Old multi fandom oneshots

"Ghost Chapter" - DSMP AU

-Tubbo and Ranboo-
Category; story chapter
Warning: depersonalization themes
Status: abandoned hehe
Note: guys can you tell tubbo and ranboo were my favourite duo? Anyways yeah so I'm pretty sure I came up with this au on my own and I had an entire plot worked out but I just wasn't into it enough to finish the story, so this is all I wrote!

Tubbo was jolted awake by the sudden jerk of the car coming to a stop. He blinked and sat up, rubbing his face as the bright street lights shone into the car while they turned into a driveway. "Is this the new place?" He asked. "Yes. Look alive now, we're all going to have to help get things out of the car." Tubbo's father responded from the front of the car. "Does he ever look alive? Hardly anyone he sees is, I wouldn't be shocked if it were rubbing off on him." A snarky voice came from the right of the boy. "Oh piss off, Dream." Tubbo grumbled at his brother while turning away from the window. "Boys." Their mother provided a single word of input which shut the both of them up. Tubbo and Dream had an interesting... rivalry, should he say. Tubbo had always had this ability, and Dream had always hated him for it. It was of course, always made to be Tubbo's issue, but he couldn't care less.
The car came to a standstill and Tubbo leapt out fo the car to grab his stuff and rush to his room. The house was far larger than their last, and Tubbo adored it. It was a late-Victorian or early Edwardian period home, and had a lot of energy around it. He hauled the two remaining boxes of his things up the stairs to the tower room which he had reserved as his own when his parents had shown him and Dream the floor plan of the house. He stepped into the room and went to set his stuff on the bench by the massive window. The room was just under four metres in diameter, and was a massive circle. About a third of the wall was a massive window that he could see the streets from. The ceiling was tall and pointed; like a huge cone or something. There were a bunch of other boxes with his belongings in them along the wall next to the door. Tubbo looked at his watch.
10:57PM, Saturday, February 5
Tubbo sighed and moved the boxes he set on the bench to sit there himself. The streets were fairly empty, if not for the occasional soft, glowing figure. He observed the street, taking note of the houses and streetlights, as well as the park down the road a bit.
"Hey, Tubbo." Tubbo's dad knocked on the doorway. Tubbo looked back and smiled. "I brought you some cushions and blankets," he walked over and set them on the floor. "I figured you'd like to sleep soon. We'll get your bed and everything set up tomorrow."
"Thanks, dad." Tubbo replied sleepily. His dad left the room, shutting the door behind him with a solid clunk.
'Just me, myself, and this old empty room.' Tubbo thought to himself. He leaned down and picked up the cushions and blanket. Two seconds allowed him to make the decision that he should stand to place these on the floor in the way he wanted. He carefully arranged the six cushions in the shape of a bed, and set a blanket on top. "Perfect." Tubbo startled himself by speaking aloud. He flipped the light switch. As the room went dark and his eyes adjusted, the moonlight and streetlight bled through the window. 'So much for a dark room.' He laid down on the cushion-mattress and stared at the ceiling with his hands resting on his abdomen. His racing mind slowed as he stared off into the giant ceiling and rolled over, falling asleep.
Tubbo woke up abruptly to the feeling of being watched. This wasn't abnormal, but he needed to look for his own peace of mind. He opened his eyes and looked around without moving, his heart racing as he did so. The moon was in a different place, so time must have passed since he went to bed. When he flipped over, he let out a small yelp. He was met face to face with a spirit. Not abnormal, again, but usually they don't get this close. He was only a few centimeters away from the other.
"Holy shit." He flipped onto his back and laughed quietly, placing his hand on his heart. "You scared the living daylights out of me, boss man." The glowing figure moved back slightly in surprise. "You can see me?! What?" Tubbo looked to his left at him. "No I'm just talking to my wall. Yes I can see you. You're really close to me, right now." Tubbo stated, sitting up. The spirit sat up as well. He placed a hand on Tubbo's cheek carefully, and Tubbo felt the familiar cool sensation of a spirit's hand.
"Wow... are you alive? You have to be, right? You have that warm, orange aura of a living being, but you can see me..." He sat back and thought aloud.
"I'm very much alive, I can just see spirits. I'm like a medium, I dunno." Tubbo answered. The spirit looked deep in thought. "Well.... what do you know? No hang on, that sounded rude- uh- let's start over. What's your name?" He struggled to decide what to say, and tubbo smiled lightly at the small struggle.
"Tubbo. And you, what's your name?"
"Ranboo. You can just call me Boo if you want though. My friends did when I was alive, and I think it fits with me being, well, a ghost."
Tubbo nodded, thinking for a moment. He looked at his watch.
3:42AM, Sunday, February 6
