ineedablaster

[ineedablaster]

Cassian, Melshi, and K2 on their day off (they were grounded)

[ineedablaster]

There's a lot K-2SO could say in respond to that particular statement. He could say that he wasn't reprogrammed, technically, and that everything he does is by choice. He could say that he chose to be here, now, with the man who is at least partially responsible for everything he's lost—but that would be altogether too personal an admission, and even K-2SO's honesty has its limits.

"People keep saying that about me. I do not understand why they are always surprised." K-2SO knows exactly what Krennic means; but chooses to project bewilderment, if for no other reason than to entertain himself with the man's reactions. "The ability to talk allows me to apply myself to a greater range of tasks."

A moment passes, in which the droid's fingers creak as he clenches and unclenches them, before he speaks again: "You failed to provide an explanation. I have concluded that this was not, in fact, my fault."

k-2so ˢᵉⁿᵗ . " Oh, please explain how this is my fault. " / @ineedablaster

     Irritation  dotted  beneath  his  skin,   crawling  with  impunity.      Krennic  opened  his  mouth  then  closed  it  a  second  later,   eyeing  the  droid’s  metal  skeleton  and  limbs.      He  shook  his  head  then  released  a  sharp  exhale.      Gloved  hands  tightened  around  the  grip  of  his  blaster.            ❛  You’re  a  talker,  aren’t  you  ?  ❜        he  grumbled,   glancing  sideways  at  K2SO  as  a  frown  crossed  along  his  expression.        ❛  I’ve  never  seen  a  KX droid  behave  as  you  do.      The  reprogramming  must’ve  affected  everything.  ❜

[ineedablaster]

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

[ineedablaster]

[Bix Caleen never received Cassian Andor's personal affects.]

K-2SO pauses for 0.3 seconds to gather his processes—and more importantly, his composure—then cranes his neck around to look at K-3B8. His sandy-colored twin stares back owlishly.

[I don't see how that's our problem,] he retorts in scathing Binary. [The Droid Intelligence Network doesn't handle inheritances. If you think there's a discrepancy, report it to our organic counterparts.]

[I can see why they weren't,] K-3B8 continues cheerily, ignoring his clear warning tone. [It was chaos after Scarif. I'm surprised someone had the forethought to pack it all up during the evacuation.]

"K-3B8," K-2SO growls, switching to Basic. "Not now."

She stops, tilting her head in a mirror of his own movement subroutines. K-2SO is about to return to his (very important, he tells himself) analysis of Imperial patrol routes when she crosses the room to loom over his station. He decidedly hates that. Maybe the droid-techs could be convinced to shave half a foot off the other KX unit during her next maintenance cycle.

"I was thinking," K-3B8 announces, with significant grandiosity, "we could deliver them to her ourselves."

K-2SO's immediate conclusion is that isn't a terrible idea. The second is that he'd rather do anything other than try to talk to Bix Caleen. There's nothing to suggest she might blame him for Cassian's death; but he blames himself, even without knowing exactly what happened on Scarif. If Cassian died, it's because he failed to keep him alive. Or he was deactivated, but that still registers as a failure.

"You are being unusually quiet," K-3B8 reports. "I can go by myself, if you'd prefer. It would be—"

"No." K-2SO stands, placing a hand on the other KX unit's shoulder to push her aside. "You lack my understanding of organic tact. You would end up greatly upsetting her, and then I would have to deal with the consequences. I will go alone."

"You understand organic tact?" K-3B8 says, feigning shock.

K-2SO ignores her. His thoughts are of Bix Caleen as he sweeps out of the room; he'd performed his own research while Cassian was still alive, without his partner's knowledge or consent, of course, and built an extensive profile on the Ferrixian mechanic. If anything, it might be a pleasant experience to converse with such an intelligent and resilient human. They don't have to talk about Cassian Andor beyond the socially obligated offering of condolences.

K-2SO is done thinking about Cassian Andor. The galaxy, it seems, is not done reminding him of him.

