// * JINKIES !

a small chuckle slid past shaggy’s lips as the other looked him over. “i know, I’ve gotten so attractive compared to lanky old high school me.” he joked with a small shake of the head. he glanced back over at the costume. “now if someone had it on, i probably wouldn’t want to see them in a dark alleyway.” he noted. “i— somewhat.” he nodded. “the case.. rattles me in a way. i don’t like it… i teach at the middle school and it just makes me think of my kids..” he nodded once again. the male hummed as the other answered his question. “are you really?” he asked. “im as good.. as i can be.” the male chuckled. “not really anything new. its almost like all i do now is teach, eat, and sleep. what are you up to now-a-days?”

velma still couldn’t believe that shaggy was really here, right here. it was even more unbelievable that he was joking around with her. there was one question big in her mind: “so, you’ve changed a little bit. what about scoob? is he still the same old dog?” much like in a divorce, the gang had each gotten to take the assets that most belonged to them. velma had gotten all the research equipment, but scooby had gone to shaggy. she still missed that old dog more than she would like to admit. “i don’t think i would even like to see someone wear this thing in a bright, open field,” she mused, laughing so softly it almost sounded like hiccups. “you’re a teacher?” she didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but it seemed like if anyone would have gone into the profession of education it would have been velma. “do you like it?” she got herself back on track to talking about the case, hoping maybe shaggy would have more interest in bouncing off ideas with her than either fred or daphne, “it’s rattling me, too, but i think i have an idea. or at least a plan to get on the right track of who took them,” she was talking with her hands, starting to get lost in her ideas surrounding the mystery. “now that there’s one dead body, i want to ensure there won’t be anymore.” velma tousled her bangs a bit when he asked her if she was really okay. how could she answer that? no, shaggy, actually i’m having a big fight with the other two members of our ex-group of best friends. plus, i’ve been going alone into weirdo woods just to feel the rush of solving a mystery again when i should really be looking out for my own safety. oh, not to mention the fact i haven’t been sleeping well since i was twelve. instead she nodded, hoping that would suffice. if he kept pressing her, she didn’t know if she would break down and tell him the whole truth. “all you used to do was solve mysteries, eat, and sleep,” she teased, another snort of laughter coming from her. “looks like somethings never change.” she motioned around the museum, “this is my office now, i work in the basement as the archivist. always filing away information about artifacts and making sure that the information on everything is as updated as it can be. can’t say it’s glamorous work, but it pays the bills.”

with a nod, zia looked around starting to imagine what the museum would look like in the middle of the night all alone. she supposed it was like the opposite of the club. when it was time to close the faux ghost, all the lights would come on and make it a lot less moody. although, with clear vision, it was easier to see how grimy the club was. “it’s pretty much just the suit. i like how it glows.” she admitted, her attention returning the woman next to her. “actually no, i’m from near by in lorain. but i thought coolsville was close enough to home, but still somewhere new. california was just the first place i went to after high school. have you been?”

“the suit is certainly interesting, i can understand why it would catch your eye,” it had caught velma’s eye, too, when she got close enough to investigate it. however, it was hard to call any one of these villains her “favorite” when they all haunted her in very specific ways. “i don’t think i’ve ever been to lorain, to be honest,” she admitted, trying to recall a time she’d stayed there. “i have been to lake erie, but i was in amherst not lorain.” velma had been out of ohio so many times when she was younger, always chasing a new thrill. now that she was older, and without the mystery gang, there were less opportunities to get out of town. “i’ve been to california before! several times, actually. on one of my favorite trips, i got to meet john cena in hollywood,” she exclaimed. “did you stay there long?”

“Are they truly villains or just people doing what they thought was their only way to get what they needed,” he mused as he dodged answering her question. “The missing teens is concerning and I hope that they are found. But I think if one of these outlaws were doing it then the teenagers wouldn’t be their main target,” he mused. “Maybe at first as a catalyst to bring people back but their true targets would soon be revealed. Likely successful since they would have been planned this for years maybe even decades,” he continued. “Or at least that what I would do if I was writing the story. Cliche but this formula sell especially if they want to make it into a movie.”

“I like the classics,” he answered. “A lot of these new writers hold nothing to the books that writers are inspired by-” he complained though of course he didn’t mean himself. “People are reading less so I order what I know will sell and not what I personally enjoy. If I sold only the books that I’d read well then the shop would have gone out of business. I can recommend a popular horror writer. He’s been around for a little while,” he smirked as he spoke about himself. “Then I take it back.”

