billthebullfrogs

Latest Posts by billthebullfrogs

please tell me your going to do park 2 of down under 🙏🙏

gahh tbh I don't know where to go with it yet, but I'll come up with something!!!

DOWN UNDER— A Robert Irwin Fanfiction

Summary: You came to Australia Zoo for a fresh start—art, koalas, and maybe a little courage. You didn’t plan on breaking down behind the exhibit on day one. And you definitely didn’t plan on Robert Irwin finding you there. A soft slow-burn about healing, overstimulation, and the boy who sees you anyway.

Cover: @meximex090

PART ONE── ⟡ ˙🌱 ̟

You had promised your therapist you'd take it easy. And really, you tried. But after the last school year took EVERYTHING out of you, and you had to take a break, you decided you didn't wanna keep going like this. How would you get more resilient if you didn't test yourself?

You were hypersensitive. That meant you were basically living on full volume without an off button. Emotions, smells, textures and tastes overwhelmed you like quantum physics would a third grader. It sucked, but you felt it made your art better— more real, maybe. That's why your therapist suggested you go to Paris for your gap year. Or a quiet place in the Highlands, or a little village in Italy. And yes, that sounded good. Really good, in fact, you almost decided to do exactly that.

But then you got that gut feeling. That little tingle telling you to finally dare something. To risk something. And, even though you were the epitome of a scared little mouse, you'd promised yourself to finally start living.

That's what led you to the Australia Zoo— the place for weather that literally melted off your shoes, masses of people trying to squeeze through the roads all at the same time and noises that made you bite your lip and cover your ears in frustration. It was truly ironic. A person like you in the land down under. But it wasn't all bad. It would be a great opportunity for your art. You could finally draw with live models. Drawing wildlife was your favorite thing to do, and in one of the biggest zoos in the world, there was plenty of it. Especially Koalas. The sleepy little marsupials had captured your heart ever since you watched Crickey! with your dad when you were a kid.

And, let's be honest— Robert Irwin was the other, secret reason for your bold choice. You'd always had a sort of parasocial crush on the conservationist, how could you not? He was gorgeous. Especially his ways of treating animals. Like they were breakable. Not in a bad way, never, but he made their fragility seem like it was something beautiful. That spoke to you. And how he didn't scare away from bigger animals like crocodiles or pythons made your heart flutter— he had this way of appreciating life with a passion not many people got to feel. But you guessed it was an Irwin thing. His sister, Bindi, and his mother also had this sort of sunshiney aura, and you didn't even have to mention Steve— you felt like Robert and his dad shared a lot of resemblances.

So, there you were. Standing in the middle of the Australia Zoo, crowded by screaming kids and their parents who tried to get them under control. It was then you really began to question your decision. A person like you in a place like this? What made you think this was a good idea?

But now it was too late for regret. You tried to shrug it off. When a worker approached you, offering you a tour of the place after she found out you were new, you gladly took her up on the offer. It was a necessary distraction.

"And here," she pointed to a big eucalyptus tree within a fenced area, "are the Koalas. We check on them every day, the little guys are quite clumsy."

I know, you wanted to say. That's why I love them. Instead, you gave a small smile. She asked if you had any questions, but you barely registered it, because you heard a familiar voice from afar. Robert Irwin. He was probably doing a crocodile show, like the ones you'd seen on videos and blushed like an idiot around. A part of you hoped that he'd be there. But the other really just shut down. This was a bad idea, you thought.

Apparently, the worker noticed you were zoned out. "Oh, that's the croc show. Happens everyday at about 1.30 pm, it's a bit loud, but you get used to it. You wanna see?" She smiled. You panicked a bit. Honestly, as much as you'd like an opportunity to ogle Robert like you were no better than a man, the crocoseum was really overfilled— especially since he did the show. You didn't think you could take that right now.

So you shook your head. "No, thank you." The worker nodded and kept explaining things about the zoo. You tried to listen, and somehow managed to register most of the information she gave you, even though your mind wandered throughout the conversation. Hopefully, this would go alright.

── ⟡ ˙🌱 ̟

It did, in fact, not go alright.

You should’ve known it would be like this. You’d been warned— by travel blogs, by Reddit threads, even by your aunt who did a yoga retreat here in the 90s. Australia is intense, they all said. The sun, the bugs, the colors. The way the air hums at a different frequency.

But you still weren’t prepared for the noise.

And now, on your first real day volunteering at the zoo, (yesterday's introduction didn't count) you sat curled up behind the Koala exhibition, pressing your hands to your ears and trying to shut off that damn manual breathing that was just a little too fast to be comfortable. It was like your lungs didn't fill up properly, like you were starved for air even though you were breathing just fine. Your stupid khaki clothes felt a little too tight, too restraining, and you felt hot. Kids were screaming, the adults didn't have a concept of personal space and somehow always seemed to wanna walk by when there was no room to let them. Animal noises, that weird zoo smell, the sun burning your skin. Everything overflowed. And what made it worse is that you thought you could handle it. You thought you'd gotten strong enough to survive— yet here you were, getting overstimulated on your first day of the job.

