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autoprint · 4 months ago

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Elementary Montessori schools in Coimbatore | Bluegems

Elementary Montessori

What sets Montessori apart in the Elementary years—ages 6 – 12—is the individually paced curriculum that challenges children academically and safeguards their well-being and sense of self. Engaging as contributing members of a respectful community, they learn to question, think critically, and take responsibility for their own learning skills that will support them in later education and in life.

As at all Montessori levels, the Elementary program is based on the belief that children learn best through movement and work with their hands, and provides cognitive, social, and emotional support to help them reach their full potential.

This includes addressing their needs as they enter a new period of development characterized by:

A transition from concrete to abstract thinking

Growing interest in socialization

Thinking and memory that is enhanced by creativity and imagination

An interest in fairness, social justice, and compassion

The Elementary Classroom

In a Montessori Elementary classroom, students work individually or in small groups, at tables or on mats on the floor.Natural lighting, soft colors, and uncluttered spaces set the stage for activity that is focused and calm. Learning materials are arranged on accessible shelves according to curricular area, fostering independence as students go about their work. Everything is where it is supposed to be, conveying a sense of harmony and order that both comforts and inspires.Children who are new to Montessori quickly feel at home with the inspired teaching that appeals to their deepest interests, and with the distinctive, hands-on learning materials that teachers introduce sequentially according to the students’ developmental needs. For students who have completed Montessori Early Childhood programs, the environment offers continuity with familiar routines and learning materials that offer new lessons and opportunities for more complex exploration and discovery.

The classroom is a happy community. Students are focused. They take joy in their work.They invent, explore, experiment, confer, create, prepare snacks, and curl up with books;sometimes they might even reflect in a peaceful, meditative corner. Meanwhile, teachers circulate throughout the room, observing the students and making notes about their progress, ever ready to offer support or introduce new material, as appropriate. Expectations are both exquisitely clear and engagingly open-ended.

Multi-Age Learning

Multi-age groupings of children ages 6 – 9 ( Lower Elementary)and 9 ��12( Upper Elementary) provide a heterogeneous mix in which children can collaborate and socialize. These inter-age relationships strengthen the entire community. Older children are seen as role models within the community. They support the growth and development of younger children through socialization, assisting with new work, or teaching skills they have mastered themselves. They can also work with younger students in areas of the curriculum in which they themselves may need more practice, without stigma.

Younger children follow the example set by the older students, and have peers to work with in areas of the curriculum in which they may be more advanced. This multi-age community provides opportunities for all individuals to learn from each other, at times leading, sharing, or serving as role models. It also develops an appreciation of differences.Within this supportive, inclusive community, children work through the curriculum at their own pace, accelerating during some tasks or taking additional time with others.

What Your child Will Learn

For returning Montessori students, the Montessori Elementary program expands upon the learning fostered in an early Childhood program. For students new to Montessori, it orients them to the joys of responsible participation.

Teachers guide children through a rigorous curriculum individually tailored to their own interests, needs, and abilities. Teachers monitor progress against established benchmarks and expectations for student learning, including: academic preparedness, independence,confidence, autonomy, intrinsic motivation, social responsibility, and global citizenship.

Curricular Areas

The Montessori Elementary curriculum contains the following areas of learning:

Practical Life

Within the Elementary program, the Practical Life curriculum expands from the foundation laid in Early childhood. Practical Life at the Elementary level shifts from a focus on self-care and fine motor skills, to skills that help children connect with their interests in the outside world, organize their time, and take part in their community.

While self-care and appropriate social interactions continue to be supported, lessons that teach responsibility are the focus. Use of tools, such as work plans, to support organization and time management skills, are incorporated into the daily routine.

Teachers and students often work together to post reminders about assignments, projects,and ideas. Using these, children make independent work choices, prioritize activities, and meet deadlines.

Math

The ideas of number concepts, place value, numerals, and related quantities are reinforced and expanded upon within the Elementary program. Newfound purposes for familiar math materials provide children with the means to consider number concepts, mathematical operations, and more complex functions, helping to expand advanced mathematical knowledge and understanding.

Language

Reading and writing are integral to all subjects in Montessori Elementary, as children express their interests and satisfy their curiosity. Students master conventions with thorough studies of grammar, spelling, and mechanics. They produce final copies with careful penmanship and keyboarding. They read, analyze, think critically, and compare and contrast literature to support personal opinion and perspective. Using these reading and writing skills, they present ideas through formal and informal presentations.

Cultural studiesCultural studies are interdisciplinary and integrate zoology, botany, geography, geology, physical and life sciences, and anthropology. Through these lessons, children explore the interconnectedness of all living things. Additionally, in-depth studies of history, physical and political world geography, civics, economics, peace and justice, the arts, world language, and physical education are introduced.Science and Social StudiesInterdisciplinary and integrated studies of geology, geography, physical and life sciences, anthropology, and history are built around “Great Lessons,” a series of dramatic stories that explore the origins of the universe, our planet, and the continuous development of human advancement. The laws of physics and chemistry reveal the interdependency of all living things. Beginning with a study of civilization, students explore the contributions of history and what it means to be a responsible citizen and to seek ways to make the world a better, more peaceful place.Montessori Learning MaterialsMontessori students don’t just memorize facts and figures. They also learn the “hows,” “whens,” and “whys,” ensuring that learning takes place on a deep and fundamental level. Specially designed learning materials that use real objects and actions to translate abstract ideas into concrete form support them in this learning.Teachers introduce materials to students according to their level of development and readiness. Students then work with the materials to make exciting discoveries—such as why, when dividing fractions, we invert and multiply. Inherent in the use of Montessori materials is the understanding of the power of discovering answers on one’s own.

Get in Touch

Bluegems Montessori, Tex Park Road (Via CODISSIA Road), Nehru Nagar West, Civil Aerodrome (PO), Coimbatore – 641 014, INDIA.

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nexgendryingsystems · 4 months ago

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Coding and batch Printing machines Pune India

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#Coding and batch Printing machines Pune India

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seoagency26 · 4 months ago

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Batch Coding Machine: Print MRP, EXP & Barcode on Your Products

Batch Coding Machine is a compact, portable, hand held batch coding machine. Those machines are designed for small corporations and startups wherein mobility is essential. Batch coding machine is main utilized in small scale manufacturing of meals and liquids, prescription drugs and cosmetics. while some unique functions can also range relying at the version and production.

This machine is used inside the packaging and manufacturing industry to print vital information on merchandise and items which includes MRP dates, expiration dates, production dates, batch numbers and other identity marks on merchandise or packaging substances. This information is important for monitoring, stock management and excellent manage functions.

Read More: Batch Coding Machine

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hai7ani · 9 months ago

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os ventos do amor ᡣ𐭩 ー haitani rindou

the five times rindou shows you he loves you (tries) & the one time he finally tells you about it.

( the winds of love ) friends with benefits + colleagues au, mdni

一 · in his kitchen (prequel)

The first time Rindou tries showing you he loves you, you're busy slurping noodles in his kitchen, and he's creasing his brows ironing your stupid little blouse in his tiny laundry room.

"Need some help?" You tease from the table after swallowing.

Usually you'd let him do it himself in peace, with no mocking, as per his own request to iron your clothes for you whenever you stay the night. But he's been at it for the past 20 minutes now just ironing one stupid blouse, and you're starting to grow impatient, because he'd promised to share this bowl of ramen with you but it's almost finished now.

Your voice echoes in the living area and he doesn't reply, but you know he heard you. You put down the chopsticks and sigh, "you know, I could've done it myself. No need for the trou-"

"Here."

You cock your head to the side and you see him, finally, out of the laundry room, with some sweat beading on his forehead and he's padding towards you, holding out your white blouse to you by its hanger.

