Novel & Cerita Armin Gif

He quickly threw the knife to the floor and grabbed the first aid kit behind him. I patted his shoulder until he turned around with a very pale face. I showed him my recovered hand, without the cuts and marks. *"Look, you don't have to worry. I'm not as weak as you think.” “Don't do that again, you made me almost die of shock.” I giggled amusedly. Turns out he has fears too. Well, that means he's also an ordinary man, not a robot. Because all this time I thought he had batteries in his body like a robot because he was so stiff all day!

But they were under orders, and no one dared to cross Bjorn when he was in this state. Armin, however, was the calm eye of the storm, lounging on the sofa with a smirk on his face, watching the scene unfold like a twisted spectator. He sipped his drink lazily, his eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Such a show, little brother,” he muttered under his breath, the hint of amusement flickering across his face. Bjorn’s face twisted with rage as he backhanded Alora again. “Why!” he screamed, his voice cracking with the intensity of his anger. “Why did you have to hide?”

They sat in silence, watching dozens of kids play different kinds of games such as Tag, Hide and seek; Duck, Duck, Goose, Red Rover and so on. During the time of playing hide and seek, Armin ran further than the territory, although no rules were given. Armin wandered in the wide space, looking at faces, if he could recognize any, and fortunately for him, he came across a man that was at least six feet tall, in a black shirt along with black trousers and an Italian made shoe that screamed quality. He was not Damon or anyone he knew but he was willing to help, and just as he got really close to the boy with their eyes locked, Armin held his pinky finger, staring at him with a puppy's eyes.

Amaris As I close the distance, I shift back to my human form, smoothly transitioning from running on four paws to two feet. It’s been less than twelve hours since I first got the feeling that something was wrong, but I still fear at what I’m going to find when I make it to the Range Rover. Climbing up between trees, I wind my way over to the driver’s side and lean down, looking into the window to see if there is any sign of life within the vehicle.

“Hey.” Arman smiled as soon as he sighted me, and it stilled me for a moment. This smile was… different. You see, I’ve watched Arman a lot in person, and I’ve watched his movies to try to get hints about the man, but this smile? This wasn’t "Arman." It was the smile of a little boy seeing his first best friend. I once treated a six-year-old boy in the pediatric ward; he had a sprained wrist and was in tears, but the minute his buddy came to see him, he found the courage to smile through the pain.

Damien's driver informed one of the guards who went into their little stall to make a call. To his relief, it didn't take long for them to be permitted inside the house and Damien found himself sitting inside, waiting impatiently. "Ah, Damien. I've been expecting you," Armin walked in and smirked. "You know why I'm here this time, don't you?" Damien cut to the chase. He had no time for pleasantries. "Of course. Please have a seat and share a drink with me. I've got excellent wine imported straight from Greece," Armin said.

For the first time, I felt truly in it, not just adjacent. Eventually, the collective teasing gaze of the table landed on its favorite target: Arman. Arman was… something else. A foreign exchange student from some northern country, he looked like he’d stepped out of a classical painting. Wavy brown hair, eyes the color of a summer sky, tall with the lean, strong build of a swimmer. He was also quiet, incredibly kind, and intelligent. And every single day, it seemed, someone worked up the courage to confess their feelings to him. He would always refuse with a gentle, polite finality that left no room for argument but also no lasting bitterness.

“I would stand back if you’re going to watch. We are starting soon.” “I’m Ren’s assistant,” I tell him. He looks visibly surprised, tugging his glove off his hand to shake mine. He looks boyishly handsome. He has shimmering blonde hair that glows under the midday sunlight. No wonder the girls have been gushing. Especially with his warm brown eyes. “Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Nik, I’m the manager of this lot,” he tells me, motioning over his shoulder at the others who seem unfazed at my presence.

She's always been a fire, she can burn up anytime, but I'm not, I can't strip myself of my feelings like she does and let others see them clearly. "Just call me Amin." The man who called himself "Ming" spoke again, his smile still soft on his face and showing no signs of stiffening. Without waiting for me to answer, he continued in that odd accent, "I'm sorry Jack didn't tell you I was coming. But I'll be leaving later, so you don't have to be too formal." Armin's Mandarin was a bit of a struggle to speak, but he tried very hard to get the words out, one word at a time, and despite the ineffectiveness, he exuded a certain sense of cuteness that was the polar opposite of his appearance.

I lifted his broken arm, causing him to wince in pain as he fought to pull away. “Also, only my friends call me Mel, and you are anything but that. Next time you try to attack me or you use that nickname. You’ll be rewarded with more than a broken arm.” I warned. He glared up at me. “Got it,” I asked, reaching for his arm again. He pulled away, forcing himself to lean back. I reached for his shirt pulling him closer to me. Fire being to pool in the palm of my hand, slowly charring his tunic.