#lasana

[jiubilant]

elf practice

satu and nurura are @zurin's characters <3

[lyrics724]

Film

Ref Zove me u sobu dobro znam taj film ‘Oće da je volim, al’ ja nisam taj lik Zna da samo ja joj mogu dat taj feel Zna da samo ja joj snove ostvarim Verse: I nemoj nista da forsiramo Znam da ti bi samo da se ljubavi igramo U svemir te odvedem, nisam te ni dirao Znam da ti bi samo da ovaj krevet sviramo Snimamo, vidim pogledima jedno drugo snimamo Ni’ko osim mene nije te zanimao Večeras glumim da…

[lasanaharris626]

My Profile ! ➡ is.gd/Lasana626

[ulenehlervu]

doodled some ladies from riften to end the year

more here

[heart-of-a-rebel16]

I don’t know why this is just now hitting me so hard, but holy shit, Zeb survivor of genocide. Lasan was an entire fucking planet of living, breathing lasats! There’s eight billion people on earth, and we’re a pretty mid-sized planet. We don’t know how big or small Lasan was, but imagine eight billion people being murdered. Imagine believing that you’re the last surviving member of your entire species. How fucking lonely must that be? There’s an entire galaxy of people, and it’s just you. You culture, your language, your history, your people will die when you do.

[not0a0mundane]

Somehow despite watching Rebels and reading Kallus whump fics I didn't really understand the desire to inflict pain upon him.

Untill I started the Ashla Au, Kallus can have a little Body Horror. As a treat.

[ghoulsbeard]

anyway never mind all that. ill do skyrim before hand im going to do the mirabelle stuff as my oath to the lgbt community & i think i can figure out the one in riften w borgakh & romlyn and all

[lasanarodwell110]

[curryvillain]

OLDIES SUNDAY: Lasana Bandelé - Living In Shacks (1987)

February is recognized as “Black History Month“. The month reflects on the plights of Black people, and celebrates the achievements and innovations by them. It is also recognized as “Reggae Month“, celebrating the global impact the genre has over the past few decades, and will have for generations to come. For today’s “Oldies Sunday” selection, we highlight a musical figure who used his voice to…

[mystical-salamander]

kit! Zeb idea you say? 👀👀👀

Yeee!! 👀👀👏

So I talked about this briefly on the discord, but basically! It's an old concept that I'm finally working on of Zeb getting temporarily turned back into a kit through some Force shenanigans.

He, unfortunately, has no memory of his present and is understandably confused and scared. He's somehow far away from home with no memory of how he got there– all he remembers is telling his parents goodnight before suddenly waking up on an unfamiliar ship!

So it's a mix of slice of life and angst– with the Specters and Kallus having to deal with a rambunctious kit running around the Rebellion base. Doesn't help that they have no idea how to take care of a kit and can't communicate clearly with him because he really only speaks Lasana. Thankfully we have Kallus who was learning a bit of Lasana (along with maybe Sabine? Haven't made up my mind) who can somewhat translate.

I also wanted baby Zeb to keep asking to go home– he misses his parents and siblings. But for some reason whenever he asks these strangers who call themselves his friends, they just sadly smile and keep telling him that "he'll go home soon they promise." :) Kallus especially looks distraught whenever he mentions it :)

[jiubilant]

working hard or hardly working!

lasa dreth is maven’s secretary and intermediary to the thieves’ guild. she’s been working on extricating herself and her family from the black-briar business for years, but maven always seems to have one more job for her to do

[nicki0kaye]

random Kallus hc inspired by someone else's post #1

Kallus' method to resist interrogation is to recite mentally and verbally some form of rhyming verse, the more complicated the better so he has to focus on his diction

I've never realized how well this pairs with @sidhebeingbrand's hc that Zeb loves Old Lasana poetry until right the fuck now, bc I consider Kallus just. Bereft of most understandings of art, both bc of his home-schooled background but also bc the Empire expects he have no vices to distract him from his work, and clearly art is a vice he has not earned.

It's also one of those things where he defies expectations bc he cannot name a single piece of high art, not an opera or a piece of classical music or a well respected novel. All the media he consumed before the Empire was either extremely niche to his region of Lower Coruscant or squarely pop-culture.

