Hello, little lover,
I'm Camilla, but you can call me whatever you want. I'm a brazillian girl, but I can speak english almost fluently.
I'm just a person who wants to share my thoughts and words, even if no one sees.
I will write in Portuguese, as you can see in my last works, and English too, so feel free, if you want something in one of these languages. Also, at this moment, i'm really into:
Genshin Impact
Obey Me!
Twisted Wonderland
Project Sekai
My Candy Love
Eldarya
The Arcana
And some others that i can't remember now, but you can chat with me or do a request about everything you want.
At this moment, i will write for:
Twisted Wonderland
Obey Me!
Genshin Impact
The Arcana
Tokyo Revengers; just Brahman and Tokyo Manji in any timeline.
But you can ask me some idea too, i'd be happy if you do it.
I accept: fluff (platonic or not), hurt/confort, angst, suggestive.
I DON'T accept: smut (i'm a little insecure about this one), yandere, incest (psychological or not), romantic relationship between a major and a minor.
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It’s okay. Your desire to write will return. Your desire to do other things you love will come back, too. You’re not weak. You’re just having a hard time right now. Try not to add self-judgment on top of everything else. Depression is hard enough without blaming yourself for it.
We (in the US specifically) live in a productivity-obsessed, emotion-phobic culture which blames individuals for “failing” when they are anything but hyper-productive and relentlessly optimistic. This cultural narrative so pervasive that it’s difficult to see the high standards we set for ourselves for what they really are: Complete and total bullshit.
Despite the rampant cultural garbage that teaches us to interpret emotional ups and downs as an aberration, MANY writers and artists (and people in general!) struggle with depression and other mood “disorders.” It is not uncommon for us, among other things, to go through periods of hyperactivity followed by depressive episodes in which we get very little accomplished. I am not saying you shouldn’t try to alleviate your depression or work to find ways to minimize your suffering in the short or long term. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with you, and you aren’t alone.
I’m going to say that again:
If you’re having a hard time writing or enjoying writing right now because you’re depressed, you aren’t alone.
I wish I had some kind of magical answer. I don’t. But I do know that accepting your depression and loving yourself anyway beats the hell out of berating yourself for feeling like this. So, with that in mind, this might be all I have to offer:
I think you’re doing a great job. I’m sorry you feel like shit. I’m on your side whether you’re writing or not; whether you feel good or not; whether you’re being “productive” or not; whether you wanted to get out of bed this morning or not. You’re still a writer in my mind, even if you’re not writing right now. You don’t have to prove yourself to me or anyone else. And I hope you feel better soon.
conheci um rapaz, há mais de um ano. ele era um doce, super simpático, paciente, protetor e, rapidamente, nos aproximamos. honestamente, nunca fui uma borboleta social e, embora conhecesse várias pessoas, nunca tive muitos a quem chamar de amigos, mas ele foi uma das poucas pessoas que se mantiveram ao meu lado mesmo vendo o pior de mim.
novamente, ele era um doce e mostrou-se o tipo de pessoa que eu queria ao meu lado, mesmo platonicamente. nunca tive a necessidade incessante de correr ou, até, rastejar por algum resquício amor romântico - afinal, por que eu iria me importar com isso, se sabia que ninguém se interessaria por mim desta forma? como pensei a minha vida inteira, melhor não me importar com algo que sei que, dificilmente, vai acontecer.
no entanto, ele disse palavras que me atordoaram, proclamando seu amor por mim. costumeiramente, não acreditei, não confiei em suas palavras, mas aceitei seus avanços. assim, se fosse uma mentira, não iria doer tanto, mesmo querendo acreditar nele.
e eu acreditei.
acreditei quando ele beijou-me afetuosamente, não de forma profunda ou sensual, mas afetuosamente. apenas naquele momento, percebi a beleza de seus sentimentos e permiti-me finalmente amá-lo e admirá-lo da mesma forma que admiro o pôr do sol. ele tornou-se a minha razão de viver, escrevi, por meses, incontáveis textos sobre ele e, finalmente, eu havia percebido que amo ele também.
no entanto, por um infortúnio de nossas vidas, nosso amor não daria certo. enfim, nos afastamos com a promessa de que continuaríamos amigos. contudo, ainda foi doloroso para caralho, um baque que quebrou todos os meus ossos, restando-me apenas lamentar e desejar que nada disso tivesse acontecido, que eu não tivesse acreditado nem me permitido amá-lo.
