#interactive fanfiction

[sunnami]

marauders era — the interactive story. [sneak peek.]

experience the thrill of being sorted into your hogwarts house all over again! who will you be in this story? a daring gryffindor, a generous hufflepuff, a clever slytherin, or an inquisitive ravenclaw?

will you be kind? reserved? bold? or, perhaps, mischievous? the choice is yours!

roam the castle corridors, attend your favorite classes and build your stats—go on a path that YOU choose!

spend your time at the library, or discover the secrets of the castle. develop your magic—do you like herbology or defense against the dark arts?

but more importantly, befriend students from other houses, or keep to your own circle, make enemies—or even fall in love!

(includes options for pronouns, any romantic path for the reader to pursue, etc.)

interact with these characters: lily evans, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon, gideon and fabian prewett, frank longbottom.

narcissa black, regulus black, lucius malfoy, barty crouch jr.

xenophilius lovegood, amos diggory, and more!

your story is yours to write!

snippet:

(this is a work in progress. a very, very rough draft that will undergo a long period of coding, writing, and editing!)

i have ALWAYS wanted to write an interactive story, not one based on votes—but one where a reader can stumble upon it months later and still be able to make their choices. when i was younger, i bought an interactive fantasy book, and it was the most magical novel i’ve ever read. i am so, so, excited to share this with everyone! it will be my first ever interactive story, so i only ask for a bit of patience, ueuue.

this is a gift for my friends, my wonderful readers, who have been so kind and generous to me, and so this is my show of love for everyone! 🤎🤎

feel free to leave any suggestions, comments, and feedback as i go through the development stage! i’ll be sharing progress and snippets every now and then.

again, thank you all so much!

— sunny

[eefaevie]

The last of the illustrations I did for Choose Your Own Adventure: Reunion!, our co-captains get their much deserved cuddles.

twitter | instagram | prints | ko-fi ❤️

[ravelintherain]

karma is a max, purring in my lap because he loves me

work in progress | ao3

by Ravel

Lestappen centred Loscar already established Potential Carlando

What if Charles, Carlos, Lando, Max, Oscar and Logan found themselves in an alternate reality with no European dates, online planning a trip to Brazil for Taylor Swift's The Eras Tour?

Follow their journey into the magic of The Eras in this cool interactive HMTL-formatted fanfiction!

Inspired in true events, my events :)

Huge thanks for the HTML provided by ovely

[hitechlatte]

ROTTMNT Donnie X Reader Interactive Fanfiction Demo

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED PATIENCE! THE DEMO IS FINALLY HEREEEEEE:

This can be played through your browser on your phone, tablet or computer!!!

Right now, it is a very brief demo to test if this format works and to give you all a brief intro of the story!!

Let me know what you all think and feel free to comment any bugs, feedback or critiques in the comments here or on itch.io.

If you all like this format, I'll finish the full story and all the branching paths!

Thanks again and can't wait to post more!

[kira-anon-uwu]

i made a cover for my interactive discord fic [ a different interactive fic from the instagram one mentioned in this post ]

copypasting the summary from the discord:

Villain AU where Tommy's power is Murphy's Law

~-~-~

Tommy has a superpower. Great, cool even. It would be, anyways, if it actually helped him somehow.

Definition of Murphy's Law: an observation anything that can go wrong, will

Tommy plugged his phone in the night before? No he didn't, it's dead. He's running late for work and just barely caught the bus? Boom. Some heroes are fighting a villain and the road is wrecked.

The only good thing it that it only inconveniences him, and the largest possible amount of people around him. Meaning he's at least able to have friends, to some extent; even better that his best friend Tubbo is a genius and always plans for everything, so at most he's not allowed over when he's working on anything.

Life is mostly normal for him at this point, eighteen years is a long enough time to get used to what would be living hell for anyone else.

But now what happens when he's at the largest bank in the city and the criminal group known as SleepyBois Inc decide to rob it?

~-~-~

prompt was given by @toasty-warm

without boarder under the cut

I made it with the idea that it's a discord server icon in mind and was lazy with the edges so ehhh

man i am so good at marketing my fics. no i will not shade this shading is of The Devil

[thedevilshardy]

"Ain't no wonder you're wet, luv." Part II

Alfie Solomons x Reader - Interactive gif Story

Smut ❗

He's right in front of you in not a breath of your lungs, eyes still heavy on you, gaze lingering on the pulsing search for air of your lungs. He watches you a second, without a word, as if he knows that his scent makes your knees go all weak.