BUT him having this method of resisting interrogation even from a force user means he has to know some form of poetry beyond the shitty death metal he was obsessed with as an edgy gangster teen (we will have to leave the Void Screamers genre for another day, its quite involved)

So Kallus definitely knows some complicated tongue twisting poetry and prattle songs, most of them inherently nonsensical like the Jabberwocky or satirical like the Museum song in Barnum (fun musical about a terrible fucking person) , of which I actually rewote the first lines in an RP;

quite a lotta Ryloth terracota, living lava from the flanks of Shu-Torun. Statuary. Sample Bantha dairy. See the Temples tumble and the clone war start.

[anathtsurugi]

Hi friend! Big fan of your AO3 work. Congratulations on adding to your family, I hope you are all well. Would it be ok if I used some of the Lasana language you created in a fic I'm working on? Wishing you the best, Vel

Hello! Thank you kindly, and yes, we are all doing well, if halfway to exhausted most of the time. But that's twin life, yo. Eheh.

But yes, you are absolutely free to use Lasana in your work. All I really did was create it for love of Kalluzeb, and what better could I do than to let it blossom into the rest of our wonderful little fandom?

Our dear Mudkip has been kind enough to set up an online lexicon for the language, as I would be absolutely abysmal at maintaining something like that. They managed to create something coherent out of my rat's nest of notes. The lexicon isn't complete at the moment. I haven't really had time to port any of my latest notes into the collection since the twins were born. But if there's anything you need that isn't there, just ask me, and I'll see if it exists somewhere in my notes. And if not, we can see about growing the language a little bit further.

[heart-of-a-rebel16]

so y’all know about that fic idea I have where Kallus accidentally gets sent backwards in time to before the fall of Lasan?

have a snippet from pre-fall Zeb’s pov :)

@built-on-hope-1977 @gettiregretti @happybean17 @mystical-salamander @seth-silver-ink

“Please.” The stranger’s voice cracked like a whip in the Great Hall, strained with desperation. Though his stature was to be admired, he seemed smaller than a child in the cavernous meeting place. Scores of faces looked down upon him from their lofty positions in the viewing gallery, only adding to the illusion of a bug under a magnifying glass. Even the throne which the queen sat at was elevated on a platform; the strange man stood utterly alone in the middle of the room. Garazeb would’ve felt pity for the man if he could’ve found the mental capacity for it after the bombshell the human had just dropped on the royal court of Lasan.

“Please, you need to believe me,” the man begged once more. They hadn’t been able to get a name out of him, or where he had come from (and more importantly, how he had come). In his mind, Garazeb had settled for calling him Dots, if only to keep his attention away from the interloper’s maddeningly distracting golden eyes. 

“And just why would we do that?” Glyn, a lower end minister of war, crossed his arms and stared vibroblades down at the stranger. “You’ve arrived on our planet with no explanation as to how, then you claim we will all be killed? You must be insane.”

“I’m not insane,” Dots shot back. “Why won’t you listen? The Empire is coming. They won’t stop until every living soul on this planet is dead.”

“The Empire would never dream of such a thing,” Anara scoffed. Her position as the sister of the queen gave her little official power, though her reach in terms of government could not be understated. “We pose no threat to them. We have not trifled in their foolish war, nor rebelled against their authority.”

Dots very well looked as if he could murder Anara and burst into tears at the same time. It was an interesting dichotomy, adding one more shade to the picture that had had yet to be fully colored. 

“That’s the point,” he pressed. “You’re an independent system. The Empire’s authority means nothing to this place. All of you are a monument to rebellion, and you don’t even know it.” Dots turned away from the ceiling gallery and fully faced Queen Maiara.

But he wasn’t looking at the queen. Far from it. The stranger was looking directly into his eyes.

“Please,” he repeated, and the plea wasn’t for the queen, but rather for him. Garazeb blinked, heart faltering for a second under the man’s golden eyes. Why was he asking him? He stayed as far away from the court politics as he possibly could. He held no power that would be of any use to the man.

(Why did he know my name?)

