#mira bridger

[tyquu]

Baby Ezra and his mama,,, Idk I was thinking about them T3T

[tobytost]

pov you’re a rebellion member but your baby insists on showing off very illegal super powers publicly

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

god. GOD the Ezra transmission at the end of season 1 still makes me fuckigng sick to think about, especially with the context of Mira and Ephraim hearing it. To think that for eight years his parents had been ripped away from their son all for the crime of speaking out for hope, never knowing what became of their Ezra, of that tiny seven year old left on the streets scared and crying and alone, to spend days and months and years in that awful place with all of that emptiness and then, and then and then and then.

And then they hear their boy's voice again, and they know him immediately, even without name, because of course they do, that's their son, that's their Ezra, and he's speaking out for hope just as they did, and they've been apart from him longer than they ever had him, but his voice is here, his hope is here, and he talks about how they inspired him, how he's carrying on their legacy of courage and community hope, how he has a new family - thank God he has a family, he is safe and he is loved, even if they will never know who has loved him so much as to earn the title of family - and that hope will one day prevail, just as they taught him it would.

They hear his voice, by god they hear his voice, and it's one of the last sounds they ever hear.

[rancidsugar]

Commission for @jedi-nurse osjdsihfhd ily 😘

[denrrucita]

Many people (myself included) thought that perhaps Ezra's parents didn't make the best decisions for their last moments alive, so I started thinking about what they would have been like.

And, since I hurt my own feelings, I want to hurt yours too.

I hope you enjoy.

My English is bad because it is not my first language, so if you don't understand something you can ask me hehe!

Luv ya

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Purrgils and a nursery rhyme from his youth have shaped Ezra Bridger's life in ways that even he is not aware of . . .

The Research Survey Mission (22 BBY)

After an agonizing hour being held up by Republic Security, he finally made it to the hangar bay where his escort was waiting. Dodging precariously between the space fighters, grimly masked clone pilots, and their long-suffering mechanics, he weaved his way through the active hangar with a desperate determination.

The war against the Separatists continued to stretch on with no end in sight, he knew. It surprised him that his scientific study had been approved by the Senate, considering all the funds being tied up in the war's progress. His sponsor, Senator Amidala, had taken an interest in the study of purrgil hyperspace travel routes for humanitarian reasons and had lobbied the Supreme Chancellor for this study to be funded.

Wheezing with the strain from sprinting - something not done since his Academy days - he finally skidded to a stop in front of the vessel assigned to the survey mission: an old, but functional looking G9 Rigger class freighter.

"I'm - my apologies for the wait," he gasped out between heaving breaths. It wouldn't make a good first impression if he vomited in front of his team here -

And speaking of his team . . .

Clutching at the stitch in his side, he peered at the two individuals selected to be his escort. First, the pilot: a young human woman about his age, with raven black hair and a feisty expression on her sun-browned face - a beautiful face, he observed, that looked better suited for a leading role in a holo-drama rather than a drab military flight uniform.

The pilot looked impatiently at the chrono on her wrist. "You're late," she remarked, sounding grumpy.

Still taken aback by her beauty, he took a full five seconds to compose himself. "Yes - I'm sorry about that," he replied. "All the new security; I wasn't expecting - "

The second individual on his team gave a sardonic chuckle. "First time on Coruscant?" asked the second person.

He nodded, looking the other team member up and down with a rising skepticism. He was a young boy with short brown hair, some of which was kept in a thin braid that trailed past his shoulders. A strong, serious face with piercing blue eyes - similar to his own - gave the impression that little escaped the boy's attention.

More importantly, he wore the traditional brown and white robes of a Jedi Knight. They fit him well, despite the boy's youth.

Smiling slightly, he asked, "And you must be . . . Master Depa Billaba?"

Amusement glinted in the youth's blue eyes, breaking through the stoic expression. He barked out a laugh. "No, I'm afraid not. She had other pressing matters to attend to. I was sent in her place."

"Ah, I see. Are you another Jedi Knight, then?"

The boy pouted. "Someday. Soon, I hope."

He stuck out his hand in greeting. "I am Master Billaba's padawan. My name is Caleb Dume."

Dume's grip was firm and steady; the skin on his palm was rough, callused from years of hard work and battle. Far rougher than I would expect any young person his age to be.

Inwardly, he felt a small pang of sadness for the young Jedi; a war was a brutal experience to go through, even for the adults who were prepared for such an event. He couldn't imagine the toll it was taking on the young.

Even if they were Jedi.

"My name is Ephraim Bridger, Jedi Dume. A pleasure to work with you."