[ineedablaster]

well i guess im not allowed back at the shooting range because the woke dipshits that own the place kept getting complaints that it was "concerning" and "uncomfortable" when i would tape a poster-sized photograph of my own face onto the target and land every single shot perfectly between the eyes

[ineedablaster]

Even with the Alliance starbird gleaming golden on his shoulders instead of the Imperial crest, the reaction to K-2SO's presence is typically along the lines of shoot first, ask questions never. It's always been that way, but the chance had increased dramatically since Jedha. Since Alderaan. It was one reason of many why he had stepped down from active duty, sequestering himself away in a remote base with only the taciturn Draven as a recurring contact.

It was Draven that had tossed him his current assignment, as one might toss a starving massiff a bone; he'd been so eager to do anything other than play at being a code jockey, he'd practically leapt at the opportunity and agreed to the terms without actually reviewing them. When he finally did, he wasn't pleased. Why Draven was sending him on the Natralian assignment just to play the role of a glorified observation unit was beyond him at the time. Now, as he grabs the head of one of the assailants and crushes it against a wall, he realizes he was the contingency plan. Asshole. Would it have killed him to be forthcoming?

K-2SO gleefully liberates the corpse of their blaster and strides onto the battlefield, downing another with a well-placed shot between the eyes before they can do the same to his rescue target. As much as he wants to engage his protocols to their fullest extent and hunt the assailants down one by one, the mission priority is clear. He locates one Captain Evelorne stumbling injured and dazed amidst the chaos, and drags him clear of the crossfire by the hand. Evelorne just as quickly wrenches himself free, if only for a few seconds before the droid's massive hand closes around his shoulder and forces him down behind cover.

"What am I doing? I just saved your life," K-2SO grouses. "You're welcome." He remains low as he combs through the soundscape of the battle, identifying and localizing the different sets of weapon-fire, the grunts of pain and vocalizations of anger and terror. "I have visual confirmation of twelve hostiles; I detect at least five more. I am to escort you to the rendezvous point and ensure you arrive in one piece."

And preferably without further injury, he might have said. Instead, he hunches his shoulders, stooping further until he's level with Evelorne's judgemental gaze. Maybe it's just because his enforcement protocols are still very much active, but he doesn't like the way the Natralian is looking at him. "So," he says, "are you going to cooperate, or do I have to sling you over my shoulder and deliver you like that?"

@ineedablaster sent : [HASTE]

there were few things in the world eve disliked more than being manhandled. certainly when permission was given and the mood was right it was downright delightful, but now was neither the time nor place for it. even in the context of battle and various detritus raining down upon him, smothering raven and silver locks in dust, he was normally the one doing the manhandling. a healer's work often involved the most stubborn of battle hardened patients, after all.

of course among the few things he disliked more than being suddenly manhandled were machines. his home was a place of natural wonder, with little room for abominations crafted of metal, leaking their putrid oils every which where. he found droids especially discomforting; hollow bodies moving and speaking, some unnerving facsimile of being alive he found disturbing.

so as it was, despite the horrid ringing in sensitive ears from a constant bombardment and the telltale dizziness of an unmistakable head injury, he has just enough awareness to realize he's being dragged along by a droid of all things. and he has just enough sense to be indignant about it once he finds his footing again.

it's with a half muffled snarl that he jerks his hand away, stumbling and catching himself on a half crumbled wall in his effort. ❝ what are you… augh… ❞ stars, his own voice sounds so far away.

[ineedablaster]

"So I've been told," he snips back. His patience had already worn thin by the time he stepped off the shuttle; now he's running on fumes, kept only somewhat mollified by the hope there may be something here of use to the Alliance. Even if that hope has a 86.3% probability of being misplaced.

K-2SO tracks the passing speeder; a blip of motion in his peripheries, catalogued and dismissed as a non-threat before it rounds the corner seconds later. The case he carries feels all the more heavy as they file into the turbolift. He fidgets with it as they begin their descent, fingers drumming along the handle before he gentles his grip. We've faced worse odds, Cassian's voice echoes in his core, and he fights the impulse to reply aloud: Not by much.

"Are you sure this contact of yours is trustworthy?" he blurts out instead. Even as he says it, he knows it to be a fool's gamble. No-one on Nar Shaddaa is trustworthy. No-one who still has their head attached to their shoulders, anyhow. "I've taken a great risk in accepting your invitation. My benefactors won't be pleased if their credits go to waste."

