tracheae

Wrong Taxi (Part 1)

Summary: You get into an already occupied taxi and what ensues can only be bad luck. (Done for Kait’s 5k AU Writing Challenge).

Word Count: 2,757

Warnings: Drinking. Throwing up. 

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series, but it is definitely not lol. I hope you all enjoy this first part. It’s gonna be a fun ride :D

Originally posted by dolorioushaze


The heartache was more than you could have ever foreseen. You were blissfully unaware of how much value you had placed on your relationship with your now-ex boyfriend. It was a slap in the face when he broke up with you and you found yourself crying in a bathroom stall at work. Cursing at yourself, you wiped your eyes with the coarse toilet paper, hissing at the sting it caused on the sensitive skin. Kleenex did a much better job, but the box was currently sitting on your desk, which was in the middle of the vast office you worked at. And the last thing you wanted was wandering eyes and gossips flowing around the office with you in the center of it all.

Blowing your nose, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. Expletives ricocheted back and forth inside your brain, almost all of them directed at your former boyfriend, but some of them were for yourself. You had been foolish, utterly and completely foolish. Thinking that he was as in love with you as you were with him, you had even asked him to move in the previous week. He had just smiled at you and told you he’d think about it.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How well does hitting someone in the throat work and how long will they be affected by it?

Like everything, the answer is it depends. There are many different ways to attack the throat, depending on what your goal is. There are a lot of different ways it can go, and the effect can last anywhere from a few disorienting, terrifying seconds of panic to choking and, eventually, death.

Think about the throat, the front of your neck.  What primary bodily function resides there that is absolutely necessary to your survival?

Your ability to breathe.

The throat acts as a conduit for air from your lungs and your mouth. If you can’t breathe, you can’t fight. If you can’t breathe, you can’t scream. If you don’t breathe, you don’t live. A crushed windpipe is neither a fun nor quick injury to die from.

There are certain parts of your body that you have a biological imperative to defend (these usually only kick in after you’ve received damage). This is your natural instincts respond with a panicked, “OH GOD! NO! I NEED THIS!” and, for most people, that’s how they’ll respond.

You hit them in the throat and their hands will immediately rise there, they’ll stumble back coughing, and their number one priority their brain has focused on is protecting their throat.

So, much like a sucker punch, striking the throat will result in giving you open access to their whole body as it is now defenseless. You, the attacker, moves on to other, better strikes while they’re caught up trying to breathe.

When someone punches someone else in the throat (as opposed to another kind of strike), this is the hoped for response. They want to open up their opponent. “Open up” is one of the terms for “lowering defenses”, because when your opponent’s defenses are up you cannot reach the nice soft spots on their body where you’ll do the most damage.

The throat is one of those nice soft spots difficult to hit if your opponent is mentally prepared to fight. You’ve got to be within arm’s reach, and within the grappling sphere, to land the hit. So, if you’re not close enough to reach out and grab hold of their neck, you’re not close enough to land the strike. If the hit doesn’t come as a surprise attack, then you’ll have to fight for it.

Learning to measure distance between fighters in a fictional context when you’ve no experience judging it with real people is a difficult one. Most people never realize there are different spheres of distance around the body which define what attacks you can make before moving inward. For them, two people fighting is often a one hit exercise and not a strategic contemplation involving multiple attacks, breaking past defenses, and taking advantage of your opponent’s mental faculties/body’s instincts/physiology to hit your goal. Then, consider that most fights are finished in under 30 seconds.

These are not “safe” combat techniques by any stretch of the imagination and some are far more dangerous than others. Some will also break your fingers if you try them without having a fucking clue what you’re doing.

So, how can you attack the throat?

I’ll give you three of the common attacks on the trachea, there are more.

1) You can punch them in the throat.

This is more of a stunner, and not as likely to crush the windpipe or the larynx. The reason is that the fist actually spreads the delivered force over a wider area. So, you punch them and it’s likely to hurt and scare the hell out of them, Punches, while effective, are a great deal safer than a knife hand or a palm strike to the opponent because of that dispersal of force.

The more pointed the force, the deeper it penetrates.

2) The spear hand to the throat.

You take your fingers, brace them together, and drive them forward, palm down. (You can also strike palm up, which is done if you’re striking on an upward diagonal from the hip. This can also be a referred to as a palm strike, knife hand, etc.) This is windpipe crushing territory. The force is confined to the first two fingertips, a much narrower vector, and will penetrate into the neck. Doubly more likely if you grab their head/throat first with your other hand so they can’t run/stumble back at the moment of impact.

A good general rule in martial arts is the smaller the tool, the more dangerous the strike, and the deeper into your body it goes.

This may break your fingers if you’ve never been taught to perform it properly or how to lock your fingers/wrist/arm together. So, don’t expect an untrained fighter to pull it off. Or even know it exists unless they’ve been watching a lot of Japanese/Chinese language films.

3) Half-Palm to the throat.

Instead of your fingers, you use your knuckles. Bend your fingers, so your fingertips touch the top of your palm. Brace. Then strike the same way as you would with #2.

This will, more than likely, break your fingers if you’re not careful.

This, of course, assumes that a denial of breath is your end goal. You can always knife hand (blade of the hand, opposite the thumb) the side of their neck, which has the added bonus of potentially closing off the arterial blood flow between your head and the rest of your body. Most likely not, though.

None of these are “guaranteed kills” (not that you’re guaranteed anything), the possibility of death is there and they are dangerous. They are very effective if they can be landed. However, your character should not be doing these unless their life is in danger, their willing to accept the consequences of killing their opponent, and the situation calls for it.

Fiction often struggles with this, but proper application of force to the circumstances is one of the hallmarks of a responsible martial combatant. Being able to adjust according to the situation (and knowing what techniques are warranted) is one of the signs we use to judge in real life whether or not the person in question knows what they’re doing. A person who doesn’t self-moderate is a danger to themselves and others.

You can, in fact, blend Rule of Cool with the knowledgeable, responsible combatant that sells themselves as awesome and skilled without coming off as a reckless fuckhead.

If your character is using these just in general, then they just don’t care. They’re also a reckless fuckhead. Have others treat them accordingly.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

a lot of people (including me) headcanon gta caleb as a medic, and i love that, because then you get to imagine caleb getting called at all hours of the day and night with shenanigans like

“caleb! you need to get over here right now, it’s an emergency!”

“what? what happened?”

“i was arguing with gavin–”

“is he okay?”

