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atty-goldstein · 2 years

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Yellow Jacket Live Chat Things

I have been saying from the start that the Yellow Jacket song had Alanis Morissette vibes and Nick confirmed that was really what they were going for

Nick Lang: Look how angsty Lex is. She'll eat cake and spit it everywhere. She doesn't give a fuck.

Steph's a senior and Hannah's a freshman

I think it's cool that even if Mariah was originally going to play Lex, but didn't get to, she still gets to play sisterly roles to Hannah. Like Steph and Webby.

Nick Lang: Tom and Hannah are flannel buddies

GoodMorningButch called Tom "Lumberdad"

Curt did the editing for Hannah's vision

People were either giving hospital billing tips or were glad they're not American

Praise for Joey's hair

And no, Nick Lang doesn't know how Joey makes his hair look that good

Notable comment from frog uncle: yes queen manifest a working finger"

dragonpotter said the exact same thing I did: MILF WEBBY

The sadness Webby felt when Hannah told her Lex is unhappy hits differently after knowing that Webby and Lex used to be close too

Webby is also broke/has no money. Relatable queen.

Curt was channeling his Texas roots for Eddie Chiplucky

The first time the arena is shown, the lights are purple, blue, and green

We love Jeff's announcer look, yes

DANIEL TIME BABY MY BELOVED

Bryce made her own costumes and she absolutely slayed. As Curt said, she's "like and octuple threat"

Lots of theories about the kids being linked to certain LiBs

Nick Lang: Spitfire isn't really tall so much as Stopwatch is very small.

So Daniel's literally babie and I love the irony that it's Jon, who's really tall himself, playing him

Nick Lang said Daniel's power is inspired by a character from Dragonball Z

Nessie V pointed out that he has a blue headband

Pokey-man

Curt Mega said Stranger Things stole this

Everyone's happy about Hannah getting new friends

"Hannah's got her foot on the gas" hell yeah she does

"Ethan sells NFTs"

Curt Mega: DIANECOIN TO THE MOON

Everyone freaking out about the bounce house

That bounce house stuff must have been really good for Ethan to decide he wants to marry Lex the day after lmao jk

The way people are worried that the danger in this story is Ethan and Lex not being responsible with money and wasting it all

Took a while for a lot of folks to conclude that Otho is the LiB Pokotho

Nick Lang said the Otho puppet is too complicated to operate for the stage

Curt Mega: Several of the muppets auditioned for this role [Otho] but they just didn't have the chops

Really, why would anyone be sus of Daniel, he's just baby?

The way people were panicking over Hannah's Hubris is great

Even after saying McNamara's not in the episode, there's still someone inevitably wanting McNamara to help when Hannah shuts Webby out

Charles is confirmed to be a cryptobro

Not a lot predicted Webby coming to Lex for help, but more people did during the first time it came out last year

SAY THE LINE OTHO

The confusion that the bomb in the head worked for killing Otho, but it didn't work when Paul blew up the meteor

Phone gun!

HELP MY TEARS ROLLED BACK INTO MY EYES UPON REALIZING THE BG MUSIC IS SNOOZLE TOWN WHEN ETHAN WAKES UP TO LOOK FOR LEX AND HANNAH

Confusion aside, it's still really painful hearing Lex tell Ethan that Hannah's not his sister when he clearly treats her like one and is willing to make it official by wanting to marry Lex, despite everything and despite the arguments they recently had

After watching Daddy "Be young for all of us" kiiiiiinda hits different ngl

Emotional again over the faucet and Next Time

#starkid #yellow jacket #nmt s2 #nmt s2 spoilers #nightmare time season 2

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andie-cake · 3 years

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Some between the lines paulkins hurt/comfort please?

I, uh... Got a little sidetracked, and the paulkins stuff kinda took a backseat. So... sorry in advance?

It was early in the morning when Paul woke up. Too early. 2 AM, to be precise. He wasn't sure what had woken him, but he knew he likely wouldn't be falling back asleep for a while.

But if he absolutely had to be awake right now, at least he wasn't alone.

Sleeping beside him, all snuggled up in his arms, was Emma. The unbelievably talented artist that he'd initially commissioned to do illustrations for his work-in-progress novel, Alien Alone, and ended up falling head over heels for. And miraculously, she felt the same about him, something she'd confirmed not long after Paul had offered to let her stay at his place when the airport delayed her flight home in wake of the terrible blizzard that had slammed into Arrowhead. She liked him enough to kiss him, to have sex with him, to fall asleep in his arms while he stroked her hair, to behold the grisly scar that traveled down the length of his torso without a trace of fear or disgust in her eyes.