The Jedi nodded in acknowledgement. Ephraim turned to the pilot -

"Lieutenant Mira," she answered bluntly before he could ask. Ephraim noticed the emphasis on her rank. "And I'd like to actually start flying now, if either of you don't mind."

She turned and stalked onto the freighter's lowered ramp, disappearing into the ship.

Ephraim blinked and turned to Dume. The young Jedi just shrugged. "Can't keep her waiting," he said politely. Both of them soon followed the pilot into the waiting vessel.

"Guess not," Ephraim muttered. "Oh, this is sure to be fun."

"I hope so," said Dume earnestly. "Could use a break from this war. So, what are we hunting?"

"We're not hunting, Master Jedi. We're searching for something. A creature long rumored to be nothing more than a myth, save for scattered reports from spacers over the Republic's long history."

Dume glanced at him curiously. "What would that be?"

Ephraim turned to him, grinning widely. "Ever heard of star whales, Caleb?"

The Star Whale (13 BBY)

"Alright, alright," laughed Ephraim. "Time for bed, young one."

His son, Ezra, was encased in a bear hug, scrambling to free himself. "Ah, come on, Dad. Five more minutes, please?"

Ephraim considered the offer - until he glanced over his shoulder to find his wife, Mira, giving him one of her patented glares. Her eyes - a lovely shade of violet that he always found himself admiring - pierced through him like a blaster bolt.

Deflating a bit, he whispered, "Not going to happen, buddy. The boss says no."

The child twisted in his hug until he could look over Ephraim's shoulder. Mira blew him a kiss.

With his typical accuracy, Ezra mimed to catch it and pressed the kiss to his heart. It was a time-honored ritual every evening, before bedtime.

"Okay, then," said his son. "How about a story instead?"

Ephraim laid his son gently onto the floor, feeling the aches in his lower back. "I would love that. Head up to your bedroom and choose one. I'll meet you there in a minute."

Before he finished his sentence, Ezra raced up the stairs in a flash. Ephraim snorted and turned to look at his wife. She was throwing a hooded cloak over her shoulders, obscuring her figure.

"I'm heading out now, love," she said to him, voice muffled through the thick cloth wrapped around her head.

He went to her and gave a kiss on the bridge of her nose, the only exposed skin available due to her outfit. They had been doing this for a while now . . . but the worry never faded from his mind.

Since the Empire had come to power, he and Mira had taken over an old communications tower to spread messages throughout the galaxy with other groups of people who were fighting against the growing tyranny of the Emperor and his cronies. It was dangerous work.

But someone had to do it. Someone had to light a candle in the long, vast night that had fallen across galactic civilization.

"Be careful," he said quietly. Mira smirked at him, in her typical impish way.

"I always am," she replied. "Sing me home, when it's time."

"Of course," said Ephraim. He watched her slip out the front door, biting his lip. In his mind's eye, he could see her dodging through shadowed alleyways, dashing across empty streets, finding their hidden speeder . . .

Come back safe, darling, he thought.

"Dad!" came his son's voice, interrupting his mood. "Are you coming up or what?"

Ephraim chuckled, feeling grateful for the distraction. "I'm heading up now," he replied.

_ _ _ _ _

"Star whales?" asked Ephraim. "You're sure?"

Ezra nodded. "I found some of your notes - "

Ephraim groaned. "You were snooping around in my office again?"

The boy flushed with embarrassment. He sighed deeply. Mira had noted it before he did; their son had a predicament for getting himself into trouble. Nothing serious as of yet, thank the Force.

But in these dark times, it could spell greater danger down the road.

Especially given his . . . talents.

"For the last time, there is no candy hidden in my desk. You ate all of it."

"Right. Sorry, Dad." The apology would have seemed sincere if not for the smug grin plastered on the boy's face.

He reached over and ruffled his son's hair with fond exasperation. Ezra giggled and waved his hands away.

Ephraim sat back in his chair thinking of all the stories about star whales he knew of. Finally, he said, "Do you know I saw a star whale once?"

His son's eyes went round as a moon. "Really?"

Smiling, he said, "Oh, yes. It was a scientific study. I actually met your mother on that mission. And there was a Jedi, also."

"A Jedi?" Ezra's mouth went agape. "Who were they?"

"A young human boy, actually. Not much older than you. His name was Caleb Dume." A gentle pang of melancholy went through him at the old memory resurfacing; he had not thought of the young Jedi in the long years since that mission.

He wondered if Dume had survived the purge.

Somehow, deep in his heart, he was sure that the boy had made it. Palpatine had been vicious in his extermination of the Jedi Order, but there was no way that all of them had been killed. Rumors continued to pop up from all over the galaxy . . .

He shook his head. Ezra was watching him, waiting for the next part of the story.

