Hello! I'm not sure if you've been asked this before, but I was wondering what your favorite movie from the original trilogy is and why, and also what your favorite scene(s) is in that movie and why!
Empire is not just my favorite Star Wars film, but very likely my favorite movie of all time. I've posted it before but I absolutely love this little scene. Quite eerie but with a sense of pathos, the full orchestra temporarily dying out from the grander scene of The Falcon escaping Bespin into these faint woodwinds as Vader calls out to Luke, macro to micro. Looking at the music: The Imperial March played on that tiny flute in the background is quite curious, because it is the softest and most emotionally resonant that the cue has in the entire film. It is usually played strongly with gravitas or with impending doom, quite Wagner-esque, so there is significance of it being so quiet and gentle - it is clear to me that Williams definitely believed that there was no lie, Vader was Luke's father, and this little sound was the connecting line that echoed what came before: if it were a lie, it would be stronger and more sinister, but this is gentle, somber, like a haunting lullaby.
George Lucas has stated that Luke losing his hand is specifically meant to be a castration analogy, where the man tries to prove his worth and fails and is cut back down to boyhood, having to start over in his quest. Which connects quite well with how this cue of The Imperial March is used in the film, the boy in Luke instinctively calling out for his father, despite his adamant and tearful denial only a few minutes prior.
We don't really get to see a ton of how the ramifications of all of this effects Luke in the movies; we are definitely told some and get hints but much of it happens off screen. We see Yoda confirm what he already knows to be true (although, imho, mainly for the audience) and some brief anger with Obi-Wan. We see that he has grown with a new demeanor and confidence. The 2020 comics go into it somewhat more, but on screen, I think that this is where we get to see some hints of that; the despair, pain, longing, and confusion. But also, this is one of the few times where we do get to see a hint of father and son speaking plainly to one another. The stakes are high in the overall scene but it is conversational and natural, a strange juxtaposition.
It is a small little moment that lingers, at least with me.
The frigid cold of space pricked around Luke Skywalker as he huddled under a few spare blankets for warmth, his tunic unusually still wrapped around his torso. A constant rumble from the Millennium Falcon’s hyperdrive rattled the bed, occasionally causing Luke to open an eye to remind himself where he was: no longer home, no longer having a family, no more Ben.. alone in the vast emptiness of space, the threat of the Death Star looming in the distance after their heroic escape. Eyelashes fluttered before squeezing tight, forcing himself to let go of the pervading thoughts and embracing sleep. This was his last break, before reality would get even more surreal. He absentmindedly let his hand slip between the outer edges of his tunic, scratching his bare freckled chest for warmth and some companionship. Luke was used to an ever-constant heat throughout the day, even at night, when his aunt and uncle would heat up their quarters to counterbalance the chill of Tatooine evenings.
Space was too cold…
“I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi, like my father,” Luke had said with such weight just a short day ago, a tenor pitch dripping with confidence. It was the surest he’d ever felt in his nineteen years. Even now, with the surprising death of Ben Kenobi, the farmboy was insistent on continuing the quest toward his dream.
Luke imagined himself inside a temple of a sort, foreign yet familiar, as he gave in to slumber. The tunic was on the floor, near the edge of stone. His bare chest was still lean and slick with sweat, the newly formed ridges of muscle flexing as a bead of sweat dripped off the ridge of his nose and dove down onto his navel. Calloused hands wrapped around that lightsaber, his precious inheritance, holding it at his lap as he marveled at the sheer wonder it unleashed as the cyan core reflected off his widened eyes. The blade angled downward, humming and flashing as he carefully swung it left and right; his movements were clumsy at first, but after a swipe here and a stab there, it started to become more natural for him.
This was raw power.
And as he felt himself getting drunk off this newfound confidence, a voice suddenly laughed. It was one that he’d become all too familiar with over the last three days: Han. Luke frowned at the reaction, knowing immediately that it was at his expense. He turned to face his comrade, his friend, his rival – he wasn’t sure what to make of him yet – and watched the smuggler cross his arms, leaning against a wall.
“Look at you, hotshot,” Han said with an impish grin. “I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You’ve come a long way since I picked you up on Tatooine.”
Luke smiled at the compliment, deactivating the lightsaber and clipping it to his belt. “I’ve been practicing. Never know what we might come up against,” he said, replying to Han with a bravado as he crossed his arms in return, standing as upright as he could to try and match the towering height of his comrade.
“Still, that’s just a toy that you’re working with. Get too used to that thing and you’ll be unprepared when someone punches that pretty nose of yours,” Han’s hand pressed against Luke’s shoulder, the casual shove sending an involuntary jolt of heat straight down Luke’s spine. “Gotta work on other things, kid.”
“I’m ready for anything,” Luke grumbled back, not taking the demeaning comment with grace. He swatted the hand away, his skin burning where the smuggler had touched him. The sudden spike of adrenaline that coursed through him wasn’t the calmness of the Force; it was different, physical, primal. It felt physically heavy and aching in his own body. His proud smile quickly transformed into an irritated pout as he tried to shrug off the feeling; it bothered him how Han always had to do that, always had to put him down. Why couldn’t he just give a compliment without making a backhanded comment? Why wasn’t Luke ever enough? A sudden, agonizing tightness formed in his slender trousers as his mind raced at the thought, his frustration twisting into a hot, confusing flush.
“It’s just a joke,” Han said, shaking his head with a grin.