𖥻 *･⎁ ⭑ identification : @ineedablaster ᵎ "For the record, I didn't want to come here. I like it even less than Coruscant." K-2SO has nothing to offer but complaints as the pair navigate the neonlit ecumenopolis; frequently casting glances over one shoulder to ensure they aren't being tailed. "I lost a valuable operative to scrap gangs here once. If I meet the same fate, you will be very sorry you didn't step in to save me." * ˊ-

ramya hugs her poncho around her : no stranger to the nightlife, there'll never be any convincing the gearhead that there's anything in the shadows worth trusting, regardless of whether or not she finds home in them. on a planet so adhered to their addictions to spice, gambling, and anything in between - sticky fingers are the most common of many threats that roam the mooncity ... and with any system of law being cherry - picked by hutt cartel and oft guildless bounty hunters, justice is seldom served 'lest it was dispensed from the hot barrel of your very own blaster. a moral conflict she had no qualms with ... but not while it weren't in their best interests.

at k-2so's statement, ramya's eyes roll, ❝ you got quite the gob on you, y'know that, droid ? ❞ she stops in her tracks - just as she does, a speeder with the grace and awareness of a newborn fathier, zips past them both on the empty road. quickly does she turn on her heel to challenge his stare -- difference in height be damned, ❝ who says we're startin' any fights today, eh ? keep your wig on. we find my contact, we get our lead, and we're gone. sound as a pound. ❞

[ineedablaster]

u get it.

[ineedablaster]

VERSES (heavy WIP!) ↴

V. OLD DOG NEW TRICKS the lone survivor* of the crew of rogue one. following the battle of scarif, K-2SO retired from active duty to build his own intelligence network of (mostly) droid agents, from astromechs to protocol droids to MSEs. the D.I.N may be his brainchild, but he's absolutely miserable in the role of its supervisor, to the detriment of everyone around him. he's got too much on his plate at any given time, and he's long since begun to crack under the pressure.

V. DAYS GONE BY takes place over the years leading up to the events of rogue one. tba!

(*this is the current default for this verse, but for my fellow rogue one writers, let's absolutely change this.)

NOTES ON CANON DIVERGENCE i work with the rogue one novelization as established canon regarding backstory; K-2SO has been a member of the rebel alliance for much longer than depicted in andor. i use various parts of andor as inspiration, but not a strict guideline.

[ineedablaster]

#INEEDABLASTER ━━━━ indie & selective K-2SO from star wars. mutuals only. headcanon-based and canon divergent. not spoiler free.

VERSES / RULES ↴

001 bigotry and harassment won't be tolerated here, or anyone who fetishizes r*pe / inc*st / etc. proship and those who associate with them dni. this blog is 18+ only. posts will always be tagged with the content warnings relevant to them, and anything explicit will be placed under a readmore. personals may interact so long as you respect basic rpc etiquette.

002 i have my criticisms on how certain things in star wars are written (side-eyeing cinta and bix in andor), but this isn't a hate blog. i have no issue with other blogs voicing their criticisms and enjoy reading them, just don't expect that sort of content from me.

003 my activity can be sporadic—sometimes i reply to things within a few hours, sometimes a few weeks. if it's been a while with no mention of something i owe you, though, you're more than welcome to give me a nudge; i'm very scatterbrained and a reminder is always welcome!

004 please don't overuse formatting when replying to me, it makes it difficult for my dyslexia having ass to read. small text and consistent double spacing are fine, but if the words are all over the place and interrupted by multiple graphics and fancy fonts i genuinely can't read them, especially on mobile.

005 if you want to write a specific kind of dynamic with my muse, please discuss it with me before bringing it up in-character. i'm not against shipping, i just don't have a lot of enthusiasm for it with how the rpc seems to prioritize it over everything else. i don't practice mains or exclusives (with the exception of my bestie cyrus' muses).

BLACKLIST please tag mentions of #child death and #child abuse. FANDOMS i will not interact with blogs that write for harry p*tter, h*llaverse, tlou or attack on tit*n; this includes multimuses and AUs.

MUN call me ender. 25+, he / it. making blogs look pretty is my bane, i just wanna write. returning to writing kay-tuesso after several years, so bear with me as i find his voice again. would you rather fight one man-sized mouse droid or ten mouse droid-sized men?