He's still frowning when he stops before you at the dining table and you can feel his deject before he even says his next words:

"It's a stubborn crease, 'n I coulda done better. But I don't wanna burn through your shirt." He hands you your blouse and you immediately soften at it, fingers gently running over the said crease and you can tell he's done his best ー he did a great job, because if it were up to you, you would've chosen to give up halfway through.

"And sorry I ripped your skirt. I'll buy you a new one this weekend." He apologises through a mouthful of ramen and you reach a thumb up to wipe away some soup dripping down his chin.

Your eyes flicker to the said skirt sitting on the edge of his couch ー a black linen pencil skirt with a little slit running up your knee is now a big slit running up your hip, and the sight makes you want to laugh. You'd stripped it off and threw it there upon entering his house ー a little angry and upset that he'd ripped through your favourite skirt to wear for work out of eagerness to fuck you in the backseat of his car without getting you both home first, and he'd offered to iron your shirt for the next day out of guilt.

And now you're left in nothing but your undies, still not yet showered (you're waiting for him together), and you notice it's a little red on the tip of his ears. But your fury has died out long ago and seeing him like this ー somewhat embarrassed and you think he's kind of stupid for apologising because deep down you know he knows you don't mind at all, but he still says it anyway ー makes you want to grab him by his cheeks and place a fat smooch on his lips. But you don't, and you continue to watch as he swiftly finishes up the noodles before turning to wash the dishes.

"...Thank you, Rin." He doesn't see it but you're smiling when you say it to him ー shy, rosy lips a little pursed, the apple of your cheeks rose high, and he resists the urge to turn around and cup your cheeks with soapy hands.

"Whatever. 'N the noodles were disgusting. Remind me to never buy it again."

"Okay."

二 · in the office

The second time is when you catch him in the printer room the next morning.

He's photocopying documents by the printer, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and he has one hand manning the machine with the other supporting his body. His fingernails tap beats against the hard surface as he waits for the next batch of documents to finish printing.

Rindou doesn't notice your presence and you don't make yourself known either, choosing to watch him by the door as he makes quick work of counting and organising and stapling together freshly printed documents while making sure they're all in the correct order for the team meeting later ー and you think it's so bad of you to be ogling at his exposed arms with indecent thoughts of doing many things to him floating in your mind as his muscles flex under the light with his every move.

But you don't let your thoughts consume you, and he looks up at you ー now standing beside him with your arms tucked behind your body and a cheeky smile planted on your face.

Rindou focuses back on his work, obviously in a rush to complete everything, but he still acknowledges you nonetheless.

"You're up to something." He sighs while stacking together the stapled documents.

You feint a pout.

"...'M not." (He interpreted this as "I am.")

Rindou has never once told you this but he always thought that you had somewhat of a close resemblance to a cat. A very annoying Siamese cat that behaved like his previous one, constantly following him around and begging him for attention while also pretending like it isn't.

But it's nothing new. Rindou had come to a conclusion a while ago that you like to keep him guessing, and you particularly enjoy acting nonchalant when it's so obvious to him right now that you want something, anything that can keep you going for the day.

"What, you want a kiss or somethin'?"

"...Kinda,"

Bingo.

"But I want to use the machine more than I want a kiss."

He smirks, though he doesn't give it to you just yet, and you begin to count and prepare your own documents in silent when he doesn't reply. (You think he's ignoring you and it's awkward.)

But Rindou doesn't step away even when he's finished and you're confused. And unlike yourself, he doesn't have a knack for keeping you guessing. He speaks before you have the chance to ask.

"How many?" He grabs at your papers and lays them face-down on the machine before closing the shutter. His thumb hovers over the screen, eyes unwavering against your own as he waits for your reply.

"Um, ten copies." Your smile slowly widens when he finally presses 'print' and steps back for you to take over. He doesn't collect his documents to leave, however, and you raise your brows in confusion when he moves to close the door gently (and locking it, too) before shutting the blinds altogether.

"What're you doin'? Aren't you in a rush?" You question.

He shrugs and makes his way over to you.

"I've got time," he says it while trapping you against the machine with his two arms, lips quickly hovering against your own and you can smell a hint of the peppermint gum he likes to chew on from time to time.

"The machine's all yours," he licks at your bottom lip, "and now, for your kiss..."

I've always got time for you.

You think it's a great thing that the printer room doesn't have a CCTV.

三 · at the mall (shopping for your skirt)

Rindou has a good eye for things. You knew it the moment he'd picked out a pair of Daiso's reindeer-printed socks for you as your Secret Santa a few Christmases ago.

(You've always liked reindeers, but Rindou simply bought it for you because he didn't know what you liked.

You'd jumped in happiness the moment you opened your present and Rindou thought you were actually the prettiest girl alive.

You'd pounced on him in excitement, yelling out your gratefulness for everyone in the party to hear.

He'd decided that he wanted you then.)

So you're in Aeon browsing through skirts without him even though you came out here together. You don't know where he is, and you've given up on looking for him after phoning him a few times and wandering around like a lost child looking for its parent.

But you hear a cough behind you and you turn around, only to be greeted by the sight of a really pretty dress hanging from his finger.

You admire it from top to bottom ー a really nice coral pink dress with large hibiscuses printed all over with a little slit running up the thigh ー and Rindou moves it closer to you.

"Whatchu think of this?" He asks, nervous eyes a little dodgy against your mischievous ones, and you smile a little when taking the hook off his finger.

"I wanted a skirt, not a dress." You comment, obviously poking fun at him and Rindou immediately reddens like a tomato. "Forget it, then."

He reaches a hand out to snatch it from your own but you take a step back away, clutching the dress to your chest tight.

"Didn't say I don't want it, though." You jut your chin out and he snorts.

"I need to make a call," he fishes his card out from his wallet and hands it to you. You grip on the flat plastic tight, afraid of losing it while also in shock because why did he hand you his card? He's acting like you're both a married couple now.

"Text me when you're finished." And he shuffles away with his phone pressed to his ear.

四 · during the phone call with his brother

"Yo, Aniki." Rindou greets the moment his brother picks up the phone. After eight rings, what the hell is this idiot even doing?

"What?" The older man answers from the other line, phone tucked between the shoulder and his ear while he's rushing to prepare his daughter's dinner.

"You busy?" The younger boy asks. He shuffles his weight from heel to toe while standing in front of a wall full of different mugs and bowls at the home appliances department.

Pink is nice. She likes pink. Or should I get red? It's almost Valent-

"Uncle Rin-rin!" His niece's voice booms through the speaker, cutting Ran off and Rindou immediately smiles at it. "Hi, sweetie."

And Ran takes over the phone again. "What's up? Speak before I hang up. I'm a very busy man." Rindou resists the urge to snort at it ー he has a favour to ask, after all.

"How do you..." The younger pauses, oddly feeling a little too nervous to continue. Though it is his own brother on the other line that he knows although very annoying, he would still be there to help, Rindou finds it a little embarrassing to be asking him about this. He's never done this before, and he's not very big on asking his brother for favours too, and Ran is surprised at the sudden question shot that's been left hanging.

He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He knows Ran will never let this go if he asks, but he decides to screw his ego because in the end, it is for you.

"How do you, um," he taps his foot on the ground.

...Fuck it.

"How do you chase a girl? Or something like that. Whatever it is."

"...Chase a girl? What girl- Oh. The one you've been sleeping with."

"What the fuck? Not in front of my niece, dude."

"Relax, I put her down a while ago."

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

Ran only laughs boisterously at Rindou's annoyance, but he doesn't leave his brother hanging.

He's always here for him, no matter what.

