( ap ) doctor poison.

𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛

[goldpistol-blog1]

                           independent phryne fisher.             penned by jude.             revamped aug 2017.

  “ Must you find murder everywhere? ”

           “ Mac, you know very well that  𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑚𝑒. “

If you use the tags alot

See what pops up first with these words:

Ass, shit, bitch, fuck, damn

[poisonpsyche-blog]

Love is how you lose everything and everyone around you. Love is a test to see which path you take (dark or light). Its a weakness for everyone else to use against you.

TELL ISABEL WHAT LOVE IS | accepting

            “… so it is,” answers the chemist, expression just as stiff as the porcelain that hides it.  it is a weakness she has known all too well, and it did indeed lead her on the path she walks now.  it makes her stomach turn to know in explicit detail the impact something like love has had on her.  and yet she hates being alone.  this, too, disgusts her – that she could know her own weakness and still let it prey on her.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

qceenmother:

           “What makes you think I know anything of hell?” she asked.             She of course knew a great deal, though she never wanted a             part of it. “Or that I am the one who can put you through it?”

             “do you DENY it, then?”

              isabel cannot hope to know who ( or what ) this woman is, but she has seen war, and she has seen the GODS themselves.  she knows what power looks like.  she once believed she saw it in general ludendorff, but she has learned better.  it is hidden in smaller things, like posture and careful restraint.  one does not need strength to be powerful.  now it is something she seeks out -- something she knows she will never achieve.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

dealkept:

       “—i am a man who will show you the appreciation that your work deserves.” what does she want to hear? ludendorff uses her work for political gain, for the power to defeat the other armies in the war, but he does not appreciate it for the science the way that isabel seems to. she’s completely fascinated with the process of making new gases and hardly seems to care what they are used for.

       maybe— at least, he’s hoping— she’ll be interested in having someone to share that fascination with. maybe she’s desperate for someone like minded, someone to understand her work for whatever she sees it to be. maybe her desperation for someone to relate to will give her a moment where she feels safe enough to share with him something she shouldn’t. maybe.

       “your work… ludendorff sees its worth, but he is not a scientist— he does not understand the thrill of creation, only the thrill of destruction. i believe you should appreciate both.”

       his gaze falls to the fire in front of them, and he seems to be in quiet contemplation over the flames as he instead hopes, for once, that diana has listened to him and stayed outside of the gala.

            “you are... a scientist then?” isabel asks, choosing her words carefully.  she cannot hide her curiosity, but she refuses to betray whether or not the proposal itself holds any intrigue for her.  it is true that ludendorff’s interests have little to do with the scientific process, but they are well-aligned in other ways.

             indeed, the creation itself is the true thrill for isabel, but creation alone is not enough -- it is what she creates that matters.  she, too, has a fascination with destruction.  the sheer dichotomy of bringing to life an inescapable DEATH, of holding in her hand a formula that can erase another person.  to have one without the other feels hollow.

            “you believe you appreciate as i do?” is her challenge.  she has never met someone who truly understands her motivations.  she does not expect this stranger, no matter how well he pretends, to be any different.

                                                                                  it is too much to hope for.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

Me: i'm gonna finally do some writing today !!

Also Me: sleeps the whole afternoon away and makes all the typos because of sleepy fingers

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Explain the concept of ‘Love’ to my Muse.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

@ladylancelot 🎔‘d | lotion - greenskeepers

              “you’re cold and tired, that is... EASY to see,” she comments, but there is no sympathy in her words.  instead, there is a sharpness to each consonant, tone suggesting an unspoken question -- why are you here?

[poisonpsyche-blog]

 THE BOYS IN THE TRENCHES CALL HER DOCTOR POISON

dr. isabel maru of dc’s 2017 wonder woman.  independent, selective, semi-private.  not spoiler free.   possible  triggering  material; please  read  rules  before  interacting.   penned  by  jude.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

@qceenmother​  🎔‘d | bitter & sick - one two

            “put me through hell again,” the chemist wheezes, the dare tilting off her tongue with bitter humor. a low, broken chuckle follows. “i MISS the fire.”

[poisonpsyche-blog]

ooc.  i finally managed to take some new screencaps to make icons from, so while i work on those,                                                        LIKE THIS FOR A LYRIC BASED STARTER.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

ooc.  i’ll be over on PONYO tonight.  you can come hang out with my fish child if you like. 

[poisonpsyche-blog]

smaugiiisms ( S T R A N G E R )

  Charles ( or so he called himself ) looked at her journal, then to the beholder. He tilts his  head, amber eyes glowing bright among the  dimness of the room. He chooses to give a rather friendly smile, showing certain interest.  A brow raises, curiosity etched.

❝ No need to be so sour, now. I am not here      to pry into too much. I am all but an enemy.  ❞ 

             stiffness worms its way into every joint well before he speaks; it is the SMILE that sets her so immediately on edge.  smiles are bargaining tools -- a promise of camaraderie to dangle before someone who has something of value.  his words do little to dissuade the notion.  she has had allies before, and such arrangements are always far from selfless.

            “ --- i have heard the same from others,” the chemist mutters, vow low and husky.  although only the very corner of her mouth is visible, it quirks upward, as though in a silent dare.  can he convince her otherwise?

[poisonpsyche-blog]

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[poisonpsyche-blog]

ooc.  it’s like 3 AM so i’m going to bed or something but i’ll have my phone so you’re welcome to come to my ims and help me make bad decisions by keeping me up to talk about Actual Mad Scientist™ isabel maru

[poisonpsyche-blog]

⅋ @sacredjustice ( ♥ )

            it takes precious little effort to recognize her, even if the tableau stamped on her memory consists of a tank lofted over her head while isabel waited on her knees between GODS for the crushing taste of death.  had their roles been reversed, isabel would not have spared the woman.  in truth, she does not understand why she still lives.

            seeing her again now sends a sickening shock down isabel’s spine.  her cowardice -- yes, she is a coward; she is as spineless as diana is just -- is tempered only by the fact that she has already LOST.  what integrity she might have claimed is gone; she is working for the enemy.  whatever relief her death might once have granted, it could no longer hold the same potency.  this, at least, is what she tells herself as she stands stiffly at the other end of the room, eyes locked on the war hero.

[poisonpsyche-blog]

⅋ ( OPEN )

         the journal snaps SHUT the instant she realizes she is no longer alone, and though her expression is half-hidden, it is guarded -- as hard and cold as the mask that covers it.

         LEAVE.  as much as the demand yearns to be spoken ( it makes her jaw ache to bite it back ) she knows her power is limited here.  she will not waste her vigor on something as cheap as privacy.