há dias, depois de meses do ocorrido, deparo-me com o caderno que possui incontáveis páginas com palavras apenas sobre ele, o calor e a segurança de seus braços e pus me a chorar novamente. passaram-se semanas e sinto como se tudo tivesse acontecido ontem, ainda é doloroso para caralho. sinto-me vazia, perdi uma parte de mim e toda minha inspiração, meu apreço pelo o que fazia.
talvez esta seja minha última obra dedicada a ele, talvez seja uma transição, talvez, uma desistência. a única certeza que tenho é que esta é a única vez que postarei sobre ele assim, pois, mesmo que ele tenha sido a melhor pessoa ao meu lado, ainda desejo nunca ter experimentado estas coisas boas, se, no fim, terminei assim. gostaria de desfazer-me de todas aquelas dedicatórias, mas não quero perder mais de mim. não agora que já estou sumindo.
ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*• 🧚♀️ if the happy fairies appear in your inbox, you must be an amazing writer who shall feel inspired and motivated for the eternity 🧚♂️ keep on making of tumblr a better place with your presence. your writing matters and you do too, you bring me happiness 🧚 ﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•
i don't know when this person sent me this, but thank you, from the bottom of my heart. this kind of message is so cute for me, it really, really, warms my heart
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It's great to know you're doing well, I'm doing alright as well, even better now that I saw that you answered my ask! 🥺 You definitely reached my expectations!! 💕 I like it so so much, your writing is lovely! I'm very excited for part two, but take your time! <3
Aww, you're so wholesome... Thank you so much again, for the request and for the praises, truly, you made the start of this project something comfortable to me.
I don't know who you are, anon, but i'm gonna remember about what you did, thank you so, so much again.
Hi, how are you?? If it’s ok, could I please request some headcanons of the brothers with a brazilian mc?
Hello, anon!
I'm fine and hoping that you're too.
Thank you so much for your request, you made me very happy. This is my "first" request, so i'm a little insecure, but i hope that i could reach your expectations.
This is the part one of this request, just the older brothers. I'm gonna write about the other for as soon as i can.
warnings: none, just fluff; platonic or not
You always are naturally affectionate, loud and excited, treating everyone with intimity and spontaneity, it’s the “Brazilian way to be”. With the seven brothers, you’re not different, hugging and using pet names with everyone. As a consequence, each of these demons reacts differently.
Lucifer
He would be annoyed with your fond acts, treating him like he was an old friend. Why are you trying to be so close to him? Why do you always greet everyone with hugs and kisses and why in the hell do you want to do it with him? Of course, at the beginning of your exchange, he’ll intimidate you, using his words to make you avoid contact with him.
However, your affections and naturally excited way melts his heart, even if he doesn't admit it. You’re always there, see that he’s working too much, going to his office with a cup of tea and offering hugs and a massage.
Mammon
He loves your enthusiasm and affection in the same way that he loves you, but, as we know, he won't admit, not without trying to deny it. Like, of course you’re hugging and being so happy with him, who wouldn’t be so happy in the presence of The Great Mammon?
This greedy boy always takes you to shopping or casino nights, because see you celebrate with excitement when he wins a bet and your sympathy and smiles are so eye candy. He thinks that his heart will jump from his chest everytime he sees you like that.
Further, you’re partners in crime! You two devise whimsical plans to get some money, all i can imagine is this dialogue (it’s a lot more funny in portuguese, i promise):
“And if it goes wrong?”
“And if not?” You give each other a naughty look.
You’re a comfort to him when all his brothers spurt sharp words at him, when he doesn’t believe in himself anymore, your hugs and encouraging words are breath of fresh air for this cinnamon roll. It’s in moments like this, in your arms, where he allows himself to be truly sensitive.
Levi
At the beginning, you scared him. How do you dare get so close to him just to say hi? Stop, please, you’ll make him panic. It takes a long time for him to get comfortable in your presence, you’re always so shiny, always having a lot of enthusiasm with everyone around you… Your presence is intimidating.
You are the one who initiates contact between you two, talking about an anime you watched a while ago, Michiko & Hatchin, that is inspired by your country. Your conversation lasted the rest of the night, because you discovered that he likes Turma da Mônica, comics that you read as a child, surprisingly, for you, it’s a lot famous in Japan.
Over time, he gets comfortable with you, always hiding his smile when you play together or watch an anime that you show your excitement. At this moment, he realizes that you’re the sunshine that he needed in all his years of existence.
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1. It’s okay if you lose interest in your story. It doesn’t mean you wasted your time; it means you’re growing in your hobby.