"So what're you thinking? Any options?" Ran asks. Rindou grabs at a white mug with pink flowers painted on it before replying. "Mugs."

"Mugs? Like for drinking, mugs? You're not serious, Rindou? You're buying mugs to chase a girl, are you insane?"

The younger clicks his tongue and puts the porcelain back on the shelf albeit a little harshly. "Why else do you think I'm asking you, asshole? Just tell me what to buy. I really don't know."

"I can't tell you what to buy for a girl you're chasing, dude. And I don't even know what she likes. What does she like? You tell me."

He ponders for a moment. "Dresses. Pink stuff." His mind travels back to the night you first met, at work, as clerks, when you'd included your hobbies into your introduction and one of it was gardening. "And like, flowers."

"Then just get her flowers, you already have your answer." Ran deadpans from the other line, but Rindou only hisses. "Yeah, but I already got her a pink dress with flowers printed on it. What else?"

"I'm talking about actual flowers. You can get them anywhere, and most importantly, never fails to make a pretty girl smile. She already likes flowers anyway."

"...'Kay, thanks. You're useful for once."

"Fuck off." Ran clicks his tongue. "...And red tulips, if I may suggest. And remember, tell me how it goes-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

五 · aftercare with you

Remember when I said that Rindou wanted you the moment you'd hugged him in excitement after seeing some lame reindeer-printed socks wrapped up nicely in a little box tied with a pink ribbon on top?

Yeah. He'd wanted you since then. But instead of starting off as friends from colleagues before getting to know you better and then asking you out on a date when he feels the time is right ー like a normal, sane person ー the both of you had gotten into a mutual agreement of becoming friends with benefits.

You don't remember exactly when it started, how it started, who initiated it, and neither does he, but you don't really care. Not when he's busy rubbing soft circles on the bruise forming on your hips for some comfort while he pecks you again and again on your forehead as you slowly fall asleep beneath him. He'd lost focus for a bit and gripped you a little harsher than he should've, but you really don't mind, yet he still feels bad.

And Rindou thinks you're prettiest like this ー neck and chest painted in hickeys that he'd sucked (out of adoration), eyelids droopy with your bags a little red from the tears of bliss you'd shed, and the back of yours fingers are gently caressing his left cheek. Your room smells of sex and lemongrass and a quiet 'sleepy?' is all he asks when your eyes finally close.

You hum out a lazy response of 'yes' before moving the same hand down to rest it on his nape, playing with the ends of his mullet a little, and you push him down to rest on your chest.

It's heartwarming. It feels intimate. And despite your abnormal relationship title with the man, you don't reject the sudden swell of your heart and neither does he.

So he presses a soft kiss to the top of your left boob ー right where your beating heart resides ー and you hug your legs a little tighter around his waist. It's nothing sexual and you both know it. It was all just to bring him closer to you, for you to feel more of his warmth in the coldness of your bedroom paired with the chill of February.

"Sleep then." He assures, voice gentle and lulling, and you smile a little at it.

Rindou is always softer at times like this, you realise ー when he'd fucked the life out of you after a particularly long day, when he'd made you moaned out melodies that he swore belonged to heaven, when he'd spent hours between your legs lapping up everything you have to give him.

Though you don't let yourself go at his words, and he watches amusedly as you try your hardest to fight back dear sleep in his arms. You don't think you're ready to sleep yet. Something feels out of place, oddly, even though you're sure you have completed everything that was in your checklist today.

Laundry, washing the dishes, prepping for Monday's meeting... You've done it all, and yet you still can't pinpoint what it is that is missing.

Until he moves up to silently place a warm kiss on your neck ー where your pulse beats against his lips ー and he realises his life hasn't really started until recently, until the day he'd met you and he thought you were such a breathtaking girl. Colours had burst into his world and your smile was the first thing that had lightened up.

And while you're happily drowning in his attention, Rindou silently wonders if the two of you were perhaps lovers in your past lives.

He wonders if you'd be willing to catch him. To be there, holding your arms out and yelling to him that you're here and to not worry; for him to just fall into your arms and he'd be safe ー you'll catch him.

Because he is falling. Hard. And he doesn't know how to tell you about it. He hopes that for the past few days his gestures were enough to tell you a portion of his love...

Just a portion, though. Because he wants to tell you the rest when he finally gets to call you his. Under the moonlight, at dinner with his brother and his family, before his parents at their graves every anniversary, or in front of your dog that's pawing at your door asking to be finally let in... Whatever it is, he wants to show the world that he loves you.

So when you smile sweetly up at him as he grows hard against your thigh ー a silly little love boner that you must've thought was just him getting horny to you massaging his sore backー Rindou's become a little more certain that the two of you must've met one way or another in the previous lifetimes and have fallen in love with each other when you gently trail a finger down his abdomen, before finally wrapping a hand around him.

Rindou wonders what it'd feel like to be yours in this lifetime.

And he gives in to your touches. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and lets you play with him as you please.

He thinks it's kind of cute that even as friends with benefits, you've already engraved a piece of yourself onto him.

Like the extra sets of pencil skirts and blouses that you leave hanging in his wardrobe in case of last minute plans that he swears are a hassle to iron because he can never get the creases right. But he never complains, and he would always offer to iron your clothes each time you stay over at his house. Or even when you don't. Because he would always find your stuff sitting in the basket when he's doing his laundry. And he'd have to iron them neat for you, before hanging it up in his wardrobe for you to wear the next time you stay the night.

Or like your toothbrushes hanging next to each other on the wall in his bathroom ー pink and purple facing each other by their bristles because you'd insisted out of the blue on a random Monday morning, at the start of your "relationship", with foamy toothpaste in your mouth and your hair poking out in every different direction it can go.

And sometimes your shoes bring him joy too, whenever he would get up to check on the door while you're falling asleep in his bed and he'd spot how your black pumps are always somehow scattered messily next to his own neat dress shoes by the entrance, and he'd have to squat down and rearrange them nicely.

He looks back up at you with ragged breaths and a coil in his abdomen that's threatening to break anytime soon. You're still giving him the same smile that drives him nuts every single time, and he leans in closer to give you a little kiss on the lips that you very much love.

And Rindou comes to a sudden realisation that he wants to tell you he loves you now. He needs you to know that he's all yours. You're his sweetheart.

So he does what he thinks is right ー what he feels is right. He reaches over your body, towards the marble vase on your nightstand that your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present, and he picks a fresh flower out of it after careful consideration. You don't move from your spot, only trying to kiss whatever skin of his that your lips can reach from your position ー his shoulder, his bicep, his arm, his neck... And a familiar smaller-sized tulip appears before your eyes. You raise your brows a little at it.

"Pretty fuckin' girl," is all he murmurs before pushing himself into you.

"I'm all yours." He whispers.

A peaceful winter night and Rindou fucks you again in missionary with so much love bubbling in his chest and a red tulip tucked behind your ear.

终 · during breakfast together

"Do you want eggs?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

You kick your feet and watch from the bar as he cooks you both breakfast in your kitchen. You're covered in one of his shirts that he'd left sitting on the back of your chair, your tired eyes scans over his half-tattooed back covered in scratch marks, and you feel oddly proud to be the one to have done all that.

But you know it is not right. And you're not stupid ー you're aware of the things he's been doing these days, and if you were a forgetful fool you would've missed the rule you made with him at the start of your intimacy.

Never catch feelings for each other.

...But you were no forgetful fool, and the ache in your heart is too painful for you to ignore. You'd seen the way he looked at you last night ー the way he'd fucked you like you were the finest thing personally handcrafted by the hands of God. And because you treasure your friendship, you know you shouldn't be doing this to him. You think he's a good person, and you want to remain friends with him.

But you don't want to let him go.

