#bdrpmarlin

@findingmarlins

Perdita had just gotten back from Paris last night, late. She’d been gone roughly two days and her feet were killing her and her back was killing her and she fell onto her bed after saying hello to Anita and was asleep within moments. Her alarm went off at eight, though, and she pushed herself out of bed, because she knew if she was going to get to see her babies before later tonight, she had to get up now. 

So, she pushed herself up, put on her exercise clothes because they were comfy and went to Paul’s to pick up the babies. 

She was sitting on a bench in the park, under the shade of one of the trees, Penelope napping after a few hours of play. Patrick was not. He was squirming in his seat, pushing his chest and pelvis out and making it impossible for Perdita to buckle him in properly. 

“Patrick Aaron,” she griped at him, though her voice wasn’t that harsh yet--

“Gah! Gah! Gah!” Patrick was saying and making grabby hands over Perdita’s shoulder.

“Stop squirming.”

“Gah! Gah!”

With a huff, Perdita turned and looked over her shoulder, glancing up from her crouch by the stroller. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of a familiar-ish face. It was bizarre, seeing him in this world. 

“Marlin!” she called out to him.

Belle gets into a sticky situation in the woods...

@baenxietydad

Spring was freshly upon them and Belle was out for a ride through the forest. It was a daily routine, of course. Belle always found time to take Philippe out. There was a rare time when she was not riding, at least once a day. Even with how busy she was. Nothing relaxed her more than getting in the saddle and going for a gallop through Enchantra.

Today, the sun was bright, though beginning to sink behind the trees. Belle breathed deeply as Philippe and her walked back from their canter, cooling down and enjoying this time together. When she got pregnant, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she had to give up riding again for a bit. The thought made her a bit melancholy, but it would be worth it, she thought, in the end. Philippe would adore having little ones around and he was mellowing out even more in his old age—he’d be perfect for Opal in a year or so.

She rubbed a circle in her horse’s shoulder, scratching him on that spot he like.

“You’re a good boy, Philippe,” she murmured to him fondly, the horse’s ears flicking back at the sound of her voice. He snorted in agreement.

The next moment, his ears flicked forward and he stopped square, his head lifting in alertness.

“Oh, what’s there, boy?” she asked him.

Philippe snorted again and a bush in front of them rustled. Something squeaked.

Belle pressed her heels into Philippe’s side. He stepped forward doubtfully and then stopped again. The bush rustled even more intensely now.

“Hm,” Belle hummed to herself and then, abandoning her scared cat one tonne beast, she hopped off him, looping his reigns over a low hanging branch. She stepped up to the bush, which she realized wasn’t a bush, but a thicket full of thorns. And there, in the middle, was a rabbit—caught in a trap.

“Oh!” Belle gasped. “You poor thing,” she cooed as the rabbit squeaked and jumped in fright, smacking against the side of cage it was in. The thorns were certainly enough to warn anyone off—unless you were Belle, who knew that she couldn’t leave the little rabbit all alone.

With a deep breath, she rolled down her sleeves, and leaned over the bush, sucking her stomach in so that she didn’t stab herself. She was—too short, even standing a bit on her tiptoes. Not to mention the thorns caught on her sleeves and scratched against her skin. There wasn’t anything to do for it though, even though—goodness that stung.

“Come along,” she grunted as she leaned further over the bush, her stomach now scratching against the surface of the thorns. It felt like the thorns were reaching towards her too, snaking around—

Wait! They were! The vines which held the thorns were moving.

They constricted around her arms and she felt one, then another pierce her skin. She shouted out in surprise and pain, making Philippe stomp and snort again, the rabbit was twitching even more in its cage, so that the metal contraption rattled about. The whole lot of them making quite a racket, but Belle was determined, even as sweat beaded on her forehead.

She reached down further, feeling the thorns slide through her skin like butter. There were tears in her eyes, but she managed to hook her finger on the top of the cage and she took a deep breath, yanking backwards as hard as she could. For the first time, she was glad of her lessons with Merida, because she felt her own strength as she planted her feet and pulled. Rescuing a rabbit was not really what her, nor Merida probably, envisioned when she’d first started but—

The cage came free of the thorns and it retreated back into itself. Belle fell backwards, onto her ass in the dirt, her hair a mess, and sticky blood dripped down her fingers. 

She clutched the cage in her lap and began fiddling with the latch.