#Trim Rewinder Machines

[tyrecordmachinery-blog]

Trim Rewinder is a specialized machine used to collect excess material—also known as "trim"—that is produced during various manufacturing processes. These trims can come from materials like paper, plastic, textile, and film.

[krishnaengineering25]

In industrial environments where efficiency, precision, and waste management are critical, a high-performance Trim Rewinder Machine is indispensable.

official website : www.krishnaengineeringworks.com

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Training Films

Series: Vices and Indulgences

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  The Boys

Warning: Rape/Non-Con

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Solider Boy/You, Solider Boy/Reader,

Synopsis: Set sometime in the mid-60s. Catering to the vices of irreplaceable men is part of the job if you work at Vought America. Sometimes that gets . . . literal, as a lowly technician finds out one evening.

Tags:  Solider Boy, Female Reader, Female You, Mid 60s Period Piece,

AN:  Content warning-- period typical use of offensive language. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

The courier for NBC News ticks a little salute as he leaves, film cans tucked under his arm.  Footage from the latest operation in the Keys-- Soldier Boy and Tremor working with the National Guard to clean up damage from a tidal wave.  NBC hasn't switched to magnetic tape yet, so all that has to be done on the KEM flatbed.  Carefully cleaning up hours of raw footage to make it look like the grime and devastation didn't actually touch them, like they were for-real heroes and not professionals being paid very well to do very dirty work.  Thank God he's pretty, your boss says every time footage of Soldier Boy comes across the deck and you have to trim out frames showing his Roman hands and Russian fingers.

The editing suite's quiet as you let yourself back in, dragging an M-cart piled with boxes behind you.  It looks like an all-nighter, crouching in this hot cigarette-stinking cave while everybody else is out hitting the bars.  You're way behind on your other project, and these cans have to go back to One Police Plaza by Monday morning-- confiscated material under Article 235 and illegal to possess, exhibit, or promote.  Every time the guy comes by to take the originals back downtown your hands go clammy.  One of these days he's going to show up with police officers or Postal Inspectors, you just know it, and they're going to throw the book at little ol' you as opposed to any of the people who actually watch the damn things.

It's hot in here with the projectors running and it's just you, so you peel off your blouse and pin up your hair.  Working in your camisole and bra feels strange, air dragging across skin that's usually decently covered.  The first film goes into the transfer machine, your fingers sure and steady threading the thin film between the rollers.  Simple straightforward printing job.  You're not here to do any actual editing, you're here because you work cheap and your discretion can be relied upon since you're a far out little weirdo who doesn't talk to anybody.  You're also a reasonably intelligent person who figured out pretty quick there's more money in a steady job than there is narcing to the tabloids that Vought America's full of people who collect science films and foreign cinema and nude cuties and Heaven knows what else.

The first specimen -- no title on the aluminum container, just an NYPD file number -- turns out to be an uncomfortably . . . slimy short subject of a woman's visit to a gynecologist.  The horny retards who get their boxers knotted at the mere idea of pornographic movies have never actually sat down and watched one, you're firmly convinced.  After a while it's like watching stock footage of animals mating, all grunts and hairy parts.

Or so you tell yourself as you work exchanging reels and cranking the rewinder.  Your excellent visual imagination doesn't have a problem painting other faces into the footage, wondering if certain people make those kinds of noises while in the throes.  Like that guy with his hair sculpted into an Elvis duckass-- does Elvis throw his head back that way when Priscilla swallows him all the way down to the pubic hair?  Would Lennon and McCartney sound any less disgusting calling the lucky lady lounging naked between them a dirty fucking slut?  All things considered you wouldn't exactly mind being the center of attention at an orgy featuring Burt Lancaster and Kurt Douglas, maybe a little Sidney Poitier for spice--

The editing suite's door clicks open.  "Hey!" you snap at the shape behind it.  "You can't come in here!"

Your world's magnetic poles flip upside-down when the shape walks in anyway.  You've spent whole days watching film of this body in motion; you know who it is even though he's not masked and he's in a robe and slippers.  A cigarette smolders between his thumb and forefinger.  Even in the gloom his eyes are very vividly green.  It's weird, watching someone in real space and time when you only know them from two-dimensional images.  It's a little like wearing glasses for the first time, the eyes and the brain take a while to re-synchronize.

Those eyes rake you up and down.  God, you must be a sight-- practically undressed, dewy with sweat, hair twisted into a clumsy knot at your nape.  "These were supposed to be delivered up to my apartment yesterday.  Are you about done or are you too busy playing with yourself?"

Your heart does something stupid and you splutter.  On the wall behind you a bosomy woman with long blonde hair shrieks as a gigantic Negro reams her out, while a little Oriental woman observes and makes helpful suggestions.  Soldier Boy's eyebrow cocks.  "Well isn't this interesting."  He takes a drag off his cigarette and puts it down next to yours in the ashtray on the editing desk.  "I didn't know they had a woman putting together our training films.  Phil must think a girl wouldn’t get turned on.  Idiot."

It's not just clever editing making him stand out in any crowd he's in, you can see that now.  He takes up more space than he physically occupies.  As he comes closer his robe clings in front, close enough you can see he's . . . aroused.

Soldier Boy crowds you against the editing table, ignoring your pleas for him to go away.  "And here I was thinking I'd have to settle for some ginch Phil can scare up on short notice.  Here you are all hot and bothered."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, your voice shaking.

You damn near leap out of your skin as Soldier Boy claps a hand between your legs.  The seam of your trousers rubs up between you, against that spot that sometimes makes you flinch when you hit it cleaning up in the bath.  Chuckling, Soldier Boy says, "My goodness, a virgin in New York City.  Who knew?"

"I'm not," you choke out, horrified shame not doing a damn thing to make you any less of . . . this.  Heat kindling deep in your belly, in that place that sometimes keeps you up nights with . . . something.

