#Chemist near me

[shivamedical]

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In the picturesque city of Dehradun, where healthcare is of paramount importance, finding the best pharmacy is crucial for the well-being of its residents. Among the myriad options available, Shiva Medical Hall stands out as a beacon of excellence, providing top-notch pharmaceutical services and establishing itself as the go-to pharmacy in Dehradun for the discerning residents of Dehradun.

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The hallmark of Shiva Medical Hall is its team of knowledgeable and experienced pharmacists who are dedicated to providing personalized care to each customer. The staff is well-trained to offer expert advice on medication management, dosage, and potential interactions, fostering a sense of trust and reliability among the patrons.

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Located in a strategic area of Dehradun, Shiva Medical Hall ensures convenience and accessibility for all its customers. The well-organized layout and efficient service make it easy for customers to find what they need quickly. Additionally, the pharmacy offers online services, allowing customers to order medications from the comfort of their homes, with prompt home delivery services ensuring a hassle-free experience.

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Shiva Medical Hall goes beyond the traditional role of a pharmacy by actively promoting health and wellness in the community. The pharmacy regularly organizes health camps, awareness programs, and vaccination drives, contributing to the overall well-being of Dehradun residents. This community-centric approach has garnered Shiva Medical Hall immense goodwill and loyalty.

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Shiva Medical Hall has earned its status as the best pharmacy in Dehradun by consistently delivering on its promise of quality, reliability, and customer-centric service. Choosing Shiva Medical Hall means choosing a trusted partner in your healthcare journey, where your well-being is prioritized above all.

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Amidst the plethora of pharmacies in Dehradun, Shiva Medical Hall stands tall as the pinnacle of pharmaceutical excellence. What sets this establishment apart is not just its products but the unwavering commitment to customer satisfaction and community health.

Shiva Medical Hall takes pride in offering a curated selection of pharmaceutical products, ensuring that every customer receives the best-in-class medications and healthcare solutions. The pharmacy's dedication to quality assurance and stringent sourcing practices make it the preferred choice for those seeking reliability in their healthcare needs.

When it comes to customer service, Shiva Medical Hall excels in providing a personalized experience. The knowledgeable and friendly staff takes the time to understand each customer's needs, offering expert guidance on medication, dosage, and any concerns they may have. This commitment to individualized care fosters trust and confidence among patrons.

The convenience and accessibility of Shiva Medical Hall further contribute to its prominence in the Dehradun healthcare landscape. Its strategic location and well-organized setup make it easy for customers to find the products they need promptly. Moreover, the pharmacy's online services and home delivery options cater to the evolving needs of modern consumers, ensuring a seamless and efficient experience.

Beyond being a mere pharmacy, Shiva Medical Hall actively engages with the community through health and wellness initiatives. The pharmacy organizes health camps, awareness programs, and vaccination drives, demonstrating a genuine concern for the well-being of Dehradun residents. This community-centric approach not only contributes to the overall health of the population but also establishes Shiva Medical Hall as a socially responsible and reliable healthcare provider.

In conclusion, when seeking the best pharmacy in Dehradun, look no further than Shiva Medical Hall. It is not just a pharmacy; it is a trusted partner in your healthcare journey. With a commitment to quality, personalized service, and community well-being, Shiva Medical Hall stands as the epitome of pharmaceutical excellence in Dehradun. Choose Shiva Medical Hall for a healthcare experience that prioritizes your health and ensures peace of mind.

[victorluvsalice]

Sims 4 Wednesday -- Potential Tiny Town Challenge

Hi all! As we're between Chill Valicer Save updates this week, I wanted to talk to you about something I discovered relatively recently and have been thinking about off and on -- The Tiny Town Challenge! I first learned about this challenge through seeing a thumbnail for James Turner's version on YouTube, and, curious, tracked down the original challenge and rules to see what it was all about. You can get the full rule set and take a look at the original lot and Sims Deligracy created at the link above, but the basic gist is that you spend the challenge setting up a tiny town on a large lot (preferably 64x64) for seven Sims. Each Sim has a specific money-making skill that they must use to earn the funds to build their house on their specific sub-lot, and a favorite decor style and color that must inform what their house looks like. Each Sim is moved in individually, once the previous Sim has finished their house, and the challenge ends when all seven houses and any communal area is fully built.

I took one look at that and I was like "yeah, I'm into it." XD Both because it sounds like a fun challenge, and because it's a challenge with minimal set-up (which is the problem with the challenges I personally have come up with previously -- I think they'd be fun, but they require a loooot of prep!). Having thought about it for a bit, I have some ideas about how I'd like to do the challenge myself -- and some problems that I'm going to have to figure out before I can set this up as a potential alternate save file to the Chill Valicer Save:

-->Location: I decided relatively quickly that I'd like to do the challenge in Windenburg, setting up a little community on The Crumbling Isle (something like how Plumbob Paragon set theirs up). I almost never play in Windenburg, so I figured that setting the challenge there would be a good way to encourage me to wander around that world and see the sights. And I already have some ideas about using the other lots to make a true town out of the island -- like turning one lot into a Community Space to get a community garden going, or another lot into a retail store that a couple of the citizens run. Might be fun!

