#but i have the sneaking suspicion this perspective is unpopular

[jensensitive]

This weekend was really my first back in fandom in a few months, and I haven’t been on Tumblr or Twitter in the past day, just discord, but as someone who's always loved cockles and shipped cockles, but always questioned certain things about cockles, in the sickest turn of events possible, this wildcard move unfortunately has filled in many blanks and has made me more sure of cockles than ever. Not in a good way, not in a positive way, but in a "oh, I get it now, the world we live in is a bleak, cruel nightmare huh" kind of way. If you get that, you get that, ig.

These men also think they don't have ADHD. I guess I could leave it at that really. No one was surprised by Misha saying he was bi for a reason. That reason didn't up and disappear, we knew then, we know now, just like half of us knew Jensen and Misha had ADHD before they said they were diagnosed as kids. Tell me to go fuck off, but this is my honest perspective, as someone who has had a bit of fandom break. Everyone was fine yesterday with saying Jensen and Misha have ADHD even though Jensen implied he doesn't actually think he has it, and someone's sexuality isn't any more personal than a medical diagnosis. Maybe we’re all shitbags for that idk, but if you feel badly for not believing him, or questioning yourself or your own eyes, please forgive yourself, it's all I ask. If you for realisies think he's the straightest straight to ever straight and still like him after [gestures broadly at the past thirteen years] then cool beans, have fun with that ig lol. For me, I’m feeling a certain peace in getting things a bit better, in seeing things a bit clearer, feeling a general sadness, and also still hoping things are just sad and not completely tragic.

[yubsie]

Hand Me Downs

Breha gives Hera baby gifts. Which means she can pass them on to Leia for her child. (AO3 if you prefer)

No one had warned Hera that being a high-ranking member of the Rebel Alliance was going to involve ruffles. She was prepared for overwhelming odds, to risk her life against an enemy who gave no mercy. And in the early days, that was exactly what she got. A lot of sneaking around and flying and getting shot at and  wearing a flightsuit . Then she’d worked her way up through the ranks and found herself having to attend formal dinner parties that covered for high-ranking strategy sessions. The perils of being a general.

If she had a choice, she would have gone for formalwear with a bit of slink to it. But her rapidly expanding midsection didn’t lend itself well to that at all. The only dress she’d been able to find in... whatever her current size was took the philosophy that the bump could just blend in with the rest of the floof. Her attendance in her condition would surely fuel all sorts of gossip about her and the man Breha had chosen to sit her next to. Gossip was useful; it meant that everyone was speculating about her personal life instead of what they might actually be discussing. The trouble was it also meant they were speculating about her personal life and the child who hadn’t volunteered for this. It wasn’t even the worst thing to happen this week, but it felt so incredibly alien.

She wished she could talk to Kanan about it. He would have delivered some sort of over-the-top compliment. And then Ezra would have somehow still not noticed. At least she could still hope to explain to a very baffled Ezra where her child had come from.

But neither of them were here. Now she had the new constant figures of her life: Mon Mothma and the Organas. She trusted the high-ranking members of the Alliance; it would be disastrous if she couldn’t. She even liked them quite a bit. They were good people. Friends, even. They just weren’t family, and she wanted so much of that around right now.

Her glass represented their current target in the makeshift map they were drawing up on the dinner table. The fact that she was the only one currently restricted to water set it apart conveniently from the wine glasses representing rebel units. She tapped Bail’s glass. “If we bring the demolitions team in from the west, they’ll have the sanitation droids as cover.” Sabine would be thrilled, she was sure. Garbage had so much artistic merit.

Mon Mothma nodded. “And that will help minimize the collateral damage to the surrounding citizens.”

Ierlin Allston, head of their fledgling public relations department, nodded. “The benefits of that are pretty obvious.”

They probably didn’t need to consider it from the public image perspective. It was enough that it was right. But it was still a useful angle. Anything to win hearts and minds over in the fight against the Empire. While also winning key weapons factories. They had a solid plan that was sure to go out the window and require extensive improvisation, but at least they had something to build on now.

It was also as far as the plan could possibly go before that first engagement with the enemy. They were still waiting on several key intelligence reports Mon Mothma had hoped they would have in time for this session. There hadn’t been a way to postpone the dinner party that wouldn’t attract suspicion when the information. So they would have to fill the remainder of the dinner party with actual dinner party activity. Definitely not Hera’s specialty, that was more for those who had come here from the senatorial side of things.

“General Syndulla, a word?” She didn’t actually know enough about the etiquette of these sorts of parties to know if it was unusual for Breha to break away from her carefully balanced seating arrangement. They’d eaten most of the courses at this point, so perhaps mingling was entirely normal.

At any rate, when the Queen of Alderaan requested a word, one gave a word. She didn’t need to know anything about royal etiquette to realize that much. “Yes, of course.” How was she supposed to address her? They were on friendly terms, and in a flightsuit she would probably address her by name without a second thought. She really was out of her element in all these bolts of fabric. Who had bought out the store to construct this ridiculous dress? “Your Majesty?”

The queen smiled. “It can still be Breha.” She paused. “This is absolutely a personal interaction.”