"Hey, Rindou." You call out. He's in the midst of scrambling your eggs with butter when you do so. "Yeah?"

"Rindou," he hums again.

Ever so patient, but I have to break your heart.

"...We should end things, Rindou-kun."

Saturday morning and it feels as though his world is falling apart from your simple sentence. Like you've ripped apart his beating heart that pounds solely for you and threw it on the ground.

You are so cruel.

So much for all that last night, he thinks. So he turns around after hurriedly switching off the gas. The wooden spatula covered in eggs is still in his hands when he faces you in agony and you want to break down and cry.

You feel like a villain. The evilest villain of them all.

"Why? Was I too rough on you last night? I- Or were we too open about it? Tell me." He's worried. He's so worried that it almost makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Purples flicker between your own and your lips wobble. You grip the hem of his shirt tight in your hands and look down.

"Please, tell me." He pushes again, so you decide to tell him truthfully.

Be a big girl, don't cry. You've survived 25 years of life, cutting things off with your FWB should be easy.

"...I've caught feelings."

Except it's not.

A lone tear makes its way down your cheek and you wipe it away quick. "Sorry, I broke the rule. I caught feelings and I- I don't think it's right for us to continue this any further." Your voice cracks with every word you speak and it makes you want to cry even further, because he's not saying anything.

And despite the strong stance you've presented to him, Rindou knows you're putting on an act for him. So he puts down the spatula and shuffles to you. He stops before you and tilts your chin up with his finger.

You'd half-expected him to be upset about this as much as you are, because you know the feeling's mutual, but you respect the rule of your relationship more and you don't think it's right to continue on.

Except he isn't, and he's so fucking smug about it.

Rindou's got a huge grin on his face when you look up at him. Hair a little messy, a hickey on his jaw, and you're sobbing into his arms now.

"You like me." He states.

You kick him a little and continue to cry.

"You like me, huh?" He repeats again.

Rindou has an arm wrapped securely around your waist with the other hand smoothing the back of your head as he shushes you gently, rocking you both side to side and you hit him a little on the chest.

"Do you think this is funny? It's not funny. I'm being serious." So you try pushing him away in hiccups but he only laughs as you struggle against his strength.

"Why do you wanna end things?"

"As I've said, I broke the rule. It's not right anymore."

He snorts at your reasoning. "You know, rules are always meant to be broken."

"So you don't respect me enough to follow my rule?" You're trying to pick a fight but he doesn't quite buy into it, choosing to kiss your forehead instead as you continue to wiggle your way out of his hold.

"I've never been one to follow the rules anyway." Rindou mutters against your hair as he presses another kiss to your crown. You're too endearing to let go, he thinks, and he holds you anymore tighter to himself at that.

"And who said if it's right or wrong? Screw rights and wrongs. We both like each other, the feeling's mutual. There's no point in letting each other go." He wipes your tears away with his palm and cups your cheeks with them. "I know you don't wanna let me go."

You swat his chest again at that and he only laughs harder at your reaction. He thinks you're the most precious thing in life. In his life. In the universe. You're the most precious thing ever.

"I like you a whole lot, you know." Smooch. "More than you'll ever know." Another smooch. "Let me be yours."

You pout as you look into his eyes. Purple orbs sucking you in deep and you have no choice but to fall. Purple orbs that tells you these arms will catch you if you do. And another kiss to your soul that tells you everything you need to know.

"Okay."

You'll catch each other.

"I love you."

You're already catching each other.

😅😅😅😅😅 been mia for so long bc i've been working on this. Its been in my drafts for soooo long LOL and this was supposed to be a valentines day special but i didnt make it in time cus i was bz sleeping.. but i hope you guys like this a lot ^^ listen to the playlist if u have time! And i tried a new layout too i hope it looks nice.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

#writing #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #haitani brothers

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lupinqs · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER SIX ━━ Shattered Glass

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of conversion therapy

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: finally bro

DANI STANDS in the dimly lit darkroom, watching the chemicals slowly bring her latest batch of photos to life. The soft red glow of the safelights fill the room, casting long shadows across the black-and-white prints hanging on the drying line. The hum of the machines and the faint smell of chemicals are oddly calming, giving her a momentary escape from the chaotic mess her life has become. She likes it here. The darkroom is one of the few places that still feels like her own—maybe her safe space.

She adjusts the print in the developer tray, her hands moving automatically as her mind wanders. It’s hard not to think about the other night, about Paige’s basket. The note stays with her, a flicker of warmth that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She wishes Paige hadn’t done it. She wishes she could’ve just stewed in her misery, in the mess she’s made. It would be easier that way.

Now, Dani can’t stop thinking about it. Paige is always there, lurking at the edges of her thoughts, no matter how much Dani tries to push her away.

It’s frustrating and comforting at the same time.

The door to the darkroom swings open, flooding the room with harsh light from the hallway. Dani blinks against it, silently cursing as Serena Corren struts in. The blonde cheerleader makes no effort to close the door softly, the bang of it slamming shut making Dani wince. Serena isn’t supposed to be here, at least not right now, but here she is anyway, crashing into Dani’s quiet space like she always seems to do.

“Hey, Dani.” Serena drops her yearbook materials on the counter with a loud thunk, her sharp voice cutting through the low hum of the room.

“Hey,” Dani mutters, her eyes fixed on the developing photo, hoping Serena will take the hint and keep her distance. But that isn’t how Serena works. She never really does subtle.

Serena leans over, peering at the picture. “You’re still working on that football game? Don’t you have, like, a thousand of those already?”

Dani shrugs, her jaw tight. “I’m trying to be thorough.”

Serena scoffs. “No, I think you’re trying to be alone in here, avoiding everyone.” She straightens, fixing Dani with a pointed look pursing her lips into a line. “You’ve been weird lately, you know that?”

Dani’s shoulders tense. She knows where this is going and she doesn’t want to deal with it. “I’m fine, Serena.”

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde drawls, pulling up a stool and plopping down on it without asking. “That’s why Beau’s been bitching to everyone about you. Says you’ve been acting all ‘distant.’”

Dani doesn’t say anything, keeping her eyes locked on her work. Beau. Of course, it’s about Beau. Everything is always about him—her boyfriend, her obligation. The person she’s supposed to care about. Except she doesn’t. Not really.

Serena crosses her arms, eyeing Dani with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “You’re lucky, you know that? Beau’s, like, the hottest guy in school, and you’ve been treating him like shit recently. So, spill, and tell me what your deal is.”

Dani’s grip tightens on the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white. “I’ve just been dealing with stuff,” she mumbles.

“Right, ‘stuff.’” Serena’s tone drips with sarcasm, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve got everyone worried, Dani. Not just Beau—though, let’s be real, he’s the only one actually trying. The rest of us? We don’t know why you even bother hanging out anymore if you’re gonna be so… ugh.”

Dani’s stomach twists, but she keeps her mouth shut. Of course, Beau’s trying. That’s the narrative. That’s always the narrative. But neither him or Serena or any of their other friends are ever actually trying to help. The blonde isn’t even asking if Dani was okay. She’s here to make a point, to make sure Dani knows she’s out of line for daring to withdraw from the group.

Serena’s lips curl in a half-smile, her eyes sharp. “Look, I get it. Maybe you’re going through something or whatever, but seriously? You’re not the only one with problems, Dani. Beau’s been putting up with a lot from you.”

Dani lets out a short, bitter laugh before she can stop herself. “Putting up with me? Are you serious?”

Serena’s smile falters for a second before she narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I am. You’ve been flaking on him for weeks, acting all moody, and he’s still there. Most guys wouldn’t stick around if their girlfriend was being such a—” Serena throws her hands up in the air, searching for a word, “—headcase!”