“we need a medic. he just got burned!” [cue chorus of oooooohs in the background and a distant squawk of protest from gavin]

“jeremy it’s two in the morning and you’ve made this joke four times this week i’m going to stab you in the trachea with a scalpel i swear to god.”

Make a Date of It

Dean knew he’d never be with Cas. 

It was just too complicated.  Yeah, the younger hunting community did seem significantly more progressive than John’s old buddies, throwing around f slurs and laughing over beers, but Dean was in his thirties.  His late thirties.  

No one came out at this age, and if he did, he was sure they would think he was faking, having some bizarre mid-life sexual crisis or trying to get attention.  Moreover, he was a legend among hunters:  he didn’t want his going both ways to become the talk of the town, their variation of celebrity gossip, even if it wasn’t in a completely negative context.  

So he could never be with Cas.  It just wasn’t practical.  

Still, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of longing as he watched Cas stitch up his trench coat, delicate fans of dark eyelashes over soft, tired bags and prominent cheekbones, stubble sprinkling his jaw.

Man, it would be great if Cas was human.  If Dean was just a normal guy who’d met him in a park or a grocery store, who could have worked out his sexuality in his teens or twenties like any normal fence-sitter, instead of worrying about his brother’s life or the damn apocalypse. 

Or even if it wasn’t, even if things were just as they were now, Dean couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be to hold him in his arms late at night while he slept, press his nose to that dark mess of hair and breath in the soapy smell of shampoo.  Maybe start to see a grey hair or two.

That was another pleasant thought:  Cas going grey, Cas the silver fox.  He’d always had a thing for mature guys, though he’d absolutely never admit it, and he was surprised to find the idea of getting old together with Cas a pleasant one.

But then, he’d blown his chance to have human Cas, hadn’t he?  Cas had been human once, been ready to settle down in the bunker for good, and Dean had kicked him to the curb.  He’d spent every day regretting it.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean blinked, remembering Sam was there.  He was sitting perpendicular to Dean at the long wooden table, open laptop and book of lore in front of him, looking at Dean with concerned, puppyish eyes.  

Even Cas paused in his mending the wounded sleeve, looking up to see what this latest drama could be.   

Dean cleared his throat.  “’Course I’m okay.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.  “You’ve just been sort of spacing out for a really long time.  You looked kind of upset.”

“Bullshit,” Dean scoffed, a tad defensively.  “M’not upset.”

“I noticed, too,” Cas pointed out.  “But it’s been a rudimentary aspect of his personality since I’ve known him, so I generally elect to ignore it.”  There was a brief pause as Dean mustered a glower.  “If you’d like, I could read his mind…?”

No!”  Dean cried, horrified by the suggestion.  

Sam ran a palm over his face, clearly trying not to laugh.  Sadistic bastard.  “It’s fine, Cas.  I’m sure Dean is just…distracted.” 

Cas nodded hesitantly.  “Very well.  Let me know if this changes, Dean:  I should very much like to help.”

“Yeah, don’t count on it,” Dean muttered, pretending to go back to his laptop.  

God, Cas was a sweetheart.  Oblivious, but a sweetheart.  Dean could see now that all he’d ever wanted to do was help.  To help Dean.

So many missed opportunities, over the years they’d known each other.  So many times he’d noticed that mouth, full and chapped and supple, when he could have closed the gap between them and let the warmth consume him.  So many times he could have said something, anything, to convey to Cas how he felt. 

Dean froze suddenly as a realization dawned on him then:  if he could look back on moments five years ago that he could have told Cas how he felt but didn’t, five years from now, would he feel the same way?  Would he still be hooking up with the same sexually frustrated housewives that liked to boss him around the way he craved, or odd bull named Larry, only to come home feeling empty and full of regret?  Would he still be watching Cas from afar and wishing he’d said something, anything, to convey that he loved him as more than a friend?  To convey that he loved him at all? 

It’s too late, said that nagging little voice in his head.  Too complicated.  He isn’t even your species!  

Dean realized he didn’t care.  He’d spent his whole life watching people wait for some idyllic scenario to come along to show their loved ones how they felt:  John promising he’d give his boys the life they deserved after he got his precious revenge, Mary studiously avoiding them until she could mold their lives into what she’d envisioned for them over thirty years prior.  

Dean wasn’t going to repeat their mistakes.  He couldn’t.

Think of the hunters!  the voice persisted.  Do you really want them knowing you like guys? 

Dean scoffed inwardly.  At the end of the day, who fucking cares?  He’d met gay hunters before.  One of them was a goddamn witch.  The hunting community had changed a lot since he’d last been involved.

And yeah, he was sure there was still some homophobia lurking, but was he really gonna let that stop him?  Besides:  there might be some young hunter kid scared to come out of the closet, who might be inspired to if he knew Dean Winchester was bi.  

Dean could have really used someone like that when he was younger.

“Cas, do you wanna go get burgers?” 

Dean blurted the phrase out without thinking, causing both Sam and Cas looking up in surprise.  

Dean swallowed, suddenly feeling very awkward as silence hung thick in the air.  

“I mean…just if you want to, that is,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously as he felt his ears grow hot.

Cas blinked.  “Certainly.  You know I love burgers, Dean.”

Dean stared at him, then chuckled awkwardly, not really processing that he’d just said yes.  “Yeah, that’s, uh.  Kinda why I asked.”

There was a long silence before Cas offered, “Shall we go now, or…?” 

Dean blinked, still in a haze as he registered the question.  “No no.  I mean, uh.  We can if you want to, but I was kinda thinking we could go tomorrow night.”  He swallowed, palm rubbing over his trachea.  “Y’know.  Make a date of it.” 

Dean chuckled awkwardly again as Cas’s eyes widened, expression unreadable.  He was peripherally aware of Sam’s comically baffled facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  He looked as though if you poked him with your finger, he would fall over. 

Finally, Cas said quietly.  “I would love that, Dean.”

“…Great.”  Dean cleared his throat, nodding slowly.  A nervous smile spread over his face.  “Great!  Uh, tomorrow at eight, then?”

“That would be wonderful, Dean.”  

Dean had to resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.  Everything about this was incredible.  The fact that he’d just asked Cas out on a date.  The fact that he’d said ‘yes.’  The way Cas said his name. 

Dean.  Dean.  Dean.  

Dean thought he could listen to that voice say his name forever and never get tired of it.

He and Cas sat there in mutually baffled silence for a moment or two longer, before Sam’s exhausted, relieved sigh broke the spell.

