S

❛  VELMA

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄   𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃   𝐎𝐅   𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃   /   𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄   𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘   .   the   electric   crackle   of   stripped  bare   wire   in   a   puddle   of   water   by   one   of   the   pumps   .   velma   eyes   it   with   a   little   bit   of   curious   disdain     a   little   bit   of   —   pity   .   no   one   could   touch   it   without   getting   hurt   ,   and   someone   would   have   to   touch   it        (   does   it   feel   like   looking   at   god   ,   feeling   that   spark   ?   where   was   god   now   ?   )

❛    hn   .    ❜        driving   through   towns   felt   century  long   and   second  short   .   voice   is   a   little   hoarse      when’s   the   last   time   she   spoke   ?   an   hour   ?   a   minute   ?   time   never   tells   right   ,   when   they’re   driving   .   velma   has   stopped   trying   to   make   sense   of   it   .   the   arch   of   her   back   is   a   satisfying   pop   !   ,   relieving   and   painful          ❛    i   could   go   for   a   break   ,   to   be   honest   .   might   be   nice   to   stop   .    ❜

gaze   flickers      candlelight   warm   and   drip  slow   to   daphne   ,   like   GHOST   looking   at   she  wolf     at   dagger   .   velma’s   smile   is   warmer   than   anything   in   this   shithole   has   any   right   to   be   .        ❛    we’ve   been   making   good   time   .   let’s   take   a   night   .    ❜

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                 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋; bruised knees and bloody nails and the shiny alter of her lips. Where do monsters go to pray? Where do you go when you are both monster and girl? When has there ever been any DIFFERENCE? “ Whatever you say, V. ” 

It is too easy to get lost on the road, in the road, in these towns and the mysteries that swallow them and keep them SMALL, SMALL, SMALL. Too easy to drown in justice and answers and the belief that is right is right and wrong is wrong and beneath every mask is a small man with a vendetta. SMALL, SMALL, SMALL. If only it were that easy. If only the world were that simple. Would that be worse? Better? A warmer thought to keep Daphne’s company in the long dark? 

Velma keeps her afloat. Keeps her from being all edge and no point. Keeps her focused. If Daphne is divine retribution, Velma is holy absolution. They are a lesson in hallowed girlhood. Fancy way of saying they call the shots around here and if weren’t for Velma’s tempered hand in all this, Daphne would not spare any consecrated grounds forgiveness. Remember: all that glitters is not gold. And all these churches in the wild have nothing to save them but their own sins, so why not let it all BURN

Sometimes, she regrets hunting monsters, and not people. Reminder: they are not mutually exclusive. 

But let’s not digress.  I’m starvin’. Shaggy and Scooby have nothing on me, right now. Let’s see if we can’t find somewhere to eat, hmm?  

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