pentechnics

[pentechnics]

i think the single most unrealistic part of superman 2025 was when it was announced that superman's kryptonian parents told him to have a harem and it was exclusively met with fear and disgust. I KNOW there would've been at least five dedicated subreddits that would have thousands being like HOW TO GET INTO SUPERMAN'S HAREM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ONE SHOT BIG BLUE THAT'S ALL I'M ASKING

[pentechnics]

#aura off the charts

[pentechnics]

Dimensions

Clark Kent x OFC Mila Ravini

Summary: Call it fate or just an open window, Clark and Mila never expected a wonderful friendship to be waiting just a floor away. Loneliness and disinterest had ruled over them both for so long, their bond becomes a lifeline of sorts. But when real life comes into play, when emotions flow and the world flows harder, can Clark keep up a charade? Can Mila learn to trust again? Can the two of them withstand the tests thrown at them?

Contents: neighbors to friends to lovers, adventures in Metropolis, neighborly shenanigans, minor injuries (burns, scrapes, bruises, etc.), Canon-typical violence, mentions of previous suicidal ideation, Mila swears like a fucking sailor, themes surrounding family, friendship, loneliness, feeling trapped, what it means to feel at home, more to be added

Rating: 16+ for language and themes

Notes: This is the first time in a long time that I have just been nonstop writing and really entering a story's world. This is different than what I've posted in the past, but it feels really good. I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you'd want to see more! 💖

P.S. I've kept these intro sections in Tumblr's small font for the sake of dash size and formatting but the fic and its masterlist (if applicable) will always be written in readable, regular-sized fonts that screenreaders can easily interact with.

