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00fairylights00 · 4 months

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I Guess You Just Don’t Love Me Anymore

GIF from @glowing-starlight on Tumblr

I was so taken by @ash-arts-but-sinful's post which mentions P being jealous of the cat and @oldworldghost’s post which contains the idea of him becoming more mischievous and sassy as he becomes human that I just had to write a little something, I hope it’s alright that I drew on your thoughts for some inspiration!

As a disclaimer, I haven’t finished my first play-through yet so this is more of a character study based off of what I’ve experienced in-game and what I’ve been seeing on Tumblr instead of delving heavily into the world-building and established story that exists within the game. So hopefully no spoilers and it’s very likely that this won’t at all line up with the in-game timeline.

Big thanks to @cupidsredcollar beloved for proofreading <3

For as long you had known Pinocchio you had never known him to be a jealous individual, in fact, when you’d first met that bleak, overcast morning in Hotel Krat you had been almost unsettled by his uncanny nature.

His features were perfectly human, aside from the metal prosthetic he’d been fitted with. He had freckles and soft hair, a face that looked fashioned from a real person instead of the smiling caricatures Krat’s puppets were usually fitted with.

But despite his boyish features, his face barely moved, he nodded along to Sophia as she gave him the task of locating his father, Mr. Geppetto, and tilted his head in question as Lady Antonia explained the concept of lying but his brows didn’t so much as pinch, his lips didn’t quirk and his eyes looked straight through you as you had wished him safety on his travels.

So watching in real time as he came into his own was something you cherished greatly, you continued to watch him grow and change, become something new. Pinocchio chose to spend a lot of his down time with you, he said he found you interesting, that you had a way of explaining humanity that made sense to him and over the last couple of weeks something had started to shift in him.

No, Pinocchio had never been a jealous individual, for as long as you’d known him.

Until today.

Your morning had started normally, woken up by the cool feeling of P’s lips against your forehead, human hand smoothing back your hair. He mumbled something about needing to go out, you tried to convince him to come back to bed, he tried to convince you to get up (he always wins).

P drags you down to the kitchen, you eat and he watches, something that was initially a little awkward but you’ve come to really look forward to, then you farewell each other at the rear entrance of the hotel.

He holds you close to his chest, resting his lips to your hairline and making you promise to look after yourself and your companions while he’s away, you make him promise to be careful though you know he’s not always able to, often catching glimpses of Sophia muttering blessings and incantations under her breath in the foyer.

“It’s just Ergo hunting today, I’ll be more than careful.” He whispers, human arm winding around your shoulder. You breathe him in, hands to his chest feeling the odd sensation of his heart, not quite a tick but not quite a beat.

You lean up to kiss against the slant of his jaw, his mechanical pulse jumping in response. He looks down at you, you catch the fondness in his blue eyes without mistake, he captures your lips in his, holding on for a second longer than he knows is necessary (it’s not like you mind though).

Lounging against the doorway, watching him walk towards the entrance of Elysion Boulevard, he turns and gives a last longing look over his shoulder before stepping through the wrought iron gates and disappearing from view.

You sigh, making your way back inside to start on your usual round of chores, helping where you could to take the load off of Polendina who needed more time to focus on Lady Antonia and her illness. You had just returned to the puppet butler for more tasks when you noticed movement on the top of the shelf behind the front desk.

Sitting tall and proud was Hotel Krat’s resident sweetheart, Spring, tail swishing steadily as she kept watch of the foyer from her perch. The white and orange cat jumped down to the desk as she noticed you, laying down across the dark wood and turning over in gesture for belly rubs; which you gave happily.

“She’s been very noisy today,” Polendina explained, stroking the cat, “I wonder what she’s trying to tell us?”

“Probably trying to manipulate us into giving her more treats, isn’t that right?” You accused lightly, you were sure that if he could, Polendina would be smiling.

“There is another load of laundry that needs folding, could I have a hand?” He asked politely.

“Of course Polendina.”

And it seemed you had found yourself a shadow, Spring making an unreasonable amount of noise as she followed you and Polendina around the hotel. She wound between your legs, chirruped in response to your voices and bumped her head against whatever part of your bodies were within her reach.

It was no surprise that Spring was loved by the inhabitants of the hotel, and it was very apparent that she loved them back, well everyone except for P. Not for lack of trying of course, he followed your advice of trying to build trust between him and the animal but she wouldn’t so much as let P touch her, hissing her disapproval for all to hear.

You’d often watch as P would recoil from Spring, the feline swiping and spitting at the puppet. You couldn’t tell from his expressions if the cat’s dislike for him bummed him out but sometimes as he lay next to you in bed he would lament quietly that Spring hated him, which would award him a sound of humoured pity and a kiss for the cheek.