"Oh, yes. We spent a week in deep space, tracking down a pod of purrgils," he continued. Ephraim felt the old sense of wonder and awe grip him as he remembered the towering, majestic creatures. The pod had passed by their tiny freighter, flowing around them like river water.

Closing his eyes, he could envision the golden splotches on their skin mixing with the vivid purple - and those eyes. Those giant, glowing eyes. Being looked upon by the star whales felt like an almost religious experience with the calm, magnificent intelligence behind those eyes appraising the explorers' small forms.

"The sounds they made . . . oh, it was like they were singing," he explained. "It shouldn't be possible in deep space, but the purrgils somehow manage to do it. And they did it so beautifully."

"It sounded like music?" asked Ezra in a hushed tone. He nodded.

"Like little songs," confirmed Ephraim. "I believe it's how they speak to one another."

"Did they jump to hyperspace?"

Ephraim nodded in confirmation. "Their tentacles in the back stretched far, far out. I could see lines glowing on them, brighter and brighter and then - they were gone just like that." He snapped his fingers on the last word to illustrate his point.

"Wizard," whispered his son.

"Totally wizard," he agreed. He stroked his beard. "But then something odd happened."

Ezra sat up in his bed, gripping the covers tightly. "What?" he demanded. "What happened?"

Ephraim stroked his beard, drawing out the pause for dramatic effect. Watching his child squirm in anticipation was always a fascinating experience, which he secretly enjoyed.

Finally, he broke the pause and leaned forward. "One of them stayed behind," he said.

His son's expression turned puzzled. "Really? Why?"

"Ah, well, I have only a theory on that," Ephraim confessed. "But I feel that it is true. You see, purrgil pods are a community. They take care of each other, watch out for one another."

"Like you and Mom," Ezra pointed out. Ephraim smiled.

"Precisely. They are also the only creatures with the capability to emit noise in the deep vacuum of space via their songs. Space is large and vast and dark, Ezra. My theory is that even purrgils can get lost sometimes. So, one stays behind to sing them home."

"Even purrgils can get lost," Ezra repeated, sounding sad.

"All beings, large and small," said Ephraim, "need help sometimes."

He watched his son ponder that for a few moments. Then, Ezra said quietly, "You say that to Mom sometimes."

Ephraim frowned. "What do I say?"

"She asks you to 'sing her home' sometimes. Or you ask her. And then one of you leaves during the night."

He felt an icy fist enclose over his heart. It seemed that he and Mira's covert activities hadn't gone unnoticed by their son.

"We do say that," he confessed. "It's just a saying."

Ezra's face turned to him, with those piercing blue eyes that were an inheritance. "Do you think someday, someone will do that for me? If I get lost?"

Ephraim felt the icy fist close tighter. "Your Mom and I will do that for you."

"But what if . . . " The boy's voice trailed off, refusing to give voice to the fear that had arisen in him. But Ephraim knew what Ezra was going to ask.

It was the same question that he and Mira struggled with every night since their child had been born.

What if you and Mom aren't here anymore?

He reached forward and enclosed Ezra's hand in his own. So small, so soft, so warm - and so fragile.

"You will meet others," he said firmly, "who will love you just as we have. I promise it, Ezra."

His son just gazed at him. "You promise?"

"I do. You are so easy to love, my son. You will find someone who loves you like it's second nature to them - and if you ever get lost, they will sing you home."

The Rhyme (4 BBY)

He sat in the cockpit of the Phantom, gazing through the canopy at the field of stars. Whenever things on the Ghost got too quiet, he liked to sequester himself in there and just enjoy the mechanical ambience generated by the shuttle's machinery.

They're out there somewhere, he thought. The purrgils.

His encounter with the legendary creatures, still so recent, had left him in a curious state. Ezra couldn't shake the sensation that this was not the last he would see of them.

Unbidden, an old memory rose to the surface of his thoughts. His father, Ephraim, telling him stories of the star whales.

One stays behind to sing them home.

Ezra smiled faintly, despite the gentle sadness he felt rippling beneath the recollection. Not too long ago, he didn't want to think about his parents. Thoughts of them were a source of pain that he did not want to revisit, especially when he was just a street-rat scavenging on the streets of Capital City for survival.

But now, with his new family. he could remember his parents freely. The memories were no longer a burden; the pain hadn't lessened, but the others helped him to bear their loss a little better.

He reached into his pocket and took out the holo-recording that Sabine had found for him on his birthday a year ago. Pressing the button, the recording flared to life, showing a static image of his family - before the Empire had come to take it all away.

All beings, large and small, need help sometimes.

Ezra gazed softly at the holo-image, feeling the old pangs of loneliness. Despite his time spent on the Ghost, some nights he still felt . . . lost. Like he didn't belong.