“Fucking finally.

Can we help Mark see something?

Mark has mentioned that there will be a charity live stream soon, but he doesnt know for what yet.

My father has had a debilitating disease for 11 years now: Multiple Sclerosis. He is on ventilator, trachea, oxygen and feeding tube, plus a slew of other machines he needs to ensure his health. I was 5 when he was diagnosed, so I’ve never known him when he was healthy.

He hasn’t walked in seven years and likely never will again. As of 2017, there is no working and/or available cure for MS.

So, I would really appreciate if Mark’s next charity live stream could go to some kind of Multiple Sclerosis research? Yes, those other causes are noble, but I’d really love to see this disease get some representation, as it’s basically been swept under the rug. In my 16 years, I’ve read exactly one article about it in the normal media, and I know no one in my entire circle of people I’ve met who even knows it’s a disease.

Mark has greatly helped me cope with my dad’s illness, and I’d really love to see it recognized by someone who has a big following, maybe it could kick start some kind of research? Maybe I’m overly hopeful, but this has been my dream since 2014.

@markiplier I’d really love it if you considered.

Other Markiplites, could you maybe reblog this into the markiplier tag so he could see this? I’d appreciate any help you could give.

Basics for the Wards: Reading a Chest X Ray

Chest X-rays (aka CXR) are one of the most basic imaging studies done in medicine. Almost every hospitalized patient has one and you will see hundreds of them by the time you finish med school.

But it was be super easy to get distracted by the huge glaring pathology (like a giant mass) that you miss other pathology (like a broken clavicle). So, like with reading EKGs, it’s best to have an algorithm you run through for every CXR so you don’t miss anything.

Disclaimer: Again, this is just a general introduction with some basics to help you start out on wards. There is a lot more to interpreting chest x-rays that what I mention, that is why radiologists are awesome.

First: What is the view- is it AP (front to back) or PA (back to front)? Lateral CXRs are obvious.

PA

AP



If the patient is able to stand, a PA view is generally preferred. AP is generally when patients are confined to the bed- also you usually cannot diagnose cardiomegaly from an AP view because the heart is almost always bigger in this view. How do you tell the difference between them? Look at the scapula- in a PA view the scapula are usually clear of the lungs, whereas in an AP view the two generally overlap. Sometimes the clavicle positioning can be a good clue too- see the differences between the two?

Lateral

Second- what is the quality, because that can have a major effect on your interpretation. A good mnemonic is RIP.

- Rotation - Measure the distance of each clavicle from the spinous processes at that level, if they are equidistant then the patient is not rotated.

- Inspiration - If you can count nine posterior ribs within the lung fields before you reach the diaphragm, then there was enough inspiratory effort. Poor inspiratory effort will look like the patient has an airspace disease.
Note: Posterior ribs = more apparent, look more horizontal. Anterior ribs = less visible, 45ish degree angle towards feet

- Penetration - With flawless penetration, you should be able to see the thoracic spine through the heart.

Underpenetration= Left hemidiaphragm and left lung base will not be visible, and pulmonary markings will appear more prominent than they actually are. Ahhhh!!!!

Overpenetration= what is even happening here

OK, now you’re ready to see what is going on with the patient. I suggest the systematic approach, which has the handy mnemonic ABCDE= airway, bones, cardiac, diaphragm, everything else (lungs). I’m not going to go into all the pathology associated with everything, because that would take forever.

- Airway: Is the trachea patent and midline? Can you see the mainstem bronchi and the carina? If there is an endotracheal tube in place, make sure that it is 3-4 cm above the carina. Also check to make sure the mediastinum is not deviated or abnormally wide.

- Bones: Is anything broken or dislocated? Any lytic lesions? 

- Cardiac: How clear is the cardiac silhouette? Is the heart enlarged? What about all the vessels- the aorta, SVC, IVC, etc. 

- Diaphragm: Is the right side higher than the left but not like wayyyy too much? Are the costophrenic angles clear (if not, could be an effusion!)? 

- Everything else: NOW you can look at the lungs. Is there an infiltrate or a mass? What about pneumothorax? Also check for you friendly neighborhood gastric air bubble, it’s supposed to be below the diaphragm. 

Easy enough, right? Good luck! 

glambertal  asked:

Im writing a character who is supposed to be an terrifyingly lethal fighter, so I'm wondering how it's possible to kill someone without a weapon (other than snapping a neck)

I’m tempted to be glib, and simply say that your character’s limbs and body are weapons, but let’s start by turning this one around.

First, snapping someone’s neck, the way you see in films, doesn’t work. You can annoy someone, and rack up an attempted murder charge, but it doesn’t actually work. That said, the list of things that can, in fact, kill someone is not short, ranging from blood chokes (where the attacker holds their opponent in a headlock which obstructs the carotid artery) to crushing the trachea, rupturing the kidney (though this one will take awhile), or any number of other attacks that will interrupt the victim’s ability to continue getting oxygen to their brain.

So, go back to that comment about your body being a weapon. It’s a concept that’s pretty easy to dismiss as pseudo-mysticism; doing that is a mistake. The important thing to take away from that phrase is the mindset. With enough creativity and dedication, just about anything can be a weapon. A character who’s willing to walk into a fight, grab their opponent by the skull and ram them face first onto a chunk of rebar is using weapons. They’re using their body and environment.

This is also where the idea of a character using a weapon being limited comes from. Again, it’s an idea that’s easy to dismiss as abstract philosophy, but it does reflect a kind of thinking that people, including writers, can trap themselves with. “I have a sword, therefore, I can…” as opposed to, “I have all these options to turn my enemies into meat pudding.”

I realize this isn’t, exactly, the catalogue of kill strikes you were hoping for. If you’re looking for more discussion on brutality and it’s psychological impact on combat, I would suggest you take a look at our The Only Unfair Fight tag.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

anonymous asked:

hiii do u know any good auror!harry/healer!draco fics?

Sure, though one or two of these are past Auror!Harry, they still made the list bc i love them a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hello, China! by Nattish (19k)

In a world where Voldemort has been defeated but the Death Eaters remain at large, Harry Potter is a war colonel leading a regiment across Muggle Eurasia. When he’s injured in the line of duty, he refuses treatment from anyone except Healer Malfoy, who is befuddled but perfectly willing to find out what this means.
Featured Book: The Healer’s Helpmate

At the Crossroads There We’ll Meet by Firethesound (24k)

Potter keeps dying; Draco keeps saving him.

