#you place me on your shoulders so i can grab the stars ( han solo ; stillsolo )

[techniiciian]

tag dump.

bc for some reason they keep refusing to show up :/

for my family and our empire ( imperial sith verse )

every wound shaped him ; every scar built his throne ( anakin skywalker / darth vader ; skysaunter )

someone i look up to no matter how tall i grow ( luke skywalker ; skysaunter )

you place me on your shoulders so i can grab the stars ( han solo ; stillsolo )

a promise of hope is enough to feel free ( padmé amidala ; alootus )

his favorite pastime is reckless behavior ( tapalslegacy ; cal kestis )

[techniiciian]

devouring the burger his father had dropped unceremoniously had been a violent affair. the sight was more akin to that of a shiver of sharks frenziedly tearing out chunks of whale rather than a ravenous mer devouring a hamburger mid-fall; a show of deadly speed brought on by savage instinct. matt had caught his delicious prize between his teeth and, in one fell swoop, had swallowed it whole. it had taken only seconds. what little scraps did remain were now nothing more than flecks, soggy with salt water, smeared against the deck. and while matt longed to lick up every mouthwateringly delicious morsel, he had the decency to stop himself. he may be a mershark, but he wasn't a mindless animal. his parents had raised him with better manners than that. and besides, matt had a much more pressing, much more important matter to attend to: 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝.

fed and content, matt offered his father an apologetic grin for nearly capsizing his boat —a grin that would have seemed far more deadly than meek if it had been pointed at anyone other than his old man. ❝ha ha. sorry, dad. i, uh, got a little too excited.❞ his smile, full of sharp, serrated teeth, gleamed bright and menacing in the sunlight, yet matt was nothing but docile —as harmless as a guppy— lounging sprawled across Han's ship as if he was the one who owned it.

❝your burgers are just really good.❞ the dreamy exclamation left him with a sigh. matt could still taste the perfectly charred meat, the buttery toasted bun, the thick cut slices of fresh tomato, and the crisp lettuce —truly, han's burgers were far better, in matt's personal opinion, than anything the ocean had to offer; not even the soft, buttery insides of a sea urchin or the chewy flesh of a squid could compare. maybe, he thought, it was time for him to spend some time haunting his father's kitchen instead of the seafloor.

time spent underwater seemed to pass differently than it did ashore; days and nights blended together seamlessly in the murky depths. and he often lost track of the days, more concerned with perusing for food or lulling along with the ocean's currents. matt wasn't sure just how long he'd spent amongst the seafloor; long enough, it seemed, that his dear old man saw fit to lure him out with 𝐠���𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. matt couldn't help but beam at his dad, overjoyed that he'd traveled all this way to see him. he could hug the man, and would, despite the challenge having a tail posed. the waterlogged blond was no less determined to wrap his dear old dad up in a hug.

using nothing but the solid strength of his arms to drag his bulky body across the deck, matt crawled towards where han clung to the railing and hefted himself up. with his full weight now balanced on half the vessel, the ship rolled to its side, almost dipping into the ocean. almost. as the ship continued to rock, the mershark outstretched an arm and captured his father in a wet embrace —one so tight that it could give an octopus a run for its money. ❝i missed you!❞ hopefully, han could forgive this soggy hug.

@techniiciian 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: even this far down in freezing depths of the vast ocean's matt's sensitive nose could, amongst the schools of fish and casts of crabs, pick out the distinct smell of ― ❝burgers!❞

for a docile nurse shark content to spend his days drifting lazily along the seabed scavenging for scraps, he sure could pick up deadly speed when his interest was peaked. fish scattered out of his way, unwilling to become concussed by the torpedo that was matt. his single minded goal of getting to the burgers that called to him like sirens to sailors propelled him upward and upward.

with an intensity that rivaled a great white the mer found himself breaking the surface of the water. air stung at his gills , making his lungs burn. the sun warmed his chilled body and he could almost bask in the warmth that spread through him, but then the was falling.

he glimpsed for a moment, the only person who would be this far out with such a delectable treat: his father. the man looked a mix of surprise and shock as he knelt near the edge of his ship with a burger in his hand.

❝hi da ―❞ and then matt hit the the deck with a loud, wet thud; all the air and water in his lungs leaving him upon impact.

              𝚆𝙰𝚂  𝙸𝚃  𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴  𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙻 ,  𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻  𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚇  𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳𝚆𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙳  𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾  𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚆’𝚂  𝙳𝙽𝙰?    or was his frantic, wet flailing just raw panic—another reaction to surfacing too quickly?

han solo didn’t know; he never had, and if he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t sure he wanted to.  there were things in this world—strange, unfathomable things—that simple, ordinary men like him had no business understanding.  certain greater powers—whoever or whatever they were—probably kept those mysteries hidden for a reason.  be it fate, science, or something else entirely, he figured it was better not to pull at those threads.

sometimes, ignorance really was bliss.

well, not always.  but in this case?  hell yeah, it was.  and han could live with that.

