Have Courage & Be Kind Little Dove

Rest in peace to the incredible Anthony Stewart Head (20th February 1954 - 1st June 2026)

WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS MY FAVORITE TELEVISION SERIES OF ALL TIME (it's not out yet)

aaaaaa REASONS I have just written it and it got a bit long but HERE YOU ARE DARLING this one is for you <33333333

“You two look very intense, poppets,” says Ivana, stepping delicately out into the yard. “Everything all right?” Jack huffs, and I give Ivana a smile. “Just… things we never had. It’s okay to be sad about them. Grieve for them.” “Mmmm. Yes, poppet, it is.” She rests her fingers on Jack’s shoulder for a moment and then comes to lean against the wall with us. “Do you know what it should have looked like in there? Wall to wall queens of a certain age. I should have had mentors out the wazoo when I was coming up. But they weren’t there. Most of them. They all died, and polite society said they had it coming.” I blink at the bitterness in her voice, I’ve never heard her anything less than hostess-with-the-mostest before. But then, I know what it’s like to wear a persona in public. And she’s allowed to be bitter about what happened to her community. Mine, too. “I had that, I suppose. Or - I would have done if I was ever home between the ages of like sixteen and now.” I sigh very softly. “But they didn’t have it. When they were coming up. I learned on the road, and they… I guess they had to teach themselves.” “Exactly, poppet,” Ivana says. “I mean, it’s not like there weren’t any. But there weren’t nearly as many as there should’ve been.” She’s quiet for a long moment, and then - “But then I already knew how that felt. You know I’ve got a big family, poppet.” Jack nods. “How’s the non-binary nibling?” “Doing grand, thank you for asking. Most of the aunties and uncles and cousins have got their heads round saying ‘they’. Took some of them a while. My grandma though - their great-grandma - didn’t bat an eyelid. Her uncle was like them, after all. Like me, a bit, too.” She pauses again, and when I glance up at her I think I’m seeing past the persona, past the makeup to who she is underneath, the civilian as Jack refers to her out of uniform, the one whose name he still doesn’t know. “Uncle Moshe didn’t make it out of Berlin,” she says after a moment. “Grandma came over on the Kindertransport. Never saw the rest of them again. So you see, poppets, I should have had so many more people there, too. And I’ll be grieving my whole life for all of them.” I have to swallow hard, at that. For once I don’t know what to say and my eyes are prickling at the pain in her voice. “Huh,” Jack says. “I’d be fucking fuming.” “Oh, I am, poppet,” Ivana says. “I am. This whole thing, everything you see before you - it’s a protest. It’s a protest, and a fuck-you to polite society and everyone who thinks any of my people had it coming. So you know I know how you’re feeling. You come to me if you need to talk about it, ever.” She fixes me with a steady look, one eyebrow up. “That goes for you, too, famous boy. You ever need to talk to someone about coming up gay with nobody to ask about it, you give me a call. I’m sure you’ve figured yourself out now, but it’s never too late for a heart-to-heart.” I blink, slowly, give her a nod and a small smile. “I will. Thank you. It was… I did it my own way. But it would have been good to have someone to talk to.” “Before coming out on live television at the age of like eighteen and three days by means of singing fucking Santa Baby with all the lyrics intact?” Jack says. “You thought that one through all right.” “I did!” I protest. “I wanted people to know. I didn’t want to keep it a secret. And I did sing been an awful good boy. It wouldn’t have made sense otherwise.” Ivana chuckles. “Now that’s exactly what I would have advised you to do, poppet. I might have asked you if you were sure, but I’ve never seen any sense in keeping secrets about who you are. People will just have to accept you, and fuck them if they won’t.” “Exactly.” I hold out a fist for her to bump, which she does; Jack rolls his eyes.

Oh, IVANA. She's been breaking my heart ever since I figured it out. I think she might have more to say about it, but that's what I got just now. <3333333 Thank you so much for asking, and for everything.

OP: "Grandpa made this for Dad when he was a child, and now it's been passed down to my son."

which in turn activated my sleeper autist, and we ended up talking about fiber arts, where i learned that this woman is part of the local lacemaker's guild and uses her woodworking experience to carve lace bobbins on the lathe. she then gave me the email address of the woman who runs it, because their group has no social media and only meets when the lead lady says 'everyone come to my house.'

while all of this was going on, another woman walks up. her partner was shopping for wood repair stuff and she heard us talking about fiber- she's a spinner who does historical reenactments nearby. period accurate, processes the wool herself. of course i ask her if they need volunteers and she gives me her contact info

twenty-five (!) years later I came out as a trans man.

now. the important thing to know about my ex-husband is that he loves nothing more than 1) horrible puns, preferably bilingual ones; 2) terrible dad jokes; and 3) committing to the bit until the end of time. he absolutely lives for Shenanigans and Japery. i do not know how his long-suffering wife puts up with him, but they've been married for more than 20 years so presumably she manages.

so, to break the news to my ex, i texted him. the exchange went something like this:

me: "great news, i'm a trans guy now"

him: "oh, congrats!"

me: "thank you. now for the better news: I insist you refer to me henceforth only as your ex-husband. do you accept this challenge?"

and my cis, straight-as-an-arrow, lives-in-the-midwest, married-to-a-minister ex-husband was like