Bad Medicine by Playout (25k)
As an Auror, Harry is no stranger to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries but he has reached his limit with his confidential information appearing in the Prophet after every visit. He’s angry enough to give even his childhood nemesis’s private practice a go. At least if Harry’s secrets show up in the paper now, he’ll know who to hex.

And Back Again (Where You Belong) by Eidheann (15k)
He thought back on their previous handshakes, and smiled faintly at the fact they always seemed to mean so much more to him than they did to Potter.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (131k)
Draco Malfoy wouldn’t go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can’t control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by Eidheann and Firethesound (36k)
After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry’s life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Pharynx-Larynx-Oesophagus-Trachea by Firethesound (11k)
Harry’s idea for helping Draco study is the most brilliant thing he’s ever come up with, and Draco discovers that studying can be fun when one has the right study partner.

A Future Unknown by Omi_Ohmy (25k)
Draco had always thought that the ability to see the future would have saved him a lot of grief. The choices are no easier, however, when he is cursed to see an endless set of futures featuring Harry Potter. 
Featured Book: Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks

Broken Dreams by Queenie_Mab (30k)
When Healer Malfoy answers an Auror field emergency summons, being stuck experiencing Harry Potter’s memories while he sleeps is not at all what he wants to be doing, but it seems that the curse that joins them is only the tip of the crime about to be unravelled.

Misplaced Memories by Dacro (38k)
Harry is hit by an unknown curse and loses eighteen years of his memories. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember magic, Hogwarts or that he’s happily married to a former Death Eater. Draco struggles to adapt to the changes and tries to help Harry retrieve his memories without causing further damage.

Date Blindness by Dysonrules (23k)
Harry was perfectly happy with his life until Hermione decided to set him up on a blind date. 

Doctor! Doctor! (Is this love I’m feeling?) by Khasael (20k)
For the first time ever, Harry agrees to seek medical help when he feels ill. His Auror colleagues are amazed, and most of the St Mungo’s staff are starstruck, but when it keeps happening, Draco suspects Harry has a hidden agenda. And he’s right.

Sex on Fire by Gypsyflame (11k)
A life-threatening injury brings Malfoy back into Harry’s life.

The Peacock Paladin and the King of the Emerald Court by Megyal (11k)
Harry suffers from chronic headaches, and it affects his work and relationships. New pain-management techniques (and their provider) may just be the relief his life needs.

Fight the Starless Midnight by Maab_Connor (21k)
Harry thought that he was going to arrest Healer Malfoy for practicing without a license. Nothing ever goes as planned.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any Drarry one shot which are also very smutty?

Eighth Year

Slip into my Lover’s Hands (lumosed_quill, 6k): Harry and Draco shag for the first time in the Prefects’ Bathroom, and it’s absolutely lovely. 

Draco Malfoy is NOT Attractive & Harry Potter is an Arrogant Prick (sophiefrench77, 6.5k together): Harry and Draco find themselves increasingly drawn to each other, despite their protestations to the contrary.

An Old Habit (fireflavored, 9k): After seeing a leather-clad Draco at Platform 9 ¾, Harry sneaks into Draco’s compartment on the Hogwarts Express. 

How to Handle an Enemy & Turnabout is Fair Play (who_la_hoop, 18k together): The Slytherins play Truth or Dare, and Draco gets in over his head. Like all good Slytherin games, it’s replete with emotional manipulation and epic wankfests.

The Flame (GoldenSkies, 2.5k): After being told to do more things for himself, Harry starts sleeping with Draco.  

Draco at Nineteen (birdsofshore, 5k): Draco’s turning 19 and is going through a rough time of it, so future Harry (who’s dating Draco) uses a time turner to visit him on his birthday and help him… relax.

Simulacrum & Finders Keepers (slashpervert, 8k): Draco decides to make a replica of his cock (that’s linked to him, so he feels what it feels) and sends it anonymously to Harry. 

Hate Sex

Anger Management (jad, 3k): Harry and Draco are both stuck in Grimmauld Place, and their fighting and propensity to shove each other against walls has a most satisfying conclusion. 

Hurt for the Right Reasons (traintracks, 4.5k): After getting into a fight during a Quidditch match, Harry and Draco have angry shower sex.  

Wands Away (lumosed_quill, 3k): During Auror training, Harry and Draco’s hand-to-hand combat proves to be a little too stimulating.

Public Sex

Harry Potter is a Dirty Exhibitionist (@eidheann, 13k): Draco and Harry start hooking up all over the place: under the stands at Quidditch matches, the work showers, china cabinets, and so on.  

Rather Than Love (birdsofshore, 7k): Draco gives Veritaserum to Harry (with his consent), then asks him to discuss their love life in front of strangers. 

It’s the Love of the Chase (That Created the Ride) (lumosed_quill, 14k): Harry and Draco are Auror partners and find that the adrenaline rush of their missions translates quite nicely into other domains. 

In the Toilet of the Leaky (marguerite_26, 3k): The title says it all: Harry and Draco shag in the toilet of the Leaky Cauldron. 

The Risk of Exposure (marguerite_26, 6.5k): After inadvertently finding out that Harry likes exhibitionism as much as he does, Draco begins popping up all over the place and encouraging Harry to put on a show.

Perverse but Lovely (traintracks, 1k): Harry and Draco start off heir day right with a quick, dirty shag in the Ministry bathroom. 

Enjoy the Show (Judgment, 3k): Harry had only come to the library to study. It’s not his fault that Draco chose to sit across from him and start to wank. 

Hung!Drarry 

Hung Like a Horntail (lumosed_quill, 2k): Draco becomes obsessed with Harry’s cock and will not rest until he’s tested it out thoroughly. 

If the Cock Fits (tryslora, 6k): Draco got drunk and lost his virginity to the “perfect cock,” and is now plowing his way through Wizarding society to try to find it again. It’s like the dirtiest version of Cinderella imaginable. 

Endowment (@dictacontrion, 11k): Featuring a hung!Draco who’s preparing Harry most carefully for his cock. How delicious.  

Unbuttoned (eidheann, 6k): Under the guise of needing help picking out a gift for Narcissa, Harry takes Draco out on a date and then musses him up. 

BDSM Fun

Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum (lettered, 18k): Draco spikes their wine with Veritaserum so they have to speak openly about their deepest, darkest fantasies. 

Rough Magic (birdsofshore, 28k): Draco’s magic is going wild, and Harry finds himself unable to resist getting swept up in its feral, primal energy. 

