bellaviechambers-blog

[bellaviechambers-blog]

INTRODUCTION — Hi hi, I’m Era and I’m so looking forwards to this! I’ve been out of the tumblr rp scene for a few years after my last rp closed, and it’s an itch i’ve been dying to scratch! I’m 31, live in Melbourne and am studying epidemiology. 

WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? — Characters who have been through hell and still manage to be soft and care; hard girls who pretend they have no emotions, look like they could kill you (and actually might); walking disasters with parent issues.

WHAT DREW YOU IN? — Everything’s so well thought out and organised, and the plot with the major power vacuum is such an interesting premise that leaves a lot of agency in the hands of the players. Dumbledore and Tom can so easily dominate an rp that it’s interesting to see how their absence shapes everyone’s characters.

FAVORITE FACECLAIMS? — Daisy Ridley was the last fc I used and I loved her, I’d also really like to use Bridget Reagan but she doesn’t have a lot of resources so I’d have to make my own.

EXCITING SKELETONS? — Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Mary... oh god all of them.

ORDER OR DEATH EATERS? — Order, though tbh i’m probably neutral at least i can get behind why the order is doing things.

[bellaviechambers-blog]

The idea being that both of them being strong with the Force and never having met, would know about each other — that Leia would have been told about her beyond what we saw onscreen and Rey of course would have learned about Leia. And that reunion would be a meeting and a reunion all in one, and a sort of commiseration of their mutual loss.

[bellaviechambers-blog]

612: Tortoiseshell 

[bellaviechambers-blog]

You were born with the power to change others. You change people by the way you treat them. That is what changes the human heart.

Patricia Polacco

[bellaviechambers-blog]

don’t burn me because i have a heart of fiery gold. i am ethereal to the skin, and i am breathing constellations, so you can not destroy stars. you can not destroy me.

i am a goddess in disguise / a.a.m.l (via astaroeis)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

[bellaviechambers-blog]

If you have been brutally broken, but still have the courage to be gentle to others then you deserve a love deeper than the ocean itself.

Nikita Gill (via wordsnquotes)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her?

Margaret Atwood, Excerpt of Solstice Poem from Two-Headed Poems (via weltenwellen)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

Daisy Ridley in Crossed Wires (2013), an improvised short film

[bellaviechambers-blog]

Be happy, bro, seven billion smiles and yours is my favorite.

a student to his friend, overheard on campus today (via editoress)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

And in the middle of my chaos, there is you.

(via ohweasley)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

I’m just a girl in a film.

[bellaviechambers-blog]

declanprewett:

Now and always.

If Leo is his steadiest rock and Charles is his diamond mind, Bellavie must be his heart. She has his naked soul - the grit of it, the youth of it, the tender wisps of all his hungriest dreams, collected like morning dew on the strong palm of her hands. He can hardly remember a time where he did not stand in the morning of her grace, a boy raised on her kindness, the gorgeous affair of her laughter. He looks upon her now, pallid and so enduring soft where moonlight pools in the hollow of her cheeks, and the question trickles down the course of his body like a tremulous ache: What am to do without you? How should I go on without the very essence of who I am, of which you have sheltered so lovingly on the shelves of your heart for so long?

Her hand is extended towards him, frozen in place as she regards him, and Declan does not hesitate to move forward and take it with both of his own. He gently brings it to his chest and for a sad, silent moment, can only hold it there. He will not look her in the eye, choosing instead to study their intertwined hands, gaze fluttering at the hardness of her knuckles where his are soft, unscarred - he fears he may break. Bellavie compels him to take off his armor like few others can, but this is a time of war.

“Belly, I’m,” he attempts, and finds he cannot raise it above a whisper, lest it shakes. A small, incessant quaking - his own fear disgusts him. “I’m going to ask them to fight for me. I’m going to - fuck. There are first-years in there, and I’m going to go in and ask for volunteers to - like some kind of muggle war draft - ”

He finally brings his eyes up, red-rimmed and wrecked, and the sadness that embeds his gaze is quieter than death.

“You’re my best girl,” he says brokenly. It is all he can manage.

Come. Don’t come. Fight for our dream. Go back to sleep.

His hands wrap soft around hers, a fierce shield against the evening cool. It is just, she thinks, that his hands should hold the heat of him, the fire and sunlight of his soul too strong to be contained by mere flesh. He is a boy again, in that moment, lost and frantic in the face of a task that should never have been his. Why had this task ( this need ) been thrust upon his already burdened shoulders instead of taken up by the Professors? Surely this was their purview, and while she didn’t begrudge them the assistance of the students in it, they should have taken responsibility for it and lead it themselves. It’s a distancing, a removal of responsibility, and it bothers her.