2. It’s okay not to want to publish your work; that doesn’t mean your writing isn’t worth reading. It means you have different goals than some other writers.
3. It’s okay if you need a break sometimes. It’s frankly unrealistic to think you never will.
4. It’s okay to write fanfiction; that doesn’t make you any less of a writer but makes you that much more of a fan.
5. It’s okay to sometimes have self-doubt. After all, you are human and sometimes as humans it’s easy to fall into that trap. Sometimes the feeling doesn’t even have anything to do with the writing but has everything to do with being overwhelmed, mentally exhausted and ready to give up. Don’t give up.
6. It’s okay to feel relief and happy upon reading this. Give a like if you did and spread it to your writer followers and maybe make their day a little.
Em algum lugar no sul da cidade, havia uma certa família. Na verdade, não sei dizer se era realmente a família inteira, mas quero falar sobre uma garota em particular chamada Gorethe. Ela parecia mexer com umas coisas meio… peculiares; incomuns. Como chamar isso mesmo..?
Ocultismo? Bruxaria natural? Macumba? Eu sei lá, mas ela se tornou bem popular pelas coisas que por lá fazia. Minha avó me contou que essa mulher era muito procurada, ela ajudava as pessoas em qualquer situação.
Você tem dúvidas sobre o futuro?
Ela te mostra o caminho através do tarô.
Você tem problemas, sejam sociais ou físicos?
Ela consegue te mostrar os motivos, também.
Quer resolver algum problema?
A Mãe Gorethe te ajuda com um ritual.
A espírita tinha tanto contato e familiarização com o espiritual que acho até que se tornava um só junto ao Outro Lado. Minha avó me contou que Gorethe sempre parecia ter uma afinidade com Os Outros desde criança, que ela ouvia coisas e demorou muito para conseguir controlar os seus dons espíritas.
Olhe, caro leitor, as coisas que ela via eram assustadoras para mim. Minha Vovó me contou que recomendou a Mãe Gorethe para um amigo, dizendo que poderia ajudá-lo. Lá, ela disse que dois problemas principais iam acontecer com ele:
O homem teria problemas financeiros, nunca teria sucesso e riqueza e passaria sua vida inteira frustrado com isso. Isso poderia ser revertido, claro, se o rapaz fizesse um ritual de atração de prosperidades. Não me pergunte como era esse ritual, a Vovó não me disse, o homem também não o fez, vivendo e morrendo entre dívidas.
Alguém faria um “trabalho por ele”. Esse segundo é curioso, admito. Levou alguns anos para ele entender sobre o que a Mãe Gorethe disse, mas o homem se casou e, pelas palavras de minha avó, ela era um ser humano terrível. Ninguém gostava dela, nunca gostaram, além daquela mulher ser possessiva e controladora com qualquer um à sua volta. O amigo de minha avó teve dois filhos com ela - é aí que digo-lhe a parte mais intrigante. Um dia, o homem e seu filho estavam brincando de bola dentro de casa e, depois da criança pedir tanto, ele chutou a bola forte, derrubando um vaso e a terra que estava lá dentro. Lá, jazia um pote estranho, cheio de uma lama que exalava um cheiro pútrido e, junto disso, estava um pedaço de papel com o seu nome escrito. Isso deu um clique em sua mente, lembrando-o do que a Mãe disse uma vez.
Você entende o que quero dizer, certo? Aquela mulher tinha algo, algum conhecimento que a maioria das pessoas não têm. Ela era mais velha que a minha avó e muita gente dizia que parecia que ela nunca envelhecia, depois de uma certa idade. E, o pior de tudo, ela desapareceu depois de anos servindo de ajuda alternativa ao povo, ninguém sabe o paradeiro dela e Mãe Gorethe se tornou uma lenda na cidade.
E, nessa história, há dois finais: talvez ela tenha mesmo morrido e seus conhecimentos tenham sido perdidos ou passados para seus descendentes, ou, talvez… só talvez, ela tenha só decidido desaparecer e ainda continua viva.
No entanto, é só uma história, só boatos, teoria. Nunca saberemos mesmo o que ocorreu com ela de fato.
Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy the little story below. (Please click the "Keep Reading")
You were supposed to be paying attention in class, but your mind kept wandering to the notes of the song you were practicing the night before or trying to. Something about them hadn’t sounded right, and you kept trying to play it out in your mind, completely missing what the teacher was saying until Simeon nudged your side, breaking your trance.
“Isolde,” he nodded towards the front, and you glanced up in time to see the homework assignment being wiped off the board. Your heart raced momentarily in concern when you heard Simeon quietly chuckling next to you, slipping his notebook closer, giving you a chance to try to jot down the assignment after deciphering his handwriting.