Unknown Pleasures (birdsofshore, 8k): Harry is a bit startled when he walks into the Room of Requirement and is greeted with Draco and walls of sex toys. Startled, but intrigued. 

Tease (Viridescence, 3k): Draco’s been teasing Harry all night, so Harry decides to punish him most deliciously.   

Making a Politician Shut Up: A Lover’s Guide (Lokifan, 7.5k): Harry helps Draco unwind from his day with the help of gags and spanking.

Established Relationship Sexiness

Remote (Sara Holmes, 7.5k): Harry and Draco’s fight over the remote has quite the happy ending (technically, they’re roommates and not boyfriends here)

Pharynx-Larynx-Oesophagus-Trachea (firethesound, 11.5k): When Draco has to study for an anatomy exam, Harry is quite eager to give him some hands-on experience. 

Because He Wants To (gracerene, 2k): A beautiful example of praise kink and how powerful it can be, especially for Harry and Draco.

Three Potters (Faith Wood, 2k): Draco uses a Patented Daydream Charm to shag three Harrys at once. So it’s a Draco/Harry/Harry/Harry foursome. Aw yeah! 

Afternoon Delight (harry_holidays, 4.5k): They decide to take advantage of Harry’s empty flat by shagging in the kitchen. 

tantalum-cobalt  asked:

If you have time / still want to, I'd love to see some fluffy Tim & Damian being brotherly in public. Maybe at a party or some kind of WE event where the media is watching them all closely so they have to play nice? Or the media hassling one of them and the other coming to the rescue?

Turned out kinda less-fluffy than I’d maybe meant it to be—it’s set in a time period wherein they’re still kind of not-good with each other. But hopefully you’ll enjoy. :)


“Tim.”

Bruce’s urgent hiss made Tim snap his head up from the technically-illegal champagne he’d been halfheartedly eyeing all evening in the vague hope that it might make the party slightly more tolerable. His eyes widened; his adopted father’s tie was missing and his shirt collar was askew, and he was about as non-death-related frantic as Tim had ever seen him outside the cowl, so he stuck the champagne flute somewhere behind him onto what he hoped was a table and hurried over to Bruce.

“What is it? Is it a vill—what…” Tim stopped short with a slight gasp now that he was up close. “Is that…lipstick?”

Keep reading

Breathe like a pug.

Pugs and their brachycephalic brethren have a long list of problems, but lets just talk about their airway for a second.

Pugs and other flat-faced dogs have, to varying extents, brachycephalic syndrome. The short version is that these dogs breathe REALLY badly. The long version is that they have up to half a dozen things wrong with their airway that narrows it.

Try this experiment: find yourself a straw, any will do, and breathe through it.
Only breathe through the straw. Try breathing quicker or slower and see how that feels.

How long does it take to become uncomfortable? Do you feel that instant relief when you finally breathe normally?

This is what it feels like for brachycephalic dogs to breathe. This is their reality. Their airway is narrowed, like yours was with the straw. They live like this. We breed them like this.

The sensation you were feeling is called air hunger. It’s beginning to be discussed more often as a welfare issue.

Brachycephalic syndrome consists of a number of abnormalities. Stenotic nares (closed nostrils) can be improved surgically, and affected dogs can still breathe through the mouth. A long soft palate reduces the diameter of the airway, and again can be improved surgically. The everted saccules, which may reduce the diameter of the airway by 50%, can also be removed surgically.

But you cannot fix the hypoplastic trachea. The dog’s windpipe may only be a fifth of the diameter it should be, perpetually restricting the dog’s breathing. They are forever forced to breathe through that straw. There’s nothing you can do about it.

A dog should have a nose. The disturbing trend of breeding flatter faced dogs has reduced the size if the skull, but hasn’t reduced the size of the tongue and soft tissues of the head. This flesh has nowhere to go, except to crowd the airway. Some pugs have so little nasal space that their nasal turbinates, the fine bones inside the nose responsible for the dog’s sense of smell, actually protrude backwards into the pharynx. Up to 30% of pugs were affected in one study.

Look at these skulls, one pug and one airedale terrier. 

The pug’s bones are smaller, and there’s less space within the skull, but both dogs will have the same amount of flesh on the head. On the terrier it will be fairly normal. On the pug it’s packed in like a sleeping bag.

Consider how far their tongue protrudes. That’s how long their skull should really be to be ‘normal’. That’s how much nose is missing.

A dog needs a nose. These free spirits deserve to be able to breathe freely. We should not be breeding dogs to have flat faces because we like the look of it.

If you think we should, then go breathe through a straw.

For twelve years.

Drarry fic rec

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Turn by Saras_Girl

check this hand ‘cause I’m marvelous by lumosed_quill

Eternally Consistent by kitsunealyc

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster

Reparations by Saras_Girl

Ferocious Determination, Insufficient Deliberation, and a Slightly Wrong Destination by Faith Wood (faithwood)

Side-Along by lumosed_quill

Coffee, Cakes and Doorknob Snakes by Omi_Ohmy

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (faithwood)

1,000 Points From Gryffindor by blithelybonny

A Private Reason for This by Femme (femmequixotic) 

Pharynx-Larynx-Oesophagus-Trachea by firethesound

Lumos by birdsofshore

Dangerous by Faith Wood (faithwood)

A Convenient Impracticality by firethesound

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn’t Really Want, Thanks. by Seefin

Submission

Sorry but I couldn’t help myself!  In response to the de-aged Oro ask:

It starts subtly, as most things of the snakey persuasion do. In Kakashi’s defense, the days immediately after Lady Hokage handed him a fun-sized version of Konoha’s Number 1 Most Wanted claiming it absolutely wasn’t punishment (and flashing a saccharine smile that said yes, yes it was) were… ah… unusual. Unnerving. Terrifying.

(Insane mass murderers were par for the course considering Kakashi was a ninja but this was a tiny mass-murderer to be. A creepy tiny murder nugget in his house and hasn’t Kakashi already paid his dues? Hasn’t his own crack at teaching pacified Minato-sensei’s ghost? Or is this Kushina-san’s retribution? It seems like a thing she’d do.)

So in light of the fact that walking into his kitchen to find Killy McShrimpy carefully emptying 6 year old seasonings into the sink to make room for powdered extract of melt-your-trachea was Kakashi’s new normal, he might be forgiven for taking a day or two to notice the scarf.

