So not a lot of you knew this, but I like to write stories in my spare time. Sadly though, I don't have very many ideas so I'm taking requests. Basically just private message me with what you want and I'll try my best to do your ideas justice
What I'll do:
-Shipping
-AU
-OCs and some canon
-Fandoms I'll do are Hetalia, Heathers, Hamilton, Chicago, Hairspray, Grease, Yuri!!! on Ice, Attack on Titan and various other musicals and anime (you just have to ask), Harry Potter, basically just ask and I'll tell you if I can do it!
-Any person POV
-All of the fandoms I'll do as the main focus and as an AU (if you want the characters of Yuri!!! on Ice in the story of Grease for example, that would be great!
-I'll do OCs in the stories of things as well!
What I WON'T do:
-NSFW
-Reader Inserts
-Things that include potentially triggering material (abuse, rape - I'm just not comfortable at this point with writing such things)
-OC x Canon - I apologise but I feel like it's too Mary Sue-ish
An example of my writing:
11:59. Any second now. I took one last look around my room; the place was spotless, which was unusual. I wanted to spend my last moments in comfort after all. The curtains were opened, giving me the perfect view of the city I'd called home for the last years of my life. It was a shame that I was going to be gone at such a young age, but luckily the tattoo on my arm prevented me from making too many big plans to leave unfulfilled. I glanced down at the elegant cursive on my forearm: todays date, the 6th of April 2017, stared back at me. I wondered how it would happen. I was in a relatively safe place - would it be a heart attack? A freak accident? Was someone about to burst in through the door. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the clock turning to 12:00 until the bell of the clock tower a block over began to chime.
What?
I wasn't supposed to hear that.
I should be dead by now.
The tattoos have never been wrong. My family will be mourning already, not knowing that I was still breathing. Speaking of breathing, mine was quickening at an alarming pace. Was this it? Death by a panic attack? No, I had it under control. Shakily, I sat up from my bed where I had been lying, my legs only just supporting my body. I slowly made my way over to the window. Maybe the church bell had been wrong, there was no way the tattoo that had been on my arm since birth was wrong. Maybe the other clocks still showed 11:59. Maybe I'd gotten the day wrong. No, all the electronic devices in my room showed 12:03AM, the 7th of April, 2017. My next thought was that the writing on my arm was hard to read and I'd somehow misread for 23 years. No, that was unmistakeably yesterdays date.
What would happen now? As far as anyone knew I was dead. To reveal myself could be dangerous. The tattoos had never been wrong before. People could be after me at that exact moment.