🎵 On The Eleventh Day Of Cross-mas, Some Weirdo Gave To Me~

"I can't file these."

"Why not?"

"These...well l...they're not considered people to be adopted."

"How do I change that?"

"You have to lobby with the Senate, and after that it's up to them. You're a very kind Jedi, and I wish you luck, but unfortunately at this moment you can't file."

"Thank you for letting me know."

Plo Koon walks about of one of the major adoption centers on Coruscant and looks at the carefully filled out flimsi-pads in his hands. His initial displeasure of learning the men that fought and died for the Republic weren't classed as people has returned triplefold, and he grips the paperwork with a frown.

No one was going to stop him.

However, he knows that fighting the Senate will take time, so he conspires with Bail Organa to do the closest thing he can in terms for his men.

-----

Wolffe looks at the small box in his hand, eyes flickering up to his equally confused men all around him. They'd been out training and returned to find wooden boxes for each of them sitting on their bunks, and none of them had to ask who they were from. No one seemed to want to open theirs, so Wolffe slowly does to reveal a leather braided bracelet with an inscription dotted along the woven strands. No bracelet is the same, some braided while others were inlaid with little slivers of colorful metal, but the base of each one is almost the same.

For my son's, my wolf pack

"Is..." No one is sure what to say, but Comet is not tearing up as he slips his bracelet on, admiring the touching gift from their buir. The boxes are all handled with care as the troopers slowly begin to slip theirs on, an excited chattering filling the room as they proudly show off to each other the differences.

Wolffe doesn't have to look to know that Plo is watching them from the hallway, and swells with pride as he slips his own one on.

While they may not be his in a legal sense, Plo hopes this small gift shows the care and love he holds for his children.

He's a little shit your honor.

YEETALY DEET MY LOVELY HAMD-SOME

I GIVE IN

I GIVE IN TO THE CRINGE

SEND ME YOUR THISBITES! SHIPS AND ILL DO MY BEST TO DRAW THEM THIS INKTOBER

Tacticians who tempt vice admirals will be put in air jail

where is the wolf?

Oh, there is the wolf

Me and my friend when we start dueling

The good ol’ Swaparoo

Vivi and Cross pretending to insult Nami with the French language