Dani’s vision blurs with irritation, but she swallows it down. It isn’t worth it, arguing with Serena. Sure, the girl was nice and welcoming at first, but it didn’t take Dani much time to realize just how fake Sersna can be. By now, Dani can hardly stand her, but she’s inevitable—Serena’s a part of Beau’s circle, part of this whole sick, suffocating dynamic Dani’s been shoved into. At this point, she has to hang out with them, even though Serena and the others have no idea what’s really going on, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. They’d probably just mock her even more.

She can’t explain why she’s acting “weird.” She can’t explain why the thought of being around Beau makes her feel like her skin is crawling. She can’t explain how much she hates who she’s become since she got back from camp. She can’t explain that the more she’s sucked into this straight girl, quarterback’s girlfriend, Catholic princess persona, the more she feels the girl underneath it slipping away, caught in between two worlds that don’t meet.

Serena’s still watching her, waiting for a response, her lips frowning in faux concern. “You’re lucky he hasn’t dumped you yet.”

Dani grits her teeth. Lucky. She’s not lucky; she’d be much more lucky if he dumped her. Beau’s controlling, selfish, and she knows he’s never given a damn about what she wants or how she might feel. He’s only gotten worse lately too, like a few nights ago—leaving her stranded, making her walk home alone in the dark while he drove off, doing who-knows-what.

But none of that matters, because in Serena’s world, Beau can do no wrong. In fact, Dani wouldn’t even be surprised if the two of them have fucked by now. “Maybe I don’t care if he dumps me,” the brunette mutters under her breath.

Serena snorts, “Yeah, right. Please. You’d be miserable without him, Dani. You wouldn’t have anyone left.”

That is what hits Dani hard, the words sinking into her like ice. She wants to that Serena’s wrong, but the fear is there, gnawing at her. Because who will she have without Beau, without this group she’s been forced into? She’s already lost her real friends, the ones who actually matter. Paige, Thaliah, Jalen.

“Look,” Serena continues, her voice smug, “just stop acting like this. Whatever this moody, weird thing you’ve got going on? It’s not cute. We’re all getting tired of it.”

Dani feels the anger bubbling up again, sharp and hot in her chest. She can’t do this anymore—can’t sit here and listen to Serena drone on about something that doesn’t even really fucking involve her. “I don’t care if you’re tired of it, Serena. You know what? Maybe I’m the one tired of it, tired of hanging around all of you, tired of hearing you bitching, and tired of the fact that none of you have a nice fucking bone in your body!”

Serena’s eyes flash with surprise, but she quickly covers it with a smirk. “Wow, okay. You’ve been one of ‘us’ for months now. So what the fuck does that say about you then, hmm?” She pauses, letting the words sink in, before continuing, “You’re just like the rest of us. And if you’re really gonna throw away everything just because you’re in one of your moods, then I guess I thought you were smarter than you really are.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her hands shaking slightly as she turns back to her photos. She doesn’t respond. She refuses. Because if she does, she isn’t sure what will come out—whether it would be anger or something worse. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Serena. She refuses to give her that satisfaction.

After a long, tense silence, Serena stands, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “Whatever, Dani. Keep being weird if that’s what you want. Just don’t be surprised when Beau gets tired of your shit and moves on. You’re replaceable, you know.”

Dani bites the inside of her lip at the venom in Serena’s words, but she doesn’t look up. She doesn’t let herself react, no matter how badly she wants to lash out.

The door to the darkroom creaks open again as Serena leaves, slamming it shut behind her.

PAIGE HASN’T heard a single word her financial algebra teacher has said the entire class period. Her foot taps against the floor incessantly, the low thud thud thud filling her head. She’s restless—scratch that, obsessed. Her is was stuck in one place, on one person.

Dani.

Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani.

Paige has been like this since Halloween, unable to focus on anything except the basket she left on the girl’s porch, hoping it would be some kind of olive branch. She’s spent the last few days replaying every interaction in her mind, trying to decipher Dani’s walls, to figure out what exactly is going on inside her head.

For how well and how long Paige has known the brunette, she simply can’t tell. She’s tried—but she has no idea what’s swirling in her ex-best friend’s mind that prompted her to create this entire situation. But what Paige does know is that she can’t keep sitting in this classroom pretending to care about math when all she wants to do is get Dani to talk to her. Really talk to her.

She lets out a sigh, barely noticing the way the teacher glances up from her notes. Paige bites her lip, her foot tapping even faster now, her knee bouncing. She can’t take it anymore.

Shooting her hand up, Paige catches the teacher’s attention. “Ms. Greene?” she asks, her voice a little shaky.

Ms. Greene, who’s in the middle of explaining some equation Paige can’t even begin to follow, stops mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Paige?”

Paige swallows, feigning discomfort. “I don’t feel well. Can I go to the nurse?”

Ms. Greene studies her for a moment, clearly weighing how bad Paige looks. Then, she nods. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Paige quickly packs up her stuff, barely caring about leaving her things behind, and bolts out of the classroom. She isn’t going to the nurse. She has somewhere else to be—somewhere Dani would be.

She hates to admit it, but she knows Dani’s schedule like the back of her hand. It isn’t like she meant to memorize it; it just kind of happened over time. Call her a stalker—maybe she is—but she’s always paid attention to Dani, even now when they aren’t even friends anymore.

And she knows exactly where Dani is during this period: the darkroom. Paige has seen her slip into it on more than one occasion during this period. Paige has been in there herself several times, all with Dani, all last year. She’d sit on one of the stools and watch Dani work, infatuated like she always seems to be by the brunette. She misses it. She misses everything.

And she can’t stand it anymore. She has to get through to Dani. Today.

The hallways are mostly empty as Paige strides down them, her heartbeat quickening with every step. She isn’t sure what she’s planning to say, but she knows she has to say something. If she can just get Dani to open up—to explain why she’s shutting everyone out, why she’s pushed Paige away so violently—then maybe, just maybe, things can go back to how they used to be.

As Paige turns the corner, she slows her pace, watching someone step out of the darkroom. Serena Corren struts out, her face twisted in an annoyed scowl. The cheerleader’s blonde hair whips behind her as she slams the door with enough force to make Paige raise her eyebrows. Serena’s eyes flick up as she passes the basketball player, and for a brief moment, their gazes meet. Paige can see the disdain in Serena’s eyes—she looks irritated, almost as if she’s blaming Paige for something, but neither of them say anything. The silent exchange is fleeting and Paige thinks it’s a little odd, too.

Paige reaches the door of the darkroom, her heart thudding in her chest. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t knock. She just pushes the door open. The low red light of the darkroom washes over her like a wave of unease, the smell of developing chemicals hangs in the air, and the soft hum of the machines fill the silence.

Before Paige can even step fully inside, Dani’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and biting. “God, if you’re gonna keep berating me about this—” Dani snaps, her tone dripping with irritation, clearly mistaking Paige for Serena.

But when Dani spins around, her words die on her lips. The fiery annoyance in her eyes quickly evaporates, replaced with shock. “Paige,” she breathes, like the wind has been knocked out of her. She blinks, her body stiffening. “What are you doing here?”

Paige steps further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She swallows, her heart racing as she locks eyes with Dani. “I’m here because we need to talk,” she says steadily.

Dani’s face hardens. She turns back to her photos, ignoring Paige like she isn’t even there. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Dani mutters, flat and dismissive.

“Yes, there is,” Paige responds firmly. She refuses to let Dani shut this down again. “You know there is.”

Dani quickly turns back toward Paige, a faux smile on her face. “You’re so right, Paige, we do need to talk,” she says, her tone sickly sweet. “Thank you for the basket, I appreciated it.” And then she turns right back to the photos.