The bell rang and the demons slipped past you, hurrying along their way to their next classes. “Thank you.” You push Simeon’s notebook back to him.
“My pleasure, but what were you thinking about?” He carefully reached out and pushed your hair out of your face, “if you were thinking any harder I fear the class would’ve heard it.”
“Just a little project I’m working on.” You glanced away.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Only if you know a way to get some privacy away from everyone.” The reason you hadn’t been able to practice the night before was because suddenly Lucifer was yelling at Mammon right outside your bedroom, you weren’t sure how long he had been there, but it had made you anxious to strike another note the rest of the night.
“Well, depends, are you working on an art project?”
“Music.” You admitted quietly.
“Then I know the perfect place.” Simeon beamed excitedly, and you had to quickly hush him as a few demons glanced at you two.
“Where?” You kept your voice quiet, just in case.
“I ask that you let me listen once you’re done.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I look forward to it, if you choose to share. There’s a music room on the other end of RAD that no one is around once classes are over for the day. I think they placed it over there so if the band has practice it isn’t disturbing the offices.”
“That sounds perfect, I’ll check it out. Thank you.”
Simeon smiled tenderly, “of course, Isolde.”
After your last class you rushed home and hurriedly grabbed your guitar and snuck out of the House of Lamentation before anyone could see you.
You hurried back to RAD, and slipped into a study hall, and listened as the last of the students went past. After a little while you made your way to the music room, checking the hallways as you went. The last thing you wanted was to be caught, embarrassing enough they had almost heard you the other day in your room. Maybe when you felt braver you could ask Lucifer about soundproofing your room.
Finding and hearing no one you slipped into the music room and placed your guitar case on one of the front chairs. You took it out and tested it, making sure it was still tuned. You glanced at your music sheet, in theory you’d have a few hours before the brothers realized you weren’t home.
You started playing, your voice barely above a whisper, your mind insisting that there was still someone around, someone who could overhear you. Asking yourself to calm down you placed your guitar aside and slipped out of the music room. Ready to prove your anxiety wrong.
You were looking down the one hallway, checking for people. “What are you doing out here?” You jumped but relaxed realizing you recognize the voice.
“What are you doing out here?” You returned the question, looking Mammon over you don’t see any stolen items or any extra paperwork Lucifer could’ve stuck him with.
“No reason.” He crossed his arms, “the Great Mammon can go wherever he likes!”
You gently teased, “really?”
“Of course! No one can say otherwise.” He looked so proud of himself.
“Not even Lucifer?”
Mammon quickly turned, looking over his shoulder, and relaxed, not seeing his older brother there. He smiled at you, “of course not! But what are you doing here this late? You know you could be in big trouble if any other demon found you. You should be grateful.”
“Of course,” you said, “as long as I have you I’m safe, right?”
“R-right.” He nodded eagerly.
“But Mammon…” you tried to find the best way to give yourself an excuse to go get your guitar. Giving up on the practice session you had in mind.
“H-hey.” Mammon continued, “I didn’t mean to scare you last night, but - uh… whatever you were listening to sounded pretty nice.”
You watched the blush darken his cheeks.
“Not that I'm complimenting you! Just whatever you were listening to. But I could give you some better music recommendations if you like. You know my taste in everything is amazing.”
You glanced down at your hands, “I wasn’t listening to anything.”
“Huh? Then where was that music coming from?”
You weighed your options, trying to decide if you were going to do this. You took a deep breath and tugged on Mammon’s sleeve. “Come with me.”
“What? Why?” He fought you for a moment.
“Please.” You managed to whisper, afraid to meet his eyes or risk losing your courage. You pulled him into the empty music room where your guitar was exactly where you left it.
“Isolde,” Mammon spoke softly, carefully taking your hand off his sleeve. “You don’t have to-” he was struggling to find his own words, looking over at your instrument.
“I would like to.” You admitted, and went to your guitar, and when you turned to face him he was sitting nearby, watching you curiously.
The first chord you hit was wrong, and for a moment you considered dropping the guitar and running out, but with a smile from Mammon you began again. The words flowed from you, and your music filled the room, and surrounded the both of you. You grew louder and your voice became fuller as you felt yourself relax into your sound.
The notes died out, and the room felt too still, and you glanced at Mammon, half expecting him to start teasing you relentlessly.
