Mystery Incorporated.

"If WE can C O U N T on you, SCOOBY DOO, I know W E ' L L CATCH that V I L L A I N." DAPHNE BLAKE & SHAGGY MEMBERS of MYSTERY INCORPORATED

[mysteryinced]

mrfredwardjones:

A rough and old trinket still shone like a gold coin as Coolsville’s Golden boy, Fred Jones, held it where the sunlight would hit it. It was an odd little thing, a memory of the summer before his senior year of high school, a murder weapon the Mystery Inc. chose not to surrender to authorities but kept as a reminder as to why they were doing what they were doing in the first place.

It was a rough and old trinket used to kill his older brother by the infamous Gallagher Graves. Fred should have felt a pang of pain but he chose to believe in his family’s beliefs. Spirits lived on, and maybe Gregory Jones had turned into a vulture in his next life watching over the reservoir where his mother grew up in. The headquarters was dusty, but understandable that it was considering that they had all been busy. As if on queue, he heard the door open and soft footsteps padding towards him. He looked up in mild surprise to discover one of Mystery Inc.’s very own pioneering detectives entering the quarters.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be this early. I thought it was Velma, I texted her first because I needed her to look into something. Can you guess?”

         IT’D BEEN AWHILE SINCE THEY ALL SET FOOT IN THE OLD HEADQUARTERS, DUST on it like the old buildings they’d visit that would send him and Scoob running, but with how familiar it was ( and how sad he was that it got to this point ), they both made there way there readily when they saw a message in the old group chat. Even if it was for Velma... And then them, since they were wanted, too. It helped, though, that he and Scooby were on a walk in the first place. This place wasn’t too far off to scare them, but still.

Looking around as he walked in, he looked toward Fred and Scoob raised a brow. “Gee, i don’t know Fred,” Shaggy brushed a hand through his hair. “Velma’s the smart one, but uh, that doodad’s real shiny -- you think we still have food in here? I hear Twinkies last forever...”

[mysteryinced]

delma-vinkley:

Seeing Coolsville’s favorite resident redhead in her kitchen was like seeing a fish out of water for lack of better idiom. Daphne’s style, her entirety, it just didn’t quite fit in the house; however, Velma got so used to it, Daphne Blake might as well have lived in the Dinkley’s home. Velma on the other hand, might as well have been her paid shrink. “It’s nothing personal Daphne, you know I trivialize everything.” Velma teased, unable to resist after knowing what her best friend was there for. She was slightly disappointed in herself having not guessed what Daphne’s problem was. It was easily predictable to Velma that Daphne was problematic about a boy, just as how Fred was always problematic about a girl, and Shaggy about his lovable Great Dane Scooby-Doo. “Isn’t it Wednsday? I thought talking about Fred Jones for 5 hours straight was scheduled on Friday?” She poked fun again as she went to the fridge and retrieved a can of soda from on of the racks. With a gentle kick, she shut the fridge door and popped the can open. “Don’t apologize Daph, I’m always here for you. Plus, I may or may not have been born to help people, so fire away my fiery redheaded friend.”

         IN COMPARISON TO HER SURROUNDINGS, DAPHNE LOOKED LIKE A BIT OF A PERFECTIONIST. Someone who had to have everything its place and everything had a place to be in. That was only half true, she didn’t care for mess, but this wasn’t a mess, it was more like organized chaos. There was a lot going on in the house, unlike with Daphne, her turmoils were all inner, not outer. Mostly, though, her turmoils -- at least the ones she spoke about -- revolved around one thing ( and one person ) only. The other woes she could complain about easily, like stress and homework, you never heard a peep of, but Fred Jones? Like she said, she had pretty much a weekly session for that with Velma like she was her therapist. But it was needed, how could someone so smart and sweet be so oblivious and so obsessed but with traps and the mysteries and not even care about her for more than the mere moments he gave her. She could date anyone, but she only wanted Fred, and Fred... He just wanted... Traps. You’d think it would drive her to be one of the ‘monsters’ he could capture so he could trap her and maybe just maybe, but that seemed crazy, even if that was in the back of her mind sometimes. “It’s not going to be five hours, I’m just frustrated -- we were supposed to work on homework today but he got a new copy of Traps Monthly or whatever and wants nothing to do with me. Doesn’t he care?”

[mysteryinced]

delma-vinkley:

Velma Dinkley was one of the best problem solvers in all of Coolsville, and possibly on the face of the entire planet, among four others. Probably the only thing that could differentiate her from the rest of the Mystery Inc. gang was her ability to become anyone’s psychiatrist. There wasn’t an issue she could not solve, nor any advice that she gave that wasn’t helpful and effective. Today was no different. She was just taking a soda break from take on the Grothendieck-Katz p-curvature conjecture when one of the greatest mystery investigators of their generation walked into the Dinkley’s kitchen. The brunette’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise as she took a glass from its display, but there was no doubt in her that they needed help in something. “Is it a new case, or are we going through a millennial crisis?” She asked as she placed her empty glass on the kitchen island.

         DAPHNE WALKED INTO THE DINKLEYS’ LIKE SHE OWNED IT, THE CUTE LITTLE HOME that could likely at least quadruple before fitting in her own. It was quaint, warm, inviting, kind of like Velma, though there were more to each of the eccentric Dinkleys than most of the town liked to admit. Daphne, however, considered Velma to be one of her best friends -- she had other friends of course, popular, cheerleaderesque friends, but Velma had been her friend since they were kids, then there was the gang. The other four were completely important to her. She wasn’t that shallow. She was deep, regardless of whether people agreed. So, when she was down in the dumps, her feelings deep and what she called complicated, she came to Velma, especially about one thing. “Don’t trivialize my boy problems,” Daph retorted, sternly, yet not angrily, after sitting. It was more like a quip than anything. “Beside they wouldn’t be a millennial crisis. They’d be a before marriage crisis. Totally last way longer. But in case you haven’t inferred, it’s definitely more the second than the first. Sorry.”