What's your favorite poison and why?
Finally an interesting question.
There are many answers to this, depending on the used definition of poison and for what it would be intended for.
Whether I find a poison interesting enough is mostly determined by how fascinating it’s biochemical mechanisms are, but also if it’s nondetectable and rare, how clever it would be in a murder.
Some more common poisons can have very fascinating biochemical properties like cyanide, which inhibits enzymes neccessary for aerobic respiration and suffocating a person on a cellular level. But they are more commonly used in murders, making them more easily traceable, less creative and thus less interesting then. Just obvious.
I prefer rarer poisons, less obvious. The more cunning and sophisticated, the better. Toxins which you can barely detect, unless you know what you are looking for, but most people are idiots and won’t think about it. Perfect murder. Unless you consult me of course.
And especially natural poisons are the most toxic, like Botulinum toxin which was used in some of my cases. Especially neurotoxins like this work in fascinating ways, Tetrodotoxin from pufferfish, shutting down nerve cell communication, slowly paralysing and shutting the body down by respiratory failure. This poison is especially cruel because the victim can still be conscious and lucid, even if they are completely paralyzed, unable to talk or move, to do nothing except to suffer and wait for death approaching.
Another very potent and very rare poison is Polonium-210, killing by acute irradiation, no antidote and it takes days to show effects, giving the murderer enough time to get an alibi or leave the country. Of course the trail of radiation can lead to the killer if not handled correctly. Very fascinating poison, but difficult to acquire, which is why it’s only knowinlgy used by secret services, but there might be more cases where it was never detected.
As you can see it’s difficult to pick favourites with such diverse acting mechanisms of poisons and their interesting ways to kill.
However, if you meant favourite poison in a more recreational way, then my clear answer is cocaine. Which also has cardiotoxic effects so it can be used as a poison resulting in overdoses, but it’s subjective personal effects are much better than to use it to kill someone, I assure. A more poisonous drug would be fentanyl, very strong opioid resulting in respiratory depression, 120 times stronger than morphine, difficult to dosage. Though I prefer morphine for personal use. But even nicotine can be considered a poison if overdosed. But it’s all just subjective defintions, to quote Paracelsus “What is there that is not poison? All things are poison and nothing is without poison.”
266 notes
·
View notes
It was Peter’s first day in this biochemistry class and he was already having the worst time. The seating arrangement was so that four people would sit at a table. Most of the tables in the room already had at least one person sitting at them.
Peter walked past, avoiding the other students’ perceived glares. He had flashbacks to high school, where most kids avoided him like the plague.
This was even worse. He didn’t even have Ned to fall back on, since they went to different colleges.
Peter picked a seat in the very back, mostly due to it being the only table with no one at it.
Optimistically, or more accurately, naively, he hoped that once the Professor started the lecture things would be better. He was dreadfully wrong.
Peter was alone at his table when class officially started. He tried to ignore the sharp sting in his chest as he realized he was the only one sitting alone.
Even worse, the professor was awful. They spent most of the time going through slides, barely explaining them, and moving on too quickly to take meaningful notes. They droned on and on about the unimportant things.
Peter sighed. Was attendance really mandatory for this? Three hours of a man who had long since checked out going over the textbook word-for-word. Great.
Just then, as Peter was lamenting dropping the class altogether, someone barged into the classroom.
He moved forward confidently and without care. He examined the room briefly before striding over to the empty seat next to Peter. He plopped down and whispered, “I’m Tony.”
“Peter.” He whispered it soft as a mouth. But judging by Tony’s nodding, he heard. Peter was silently thankful that at least someone sat next to him. Even if that someone entered like a drama queen.
The class moved on with the same boring slideshow that did nothing to further Peter’s education.
“This guy’s a total hack,” Tony whispered.
Peter laughed softly, a breath would more accurately describe it. “I can’t believe I’m paying for this,” he responded.
Tony said, “Shit, you should totally drop the class then. My dad’s paying for mine. It’s mostly for show.”
