#kassa

[andorshitdaily]

Good news. There are only 153 days until Andor season two.

[pedroam-bang]

Andor (2022)

[scavengedluxury]

Bunker near Košice, 1939. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive.

[eurydia]

poster I drew for @andorappreciation week - favorite characters ✨

details below

these are only some of my favorite characters and not a complete list. I tried to fit in as many of my faves as I could! ❤️

[waterlilyvioletfog]

No but you don’t understand. The storytelling of the flashbacks to Cassian’s life as Kassa on Kenari. The fact that we get no translations for the language, but everything we need to know is communicated to us anyway. We understand which kids are In Charge, we see the leader’s prudence, how she commands respect, her generosity in allowing Kassa to join. We see the ritual of the marking application. We see jewelry, bowls, cups, toys— and weapons, though we don’t realize exactly what kind they are until they are needed, but used too late. We don’t know what the last thing Kassa said to Kerri was. We know exactly what he said. The green of the forest, the yellows greens and oranges of the kids’ clothing. The older kids stepping over a log, but Kassa, the youngest and smallest and last of the pack, swings his legs over sitting down. The shot panning from the green of the forest to the dead land near the mining site. The shot of Kassa overlooking the ridge where the mining happens. The total saturation of Kassa’s world— the color, the teeming life, the grime. Contrasted with the world of the Republic-soon-to-be-Empire, which is dead, cold, grey and black and artificial red. Glassy and clean. Literally and metaphorically surrounded by death, Kassa is the only alive thing on that ship. His shirt is the same color as the dead crew’s faces. The pop of color of the Andors: Maarva and Clem’s bickering, their bright clothes, Bee’s shiny paint, Maarva’s bright hair. Theirs are the first words chronologically that the audience can understand. Kassa can’t. Maarva kidnaps a frightened, angry, child with a community— on a whim. After the event itself, the fact that she kidnapped him is never discussed. Two people were lost to that band of kids: their leader and their straggler. Cassian is still looking for his sister. Cassian keeps going home and promising he’ll be back. Kassa never returns to Kenari.

[pedropascallme]

Silence the Night

Pairing: sick!Cassian x gn!Reader

Summary: “Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely.”

Warnings: None :) Comfort and fluff with sick Cass.

AN: Post-Andor S1, pre-Rogue One. Yeah this plot makes little to no sense but give a girl a break. Sometimes I need to write silly little things about my silly little babygirl. 

“Let me in.”

You flipped yourself over, staring at the ceiling from the comfort of your bunk having been pulled from your admittedly light sleep by the familiar voice on the other side of the door. There was no time for idling in the rebel barracks; meals were eaten quickly, conversations were cut short, sleep was not a given, and neither was coming home at the end of the day. Suffice to say, despite the stifled urgency in Cassian’s voice, you hesitated to let him in after the rude awakening he had caused you after a day of running in every direction. 

You heard a near whine of your name as Cassian continued his plea for you to open up. “I know you’re here. Come on!” He knocked on the metal that divided the two of you, then let out what you assumed was a sneeze. Maneuvering yourself out of bed and to a standing position, you didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop pounding at the door, fully aware of his stubborn disposition and the way it coupled so perfectly with his incessant need to bug you. You opened the door and Cassian quickly lowered his fist to his side, smiling widely. His sunken eyes were red around the edges and glassy. You frowned.

“See, there you go!” He pushed past you and into your room, “Not so hard to just open up.” He stripped off the tan jacket he loved so dearly and threw it onto the chair pushed into the small desk that took up the far-left corner of the room before falling backwards onto your bunk, arms spread above his head. He had gotten as comfortable in your room as you had in his; most intervals between flight patrol were spent together, most meals were eaten together, most secrets shared. He was the first person that had made you feel like you were meant to be rebelling, he had put effort into showing you that you had a place in these barracks and in this fight—and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, though he could be a pain in the ass.

 “Cassian,” you closed the door, flicking on the overhead light as you turned to face him, watching him blink to get used to the brightness, “why are you here?”

“Ouch.” He moved a hand to cover his chest, shielding his heart from your words.

“Why are you here right now?”

“To hang out with you.” He rolled over on the mattress and shifted his body upwards to grab your pillow and cradle it to his chest.

“I can’t—” You hardly managed to get the words out before he was tsking you.

“You’re not on the schedule for the next 8 hours.” He chided.

“I want to use those to sleep!”

“So, sleep. I’ll stay here.” He sat up and patted the place beside him to coax you toward him. You crossed your arms. 

“Cassian.” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” He sneezed again, trying to muffle it in his shoulder.

“Are you sick?” 

“No. Allergies.” He was trying to sound confident, but the quick counter gave away his defensive attitude. 