It wasn’t clear what it was about P that set Spring off so aggressively. In all the time you had spent at Hotel Krat she’d never behaved in such an unfriendly way, even complete strangers who would seek refuge for short periods of time were welcome to interact with Spring freely.

She would bask in the attention. You hoped that she would eventually come around to the puppet, given it looked like he would be around for the long haul and you just knew the two would be the best of friends if she would stop being so nasty.

But P was patient, far more patient than you were and it showed as you folded and unfolded the same piece of linen for the third time without realising, Polendina placed a gloved hand over your own, silently relieving you of duty.

“Apologies, my mind seems to be elsewhere Polendina.”

“You worry for the boy, it’s only natural that your mind wanders.” You sometimes forget how long Polendina has been around, having been a close companion of Lady Antonia’s for decades. You had a feeling he knew more about human emotions than he let on, somehow he always knew what to say when it came to your thoughts surrounding Geppetto’s Puppet.

“I just can’t help it, and with him figuring out who he is, I fear he’ll get himself hurt by being too kind.” You wring your hands in your lap, focusing hard on the lines in your skin as you try to keep yourself from thinking of anything too awful.

“He has met humans who have given him trouble before and he has a good head on his shoulders. I would wager that you have nothing to worry about, but I understand that may not put your mind at ease.”

“It doesn’t but thank you.” Your hand went to Polendina’s shoulder with a smile. “I think I’m going to find something else to do, try and get my mind off of things.”

Polendina nodded once, going back to folding the linens, “I’ll send the boy your way when he returns.”

You smiled in earnest, appreciative of Polendina’s knowing kindness.

Spring, who had been lounging between you and Polendina, got up, stretching herself out and scampering over to your side. She meowed frantically to grasp your attention.

Her interruptions continued as you made your way around the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly dirty given how little it was being used now, however, the repetitive action of wiping down the countertops and sweeping the floor were just the distraction you were looking for.

Your ears perked up at the heavy steps of boots on marble floors, the jingle of P’s belt was something you could identify in your sleep. He stood tall in the doorway, all sweet smiles and fidgeting hands. Happy to see you, always happy to see you.

He was shockingly clean as he approached, resting his forehead to yours as his hands found their place on your waist, all the scolding about tracking oil and muck through the hotel was finally paying off.

You ran your hands over the intricate designs embossed onto the lapel of his coat, smoothing the fabric down before hooking your hands behind his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.” You cooed, brushing your nose against his.

He liked the small intimacies you shared, bunny kisses you’d come to find were a favourite of his.

“You can go and relax if you want, I’m just cleaning.” You offered, but he shook his head.

Spring had also gotten bored of waiting on you, brushing up against your legs. So there you stood, sandwiched between your two favourite beings.

And two shadows wouldn’t be so bad if they would stop getting under foot, you laughed as Spring and P fought for your attention while you made your way around the kitchen.

P hovered close, slinging his arm around your waist as you tried to pass him. You stopped short as he pressed his face into your neck, leaning back against his chest and resting your hands over his wrist. You could feel him smile against your skin, a careful, small smile that only he could manage.

At that moment Spring took it upon herself to jump up onto the counter in front of you, hissing and swiping at P, he scowled and pulled you closer.

“Beast,” he scowled, you gaped at P, smacking the back of your hand at his chest.

“Don’t be horrible, she’s just protecting her territory,” you chided,

“I haven’t done anything to her, yet she spits at me.” He complained, you thought your ears might be playing tricks on you at the distinct sound of a whine in his tone.

“You love her.” You reminded smugly, a truth he was unable to escape.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he mumbled, you pushed against his hold, trying to signal your want to move and he hesitantly loosened his grip. Hand ghosting over your waist as he watched you go, you threw a smile over your shoulder which he returned in kind.

You gave Spring a kiss on the head, letting her nuzzle her face against yours before scooping her up and putting her down on the floor where she went back to curling around your legs.

“Ah, so the cat gets a kiss but I don’t?” P asked. You snorted, flinging the rag you’d been using to polish the countertops over your shoulder.

You lent your hip against the counter and crossed your arms over your chest, “you never asked for a kiss, how was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted?”

“I feel like it was obvious.” He placed both of his hands on the counter, stretching his arms out straight as he pushed against the granite.

You rolled your eyes in jest, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping onto your face, playfully exasperated you closed the short distance between the two of you. Lifting up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he was quick to move his head once you’d pulled back. Hands to your waist and pulling you against him, sealing his lips to yours so quickly it pulled a sound of shock from your throat.

“What’s up with you today, you’ve been awfully touchy.” You teased, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly.

“I missed you too, always miss you when you’re gone.” You placed a hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently under his eye.

He pulled the rag from your shoulder and threw it behind you unceremoniously, taking your hand from his cheek to drag you out of the kitchen, a laugh bubbled out of your throat that P was happy to mischievously return.

He led you to the library, seating you at the piano and turning away to rifle through the sheet music stacked in a crate on the floor. He’d been getting better day by day.