“Aren’t you lucky.”
“Hey,” Tony said, “if you wanna deal with my dad’s raging bullshit, I’ll call him up right now.”
Peter said, “Wanna trade? I don’t have a dad.”
“Oh, damn, that’s a low blow.”
“And I don’t have a mom.”
“Double whammy,” Tony said, making an over-the-top grimace. “You win,” he said.
Peter smiled, “Didn’t know it was a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition with me.”
“Are you two done?” The Professor called out, putting a spotlight on them. As if they were even teaching in the first place. Everyone’s eyes landed on them in an instant.
Peter’s face went piping hot immediately. He knew, from experience, he must’ve been the shade of strawberries.
Tony called back, “Just give us another minute, please.”
Students around him either snickered or glared. Tony didn’t seem to mind either way.
The professor raised their brows, “Mr. Stark, is it? You’re very lucky to have a father who can pay for your education. Not everyone has that opportunity.” The professor gave a pointed look at Peter, “Isn’t that right, Mr. Parker?”
Peter opened his mouth, to apologize probably, but Tony beat him to the punch.
“Taking this class is the furthest thing from luck I’ve ever experienced.” Tony asked, “Do you even know how to teach? Or do you just know how to press the arrows on your keyboard?”
Peter had to admit, Tony was being a raging asshole. But, something about that was charming. Peter kept his mouth shut and his head down, but Tony could afford to be more bold. And that enticed Peter in a very dangerous way.
The professor only shook their head and continued with the lecture. If you could call it a “lecture.”
Tony leaned back in his chair.
“You’re acting like a highschooler,” Peter said.
Tony said, “I should be in high school.”
“What?”
Tony paused, then said, “I’m technically supposed to be a senior in high school but I got high enough scores they let me into college early.”
“That’s awesome!” Peter whispered.
Tony gave Peter a look. Quietly, he said, “Thank you.”
-
Peter was beyond thankful when that class ended. He was definitely going to try and drop it.
He walked through the campus, looking for his busted up, piece of junk car.
“Peter!”
He stopped. Was someone calling for him? No, he didn’t really know anybody on campus.
“Peter!”
Okay, someone was definitely calling for him. He turned and saw Tony jogging toward him.
“Hi, Tony,” Peter said with a smile.
Tony gave a breathless laugh, “Hi.” He had his hands on his knees, lurched over. He looked like he might puke.
Peter reached toward him, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tony said, waving his hand and shaking his head. He took a deep breath. He stood up, but staggered a little.
Peter laughed a little, both out of built up nervousness and amusement at Tony’s behavior.
Tony said, “We should go out sometime.”
Peter smiled. He was about to say, Sure! That sounds fun. But, like a train colliding with a bus, Peter wondered if Tony was hitting on him. No, he thought, that’s a very vain thing to think. And asking Tony for clarification would be awkward.
“What do you mean by out?” Peter asked.
Tony said, “You know... you, me, out.”
“How old are you?”
Tony looked up at him with hopeful brown eyes, “Eighteen?”
“You’re not eighteen,” Peter said. It was obvious.
Tony said, “I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”
“Tony, I’m twenty,” Peter said.
Tony said, “Don’t make me beg. Cause I will.”
“Tony-”
“Do you want me to beg?” Tony said, “Fine, I’ll beg.” He got down on his knees and clasped his hands in front of Peter, mimicking a prayer almost. He said, “Peter Parker, please go out with me. Please. I’ll do anything.”
People walking by gave them unusual looks, but Tony wasn’t affected in the slightest. He just continued his pleas.
Peter felt like he was going to combust. So, to end his humiliation, he said, “Fine! Fine, just stand up already.”
Tony popped up easily and smiled, “Here’s my number. I’ll text you the details.” Then, like that, he was gone.
Peter looked at the hastily scribbled number and wondered, What the fuck just happened?
235 notes
·
View notes