“If I may, your majesty,” a new voice interrupted. Chava the Wise had descended from the viewing balcony and now held the floor. Garazeb sighed under his breath and tried his best not to roll his eyes. Chava was the last person who should get involved with this.

“Proceed, Chava,” Maiara nodded. The wise woman smiled in that strange, lopsided way that told the entire court that she had some hair-brained scheme cooking in her head. She moved closer to the stranger, her staff echoing against the marble floor like the footsteps of giants. 

Arriving in front of him, she stared for a few moments, circling him and mumbling things only she could hear under her breath. To Dots’ credit, he took it all in silence, only shifting away when Chava veered a bit too close for comfort.

“You speak Lasana, as well as any one of us” she said at last. “Curious. May I ask how that came to be?”

Dots’ gaze flicked back to him for a moment, then settled squarely on the wise woman.

“Someone very important to me speaks it,” he said, his voice barely loud enough for the court to hear. “I…I learned it for him.” 

“And this person, he is a Lasat?” The question was rhetorical, of course, but the man nodded all the same, his gaze once again flicking to Garazeb. What in the world was Chava leading to?

“How do you know this place will be destroyed?” Chava asked, and what little color was contained in the man’s dotted face drained to white immediately.

“…you will not like the answer,” he said quietly. Chava hummed in thought.

“Maybe not, Warrior, but it is an answer I require all the same,” she replied, and Garazeb couldn’t quite understand why her voice was so gentle. The man nodded slowly, then breathed in deeply, like he was preparing himself to jump off a tall cliff into oblivion. 

“The Empire. I was a part of it, once,” he spoke softly. His voice still carried through the room despite its lack of volume. “I was part of the efforts to destroy this planet in my time. I watched, and I helped decimate this place and your people. The Empire made sure that there were no survivors, and I was complicit in that.”

A shocked gasp rippled through the room. Garazeb felt vaguely sick, yet couldn’t take his eyes off of the man’s now hunched form. Pain threatened to completely overwhelm his eyes, held back by only the slimmest thread of self-control. 

“Yet you say there is a Lasat whom you learned Lasana for,” Chava pointed out. She seemed completely unperturbed by the stranger’s confession. To Garazeb, that only proved she was completely insane. 

“He…” the man hesitated, and for the third time his gaze flicked to Garazeb. “He is the only survivor. After the purge, he joined a group of rebels, a cell that I was tasked to hunt down. That Lasat pulled me out of my own delusion and showed me the truth. He opened my eyes to the utter tyranny that the Empire spreads. If not for him, I’d still be a blind fool.”

Chava nodded, then offered him a smile. “Worry not, Warrior,” she said. “Your words are quite enlightening. These fools don’t like to be uncomfortable, you see.” She gestured with her staff to the elevated viewing gallery. “If I may, could I take a peek inside your head? It will save you the pain of relaying your story in its entirety.”

Dots’ shoulders slumped lower in defeat. “I don’t see why not,” he muttered. Chava grinned broadly and tapped her staff twice against the floor. The stone in the middle began to glow, and by that point Garazeb wanted nothing more than to flee the building. How could everyone be so calm? At best, there was a completely delusional man that had fallen out of the sky, and at absolute worst there was a cold-blooded butcher standing in the Great Hall. 

Chava tapped her staff twice more against the floor, then began chanting in the Ancient tongue. Garazeb had no idea what any of it meant, only that dusty words wouldn’t save them all from destruction. 

The chanting became rapid in its pace to the point that Garazeb honestly wondered if the so-called wise woman was having a seizure. Golden light burned in the middle of the room, pouring from her staff. Sets of two taps continued to echo in the Hall, adding percussion to Chava’s strange song. 

Then, she touched the stone of her staff to the interloper’s forehead, and Garazeb was falling into nothing.

[solrika]

Beleaguered lasat secretary and beleaguered stormtrooper meet on a smoke break.

~

Haraven ducked into her favorite corner garden to find it already occupied. She and the white-armored human stared at each other. The human’s cigarra wafted smoke, cheerily burning away as the moment stretched. . 

When the silence became too uncomfortable to stand, Haraven blurted, “Could I have a cigarra?” 

