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FACTS (about me):
I. My name is Seven.
II. I'm 16. Born on the 25th of November.
III. My favorite foods are ramen, caldereta, and basically anything made with potatoes.
IV. I love sweets....way too much.
V. I love art. I mostly do digital art, but I sometimes do gouache painting.
VI. My hobbies include writing, painting, sleeping... A lot.
VII. I have a Chihuahua named "Chichi" and a kitty named "Haruchi" but we call her "Haru" for short.
IX. I'm a bit claustrophobic.
X. I like RPG, Visual novel games, and zombie FPS games.
A joke...? Um, my life? Haha.
SPOILER for Towards The Rising Sun (Banri Settsu x Reader):
There was something about literature that stirred [Name]'s heart, whether it was the way the author's words were poetically weaved onto each page, casting spells that would entice the reader, or how the story pulled her into different realms, showing her secrets of a lifetime that had probably never existed, [Name] loved the thrill of it all.
Just like art, literature could be subjective in its own way. Anyone could read a wall of words and perceive different meanings from them, and the fact that there was no definitive answer to them made it all the more exciting. Words can explain various things, but it can mean more than what it's trying to say.
She remembered all the books she read from her high school literature classes, her favorite, in particular, was when they were analyzing one of the books of Dazai Osamu. After reading No Longer Human, she moved onto The Setting Sun, letting the author's words move her heart and speak to her as if he knew her. His stories were dark, depressing, seemingly hopeless. His words dug deep, reaching into the very core of her being. Some people may say that it was normal during post-war eras. But [Name] actually did feel like she could understand him.
When she told her grandfather about this, she was stunned to find out that this particular author had become his favorite as well, following a few others. He even let her borrow the collection of their stories, introducing her to other writers like Kyouka Izumi, Ozaki Kouyou, Atsushi Nakajima, even to foreign writers like Mark Twain, Edgar Allan Poe, or Lucy Maud Montgomery, and the like. Thinking about it, her grandfather had a huge part in leading her to the world of literature and art.
She dozed off slightly after hearing the droning voice of her literature professor. She tried to stifle a tired yawn as she scanned her eyes on the paper that the professor handed out to them, written on it was a poem from a writer she had never heard of before, but the professor seemed to be rather fond of them.
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That's all I can share! ^^ I don't wanna go too much into it. That's all I've managed to write for the next chapter anyway, haha.
