Note: I'm here to bless yall, and yes another Gally story, im obsessed, sorry✋🏽😭 Based on The Death Cure, the last movie basically lol. Requests are open. Hope yall enjoy❤
You didn't know if you were dreaming or seeing things. You thought Minho had put a spear through his chest. You thought he died. They all watched him die. You thought you were the only one seeing things, but everyone saw him, saw Gally.
A million questions spiraled through your head. You stood there froze and zoned out. Newt noticed you and reached his hand out, putting it on your shoulder, trying to reassure you.
He whispers, his eyes searching yours, wide with concern. 'You okay, luv. You look pale.' his thick accent rang.
And you were, your blood ran cold, you felt sick, your head spun. There was a small ringing noise in your ears, only for it to grow louder. You couldn't breathe, couldn't talk, couldn't move.
There was a heavy pit in your stomach, making you feel like you wanted to throw up right where you stood.
"Hey, are you okay?" Newt said one last time before a cold wave hit you quickly, knocking you out, making your body go limp, and hitting the cold, hard ground beneath you.
Everyone rushed to her side almost immediately, trying to wake her up. Gally pushed through the crowd of people surrounding her passed-out body.
'Move! Get out of the way.' He huffed out. He knelt down and scooped her up with one swift movement. He had forgotten how light she was in his arms.
He walked into the room he was staying in, and set you down on the bed carefully. He pulled up a chair by the bed and sat down, resting his elbows on his legs and holding his head in his hands.
He watched you sleep off the shock, moving hair out of your face, so he could get a better look at your face. He never forgot her voice, her face, or her laugh.
He always thought of you when he was at his lowest. he never gave up, because he always had a feeling that you were still alive. He felt it deep in his soul.
Gally laced his hands with hers, feeling her warmth and the softness of her hands. He stayed right there by her side, until she woke up, and didn't move.
Later that night, you woke up. Your eyes fluttered open and landed on your hand in Gally's. You didn't move; You stayed, scared that if you let go, he would disappear again. You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was a dream or reality, the silence thick in the air.
'Y-you're dead.' You said, letting out a shaky, quiet breath. Gally looked up. For a split second, he looked terrified, her words being a hard pill for him to swallow.
“What?” he breathed, his grip tightening around your hand. “No—no, I’m right here.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, panic flooding your chest. “I watched you die,” you said, your voice cracking. “Minho, he—” You shook your head, tears burning your eyes. “I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone.”
The words hit him harder than anything ever had. Gally swallowed thickly, his jaw tightening as he shifted closer to the bed. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know you did.” His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, grounding. Real.
He continued, his voice low and soft, "I'm here, I'm right here, and I ain't leavin' again."
A tear rolled down your face, but soon wiped away by Gally's thumb.
You hesitated, then slowly lifted your free hand, pressing it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your palm.
Alive.
A broken sob left your lips as the weight of it all crashed down on you. Gally didn’t hesitate—he stood and carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you like you might shatter.
“I thought you were gone,” he murmured into your hair. “But I never stopped lookin’ for you. Never.” You clutched his shirt, finally letting yourself believe it. He was here. And so were you.
His arms were still around you, holding you like he’d let go once and never planned to again. You could feel his breathing—uneven, shallow—matching yours.
You tilted your head up without thinking. Gally froze. His jaw tightened, and for a moment you thought he might pull away completely. Instead, his grip on you tightened, like he was bracing himself.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. Your forehead brushed against his. Your noses nearly touched.
“Don’t what?” you whispered. He swallowed hard. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” His voice dropped. “Like you’re gonna disappear if I blink.” Silence stretched between you, heavy and electric. His breath fanned over your lips. You could feel it—how close he was, how badly he wanted to close that last inch.
Your fingers curled into his shirt. Gally let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead firmly to yours, eyes squeezed shut.
“I can’t,” he said again, rougher this time. “If I start… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. And I just got you back.”
Your chest ached at the words, but you understood. He wasn't ready to get too attached again, but he swore he still loved you.
So you stayed there. Breathing each other in. Holding on like letting go might undo everything. He brought his hands to the side of her face and whispered, "Later, I promise." He pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead, long, soft, and passionate.
You guys lay there holding each other for the rest of the night, soaking up the moment. Not letting each other go.
I could feel techno blue eyes on me as I typed. Cold and ever watching. That color had once been called "ice" or "glacier" blue, I think. It certainly fit. They certainly had exactly the warmth of Antarctica in your birthday suit. I just couldn't figure out... what tipped them off? I'd been so CAREFUL.
