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cactuswaterscactusfields · 11 months

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How Many Moments Are In Forever?

I went to Galaxy’s Edge at DisneyWorld recently and got to meet Vader, and he was so scary and intimidating that I just had to put it down into words. But also spice because of Helmets. This is kind of a continuation of Him., but it’s not reliant on Him., so you don’t need to read it to read this. Also, Anakin’s face doesn’t get Mustafar’d, but he wears the helmet to help him breathe, just so that the reader recognizes him. Bless his heart.

After the Chancellor commanded the clones to execute the Jedi, your master, Anakin, sent you away in an escape pod, bound for Mustafar. He told you he’d come to you, but when you witness him and Obi-Wan duking it out, you’re forced to escape. Will this new Lord Vader show you mercy? Or will he break his promise to you and execute you like the younglings?

Warnings: Angst, Smut, trauma, Order 66, peril, a short bit of a happy ending. Is Anakin still having a face/hair canon compliant? I don’t know. No beta we die like the younglings.

crossposted here on ao3 All characters depicted are 18+.

So sorry it took me so long to get out. Hope you guys enjoy, and once again thank you to Cilantro and Rio for peer pressuring me into finishing it.

There’s blood on your skin, ashes on your hands, your forehead, staining your vision and future. Where is he? He said he’d be here. He’s never lied to you before. He’s always been there. He sent you to this hell, this planet, and told you you’d be safe there. Just wait for me , he whispered into your ear, placing a warm kiss on your lips.

You can still feel it. His soft, chapped, gunsmoke lips, carrying the weight of the world, pressing against yours, worried, gentle, loving. He had looked down at you with those ocean-blue eyes, filled with worry, and gently buckled the strap of your seat, tight around your torso. You had stared at him, silently begging him not to send you away, but he stepped back and shook his head, smoke rising from the temple behind him.

Your head hurts, so, so badly. It’s throbbing, sharp, like a part of you has been ripped out and stomped on. What is this feeling? Where is he? Where is your master? Maybe it’d be best if you just slept, if you just went away, if you just…

Two black durasteel boots step over the forgotten, discarded plates of a destroyed door. Soldiers without names in white armor step aside, as the black fluttering cape brushes past their bowed heads. Those in his wake look up, seeing shining black plates in place of eyes, a mouthpiece sounding out the last song they'll ever hear--a song of pain, of death, of violence, of labored breathing, and ashen lungs. You can’t tell who it is. Are you one of his victims? One of his soldiers? You’re staring up at him, impossibly tall, impossibly strong. You can sense his signature, but it feels..wrong. Artificial, like someone took a once healthy signature and slashed and cut and slashed and cut until it was nothing but ribbons, and then stitched and stapled it together, a horrific chimeral amalgamation of what it was.

He turns to look at you, those eye plates staring right into your soul, and you know who it is, oh maker, what happened to him? He raises that scarlet blade, humming with energy, and raises it to slice at you, the red glinting off his helmet, you can see his eyes, yellow and red, oh maker he’s swinging, so quickly, so painfully, and—

You snap awake, the molten and ashen air greeting your abused throat and lungs. How long were you asleep? How long were you unconscious, unaware of where he could be? Is he here? Did he leave you? Is he gone? Who was that man, with the massive scarlet blade, why did he feel like your master? What happened to him? Where is Anakin?

You finally look around at your surroundings, the landing space having been cleared due to the powerful downward-facing thrusters of your ship. There are what look like lava falls flowing down distant spires and mountains of charred rock, and the black sand on the lava bank next to you is being lapped at gently by a flowing molten river. The atmosphere here is thick, angry, with..you can feel it in the air, burning hatred and sulfuric power, as if darkness has festered in this place for millennia, for longer than you could imagine.

Mustafar.

You’ve heard of this little moon, once lush and vibrant, like Naboo or Alderaan, but the Sith (or something, Master Kenobi wouldn’t tell you when you inquired further) corrupted it, leaving it charred and hellish.

You can see glowing blue blades in the distance, dancing across a thin beam of metal in front of massive waterfalls, and you immediately know from that aggression who it is.

Ani.

