#Bindi irwin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jasclearwaters · 2 months ago

Text

Learn to Fly

Robert Irwin x Surfer! OC

Summary: After a life-changing event, Kendra is forced to adjust to a new reality. When an unexpected invitation from Robert Irwin arrives, she must navigate the challenges of recovery, her relationships, and what comes next.

Warnings: injury, emotional distress

Part One

If there was one thing I couldn’t live without, it was surfing. There was nothing like being on the water, just me and the waves, every rise and fall syncing with my body like it was all meant to be. Nothing else gave me that feeling. Nothing.

It was another typical day at the beach. Gabbie and I were out in the water, but we stopped surfing a while ago. Now we were just floating in the shallow water, watching my dad ride the waves with her older brother. Josh, on the other hand, was on the beach, all over his girlfriend Ashlund like usual.

"Do you think he's gonna be like this forever?" I asked, rolling my eyes at Josh and Ashlund, who were practically glued together. They’d been like this since they started dating. Josh didn’t want to surf anymore, didn’t want to hang out with Gabbie and me. It was getting old, fast.

“I sure hope not, ‘cause this is just gross,” Gabbie said, laughing at my exaggerated grimace. She knew all about my crush on him, even if Josh was clueless.

"I don’t get it. She's so boring. I never see them laughing together. We used to laugh all the time," I said, sighing as dramatically as I could.

“Don’t worry. He’ll come crawling back. We’ll just look like we’re having the time of our lives, and he’ll get jealous.”

I started to ask how we were going to pull that off, but Gabbie beat me to it. She splashed me hard enough to soak me from head to toe. Oh, it was on. We had this unspoken rule—we didn’t really care about winning, just about having fun. We went back and forth until we couldn’t anymore.

I glanced over at Josh again, but he didn’t even seem to notice us. My stomach sank. Gabbie caught the look on my face.

“Let’s just go to Kalypso’s without him,” she said, “and not bring him back a drink.”

It was the perfect plan. We were about to head back to shore when I felt something rough brush against my leg. Probably a sea turtle, I thought, but I didn’t think much of it.

Then I felt a pull. At first, I thought it was just one of those annoying pranks Malia, Gabbie’s niece, loved pulling—grabbing our legs to drag us under. But the tug wasn’t playful. It was strong and sharp, and when it yanked me under, the panic hit. That wasn’t Malia. That was a shark.

I looked down, and sure enough, it had a chunk of me in its mouth. I swung my fist, aiming for its nose, but when I made eye contact with its black, beady eyes, I froze. The shark twisted side to side like it was shaking a rope. And then I saw the blood. The water around me was turning pink.

I barely remember much after that, just flashes—Gabbie screaming for help, warning everyone about the shark. I could hear my dad and Joseph getting closer, their voices frantic as they yelled at Gabbie to get out of the water. I wanted to scream, too, but the pain was too much.

I could see Gabbie’s face, her eyes wide with terror. She looked at me for a split second, but then she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her board and started hitting the shark with everything she had. It let go.

I didn’t feel the shark bite me. I didn’t even feel the pain anymore. I just felt numb. I didn’t feel anything when my dad and Joseph dragged me to shore or when Josh used his leash to tie a tourniquet around my leg. The leg I wouldn’t have anymore.

The ambulance came fast. I still don’t remember most of it. I held onto my dad like he told me to, but all I could think was that my surfing career—everything I cared about—was gone.

---

It’s been two months since the attack, and somehow, that wild moment turned into this whole movement. The clip Gabbie recorded in my hospital room was meant as a quick update for our friends—just a two-minute thing where I explained how I was fine, that it was just a shark doing what sharks do. But it spread faster than any of us expected. The local news picked it up first, then some bigger outlets, and soon strangers from everywhere were tagging me in posts, turning my words into some message about resilience and protecting marine life.

Nat Geo even reached out. Reporters called, organizations tagged me in shark conservation posts, and by the time I left the hospital, it felt like the whole world had an eye on what I’d do next. For a girl who just loved surfing, the attention was bizarre, but a part of me couldn’t help feeling proud. I’d gone through something brutal, and somehow, it had turned into something bigger.

