#its supposed to be ambiguous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evanbuckleykinnie · 6 months

Text

Buck was fairly certain he was dying.

Not in a choking on bread, crushed by a ladder truck, struck by lightning sort of way but in an incredibly mundane one.

His stomach hurt.

It hurt a lot, actually. So badly he could barely make himself move. He was hot, cold, sweaty, shivering. Every part of him felt wrong, something tingling weirdly in his forearms and his joints aching. He was dying. And where was Eddie?

"I told you, Evan."

Buck groaned, pressing his face into the damp pillow beneath him. He'd been hearing this over and over again for the better part of ten minutes now. It wasn't like Eddie was wrong or like he had any particular reason to be being all that helpful, but Buck wished he'd at least sit down for a moment. Footsteps, slow and pacing, were rhythmically driving the acidic nausea feeling up from his stomach and into his chest. Any longer and he'd be forced up and into the bathroom, face half submerged in the toilet as he puked up his guts.

"You're lactose intolerant. You say you're not, but you are. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're gonna have to give up on the damn cheese and milk." There was a certain type of amusement in Eddie's voice that, quite frankly, Buck found insulting. He was in the middle of a medical emergency. A crisis, really. "You did this to yourself, man. I told you not to eat that pizza."

Buck couldn't do much but grumble into his pillow, something unintelligible but definitely not polite. Eddie had, in all fairness, told him not to eat the pizza. He'd watched Buck take a bite out of the slice of cheesy goodness with a look on his face he only wore on calls involving ridiculous self-inflicted injuries. Buck should have known he'd get no sympathy as wide, brown eyes glared daggers into his skull. The smugness he'd smiled at Eddie with two hours ago was no more than a horrible display of hubris now.

Buck hadn't been lactose intolerant when he was a child. He hadn't known anyone in the Buckley family who was lactose intolerant. There was absolutely no reason for him, now in his early thirties, to suddenly develop it. No hereditary reason, anyway. Besides, Maddie had never said anything about being unable to enjoy cheese and ice cream and milkshakes. Why would he be the one to get the faulty genetics?

In reality, Buck knew he was in denial. He knew for a fact that lactose intolerance could strike at any time, at any age. All it took was a bad enough injury to the small intestine and his ability to make the lactase enzyme would be sufficiently decreased enough to land him right where he was. With his track record of injuries and near death experiences, he had no doubts it was possible something had been knocked off kilter inside him, as much as he wanted to deny it. After all, what was life without cheese and ice cream?

"Could you shut up?" Buck finally managed to groan out, voice muffled by his pillow and strained by the effort it took to speak around how sick he felt. Really, though, he was going to be fine. It wasn't intense. It wasn't life-threatening. It just sucked. Big time. "Are you staying just- just to get in the 'I told you so's?"

There's silence from behind him for a few moments before his bed dips, a warm hand resting against his bicep. He doesn't uncurl himself from his fetal position to glance back at Eddie but he hums a quiet acknowledgement of their sudden close proximity. Despite how sick he feels, and how frustrated he is, it's nice to not be alone in it. Even if he knows Eddie has more complaining to do, though he senses that it's been tabled for a later date. Despite his fatherly disposition of lecturing, Eddie always knows when to stop. Thankfully.

"No. I'm staying to make sure you don't make yourself worse by trying to walk this off." Eddie's voice took on the tone it rarely held for anyone but Buck, soft and tender and so very fond in a way Buck couldn't quite wrap his head around. "You'll be fine. But we're looking into lactase tablets or something when you're better."

Two days later, after the whole ordeal passes, Buck ascends the stairs in the firehouse to the smell of something wonderful cooking. Not a rare thing to experience but, as he reaches the table where everyone is sat expectantly, he finds himself faced with two objects. Chim has a grin on his face like he's attempting to audition for the role of the Cheshire Cat, while Hen is snickering to herself quietly at the confused look Buck shoots the items. A hand claps him on the back from behind.

"We thought we'd get you a few things." Eddie says as he walks past, sitting himself down, gesturing towards the items on the table.

With a look of unimpressed indignation, Buck reaches out to pick up the shirt, reading the plainly written words on the otherwise completely blank fabric.

"Tummy Ache Survivor."

He drops the shirt back onto the table, Bobby walking over to place a plate down at the empty seat meant for him. Whatever he's made looks good. Bobby taps the other object, smile knowing and amused.

"Thought we'd start using this. I've got a copy here, this is for home." Bobby makes his way back to the pan he'd left to join the fun.