You stand quickly, before watching as he leaps toward the shore of a riverbank, and the other blue blade slices up, impacting and cutting through his legs—

You have to go. You have to go. Something is very wrong and you need to leave right now. You can’t tell what it is, can’t tell who is forcing you to leave, can’t tell if the force or your own gut is telling you, but you need to escape right knifing now . You smash your hands into the buttons, desperately trying to get the small ship to activate, and it slowly lifts into the air as the overhead cover closes. You feel the engines roar as it begins to send power to the hyperdrive, and you’re pushed back, further, further, and you leap. The bright whistling lights of the stars racing past greet your eyes, and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Maker, he’s dead. And you left him to die. You didn’t save him.

What have you done?

When he needed you most, you left him. This man who has given you everything, gave you a home, gave you knowledge and instinct and love and pleasure, gave you happiness and a place to stay when you had nowhere else to go, the man who saved your life from certain death, was left to die on a shore of fire and lava by the woman who should have loved him more than anyone else.

Wait.

That vision, that dream you had. What did it mean? What could it possibly have meant? That man, maker you hope was a man, felt so much like him, so much like the one you love, does that mean he survives? You don’t know. You hope so, but that red blade…

Does Anakin become a Sith?

The drunk man crashes down next to you, thrown by his partner. You look over at him, taking another sip of the disgusting pisswater they have the nerve call spotchka. At least it’s liquid. You take a deep breath, before looking back at the current bar fight going on over, what you’re pretty sure, was a game of sabacc gone wrong. Your mind wanders back to that day on Mustafar, the last time you saw him. How did you even find yourself here, this shithole known as Tatooine, a worker in a bar, cleaning after hours and giving your…unique clientele their drinks. At least it’s out of the way.

The empire has been hunting Jedi, with Darth Vader at its helm, and you’re at the top of the list of bounties they’ve got. You don’t even know how many credits you’d fetch now, but it’s got to be enough to buy a waterfront property on Naboo and never have to worry about working again.

Not that anyone has the balls to take on a former Jedi. You’re fully aware of what your people can do, and bounty hunters usually leave the Jedi hunting to inquisitors. Sometimes you catch eyes, though. Through the crowd, brown-robed men with vibrant blue eyes that you swear you’ve seen before, with familiar tired lines and sandy brown beards, before they disappear through the crowd. It’s better not to gather. Better to stay separate, silent, and alone. If you’re caught, you at least won’t know the location of any other Jedi.

Almost as if on cue, you can hear the stomping of stormtrooper boots, as they flood in to break up the fight. Your hand immediately tenses to your side, before lowering. Of course, your lightsaber is hidden. You don’t have it out anymore. It’s still on you, but if someone were to see it, you’d be arrested and sent to… indoctrination before you could even blink. They pull the two men who started it apart, both soaked in their and the other’s blood, and other patrons immediately back up to their seats, avoiding the troopers. Everyone here has bad blood with the empire. It’s part of living here, in the outer rim, staying well away from their gaze.

Something’s wrong. Of course, it is. Your mind immediately goes to finding an escape route, finding some way to get out of here, but the black fluttering of capes freezes your train of thought. You’ve done this before, you can do this, you can get out of here. It’s just like the last few times, you’ll be able to get out, right? You’ve smelled this stench before, this stench of death, of hate, of malice, of eradicating the only life you ever knew.

Inquisitors. Looking for you. You step back from the bar, and their heads jerk toward you, quickly vaulting over the counter, spilling your spotchka. You narrowly duck under their arms, before slamming the back door of the bar open. You dodge around stacks of supplies and long-expired bills and spotchka, dodging around your now very confused boss, and you finally see it, the exit door, the door to freedom, the door that will let you escape from them, and you shove it open—

Black, dark black boots. A red and black cape, with a glinting dark helmet blinding you in the desert sun. Three inquisitors? You’re important. You draw your blade, its color gleaming off their armor, and you slash at them in a wide circle, blasting them back with a quick wave of your hand, before shoving past the one in the doorway, praying you stunned him, praying to the maker you successfully escape—

A hand wraps around your tunic, yanking you back, and a needle jams itself into your stomach. A strong, black leather glove holds you tight, pulling you back, and pushing you down, further, further, until you’re crushed against the ground, like a stone under thousands of tons of pressure at the core of some far-off planet.