✨Please support your content creators with reblogs and comments✨

~~~

Atlantia Apartments Unit 1246 Metropolis August 24th 7:45 pm

“Agh, fuck!”

Mila clasped her now stinging hand, wincing as she backed away from the fryer and examined the damage. Angry and red, the skin on her wrist just below her thumb puffed up where it’d come into contact with the burning basket.

“Goddammit,” she said to herself, louder than intended. How many times was this now, that she’d burnt herself making something simple and stupid like tater tots?

She sighed and rushed over to the sink, tripping over her own slippers in the process, as she shoved her hand under the running water. The ice cold bite was instantly soothing, letting her loosen her shoulders where they’d seized.

As she watched the water cascade, rolling over her wrist and down in rivulets, she couldn’t help the growing sense of shame that came up her throat like bile. Was she truly this helpless? Could she do nothing without injuring herself?

A sudden knock at the door halted her mental barrage.

“Ah, shit- just a minute!”

Could they even hear her from here? She wasn’t sure. Either way, she hurried to turn off the sink and bat her hand dry with a dishtowel, hissing as the sting instantly returned upon contact.

Purposeful, spiteful strides carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room towards the door. But she found herself hesitating when she got there. She wasn’t friendly with any of her neighbors, and wasn’t expecting any guests or deliveries. Who could it be?

With a shake of her head and gathered resolve, she swung the door open, breath immediately catching in her throat.

A stranger stood before her — a tall, stunning one, wearing black-framed glasses and messy curls that fell into his intense blue eyes. His hand raised in greeting, a crooked grin filling his face. The dim light of the hallway accentuated a sharp jaw and a firm nose, with contrasting smooth cheeks.

And dimples. Adorable, irresistible dimples that brought the whole image together.

Mila’s mouth fell open, body freezing at the sight.

Damn.

“Oh-” she cleared her throat, grateful she hadn’t said that out loud. “Hello, there.”

“Hi,” he started, “I’m Clark. I’m, uh, I’m your neighbor from downstairs.”

His voice was deep, gravely. It sent a shiver down Mila’s spine. Her jaw was still on the floor, joints still immobile as she gave him a slow nod. She shook herself out of her reverie, trying to remember how normal humans are meant to act.

“Ah, hi! What can I do for you, neighbor?” She wrapped her arms around herself as her neck slightly craned to keep his gaze, ignoring the burn’s protest from its placement.

“I heard a shout from up here,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sounded like someone was in pain. I just wanted to see if everything was okay.”

“Shit, you heard that?” She put her uninjured hand to her mouth, turning around to glance into the apartment. A groan echoed around her when she saw the living room window ajar — an attempt at some extra ventilation in the likely scenario in which she burnt something.

Technically, the assumption wasn’t wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” she turned back to face him with a small smile. “I’m fine, I was just cooking.”

All pleasantries drained out of his features and was immediately replaced with something more serious, more focused.

“Oh- did you get burned?”

Mila’s brow shot up, her hands dropping to her sides as she regarded him with wonder.

“Yeah… how’d you know that?”

“Ah, well, I-I figured if you’d cut yourself you’d be more panicked than you are. There are little other things that can injure you in the kitchen if it’s not a knife.”

His laugh was vaguely laced with nerves, dimples more prominent on his cheeks. An endearing gleam in his eyes followed his words — not an ounce of judgement or ridicule to be found. She couldn’t help giggling.

“Fair enough. It really isn’t that bad,” She held out her right arm and exposed the wound, now angrier that it had to rub up against her shirt. It pulsed inside, the puffy skin red and sizzling, like it was mocking her.

“Ouchie,” he worried his brow, stepping forward and taking her hand to get a closer look.

Mila’s eyes widened, the contact between them burning hotter than the wound. She gulped as she watched his movements — precise, yet soft. His hands were large, only needing his fingers to encompass her entire hand. The long, delicate appendages were gentle as they cradled her wrist and felt around the burn. She took a breath and settled into his touch, trying but failing to get her heartbeat steady.

She hissed when he got too close to the burn.

“Sorry- does it sting?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It wasn’t at first, but then I accidentally rubbed it.”

“Hm,” he tilted her hand around before looking back up at her. “Do you have any aloe?”

“Uh…”

The momentary silence and blank stare adorning her face seemed to be enough of an answer for him. He gave a small nod and withdrew his hands.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a flash.”

He practically flew down the hall before she could finish processing what he said. With a frown, she looked between her hand and the spot where he’d just been standing.

“What the fu-”

She poked her head down the hall. He was gone.

Shit, how fast can that boy run?

She shrugged with a sigh and looked down at her hand again. The spots he’d been holding now ran cold, the loss of sensation marking them. Mila ran a tentative finger down the path his had followed, the static in her brain growing more and more tangled. She slumped against her door and stared at the burn.

“Okay,” Clark’s deep, slightly sing-song voice echoed from down the hallway, making her head snap up. That really was a flash, she thought.

She watched as he smiled at her, the lights in the hall reflecting off his glasses as he made quick work of the distance between them. Up until then she hadn’t had the opportunity to take in the rest of him, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt — both of which were filled out. She bit the inside of her lip, begging herself to pull it together.

He brandished a small bottle of green gel and held it out to her. As she took it, her hand reveled in the small kiss of warmth that came from brushing against his skin.

“Put a thin layer of that onto the burn. It’ll stop the sting and help keep it moist so your skin doesn’t peel too much.”

"Oh,” she examined it before returning her gaze to him. “Thank you, man. That’s so nice of you. I’ll make sure to give this back to you.”

He held up his hand. “Keep it. It’s no big deal.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a sudden lump forming. There had to be some way she could repay him. She glanced into her apartment again as her mind raced, eyes and thoughts darting around trying to find a way to return his kindness.

And then she smelled them: the tater tots. Still warm and waiting in the air fryer. With a wide-eyed expression Mila whipped back around and found his questioning look, a smile teasing itself at the ends of her lips.

“Do-… do you want some tater tots?”

His brow flew into his hairline.

“Tater tots? Is that what hurt you?”

His straight-forward delivery, his earnest gaze — she couldn’t help throwing her head back and laughing.

“It was that damn air fryer basket, okay? I just didn’t see how close I was to it.”

His laughter mingled in the air with hers, the sound high and light.

“Well, I’m honored you’d share your spoils, but I won’t impose.”

“No no, please,” Mila held her hands out towards him in an almost pleading position. “It’s the least I can do! Though I appreciate you knowing how much of a privilege that is.”

With a definite grin, she turned around and waved him inside as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Hang tight, I’ll pack some up for you.”

Clark followed her into the apartment, stopping just inside the living room to look around and take in her décor. Photos and art prints were tastefully arranged among the walls, color and dynamic depictions bringing life into the space. Bookshelves filled with equal parts books and knick-knacks. Mismatched furniture and a few stuffed animals sitting on the couch, half knocked-over as if she’d just been sitting beside them. A string of yellow lights spanned each wall, their glow echoing off every surface and accentuating each piece.

Clark smiled. Compared to his apartment, this one felt so… lived in. Like an actual home.

“I like your string lights,” he called, hoping his voice would carry into the kitchen.

“Oh, thanks! Wait ’til you see what they can do,” Mila answered, whipping her head around as if he were there to see it. She peered into one more drawer to find a lid for her container before giving up and grabbing a piece of foil.