“isn’t that what a villain is? someone who tries to get what they want at any cost, regardless of the consequences?” she posed the question to him, not easily giving up on him. “are you saying that you think the teens are bait?” the idea was intriguing, and it definitely wasn’t impossible. “so, if the teens aren’t the main target, who do you think is? the people who try to investigate what’s happening? their parents? someone else?” velma was tempted to get out her little notebook on the case right now and start delving into the theory, but she decided to keep up the conversation instead. she tapped her chin, maybe if she thought hard enough she could solve the mystery right there and then. “did you hear about the one teen who was found at the drive-in? any theories on what her ‘ticket to happiness’ was all about?” velma became aware of just how into books he was when he brought up the idea of a formula. “do you think someone’s actually following the formula in real life?” she paused to look into his eyes. always questions, never the one with any answers.

“the classics? charles dickens, homer, jane eyre, william shakespeare?” she asked, moving one of her bangs out of the way. “like, what every english teacher loves assigning their students? even though the kids never read the whole thing.” she giggled at her own remarks, covering the sound with her hand to keep the museum fairly quiet. “since this horror author is popular, does that mean you’re only recommending him to me because it’ll sell well?” she questioned. “don’t worry about taking back that medal, i have plenty of others that my mom keeps proudly in a trophy case,” this wasn’t even a joke, her mom really had kept every award, every little victory, in a box displayed to the rest of the family in their living room.

Bea was more than interested in the the teenage disappearances, and hearing about the young camp counselor was just… it broke her heart. And it shocked her that the drive-in was still open, but perhaps that could work to her advantage. Bea flagged down a car as it drove down the side street to go into the drive-in. “Hey there,” she said, after motioning for them to wind down their window. “Do you think - oh, nice song, what station are you listening to? - do you think I can hop in your trunk to get into the drive-in?”

@coolsvillestarters·

velma was on her way to the drive-in to do some more investigating of her own. the curiosity had taken her over fully now. there was no way she would half-ass this investigation anymore, there were other teens at stake. when someone flagged down her car, she stopped the old, orange station wagon. it took some time to roll down the window with the slightly broken crank. “uh, hey,” she greeted, waving a little awkwardly. “thanks, it’s actually a cd,” velma lifted the case the disc came in, it was the maría’s “superclean volume ii.” “you... you want to get in the trunk? why the trunk? why don’t you just sit up front with me. it’s where i’m headed anyways.”

The Jones home was large. It wasn’t the mayoral estate that they used to live in, but the home was still way too big for the two old people living there, or so Fred thought. Mostly, everything happened on the first floor now, which was where Fred sat in the living with his parents watching Family Feud. The knock surprised everyone, but especially Fred, who waved off his mother and went to go check the front door himself. Seeing Velma through the peep-hole, Fred took a deep breath, mentally prepping himself for the conversation. He couldn’t just leave her outside after all. He opened the door halfway. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a trap set up out there,” he joked, though he didn’t laugh. Teenage Fred did used to booby-trap the front door of the Jones house pretty often, to most everyone’s chagrin. “What’re you… what’s up?” Fred kept his voice hushed, knowing that if they drew too much attention, his parents would likely invite Velma inside.

shit. fred was home. not only was he home, he was the one who answered the door. when she realized what was going on, she almost dropped the soup, but she managed to keep her composure. to the outside world, it might have just looked like she stumbled a bit. “i didn’t think traps or mysteries were your thing anymore, freddy,” her tone wasn’t judging, just disbelieving of any trap nonsense. “i, uh, came to see your parents actually...” velma presented the nom banh chok to him to see, “i brought them some of my mom’s cambodian noodle soup. i thought it might cheer them up...” she leaned forward, trying to look around the doorway. “are they home?”