"Two minutes of in-out from your high school boyfriend who couldn't find it with a map and compass doesn't count doll."  Your blush deepens to sunburn levels.  His hand presses, squeezes, and you gasp as something harsh and clawed rips through you.  His other arm goes around your back and presses you against his broad chest.  Your body rises until you're up en pointe and off-balance.  "Where's Vought been hiding you all this time?"

"Stop it!  I mean it-- stop it!" you squeak.

"Just relax.  Relax and let it feel good," Solder Boy tells you, quiet and rumbly.  His hand shifts and presses up against you more firmly, following the subtle rocking motion of your hips.  "There we go.  Fuck yourself on my hand princess.  Make yourself feel good.  Like this."  His grip around your back shifts and his arm tightens and relaxes.  Tightens, and relaxes.  "Poor thing.  You know just enough to know you're missing something, I bet."  Your pelvis moves with his lead, dragging your softest parts against his palm.  In the background far far away voices cry out.

The film’s run out, flapping like an unlatched screen door in the wind.  You’re the one moaning like a fucking animal in heat.  Like a filthy slut.

“Look at me,” Soldier Boy commands.  His eyes hold yours like a mesmerizing cobra, full of wants and hungers.  You've never had a man look at you that way before, not even the boyfriend who ran away to join the Navy when you told him you thought you were pregnant.  Under that gaze your pride washes away, and your resistance goes with it.  "Atta girl," he smiles as you fail to bite back your groans.  "Dress like a boy but you're pure woman deep down, aren't you?  You need a man.  In the worst possible way."

"Oh-- oh-- oh my God . . ." you whine.  Nothing in your prior experiences with intercourse has prepared you for this, all this dark and sweet and power, rising like a tide and shaking like a fever.  Soldier Boy's grin is both the ugliest and most beautiful thing you've ever seen, the smile of the Devil tempting a hungry Jesus.

You're back on your flat feet.  "Woah there!"  Soldier Boy grabs you as your knees buckle, laughing.  "Easy kitten, easy."

The tide's ebbing away and it hurts.  You're stranded on the rocks, weak and . . . unfinished.  "Please, please-- why'd you stop for?"

Gently, Soldier Boy traces your face.  "I'm not a total beast, babydoll."  In a gesture that feels grotesquely paternal, he kisses your forehead.  "First time you climax," he whispers, "it's going to be in my bed.  On my cock."  You feel your sex clench and you whimper.  Warm breath puffs your skin as Solider Boy sniffs at your neck.  "You smell so sweet.  Pussy's the best perfume there is.  Oh hey there," he says as you start to cry, you feel so God damned filthy, "there's no need to be carrying on.  You're going to finish what you're doing here, and you're going to come up to my place.  You know which elevators go to the residential floors?"  You nod.  "Thirtieth floor.  The passcode is 7915.  You're going to bring me this latest batch of videos and this hungry little beaver of yours.  You hear me?"

"No," you manage to dig up from the broken remains of your pride.

"Your mouth says no but your body's screaming yes."  Solider Boy yanks you close and you can feel him, big and hard, against your stomach.  "Your pussy's calling me.  I can hear it.  Calling me to fuck you into oblivion.  Make you scream."  You don't realize you'd been holding your breath until you gasp and spots clear from your vision.

A whisper of a kiss on your open lips and he's gone.

---

Somehow, you make it through printing the rest of the films.  Your nipples are hard and aching in your bra and underwear's wet like your period caught you without a belt.  Your skin crawls and your blood itches.  You remember feeling something like this after those times with your boyfriend, as he wiped himself off and you lay there trembling in the backseat, sore in the vagina and wondering what all the fuss was about.  Wet and shaking and needy like a filthy slut, for a man you know for a fact uses women like appliances.

The elevator door whooshes shut behind you and you enter the code with shaking fingers.  Soldier Boy's in the bedroom, reclining at his ease in the middle of a huge bed, his robe spread open and his penis standing up from his groin, red and angry looking.  "All for you doll," he grins, all sharp white teeth.  His eyes flutter closed and he takes a deep breath through his nose.  "And I can smell how wet you are for me."

"I'mjustdroppingthefilmsoffI'mnot--" you blurt.

Soldier Boy levers himself up off the bed, and your voice dries up as you eyes fasten on the sight of his erection bobbing and swaying.  That's going inside you, and your sex flutters.  Your boyfriend's was a baby carrot by comparison.

"Be good for me," Soldier Boy growls down at you, plucking your glasses off your face, "and I'll spoil you so bad," his will rolls over yours like a tank and crushes the last of your pride to dust, "you're gonna hate every other man you touch."

---

“That’s your clitoris, kitten.”  Soldier Boy chuckles to himself.  “Almost rhymes.  I stroke it, really gently,” you gasp as he suits action to words, “and you turn into my shameless little slut.”

Not true, you think, feeling absolutely defiled.  But his fingers feel so good, touching you exactly where you’re throbbing.  It's half-true.  You watch dirty movies and you're moaning in bed with a man you're not married to.

Filthy slut.

---

“Breathe, doll, that’s it.  You’re so fucking wet.  Taking me so well.  Christ your pussy feels fucking tailored for me, fits so fucking perfect.  Oh, there you go-- take me deeper baby, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good--"

---

It’s very late the next morning when you wake up in Solider Boy’s bed, alone and aching in every fiber.  The only sign of the man himself is a note on the cluttered nightstand-- Out taking care of some errands.  Be naked when I get back.

When he gets back he’s in his supersuit and mask, every inch the perfect patriot hero.  When he sees you sprawled out on the bed, stripped to the skin, he smiles.  "Pretty as a picture.  What's say we watch some of those movies and screw ourselves stupid?"

---

AN2: Hard to believe but once upon a time tits'n'ass were not available on demand and in the privacy of your own home. It's actually a fascinating thing to research a little, the histories of assorted vices-- did you know that VHS won the home video format wars because of the adult entertainment industry? VHS tapes were easier and cheaper to mass-produce than Betamax.