Paige clenches her fists, frustration boiling up inside her. She’s spent months tiptoeing around Dani’s moods, giving her space, hoping she’ll come around on her own. But that isn’t working. She isn’t going to stand by while Dani pushes her further away, destroying herself in the process.

“Stop it,” Paige replies, shaking her head. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, what exactly has been going on with you.”

Dani scoffs, shaking her head as she continues to work, refusing to look at Paige. “What, you’re just going to barge in here and demand I spill my guts?” she asks incredulously. “That’s not how this works, Paige.”

Paige steps closer, her voice firm but pleading. “I’m not trying to make demands. I just… I need to understand why you’ve been acting like this. Why you’ve been pushing me away. You don’t even look at me anymore, Dani. And I—” Paige’s voice cracks, and she swallows hard, fighting the emotion rising in her throat. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Dani’s hands still over the photo paper, her fingers trembling slightly, though she quickly balls them into fists to hide it. She doesn’t respond, but Paige can see the tension radiating from her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dani finally mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Paige’s heart clenches. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not,” Dani rebuttals, though both of them know she’s lying. “I just—I can’t do this right now, okay? You should go.”

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head, her voice ready to rise at any second because she’s tired of this. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out like this after everything we’ve been through, and then lie and say that you aren’t. I care about you, Dan. I always have. And I know you care about me, too. So, why are you doing this?”

Dani shakes her head profusely, almost like she’s trying to shake something out of her brain. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Paige shoots back, her frustration rising. She can feel the walls between them, the weight of everything Dani isn’t saying, and it’s suffocating. “I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. You can’t just cut me out of your life without an explanation. I know something happened over the summer. Something had to have happened, because I know you wouldn’t do this without reason I know it. But I don’t know why you won’t let me in. Why you won’t even talk to me.”

“No!” Dani responds, her voice rising slightly to meet Paige’s. She stays stubborn, not breaking. “You won’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Paige bursts out, her frustration finally spilling over. She throws her hands up in the air in disbelief. “God, Dani, I’m trying so hard to be here for you, but you’re making it impossible. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Dani slams her hand down on the counter, making Paige jump. “Because talking won’t fix anything!” she snaps, turning to face Paige. The blonde can see the tears glistening in Dani’s eyes. “You think this is all about you, don’t you? That I’m pushing you away because of something you did. But it’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about everything I’ve been through, everything I’m still going through. And you can’t fix that.”

Paige’s heart clenches at the sight of Dani’s tear-filled eyes, but she doesn’t stop. She steps closer once more, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe I can’t fix it. But I can be there for you. I can help you if you just let me. Please, Dani. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani shakes her head, her hands trembling. She averts her eyes, looking at the corner of the wall, refusing to meet Paige’s gaze. “I—I can’t,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it was like…”

Paige’s breath hitches. Dani’s breaking, right in front of her, and Paige can feel it—the dam about to burst.

“What what was like?” Paige asks gently, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice drops to a low murmur. “What happened, Dani?”

Dani stares at the ground, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Paige watches as Dani digs her nails into her thigh and she fights the urge to take the brunette’s hand in her own. “My dad…” the Callan girl starts, hardly a whisper. “He—on the Ring doorbell—he saw us kiss. You know how he is. You know what he believes in. He couldn’t accept the fact that his daughter liked other girls. So, he sent me to camp. And—and it wasn’t just any camp…” she pauses, finally meeting eyes with Paige. The blonde watches as her tears begin to spill, and she feels her own heart break with every word that comes out of Dani’s mouth. Dani shrugs, “It was conversion therapy.”

Paige freezes. “What?” Her mind reels, the words not fully sinking in at first. “You… you went to—”

“Yeah,” Dani laughs bitterly, her voice thick with tears. “All summer. While you were at basketball camps, traveling, I was stuck in that place. Being told every day that who I am is wrong. That what I feel is… is disgusting. That I was disgusting.”

Paige feels like the ground has been ripped out from under her. She stumbles forward, her hand reaching out to touch Dani’s arm, but Dani flinches away.

“Dani…” Paige’s voice is shaky, her heart aching. “I—I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Dani whispers, and her voice breaks with a sob. “I couldn’t tell you, Paige. I wanted to. You don’t know how much I wanted to. But—y’know, I felt ashamed of the fact that I loved you just as much when I left camp as I did when I got there, even after everything they put me through. And I—I wanted to protect you from all my problems.” She pauses, sniffling slightly, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. It doesn’t matter; they keep coming. “My dad, too. He’s friends with Beau’s parents. They started it—the thing with Beau and I. It made my dad happy; that’s all I really wanted. I’ve never wanted or liked Beau, Paige.”

Paige stares at her, eyes flitting across her face. She wants so badly to reach out and touch Dani, hold her. But she doesn’t want to scare her away. So, instead, she asks, “You never did? Not at all?” She thinks she already knows the answer, and she feels almost guilty for being relieved at it.

“Never,” Dani confirms, her arms wrapping around herself, probably trying to stem the sobs. “I wanted someone else.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat.

“But my dad,” the brunette chokes out, “he told me that if he ever saw us together again, that he’d send me back.” Dani looks up at Paige once more, her eyes bloodshot and filled with more fear than Paige has ever seen. Dani shakes her head, sobbing as she says, “Paige, I don’t wanna go back.”

Paige feels her heart shatter at the sight of Dani’s pain finally laid out before her. The blonde takes the final step forward, her hands going to cup Dani’s cheeks, making Dani look at her. Paige says firmly, feeling more protective of the girl before her than anything else in her entire life, “You’re not gonna go back, okay? He can’t you send you back. I won’t let him.”

Dani sobs again, and Paige pulls her in closer, was wrapping her arms around Dani into a tight hug. She holds her so tightly that it feels like they might both stop breathing, but Paige doesn’t care. She isn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m so sorry,” Dani whispers through her tears, clinging to Paige like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “I’m so sorry, P. I—I didn’t want to push you away, but I was so scared. I still am.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Paige murmurs, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she holds Dani even tighter. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

They stay like that, locked in each other’s arms, both of them crying, both of them holding on like the world is falling apart around them.

Because maybe it is.

But for the first time in months, they aren’t facing it alone.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #uconn #wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #hopkins p fic #take me to church #wlw

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lostintransist · 15 days ago

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Fallen Angel | Iced Coffee & Scary Movies

>It seems you saved my life 💋 can I take you out for a drink to say thank you?🪳

Staring down at your phone you read the message again. This had to be Simon’s friend that you kissed before they all left for a job. He had been fun to talk to, a little shell-shocked when you layered on lipstick and proceeded to cover him with it before sending him out the door, but still fun.

< I'm still not calling you that. There is a cute early morning cafe I've been wanting to try if you're down.

The reply takes a while to come in. They must have just gotten back from their secretive jobs that take them out of the country. That thought brought on another one. Simon would be coming home and you hadn’t bought a single item of food since he left. He would notice but you prayed that he wouldn’t comment on it.

Your late-night coffee shop hadn’t been doing well. Either word had not gotten out to people that a place existed that wasn’t a bar to hang out late into the night or the universe was out to get you. Maybe you should print flyers to pass out at AA meetings. Now there was a thought.

Your coffee date met you at the cafe you suggested. You'd been wanting to try for months now, but most of your mornings were consumed by sleep since your shop stayed open to customers until 2 AM this was your first chance. Standing in the single beam of sunlight outside of the shop you waited.

When someone stepped close to you and stopped you opened your eyes and smiled.

Hi, ready to go in?

He still wore sunglasses and a surgical mask.

