse Lux’s algorithm. North says that it would take weeks for a professional programmer to write an algorithm like that… than proceeds to do it overnight. And manages to get some roofies to assault Liam.

North gifts Rory with a necklace that contains a tracking device and a camera… and she thinks that’s romantic and sweet because hE cArEs. I… have no words for how creepy (and honestly bordering on abusive) that is.

So, in conclusion, I feel that Lauren Miller wrote an offensive mess that didn’t know what the hell it was talking about, topped with despicable (and flat) characters that think drugging someone against their will is okay as long as the drug you use is legal.

The end! 😊

Oh yeah, 1 out of 5 stars!

[lifesinterest]

How to Start a Journal for Cheapos

I’ve always wanted to write this little (life changing) tip.

I’ve been looking at journals/bullet journals/planners on tumblr, instagram and pinterest for quite a while because they’re so aesthetically pleasing! I follow like 20+ blogs because they are sooo nice to look at. The color schemes, the handwriting, the stickers, the washi tape, their clean white backgrounds - it makes everyone so jealous. BUT AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!

Respect to those who make their journals/notes and their edits so pretty because they’re honestly eye candy. But their community is so small, you know? Not everyone can post pretty pics of their notes and actually have time for other important stuff (like actually study and not take 50 pics and spend 10+ minutes on each pic to edit, in addition to liking everything from other studyblrs). 

That’s why I’m gonna give you some life hacks(?) for those who want to start a journal that's aesthetically pleasing without having to empty your wallet to buy the exact same materials they use. Please note, this is more of a Canadian hack because the US dollar is killing us.

The Book

The most important part of this hack is the book. Many people use the Happy Planner, Moleskine, Leuchtturm1917 (I had to Google the spelling), or any journal that’s dotted/grid. That’s too expensive for me ($20-30+) and other dotted journals are like…$15 CAD for 60 pages. Where’s the bargain there? I mean, sure dotted journals are cool but do you really need the dotted journal? I went down that route at first so I printed out my own dotted journal using my computer and printer. At first I was pretty excited, but when I started to write across the page, I just felt like the dots were confining me to where and how big I could write. I placed my dots so that it matched the measurements of any regular dotted notebook (so I could feel cool) but it didn’t work out like I wanted to. Keep in mind that there are days where my handwriting is excellent and others times where it just looks like my younger brother decided to scribble in it. You need small handwriting and if you write outside the dotted box, your inner perfectionist comes out and you just feel like your whole life is ruined because you couldn’t keep yourself inside the line dot. 

I’ve made my own notebooks (which I still use) and bought a couple others to find which works for me. I find that a blank pages work best. I have two DIY notebooks and the one without the any lines/dots is basically at the end of its use. I can sketch, write notes - basically anything and it doesn’t look bad. The other one on the other hand, I have to keep myself inside the box and it just drives me crazy when one stroke goes over the line. I also bought a Muji 2017 planner at the end of December. It was ~$12 + tax and it was on sale. It was a smart buy for a simple weekly planner but you know what would be a smarter buy? The same planner layout from Dollarama for $4+tax. Why did I buy something from Muji you ask? Because the pens are cheapish and good quality and there was a sale on planners (duh). I think Muji stores have sales at the end of the year or around a large holiday where notebooks are on sale. I haven’t bought one so I can’t say for sure about the quality but I know for sure the quantity does not match with the expensive price (for Canadians). The planner I bought is not recycled paper and is of good quality.

(http://empfire.info/my-favourite-planner-from-muji/)

My other notebook is one I just bought and I’m in love. Guess where I bought it from? Dollarama! For $3.50 + tax. I’ve been eyeing it for a month and when I tried to look for it at a different Dollarama, it wasn’t there! I freaked out so I went back where I first saw it and there was only one left (phew)! It’s labeled as a sketchbook but I originally planned for it to be a journal. Also, if you do decide to buy a blank journal, I recommend sketchbooks because they come in different color, thickness and texture of paper; it all depends on what you want. 

This is what it looks like. And obviously, I didn’t edit it because AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT (with my dusty ass table). I don’t know if the paper is recycled or not because it doesn’t say but it sure is recyclable! There’s no coils or anything, just a piece of fabric and a wad of glue that basically holds everything together. The cover is chipboard. And I love it! It’s got that recyclable paper look so I can be cool and say I’m saving the world. The paper quality is pretty thick. I tested the paper with a Sharpie and it didn’t bleed through though you could see it from the other side. I’m not too sure it will hold a watercolor portrait but it does feel like it won’t bleed through if you use it sparsely. So for those in Canada, I highly recommend this book as something on your To Buy list - good quality and quantity for a cheap price. 