-->Citizenry: Well, you guys know me -- of course the first three residents of the tiny town would be Victor, Alice, and Smiler. However, I'm having trouble deciding on who the other residents of the town could be. The way I see it, I have two options for the rest of the group:

Option One: Add Victoria Everglot and Emily Merrimack and do a "Four Victorians Riding A Roller Coaster" polycule thing on the tiny town lot! This would be fun as it would allow for amusing and adorable polycule shenanigans...but the problem here is the color schemes. Specifically, while Smiler is fine with their primary color being Yellow, Victor, Alice, and Emily ALL suit Blue being their primary color (Victor has his blue butterfly and blue tie -- plus I've always headcanoned it as his favorite color; Alice has her iconic blue dress; and Emily has her blue -- everything), and Alice and Victoria would both suit Red (Alice has that iconic red blood splatter on her apron; Victoria has her red dress). Now, I know how I could fix this for Alice -- make her primary color Green, to match her eyes -- but I'm not sure what to do about Victor and Emily. I mean, when it comes down to it, Emily would have to get Blue, look at her, but the only other alternate colors I can think of for Victor would be Black or Grey, and that would result in a depressing-looking house. :( So yeah, bit of an issue there!

Option Two: Add my young Emmett "Doc" Brown Sim (patterned off his appearance in BTTF: The Game), a fem!Malkavian Fledgling Sim I downloaded off the Gallery (which I'm already planning on calling Mal Kavian), a Preston Garvey Sim, and my take on a Wheatley Sim to the gang and just represent pretty much all my favorite fandoms and games in one go. The bonus here is that I've got the full roster of seven Sims; as stated, I'm representing a bunch of things I enjoy, not just the primary three; and I get a tiny bit of diversity by including a black character as a primary. However, there are also a couple of issues here:

I'm not entirely sure I want to do the challenge with the full compliment of seven Sims, as I have trouble wrangling a mere three sometimes in my Chill Valicer Save. And before you ask, no, I don't have For Rent, so I couldn't turn the lot into a Residental Rental and just play one family at a time. I'd have to really fight with my own micromanaging tendencies to get this to work!

We again have color overlap issues because Victor, Preston, and Wheatley ALSO all suit the color Blue (Victor for the reasons listed above; Preston because the Minutemen have blue as their primary color scheme; and Wheatley because his eye is blue in the game). Now, admittedly, this one is a bit easier to solve -- make Preston's color Light Brown to match his iconic duster (yes, Sims 4 actually distinguishes between Light Brown and Dark Brown -- the only color that gets that distinction in the sort!), and Wheatley's White to match his core's outer shell -- but still. I am apparently obsessed with Blue characters!

Now, I can think of an interesting way to solve this dilemma -- set up two tiny towns on the Crumbling Isle on the two biggest lots, and divide the Sims so there's like five or so on each lot. (Suppose it could be like Victor, Alice, Smiler, Doc, Mal Kavian on one, and Victoria, Emily, Preston, Wheatley on another?) That does mean having to do the challenge twice, and wrangling a lot more Sims, but... *shrug* We'll see how I feel!

-->Skills, Colors, and Decors: As previously stated, all Sims have to have a specific skill that they use to fund the creation of their home, and a favorite color and decor style that should inform the look of said home. Now, the decor thing is kind of a mystery to me (I mix-and-match styles all the time when building, and I don't have Dream Home Decorator to make Sims Like specific types -- though it does occur to me that I could just fudge it by having each house just reflect their canon in some way), but I do have skills and colors almost entirely locked down for almost all of my potential citizens --

Victor: His color would be Blue (probably darker shades of such), and his money-making skill would be either Painting or Piano (though I'm leaning toward Painting because I've always headcanoned him as being more private with his music)

Alice: Her color would be Green, and her money-making skill either Painting or Writing (leaning toward Writing because I like the idea of her writing her own books)

Victoria: Her color would be Red, and her money-making skill would be either Knitting or Cross-Stitch (since we know she likes to sew from seeing her working on her blanket in the movie when Victor climbs onto her balcony)

Emily: Her color would be Blue (brighter shades), and her money-making skill would be either Flower Arranging (for her bouquet) or Gemology (for the wedding ring that starts the whole Corpse Bride mess -- it just amuses me)

Doc: His color would be Orange (as part of the BTTF logo), and his money-making skill would probably be Robotics (since it's the most sciencey-one), though I wouldn't say no to Fabrication

Mal: Her color would be Red (because, you know, vampire), and her money-making skill would be Wellness (because it deeply amuses me to have a vampire from that clan doing yoga and spa stuff)

Preston: His color would be either Blue or Light Brown (as previously stated), and his money-making skill would be either Fabrication (because he's the settlement guy, and Fabrication is a lot like how the workshops work in Fallout 4), Woodworking (the more low-tech version of that), or Archaeology (because he clearly enjoys the past, given you find him hiding in a museum and his coat is apparently looted from another one -- probably have to use a mod to make it available outside Selvadorada, though!)