❝kid!❞ han barked, nearly dropping the burger in his hand as his son—now an adult-sized merman—thrashed wildly across the deck of the boat.  at some point, the burger slipped from his fingers anyway, falling into the chaos of the moment and vanishing without a trace.

one second it was there, the next it was gone.  matthew had probably gobbled it up before it even hit the deck.

han shook his head in resigned disbelief.   the kid’s appetite had been unnerving even as a baby—always hungry, always consuming.  that shark-like instinct never went away…  amazing how that worked.  would he just keep growing?  what about his human form?  what happened when the water finally called to him for good?  what would han do then?

                    ❝kid, quit your thrashin’!❞ han snapped, gripping the handrail with both hands like his life depended on it.  because at this rate, it probably did.  ❝you’re gonna sink m’damn boat!❞

[techniiciian]

📏 we've compared heights a thousand times but gimme the visual anyway. gimme vader + ani, matt, and han sandwiching luke (with love)

matt vc: we could be standing in order from tallest to shortest if SOME members of this family wouldn't bicker. looking at you gramps & dad! at least papa is the cutest we all gotta protect him, even though he could wipe the floor with all of us. . .

@skysaunter & @stillsolo

thank you for indulging me in my antics. i will never get over how tall everyone but luke is. i guess the tall gene really did skip a generation.

[techniiciian]

@stillsolo sent an ask:

technical machine character development meme.

bubble beam. what’s a fond memory your muse has from their childhood?

( bc i love you, you get this. no i'm not ashamed. )

the little boy sits eagerly next to his father, eyes wide with excitement and curiosity as Han drones on about how loud pulling apart a velcro strap can be.

there's nothing but serious in his father's face ( Matt, however, misses the gleam of playfulness in the smuggler's eyes ) as he takes the two pieces of tightly locked together velcro straps and pulls them apart in a long ripping crackle.

Matt agrees with a rather enthusiastic nod that yes, velcro is oh so very loud. a wide, lopsided grin shines up at Han as his bright hazel eyes, so much like Han's own, shimmer in delight. the little boy waits as patiently as he can, legs kicking in the air where he sits on his father's lap, for Han to finally tell him the secret to removing velcro in a quiet, stealthy way.

as his dad readies himself, Matt can't help but think how smart and clever and nice his father; and how lucky of a boy he is to have such secret knowledge bestowed upon him.

Han level's a gaze that all but seems to say, 'you ready, kid? watch carefully.' then in one instant moment the man lets out a sudden short yell as he rips the velcro pieces away from another as fast as he can.

Matt can't help but descend into startled laughter and giggles, kicking his feet in utter delight at how silly the entire action was. oh his daddy was so funny ( and oh so smart! he'd been right, no one could hear the velcro over such a loud yell ). still fitful with giggles Matt reaches his hand out with a polite ask to try the same technique, eager to learn and be as good as it as his father.

the sound of his giggles mixed with han's laughter and the crackles of velcro still cause Matt to smile to this day. he finds he can't help but the brought to that memory each and every time he's faced with the clinging material.

it is however, a shame, that Matt took the lesson so seriously - Han really should have told him it was all a silly little joke.

[techniiciian]

tag dump

for my family and our empire ( skysaunter & stillsolo ; imperial sith verse )

every wound shaped him ; every scar built his throne ( anakin skywalker / darth vader ; skysaunter )

someone i look up to no matter how tall i grow ( luke skywalker ; skysaunter )

you place me on your shoulders so i can grab the stars ( han solo ; stillsolo )

[techniiciian]

the scent of corellian delights was enough to make his mouth water. he could already taste the homemade hotcakes, the rich ryshcate, the savory spiceloaf — and were those corellian chews? it was almost enough to make his stomach growl. almost. control yourself, matt. ❝it smells good in here. ha ha.❞ he tilted his back and he sniffled at the air dramatically, filling his lungs with the promise of good food to come, a silly grin tugging at his lips.

maybe, just maybe, matt could get away with snacking to his heart's content on the lavish spread han had so painstakingly dished out. but first, his old man had a gift to open! the scale model of the 'falcon wasn't the most practical thing in the galaxy, but it was made with love and extreme attention to detail. so matt held onto to the hope that his dad would be colored impressed.

but, just in case, matt had made sure to come equipped with a back up gift. his flour coated old man could definitely use a new apron right about now. yeah, han would be getting both gifts before the party got into full swing.

matt shifted the heavy box as delicately as he could to his hip and came closer so he could wrap his old man in a one armed hug. ❝it uh looks like you're wearing some batter. not going to bake yourself into a cake too, are you?❞ teasing amusement laced his words as he settled han with one last squeeze.

the only problem now was finding a place to set the gift. the table and counters seemed to be full of tasty treats fresh from the nanowave oven, and more delicious delicacies yet to be put in. so matt opted to hold the wrapped box a little longer.

