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I Gave This 2 Generous Stars.
I gave this 2 generous stars.
This really should have been a leaflet as opposed to a 200-plus-paged book. Also, it could have used a little Decluttering and Organizing itself. ALSO, the author clearly has got herself some OCD. The book was translated from Japanese, but I think that it was probably poorly written. If you are like me, you could benefit from tidying up. I would classify myself as a "collector" and not a "hoarder," but I definitely have too much stuff. The author tells us to discard anything that does not "bring us joy." I wish I had kept a stroke count of how many times that phrase appeared in the book. I think that it is probably something good to consider, but I believe that there may be other factors to take into account. I have a little OCD, and I have a few bizarre compulsive behaviors like apologizing to my car when I hit a pothole, but the author wants you to thank everything you use (your purse, your clothes, your house) everyday. They will bask in the thanks and treat you more kindly. She does have a few interesting ideas, and I mean to try one of them. It has to do with folding tops and arranging them in the drawer. I wish that there had been an illustration about that. There are no illustrations. I end this review with a dark admission. I have more rolls of toilet paper than her most extreme client had.
More Posts from Ssadropout
This is a call to arms, will you embrace me before it’s too late, baby?
Warmth
I’ve been following some folks on Tumblr, but is has taken Royai Week 2016 to get me to begin my blog. It is probably evident that I have no idea what I am doing, sigh. I am hoping to respond to all prompts, but that may not happen. Roy and Riza are my OTP.
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The mission was an abject failure. They'd had intel that the weapons runners they'd been investigating were planning to make a big deal that day. None of the marks had shown up for their meeting. The weather was too horrible for anyone but the mailmen and them. It was one of Central's most miserable kinds of days. The temperature was bitterly low. The barometer was diving. A blizzard would have been better than this icy rain. Their hair and clothes were stiff with it. He and the lieutenant had waited under an overhang in an alley, but it had not offered much protection. A better part of him would have been happy that the rest of his team was back in the office, dry and warm, suffering only from paperwork. That part was too frozen and remained buried deep inside of him in some tiny warm recess that must be there somewhere. The part of him that was in control pulsed with resentment, never mind that he had made the assignments.
Of course, she looked stoic. Her expression was the same as ever- impassive but practical. Patient, like she was with everyone and everything but him and his band of shirkers. Her cheeks were red and chapped. Not like the sunny pink blooms that he occasionally managed to trick onto her cheeks.
“Go home, Lieutenant. Take the automobile. I'll take a taxi back to the office and dismiss the others. It's going to be too dangerous to travel, soon.”
“Sir, I should go with you. We can discuss the report on the way,” she advised him.
“I'll call you later about the report. You're shivering. You really need to warm up,” he insisted. “That's an order.”
She sighed. A relenting.
He sighed to himself.
He wanted to take her back to his place. Snap a dancing fire into his fireplace. Draw her a bath in the tub that sadly could not accommodate two. Wrap her in a big soft plush towel when she was done.
Probably never going to happen.
She shivered again and glanced at his hands. His fingers looked so cold. They were too sore for him to put his black leather gloves back on. Before they had left the office, she had packed his ignition cloth gloves and a lighter in a water-proof case. She could shoot in her leather gloves, but he had had to remove his as soon as they got to their cover. It would have taken too long to remove them and don his ignition cloth gloves. He'd clenched and unclenched his fists and breathed on them to keep them snapping ready. Instead, it looked like his fingers could easily be snapped off.
If things were different, she would be the one breathing warmth to his hands. Holding them next to her body. She wanted to kiss the ice from his eyelashes.
Probably never going to happen.But... maybe someday.
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Thanks for reading. If anyone wants to look at my older fics (all for FMA), I am on fanfiction.net and Live Journal under ssadropout.
“I will follow you into hell if you ask me.”
Royai week day 7 prompt: Choices
My quick contribution to the fandom (and a little play with copic markers).
Choices
A/N: This was my first Royai Week as a participant, and it was a real whirl. I wrote seven fics in nine days. It was like cramming for finals. My brain is kind of tired. Anyway, it was crazy fun, and I thank everyone who read my stuff.