Now I’m home. Dad and I walk into Kalypso’s, the whole place packed with people I know: the bar staff, some of Dad’s buddies from the fire station, the kids I used to teach in surf classes, even old high school friends. Everyone is there, and for the first time since the accident, everything feels almost normal.

Jake, Kalypso’s owner, is the first to spot me, pulling me into a huge hug. “There she is! The girl of the hour!” he says, grinning, and I feel that familiar warmth from all the years we’ve spent in this place. Soon, Dad’s friends are slapping him on the back, talking about how they couldn’t believe he’d raised such a “local legend,” while kids I used to teach surf lessons to run up for high fives, all excited and starry-eyed.

Then I spot Gabbie and Josh standing in the back, and they rush over. Gabbie hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe, her voice already breaking. “You have no idea how proud I am of you,” she whispers. Josh, who’s usually got a laugh or some dumb joke ready, just gives me a quiet hug, and I sense something’s off, but I brush it aside. I’m home, surrounded by the people I love. That’s all that matters tonight.

---

A few days later, I’m back at the beach, determined to get on my board again. The waves are small, nothing intimidating, and Dad’s here with me, steady and calm, like he’s always been.

But as soon as I try to paddle out, I feel the difference. My balance is shaky, my movements off. The prosthetic feels heavier, like it’s dragging me down, and each wave that crashes against me just throws me further off. I can’t get it right. Frustration bubbles up, and soon, I’m slapping the water, my voice shaking as I mutter, “Come on… just work with me here.”

Dad paddles over, giving me a steady look. “Take it easy, Ken. You’ve been through a lot.”

But the words just make me feel worse. I don’t want to “take it easy”—I want to feel normal again. My whole life, the ocean has been where I felt most at home, and now it feels like a stranger. I swallow back the frustration, watching the waves roll on without me, wondering if I’ll ever truly belong here again.

---

Later, as I’m heading back to my car, still damp and salty from the ocean, I spot Ashlund leaning against her truck in the parking lot. She watches me for a second, then pushes off and walks toward me with her phone in hand. She doesn’t bother with small talk—just holds it out, her face unreadable.

“Here,” she says, her tone flat.

I frown but take the phone, glancing down. A video is paused on the screen, and I already feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hit play, and there it is—Josh and Gabbie, on a beach, laughing together, her leaning into him. And then, clear as day, they’re kissing.

I don’t have words. Just this hollow feeling growing in my chest. I hand the phone back, and Ashlund raises an eyebrow, looking almost smug.

“Thought you’d want to know,” she says, her voice laced with something sharp.

I walk away, numb. For so long, I’ve been focused on staying strong, on pushing through the pain and finding my way back to the things I love. But this? This feels like a different kind of hurt.

---

That night, I sit alone in my room, staring at my surfboard, wondering if I’ll ever ride the waves the way I used to. I feel raw, as though the ocean has slipped away from me just when I need it most. And two of the people I thought would be there for me, are gone too.

Just as I’m sinking into that hollow feeling, my phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a sender I don’t recognize, but the subject catches my eye immediately: “Steve Irwin Gala Invitation.”

I open it, my pulse quickening as I read the details. The invitation is to a gala in Las Vegas, celebrating wildlife conservation efforts, with Robert Irwin himself as the main speaker. They want me to come as a guest of honor, to speak on my story, and how it’s inspired others.

The ache in my chest lightens, just a little, replaced by a spark of excitement.

TAGS: @nicolej04 @honethatty12 @serenityisanerd @acdassenza @em-writes-posts @serenityisanerd @amanda08319 @x-d1vine @moonlighthycanith @hippiemuppet @sonthingwithl @ajuice-matts @lflores2008 @ac3may

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part

#robert irwin imagines #robertirwin #robert irwin hcs #robert irwin x reader #australia zoo #robert irwin #bindi irwin

28 notes · View notes

jasclearwaters · 2 months ago

Text

Learn to Fly

Robert Irwin x Surfer! OC

Summary: After a life-changing event.

