geek | armin arlert

last one to find out

"does this make me look fat?" sasha twirled in the mirror, making the frilly hem of the practically-lingerie line dress flutter with danger. the outfit was technically a costume, but looked straight out of a playboy magazine, the kind teenage boys hide under their bed, perched atop her head were animal ears of some sort, not medically accurate.

"what are you?" ymir questioned, squinting like the answer would magically appear in fine writing.

the vegas model spun, striking a pose while pointing at the ears like it were so obvious, "i'm a mouse, duh."

sasha was going full out tonight, literally full out. only because niccolo was going to be present, and apparently she'd entered a brand new era. somewhere between self pep-talks infront of the mirror and googling 'how to get boys attention' she decided new beginnings started with slutty costumes and boys who spent their free time either flirting or cooking pasta. and honestly? you should've been taking notes.

ymir muttered back, "you look like if chuck-e-cheese had an only fans."

luckily impressing a boy was no longer any of your concern, not tonight or ever again. not after the absolute emotional wipeout of a week you'd just had. tonight all that mattered was looking cute for
pictures and maybe getting shit face plastered to quiet down the screaming match going on inside your head.

so your choice of costume was harley quinn, because your brothers watched enough marvel movies growing up you'd somehow been able to quote full fight scenes, and the unhinged character felt fitting.

speaking of unhinged, since friday colt had been nonstop nagging about wanting an invite to the party, but this morning in particular there was a powerpoint presentation. nothing silenced the kid until he unfortunately got given the babysitter duty for falco and his friend's trick-or-treating excursion since both your parents were going out to their friends place a couple cities over.

the look of literal dread on his face when mom handed him a plastic pumpkin basket and a 'good luck' was just priceless. like spa-day therapeutic.

"where's hitch?" sasha questioned, unable to fathom the fact that little miss participated in all things party-related would miss a get-ready sesh. either drama was brewing someplace else or something grand was under the works. either or, it had to be big if it costed hitch to miss out, she had a serious case of fomo.

"she's coming with marlo apparently, that girls whipped."

halloween was just a ploy for couples to show-off their coordinated outfits and public make-out skills. once upon a time you'd dreamed of doing a hard launch with reiner, matching costumes and the whole thing.

that ship had crashed into an iceberg, somehow caught on fire, and eventually sunk down to rot on the ocean floor. reiner was completely crossed out of the personal to-do list. in fact, he'd now joined the elite black list alongside galliard and kirstein: the men you'd rather step on then interact with.

the bedroom had been a war-zone, glitter spray and fake blood residue was everywhere. everyone was way too cheery, completely make-up fueled, and in full blown halloween mode. except you. who was supposed to be helping historia with her corset strings, but really just existing with no meaning.

"(y/n) are you alright? you've been quiet all day." historia said softly, turning her head just enough to look at you as you tried not to squeeze the life out of her using the corset ties of her costume, "you're the one who usually gives us all anxiety with your chaotic pep talks."

you froze. to be 100% completely honest, something had been dauntingly hanging itself overhead all week, just waiting to fall. there was nowhere to drop these thoughts, nowhere to release these mixed feelings, youd even considered journaling to get it all out on paper, but knowing your 'roommates' habits of snooping around, that was a lost cause.