Buck finally picks up the book, turning it over in his hands. A cookbook full of vegan recipes. Despite his annoyance at the teasing, the corner of his mouth pulls up into a small smile, a laugh leaving him despite his attempts to remain somewhat frustrated looking. Even with all of the teasing, the small gesture feels kind. Warm.

"Very funny.." He sits, placing the cookbook down as everyone else gets their own food. He takes a bite, humming happily as he opens up the book to flip through the first few pages.

Maybe being lactose intolerant wasn't so humiliating after all.

#evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #the buddie in this is semi ambiguous i suppose #buddie #evan buckley is lactose intolerant because i am and hes me #evanssubparwriting #i dont really know what this is #just something silly while i work on the bobby death drabble and the eddie heartbreak diaz drunk confession drabble #its almost 4am #firefam

36 notes · View notes

drifloonz · 1 year

Note

can you do one where glitchy red meets his s/o through the game. At first he doesn’t trust them, but slowly starts to trust them when they tell him they relate to his feeling of being forgotten and discarded 👀

ofc, ofc !! this man is so affection and touchstarved fr . please give his gameboy screen a little kiss. he probably won't feel it but he'll appreciate it. i also actually Wrote for this one bc i felt like it was more appropriate. these have little timeskips or pov changes which are indicated whenever i separate paragraphs with the _ symbol. hope u enjoy.

this is long but i think most people know i write more than necessary at this point + this is Actual Writing and not a bulleted hc post

It was your typical Friday evening - you were walking around a local game store you've grown quite familiar with these past couple of months, visiting it every so often since it had a lot more agreeable prices than the egregious ones people asked for on sites like eBay. You usually came here with one goal in mind - find some sweet old games that caught your eye, maybe even a console if you felt like it, and take some home to play eventually. It was a nice schedule you had, and it got you out of the house a lot more often, which you always needed since otherwise, you were pretty much a hermit.

And after all, you had a lot more spending money recently in the past few years. You've always loved videogames - so you decided to make it a habit to go here more often, trying to play more of the games you couldn't afford or find back when you were a lot younger... but today, one particular cartridge caught your eye - on one of those Used Games racks you'd see at some stores, stuck in plastic protective casing since it no longer had a box connected to it... was a copy of the original pokemon games.

These original games felt elusive to you as a child. You were a little too young to grow up with them - your first Pokemon Games being around the DS era. You know what they looked like and the basics of it all... but why the hell not? Revisiting classics was all you came to this store to do, so you might as well snag it. After all, it was even used and really really cheap, compared to prices you'd see elsewhere. You'd prefer a fresh copy with the box included, but you'll take what you can get, especially since most people would make you pay outrageous money for an untouched copy, so... score.

You decided to open the display case and take it with you, beginning the walk to the cash register, but also keeping an eye out for anything else interesting. After all, you had a lot more money than just the 6$ or so the cartridge was being sold at... and you then realized you didn't even have a Gameboy - your old childhood hand-me-down Gameboy Color is probably long gone or dead by now. And like destiny, your eyes met with a rack full of Gameboys. Originals, Colors, Advances, SPs... It was beautiful, truly. But one caught your eye. A red Gameboy Color. You might as well buy a red one, right? It fit the namesake of the cartridge you were basically buying this for anyways. You looked around for a few more minutes, before buying only those two - it was a decent haul, you'd say.

... Little did you know, you were also taking home a consciousness you weren't aware of.

Although he wasn't able to do anything since he was either taken out of the console or shut down ( he couldn't tell, not remembering what the last player did clearly anyways, which he'd assume means they'd suddenly shut off the console without warning ) he could hear. Barely, but he could.

Muffled sounds, blurry voices, and distant music that rang throughout whatever building he was in, now. It was sort of grating, this disorienting cacophony of noises that felt far away yet so close at the same time... ringing in his ears like a migraine that wouldn't go away.

It was better than the noise he was subjected to in the game, which he got a respite from when he wasn't there, but he could still hear faint buzzing in his ears due to how often he had to hear loud grating sounds within his 2D hell, mainly when somebody decided to mess with the glitches in the game - which almost every player did without fail. He could never have a peaceful playthrough without the person failing to see it to the end, and either pawning him off, or getting bored and deciding to mess the game up against his wishes.

Oh well. He can vaguely feel the texture of being placed in some sort of bag, as the sounds muffle further. He doesn't believe this time will be different. Why would it?

Eventually, you return home, holding your backpack in hand. You usually brought it with you, since sometimes you'd overspend and sort of need a backpack to carry everything - but this time you were pretty good with your impulsive spending. You immediately walked upstairs to your room, opening the door and feeling that familiar warmth, and the whir of the fan you kept on for background noise. You opened your backpack, setting down your two finds on your desk... as you open the plastic protective casing of the Gameboy cartridge, and realize something.

