So glad you're here!! ^_^ I am Cali, a fanfic writer (35, she/her, pansexual) who creates stories in the COD fandom and most of them are full of smut.
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Not gonna lie to you, Im so obsessed with The Fifth Element I check your page at least 3 times a day
Omg that makes me smile like a damn fiend 😅🩷 thanks so much for your note about it. I think about that fic every three seconds so I feel ya. Unforch I have been travelling for the past three days or so, and my access to the internet has been dicey.
Next chapter is already in the works, though! Fully outlined about three chapters ahead at this point. It's the dialogue that fucks me up if I'm honest. I have to work really hard to make sure they sound believable (to me) and it's just a series of second guessing and rereads until I get fed up and slap the post button. 🤦♀️🤣 but thanks for being so patient. You have no idea how grateful I am for it. Truly. 🩷
The Scientific Guide to Yautja Breeding: An Anthology
@gloomwitchwrites and @the-californicationist in collaboration
Recovered from a derelict research vessel, these logs contain the experiences of six scientists who vanished into deep space, leaving behind fractured accounts of their first contact: impossible pregnancies, ritual practices, and whispered confessions about the Yautja hunters they loved and followed willingly into the stars.
pardon my absence, I spent the last few days holed up at my bf's because his family can actually afford air conditioning. I had to come home today because I work tomorrow and I started melting the moment I opened the door to my room. well wishes to everyone dealing with this heatwave <3
You yawned and stretched, leaning back against the couch cushions. Despite his claims that his kitchen skills were only mediocre, Nikolai made a wonderful meal. Chicken kiev, grilled asparagus, and focaccia, all done to perfection. It had been a while since you’d eaten until you were full, and your body was still adjusting to having proper nutrition after being deprived for so long. You were damn near in a food coma, meanwhile Nikolai was only mildly sluggish. You could audibly hear his back pop as he straightened in his recliner before rising from his seat and taking your dishes into the kitchen.
“Do you want anything to drink, milaya?” he called, rifling through the cupboards for a glass. You peered down at the table. You still had a fairly full glass of water, thanks to Nikolai constantly refilling it.
“No, I still have water,” you replied, picking the glass up and swirling the ice in it for emphasis. Nikolai laughed.
“No, no. I am asking if you want alcohol, глупый,” he said. Alcohol wasn’t a luxury you’d had the chance to try, it wasn’t like you had the money or time to spend on it. But something about even just the thought made your throat go dry.
“Um, I’ll pass. Thanks,” you faltered, tone wavering ever so slightly.
“Are you sure? I have some of those fruit flavored drinks you young people like,” he insisted. He settled back into his seat, a glass in one hand and a rather large bottle of clear liquid in the other. Slowly, he poured a small sip into the glass and slid it in your direction. It wasn’t much, less than half a shot poured over ice. Yet it was slightly intimidating, nonetheless. You tentatively reached a hand out before pulling it back.
“I think I’ll pass. Thank you,” you replied. Nikolai shrugged before tossing his head back and taking a swig straight from the bottle. The sight knocked the wind from you, the way he chugged it like it was water. Maybe it was, with how easily it went down for the man. After a second, he set the bottle down with a hearty laugh. He smiled at you, then furrowed his brow like he was thinking. After a second, he perked up.
“Ah, before I start forgetting. I got you something,” he strained as he reached around the chair before pulling out a gift bag with a single sheet of tissue paper across the top. “Forgive me. I am not the most gift-givey person.”
It was a fairly big bag. You picked it up. It wasn’t that heavy either. You could feel Nikolai watching you as you assessed the package. Finally, you removed the tissue paper and pulled out the item. It was a brand-new laptop. One of the newer ones on the market, you recognized it from the late nights you’d spent hunched over your old hunk of junk allowing yourself a small respite to dream of having something better. You swear you felt your heart stop for a second as your body went rigid.
“Is all set up for you! I even put some of those silly computer games women like on there,” he beamed, clearly patting himself on the back for such a well-thought gift. You, meanwhile, were still trying to grapple with the reality of holding a $2,000 piece of hardware and it actually being yours. With a featherlight touch, you opened it. Immediately, you were greeted with a desktop with every game neatly alphabetized down the side. Frog Detective 1-3, Hello Kitty Island Adventure, Minecraft, Paleo Pines, Potion Craft, Slime Rancher, Sticky Business, Turnip Boy Commits…Tax Evasion? Bit of an oddball choice for the last one but you weren’t gonna complain. You opened your mouth to speak when Nikolai cut you off.
“Don’t you ask how much you owe me.”
“…I thought you wanted me to clean and stuff?”
Nikolai huffed like it was the most obvious thing.
“You are not here to be maid, you are allowed entertainment. Work is not all there is to life. Not anymore, дорогая.”
The sun had gone down 5, maybe 8 hours ago? You had no clue, you’d had your face in the screen since you laid in bed. Your host was generous enough to give such a wonderful gift and you were going to put it to good use. You were feverishly shaking the mouse back and forth, trying to make a light potion on Potion Craft when a rumbling sounded out in the darkness. You peeled your eyes away from the screen, trying to hone in on the sound. Distant thunder, maybe some wild animal? It wasn’t that important. What was important was getting the damn recipe right without breaking the bottle for the fiftieth time. You grasped the mouse, ready to resume, but there it was again, a low tone that you almost couldn’t parse. It had to be something inside. Maybe the furnace was having a bit of trouble starting. Something compelled you to check it out. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, careful not to tangle yourself this time, and started down the hall, You had to use the wall as guidance, not wanting to risk turning on the light. Eventually, your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and as you reached the living room, you saw it.
Nikolai, passed out in his recliner, empty bottle discarded on the floor and a half-full one dangerously close to the edge of the table. The rumbling was his snoring, muffled mostly by his slouched posture. Despite the drinking clutter, he looked oddly peaceful. But you just couldn’t leave him like that. Gently, you gathered the bottles, throwing the empty one out and setting the other on the counter. Then, you grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and gingerly draped it over his front. Despite how silently you thought you were moving, Nikolai stirred. His eyelids fluttered and his head lolled to the side, the faintest smile on his features.
“Спасибо, моя любовь. Ты такой милый,” he slurred, accent thick and words marred by the tangling of sleep and alcohol. You had not a single clue what was said, but you smiled back. You gave a polite nod before returning to your room.