Wheatley: His color would either be Blue or White (again, as previously stated), and his money-making skill would be Programming (again, because of the hilarity factor -- I mean, Wheatley CAN hack in the game, but we all know just how "good" he is at it XD)

Smiler: Their color would be Yellow, and their money-making skill --

And this is where I run into a problem, because I'm not entirely sure what to do for Smiler. Because my version of Smiler's primary thing is chemistry (or alchemy, depending on the setting), and I'm not entirely sure how to best represent that with the skills on offer. Should I do Mixology, on the basis that I heacanon they are also awesome at mixing drinks? Herbalism because that's kind of close (I have a mod that puts Granite Falls bugs in other worlds, so that's not an issue)? Do I rely on Simsonian Library's Apothecary mod and related skill because that is arguably closer that Herbalism? Or do I just fudge things by choosing Mixology or something before turning them into a spellcaster and having them focus on the Alchemy section of the spellbook? Decisions, decisions...

But yeah -- that's what I currently have in mind for any future Tiny Town-related save files I may make! Not gonna guarantee that this is gonna happen, but it's a distinct possibility. :) And if you guys have any suggestions regarding how I should do the tiny town (and what the fuck Smiler's money-making skill should be), please let me know!

[coorparoodiscountpharmacy]

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[conferkare]

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[9kmovies-biz]

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[specialistclinicpharmacy]

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[jyotikamishra63]

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[omgakashpandit]

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[karan1984]

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[seo-services6392]

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[roommedi]

Free Home Delivery Chemist Shop In Thane

Drugs and medicines are an integral part of our lives. We need them for all kinds of ailments and illnesses that we might face. It is important to find a good chemist shop in the locality – one that has a range of medicines and provides free home delivery.

There are many home delivery chemist shops in Thane West. They provide different kinds of medicines depending on the customer’s needs.

The Drug store in  Hiranandani Meadows provides a variety of medicines for all kinds of diseases. It also provides free home delivery for people living in the area. Ayurvedic chemist  Shops in Thane West

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[clockwayswrites]

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 2

Part 1

WC: 818

“You have a thing for black hair and blue eyes, huh?” Dick teased, looking at the guy that Wally had pointed out. He laughed as Wally slapped his shoulder for the comment. “What? I’m not complaining. And you’re right, he does have a cute smile.”

Wally just blushed again.

“Well, come on, I think that most of my official duties are done. Let’s go see what he’s like,” Dick said, heading back towards the stairs.

“What if he’s a jerk?” Wally asked.

“Then we just move on and go find someone else to talk to,” Dick answered easily. “This isn’t a mission or anything, Walls, if you don’t click you don’t click. You can think his smile is cute and not want to do anything with him.”

Wally sighed, though, rather than being comforted by that.“You keep talking like he’ll want to do something with me.”

Dick stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, tugging them to the side. He knew he probably looked a little worried, but he couldn’t help it. No, of course he could fake it, he was a damn Bat, but he didn’t want to. Wally deserved to know that he was bothered by this. If Dick had known that Wally was having these self esteem issues, he would have done something earlier.

Wally deserved to know how amazing he was.

“If he doesn’t want you, it will because he’s straight or not into quick romance or doing something physical,” Dick said. “Or because he’s insane and doesn’t like red heads. Never trust someone who doesn’t like red heads.”

Wally rolled his eyes but he looked more relaxed. “Just because you have a thing for red heads…”

“Walls, sweetheart, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and fun. And you’re pretty damn hot too between the red hair and adorable freckles and your runner’s body. If he’s not into you there could be reasons for it, but it’s not because you aren’t an amazing catch.”

Wally let out a breath of air and nodded. “Okay. Sure. I mean, I don’t agree but sure. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Great!” Dick said with a grin. He took Wally’s hand but dropped it as they got closer to their target. The guy must have taken a break from his last discussion and was over to the side with a fresh drink in hand. Dick detoured them briefly to get drinks also; it was important for everyone to feel like they were on the same social page. They settled near the other as if taking a break from the crowd themselves.

“Enjoying the evening?” Dick asked, drawing the strangers blue eyes to them.

Oh, fuck, more adorable freckles.

“You know, I actually am,” he said, seeming surprised by that. As an after thought he held out his hand. “Oh, sorry, I’m Danny.”

Not a socialite if he was leaving off the last name. That was a positive.

“Dick,” he said, shaking the offered hand before backing off. “And this is Wally.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny said, as he shook Wally’s hand. “You two having a good night?”

“Mostly. We’re finally where we can relax and talk to who we want to, which is nice. Wally here always has to track down the other scientists at these things,” Dick answered for them, pleased when Danny perked up at that.

“Are you scientist?” Danny asked

“Chemist, mostly material sciences but some organic too,” Wally said with a slightly bashful little smile. “You?”

“Bimolecular and biomedical engineering,” Danny said.

At least Dick would have an easy excuse to duck out when the conversation got too technical for him.

“Did they do the same thing with you and keep trying to make you pick one?”

Danny laughed and gave a little shrug. Dick could tell Wally almost swooned at the sound— not that Dick could blame Wally, Danny had a really nice laugh and the crooked smile was downright precious.

