SERIES DISCONTINUED :C
I wanted to write a Gally x reader story because Gally gets a lot of hate sometimes and he's underrated :/
Some of this will be my own little AU of what I believe are the sexualities of the characters, gender identities, inclu...
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~. Mind Over Matter - Young The Giant 🎵 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
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"Ah, there we are." Newt sighs with relief as you pull out a very strong and massive object, which looks big enough to peel one of the sides open of the crate. You're not sure what it is but you had been looking for ten minutes with Newt in these rundown shambles while everyone was roaming around in different directions.
"Hey, guys?" You and Newt, as well as everyone else from wherever they are, look over to where Thomas is. You stand up in sync with Newt, seeing him standing near one of the desks. On the touch screen table, is some sort of blinking light.
Like a call needs to be answered. Or a video message.
"Don't press it yet." Newt says sternly. "We don't know what that'll activate, let us open the crate first."
Thomas warily and silently, nods his head. Walking away from the desk to allow you two to do that.
Time could be stripped away from you at any moment, so you gotta make time for it, at best. If you can.
"Ready to open this?" Newt asks you softly. Fry, Winston, and Minho also approach, observing from their distance of the metal thing that sits in your hand.
With a deep breath in, you sigh it out heavily. "Ready as I'll ever be."
You hold the tool firmly in your hands, which Isiah is able to bring the crate closer to you. He puts it in the middle of the room, where everyone gathers around. Afar, or at a distance.
It's silent aside from the sparking of electricity and whirring of technology, but you sit down in front of the crate cross-legged, holding the tool firmly in your right hand.
It's like a can opener. As soon as you put it on a corner of the crate and turn the knob, it makes an obnoxious scratching tearing noise, which you all wince at first like you had...
When you were carving your name. When you first carved your name into the stone wall with nothing but a blade, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, you had winced.