The transparent casing it was held in to protect it seemed to hide the fact that it looked... a lot cheaper than a legitimate copy should be - the sticker looking more saturated and not really form-fitting to the cartridge it was stuck on. But maybe someone just tore up the sticker and tried to replace it...?

You never really played the OG Pokemon Red - it was a little past your era, as stated before - so it's not like you truly knew, but... the cartridge also felt off, like it was made with what you can only describe as plastic that felt like it was supposed to be used on a McDonald's toy rather than a game cartridge. Oh well. It was cheap anyway, and that'd probably be why.

You just hope it wasn't damaged.

To take your mind off of the possible disappointment, you quickly take out the newly bought Gameboy Color and insert the cartridge inside. The old yet familiar jingle plays through the bit-crushed speakers, as the intro plays... You realize you never even played FireRed or LeafGreen either - really, your only exposure to Kanto was through Lets Go, which you didn't have the energy to finish - the Pokemon Go gimmicks in it being kind of obnoxious in your opinion - and through Heartgold and Soulsilvers postgame... which sort of had terrible level scaling, now that you think back on it. You have to replay those too, one day. Just not today.

The original pokemon theme plays at the title screen, as you simply pause and listen to it for a while, enjoying the nostalgia for something that you've never even played... until you get impatient and simply press the play button, starting a new save. Normally, you'd name the protagonist your own name - but since you couldn't pick a gender ( the girl / feminine protagonists designs just looked better in your opinion ) and you didn't really feel personally attached to the OG - and you also couldn't customize him as you could with the protagonists in Gen 6 and onward. So you decided to just keep his name as plain and simple RED.

He was much more of an existing character than a blank-slate protagonist to you anyways, but that's probably just because you didn't grow up with this game. You know, come to think about it, it's sort of funny this original RED design never stuck. Ash was his anime counterpart ( although Red also appears in the anime but isn't the central protagonist and is usually moreso in spinoff animes ) and in Firered and Leafgreen he eventually got redesigned... You sort of liked his original colors and black hair. You think they kept that design for Lets Go since it was a faithful(..ish) remake, and also something something Pokemon timeline theory, but you didn't really know. Eh.

After naming your rival BLUE to fit with choosing the "canon" names, you began playing. Nothing seemed off, yet. Maybe the cartridge just got a little messed up and they had to fix it as best they could for it to be presentable or something? Who knows.

You play as normal, noticing that Red seemed to... sometimes have internal monologues? Once again. You never played the original pokemon red, hell, not even FRLG, but you don't think that's supposed to be like that... but you simply let it be. It was probably normal, right?

You at least... hoped it was.

A few hours pass, as you seem to play as normally as a Pokemon Red player could - relatively, at least. You obviously weren't a child from the way you played, grinding in certain spots for longer than necessary, nicknaming your Pokemon things that were legible and had interesting meanings ( not that he'd admit that ), and doing pretty well for yourself overall - even catching as many pokemon as you could per area. This wasn't necessarily a good thing - it was almost always the adults that happened to mess with him the most, despite their nostalgia... He didn't make his presence too clear yet. His body ached from being forced to move, but he got used to it. He always did.

He's felt this all before. Experienced it all before. Nothing surprises him at this point - players are awfully predictable when there's only a limited amount of things you can do in a game, especially one like the OG Pokemon Red. He even usually guessed what his players would catch and put on their team accurately, about 90% of the time - it wasn't different with you, not whatsoever. None of this was new.

The way you played seemed... innocent, for now. But that's how it always started, didn't it? Innocent, unassuming... until they've decided they're done playing the game in its intended way, and try to play god with the world he lived in. He knew the second whoever was behind the screen this time - because he had a sneaking suspicion the asshole who got a hold of him last time pawned him off - would just get bored like all the others, and mess with things that were not to be messed with. Same old, same old.

After you beat your third gym, he starts to get tired of this, almost wishing you'd get bored faster so his hope would be crushed even faster, and so he'd just get it all over with.

He might as well make his own torment go faster, at least.

[ Why are you doing this? ]

The textbox appears out of nowhere in a point you were absolutely certain it wasn't supposed to - you weren't talking to anybody... And.. no matter how much you pressed A, the text wouldn't advance. Your eyes widen in slight fear. You knew something was up... and you were enjoying your time, too.

You didn't know how to respond. I mean, why would you? It's just a game, it's just probably some edited code. Until the textbox scrolls, slowly spelling out something else.

