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vickyvicarious · 3 months

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The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never been used; the furniture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere.

Jonathan finds Dracula's room largely empty and clearly unused. This is naturally very disturbing, but he still makes a thorough search for the key that will free him.

The room is covered in dust.

Vampires don't disturb the dust when they walk; we saw as much on May 16. But people do, and Jonathan is searching the room. He's walking across the floor at the very least, to get a close look at the treasure pile and to go through the door leading down to the chapel. But since he's looking for a key, he's also probably checking in what little furniture there is.

Is he leaving a trail of footprints in the dust? The sentence structure might just be implying that only the furniture is dusty here, not the floor, so maybe not. But then, he's possibly looking in the furniture, and no matter how he tries he'd likely disturb some of the dust in doing so. Even beyond just this room, Jonathan goes barefoot down into the chapel and crypts, where the ground has been dug. Even if his footprints weren't noticeable in the freshly-overturned earth, he might have picked up some dirt on his feet. When he fled back upstairs, did he carry some? Did he leave a trace of his presence?

(Of course, the fact that Dracula stared right at him later would surely be the most obvious way to know he had been there. But Jonathan seemed to believe the Count was fully asleep and unaware despite his open eyes and angry expression. And even if he had seen Jonathan... Dracula could be a lawyer, he's able to think like one. And what's the one thing Jonathan himself always, always looks for? Evidence to confirm what he's seen. If Dracula saw him but there's no proof so he dismisses it as a dream, that's one thing; if he saw him and then found proof that it was true, that's another.)

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #you could go easily there if you wanted. the footprints *and* dracula being aware or even just one of the two #and if so the fact that dracula doesn't confront him about it turns into another really fascinating moment of him ALSO trying his hardest #to keep the pretence going till the last moment. jonathan does so for survival. but dracula wants to squeeze every last drop #of companionship/torment/time out of jonathan that he can before leaving.#it's running a risk a big risk if he knows that jonathan was able to visit him when he was asleep/vulnerable #so him acting ignorant about that would be really telling about his character as well as his opinion of/relationship to jonathan #it's fun to think about #and also kind of fun to imagine jonathan thinking about. worrying after the fact that he may have left some trace watching dracula super #closely to try and tell if he *knows*#dracula daily spoilers #barely and mostly in the tags but just in case

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tickle-bugs · 2 years

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Lil idea for the 3 Peter Parkers!

Peter 1, the youngest, often gets snarky with the older two "brothers". They both eventually decide theyve had enough of his jabs about their age, and team up on him, working together to tickle him to bits and teach him to respect his elders

Attitude Adjustment

Okay so if you’re like me and literally can’t keep the numbers straight: peter one (referred to just as Peter here) is tom holland’s spidey, peter two is tobey maguire’s, and peter three is andrew garfield’s. I felt SO silly writing in the numbers but there really is no other way LOL

Also, au where they’re in sort of a Spiderverse situation and the other spideys are trying to figure out how to get back to their dimensions. Absolutely no canon, just vibes.

“Hey Pete? How do you work this thing?” Peter Two huffs and flails his hands around through the holographic energy core in front of him. It spins listlessly, unsure how to interpret his gestures, and beeps at him.

“Comin’.” Peter rolls off the couch, chucking his phone onto the rickety coffee table. His new place was small, achingly so, but it was starting to come together nicely. He had pictures on the walls, a rug on the worst spot of the floor, and a bedframe. All progress was good progress.

“Show me how you’re doing it?” Peter squishes beside Two, who sort of swats at the hologram like an irritating bug.

“Oh, okay. So, uh, the hologram maps its movements according to your fingertips. If it can’t get a good read, it’s not gonna respond. Here, like this.” Peter pulls his hands into the projected image, twitching his fingertips and twirling his wrists. The simulated core spins and zooms at his whim. Eventually, the image flashes green, and a small loading bar picks up at the bottom.

“Neat.” Peter Two watches in awe as the computer begins to synthesize his formula. He idly spins the image around. “We didn’t have anything like this growing up. It’s crazy.”