She was talented, funny, beautiful, brimming with intelligence and wit, and she wanted him. It seemed too good to be true, and yet it was. This fiery five-foot marvel of a human being was asleep in his bed, cuddled closely to his scarred chest. And even in his barely-awake state, Paul was in awe at how drop dead gorgeous she was, illuminated by the blue, alien glow of his eyes in the pitch black bedroom.

He really shouldn't watch her sleep, Paul thought. It felt a little creepy.

With that thought in mind, Paul shut his eyes, hoping that Emma's warmth against his constantly-cold skin would be enough to lull him to sleep. For a moment, it seemed like he would finally doze off, but then...

Hello, Paul. How are you on this fine morning?

Paul bit back an irritated groan at the gentle, echo-y voice that had infiltrated his brain. Speaking of creepy...

"Good morning, Pokey," Paul thought in response. "Haven't heard from you in a mercifully long time..."

Oh, don't be like that now, my darling little Paul, Pokey chuckled, his voice cloyingly sweet. You know I love you~

Paul rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever turns you on, blue balls," he grumbled internally in response to his otherworldly earworm's cooing. "Now, why the hell are you bothering me at 2 in the morning?"

Isn't it obvious? Pokey asked. His tone once again veered into that sickeningly sweet drawl that Paul despised so much. I just came to see how things were faring with our little Emmy dear~

"What's all this "our" shit?" Paul snapped irritably. "She doesn't know about you, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Plus, she's not "mine". She's her own person!"

Yes, unfortunately, Pokey mused under his breath. But you see, my beloved prophet, "our" and "mine" mean the same thing in your special case! For you are me, and I am you, so to treat me as though I am separate from you would be factually incorrect~!

"Stuff it, Shakespeare," Paul huffed, squeezing his eyes shut once more. "I don't give a shit about your technicalities, just let me get some sleep."

There was a brief moment of silence, a welcome respite from Pokotho's pretentious prattling. But before Paul could get too comfortable, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his ribs, forcing him to stifle a cry of pain.

"Fuck, OW!" Paul's mind screamed, blurry with pain. It was like a pair of hands had grabbed a hold of his ribcage, and was now desperately trying to pull it from his chest. "Shit, shit, fuck, holy shit Pokey, STOP!"

Apologize for your tone first, Pokey ordered, his voice cold and stern. Then I'll stop.

Paul complied, his eyes welling up with tears of agony. If this went on any longer, he'd end up screaming in Emma's ear, and the last thing he wanted was to get her involved with this.

"Okay, okay, I'm SORRY!"

You're sorry, what?

"I'M SORRY, MASTER!"

The pain in Paul's ribs mercifully ceased, and he allowed himself a sharp exhale through his nose.

Hmmmm-hee-hee-hee~! Pokey chuckled in that mock-doting tone, a treacly little hum of a laugh. There's my darling prophet I adore so much~

Paul huffed out a few labored breaths, thankful his momentary agony hadn't awoken Emma from her peaceful slumber.

"Okay, now what do you want?" Paul asked his invisible tormentor once more.

It's just as I said earlier, I came to check up on Little Miss Perkins, Pokey answered. A pause, then another humming laugh jingled in Paul's ears. Hmmmm-hee-hee-hee~! What a precious little thing she is~! Isn't she just adorable when she sleeps?

Paul shuddered in repulsion. "God, please don't talk about her like that..." he begged, hoping that the "please" would be enough to not incur his painful wrath again. "It's a little creepy..."

Oh, come now, Paul, don't try and pretend like you weren't thinking the same exact thing mere minutes ago~! Pokey retorted. Paul didn't want to admit that he was right, to a certain extent. Of all the peaches you could've picked off the tree, she's most certainly the sweetest~

Paul resisted the urge to gag. Sure, he could get pretty mushy over Emma in his head at times, but this was just... unsettling to listen to.