You nodded and turned to catch the door handle. Halfway open he caught the handle from behind you and opened it the rest of the way. He walks by your side as you move close enough to see the menu. A latte could tell you a lot about a coffee shop. Decided you turned to look at your date. His head shifted from side to side as he read the board. When he finally looked at you, he lifted a brow.

Smiling you signed your question.

Do you know what you want? I can order for us.

Iced caramel macchiato, large.

Your date waited with you; hands shoved in his pockets. You didn't take offense, bit hard to know where to go when you had assaulted him with kisses and sent him out the door.

Stepping to the counter you waited your turn. When your turn arrived, the barista called from the espresso machine.

"I'll be just a minute."

"Take your time." You knew how hard those rushes could be.

A few moments pass when the stressed but customer smile in place the barista is ready for your order.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"Can I get a large iced macchiato and a medium lavender latte?"

"That everything?"

"Actually, I run After Dark a few streets into and I was wondering if you also get milk from one of the local farms."

The barista's brows shoot up, "I've been meaning to try your shop! Your open late right, like midnight?"

Que the awkward smile, "Two actually, but yeah."

"Oh man I love the idea of a late-night spot that isn't all about alcohol. To answer your question yes, has your milk been going bad really fast too?"

"Yes! I didn't want to stop ordering from them without asking another shop. I worried that I was just getting bad batches."

"Nope, not just you. Now I'll just be a moment to get these ready for you," he quoted the price, and you winced internally. You hadn't been paying yourself beyond rent for a couple months.

A card tapped to the POS from beside you. Your date pressed the 20% tip without hesitation, raising your opinion of him already. Stepping to the middle of the shop you waited for your drinks.

You signed as you spoke.

"Since I refuse to call you a bug, I'll just have to guess your name. Is Roman?"

His shoulders shook slightly in a laugh as he shook his head.

You tapped your chin with a finger.

“Hmm, must be Tilly then?”

You watch him laugh again, and shake his head.

“Ah, must be Galahad then!” You exclaim.

The smile the cracks under his mask can be seen in the way his cheeks pull to the side and the tips of his ears take on a splash of pink.

Gary. My name is Gary.

“Hi Gary, it’s nice to meet you.”

You would sign everything you could to him today. His ears must be on fire with how red they are.

Before he can reply your order is called out. Grabbing both, you hand him his drink before taking a sip of your own.

The warm flavors slide across the tongue and the lavender sits well in your nose.

“Good flavor, not overpowered by either the coffee or the lavender. How is yours?”

Gary shrugged. When he looked at your face you lifted a brow.

Watching the realization wash across him that you understood sign and even expected him to share his thoughts could be called magical.

Good, I like caramel.

“Did you want a sip of mine?” You tilt your cup to him.

He takes the cup, looks down at his hand full of drink and passes off his to you. He lifts the mask enough to try the warm drink. From his brows creeping above the sunglasses, you assume he is surprised but liked it.

Once his mask is settled back in place you trade drinks again.

Did you want to try some of mine?

“Sure,” you lean forward and sip the straw. The chill of the drink is interesting compared to the warmth of your still in your mouth.

“I like it. The weather is decent, did you want to walk?”

At his nod you head for the door. Again, he catches the door before you can hold it for him. Rolling your eyes with a smile you let him handle it.

“Do you like your job?”

Gary waggled his hand to and fro.

“Do you blow stuff up like Johnny?”

A croaking of a laugh has you smiling into your coffee. Taking that as a no.

Do you like having a coffee shop?

“I love it. I love the people who come through and making drinks and giving people a safe space to hang out that isn’t the bars.”

You can see the question in his shoulders.

“I don’t drink, for lots of reasons so going to bars has always been a bit boring for me.”

I would love to come by if you don’t mind.

“I would love if you came by, I even know your order now,” you bumped him with your shoulder.

Gary didn’t stand as tall as most of Simon’s men, but he had to be as solid as any of them. He didn’t move an inch.

What is your favorite science fact?

“Tough question.” You take a sip of your drink giving yourself time to think. “Flames don’t cast shadows.”

Gary stopped.

You made it two steps before you noticed.

Turning back, you can see him pushing up his sunglasses to send you a bewildered look. Biting your tongue you fight back a laugh.

“Do you need a moment?”

Shaking his head he settles his glasses back down on his nose as he falls back into step with you.

---- are more likely to get struck by lightning than people.

“What are?”

He signs the unfamiliar word again.

“Can you spell that for me?”

He pulls out his phone and after a few taps he shows you a giraffe.

“Oh! Is that what the sign is? Cool. Thanks for showing me. And that is an interesting fact.”

Conversation goes on like that until you see a small outdoor market. Gary doesn’t object when you drag him to every stall, showing him interesting art or magnets. You were taken by a pair of earrings, beautifully crafted, handmade and so out of your price range that putting them back didn’t hurt. Gary chatted with you about silly shirts and funny hats.

He warmed up to the date as it went on. Sharing jokes and observations that left you in stitches the day wore on. After you had looked at every booth, Gary took your hand, pulling you along this time. When he neared the movie theater he asked about a show.

Scary movie?

“I’m not a fan but I will make silly comments to you in the dark, so I don’t get too scared.”

Gary held your hand as he bought the tickets, and the popcorn. You visited the restroom before heading in for the movie. No use going into jump scares with an even semi-full bladder. He took your hand back up as you left the bathroom. The theater was empty when you looked around.

Top seats? You signed to him.

Lifting your joined hands towards the stairs you take the lead. Settling below the projector you reach up at hand. A shadow large as life of your hand appears on the blank screen.

“Yes! I thought this theater might be the one,” turning to him with a grin you continue. “My brother and I would pick these seats when my mom would take us to the movies. We would have to stand on the seats to do it, but we would play shadow puppets while waiting for the show to start.”

You focus on contorting your fingers into a bunny. A dog appears and takes a shadow chomp of your bunny’s ears. Glancing over to Gary you caught sight of his smiling eyes. He had moved his sunglasses to hang off his shirt. The ten minutes until the previews started were filled with your giggles as Gary played shadow puppets with you.

When the movie starts you slide your hand into Gary’s and hold on for dear life as scare after scare tried to take you out. He typed out silly messages on his phone that he showed to you every time you jumped, leaving you laughing instead of cowering.

The walk to the flat you shared with Simon followed the pattern of laughter. When you got to the front door you turned.

“Did you want to come in? I have about an hour before I need to get at the shop.”

Gary shook his head. I have a few things to accomplish today.

“Okay, I can understand that,” you gave him a small smile. You truly didn’t mind; Simon often would be gone for long stretches even when he was home getting things done. “Thanks for the date Gary, I had fun.”

Me too. Hold out your hand.

You do, palm flat.

The pair of earrings that you had regretted not having the money to buy sat in your hand. When you could close your mouth and look up Gary had made it quite a distance.

“Gary!”

He turns enough to wave and keep walking.

Touched beyond words you watch him until he disappears. Looking back to your earrings you decide on an outfit to match them for work tonight.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

#Fallen Angel COD #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #roach x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader

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snek-panini · 1 month ago

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This is the final book from the batch I started in April, and look how cute it is! This is London Calling by forthegreatergood, a Good Omens fic set around the end of the cold war. It's definitely a TV!verse fic, not a book fic, but it does a quite good job capturing the feel of the time when the book first came out. It's got pining, and spies, and politics, and actual real grown-up conversations about feelings, and an optimistic ending even if it isn't a happily-ever-after.

The cover up there is a printed lokta paper that I got from...probably Hollander's but it's been a while. It was a total impulse buy and for a long time I kept trying to find stories that would fit it but I kept failing until I settled on this one. The print is metallic, but it phases between gold and silver and copper, so I chose a subdues rose gold metallic htv on the spine, over green book cloth for reinforcement.