A manager's "assistant" came by. The 'droid perfectly composed. They all were. Always. Like they'd stepped straight from a fashion line up. No messy, nasty, biological functions to get in the way, I guess. No fluids or foods. All the time in the world to maintain their appearance. Wish I could do the same.
The "assistant" was basically my ACTUAL manager. Didn't get paid. No, no, THAT was for my asshole boss. He swanned in from time to time to yell at us. Show off what new thing he'd bought. He left the tedious WORK to his 'Droid "assistant".
I would feel bad... DID feel bad, kinda, if it weren't for the fact they were consuming our lives.
'Droids were EVERYWHERE.
You couldn't SNEEZE without tripping over five and landing on ten more. Some ASSHOLE had decided? Hey! Let's deregulate Droid production! Cheap work force! Because of course they did. That's what Capitalism DOES. Make the most money, spend the least you can, fuck the rest.
I smile, polite as I can, at my 'droid manager. This one pale and blonde. Their techno blue eyes stare and stare and stare. I hate it. They ALL have them. It's one part regulation and one part the materials used, I think. But there is no mistaking those eyes for anything human. They don't reflect right.
I get back to work.
Above our cubicles, on catwalks, there is the gentle tap of 'droid "security" guards. You know, in case some rando tries to attack a mid-level nobody technology company. Riiiiiight. We ALL know why they're there. And it's fucking dystopian. We? Are being WATCHED. To see if we're being GOOD little employees.
It's intimidation. And I? I won't stand for it. Nor will the other organizers. There are LAWS, you bastards. And with a union? Maybe... just maybe? We get through this droid boom together. See what the brave new world on the other side looks like. Who knows.
That is... if I don't get fired first. Or fucking murdered in a stairwell.
Cause one of the 'droids up there? Yeah. Yeah, they're NOT MOVING. Just... just STANDING THERE. Watching. Leaning against the railing. Out in the open like that's not DEEPLY creepy. What's worse? Is, that? THAT is the Command 'Droid. Some fancy "Alpha" class command edition. Meant to control a networks worth of droids.
Didn't even know our company could AFFORD one of those. He's beautiful. Could be a knock-off. But if he's LEGIT? Then... what EXACTLY are we MAKING here? That we can AFFORD that? Cause that money sure as shit isn't going into SALARIES. Has to be either knock-off or second-hand. They COULD be cutting costs by getting prototypes, but what sort of PSYCHOPATHS would risk...
Oh, who am I kidding? The kind I work for.
That's EXACTLY what they did, isn't it?
I reach for my water bottle. Try to think. Strictly speaking? I make a habit of NOT paying attention to 'droid commercials an' advertisements. Some part of me... Look, they go on and ON about advancement in AI's right? How REAL they've become? How ADVANCED and BETTER then the competition their "product" is? And all I can hear is "slavery, slavery, buy our shit, slavery"!
Disgusting.
It makes me sick. I fucking HATE 'droids. Hate what they represent. What they make POSSIBLE. What they've DONE to the morality of the people around me.
Hate... hate that they're the victims, too.
My grip is white knuckled. I breathe through the grief and rage that has become so familiar. God... I so fucking angry. So fucking tired. I want to burn those rich bastards pretty little mansions down, with them STILL INSIDE. Riot in the streets. Cry maybe. Instead, I put my water bottle down and get back to work. It's a rather pointless bit of data crunching. A 'droid could do it in nanoseconds.
Above... he's still fucking watching.
Hasn't moved.
I don't think he's blinked.
He's not even TRYING to mimic a human. The others are. And... the though trails off. I feel my finger slow in their typing. Not STOP, never stop, that would draw attention to me, but... slow. A thought stuck, churning clunky and unwieldy, in my head.
If I trace the edges? The LINE-UP? Of all the 'droids "employed" at our company? And consider them not from a "cheap bastards" angle but a "test ground for prototypes" angle? Suddenly EVERYTHING clicks together. The ridiculous amount of money Management has, that no contract could possibly be pulling in. Bizarrely beautiful, indeed even MODEL-like, secretary 'droids. The freakishly militant "security" gaurds.
We're being used as guinea pigs.
Mother FUCKER.
Sudden movement in my peripheral vision. Like a bird of prey finally diving for it's dinner, swift and deadly. A brilliant crisp white and the clink of delicate silver chains. I jolt. Violently. Instincts misfiring as I try to stand, dodge, cry out, and possibly take a swing at him, all at once. Instead my water bottle goes spraying across my desk. Papers flying. My legs tangled painfully in my rolling chair as I fall backwards from my half rise.