Yes, she is beautiful, Pokey continued to observe. Christ, he was gonna go on like this for a while, wasn't he? Her sweet smile, her silky brown hair, her adorably tiny stature~

Again, all things that Paul loved about Emma's appearance, but he wasn't this creepy about it! And it's not like her looks were the only thing he'd fallen for! Her wit, her talent at art, her take-no-shit attitude! If Pokey absolutely had to creepily dote over Emma at 2 AM, couldn't he talk about something other than her appearance?

And those eyes... Pokey noted, his tone deeper than usual.

The way he'd said that settled uncomfortably in Paul chest. "Wh-what?" he asked nervously.

Her eyes, aren't they lovely, Paul? Pokey elaborated. You always did have a thing for brown eyes, didn't you, my dear prophet? Bright, wide brown eyes, shining like sweet pools of golden honey in the sunlight~

Paul shifted, hugging Emma's still-sleeping form closer to his chest. For some reason, he felt like he wouldn't enjoy where this observation was going.

But you know what I think, Paul? Pokey asked, his tone all but explicitly telling him that this was a rhetorical question. I think she'd look even prettier if her eyes were blue. Just. Like. Yours~! Hmmmm-hee-hee-hee~!

Paul tensed up in fear, the implication of that sentence sending a chill down his spine. "P-Pokey, please, no-"

Oh, and that voice of hers~! What majesty~! Pokey continued, ignoring Paul's fearful pleas. She's a light-lyric soprano, correct? Wouldn't you give anything to hear her sing, Paul~?

Paul found himself taking in sharp breaths as Pokey laughed tauntingly in his ear. No, no, no, he couldn't do this. He could never subject Emma to the same torment Pokey had been putting him through for the past three years! He wouldn't! Never in a million years!

But at the same time... She was right here, in his arms... Sleeping, defenseless, vulnerable... It'd be so easy, Paul... He could pry her jaws open and let the hive's honey flow down her throat... He could make her one of him, and he'd never have to keep another secret from her again-

"Paul?"

Paul startled, snapping out of his trance, thank god. He blinked rapidly, orienting himself and seeing a confused and groggy-looking Emma staring up at him from her place in his arms.

"E-Emma...?" he stammered hoarsely. "What-?"

"I could feel you hyperventilating, dude," she explained, audibly stifling a yawn. Her tone, while still sleepy, softened considerably. "Are you okay?"

Paul cursed himself silently. On one hand, her waking up snapped him out of Pokey's horrifying trance. On the other hand, he had worried her in the process.

"I-I'm... fine," he lied. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Emma pressed. "You're shaking a little bit."

Was he? Damn it. Paul thought quick, scared to tell her the truth behind his panic. "M-my anxiety started acting up," he bluffed. "And it can get really bad when I'm tired, so I guess I just started spiralling a bit..."

"Oh..." Emma said, her voice soft and sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Paul slurred in exhaustion. "Wasn't your fault."

It was the blue, fuzzy, Phantom of the Opera-wannabe who lives in my head, he added on internally.

Emma didn't seem wholly convinced that he was alright, not that Paul could blame her, he was never a good liar.

"Here," she said, shifting out of Paul's arms and opening her own. "Lay your head on my chest."

"O-okay?" Paul complied, confused.

He laid his head just above her breast, her heartbeat gently drumming against his ear. He adjusted himself so that their positions were essentially reversed, with him cuddled against her chest with her arms around him. He hummed contentedly, nestling his face in the crook of her neck. It was an odd position, what with him being so much taller than her, but it was still strangely comfortable. And that comfort only grew once her hand found his hair, her fingers running through the strands while her nails gently grazed his scalp. God, Paul could've melted at the sensation, it was almost heavenly.

Emma giggled softly, a sound that Paul treasured every time he heard it. "How's that?"

"Wonderful..." Paul sighed. "Thanks, Em..."

Emma pressed a featherlight kiss to his temple. "Get some sleep."

"Mmkay. Goodnight, Emma."

"Goodnight, Paul."

Paul closed his eyes, finally letting himself drift off with the sound of Emma's heartbeat as a lullaby. One day, he'd have to tell her the awful truth of what he was, and what Pokey wanted to do to her. He dreaded that day in ways he could hardly describe. But for now? Emma liked him for who he was, and wanted him all the same. Though the future scared him, Pokey's voice had gone silent for the time being. He wouldn't try anything tonight. Knowing that, Paul allowed Emma's warmth and her gentle touch to lull him to sleep.

#finished this at a late hour so i'm gonna schedule it for a better time #between the lines fic #paulkins

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