non-stop.

i’ve got dreams exciting me, like, a fire igniting me. i tried to confide in my lions, but they keep biting me alice shafiq. 7teen. head girl. puff. chaser. coffee connoisseur.

[aliices-blog1]

xenophilius:

Xeno was returning books back to the library, the stack he had made on the counter towering over him bit as he continued to pull them out of an enchanted book bag. When Alice shouted at the first years though he jumped, and down came his tower of books. He cursed under his breath and hurried to pick them up. “Alice maybe you should take a bit of a break…you seem..wound up..” they said from where they knelt on the floor, piling the books into their arms.

Alice felt shame, an emotion quite foreign to her, rise to her cheeks. Fucking hell. An apologetic look as thrown at the first years and she tried to shrink back a little, so other piercing eyes would leave her. “I’m always wound up,” she said to Xeno. Her words weren’t meant to be harsh, but they slipped past her lips in a bitter tone either way, rather than matter-of-factly. “But yeah. Maybe I ... should get to a quieter place.” She paused, before being unable to help herself and adding, “Because the library apparently isn’t quiet any more these days.”

[aliices-blog1]

charity: 

“What the Hell is going on in the world?” Charity sighed, tossing the Daily Prophet to one side. “How am I going to look these students in the eye?”

“Just like you normally would,” said Alice, looking Charity straight in the eye. “The last thing ... these students need is you treating them any differently.”

[pocketgalaxies]

[aliices-blog1]

She’d always had a slight dependency on her to do lists, but right now, they seemed to be the only thing keeping her afloat. Alice lived her days by checking off things she needed to do ( practice this charm, write that essay, go to that club meeting ). It kept her moving, kept her focused on the many tasks at hand. For the first time, she felt like she’d taken on too much --- but even now, she was refusing to drop anything. Not Quidditch, not any of her classes, none of her clubs. She wasn’t going to give in to that; it’d mean she was crumbling, and she was not ready to admit that something like that was close to happening. The only thing she could admit to was that her temper was growing shorter with every day that passed. She was reminded of that when she was helping Madam Pince while fulfilling a few of her Head Girl duties. “I need EVERYONE to shut up!” Eyes flashed over a group of first years, who’d been giggling at what she supposed was a dirty drawing in a Transfiguration book. “Now. This is a LIBRARY, for Merlin’s sakes. Hush.”

[aliices-blog1]

kitty:

it was, perhaps, no secret that kitty’s tear ducts operated on a hair trigger. she could recall once in fourth year openly crying over breakfast not including croissants. when she was home for the summer, she saw a baby bird struggle on its first flight and wept. two weeks ago she couldn’t help the flow of them when she finally got a project for potions to go off without a hitch. it was just how she was; the sort of thing she would definitely change about herself if she could … but had long accepted she couldn’t. 

when kitty was first given the news about jacob, she knew she shouldn’t bother to leave the dorm room, so constant was her crying. she chugged water periodically, took shuffling trips to the kitchens to allow the elves to coddle her, and tried not to sob that much harder at any offered condolences. tried not to push people away too far.  

breakfast was her first venture out after a near forty-eight hours of this routine. and her hair was washed! that in and of itself was perhaps why she was even able to go out and feel alright about it — a good last shower cry before stepping out into the world was very fortifying. she was a crier, and she figured people knew that; but she still didn’t want to show up after two days of semi-isolation and cry into her oatmeal. she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact or say anything to the people sitting down around her … until her owl landed in front of her bearing her copy of the prophet.  “ um, “ she started. cleared her throat once, before flicking her gaze briefly upwards.  “ sorry. but I can’t — I can’t read that. if you maybe wanna read it instead. you can, uh. you can take it. “

Alice was no good at crying. It happened, every now and then, so she could rid herself of some emotions, but it was always planned, never spontaneous. She’d taught herself that, unconsciously, from a young age --- she was the oldest in a house too small to hold all the emotions of its occupants. She was good at wiping away the tears of her sisters and brothers, of her mother, but not at shedding them herself.