She lifts her free hand; lays it gently against his cheek and traces his cheekbone with her thumb. He is known to her, familiar, the secrets and fears he keeps locked inside traced glowing silver on his skin for her alone to see; the grazed knees of boyhood and the cuts of the soldier. He has always had those sides to him, her Declan; the gap between the child he should be and the mantle of adulthood he had taken up too early. There would come a time, she had known, where the two could not co-exist easily -- yet she had never thought that she might have to stand here and watch as one side devoured the other, as the youth burned to ash behind his eyes.

Tears prick her eyes; she steels herself against them, tightens her grip on his hand and trails the other from his cheek up through his hair, moving strands back into place with consummate care. It was an absurd thought for the moment, it’s normality almost confusing in the moment, but she cannot help but wonder when he had gotten so tall, had gained those final inches that meant she had to reach after him.

“I know,” she breaks the silence after a long minute, and her voice aches with grief for him, for this night and its terrors. For the burden that should never have been his but that he must bear because it’s rightful carriers had cast it aside. “And I know you too, Declan Fionn Prewett, I know you. You’ll only take what’s freely offered, and you’ll fight for us and with us.” Her hand withdraws from his hair, shifts to splay against his chest, across his heart. “This is a rescue mission. You built us for these, trained us for this. Now let us do it, Dear Heart. Let us help.”

Help those who had spent years tormenting her, who despised her for existing. She can’t help but think, briefly, that it might not be too tragic if the squid happened to get Electra before they arrived - but no, she will not wish it. The girl is not much older than her, and she is still human enough that she must be scared. She may not be able to raise concern but pity takes it place. And besides. with the ghost of Druella’s kiss still on her cheek and the other girl’s bright, naive well-wishes following her, she cannot consider that they should do otherwise than everything at their disposal.

She glances back up at Declan, trying for a smile and though it’s somewhat wan and wavery it is present as she points out the flaw in his declaration. “And I’m your only girl, Dec.” It’s weak, she will admit, and it shakes a little, but it’s normal, and it’s them and it’s theirs, and that matters more right now. If she can give him some piece of normality to hold onto, to know that it’s there to come back to after this, that now is horrible but life will return tomorrow... 

[bellaviechambers-blog]

trust your heart if the seas catch fire (and live by love though the stars walk backward)

E.E. Cummings, “Dive For Dreams” (via thequotejournals)

[bellaviechambers-blog]

I’ve been surrounded by brilliant women. My mom has always worked. And I never heard anything about any kind of difficulities that she had or she dealt with then. And because I wasn’t looking to film that way; all my favourite films like Mulan were about women anyway. So I guess I didn’t really see the thing. And now I’m like holy moly. But I’m more about the diversity at the moment, like I went to see a play in London and every single cast member was white. And suddenly you are like so aware.

[bellaviechambers-blog]

DATE: September 4th, 1944 TIME: 16:20 LOCATION: DADA Classroom OPEN TO: @marvolous​

Classes had finished an hour and a half ago and yet here she was, still in class. That it was self -- imposed - that she had asked Professor Merrythought if she could stay back to practice -- didn’t do much to change her mood when she could see the Quidditch pitch out the window, bathed in sunlight. She could leave, she knew, and it is a sore temptation, but this is important. What use will she be to Declan, to their Resistance, what use as an auror if she hesitates on the offensive? She had learned, over the summer, that the world would not sit by idly and wait for her to be ready -- and so she must ensure to be ready at the earliest opportunity.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was something of a mixed subject for Bellavie. She managed the titular part, the Defence well enough. Shielding spells and healing, even the immobilising spells she seemed to have an affinity for. They came naturally to her, fuelled by a protective instinct and several years of practice in corridors and empty classrooms when she couldn’t avoid certain snakes. Yet when it came time to move to the offensive, she hesitated. There was a reluctance in her to strike and it was reflected in her spell work - although technically correct, the magic surged forth with little punch to it.

And so here she was, spending a perfectly good afternoon cooped up inside, trying to teach herself to be more forceful on the attack. They would need it, she knew; this world no longer gave her the luxury to pretend otherwise. They would all of them need to fight, and if she only defended she would eventually be worn down through attrition. To defend, she had to be lucky every time, where as the attacker only had to be lucky once. It wasn’t something she could take to her friends; they all had enough to worry about. Besides, Declan would immediately take it upon himself to feel guilty about ‘making’ her fight, as though it were he, rather than the world, that had made it necessity.

You have to mean it, Chambers. Merrythought had told her, Mean it or you’re dead. Or someone else is. Oh, you’ve a knack for shields, child, I’ll give you that, but getting away from a vampire or dark wizard just means he’s going after someone else. It made a horrifying amount of sense and yet she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as she resolutely turned back to the practice dummy, wand raised. She is interrupted by the door swinging open, however, and lowers her wand with an evident relief as she turns towards the noise.

“If you’re looking for Professor Merrythought, I think she’s in her office,” She says with a polite smile. “At least, that’s where she was an hour ago.”

[bellaviechambers-blog]

She had a kind heart, though that is not of much use when it comes to the matter of self-preservation.

Penelope Fitzgerald, The Bookshop