       “picked it up somewhere, didn’t see the point in picking a brand new name for here since mystery inc new me in the daunting time of prepubescent me.” flynn could tell velma he got his name from someone else but he’d rather not. why tell the truth? it’s so boring and uncreative. he can make up an intricate story of utter bullshit if she asks for it. way more fun. he clicks his fingers before reaching in his pocket and pulling out three more. “we’ve got cherry, kiwi or strawberry. thought i’d go with harry styles themed flavour today.” he fans them out for velma to chose while pushing his own lollipop into his cheek in order to continue to talk incessantly. “gotta say, can’t see you swinging axes in the woods, v. maybe investigation a tree but not snap crackle and popping one.” flynn is utterly offended, snatching his lollipops away. “that yellow tracksuit was popping, it’s even back in style now. you can’t shame me for that when you wore a thick ass turtleneck every day of the year no matter the weather.”

“i wouldn’t have spoiled your new identity, kid,” velma smiled at him gently, ruffling his hair. “but, flynn is fitting. it sounds like the grown-up version of flim-flam. honestly, you could have told me that was your birth name and i wouldn’t have argued with you.” she gave him a hard look, trying to recall that little boy from so long ago. “in which city did the name ‘flynn’ come about?” she asked, hoping to gain some kind of timeline for where he’d been and what he’d done. velma’s eyes sweep across the lollipop selection. if he had said there was orange it would have been an easy choice; instead, kiwi is a close second. “i’ll take kiwi, please and thank you,” she wiggled her fingers as if beckoning the lollipop to come to her. “can’t say i’m very familiar with mr. styles’ discography. except the one song about watermelons that comes on the radio all the time nowadays,” she shrugged. “you might not be able to see it now, but i’ve held an axe before. i was actually pretty good with it, too. i cut down a whole chandelier and stopped a bad guy,” she humble-bragged, her hands placed on her hips. “i’d have to cut a tree down to do some serious investigating; telling its age, the bug species that have burrowed into it, and so on... that would all require some heavy lifting and not just a magnifying glass.” when he calls out her turtleneck, she wraps her burnt orange cardigan more around herself. “hey! i get cold very easily, for your information.”

velma held a crockpot with some of her family’s famous nom banh chok (wasn’t food supposed to make everyone feel a little better?), she awkwardly tried to balance the dish and knock on the door of the jones’s home. she hadn’t lied to fred, or herself, when she said she would come and visit his parents. velma was many things, but a liar was not one of them. however, she hoped that fred wouldn’t be home so she could talk to his parents without the looming thought of their past conversation. velma was finally able to knock, waiting for the door to open.

“hey,” she started, before seeing which member of the jones family opened the door.

taking a glance around the quiet dimly lit room, she had to agree. the shadows hit the displays in a menacing contour. “you do have a point there. the silence of the museum might also be adding to the spook factor.” zia concluded. though she hadn’t seen the entire exhibition, she had always been drawn to one of their mysteries in particular. “might be an oldie, but i think it’s a goodie: the ghost of captain cutler always fascinated me. i blame it on the glowing seaweed.” she admitted. “it reminds me a lot of the blooming algae on the coast of southern california.”

velma always had a point, or at least she thought so. it’s not like she would go bragging about it to this stranger, though. “just wait until you have to stay after hours when the lights are all completely out,” she shivered, “that’s when it’s really accurate to say you feel the ‘heebie-jeebies.’” velma tries to get out in a timely fashion whenever the museum closed for the night. she was never the last one around. it was strange, feeling irked by the oddities of a museum but always running towards all other kinds of danger. “ah, captain cutler,” she nodded, “the luminescence of his suit always interested me. he really did seem ghostly at the time.” velma remembered that case well, especially when she and the rest of the gang had to get into scuba gear to follow the perpetrator. “why him?” velma continued to question, looking over at the woman. “and, is southern california where you’re from? coolsville is quite a ways away.”

“You’re the one who seems to want to talk about it so…” Fred said concerning talk of the past. He flinched at the sudden noise created by all the crows, something he would’ve made fun of Shaggy for doing in the past. Geez, he hated these woods now. And he hated arguing with Velma. Even as he wanted to yell back and say You didn’t have to stay here! or You don’t know you can fix it! Fred kept silent, taking in jab after jab after jab, because at this point he deserved it. Sure, he wasn’t the leader now, but he was the (self-appointed) leader then, and perhaps this is what it looks like for leaders to own up to their mistakes. When he was finally sure that Velma was finished, Fred sighed deeply, unsure of what to respond to and even of what to do with that charge at the end. Surely he couldn’t restrain her, but he also couldn’t shake the feeling that just letting her go by would mean that her blood was on his hands. And he couldn’t deal with that. He couldn’t even imagine… “Velma…” Fred tried to keep his outward composure, but his heart was thumping inside his chest. He remembered when they’d found Daphne. He didn’t want to think about finding Velma like that. “You know I can’t stop you.” He could feel tears welling up. One fell, but he immediately wiped it away. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do but worry. He said it again, “I can’t stop you from doing what you want.” Fred shook his head.

