So first of all.. HAPPY NEW YEAR, MY PRETTY PEOPLE !!
2016 wasn’t really my favourite year of them all but well… We all still kickin’ so it wasn’t as bad as it seems.
Tbh with you guys my one and only resolution for this year is.. (and I promised myself to do it) (and I’m actually gonna do it, it ain’t like the past couple of years).. to be FIT AS fUCK. LIKE THOSE KIND OF FIT BODIES THAT YOU JUST BE LIKE “DAMN BOI🔥🔥”
Some of you probably think I already am fit but turns out baby I’m not & I’m gonna change that in no time.
Long story short I promised myself to get rid of some kilos that have been tormenting me for the last years. I know I’m actually gonna achieve this because it’s time for me to get the body I know I deserve. I’m just so excited because I have so much faith in God and myself, I know this one will be a win on me.
The reason I’m telling you guys my resolution is because I know a lot of you have the same goal as me (yes. To be fit af) so the thing I want to get straight is
G E T. O F F. Y O U R. A S S E S. A N D. D O. S O M E T H I N G. F O R.
Y O U R S E L V E S.
(I’m obviously going to do the things I post so if you want to join me.. Check out my blog)
This process obviously will not gonna be as quickly as I would love it to be.. But never forget this beautiful quote:
“ Don’t give up on a dream just because of the time it will take to achieve it. The Time Will Pass Anyway ”.
(Ye that’s right don’t give up u lil shits) (U know ily)
It’s currently 2:15 am, and the last thing I wanted to tell you guys is Goodnight/Morning, thank you for your support & I reaaaally really hope you achieve your dreams & resolutions for this year. It’s on you to make this year YOUR year. God bless you, pretty lads.
It’s 2017. Be Good. Be kind. Be Better.
All The Love, Marie. xx
Day 1: 1 set of 20 squats
Day 2: 1 set of 20 squats
Day 3: 1 set of 20 squats
Day 4: 1 set of 22 squats
Day 5: 1 set of 22 squats
Day 6: 1 set of 22 squats
Day 7: REST
Day 8: 1 sets of 25 squats
Day 9: 1 sets of 25 squats
Day 10: 1 sets of 25 squats
Day 11: 2 sets of 15 squats
Day 12: 2 sets of 15 squats
Day 13: 2 sets of 15 squats
Day 14: REST
Day 15: 2 sets of 20 squats
Day 16: 2 sets of 20 squats
Day 17: 2 sets of 20 squats
Day 18: 2 sets of 22 squats
Day 19: 2 sets of 22 squats
Day 20: 2 sets of 22 squats
Day 21: REST
Day 22: 2 sets of 25 squats
Day 23: 2 sets of 25 squats
Day 24: 2 sets of 25 squats
Day 25: 3 sets of 20 squats
Day 26: 3 sets of 20 squats
Day 27: 3 sets of 20 squats
Day 28: REST
Day 29: 60 squats
Day 30: 61 squats
New fic, yeah! This fic actually was born (in
my mind), while I was in Scotland, so I hope it is the real deal! There will be
angst, so be prepared. See you on the other side. <3
Chapter 1 – In media res
Edinburgh, Present day
Claire was lulled by the subtle trepidation and
constant movement of the train – she would terribly miss it when she started to
drive her car around Edinburgh. The daily train journey allowed her precious
moments to think, to contemplate – and sometimes to be lost in nothing but mere
existence. She fancied to observe the ever-changing mass of people around her –
mothers composing their toddler’s beanies, friends discussing the rugby game
from last night – the referee wasn’t exactly a popular person that particular
morning! -, high school girls talking about a dreaded chemistry test, lovers
kissing goodbye. The fleeting touches of lips, the hands that searched each
other, the promise to return living inside their smiles. She closed her eyes,
blocking the image. Don’t think.
When she felt steady enough, she opened her
eyes and looked through the window, visualizing the right-handed vicryl knot
she’d learned so many years ago. She thought about Mister Stein, by then nervously
waiting for her to come and close his colostomy, allowing him to run freely after
his granddaughter again.
The Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh was now her
home, after so many years in Boston. It had been a great opportunity – she was
still young at thirty-five and the move back to Scotland had represented a huge
climb in the hierarchy of a surgeon’s career. She directed her own team and
people from all over Scotland came searching for the best general surgeon in
the country – and that was synonym of Claire Beauchamp and her unit.
The train rushed near a park, the large treetops
undulating on the morning’s wind. She had been there before – on her previous
life. She remembered how she had lain in a blanket, the scent of crushed leaves
and growing grass filling her nostrils, the sun’s warmth in her face. A light
touch on her cheek and then his voice “I
love ye, mo nighean donn”.
She still had a couple of hours before her
scheduled surgeries – unable to sleep past dawn, she made herself useful by
lending a hand on the A&E department. Frequently, young interns were puzzled
when they arrived to do rounds only to discover her already doing stitches on a
hand or evaluating a tender belly.
