Greatness or Death [Ana]

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

▲

The Violet Hound Pub was always the best place to avoid a crowd, and Mickey desperately needed that these days. There had been so much press lately…questions he didn’t want to answer but was obligated to because he was there and witnessed all of it. What a fucking shit show that was. Even the goddamn Minister died in it! How was anyone expected to make it these days when even she could keel over that easily? These were the kinds of questions that kept popping up at all hours of the day. It had been almost two weeks already, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around how fireworks could have caused an explosion that big. And why were they being stored there, under the stands, of all places? Maybe that was why he was a Quidditch player and not a fireworks expert at the stadiums. He had felt the blast of heat from the safety of his box suite on the other side of the pitch. It just all seemed absolutely absurd and he was hoping that he was starting to remember it all incorrectly. He didn’t need two good ears to be haunted by the screaming.

The ensuing disorientation had stayed with him for days after the fact, and there was only so much hiding he could do with drinking from the safety of his home. There were questions still being raised about when matches would start up again. Yorkshire and Wimbourne obviously were going to need a while before they rebuilt and got back on their brooms again. Sponsors would surely pull out as well, and then there was the rumor floating around about there potentially being a charity event of sorts. Normally Mickey would have refused to participate in something like that, but having been there to witness everything, he figured that he could invest his time into it.

But first came more drinking. He relished his time alone these days, but he couldn’t do it at home anymore. It was driving him insane. This place wasn’t all that bad and usually had a decent range of alcohol to choose from. The only problem was that they didn’t allow smoking inside like the Hog’s Head did. If he really wanted cheap booze and to get messed up, that was the place to go. He’d been doing that since Hogwarts.

Situated in the left corner of the bar so that he could actually hear anyone that tried talking to him, Mickey sipped slowly on an American bourbon. It wasn’t bad, and he had been nursing it for a while now. Usually he sucked these things down in a second. Today he felt like taking his time and thinking. It was a good thinking drink.

@iliana ● 457 ● Finish Line by Beartooth

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Deleted]

h i g h - f l y e r.

PERHAPS IF ANA HAD SPIED MICKEY MCLAGGEN about three drinks prior, it wouldn't have gone down as it did. Unfortunately, she'd had one too many purple pixie drops and her eyes were glistening by the time she seen him from across the room. The crowds parting as if he were a ghost, drawing and expelling people like a magnetic force. Ana had always been a Quidditch fanatic - though more so muggle football as the years went on, she never forgot Mickey McLaggen, the Ballycastle Baller. It helped that he was smokin hot, according to Ana and everybody she respected.

"Lance!" She exclaimed at first contact, making no effort to dampen her tone as she smacked his arm, grabbing at the material of his leather jacket and pulling aggressively. Meanwhile, her head craned and she watched the tall, athletic court demon saunter across the floor and take his throne by the bar. "That's Mickey 'f*cking' McLaggen!" She turned to him, wild eyed and a little tipsy. "I'm going over." She declared without question, drink in hand as she stood so fast the chair wobbled. She handed him her drink blindly, "Hold this, I'll be back." She promised hollowly, pulling at her football jersey and edging across the room purposefully.

Sliding in to the stool beside him, Ana eyed the drink in front of him, the neat kind of shit her father bought by the bottle. She turned in her stool slowly. "Well, if it isn't Mickey McLaggen." She drawled with an impulsive confidence. She knew what kind of reputation he came with, but she was just drunk enough and just excited enough not to care. "I didn't know this model came without a broom." She joked, lifting her brows delicately. Her hair had long since been pulled out of its pigtails and it curled possessively around her cheeks and neck, both flushed. He was like a shadow in the half light. Intimidating; if Ana hadn't come with a built in inability to feel shame or hesitation. 

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

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It really didn’t take that long. It never did. Mickey was mid-sip of his bourbon when he heard it. All he wanted was to drink in peace, and the shrill scream from somewhere behind him in the booths meant that he had been spotted. That or a small dog was being stabbed with a bread knife. They sounded pretty similar. The only upside to it was that she had called him Mickey Fucking McLaggen, which was a sharp improvement on his middle name.

He didn’t even think he was all that popular with anyone that wasn’t a Bats fan, but that didn’t stop the fanatics at all. From this scream, which he had heard a number of times over the years and in various decibel levels, this was going to be one of those Quidditch fans. Now, if it had been a couple of girls squealing, that would be different. Then it was more likely that they had seen him in a magazine or followed him on Vibe. Groups usually meant a decrease in the individual crazy level but an increase in the uncontrollable excitement. Sometimes nervous vomiting was involved. Crazy stalker fans were much more enjoyable than that. He hated the vomiting ones the most.