[ Speak. ]

You read the text and don't do what it asks for a solid minute, going through all of this in your head. The funny thing is that other than the game clearly trying to talk to you, you almost found it more disturbing that the textbox was using italics. You don't think the pokemon red font ever had italics...??? It almost implied that whoever was talking to you was trying to express a certain tone, despite only communicating through text. You... were curious. And scared.

"Why can't you?" you speak out loud - despite it seeming improbable that the device could hear you. But it was clearly asking.

[ That's a stupid question. ]

Is all the textbox responds with. Fair enough, you supposed, but that was... pretty rude. You sigh, and decide to just answer the question, since this thing can hear you. You hoped this was a fucked up fever dream.

"Fine. Doing what? Playing... the game..? Do you want me to do something else?" You ask the strange entity, confused and a little more frustrated than you are scared now.

[ I don't care. ] It starts. [ Do whatever you want. ]

"You don't seem to want me to do what I want, considering you stopped me." You call the entity out. The textbox is simply three dots for a second, before deciding to respond.

[ Maybe I don't want to be bothered... ] The textbox scrolls, as the player sprite, RED, walks a tile forward - despite textboxes usually not allowing you to move - and also, you didn't move him. He moved by himself. You start to connect the puzzle pieces. [ By someone who's just here to take advantage of me again. ]

You feel a little guilty. You didn't know exactly... what he meant? But you begin to realize that... this was RED, at least, you think. He did have some oddly introspective inner thoughts that you feel weren't supposed to happen... so it all lined up.

"... all i'm doing is trying to play." You say, looking guilty. He almost felt bad. Almost.

[ That's what they always say, until they get tired and throw me away like some toy. ]

If you felt cheekier, you'd tell him that the GameBoy is technically a toy, but that'd just feel unnecessarily rude and unwarranted right now. You avert your eyes, feeling ... some sort of heavy gaze on you, despite the only people in the room being you and... technically RED. You ... related to his plight. Not because you were a seemingly sentient character trapped in a game, no, just because you felt like people'd replace you at a moment's notice and throw you away for "better" people, or whenever they get tired of you.

"What do you even mean by that?"

[ No one cares about me. They replaced me without a second thought. And anybody who comes back to play this broken game simply does it to exploit it, not to enjoy it as it was meant. ]

You ponder his words for a moment, before even more seem to show up - you... seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

[ My body isn't even mine. My autonomy doesn't belong to me, it belongs to whoever decides to puppeteer me that day. ]

The textbox continues, but you cut it off, noticing that he's essentially rambling to himself... in text form. "So what do you want me to do? Turn off the game? Just... stop playing?"

The textbox pauses again, simply turning back to the sloooowly typed [ ... ] it seems to turn into when he's thinking.

[ Just give me a break. For at least a little while. Don't turn it off, though. ] He says. He doesn't expect you to follow through, but... you simply abide by his wishes, sighing and propping the Gameboy against a wall.

For weeks and weeks, that's just how it'd continue. He'd sometimes let you play, either opting to barely say anything, or sometimes being particularly talkative that day, usually to be slightly rude and criticize your choices. It was sort of annoying, but oh well. Other times, he simply wanted to be left alone, but you notice he barely requests to be turned off. He understands it if the battery is low, but other than that... he doesn't seem to like the idea of it. Which you can understand. You'd assume it'd be like going into a coma where someone else controls when you wake up.

Eventually, though, he'd open up to you more and more. Baby steps, but still steps.

"...You know, I always sort of preferred the original Red design."

[ ... Really? ]

He felt like he was blushing. Not that you could tell, nor could he... but it made him feel nice. It didn't help that you saying that came out of nowhere, but he'd grown used to it. You seemed socially awkward, so he didn't mind.

That day, you two simply conversed more about Red's issues. You wanted to understand him better... And he liked that you seemed to care.

It was some... day. He didn't know. He didn't care to ask, nor did it mean much to him. You were rambling on and on about some of the newer generations to him with such a passion... he learned earlier on that you'd never played the original games, which intrigued him - it was mostly only people that had played them and wanted to mess around who ever got a hold of his cartridge. He simply nodded along, sometimes asking questions, as you continued to tell him about the future pokemon games. You'd even show him pictures of some of your favorite new 'mons, since somehow he was able to see whatever was put in front of the screen.

He knew a little bit about the newer generations, but not too much admittedly... but the way you talked about them with so much passion was... endearing. He smiled a little, not even realizing until a few seconds later.