As your vision fades, you see the helmets glinting down at you, dangerous, nightmare incarnate. Shouting around you becomes muddled, indistinguishable, a hundred or a thousand voices speaking, screaming, yelling, it’s all the same, what are they saying…? Everything’s fading, you can’t see, can’t think…

Kriff.

His hand wraps tight around your throat, pulling you back into him, his strong, sweaty, muscular chest pressing itself into your shoulder blades. He pulls you back further, panting hot breath against your ear, and he slams himself deep into you. How long have you been at this? How impossibly long have you been like this, being ruined by your–

Your mind freezes as his free hand travels from somewhere near your head, gripping the sheets, down your body, down, further, further, before gently touching your nub and rubbing sweet, sweet, nuclear circles into it, freezing your mind every time he slams his cock into you again and again and again.

His stamina is infinite. How many times have you already come? How many times has he brought you over the edge of that divine cliff, tossed you off, and he hasn’t leapt once? Your wandering mind rips back to reality once again as he pounds once, twice, three times, you’re so close, running, sprinting, a blur of light against an impossible sky, before you take that olympic leap.

You’re frozen. His hands, paused, his cock, an immovable force against an unstoppable orgasm. And then he–

You’re thrown from your dreams as your head collides with the metal plating of what your drug-addled brain assumes is a cell, and you’re left alone for a moment. You were just in his arms, just with him, just curled soft and warm underneath him, protected, why are you here?

Where are you? How long were you asleep? Why..why is there so much noise? It hurts your ears, so loud, so sudden, so angry, like metal ripping and tearing and cracking and shattering, breaking as if the world is made of glass and your ears are hammers. From the indiscernible noise, you can almost hear alarms, something akin to an emergency..why is there an emergency? It’s shaking your skull, shattering your bones, making your brain feel too big for your skull, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, maker it hurts,

And it stops.

Silent. You can hear nothing except his voice. His. Voice.

It’s Him.

Standing in front of you, staring down at you, his black durasteel eyes reflecting hell on earth, reflecting a person you don’t recognize, is that you? How could that be you? When were you covered in blood? When did you have such scars, such exhaustion painting circles under your eyes, thinning your cheeks, hollowing your sockets? What have you become?

“....Padawan.”

He was thinking the same thing. The world is frozen around you, and for once, nothing else matters. Nothing except him. He runs his black-gloved thumb across your cheek, but it’s cold. Artificial. Alone. Where did the warmth go that he had? Where is the comforting star within your void of life?

Where did the man who would do anything for you go?

“...Ani?” Your voice sounds hollow, far away, like you’re hearing it through a window.

Awful, artificial breathing greets your ears. Plastic, metal, durasteel, and bacta tubes scrape across your eardrums, like nails on the chalkboard of your soul. He stares down at you, his breath almost catching in his throat. Does he even have a throat anymore? Is he the man you fell for, the man you adore?

He lowers his hand slowly, before tilting his head and murmuring a short, simple command in a voice you’ve never known yet always loved.

“Follow.” And with a whisk of a cape, he’s walking away, leather boots thumping against the metal grate flooring. You quickly stand to follow him, and stormtroopers flank you on either side, their rifles held to attack at any moment, to gun you down like the thousands of innocents they’ve killed.

You follow your former lover down hallway after hallway, a maze of industrial lights and alarms and troopers sprinting past as the floor, walls, and ceiling quietly shake. You try to run to catch up with him, but his strides are so impossibly long, he’s so impossibly tall, that you’re cursed to inevitably follow behind him, never able to get to him. Just like Mustafar.

He finally turns what feels like the tenth corner, and you see a massive hangar with ships, pods, and craft of all kinds whirring about like some kind of dock hell. He walks over to a sleek, black ship, where troopers in strange black durasteel uniforms salute quickly, and climbs up the ramp. You lower your head as a rifle presses into your back, and a trooper’s voice sounds out behind you.

“Follow Lord Vader.”

Lord Vader? Is that what they call him? Is that what he calls himself? Is that who he has become? Some…lord of evil? Some lord of darkness, like a Sith? You’ve never heard of anyone besides the most powerful Sith being called Lords, is he that twisted, that corrupted?

