fair, fair! I don't know quite what prompted that burst of bitterness.
I don't know, the inescapable volume of casual misogyny baked into every layer of our culture and stuck into some of the frosting, too?
Everything you write (and every elaboration!) makes me love these characters more. Thank you so much.
You're welcome! I got really fond of many of them while reading.
(Not yet described: Tiger Olsen, the one-time local football hero, decorated former Marine, currently down-on-his-luck used car salesman who hires on with Francis as an assistant early in The Gay Detective. He is the definition of butch and very straight to boot, but once he gets his head out of the misconception that he was hired as a personal assistant—Francis knocks it out of him, actually, in a couple of two-minute rounds at Sandy's Gym—he makes a game and loyal aide and does not jib even when developments in the case require him to pose as his employer's pickup for an investigatory night on the town. He gets his heart a little dinged up by Vivien Holden, but will obviously be fine. I assume that in the future fictional installments which I long for he would continue to handle the romancing of ladies and Francis would continue to come in occasionally late and rumpled from his own nights on the tiles and the rest of Bay City would continue to take them for a couple, which I find possibly more charming than if they really were.)
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I don't know, the inescapable volume of casual misogyny baked into every layer of our culture and stuck into some of the frosting, too?
Everything you write (and every elaboration!) makes me love these characters more. Thank you so much.
You're welcome! I got really fond of many of them while reading.
(Not yet described: Tiger Olsen, the one-time local football hero, decorated former Marine, currently down-on-his-luck used car salesman who hires on with Francis as an assistant early in The Gay Detective. He is the definition of butch and very straight to boot, but once he gets his head out of the misconception that he was hired as a personal assistant—Francis knocks it out of him, actually, in a couple of two-minute rounds at Sandy's Gym—he makes a game and loyal aide and does not jib even when developments in the case require him to pose as his employer's pickup for an investigatory night on the town. He gets his heart a little dinged up by Vivien Holden, but will obviously be fine. I assume that in the future fictional installments which I long for he would continue to handle the romancing of ladies and Francis would continue to come in occasionally late and rumpled from his own nights on the tiles and the rest of Bay City would continue to take them for a couple, which I find possibly more charming than if they really were.)