“You’re an awful liar. Get off my bed.” You walked over to him, attempting to pull him off the bunk to no avail. 

He protested by going limp and falling onto his back. “Let me stay.” He looked up at you, brown eyes pleading and hair falling over his forehead. “I can be quiet.”

“No, you can’t. And I’m more worried about you getting me sick.” 

“I won’t!” He sneezed, then smiled at you sheepishly.

You sighed, looking over at the clock on the desk and taking in the fact that arguing with Cassian had, per usual, taken up far more time than it was worth. You sat next to him, defeated. He hummed in content.

“I’m going to sleep.” You waved him off as he sat up to meet your gaze. “Are you just going to sit and watch me? Like some beady-eyed porg?”

“I’ll sleep, too.” He resigned to the fact that, although he had won a battle, you would not forgo the rest you so desperately wanted. You made a noise of approval, reaching for the pillow he had moved to the foot of the bed so that you could put it back in its necessary position. You crawled under the sheet and watched as Cassian took off his boots before turning off the light and coming to lie next to you. He positioned himself above the sheet, letting out a string of coughs and resting his head at a distance from yours on the other pillow.

“Don’t cough on me.” You mumbled, closing your eyes.

“I didn’t cough on you.” 

“You coughed near me.”

“That’s not at all the same thing.” He turned his head to look at you, waiting to see if he could goad you into another argument. You swatted at his chest. 

It wasn’t unusual to share a bed with another person on the base; between away missions and overcrowding and all the drills, you couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the times you had huddled into a cot with another rebel. It was always more welcome when that rebel was Cassian, not only because of the familiarity you felt around him, not only because of the attraction to him that you tried to keep at bay, but mostly because of the blanket of protection he seemed to offer you. He was by no means a watchdog—he slept far too deeply to offer any sort of intruder alert—but his frame felt like a sort of safe haven from the galaxy at large. You had never found the courage to admit that to him, and expected that if you ever did, the confession would be met with his usual ribbing. 

Cassian made a low rumbling sound, turning his head away from you to face the wall. You groaned, turning on your side toward him. “Cough.” He did. “Don’t torture yourself on my account, Cass.” You settled back into the mattress in your new position, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t want to disturb you.” He whispered, ignoring the fact that you had addressed him at a normal volume, keeping up the front of really not wanting to get in the way of the sleep you craved. You kicked him lightly from under the sheet and he sneezed in your direction. 

“Don’t be a baby,” you kicked at him again, “and get under the blanket.”

“Why?”

“You’ll sweat out whatever it is you have.” Ultimately, your true intention was to be closer to him, to have him surround you more, but the concept of him recovering from whatever it is he had caught was an appealing one if this is how he was going to act while ill. He relented, pushing himself off the bed with his shoulders and feet to shimmy the sheet down and back over his legs and torso. You remained on your side with him on his back, trying to ignore the way his profile looked and the sounds of chatter and machinery outside your room. It was hard to imagine a life beyond all the pandemonium; at this point in your life, you had gotten used to the all-encompassing cacophony of the galaxy. Having been so young when the Senate came crashing down and the Empire formed from its ashes, there were times where it felt like noise was the only constant, and there was worry that accompanied the thoughts that maybe you would only ever know the tumult of the Empire—the screams and jeers and hushed conversations over fears that, at a certain and much earlier time, would have felt so outlandish, were now just a backing score. You rubbed your eyes and went back to tracing the shape of Cassian’s nose with your eyes. He turned himself on his side to face you, opening his eyes and staring back at you.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, for some reason now genuinely feeling the need to stay hushed.

“We should see if there’s any soup tomorrow…” You murmured, trying to bury yourself into your pillow. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to have been caught staring after putting up such a fight to allow you to fall asleep, it was more so the thought of having been using him as a distraction from the doubt you were plagued with.

“You’re also a terrible liar.” He traced back of his hand over your cheek in an effort to get you to emerge from your pillow. You turned back to him, grateful for the contact he was giving you. You took his hand from your cheek and clasped it in your own.

“What if it’s all for nothing.” You managed to whisper. You didn’t need to clarify what it was you meant, he of all people knew that any effort against the Empire was a long shot.

“It isn’t.” He was blunt, and you didn’t have to look at him to know his face was painted with the same thousand-yard stare you had grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Sometimes you felt guilty when it came to burdening Cassian with your cynicism and all the dread you harbored. He had told you about his childhood, about his foray into the rebellion, detailed how he had overcome all odds—and all you had given in return was your hesitation. 

“And if it is?” He examined you, his smile faded slightly, and even in the darkness of your room you could see how his eyes darted over your face.