❝i uh, made you a gift.❞ he lifted the present up, a doofy, bashful smile spreading across pink tinted cheeks. ❝happy nameday, dad.❞

@techniiciian 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: “Dad?” Matt leaned in the room, arms full with a large wrapped box, a present for his old man. “Dad are you here?” He had to be, right? Unless he was at the Falcon, but Papa had said that he’d be here. “I have - I have something for you!” And have something he did, inside the wrapped box was a to scale miniature of the Falcon, something he’d been working on for oh so long. He could only hope that his dad would love it as much as Luke had loved the idea when Matt first thought about it.

               𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙰𝚈.   namedays were an entitlement, a privilege reserved for only those fortunate enough to have been born to a set of parents, a single parent—or at least in circumstances that simply welcomed the presence of a newborn infant.  others weren’t so fortunate, and there was no better prime example than himself.  han had been one of them, one of those many hapless little bastards born under an ill-fated star—but childhood was a subject he rarely turned over, let alone ever dwelled on.  his reasons for indifference were well-founded whenever faced with the matter at hand.

granted, that wasn’t to say han didn’t believe in the significance of namedays.  they were special occasions.  so special, in fact, that more than once, they served as one hell of a good excuse for celebration…

                ❝oh, yeah?  an’ what’ve you got, boy?❞

han came in from around the kitchen corner, toweling a thick beige mixture off his hands as he cocked his brow and eyed his son from afar, curious about all this shouting, though the godsbedamned timing could’ve been better…  knowing matthew, the kid had arrived hours early for a reason, no doubt eager to spend some one-on-one time with his father before the festivities began, and perhaps swipe a few samples of his favorite corellian baked goods.  han had already prepared extra hotcakes and an extra fringe cake, just in case matt’s ‘sampling’ got out of hand.

[techniiciian]

would a sanlo cook these bugs better? matt wonders to himself as he snatches up a few finger thick, crisped millipedes and stuffs them into his mouth. matt studies his old man, munching thoughtfully, as weighs his options. should he tease his dear dad or to leave him be? unluckily for Han, this round of creepy crawlies is pleasantly delicious, and that's enough to help Matt make his choice.

his lopsided grin grows all the wider as he lifts his own glass of blue milk and reaches across the table to clink glasses with the brandy in his father's hand before he takes a swig.

"maybe —" hazel eyes twinkle with cheeky amusement, "—i'm more death starian than corellian."

his shoulders shake with barely contained laughter as he continues, "gran'pa seems to think i might even be more tatooinian, like him."

another three lanky crisped bugs make their way into Matt's mouth, and he chews them down with a wide smile that speaks of playfulness. maybe he'll be more corellian with his food choices tomorrow. today at least, his adventurous appetite seems to be anything but.

@techniiciian asked:

matt looks up at han with nothing less than utter disappointment in his eyes. he chews, a bit reluctantly, at the overly crunchy bug he’d stuffed into his mouth only seconds ago. “it doesn’t taste as good,” he mummers before forcing himself to commit to his action and swallow down his mistake, “as grandpa made it sound like.”

             𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚂𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙰 𝙳𝚁𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 ,  though the gentle curl of his mouth spoke of genuine amusement.  ❝yeah?  maybe now you’ll listen to me when i say: no corellian eats bugs.❞

❝y’know, i’ll wager my last credit that there’s no sanlo back there.  must be a buncha eksters running the kitchens.❞

but what did he expect from an old, run-down diner he’d found floating in the outskirts of the expansion region almost fifteen years ago?  well, better service for one, and maybe a discount for customers brave enough to navigate the station’s poor excuse for a docking bay…  after casting the plated assortment of crisped multipedes and horned krevols an appraising sneer that mostly imparted disgust, han settled into their booth tucked into the corner of the establishment, a glass of brandy in one hand and his right arm draped over the tacky cap.

❝your grandfather…❞   han flung out a hand, a stiff, restricted gesture that failed to retrieve the right words.  words that wouldn’t somehow make it back to his father-in-law and possibly cause another tiff that would end with han sleeping on the couch for the next few days.  ❝is tatooinian,❞ he finished lamely, before clearing his throat.  ❝’sides, no corellian gluttonbug’s gonna taste like deep fried kreetle, and i would know.  luke used to go nuts for the stuff.❞