"Even purrgils get lost sometimes," he muttered.

"Is that so?" came a familiar voice from behind. Twitching in surprise, Ezra stole a peek at the source.

It was Sabine. To his surprise, she wasn't wearing her standard Mandalorian armor; rather, she wore simple sleeping wear consisting of a plain shirt, shorts, and slippers.

She arched a curious eyebrow at him and gave a little wave. "Hey, goober," she said.

"Hey, Sabine," he replied. "What brings you here?"

Sabine shrugged. "Just checking up on you. You weren't in your room. Zeb's snores don't seem too horrendous tonight, so I was wondering why you weren't sleeping."

"Actually," he admitted, "Zeb's snores help me sleep. Guess I'm so used to them now as background noise. If he's not here, I can't sleep so easily."

She laughed. Ezra felt his ears flush red at the sound.

Play it cool, he thought firmly. Be cool.

She shuffled up to him and pointed at the co-pilot seat. "Mind if I join you?"

He gestured at the empty chair. "Be my guest."

"Thanks." She sat down, still scrutinizing him with a curious look. "So, what's this about purrgils? You still thinking about those gas pods?"

Ezra snorted. "They eat the gas, they're not - well, technically - okay, yes, I'm still thinking about them."

Sabine giggled. "I'm just messing with you, Ezra." Her face turned serious. "What does this have to do with your family?"

He blinked, suddenly remembering the holo-recording playing in the space between them. In a flash he turned it off, feeling self-conscious.

"I don't know," he replied. "I was just thinking about them for some reason."

Ezra turned to look out the Phantom's canopy again. "My dad used to tell me about the purrgils all the time when I was younger."

"Really?" asked Sabine. "What did he say?"

"That purrgils apparently mate for life. There's more myth than fact about them, but that one is true. Despite their fearsome appearance, they're also really gentle. They won't attack unless directly provoked."

Sabine sat back in her chair, absorbing this. "Wow. Surprising."

"How so?"

"Purrgils don't make any kind of evolutionary sense, goober. Far as we can tell, nothing hunts purrgils. They are at the top of their food chain. And yet . . . " She waved a hand at the stars in front of them.

"They just exist. Just travel from star to star and occasionally take a pit stop to munch on some gas," she finished.

"And to annoy spacers like Hera," Ezra added.

Sabine snorted. "True. They continue to do that, maybe Hera will become a predator to them."

That elicited laughter from Ezra. Sabine grinned at him.

When his laughter died down, Sabine asked, "What else did your dad know about the purrgils?"

Ezra thought about it, then said, "The pod doesn't jump together. Not for long distances. He saw it happen, in person: one of them stays behind."

"Why?"

He closed his eyes. "To sing them home, when it's time."

There was a silence from Sabine. Then, he heard her murmur, "Even purrgils get lost sometimes."

"Yup. You get it."

Ezra opened his eyes. "My parents used to say that to each other sometimes. 'Sing me home when it's time'. One time, I asked my dad what would happen if I got lost and they weren't around anymore."

Sabine was quiet.

"He said other people would find me someday and love me like they did. That if I got lost, they would sing me home, just like the purrgils do," Ezra said. His eyes glazed over with tears.

"Some days I feel lost," he confessed. "I'm grateful for you and everyone else here, but it's not the same as it was with my family. I miss them so much sometimes."

Ezra let out a little bitter laugh. "Sometimes, when I was younger and still on my own, I wished that the purrgils would come and take me. That I could be anywhere but stuck on Lothal without my parents. It didn’t matter where we went - they could take me to another galaxy, for all I care."

All the horrible, seething emotions whirled and twisted within him. Ezra closed his eyes again and took deep breaths, trying to enact Kanan's Jedi calming techniques -

Sabine hugged him. Ezra let out a small breath that he didn't realize was being held.

"I'm here, Ezra," she said. "I'm here for you."

He melted into the warm embrace, just allowing himself to feel the strength and surety of his friend's presence fill the deep, dark cracks that his emotions had opened in him.

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice a little ragged.

After a long moment, she released. Looking into his eyes with an expression of utmost seriousness, she said, "Look, I'm not much of a singer but I'll do it for you."

Ezra stared at her. "What?"

"Better me than Zeb. Or Hera and definitely better than Kanan." She shuddered at the last name.

"What are you talking about, Sabine?"

She rolled her eyes. "The singing, goober! I'll sing you home if you get lost."

His mouth fell slightly open. "You . . . you will?"

"Yeah. Just don't expect opera level talent here. Give me something simple to sing."

Ezra felt his mouth widen into a grin. "I never really thought about it."

