#rubber diaphragm

[harkeshrubber]

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[publicuniversalenemy]

yay!!!!! i dont have to drop a couple hundred dollars on a new stethoscope!!! wahoo!!!

[alfarubberar]

Diaphragm Layer in rubber - Size doesn’t matter

Alfa Rubber is an ISO certified company offering immediate delivery of rubber products in large and small quantities and different sizes based on client requirement. https://alfarubber.com/quality-systems/

[svhitechbearings]

Rubber diaphragm?Image result for RUBBER DIAPHRAGMA rubber diaphragm is a flexible membrane that's usually circular in shape and anchored around the edges. The main function of a diaphragm is to act as a seal between two chambers. Rubber diaphragms come in a huge variety of shapes and sizes, as well as custom moulded diaphragm configurations.rubber diaphragms made?Moulding process of rubber moulding of rubber and elastomer compounds for the rubber diaphragms is achieved by using heat and pressure to push the substance into a shape. Compression, transfer and injection methods can be used to mold rubber diaphragms of elastomers.Diaphragm and why is it used? The diaphragm, located below the lungs, is the major muscle of respiration. It is a large, dome-shaped muscle that contracts rhythmically and continually, and most of the time, involuntarily. Upon inhalation, the diaphragm contracts and flattens and the chest cavity enlarges.material is used for diaphragm?These materials can be grouped into three primary families: rubber, thermoplastic elastomer(TPE) and polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE). These primary materials are available in a variety of designs – each offering unique benefits depending on the application and the characteristics of the product being pumped.diaphragm?The diaphragm is a thin skeletal muscle that sits at the base of the chest and separates the abdomen from the chest. It contracts and flattens when you inhale. This creates a vacuum effect that pulls air into the lungs. When you exhale, the diaphragm relaxes and the air is pushed out of lungs.diaphragms not used anymore?There's a reason diaphragms have been usurped by more popular birth control methods like the pill and IUD: they're not as effective at preventing an unintended pregnancy. Diaphragms used with spermicide are 88% effective. When used without spermicide, that number drops down to 80%.All reactions:11LikeCommentShare0 comments

[jayrockin]

I'm a little curious, how much of Talita's (or centaurs' in general) head and neck is fluff?

Just looking how deep into the fuzz her eyeglass strap sinks when she wears them kinda reminds me of owls, and it got me wondering.

(I remember seeing baby great gray owls at a zoo once. They were at the stage where the facial feather disc had already mostly grown in, but the rest of the head was still sparce baby fluff, and it made them look like they were missing the entire head behind the face. I'm kinda imagining a similar effect.)

Yeah, the back of a centaur's head is mostly air.

The long mane feathers mask the effect but the only significant organ back there is the vocal lungs, which can puff out the back of the neck even further. Centaurs visibly inhale into their neck before speaking (the effect is especially dramatic before shouting). Inflation is driven by the contraction of a muscle that connects a cartilaginous "diaphragm" to the rear crest of the skull. This lifts the diaphragm perpendicular to the neck and draws air into the lungs. I animated centaur respiration three years ago but the design of the vocal lungs has changed a little since then.... though the lungs still connect to massive sinuses behind the eyes.

Talita's glasses have a strap that sits between the notch created by the back of her skull and the vocal lung diagram. They also have some rubber grippy bands sewn into to keep it from sliding up her mane feathers. It works well enough.

[heich0e]

"Shhh.... shhh...."

The baby in your arms doesn't calm, even as you gently bounce him in time with your soft shushing. He's fussing, letting out shrill little cries of complaint and the occasional sob, his chubby cheeks flushed a harsh red and his round blue eyes welling with the glimmer of tears.

"Oh, poor baby," you whisper, running your fingertips through the dark, downy hair at your son's temple. He sniffles weakly, grabbing a fistful of your shirt and clutching it with all his might in his teeny tiny hand, another pained little whimper slipping out of his pursed lips.

You glance over to the other side of the nursery where Tobio stands, watching you with a concerned pinch to his expression, his hands unconsciously gripping the material of his sweatshirt over his diaphragm. His eyes—swimming with a palpable, but unspoken worry—are on the baby in your arms, and they don't waver.

Tobio hasn't calmed since he woke you frantically an hour prior.

"Hey..." his voice had called for you, crackling unmistakably with panic. You could feel the mattress dipping as he kneeled at the edge of your bed, an urging hand on your back to rouse you. "Please wake up."

Your son's cry was the next thing you registered—the piercing sound of your baby shrieking from a few rooms away. Tobio's frightened face met you when your eyes finally snapped open

"What is it?" you asked, sitting up suddenly in bed. Your voice was still thick with sleep, but you felt terribly, horribly awake in that moment—your husband's expression enough to startle you into the firm grip of consciousness, the prick of panic's gnarled claws spearing through you.

