With another mystery finished, the gang had been home for several days now. And it was enough time that it possible that boredom was setting in for some of the gang. And for once, Velma found herself unable to focus on any of her current works in progress.

Rolling around on her bed, she had really tried to work on some things. But just couldn't make herself to get anything done. And everything she needed to do, was done already the days before. Laundry was washed and dried, and managed to be put away. Clearing out her plates and such from her room, and managed to have washed them as well. Not just leaving them for Shaggy and Scooby to do along with the rest of their dirty dishes. (Which she did sometimes when she was lazy enough and they were already cleaning. Too nice to turn her down. Making her feel bad to do that, even though they would never complain or mind.) And her room hadn't been messy enough to need more then a small vacuuming. So, anything that needed to be accomplished as an adult, was finished already. And she couldn't seem to find any energy to do her own things.

Still decked out in her PJ's, since she couldn't find a reason not to just loaf around in them.

"Ugh. Such an unmotivated, blah day."

Rolling off the bed, she wandered to the windows that sat facing the backyard. Casting a view past the glass, the grey sky looked back at her. Hanging over head in a gloomy presence. Rain looming in the distance, but far enough away that she wasn't sure if it would hit them or not. But it did help paint the day for even more blandness, not helping her energy or mood.

But when in doubt, Velma always had a fallback for times like these...

Pivoting on a heel, she turned to a small bookcase that sat in her room. Opposite direction of her desk by her bed. 'Small' only in regards to the more larger ones that lived in the basement. Or in the storage and guest bedrooms that had belonged to the previous owner Miss Snowlark. That the gang had managed to overfill with their own eclectic mix of books.

Though usually the gang had their own books in their own spaces. With various photography and photo albums in Daphne's darkroom, with her own collection of fashion and journalism assortment filed away in her bedroom. Fred did keep his own small stash of filming and camera books with the rest of Daphne's stuff in the darkroom as well. Since it made sense to keep like books with like, and gave him a reason to wander downstairs from time to time. Shaggy's Kitchen was littered with cookbooks. Between what he inherited from Miss Snowlark, and was entrusted from all of the gang's parents to pass along their family recipes to the man who would use them the most, compared to their actual children. Velma's collection was as broad as it was large. Scattered across the house depending on the area.

And well, Daphne liked to steal some of Velma's books for decorating various surfaces in the house. In case someone came over, to make it look more homey then it already was. (Seemed silly to her honestly, since it was a home. How could it not be homey when it was being lived in. Not like they lived in a sterile white house, and never touched anything. The once house of Miss Snowlark, now Mystery Inc household was chalk full of character. No need to add more it it, but it let her have books all over so she didn't complain.) So, Velma's collection also doubled as 'house wares'. But she didn't mind as much, since it didn't just pile up in her room. Though it did take some searching if looking for a particular book, and forgot in which room it had been kidnapped to.

But now was not that issue, as she tended to keep her main reading book selection close at hand. Sadly though, didn't have anything that was new, as she had already read through those. But there was a good amount of books that Velma had nearby, which was perfect for re-reading over and over again. And sometimes that was nice for times like these, since her mind wasn't fully there either to take in new details. Her love for mystery novels would make her brain struggle on a drab day like today. So, tried and true books that she knew by heart, were perfect! A fun enough world to revisit, but nothing strenuous to try to cope with when her head wasn't all there.

"Ah, here we go!"

Picking up a battered copy of The Time Machine, by HG Wells, Velma ran a affectionate hand across the cover. It had seen better days for sure. Having suffered under a more rowdy mystery that she had taken it for reading materials. And not only had the cover seen better days, but the spine had become bent. It's dust cover lost long ago. So, it was retired to a home version, not trusting it to be moved very far.

"But thankfully it's only from here to the bed. Should be good that far."

Talking to herself, she pivoted back towards the bed. But in the rotation of movement, the book shifted with her and released a few loose pages. Making them fluttered around her turning radius.

"AH!"

Scrambling to catch them, or gather up the pages that had fallen past her grasp. Her heart sunk as the book finally gave up the ghost. Blaming another ghost for the damage... Or was it a Monster? Ghoul? Either way, the villain of the day was to blame. Thankfully it wasn't many, and they were the first few pages. Being able to read them and then set them aside for safety as she read the rest of it, before she needed to get a new copy.

"Sigh. Well, a problem for another day. Maybe I should see if I have a copy in my Bookstore's and just steal from the top. The Owner won't mind." Velma chuckled. "That or I can see if the 'Protectorate' might have one in their collections."

Still talking to herself, Velma gently held the fallen pages and moved to the bed. She would have to check her computer later to see if she had a convenient copy at her store. And if not, draw up an email to talk to the group of Bookshop owners she was friend's with. Lovingly called the 'Protectorate'. They were a group of independent owners that occasionally met and helped each other out involving novels, papers and the like. So, some of them were really good with finding rare copies of things.