Hera had almost forgotten what those felt like in recent months. They were always for family, but even the ones she could locate were scattered. Zeb and Kallus came by often, but they had their own work. It was often just her and Sabine, since Ezra vanished. And she didn’t want to put too much pressure on the girl. It wasn’t fair. “It is?”

“You know, Leia was rather unexpected.” It was obvious enough where that was coming from. No one had to be told that she hadn’t planned this. Even if Kanan had lived, they were in the middle of a war, and she still wasn’t quite sure how she was going to balance the baby with all of that. How she was going to keep him safe. He would need her to step back, especially at first, but he would also need a safe galaxy to grow up in. She had to find a way to give him a mother and a future at the same time. It would have been easier if Kanan were here to help. But she’d tried to stop dwelling on things that were well and truly impossible. She had to deal with the situation as it was.

“Wasn’t she adopted?” That was the sort of development one usually tried to plan. It didn’t just happen like having strange symptoms weeks after losing the love of her life and realizing that the Force apparently wanted more little Jedi running around. Or something like that.

Breha laughed warmly. “She was. The last days of the Clone Wars were the strangest.”

She’d only been a child then, but old enough to realize how quickly everything was changing. The galaxy suddenly looked completely different and as dangerous as ever. That was just never going to end, it would seem.

“We had talked about it, but I wasn’t expecting Bail to come home with a baby that day.”

Hera couldn’t even imagine. She was already struggling to prepare for her baby with months of warning. Having one just show up was a logistical nightmare. But she wasn’t sure where this was meant to be going. “You seem to have managed quite well. She’s remarkable.” The princess was involved in more missions of late. And she didn’t disappoint.

“There are... certain advantages to a hereditary home. The attics have more than anyone could possibly use in a lifetime. So it was easy to prepare a nursery.”

That wouldn’t really help on the emotional front, but sometimes logistics were the easiest thing to focus on. Their supplies had never been so well documented as right after the liberation of Lothal.

“I was wondering how you were doing on that front?”

“I...” She’d been trying to figure out how to care for the child. “Our usual suppliers don’t tend to trade in infant goods.”

“That’s what I thought.” She would never have expected a queen to be so practical before she met Breha. But what was government if not a giant exercise in logistics? She’d seen quickly that Princess Leia Organa had not been routinely handed off to nannies. They probably would have attempted to exert some sort of moderating influence to keep her out of the Rebellion. “Bail and I wanted to give you a few items. Some clothing, a travel bassinette. We have more spares than we could ever need. Leia could be a great-great-grandmother before we had to reuse a single item. It will go to so much better use with you, I think.”

“I...” She suddenly pictured items from a royal palace tucked into one of the Ghost’s empty rooms. The image was strange enough to bring laughter instead of the usual sadness at the state of those rooms. “That’s so generous.”

“Alderaan favours simplicity.” Translation: don’t worry, I’m not handing you something jewel encrusted to furnish a freighter. “The craftsmanship is excellent.”

Hera rested her hand on her belly, taking a moment to imagine her future. “He’ll be the most elegantly dressed baby at the spacestop.”

***

No one had warned Leia that victory would involve quite so many Functions. She should have been prepared for them, growing up in a royal palace, but after fighting a war for so long, she’d let herself forget. Now they moved more and more toward an actual government, and she had to learn an old role all over again. She’d gotten used to her days involving more strategy sessions than dinner parties.

Of course, she still had military officers approaching her. They just wore the notoriously unpopular dress uniform now. They had barely had a uniform at all when her parents first let her get involved in the Rebellion. Now there was a dress variant, and the people who wore it had no end of opinions. Even if a general would, of course, never breathe a word about it. “Senator, a word?”

Leia maneuvered herself around carefully. That was the only way she could actually move these days. Her small stature made her increasing bulk feel all the more unwieldy. “Of course, General.”

“It’s really more of a Hera conversation.” They’d known each other too long to always stand on ceremony. Right now, Leia didn’t much care for standing at all. “Can you handle the walk to the Ghost?”

“As long as there are chairs at the end.” At least they had enough history that she could admit that.

Hera nodded and started to lead the way. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said almost automatically.

Automatically enough that Hera immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Tired.” It was a completely different brand of exhaustion that the sleepless nights in a battle zone. Not necessarily worse, but unique. She’d never grown a human being before but it was taking more out of her than she was eager to admit. Especially when she was trying to convince her staff she wasn’t an invalid. “Exhausted, really.”

Hera smiled. “It’s like that a lot. I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but it’s a nice sort of exhausted. Most of the time.”

“How’s your son doing? I hope he’s well.”

“He spent this last deployment with Zeb and Kallus. He’s amazing, even if keeping up with a Force sensitive child is more work than three full starfighter squadrons.”

More of a preview of her life than she meant it to be. Deep in her heart, she knew that was true, but she hadn’t had anyone who’d knowingly experienced that to talk to. She couldn’t have been that bad a child, could she have?

She probably had. “Just regular squadrons, I hope?”