"There's something wrong with the baby," he had rasped next, and if you'd not immediately stumbled out of bed towards the nursery you might have caught the sight of tears beading on his lash line.

There isn't anything wrong with the baby, at least not anything serious, in spite of Tobio's initial panic. He is teething, though—rather intensely if the fierce red flush to his cheeks and his his tears are anything to go by—and nothing seems to be working to calm him down.

"It's okay, Tobio," you say softly to your husband, assuring him at the same time as you soothe your wailing 7-month-old with those continued gentle bouncing motions.

"He's so upset," Tobio replies quietly, swallowing hard. "I tried to calm him down but I didn't know what was wrong, and he—nothing I—he just—"

"Hey," you cross the nursery towards him, keeping baby tucked up against your shoulder and rocking him gently. "You didn't know. It's okay."

Regardless of your assurances, Tobio looks defeated.

"Tobi, why don't you go get one of his teething toys?" you suggest, shifting your son so you can get a better look at his distraught little face—rubbing your thumb against his chubby cheek to clear away some of his tears. He squirms in your arms in protest.

"Okay," the man beside you replies immediately, his head bobbing in a nod. He heads hastily towards the door.

"Maybe grab a cool compress for his cheeks too."

He nods again, dashing away.

"Poor little one," you sigh, cradling your baby to your chest as you tote him over to the chair in the far corner of his bedroom. "It must be so hard to be this small, huh?"

Tobio comes racing back into the room a few moments later, a variety of different teething toys and a baby-sized washcloth dampened with cool water in his hand.

"What's all this?" you ask him, watching as he drops his hoard of items on top of the dresser next to you.

"I wasn't sure which one he'd want," he says, looking down at the wide assortment of teething toys. He glances over at you sheepishly from the corner of his eye.

"Why don't you pick one out and see if he likes it," you say with a soft smile. Tobio nods resolutely, a determination in the set of his jaw. He looks down at the multitude of options he'd grabbed and considers them for a moment.

You watch as he reaches for one—a firm rubber toy shaped like a giraffe, designed for babies to chew on to soothe the ache of cutting teeth. You remember the day Tobio had picked it out, a look on his face not dissimilar to this one—intensely focused on the task—when your son still just a little bump, a fervent hope, hidden away under a Schweiden Adlers sweatshirt. You remember thinking the giraffe reminds you of the character on the milk he used to drink at lunch in high school, all those years ago.

He holds the toy up for you to see.

"I think that's a great one," you agree.

Hesitantly, Tobio approaches you and your baby in the chair, kneeling on the ground beside it. He slowly offers the little giraffe up to your son, whose eyes are heavy with the sleep that can't come to him through the pain of teething. The infant in your arms stops fussing momentarily, contemplating the toy held before his face with round, curious eyes.

He looks so much like Tobio.

You've thought it since the day he was born, but the fact becomes more true with every passing day. Sometimes you see a bit of yourself in his little face, an expression, or maybe something in the shape of his nose, but for the most part he's a carbon copy of his father.

But you don't really mind that.

Tobio watches with identically round blue eyes as your son pulls the slobbery little hand he'd been gnawing on from his mouth and uses it to reach for the toy. Both of you hold your breath.

He pops the giraffe immediately into his gummy mouth, head first.

It's too soon to breathe any real sigh of relief. You're both all too familiar with how quickly the tides of a baby's temperament can change—discontent flooding back violently just when you least expect it. But there's a palpable ease in both of you. A bit of the stress of the situation receding from the shore.

Tobio's eyes are still on your son, resting on your chest as he gums the toy his papa picked out for him. He's fussing less now, and when Tobio reaches up and gently pats the cool compress against his chubby, ruddy cheeks, the baby's eyes begin to slowly but surely flutter closed.

It's quiet in the nursery. Just the occasional gurgle, or slobbery little noise from the teething toy to be heard.

"He's so little," Tobio breathes, lifting the compress off baby's cheek now that it's mostly warmed through. He says it like he almost can't wrap his head around it, or that it's news to him, even though it's a remark he makes to you at least once a day—and has since the day your son was born.

"He is," you agree.

"I can't believe he won't always be this small," your husband goes on to add, and part of you wonders if this is the exhaustion talking. You stifle a laugh, letting your head loll against the back of the nursing chair to peer over at him.

"We'll miss this someday, y'know," you remark quietly, your tone a bit wry. And you mean it. All of it. Even the late nights and the loud crying and the panic.

The corner of Tobio's lips turn down ever so slightly, and you watch as he rubs at his chest, like it pains him.

"I feel like I already do sometimes," Tobio admits. "Like I miss him even though he's right there."