His body wasn’t exactly built to do delicate actions but that never seemed to stop him, in fact, he was inexplicably drawn to all the soft parts of being human even if initially he was afraid to get it wrong. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt anyone close to him and for that reason he was acutely aware of the raw strength he possessed.

Though his conscious effort to be gentle made all the difference.

Spring decided she’d had enough of being ignored, jumping up onto the piano bench and brushing up against you, pressing close and then curling down next to you. P turned around, the particular book of sheet music he was searching for held up in his hand, his expression dropped almost comically as he noticed Spring’s position next to you, taking up what was going to be his spot.

“Move her,” he says simply, you throw your head back with a hearty laugh but P’s serious expression doesn’t change.

“No,” you start with a laugh, “Spring got here first, you’ll have to pull up a chair.”

P continued to stand his ground, you wondered if he hoped his very presence would annoy Spring enough that she’d disappear of her own accord, but the cat only opened one eye. She regarded P from her curled up position before nestling her chin back down into her tail.

It was like Spring knew she was in his spot and was smugly showing off to him, purring loudly.

“P, I’m not moving the cat. Just come and sit on the other side of me.” You insisted, watching as his unappreciated love for the animal won out and he stalked off to get a chair. You chuckled under your breath and passed your fingers through Spring’s soft fur.

“You are so mean to him, you know? He’s quite fond of you and I think you two would be very good friends if you gave him the chance.” You whispered to the cat who ignored you, continuing to purr unabashedly.

Unbeknownst to you, P watched your interaction with the feline from the doorway, his chest feeling warm in a way he wasn’t quite used to yet. Touched by your words that you thought were falling on deaf ears.

He gave in to your fondness for the cat, pulling his chair up next to you, fingers gently flitting across the keys as you hummed softly, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He decided he didn’t mind this so much.

Late in the evening, however, he decided he did mind.

You were curled up in your bed a book in hand and Spring dozing lazily in your lap, he entered the room and his shoulders physically dropped.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, thumb placed between the pages of your book as a makeshift bookmark.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, sitting down unceremoniously on the edge of your bed to take off his shoes.

You placed the now forgotten book on your bedside cabinet, the act of sitting up a little difficult with the cat in your lap. You reached for his shoulder but he shrugged off your hand, trying to hide the action by stripping off his coat.

He stood and draped the coat over the back of your desk chair and moved to unbutton his waistcoat, all while staring down Spring with a scowl.

It clicked.

“Are you jealous of the cat?” You wanted deeply to believe that your Pinocchio was not jealous of a cat, but you couldn’t come up with a more sound explanation.

“I don’t know what that word means.” He lied, avoiding your gaze entirely, unbuckling his belt and dumping it on the desk, Gemini didn’t say anything so you assumed he mustn’t be awake.

“Yes you do,” you rolled your eyes, “I remember very clearly the conversation we had about it.”

He didn’t respond, turning his back to you and focusing his attention on rifling through the dresser drawer full of his clothes. The sleep clothes he was looking for were folded at the end of the bed.

“It’s okay that you’re jealous of-”

“I am not jealous.” Quick, concise and with no room for argument, he spun back on you. His snapping didn’t phase you.

“Uh huh,” you teased with a smirk, turning all your attention back to Spring who’d been ignoring your exchange.

Perhaps what you were doing was a little mean, given that before you hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose, but it was too fun an opportunity to pass up. P let out a disgruntled huff, shuffling around in your peripheral.

“I guess you just don’t love me anymore.” He offered with his arms crossed over his chest, your jaw dropped and a shocked laugh fell out of your open mouth.

“You take that back, immediately!” You snapped playfully, sitting up fully and annoying the cat enough for her to get up and move.

“Make me.” The challenge he’d levied would mean conceding to his childish behaviour but after all he’d been through, you thought it only fair.

You pulled the sheets back and stood from the bed, crossing the room to him. He tried to act as though he was uninterested, tried to pretend that your hands on his chest didn’t affect him, tried to ignore the speed of his heart as it hammered under your palm.

Your hands travelled the beaten path they always did, from his chest to his collarbone, then hooking behind his neck. Trying to pull him down was useless, like trying to topple a brick wall with bare hands, but you caught him staring out of the corner of his eye.

“Look at me.” Your whisper was a command, and he had always been faithful to a fault. “I love you.”

He tried to hide the oncoming smile, dropping his chin to his chest, but you were quick to guide his gaze back to yours. There was no way you’d be missing that careful grin. His eyes were soft and gentle when they met your own, there was hesitance in them that you didn’t want to see, so you kissed him.

He melted against you, arms winding around your back and pulling you against his chest, you hummed and he couldn’t stop the full blown grin from forming on his lips; breaking away to look at you like a giddy school boy.