“Totally. I though that two of them were going to get in a fist fight over me at one point! Which I suppose at least would have been hilarious. I’ve won so far, but it’s going to be hard to pick a doctorate when I get there.”

“Oh man, good luck. I got my masters last year and stopped for now. Want to get some work experience, you know?” Wally asked. “But it sounds like you’ll kick ass whatever you choose. Where are you going to school right now? Gotham doesn’t really do much of that, right?”

“U Penn,” Danny said. “I’m close enough location wise that my godfather called in a favor for me to be his plus one for this event, but it really hasn’t been that bad so far.

“Who’s your godfather?” Dick asked curiously.

Danny smiled that crooked smile again. “Vlad Masters.”

Dick couldn’t help the way his nose wrinkled at that.

Danny just laughed.

--

AN: Just a little bit of Dick's POV! And oh no, Dick thinks Danny is cute too! Whatever will we do...

Wanted to write more of this, but *waves hand at everything*. But this brings us to the end of the 'new schedule'! It was fun to do but I certainly won't be doing it every week. It's back to just trauma Tuesday for now! Stay delightful, darlings.

[random-thot-generator]

Better Not to Know

KYLE GAZ GARRICK x FEM READER

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Summary: A chance encounter with a handsome stranger in a night club leaves you longing for more.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected P in V - fr tho wrap it up ya filthy animals, random hook-up sex, breeding kink?- hmm... yeah, fem breeding kink, a moody touch of angst, some pining, my usual brand of smut, only half-assed proofread- embrace the imperfections, no use of Y/N

(Notes: Just another smut purge with pretty boy Gaz, along with some angst added in for @tiredmetalenthusiast . I didn't forget, I just get easily distracted. Hope you like!)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

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Chaotic, strobing lights and throbbing, hypnotic bass. Dim shadows writhing en masse on the dance floor, a dense forest of waving arms and swaying bodies. There is heat and sweat and sex layered thick in the oppressive air with just a hint of danger to heighten alcohol-dulled senses.

The danger you're seeking lurks at a corner cocktail table on the outskirts of the dance floor. He's somehow managed to sprawl with natural grace over the unwieldy, tall chair, lounging like a king on a throne. One heel is hooked on a rung, the other resting on the floor, his body one long, continuous masculine line that pulls the eye up to a face that's both wicked and angelic. His smile is pure sin, his dark eyes appreciative and knowing.

Oh, yes...

This is what you came here for tonight. To hell with the drinks and dancing and your girls' night out. This is what you really need. This man, this demigod currently eye-fucking you from across the room. A coy smile curls your painted lips as the two of you lock eyes.

Ten minutes later, you're pressed up against the graffitied partition of a bathroom stall, legs wrapped around his surging hips, whimpering as he snaps and grinds them with brutal precision. Your fingers glide over dark skin sheened with sweat, hungry mouth seeking the hot cavern of his as he spears you to the wall with a particularly hard thrust. The rhythmic clink of his belt catches your ear, a lewd accompaniment to your gasping breaths and the constant slap-slap of flesh on flesh. It debaucherous and filthy and you can't get enough.

He stares into your eyes when he tells you to touch yourself, pinning you with a smoldering look that has your cunt clenching in response. Nostrils flare and teeth grit, his strokes growing sharper, deeper, more unhinged with each passing second. He's fucking you with feral abandon, a wild light flashing in his eyes as he nears his release. He's growling, gnashing his teeth, mouth hovering at your neck as he fights the primal urge to bite, to mark, to claim.

"This is mine. My pussy," he snarls at your ear, and holy fuck! That possessive, dark tone in his voice sends your mind reeling, turning you into a desperate, needy, grasping thing. Speaking coherently at this point is out of the question, but you nod your confirmation with dazed enthusiasm. Hell yes, this is his pussy. He can claim it and any bloody thing else he wants, just so long as he doesn't stop fucking you.

"Come for me," he demands in a low, guttural voice, and you do. God help you, you do, like a bitch coming to heel. "Fuck, that's it, pet. Just like that. Bloody fuck—"

The rest of his words catch in his throat, and with one last violent thrust he stills, his entire body tensing, muscles trembling with the strain as his fingers clamp onto your ass and drive you down onto his cock, holding you in place as he empties himself inside you. His cock pulses hard enough to make you moan at the feel of it, your eyes rolling back in your head. You know it's bad form to not use a condom, dead stupid of you both, to be honest, yet you can't deny the truth.

You wanted him this way, raw and real and messy. It's insane, pure unadulterated nonsense, but you relish the feel of his cum inside you. You'll regret this decision come morning when you're slinking into the chemist's shop for a Plan B pill before popping into the clinic to get tested. Right now, though, it's all you can do not to purr in decadent satisfaction.

His kisses are errant, artless things landing haphazardly across your collarbone, your earlobe, your cheek. His lips then cover yours, his tongue unfurling in your mouth to slide over yours in a sensual, intimate coupling, and something inside you blooms warm then spreads out to all your extremities. His nose bumps yours in the sweetest way, and you're enamored with him, just like that.