[psatalk]

SP Ultraflex’s live demonstration at drupa 2024

Visitors to SP Ultraflex’s stand (hall no-11, stand no D12) at drupa 2024 will witness the live demonstration of the Roboslit Plus series 1000 mpm dual turret slitter rewinder. Expressing his excitement about drupa 2024, Biku Kohli said, “We are always on the lookout for new vendors, experts in their respective fields, to support us in our innovation projects, and drupa is known to host many such vendors.”

Kohli's participation in the show is fueled by his firm belief in the capability of the technologically advanced slitter rewinding machine, and that it will attract vendors for discussions rather than the team of SP Ultraflex seeking them out.

The machine on display has an operational speed of 1000 MPM. It has a fully automatic job set-up that encompasses the positioning of the web guide sensor, cutters, trim extraction nozzles, and rewind cores, effectively minimizing setup time, material consumption, and operator dependency.

According to Kohli, drupa being the largest exhibition in the printing industry, provides an unparalleled opportunity to maximize global exposure while presenting the latest technology. He said, “drupa 2024 will play a vital role in facilitating our company's growth trajectory by providing a platform for strategic engagement, collaboration, and continuous learning within the dynamic landscape of the flexible packaging and converting industry.”

Apart from new inquiries and projects through showcasing, the latest innovations, Kohli expects to strengthen existing relationships with their valued existing customers a drupa 2024.

[blueeyetechnology]

Trim Winder Machine Manufacturers

Blueeye Machine, located in Ahmedabad, is specialised in the manufacture of trim winders, which are designed to meet the needs of the industries that require precise winding solutions for a variety of materials.

[mheavenbound]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Polka Dot Sz Medium Casual Wear Soft Stretchy Smocked Lace Trim Shirt.

[queencryo]

dumb question but is your bobbin wound correctly? one time i had a similar problem and rewinding my bobbin (and trimming off excess thread) helped

i got this ask forever ago im sorry i didnt see it. uhhh... you know, thats a distinct possibility? the bobbin winder on my machine is p messed up, so my wound bobbins r a lil messed up too.

so... ill keep an eye on that, tho i *think* that rn my main problem is judt. being bad at using yhr machine lol (sewing cutves....)

[rotogravuremachine]

We have have been manufacturing, exporting and supplying are leading perfect quality Trim Rewinder Machine Manufacturer, Exporter and supplier for Paper, Film, LDPE, BOPP, HDPE, Polyester, Pouch, Trim Rewinder, Trim Winder Machine, Trim Winding Machine, Slitting Rewinder Machine, Trim Rewinder Machine Manufacturers, Slitter Machine Manufacturer, for different industry and different material. Heavy Duty equipment for high durability. Also, different type of heavy duty Pneumatic Brake Powder Brake.

[inspectionmachine]

Inspection Rewinding Machine for separate industries and for dissimilar applications per client’s requirement. Inspection Rewinding Machine Manufacturer with heavy duty fabric inspection doctoring, non-woven, film inspection rewinding with slitting system, doctoring inspection rewinding machine, inspection cum Rewinder machine, doctoring rewinding machine, rewinding machines. For More Information Visit Our Website: krishnaengineeringworks.com

[rewinder1]

KEW ENGG MFG PVT LTD Trim Rewinder includes many features for high reliability of trim winding. Trim Rewinder is used for any winding and unwinding application that reduces material waste to guide the web and achieves high productivity with minimal manpower. Trim Rewinder Machine are highly appreciated by our customers and are widely used in a number of demanding applications in the converting industry.

[gingeraleluke]

𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: tom holland x fem!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: your boyfriend got home just in time to watch his most recent interview on tv with you.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, nothing just fluff! :)

𝗔/𝗡: this is my first time writing for tom so i hope you guys like it!! <3

this is based on the spider-man: far from home interview with jimmy kimmel!

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the young girls heart was silent for the first nineteen years of her life. nothing but a faint heartbeat and some clouded thoughts of little to nothing inconsistencies. from the moment she first opened her eyes as a baby, separating her fingers and spreading her toes while her newly polished eyes tried making sense of her surroundings, to the ripe summer when her mother insisted she become a camp counselor to succumb enough money to buy her very own long-overdue car. the girl felt nothing.

the teens she longed to be alike were a mere hourglass, y/n a shadow. portraying their success and growth without mirroring any of her own, she felt like a weak duckling surrounded by marvelous swans. she would spend her youth watching blondes fall for brunettes on television, plopping popcorn into her mouth while pressing rewind on her favorite romantics, watching the way they would look at eachother and move with one another. she never thought she could be able to experience that. everything inside her was too quiet, too plain.

and then she met tom. it became loud, too loud, and she loved it. everything she thought she could never achieve, she achieved with him. her colorless days no longer existed and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him everyday.

switching the tv from some medical soap opera, y/n sat on her couch. she wore nothing but a plain bra and a pair of baby blue satin shorts. normally, she’d cover up more, especially if she had company over, but tom was a different kind of company and a comfortable one at that.

“THOMAS HURRY UP!” she could hear her boyfriend yell a faint, “i’m coming,” through the noise of the water running. shortly after, the shower stopped as y/n scrolled mindlessly through her phone, impatient.

she expected to see her boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, a trail of steam behind him, but instead she heard the loud roar of a hairdryer.

“for fucks sake-“ her mouth was lacking the salty and buttery flavor she craved so she took the opportunity to use her time by putting some popcorn in the microwave while her boyfriend blowed out his hair.

as she watched the minutes on the timer go down, the machine dinged as she grabbed a bowl and poured the snack inside it. she made her way back to the bench sofa and extended her legs out on the grey island cushions. the lace on the trim of her shorts tickled her feet as she folded her legs. “TOM HURRY THE FUCK UP, ITS ALMOST STARTING!”

the girls mouth was full as she yelled, losing patience with the boy. “IM SORRY, IM COMING!”

minutes later, a shirtless tom holland, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, appeared in their shared living room. the girls eyes grew big, his doing the same as he took in her taboo and exposed form.