This fic has a little bit of foul language and only about 550 words. FMA is not mine.
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He appeared to be sleeping, and all but one of his subordinates would have believed that he was. Because he was known for taking forty winks in his inner sanctum, the rest would have thought that he was lost in some sexy dream. They would not have given it a second thought other than envy. It looked like of one of his frequent naps, but she knew better. His breathing, while silent, was irregular. He was thinking. He had a difficult choice to make.
He'd already made a preliminary choice. He knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do. That had been simple. He had a strong sense for what was right and what was wrong, and usually, he had no difficulty in choosing the correct option. He had his Lieutenant for when he began to veer in the wrong direction. He usually knew that he was misguiding himself, but he sometimes needed her strength to pull himself back. He would have loved her solely for her ability to help him control himself if he had not loved her for … everything.
She left his office and quietly shut the door. He needed alone time. When he was ready, he'd bounce it off of her and maybe Breda.
He sighed when he heard her leave, but his eyes remained shut. Usually he wanted her with him, but she would distract him too much right now. He needed to concentrate on the problem at hand and not on her hair or her smell. Victory was essential, and failure was not an option. If he failed to convince the generals and Bradley to follow one of his plans, there would be war. He was dealing with Central personnel, and talking to them was always a pissing contest. He knew better than to seem like a threat to them. He'd have to be self-effacing. All they cared about was accruing power for themselves. Well, so did he, but he wasn't a complete hypocrite. He would not climb to the top by harming innocent people.
He wished he were dealing with Grumman, who was intelligent and decent beneath the loony exterior. He'd even rather deal with the Snow Bitch who would beat him in a pissing contest, but she was ethical and she cared about her soldiers. But, thinking about them was just avoiding the problem at hand.
He'd come up with three plans that could feasibly satisfy all parties involved. Bradley would only allow him time to present one. He was lucky that he was even permitted to participate. He finally decided that Plan A would suit their egos best. He had a good argument for how this would benefit the country and Bradley and the generals. He really had a chance of selling it, he thought. He'd be modest and let everyone else take credit. He'd know that he'd saved lives, and that would be enough this time. Yes, Plan A was the way to go.
He arose from his chair to gather his team. What would he do without them? He opened his door. “Lieutenant, I need you to gather and organize materials. Breda, there are a couple of points that I'd like to discuss with you.” He was ready to get on with it.
I love this song. It fits the wonderful Royai fic Good Men Don’t Become Legends by @ohmytheon. It is a must read, even if, like me, you aren’t familiar with Fate.
I am o b s e s s e d with @ohmytheon‘s FMA/Fate AU, Good Men Don’t Become Legends. So I wrote a song inspired by Caster!Roy and Archer!Riza. Because their story is so tragic/beautiful/incredible and I think about it like 67 times a day. And, once again, I am obsessed.
Please read this fanfic. It’s a masterpiece. A MASTERPIECE. IT SHOULD WIN AWARDS. IT’S SO IMPORTANT TO ME. lanni i hope you like this sdkjhgsajf ;;
I fell into a special kind of love. And without you I forgot who I was. My demons were slain, pierced by arrows that say you love every part of me. Without you, they got away.
Now I will pay this hellish toll. We’re trapped in promises etched to our souls. A second chance among the flames brought to life in your name. I’m swallowed just the same.
I was called forth to be a hero’s blade. Where is the worth found in a killer’s name? The punishment for my oath to this war is the vengeful memories and your body on the floor.
Here we meet and nothing’s changed, except for where our weapons aim.
For my master, I’m here to win. I’m trapped in promises etched to his skin. This war could answer to my flames. Though I fear for the day I protect you in his place.
The embers whisper of my sins. I close my eyes to throttle it. Take me. Take all that I am. Forsake me. I’m already damned.
Can you love this kind of man?
I am far from who I once was. Our oaths will steal this second chance from us. But I will pretend to forget As the sweet lies are said, and we’re not counting our breaths.