It was frustrating, you wanted to bite your tongue really hard or punch something, but instead, you cried. You didn't want to, but it was like your brain saw it as the only way to calm down again. Though it just made everything worse, because now there was no way out. You always felt intensely. Sometimes it was nice, but most of the time, it made you end up like this— crying, with no way to stop.

You tried to think of something to distract yourself. Koalas, the way they sleepily waddled from tree to tree. It almost worked. Almost. But of course, your feelings were too big. That made you cry more. And then—

"Hey, you alright there?"

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please. Not now, not him. You didn't have to look up to know who that voice belonged to. Yet you did, anyway. And there he was.

The Robert Irwin.

This was just too cliché to be true, you almost scoffed. The sun was setting, painting the Australia Zoo a golden hue. It smelled like that indescribable smell of those summer evenings spent sitting outside with friends. You were at your literal dream destination, and Robert Irwin actually talked to you like he was a damn saint. For some reason, that made you feel worse. The man who made kindness look effortless, the man who cared about the smallest of beings, was taking time out of his day to talk to you, and you were sitting there, unable to do literally anything. Well, it wasn't like he came here just for you. He was probably going to check in with the Koalas or something.

You couldn't bring yourself to reply.

However, instead of laughing, scoffing, or telling you to suck it up, he silently sat down next to you, seemingly not afraid of getting dirty sitting on the ground. Well, he did wrestle crocodiles for a living, a little dirt wouldn't stop him.

And then, he started talking.

"You're new, yeah? For your gap year? Heard Zoey talk about an artist who took a break from uni to come here."

He kept going.

"I've always admired people who can draw. While photography is kinda my thing, I've got two left hands when it comes to art like that," he chuckled, and it sounded heavenly. You sniffled, trying to pull yourself together. You finally managed to form a reply.

"My art's still a work in progress.." You huffed out a soft, watery laugh.

"But that doesn't make it bad," he said, turning to look at you. "Not at all, actually. Art doesn't have to look good, it just has to be, y'know? You got all your life to practice. What's your favorite thing to draw?"

After a moment, you replied.

"Koalas."

You couldn't believe it. You were just barely holding it together, and now you talked to Robert Irwin about Koalas. Meanwhile, he just nodded.

"Ah. I get it. Marsupials are the best for calming down. Well, Koalas are. Kangoroos can be pretty wild, almost had one fight me once. Can't recommend that. But Koalas are chill." He smiled. "Did you know that they sleep about 20 hours a day?"

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, cause eucalyptus leaves aren't exactly the most nutritious. They're honestly a mood."

"True. You should really meet Marley. She's one of our Koalas here, and she's a diva. Gets real pissed when you wake her up at the wrong time." He huffed out a laugh. "It's understandable, though." He paused.

"…you feeling better now?"

You hesitated, before nodding. "Yeah, I… thank you. I'm just— my stupid brain shuts down at every bit of stimulation. Maybe I shouldn't have gone here for my gap year.." It was kind of humiliating, admitting this to your… who even was he to you? Technically, a stranger. Why were you telling this a stranger? What was going on with you? Shit. Before you could spiral further, he spoke up again.

"That's just not true. You know, it's not a bad thing to feel. My dad always admired people who are passionate. And you know what I think? I think this is the place for you. Yeah, I get that the crowds can be overwhelming, but you got the Koalas, don't ya? And the Cassowaries and Wombats and Sugar Gliders… You get the point. Not every human will get you, but the animals do."

You looked at him.

"Why are you doing this?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Why are you so patient with me? You barely know me."

"So?"

That simple question rewired your brain. So? He didn't have to know you to understand you. After a moment, you gave him a small smile.

"Thank you."

He gave your shoulder a light pat and got up. "No biggie. Now, c'mon. I gotta show you Marley."

Robert didn't even give you time to think. Possibly because he knew that sometimes, thinking was not good for you. And so you followed him. Maybe this wasn't gonna be so bad. You had your art, you had the animals and friendly coworkers and him. He was, you couldn't pretend, the best thing that happened to you that evening. You still didn't understand why he took that time for you— he was really busy most of the day, after all. But for some reason, he did. And you were incredibly thankful for that.

Now, the only thing you had to watch out for was falling for him. Like, actually falling in love. That had always been a stupid idea for you. But after that evening, the numbers were not looking good for you at all. Fate, if there was such a thing, didn't seem to be on your side. You bit back a sigh.

As if reading your mind, he looked over at you.

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Like hell you were.

sure thing.

“Hey, firecracker,” a voice—unmistakable, to you, at least —calls from behind, and you instantly knew who it was. “Need to talk to you.”

