#barty blake

[m0nk3y-bl0g]

Daphne's parents canonically have sex every Tuesday and I'm really not sure what Warner Bros wanted me to do with this information

[i-am-saileen-daughter]

•°. BLAKE FAMILY AESTHETIC!

(well, at least in my view.)

[incorrectsdmi]

*Daphne is in labor*

Daphne: OW! Where is that big needle?! I was promised a big needle!

Nan: I think we're getting close. Since the father's not here, I'll go in the delivery room with you.

Daphne: *looks to Shaggy for help*

Shaggy: Or I'm, like, happy to go if you want.

Daphne: *nods*

Judy: *puts a hand on Daphne's shoulder* Fred'll be here.

Nan: If he were gonna be here, he'd be here. Honestly, who's surprised?

Barty: Honestly, I'm a little surprised.

Nan: Barty, not now.

Barty: Well, I can have my own opinion. I think he's a good kid.

Fred: *runs in* Sorry I'm late!

Barty: You're right on time. *turns to Nan* Told you.

Daphne: You are completely late, but I'm really glad you're here.

Fred: Do you want all these people around?

Daphne: No!

Fred: Alright, everybody out!

Judy: We'll be in the waiting room if you need us!

Fred: How are you doing?

Daphne: Where were you?!

Fred: I was trying to install the car seat in the van. I didn't hear the phone.

Daphne: Did you get it installed?

Fred: Velma did. Turns out it takes a genius.

[mierstaer]

shitpost n°927302…

inspired by one of @lesbian-duck-lord ‘s post, which I couldn’t help but redraw

I’m also working on two shitposts, one about Pericles and the other one about Ricky, please let me escape this shitpost era I’m trapped 🫡

[scrappedtogether]

Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated (1.03) || Be Cool, Scooby-Doo! (2.07)

[ollierachnid]

a couple of sdmi things

[mysteryycreature]

horrifying fact!

if you reasonably estimate, based on how tall she stands next to Fred, that Daphne is 5’8, then that makers her father in SDMI 6’8.

why is he so tall. There is an entire foot of height between them he should not be that massive

[rainbowtransform]

Inspired by This Post

It starts, like most things, when Benoit goes to visit Philip’s family. Philip is sicker than a dog on a hot day but he refuses to cancel on his cousin.

“She’s a little too prideful,” Philip told Benoit. “But we grew up together. And she’s got five great kids.”

“Five?”

“Quadruplets and Daphne.”

“Huh.”

Philip mops up the snot pouring out of his nose, and sniffles. “They’re very proper girls,” he said.

“Philip, this is improper. I scarcely spoke to your cousins at our wedding.”

“Benoit.”

And he’d sighed and Philip went off slightly happier to call his cousin and tell her everything and Benoit packs his bags, blows a kiss to a over-the-toilet Philip, and hails a cab for the airport.

So, seven hours on a plane later, and a one hour car ride curtesy of Barty Blake, Benoit finds himself in front of a huge mansion. It’s beautiful, and Benoit and Philip’s apartment could fit in it twenty times over.

Benoit knocks on the door and a butler opens, takes his bags, and disappears just as quickly as he’d appeared. He walks in and is ushered by a maid toward a big sunroom where Barty and Nan are sitting side-by-side drinking tea.

“Hello, Ph—oh. I’m sorry, Benoit, is.. is Philip coming?” Nan sets her teacup down and stares behind Benoit’s shoulder.

“No—no ma’am. And uh, please call me Blanc.”

“Oh no no, we’re family you should call me Nan. And this is, of course, my husband Barty.”

“Pleasure,” Barty holds a hand to his wife’s shoulder, and gets up to stand next to her. “Welcome to our home.”

“Philip is sick Nan.”

“I can’t quite place that accent,” Barty says. “From where in the south are you from?”

“Down.”

“Mm.”

“Have you met our girls?” Nan claps, and four girls trudge into the room. “This is Dorothy, Delilah, Daisy, and Dawn.”

They look absolutely miserable. They’re all rigid, twitchy, and like they’d rather be anywhere but here. “Girls, say hello to your.. uncle Benoit.”

“Hello Uncle Benoit.”

“Hello girls.”

“We’d love for you to meet Daphne, but she’s… occupied.” Barty says, and Benoit’s eyes fall onto the couple’s intertwined hands and the squeeze Nan does.

“Is there anyway I may be able to meet her?” Benoit asks. Dorothy opens her mouth, before closing it, and instead standing rigid.

“She’ll be occupied the rest of the week.” Nan says and smiles. It’s fake, even Benoit can tell that. “Why doesn’t Logan show you your room. Logan!” And here Barty claps and the same butler arrives without a sound.

“Please show Benoit to his room.” Nan sips her tea, and Logan gestures for him to follow.

“Dinner is at six.” Barty called. “Logan will escort you there as well.”

Benoit eyes the girls as he walks behind Logan. They’re all quiet and unassuming. Like most rich people’s children. They’d rather just be seen and not heard.

There’s a fire in Dorothy Blake’s eyes. She hides it well but it’s like Marta’s when she kicked those rich people out of their homes—like Helen’s when she say besides him at the beach.

Curious. Curious indeed.