The bathroom door opens, noise flooding into the quiet space between you. Two drunk girls dawdle at the sink, comparing notes on the blokes they've chatted up, deciding which ones they'll be taking home later. His brown eyes sparkle with barely contained mirth, lips quivering as he holds in his laughter. He's so bloody beautiful. You drop your head to his shoulder, unable to look at him any longer without saying something stupid like, "Come home with me."

You bite your tongue and wait.

The sink runs, the hand dryer blasts, and then the two birds are walking out, leaving the lingering scent of cheap body spray and pink hand soap in the close, heated air. The tap drips, his belt buckle jingles, and the spell is broken. He sighs, placing a chaste peck on your lips, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

Time's up.

Legs sliding down his muscled flanks, you lock your shaking knees to support you, inner thighs quivering. His cum is a tangible reminder of his claim on your body, as much as the smell of his cologne and sweat on your skin, as much as that poignant, sharp ache in your battered cervix. He fucked you hard and he fucked you well and he made certain that you'd remember him for days to come. What more could you ask of a man like him?

"Ya alright, pet?" he murmurs, his voice so deep and smooth and warm that it raises the fine hairs all over your body. The man is sex personified, a carnal feast that's left you sated but still craving more. You've never been with anyone like him, and it scares you a bit, the effect that he has on you. You were right about him; he's dangerous.

You hum in the affirmative and smile, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. You lower your lashes to hide your confusion, too flustered to speak. You can only imagine what sort of goofy, cock-dumb expression you're wearing. His sigh of satisfaction gusts over your face, the backs of his long fingers brushing over your cheekbone. "So lovely," he mutters, like an inner thought spoken aloud.

Silly cow that you are, his words make your heart flutter.

"I'm fine. More than fine," you finally answer.

You chance a glimpse up into deep brown eyes with striations of amber and copper that catch the dim light. Your gaze drinks him in, flickering over his long, curling lashes and wing-like raven brows. You're melting at the sight of the most sensuous mouth you've ever seen on a man, not to mention a smile so brilliant, it turns you inside out and dumps your heart on the floor. It's only the scar beneath his left eye that detracts from his ethereal, masculine beauty, that proves that he is, in fact, a mere mortal.

"Perfection," you whisper, skimming your thumb over the scar. Your meaning goes for both the man and the sex, but he can take it however he likes.

He fumbles at the latch and opens the stall door, keeping a hand at your lower back as you toddle out on coltish legs. You drift to the mirror to see what the damage is, oddly proud about the mess he's made of you. You swipe the mascara from beneath your eyes and dab away the smear of lipstick at the corner of your mouth. Your hair's a bit of a tangle, but who's going to notice or care at this late stage of the evening?

A tremulous smile appears on your face when he steps in behind you, large hands curling 'round your hips as he presses his full length against your back. His warmth seeps through the thin material of your dress, his mouth hot and wet as it skates up the column of your throat. "You were bloody amazing, love," he breathes at your ear, chuckling, pleased, when you shiver. He gives your bum a light smack that turns into a protracted, possessive squeeze. "Love your arse," he mumbles to himself, then gives his head a shake, stepping away. "I'll, uh, see ya around, yeah?"

"Sure," you husk out, knowing it's all a lie. These soft words and kind glances are nothing more than routine hook-up etiquette— always try to part ways on friendly terms. You know this role by heart, have played out this scenario so many times that you can recite all the inane pleasantries in your sleep.

Only this time, you wish the words were true.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his weight shifting between his feet, then he winks and stuns you with another one of those mega-watt smiles. Stepping to the door, he takes hold of the handle but then pauses, his eyes drifting over you one last time. He seems on the verge of saying something, but his beautiful mouth presses into a thin line, the corners turned down. He takes in a long, slow breath then heaves it out with a wistful sigh. "Take care, love."

"You, too."

You offer up a brave smile and hold up a hand in farewell, though a pang of disappointment rings hollow inside your chest as you watch him step through the door and disappear. The racket from the club pours into the room like dirty flood water, and the sudden urge to go after him has you shuffling your feet. Then, with a pneumatic hiss of the closing door, the obnoxious noise is muffled again to a dull and distant roar, and your reason returns.

How pathetic would you have looked, chasing after him like some clingy, lovesick girl. Your fingers tighten on the edge of the sink as you peer into the mirror at your reflection. You're surprised by your forlorn expression and realize you feel a little sad now that he's gone.

Once you return to your seat, you ignore the chatter of your drunk friends, instead panning your eyes over the crowd. You're hoping to spot his familiar silhouette among the anonymous bodies but can't find him, again. He must have left, his mission for the night now complete, you think with a touch of bitterness. No point in sticking around, right?

You fancy that you could pretend he was just a drunken fever dream, nothing more than a figment of your inebriated imagination, if not for the dull ache that still resides deep in your core. Oh, he was real, alright, as real as his cum in your panties and the sore throb of your bruised cunt. You know in your heart of hearts that it will take weeks, maybe even months for his memory to fade. The thought is depressing.