“Are you going to take it back?” You asked, brushing your nose against his in a bunny kiss.

“Will I still get to kiss you if I do?” He joked, you rolled your eyes albeit in good nature, hands cradling his cheeks as he continued to smile.

“I think that can be arranged,” you mused, leaning in to kiss him again, the two of you falling into familiar rhythm with one another.

Spring slinked out of the partially open door, tail held high, she had seen more than enough.

#I started writing this in October when I had barely scratched the surface of the game #Still have not finished it though lmao #Also sorry for all the @’s I just wanted everyone to be properly credited and what not if that’s annoying lemme know and I’ll make sure it’#Do I know anything about anything? No #Also P talks a lot in this one #Controversial I know :o #I’m kidding #I realised after writing all of this out that the game takes place over like 3 days #So just suspend reality for me if you would #I am no stranger to lengthening the timeline to fit my selfish needs I will do it again in fact #And you will not complain because I wrote the puppet boy kissing YOU 🫵🏻#pushing my bunny kisses agenda once again #Lies of P x Reader #Pinocchio x Reader #Lies of P #Don’t ask me where the puppet is on the humanity scale because I do not know #jan 2024 #Pretty Boy series #🦋 let your conscience be your guide

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kianaisspiraling · 3 months

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Immortal GIGS Crew Phasmophobia AU

GIGS phasmo AU where they're basically just a group of retired immortals having fun :D

Impulse and Skizz started working for this ghost hunting company, and since they can't die, instead of reading the manual they decided to just fuck around and find out.

In truth, they kinda just showed up and started taking jobs. The company was gonna find these intruders and punish them at first, but when the spectacular results started coming in, the higher-ups hesitantly decided to let it go, since none of their actual employees were brave enough to take the cases Impulse and Skizz did.

Eventually, their results from one investigation were left with a letter requesting payment, since they didn't wanna keep using the cheap starter equipment in the van they "borrowed." So if the company slips an envelope full of cash into their own mailbox every time they receive a report for the mystery workers to take, and sometimes equipment disappears from storage with cash in its place, they simply would look the other way.

Later they drag Grian, Scar, and Gem into their shenanigans and they also fuck around and find out.

To the company, the GIGS Crew is their best team, even if they don't know much about them. They always take their hardest, most fatal jobs, and walk out completely fine.

Little do they know these eldritch entities die repeatedly and they scream like little girls. What is considered an almost certainly fatal job for any regular person, is just a game to the GIGS.

For example, all manuals say to snap pictures of cursed items, and safely return them to HQ to be disposed of in a contained area. GIGS crew though? None of them have the self control to not use those. Every single one of them would pull every tarot card for fun and you know it. Manual says to under no circumstances touch a summoning circle. GIGS does not read the manual.

They even set some rules early on, afterall this is a game to them, and what fun is a game if you can't die? So essentially they declared that if a ghost was to hit you with what would be a killing blow, you have to go into spectral form, in which you detach from your body and hover about like a spectator. Think Dr. Strange. The only thing they're allowed to do in this form is pick stray items up, and if everyone "dies" they have to jump ship and come back again later.

They can be 'revived' by the monkey paw or something too. Thing is, despite the fact that they don't need to, they still say, "I wish for Life," before the 'dead' person returns to their body. If this causes some recently dead guy a block away to suddenly wake up fine, sue them. They're causing miracles over here, be grateful!

Now imagine something happens one day that causes a human mortal that also works for the company in some regard to bare witness to GIGS' unhinged method of investigation. They're playing with cursed objects like toys, purposefully triggering hunts, and—

Unnamed is sitting in the van watching the camera closely when it happens. They've been tasked as a fifth, no wait, sixth member of the legendary GIGS crew for the day, since there's apparently a girl named Gem that subs in for Scar half the time. They're thinking that, sure, this team's been a bit reckless so far, but who are they to judge? These guys are THE professionals, after all. However, this viewpoint quickly gets decimated.

"HahAHA Scar's dead!" Unnamed's head snaps up at Grian's outburst. They, being the normal person they are, respond reasonably, "Wait, agent Scar is dead-?!" A pause followed by a realization, "Why the hell are you laughing-?!"

Grian, who came back into the van for candles since they were going to do an Onryo test before it started hunting, suddenly remembers that humans don't think death is funny. Right. Need to fix that slip up.

"Uhm... out of shock, I think?" Wow, A+ excuse, he mentally berates himself. Think Grian, think! Humans have that thing called grief, right? And isn't the first stage of that denial? Bingo! "I.. I'm sorry, I think I'm just.. in denial?" Grian wants to slap himself. Great idea, horrible execution. Unnamed clearly didn't buy it.

Thankfully, that mess was interrupted, "Hey guys, I found the monkey paw. Should I use it to bring Scar back?" Impulse says over the radio. Skizz and Grian are quick to agree, the latter also using the distraction to rush out of the van and that conversation with the candles.