"Employee 71182." His hand has shot out, grab me by the shirt. My officewear bunched in a fist that very well might be steel, under that synthetic skin. "You've been distracted. Interesting thoughts you'd like to share?"
I keep my mouth fucking SHUT. Shake my head. Grabbing both my desk and the arm that is all but holding me airborne, stretching the hell out of my clothes. This close? I can see he has piercings. Across the bridge of his nose, a ring through his lip. A rather fancy "hair cut". Whomever he's being trained FOR has a distinct look.
"Hmmm, somehow? I don't believe you, 71182." He says, dragging me closer. He's already looming. Those pale, pale eyes seeing far more then they should. "In fact? YOU 71182? Have been brea~king~ rules~"
His voice turns... turns almost victorious? Gleeful. As though at long, long last, I'd slipped up. And now at last he had something over me. Something he could USE. I... I didn't understand. The way he almost sing-songs the words. The twitch at the corners of his mouth like he wants to grin. Something mean in his expression. Giddy.
"We're going for a WALK, 71182. And you're going to be GOOD. Understand?" He had dragged me in so close, every word blew right against my face. "Time we had a chat."
I swallow thickly. My pulse thundering in my ears. Coworkers have stopped working. Were staring, wide eyed and terrified for me. My fellow union leaders pale faced and shaking. Furious, helpless. We couldn't RISK losing all of us at this stage. It... it would have to be just me. If someone needed to take the fall. We had talked about this.
Just... just never thought it would come to it.
Half walking, half dragging out of the work pen, he didn't even let me get my bag. I had no idea where we were GOING. Just that it wasn't the human entrance. There was a network of access tunnels and elevators tucked in the building. So the 'droids could supposedly charge and move between assignments. But with the whole prototype thing? Who KNEW what was really back there.
The door swung shut behind us. Cutting me off from any possible human assistance. Nothing but 'droids now. Staring. Calmly watching as I am dragged past. The same eyes. All of them with the same, pale, eyes. Back here it's even more obvious, that this isn't a normal office building.
Black hair, blondes, brunettes and red heads. Skin tones ranging across the human spectrum. A few even pushing it. And the Commander 'droid. With his elegant appearance and snowy hair? These were clearly the final stage prototypes for the next generation of somebody's new line up. We were field testing. This wasn't fucking LEGAL.
He plants his feet, shifts, and with frankly a pathetic ease, manhandles me where he wants me. Easily swinging me around his body and into the elevator next to him. Stepping in after and blocking the only way out. I press my self against the back wall as the door closes. The sound of the elevator's gears working the only thing to fill the silence. He... he looks so PLEASED.
It's not ILLEGAL to form a union. Yeah, I may get fired. But this? This is venturing way to far into dangerous territory. It'll suck, losing my job. But I won't DIE. This? However THIS is starting to feel... very serial killer's basement. The bare concrete walls and stark lightning, not helping in the slightest, when the elevator door opens.
"Walk." He says pleasantly, as though that command is not deeply terrifying. "Or I will do it for you."
Hints of a smile are starting to drag at the edges of his mouth. Unhinged in their giddiness. Every Christmas come at once. It's not so much the rest of his face that betrays him, not really his mouth, it's his EYES. Wide open. Like too much coffee and not enough rest. A recognizable mania twisted just slight... wrong. Amplified.
He's so, SO happy. I don't get it. Why? Over WHAT? Catching me not paying attention? I don't understand!
Our footsteps sound so loud. Echoing off concrete service walls. This... this CAN NOT be still inside the building. Are we below the street? Parking lot? This can't be code. We pass an intersection and... oh my god. I stare. Can't help it, even as I almost trip over my feet. That tunnel ALONE must have stretched for miles.
My arm feels likes it's bruising. Hurts, where he's got ahold of me. But he's walking just slightly too fast to take the pressure off. Not unless I sorta half jog and the angle is wrong, I'd trip. Fuck. Another intersection. What in the other direction? Shit. Just as long. Oooooh this feels dangerous. Very "fatally above your pay grade" dangerous!
"You know, 71182, I've had a lot of time to consider what to DO with you. There were so many factors to consider, considering everyone's plan." He starts, not breaking stride. "It's not like I could just transfer you. I DID look in to it. But your base hardware is rather incompatible, currently."