Tubbo stood abruptly and walked to the light switch, flipping it and turning back. Ranboo have him a look of vague curiosity. "If I'm awake, I might as well do something, no?" Tubbo explained unprompted, "You can sit on the bench if you want." Ranboo did so.
Tubbo got to work opening boxes and checking the contents. They had a custom dresser made to fit the circular walls, so tubbo picked a spot for it and transferred all of his clothing into it. His desk needed to be assembled, and the bed as well, so he settled for putting up decorations and such. He used a step ladder to pin some fake vines to the wall, and some fake plants to go along with them. All the while, Ranboo was watching intently. The spirit sat against the bench calmly as Tubbo worked.
"So why are you here?" Tubbo finally asked, sitting down next to Ranboo again. Every spirit was in the living world for a reason, and Tubbo felt that it was his duty to help the spirits pass on, as one of the few who could see them.
"I'm... not sure," Ranboo answered.
"Do you have something unfinished? Some are murdered and want their murder solved, some need their belongings found and given to the right person, and some just need to tell someone one last thing." Tubbo explained carefully. If Ranboo had no idea why he was there, then Tubbo couldn't help him.
"I.... I know I was murdered. I don't know who did it, and I don't think they were found; I don't even think anyone found my body." Ranboo looked at his hands with distaste. Tubbo reached out.
"I can try to help you. If you have no idea who it was, or how to find them, I don't know how easily I can help you, but I can try."
Ranboo took his hand. "I can't believe you can feel me." He exclaimed, lacing their fingers together. Tubbo knew why. Spirits who have been dead awhile are usually extremely depersonalized and touch starved. They forget what it feels like to be seen, touched, or heard. Tubbo grinned. "You do know you can will yourself to be physically translucent, right? Going through walls, untouchable, the whole shabang?"
Ranboo's jaw dropped. "I can what?!" Just like that, he was no longer solid. A look of panic encased his face as he could no longer touch Tubbo. Frantically, Ranboo tried to grasp Tubbo's hand again, but couldn't. He tried to grip his own face but was unable to. He looked like he was going through all five stages of grief and an existential crisis in the span of about ten seconds.
"Whoa whoa whoa- you have to go back the same way! Will yourself back, mate!" He explained as Ranboo panicked across from him. Suddenly Ranboo was solid once more, and he threw himself at Tubbo. Tubbo made an "oh!" sound, as the spirit still maintained a significant amount of weight. Ranboo gripped Tubbo's hoodie tightly and his breathing slowly went back to normal. Tubbo gently stroked his hair.
"Better?"
"Mmh," Ranboo hummed. "Sorry... I didn't expect it to feel so..."
"Depersonalizing? Most spirits have a similarly surprised reaction, but you're the first I've met to form an attachment to being solid so quickly." Tubbo replied carefully.
"It must be really weird."
"Hm?"
"Knowing that.... Well.. we're like this," Ranboo gestured to theirs current situation, "but I'm uhm, dead."
Tubbo glanced off to the side vaguely awkwardly. "It isn't as weird anymore. My first spirit I ever interacted with was one about my age and we bonded quickly. Not dissimilar to this, honestly. I helped them pass on, but then they were gone. I was down for days, because the one being I wanted to spend my time with was gone. Just as good as dead to any other person."
Ranboo sat up. "There are others? I mean, well, because I've never really thought about it like that."
Tubbo nodded. "There are many others. I'd say about one third of the population needs assistance passing on. I've had to help spirits that are from as far back as the 1400s and as recent as last year." Ranboo took this into consideration.
"So, you can help me pass on?" Ranboo asked. Tubbo nodded again. "Okay, okay. One last question. I remember what being alive feels like, but what does it feel like that touch a dead person? Touching you feels so warm. I just want to hold your hands and hug you all the time; it's so comforting."
Tubbo's face flushed a soft shade of red. "Spirits feel... cold. Depending on the strength of the soul, sometimes they can simply feel like a really cold person, and others can feel like a cold gust of wind," Tubbo responded. "You feel like a very very cold person."
Ranboo looked relieved. "Being a spirit is so.... Depersonalizing. I feel weird all the time. No one sees me, no one feels me, it's like I'm not here. It's like what you get increasingly afraid of in life. One day people just stop seeing you. Like you don't exist."
Tubbo reached out and ran a hand through Ranboo's hair. "I get that." The statement didn't need more elaboration, as Ranboo nodded lightly and sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not the only person like this. I'm probably the only one who allows spirits to touch me though."
Ranboo thinks about this for a second but is fairly accepting of it. He says nothing. The two continue on in silence. Ranboo returned to laying on the bench while tubbo unrolled a rug onto his floor and finished sticking LED light strips to the ceiling like a true basic white girl.