“That was amazing!” He burst out of his seat, and you barely had time to put down your guitar before his arms were around you. He picked you up and swung you around. “That was fantastic!” He was positively glowing when he set you down. “Next time we can talk to Asmo about your outfit and maybe get Beel to help build a set and then we can shoot your music video for ‘deviltube’ and we’ll make a fortune!”
“Mammon!” You squeaked, feeling the panic over being watched, even if electronically, press down on you. “No!”
“No?” He froze, turned to you, looking confused, “why not?”
“I didn’t.. I..” You turned to your guitar and started packing it up, struggling to express yourself. You kept your back to him and whispered, “I just wanted to share this with you.”
There was a heartbeat of silence before you heard Mammon come up behind you. “You wanted to share this… with me?”
You nod.
“Isolde,” you hear your name whispered, and then a soft press to the top of your head from behind, “thank you.” You turn to Mammon and he’s blushing again, refusing to look at you, his hand covering his mouth. “I… I liked your music, you can share more with me, if you want.” His eyes darted to you and quickly away. “Not that you have to, but I call first dibs on any music you might want to share with others!” He crossed his arms.
“I do have another song I could play you if that’s alright. But it’s a work in progress.”
“Sure, I guess.” But he was grinning as he sat back down, waiting for you to take out your guitar again.
This time you started out stronger, sharing your song you’d been working on, about hopes for love in the near future.
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First of all, i want to say that i'm very happy to participate in this event. Is my first time doing something like this, writing something not just for me, but for someone in specific, and in another language - although some people say that i'm almost fluent, i'm still quite insecure about the quality of what i'm delivering here. So, thank you, @omsecretsanta, for being so patient with me.
Now, @rowan-catsandcoffee, this is for you, i tried my best to write something that was in line with what you wanted - you can tell me, if i did something you don't liked, this gift is for you. Also, i wrote your MC with the she/her pronoums, 'cause write with neutral problems still is hard for me. I promise i'll get better in this.
Word count: 1,4k (in each version)
Warnings: MC is sick and overwhelmed, mentions of food and quick weight loss, MC has problems expressing herself, possible grammar and concordance errors.
Avisos: MC está doente e mentalmente exausta, menções de comida e rápida perda de peso, MC tem problemas para se expressar, possíveis erros de gramática e concordância (principalmente em inglês)
Holly has always been a hardworking person, always putting a lot of effort into whatever she does - no matter if it's a big deal or not - doing her best to make everything perfect. That would be perfect, if the girl didn't forget about her own physical and mental health at these times.
This fact made her closest friends apprehensive since the young woman started her internship, as it was already difficult for Holly to take care of herself just by taking the college course. She always studied for inordinate hours before realizing that she needed to eat at least one meal a day, which was up to Beel to remind her of that, taking snacks whenever he knew he was going to meet her. Now, at this stage, Holly could barely accept moments of rest where she read with Satan or just contemplated his mere existence while lying with Mammon. The girl started to demand more and more from herself. Everything had to be impeccable. Your grades and studies couldn't be affected by her work right now.
Over the months, the young woman no longer appeared to be in her best condition, starting to appear physically haggard, with deep dark circles under her eyes and a slightly emaciated body. Also, she was no longer willing to spend time with the trio of siblings as often as before, keeping at most one conversation in one phone call while Holly worked. Still, all of this was what she let on, as it was a mess. She was corroding herself in the midst of so much effort, but still feeling like she shouldn't worry anyone.
The trigger for this lack of self-care came when the girl found herself ill, barely able to stand on her feet due to such exhaustion. Her body could no longer stand incessant hours of study and work without decent food or rest for so many months. So, unable to do the simplest thing right then, Holly found herself at a crossroads. She needed help right now. She wanted help. She had to have someone by her side.
Having nothing else to do and almost desperate, the girl texted her friends, saying only that she was sick and that she needed help. Both three brothers responded within minutes, stating that they would arrive at her dorm quickly.
Mammon was the first to come to her friend's aid and, as expected, he was breathless and almost hysterically nervous as soon as he saw her lying in bed with a look that shocked him. He had never seen her sick. Holly didn't get sick.
"You're lucky I was free the moment you called, Holly!" It took him a few dozen seconds to regain his composure, warning that his brothers will take some time to arrive. During this period, waiting for the two brothers, the silver-haired boy tried to make his friend as comfortable as possible, avoiding as much as possible making her more dizzy than she already was. “I warned you not to try so hard… You knew it could end up like this…”
It took just over an hour for Satan and Beelzebub to reach the girl's dorm, Beel bringing with him a small munch of grilled chicken and mushrooms. “You mustn't have eaten anything all day…” Said the redhead. It was true, Holly used to totally lose her appetite when she was sick, and this time it was no different. "So I brought you some light food."