“At least we’re doing it together.” He squeezed your hand. It wasn’t a complete answer, not that you had expected one. Nobody on the base would ever bring themselves to really contemplate the repercussions of the whole operation, of any greater failures. Still, the confidence in Cassian’s voice was enough to bring you peace of mind for now, at least. The two of you stayed like that, looking at each other, fingers intertwined and breathing in sync. 

“I feel safer with you, Cassian.” You broke the silence, feeling that now was as good a time as any to disclose the information to him. He said nothing, continuing to look at you and ruminating in the quiet. For a brief moment you felt the sting of rejection, but before you could come to terms with the idea that your confession had gone unheeded, you felt Cassian wrap an arm around you. He pulled you closer to him, pushing his other arm underneath your side to fully sweep you into his embrace. You felt his legs tangle with your own and the room felt soundless; something about how you felt his breath fan the top of your head or how his hands felt spread over your back made you feel a stillness you hadn’t thought possible. 

“You are safe with me.” He mumbled into your hair, and you leaned into him in an attempt to get as close as you possibly could. You felt his heart beating into you from the position you held, and you made a small sound of what was meant to be appreciation. You basked in the quiet, the calm seeping into your aching body and taking hold of your mind, settling your thoughts and insecurities. All you knew in this instant was Cassian, and his warmth, and his voice, and the way he smelled like smoke and x-wing grease and Alliance issued soap. You breathed deeply against him. He made another guttural sound.

“Cough, Cassian.” You whispered against his chest, and he did, trying not to interfere with the comfort you both felt in the newfound arrangement you had found yourselves in. “I was serious about the soup.”

“Mm,” he grunted, “like you were serious about sweating it out?” You smiled, moving your face slightly upwards so you could feel the soft skin of his neck against your nose. He kissed your forehead, his lips making gentle contact and staying pressed to you for a stretch. “Terrible liar.” He chuckled, letting his head drop comfortably on the pillow you now shared. You wriggled an arm out from between your bodies to swat at him again. He sneezed.

[din-djarins-riduur]

His apron 😭 posted today on Instagram by the actress Varada Sethu !

[intothecocoverse]

Watched the first episode of Andor and a thought came to me that didn't come while I was watching Rogue One the first time around.

As a non-native English speaker, it's just so good to have finally a protagonist with an accent that is not British or kinda blank American. I remember the videos of kids filming their SW fan parents, being emotional, screaming "a Latino in space!!!" and finally having more representation in Star Wars. Like, seriously, it's still VERY white but they're getting there... Slowly.

But yeah, I don't want to go deep into this but please, more non-native English speakers. It's a whole universe, it's impossible that everyone has the same accent and every fan of the franchise deserves to see themselves in it.

Accents are the proof that a person took the time and worked hard to speak another language, never be ashamed of it.

And now I will go back to fangirling.

[oatshow]

Kassa & Kerri? <3

the amount of headcanons I've made about these two and Kenari in general could fill pages on pages, and for any who've seen my Kenari-bear comic, I've got a sort of companion comic in the works that involves Luthen and Kleya's art gallery.

[elwenyere]

“A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.”

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red Kassa/Cassian Andor in Andor (2022)

[mayhaps-a-blog]

Rewatching Andor (as you do) and I'm more and more convinced that the kids on Kenari are the survivors of some devastation in the mines; even an attack, maybe.

If Kenari is known for its "big dark eyes" off planet, enough people have left to give them a reputation. That means spacefaring, which makes a regular mining colony more likely, rather than the simple hunter-gatherer life we can infer from what we see in the show.

Looking closer, a lot of the clothing looks looted - it's the same quilted pattern as on Ferrix, standard work gear. The buildings and stuff are pretty simple, could be something even a bunch of kids can put together given enough time and reason. There's not a single adult in the camp. And the one girl tried to wave down the ship, as if they were stranded.

Still, they were wary when approaching, and ready to fight the people in it, so they have some experience with Bad Guys.

So, were they some quiet colony, until the parents were press-ganged into the mines or otherwise killed? Or were they the survivors of a mining town, attacked or sabotaged during the Clone Wars, hopeful for rescue but fearful of enemies?

[pedroam-bang]

The Eye - Andor (2022)

[scavengedluxury]

Bunker near near Kassa, 1939. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive.

[jun-hyungs]

bee

(click for full view!)

[ninsletamain]

I loved the Andor series so much and can’t wait for season 2!

(Originally posted on September 23, 2022)

————

If you originally followed me on ninsamain, I’ve moved to this one due to my old primary blog being terminated. Sorry for the confusion!

[velvet4510]

My fellow RebelCaptain girlies, this one’s for you.