Kendra is forced to adjust to a new reality.

When an unexpected invitation from

Robert Irwin arrives, she must navigate the

challenges of recovery, her relationships, and

what comes next.

Warnings: none

A/N: tell me what you think! thanks for the love on part one. also lmk if i should make a fic playlist

Part Two

Walking into the grand ballroom in Las Vegas, I’m hit by a wave of sound and movement. Everything’s on another level—people mingling, laughing, dressed in gowns and tuxes that seem plucked right from a red-carpet premiere. It’s surreal, a complete 180 from my usual day-to-day back in Hawaii, and I can already feel my pulse picking up.

But this? This isn’t about me tonight. It’s about something bigger. That’s what keeps me grounded as I look around the room, trying to spot Robert. And then—there he is, standing near the stage, looking completely in his element.

When our eyes meet, he gives me this wide, easy smile, one that just immediately disarms me. Texting back and forth with him over the last few weeks, I thought I’d had a sense of his vibe, but seeing him in person is a whole other thing. The guy has this energy—open, warm, like someone who’d just as easily sit down for hours chatting with you about conservation as he would dive right into the ocean to save a turtle.

“Robert!” I say, moving toward him, feeling my own smile widening. There’s a moment when he just looks at me, like he’s taking in every detail, and I can’t help but notice the way he lights up seeing me here.

“Kendra, you made it!” He steps forward, extending a hand, but then, almost impulsively, pulls me into a hug. I’m a little taken aback, but it feels genuine—like we’re already friends, and honestly, it’s the best way to be greeted right now.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I tell him, and it’s true. Even beyond my work, the last few weeks of talking to Robert had made this feel like the right place to be, like we were on some parallel track.

He introduces me to a few key people: colleagues from the zoo, donors, conservationists, his family. Everyone’s warm and welcoming, but my attention keeps slipping back to him. Every time he speaks, there’s this quiet confidence, this unfiltered passion that you can’t fake. And it’s almost distracting—I can feel myself drawn to it, a kind of intrigue mixed with attraction I hadn’t expected.

Soon, Robert’s mom, Terri, takes the stage to introduce him for his speech. She’s a striking woman, blonde like Robert, and carries herself with a kind of effortless elegance. The room quiets, and all eyes turn to her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight,” Terri begins, her voice smooth, confident. “It’s my absolute pleasure to introduce my son, Robert, a man who is not only dedicated to the cause of conservation but also embodies the spirit of kindness and perseverance. I’ve watched him grow into the incredible person he is today, and I couldn’t be prouder of the work he’s doing.”

I see Robert standing off to the side, a slight flush in his cheeks, but there’s a warmth in his smile as he nods at his mom. There’s something special about the way she speaks of him, the pride unmistakable.

“Robert,” she continues, “has always had a deep connection to the world around him. From the moment he could walk, he was out there, in the ocean, in the forests, always fascinated by the life and beauty in the world that most people overlook. Tonight, we’re here not only to raise funds but to continue supporting his vision, his work. So, without further ado, my son, Robert.”

Robert steps onto the stage with a calm confidence that instantly fills the room. He’s wearing a simple but sharp black tuxedo, his blonde hair perfectly styled, and his blue eyes scan the crowd with that same warmth and openness I’ve come to know.

“Thank you, Mom,” he says with a soft smile, before addressing the room. His voice is clear, easy to listen to, carrying without effort across the crowd. “Thank you all for being here tonight. The work we do—the habitats we protect, the animals we save, the ecosystems we restore—it’s not just a job for me. It’s a passion, and it’s something I believe in deeply. But it’s also a responsibility. And with that responsibility comes the chance to make a real, lasting change.”

As he speaks, his gaze shifts toward me in the crowd, catching my eyes for a brief second before moving back to his audience. The brief connection sends a wave of warmth through me, and I feel the slightest blush creeping up. He’s not just talking about conservation; he’s talking about something bigger—about a cause that feels like it’s right at the core of who he is.