Even now, she felt dry. She wanted to cry, really, but she seemed completely dried out, as if someone had sucked her dry from tears. Sometimes, she caught herself feeling a pang of jealousy when others cried -- her sister, her brother, other people mourning in the castle -- before she reached out to help them. She always reached out to help them. That was what she was build for --- not for breaking down, but for trying to build others up again. Her own breaking down was no one’s concern. Not even her own.

She’d been staring at her breakfast, spoon pushing oatmeal in its bowl, her appetite nowhere to be found. Alice was just there for show, in all honesty, to create the illusion that she was okay, that her father’s death was not ruining her. She did it for her family, in the hope that they’d follow, but for herself, too. If she could make others believe that she was alright, maybe she, too, would believe it. It was Kitty’s voice who broke her train of thought, and she glanced over at the fellow Hufflepuff. Her hand took the Prophet, tossed it under the table so neither of them had to look at it any longer, and then took Kitty’s hand, gave it a soft squeeze before letting her fingers return to her spoon once more. “I’m good,” she said. Her mind scrambled to find the right words, but she knew, somewhere that they weren’t there. “I canceled my subscription yesterday.” That wasn’t comforting, but how could she be? The other had lost a brother and she a father. There was no comfort. “It’s good to see you out.” Was that condescending? FUCK, she really wasn’t build for this. At least with her siblings she knew what to say --- kind of. “I wish they had more comfort food at breakfast, though.”

[aliices-blog1]

dorcas:

The news of her mother’s death didn’t affect Dorcas ( yet ) as much as she felt she should’ve. Had she ever wished death on her mother? Maybe. But only in the worst moments of their relationship that Dorcas preferred not to talk about. There was a sort of peace she felt, a RELIEF, but that wasn’t what you told people when they tried to offer condolences. Dorcas had learned the proper way to behave during a period of mourning after her father’s death. If anything, Dorcas was angry for the people around her but also detached from her friends, her peers, from many as the days passed since the night issue of the Daily Prophet on the evening of September 16th.

“Could you please pass me the sausage? I didn’t take enough.” Stuffing the rest of her toast in her mouth, she turned the next page of the Prophet, finishing it and reaching for a croissant. “I think I’m going need to stuff some croissants in a napkin and take them to classes, they’re really FANTASTIC.”

Alice was clinging to her routine as if it was the ONLY thing keeping her afloat. It was, in all honesty --- that and her determination not to crack when her siblings needed her. She could not break, could not give in to the wish to be fragile. There was too much to do, too much resting on her shoulders. She was the oldest. She was the one her siblings looked to, the one who had to be a beacon of strength. NO ONE was asking her to, but it was the only thing she knew how to do. Grieving, crying, raging? Those things didn’t seem like options to Alice. Not yet.

She sought out Dorcas a lot, sat at the Ravenclaw table with her, eating breakfast in silence, eyes falling on Estelle every now and then ( her sister was prone to tears, and she wanted to be near in case they started falling ). They didn’t have to talk, she and Dorcas. They could just eat, or pretend to at least, and know that there was more than what they were doing. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said, handing the other the sausages. Her own appetite seemed to have vanished, and she’d been working on her banana for fifteen minutes now. “I might copy you and do the same --- Charms always makes me hungry.”

[sugarqvill]

                         vulnerasanenturhq + order members ⇢ alice shafiq

[dwight-schrutes]

#me

[aliices-blog1]

charity: 

Watching her sway, Charity didn’t know whether to get ready to catch Alice or let gravity take control. She was glad when the other girl decided to sit down. “You seem like you might have had a bit too much,” she commented, taking the cup and sniffing the contents. “How did you manage to get this drunk, huh? Someone must have led you astray…”

“You think?” It was a rhetorical question. She was still stubborn in her drunken state, still refusing to admit that she just had certain flaws ( like having a low tolerance for alcohol, apparently ). “I’m feeling good, Charity! I’ve had enough.” She shrugged, then. “I played a drinking game and didn’t win,” she admitted. Saying that she lost out loud was still a step too far. She’d not lost her pride yet.

