Where Memories Sleep: Hey, mom?
Me: What?
Where Memories Sleep: When am I getting updated?
Me: Uh. . . I'm working on it.
Where Memories Sleep: Oh, you mean you're working on me, plus the seven other projects you've got on your desk?
Me: *backs up*
Where Memories Sleep: I WAS YOUR FIRST! sTaY fAiThFuL!
Me: JESUS FRECKLED CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK
The figure moved slowly through the night, dark cloak making a soft swishing noise as it dragged over the dry grass that stretched for miles in every direction. The dry branches of the thin trees in the dark forest nearby rattled as a breeze blew by, rustling the tinder-dry grass and making the branches clatter against each other, sending an eerie melody through the dying plains. An owl hooted from deep within the woods, and, seconds later, the very bird flew away, a dark silhouette against the night sky for only a second before it vanished.
The figure reached into an inner pocket, pulling on a black glove and raising it in front of him, hand aimed in the direction of the woods. "Follow the yellow brick road."
The grass before the cloaked man parted, bending over and flattening towards either side. This continued happening in a mesmerizing sort of domino effect, a trail being carved into the calf-high brush, extending into the forest. The man began walking down the next path, slowly, deliberately, glove hand tucked into his pocket.
xxx
"My, my!" Hange chirped, holding a hand over their eyes. "Quite the turnout, wouldn't you say?"
Mike sniffed the air, glancing around, gaze drifting over the stands, which held a significant number of students, especially considering these were but tryouts. "Didn't expect to see so many non-Slytherins," he commented. "Even a few Gryffindors. . ."
"Probably scouting out the competition," Dita commented as he walked by, twirling his Beater's bat. "You know how they are, those oh-so chivalrous folks." He gave a short bark of laughter.
"Line's over there, Dita," Erwin smirked, and Dita chuckled, moving back into the line of students.
"Flagon not here this year?" Hange asked, leaning on their staff.
"Nah," Mike said. "Remember last year's final match?"
"Ah, right," Hange chuckled, standing up again and tapping the end of the staff against the ground a few times (a few feet away, a Venus Flytrap sprung from the earth, twisting as it quickly grew to well over a foot tall, jaws snapping angrily at a small group of third-years who quickly scuttled to the back of the line). "Bludger right to the head. Sure, some've had worse, but he never was really all that into Quidditch, was he?"
"No, I suppose not," Erwin glanced at his watch as a tall second-year boy rushed onto the field, clutching a Comet 290.
"Well, looks like you're set, Captain!" Hange declared, clapping him on the shoulder. "See you later!" the two rushed off towards the bleachers. Erwin found himself envying them for a moment – while the weather was extremely nice, the glassy surface of the lake untouched by any breezes, and just enough cloud cover to keep the players from being distracted by the sun, it was still rather chilly, and, for the space of a second, Erwin considered joining his friends on the stands, which had a Climate Control Charm cast on them, adjusting the temperature to each specific person's preference (his butt was cold).
He sighed, shaking his head. "All right!" he shouted, and the talking instantly fell silent. He heard giggles from the crowd, and spotted more than a few cameras being whipped out. He pointedly chose to ignore the sixth-year girl leaning so far off the railing that, rather than showing off her cleavage as she presumably had been trying to do, she now looked like she was an inch from plummeting to the pitch. "First off, I would like you to pair off with another player trying out for a different position." There was a brief commotion as people paired off. Erwin glanced at Levi, seeing that the second-year (who, admittedly, looked a great deal older than the thirteen-year old) had offered a hand to Levi, who'd reluctantly accepted.
Erwin moved through the groups, glancing over them, moving pairs into different groups and splitting up a few until he had four groups of seven standing clustered on the pitch.
"We're going to do this in teams," Erwin explained. "Look around you. The six people you're with will be your team, for now." A few glances were exchanged, along with tentative smiles from strangers and squeals of excitement from friends (though, admittedly, the younger girls seemed to be doing the majority of the shrieking).
Erwin pointed at two teams at random. "We'll be playing a short, fifteen-minute match," he said. "The other teams, please wait to the side." The teams quickly got into position, swinging legs over brooms and tensing up. Erwin placed the shuddering crate of Quidditch balls on the ground between them, flipping the lid over. "Ready. . ." he said. The players tensed up even more. "Set. . . go!" He gave the box a sharp kick, tossing the red Quaffle into the air as he did so, and the Bluders shot out of the box, rocketing towards the two nearest players. The first unlucky victim, a fourth-year girl wearing a baby blue hoodie over her Quidditch pants and boots let out a shrill scream as the Bludger shot towards her face. She flipped in the air, losing her grip on her Beater's bat, the black ball missing her by inches, holding onto the broom by the hands, sobbing in shock.
Erwin sighed, glancing down at his clipboard and crossing out her name. Shame. She had the muscles to be a Beater, too.