“We live in a world where so much is lost every day, where so many species face extinction, where entire habitats vanish overnight. But tonight, all of you here—you’re proof that we can choose a different path. We can choose to fight for something bigger than ourselves.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. There’s a quiet intensity in his tone that pulls me in deeper. He’s not up there for applause; he’s up there to inspire action, to rally the room, and it’s working. When he finishes, the room bursts into applause, and I find myself clapping with an enthusiasm I didn’t even realize I had. Robert is already stepping down from the stage, and as he returns to where I’m standing, he gives me a grin.

“Not bad, huh?” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“You were amazing,” I tell him, meaning every word. He looks at me for a second, surprised but pleased by my sincerity.

“Thanks, Kendra. That... means a lot,” he says softly.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversations and introductions, but it’s like we’re in our own little bubble. Every chance he gets, Robert comes back to check on me, to share a quick joke or tell me a story. And every time he does, I feel that pull a little stronger.

Then, as the evening continues, it’s my turn. I step up to the podium, and I can feel the weight of everything—my body, the room, the moment. I glance down at my prosthetic leg. Some days, it feels like it’s still not fully mine, and tonight is no different. But I’m here, standing, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I begin, my voice steady, but it’s not as firm as I want it to be. There’s a softness, an edge of vulnerability that I’m still getting used to. “I’m honored to be standing here. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard.”

I pause for a moment, letting the weight of my words sink in. The room is silent, waiting, but I can feel the rush of emotions—the fear, the sadness, the anger. It’s all still there, just beneath the surface.

“A little over two months ago, I was attacked by a shark. I never thought I’d be saying those words. I never thought I’d be standing here, in front of all of you, sharing this part of my story. But here I am.”

I take a breath, my fingers gripping the podium a little tighter. “I lost my leg in the attack. And every day since has been a challenge. Learning to walk, finding my balance again, re-learning how to move—some days, it feels like I’ll never get there. Some days, it’s hard to even imagine it.”

My prosthetic feels heavy. But I refuse to let it hold me back. “But here’s the thing: I’m still here. I’m still alive. And I’m not going to let fear or anger dictate my life. I’m not going to vilify sharks for what happened to me.”

I look out at the crowd, letting the silence stretch for a moment, knowing this might be hard for some to hear. “The ocean is a beautiful, dangerous, unpredictable place. But it’s also home. Home to creatures—creatures who are just like us, trying to survive. Sharks are part of that world. They’re not monsters. They’re not villains. They are part of an ecosystem that we’ve spent too long trying to control and destroy.”

I shift my weight slightly, feeling the prosthetic shift with me. It’s not easy. It’s a reminder of the new reality I’m facing every single day. But I won’t let it stop me.

“I could have chosen to live in fear. I could have let this experience shape me into someone who hated sharks, who wanted revenge. But that’s not going to help anyone. It won’t stop attacks from happening, and it certainly won’t help protect the oceans. We need to stop vilifying sharks. They’re misunderstood. And it’s on us to change the narrative.”

I take a slow breath, my voice catching for just a moment. “I’m standing here today because I want to make sure that when people hear my story, they don’t just see a victim. I want them to see someone who is choosing to use what happened to her as a way to educate, to make a difference. I’m not here to spread fear. I’m here to spread understanding.”

I look toward Robert, who’s standing by. His face is soft, filled with admiration, and it gives me strength to keep going.

“I know the ocean is a dangerous place. I know that shark attacks happen. But I also know that sharks are not the enemy. They are essential to our ecosystem. And if we’re ever going to protect them, we need to change how we think about them.”

I let the silence hang for a moment. The words feel like they’re settling into the room, into my heart.

“I’ve been through a lot in the past two months. And I’m still adjusting, still figuring out how to live in this new body. But I’m still here. And I will keep talking about sharks. I will keep spreading awareness about the importance of protecting them. I’m not going to let this experience define me. I’m going to let it empower me.”

The room is quiet for a beat, and then the applause starts—soft at first, then louder, stronger. I can feel it in my bones, in my chest. This is why I’m here. This is why I’m fighting.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice softer now, a little breathless. I step back from the podium, the relief washing over me.