The trio of siblings spent the next 40 minutes debating who should take care of their sick friend, as everyone wanted to help her get better, but they were busy for much of the day during that unspecified time that Holly will remain in a state of physical and mental health. not so suitable. The girl, for her part, had remained extremely silent, leaning back against the wonderful pile of pillows that only Mammon knows how to make - he says that one of his younger brothers always asks him to make this backrest, making it so soft that it looks like a cloud. Finally, at this time of debate, it was concluded that the brothers would take turns taking care of the girl.
Holly had always kept too much to herself, and at that moment, it all felt too much for her to hold any longer. Everything felt too dense for the little one to handle. So that's precisely why Mammon is there for her.
Even with a dubious reputation, this precious young man has shown himself to be extremely careful about the people he loves and this is no different with Holly. The white-haired man was a great listener and even adviser, her older brother had remarked to the young woman once, and had been the girl's confidant for as long as she could remember.
While Mammon took care of Holly, her main focus was on her friend's mind. Physical health is capable of improving in moments, compared to mental health, and Beel was already taking care of the first one. Furthermore, Mammon knew that the girl was mentally exhausted, and although she couldn't make her magically extract this terrible miasma from the young girl, she could spur it on by slowly encouraging her to let all this ill-being out of her mind.
This process began in a rather rickety fashion, full of hesitations and stutters coming from both Holly and Mammon - not only did the girl have difficulty expressing herself properly, it was twice as difficult for her friend to be overtly concerned about her. Over time, the young woman gradually began to put her thoughts, feelings and fears into words.
"Did you see? You seem lighter to me.” he said happily.
This really helped the young woman. In addition to actually feeling calmer, she was able to understand herself better, organizing her deepest thoughts. Holly didn't need to say a word, just smiled in thanks, which made her friend feel awkward, showing his defensive attitude, common in situations like this.
"D-Don't look at me like that..." The silver haired boy covered his mouth, looking away. "I'm just helping you out because I don't want to occupy myself with you being sick any longer, you know."
The blonde manages to be a happy medium in relation to the care of the other two brothers, only a little more rigid, albeit minimally. In addition, he helps Holly organize her life in relation to matters she could not see in her course and leisure in the situation where she finds herself, making her open up decently to the latter. "So as not to freak out," is what he says.
Satan is a curious boy, always learning a little bit of everything, being no different about some subjects in Holly's course. So, always studying and reviewing the content given with her friend, explaining some topics to her if necessary, while both enjoyed the succulent slices of watermelon brought by Beel a few hours ago.
The study sessions were never as rigid and dense as Holly had been, there were always breaks where the pair chatted about books or series they'd seen. They also kept those moments where they read books together - both in their own world, but still enjoying each other's presence - and watched series and documentaries about criminal cases - creating wild theories about the killer and his motivations.
Holly's mood shift was almost palpable, which was gratifying, she seemed more relaxed and relaxed about her studies. Of course, Satan was extremely pleased with the results.
"Did you see? It doesn't hurt to have a little time to yourself, little one.”
It is common knowledge that this guy, although he can eat like there is no tomorrow, knows how to take care of his physique, always maintaining a balanced diet and training routines. And seeing Holly so sick, in such a rickety state where the girl can't stand upright, makes the redhead's heart break. She deserved to be fine, healthy as she always seemed to be.
Whenever Beel went to look after his friend, he would bring the girl fresh fruit and snacks. Even if she couldn't eat a meal, she should eat at least one banana so she wouldn't have an empty stomach. Also known for her to whet her appetite, no matter how much time passed, setting times - along with alarms - so the girl wouldn't forget to eat when the tall guy wasn't with her.
Beel was quite happy to see his friend gradually improve, encouraging her to stick to her habits and taking short walks around one of the college plazas as soon as Holly's body could walk for an adequate amount of time.
“It's great to see you better, Hol. I want to see that glow of yours again, so please keep it up. ”
Holly sempre foi uma pessoa esforçada, sempre colocando muito esforço em qualquer coisa que faz - não importa se for algo de grande relevância ou não -, dando o seu melhor para tudo ser perfeito. Isso seria perfeito, se a garota não se esquecesse de sua própria saúde física e mental nesses momentos.