There was only one person that would call you that nickname. Luke Castellan, the bane of your existence, thought it was extremely funny to remind you of that one time you almost burnt down the pavilion. The moment they figured out it was you; you had earned the nickname you dreaded so much. He loved reminding you of embarrassing stuff you did. You desperately wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. What did he even want? Didn’t he have something better to do than to bother you?

He leaned against one of the posts in the arena, eyebrows raised expectantly. He just needed a change from training the newbies. He wanted to go all out, and the best person to do that with was sadly you. Well, at least the satisfaction he’d get from beating you—because he would beat you, obviously, was totally worth it.

You sighed, “What?”

“Need a sparring partner, that's all,” he said, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, now accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “And I'd rather have you than anyone in this camp.”

“That sounded too nice for your standards... Are you that desperate?” Your eyes narrowed; you were skeptical.

“Desperate to beat your ass, yes," he said, an easy laugh breaking past the steely look on his face. Luke was aware of the fact that he often annoyed you, and maybe he liked it just a little. "Besides, I wanna try some new sword techniques I came up with. So, whaddya say? Pretty please?" His head tilted a little when he said that, he was giving you that look.

You were silent, biting your lips just like you always did when you were focused. After a moment, you gave in. “Fine,” you said. Maybe you’d benefit from this, too.

"That’s my girl," he said as he casually walked toward you. "I promise not to go easy on you. If you feel like you're gonna trip and impale yourself with my sword, just say the word, alright?" A smirk flitted past his lips, though his words seemed genuine enough. Luke knew you would never stop being rivals. But the feeling of respect he had for you was real. He trusted you and even cared for you, but he’d rather commit war crimes than admit that.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you got into your signature fighting stance. Maybe this was a mistake, but if you gave up already, he’d think you’d gotten cold feet.

“If you ask nicely.”

That smug bastard. You hated him with all your heart. You hated his stupid smile and the way he made everyone around him feel comfortable, even you. You hated the butterflies he gave you. You hated his guts.

With a smooth slashing motion towards his torso, you started the fight. He blocked it with ease. Without a further word, Luke went in towards you with a quick and precise strike, sword arm extended forward in a tight grip with the tip aimed towards your sternum. He wanted to overwhelm you, thinking you hadn’t improved since the last time you sparred. But oh, was he wrong.

You’ve been watching him, his rather aggressive style of fighting, and the look in his eyes when he tried a certain move for a long time now. You’ve fought him many times before, and you were getting the hang of it. You’ve been training a lot, and while he was busy with the new campers, you had developed your own, unique fighting style. He knew you as a pretty good fighter, who could almost keep up with him on a good day. Almost. But now, you’d surpass his expectations. You blocked his hit, your body moving smoothly like liquid. Instead of using all your strength to try and withstand his attacks, you just gave in. Let loose. You used the force of his hit and channeled it, transferring it into your own with ease. He did not see that coming.

You'd always had a strong sense of intuition and your body would respond accordingly, as if it had a mind of its own. Luke was quick to counter, his body leaning back with a fluid motion to avoid any of your quick strikes, all the while trying to find an opening. The back-and-forth movement that was once just a spar has now become a deadly dance of swords, the two of you constantly in motion, no pause in sight. There is a certain excitement in the air, almost a spark that has ignited your mutual hostility and aggression.

Your movements were fluid as if you could predict all of Luke's moves in advance. You were a master of timing, of anticipating all of the demigod's strikes. Not once could he match your fluidity, his movements jerky compared to your graceful flow. There was something about the way you both fought so elegantly that made you feel like you were part of an agile performance, each of you matching the other's movements perfectly. It felt less like a fight and more like an art.

Yet even as you moved with effortless ease, the clash of swords kept you both on your toes, your bodies moving in such perfect sync that neither could find a flaw in the other's defense. Your movements almost appeared as if you were both working together, but this was not the case—in fact, Luke was becoming more frustrated by the second as he strained to find a way to slip past your guard.

“You’ve improved,” he breathed out while you fought. “I like it.” The way he said that sent shivers up your spine. It was embarrassing how these words affected you so hard that you made a small mistake. It was a mistake that could happen to even the best swordsmen in history, but a mistake nonetheless. And it led to his sword held at your throat. You fucked up. And he made you feel it, the cold tip of his sword gently tapping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You prayed that he didn’t notice the color on your cheeks.

“You're distracted too easily.” He looked serious for once, that glint of smugness had left his eyes for just a moment. “I win again.” And there it was again, that stupid smile of his. He dropped his sword and held out a hand to help you up. You let him pull you up, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Did you get what you wanted out of this fight?” You asked, and he nodded. “Much better than trying to teach the newbies not to drop their swords while fighting.”

“Good,” you turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist. “Same time tomorrow?”

You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away, could’ve done ANYTHING, but instead, you looked at him and said, “Sure thing.”