"Come on. You have to know some music, Ezra."

He thought hard for a few seconds. Then he remembered something from his past - an old nursery rhyme his parents used to sing, when he was much younger.

"You got something," said Sabine. "I saw it click in your head, judging by your expression."

He looked at his friend, his mood cautious. "Okay," he said, "repeat after me."

Ezra took a deep breath.

"Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run . . ."

The Girl Who Was Broken (1 BBY)

It had been a week since Ezra disappeared.

In the distance, despite the fading light of early dusk, Sabine could still see the smoke rising from the rubble of Capital City. It would take years to rebuild to its former glory. Years that the inhabitants of Lothal would now have, thanks to her friend's courageous sacrifice.

Yes, she felt proud. That's what she kept telling herself and the others, too.

But deep down, a wound remained. An Ezra shaped hole that refused to be filled from all the celebration and praise and joy from everyone around her.

I let him go. He's gone.

She shook her head vigorously at this last thought. "He's not gone," she said aloud.

But her words were snatched away by the rising evening breeze. She sighed and leaned against the balcony railing, taking in her surroundings.

Ezra's comm-tower. His home before he came onto the Ghost.

She knew Zeb and Hera would soon be making plans to leave. The Rebellion needed their talents desperately elsewhere. The war with the Empire had tipped in their favor with Thrawn's defeat but it was far, far from over.

She understood why they had to leave - and why she was deciding to stay. Ezra had asked her to see this through, not them. Sabine acknowledged the logic behind the decision to split up the remaining Ghost crew.

That didn't stop it from hurting, however. She and Ezra had spent plenty of nights conversing about this very subject; what they would do, should the worst come to pass.

But every plan they had come up with included them sticking together. Never had it occurred to them to plan about what would happen if they were separated.

And now he was gone.

"He's not gone," she said through clenched teeth. "He's not!"

Her shout became another casualty of the wind, snatched away in a heartbeat.

He couldn't be. She would know if he was . . . no, she was sure of it. Ezra was still alive out there, somewhere.

The trail had gone cold just outside the Unknown Regions. Hera had taken the Ghost, with her and Zeb, picking up the trail of debris from Thrawn's fleet halfway across the galaxy.

They could go no further. Neither of them voiced the obvious fact aloud on the trip back to Lothal: that no one who went into the Unknown Regions returned to tell the tale.

Ezra's lost out there. He's a smart boy, she thought. He'll figure it out. There's got to be some Jedi navigation techniques he can use.

Until then, all she could do was wait . . . and watch over Lothal, as she promised.

A memory came to her, rushing through her mind like the evening's breeze.

One stays behind to sing them home.

It was a silly idea, she knew. A child's hope.

But she had promised.

Sabine turned her gaze upwards, looking up at the starry night sky of Lothal. Somewhere, in between those pinpricks of tiny, scattered light, was her best friend.

She imagined his face, letting the image of him fill her mind.

And then . . . Sabine began to sing, fighting against the rising wind on this Lothal evening:

"Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run. Pick a path and all is done. Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf run. The night is falling, and the dark will come. Loth-rat, loth-cat, loth-wolf flee. Follow my voice and run home to me."

Her voice wavered at the last verse. When it was done, she hung her head for a moment, letting the tears fall freely.

Had the wind carried her voice away? Maybe, in her most foolish of hopes, it had carried her song to wherever Ezra was.

That he knew she was there. That someone was trying to bring him home.

Sabine slammed a fist on the railing. "That was so stupid," she whispered. "There's no way he heard that."

It was an idiotic idea that the singing would be heard by Ezra. She wasn't a purrgil.

But Sabine knew, deep down in her heart, that she would try anyway.

I will sing you home, Ezra Bridger. Every night, until you come back to me.

~ epilogue ~

The Lost Boy (11 ABY)

He sat on his haunches, exercising his Jedi patience. Before him, a field of plain, unblemished rocks; the gray skies of the strange world he had crash landed on so many years ago threatened a downpour soon. Ezra scratched idly at his beard, studying the rocks with interest.

Finally, he picked one. With a small smile, he picked up a pebble and chucked it at one of the oddly shaped rocks a few feet away on his right.

It bounced off the rock's exterior - and then the rock leapt into the air, revealing the small, crab-like creature that laid beneath it. Or, rather, was attached to it.

The Noti - as Ezra had come to know them as - used the rocks as defensive camouflage when the nomadic bandits came passing by. Since the planet they were on had so many of them, it became a habit of the bandits to just pass them by without much attention.

The little Noti scrambled in place for a few seconds and then froze at the sight of Ezra.

"Ezra Bridger," it said in a tiny little voice.

"Hello, friend," he replied pleasantly. "The village is looking for you. It's time to make camp."