The other player being attacked, a third-year boy with black hair and a pair of goggles strapped to his head, handled the situation a bit better. Instead of screaming and flailing about, the Chaser shot beneath the Bludger, rocketing towards the remaining Beater, who raised his bat and swung at the ball. Hard. A bit too hard. He yelped as he tumbled from the broom, landing face-first on the sandy ground.
Erwin scratched out his name as well, drawing a small happy face next to the Chaser's name, as a group of volunteers quickly rushed over, helping to his feet.
He looked up, watching as two fourth-year girls yanked on the Quaffle, shouting, red-faced, at each other, arguing ferociously about who should get it while the other Chasers hovered nearby awkwardly (interestingly enough, the girls seemed to have renamed the Quaffle Sean and given it masculine pronouns, as well as a class schedule matching both of theirs') (They were also on the same team, if Erwin wasn't mistaken).
Erwin sighed, rolling his neck and glanced at the Seeker, a dazed-looking boy with a copious amount of acne, who dipped up and down on his broom as he bobbed in a lazy circle around the pitch, mouth hanging open slightly. Erwin resisted a groan as he flicked his gaze up right over the boy's shoulder where, lo and behold, the Golden Snitch hovered, flitting back and forth right next to the boy's ear, no doubt close enough for the boy to hear.
Erwin continued watching the performance for the remaing torturous ten minutes, occasionally making a new note. During the remainder of the game, three more players were knocked out: the enemy Seeker, who had charged for the lethargic boy upon spotting the Snitch behind his ear and ramming into a goalpost instead; the Keeper who's been guarding those exact goals and had been startled out of what appeared to be a deep, contemplative internal monologue and slipped off his broom; and a sixth-year Beater with hair dyed bright green who'd swung excitedly at the two quarrelling girls as they got to close and ended up smacking himself in the face.
All in all, Erwin wasn't entirely sure that any of them had even mounted a broom before the tryouts (Except for the kid with glasses. He was cool).
"Thank you," he said after the time was up, resisting the urge to bash his head on a goalpost. "You're welcome to either stay and watch or leave. The results will be posted in the common room next week."
xxx
The second half of tryouts were far more satisfying. For one, most of the old players had been grouped in, and they were playing better than before. Dita shot between posts and other players, tossing the Quaffle teasingly between his hands, only dropping it when Kurt shot by, snatching it mid-toss with a cheerful cry of 'thanks, love!'. Monika had kept more goals out of the hoops than Erwin had ever seen her, even having time to wave at the stands and pose for a few pictures. Rico and Frieda moved as a flawless team, chucking the Quaffle back and forth, and both Caven as well as the blond boy Levi had teamed up with were whacking the Bludgers around like their lives depended on them.
As for Levi himself, well. . .
The moment Erwin had blown the whistle, the boy had shot up into the air, faster than he'd been even that night, seemingly rematerializing above the goalposts. Nile had shot after him, but it'd still taken a good few seconds before he'd reached the younger boy's altitude.
Erwin watched the game carefully (though his eyes did flick to Levi a bit more than the other players) while a piece of chalk marked down the score on a blackboard he, Mike, and Hange had rolled down from an unused classroom.
I never thought he'd try out for the Seeker position, Erwin thought as Frieda scored another goal, cheering as she made a victory lap, pumping her arms in the air. Nile's been Seeker since third year. And, considering his strength, I thought he'd be better Chaser material. But I guess he is pretty fast –
Just then, as if somehow summoned by Erwin's thoughts, the Snitch flitted into the middle of the pitch, glinting teasingly in the sun. Levi spotted it half a second before Nile, and he was shooting towards it in a flash, neck-to-neck with the older boy. Erwin involuntarily tensed.
Levi's muscles tensed visibly as his broom gathered speed, and, as they all watched, he moved to stand. Even though Erwin had already seen it, he couldn't help but reach for his wand.
Levi let go of the broomstick, plummeting towards Earth Superman-style. Screams filled the pitch, with more than a few people standing up and pulling out their wands.
Levi caught the snitch, wrapping his thin fingers tightly around it. His broom had shot down after him, and Levi landed on it with both feet, the broomstick coming up to meet him. The broom drifted to the ground, and Levi jumped off, walking back towards Erwin. He opened his hand, showing him the golden ball pinched between two fingers.
"Good game," he commented, dropping it in Erwin's breast pocket and giving it a quick pat before turning and walking back to the castle, whistling as he went.
I'm trying to update everything else trust me T.T
What are some of your Levi headcanons? A few of mine are:
a) He's bi (which Isayama pretty much confirmed, so I guess it's canon ȏ.̮ȏ)
b) He's got a cute, high-pitched chipmunk sneeze
c) He's only got one eye, and the other one's like a prosthetic or something (of all the headcanons to come true, why did it have to be this one?!)
d) Ultimate bottom ( ̄ω ̄)
e) He speaks French (not really a Levi headcanon, more of an AoT world headcanon in general that I may explain later if people ask)