When she approached him, sealed tater tots in hand, his brow was furrowed in confusion.

“… The lights do other things?”

“Sure do!” Mila said with an eager nod, excitement about showing off her apartment bubbling in her gut.

She shoved the tots into Clark’s hands and dashed over to the coffee table, motioning for him to follow her. With the small silver remote in hand, she twisted around to grin at him, dramatically posing with her unburned hand resting on her hip.

“Observe.”

She pressed a button and the lights began to twinkle, every other one blinking in a random yet harmonic dance. Clark’s eyes went wide as he looked around, a small gasp puffing out of him. Mila admired his expression, filled with wonder and sparkling stars that played around on the lenses of his glasses. They stood out against the blue of his striking eyes.

“Woah,” he breathed. “That’s even more impressive.”

She shrugged with a giggle. “They’ve got other modes, too, but I’m partial to this one.”

He smiled. “I can see why.”

The two of them stared up in silence, following the path of twinkles across the creases in Mila’s ceiling until they disappeared down the hallways, emitting their soft yellow glow across their faces.

It was comfortable, this quiet. It was as if the room was alive and part of the conversation, filling in the gaps as they listened.

“I really like the rest of your decorations, too,” Clark said, gesturing to the air around him. “Very cozy.”

“Aw, thanks,” Mila grinned. “That was the goal.”

“My place is so barren in comparison,” he said with a breathy laugh. “I don’t have any cool art or anything on my walls.”

“Nothing wrong with a minimalist style. Keeps you from being a minor hoarder, like myself.”

They laughed.

Mila relaxed her shoulders as she took in those eyes again. Bright blue and completely transparent. They seemed to speak on their own as they met hers, conveying hidden messages from the depths of Clark’s heart.

If only Mila could decipher their code.

They stood staring for a long moment before Clark glanced down, brows furrowed.

“Is it itchy?”

She looked down just in time to catch herself scratching the burn. The pain bit down hard and refused to let go.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. She pulled the gel out of her pocket.

“Guess I better not keep you waiting.”

Clark watched as she squeezed a drop out of the tube and rubbed it over the tortured skin, resisting the urge to do it for her — if only to have an excuse to touch her hand once more. She sighed at the contact, her facial muscles relaxing. The sound and visual shot through his spine and made him stand up a bit taller. He cleared his throat.

“Works like a charm, every time.” He said with a chuckle.

Mila turned to look at him with a smile.

“Thank you again. For this, and for even coming to check on me at all.”

He shrugged. “Of course. What are neighbors for, after all?”

He held her gaze again, those piercing eyes emitting a paradoxical warmth that had Mila resisting the urge to swoon.

“A-and thank you, for these,” he held up the tater tots with a nod, his voice suddenly lined with nerves. “I promise they’re going to a loving home.”

“Good! They’re precious cargo, after all.” She laughed. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t find a lid.”

He smiled before eyeing the burn again and letting his worry distract him from the way the golden glow in the room made her smile sparkle.

“Be sure to put more on again when it dries up. The skin should settle back down in a day or two. Then just make sure you keep an eye on it. And don’t-” he pointed at her for emphasis- “itch it again.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she joked, giving him an exaggerated salute. He laughed again, then steeled his expression.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, I just can’t help myself. If I’m overstepping, I’ll happily back off-”

“No,” she smiled as she shook her head, wringing her fingers together. “Honestly, it’s nice. Hard to find a caring soul like yours nowadays. I kind of like having someone fret over me.”

She looked down at the floor, mentally scolding herself. What a dumb thing to say, she thought. What’s he going to think about that? The last thing she wanted was to drive him away.

When she chanced another glance at him, her eyes widened.

He was smiling at her, teeth and all, pure joy emanating from his expression. His smile shone so bright, and as she looked at it, Mila swore he could outdo the sun itself with it. So light, so sweetly crooked, so… serene.

She wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

---

Clark closed the door behind him, locking it with a solid ‘clunk’ of metal on metal.

The tater tots were still warm in his hands, their heat bleeding out of the plastic container she’d given him. He chuckled to himself as he toed off his shoes, recalling her jolty movements, her exasperated grin. Her adorable pajama shorts covered in llamas and silly shark slippers. Her enrapturing brown eyes and the immense universe living within them.

She looked as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world and was only just able to set it down. And yet, she took his breath away.

It was the first time he’d ever heard any noise from his neighbors. Good to know that if two windows that close are open, sounds are quick to travel between them.

As he closed his window and took a seat on the couch, tossing a tot into his mouth, he looked around at the darkness that surrounded him. Lights from the city beyond painted faint streaks of yellow and purple onto the surfaces of his home, the rest of his furniture cloaked in grays and blacks against the dark blue walls. The fluorescent lights in the kitchen were on, drawing more attention to the less-than-cozy personality Clark’s home had taken on.

“Maybe I could add more color to this place,” he mused to himself.

Either way, as he munched on the golden goodies, he was thinking through other ways he might be able to see his cute neighbor again.

Wait. He never even got her name. He mouthed a ‘biscuits’ as he halted mid-chew and lightly pressed a fist to his forehead. How’d he forget to ask something like that?

“Ugh, she probably thinks I’m so rude.”

He leaned back and threw his head over the top of the couch with a groan.

****

Permanent taglist: @booksarekindaneat @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

If you’d like a part 2/want to be tagged for it, please let me know! 💖

[pentechnics]

Hello my loves 💜

Commissions are OPEN for September (3/8) slots

Also, if you want to take a slot for next month, you can already dm me to add you to the waiting list 💜

So if you're interested, hurry to my dms or email me. And please just ask for a slot if you're sure you CAN and WANT to commission me.

I can draw any character! Any fandom!

⬇️ all the info and the prices are in my carrd ⬇️

feel free to ask me any questions 💜

[pentechnics]

having online friends who are busy is just like. I LOVE YOU. I miss you. YOU GOT THIS. I'm giving you space to work. I LOVE YOU.

[pentechnics]

imagining your otp doing the forehead touch is literally the most important thing in the whole world. everybody take a second and stop scrolling and imagine your otp doing the forehead touch. okay. you can move on now.

[pentechnics]

Dorianne Laux, from “As It Is”, What We Carry

[pentechnics]

Dimensions

Clark Kent x OFC Mila Ravini

Summary: Call it fate or just an open window, Clark and Mila never expected a wonderful friendship to be waiting just a floor away. Loneliness and disinterest had ruled over them both for so long, their bond becomes a lifeline of sorts. But when real life comes into play, when emotions flow and the world flows harder, can Clark keep up a charade? Can Mila learn to trust again? Can the two of them withstand the tests thrown at them?

Contents: neighbors to friends to lovers, adventures in Metropolis, neighborly shenanigans, minor injuries (burns, scrapes, bruises, etc.), Canon-typical violence, mentions of previous suicidal ideation, Mila swears like a fucking sailor, themes surrounding family, friendship, loneliness, feeling trapped, what it means to feel at home, more to be added

Rating: 16+ for language and themes

Notes: This is the first time in a long time that I have just been nonstop writing and really entering a story's world. This is different than what I've posted in the past, but it feels really good. I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you'd want to see more! 💖

P.S. I've kept these intro sections in Tumblr's small font for the sake of dash size and formatting but the fic and its masterlist (if applicable) will always be written in readable, regular-sized fonts that screenreaders can easily interact with.

✨Please support your content creators with reblogs and comments✨