“what- tom! you haven’t even gotten dressed yet?!”

“well, neither have you, apparently! plus, this is pretty comfortable, is it not?”

“tom-“ she warned.

“i got it, i got it..” his bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as he quickly ran into their bedroom and retrieved his clothes. he came back out wearing a black t shirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants.

“KIMMEL IS STARTING!” she pointed at the tv and looked over to see tom bounce down onto the couch next to her, sprawling his legs out like she had done earlier.

“baby, that’s just the intro, i’m not there yet.” she peered over at him.

“who said i’m watching this for you?” he turned his head and made a sarcastic face.

“yeah, sure..” he mocked.

“WAIT, i need my blanket! go, get it, i don’t want to miss this!”

“y/n, it hasn’t even started yet-“

“now tom!”

“but what if i miss it!”

“you were there, you already know what happens-“ you lightly shoved his clothed knee and he sprung to his feet, so fast that tessa jolted up and ran after him.

“tessa! calm down!” the dog didn’t listen and continued following her dad, panting the whole way back.

once they were settled, jimmy announced his upcoming guests before a quick commercial break.

“quick, my ass..” she muttered.

tom stifled a chuckle. “why are you so bent up about this? you’ve seen my interviews before!”

“yeah, but i’ve never been able to actually watch one with you! it’s like… an entirely different experience!”

he didn’t believe her. “are you sure that’s the real reason? or is it because you just want me to give you secret info on the film, because love, you know i can’t do that, not after last time.”

she placed a hand on her chest playfully, “tom! i would never, how could you think of me like that?! as if i would ever do such a thing!”

“mmhmm..”

the commercials came to an end and y/n looked up to see jimmy start announcing the cast.

“shit, oh my god, it’s happening.”

“shhh, calm down!” tom laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other arm sprawled out behind the frame of the sofa.

“how can i keep calm!? my fucking BOYFRIEND is about to be on tv! you know how many people can say that they are dating spider-man? like, no one!” her knee was bouncing and she couldn’t contain the excitement. watching someone on television while sitting in the same room with them was a rush she had never felt before.

she was loud as hell inside.

“please welcome, tom hol-“

“WHOOOOO, YEAH!!” she started clapping dramatically and stood up for a quick second, her eyes glued to the tv as she watched her boyfriend appear, while her actual boyfriend sat there laughing at her excitement.

they did a stupid elevator bit, before him and everyone else walked up to their chairs.

“really, tom?” his dark eyes flickered to hers. “what?! i thought you would like it, it’s funny!” she rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking to herself: my boyfriend is a dork, even on national television.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“oh my god, you all look so good.”

“i know, right?”

“look at jake!”

“yeah-“

“look at zendaya!”

“i know-“

“OH MY GOD LOOK A-“

“OKAY Y/N, i get it, everyone but me is attractive, thanks. you’ve made it pretty clear.” he frowned as you gushed over how good his coworkers looked.

“yes, tom! i think you look awful, that’s why i’ve been dating you for the past four years, because i think you are ugly.”

he looked at his girlfriend, uncertainty in his eyes.

“oh, come on, i’m joking! you’re beautiful, come here.” she grabbed the side of his head and pulled him over so his head was laying on her chest. she began to play with his hair while watching.

“so the trailer came out, the trailer got like 135 million views within the first hour-“

“yeah it did!” she exclaimed, her fingers busy in his hair.

“see, i didn’t know that then.” he muttered, his brows furrowing together as tessa looked up at him from y/n’s lap.

“well it’s no secret, i’m not very good at instagram.”

y/n bursted out laughing. it wasn’t even that funny, but all of her emotions where heightened in this moment.

“oh god, i know where this is going.. this is the zendaya story isn’t it?” you smirk down at him and he lifts his head to nod at you.

“i knew it..”

“i basically.. forgot to post the trailer.”

“that’s bad.”

“yes jimmy, yes it is.” she couldn’t contain the snickers leaving her mouth and tom protested against it.

“listen, it’s difficult for some people, okay!”

“mmhmm, whatever you say baby.” she remembers distinctly, waking up and asking her boyfriend why he never posted the trailer, which caused him to wind up into a frenzy and immediately contact zendaya for assistance.

“well, you wouldn’t tell me how to!”

“tom, you’re a grown man! you should be able to figure that out yourself, peter parker.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek, his arm wrapped around her.

“so you’re IT for the team?”

“yeah, y/n, making poor zendaya the it for the team-“

“oh, shush, it was funny as fuck. but not as funny as the time you spoi-“

he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, “oh, stop it!” she giggled in response.

she watched as zendaya recalled the moment she had to screen record how to delete an instagram story for him, which was another thing y/n refused to help him with. sure, she loves him and all, but watching the panic on his face as he realizes that he messed up, always cracked her up. especially since he brags about how ‘tech savvy’ he is for his age.

“it’s not my fault you’re a grampa!”

“yeah, we’ll, you’re dating a grampa!”

“true, i am.”

her hands reached towards her blanket as she put her popcorn bowl down and laid the covering over her and her boyfriend. the grey weighted blanket matching the couch perfectly.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“okay, wait…why are you guys still in highschool?!” y/n had paused the program to engage in a very serious and heated discussion about the aftermath of endgame which led up to the beginning of his new movie, far from home, which had yet to come out.

“i mean.. it’s five years! i’m so confused.” tom sighed, placing his hands on his knees, he sat up straight. “like i said in the interview, y/n, i don’t know.”

“well… ask the russo brothers! i mean, jacob is right, that’s a huge plothole!”

toms eyes sparkled as he looked at his lover trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“i… i don’t even know what to say right now. my whole life is a lie!”

“okay, let’s not get too dramatic here-“

“NO, tom! as an avengers fanatic, i need to know!” she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, his body jolting forwards.

“tell me!” she shook him as he laughed and tessa barked.