It takes a moment to click, but Unnamed suddenly realizes, "Wait, are you guys gonna use a cursed item to bring Agent Scar back-?! Look, I know you all are mourning, but that is under all circumstances forbidden!" They take a breath in disbelief, "That could have unforeseen consequences!"

Skizz pipes up, not even trying to be subtle, "Well, duh. The consequences are what makes it fun!" Unnamed is interrupted by Impulse before they can rant about how bad of an idea this is—, "Yeah you say that until you're the one that has to deal with them," he chuckles.

Skizz, in blind yet playful rage, bites the bait, "Fine then! Give me the monkey paw, and I'll wish Scar back to life myself!"

Skizz does this and dies, and they can practically hear him complaining from beyond the grave. Impulse snaps a picture of his corpse as they make fun of the position he's in, his back bent backward. Unnamed is frozen in shock in the van as they listen to Skizz's friends, including a newly revived Scar, laugh at their own friend's demise. Oh god, they're surrounded by psychopaths. These guys take all the hardest jobs, of course they've gone crazy—

Unnamed, after spiraling for an unknown amount of time, looks over to the activity chart to see that there is a hunt going on. This gives them some time to collect their thoughts, only for that little composure to immediately be shattered when as soon as the hunt ends, Grian barks out a laugh, "Oh Scar! He's died AGAIN!", "Oh nooo!" Impulse follows along with a chuckle. Unnamed is on the verge of hyperventilating.

The two remaining GIGS return to the van and ignore Unnamed's impending panic attack. Grian tells Impulse that the hunt started right after the third candle blew out, so he thinks it's an Onryo. "I mean we do already have orbs, but I wasn't getting freezing temps and that ghost just wasn't answering spirit box." Impulse counters.

"Listen, I know I was spirit boxin' it pretty good,"—Unnamed shudders at that. The second-hand cringe they felt listening to Grian's "WHERE ARE YOUUU-?!" was indescribable—"but my gut is really telling me it's an Onryo! Besides, we've had ghosts that just refused to talk before."

"Your gut is usually right," Impulse mutters. "Look, we've got one of two evidence and a successful Onryo test, so I say we gag since Scar and Skizz are dead." Grian says. Impulse still looks unsure, "I just feel like it's too soon. One evidence is hardly enough, and that Onryo test could be a fluke."

They have completely forgotten Unnamed is there at this point, and they don't exactly feel like attracting attention to themself as they wilt like a flower in the corner, pondering their life choices.

Grian relents a bit, "Okay how about this, we ask Scar and Skizz if we should gag or continue investigating, fair?" Impulse nods, "Fair."

Unnamed looks up a little, concerned on how exactly they plan to consult their dead friends. They're beginning to think there's a high likelihood they'll quit tonight, and they're definitely going to need a therapist after all this.

Impulse speaks up over the radio despite them all being in the truck, "Alright guys, come get your clipboards!" Unnamed stares on in something akin to horror as two of the clipboards up on the wall start hovering. Impulse's voice is somehow too loud and too quiet at the same time, "Alright, throw your clipboards on the keyboard if we should continue, and throw them on the floor if we should gag."

Both clipboards are now being repeatedly picked up and tossed on the floor of the van by an invisible force. 'Forces,' they correct themself mentally, as it slowly dawns on them that these ghosts are actually Scar and Skizz, and isn't THAT a mind-twister?

Impulse looks slightly disappointed but smiles good-naturedly anyway, "You guys wanna gag? Alrighty then, check off Onryo and let's go!"

This is the moment that Impulse suddenly remembers Unnamed's existence, looking slightly worried at their lack of input, "You okay?" He turns his head, "Grian don't go yet, Unnamed hasn't given their opinion." Grian grumbles out a 'fine', and Impulse looks back at them, "You wanna gag, or should we contin–" Unnamed interrupts, "Just get me outta here please," they near-whisper.

Impulse looks them over and remembers that humans aren't meant to be that pale and hesitantly asks, "You uh... feeling sick?" He looks over to Grian for help, and Unnamed could swear they heard Grian sassily mumble, "Don't look at me, I dunno how humans work either," but they had to be hearing things, because that just doesn't make sense, surely.

"Impulse, lets just go and pass Unnamed onto someone who actually knows what they're doing," Grian grumbles, clearly frustrated. Impulse still looks concerned (at least he's trying), but concedes since, yeah, they really don't know what they're doing, do they?

As Grian starts the truck, Unnamed notices that Scar and Skizz's bodies are suddenly in the truck. Did– did Grian leave while Impulse looked them over? That had only lasted for a few seconds though, Grian couldn't possibly have dragged them in in that time, could he? It's like they were just teleported in here. Unnamed is really going to need that therapist, and maybe some kind of hallucination medication too...