“i want to talk about it because everyone else has gone radio silent for years, fred,” she threw her hands up exasperatedly. “i can’t keep my mouth shut and keep my mind wondering where we went wrong, why we don’t talk anymore, how everyone is doing, and so much more. those questions haunt me every night.” velma looked up at the crows and their sudden loudness when fred flinched, but it didn’t keep her from going on her rant. her voice grew more and more desperate with each plea. after she was done, the look on his face shocked her. were those tears? she couldn’t remember a time she had actually seen fred cry. “are you... crying...?” she asked, backing away. that hadn’t been anywhere in the list of expected reactions. he hadn’t blown up at her, he hadn’t tried to stop her, he hadn’t walked away... but, he was here crying. she stepped forward again, placing an awkward hand on his shoulder. it didn’t seem right to hug him at this point. they still were nowhere near that close again. she patted his shoulder gently, with the most warmth she could muster up. “you can’t stop me,” she repeated, her voice was unwavering. “i’m not yours to protect, freddy, or to guide. i’m older and more prepared. i won’t end up like those kids in the woods, i just want to help them,” she reassured him, retracting her hand from his shoulder. “if something does happen to me, then maybe it was meant to be. i can’t just go without doing anything to help those kids out there,” maybe a piece of her felt like if she found them before they had been broken she’d be absolved of any remaining guilt regarding daphne. she hadn’t even come to that conclusion herself, though.

its mystery busting history was the main reason that zia had moved to coolsville. so as soon as the new exhibit was announced, she knew she had to stop by. she was in awe of how elaborate the costumes and masks were. most seemed handmade, but she could only imagine how unnerving they would have been in the dark. grimacing at the questing, zia nodded. “not sitting up there, but the thought of them out in the wild gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“they were incredibly creepy when they were in motion, thankfully they’ve stopped moving for now,” she covers her mouth as a little giggle escapes. “but, for some reason, the eerie lighting of the museum and the fact they aren’t moving, but they might if you look away or blink, scares me a little,” velma admits, finally bringing her gaze away from the miner. she’s had begun to stare so long that she might get stuck if she stayed any longer. “what’s been your favorite costume to see so far?” it was always great to hear from people who had been in the exhibits. hearing from a different perspective was something velma loved at her job; everyone interpreted things so differently.

      it has been a while since flynn was actually called flim-flam. he’s not sure if he likes it or not considering the person who named him got busted by the very person in front of him. he decides to go with indifference. “flynn is what some call me now, in texas i was pete, idaho i was justin, had a brief moment of time where i felt like spicing it up and went by garfield.” he shrugs, hands slipping into his own pocket to pull out a lolly-pop. he unwraps it and pops it in his mouth, a habbit he developed after cutting off nicotine. “they’re nice boots if you wanna become a lumberjack. and i’ll have you know, i’ve always been quite stylish. even during my whole- yellow hoodie phase. i was just too fashionably advance for you all.”

“flynn,” she tested the name, it almost feels like her tongue stumbles over it. “did you choose that name just for coolsville? or, did you pick it up somewhere else?” velma asked, always one to pry wherever she could. her eyes are caught by the lollipop, “do you have an extra one of those? you’re technically not supposed to eat in the museum, but my blood sugar is low. so, i’ll allow you to keep eating it if i get one, too.” velma held her hand out to receive another lollipop (if he had one, that is). “for your information, maybe my second or third career choice was to be a lumberjack,” her arms crossed her chest and her eyebrows lifted. “you mean the yellow tracksuit, that was not just a hoodie, flim-flam,” she shook her head. “okay, i’ll admit you’re pretty fashionable now if you admit that you used to be a fashion disaster. i was, too. that orange sweater with the orange skirt was tacky the way i wore it. i can’t believe daphne didn’t pester me about my fashion sense more often.”

shaggy sighed softly as he entered the newer exhibit. sooner or later he had to take his students here on a field trip and he figured now would be the best time to familiarize himself or more prepare himself. his teeth bit down onto his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over the past costumes that used to haunt him, some more than others. he turned as he heard a question asked. velma. “uh, not like it used to… ” he nodded. “this new shit though.. more than anything..” shaggy shoved his hands into his pockets, turning to give the other his full attention. “are you alright, velma?”