[aliices-blog1]

lucinda:

“Uuugh, Lucy moaned, “Have you ever heard of being nice to a fault? You’re much too chipper right now.” Still frowning, she put her hand out and motioned for the water.

“I have, but I’ve not often heard someone use those words to describe me,” said Alice, letting out a bit of a chuckle as she handed the other the glass. “Just tryin’ to be a proper Head Girl, is all.” 

[aliices-blog1]

jasmine:

“I’m not really into sports. Well, I much prefer commentating and seeing all the eye candy.” Jasmine smiled. “I get what you mean.”

“Commenting must be a LOT of fun, but I don’t think I could be unbiased,” said Alice, before chuckling. “I never really have time to look at any nice butts when flying. Or watching, that is. The game’s just more fun if you ask me.”

[aliices-blog1]

bellatrix:

“I suppose it’s rather entertaining, though it’s obvious it’s going to happen.” Bellatrix shrugged, “Why would I tell you that?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, Bellatrix,” said Alice. “It’s what people do at parties. But I might find someone else to do that with. You’re a bit shit at it.”

[aliices-blog1]

deimos:

“Thank Merlin I don’t have to deal with any of them.” Deimos mumbled, discerning gaze swapping between the stumbling students and the raucous activity surrounding the photo booth, a SCOWL half present on his face as he glanced down into his cup. He’d long since given up on even talking about how awful the presented alcohol was, and had brought some of his own stash. He shifted on his heel, ready to make a somewhat civilised run for it when he caught the shoulder of the person beside him. The silence which follows on his part, is only made worse by his glare.

“THIS PARTY is grouch-free, I’m afraid,” said Alice, her words an angry slur. She was done and tired with the sour faces at this party --- she’d lost a damn drinking game, and she wasn’t walking around with an angry face the whole time, now was she? ( Okay, yes, she’d yelled a few obscenities earlier, but still: she had let it go. Kind of. ) “Cheer up, there’s free drinks and games and ... just fuck off if you’re gonna be a dick! Alright, that’s all, I’m going to dance now.” She stumbled, frowned, changed her mind and sat down. “Or I’m gonna sit, ‘cause the world’s all spinny.”

[aliices-blog1]

lucinda:

“Unless it’s life or death,” Lucinda snapped, half-asleep, “it doesn’t concern me.”

“I was just gonna give you a glass o’ water,” said Alice, stumbling a little as she halted. “Will help with your hangover tomorrow.”

[aliices-blog1]

gwenog:

“You wouldn’t want to go there,” Gwen voiced out to the person while chilling on a giant log. “A sixth year just threw up his lunch. Someone cleaned it up but the horrible stench polluted the entire area.”

“Oh gross,” said Alice, wrinkling her nose. “Thanks for the heads up --- WHY don’t people just use a bucket or something? You could just ... I don’t know, summon one? Or not drink too much. Ugh.”

[aliices-blog1]

charity:

Deciding to keep her head down, Charity positioned herself by the edge of the fire where she could watch the flicker of the flames and hear the fire pop. She was lost within her own thoughts, eyes wide as she stared into the heart of the fire, imagining shapes shifting through the burning heat. “Huh?” she started, hearing someone address her. “Oh, sorry… I was in my own little world then. Did you bring me a drink?”

“I didn’t,” said Alice. She was swaying, more drunk than she had possibly ever been before. She’d lost the drinking game against Carter and together with that most of the things that usually restrained her from letting go. Sober Alice was high strung, limited herself --- drunk Alice, however, had very little things keeping her back. “Oops --” she let part of her drink fall from her cup when she sat down. “Wowie. You can have mine! You need it mooore than I do.”

[doona-baes]