While staring into space and down at the keyboard in misery, Unnamed distantly hears the sounds of someone cracking their joints and grunting noises to accompany it. They fully snap to attention, however, when they hear the people's voices.

Scar makes a sound of discomfort as he snaps his neck back into place, "Oh void, gonna feel that in the mornin'," he mutters to himself. Skizz on the other hand lets out a whoop at the satisfying crack in his back, before immediately thrusting into bickering with Impulse.

"Dipple-Dop, you killed me!" Skizz exclaims, and Unnamed gets the feeling that they should cover their ears, like a child does when their parents fight. "ME-?! You're the one who used the monkey paw!" Impulse retorts. Skizz, "Well, you shouldn't have given it to me!" Impulse, "But you literally asked me for it!" Skizz, "Well, I wouldn't have if you didn't instigate me!" Impulse, "Oh, come on! You..."

Unnamed tunes them out and focuses on Scar and Grian, all thoughts having left their head out of pure shock, believing this must be some twisted fever dream. It makes sense, they think, they have been tasked with reviewing GIGS' reports for the past month after all.

In truth, the only reason Unnamed is here in the first place is because Skizz didn't read a form before signing it. With their previous check, GIGS received a form that was asking about sending someone to monitor and review their methods and see if they're fit to formally become employees. It was really just an effort to get to know something about these mysterious volunteers, though.

Skizz, however, just skimmed the part gushing about how much the company appreciates their hard work and the benefits of becoming real hires, not actually reading the part about the employee evaluation, assuming they were just going to get the rewards. He signed it and wrote down the GIGS Crew email address he created a minute ago, hence why Unnamed is now here. Yippie.

They tune into Grian and Scar's conversation as they vaguely register Impulse and Skizz's continued, albeit quieter, bickering in the background. Scar is griping about the crick in his neck, "Why do you guys always have to leave a guy in the most uncomfortable positions, huh?" Grian responds blunty with zero hesitation, "Because it's funny," he snorts.

Unnamed tunes them out too as their brain starts to reboot enough to process that they are supposed to be dead. Why are they not dead-?!

Grian notices Unnamed staring in the corner and clears his throat above everyone else's chatter, making a gesture towards them once he has their attention. Unnamed can feel their heart sink straight through the floor, and a metaphorical noose tighten around their neck.

He looks over at Scar and Skizz, "You two really couldn't wait to get back up, could you? Remember, we. have. COMPANY!" Grian punctuates each word in that statement with a clap.

The two sheepishly look over at Unnamed while Impulse looks mildly panicked. Scar and Impulse were cooking up some half-baked excuses, and Skizz is malfunctioning when Grian sighs and relents a bit, "Okay, we're really not being that subtle anyway, are we?"

Scar is spewing a ridiculous explanation in the background, "They uh, shocked us back to life while you weren't looking, yeah!" A whisper from Skizz shuts him up, "I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how that works, buddy." Scar deflates a bit, "But that's all I've got..." Skizz rubs a comforting hand on his back, "I know, dude, at least ya' tried."

Before Unnamed can get enough of a grip on themself and ask what in the hell is happening, the ride ends, simultaneously having taken an eternity and also been way too short.

Grian slips out of the driver seat and ushers them outside quickly, them now standing in front of the company's main building looking lost. "Wait!" Impulse stops Grian from driving off, "You forgot your employee evaluation sheet. It looks oddly blank..." Impulse trails off before snapping out of his stupor, "Sorry! Didn't mean to pry. I'm probably not meant to read that, huh?" He slips the report into Unnamed's hand when they don't take it on their own.

"Oh, and would you mind taking in our report for this job too?" Despite the lack of a response, Impulse slips the report into their hands anyway, "Thanks, pleasure working with you! Sorry for any disturbances we many of caused." Impulse calls out as he steps back into the vehicle, Grian driving away as soon as the door closes, as if driving away will solve all their problems.

Unnamed starts to mindlessly wander inside the building, robotically turning in the report and submitting their evaluation sheet for review, one to the standard job review department and one to HQ. 'It really is a bit blank, huh?' They think passively. They're not really there, still feeling like they're floating in nothingness, but it's the first coherent thought they've had regarding reality in a while, so they'll take anything at this point.

Before they know it, they've found their way into the overnight stay room. Most investigations occur at night, so they have two rooms with sectioned off areas, each area containing a twin bed and a nightstand. It would look uncannily like a hospital if the nightstands were metal instead of wood.

They look up at the clock in the room and distantly note that its 2:17 am. Barely acknowledging that, they ungracefully flop onto the nearest available bed and pass out unceremoniously, not even taking off their shoes. The last thing to cross their mind before drifting off into a dreamless sleep is absolute certainty that this must just be a really strange nightmare induced by lack of proper sleep, and with that, they are at peace.