“i don’t know, baby!” she frowned slightly and looked at her boyfriends amused face.

“i’m dating spider-man, you’d think i’d get the inside scoop.” she rolled her eyes and placed her legs back up on the cushions. tom leaned over and looked her up and down, flickering from her bare chest and her eyes. he leaned into her neck and started planting kisses. “i’m sorry, i will be sure to ask someone at marvel for you.” she smiled sweetly before thanking him.

“has everyone seen avengers: endgame?”

the girl rose to her feet, the blanket stuck to her bare legs. “yes, jimmy, i have! i saw my boyfriend get dusted right before my fucking eyes!”

tom remembered the first time he watched the film with her. it was hard for him to keep it under wraps and while he did end up telling her some spoilers, he kept out the whole ‘death by thanos’ part.

“okay, calm down little one.” he reached his arm out to pull her down, back to the couch.

“tom, baby, i know you like.. could get in trouble for it but-“

“y/n… not this conversation again.” he put his hand up to his forehead, two fingers on the bridge of his nose. she knew that if she prodded and poked in all the right spots, that her boyfriend would give in. that it just took a little push for him to confess all the dirty details of his new blockbuster.

“come on! i am begging, tom- i have so many questions, can you blame me? i mean… mysterio, like.. what’s that guy all about?! he’s a villian right?”

“well…”

“a hero?”

“definitely not.”

“antihero?”

“not exactly-“

“UGH, tom! you are killing me here.” she whined, putting her hands on his chest as the paused tv shined upon his features. “please give me something… anything.” she trailed her fingers down his chest, tauntingly.

“anything?” he smirked at her.

“yup. like… maybe just exactly what jakes character is? i mean, i remember him telling us at dinner that time, but that was barely enough, i mean.. there’s gotta be more right?”

“go on.”

“and mj, i mean.. is peter finally going to ask her out? baby, so many questions, i just have so many.”

“well… i guess i could tell you one thing..” he tempted her. her lips twitched upwards as she pressed her forehead against his.

“mmhmm?”

“i could tell you that… the ending of the movie?”

“yeah..”

“is fucking fantastic. really, it’s brilliant babes.”

“because?”

“you will just have to see-“ he was cut off by his girlfriend hitting him in the face with a pillow.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE TOM-“

“quiet down! you are going to get tessa all going..”

“sorry…”

a moment of silence passed as tom squealed, “for fucks sake tom!” in his best high pitched, y/n impression possible.

“shut up!”

the two laughed before she clicked play.

“you look so good here, tom. it’s so weird like- i’m sitting next to you-“ she pointed at tom, “but, there you are on tv!”

“you are just realizing this?”

“well, it’s like inception!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i was told, it was a wedding!”

her chest boiled with anger as she quickly hit pause. “NO BECAUSE, fuck you for that! i remember being all excited, thinking tony and pepper were gonna have a beautiful wedding, only to see hes fucking DEAD.”

tom couldn’t hold in his laughs. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know!”

“well it’s pretty obvious, tom! everyone’s sad and in black, baby, you really are an airhead.”

“hey-“ she cut him off with a kiss to his lips.

the two cuddled up while watching the interview, small laughs leaving their bodies.

“like, zendaya! when did you find out how endgame ended?”

“oh, i remember. me, jacob, and zendaya were all in a facetime call freaking the fuck out, while my boyfriend over here, was chilling like nothing was wrong.”

“you guys were in a facetime call?” he questioned.

“yes! i was heartbroken and i had gotten a call from z who was clearly also upset!”

“well, he’s fine clearly! i mean, i wouldn’t be in far from home if peter was dead, right?”

she looked up at him, his heartbeat still lingering on her skin. “so you can tell me that you are still alive, but you can’t tell me about jake gyllenhaals character?”

“well, it’s a given! obviously peter is alive!”

y/n groaned, her head now resting on his chest.

“dating a superhero is difficult.”

“aww, poor darling, i’m sure it is.” he peppered kisses along her forehead.

“hey! you ate all of the popcorn?!” tom was flabbergasted, his voice heightening a few octaves.

“yep, and what about it?” her tone dripping in sass.

“i wanted some, for one!”

“too bad, maybe if you would spill the deets on far from home, you’d get some of my popcorn. hell, tom, if you confess right now, i’ll make you a whole bowl!”

“no.”

“well it was worth a try!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i can’t believe it’s over.” the house was completely silent, the only thing audible being tessa’s light snores.

“i’m gonna miss that guy..”

“baby, i’m right here.” he placed his hand at the small of her back, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m talking about mysterio.”

“oh, yeah, great!” she giggled at his response. “he’s just so hot, tom! way hotter than peter-“

“yeah, maybe if you think manipulation is hot!”

her mouth fell agape at his words.

“what?” he said, oblivious to the screw up he just made. she smiled widely at him as he slowly was hit with realization.

“oh, fucking damn it!”

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[psatalk]

Live at drupa 2024 — SP Ultraflex' Roboslit plus series  

At drupa 2024 in Dusseldorf, SP Ultraflex, a specialist in Converting Slitter Rewinders, will conduct a live demonstration of its Roboslit plus series 1000 mpm dual turret slitter rewinder. Biku Kohli, CEO of SP Ultraflex, said, “This model, positioned right at the top of our extensive range, includes a host of features that take output, quality, and operator convenience to the next level within a safe and automated environment that includes end-to-end integrated material handling.”

The machine, which will be on display in hall no-11, stand no D12, has an operational speed of 1000 MPM. It has a fully automatic job set-up that encompasses the positioning of the web guide sensor, cutters, trim extraction nozzles, and rewind cores, effectively minimizing setup time, material consumption, and operator dependency.

Other features include a newly developed low-noise trim extraction system that allows a safer and more comfortable working environment; an automatic off-loader with a secondary pusher that reduces manual effort and enhances workflow efficiency, enabling continuous operation without interruptions; and robust safety features, including an area scanner, doors and guard interlocking, and CCTV cameras to ensure a secure working environment for operators.