“shaggy?” she asked, her eyes tracing the somewhat familiar face. to be honest, velma hadn’t really spoken to him (or the other mystery incorporated members) for quite some time. her last run in with daphne hadn’t been great, it was the same way with fred. she couldn’t predict how things would go with shaggy. “i agree, it’s not as scary as it was when we were younger, but it still has some weird effect on me,” she admitted, a shiver running down her spine. “you’ve been keeping up with the new case?” her eyes brightened a little, velma thought she was the only one with an interest in the mystery surrounding missing coolsville teens. “i’m... okay,” she answered him, but the truth was she wasn’t. she was anxious and felt like she needed to be doing something. “how are you? what have you been up to?”

     “oh, fuck you, velma! you can quite that job any time you’d like, you chose to work there, you chose to look at those scars so don’t get all woah is me.” maybe there’s a version of daphne out there, that sought out comfort from her friends after that… incident. and maybe she’s better, maybe she’s what velma wants. but this version of daphne isn’t what people want. she’s all claws and bite now, all sharp words meant to cut skin and leave a mark. “the thought of fear suffocating-” she lets out a hollow breathy laugh. “this isn’t a fucking ted talk, velma. the thought of fear didn’t do shit, actually living through it, held against my will for a week is what did it! my limit is not fucking with you or mystery inc ever again. i’ve grown up, i’ve got a job, i have bills to pay, i don’t have time to chase after men in bed sheets to feel some sort of self righteous heroic euphoria.” daphne stares at velma bellow her and she wants to hurt her more because every word leaving velma’s mouth is digging thing up inside her and opening up scars. she hunkers down, face close to velma’s and lips almost curled into a snarl. “you’re so pathetic and naive. you think i was just ‘pushed around’ in there and came out like this? and you’re really going to turn this around on me? tell me that i’m acting like the person who did this to me? did you think that would work? did you think i’d break down and apologise to you? you don’t deserve shit from me. yeah, i don’t have a heart. and i like it that way. now fuck off back to your museum and have a good old cry with miner 49er.” with that, daphne gets up, wiping tears angrily from her face and turning her back on velma in more than just the physical sense. her boots click against the pavement with force, her inner cheek breaking from her bite and the taste of iron filling her mouth. fine, if velma saw daphne as a monster then why not become one? what has she got left to lose? nothing. not a damn thing.

she sobs, sobs so deeply that it echoes into the coolsville night. if you listened close enough you might hear the sound of her heart cracking bit by bit. “i chose to work there? that’s really funny, daphne,” she tries to laugh, but it just sounds like another cry. “i did what i had to do to grow up and be an adult just like the rest of you. the only thing i chose was to move back to this godforsaken place where everybody claims to have moved on but nobody has actually done it.” velma fees more bruised and broken by daphne’s words than the simple shove, her eyes barely able to meet the other’s now. “i know it’s not a ted talk, daphne,” she mutters, her voice heavy with cracks and sniffles. at least if she’s going to cry in front of daphne, she’s not going to hide it. “it wasn’t just men in bed sheets,” she screamed, “it was thieves, murderers, racketeers, and so much more. we were doing more than anyone else has ever done to keep the peace here. haven’t you stopped to think for a second that our disbandment has actually been worse for the coolsville community.” velma was thankful that outside there was a missing poster for one of the teens, an example she could show off to daph plain and clear. “just look,” she pointed, her finger shaking, “this is the kind of thing that happens everyday and you’re okay just sitting around pretending like it isn’t happening. you’re okay with letting some unqualified assholes try and solve this without taking the proper measures?” she buries her head in her hands, letting out another cry. she may sound a bit hysterical at this point, but she’s angry, tired, and far past her bed time. “stop saying that, stop saying those things,” velma covers her ears to keep daphne’s venom from seeping in too deep. naive... pathetic... PATHETIC... she slaps daphne across the face, it’s so smooth and efficient that it takes her a moment to realize what she’s done. “i’m... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean to hurt you... i didn’t mean to,” she’s blubbering, moving forward to try and cup daphne’s cheek. daphne walking away sends velma into a mode of panic, chasing after her once more, calling her name over and over again. apologies shouted into the air, dissipating like fog. this can’t be how it ends. “come back, please. i just want it back... i just want you back... i want us back. i want you to stop looking at me like everyone else used to,” she wipes a tear that’s falling down her cheek. “i love you, daph. i’ll listen, i swear i’ll listen. i need you. i need you.” she was pathetic, she was a loser, she was hopelessly devoted to someone who would never be her equal.