“I–uh–yes?” Fumbling in their belt pouches, the human came up with a little box, and knocked another cigarra out. “Do you need a light, too?” Their accent was atrocious, but at least they were speaking Lasana. Some of the humans seemed to only know Basic. 

“Oh, thank the Ashla,” Haraven sighed. “No, I have my own. Just forgot the pack at home.” She ignored the human’s flinch when she grabbed the cigarra from their fingers–it seemed the polite thing to do. Popping it in her mouth, she rummaged in her own pockets until she found her battered lighter. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Hm?” Haraven finished lighting her cigarra, taking a long drag. It was more bitter than she preferred, and decidedly cheap, but it still did the job. “What was that?”

“Uh.” The human shifted its weight. “Lasats. I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“It’s not polite to be doing it out of the home like this, but…” Haraven shrugged. “If my boss can be rude to me in public–” she took another drag, flattening her ears in remembered anger. “I figure I can be excused.” 

“Ooh.” It was harder to read human expressions with their little unmoving ears, but Haraven was pretty sure the look on the human’s face was sympathy. “Bad day?”

“Bad week.” She made herself strangle her growl–it would only scare the little thing–but allowed herself a switching tail. “I can’t wait to change jobs.”

“Wish I could.” The human twiddled its own cigarra, face pulling down into a sad frown. Wistful, Haraven decided, imagining the way the human would pull its ears back to match if it could. “My commanding officer is the worst.” 

“Well,” and Haraven gave her best closed-lip smile, “I’ll be out here every lunch break. We can complain together.”

The human barked a laugh. “I guess we could!” Grinning up at Haraven, it said, “I’m Beager.”

“Haraven. She-her.” Cocking her head, “You don’t use pronouns?”

“I”m a man.” Beager frowned up at her, though it was hard to tell just how offended he was without seeing how flat his ears would go. “Can’t you tell?”

Haraven raised her eye ridges. “Could you tell I was a woman?”

“I–” Beager’s frown turned thoughtful. “No. I guess not.”

Lilting her voice the same way her sister did with her kits, Haraven prompted, “So. You’re Beager, and your pronouns are…?” 

“He-him.” 

Haraven nodded, giving him another close-lipped smile. “Well, Beager, well-met. I’ll have to bring you a cigarra next time.” 

Beager grinned again, said brightly, “We are supposed to be open to cultural exchange.”  

It made Haraven snort a laugh. “Well, if it gets your officer off your back, I’ll bring you a couple brands to choose from. That’ll really sell it.”

[horatio-fig]

This has lived in my WIP folder for like 3 years but I’ve never done anything with it. Anyway, I wanted to share it coz I like the idea but it’s probably too ambitious for me and I’m terrified of writing stuff with OCs (Also now it doesn’t match with the confirmed Siege of Lasan timeline)

When Kallus defeated the Lasat on Lasan, he gave him the bo-riffle and asked him to protect her. Kallus is super confused until he realised the Lasat was just trying to protect his newborn kit. Kallus can’t bring himself to harm it and he knows his CO’s will just kill the kit, so he hides her in his uniform and smuggles her home with him. That’s when his faith first starts to waver in the Empire. For like, 12 years he’s been keeping this kit hidden in his apartment on Coruscant. He really wants to leave with Zeb when he offers, but declines coz he needs to get home to his daughter. She’s getting bigger and harder to hide and Kallus decides this isn’t working anymore and he needs to defect. He agree’s to be fulcrum for Ahsoka, but only if she can ensure his daughter will go and live with Zeb on the Ghost coz he wants her to be with another lasat. He gives her his unmodified and now untraceable bo-riffle and tells her that she can’t let anyone know he is her father for her own safety. 

Zeb bonds with her immediately. He’d been kind of broody after seeing Hera and Kanan basicly become parents to Sabine and Ezra, so he jumps at the chance to be a father figure for this kit. He teaches her how to use a bo-riffle, teaches her Lasana and old lasat stories, and other little things like how to pilot the phantom. Everyone kind of knows her father won’t return so Zeb starts planning to take her to Lira San with him and raise her as his own, even though he was warned not to get too attached. He kind of doesn’t want her dad to return and take her back, so to cope Zeb has little fantasies that he and the father get along and maybe even become a couple so Zeb can officially become her father.