More photos under the cut!

I've only just noticed that the photo of the endpaper is blurry, but since it's a simple unadorned green I'm not too fussed about it. I love fancy endpapers but was afraid that whatever I chose would fight with the cover, and I really wanted the cover to be the star here. Machine-made black and white endbands, and a plain black ribbon for the bookmark. In this top view photo you can see one of the most annoying things I've dealt with in all the 50-ish books I've made. One of the center pages in this book wouldn't print correctly no matter what I did. I kept getting one sheet with a single printed half-side (one book page) and one sheet with one fully printed and one half printed side (three book pages), instead of the thing I was supposed to get, which is two fully printed sides (for book pages). I tried every formatting trick I could find and got the same result every time, and I still don't know why. Eventually I just cut off the single page and pasted it in place on the blank part of the three-page sheet, but it didn't turn out too well and the paper is wiggly. I cannot fix this. It is unfixable. So I've just rolled with it and accepted that things that are handmade are going to have quirks. This one's just got a more obvious quirk than most.

Title page and first page of the fic. I wanted to keep it fairly simple and un-ornamented because I don't think opulence suits this fic. So it's not exactly austere, but it shouldn't be ornate either. Some fics are ornate, some just aren't. The feather thing on the title page was originally a scene break divider for another fic I bound, and it was put together with free vectors from I think vecteezy. Like many Good Omens fics, there's a wing grooming scene in this one, so it felt appropriate. The graphic didn't get to shine too well last time I used it because scene break images have to be pretty small, and I think the larger size I was able to use here suits it better.

Overall, in spite of its challenges, I think this book came together really well and I'm proud of it. It's sweet and interesting and I think it suits the fic, and I couldn't really ask for better than that.

#good omens #bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #as always i feel like i'm forgetting something in the tags #also i forgot to say it's legal quarto size #my new fave size to make #they feel so nice to hold

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fuck-customers · 1 month ago

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“Why does it cost that much? I already gave you the sheets.”

“Yes, but we have to print the copies you want of those sheets from OUR machines, and we’re printing thirty six in just this batch.”

“36? I only gave you six sheets!”

“Yes, and you asked us to print each sheet six times.”

Then she just gets quiet lol

Posted by admin Rodney

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marsdreamworld · 1 year ago

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Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

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autoprint · 4 months ago

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Choosing the Right Paper for Offset Printing | Print Quality Tips

CHOOSING THE RIGHT PAPER FOR OFFSET PRINTING MACHINE

Home > Blog > Choosing the Right Paper for Offset Printing Machine

The magic of offset printing goes beyond just ink and design. The paper you choose becomes the foundation for your vision. At Autoprint, we empower you to make informed paper selections, regardless of the offset printing machine you use, be it a traditional press, a single colour offset machine, or even a high-speed mini offset machine.

This guide equips you with the knowledge to navigate the world of paper and find the perfect match for your project.

UNDERSTANDING PAPER'S ROLE IN OFFSET PRINTING

Paper plays a crucial role in offset printing, impacting not only the final visual appeal but also the project's functionality. Let's delve into the key factors to consider:

1. Finish: The surface texture of the paper significantly influences the final look and feel of your printed piece. Here are the common finishes and their applications:

Uncoated: Offers a natural, matte finish with higher ink absorption. Ideal for text-heavy content like books, manuals, and documents where readability is paramount.

Gloss Coated: Provides a shiny, vibrant surface that makes colors pop. Perfect for brochures, posters, and catalogs where visuals take center stage.

Matte Coated: Lends a smooth, non-reflective surface, balancing visual appeal with readability. Well-suited for magazines, presentations, and reports.

2. Weight (GSM): Measured in grams per square meter (gsm), weight determines the thickness and durability of the paper. Here's a general guide:

Lightweight (60-100 gsm): Ideal for flyers, leaflets, and brochures, even for use on high-speed mini offset printing machines for larger print runs.

Mediumweight (100-200 gsm): Perfect for business cards, booklets, and magazine inserts, offering a good balance between weight and durability.

Heavyweight (200+ gsm): Makes a statement for book covers, presentation folders, and high-end packaging, ideal for projects requiring a more robust sheet.

3. Color: While white is the traditional choice for accurate color reproduction, colored paper can add a unique touch and complement your brand identity. It's particularly well-suited for non-woven bag printing. Remember to consider the contrast between ink and paper color for optimal readability. Darker inks may not show up well on dark paper, and vice versa.

MATCHING PAPER TO YOUR PROJECT'S NEEDS

Now that you understand the key paper properties, let's explore how to choose the right paper for your specific offset printing project:

1. Content: The content of your project should guide your paper selection.

For text-heavy pieces like books or reports, prioritize readability with uncoated or matte-coated paper.

For projects with a strong visual focus like brochures or posters, glossy surfaces can make the colors stand out.

2. Durability: Consider how the printed piece will be used. High-traffic items like brochures benefit from heavier paper (100gsm or more) to withstand wear and tear. Flyers, on the other hand, can utilize lightweight options (60-100gsm), especially if using a high-speed mini offset machine for larger print runs.

3. Budget: Uncoated paper is generally the most economical choice, making it suitable for projects with tighter budgets. Specialty finishes like gloss or textured paper come at a premium and might be a better fit for high-impact pieces.

4. Aesthetics: Don't underestimate the impact of paper aesthetics on your project's overall message. Glossy finishes convey a modern, luxurious feel, while uncoated paper creates a natural, earthy aesthetic. Choose a paper that aligns with the desired mood and brand identity.

Remember: Even with single colour offset printing machines or high-speed mini offset machines, paper selection can significantly impact the final product. Choosing the right paper ensures your project achieves the desired outcome, both functionally and aesthetically.

COMPATIBLE PAPER OPTIONS FOR AUTOPRINT MACHINES

The beauty of Autoprint's Colt and Knight series lies in their ability to handle a diverse range of paper types. Here's a closer look at some commonly used paper options and their ideal applications:

Color Wove: This paper comes in a variety of colors and often features a textured surface. Its unique combination of aesthetics makes it a popular choice for creating eye-catching invitations, announcements, and greeting cards in single colour offset printing.

Maplitho: An uncoated, woodfree paper known for its excellent opacity and printability. This paper is a workhorse for everyday printing needs, making it well-suited for brochures, letterheads, reports, and internal documents, even for projects on high speed mini offset printing machines.

Art Paper: This high-quality paper boasts a smooth, calendered finish, creating an ideal canvas for high-resolution photographs. Art paper is the go-to choice for projects where image fidelity is paramount, such as photo prints, art reproductions, and high-end brochures in the realm of offset printing.

ELEVATE YOUR PROJECT: BEYOND THE BASICS

Specialty Papers: Explore textured, recycled, or colored options to set your project apart, even for use with mini offset printing machines.

Embrace Sustainability: Choose FSC-certified paper for an eco-conscious approach to your offset printing.

ACHIEVE PRINTING PERFECTION

By understanding paper properties and aligning them with your project's needs, you can make informed choices that elevate your offset printing project. At Autoprint, our team of experts is here to help! We can guide you through paper options, considering your specific project requirements and budget, whether you're using a traditional offset press or a specialised machine.

Autoprint Machinery Mfrs Pvt. Ltd. Kaanchan, # 9, North Huzur Road, Coimbatore - 641 018, Tamilnadu, India.

Phone : (+91) 422 - 2212416, 4225444 Email : [email protected]

Toll Free Number : 1800-425-4333 Read More...

#creasing machines #die punching machines #batch coding machines #print inspection system #colt single color offset printing #printing machines #offset printing machines #variable data printing #single color mini offset printing machine

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