As soon as she entered the sliding doors,
Claire realized that all elective surgeries would be pushed on that day and all
available hands called to work on the emergency department – gurneys pilled the
corridor, nurses ran hectically around carrying trays and saline bags and her
friend, Joe Abernathy, was doing triage like a general commanding troops to
“What happened?” She asked him, jumping to the
side in order to avoid being bumped by a crash cart being wheeled to a curtain
near them. “You should have paged me!”
“I knew you were coming either way, Lady Jane.”
He shrugged, wincing as he tried to complete the central line he was placing. “Seemed
like a waste of precious time. A residential fire near Murrayfield – some casualties
already and plenty of wounded still coming. Here,” He pushed a chart in her
direction. “Take this one. I believe he’s the Station Officer – hurt himself
saving a couple of his men. The rest of the firefighters here are giving me hell
to make sure he’s well taken care of.”
“Alright.” She gave an evaluating look to the elderly
man whom Joe was treating. “His left leg is broken – save him a trip to the
Joe gave her an irritated – but still somewhat
amused – look. “If only I was a pretty witch like you. Alright, alright!”
Claire quickly changed into her scrubs, neatly
wrapping her curls into a functional bun, and marched to curtain four to tend
the brave firefighter.
The first thing she saw was his hair. The
striking mixture of auburn, amber, cinnabar, copper and cinnamon. She could
still feel it, between her fingers – slightly moist after their lovemaking;
curling when he laid his head on her lap, surrendering into her keeping. Her
heart was galloping, so much so her chest hurt – fear and pain gripped her,
until her soul was curled into an infinitesimal display of what she once had
been. It couldn’t be.
His hand had been roughly ligated on the scene,
but hints of blood were beginning to appear – like drops from a brush on an
empty canvas. He had his eyes closed, but his forehead was wrinkled in pain –
was that little scar on the edge of his cheek new? Or in her efforts to forget,
she had effectively managed to erase something of him from her memory?
She halted by his bed, a sudden rush of bile
coming up her throat, as if her insides were actually threatening to reverse
themselves. Claire silently contemplated him, breathing deeply.
Jamie opened his eyes, sensing a nearby
presence. He stared at her and smiled – so tenderly, that unwanted tears welled
up in her eyes.
“It’s good to see ye again, Sassenach.”
Broch Mordha, 15 years ago
Claire pedalled furiously, pushing her bicycle
forward across the slippery hill, green and purple from the heather and
thistles blurring around her. She was terribly late – her alarm clock had been
turned off after electricity failed the previous night, courtesy of another summer
thunderstorm. She didn’t exactly have a rigorous schedule, but she hated to
fail her commitments – and was sure that her first patient, a sour and somewhat
irascible eighty year old man with a foot ulcer, wouldn’t fail to notice her
Coming to the countryside for the summer had
been a sudden decision – she liked the opportunity of leaving the city’s crowd
and the constant rush; and being able to combine that with some medical work
had seemed perfect. Her volunteer work at Broch Mordha’s small, yet capable,
general practice was a good addition to her curriculum and a chance to keep her
skills sharp during the summer break from Medical School. So when the
opportunity had presented itself on the notice board of her dorm, she applied
without further thought.
She could already see the small building,
slightly croaked in appearance after having been expanded and rebuilt after a
series of unfortunate meteorological events, appearing after the next turn of
the earthy path. Her second-hand ride - a rusty but functional bicycle
purchased for the grand total of fifteen pounds and the promise of free
consults for the duration of her staying - slid on the mud, almost projecting
her to the ground like a temperamental stallion.
“Bloody thing!” She hissed, struggling to
control the erratic movements of the ancient wheels.
After parking without further disgraceful
events, she debrided and cleaned the wound already expecting her, patiently
ignoring the grousing and cursing involved in the process. While she carefully washed
her hands and packed some clean bandages for the old man to take with him, she silently
congratulated herself on the substantial improvements obtained.
“Is there anything else I could do, Maisri?”
She asked the young nurse in charge for the day, absorbed in doing inventory of
their drugs cabinet.
“Oh, aye!” She said cheerfully, smiling to her.
Maisri was only ten years older than Claire and they got along very well. “A
laddie came in while ye were tending Old Grumpy. Got himself in some kind of
brawl – I expect seeing yer bonny smile will do him some good, even if there’s
no sae much ye can do for his cuts and bruises.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Claire blushed, gently
slapping Maisri’s shoulder. “He probably needs a good smacking to learn how to
behave like a man and I ain’t his Mama.”
“Wait until ye see him.” The nurse laughed and
winked. “Young Jamie is quite…remarkable.”
Claire snorted in disbelief and, taking hold of
a chart to complete his medical history, walked towards the small treatment
When she opened the door, Claire immediately
understood Maisri’s words – the young man waiting for her was unbelievably tall,
even slightly curved as he was on the gurney, clearly uncomfortable of finding
himself in such shameful circumstances. His face had enough softness and angles
about it to make him very handsome, as only a man can be – the curve of his jaw
was beautifully made, as was his almost-too-long-nose and his high cheekbones.