~~~

Atlantia Apartments Unit 1246 Metropolis August 24th 7:45 pm

“Agh, fuck!”

Mila clasped her now stinging hand, wincing as she backed away from the fryer and examined the damage. Angry and red, the skin on her wrist just below her thumb puffed up where it’d come into contact with the burning basket.

“Goddammit,” she said to herself, louder than intended. How many times was this now, that she’d burnt herself making something simple and stupid like tater tots?

She sighed and rushed over to the sink, tripping over her own slippers in the process, as she shoved her hand under the running water. The ice cold bite was instantly soothing, letting her loosen her shoulders where they’d seized.

As she watched the water cascade, rolling over her wrist and down in rivulets, she couldn’t help the growing sense of shame that came up her throat like bile. Was she truly this helpless? Could she do nothing without injuring herself?

A sudden knock at the door halted her mental barrage.

“Ah, shit- just a minute!”

Could they even hear her from here? She wasn’t sure. Either way, she hurried to turn off the sink and bat her hand dry with a dishtowel, hissing as the sting instantly returned upon contact.

Purposeful, spiteful strides carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room towards the door. But she found herself hesitating when she got there. She wasn’t friendly with any of her neighbors, and wasn’t expecting any guests or deliveries. Who could it be?

With a shake of her head and gathered resolve, she swung the door open, breath immediately catching in her throat.

A stranger stood before her — a tall, stunning one, wearing black-framed glasses and messy curls that fell into his intense blue eyes. His hand raised in greeting, a crooked grin filling his face. The dim light of the hallway accentuated a sharp jaw and a firm nose, with contrasting smooth cheeks.

And dimples. Adorable, irresistible dimples that brought the whole image together.

Mila’s mouth fell open, body freezing at the sight.

Damn.

“Oh-” she cleared her throat, grateful she hadn’t said that out loud. “Hello, there.”

“Hi,” he started, “I’m Clark. I’m, uh, I’m your neighbor from downstairs.”

His voice was deep, gravely. It sent a shiver down Mila’s spine. Her jaw was still on the floor, joints still immobile as she gave him a slow nod. She shook herself out of her reverie, trying to remember how normal humans are meant to act.

“Ah, hi! What can I do for you, neighbor?” She wrapped her arms around herself as her neck slightly craned to keep his gaze, ignoring the burn’s protest from its placement.

“I heard a shout from up here,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sounded like someone was in pain. I just wanted to see if everything was okay.”

“Shit, you heard that?” She put her uninjured hand to her mouth, turning around to glance into the apartment. A groan echoed around her when she saw the living room window ajar — an attempt at some extra ventilation in the likely scenario in which she burnt something.

Technically, the assumption wasn’t wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” she turned back to face him with a small smile. “I’m fine, I was just cooking.”

All pleasantries drained out of his features and was immediately replaced with something more serious, more focused.

“Oh- did you get burned?”

Mila’s brow shot up, her hands dropping to her sides as she regarded him with wonder.

“Yeah… how’d you know that?”

“Ah, well, I-I figured if you’d cut yourself you’d be more panicked than you are. There are little other things that can injure you in the kitchen if it’s not a knife.”

His laugh was vaguely laced with nerves, dimples more prominent on his cheeks. An endearing gleam in his eyes followed his words — not an ounce of judgement or ridicule to be found. She couldn’t help giggling.

“Fair enough. It really isn’t that bad,” She held out her right arm and exposed the wound, now angrier that it had to rub up against her shirt. It pulsed inside, the puffy skin red and sizzling, like it was mocking her.

“Ouchie,” he worried his brow, stepping forward and taking her hand to get a closer look.

Mila’s eyes widened, the contact between them burning hotter than the wound. She gulped as she watched his movements — precise, yet soft. His hands were large, only needing his fingers to encompass her entire hand. The long, delicate appendages were gentle as they cradled her wrist and felt around the burn. She took a breath and settled into his touch, trying but failing to get her heartbeat steady.

She hissed when he got too close to the burn.

“Sorry- does it sting?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It wasn’t at first, but then I accidentally rubbed it.”

“Hm,” he tilted her hand around before looking back up at her. “Do you have any aloe?”

“Uh…”

The momentary silence and blank stare adorning her face seemed to be enough of an answer for him. He gave a small nod and withdrew his hands.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a flash.”

He practically flew down the hall before she could finish processing what he said. With a frown, she looked between her hand and the spot where he’d just been standing.

“What the fu-”

She poked her head down the hall. He was gone.

Shit, how fast can that boy run?

She shrugged with a sigh and looked down at her hand again. The spots he’d been holding now ran cold, the loss of sensation marking them. Mila ran a tentative finger down the path his had followed, the static in her brain growing more and more tangled. She slumped against her door and stared at the burn.

“Okay,” Clark’s deep, slightly sing-song voice echoed from down the hallway, making her head snap up. That really was a flash, she thought.

She watched as he smiled at her, the lights in the hall reflecting off his glasses as he made quick work of the distance between them. Up until then she hadn’t had the opportunity to take in the rest of him, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt — both of which were filled out. She bit the inside of her lip, begging herself to pull it together.

He brandished a small bottle of green gel and held it out to her. As she took it, her hand reveled in the small kiss of warmth that came from brushing against his skin.

“Put a thin layer of that onto the burn. It’ll stop the sting and help keep it moist so your skin doesn’t peel too much.”