Within seconds of the yell, he could hear the footsteps bounding towards him as a girl practically jumped into the stool next to him. Mickey completely ignored her at first. Giving her attention was an invitation to talking. First off, he didn’t want to talk. Secondly, he definitely didn’t want to talk to her. It sounded to him (while he took another swig of his drink and continued to ignore her) like she was trying to be cool about the whole situation, which was the complete opposite of what he had just heard go down behind him. The place wasn’t busy enough to hide the fact that she had drunkenly blurted out his name at a high enough volume where even his bad ear had no trouble deciphering it.

And then he was pretty sure that she was trying to flirt with him? Admittedly, it was a good comparison, but she was already pissing him off enough with her presence to actually care about it. Setting his glass down on the bar gently and still not looking at her, he growled a solid, “Fuck off, kid,” before picking the glass back up and taking another sip of it.

@iliana ● 404 ● Blind Leading The Blind by Trivium

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Deleted]

h i g h - f l y e r.

THOUGH ANA SHOULD HAVE BEEN READY FOR the typical kind of arsehole response, she was just drunk enough to be slightly taken aback. There had been a time when there wasn't a notable Quidditch player Ana didn't know. She had to, after all, know what her competition was like. McLaggen was cast in her memory as the black hearted dementor type who didn't let a quaffle past as if his life depended on it. Plus, he had the kind of jock attitude the magazines had loved. Breaking hearts and hotel windows. The presses first love.

"You buy that charm, or did it come for free with your career?" Ana drawled with high brows, her lips still defiantly smiling as she lifted a finger and ordered herself another pixie drop. She wasn't about to be run off by a simple dismissal. Her dad had always been a gracious celebrity, but that had never been interesting. He was never in the papers for making fans cry before. McLaggen looked the type. "You know, you're a great keeper, but you're not a people person, are you?" She asked brazenly, grabbing her shimmering glass and drinking from it. Quite at odds with her tomboy attire. 

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

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He was far from impressed by the girl’s insistence to get him to talk. The follow-up one-liner had him rolling his eyes harder than when his beaters accidentally launched bludgers at each other in their last game. Thankfully they had thick skulls, despite being as dumb as rocks at times. This girl was equally as thickheaded from what he could tell. That or stupidly drunk. A bit of both would make it that much harder to shake her off. Mickey was already trying to get the bartender’s attention with his eyes, hoping the look of annoyance flashing in them would get the point across and her drunk ass out of the bar. They could do without her as a patron. Him, not so much.

Mickey ignored her comment about his charm, making sure to finish off the rest of his drink so that he could slam it loud enough on the bar to get a refill quickly. “Great observation.” He finally turned to look at her, hoping she’d follow up with what she said and get out of his space. The girl was tiny, compared to him, and looked like she had just come from the gym. Following up a workout with heavy drinking was a great way to get in shape, and he couldn’t stop himself from giving her a pitiful look. He sort of understood it. The first few years of his career had been marred with late nights (mostly ending in the early morning) and heavy drinking. But he wasn’t doing that in the middle of the day. That was reserved to the players about to retire and had pickled their livers more times than should have been humanly possible. And at the rate the girl was sucking down her sparkly looking drink, she was on the way to alcoholic greatness.

Before he could say anything else, he saw the bartender arrive and start pouring his refill, and turned back to offer his thanks as he took another drink. And then he got an idea. The glass had been placed on a fresh, mostly dry, napkin. Mickey pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled his signature down on it, ripping right through part of the thin paper on a few letters and the ink bleeding on the condensation ring for a couple others. He pushed the shitty autograph over to her, “That’s what you came for, right? Now leave me alone.”

@iliana ● 406 ● Savior Complex by Phoebe Bridgers

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Deleted]

h i g h - f l y e r.

HE WAS ARROGANT AND SURLY TO THE POINT OF being utterly insufferable. Ana thanked her lucky stars that she wasn't the wounded type. He could scare off even the hardiest of groupies, by the looks of things. And anyway, Ana wasn't a superfan of him. She was a superfan of Quidditch. There was quite a difference. He'd gained her attention by merely being good at what he did. She felt rankled by the idea that he might think it was all about this painted persona of his. Maybe that's why she stayed, sipping her drink.

"Thanks," She replied sweetly, smiling even though he wasn't looking. It was the principle, she told herself stubbornly. Her drink refilled in the ensuing silence, along with his own, which he had slammed down with enough force to shake the foundations. She was annoying him, Ana knew that, but it didn't make her walk away. Lance was already watching, she thought. Might as well go down swinging.