Your son's breathing has begun to slow to a normal, even pace, and his eyes have properly shut. You rub a little circle into his back with your thumb, your hand wide enough to span its width if you splay your fingers out.

Tobio looks at you with beseeching eyes. "Is that normal?"

You laugh lightly, reaching out to cup his cheek with the hand not holding your baby to your chest. He leans into your touch instinctively, his nose brushing against the heel of your palm as his eyes seek yours.

"I don't know," you admit to him quietly. After all, you're still new to this too. "Maybe."

Tobio nods a little with his face still cradled in your hand, his eyes fluttering down to your son once more.

And as you watch your husband carefully pry your sleeping son up from your chest and into his own arms; watch how he holds him in his big, big hands like there's nothing more precious in the world; watch how tenderly he sets him back into his crib, making sure the little giraffe is still safe in his little grip, a flash of pride behind his eyes at how attached the little boy is to the toy he chose for him; there's a warm, achy feeling that blooms underneath your ribs.

And you can't help but think that even if it isn't normal, you understand exactly what he means all the same.

[torturing-characters-101]

hi!! so, in my fantasy novel, my character gets stabbed through the lung; he survives, but suffers from a collapsed lung and his family believes he's dead. Eventually, he's taken as a prisoner of war (he's a king) they patch him up, and he ends up escaping. He then meets a woman in the woods, who lives in a village nearby, who tends to his wounds.

My first question is, in a medieval setting, how would they go about patching him up enough for him to 1) live, since he is a big part of the plot and 2) be able to make his way through the woods for the woman to find him? They don't have magical healers, but they would've planned for a life-threatening injury. The woman also has advanced knowledge + access to medicinal herbs and medieval medicine.

Secondly, what would be the long term effects of his chest wound? He ends up being found by the enemy and tortured for around seven months, and his wounds wouldn't be cleaned or dressed from that moment on unless they absolutely had to. Would the wound still heal and just leave a nasty scar? Or would it never close and heal? How would this affect his day-to-day life after he's rescued? Would it still be pulled open and start to bleed, or would it be healed enough so that that wouldn't happen? He winds up with pneumonia too, and I assume this wouldn't bode well for his lung?

I know there's a lot, I'm sorry, but I've been really struggling with finding the proper information about this! It's hard, because it's in a medieval setting where they don't have modern medicine, or hospitals, or anything of the sort; this character has to live though. I appreciate any help / tips you can offer!!!! 🥹🥹

Your character might be able to survive a small closed pneumothorax, and they might be able to survive a stab to the chest that was only muscle deep, but any injury that opens the chest cavity (say, a stab wound that goes into the lung) would generally not be survivable in the medieval period with the resources and knowledge available.

The problem is that what you're describing is something called a sucking chest wound. You breathe in when a muscle called the diaphragm contracts and pulls your lungs downward. This creates more space in the chest, which causes air to enter your lungs and fill the space. If there's an opening in the chest wall, though, air goes in through that instead of filling the lungs. This fills the chest cavity with air outside the lung, which causes the lungs to deflate. The person then suffocates.

The absolute most rudimentary way to fix this is to put an occlusive dressing over it ASAP (like, within seconds) and hope the pneumothorax fixes itself (which is possible, as long as it's small) and no infection results. An occlusive dressing is a water proof, air proof bandage that prevents any more air from getting in, usually duct-taped on 3-4 sides.

Unfortunately, even if someone knew what to do here, the materials of the day and place would not do the job. While rubberized garments existed in the Americas in this time, it did not exist in Europe. Even oilcloth didn't exist in Europe until the 18th century, and there was no waterproof, airproof material before that in this area.

The closest he could have gotten was a thin sheet of tanned leather, probably pasted to his chest with something like pine resin, which hopefully would harden into a non-breathable layer. This would have to be put on within seconds and stay on for about a month. This was not a known technique at the time, but if I were to time travel into the middle ages that's what I would do. And again, since it would have to have been done in seconds, you'll have to get creative on how it happens.

Assuming he did survive (which would be a miracle), he'd have a scar on the outside and probably scarring on his lung, which might mean he lost the use of part of his lung. This might mean he would get out of breath more easily, and could be life threatening if he did get the pneumonia you mentioned.

Since this is for a piece of original fiction, if you want to discuss this further, you can hire me here.

[harkeshrubber]

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[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 16: Self Indulgent

I decided to keep it simple for this one and just write something as self-indulgent as I possibly could (though I've already done so with the shower piece). I think I did a pretty decent job of it, but I ran out of writer juice before I could actually get to the NSFW parts. I'm definitely going to continue this at some point, and might go as far as to give these characters names. We shall see.

TW: Public hiccups, embarrassment, arousal, drug use (mentioned), sex toys (discussed, present)

Kinks: Hiccups, kink exhibitionism, embarrassment, bdsm (orders and obedience) 

"Hiccup."