     “no, you don’t fucking get to say my trauma is our trauma, you don’t have the right to know what i went through. it’s my business, not ours, it was never ours. it is mine and mine alone!” daphne wanted to throw something, wanted to scream, wanted to take velma by the shoulders and shake her like an etch a sketch and hope she disappeared. “we knew! we just fucking ignored it! even fred started to see the danger! we all looked at the fucking red flags like they were too far to hit us but they fucking did.” daphne’s eyes are watering and she hates it. she hates it all. she hates that one person ruined her, broke her beyond repair, she hates that she turned from the pristine popular girl to the human embodiment of barbed wire. she hates that she can’t look at the people she loves without that very barbed wire she’s made of cutting into her and making everything hurt. she hates how much she hates, how angry she now is, how cruel she has become. but daphne will never admit this, she’ll stand her and curse everything and drag herself through the mud and deny all of it. “you do not get to police how i deal with things! you don’t get a say!  so save your fucking tears for someone else because i don’t want them!” being told she’s hurting people the exact same as her kidnapper feels like velma just laid a heavy fist against her stomach. daphne sucks in a sharp breath, body shaking before moving forward and shoving velma. “you take that fucking back! i’m not hurting people like he hurt me! you have no idea what he did to me! take back right the fuck now!” there’s hot tears falling down her cheeks, her yelling holds cracks between the syllables and she’s close to just collapsing and sobbing but she’ll be damned if she lets velma see how truly broken she is. “you’re dead to me.”

“daphne, what happened to you is personal and it is your trauma,” she backed away, suddenly timid and afraid. “but, the rest of the gang has their own demons they have to face. you think i want to stand in the museum every single day and look into the masks that terrorized us for years? do you think i want to have scars - mental and physical - from the cat and mouse games we endured?” velma heard the pain in daphne’s voice, she could feel it reflected in her own tone. “the rest of you gave up on the good of our little group just because the fear of getting hurt started getting too suffocating,” velma felt like the only one who still felt the need to seek out a mystery and solve it, who still wanted to piece everything back together. the biggest mystery she would never be able to solve is how the mystery inc. crew fell apart so quickly. “yes, it was dangerous; yes, we weren’t ready to grow up that fast; but, i think we really were making a difference, daph,” she held her hands up as if she were begging, hoping any of this would sink into daphne’s skull which had seemed so thick as of late, so unbreachable. “we’re older now, we know what our limits are. can’t you see that?” she asks, stepping closer again, but as soon as she does a sharp pain pulses through her shoulders. the shove sends velma backwards, landing on her bottom, palms stinging from the added slap of the ground below when she tried to catch herself. daphne looks so big from velma’s place on the ground, so royal, so much more than velma would ever be. “i can’t take that back without even knowing what happened,” she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “maybe he pushed you around just like you’re doing to me right now.” the insecurities of years past start seeping into her head: nerd, ugly, teacher’s pet, prude... she forces herself to stand robotically, dusting her hands off. “i never thought you were a mean girl, daph. i always thought you were different,” she cries, looking down to see red marks on her palms and still some gravel. “i thought you had a heart, i guess that’s the only real part of you that’s died.”

     many don’t know this- but museums are actually great places to pick pockets. most are so busy trying to either- view the displays, control their children, flirting with a date, etc, that they forget to watch their pockets. it also gives flynn a break from the outdoors and to warm himself up a bit. spotting velma he decides to annoy her for a bit but her question catches him off guard. dark hues eye the display and he huffs a breath. “emotionally? no. fashionably? yes, that pick axe with those boots? what the fuck was he thinking.”

velma was more used to calling flynn flim-flam than flynn. the last time she had really had the chance to interact with him (at least more than some quick small talk) was when they took down his boss. at the time velma was still a naive teenager and he was only a few years behind the gang in age but reminded her of her much younger sister. “flim-flam?” a smile started to come across her face. “i don’t think you should be the one to give anyone fashion advice,” she rolled her eyes affectionately. “i happen to think his boots are quite lovely, i would wear them in the fall with a nice cardigan and maybe some corduroy pants.”

