life's like a movie, write your own ending.

you can read my rules there. primarily iconless, because i'm lazy. low activity.

i know the point of the movie is to emphasize that humans need to take care of the environment, or else there won't be an environment for them to protect, but i think it's dumb that the fairies can't plant trees of their own. so in my rewrite, they can and do. they serve as protectors of the forest, and they literally help it grow. It's up to humans to continue taking care of it and you know. Not kill it. The Ferngully fairies don't do all the work, but they help.

Crysta got over Zak pretty quick. Stepping into Magi's role left her with a lot of responsibilities. Zak was hardly on her mind, when all was said and done, but she would never forget him. In the end, he remained ... almost like a part of her "youth" that she had to leave behind. A crush.

didn't watch the second movie and i don't plan on it, so pips is mine now

❝ You're quite tense, Lady Nami. ❞

It appeared the battle had been difficult for all of their visitors; delicate fingers ran through her swordsman's hair. Yes, she had claimed him; although it was not official, and certainly not known whether Zoro would reciprocate... Hiyori was sure, she would win him over.

❝ That's not very good for your complexion. ❞

A rag dipped into water, to wipe the sweat away from Zoro's brow. She made a mental note, to have the doctors check for a fever.

❝ Don't worry. The kitchen will have a bountiful feast prepared by the time Zoro-juurou rises. He'll be able to drown himself in sake, if he so wishes. ❞

And with such a nagging navigator... who could blame the swordsman for drinking his stresses away?

❝ Why don't you visit some of the shops, in town? I'm sure your patronage would be appreciated. Zoro-juurou needs his rest, after all. ❞ Hiyori regards the other woman with a look, up and down. A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

❝ You might disturb him. ❞

Over the palace walls and out into the marketplace, she had made it as far as the nearest shipyard, before the palace guards came rushing to her "rescue." Razoul and the other guards couldn't babysit the princess 24/7; it led Jasmine's father to a conclusion that made the princess absolutely sick. A bodyguard.

Overall, he would be a babysitter. Someone assigned to her, permanently, to ensure she didn't misbehave. To ensure she minded the rules, and couldn't run away, no matter how hard she tried.

A bodyguard was certainly better than a new, princely suitor.

A gilded cage was still a cage. A guard to keep her locked inside, by any other name...

She had been cleaned from head-to-toe and dressed that morning, with orders to assemble downstairs immediately. The fully grown Bengal tiger followed close behind.

He stood out against the pristine marble floors; the shade of his hair was one she had never seen before, in their area of the world. And while she had expected him to be strong, she underestimated the lengths her father had gone to. From far away, she assumed they were near the same age. The closer she got, the more it appeared his features were carved and chiseled by the gods, themselves.

They say he's the son of a god, she'd heard Razoul murmur to the other guards a few days prior, and they had muttered and scoffed in response. Jealousy, she surmised.

Jasmine was inclined to believe the rumors, upon actually seeing him.

"Jasmine, this is Hercules. He's been assigned to protect you. He's a kind, trustworthy young man--- he'll be an excellent addition to our staff, here," her father smiled, as clueless and as good-natured as ever. It was so hard for princess to be frustrated with him, when her father was so sweet.

The sultan excused himself, with his own duties to attend to--- leaving Jasmine to show her new bodyguard around.

Rajah greeted the help with a growl, prowling forward to assess the demigod.

❝ Rajah has been my protector, until now, ❞ the princess lifted her head, lips pursing. ❝ I don't think he'll care all that much to share the duty. I apologize for him. ❞ An empty apology with an air of sass.

She regarded him once more, before leading him down the grand corridor, into the courtyard.

She could practically hear Razoul's booming voice, all the way up in her room. Her handmaidens were in a tizzy. A thief was in the palace! The scandal. Jasmine was mostly surprised that someone had the guts to go over those palace walls--- the ones that had done so well at keeping her in.

Perhaps she should have been more alarmed, now that the thief had found his way into her room. He didn't look very scary, though. She could tell he wasn't from Agrabah, which was already intriguing in itself.

❝ Oh, context definitely isn't going to do you any favors. ❞

The princess tilted her head. Dark irises wander to the bag in his hand, and her lips pursed. The guards were relentless, she could hear their footsteps pounding upon marble floors. All she had to do was open her mouth... and let out a tiny, little scream. She was certain they were already on the way to protect her (a little too late), but they would be faster than a magic carpet, knowing the princess had been cornered by the thief.

A hand landed upon her faithful tiger's back. He growled at the thief, prowling forward, to ensure nobody was cornered, except the stranger in their midst.

THE CARROT OF FRIENDSHIP HAS BEEN ACCEPTED!

She wished she could ignore the pang of her heart, when she laid eyes on him again. The urge to jump into his arms and never look back. He seemed stunned, like he’d seen a ghost, and Lola supposed he had, in a sense. In his eyes, she didn’t see the fury she expected upon her return. Only astonishment, and devotion —- he’d waited all this time. Shouldn’t he be angry at her? Shouldn’t he be shouting, scolding her? Or perhaps even looking the other way, like he hadn’t seen her at all. Lola wouldn’t blame him, if he ignored her. If he never wanted to see her again.

“Aster,” she breathed, ready to face his wrath. She would take any verbal lashings she received, as she was sure she deserved them. After all, what kind of a person just did what she'd done? Up and left, in search of something more fulfilling? Why did she need more, when he had been right here?

"I know you're mad, and I would be too---"

She’d always thought no one would miss her, should she disappear. She never thought her presence made a difference to anyone. Bravado was easy to fake, but at the end of the day, she was sure nobody cared.

Until she found herself swept in his arms again, short of breath. She was hesitant to wrap her arms around his neck, but she did, tucking her head at his chin.

Well... she certainly hadn't been looking for him. It appeared, though, that his eyes had been set out for her. Weird. An automatic assumption that he wanted something, paired with the appeasing, saccharine smile of discomfort.

He grinned over his beer, muscle twitching at her touch. Maybe subconsciously flexing for her. His tattoos were a show of pride; the one on his back, more than the one on his arm. Still, it was special to him --- even though it had been a goofy mistake, to start off with. Its symbolism was a little too close to mirroring his real life; although, a little self-deprecating humor was never far off. A little easier to explain, than what it really symbolized.

"I think you got a little too much faith in my spellin'."

He rest his chin in his palm, a belch following the swig of his beer.

"'Scuse me." He was taught to be polite, not charming.

"How 'bout yours?" His eyes wandered to her upper arm. The tattoo didn't entirely mask her scars, but it caught the eye well enough. He'd never seen anything like it, and despite its size, it managed to be elegant and ornamental, all at once. He smiled at her, bright and welcoming, and ready to listen to whatever she was willing to share.