"Think I'm gonna call it a night, ladies," you tell the bleary-eyed trio seated around the table.

Your friends fuss and protest, trying their best to coax you into one more drink or at least another dance, but they're too drunk to really see the state of you. If they were just a little bit sober, it would be more than obvious why you're so set on leaving; you're completely fucked out, decimated, ruined. You hug each of them good night and promise to text the group chat when you arrive home.

Cold air smacks you in the face when you step out of the club. You inhale a sharp, icy breath, fog condensing in front of your eyes as you release it. You can feel the chill wind seeping through the seams of your coat, feel how it settles deep into the marrow of your bones. You suddenly feel achy and tired and near desperate for the warm safety of your own bed.

A glance up and down the sidewalk reveals the lack of waiting taxis, so you pull out your phone and order an Uber, cursing the wait. Huddling deeper inside your coat, your let your thoughts drift back to that brief but memorable encounter in the loo. For once, you regret not getting a bloke's number, and now you can't help but wonder if that's why he paused before leaving. Had he wanted you to ask him for it?

Unfortunately, you'll probably never know.

It's probably for the best, you tell yourself. A handsome bloke like him would undoubtedly complicate your life. He's the type of man that makes a sane, independent woman want to bake cakes and make babies. He is dangerous. You knew it when you first saw him, and now he's proven it to you. Already the 'what-ifs' are rattling about inside your tired brain. It's a good thing he left when he did, otherwise...

Yeah, you're definitely better off not knowing.

Your phone chimes, notifying you that your Uber has arrived, a faded red hatchback pulling up to the curb seconds later. You check the driver's ID then climb into the backseat, sinking back into the cushions as the car pulls back into the light flow of traffic. It irritates you that you still feel that little inkling of sadness. It's such a haunted, lonely feeling.

Damn, you think, staring blindly out of the window. I wish I'd asked for his name.

-

part 2

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[goodlucktai]

Uhuuh if you don't mind for the injury promo maybe 12 with splinter/lou and his boys, pls?

dialogue prompts

12. “Where are they? Where are they?!”

this one got away from me :') rise/2012 crossover babyyyyyyy

x

Splinter’s counterpart reacted to the news of their sons’ abduction with a level of dramatics that he would never ascribe to his own self. 

“What?” the shorter rat (“Call me Lou,” he had said, and then proceeded not to explain why) squawked at the disheveled humans still trying to collect their breath at the entrance of the lair. “When did this happen? How did this happen? There were TEN of you!”

Casey and April both winced in face of the not-unwarranted scolding. The children had had perhaps too much confidence as they left together earlier that evening. Donatello’s computer had alerted him in the middle of dinner to a new lead on the gang whose activity they had been following for the past weeks. Raphael had smashed his fists together, a wicked grin on his face, and said they should strike while their forces were doubled and make those ‘goons’ regret robbing every pharmacy in Manhattan north of The Battery. 

“Tiny feral Raph is hilarious,” Lou’s Purple had said in a deadpan. “And also alarmingly down to commit atrocities. I want to ride with him.”

And now, not even two full hours later, their human companions returned to report a resounding failure. 

Casey, scowling at the floor, said, “They got the drop on us. The door sealed as soon as we were in and the room started filling up with gas.”

“They said they were chemists,” April added. She couldn’t lift her head enough to look Splinter in the eye, staring hard somewhere near his shoulder instead. “One of their colleagues was mutated about a year ago and they’ve been studying the mutagen ever since. I don’t know what they want with the boys, but they made it sound like the gas was made with the turtle’s physiology in mind. That it would outright kill me and Casey, but shouldn’t harm them.”

Lou was bristling, tail lashing. “‘Shouldn’t’ is the word they used?” he gritted out. 

“Yeah. It hit them hard in seconds. But Blue—uh, your Leo—” Casey said, with an uncomfortable sideways look at Lou, “—he managed to get one of his swords out and portaled me and April away. We waited for like five minutes to see if he’d get anyone else out, but…”

But no one came goes unsaid. 

Splinter tapped his walking stick on the floor once to recall their focus, warm affection filling his chest for these little Hamato adoptees who fell haphazardly into his clan. 

“Lou is correct,” he said. “It is unfortunate that your team was so quickly overwhelmed. We will discuss how to better handle situations like this another time.” 

Both humans stood a little taller when it became clear that that conversation would be tabled for the time being, and April finally found it within herself to meet Splinter’s eyes. 

“For now—” he started, only for Lou to cut him off with a sound not unlike a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” the shorter rat snapped. “I don’t care if they lost within two minutes, let alone two hours. I only meant,” he went on, with a hard look at the teenagers, “that you should have called the instant you were in danger! Why on earth would you run all the way home like this without letting us know what had happened, putting yourselves at unnecessary risk? This organization could have had additional members waiting to pick you off when you were alone! You could have at least made time to send a text!”

Casey and April looked absolutely bewildered. Their respect for Splinter was so deeply ingrained by now that it carried over to this odd likeness of him but they did not seem to know what to do with this manner of reprimand. 

“Uh,” Casey said eloquently. “Splinter doesn’t have a phone.”