"Oh,” she examined it before returning her gaze to him. “Thank you, man. That’s so nice of you. I’ll make sure to give this back to you.”

He held up his hand. “Keep it. It’s no big deal.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a sudden lump forming. There had to be some way she could repay him. She glanced into her apartment again as her mind raced, eyes and thoughts darting around trying to find a way to return his kindness.

And then she smelled them: the tater tots. Still warm and waiting in the air fryer. With a wide-eyed expression Mila whipped back around and found his questioning look, a smile teasing itself at the ends of her lips.

“Do-… do you want some tater tots?”

His brow flew into his hairline.

“Tater tots? Is that what hurt you?”

His straight-forward delivery, his earnest gaze — she couldn’t help throwing her head back and laughing.

“It was that damn air fryer basket, okay? I just didn’t see how close I was to it.”

His laughter mingled in the air with hers, the sound high and light.

“Well, I’m honored you’d share your spoils, but I won’t impose.”

“No no, please,” Mila held her hands out towards him in an almost pleading position. “It’s the least I can do! Though I appreciate you knowing how much of a privilege that is.”

With a definite grin, she turned around and waved him inside as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Hang tight, I’ll pack some up for you.”

Clark followed her into the apartment, stopping just inside the living room to look around and take in her décor. Photos and art prints were tastefully arranged among the walls, color and dynamic depictions bringing life into the space. Bookshelves filled with equal parts books and knick-knacks. Mismatched furniture and a few stuffed animals sitting on the couch, half knocked-over as if she’d just been sitting beside them. A string of yellow lights spanned each wall, their glow echoing off every surface and accentuating each piece.

Clark smiled. Compared to his apartment, this one felt so… lived in. Like an actual home.

“I like your string lights,” he called, hoping his voice would carry into the kitchen.

“Oh, thanks! Wait ’til you see what they can do,” Mila answered, whipping her head around as if he were there to see it. She peered into one more drawer to find a lid for her container before giving up and grabbing a piece of foil.

When she approached him, sealed tater tots in hand, his brow was furrowed in confusion.

“… The lights do other things?”

“Sure do!” Mila said with an eager nod, excitement about showing off her apartment bubbling in her gut.

She shoved the tots into Clark’s hands and dashed over to the coffee table, motioning for him to follow her. With the small silver remote in hand, she twisted around to grin at him, dramatically posing with her unburned hand resting on her hip.

“Observe.”

She pressed a button and the lights began to twinkle, every other one blinking in a random yet harmonic dance. Clark’s eyes went wide as he looked around, a small gasp puffing out of him. Mila admired his expression, filled with wonder and sparkling stars that played around on the lenses of his glasses. They stood out against the blue of his striking eyes.

“Woah,” he breathed. “That’s even more impressive.”

She shrugged with a giggle. “They’ve got other modes, too, but I’m partial to this one.”

He smiled. “I can see why.”

The two of them stared up in silence, following the path of twinkles across the creases in Mila’s ceiling until they disappeared down the hallways, emitting their soft yellow glow across their faces.

It was comfortable, this quiet. It was as if the room was alive and part of the conversation, filling in the gaps as they listened.

“I really like the rest of your decorations, too,” Clark said, gesturing to the air around him. “Very cozy.”

“Aw, thanks,” Mila grinned. “That was the goal.”

“My place is so barren in comparison,” he said with a breathy laugh. “I don’t have any cool art or anything on my walls.”

“Nothing wrong with a minimalist style. Keeps you from being a minor hoarder, like myself.”

They laughed.

Mila relaxed her shoulders as she took in those eyes again. Bright blue and completely transparent. They seemed to speak on their own as they met hers, conveying hidden messages from the depths of Clark’s heart.

If only Mila could decipher their code.

They stood staring for a long moment before Clark glanced down, brows furrowed.

“Is it itchy?”

She looked down just in time to catch herself scratching the burn. The pain bit down hard and refused to let go.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. She pulled the gel out of her pocket.

“Guess I better not keep you waiting.”

Clark watched as she squeezed a drop out of the tube and rubbed it over the tortured skin, resisting the urge to do it for her — if only to have an excuse to touch her hand once more. She sighed at the contact, her facial muscles relaxing. The sound and visual shot through his spine and made him stand up a bit taller. He cleared his throat.

“Works like a charm, every time.” He said with a chuckle.

Mila turned to look at him with a smile.

“Thank you again. For this, and for even coming to check on me at all.”

He shrugged. “Of course. What are neighbors for, after all?”

He held her gaze again, those piercing eyes emitting a paradoxical warmth that had Mila resisting the urge to swoon.

“A-and thank you, for these,” he held up the tater tots with a nod, his voice suddenly lined with nerves. “I promise they’re going to a loving home.”

“Good! They’re precious cargo, after all.” She laughed. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t find a lid.”

He smiled before eyeing the burn again and letting his worry distract him from the way the golden glow in the room made her smile sparkle.

“Be sure to put more on again when it dries up. The skin should settle back down in a day or two. Then just make sure you keep an eye on it. And don’t-” he pointed at her for emphasis- “itch it again.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she joked, giving him an exaggerated salute. He laughed again, then steeled his expression.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, I just can’t help myself. If I’m overstepping, I’ll happily back off-”

“No,” she smiled as she shook her head, wringing her fingers together. “Honestly, it’s nice. Hard to find a caring soul like yours nowadays. I kind of like having someone fret over me.”

She looked down at the floor, mentally scolding herself. What a dumb thing to say, she thought. What’s he going to think about that? The last thing she wanted was to drive him away.