Kohli explained the automatic job set-up feature. "It involves the simultaneous alignment of the unwind, cutting, and rewind sections of the machine to the package design through the use of servo-driven pick-and-place mechanisms for the components in the respective sections.” He believes this feature will be one of the key attactions for visitors, who are overwhelmed by the size changes required on their slitter rewinders.

The SP Ultraflex team says the newly designed trim extraction is far more efficient than its predecessor and, as such, can produce the desired suction power at a fraction of the power consumed by a regular trim extraction blower.

Kohli says the printing industry is undergoing rapid and significant changes. In the evolving landscape, he expressed confidence that his team is ready to deliver for converters who demand more efficient solutions with minimal set-up wastage and reduced dependency on operator skills.

He feels drupa 2024 is the largest exhibition in the industry and offers an opportunity to maximize the global exposure of any company. “It will play a vital role in facilitating our company's growth trajectory by providing a platform for strategic engagement, collaboration, and continuous learning within the dynamic landscape of the flexible packaging and converting industry.”

[adorethedistance]

Chapter 5: Broken Pieces - JJ Maybank x Reader

Photo cred: My aesthetic but if this is your art or photography and you don’t want me to post it please let me know I’ll gladly comply with your wishes.

Warnings: swearing, blood, injuries, mentions of suicide in a humorous manner, mentions of abuse

Words: 3367

Previously in part 4: JJ did read your text, however he’s completely MIA for the whole school day. Pope and Kie pick up on how you’re feeling down now that JJ is gone for unknown reasons. The stress of one problem to another finally causes you to crack under the pressure and though Pope came to your emotional aid, he’s been acting weird. Really weird. There’s no better way to take your mind off of your problems than a good old film class period. An, the greatest film friend and Vietnamese Sergio Leone, can tell just how fond you are of JJ. And for good reason seeing as your meeting story is one in a million: who doesn’t want to talk conspiracy theories with a stranger?

A/n: Guess who is a fat liar and is still on that writing at 2 AM bullshit and minimal proofreading? Me. Ya boi. Anywho, this is the longest part yet and it’s probably my favorite part of the fic so far. Hope y’all enjoy

I groan into my hands as I rub my eyes for the millionth time. This documentary is going to be the death of me. After trimming down all 3,000 hours of youtube news, I’m left with a whopping one minute of Spiderman footage. What am I gonna do? Is it too late to change my entire project?

I could get started on my JJ documentary…

Opening the file of JJ footage on my hard drive, I see a different clip that I haven’t watched yet. The video, no doubt recorded on my camcorder, is a medium close shot of JJ sitting by the pool at Sarah’s complex. We’ve got our feet in the water and he’s watching Pope from across the pool, undoubtedly doing something stupid. But it makes JJ laugh and I smile from behind my computer screen at his expression. He then turns to talk to me and sees that I’m recording. He laughs a bit more and leans forward to make a weird face directly into the lens.

It makes digital and real life me laugh, and JJ looks up above the camera where I can tell he’s staring at me, grinning larger than life. He says something that I miss due to my volume being so low, and I hit pause to rewind. Scrubbing back to when JJ was smiling, I move to hit play but I freeze before I do.

Knock knock.

Am I imagining things? Looking up to the time on my desktop, the clock reads 12:08 AM. Not too late to be up, and definitely not too late to be imagining things. Whatever, I’m sure-

Knock knock.

Placing my headphones on my desk, I spin around in my seat to face my window. My midnight blue blackout curtain hangs stagnant, muffling the ominous sound.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Okay well there’s no denying I’m not hearing imaginary things. Either that noise is a really large pigeon, someone who scaled the side of my building, or there’s a tennis ball pitching machine that’s set on a very specific rhythm.

I slowly push off of my chair. My fingertips hesitantly leave the edge of the seat as if I’ll float away when I let go. My mind feels frozen in place, but my body betrays its wishes and carries me closer to the window. Reaching a shaking hand towards my curtain I grip the edge of the fabric in my clammy fingers.

I take a deep breath and let it out to calm my nerves. Quickly, I yank the curtain to the side, gasping once my eyes focus outside of the window. My eyes are wide. I’m frozen in shock. My lungs will only allow shallow breaths as I try and process what’s in front of me.

“What the fuck,” I whisper mostly to myself. The aged paint of the windowsill frames the outside world in a romantic way... except for tonight. Outside my window, like a mirage of blue and red heroism, Spiderman is kneeling on my fire escape, clutching the side of his abdomen.

Once I begin believing what I’m seeing, I realize there are severe gashes in his suit. Red and blue shreds of fabric peeling off of the piece that was once whole.

“Please- let me in,” he says desperately. In the mix of shock and adrenaline my skepticism takes control,

“What do you need in my house for-”

“PLEASE! Y/n, please. Just let me-” he trails off, rising to his feet and trying to maintain balance. All of my adrenaline is gone and what’s left is the shock. I stand solid as Spiderman is hobbling into my room. Spiderman is in my room.

Bringing his second leg over the window pane, he stands for merely a second before completely collapsing into the floor. The impact draws me from my stupor and I’m back in a sober mindset. First, I close the window and make sure no one saw him enter, then I draw the curtains shut and drop to my knees next to Spiderman’s crumpled form.

“How do you know my name?” I ask cautiously. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly lifts his right hand and grips the top of his mask. He groans as he pulls the mask off of his head-

“What the fuck?!” I involuntarily screech. “JJ?”

At the mention of his name, JJ looks up at me from his position on the floor. His elbows are tucked underneath him as if he were army crawling, and his legs seem to provide no aid to his cowering form. Spiderman-JJ-is on my floor, fucking dying, what the fuck do I do? Through short gasps for breath and a furrowed brow of concern, JJ looks up at me as I stand from my spot next to him on the floor.

“I should call an ambulance.”

“I-” he coughs unwillingly, “I don’t have insurance.”