“He’s cold?” Kakashi offers a bit lamely. His lizard brain would light up in gibbering terror at Sakura and Ino’s matching expressions, if not for the fact that SlaughterLite now shared his bathroom and ‘gibber’ was a fairly standard state. “Snakes are cold blooded?”

“That’s definitely not it,” Sakura declares, and Ino immediately agrees. What are you doing here, Kakashi wonders. Don’t you have a life? You should get one. Somewhere else. Please. Kakashi is viciously disappointed in the Yamanaka’s clear inability to read his mind.

(StabbyMeal, as if made of nothing but spite, tugs his dark blue scarf more firmly across his nose. Both women make a soppy, sloshy kind of sound. Kakashi hopes they’re not contagious.)

Another half hour of pokes and prods and chakra twisted in simply unnatural ways and Sakura declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. And worse, Ino declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. Apparently its now a thing where they won’t lock you up for literally all the illegal if you just don’t remember doing it, and also are now a 6 year old.

“Are you sure?” He whines. Nobody pays him any attention. Instead they are patting murdercheeks and stroking murderhair and exclaiming enviously over tiny perfect murdereyelashes. Psycholet endures it with the longsuffering patience of something that routinely uses it’s shiny scales to tempt honest folk close enough to stab in the back. (Well. At least that Kakashi doesn’t have to worry about any more. Mid-thigh at best.)

And so the sudden incidence of scarves wound around half a tiny head is barely a blip on the radar.

But then there’s the shirt.

(What? No. Why?)

“Sensei was saving it to make a quilt as a wedding gift, if you ever got married,” Tenten explains as if that made any of this any better at all. (It doesn’t, even a little bit. And Kakashi had thought she was the sensible one.)

“What? No. Why?”

“You probably threw it away when you grew out of it,” Tenten continues, as if picturing Gai rummaging through his garbage instead of breaking into his house and raiding his storage made any of this better at all. “And since sensei had planned to use it in celebration of a new chapter in your life…”

What? No. Why?

It’s bagged, and stamped with a date that would have put Kakashi at 7 years old. He feels distinctly stalked.

Naturally, Nightmare on Sesame Street loves it.

It’s a size and a half too big for him, just enough for him to weaponize the air of waifishness loitering about his skinny arms and neck, but still small enough that the tiny built in mask doesn’t slide down his face. Tenten and Sakura and Ino all make the sloshy noise. It is contagious after all.

“You look just like Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura chirps in that one voice that means evil and humiliation. The Tadpole of Death turns bright, bright red. Kakashi isn’t quite sure, but something tells him up to that moment he had yet to taste true terror.

(What? No.)

anonymous asked:

Hi, when i adopted my dog they said to get a martingale collar for her, because she pulls on the leash, so they said it would good. I just have weird feelings about the collar because it pulls on her neck. Is the martingale collar good or something you recommend or not?

Martingales are designed to prevent a dog from slipping out if their collar. It does not choke them, it just tightens up on the slack so if your houdini decides to do the ol’ back up and slip out move, the collar stays on. They are not intended to be training collars. My dog wears one cause he’s fancy. His neck is so long that 1/2″ collars look weird on him, so i’m now addicted to 2″ collars with cute designs!

Back to the point. Whatever you use must be intended as a stepping stone. Your goal can be a nylon collar, rolled leather, or martingale (brachycephalic breeds need harnesses) but these are for dogs who do not pull. You do not want flat pressure around the neck, it will damage the trachea. 

So you try out whichever method you deem fit for your dog & pair it with training. There is no right answer, your dog will be different from everyone else’s. Some people will encourage their methods over others, but ultimately it is what works for your dog.

It is important to know that every tool that is used to prevent pulling is considered an aversive technique. Positive punishment. You are providing an unpleasant response to an undesired behavior. Whether thats a head collar, neck collar, or body harness. So in order to prevent yourself from relying on these methods, you must pair commands with your leash walks. 

Dogs do not know how long the leash is, especially since you’re constantly moving. So when you give them a correction the instant they pull, they aren’t really getting the message. You’re being reactive, instead of proactive, and that can get confusing. Dogs pull because it usually gets them what they want. They want to get to that tree, and if they yank your arm, they get to go there! So you need to first remember that you are walking your dog for them, not for yourself, and use the privilege to smell as a motivator. If your dog pulls, then he does not get to smell that tree, but if he walks nicely - then you need to reward him by letting him smell the tree. A walk where you go around the block with no interruptions may sound nice to you, but it is torture for your dog! So many smells! Sights! Sounds! And you’re just going to go back home!? What is their incentive to not take control and make you stop at every fire hydrant?!?

Alright, so what to do? You simply give them a warning before they’re about to reach the end of the leash. Let them know that the end is near! What happens after your warning is strictly up to you and what works for your dog. You can change directions, stop in your tracks, or give a correction. I tell Charlie “easy” when he gets close to the end, and he almost always slows down right before he pulls. We tried every other method out there before he finally got the picture. Neck collars, harnesses, head collars… some work wonders for dogs, and some can actually make the pulling worse!

But ultimately, you can’t just rely on your tool to do the work for you. Nothing out there can actually teach your dog not to pull, because the second you remove that device - they’re going to pull! 

I’ll give you my go-to analogy. You’re in your car on the freeway, most likely you’re going to speed a little bit, speeding gets you where you want to go, faster. Now you’re on the freeway but there is a police officer nearby, you cannot speed without being negatively impacted. So when the collar is on, the dog is going to listen, when the collar is off… he probably wont. Why? Because the only incentive to not speed is to not get a ticket, but what if there was a reward for not speeding. Every time you went the speed limit, you got to get something you desired! Well then i’m sure a lot more people would go the speed limit!

(TLDR;)
Ok, enough cheesy analogies. The point is, teaching your dog not to pull takes training. There is no collar out there that is going to teach your dog anything, they are just band-aids. Your goal is to no longer need them after a period of time. But, some dogs have underlying reactivity issues and may never be able to walk nicely on a leash. Just because it can be simple, doesn’t mean it is for everyone. There are those who rely on their gear without even trying to train, but there are dogs who are either in the middle of training, or are not responding to training, that have to use this stuff. What i mean is, not every dog learns the same way. Just because you may have trained a dog once and it was super easy, doesn’t mean that all dogs are super easy. I have met Golden Retrievers that will make you want to cry and don’t even care - they just do not respond to positive reinforcement, and that is certainly not typical for the breed. So anyone with a Golden Retriever can scoff and say well MY Golden Retriever was walking nicely on a leash at 6 months. That means nothing! Stop judging!