When she chanced another glance at him, her eyes widened.

He was smiling at her, teeth and all, pure joy emanating from his expression. His smile shone so bright, and as she looked at it, Mila swore he could outdo the sun itself with it. So light, so sweetly crooked, so… serene.

She wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

---

Clark closed the door behind him, locking it with a solid ‘clunk’ of metal on metal.

The tater tots were still warm in his hands, their heat bleeding out of the plastic container she’d given him. He chuckled to himself as he toed off his shoes, recalling her jolty movements, her exasperated grin. Her adorable pajama shorts covered in llamas and silly shark slippers. Her enrapturing brown eyes and the immense universe living within them.

She looked as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world and was only just able to set it down. And yet, she took his breath away.

It was the first time he’d ever heard any noise from his neighbors. Good to know that if two windows that close are open, sounds are quick to travel between them.

As he closed his window and took a seat on the couch, tossing a tot into his mouth, he looked around at the darkness that surrounded him. Lights from the city beyond painted faint streaks of yellow and purple onto the surfaces of his home, the rest of his furniture cloaked in grays and blacks against the dark blue walls. The fluorescent lights in the kitchen were on, drawing more attention to the less-than-cozy personality Clark’s home had taken on.

“Maybe I could add more color to this place,” he mused to himself.

Either way, as he munched on the golden goodies, he was thinking through other ways he might be able to see his cute neighbor again.

Wait. He never even got her name. He mouthed a ‘biscuits’ as he halted mid-chew and lightly pressed a fist to his forehead. How’d he forget to ask something like that?

“Ugh, she probably thinks I’m so rude.”

He leaned back and threw his head over the top of the couch with a groan.

****

Permanent taglist: @booksarekindaneat @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

If you’d like a part 2/want to be tagged for it, please let me know! 💖

[pentechnics]

[pentechnics]

Dimensions

Clark Kent x OFC Mila Ravini

Summary: Call it fate or just an open window, Clark and Mila never expected a wonderful friendship to be waiting just a floor away. Loneliness and disinterest had ruled over them both for so long, their bond becomes a lifeline of sorts. But when real life comes into play, when emotions flow and the world flows harder, can Clark keep up a charade? Can Mila learn to trust again? Can the two of them withstand the tests thrown at them?

Contents: neighbors to friends to lovers, adventures in Metropolis, neighborly shenanigans, minor injuries (burns, scrapes, bruises, etc.), Canon-typical violence, mentions of previous suicidal ideation (eventually. Not in this part), Mila swears like a fucking sailor, overarching themes surrounding family, friendship, loneliness, feeling trapped, what it means to feel at home, more to be added

Rating: 16+ for language and themes

Notes: This is the first time in a long time that I have just been nonstop writing and really entering a story's world. This is different than what I've posted in the past, but it feels really good. I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you'd want to see more! 💖

P.S. I've kept these intro sections in Tumblr's small font for the sake of dash size and formatting but the fic and its masterlist (if applicable) will always be written in readable, regular-sized fonts that screenreaders can easily interact with.