“I can take you,” Luke impulsively hissed, his voice dropping an octave to match Han’s own, somewhat regretting the words as they escaped his lips. But he wouldn’t back down – he had to prove himself, show his worth as a real man. A real man, like Han.
Han would never truly respect his affinity with the Force.. but if they were to go after one another, hand to hand, maybe he just might. His pulse hammered a frantic rhythm in his throat as he stepped forward. “Man to man,” he stated, followed by a lengthy pause.
“Then let’s find out,” Han replied with a natural cockiness, rushing toward Luke. They collapsed to the faded stone beneath them, grappling one another as Luke struggled to reclaim control after the surprise start.
Luke’s leanness from years of labor out in the scorching suns made him a surprisingly adept fighter, despite a lack of experience. Squirming out of the lock with a twist of his hips, Luke managed to wrap his thighs around Han, thrusting with all his weight and reclaiming control of the impromptu match. The sudden friction of their bodies grinding together sent a shockwave through Luke's system; it felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. All he knew was that he wanted more of it. Luke was brought back to reality when he heard Han cry out in shock on the floor, reacting to his own hubris in underestimating Luke’s abilities. That warmth between his legs grew as he dug in deeper, protruding from the dark tan of his trousers, eager to conquer.
“I told you I could win,” whispered Luke, an arrogant toothy grin spreading on his face as it was mere inches away from Han’s. “Maybe you’ve spent too much time with that blaster of yours. Should have been working on other things, huh?”
The smuggler grunted at the comment and lunged forth with all his might, flipping Luke onto his back and reclaiming the dominant position. Hands wrapped around Luke’s wrists and pinned them back over his sweaty mop of hair, securing his position over the youth.
“What? No!” Luke cried out in a shrill whine, a sound caught halfway between a protest and a gasp. He thrashed, his hips bucking upward instinctively in rebellion. Han sat over his lap and kept him secured in place, unable to move from the reinforced angle. This wasn’t fair… everything was going his way, why couldn’t he win? Why did Han have to win?
And yet, why did his body seem to crave more?
“Guess all that Force nonsense can only help you so much, huh,” Han said with breathless laugh, leaning against Luke and looking down at him. That domineering look in his eyes made Luke tremble, trying to find a second wind to escape. There had to be an escape… Han couldn’t win…
“Do you yield, kid?”
Luke grunted, kicking his legs as he wrapped his thighs around Han, trying to sit up and wiggle his way out of the hold. “No!” He shouted, twisting and turning. That heat down low was spiraling forward, trying to fight back. “I can do this!”
“Kid, you can’t. Give it up.”
“I can.. I can.. I… aah!”
A white flashing light overtook the dream, causing Luke’s eyes to glaze and flutter, fighting through distorted images until he caught himself in a low moan. He could feel his hips rising and falling repeatedly in the haze, moving with a natural intensity. Warmth surrounded his hand, low and sudden. The temple that surrounded him slowly blurred into the overhead light of the Falcon, replaced it, the bunks shuttering slightly with the returning hum of the hyperdrive as his backside fell against it.
Luke shuddered as he continually blinked, his hair slick with sweat. Everything around him felt warm, damp and overwhelming; a great contrast to the inescapable cold from before. His left hand peeled back the tangled blankets, finding his right hand still buried in his trousers, gripping tightly around his hardened penis. Shame overran his mind as he saw evidence of his release coating the fabric.
“Not again,” Luke trembled to himself as he felt himself soften in his grasp before pulling his hand out. This happened far too often.. as long as he could remember. And despite all that, he could barely remember the dream that caused this situation. Like always. He wiped off whatever remnants clung to his skin and slung his feet off the cot, standing to attention, looking around to make sure no one was around.
“Master Luke? I heard a noise and—”
“Get out of here, Threepio!” Luke hissed, turning away from the droid as he entered the crew quarters. His cheeks were completely scarlet, unable to hide his mortification. But after a quick beat, he had to correct himself. It wasn’t Threepio’s fault, after all. He turned his head over his shoulder and looked at the concerned droid, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Threepio. I’m fine. You didn’t hear anything. Go back to the Princess.”
“Oh. I see.”
The youth let out a sigh of relief as he heard the clanky footsteps leave the room. Luke peeled out of his stained trousers and ruined underpants with an intense urgency before someone else could catch him, replacing them with an extra pair of white briefs as he gingerly tried to clean off the remaining marks on the fabric.
Just hurry up, Luke. This couldn’t get any worse.
“Kid, her worshipfulness wanted me to make sure you were up. We’re coming up to Yavin,” the irritated voice of Han Solo entered the room from behind. Luke winced as he could hear the tension in the air shift from annoyance to humor. It, indeed, got worse. “Always sleep in your underwear?”
“Han, I can explain— I—”
The smuggler rolled his eyes, a disbelieving grin on his face as he took in the sight before turning back to the hall. With a wave of his hand, Han shook his head and stepped out. “Whatever, whatever. I don’t want to know. Just give us a little warning next time. Put on some pants, we’re dropping into orbit.”
Luke swallowed, embarrassed but relieved that the humiliation was finally over. He leaped over to the hall and locked the door shut, exhaling as he worked out that last stain. Adventure awaited.
hiiiiii would you ever make some Sith Luke avis? 🥺👉👈
Ask and you shall receive (and am always open for more requests). 9 icons of a Sithly version of Luke. They are 400x in width. Feel free to use however you wish.