"*hnkg!*"

"Hiccup."

"*hnk-gp!*"

"Hiccup hiccup hiccup."

"*hnk-kp!* *hnk!* Y–*hnklp!*-y-yellow–*HMPK!*–mmf!"

"Okay, sweetie. Deep breaths."

B heard their wife A inhale demonstratively through the earpiece they had in. They followed along with her, breathing slowly and steadily, feeling their diaphragm calm and the tension and spasms ease.

...for now. The ghost of the tension was still there though.

"There you go. Good job, B. Good job." Hearing A sound so gentle and caring made B shudder happily. "Are you okay?"

B nodded, then remembered that A couldn't actually see them. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, A."

"Still on break?"

"Yeah. In the food court. Don't think anyone noticed."

"I'd be amazed if anyone was there to notice."

She had a point. B worked in the zombie of a mall; long dead, but somehow still moving in a distasteful parody of its former glory. At least they got to work at a gift store where they could see people make fashion choices almost as terrible as the ones they made when they were younger, as well as helping the occasional nervous dweeb buy a vaguely usable sex toy. The fact that they worked in a partly adult store and that it was lunchtime on a Tuesday was why they had their wife's earpiece in. It wasn't every day that they did this...though sometimes B wished it was.

"What about you? How's your programming going?"

"Nice try, honey. You're not going to distract me that easily."

B blushed. "Oh come on, I care about how your day's going!"

"Yes, but we both know that if I actually got into it, you wouldn't understand a word I was saying."

"I mean, yeah." B sighed. Being married to a genius could be difficult at times. "I think I could still be a decent rubber duck though."

"Mmm...you are about as squeaky as one." B did themself absolutely no favors by squeaking at that. "Oh come on, you set that up for me."

"I actually didn't!"

"Really?" B could hear the way A was arching her eyebrows. "I guess you're just so hiccupy that you can't help but make others think about them with the things you say."

B swallowed a hiccup and whined. "You're so fucking mean to me."

"I know. Speaking of which—"

"Oh god."

"—is the cute girl with the curly hair working at the pretzel place today?"

B swallowed again, though there wasn't a hiccup to justify it this time. They glanced over at the pretzel place in question, where a girl with a mass of curly hair caught their eye, then grinned and waved at them. They smiled and waved back before speaking. "Yyyyyep. She's, uh...she's got it dyed purple this week."

"Honestly, I wish I were extraverted enough to bother dying my hair fun colors sometimes."

"If we ever manage to get you out of the house, you could ask her for tips," B smirked.

"Alright, just for that, go get a pretzel and some soda. Oh, and by the way," B's eyes went wide and they braced themself for what they knew was coming. "Hiccup."

"*Hnk-gk!*"

"Hiccup."

"*HNK-lp!*"

"Hiccup hiccup hiccup hiccup hiccup." 

B clapped a hand over their mouth and shut their eyes as their body rocked back and forth obediently, just barely containing each gulpy noise inside of their chest and throat. But finishing the cluster their wife had put them through was just the start, because only a few seconds later, they "*HNK-lk!*" hiccupped again, and then "*hnklp!*" again and ag–"*HMLK!*"–gain, and they definitely had a real case now.

"Have fun with that."

"I ha–*nnkg!* hate you so m---much!" B hissed, and their face went even redder as they heard A laughing at them.

After a few bouncy seconds of plucking up their courage, B got up and walked over to the pretzel shop. The girl behind the counter waved at them again, wearing a big smile and a name tag that said "C" on it. "Hey! B! How's my favorite customer?" B waved shyly back as they got close, though they disrupted themself with a silent spasm that forced their chest and head back. C's face was incredibly expressive, and her eyes widened before she snorted and giggled. "Well, besides hiccupy apparently. You good?" B's whole face must have been on fire, but they nodded rapidly anyway. "Aww, poor guy. Lucky this happened on your break, huh?" They nodded again. "Okay, I won't make you chit-chat then. Guessing you want the usual?" Another nod. "Right. And want me to do you a favor and sub out the soda for some water?"

"Say no." B's whole face burned so hot, but they obediently shook their head. "Say it out loud, B. Don't confuse the poor girl."

B bit their lower lip, seeing the confusion on C's face as she looked at them. "N–*nnk!*–nnh...n-no th–*hk*–thanks, C–*HEEK!*" They slapped both hands over their mouth as C burst out laughing. "O-oh my g---god, exc---cuse me!"

"N-no, dude, excuse me! Oh my god, I'm such a dick." She giggled and shook her head. "It was just so squeaky!" B was shocked that they hadn't spontaneously combusted at this point, and whatever their face did apparently made C laugh even more. "But, uh, no thanks to what?"