“There was the cheese phone,” April interjected. “Sorry, I mean, he had a landline. But the wiring got messed up awhile ago and Donnie never got around to fixing it.”

“You have seven children,” Lou seethed, narrowing his eyes at Splinter, “and you don’t see the importance of having a working phone?”

Splinter frowned. He was taken aback by the number seven, but more so by this hostility that seemed to have sprung up from nowhere. 

“We have gotten along just fine. Donatello’s inclination towards technology was not inherited from me.”

“There’s no time to continue this conversation, and if we do I am liable to start screaming profanities anyway. Jones, O’Neil, take me to my boys.” 

Lou was still bristling with anger, only now that Splinter was looking closer, he saw that the shorter rat was actually bristling. His fur was standing up as though with electric static. 

“If even one scale on their shells has been harmed,” he added darkly, to no one in particular, “there will be hell to pay.”

April led the way to the garage at a sprint, hopping up without breaking stride to grab the keys from their hook on the wall just inside the door. She tossed the keys to Casey and claimed the front passenger seat for herself, leaving the two fathers to pile into the back of the van. 

It wasn’t until she was still that Splinter noticed her fingertips were red and raw from where she had bitten the nails down to the quick. As Casey started the engine, her thumbnail found its way back between her teeth, blue eyes feverish with worry as she stared into the middle distance. 

She was very anxious, for all that she seemed determined to keep it to herself in present company. Her sideways glance at Casey made it clear that she wanted to share her thoughts with him; a flick of her eyes toward the rearview mirror decided her continued silence.

On the bench seat beside him, Splinter watched Lou take out his own phone. It was a thin flat device, held in a protective case that looked like it would probably survive an apocalypse. The caller ID on the screen was a picture of that behemoth snapping turtle in a fuzzy pink hoodie, squeezed cheek-to-cheek with his tiny spotted brother so they both fit into the frame. 

“Red, this is no time to screen my calls!” Lou said when the tinny automated voice encouraged him to leave a message. “Contact me at once or you are grounded for a month! No, two months!”

“They are probably in no position to answer,” Splinter pointed out, Lou’s restlessness leaving him feeling ill-at-ease. “I am sure they are fine. My sons have been in situations like this countless times.”

Lou pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yoshi, I’m going to level with you. I don’t know how to explain that it’s weird you have become desensitized to the news that your children are in danger. My Baby Blue once locked himself inside a prison dimension with an evil killing machine, and less than a year after that he almost cracked his foolish head open on that ridiculous half-pipe mimicking some superstar skater, and my soul left my body in exactly the same manner both times. That never changes. It has never gone away.”

It was disingenuous of Lou to presume that Splinter did not worry after his sons. Of course he did. They were his greatest pride and it was a privilege he did not deserve to have raised them. 

But they were not the clumsy toddlers they once were; at some point, the parent must let go of the bicycle and step back, or the child will never learn to ride it. 

Splinter could not say he had ever taken the time to consider what it might have been like to meet another version of himself—one who had lived a similar life but had made different choices. He almost did not recognize himself at all in the fussy, short-tempered mutant sitting beside him. 

Lou checked his phone no less than eleven more times during the twenty-minute drive. By the time Casey finally announced, “This is it,” Lou was out of the van before it had even begun to slow. 

“The two of you must remain here,” Splinter told the teenagers in the front firmly. He couldn’t help but think of Lou’s scolding from earlier, and added, “If there is any sign of danger, escape at once and go to the Mutanimals. They will help.”

“I texted the group chat earlier and they haven’t seen it yet,” Casey said, flicking through his phone to double-check. 

“We can’t just leave you,” April added with enough stubborn loyalty that she could have been Raphael’s twin sister. 

“You absolutely can leave us, or you will be grounded, too,” Lou interjected from over by the door, his voice taking on that sharp no-nonsense tone Splinter had last heard directed at Blue over breakfast to curb his relentless teasing of Donatello. 

‘It is just how he and Purple show affection to each other,’ Lou had explained to Donatello, whose shoulders had begun to creep up towards his ears the longer Blue carried on. ‘That does not make it any less irritating for the rest of us though!’

‘Skill issue,’ his twins said in unison. 

‘I will cram all three of you into the get-along shirt! Do not test me!’ Lou had snapped in that particular tone that caused his children to grumble and sulk but ultimately obediently subside. 

Similarly, April scowled but did not seem willing to argue any further. Splinter would have expected her to give a Miwa-worthy retort that she was too old to be grounded and not Splinter’s daughter to discipline besides, but she only jerked her chin in a barely passable nod and said nothing more. An equally unhappy but unargumentative Casey turned off the headlights and twirled the steering wheel, backing the van up and parking it by the access road.

Lou had already kicked the reinforced door down by the time Splinter joined him, and he barely had a moment to think My seventeen-year-olds are stealthier than that before he realized Lou had not come with stealth in mind.

He had the first unfortunate human within his line of sight pinned to the ground with a knife in seconds, barking, “Where are they? Where are they?”