Fanfiction - He Who Loves Him (College AU)

All my fanfiction here

He Who Loves Him

Claire was brushing her teeth, silently going over every possible therapeutic scheme for a pneumonia – she had a pharmacology test later that week -, when her phone buzzed inside her pocket.

“Going for an early session with JG, need to train our plays. Meet me there later, Snch? Love u. XO”

The image of John Grey the previous night, his unshielded emotions pouring out, came to her mind with the impact of a slap. Could she be wrong? She didn’t think so. In that fraction of time John had laid down his guard, totally exposed as his heart called out for Jamie’s. She knew that look – had surprised it enough times while looking into the mirror or gazing at Jamie’s eyes since that first night, months ago.

Was Jamie aware of his affections? That issue was even more complicated. He was a sensitive and wise man – Claire highly doubted he would proposedly seek John’s company so often, knowing that it might encourage him somehow. Knowing that, deep down, every time they stood close he was teasing John. No – she was fairly sure Jamie had no clue. Besides, she was confident he would have shared any thoughts of that nature with her.

It was like holding a grenade – a weapon of destruction had been bestowed into her care and now she had to decide what to do with it – she could almost feel it, throbbing dangerously in her hand with each passing second. Should she share her suspicions with Jamie? The repercussions of that discovery floated in front of her eyes, as ripples of a disturbance in the water. Perhaps she ought to remain silent and wait for things to unfold as they would? Perchance knowing his feelings unreciprocated, Grey would slowly forget Jamie?

Slowly she typed her answer and hit send, her chest heavy as a quarry. “See you then. XX”

She went to the library in search of some articles, needed to complete her essay on the benefits of breast cancer screening. All the time, while she perused the books and medical publications in search of helpful materials, a permanent weight was trapped inside her, like a vine around her trachea and lungs, threatening to suffocate her – the burden of secrets kept and the clairvoyance of pain to come.

“Claire!” Ian called her with urgency, hurriedly walking along the corridor of bookcases. He was almost breathless and he had a deep crease on his forehead. “A Dhia! I’ve been searching everywhere for ye. Something happened.”

“Jamie.” She whispered, dropping a pile of books on the floor, her lips numb. “What is it, Ian? What happened?”

“He is alright.” Ian comforted her, but his lips were twisted in apprehension. “But he punched John Grey – hit him pretty badly.”

“What?!” Claire asked, astonished. She grabbed Ian by the shoulders and shook him slightly, as if panning gold from a river. “But they are friends.”

“Well…” Ian swallowed hard and blushed like a lobster under the influence of the cooker. “Apparently Grey kissed him in front of the whole team.”

****

Claire found him sitting – of rather collapsed - on the lawn of the nearby park – usually a perfect hiding place, if not for the gossip that followed him and made him as easy to trace as a fugitive kangaroo.

“Have you come here to yell at me?” John asked, his eyes caught in the distant flock of birds, raiding the top of the trees like a heavenly army, flaunting their freedom with a stroke of wings. “God I wish they’d stop doing that.” He grumbled, as a couple of girls blatantly pointed in his direction from afar, their laughs clear as seagulls’ cries calling for a storm at sea.

“You kissed my boyfriend.” Claire said in a conversational tone while she sat next to him on the grass, folding her legs in a meditation position. “The thought of giving a shout or two has crossed my mind. Don’t you think I’m entitled to it? Or being a boy is supposed to offer you some privileges?”

“I was thinking you’d find it ridiculous enough to pity me.” He snorted, brushing his knuckles. He was sporting an impressive black eye, as if something had started to rot from the inside out, hidden truths closer to the surface of the skin. “I’m not your rival, Claire – never will be.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about your feelings, John.” She said softly, brushing away a stubborn curl waving like a flag on the breeze. “I hope you know that.”

“Jamie didn’t seem to agree.” John closed his eyes and grimaced. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you in any way, Claire. I know what you are – who you are – to him.”

“So what did you mean?” She waited patiently as his fingers played with a solitary dandelion, an outcast amongst the green blades of grass, akin to himself.

“I’m in love with him.” He whispered, his ears acquiring a faint pinkish tone – his light blue eyes serious and tormented. Was it the first time he admitted it out loud? “I had promised myself I would never act upon it – would never sought nothing more than his friendship. I was decided to cherish whatever he chose to give me as my most precious gift.”

“What changed, then?” Claire nodded, observing as an ant made its way across her finger, tickling her with its infinitesimal steps – unbelievingly strong by nature’s standards and yet so fragile had she chosen to crush it.  

“He was so happy after practice today – so hopeful for the Championships next week.” John explained in a choked voice, shrugging. “For a moment I lost track of reality – I was entangled in the fantasy that I could be part of his elation. I kissed him because I forgot myself.”

“I understand.” She gently placed the ant on the ground beside her, contemplating as it continued its previous path, undisturbed. “I do.” She repeated, noticing his sideways glance of doubt. “I know how easy it is to love him. I could never reproach you for that.”

“Yes.” John bit his lip, until a drop of blood was formed underneath his teeth – as if he had been kissed by an angry deity, marking him for the ultimate sacrifice. His voice was low and almost angry – not with her but with himself; with the temptations of loving a man beyond his reach. “And how hard is it to laugh with him and not touch him? To hear him talk and not kiss him to drink down his words – ever thirsty, ever wanting? This mark,” He brushed the bruise on his face with moving tenderness, as a caress of a lover. “It’s the closest thing I’ll ever have of his touch on me.”

“You took him by surprise.” Claire watched as he finally crushed the dandelion bellow his trembling fingers, annihilating the part of himself that stood out from the crowd. “I’m sure that’s why he hit you.”

“Perhaps.” The young man laughed – a short and forced sound, like thousands of cries trapped bellow his ribs, cracking every vessel, every organ, wide open. “But now I lost him forever. I won’t have him in any capacity – and I don’t think I can live with that notion. He demanded that I never speak to him again – or even call him Jamie. I feel small and pathetic as only loveless beings can be.”

They sat in silence for a while, strange companions linked by the shared love of a single man – one heart sure and complete reaching out to glue the shards of one irredeemably broken. Claire felt a million different emotions, battling inside her mind like opposing armies, until she was ready to surrender to a numbing conclusion – part of her mourning for John’s uncorresponded love; another screaming in blasphemy at him, who had dared to steal a kiss promised only to her.  