“You’re a crime fighting vigilante with virtually no super powers and you don’t have insurance?” I squeak in utter disbelief.

“AAUUUGHH,” JJ exaggerates a groan to express the absolute agony he’s in.

“Alright, alright, I hear you. What happened to you? What are you doing here?”

“Dad- dad’s at home, drunk. I didn’t know where else to go. You’re the only one who can help me, Y/n.”

Kneeling back onto the ground, I sling JJ’s left arm over my right shoulder, and help bring him back to his feet.

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet,” I point out, which makes him snort a small laugh. Maybe this is where he has been all day: getting beaten to a pulp. Slowly, carefully, I lead JJ across the light brown carpet and into my bathroom just down the hall. He’s coughing with each step. Who knows what kind of fluid is in his lungs.

Releasing the arm that was slung across my shoulders, I duck underneath the limb and give support to the areas around the gashes that litter his body. He turns his back towards the sink and settles his weight on top of the counter with another groan. His breathing is shallow but beginning to even. The pain of his heart weighs on his mind and his eyes fall closed in hurt.

I watch with a heavy heart before realizing I can’t just stare at him all night. Sparing one last glance at JJ’s distressed demeanor, I squat down to retrieve the first aid kit from beneath the sink.

Bandages, gauze, peroxide… where is the neosporin? It’s probably in the bottom of the kit somewhere. I grip the edge of the counter to pull myself up with the first aid kid in tow. When I’m back on my feet, I can see JJ has reopened his eyes and one of them is beginning to swell.

The first aid kit is pressed against JJ’s left thigh, I’m standing between both legs, and the brown hand towel that used to rest on the drying rack is flush against JJ’s right thigh. I take a brief moment to survey all of his injuries and recognize what’s most dire.

His hair is consistently disheveled, but now there’s blood seeping across his hairline. His eyebrows always carry some sense of playfulness, but now they are split and blood seeps across his eyelids. His lips that always carry his signature smirk are now busted and puffy from enduring some ungodly amount of pressure. His collar bones that always support his tormented head are now sliced open, and they spill the crimson tragedies that so often threaten to spill when he least desires. His chest, that shields his own heart and occasionally shelters mine, is riddled with bruises old and new. His abdomen, that normally serves as the perfect pillow during movie night, is disturbed by a giant gash that was the primary source of the blood stain on my carpet.

Despite all the injuries that cover the top half of his body, none of them compare to the pain of holding all of his trials in the cage of his heart, never to be released to anyone else.

“JJ…” I break the silence in favor of getting answers. “We always tell each other everything. Why didn’t you tell me about being Spiderman?” JJ lets out a frustrated sigh that indicates that I had just asked the one question he was praying I wouldn’t.

“I couldn’t tell you about Spiderman because it makes you a target,” he recites as if he’s mulled over this hypothetical conversation a million times over.

“A target?”

“Yeah. You get your very own pair of khakis and a red polo shirt.”

“You’re really going to sass me while I’m helping you?”

“Maybe I am,” he challenges, his signature smirk returning to his beaten features. I poke the inside of my cheek with my tongue for a second, accepting his challenge.

“Neosporin is in the medicine cabinet on your right,” I toss the warm rag I was wetting at his chest and move to exit the bathroom.

“Wait! No, don’t kill yourself babe ur so sexy aha,” JJ pulls the infamous fuckboy face of squinted eyes and a ‘seductive’ lip bite, brushing the end of his chin with his hands in finger guns; I can tell he’s hoping that laughter will lure me back into treating his wounds.

“That’s what I thought.”

The swishing of the tap fills the air among JJ’s silence. I toss a dark blue washcloth under the cool water as I wait for it to warm up. Rather than waste time waiting, I set up my materials along the edge of the counter to take inventory of what I have. Bandages, gauze, and peroxide from under the counter- neosporin from the medicine cabinet. Antibacterial ointment just in case the neosporin is expired.

“Be still,” I say, looking up once more to take in all of his damaged features. He is still so beautiful even when covered in blood.

I start with his face when I figure that’s probably the most painful of the injuries. Well, that and the giant abdominal slice. I reach behind JJ’s slouched body to turn off the water and retrieve the now warm cloth.

Gently, I press the surface of the cloth to the dried blood that surrounds the split in his eyebrow. The added heat and moisture lets me wipe away the hardened blood, and I’m careful not to reopen the busted brow.

“I swear that was deep enough to need stitches, how has that already scabbed over?” I ask myself in a hushed voice. JJ laughs at my inner-becoming outer-monologue and I forget he’s intently listening to everything I say. I repeat the process of cleaning his other eyebrow and apply neosporin to both impacted areas, after checking the expiration date of course.

In the rhythm of cleaning, I begin humming a song to entertain myself. I gently massage some arnica gel into the bruises around the corner of his mouth and on the height of his cheekbone. From there, I work my way down to his split lip, still singing, and I run the cooled washcloth under warm water again. The water turns red and brown as it falls through the cloth and rinses away the remnants of injury.

Coming back up to his lips I cloak my index finger in the entire cloth and gently clean the surrounding area.

“Are you singing One Direction?” His question causes me to suddenly stop my movement. From my position, eye-level with his mouth, I look up to see his eyes. My own expression morphs into a smile and I extend my arms to rest my palms on the end of the sink, boxing his legs in between them.

“I don’t know, JJ. What song am I singing?” He pauses to think for a short moment.

“It’s Fireproof. Right?”

“Mhm,” I nod, resuming my work on his bleeding lip. I set the cloth down as it’s gone cold once again, and search the counter for the tube of neosporin. I don’t see it next to the peroxide where I left it. In my frenzy for the medicine, I can feel JJ’s breath on my face in short puffs. He’s laughing at me.

“Wha-” when I look at him I see the white and yellow tube extruding from his right hand. “Don’t touch my stuff you worm,” I snatch the container from his hand which makes him laugh harder.

