#chemist shop

[pabremediespatna]

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[pabremediesmohali]

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[bestedpillsworld]

Online Pharmacy & Medical Store in USA

A chemist shop, also known as a pharmacy, is a retail store that specializes in selling prescription and over-the-counter drugs, as well as other health and wellness products. Chemist shops are staffed by pharmacists who are trained healthcare professionals and are able to provide advice and information about the use and effects of different medications.

In addition to traditional brick-and-mortar chemist shops, there is also the option to purchase medications and other health products online through websites like Bestedpill.com. This online chemist shop offers a convenient and easy way to purchase medications from the comfort of your own home, with a wide selection of products available at competitive prices. They also offer the added benefit of being able to compare prices and products from multiple manufacturers, making it easier to find the best option for your needs.

[bestedpill]

Bestedpill We are a well-known provider of high-quality medications through online pharmacies in India. We place a great focus on serving our consumers, thus we go above and beyond to do so. We always take care of the quality of medicine that is being delivered. 

[thatsnotmygunflash]

Okay @simpledontmeanpeachy this is like a week late but I finally got the inspiration I needed to write prompt 25 "It gave me great joy,"

I really fell in love with this and might add to it honestly (or someone else can if they want) it's set in a world where Barry grew up in the foster system and turned out way differently.

Len was nursing his first drink of the night at Saints and Sinners an hour before his crew was suppose to meet up for their weekly check-in when Hartley came waltzing in the front door. Len didn't bother to turn and look, taking a smooth sip of his beer as the young scientist came up to the empty bar.

"Rathaway, little early, even by your standards." Len said in observation. Hartley Rathaway wasn't the newest addition to his Rouges or even the youngest, but he was by far the smartest and most capable out of the lot. They had worked three big jobs together in the past year and a half and besides his sister, he was the only one Len felt gave it to him straight and pulled his weight enough for it to mean anything to Len. He wouldn't call them friends, but they were friendly. Not friendly enough, however, for Hartley to show up without an agenda.

"I wanted a chance to speak privately before the rest of the crew show up,"

"About?" Len assumed it would be business Hartley wanted to discuss but this must be something he didn't want the rest of the crew to know about yet.

"You heard about the new player in town, right?"

How could he not, when it was all anyone in the city wanted to talk about lately.

"The Chemist?" At Hartley's nod of confirmation Len tilted his chin down in understanding. "I've heard whispers, why?"

"He approached me last night, said he needed a little tech support, willing to pay more than well for my time too."

"Did you take the job?" Len had never cared about Hartley's freelance work before, unless it directly effected Len's own timetable, but they had never had issues with scheduling before. Len made sure of it.

"You're not asking the important questions, Snart."

"If you have something to say, Rathaway, say it." Len didn't enjoy the condescending smirk painted on Hartley's face and he definitely didn't like a single word that came next.

"He's planning on hitting the Federal Reserve, the same one you're planning on hitting in two months. Which wouldn't be a problem for you, if he wasn't planning on making his move next week."

"Next week." Next week. Next. Week. There was no way. The Chemist had just hit First National two weeks ago. He couldn't be that reckless, especially when the cops and the papers had painted him to be some kind of evil-mastermind. Len had been casing the Reserve himself everyday for four months, there was no way he would have missed another thief doing the same.

"Yep. He doesn't even have a crew either. Plans to do it all by himself. Seems like kind of a loner. Pretty though. And smart. Meta too, I think. Full package really."

"You think he can pull it off." Len didn't need the snort of agreement Hartley let out to let him know he was right. Hartley was not an easily impressed man, which meant this Chemist was someone to be on guard with.

"Oh, definitely. Especially with my help covering his tracks, but, because I knew he'd end up iced for fucking with your job, I convinced him to come here tonight to talk to you about joining the Rouges."

Hartley had told a man who enjoyed explosives where his entire crew was meeting tonight. The nerve of this kid.

"And you just expected me to be okay with that?"

"Well, obviously." Hartley scoffed, waving a dismissive hand in the air when he saw Len's icy glare. "I thought you'd agree it couldn't hurt to have other smart and pretty people around to look at. You should have seen his face when I told him I worked for you. It gave me great joy. Watching him go from obnoxiously cocky to painfully desperate just at the sound of your name. I think you have a fan."

A fan. A fan. The Chemist was a fan. Good lord.

"You better pray this works out in our favor, Rathaway, or it's your ass."

"I'm not worried." Hartley shrugged carelessly, his smirk turning into something like delight when the door opened behind them.

"And why's that?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Hartley replied, pointing a finger behind Len's shoulder.

"Wha-" Len turned to see who the new comer was, losing his voice and the ability to move when he caught sight of an unmistakably familiar face. Len couldn't believe what he was seeing. Barry Allen, the flirty barista from the coffee shop Len had been using as cover for his stakeouts of the Reserve was standing just three feet in front of him. The same Barry Allen that he had taken home with him five nights ago. The same Barry Allen that had not taken Len's one night stand policy well.

Barry gave a lazy wave, not bothering to hide the challenge in his eyes or the smugness coating his voice.

"Hey Lenny. Miss me?"

[womansfilm]

bursting into tears at each of these crumbs btw..

[chiefofboatwatsonstittymug]

Boss: you need to get here earlier so you can help Colleague set up before the shop opens

Boss: *is consistently late*

[bharuwasolutions]

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[nostalgia-tblr]

"Going outside in December" or as I like to call it "bravely approaching the Gates of Whamhalla."

[pabremediespatna]

Pab remedies the Best Medical Store in Patna

You need medicine but no vehicle to pick it up from medical store, now don't worry Pab Remedies will deliver your medicine everywhere in Patna. call us now :- 09888687080

[darling-birdie]

…did I buy a new dildo because it reminded me of those water snake fidget toys from the 90s/2000s ? yes… yes I did pfft

[perfectblve]

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[bestedpill]

A chemist shop, also known as a pharmacy, is a retail store that specializes in the sale of prescription and over-the-counter medications. They also sell a variety of health and wellness products, such as vitamins, supplements, and personal care items. In addition to selling products, chemist shops often provide a range of services, including medication counseling, prescription

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?