“I’m sorry I told you these things.” John whispered, as shadows grew around them, finally making him invisible to unwelcome eyes. “It can’t be easy hearing another soul lusting after what is rightfully yours. How do you feel about all this?”

“Sad.” Claire said in a soft tone and then, looking to him with sincerity written all over her face. “Avenged.”

****

She knew where to find him – there was only one place on campus that could ease his troubled soul, where he would go to release his consuming thoughts.

Claire entered the locker room without knocking on the door – it was late and any practice had surely ended hours ago. He was there, sitting on the bench, a towel draped around his shoulders – he looked worn out and battered. His fast breathing was the only audible sound besides her own steps – he had been working out, probably repeating the dynamics she had witnessed the day she first saw him. Once upon a time he had been consumed with the desire of being better, of overcoming himself – now he was using the same tactics to run away from things that awaited on the inside, dreary and haunting.

“I’ve been looking for you.” She said softly, coming closer to him. “I thought you would come to me after what happened.”

“I needed to think.” Jamie looked at her with troubled eyes. “Besides, I dinna know what ye’d feel - and think - about all of this.”

“I think you’re hurt.” She whispered, her thumb touching her silver ring for strength – it seemed like a lifetime ago, the night he had given it to her, the fountain singing around them. “And you shouldn’t be alone.” Jamie glared at her and his lips contorted in agony.

“Ye knew.” He affirmed – almost accused – in a raw voice, his eyes drifting away from her face. “Didn’t ye?”

“I did.” Claire admitted, leaning against the lockers behind her.

“Why didn’t ye tell me?” Jamie asked, cleaning the sweat of his brow with a towel. “I thought we had honesty between us, Claire.”

“We do.” She inhaled deeply. “Between us. This had nothing to do with me, Jamie – it was not my place to tell you of those suspicions. What if I had been wrong?”

Ifrinn! I would have been prepared.” He hissed, throwing the towel on the floor. “I wouldna have been caught unaware like a blind fool.”

“I am sorry.” She breathed, sitting on the bench – keeping a respectful distance from him. “I didn’t want to torture you with things that might never come to pass. And John, he…”

“Dinna say his name to me!” Jamie spat out, closing his fists over his knees. “I should have killed the man.”

“I know you didn’t punch him because he likes men.” Claire said evenly. “I know you Jamie. You’re better than any of those prejudices.”

“He touched me against my will!” He snickered. “And you think I’m not entitled to be outraged?”

“I’m sure you are.” She conceded, leaning over to search for his eyes. “But that is not all of it, is it?”

“I hurt him because he betrayed me, Claire.” He said between his teeth, sounding as broken and ruined as John had sounded earlier. “I opened up with him. Told him personal things, allowed him inside – and he used it to get close to me. He abused my trust.”

“That’s not all of it either, is it?” Claire demanded, sliding from her seat and kneeling in front of him – she held his hands on hers, battered and swollen knuckles as medals of sorrow, and felt the tremor in his body. “Tell me, Jamie. Why are you like this?”

“I’m angry because he got hurt!” He yelled, his fist releasing form her grip and hitting the locker next to him with a bang. “He left me no other choice! And now we canna go back and pretend this never happened, Claire.”

“You lost him too.” She realized, licking her lips, watching his blue eyes moist and fierce. “But you can still amend things.”

“He robbed me of something.” He shook his head, his hands finding their way to her face, as he held on to her. “I’m yers, Claire. I dinna want to belong to anyone else, ever again – he had no right to endanger that. If ye had suspected me or heard what people are saying…I canna breathe thinking I could lose ye.”

“I’d sooner doubt my heart than yours, Jamie.” She assured him, cradling his head between her hands.  “Trust me in this – as I’ve trusted you. I will only believe that I don’t hold your heart the day you tell me so, yourself. Nothing else on this earth can part me from you.”

“Claire.” Jamie whispered, tugging her closer. “Claire, I need ye so.”

She allowed him to claim her body there and then – pressing her against him in an urgency that was a coronation of his fears. And while he sought reassurance of his rightful place, she prayed for those who would never know such love, alone in the darkness outside of a healing heart.

anonymous asked:

I once read a story (that claimed to be based on a true one but, well, grain of salt) where a character got hit in the throat by a rock and lost their voice permanently, thus becoming mute. Is that kind of thing possible? Could there be any injury/illness to the throat that would only damage the, I guess vocal chords, without screwing up everything else?

COMBINED WITH: 

Anonymous said:

Can someone permanently lose their voice if they have their throat slashed? Would that cause other permanent issues? 


Hey nonny. I’m getting a lot of questions on traumatic muteness, so let’s rap a bit. 

Yes, I would believe a blunt injury to the throat causing vocal cord damage. Here’s why. 

The vocal cords sit in a cage made of cartilage (specifically, the thyroid cartilage). 

That shield-looking  thing in the middle? That’s where the vocal cords hang out. It’s pretty well protected from slashing trauma. 

However, blunt trauma can crush, or at least partially damage, the thyroid cartilage – and thus alter the shape and length of the cords. It’s not impossible for the vocal cords to be damaged in such a way that they can no longer produce vocalizations, or at least, in the same ways that the character would use them before. 

With slashing it’s a little less likely, but still not at all impossible. 

Slashing the throat usually doesn’t affect the cartilaginous cage at all. Usually when someone gets their “throat” slashed, the affected area is the trachea below the level of the cords, meaning that the vocal cords themselves aren’t affected. 

But what often happens with that is that the trachea gets opened and breath comes out through the new hole rather than going through the mouth. Air will follow the shortest path of least resistance, which can mean “oh look new hole!”. Basically, the character has gotten a stoma from an unlicensed medical professional. 

What’s usually done in that case is that the unlicensed stoma just gets corrected into a full tracheostomy by the trauma team, so that they have someplace to breathe through. (I’m a BIG fan of just shoving an endotracheal tube into these injuries and rolling right along with them.) 

But having a trach in place still makes it hard to speak, because remember, the air still wants to come out of the hole in the front of the neck. So many (not all, but many) trach patients have to hold their finger over their trach, exhale, and then speak on the exhale. It takes more work and  more effort. 

Could a character lose their voice from a slashing injury? Yes, but it’s a lot more difficult. Could they lose it from a blunt injury? Absolutely. Would your audience likely believe either? I’m pretty sure they would. 

Best of luck to the both of you! 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

(Samantha Keel)

disclaimer    

Shape the blog. See the future. Have you considered becoming a clairvoyant?

Free eBook: 10 BS “Medical” Tropes that Need to Die TODAY!