“Glad I could help, grandpa.” Peter grins, giving Two’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. Two rolls his eyes and shoos him away.

“What a nice young man, helping the elderly,” Peter Three hums from the ceiling, typing away at his laptop as if his life depends on it. He looks a bit like a goblin, or maybe a vampire, hunched over all of them.

“I do my part.” Peter salutes, flips back over the couch, and pulls his phone back into his hand with a web. He’d lost his place in the Fantastic Four interview he was reading. He sighs.

“You both are hilarious,” Peter Two grumbles, watching a holographic array of complex mathematics spin in front of him.

Peter sinks down into the couch, into the quiet buzz of technology and Peter Three’s terrifying typing. It’s not silence, not quite, but it still gnaws into his bones in a way he doesn’t like. He’s been avoiding being Peter as much as he can lately, instead staying out on patrol as late as his body can handle. Collapsing on a rooftop as Spider-Man is easier than coming back to Peter Parker’s shithole apartment.

Spending time with people like him, people who get it, it’s…nice. Steadying. He knows it’s going to crush him when they leave, but having them now is more than he could ever ask for. He has no one, but he has them.

“Hey.” Peter leans over the back of the couch and waves at Three. “Need help?”

“Hm? No, I’m good. Still compiling that list of compatible metals. Hoping to keep this matter projector the size of a rubix cube. Or, worst case scenario, like a suitcase.” Peter Three gnaws at his lip, then squints at his screen. He flings out a web and snags his glasses, catching them out of midair. He puts them on with care, pinning the laptop to his upside-down lap with his free hand. After fiddling with the lenses, he gets them to balance properly.

“You’re still squinting.” Peter chuckles.

“It’s part of the creative process.” Three waves an idle hand, then squints more aggressively. “I, uh--I’ve got shit eyesight. It’s fine.”

“The spider bite didn’t fix your vision?” Peter furrows his brow.

“It did, but I wrecked it again. Too much blue light, too many flashbangs to the face--it all takes a toll, y’know? You should be grateful your eyes still work. Take care of them while you have them.” Peter Three nods sagely. He grabs his mug of long-cold coffee with a web and brings it carefully to his hands. He sips, gags, then comes back for more.

“Okay, dad.” Peter huffs with no venom. He tries not to be jealous that Three can drink upside down. He’s tried. Repeatedly.

“You have a remarkable amount of attitude for someone so tiny.” Three stares at him over the rim of his glasses, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Peter snorts.

“Right? It’s his tone,” Peter Two hums. The computer chirps at him that his equation is only sixty percent viable, would you like to try again? He thunks his head into the desk. Three’s mug slowly lowers itself down beside him. Two takes a sip, gags, and deposits the mug in the sink. Three balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head.

“Alright, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy. How about we take a break?” Peter Two stretches, popping something in his back. He does the ‘keys, wallet, phone’ patdown on himself, turning in circles to make sure he’s set.

“Like a patrol break?” Peter perks up.

“No, a dinner break. I’m starving, and God knows when you two last ate. Or slept.” Two hazards a glance towards Three.

“Oh, I’m good. Go without me.” Peter Three keeps typing. Two’s glare chills the room a few degrees. He pointedly clears his throat.

“Y’know what, actually? A break sounds great. Super on board with the, uh, the break time.” Peter Three closes his laptop and flips down off the ceiling. He stumbles as he lands, hissing in pain. The laptop goes flying, but Peter just manages to snag it with a web. He cradles it to his chest.

“Thanks.” Three nods. Peter nods back. The room collectively sighs in relief.

“Is it your, uh--” Two maneuvers to support Three as best he can. They limp over to the corner of the kitchen together.

“My back, yeah. Shitshitshit.” Peter Three inhales tightly and leans up against the counter. He tips his head back against the cabinets and focuses on breathing.

“It just, uh--well, it locks up sometimes. No clue why.” Three shrugs, then winces.

