The cat is out of the bag
It's no secret that I write. The Spouse knows. He watched me fill notebooks full of stories instead of notes in the only class we had together in university, for example. He went into this eyes wide open. On occassion, he'll nudge me, ask me what I'm doing, and I tell him, "I'm writing."
His answer is always, "Oh, okay. Carry on."
I don't even remember how we got onto the topic yesterday, but I happened to mention that I wrote fanfic. His reaction?
"Oh, cool."
I shrugged, went back to writing, and he looked at me a few minutes later with a frown. "Wait. Is it like Doctor Who screws Spiderman kind of fanfic? Like, the sexy kind of two guys going at it fanfic, or just regular fanfic?"
"Both. The two are not mutually exclusive, baby. But also it could be two girls going at it too. Or just the regular combination, you know. Or three people or more. Orgies are a thing, too," I said. "Also, I don't write Doctor Who or Spiderman."
"Oh. Huh." He went back to watching TV. About ten minutes later -- his processing was probably delayed by the fact that there was baseball on -- he asked, "You don't write under your own name, do you?"
"No," I said distractedly, because I'm trying to remember what I'm doing with my story. "Of course not. It's completely anonymous."
"Is it on one of those websites? Because I heard of a place where you can publish that stuff. It's called [something I don't remember now]. Have you ever heard of it?"
I looked up at him and frown because I've never heard of that place before. That doesn't mean much, because I tend to stay in my little sandbox. "That's a fanfic site? Don't know anything about it."
"Yeah, I mean, it must be new, I guess." A few seconds pass and he remembered, "Never mind, I think it was a place that published erotica. Would you ever do that?"
"Sure, if I write it and someone picks it up, I guess," I said.
We both go back to what we're doing -- him, channel-surfing at the commercial breaks, me, trying to figure out how to get Character A to like Character B and not sure if I'm pulling it off successfully.
"So where do you post your stories?" he asks finally, because being subtle doesn't work on me when my head is somewhere else, and I finally clue in on what he was getting at.
I grinned at him. "I love you. Most people would freak out over this. But. Nope. You're never going to find me online. Never. Never-ever-ever."
He reached out to me from across the couch and gave me a serious look. "Honey. Sweetie pie. You don't password protect your laptop. What makes you think I don't already know?"
After one long, narrow-eyed moment of panicked hesitation, I plink him on the head. "You're a lying liar who lies."
"If you say so," he said smugly, and went back to his baseball game.
(I haven't password protected my laptop. I plan on him finding tentacle sex with his name on it if he so much as touches my laptop.)
His answer is always, "Oh, okay. Carry on."
I don't even remember how we got onto the topic yesterday, but I happened to mention that I wrote fanfic. His reaction?
"Oh, cool."
I shrugged, went back to writing, and he looked at me a few minutes later with a frown. "Wait. Is it like Doctor Who screws Spiderman kind of fanfic? Like, the sexy kind of two guys going at it fanfic, or just regular fanfic?"
"Both. The two are not mutually exclusive, baby. But also it could be two girls going at it too. Or just the regular combination, you know. Or three people or more. Orgies are a thing, too," I said. "Also, I don't write Doctor Who or Spiderman."
"Oh. Huh." He went back to watching TV. About ten minutes later -- his processing was probably delayed by the fact that there was baseball on -- he asked, "You don't write under your own name, do you?"
"No," I said distractedly, because I'm trying to remember what I'm doing with my story. "Of course not. It's completely anonymous."
"Is it on one of those websites? Because I heard of a place where you can publish that stuff. It's called [something I don't remember now]. Have you ever heard of it?"
I looked up at him and frown because I've never heard of that place before. That doesn't mean much, because I tend to stay in my little sandbox. "That's a fanfic site? Don't know anything about it."
"Yeah, I mean, it must be new, I guess." A few seconds pass and he remembered, "Never mind, I think it was a place that published erotica. Would you ever do that?"
"Sure, if I write it and someone picks it up, I guess," I said.
We both go back to what we're doing -- him, channel-surfing at the commercial breaks, me, trying to figure out how to get Character A to like Character B and not sure if I'm pulling it off successfully.
"So where do you post your stories?" he asks finally, because being subtle doesn't work on me when my head is somewhere else, and I finally clue in on what he was getting at.
I grinned at him. "I love you. Most people would freak out over this. But. Nope. You're never going to find me online. Never. Never-ever-ever."
He reached out to me from across the couch and gave me a serious look. "Honey. Sweetie pie. You don't password protect your laptop. What makes you think I don't already know?"
After one long, narrow-eyed moment of panicked hesitation, I plink him on the head. "You're a lying liar who lies."
"If you say so," he said smugly, and went back to his baseball game.
(I haven't password protected my laptop. I plan on him finding tentacle sex with his name on it if he so much as touches my laptop.)