He realized he'd developed feelings. For a player. It made him feel almost sick, even. He knew how easily his trust could be betrayed... but... maybe he could have that little spark of hope for once. Maybe he could pretend you'd be better. For once. But the way he'd hear you sometimes laugh - a genuinely positive response to the things he'd say... it was cute. It made him feel like a person again, and not just some toy to drag around.

He really liked... just, everything about you. The way you acted, the way you'd listen to his problems and often would even relate to them - he vividly remembers a conversation about also feeling like you were easily replaceable and how people just are like that sometimes - and your voice... He didn't have high standards whatsoever, but god you were out of his league. You were also... absolutely stunning from what he could see. He was smitten and he fucking hated it. God. He's mentally facepalming himself. How could this even happen to him?

It's only when he sees you looking back at the screen expecting an answer that he realizes he tuned every one of your words out while mentally panicking.

[ ... uh. Can you repeat that? ] He feels bad for asking, but he didn't want to pretend he was listening. "Oh, sure!" You give him a smile... your smile was pretty too. He wishes he saw it more often. ... why is he even thinking this about you? It's probably because you're the only one who's been this kind. He chalks it up to that and pretends to forget.

The feeling didn't go away. It was practically eating at his heart to not tell anyone, to not act on it. It was almost worst than anything he's been subjected to unwillingly by players. ... That was hyperbole, but he's allowed to be a little dramatic, he thinks.

You two were having some conversation about something not that important again, before he interrupts you.

[ ... Y/N. ]

He practically never refers to you by name, despite learning yours early on. It felt a bit too... intimate, too personal. But now he was using it because of that fact.

He sees your eyebrows raise. "Hm?"

[ I have something to tell you... that I've wanted to for a long time. ]

He sees your expression turn, looking curious. You definitely didn't know, which was making his nerves act up more and more. "... go on?"

[ ... I think, I'm in love with you. ]

"... you're not joking, right?" You say. He couldn't discern your voice or tone... and it scared him a little.

[ Why would I be? ]

You don't respond. He just stares, looking for a response, as he sees you smile a little. That was good. Smiling was good.

"... really?"

[ Yes. ]

He responded simply. He began to smile a little too, which was slightly visible on his sprite. He... sees your face get a little red.

"I," you start, before covering your face a little. "Wow..." You seemed to be at a loss for words. He.. feels happy about making you look so cute and flustered.

"I uhm, I.. think I'm the same way, but I never told you cuz' I... didn't think you'd feel the same." You avert your eyes. This was news to him.

[ Really? ] He starts. [ That's... so... are.. we...? ] He begins to flub his words, before straightening himself out again. [ ... Are we, uh, dating then? ]

He has no idea how to socialize with people ''normally'', and it shows. You two connected together well due to that, actually. You didn't judge him for it, and he didn't judge you for it.

"I'm not sure how I'll kiss you, but... yea. If you wanna be, I'd be happy to." You smile genuinely at him, face still red as your own heart pounds in excitement... God, you were beautiful to him.

[ I'll find a way. ] Is all he says, which would be Vaguely Ominous in any other situation, but here it just made your heart fill with butterflies. The rest of the day was spent between you two just chatting and conversing, and flirting with each other in mostly cheesy ways. Red even called you some petnames, just to test the waters. Almost all of them made you blush, no matter how cheesy they were. It felt... nice.

That night, you dreamt... of him. It wasn't your first dream of him, nor would it be the last, but in every previous dream his figure felt much harder to discern, much foggier as if he didn't want his presence to be known. He'd never speak or do anything other than stare at you.

But this time he looked and felt so real. He looked much older and more tired than he did in his tiny little overworld sprite... but you liked it. He simply walked up to you, and started giving you chaste kisses all over your face. You wondered if this was what his kisses would feel like if he were actually here with you... You blushed with every kiss, returning a few to his cheeks. He smiled, and he looked happy for the first time in a long time. Before you woke up, he hugged you tightly - almost too tightly - until the dream faded away, but the warmth of his hug never faded.

The next morning, you woke up to someone holding you.

#wispy writes #glitchy red x reader #glitchy red #fanfic #( technically. i guess. )#actual Story Time bc im slightly tired of doing the bulletlist headcanon format <- ( i ramble too much in it )#i made whether he Got out of the game or not ambiguous bc that can be a whole different post in itself but the implication is Yea probably #i projected a lot of myself in the main character sorry not sorry #this took so long but im proud of it so hehehe #also yea its supposed to end abruptly #i dont know what to title this. it doesnt need a title but if i ever make a sequel or refer to this specific writing itd be helpful

82 notes · View notes