But thankfully she just needed a 'new' to her, normal condition edition. One she wouldn't mind beating up again, if another mystery took it out. Wouldn't be the first, nor the last book killed in transit. But after reading this copy for the last time, she would need to fully retire this one. Maybe making it become a set decoration for the dining room or something. Swap it out with another hardback to add to her rotation and take advantage that she didn't want to touch it, less she broke it more. Making sure to tell the gang when she did put it there, that it was display only now.

Cradling the pages with care, she hopped up on her bed and crawled over her covers to sit cross legged and start with the loose first pages before she set them aside with care. Making sure to read the information that sat in the beginning that most people breezed past. Loving ever bit of text her eyes scanned across. Making sure to not miss a single credit and thanks to the people who had a hand in the book she was reading. Like taking the time to read the credits at the end of the movie.

Once getting past the loose pages, she set them down carefully in a spot that wouldn't move on her desk. With them out of the way, it was time to dig in to the rest of the book. The air was nice enough in the house, Not too hot, not too cold. Allowing her to be comfortable to just lay on the bed as it was made. Sprawling across her comforter on her belly, tucking one of her many pillows under her upper chest and neck to support her. Letting her arms reach over the fluffy padding to prop the book in front on the headrest. Trying to leave it in the most harmless position to read it. Less more pages fall from the tattered spine.

Melting into the comfort of her bed and the familiar novel, Velma fell into the usual lull of reading. Though a bit dry writing style for some, she wasn't sure what people might have expected with something from the end of the eighteenth century to be written like. She enjoyed it either way, and it wasn't the oldest book in her rotation either. And while it wasn't an original Robinson Crusoe from 1719, she enjoyed her 1994 edited copy that included some selection of critical essays. Being a nerd like that.

Time and pages were lost under her fingers and enraptured eyes. Enjoying the banter between talk of the now and the possibility of Time Travel prosed by the characters. Captivated as she usually got with a good book, that Velma didn't even notice when a shadow zipped into her room. It was only when the red head landed squarely on her back that her attention got shifted in a hurry!

"Oof!"

"Wah!"

Tossing a hand behind her, Velma tried to make sure that her skirt didn't flip up at the impact. Forgetting that she was still in her pajama's. And the action made her lay the crook of her arm into Daphne's face with a squish.

"You know... You aren't wearing a skirt right now." Daphne mumbled into Velma's arm, mostly across her face. Though she sounded amused that her best friend's first response was to make sure her clothing was in place. And in a similar situation, Daphne figured she would have done the same.

"So... It seems." Velma patted around her butt for a bit, wiggling her arm in Daphne's face to get a small revenge for being landed on, before pulling her arm away.

"May I help you?"

"Can't a gal just come see her bestie?" Velma didn't even need to turn around to know that Daphne was grinning at her. She could just FEEL the cheeky grin.

"Yes. But there would be no need for an aerial landing just to say hi."
"True, but you looked so comfortable, that I had to join you."
"And you will now be adding a Daphne hard headed bruise to my back, thanks. Very comfortable."
"My pleasure!"

Wincing slightly as Daphne wiggled her head into the middle of Velma's back, the brunette sighed. But, well... Daphne had done worse to her before. Also the impact didn't knock the wind out of her, so that was a plus. And since Daphne didn't seem to be doing anything more then resting her head on her, Velma let her. It was nice to hang out with Daphne when she wasn't being an imp. (Not that Velma was any better at times back at her.) Besides the initial landing, Daphne wasn't too bad if she was just going to lay there contently. A small part of her brain did worry about the side of her flank being exposed to the woman if she wanted to be a troublemaker. But so far, she was behaving.

"Mmmm, warm."
"Need a pillow?"
"Nnh, I got one already. Comfy."
"Such a compliment."

Velma responded dryly, but she was used to being borrowed as a pillow. Gang piles in the van often were around her and Scooby for headrests after a long drive. So, she was used to this. Just... Hadn't expected Daphne to choose her over maybe her own bed randomly that day. But she didn't mind, as long as Daphne behaved. Mostly she didn't want to accidently rip out more pages due to some shenanigan's that her friend might come up with.

"You just going to lay there?"
"Nnh... Yeah."

Daphne trailed off, Velma figured the woman was already falling asleep on her. The pressure on her back was increasing as Daphne's head seemed to settle on the dip of her back. Releasing all tension to sink into her best friend for a snooze. Making Velma chuckle, figuring the woman wasn't going to be much of a conversationalist at the moment, and moved back to her pages. Picking back up with the Time Traveler and their adventure.