The Noti, by Ezra's estimation, was still a child. The village elder had approached him earlier that morning, babbling like crazy. He still wasn't fluent with their language, but the gist of it was that they were looking for one of their younglings that had gone wandering off.

"Ezra Bridger," said the young Noti uncertainly.

He shook his head. "No, they're not angry with you. Just worried."

Thunder clapped nearby, the sound roiling over the barren wastes. The Noti immediately disappeared underneath it's rock shell again, afraid.

Ezra sighed, walked over to it, and knocked gently on the shell. "Hey, it's going to start pouring soon. We need to start heading back - "

A gust of wind rose with the incoming storm, and, for a frozen moment of time, he heard something.

A voice, singing. As if from far, far away.

A familiar voice. A familiar song . . .

Ezra went absolutely still, his heart hammering away inside his chest. He strained to listen over the rising gale -

There. There it is.

" . . . follow my voice and run home to me."

And then the voice was gone, carried away by the storm wind.

But he heard it. Oh, yes, he heard it.

Ezra smiled to himself.

"Not bad," he remarked. "You're a better singer than you think, Sabine."

He felt a tug on the hem of his robes. Looking down, he saw the Noti clutching a tiny fistful of the blood-red fabric.

"Ezra Bridger?" it asked.

Ezra knelt down and patted the little creature. "Don't be scared. Stay close to me, okay? We need to go now."

The Noti chirped back an answer in its own native language, sounding cheerful.

"Yeah," Ezra agreed. "It's time to go home."

[locitapurplepink]

Ezra's Parents on Legacy

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Ezra didn’t even make it an hour into his first night with the Noti before he felt the walls closing in on him, the darkness crushing his windpipe. It wasn’t that the sleeping compartments were small— they were, but if there was one thing Ezra was good at, it was making do with cramped spaces. The problem, he thought, was the opposite. This small, dark room with incomprehensibly friendly beings resting on the other side of its walls was the safest place he’d been since he’d stepped on the gunship that took him to the Imperial complex. It was the first safe place he’d been in weeks.��

The first place that gave him time and room to consider the enormity of what he’d done. 

It came at him all at once, all that terror and all that hopelessness, and he had to get out, had to see something other than the crushing reality closing in on him— 

He stood before even really making the decision to and scrambled out of the sleeping compartment, doing his best to step softly for his new roommates even as he staggered madly for the door, bursting into the dry, open air. He shut the door behind him, as carefully as he could with shaking fingers, and turned his face to the night sky. To the stars that, for the first time in his life, were entirely unfamiliar. 

He squeezed his eyes shut.

I want to go home.

The wish was childish, and selfish, but he could no longer push it aside. It ached in every part of him, stabbing him with every breath, and the image the words brought to mind was enough to make his eyes sting with tears. He squeezed them tighter— and the image shifted. It was no longer Lothal as he remembered it, dusty grasslands and dark domes, but Lothal as he had seen it in a vision on a dark, all-but-hopeless night much like this one. 

It’s so peaceful, he had said, and the specter of his father beside him had replied, that is all going to change when the Empire arrives. 

Would it change back now, he wondered? Had his sacrifice been enough to take the darkness of the Empire out of the picture, to return Lothal to blue skies and white towers? Would he ever get the chance to find out?

And then he heard the words his father had said next, as clearly as if Ephraim Bridger was standing next to him again. You’re going to need to stay strong. Can you do that, son?

Yes, Ezra had answered then. Even reeling from knowledge that his parents were truly lost forever, he hadn’t hesitated. Perhaps he would have if he’d known what was coming next: that he would see his home razed to the ground and his Master burned to ashes before his eyes, that Lothal’s best hope would be for him to fling himself beyond any sense of familiarity or family with only the slimmest chance of his return. 

He would need to stay strong, if there was any chance of Sabine finding him as the friend she’d loved. But what if he faced life here, day after day after day, and she never came? What if she burned like Kanan had and he never knew? If this was where his strength had gotten him, what good was it?

Without hope, his mother had told him, standing on his other side in that vision of a peaceful Lothal, we have nothing. 

Ezra had no parents, no Master, no family in this galaxy and no way home. He could give up hope— and then he would truly be lost.

Sabine would find him. She would. And he would be waiting for her when she did.

He took a deep breath, and then another.

“Yes,” he told his father again.

And he opened his eyes. 