“Does it matter?” Ben asked her. “Some likely continue doing the same thing, some changed but very few, and a lot tried to change but their reputation was holding them back so they did what they had to do. They likely hold resentment towards you,” Ben mused. It was blunt but he knew what it felt like to have a reputation in this town. 

“You asked what was new in stock,” Ben pointed out. He wasn’t going to state that he was annoyed that this other book was a bestseller and was selling well even though it was crap. His own books were far better than anything that other writer could do but yet they were the best seller. His books did well but he still didn’t like competition. “Congrats.” 

“it matters to me, mysteries always matter to me,” she remarked, staring him down carefully. to velma, it seemed impossible for someone not to care about things like the villains of coolsville. “do you hold any resentment towards mystery incorporated?” she pondered, leaning further back. “from the way you’re talking about the villains, it almost seems like you have more empathy for them than for us.” velma changed the subject a bit, trying to dig more out of this strange book clerk, “so, what are your thoughts on the missing teens as of late? did you hear about the one found dead at the drive-in?” she began bombarding him with questions, “do you think one of these outlaws could have done it?” velma gestured to all the costumes in the room, all of them most likely retired.

“i did ask what was new in stock, but i also thought you were going to give me your personal opinion on what you thought was good and in stock,” she pointed out with a coy smile and threw her hair over her shoulder, “so, now that i’ve realized you were just giving me the lowdown on the new stock and not crossing over into what you found interesting, tell me what kinds of books you’d actually recommend.” she stood up straight again, her eyebrows knitting together, “congrats for being able to solve the mysteries? i don’t think i deserve any kind of medal after doing it for so long in real life.”

     “because it’s none of your fucking business! it’s not anyone’s!” daphne can’t help shouting and she moves into velma’s face. anger is easy, getting pissed off is easy. crying and finally letting out the trauma she faced? she can’t do it, she’s not strong enough. “i walked a different person because i fucking was. the daphne before then doesn’t exist anymore and she never will. your best friend died in that room and she’ll stay dead.”  daphne believes no one will ever understand what she went through. she stills has physical and mental scars from it all. her own mother didn’t understand her and now wants nothing to do with her. daphne will always be alone, she’s the unwanted broken toy stuck in the dark corner of some kid’s wardrobe and they only pay attention it it when they want to get a few kicks in. “so you admit it! i was left behind!” her yell breaks part way through her words and daphne hates herself for it. it only encourages her to walk faster. though upon hearing the other follow, daphne bites so hard on her inner cheek that blood pools in her mouth. a little bit of pain to force down that moment of weakness. she turns around and stares velma down. “i’ll do whatever the fuck i want while you enjoy your little view on your high horse, velm. you mean less than dirt to me because at least dirt is fucking useful.”

“i think it is our business what happened, because we were supposed to be a team. we were supposed to tell each other everything,” velma is pouting now more than yelling, disappointed that daphne didn’t see her as someone to rely on. “it wasn’t intentional, daph. do you think we would put you in harm’s way willingly? we were stupid teenagers who thought they were invincible, and that the villains we were chasing could never do any real damage,” she groans, shrugging on her jacket as she runs after daphne. “you were a sister to me, i love you more than anything but i do not love the way you’re handling whatever happened to you,” she was careful with her tenses - past, present... the love she felt for daphne still resonated, but there was no way she would call her a sister anymore. “your ‘old self’ may have died in that room, but your body didn’t, your memories didn’t, and your friends certainly didn’t,” she argued, pushing back against the thought. “i tried so hard to be your friend after what happened, but you kept pushing me away. you kept blaming us for what happened. i can’t keep feeling guilty for being late because i can’t go back and change time, neither can you,” she felt a warm tear streaking down her cheek. “my high horse? it seems to me you’re the one thinking you’re better than any one else. treating the rest of us like nothing.” velma felt her courage slowly draining with each rebuff from daphne, it wasn’t easy for the girl to speak up in front of someone she had always seen as superior. “just because someone hurt you doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people the exact same way,” velma squeaked, the tears really pouring now.