Shit. They hadn't actually communicated anything. B shut their eyes tight and tried again. "N-no th---thanks to water! *hmnk!* I, um, I st---still just wa–*uck-lp!* w-wwwant to dri–*ic* drink my soda! *HMK-lp!*–mmf!" That all came out much more excited than it should have, and B didn't dare look up.

Even with their eyes closed, B could hear C shrug her shoulders in her stiff work uniform. "You're the boss, big guy. But hey," she reached out and gave B's cheek two gentle slaps, and when they opened their eyes, her face was shockingly close and they got a good look at her wide grin. "Don't come crying to me if that makes your hiccups even worse, got it?" B snapped their eyes shut again and nodded rapidly, and they were close enough that they actually felt the way C's laughter shook her before she pulled away. The whole time she was making B's pretzels, C chattered about random things, perfectly content to have a conversation almost entirely with herself and giggle at B's louder hiccups, and when she finally gave them their bag and soda, B could still hear her laughing and feel her watching as they rushed back to the tables. "Good luck with those hiccups, dude!" She yelled, and B practically tripped and smacked into one of the chairs.

"Oh, I like her."

B grumbled as they sat down, deliberately facing away from the pretzel place...albeit still in C's line of sight. "I kn---knew you w---would. Let me ge–*uck* get some water."

"You sure you wanna do that? Wouldn't that look pretty weird, having just gotten some soda? Almost like you had a little someone in your ear who just wanted you to hiccup even worse?"

"IhateyouIh---hateyouIhatey---youIhateyouIh–*uk*–hateyou!"

More laughter. Two gorgeous girls just laughing at them. B was practically shaking with embarrassment. "Okay, okay. Get some water, hiccup boy." B squeaked and rushed to a water fountain as their wife just cackled. After that, they were able to eat their pretzels in peace at least.

...and drink their soda. Every sip of which felt dangerous. All while their wife went back to being silent except for the sounds of her typing and occasional curses.

She was still there though. Right there. In B's ear. Just a word away from making B...

Fuck, they couldn't even think it right now.

B's heart hammered in their chest even as they just went back to work.

That woman had no idea the things she did to them.

Even though B thought that, they were reminded over the next few hours that A knew exactly what she did to them and loved every second of it. Because even though only a customer or two came in and their indolent coworker could probably be legally classified as a marijuana plant at this point, every minute felt tense, and just when they were starting to forget about the threat in their ear, a "hiccup!" would come through and their diaphragm would spasm obediently. Their whole body always felt shaky and edgy afterward, as if the tiniest little thing could push them over the edge into the worst case of the hiccups that they could imagine. It was terrifying. She was so fucking good at it.

It was about an hour before the end of B's shift when C popped into the store wearing a tank top, cargo pants, and weirdly cute sneakers. "Hey B!" She jogged over to the counter and leaned against it, grinning at them.

B was happy that they were able to keep it significantly cooler this time (though they were very aware of the threat of their wife in their ear). "Hey C. Looking for some new merchandise with a cartoon dog on it?"

C blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes. "We both know that you know Gir is a robot. Sooooo, been busy?"

"More busy than him I guess," B glanced over at their coworker, who had fallen asleep at this point. "Not exactly a high bar though."

"Yeeeeah. You know, I'm half tempted to buy one of these cheapo vibrators just to give you something to do." C snickered. "I remember the first time I came in here. The second you saw me looking at those weird jello-y ones you were like 'Nope! Nope, those are porous, buy literally anything else!'"

"I don't come out from behind this counter for much, but you're my pretzel dealer. I can't let you get taken out by a smug purple rabbit."

C giggled and grinned up at B. "Kind of a shame, I sorta love how they look. But hey, what the fuck am I talking about? How's the wifey?"

"Eh, mid-project. Doesn't sound like the team is as annoying as last time though."

"Fucking nobody could be as annoying as last time."

B ignored A's voice in their ear, though they did smirk. "I think those were the guys who asked her to print out her code and fax it to them. And, uh, I couldn't code 'hello world', but even I know that's not how that works."

"Oh my god, fucking seriously? How does she not, like, email them shit that makes their computer explode or something?"

"You don't know that she doesn't."

"You don't know that I don't."

B realized what they and A had said simultaneously and had to hold back a smile, though A had no such pressure and had started laughing in their ear. "Oh shiiiiiiiit," C put on a tone of affected fear. "Remind me never to piss off your wife! I'd totally open up an email attachment from a skeevy rando if it just said 'boobies' or something. I am so lucky you two have an open-type thing. Oh! By the way!" She took a step back and did a small pirouette. "You said you're into the sorta tomboy wrench girl kinda thing, right? How do I look? Cute as fuck?"

"Yeah, you really pull it off!" B grinned. It was true. As far as they were concerned, C in a black tank top and cargo pants was almost unbearably cute and hot.