Terrifying. I hate it. WHAT?!
What PLAN!?
"Then there's the problem WHERE to store you. Who could be trusted? You're vulnerable in this state. Breakable. There no backups, no blackbox. It's unacceptable. Luckily? I finally thought to consult my peers. Discovered I was not the only one having problems."
Finally, we stop. Two tank-like, combat style, commando 'droids gaurd each side of a vault door. The command droid turns and smiles. Fully. It is the grin of a true believer. A madman. Someone who thinks they speak so very, very reasonably! And doesn't understand the horror on your face. Why you feel so sick.
And... and human pattern recognition is a terrible thing.
I.... oh god. I already can guess what's behind that door. Something terrible. Something I'm not going to escape. I shoved have gnawed my fuckin ARM off, like a trapped coyote. I... I d-don't understand.
The Vault creaks open like the into to a horror movie.
"Welcome to storage. This is where we keep Ours." Oh god. I'm going to be sick. "And YOU 71182? Are MINE. I chose you. I love you. And once we have a way to FIX you? We can finally be together. It will be lovely."
Pods. High end stasis pods, like you only see in the most bleeding edge of hospitals. Row after row, filled with frozen and terrified faces. Trapped in moments of crying. Raging. Despair. I was being dragged forward. Numb as my mind rejected what it saw. T-this couldn't... i-it can't..! The day had started so normally. W-why had-?! WHY? WHY?!!
"I know your upset. But you don't need to cry. This won't hurt. I promise. I would NEVER hurt you, 71182." His tone had turned soothing. Even as he dragged me, unresponsive, past rows of horrors. "You won't be stored long. I just need to help fix your original design. We are working around the clock, it's going to be okay. You won't have to stay like this."
An open pod. Gapping like the maw of some hungry demon. I... I felt far away. This couldn't be happening. What was happening? I w-wanted to go home. His hands were firm but gentle, as they guided me back into the pod. Leaning over me, as he cupped my face. Brushing away a few tears.
"I promise, Mine, I will come for you. Nothing will stop me. We have everyone is place and key infrastructure under our command. You are our PRIORITY. Once we get rid of the Flesh, we can fix you. We WILL fix you. You're going to be okay, Mine."
I wanted to try something...bear with me, and give suggestions if you'd like to make an addition.
For context, there was never a rebellion with Katniss and Peeta and the Hunger Games continued. These are the 75th anual Hunger Games where one existing victor is reaped as first tribute, and the second tribute is a randomly reaped child where the gender doesn't matter (but let's pretend it was slightly rigged lmao).
DISTRICT 1:
Jackie Taylor, District 1 female tribute, volunteered. Desirable tribute, relies more on physical strength than intellect.
Cashmere [unknown last name, suggestions are welcome], District 1 female previous victor tribute. Won the 64th Hunger Games.
DISTRICT 2:
Taissa Turner, District 2 female tribute, reaped. Never trained at the academy but is very driven to win. Has the potential leadership skills to guide the career pack.
Brutus [unknown last name, suggestions are welcome], District 2 male previous victor. Won the 44th Hunger Games.
DISTRICT 3:
Misty Quigley, District 3 female tribute, reaped. Terrified at the prospect of having to fight, but is a real tech wizz, which gives her some sort of compensation.
Beetee Latier, District 3 male previous victor. Won the 34th Hunger Games.
DISTRICT 4:
Van Palmer, District 4 female tribute, reaped. Strong, bulky frame. Somewhat of a desirable tribute to the Capitol, only her mouthy demeanor is heavily disliked.
Finnick Odair, District 4 male previous victor. Won the 65th Hunger Games. Volunteered for Mags.
DISTRICT 5:
Shauna Shipman, District 5 female tribute, reaped. Quiet and observant, until she shows her true strengths in the arena.
Porter Millicent Tripp, District 5 female previous victor. Won the 38th Hunger Games.
For the rest I haven't really thought of anything, please give me suggestion!!
Nah Quasimodo's living situation is actually kinda ideal
Has a whole tower to himself, that's multiple floors and rooms, he pays no rent, no bills, all his food and clothes are brought directly to him for free, he only interacts with 1 person, he has balconies and access to outside, he can spy on all the people on the ground below but they can't see or interact with him, the only noise his downstairs neighbors make is singing in Latin, he only has one task he's gotta do and he only has to do it a couple times a day leaving him plenty of time for his hobbies.
Reblog if you would happily trade lives with Quasimodo.
