#turbotheghostboy

Vanellope Von Schweetz paced around her salmon colored throne room, she was trying to think of ways to hang out with Turbo that was...different. Turbo was her close friend, they would always hang out with each other around Sugar Rush. Racing or just playing around, it was fun! The fifteen year old girl wanted to try and spice things up for today!

The sun had already set, it was around 7pm. The arcade closed an hour ago since it was a Saturday. She had been thinking for a while about hanging out in Game Central Station with him or maybe try and visit some other games. She didn’t want Turbo to get bored of doing the same stuff over and over again, a change of scenery could be nice...! Her mind was set on BurgerTime, she had been craving a tasty burger for a while now. Ralph and the other adults were busy anyways, perhaps this was the right time to try!

“Turbo-Tastic!”

“Nice picture, pajama boy!”

(I hope you guys like Turbo and Wreck It Ralph, because I recently read an awesome story by @ turbomun called “Ghost Boy” and I will be trying to work on a few pieces, since the story inspired me to do a couple things. I totally recommend reading the story. 

The original story is posted on Fanfiction but the revised version is on Archive Of Our Own. This picture isn’t a scene from the story, just something I decided to draw. Turbo even has his own blogs! 

It hadn’t even been two full weeks since his data had been purged of malware before Modless found his living conditions unbearable. A strange fact when considering he was being treated very well by a bunch of people who he barely knew and had insulted on multiple occasions both accidentally and quite purposely. He had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in, he was given food and medication, and overall he was slowly recovering to a state of wellness that he hadn’t reached in many years. None of that was what bothered the bitter man.

What bothered Modless was that he was getting used to it. That at times he rather much enjoyed the company of the other characters. It left a bad taste in his mouth and a feeling of unease in the hours he was left alone. Too many times he had let his thoughts wander and found himself coming to close to a conclusion he’d furiously bury under denial and stubborn pride.

That’s why on the sixteenth day in Sugar Rush, while wandering the castle yet again, Modless decided he was feeling very much recovered and that Calhoun’s estimated time for recovery was nothing but a bunch of baloney. The ex-player character debated leaving a note of sorts thanking his caretakers, but decided against it. That would only make them immediately set out to drag him back when they’d find it and completely detrimental to the goal of getting home.

Besides, they had to have known he was grateful by now. He’d stopped heckling the brutish bad guy in the group and even the fun-sized president. And he’d kept out of the way of their happy little makeshift family. He wanted to be here even less than they wanted him here and was more than happy to move on and let everyone go back to their status-quo.

It’d just require getting past a sudden invisible wall that’d smacked him in the face as he reached the exit tunnel out of the saccharine world.

Modless would never admit the amount of effort it took to get past the firewall as it pushed against his code as he tried to leave. It took far too much shoving and strafing and hissed insults about the game engine and the devs who designed it, but after a voluntary glitch (and a few rather involuntary ones) the kartless racer was home free. As he traveled down the cord into the Game Central Station he dismissed any breathlessness and dizziness he was experiencing as coming from putting far more energy into leaving than he really ought to have had.

Modless was pretty sure he was suffering from hypothermia probably. The syrup that’d been cling to him since he left the sugary swamp had solidified to a worrying degree. His cheeks were burning which was off putting when  his nose, lips, arms and feet were entirely numb. 

He also had the problem of a strange thoughts that just wouldn’t go away, all involving Sugar Rush infanticide and smearing the teenage Turbo he’d met just days prior into a bloody paste against the sugary asphalt with his own kart.

I mean sure they were a bunch of nasty little cavities and each and every single one of them deserved to die and wait that wasn’t what he was originally going to think to himself. What was he thinking?

With a sneeze Modless grumbled and curled in tighter on himself. God. He hated this game with every inch of himself and what felt disturbingly like several inches of something that wasn’t him that kept prodding his train of thoughts in weird directions. This was stupid. He wanted to leave. He also wanted to burn this stupid candy kingdom and his entire arcade to the ground for not treating him with the proper resp-

“Thisth isth paranoia. He made me paranoid. Obviousthly.” The man rasped out to himself, his lisp particularly pronounced with how sick he’d gotten. So maybe he had a fever and it was getting worse. He wasn’t losing his mind, it was all that stupid little teenage son of a glitch’s fault and when he got his hands on him-

Okay. Maybe he should see a doctor about this. Or maybe just ask the local Fix-It. He remembered his counterpart mentioning that the Felix from this arcade had worked with his code. Fix-Its were by nature far too nice and this guy would probably help him despite being virtual strangers and being mean to his favorite little ankle biters. And if he didn’t then Modless was going to-

@turbotheghostboy

Modless was, to a terrible fault, someone who was always desperate for attention and in need of some sort of activity to keep him occupied. Living in an arcade where people avoided eye contact and conversation sometimes the reckless man would leave for a few days to explore places with the potential to have more welcoming strangers to interact with.

The arcade he was visiting didn’t seem to be much of a step up.

The retro racer felt the skin on the back of his neck itch when some older characters glanced in his direction only to double-take as if he was a phantom of sorts. The effect was more chilling then the disapproving looks he’d get from his own arcade.

The old Turbo decided to ignore the strange looks and instead check out what games were set up in the Game Central Station. The names of old classics and newer smash hits popped out to him, but he found himself scowling at the name of one game in particular.

“I can explain.” Modless said quickly. There was a brief moment of silent between the two Turbos.

“... okay I lied, I have no idea why I punched you in the face.” He admitted begrudgingly. “But I didn’t need an ambulance and I definitely didn’t need a doctor of any sort. That’s just hogwash.”

So does this mean we’re friends now or something?[Message Deleted]

Are you just giving me your number cause you think I’m gonna end up stuck in trouble somewhere and you wanna play hero if that ever[Message Deleted]

If this is cause you’re interested in the places I go you can always just go there yourself. I’m not gonna be stopping around to send you pictures from steam ju[Character Limit Reached. Message Deleted.]

Why did you give me your number anyway? What could you possibly want from a guy like[Message Deleted]

It wasn’t broken. It wasn’t being scrapped. For all I know it coulda been sold and plugged-in elsewhere and those two blue narbos coul[Message Deleted]