“Yes, nurse Y/n,” he sits up straight as a board to salute me mockingly. I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. Leaning back down once again, I pour some of the hydrogen peroxide over the cloth and carefully dab the open wound. I feel JJ flinch and feel his breath fan across the top of my head. I thought it was just an initial reaction but he begins exhaling small puffs of air once more, and I can tell he’s laughing again. “What is it now?” exasperated, I stand straight to see his face. His laugh is far less playful this time, and far more smug. JJ looks down at me and continues laughing cockily. I don’t return his smile. Instead, I simply raise and eyebrow to silently ask for answers. “You’re not wearing a bra,” He states behind a smirk. I’m suddenly made aware that in my panic to help JJ, I didn’t even think about what I was-or wasn’t-wearing. Slamming the washcloth into his chest, I nearly push him off balance before using my free hands to cover my chest.

“I’m trying to help you, you piece of shit!” JJ laughs loud and hard with his eyes closed shut. “It’s not funny! You are such an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“No, come back-” JJ says between laughs, “it’s fine!” He calls after me as I rush back into my room to retrieve a bra from my closet.

“No, you freak!”

__________________________

Since the ‘lack of pajamas’ fiasco, I had JJ take off the top half of his suit so I could tend to the gash in his torso. The blood continued seeping into the fabric of his suit even after he had slipped it off; I got squeamish from how large the cut is, but couldn’t help but notice his body. JJ looks as if he’s been chiseled by the gods themselves. I also couldn’t help my desire to run my hand along his washboard abs, but I was able to play it off as wiping some blood away.

“With your bare hand?” he asked skeptically. I just nodded because I wouldn’t dare look him in the eyes after such an embarrassing moment.

“Almost done, I just need to clean this area,” I mutter to JJ from my crouched position. After dressing all of the dire injuries, the only one that’s left is a fairly large nick at the top of his right pectoral muscle. Upon closer inspection, I see something lodged underneath the skin. My gaze doesn’t break from trying to decipher what it is that’s under his skin as I reach blindly for a pair of tweezers. JJ can tell what I’m trying to do, and hands me the narrow tweezers that I will retire from using on my eyebrows after tonight.

I use my index finger and my thumb to hold the surrounding skin taut as I gently insert the open end into his wound. JJ involuntarily lets out a small hiss but quickly reassures me he’s fine for me to continue working. After a few moments of struggling, I’ve gotten a good grip on the metal chunk and I remove it from his chest. The surface of the piece is covered in spots of his blood which makes me grimace, and I rinse off the blood before tossing it into the trash can.

Following the typical peroxide, neosporin, bandage, rinse, and repeat routine, I take a small step backwards to get a general overview of his injuries to make sure I didn’t miss anything. The second time over, I notice his eyebrow is open and beginning to bleed again. It’s much worse than I originally thought.

“J, you really need stitches.” “I don’t have insurance.”

“I know,” I sigh. I wish there was more I could do for him but my nursing degree is nonexistent. Upon deciding to redress the split in his brow, I lean forward to apply pressure on the wound with the diluted-hydrogen peroxide washcloth. My focus is inconsistent since I just have to hold the cloth in place for a bit. The distraction allows me to realize JJ is staring right into my eyes. His stare causes me to relax my own tense brows. The unyielding pressure against his face can’t feel good, but he shows no sign of discomfort. In fact, it seems to be quite the opposite.

JJ‘s eyes offer a warm condolence and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The tip of his tongue dabs out to wet his lips, an action that seems subconscious until I see he’s noticed my staring at his lips.

“So,” I clear my throat to divert both of our attention, “how exactly did you get all these injuries?”

“Green Goblin smashed me between two trains.”

“What the fuck, how are you alive?”

“You’re the only one who I’ve told this to, so you can’t tell anyone but…” JJ then proceeds to tell me about how one night he was home alone and there was a weird looking spider on his window. He went to pick it up, because god knows why, and it straight up bit the palm of his hand. He freaked out a bit, and felt woozy and just blacked out. The next morning he was infinitely stronger, stickier, and hyper-aware of everything around him-something he calls a ‘spidey sense’.

In the middle of discovering his powers, his dad came home, drunk as ever and the typical string of abuses ensued. This time was different. His sense allowed him to evade his dad’s attacks and his strength was enough to defend himself, all before 8 AM.

I can’t imagine how scared and anxious he must’ve felt.

“Well, whenever you need to crash somewhere safe from superhero issues or even family issues, you’re always welcome here. No questions asked.” JJ hops off of the bathroom sink and pulls me into a tight hug. I don’t even want to think about how long it’s been since he’s had a proper hug.

__________________________

The perk of constantly stealing JJ’s clothes means I have spares for when he comes over. Grabbing one of his t-shirts from my dresser and an old pair of his basketball shorts, JJ is able to change into clothes without holes in them.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep after what happened tonight?” He simply shrugs before tugging the shirt over his head.

“It’s not any worse than what’s happened before.”

“Hold on,” I walk closer to confirm my suspicions, “you bled through your bandaid again.”

I run to the bathroom to see I had used all of the tan bandages. There have to be some bandaids in here. Just his luck.

“So, you used all of my tan bandaids which means you’ll have to settle for Hello Kitty,” I say, holding up the half-opened box. JJ clutches both hands over his heart,

“No! Hello Kitty bandaids are my one weakness!” I sit cross-legged on the center of my bed and beckon him over to join me. Once he’s sat down, I remove the bloodied bandage and stick the Hello Kitty one across his eyebrow. JJ smiles a soft, lazy smile at me once again before allowing his eyes to flutter shut.

“Tired?”

“No. Just happy.” Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and place a kiss on his right cheek. His smile grows bigger despite his injured lip.

“It’s bedtime,” I lightly push his chest as leverage to get up and turn off my light. Sliding back into bed, I settle underneath the covers and lift the other side for JJ to join me. He obliges and curls up next to me.

“Goodnight, JJ,” I whisper in an exhausted bliss.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

__________________________

Read the next part here.

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