Esse fato deixou os seus amigos mais próximos apreensivos desde que a jovem iniciou seu estágio, pois já era difícil Holly cuidar de si mesma apenas fazendo o curso da faculdade. Ela sempre estudava por excessivas horas antes de perceber que precisava fazer ao menos uma refeição ao dia, o que cabia a Beel lembrá-la disso, levando lanches sempre que sabia que iria encontrar-se com ela. Agora, com esse estágio, Holly mal aceitava momentos de descanso onde lia com Satan ou apenas contemplava sua mera existência enquanto se deitava com Mammon. A garota passou a cobrar mais e mais de si. Tudo tinha que ser impecável. Suas notas e estudos não poderiam ser afetados pelo seu trabalho agora.
Com o decorrer dos meses, a jovem já não aparentava estar no seu melhor estado, passando a parecer fisicamente abatida, com olheiras profundas e um corpo ligeiramente emagrecido. Além disso, ela não aceitava mais passar um tempo com o trio de irmãos com a mesma frequência de antes, mantendo, no máximo, uma conversa em uma ligação enquanto Holly trabalhava. Ainda assim, tudo isso era o que ela deixava transparecer, pois estava uma bagunça. Ela estava corroendo-se em meio a tanto esforço, mas ainda sentindo que não deveria preocupar ninguém.
O estopim dessa falta de autocuidado se deu quando a garota encontrou-se doente, mal conseguindo se manter em pé por tamanha exaustão. Seu corpo já não aguentava mais horas incessantes de estudos e trabalho sem uma alimentação ou descansos decentes por tantos meses. Então, sem conseguir fazer a coisa mais simples naquele momento, Holly acabou encontrando-se em uma encruzilhada. Ela precisava de ajuda naquele momento. Ela queria ajuda. Ela tinha que ter alguém ao seu lado.
Não tendo mais o que fazer e quase desesperada, a garota mandou mensagens aos amigos, dizendo apenas que estava doente e que precisava de ajuda. Ambos os três irmãos responderam-na em poucos minutos, afirmando que chegariam em seu dormitório rapidamente.
Mammon foi o primeiro a chegar ao socorro de sua amiga e, como esperado, mostrou-se ofegante e quase histericamente nervoso assim que a viu deitada na cama com uma aparência que o chocou. Ele nunca havia a visto doente. Holly não ficava doente.
“Você tem sorte de eu estar livre no momento em que chamou, Holly!” Ele demorou algumas dezenas de segundos para recuperar a compostura, avisando que seus irmãos demorarão algum tempo até chegarem. Nesse período esperando os dois irmãos, o rapaz de cabelos prateados tentava deixar a amiga o mais confortável possível, evitando ao máximo deixá-la mais tonta do que já estava. “Eu te avisei para não se esforçar tanto… Você sabia que poderia acabar assim…”
Levou pouco mais de uma hora para Satan e Beelzebub chegarem ao dormitório da garota, Beel trazendo consigo uma pequena quentinha de frango grelhado com cogumelos. “Você não deve ter comido nada o dia inteiro…” Disse o ruivo. Era verdade, Holly costumava perder totalmente o apetite quando doente e dessa vez não foi diferente. “Então, te trouxe uma comida leve.”
O trio de irmãos passou os próximos 40 minutos debatendo sobre quem deveria cuidar da amiga doente, pois todos queriam ajudá-la a melhorar, mas tinham ocupações durante boa parte do dia durante esse tempo indeterminado que Holly permanecerá com a saúde física e mental num estado não tão adequado. A garota, por sua vez, permanecera extremamente silenciosa, recostada no maravilhoso monte de travesseiros que apenas Mammon sabe fazer - ele diz que um de seus irmãos mais novos sempre o pede para fazer esse encosto, deixando-o tão macio a ponto de parecer uma nuvem. Enfim, nesse tempo de debate, concluiu-se que os irmãos iriam revezar seus cuidados à garota.
Holly sempre guardou coisas demais para si mesma e, naquele momento, tudo parecia demais para ela segurar por mais tempo. Tudo parecia denso demais para a pequena aguentar. Portanto, era justamente por isso que Mammon está ali por ela.
Mesmo com uma reputação duvidosa, esse precioso rapaz mostrou-se extremamente cuidadoso em relação às pessoas que ele ama e isso não é diferente com Holly. O homem de cabelos esbranquiçados era um ótimo ouvinte e até conselheiro, seu irmão mais velho comentou à jovem uma vez, e era o confidente da menina desde que ela se lembrava.