The human, caught unawares, coughed at the unforgiving pressure on her windpipe, and managed to wheeze out, “Wh-who do you—”

“You are a scientist, and therefore I know you are not an idiot,” Lou hissed, much like the animal he had been mutated with. “Do not waste my time acting like one.” 

The woman scrabbled at his arms, for what little good it did. Her eyes, behind the clear visor of the gas mask, were wide with fear. To her credit, she steeled herself enough to cling to whatever mission she and her associates seemed to have rallied behind, saying, “So many incredible things could be—be accomplished—if we had a chance to study the mutagen more closely, if we had test subjects with human-like intelligence. It’s closer to magic than science, and we could do so much—”

“You would experiment on children? My children? Turn them into lab rats?” The last he said with a very personal sort of dark anger. The scientist coughed again, and her renewed struggles were a desperate, animalistic thing as she lost the last of her air beneath the unrelenting press of Lou’s hand. “Is that what you think you should be saying to me? Is that what you think will save you—an appeal to the greater good?”

Splinter dispatched the handful of people who streamed into the room in a series of swift strikes. They were unconscious before they hit the ground.

“Lou,” he said, “that is enough. We are here for our sons.”

He was not unsettled by the shorter rat’s capacity for violence. He knew himself better than that. But he did not understand Lou’s hair-trigger temper, his turtle-shaped blind spot. He couldn’t speak for the other’s students, but Splinter’s own were experienced, and tempered, and incredibly skilled. After everything they survived and accomplished together up until now, he found it hard to believe that an organization of regular humans could pose much of a threat to their well-being. 

From the way Lou was acting, it was as if he was any ordinary parent whose ordinary children had been taken in the night. 

Splinter shifted to intervene when the woman Lou had pinned continued to choke. Finally, Lou released her enough that she could heave in desperate breaths. 

“You would not actually kill her,” Splinter chided him, no fan of theatrics. 

“Someone has not been paying attention,” Lou replied shortly. “If my boys are hurt, I will burn this building down with everyone inside it. Honor can go hang itself.”

With that, he removed the woman’s gas mask and informed her that she would lead them to the turtles without making a scene, or she would bleed to death on the floor and they would find the turtles on their own. White-faced, she wisely settled for the first option. 

Leading them toward the back of the building, where rooms that were once offices had since been repurposed into labs and testing areas, the woman said hoarsely, “I didn’t know they were kids.”

Like clockwork, Lou’s fur bristled with offense. “They are wearing matching Sanrio hoodies. They speak in memes. I am sure at least one of them called you a boomer to your face.”

“No, I meant,” she said, touching her bruised throat briefly before dropping her hand, “I meant I didn’t know they were someone’s kids. I’m—I wouldn’t have—sorry. We were trying to do good. I’m sorry.”

“Hmph. I will consider forgiving you in roughly one hundred years as long as my turtles are completely fine. This door here?”

He kicked it down before she could move her head more than one half-inch in a nod. There was a flurry of excitement inside, and then Blue’s voice rang out, “Daddy!”

He sounded ecstatic to see his father, but not at all shocked. His words were a little slurred as he went on, “I told them you’d be here any minute. Our cousins over there wanted to stage a break-out, and I was like. Just nap. You know? Just take five. See, Miguel’s got the right idea.”

“Hush, silly turtle,” Lou said, his tone now a complete departure from how he had sounded for the last half hour. “Come here, let me look at you all. I need to be absolutely certain no one in this building deserves to die before we leave.”

Splinter joined him inside the room in time to take in the sight of the shorter rat attempting to hold all four of his much larger sons in his arms. Orange was deeply asleep in Red’s lap, his smaller stature probably contributing to the higher concentration of the drug in his system. The twins were upright at a forty-five degree angle, and Red himself seemed groggy but alert for the most part. They were smiling as they absorbed their father's fussy attention, leaning into his hands.

Comparatively, Splinter’s own sons were swaying where they sat. Michelangelo’s eyes were open, but his head was resting on Donatello’s shoulder, Donatello’s cheek propped on the crown of his little brother’s head. Raphael was wired, digging fingers into his thighs to keep himself awake, while Leonardo seemed to have been startled out of a meditation by the door crashing down. 

They all lurched with surprise to see Splinter standing there. Leonardo in particular gazed up at him with wide eyes, as if he didn’t know what to do now that the task of rescuing the seven others was no longer his responsibility. As if he had no experience with a burden being lifted away once he had decided it was his to carry. 

For the first time all night, Splinter faltered. 

On the other side of the room, Blue said, “I’m, uh, sorry. I wanted to get us out, but I didn’t have time for more than one door.” 

“Dum-dum,” Purple said succinctly. “O’Neil and Jones would be dead if they were still here.”

“Dee’s right for once, Leon,” Red rumbled, “you made the only call you could.”

“But I should have been able to save everyone, right?” Blue said. “I’m the leader.”

“You,” Lou said sternly, holding Blue’s face in both hands, “are seventeen.” 

That’s right, Splinter found himself thinking, looking down at his eldest son. The brilliant boy he taught to read, the one he taught to fold origami flowers for his mother and sister’s shrine, the one he had stopped holding one day without even realizing it. He is.