Writing Utensils

The second most important must have for a journal because what’s the point of a notebook if you can’t write in it? There are many out there that your favorite studyblrs use: Mildliners, Muji pens, Staedler Fineliners, Microns, etc… But hey, guess what? You don’t need any of those! Those are all just over hyped. You can totally go old school and use Crayola!. I recently bought a pack of 25 Crayola Supertips for $3 + tax. And that my friends, is a steal. They usually retail for ~$7. I once saw a pack of 50 for $3 in a flyer which is twice the deal. And honestly, with Mildliners, I don’t understand what the hype is all about except for the fact that everyone uses them…because everyone else uses them (y’know what I’m sayin’?). It’s basically a double ended marker retailing for $7-8 for a pack of 5. Where’s the bargain? As for Muji pens…I have no complaints. I’m lucky enough to discover it and live close to a Muji store. Their gel pens are the only ones that don’t stop writing in the middle of a word. Don’t you hate that? I only go for the dark blue color though because I feel like regular ballpoint pens do such an amazing job at…you know…writing! I go to college, and as all you college students know, there are free pens everywhere and some of them are really good with pigment and the smooth flow. ATM, I’m using a Paper Mate pen I got from Tylenol (I swear). The only complaint I have for Muji Pens is that it smudges real easily. I currently use a dark blue color in 0.7 if you were wondering. I feel like that smaller the size of the pen is, the more unstable my hand writing is. I write quite big. 

I also see the Pilot erasable highlighter around in pastel. I was tricked into buying these suckers and honestly…I may or may not regret it. I regret it because they don’t function very well. I looked into reviews and everything and they all say they’re amazing with a 5 star rating but I would say so otherwise. I bought it for the functionality of it during school instead of just journal use. I highlight a sentence I wrote but then I go a bit too far and when I do this cool pen twirl thing to use the other end to erase it…the ink smudges. It freaking smudges and guess what? The ink is NOT erasable. The highlighter basically erases its pigment but leaves a nasty ink smudge on my paper. Why…did nobody talk about this? I’m pretty darn sure it’s not only me. The only reason I bought it was because I don’t like the neon colors (I also bought it because it looked cute). This highlighter didn’t work very well (it died on me the first month) so I started looking at other highlighters and found something called a gel highlighter usually sold and on sale by Sharpie. When I did some research though, I found that it had the exact same look as a pencil crayon or even a crayon. It was just a neon color. So, I pulled out my 64 pack of Crayola crayons I didn’t use since grade 5 and used it to highlight my notes and can I tell you how pretty it looks? Since your paper have different grains, the crayon looks different when drawn on the paper (how much white space is covered). So my recommendations are Crayola Supertips and crayons. I don’t have a recommendation for fineliners but there are many alternatives that do not cost $7-10. 

Stickers and Washi Tape Decoration

Ohh the glory. Don’t they look so nice when they’re color coordinated? Well, honestly though, AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!! How do you find the time in your schedule to sit down for an hour (or more?) and plan your week with stickers and washi tape? And I’ve seen videos of planners who “switch” to the bullet journal because they don’t have time to plan their life with stickers and washi tape anymore. I mean, for sure it’s nice to look at but do you really want to spend your time doing it? For you creative people out there, could you plan your week in one day and not touch your stickers again for the entire week? I don’t think so. I know I would be rearranging stickers, and adding additional ones throughout the week because my hands won’t sit still. Plus, the nice stickers are expensive (especially from Etsy). Sorry but I don’t have any sticker alternatives. If I did, I wouldn’t share them because I wouldn’t even use it anyway. I’m a sticker hoarder so there is no way I’m using any stickers in my books. As for washi tape, you can’t go wrong especially if you buy it on ebay. The only thing that can go wrong is being a washi tape hoarder. Some have drawers and drawers of washi tape and I’m like…really, girl? Really? I only have 2 tubes from Michaels because it was BOGO free and I feel that it’s plenty. So, as for decoration, I recommend you skip the stickers and just use the washi tape. The tape can go a long way and it has multiple creative uses. 

The Cheapest Alternative

Almost everyone has a phone or tablet. Well, guess what? There are a bunch of free apps that allow you to write down journal entries. If you just want to look at a bunch studyblrs, studygrams and Pinterest posts like me, just write your entry on your phone before you decide whether or not you’ll actually be able to continuously write in your journal. Again, this is a beginner’s guide to journaling, planning, etc. So, there is no need to go expensive right away - you may never know if you like it or not and if you’ve found your own writing style. Just buy a cheap notebook first before heading out to buy a $30 notebook from Moleskine. You have all the time in the world, so be patient and find out what works for you!