Enquanto Mammon cuidava de Holly, seu maior foco era a mente da amiga. A saúde física é capaz de melhorar em instantes, se compararmos com a mental, e Beel já estava cuidando da primeira. Além disso, Mammon sabia que garota se via mentalmente exausta e, embora não pudesse fazê-la magicamente extrair esse terrível miasma da jovem, podia estimulá-la, incentivando-a lentamente a pôr para fora todo esse mal estar em sua mente.
Esse processo se iniciou de uma forma bastante raquítica, cheia de hesitações e gaguejos vindos tantos de Holly quanto de Mammon - além da garota ter dificuldade em se expressar adequadamente, era duas vezes mais difícil para seu amigo se mostrar abertamente preocupado com ela. Com o tempo, a jovem passou a pouco a pouco pôr seus pensamentos, sentimentos e medos em palavras.
“Viu só? Você me parece mais leve.” Disse ele alegremente.
Isso realmente ajudou a jovem. Além dela se sentir realmente mais tranquila, pôde entender-se melhor, organizando seus pensamentos mais profundos. Holly não precisou proferir nenhuma palavra, apenas sorriu em agradecimento, o que fez seu amigo ficar sem jeito, mostrando sua atitude defensiva, comum em situações como essa.
“N-Não me olhe assim…” O rapaz de cabelos prateados cobriu a boca, desviando o olhar. “Eu só estou te ajudando por não querer me ocupar com você estando doente por mais tempo, você sabe.”
O loiro consegue ser um meio termo em relação aos cuidados dos outros dois irmãos, apenas um pouco mais rígido, embora minimamente. Além disso, ele ajuda Holly a organizar a sua vida em relação aos assuntos que não pôde ver em seu curso e lazer na situação onde se encontra, fazendo-a se abrir decentemente ao último. "Para não enlouquecer”, é o que ele diz.
Satan é um rapaz curioso, sempre aprendendo de tudo um pouco, não sendo diferente sobre alguns assuntos do curso de Holly. Assim, sempre estudando e revisando o conteúdo dado com sua amiga, explicando alguns tópicos a ela, se necessário, enquanto ambos desfrutavam das suculentas fatias da melancia traga por Beel há algumas horas atrás.
As sessões de estudo nunca foram tão rígidas e densas como Holly fazia, sempre havendo intervalos onde a dupla conversava sobre livros ou séries que viram. Eles também mantiveram aqueles momentos onde liam livros juntos - ambos em seu próprio mundo, mas ainda desfrutando da presença um do outro -, e viam séries e documentários sobre casos criminais - criando teorias mirabolantes sobre o assassino e suas motivações.
A mudança de humor de Holly era quase palpável, o que era gratificante, ela parecia mais tranquila e relaxada em relação aos seus estudos. Claro, Satan estava extremamente satisfeito com os resultados.
“Viu só? Não dói ter um pouco de tempo para si mesma, pequena.”
É de conhecimento comum que esse rapaz, embora possa comer como se não houvesse amanhã, sabe cuidar de seu físico, sempre mantendo uma dieta balanceada e rotinas de treino. E ver Holly tão doente, num estado tão raquítico onde a garota não consegue se manter em pé, faz o coração do ruivo se quebrar. Ela merecia estar bem, sadia como sempre parecia estar.
Sempre que Beel ia cuidar de sua amiga, ele levava frutas e refeições leves bem frescas para a garota. Mesmo que ela não conseguisse comer uma refeição, ela deveria comer ao menos uma banana para não ficar de estômago vazio. Também ajudou-a a abrir seu apetite, não importando quanto tempo demorasse, estabelecendo horários - junto de alarmes - para que a garota não se esquecesse de comer nos momentos em que o rapaz alto não estivesse com ela.
Beel ficou bastante feliz em ver a melhora gradual de sua amiga, incentivando-a a manter os hábitos criados e fazendo breves caminhadas por uma das praças da faculdade assim que o corpo de Holly aguentasse andar por um período de tempo adequado.
“É muito bom te ver melhorando, Hol. Quero ver aquele seu brilho de novo, então, por favor, continue assim.”
Meu peito dói em desgosto. Novamente me vejo nesse looping patético de frustração.
Estou cansada. Não consigo mais fazer algo além de levantar de minha cama e absolutamente tudo me desgasta.
Sou completamente patética, me afundando neste fracasso que eu mesma me coloco, pensando e pensando sobre tudo que poderia ter feito, mas simplesmente não conseguindo mais.
Tudo é avassalador e essas vozes em minha cabeça estão se tornando um ruído cada vez mais alto.
Eu não sei se vou aguentar por muito mais tempo. Estou com medo, mas não consigo fazer nada. Não mais.