Unnamed hazily blinks their eyes open the next morning to see a silhouette sitting on their bedside, vaguely recognizing them as their friend, Unidentified. They can't focus on that though, only signing in relief now that that disturbing dream was over, writing it off as nerves for the upcoming job with GIGS. They're probably completely normal people, if a bit unorthodox.

This illusion is quickly shattered, though, because as soon as Unnamed is conscious enough to listen, their friend speaks, "So, how was it?" Unidentified stares at them with clear excitement, bouncing up and down a bit where they sat.

Unnamed, still pitifully oblivious, tilts their head in confusion, "How was what?" It's Unidentified's turn to be confused, "What do you mean, 'How was what?' The job with GIGS, obviously!" Unidentified exclaims incredulously.

Unnamed's face slowly morphs into one of unbridled horror as they realize that that wasn't a dream.

The next thing they know, they've sat up, fully awake, getting up and brushing themself off. Unidentified quickly switches from excited to worried, "Unnamed, are you okay?"

Unnamed can barely recall how to string together the sounds they call language to reply, "Yeah, I uh... I just need to go report something to HQ." Before Unidentified can respond, Unnamed has rushed out the door, straightening out their attire so that they look at least somewhat presentable in front of the company's head.

They file a request for an immediate meeting with the higher-ups, stressing the importance of it. They add that it has to do with Team GIGS as an afterthought, hoping it'll peak their curiosity.

And so Unnamed sits there, standing in the lobby with pumping adrenaline as they come to terms with a stark truth:

The GIGS crew is not human.

~•~

Bonuses!

POV GIGS Before:

"Look, Grian, I know you don't wanna leave the van, but this time you have to!" Impulse tries to reason, though he knows he's fighting a losing battle.

Grian refuses to relent, gaze boring into Impulse with several Eyes, "But whyyyy?!"

Impulse lets out an exhausted sigh, he's been at this for a while, "You know why, an inspector is going to be hunting with us this time, and they're human! We have to give them van duty or else they could die in the house. Like actually die."

Grian let's out an indignant whine, his wings puffing out in defiance, "And? There's gonna be five of us, can't we both just be in the van or something?"

"Grian, you and I both know that out of everyone here, except for maybe Gem, you get along with humans the least. You don't even try to be friendly!" Impulse counters. He can see Grian's resolve beginning to falter as he continues, "You don't wanna be stuck in the van with a 'strange mortal' the whole time, do you?" He uses air quotes, trying to speak Grian's language, and it's working.

Grian visibly deflates a little bit, crossing his arms and looking away as he bites out a bitter, "no." He's staring with only two eyes now, so that's progress Impulse thinks.

Skizz finally cuts in, not having wanted to get involved when Grian was still yelling, but will now that he's somewhat calm, "Listen buddy, it's not like you've never left the van before! You do it whenever Gemstone joins us, and sometimes when a bunch of us are dead!" Skizz chuckles a bit, "It's nothin' you haven't done before, G-Sharp."

Grian fully deflates this time, tension releasing from his body as looks at his feet and heaves a sigh of his own, "Fiiiine. The stupid human can have the vaaaan." He pouts, but it's the best they're going to get so they take it.

Impulse finally lets out a breath of relief, glad that he's avoided the possible murder of their inspector. Void, he really feels like a single mom sometimes.

~•~

POV GIGS After:

Grian is most definitely driving faster than the speed limit allows, not that he particularly cares. That went horribly, the human saw Scar and Skizz revive themselves for Void's sake!

In truth, they were never really dead. They really just couldn't bend their death-related rules they set for a day, huh? He has the urge to bury his face in the steering wheel as he drives. "This is why I avoid mortals," he grumbles to himself.

When they arrive at their designated "ghost hunting lobby," as they call it, they all devolve into various states of stress.

Grian face-plants into sofa and screams into a throw pillow, Eyes forming and popping around his head like lava. Impulse is pacing around the room like a maniac, pointed tail swishing back and forth in distress. Scar sits on the armchair, fiddling with his cane and pushing a hand through his hair, his eyes practically stapled open, gazing into space. Skizz just kind of stands there, his tail also swishing in anxiety as he dreads the inevitable.

Scar finally shatters the silence, "Now, I don't wanna point fingers, but," he points at Skizz, "kinda your fault, Skizz." There it is, there's what Skizz was dreading.

He tries to defend himself anyways, "Alright listen, I know that most of this is my fault for signing that dumb form, but you can't deny that we all messed up at least a little bit."

Impulse stops pacing at that. Grian doesn't move from his misery on the sofa, not reacting at all.

"I- yeah, Skizz is right. We all kind of screwed up. I think our main problem was how casually we acknowledged death. It's surprisingly easy to forget that humans don't view life as a game..." Impulse rubs the back of his neck, guilty.

Skizz still looks apologetic though, "Yeah, just know I'm really sorry about that. Maybe don't put me on mail duty anymore."