✨Please support your content creators with reblogs and comments✨

~~~

Atlantia Apartments Unit 1246 Metropolis August 24th 7:45 pm

“Agh, fuck!”

Mila clasped her now stinging hand, wincing as she backed away from the fryer and examined the damage. Angry and red, the skin on her wrist just below her thumb puffed up where it’d come into contact with the burning basket.

“Goddammit,” she said to herself, louder than intended. How many times was this now, that she’d burnt herself making something simple and stupid like tater tots?

She sighed and rushed over to the sink, tripping over her own slippers in the process, as she shoved her hand under the running water. The ice cold bite was instantly soothing, letting her loosen her shoulders where they’d seized.

As she watched the water cascade, rolling over her wrist and down in rivulets, she couldn’t help the growing sense of shame that came up her throat like bile. Was she truly this helpless? Could she do nothing without injuring herself?

A sudden knock at the door halted her mental barrage.

“Ah, shit- just a minute!”

Could they even hear her from here? She wasn’t sure. Either way, she hurried to turn off the sink and bat her hand dry with a dishtowel, hissing as the sting instantly returned upon contact.

Purposeful, spiteful strides carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room towards the door. But she found herself hesitating when she got there. She wasn’t friendly with any of her neighbors, and wasn’t expecting any guests or deliveries. Who could it be?

With a shake of her head and gathered resolve, she swung the door open, breath immediately catching in her throat.

A stranger stood before her — a tall, stunning one, wearing black-framed glasses and messy curls that fell into his intense blue eyes. His hand raised in greeting, a crooked grin filling his face. The dim light of the hallway accentuated a sharp jaw and a firm nose, with contrasting smooth cheeks.

And dimples. Adorable, irresistible dimples that brought the whole image together.

Mila’s mouth fell open, body freezing at the sight.

Damn.

“Oh-” she cleared her throat, grateful she hadn’t said that out loud. “Hello, there.”

“Hi,” he started, “I’m Clark. I’m, uh, I’m your neighbor from downstairs.”

His voice was deep, gravely. It sent a shiver down Mila’s spine. Her jaw was still on the floor, joints still immobile as she gave him a slow nod. She shook herself out of her reverie, trying to remember how normal humans are meant to act.

“Ah, hi! What can I do for you, neighbor?” She wrapped her arms around herself as her neck slightly craned to keep his gaze, ignoring the burn’s protest from its placement.

“I heard a shout from up here,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sounded like someone was in pain. I just wanted to see if everything was okay.”

“Shit, you heard that?” She put her uninjured hand to her mouth, turning around to glance into the apartment. A groan echoed around her when she saw the living room window ajar — an attempt at some extra ventilation in the likely scenario in which she burnt something.

Technically, the assumption wasn’t wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” she turned back to face him with a small smile. “I’m fine, I was just cooking.”

All pleasantries drained out of his features and was immediately replaced with something more serious, more focused.

“Oh- did you get burned?”

Mila’s brow shot up, her hands dropping to her sides as she regarded him with wonder.

“Yeah… how’d you know that?”

“Ah, well, I-I figured if you’d cut yourself you’d be more panicked than you are. There are little other things that can injure you in the kitchen if it’s not a knife.”

His laugh was vaguely laced with nerves, dimples more prominent on his cheeks. An endearing gleam in his eyes followed his words — not an ounce of judgement or ridicule to be found. She couldn’t help giggling.

“Fair enough. It really isn’t that bad,” She held out her right arm and exposed the wound, now angrier that it had to rub up against her shirt. It pulsed inside, the puffy skin red and sizzling, like it was mocking her.

“Ouchie,” he worried his brow, stepping forward and taking her hand to get a closer look.

Mila’s eyes widened, the contact between them burning hotter than the wound. She gulped as she watched his movements — precise, yet soft. His hands were large, only needing his fingers to encompass her entire hand. The long, delicate appendages were gentle as they cradled her wrist and felt around the burn. She took a breath and settled into his touch, trying but failing to get her heartbeat steady.

She hissed when he got too close to the burn.

“Sorry- does it sting?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It wasn’t at first, but then I accidentally rubbed it.”

“Hm,” he tilted her hand around before looking back up at her. “Do you have any aloe?”

“Uh…”

The momentary silence and blank stare adorning her face seemed to be enough of an answer for him. He gave a small nod and withdrew his hands.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a flash.”

He practically flew down the hall before she could finish processing what he said. With a frown, she looked between her hand and the spot where he’d just been standing.

“What the fu-”

She poked her head down the hall. He was gone.

Shit, how fast can that boy run?

She shrugged with a sigh and looked down at her hand again. The spots he’d been holding now ran cold, the loss of sensation marking them. Mila ran a tentative finger down the path his had followed, the static in her brain growing more and more tangled. She slumped against her door and stared at the burn.

“Okay,” Clark’s deep, slightly sing-song voice echoed from down the hallway, making her head snap up. That really was a flash, she thought.

She watched as he smiled at her, the lights in the hall reflecting off his glasses as he made quick work of the distance between them. Up until then she hadn’t had the opportunity to take in the rest of him, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt — both of which were filled out. She bit the inside of her lip, begging herself to pull it together.

He brandished a small bottle of green gel and held it out to her. As she took it, her hand reveled in the small kiss of warmth that came from brushing against his skin.

“Put a thin layer of that onto the burn. It’ll stop the sting and help keep it moist so your skin doesn’t peel too much.”

"Oh,” she examined it before returning her gaze to him. “Thank you, man. That’s so nice of you. I’ll make sure to give this back to you.”

He held up his hand. “Keep it. It’s no big deal.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a sudden lump forming. There had to be some way she could repay him. She glanced into her apartment again as her mind raced, eyes and thoughts darting around trying to find a way to return his kindness.

And then she smelled them: the tater tots. Still warm and waiting in the air fryer. With a wide-eyed expression Mila whipped back around and found his questioning look, a smile teasing itself at the ends of her lips.

“Do-… do you want some tater tots?”

His brow flew into his hairline.

“Tater tots? Is that what hurt you?”

His straight-forward delivery, his earnest gaze — she couldn’t help throwing her head back and laughing.

“It was that damn air fryer basket, okay? I just didn’t see how close I was to it.”

His laughter mingled in the air with hers, the sound high and light.

“Well, I’m honored you’d share your spoils, but I won’t impose.”

“No no, please,” Mila held her hands out towards him in an almost pleading position. “It’s the least I can do! Though I appreciate you knowing how much of a privilege that is.”

With a definite grin, she turned around and waved him inside as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Hang tight, I’ll pack some up for you.”

Clark followed her into the apartment, stopping just inside the living room to look around and take in her décor. Photos and art prints were tastefully arranged among the walls, color and dynamic depictions bringing life into the space. Bookshelves filled with equal parts books and knick-knacks. Mismatched furniture and a few stuffed animals sitting on the couch, half knocked-over as if she’d just been sitting beside them. A string of yellow lights spanned each wall, their glow echoing off every surface and accentuating each piece.