I barely noticed the applause ending as I slipped offstage. My prosthetic, sleek as it was, felt like a lead weight by now. I scanned the room, looking for somewhere to sit, and Dad appeared, right on cue, his steady hand finding my shoulder.

“You good?” he asked, eyes full of quiet concern.

I took a breath, adjusting my stance. “Fine. Just… it’s been on all night.”

He nodded. “Alright, sit tight. You’ve earned a break.”

Dad and Robert guided me over to a quiet corner, where I sank into a chair with a relieved sigh.

“You nailed it,” Robert said, smiling as he settled into the seat next to me.

“Thanks. Means a lot, coming from an icon like you.” I lifted the prosthetic a few inches. “Could’ve done without lugging this anchor around all night, but… you know, fashion.”

Robert chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that made him feel less like a wildlife star and more like a real person. After a moment, Dad gave my shoulder a gentle pat, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Robert glanced at him as he left. “Your dad’s great,” he said. “He told me a little about his rescue work—wildfires and all that. Pretty amazing stuff.”

“Yeah, he slips it in whenever he can. It’s kind of his legacy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But honestly, I probably wouldn’t be here without him. I mean, I was barely six when he dragged me along to my first beach cleanup.”

Robert’s expression softened. “Like father, like daughter, then?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “Been obsessed with the ocean ever since. Guess that’s something we have in common.”

“I get it,” he replied, leaning in slightly, his tone low and thoughtful. “I grew up in it too. The rainforest, the reefs… it’s like they’ve got a pulse, you know? You think you’re in control, but you’re really not.”

I smiled, nodding. We spent the next half hour swapping stories, like we’d known each other for years. He talked about diving in the Great Barrier Reef, rescuing stray joeys in the outback, and the strangely adorable quirks of orphaned wallabies. I shared memories of dawn surf sessions, early morning runs along the shore, and the quiet peace of just me and the waves.

“Surfing’s my blood,” I told him. “It’s like church out there—me and the ocean. Clears my head like nothing else.”

He nodded, understanding. “And it’s not just a hobby for you, huh? It’s like a philosophy, almost.”

“Exactly.” I smiled, grateful that he got it. “It’s more than a place. The whole ecosystem, it’s like… a family. And I’d do anything to protect it.”

As I spoke, he was quiet, listening, and I felt this unspoken understanding settle between us, like he got me in a way most people didn’t. Just as I was about to ask him something, he glanced at his watch, frowning slightly.

“Ah… actually, I’m heading back to Australia soon,” he said. “Family stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” I replied, keeping my tone light. “Don’t you ever get tired of hopping around the world, saving wildlife and all?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Not exactly. But… listen, have you ever been to Australia?”

I shook my head. “Always wanted to go. I was basically raised on Crocodile Hunter reruns.”

He studied me for a moment, eyes narrowing as if he were weighing an idea. “So… you’d be game for it?”

“Absolutely,” I said, thinking it was hypothetical.

He paused, looking away, then back at me with something almost nervous in his expression. “Well, what if you came back with me?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning, a bit of that carefree charm reappearing. “I know it’s a little random. But think about it—I could show you the reefs, the outback. There’s this wildlife rehabilitation project we’ve been working on with the zoo, helping with the recovery of the dugong population along the coast. We’ve been monitoring the ecosystem, trying to protect it from illegal fishing and pollution. Thought you might be into it. It’s all about preserving what’s left out there.”

It was a crazy offer, the kind that seemed too good to be true. But as he looked at me, waiting, my heart raced.

He was serious. The question hung there between us, and I couldn’t help but wonder…

TAGS: @nicolej04 @honethatty12 @serenityisanerd @acdassenza @em-writes-posts @serenityisanerd @amanda08319 @x-d1vine @moonlighthycanith @hippiemuppet @sonthingwithl @ajuice-matts @lflores2008 @ac3may

Let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list for the next part! Until next time, XOXO.

#robert irwin #robert irwin x reader #australia zoo #robert irwin imagines #robert irwin hcs #bindi irwin #robertirwin #Spotify

18 notes · View notes