And then she watched him move again, though not to drink. His fingers grabbing the booze speckled napkin and procuring a pen he must have kept on him at all times. Trials of the job, she reckoned. With it, he scrawled an autograph that was barely legible. The ink bleeding in places and torn in one corner. He threw it at her, a consolation prize and a marked dismissal. She picked it up, appraising it in the dim overhead lights and then she snickered, lowering it and flicking it back over to his side of the bar. "Nah, you can keep it." She said, shrugging one shoulder. "Figured it isn't worth much." And then she turned in her stool and nursed her fruity, sparkly drink. 

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

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This was exhausting. He realized now that he should not have even entertained a conversation with her. Paying his tab and leaving would have been the best way to get rid of her, and avoid the annoying conversation that seemed to be coming from it. Calling it that wasn’t exactly fair, since he had only confirmed that he was who she suspected he was, and then he told her promptly sod off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that she had left some poor kid on his own at her previous table, with him staring on like a lost puppy. The dude was equally pathetic. Mickey managed to toss a furrowed glare as the girl had her drink refilled, just to make a point that he wanted this dealt with. The friend would easily be able drag her drunk ass back to their booth and keep her from disturbing anyone else. Doing so wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Mickey ignored her word of thanks, and tried his best to ignore her. That was, until the signed napkin found its way back in front of him. He didn’t want to go as far as to say that she was impudent, because he was the one that scribbled his autograph on it to get her to go away. Unswervingly stubborn was more like it. And annoying too. “You know what? You’re right,” Mickey stated, as if he agreed with her about it. He crumpled up the napkin and used it to wipe up the ring of condensation his glass had left on the table. “I fucked up the spelling of my last name. All those bludgers to the head, y’know? That’s why I like drinking on my own.” As the statement progressed, his tone became more aggravated and grating, even to his own good ear. He already knew where she would take it, probably say something stupid like how she was just minding her own business now and sitting wherever she pleased. Merlin he hated fans like that the most. And she seemed desperate to break her way through his personal bubble for some reason.

@iliana ● 353 ● Honest by Ira Wolf

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Deleted]

h i g h - f l y e r.

IT WAS HER DEEPEST, DRUNKEST HOPE THAT Ana's snub would bother McLaggen. Of course, she should have known better than to assume anything less than sheer arrogance. She hadn't wounded his pride. Hadn't even pressed against it, glancing off his stony surface as she watched him use the precious autograph to sop up the ring under his glass. She scoffed at the display, shaking her head with a large grin as she turned away.

"You're a goddamn piece of work!" She exclaimed, as if it were a compliment. In reality, Ana was sort of impressed. That he cared so little for his reputation. It was such a stark contrast to her father, who had nurtured his popularity. Ana thought she remembered at least a handful of pep talks. How the way she behaved outside of the court would effect how she played on it. Nobody wants a tomato to the face right before they score, he'd said. And Ana had lived in fear ever since. McLaggen was asking for something to the face, that was for sure.

"If you wanna drink alone..." Ana gestured to the bar around them, the bodies jostling against one and other, and the overwhelming noise of laughter and glasses clattering. "I suggest you do it at home." And then she reached over, patting his shoulder in comfort, as if they were old friends. She knew it was a step too far, but it was like poking a bear. She couldn't help herself. She took her hand back before she was bitten, grabbing her glass and grinning with smug satisfaction. "Now if you'll excuse me..." He waved her hands, shifting away from him in a petulant display. "You're kind of ruining my buzz."

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

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Damn right he was a piece of work. If the girl was any sort of fan, she would have known that already. He was Quidditch’s black sheep currently. And honestly? Mickey liked being that a lot. He preferred it. In a roundabout way, it fueled him and the team. The Bats already had a weird reputation as being more aggressive than other teams, whether that was because of their team name or for the fact that they had more penalties than any other team combined the last few seasons, so him acting out on his own wasn’t really a bad thing. He’d rather draw the heat of the press than anyone else. He could handle it, only because his dad had built him that way. Everyone that hated his dad while playing also wanted to take his head off, and he didn’t mind a bit because he agreed with them. His dad was a piece of shit. “Amen to that,” Mickey raised his glass to her and took a sip. “Proud of it too. You had your chance to leave.”