“Yes.” He nodded, still looking down, as if
completely immersed on the design of her sneakers. “But Jamie is just fine.”
“Alright, Jamie.” She tilted her head, noticing
the bruise that was flourishing on his left cheekbone and the cut on his bottom
lip. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
He whispered something that sounded an awful
lot like “Not really.” Claire raised a brow and folded her arms, summoning her
best doctor in charge look.
“I can’t help you unless you tell me what
happened.” She said with assertiveness. “Everything you tell me is
confidential, you know.” Claire added softly. “Unless you killed someone.” She
ended as an afterthought.
Jamie snorted with mirth and raised his eyes to
her – he seemed surprised for a moment and then his face relaxed into
stillness, like curtains closing to hide an ongoing theatre play, shielding the
actors from the eyes of the audience.
“No one was murdered.” He assured her. “I
wouldna have come – ‘tis naught but scrapes – but Laoghaire insisted that I
should come and I didn’t want to worry the lass more than she already was.”
“Is Laoghaire your girlfriend?” Claire asked
nonchalantly, preparing some iodine to clean the wounds.
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes for a moment
capturing hers, as if it was vital to him that she knew that piece of
information to be true. “We are acquainted – everyone is, I guess, in a wee
place like this. His father has a wicked temper and a steady hand with the
“Oh.” Claire said, surprised. She slowly began
to touch his face, softly, easing the burn of the medicine with light touches
on his face. “You tried to protect her from him, then?”
“Aye.” Jamie offered her an embarrassed half
smile. “He saw us talking when he stepped out of the pub – she was just asking
about my horse that was injured – and he came screaming the worst insults ye
can possibly imagine for a lass, thinking that she was offering herself to me.
He slapped her right there and then, in front of everyone in the square.”
“Some people really make me question Darwin.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure Laoghaire’s father has evolved anything
at all from the Neanderthal. And then?” She went to the small fridge in the
corner and retrieved a small ice pack, which she skilfully applied to his face.
“He grabbed her arm and tried to drag her home.”
Jamie groaned. “I’m not in love with Laoghaire – much to our family’s
displeasure – but I couldn’t let her be mistreated for something she didn’t do
- and on my account. So I got him into a bear hug – might have punched his nose too – and she fled while he was busy
handling me. He dinna like it one bit.”
“That was very chivalrous.” Claire smiled,
impressed. “Luckily your zygomatic bone doesn’t seem to be broken. If you apply
plenty of ice and disinfect the wounds, everything will heal nicely.”
“I thank ye, Doctor…I’m sorry, I didn’t get yer
name.” Their glances met and she noticed his disarming blue eyes.
“I’m just a medical student.” She shrugged and
offered her hand for him to shake. “Claire Beauchamp, at your service.”
“Claire.” He repeated, smiling, holding her
hand longer than it was strictly necessary. Something in the way he said her
name – his Highland lilt making it seem like he was savouring every letter that
compounded the word – made her toes curl and small shivers shot through her
spine, like evanescent bubbles on sweet champagne. “Are ye staying for the
whole summer, then?”
“Yes.” Claire blew a stubborn curl that had
managed to escape her bun. “Maybe I’ll see ye around, Jamie. Take care of
“Perhaps we could go to the cinema.” Jamie said
slowly, holding the ice pack against his cheek. “Ye probably have seen whatever
is on – it takes about six months for a movie to debut here. But I’ll buy the
popcorn – ye know, to thank ye for this.” He pointed in the general direction
of his face.
“There’s no need to, really.” She hurriedly
said, muddled. “I’m just doing my job.” Jamie walked closer to her and grabbed
her arm, kissing the back of her hand. It was an old-fashioned gesture – but strangely
erotic, with the feel of his small stubble and his hot breath against her
“I’d like to see ye again, Claire.” Jamie said
“I…that seems…if you’re sure…” She babbled.
Noticing his tender smile, slightly mischievous - noticing her increasing embarrassment
- she snuffled. “Yes. I think we can do that. I happen to quite like popcorn.”
“Tomorrow, then?” He grabbed his coat and
waited for her answer, hope shining in his bright blue eyes.
“Tomorrow sounds lovely.” And she offered him a
Short Summary: Them having a rap battle and him getting turned on by her fierceness when she raps his AgustD.
the new trainee for BigHit Entrainment after they had announced the auditions
for a new girl-group that was going to debut in around 2019. She was the first
to pass their audition rounds, securing herself a place as one of the trainees
that was definitely going to debut.
put in a rapper’s position, the girl had the chance of frequently meeting the
rappers of BTS, as well as occasionally chatting with their vocalists, as well
seeing the members of Homme going around their business just before her daily
it another spurt of luck, but since she was a hard-working woman she usually
stayed up late into the night for either practicing her dancing or rap, since
she knew that if she wanted to continue the so-called legacy of her sunbaes, she
needed to improve a whole lot. Because of her staying in late, she had met the
rapper of BTS, Suga, countless of times; so much she considered herself to be
his friend. However, she never knew whether the feeling was mutual.