Your mind snaps to reality as your legs quickly hurry up the ramp, and it closes once you’ve made your way into the small ship. There’s a simple cot against the wall, a few simple crates with various articles of clothing, and then there’s Him. Leaning against one of two cockpit chairs, he stands there staring at you, before reaching up towards that horrible, horrible black helmet, and pulling.

Anakin.

His fluffy blonde hair, now with a few silver streaks through it, is slightly pressed to his forehead above two… yellow…? eyes, his familiar scar across his eye drowned out by the massive burn across his cheek. Dark circles line his undereyes and his face..it’s so, so tired, so weary…

“I..thought you left me..I…” You stammer, the correct words hiding from you like flitting ghosts in a swirl of blazing, burning fire. How is he here? How is he alive? He sets the helmet down on the seat behind him, before stepping toward you, striding closer, closer, he’s so big, so intimidating, so tall, you step back, further, further, your back is pressed against the wall, he’s so close, right up against you, and…

He kisses you. But to say that would be disrespectful to the love, to the passion you feel. His lips press against yours, like two halves of a whole finally reuniting and sealing, bonding together as if telling each other that they will never, never separate again. His hands wrap around your face, holding you, his thumb rubbing your cheek, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, so small against him. He presses further against you, one hand sliding down to your shoulder and pulling your neckline down, and his lips trail slowly down your neck, before he latches onto the muscle, and he bites.

You squeak in pain as he removes the hand on your face and begins to shed his armor, dropping plate after plate after durasteel plate onto the ground with clangs. He’s left in nothing but a tank top and simple cloth pants, and the full extent of the pain he went through is revealed, missing both arms and both legs up to the thighs. You push him back for a moment, and he stares down at you, silently questioning.

“What happened?” Your eyes fill with tears as you scan the damage, gently running your hand along the seam of his larger prosthetic arm. You always knew he was missing one hand, but never his full arm. Never..this. Maker, how much can this cruel universe take, and take, and take, and take, and expect him to live as he has been?

What kind of life is this, to live for nothing at all?

“....I’m not living for nothing, padawan. I have you.” He gently takes your chin, letting out a small cough, and tilts it up to face him, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles softly. Right, he can do that. He can read your mind. You smile weakly up at him and–

You’re thrown into each other as the ship rocks violently, and more alarms blare outside as you’re reminded of the predicament you’re in. Immediately, he focuses while holding his arm out and your fall is slowed down as you land on his chest. He stands quickly, his arm holding you tight against his chest, and he takes your face in his hands again, coughing again harder.

“Hold onto something.”

He turns to the cockpit and quickly throws himself into the pilot seat, before flipping switches and levers and knobs as if he’s done this a thousand times before. You quickly hurry to the front of the ship, sitting down in the other seat and strapping yourself in, and his hand gently lands on your thigh, holding you as he presses the throttle forward, the ship lifting slowly before leaning and soaring out of the collapsing imperial star destroyer. He presses a few more buttons, and the ship shudders slightly before launching into hyperspace.

“Aren’t you a servant of the emperor?” Your voice wobbles slightly, and he sighs softly.

“I’m done. With it. With everything, padawan.” He coughs, his shoulders shaking slightly, and he groans in slight pain before looking over at you.

“The emperor would have you killed or tortured. I’m not letting him ever get to you again.” He says your name, soft, warm, whispered through a broken man’s voice, whispered through years of suffering and longing, loneliness and pain. He smiles weakly, and gets up slowly, holding his hand out as the buckles of your seatbelt undo themselves.

“I have missed you, so, so dearly. Ever since that day.” You stand slowly as he speaks, and he looks around.

“And I have not forgotten what we started earlier.” His nostrils flare with desire, before he pushes you back, back, back, until you’re against the ship wall once again, and he growls as he clenches his fist into your tunic, before pulling his hand back and tearing. He looks down at your bare chest with adoration, before grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the cot, bouncing slightly as he lifts his own shirt off, revealing burn after burn after burn across his still well-muscled chest, and he walks toward you.

Your whole life, you’ve felt at least somewhat strong. You may not be the biggest, the tallest, or the strongest, but you’ve been capable. You’ve never felt true fear for your life…until now. As this predator, this chosen one, this Sith draws closer, you feel like a dewback being stared down by a massive Krayt Dragon, with rabid hunger and malice in its eyes. He smiles that familiar fanged smile, before leaping onto you, and you can’t help but let out a squeak as he grabs and squeezes everything he can get his hands on.