Scar stands up, his skin having taken on a blue blue sheen, his edges a little sharper, and small translucent wings behind him. "It's okay man, I probably would have done the same thing," he picks up a Jellie that's winding in between his legs, "plus we both kinda revived while Unnamed was right there, so you can't take all the blame for that."

"Thanks dude, that means a lot." Skizz slings an arm over Scar's shoulder.

Grian finally sits up, "So what happens now?" All heads turn to him, their stares questioning.

Eyes have never bothered Grian, since he has more of them, so he stands up fully and elaborates, "Well, within the next few days, the company is gonna know we're not human. What exactly do we do now?" A contemplating pause followed by a sad voice, "Do we... have to quit ghost hunting?"

The room goes deathly quiet. They... didn't think about that. Even Skizz and Scar look crestfallen. It's Impulse who pipes up, "No, we don't." he says surprisingly self-assured, all eyes now on him.

Impulse continues on, "I mean, Skizz and I just kinda showed up one day and they couldn't get rid of us, them knowing what we are isn't gonna change that. How exactly would they stop us?" The crew looks a little less depressed at that.

"Plus," Impulse looks hesitant for a moment, "Unnamed's reaction to death reminded me of how fragile human life really is, so even if we're only doing this for fun," he looks to each of them, "it makes me feel like we're protecting them, even if just by taking the lethal jobs."

Skizz perks up at the notion, and Scar breaks out into a grin, waltzing over to Impulse and slinging an arm over his shoulder. Jellie wanders off to go paw at Grian, who's sat back down, still squeezing that throw pillow.

Scar has regained his aura of grandeur, as he joins Impulse in cheering them up, "Yeah, I like that! We're helping by dying where they can't!" He looks very excited at the thought.

It's Skizz's turn to join the building huddle, an arm finding it's way on Impulse's other shoulder. "Oh yeah! Good guy Skizzleman, saving mortals from the horrors of death!" He pumps a fist in the air.

Grian gets up, Jellie trailing behind, and reluctantly joins the hug, arms around Scar and Skizz and his wings around all of them. "I don't care what happens to those humans, but whatever," grian mumbles. Impulse just smiles fondly at him, because despite how he pretends not to, Impulse can see just how much Grian truly cares. He doesn't have to understand mortals to care for them.

The soft moment is interrupted by a ding from Skizz's phone. They untangle their arms as Skizz checks what it is.

He perks up excitedly, "Oh, it's our report's review for the job!" He chuckles a bit, "If one good thing came out of signing that form, it's that we now get almost instant results!"

He clicks on the email, eager to see if they guessed right. Spoiler, they did not.

"What-?!" His face contorts to one of disbelief, "A Mare-?! How?" Grian shoots up at Skizz's outburst, clearly upset.

"What-?! Yeah how-?! That thing wasn't turning off any lights!" He squawks indignantly, a few Eyes floating over Skizz's shoulder to read it himself.

Scar looks wholly unaffected, "Eh, I don't really know how we got Onryo in the first place, I was too busy being dead."

Impulse seems to slowly come to a conclusion, "Well, if you think about it, we weren't really turning the lights on to begin with," his voice picks up a bit, "We were putting so many candles out for the Onryo test, that—"

Skizz finishes, "We stopped turning on the breaker 'cause the candlelight was enough!"

None of them have to turn around to see Grian facepalming, the scream of frustration enough for them to paint that picture themselves, "I hate this game!"

Grian isn't done with his rampage, "But wait, doesn't Mare also need spirit box?" He looks to Impulse for confirmation, and continues once he gets a nod, "But I did spirit box so well though! I had great coverage."

Impulse puts up a hand placatingly, "Yeah, I agree, you did spirit box pretty good, but we were on Nightmare, so spirit box probably just probably wasn't one of the two random evidence."

Grian crosses his arms, "Or maybe it's because someone," he casts a glare at Impulse, though he means nothing malicious by it, "just had to prestige, leaving us with shoddy level 1 equipment." He sighs however, "But you're probably right. We didn't really look that hard for Ghost Writing, did we?"

He wanders off to grumble to himself a little longer, and they all laugh at Grian's pity-party. They end up sitting on sofa together for a while, just chatting about things they couldn't talk about while Unnamed was there.

Impulse is telling a story from Hermitcraft earlier that day, but he stops when Gem comes up in it, paling, "Oh Void..."

Impulse's face unravels into one of dread, a realization forming, "Gem's gonna smack us all upside the head for this." Oh. Oh no. They all shudder in unison. They're screwed.

~•~

Thanks for reading my little self-indulgent AU-idea turned into a fic!

This was originally meant to just be an AU idea, but I blinked and I'd written a whole fic, so yeah.

I think I'll edit this a bit and post it on Ao3 too of that interests anyone.

Feel free to use the idea however you want, just tag me, I wanna see what you do :)

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