He had given her so many outs, and now it sounded like she was getting frustrated with him. That was exactly what he wanted. Pretty soon here she’d make some sort of a scene and it would draw everyone sitting at the bar’s attention, and he’d make some ultimate show that would end up making her look like more of an idiot than she already was. He’d done this dozens of times with fans like her before, and usually he got the benefit of the doubt from onlookers. People understood that celebrities got harassed by fans now, and they weren’t nearly as tolerant of it like they used to be. That’s where he would end up winning this.

“I’m pretty comfortable here,” he slid out before he felt her hand on his back. What the hell was she doing? Mickey could feel the bubble of personal space dissipating rapidly, his grip tightening on his scotch glass as he did his best to not slam it on the bar counter in anger. He would lose if he did that. Instead, he waited for her to remove her hand, his shoulders tense as he had hunched over even more with each pat on his back. She wanted him to act out. Somehow she had played his own game against him. It was too bad he had some semblance of restraint left, probably thanks to how little he had managed to drink since her arrival, because he really wanted to fling the glass across the room and start yelling. But he didn’t, and eventually eased up on his chokehold on the drink and took another swig, draining the rest of it. Slamming the rest of his money next to the empty glass, he slid off the back of the bar stool and turned away, in an attempt to get his leather jacket on and the hell away from the girl.

@iliana ● 497 ● Cirice by Ghost

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Deleted]

h i g h - f l y e r.

ANA SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER, BUT SHE'D never backed down for a challenge before. It wasn't in her nature. McLaggen's smug sneer was just another dare she had no business taking, and yet. The booze made her brave beyond reason, her flight or flight instincts shot to bits. It was a verbal back and forth and Ana was beginning to itch with irritation. Her smile tense and stretched. But, there was a certain thrill to it too. She hadn't won a game in so long, it was like scoring a goal.

"Who said I wanted to leave?" Ana retorted cheerily, the corner of her mouth glimmering with sweet sugar pixie dust under the low hanging lights over the bar. Where McLaggen was shrouded in miserable shadow, Ana preened under the spotlights. "I'm comfy." She lied, crossing her legs easily and leaning an easy elbow on the bar top. Stuck in a sticky patch of spilled booze, but she didn't move.

Though he claimed to be comfortable, her amiable hand seemed to freeze every muscle in McLaggen's back. His shoulder stopping like a cornered animal, Ana felt her nostrils flare in triumph as she took her hand back carefully. Wondering, in her tipsy haze, if he was going to bite her hand off at the wrist. She slouched on to the bar further, her smile positively insufferably by this point. As he shuffled around on his stool in an angry flurry, like a crup with all the hair on its back up.

Ana watched him flap his cash on the bar as if to leave. "Leaving so soon?" She asked him with a toothy grin. His arms stiffly jamming in to his worn, expensive leather jacket. "I thought you were comfortable?" She blinked at him owlishly, though there was a newly acquired smugness in her body. She felt a win on the horizon, a goal in her sights and she wondered if McLaggen seen his defeat too. Or, if he was going to bring a last play out of the bag at the least game second. Ana felt the excitement of it tighten her gut. 

michelangelo tiberius mclaggen

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[michelangelo tiberius mclaggen]

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This whole situation was insufferable. Mickey had looked to the bartender for a little assistance, but that seemed moot at this point. They had gone at least a full two rounds in the ring by now, and he was tired of dealing with the girl. He had difficulty even calling her a ‘fan’ at this point, because it wasn’t that at all. She was an annoyance – a pest. And he was done dealing with her shit. That was exactly why he was now ignoring her and trying to make his exit. Anything else he did going forward would definitely cause a scene, and he really didn’t want to do that right now. Especially in the Violet Hound, since he liked it here. Obviously that was bound to change if this girl was going to be hanging around it more often. It had happened a few times throughout his short career, where someone annoyed him to the point of making him leave behind one of his favorite bars or restaurants, only because he would constantly be reminded of the poor experience. That was the last thing he wanted to happen this time, so removing himself seemed like the easiest way to avoid anything worse from happening.

He saw walking away as his win. It took a bigger person to do that, and he certainly hadn’t caused any of this in the first place. “I was. And now I’m done,” he said simply as his jacket finally made it all the way on. “Follow me and I’ll file a stalking complaint with the Ministry. Got it?” he added as he nodded at the bartender as they took the remainder of his pay and tip. He wanted to make sure this girl wasn’t going to swipe his money off the counter too. At this point he didn’t trust her at all. She only wanted to keep him around so she could continue to pester him. Refusing to look at her again after his money was safely with the bartender, Mickey left, making sure the door closed quickly behind him.

@iliana ● 346 ● Blood Eagle by Amon Amarth

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0