So... Wreck-It Ralph has officially become my new favorite animated movie.
This is just a series of drabbles all inspired by the film. I am entirely cheating with this and making up my own list of prompts based on whatever I feel like writing. Most of them are about Vanellope, as she is my favorite character, but Ralph comes in close second so he's in here a lot too.
Posting the first ten together because they seem to go together. After this... well, I'll probably only add more as inspiration strikes.
I hope you enjoy, and if you do, a review letting me know would be much appreciated. :)
Ralph shudders to think what life might be like if things hadn't gone horribly wrong that day.
"Where is she?!"
Ralph seized the much smaller man by the collar, lifting him off the ground and shaking him roughly. Yellow eyes stared coldly back at him as a lopsided grin twisted Turbo's ashen face.
Ralph glared fiercely down at the man even as an icy fist clenched around his heart. "If you've hurt her…"
Vanellope ran from the castle as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, tears blurring her vision. Her foot caught on a chocolate chip and she suddenly found herself face-down in a mud puddle.
She pushed herself up, wiping tears and chocolate sauce from her face, and stared back at the sugar-coated castle in the distance.
"You're wrong," she sobbed. "I'm not a glitch!"
It was odd, he thought as he fell to his death. Odd that he felt no regret, no trace of bitterness for the things he could have gone on to accomplish.
He felt nothing but peace as he closed one massive hand around the tiny heart-shaped medal. He smiled softly as his eyes closed.
She was safe. That was all that mattered.
She knows her name, and she knows she is supposed to be a racer. Of these two things she is certain.
But it still bothers her when she thinks back to first waking up in the castle, with no idea who she was or how she got to be there, and a strange man telling her that she didn't belong.
Sour Bill has been harassed and harangued by everyone he knows for as long as he can remember. Others pity him and he pities himself.
But when he thinks about Vanellope – who she really is, and how she was manipulated and abused all those years – pity turns to shame and he curses himself for holding his tongue so long.
It took a long time for Felix to realize that she didn't kick him out of the shuttle that day because she was angry.
Vanellope was finally in the one place she never wanted to be.
She sat on a brick in the middle of the cell. A huge shackle was bound around her entire tiny midsection, and chains secured her to the wall in more places than she thought was strictly necessary. The silence was suffocating and with nothing to do, nowhere to run, she found herself consumed by one thought, over and over and over.
Why had he even given her hope, if he was just going to tear it back down…
Vanellope was finally in the one place she never wanted to be, and it was even worse than she'd ever imagined.
And then there came a loud pounding from beyond the cell door.
Vanellope has only ever been inside the castle once before. And that was years ago, when she woke up to find her memories gone and an all-too-cheerful man in a purple jacket shouting at her to get out of his castle.
Its presence has always intimidated her and even as she stands before it now, knowing it is rightfully hers, she can't quite bring herself to open the massive front doors.
"Princess?" a monotone voice drawls beside her.
She looks down at Sour Bill. Her attendant. Before Ralph she never had anyone who cared about her, let alone someone whose job it was to do so. He stares up at her with those impossibly large green eyes, looking weary as ever, but his voice betrays concern.
She shakes her head fiercely, closing her eyes against the memory of a cold, lonely mountain, and night after night of crying herself to sleep.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just…" Her voice is thick with emotion and she can't quite bring herself to finish her sentence.
Sour Bill just nods patiently and takes two purposeful steps backwards. He says nothing more after that. He simply waits.
She'll have to remember to thank him for that.
She takes a deep breath and steps forward, placing one tiny hand on the giant lollipop handle that will open the door to the castle.
Vanellope's fears dissipate quickly once she's actually inside the castle. Worry turns to wonder and she races from room to room, taking in the high ceilings and elaborately decorated furniture. She wants to see everything and Sour Bill obliges, though he can barely keep up, let alone lead her through the winding hallways.
She eventually skids to a halt outside of another pair of massive doors. Sour Bill has a feeling she knows what room this is, but his code compels him to announce it anyway.
"Your chambers, Princ- uhh, President von Schweetz," he drawls, amending his words halfway through when she shoots him a glare.
Her hazel eyes quickly shift back to the doors. They are coated in pink frosting and embellished with swirls of white icing and chocolate sprinkles. She says nothing for a very long time and Sour Bill suddenly begins to feel like an intruder.
He clears his throat loudly, causing her to jump. "Will you be needing anything else from me, Your Presidency?"
For a moment Vanellope can do nothing but stare back at him. "No, umm… That'll be all, I guess… Uh… Thanks, Bill."
Sour Bill nods. Not the most eloquent of responses, but he supposes there'll be time to work on that. He retreats without another word.
Vanellope watches him go, his jelly bean feet echoing softly back to her.
A smile tugs at her lips. She'll have to remember to thank him for that.
She pushes open the door to her bedroom and stares in shock. A dark chocolate chest of drawers stands in the far corner and on the floor is a giant licorice rug. There is another set of doors to her left which opens out onto a sugar-coated balcony and in the middle of the room is an enormous four-poster bed which looks to be made out of red velvet.
The room overwhelms her and she spends the next half-a-minute darting from one thing to the next, opening all the dark chocolate drawers, peeking under the rug, and throwing open the doors to the balcony before racing over to the bed and belly-flopping onto it.
She is giggling like crazy now as she burrows into the sheets – actual bed sheets! – and pushes the myriad of marshmallow pillows into a shape that suits her.
Finally overwhelmed with the day's events, she settles back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. She reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out a red gummi bear and a doll made of candy wrappers, which she arranges delicately on the dark chocolate nightstand.
"Well, whaddya think?" she asks the toys. "Looks like we're finally home."