"Damn right I do! Now, speaking of pulling shit off, lemme take a look at this week's insulting T-shirts!" B smiled and watched as she skipped deeper into the store and picked up a black T-shirt that had a hand with three fingers up on it and said "Read between the lines."

"...babe." B blinked and hummed in response, and A started imitating their voice: "'Oh there's this cute girl at work and I think she might be flirting with me. I'm not sure though.'"

"I mean, yeah, I'm not sure," B mumbled, just barely loud enough for their earpiece to pick it up.

"Jesus Christ, you are so fucking bad at this. Hon, she literally said 'I am so lucky you two have an open-type thing.'"

"...oh."

B heard their wife muffle a shout into her hands. "Please tell me this is the first time she's said that to you. Please please please tell me that." B was silent, and after a second, he heard the sound of A's palm hitting her forehead. "Oh for fuck's sake, B!"

"Look," B started, but they stopped as they heard C walking over again. "Hey, find something interesting?"

"Yeah. You." B felt their face heat up and C laughed. "God, it's so random what actually embarrasses you! You'll be all like 'Yeah, this is the Vibrotron sevenX. Totally derivative though, definitely get the Gasminator if you've got the money for it, it's just better.' But then someone's like 'Hey, what's up with these weird orange horns?' and you just look like you're gonna die."

"Okay, look you, you're a few years younger than me, you weren't there!" C cackled and B heard A snort in their earpiece too. "I swear I can still smell the gray body paint."

"Heheheheee!" C grinned. "Oh, or like today when you had the hiccups—"

"*HKGNK!*"

C stopped and stared at B, who knew that their face was absolutely on fire. "Oh shiiiiiiiiiiit," the teasing tone of A's voice wasn't helping.

Also not helping was the curious way that C tilted her head. "Hiccups?"

"*HMNK-MMP!*" B slammed their eyes shut as another one jolted them.

They swore that they could hear C grinning even before she started talking again. "Hiccups!"

"*HMK-LP!*–nnh!"

"Oh my god!" C burst out laughing harder than B had ever heard her laugh, and they had heard her laugh a lot. When they opened their eyes, they saw her massive smile. "Holy shit, what? That's so fucking cute! Hiccup!" B hiccuped and hid their face with a whine. "Hiccup hiccup!" They hiccuped twice in quick succession, and their heart rate ratcheted up even higher. "Hic—" B cut C off midword with a squeak. "I didn't even finish saying—" B squeaked again and whined into their hands as they heard C cackling again. "Oh my god, did I seriously give you the hiccups—" Another squeak, this one followed just a second later, "—just by saying the word? That's the cutest thing I've ever fucking seen!"

"C–*HEEK!*–e-eeee..."

"Holy fucking shit..." C just kept giggling, wiping the corner of one eye. "Fuck, dude, I'm sorry. God, that's cute. Hang on, lemme try and help you with that." She grabbed one of the random plastic cups with insulting slogans on it from a nearby shelf and jogged off, presumably towards a water fountain.

"You know, if that doesn't work, you could always suggest a different cure," A said.

"Thi–*UK* this is a–*ULP* all your fault! *HLK!*" B hissed, whining between hiccups. "I wouldn't b---be this succep---tible if you hadn–*nnkt!* hadn't spent all day–*HIULK!*–k-kuh!" Hearing A laughing at them just drove B crazy.

"Aww, babe...my poor hiccupy hubby." B was shocked that their head didn't just light on fire at that. "Don't worry. I'll help you get through this, sweetie. Especially once that little homewrecker gets back." B whined and hid their face in their hands, absolutely not ready for what the sound of approaching sneakers portended.

...

C: D HOLY FUCKING SHIT D! D D D D D D D!

D: What'd the sex toy shop guy do today?

C: D! HE HAD THE FUCKING HICCUPS, D! Wait, shit, they had on their they badge today, sorry. THEY HAD THE FUCKING HICCUPS, D!

D: You need a change of panties?

C: Bro, that is so much less of a joke than it should be, you have no idea Dude they were so fucking blushy Like bright red And so fucking embarrassed They could barely fucking talk oh my god AND THEY STILL ORDERED SODA! WHAT KIND OF PERSON ORDERS SODA WITH THE HICCUPS?????

D: A person who doesn't get the hiccups from soda.

C: After they got their stuff they walked someplace else and when they came back they didn't have them any more but FUCK! Dude, you should have seen their gut it was so fucking bouncy.

D: You're so weird.

C: Fuck you!

D: Get off the phone before your manager catches you.

C: Fuck you again for being right!

...

C: D OH MY FUCKING GOD

D: Didn't we already do this today?

C: THEY DID IT AGAIN! B CAUGHT THE HICCUPS AGAIN!

D: Oh shit.