He grinds against your still-covered core, and his hand finds your waistband before pulling and pulling until you’re bare before him, an art piece before a destroyer.

He leans back for a moment to admire you, before climbing down slowly, staring up at you as he comes closer, closer, closer, kissing his way down your stomach, running his hands along your soft inner thigh, and he stares at your entrance before leaning down and kissing your clit.

Maker, it’s like you’re being touched by a god, like your very self is being held by divinity. He begins to rub sweet, sweet, beautiful tight little circles into your nub with his tongue, and his fingers trail along your inner thigh before finding your entrance and pressing.

Oh maker he’s thick, stretching you out so perfectly that you can’t help but cry out and cover his fingers with your sticky sweet nectar. He begins to slowly rub into your core, his fingers fluttering gently, and you let out gorgeous little whimpers, whining as he kisses your clit again, and again, pulling back for a moment as his fingers begin to speed up.

You haven’t felt this good in years. You never could find it in yourself to try to pleasure yourself, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of stress, fear, worry, losing the tight grip you have on your force signature to remain undetected, the pain of losing the people you love and grew up with, and the pain of not being able to find Ani.

But here, but now, his fingers pressing further, further into you, pressing against the spot that makes you squeal, you’re finding it so hard to think.

Maker, he’s so big, too big, you’re practically soaking his fingers, you can feel the band begin to tighten as he licks, and licks, and licks, tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter, so much impossibly tighter, the pressure building,

He stops, pulling his fingers back. Silent. Empty. Empty. Empty. His face pulled back from you. It’s agony, pure, unfiltered, suffering, your body desperately clenching around emptiness, searching for the pleasure it had, searching for the beautiful full feeling, and as he stares down at you, that malicious smile so carved into his face, you can’t help but cry slightly, welling salty tears filling your eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, beautiful. I’m not done with you yet.” He crawls over you, his massive chest dwarfing your body, and he plants his elbow above your head before pressing his mouth against yours, so warm and soft and wet and inviting, with the softest hint of salt on his tongue.

He reaches down with his free hand and slowly unzips his pants, before pulling his cock out, and the sight of it just about makes you cry. It’s so big..so perfect, so adored, so… and he pushes.

Maker, if you thought his fingers were big, this is going to break you in half. He presses further, stretching your tight walls apart, before his cock kisses your core gently, and you gasp softly, grasping onto his hand as your chest begins to heave up and down. He pulls back out slowly, his cock rubbing against the soft walls of your center, and then he slams.

Maker, it’s like you’re being smashed by a jackhammer. He pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes, the most beautiful grunts dropping from his breath like flower petals, and you can’t help but sob his name like it’s a prayer like it’s the only word you’ve ever known. He grasps the sheet above your head, growling, and continues slamming himself into you, your bodies rubbing against each other like beautiful friction defining the universe. He forces your mouth open with his tongue, fighting yours for control over your very soul .

Maker, how is he speeding up? How is he so strong, so good, so fast, so hard, the pressure is building like explosions you can hear noise, whose voice is that, is that you? You can’t even tell, you’re so close to that explosion, the pressure is so bright, so tight, so fiery, you’re so overwhelmed, you’re so close, and then it snaps.

You’re like a star, with planets circling you, and you supernova. An explosion sending out across the universe, your force signature flaring bright with a rainbow of colors you couldn’t hope to comprehend, could never hope to understand. Wave after wave after wave after perfect, indescribable wave rush through you like oceans upon oceans upon oceans of desire, your mind’s so gone it’s like it was never there in the first place, you couldn’t even give your name if you tried. There’s a ringing in your ears, your fingers feel so foreign, so tight, they feel androidish.

He’s still pounding, still going in and out and in and out, you can hear words like Padawan and Love, and without knowing what they mean, you know that you’re loved, for the first time in so, so damn long. He’s sliding in and out with far more ease than before, like your body is expecting, needing him and his warmth.

Padawan, I’m close. Is that his voice, is he speaking? He’s so fast, so deep, so perfectly inside you, so perfectly yours, that the answers to the questions never mattered in the first place.