Clark smiled. Compared to his apartment, this one felt so… lived in. Like an actual home.

“I like your string lights,” he called, hoping his voice would carry into the kitchen.

“Oh, thanks! Wait ’til you see what they can do,” Mila answered, whipping her head around as if he were there to see it. She peered into one more drawer to find a lid for her container before giving up and grabbing a piece of foil.

When she approached him, sealed tater tots in hand, his brow was furrowed in confusion.

“… The lights do other things?”

“Sure do!” Mila said with an eager nod, excitement about showing off her apartment bubbling in her gut.

She shoved the tots into Clark’s hands and dashed over to the coffee table, motioning for him to follow her. With the small silver remote in hand, she twisted around to grin at him, dramatically posing with her unburned hand resting on her hip.

“Observe.”

She pressed a button and the lights began to twinkle, every other one blinking in a random yet harmonic dance. Clark’s eyes went wide as he looked around, a small gasp puffing out of him. Mila admired his expression, filled with wonder and sparkling stars that played around on the lenses of his glasses. They stood out against the blue of his striking eyes.

“Woah,” he breathed. “That’s even more impressive.”

She shrugged with a giggle. “They’ve got other modes, too, but I’m partial to this one.”

He smiled. “I can see why.”

The two of them stared up in silence, following the path of twinkles across the creases in Mila’s ceiling until they disappeared down the hallways, emitting their soft yellow glow across their faces.

It was comfortable, this quiet. It was as if the room was alive and part of the conversation, filling in the gaps as they listened.

“I really like the rest of your decorations, too,” Clark said, gesturing to the air around him. “Very cozy.”

“Aw, thanks,” Mila grinned. “That was the goal.”

“My place is so barren in comparison,” he said with a breathy laugh. “I don’t have any cool art or anything on my walls.”

“Nothing wrong with a minimalist style. Keeps you from being a minor hoarder, like myself.”

They laughed.

Mila relaxed her shoulders as she took in those eyes again. Bright blue and completely transparent. They seemed to speak on their own as they met hers, conveying hidden messages from the depths of Clark’s heart.

If only Mila could decipher their code.

They stood staring for a long moment before Clark glanced down, brows furrowed.

“Is it itchy?”

She looked down just in time to catch herself scratching the burn. The pain bit down hard and refused to let go.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. She pulled the gel out of her pocket.

“Guess I better not keep you waiting.”

Clark watched as she squeezed a drop out of the tube and rubbed it over the tortured skin, resisting the urge to do it for her — if only to have an excuse to touch her hand once more. She sighed at the contact, her facial muscles relaxing. The sound and visual shot through his spine and made him stand up a bit taller. He cleared his throat.

“Works like a charm, every time.” He said with a chuckle.

Mila turned to look at him with a smile.

“Thank you again. For this, and for even coming to check on me at all.”

He shrugged. “Of course. What are neighbors for, after all?”

He held her gaze again, those piercing eyes emitting a paradoxical warmth that had Mila resisting the urge to swoon.

“A-and thank you, for these,” he held up the tater tots with a nod, his voice suddenly lined with nerves. “I promise they’re going to a loving home.”

“Good! They’re precious cargo, after all.” She laughed. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t find a lid.”

He smiled before eyeing the burn again and letting his worry distract him from the way the golden glow in the room made her smile sparkle.

“Be sure to put more on again when it dries up. The skin should settle back down in a day or two. Then just make sure you keep an eye on it. And don’t-” he pointed at her for emphasis- “itch it again.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she joked, giving him an exaggerated salute. He laughed again, then steeled his expression.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, I just can’t help myself. If I’m overstepping, I’ll happily back off-”

“No,” she smiled as she shook her head, wringing her fingers together. “Honestly, it’s nice. Hard to find a caring soul like yours nowadays. I kind of like having someone fret over me.”

She looked down at the floor, mentally scolding herself. What a dumb thing to say, she thought. What’s he going to think about that? The last thing she wanted was to drive him away.

When she chanced another glance at him, her eyes widened.

He was smiling at her, teeth and all, pure joy emanating from his expression. His smile shone so bright, and as she looked at it, Mila swore he could outdo the sun itself with it. So light, so sweetly crooked, so… serene.

She wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

---

Clark closed the door behind him, locking it with a solid ‘clunk’ of metal on metal.

The tater tots were still warm in his hands, their heat bleeding out of the plastic container she’d given him. He chuckled to himself as he toed off his shoes, recalling her jolty movements, her exasperated grin. Her adorable pajama shorts covered in llamas and silly shark slippers. Her enrapturing brown eyes and the immense universe living within them.

She looked as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world and was only just able to set it down. And yet, she took his breath away.

It was the first time he’d ever heard any noise from his neighbors. Good to know that if two windows that close are open, sounds are quick to travel between them.

As he closed his window and took a seat on the couch, tossing a tot into his mouth, he looked around at the darkness that surrounded him. Lights from the city beyond painted faint streaks of yellow and purple onto the surfaces of his home, the rest of his furniture cloaked in grays and blacks against the dark blue walls. The fluorescent lights in the kitchen were on, drawing more attention to the less-than-cozy personality Clark’s home had taken on.

“Maybe I could add more color to this place,” he mused to himself.

Either way, as he munched on the golden goodies, he was thinking through other ways he might be able to see his cute neighbor again.

Wait. He never even got her name. He mouthed a ‘biscuits’ as he halted mid-chew and lightly pressed a fist to his forehead. How’d he forget to ask something like that?

“Ugh, she probably thinks I’m so rude.”

He leaned back and threw his head over the top of the couch with a groan.

****

Permanent taglist: @booksarekindaneat @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

If you’d like a part 2/want to be tagged for it, please let me know! 💖

[pentechnics]

sometimes reading fanfic is like enjoying a gourmet tasting menu from a team of expert chefs who all have different styles and approaches to a favorite cuisine

and sometimes reading fanfic is like standing in front of the open fridge at three in the morning shoving handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth

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Three moods when I see my favorite artists/writers

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I rarely shit post, but the internet is really on point with me today...

[pentechnics]

The Character pipeline

There was another comic like this that i was desperately looking for, but I couldn't find it. so i made my own

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loml, the libby app

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Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction

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(crawls on all fours with blood drenched on me) I have to do arts and crafts