[loth-creatures]

Ephraim and Mira Bridger <3

Lothwolfwalkers AU Masterpost 

[williamstrother]

Foreshadowing in the Mural

If you look closey at the mural, which was designed by Sabine in Honor of the Ghost Crew's heroics in stopping Thrawn and saving Lothal, you can use that the Lothal Wolfs (which played in a part in the final season) could be Foreshadowing Baylon Skoll (The Black Wolf) and Shin Hati (The White Holf) Skoll is usually depicted as having black fur and Hati having white in Norse Mythology. Could be just a big coincidence or is it some kind of intentional foreshadowing. Not only that, we also what appears to be the White Loth Cat Ezra encountered on his shoulder, which could very well be none other than Kanan and Hera's son, Jacen Syndulla (considering his eyes are blue like his father, Ezra and the Loth-Cat) greatly foreshadowing Ezra becoming his Master and Jacen his apperenitce. Now the for the three brown Loth Cats standing next to Ezra and Sabine, it could be a foreshadowing of them falling in love in the future and having three children of their own.

[meldy-arts]

A sketch I started but never finished....

I think about Mira and baby Ezra a lot grhjhekghgk

[jedimandalorian]

This is an excerpt from my songfic WIP “I’ll Be Home for Life Day.” I’m writing this for the @sabezra-life-day-celebration which you shippers should follow for updates. 😉

*****

I'll be home for Life Day

You can count on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree.

Ezra Bridger stood there just staring with his eyes wide and lips parted, momentarily distracted from his work and fascinated by the sight of Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus slow dancing to the familiar tune of “I’ll Be Home for Life Day” in the main hold of the Ghost. Ezra couldn’t stop himself from grinning at this very rare display of public affection between the two of them. Kanan was softly crooning the song’s lyrics right next to Hera’s ear-cones and was looking quite pleased that he brought such a rosy flush to her ordinarily cool green complexion.

Ezra was supposed to be helping Sabine decorate the holiday tree with glow spheres and colorful hand painted ornaments, but the sight of such a tender moment between his captain and his master reminded him of how his parents had danced to that very same song when he was a little boy. The end result was always the same: Ephraim Bridger always steered his wife Mira over to the doorway where the mistletoe was hung so he could steal a kiss from her. From the time little Ezra was old enough to toddle over to them, his father would lift him into his arms and hold him under the mistletoe so that his mother could kiss his cheek and they could both tell him how much he was loved. His mother and father did that every year until he was six.

Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head as if to ward off the painful memories of what happened on his seventh birthday. After that terrible day he had spent every Life Day on his own. There were no more Life Day trees, no more mistletoe kisses, no more presents…

…that is, until last year. Hera’s gift was the first present he had opened. She had bought him a new pair of red pajamas printed with drawings of silly, playful brown Loth-cats. Some fifteen year-old boys would have been embarrassed to wear such childish-looking sleepwear, but Ezra, who had recognized the drawings as Sabine’s own doodles, realized that Hera had them custom made for him. Ezra, who for years had only worn second-hand clothing that he had nicked or salvaged from recycling bins, had new pajamas that had been made just for him. He had launched himself into Hera’s arms, hugging her with a muffled “thanks” as he hid his face in her shoulder so that the others would not see that his eyes were watering.

“Ezra?” Sabine’s voice brought him back into the present moment. “You okay?”

Ezra hastily wiped his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Is this one the last of the glow spheres? I thought we had more of them last year.”

“Here comes Chopper with the rest of them now,” Sabine said as the droid rolled over to them with another big tray of glow globes.

“Come on, we have to finish up before lunchtime. You’re getting your Life Day present early this year.”

“Early?” Ezra asked. Zeb had ambled over to them with the life-star, which he had the honor of placing on the top of the tree, since he was the only one tall enough to reach the top. “Why am I getting my present early?”

“We all chipped in to get you a gift card,” Zeb explained.

“Yep,” Sabine added. “And I’m in charge of your makeover.”

“Sabine’s taking you to the Spiral City Mall this afternoon to help you pick out some new clothes,” Zeb added.

“But—“ Ezra began, as if to protest.

“Make the kid pick out some new basics too,” Zeb said with a grimace. “I don’t think he owns any socks or underwear that aren’t torn or full of holes.”

Chopper’s electronic giggle made Sabine bite her lip, as if she was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Zeb!” Ezra exclaimed angrily. “That’s not true!” His face was red with embarrassment. “And I don’t need Sabine’s help to pick out under—“

“O Holey Drawers!” Zeb sang in synch with the next Life Day carol on the music-player. “Your bum is nearly showing!”

Sabine and Chopper collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Ezra found himself wishing for an air vent so he could crawl into it and not come out until New Year’s Day.

As if sensing how much Ezra wanted them to change the subject, Sabine came to his rescue. “Oh, they are so sweet,” she commented. Ezra, Chopper, and Zeb turned to look in the direction that Sabine had indicated. They all saw that Kanan was stealing a kiss from Hera under the mistletoe.