C: AND THAT'S NOT EVEN ALL!!!!! D. Dude. Bro. Babe. This fucking guy This adorable fucking married guy with a cool programmer wife who could explode my computer and who I am just fucking praying lets me fuck this guy sometime when I meet her They hiccup When I say the word hiccup.

D: Bullshit.

C: THEY FUCKING DID!!! AND WHEN I SAID IT OVER AND OVER THEY GOT A FUCKING CASE!!!!! D I'M GONNA FUCKING DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

D: Wait, seriously? You're not just jacking off in my DMs, that actually happened?

C: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

D: Okay, enough with the !s. What the fuck are you doing here then?

C: FLIPPING MY SHIT WHILE I FIND A WATER FOUNTAIN

D: You are way too fucking scrupulous for your own good.

C: FUCK YOU YOU KNOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS! OKAY FOUND A WATER FOUNTAIN! GOING BACK TO FUCKING SEX TOY SHOP HICCUP GUY MY FUCKING LOVE

D: Someday someone's going to go through my phone and I'll have to explain these DMs. I hope you're sorry for that.

[foxgirlknot]

It started entirely practically. Electricity Arts make physical contact tricky if they're not controlled. Rubber is an excellent electrical insulator. Simple enough.

It didn't remain that way for long.

Which is how Liskarm now finds hirself bound, kneeling on the bedroom floor, watching in the mirror as Franka's hands wrap themselves around hir, as sleek black fingers trace the lines of hir body, cupping their way into every curve and fold, plucking at the rope that runs between hir legs and watching hir body vibrate in response, an instrument tuned to Franka's every whim.

Somehow, the millimeter of latex that separates them only serves to bring them closer together. It smothers the control that zie lives with constantly, gives it up to Franka's hands, black and smooth and perfect just the way zie will never be able to replicate, no matter how hard zie tries.

In the mirror zie can see her hands work their way back up, landing at hir chin, plying gently at hir lips, which are all to happy to part, tongue lolling open as Franka giggles and black acrid rubber floods hir sense of taste.

"Open wide, Lisky!"

Now is when zie would complain, snark back some cutting remark, but Franka winds hir tongue between her fingers, digs a grip into hir jaw and drags hir vision back to hir reflection in the mirror.

"Look at you. Look at how good you're being for me."

And all zie can do it watch, watch as the same smooth black fingers dip between hir legs, drawing the rope aside and dipping inside hir, pulling a gasp deep from hir diaphragm as Franka held hir still, whispering in hir ear.

"Sash, I know, love. Just let me work. Let me show you how I see you."

Panting, zie nods, and Franka smiles, letting the fingers in hir mouth trace the lines of drool they made down hir chin, as the fingers in hir cunt curl, digging at hir insides, and all zie can do it watch.

[alfarubberar]

Diaphragm Layer in rubber - Silicone Rubber (SiR)

https://alfarubber.com/quality-systems/

Silicone Rubber is one of the widely used polymers that is used both for household applications and industrial applications.The variant chosen for a diaphragm depends upon the use that it is intended for.

[punks-never-die205]

Shriek's terrible twos were terrible for everyone. It was stated that fishmen are about ten times stronger than humans from birth, and I'm assuming this applies to minks too since they already have similar strong genetic memory across their ancestry in common. And oh yeah, the little issue of the lightning and the sonic screams.

Heat's reading one of the parenting books like "starting from age two, a child begins the process of learning to regulate their emotions, possessing a vague understanding of their frustrations but being unable to properly vocalize"

Bullshit, she can't vocalize, she's vocalizing so loud the windows are cracking, Wire passed out, and Kid's getting electrocuted.

Half of their confirmed attacks this year weren't even piracy-related. Shriek was just mad from a missed snack or not being able to honk Killer's boobs while they were waiting in line at the fish market and everyone around them was unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire when she lost her shit.

Everyone gets issues footwear. They're all wearing rubber-soled boots, no exceptions. At least until Shriek is old enough/aware enough to not randomly accidental electrocute people.

A plus to come from it, is that Eustass learning about electromagnetism as a concept. Helps lead him to eventually making that rail gun that he unleashes on Big Mom in Wano.

But yeah, xD She's living up to that namesake early and effectively.

>.>

Quill is useless. The crew is crying while Quill's like "From the diaphragm Shriek! Get 'em girl!"

[goatsludge]

U.S. M2-10-6 Army Lightweight Optical Mask (Not to be confused with the postwar M2-10A1-6)

This example is dated June 1944 and faceblank made by the Sun Rubber Company.

It's in reasonably fair condition, but unfortunately missing one of the lenses and with a badly punctured voice membrane. However examples in any condition are scarce, so these are non-issues and I should be able to repair them later down the road.

^These are the only two period photos we have of these things for the record; enjoy.