“I think I have some painkillers. If it’ll help.” Peter sets the laptop down. Three smiles thinly at him.

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m usually fine after a few minutes. Just gotta wait it out.” Three winces again, gripping the countertop hard. The cheap vinyl cracks with the force of it. Peter tries not to wonder if he’ll have to pay for that--instead, he fishes out the pitifully empty bottle from his coffin-sized bathroom.

“Gimme your hands.” Peter Two crowds in front of Three and starts helping him stretch, slow and steady. After a heart-wrenching cry of pain, Three hums appreciatively. He twists side to side, working out as many sore spots as he can. Peter shakes the bottle at him and tosses it. He catches it and dry swallows the pills.

“Hm.” Peter leans against the wall.

“What?” Two huffs.

“Nothing.” Peter shakes his head with a smile. Fondness blooms warm in his chest. May used to tell him that he’s the only person who knows how to take care of himself best, what he needs. He wonders if she ever thought it would manifest this way.

“Alright, c’mon. What old man joke are you sitting on right now?” Two crosses his arms. His amusement is contagious.

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you!” Peter laughs.

“One day you’re gonna be a twenty-something with a bad back. You’re gonna be like ‘oh wise and mysterious Peter, please help me with my ailing spine’. Then you’ll get it.” Three grunts. He loudly cracks something in his back and all of them wince.

“What am I gonna do? Do a backbend over your walker?” Peter snickers. Three gasps and splutters, sending both of them into actual laughter. They’re terrible influences on each other.

“You are such a brat.” Two chuckles, mostly in disbelief. Peter sticks his tongue out at him.

“Were you like this?” Two jerks a thumb toward Peter. Three quirks a smile and regards Peter for a bit--the defiant jut of his chin and the fire in his eyes are heartwarming.

“I mean…yeah. Kinda. Just tall.” Three smirks.

“I’m not short.” Peter scoffs. Two and Three exchange a glance. Three leans on Peter’s head. Peter swats his arm away.

“You’re barely taller than me!” Peter huffs, throwing his hands in the air.

“First step is acceptance, buddy.” Two pats his shoulder. “Let’s get our shawarma on.”

Peter Three stifles his laughter into his fist, squinting in mirth through crooked glasses. Peter groans, smacking his face into his palm. He’s hiding a smile, though, and it makes Two smile in turn.

“What?”

“Let’s get our shawarma on?” Peter snickers, his shoulders shaking.

“Yeah, I can’t defend you. That was corny.” Three leans into Peter and soon they’re both giggling, set off by each other’s goofiness.

“You sound like a dad!” Peter giggles.

“Scratch that. We’re not going anywhere until we cure you of this attitude.” Two raises an eyebrow. Peter giggles at him which, while adorable, Two cannot stand for.

“You gonna send me to my room? Ground me? Oooh, I’m so scared--” Peter snorts, then he’s upside down. Peter Two’s got him around the waist like a sack of potatoes. He lets out an affronted squeak and tries to reach for the floor.

“Whatareyoudoing--” All the breath leaves Peter in a hefty woosh as Two worms his fingers into his sides. He squeals, his legs flailing wildly. He tries to pry Two’s hands away but gravity isn’t his friend at the moment.

“Spider deterrent,” Two says, deathly serious, but Peter can hear him smiling. Bastard.

“Nononohoho! Tickling is cheating!” Peter cackles, all hope of playing tough long gone with his breath. No matter which way he tilts, Two’s fingers are waiting to torment him--and he seems to have quickly figured out just how deathly ticklish his stomach is. Almost like he knew already.

“I didn’t know there were rules--” Peter Two ducks out of the way of an accidental kick-- “Hey! Violence is not the answer!”

“Gonna v-violence your stuhupid fahahace! Lemme go!” Peter growls, prying at Two’s wrists again. Two tuts at him and vibrates his fingers into Peter’s stomach. He shrieks and kicks his legs, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” Peter gasps at Three, his voice way higher pitched than he’d like. His face is redder than his suit, little giggles still slipping free. He’s (mostly) deathly serious about murdering Two if he can just get out of this.