Hera shook her head. “All of them are Rogue Squadron.  All   of them.” Current reports indicated that the general they were currently attached to was rapidly balding. Also making remarkable progress through former Imperial territory but in utterly exhausting and unexpected ways. “Of course, I don’t really have a non-Force sensitive child to compare him to. Sabine was already a teenager by the time she was in my life.”

She could handle it. At least she had some amount of Force sensitivity herself. Poor Han, she should warn him. Maybe have him talk to Hera, if they could stop arguing about the relative merits of their ships long enough to discuss anything else. This might actually be important enough to manage that.

Hera keyed in the sequence to open up the hatch and led the way into the common area. Which had some remarkably comfortable chairs. Well chosen. Maybe she could get Han to install something like this on the Falcon. At the very least she had to find out where these cushions came from. Maybe she could even sneak one for the next Function...

Once she was suitably settled to relieve her overtaxed feet, Hera tried several times to open a conversation. Finally, she managed, “It can be hard to stop thinking about who you desperately want to be there, with a child.”

Leia’s hand drifted to her belly. “Han’s the important part.” She’d worried a lot when he was off dealing with Kashyyyk. But he was back now and ready to be part of their son’s life. It wasn’t like what Hera had had to deal with when her son was born. She had so many others around her, it wasn’t fair to wish for the things she couldn’t have.

“A baby can never have too much family. The whole crew helped me with Jacen.” She reached over and took Leia’s hand. “And so did two people who would be the most delighted grandparents anyone could ask for.”

Hormones were completely unfair. She was a senator; she couldn’t go crying like this. “I keep thinking of all the traditions I always thought any child of mine would participate in.” There was a lot involved with being the heir to the throne of Alderaan. For all that she’d complained, she couldn’t have imagined back then things going another way. Her child wouldn’t be the heir to anything— only a field of rubble.

“I had no idea what I was going to do without Kanan. But your parents were so kind to me.” She’d been busy with her own missions and a certain amount of teenaged tunnel blindness, but she did remember General Syndulla being around more often in the months leading up to the Battle of Yavin. She’d assumed it was all about the Rebel Alliance getting more established and the longtime leaders having more work to do. But of course, a pregnancy would change the day to day activities of a general. For all that she told her staff she wasn’t an invalid, she did occasionally have to slow down.

“They were always like that.” That was why it hurt so much. The galaxy needed people who were that kind. She tried to carry on their legacy, but she could only do so much. It would never be enough.

Hera pulled two crates forward and opened the first to reveal an assortment of baby clothes. She handed Leia the top onesie to examine. It wasn’t the sort of clothes she would have expected an active rebel to pick out, but these must be Jacen’s old things. They didn’t get a lot of babies in the Rebellion, after all. She ran her hand over the fabric. “This is beautiful.” It almost felt like rannasilk. But the only place to get that was... “It can’t be...”

Hera handed her another piece of clothing. The same craftsmanship. The same material. “Your mother said she had more than she could ever dream of using.”

“I remember. We had more than we could ever need, but no sense letting perfectly good things sit by, even if they were a little bit too luxurious.” It wasn’t what most people expected of royalty. But Alderaan wasn’t like anywhere else in the galaxy.

“She told me you could be a great grandmother before they ever had to reuse any baby things.” And then all of that had gone to waste when Tarkin said fire. Except for these boxes.

Leia held the onesie to her heart. Any connection at all.

“The other crate is a few items of furniture. I assume you have something permanent set up at home, but they knew I was mostly going to be travelling.” Settling down only became a real possibility for any of them in the past year. And even that was slow going. “It would make a good shipboard nursery.”

She’d been surprised that Han was willing to make changes to the Falcon. Putting in a galley. If he’d do that for her, surely their baby would also be worth it. They weren’t going to leave any permanent marks, and there was that strange room that Lando kept referring to as his cape closet. There wasn’t much in there but junk now. They could sort through all of that and make space for the baby. Space for... she opened the crate.

A perfectly crafted travel bassinette. Just like she would have slept in for all but her very first trip to Alderaan. Artfully carved, solid craftsmanship. Though the straps attached inside didn’t look at all Alderaanian. A practical addition, but added with respect for the aesthetic. She tugged on them. Solid, that would keep a baby from going anywhere even if his father decided it was a good idea to go into an asteroid field. But also quite lovely.

“That was Sabine’s work. Alderaanian royal politics don’t tend to quite rival an active rebellion for excitement.”

“If you go far enough in our history...” There was a reason Alderaanian royals had found themselves drawn to rebellion. She’d like to think it was all about justice. But they didn’t come from a tradition of sitting quietly, no matter what her tutors had tried to convince her of at the time. “I hope they’re never necessary.”

“That’s what we all hope for our children. And we actually have a chance at giving it to them, thanks to the work your parents started.” Started. They’d all continued it. And now, her child would have more of a link to that than she’d ever dreamed.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough for this gift.” She didn’t expect anything from family for the next generation. It would have been a foolish hope. That was all lost years ago in the worst moment of her life. Except, it seemed, this one gift. Because her parents had taken the time to care for someone else. They couldn’t have known this would come back to her; they were expecting her to use the rest of the excess in the palace’s vast storage.

She would have to teach her child to be like them. Dreaming cradled in this gift they didn’t know they were giving him.