Ghost Boy: Corrupted king...Ghost Boy: Corrupted king2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Turbo made an effort to repress his tears during the journey home, but with very limited success; damp rivulets still streamed across his cheeks as Calhoun expertly guided her cruiser back to the castle. His legs were shaky, and he figured that he was only able to remain upright on the swooping hoverboard because he was sandwiched in between two other people, Vanellope behind him and Calhoun at the front. In order to maintain his balance, he was forced to loop his arms around the soldier woman's waist, which was still reaching upwards for him. Perhaps he got a bit too clingy at some point, because after a few minutes of slow, painstaking flight, he felt her rest a hand atop his helmet.
He lifted his head to face her shamefully, sniffling, lemon-yellow eyes still welling with moisture, and she glanced down at him out of the corner of her vision as she continued to focus on guiding the cruiser. Her face was uncharacteristically soft, however. "It's okay, kid
Ghost Boy: Scared..Ghost Boy: Scared2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The appearance of the King Candy Cy-Bug seemed to have brought Turbo's code to a stuttering halt, like a sprite frozen and flickering on a console screen and unable to react to the player's demands for movement. Aside from his nervous glitching, his muscles had locked up completely. He was only partly aware of Vanellope yanking on his sleeve, screaming at him to run, and when a thought beyond formless terror finally appeared in his mind, it was possibly the stupidest thing he could have reacted with given the situation:
Of course he was scared; anyone coming face-to-face with this literal deformed monster would be scared. But there was more to those words than even he fully understood. The horror that had engulfed him was raw and childlike, the paralyzing fear of the creatures under the bed or the things that lurked in nightmares, the crippling need to cling to someone for comfort and find shelter from the entities in the night who were ceaseless
Ghost Boy: Living dreams and living nightmares...Ghost Boy: Living dreams and living nightmares2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Living dreams and living nightmares
"Kid, we need to talk."
"Okay, gimme one second…"
"No, not in one second. Now."
"Mmm…" Turbo rubbed a hand across his eyes sleepily, his head a dead weight as it shifted against the pillow. He had unintentionally dozed off after a series of particularly terrifying dreams had deprived him of sleep the night before, and now was only able to open his eyes with great difficulty; afternoon naps were always the hardest to awaken from. He couldn't help but consider drifting off again, but his attention was promptly grabbed by a conversation taking place outside his bedroom door.
"What's going on, Stinkbrain?"
"What are you doing this afternoon?"
"I'm going to the Cakeway with Turbo for glitch lessons, just like always. Why?"
"Because that's exactly what we need to talk about."
He propped himself up on his elbows, the sponge cake mattress depressing beneath him. "Vanellope?" he mum
Ghost Boy: Epilogue...Ghost Boy: Epilogue2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
At the Royal Raceway, preparations for the daily Random Roster Race were in full swing. Synthesized electronic trumpets blared their usual refrain, the sentient candy fans cheered and jumped and wiggled their hands in the air from their seats in the candy-box bleachers, and the fourteen star characters of the game – the racers themselves – had lined up beneath the tall popcorn box beside the starting line. A particularly sharp-eyed observer might be interested to note that there was one additional figure hanging on the fringes of the crowd, almost entirely white, clutching his gold coin with trepidation and gazing upwards with doleful yellow eyes. Then again, such an observer would probably also happen to spot the three anomalies in the "Assorted Fans" section of the audience: a massive square wrecker with a mess of spiky auburn hair, a pint-sized handyman with a golden hammer tucked snugly into his belt, and a tall and sizzlingly attractive woman dr
Ghost Boy: Nothing lasts forever...Ghost Boy: Nothing lasts forever2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Nothing lasts forever
"Hey, look, it's the ghost boy."
Turbo might have looked somewhat dead, being near-frozen the way he was – with round glassy eyes staring at nothing and ungloved hands wrapped around a cold milkshake glass – but he was neither deaf nor dumb, and he narrowed his eyes. "I can hear you," he stated hollowly.
The closest voice, the one that seemed to be directly behind him, feigned a gasp. "Well, would you look at that! He's still alive!"
A few other people laughed, not all of them cruelly. Being an arcade game character in those early days, a sense of humor about technological limitations was required. Everyone complained about the bizarre bodies that they had been shoved into by their programmers, and everyone teased everyone else about the very same thing. Back during the grand opening of the arcade, over two years ago now, Turbo had been one of the most human-looking characters around in a sea of Pac-Mans and Q*berts and Space Invaders. B
Ghost Boy: A recurring nightmare...Ghost Boy: A recurring nightmare2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
A recurring nightmare
Every single person at the Royal Raceway – from the sentient candies lining the bleachers, to the racers, to Vanellope and Turbo – seemed to draw in a collective, mortified breath in perfect unison. Thick silence clotted the air after the jumbotron's announcement. And through it all, the stylized icon of King Candy never gave so much as a flicker on the board, smiling down at the assembled crowd with a too-good-to-be-true jolly smile.
Turbo couldn't do anything except stare and glitch, frantically grappling for something that resembled comprehension. What had he done that the other avatars hadn't? He'd just tossed his coin into the winner's cup like everybody else, and then…
King Candy. The evil former monarch of Sugar Rush, a fragment of scrapped coding run amok, the person responsible for dethroning Vanellope and reducing her to nothing but an outcast and a glitch. A regular recurring player in Turbo's nightmares, returning to w
Ghost Boy: Always a family...Ghost Boy: Always a family2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Always a family
"Ah, it feels so good to be back!" cackled King Candy, tugging the lapels of his plum-colored tailcoats and flexing his hands as he readjusted to his body. He was an exact duplicate of the jolly false monarch that Turbo had seen both on the racing video and in his nightmares, speaking in the same lispy singsong tones that had been whispering to him since his reset. The young racer felt himself go limp with shock, and his head dropped to the ground weakly. He was still unable to move, leaving him at the mercy of this thing, this monster, this malware in sheep's clothing.
How did he even...?!
Vanellope hadn't stopped shrieking since the king's initial appearance. She stood completely still, her fists balled at her sides, screaming bloody murder. Turbo wanted to shout at her to turn around and run, but he couldn't seem to get his mouth and his voice to cooperate, and somehow he doubted that she would have listened anyway. Even if she heard
Ghost Boy: Weirdos...Ghost Boy: Weirdos2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Whimpers…muffled sobs…Turbo lifted his head drowsily. Beyond the door of his borrowed room, a little girl's voice was crying as it moved down the hall.
"Ralph? Ralph? C-can I stay in here tonight?" Sniffling. "I had a bad dream…"
"Oh, jeez. Yeah, sure, kid. You can stay in here…"
A door creaked as it was wedged open, and there was a scuttle of little footsteps rushing forward, but by that time Turbo had already been sucked down by sleep again. His typical restlessness was no match for the exhausting power of a few hard code resets and a barrage of emotionally draining news.
He was consumed by an incomparable agony, by a force that gnashed at his existence and warped the very components of his being. This wasn't like a mere stomachache or headache, in which the pain was concentrated within his physical self; something had wormed its way into his coding. He thrashed and struggled in the grip of the m