He jerks a few more times, shaking, and from somewhere far away, you can feel something warm, something hot, something blazing like fiery liquid fill you. He slowly pulls out, smiling, and flops down next to you, panting slightly, and he coughs again. He slowly throws his arms around you, lazy and exhausted, and pulls you tight against him, your legs still numb, core still shaking. How many seconds are in eternity? How many moments measure forever? You don’t know, you’ve never known, you could never know in the first place. But whatever the answer is, you’d be willing to spend the rest of your feeble little life with him, seeing him, knowing him, loving him. Maker, you missed his face, his voice, his smile, everything about you. He watches you, those unfamiliar yellow eyes boring into yours, and for a moment, it’s like there’s streaks of blue, blazoned deep into them, like cracks in a dam about to break open.

“I missed you, Padawan.” He gently runs his thumb along your cheek, the mechanics of the arm creaking and clicking.

“I know.”

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skynapple · 10 months

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Is Galaxy's Edge at Disneyland Worth it? My Two Cents

Since @incorrectpizza was asking, I'm throwing this together cause I've had some words to say about it for a long time.

First off, the project went through multiple layers of Disney Imagineers wanting to create something new and different that allowed them to worldbuild their own new planet without directly drawing on any of the canon movies/shows/books/games. They were also drawing upon shared experiences in middle eastern bazaars. (Source: Documentary about building it that you can watch on Disney+). It was created by Star Wars geeks, for people who may or may not be Star Wars fans. The "may not be" is sort of important here.

Second, I'll say, the first time I walked in I cried with joy. I've been several, several times ever since. As the magic has worn down I've been able to identify a few things. I'll list the good and the bad here.

A. World Environment:

The cons: Because it was built for people who may not be Star Wars fans (aka Disneyland/Disneyworld visitors who are just meandering around the park) it's built to give people a sense that they are somewhere else, and able to identify a few key elements, without necessarily requiring that you know anything about Star Wars at all. They didn't want to give anyone the sense that you couldn't walk in without watching more than 1 movie. This becomes a devastating downfall because other than the literal actual Millennium Falcon or a speeder here, and a first order banner there, there's really no identifying elements. The place is identified as "Black Spire Outpost" which exists only, and ONLY, within the Disney Parks and is not shown within any media. This gives longtime fans nothing to connect to, and nothing much to identify. There's very little to tell that you're supposed to be in a Star Wars environment. My personal opinion is it would have been better had they taken the Universal Studios route and built an environment directly from the Harry Potter movies, giving fans the feeling that they are walking the same streets and seeing the same sights as their favorite characters. It's been a huge success for them and I think that magic is what Galaxy's Edge is missing. I digress.

The Pros: All that said, it's insanely beautiful especially at night. There's so much detail in how they weathered everything and there is Aurebesh literally everywhere, to the point that very little is actually in English. Which is very cool if you're a geek like me that knows how to read it. There are little (and I mean little) nods and easter eggs for fans throughout, but I feel like if I wasn't such a big fan I wouldn't be able to identify them. It's definitely nice to walk through and even though my Mom isn't a fan, she still admires it a lot.

B. Music and sounds:

The cons: They don't play any soundtrack music. Nothing that's been in the media. It's meant to immerse you in the "environment" so it's mostly animal noises and stuff that's supposed to sound alien.

The pros: There's a cool "sound/song" that plays when you enter, like a musical swell, that's signaling that you're entering a new area. I still think that part is cool and it did make me emotional the first time I walked through that "sound."

C. Characters

The cons: There just aren't a lot of characters walking around. There's no aliens. No droids. I've heard they've improved a little bit, and have been adding here and there. But for someplace that's supposed to be so foreign, there's just not enough cast members walking around.

The pros: The cast members and characters that you do see, if you're lucky, are good and you can have fun with them. They have good behaviors, their costumes are great, and are well trained. Being able to see Mando with baby Grogu who is cooing and greeting visitors? Come on, it's so cute. Stormtroopers from the First Order messed with my mom once. It was great. You encounter First Order "employees" a lot on the Rise of the Resistance ride and I always giggle at how they never break character. They're so mean and serious and it's so great to me.