“Yeah, come help!” Two grins, beckoning Three over with a tilt of the head. Peter Three disappears out of Peter’s line of sight and he allows himself an evil grin.

“We’re gonna kick your--” Peter loses the last half of his threat to a yelp, then frenetic giggling as Three claws at his ribs. Peter screeches in betrayal and tries to swat at him, but he’s far from coordinated and it tickles, oh my god--

“Sorry. More afraid of him than I am of you.” Peter Three grins sheepishly, but his eyes shine with mischief. He walks his fingers up under Peter’s arms and he screeches loud enough to make a dog down the hall start barking. He lets out a snort and desperate syllables tumble out to follow. He manages to elbow Two in the gut and nearly gets dropped on his head for the trouble.

“S-Sorry! Tickles!” Peter hiccups and clamps his arms to his sides.

“You are so squirmy!” Two tosses him over the back of the shitty couch. Peter squeals at the sudden change in gravity, but then he’s squealing because they both follow him over the couch.

“I-I’m gonna get a noise complaint! Guys!” Peter throws his head back against the armrest and cackles, shoving at the two of them. He’s not sure where the ceiling is anymore, everything’s sort of spinning, but the slight burn in his chest is grounding.

“Alright, alright.” Two lays off and Three follows suit. Peter flings his arm over his face and tries to remember the sweet embrace of oxygen.

“Oho man. You guys suck.” Peter peeks at them with a goofy smile.

“Spider deterrent. Works like a charm.” Two puts his hands on his hips. Three leans up behind him and goes to poke his side, but Two catches his hand.

“Don’t. Do not.” Two points at Three threateningly. Three holds his hands up in surrender, but his grin is anything but innocent. He and Peter lock eyes.

“Spider deterrent, huh?” Peter leans up on his elbows with a cocky grin. “Every experiment needs multiple trials, right?”

“You’re both menaces.” Two grapples with Three, occasionally twitching but still putting up a fight. Peter manages to poke him a few times and get his arm caught, but Two can’t fight both of them.

A hush befalls the room as Peter Two visibly weighs his options, trying not to crack from Three’s pinching at his ribs.

Two throws himself over the couch, followed by Three, and Peter eggs them on from the safety of the couch. It’s like watching cats wrestle, really--there’s an indistinguishable tangle of limbs and shouting before Peter Three’s shocked cackle emerges from the pile.

“P-Peter! Help!” Three wheezes, holding his hand out for rescue.

“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, sure, I’ll help.” Peter cackles evilly, kicking off the couch and launching himself at Three.

“Wait, hold on--”

…

“98 percent viable. We did it,” Peter Two breathes, holding the hologram in his hands. The simulated core spins lazily. After hours of calibration and recalibration, the algorithm finally holds steady. Three squeezes his shoulder and laughs quietly, happily. They’re going home.

“Should we tell him?” Three casts a glance over to the couch. Peter’s out cold, curled up under a threadbare blanket that refuses to let go of its musty smell. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looks peaceful.

“Tomorrow. You both still owe me shawarma.” Two smiles, knocking their shoulders together.

#why are my most beloved blorbos the hardest to write ;-;#sorry the ending was rushed on this but i hope you enjoy!!!#my fics #mcu spiderman #ticklish!peter parker #peter parker #marvel #love and light i will not be tagging all of them LMAO #hope u enjoy anon!!#i dont think ive written any mcu spiderman fics yet so ill christen the tag i suppose #i have so many headcanons about like. just who they are as people and what their dynamic would be like if they worked together as a unit #god i gotta watch the tobey and andrew movies again i miss them #also it is SO important to me that peter parker is just. a little bitchy. i dont know why but i feel it's essential for the queens in him #also like. the three peters are totally different characters but when its time for mischief they share one braincell #GAH i love them #my boys!!!#edit: Peter two’s back issues are just my back issues. sometimes my back goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAA and then it’s fine

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