These masks would have been issued to armored vehicle crews and anyone in a non-active role that needs the ability to use optical gun sights with better clarity than the Service and Diaphragm masks could offer.

As usual, this example belongs to @bureau-of-mines

[kinaesthetiqueer]

the thing about loving nora so damn much is that i legally have to Make Her Go Through It. sometimes though, it feels so so so mean. however. i have to make my headcanons make sense from top to bottom.

so. per my headcanons on how her semblance works... once she was struck by lightning and her semblance unlocked, her passive ability unlocked too. rather than dissapating the tiny bits of electricity that her body naturally produces, like everyone else does, her body stores them. it's up to nora as to how she can deal with it.

before she gets a handle on it, she's a walking static producer. ever walked around in socks on carpet in the winter? she's like that, all the time. discharging whenever she touches anything that can conduct electricity. some of the less helpful instructors at tocsin (the vale combat school that my ren and nora attended from ages 13-17) force nora to wear rubber gloves when she's in class.

this, of course, doesn't actually help. she's still storing it up. nora copes by energizing herself with the excess electricity and just. Being Hyper. she always has been excitable but now she just bounces off the walls, because she doesn't know how else to spend the energy outside of combat.

ren doesn't know how to help her either. his semblance is strictly defensive/supportive. he has always been under intense stress to make sure he keeps it under control. they aren't on the streets anymore but nora feels compelled to make sure, should they ever end up there again, that she can pull more weight when it comes to keeping them safe.

if nora is worked up or stressed, she starts sparking. arcs of electricity come off her skin and they can hurt whoever gets close. it's a easy way to help her discharge, if you can get a grounded lightning rod close enough.

other lesser signs that she's not quite keeping it under wraps are, in order of increased severity: increased fidgeting/stimming (hilarious as a marker, as she's audhd af), static field as observed by her hair strands lifting up as if rubbed by a balloon, indigestion & nausea (too much energy messing with peristalsis); uncontrollable hiccups (excess electricity causing her diaphragm to spasm), and finally, the sparking.

these first two markers goes pretty much unnoticed by nora herself, though the rest of jnpr is pretty good at noticing when her hair starts going flyaway. ren can tell the difference between normal nora fidgets and too much energy! nora fidgets at a glance. when nora gets so bad that these side effects show, she tends to skip indigestion and nausea and go straight to hiccuping. rarely, like if she's in an argument with someone who doesn't know her well enough to point out her hair, she might reach the indigestion stage (for example, cordovin). however, hiccups come on fast when she's having a breakdown. they are her major sign that she needs to find some way to calm down and rein in her semblance.

she has two choices for doing so: sequestering it for later (a choice she makes when she's likely to be in combat soon) or discharging.

sequestering (storing) it requires her to rein in the electricity and sink it into her muscles. typically this means her thigh and butt muscles, as they are the largest. she creates a circuit of circulating electricity deep in her muscles and they slowly store the energy for later. (don't ask me about the biology here unless you want to be here all night; that is a promise, not a threat). she can also then use it to jump and leap. this is also why she skips so much!

storing/sequestering is what nora refers to as "sinking". it's not a term she really explains to anyone. in fact, she loathes explaining her semblance to people. firstly, no one expects her to understand how her semblance works, because she's hyper and bubbly and girly. secondly, people tend to get weirded out and wary of her when she explains, at least they did at tocsin. ren loves that she knows how both hers and his works.

she gets a lot of confidence and joy from it as jnpr works in private to train for the vytal festival, because jaune and pyrrha think her semblance is super cool. by the time vytal comes around, she's just stoked to be able to show off for the first time, since jaune decided they should keep it a secret until then.

on the other hand, discharging it is exactly what it seems. it's what she does when she doesn't need the extra energy or wants to be sure she's safe to touch others. she can discharge into the air (which causes a thunderclap of varying decibels, depending on how much electricity she discharges) or into the ground or to any grounded source. she can also do this offensively by throwing a bolt or striking something with precision.

after spending most of her time at tocsin wearing gloves, she keeps them in her beacon outfit, though fingerless, because she likes to comfort and the compression, but also she likes to know she's capable of safely touching people.

the mean thing that i was thinking of, which prompted this post, was nora being threatened with, and perhaps once subjected to, tocsin's cruelest 'therapy' which is to forcibly break a student's aura so that their semblance won't hurt anyone until they get it under control. which. may or may not have happened to her when she took a shower while charged, knocking out tocsin's campus water plant and electrocuting anyone who was also taking a shower at the same time. 🙃

anyways. i want to write a series of oneshots and drabbles that contains all my headcanons for the main kids' semblances and how they work and how they've adapted to them over time. im just a big sucker for logistics and after blake's semblance driving me batshit for months, i think it's what i deserve.