D. The Rides

The cons: There's only two. Honestly not much complain about other than there's not much else to do outside of just these two. There's the Millennium Falcon and the Rise of the Resistance ride. The con about Millennium Falcon is they load the ride in parties of 6, and each person will have a "task" to make the ship fly. If you don't have a party of 6, you're completely at the mercy of the strangers doing their job. The flight is very realistic. If someone in your party misses their queue, it will affect the flight and you will crash. You're allowed a certain amount of damage before your flight crashes to the ground dramatically and your ride ends. The longer you can stay in the air, the longer your experience will be, and the smoother your flight will be. My only gripe about Rise of the Resistance is that the line is so long.

The pros: Insanely cool. The Millennium Falcon is really is a gem in that they've built sooooo so much detail into it. It's so cool. Lots of fun photo spots. You feel like you're really actually in the real thing!! Despite what I said about flying with strangers, when everyone is into it and you're working well together, you'll have a good time. And Rise of the Resistance is the peak of Disney's high tech capabilities across their global projects. It's amazing, I can't say enough about it. Just the feeling, the immersion, it wasn't open when Galaxy's Edge first opened and it's honestly what it was seriously lacking in that "immersive" and "emotional" aspect. I can ride this stuff again and again. I never get tired of it. And honestly, again, my mom is NOT into Star Wars or scifi and Rise of the Resistance is her favorite, she has to ride it every time we're in the park. Sidenote: I still think the best time to ride is at night! It just looks so beautiful at night.

E. The Food:

The Cons: There's not a whole lot of variety, but this is scarcely a huge con considering the variety of foods you can find throughout the rest of the park. Also if your diet is sensitive, or you have allergies, you may have some difficulty. There's also not a whole lot of seating, and this is a big con for the rest of Galaxy's Edge. I complained about it in a survey I received and coincidentally noticed them putting in some new seating, so they are gradually working on it, but for my family of 6 sometimes we struggle. Also, the blue milk is overrated. I prefer the green milk. Both are made with coconut milk, which isn't my favorite, so that's a favorite for some, but a sad dislike for me. Also it's overpriced for a small cup size. So just know that.

The Pros: Docking Bay 7 is one of my favorite places to eat in the park. And the Cantina I have not been to yet because it requires reservations that you literally have to book in the morning just to eat at dinner. I've heard nothing but good things about it though. To me, all the food in Galaxy's Edge is tasty. Also if you're buying a soda like a Coca-Cola or Sprite from a beverage stand, they serve them in the coolest little collector cups and are the same price as they are in the rest of the park, so if you're in a soda mood, buy them there instead of elsewhere in Disneyland.

F. The Activities:

The Cons: So expensive! If you're planning to build a droid or a custom lightsaber, keep in mind that they may be reservation-required experiences and they are $200 each. Please check online before you go. The other con is that there's not much else to do.

The Pros: They put so much thought into these experiences. I built a custom lightsaber and it was 100% worth it. I cried, and as I looked around the room at the climax of the experience, I won't spoil it but everyone else in the room was crying too!! That's how beautiful and thoughtful it was. You can bring 1 friend with you for free as long as they aren't participating, although they can help you. This applies to building a droid as well.

G. The Shopping:

The cons: It was intended to be "bazaar-like" but it doesn't really come off that way. Little, if any, is actually Star Wars branded. Again, they wanted you to feel like you were actually visiting somewhere far away, so the merch is mostly just Black Spire Outpost branded and there isn't much "Star Wars" merch. (If you do want Star Wars merch, I'm not sure for DisneyWorld but at least for Disneyland, the shop attached to Star Tours has tons of exclusive Star Wars merch that makes up for it.)

The pros: Exclusive merch that's mostly good quality. They have differing shops based on category, and it's spread out so it's not too overwhelming. This also eliminates long line. I've returned las Galaxy's Edge just for a specific BD-1 desk topper at the droid-themed shop, and then ran to the lightsaber parts shop, and I was able to get in and out of both stores very quickly.

The Final Rating: 6/10

Overall, for a Star Wars fan, it's a wonderful experience. Yes I have my gripes, but I still return each time. I can't say the cons outweigh the pros. I think major improvements would improve overall impression and foot traffic. That said. I think it's something every Star Wars fan should experience at least once!

Here's some photos for extra measure

#long post #galaxy's edge #star wars #disneyland #disney world #star wars galaxy's edge #black spire outpost #madi talks #home things

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