Ezra watched them with interest. Smooth, he thought. In a quiet moment he had with Kanan several weeks before, he had confessed his crush on Sabine and then asked Kanan how he managed to get Hera to return his feelings.

Kanan had looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “Kid, I might be with Hera, but that doesn’t mean I know how I did it.” Ezra shared a good laugh with his master over that. Kanan opened his mouth as if to say more, then stopped himself. Visions of a future that Ezra could not see clouded Kanan’s blind eyes.

After a long silence, Kanan finally said, “If it is the will of the Force, it will happen. And if it’s going to happen it will be when you’re both more mature and ready for it. For now, you should enjoy your friendship with Sabine, and value how close the two of you have become. Just take things slowly with her. Always be a gentleman, and trust the Force.”

Ezra snapped out of his reverie when Zeb punched his arm. “Are you studying his snogging technique for future reference, Lover Boy?” Chopper guffawed at this. Ezra was glad that Sabine was busy putting away the ornament boxes at that moment. He hoped she was out of earshot.

Zeb leaned down and stage-whispered to Ezra, “Let Sabine have her fun with you at the mall. You know how females are about shopping.”

Ezra nodded.

“Who knows? If you play your cards right, she might even let you hold her hand.” Zeb winked.

Chopper burbled something Zeb couldn’t understand.

“What did he say?”

Ezra was reluctant to translate what Chopper said. It was something like, “Ezra had better play his cards right with Sabine or the only hand he’ll be holding is an Idiot’s Array.”

Of course, Chopper probably intended to call Ezra an idiot by saying that, but he didn’t mind. An Idiot’s Array was still a winning hand in sabaac.

*****

So who wants Sabine and Ezra to go on a “mall date”? What sort of shenanigans should they get into?

What do you think of this story so far?

[tobytost]

imagine Mira and Ephraim trying to get little Ezra to nap but he doesn't want to stop playing and since Ezra is a powerful force sensitive who lives on the planet that has a deep connection to the force, his temper tantrums result in something like this:

like imagine he's throwing a tantrum over something and Mira looks out of the window and there's a fucking STORM brewing outside

one of their transmissions gets interrupted because Ezra woke up from a vision-nightmare and got so scared he cut off the power in their entire neighborhood

Ephraim and Mira live in a constant horror that someone will find out about Ezra having those abilities, so they hide him, shield him, homeschool him

[sarah3210]

In legacy as sad as it was, I liked the fact that Ezra's parents were dead but imagine if they were alive to see Ezra again and to meet the crew who took him in and took care of him 🥰.

[a-random-pillow]

Why the Bridgers(Rebles) were less then perfect parents.

After watching Ahsoka, I was reminded of this post I never finished.

I do not respect these two, for one main reason. Ezra was never they're priority.

The Bridgers didn't get much screen time but what we learn them about them is that they

Had a secret radio station in their basement form which they would spread Reble messages.

Were Ezra's parents.

Would eventually get arrested before Ezra hit double digits.

Lead a jail break, refused to leave until everyone else did, leading to their deaths.

Let's start at the beginning, the Bridger's Rebellion. Being a Reble is good, but my problem is that they were participating in Reble activity when they had a VERY young son. These two were fully aware of the consequences if they got caught and what that would mean for their son, but they chose to literally bring the Reble fight into their home.

Well, maybe they knew Ezra was force sensitive, so they were trying to protect him?

There is a chance they knew or suspected their child was force sensitive but that makes being a Reble even worse! What did they think would happen when if they got arrested? The Empire gets another force sensitive with no home to return to. If they were aware of Ezra' force sensitivity the best option would for them to help Ezra hide it and not draw attention to themselves.

Don't get me started on the jail break! So, the Bridgers hear that their son by the grace of God avoided to be taken by the Empire and is now a Reble (They have no clue where or what he was up too for the past 7 years) which inspires them to lead a prison break. But in an act of selflessness, they make sure everyone gets out before them, which leads to their deaths. The Bridgers, even though they know they have a son waiting for them, a son who they last saw when he was seven chose to put everyone else above themselves.

This is selfness to the detriment of their son. They know Ezra is still alive, still waiting and still out their but they put the rebellion and everyone else before him.

TL:DR For all of Rebels the Bridgers never put Ezra first, they never put their family first. They sacrificed themselves for what they believed but that also meant constantly screwing over their son at every turn.

They were good people but people who should have never had a child because they would never prioritize that child.

[denrrucita]

We love space mom Hera, but we also love mom Mira, for being kind, affectionate and for teaching moral values ​​to our blueberry boy with her husband Ephraim!

Excuse my bad english!