"You haven't been behaving quite good, have ya?", he says, and it's rough and hard like sand thrilling over your bare skin. You try to hold his gaze, the heaviness of his eyes.

"No, I haven't. I need something."

"You need somethin', yeah?" His voice is like a cut in the air, harsh, wanting - but before he can do anything at all, it's suddenly the lust that speaks out of you, that makes you move first. Your hands claw into the collar of his shirt, as tight as you can with those shaking bones - you put all your strength into that movement, pushing him right back from where he came, back to that chair. He huffs quietly once he's settled, and you can hear an approving, low grunt when you sit down wide-legged on his lap.

You can see the smirk behind the thick hairs of his beard, feeling the throb in your pussy when you notice it. It makes you push your legs tight next to his, next to his muscular big thighs that fucking scream to be used for a good ride. And you feel something else, making your mouth open up like you want his dick right in there: you can feel his thick cock twitching, right between your legs, that clothed big thing that always fucks you like it knows how to kill you. You breath out shakingly, his eyes still in your body. You can feel his hands sliding up your sides, grabbing the small hills of your hips. He puts pressure there, those broad fingers digging into your skin like he knows you won't leave before he fucked you for good.

"So that's it, hun? You wanna have some decent lap time with me? Sitting on that dick, right, letting it dive right into your wet cunt? Are you wet for me, luv?"

You begin to sweat from his words. But instead of answering his damn arousing phrases (oh god do they fucking turn you on!), you push down your hips, push down your weight on him to let him feel. You still watch him while you do it, while you grind your pussy down on that thick dick on those pants, rubbing against the hard muscles. And it makes you fucking leak, feeling that still clothed cock grinding against your pussy, friction making you soak your panties.

"Yeah, like that", he hums, and those hands cup your ass, pull you closer to his face. His breath is hot against your throat, hot wet clamp, making you even more dizzy then before.

"Oh dear god", you moan out, fingers grabbing the heated surface of his neck. You need some support, something to hold on, while you throb against the arousing friction of his dick against your clothed folds.

"As I see it, we have two options here, luv", he whispers harsh against your throat, giving it a decent bite, "either I'mma rip down your panties right fuckin' now, fuck you till you can't walk anymore - just by thrusting up into your cunt luv, you know I can still make you scream twice like that, yeah. Or - another option, hun, giving me a bit of a thrill. Hump ma clothed dick until you come."

Your heart, your lung, your fucking pussy nearly explodes at his words. Your thighs are already shaking, and you're already so wet you know he can feel it. You lick your lips, still staring open-mouthed at his face, while his gaze literally eats you alive. His broad fingers still grab your ass, pulling those cheeks apart and letting them settle back, letting you know what he wants from you.

I hope you enjoyed this! 🔥 excited for your choices. 😈

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

so then.... should Galadriel finish Adar off? or does she leave him writhing in pleasure, at the tender mercies of whoever's watching in the hayloft?

@crookedmouth-mountainbones PAGING YOU INTO THIS ONE

FOR CONTEXT SEE THIS POST

AND ALSO THIS ONE

[eponastory]

Murder! You Wrote.

An interactive second person being of view Devil May Cry fanfiction!

Poll is at the end of the chapter!

Firstly, you will need to read each part as it's posted. In order for the story to go on, you will have to vote on what happens next! Now, this can go in several different directions, so please pay attention for the little clues. You can guess who the murderer is before the story ends, but the reveal will be at the end. Have fun!

Also, this will be a Gender Neutral Reader and there will be no use of pronouns or detailed descriptions. YOU are the Reader. This is pretty much your story, I'm just throwing out possibilities! 😁

It's dark. So dark that the street lights do not provide much luminance to see the words on the sign above the entrance to the hotel. The rain from earlier in the day made the air muggy on this autumn night. You are trying hard to see ahead of you, but the fog has made it difficult. Groaning, you reach into your Jean pocket for the small piece of paper with the address written on it.

As you bring it up to your eyes, you see that you are indeed in the tight place. However, it is not as you expected it to be.

You were expecting this grand hotel. Not this rundown, building in the middle of spookyville. If someone were to go missing, this was the place. The atmosphere alone was speaking to you. Yes, this was the perfect place for inspiration for your next book.

After all, you were a world-renowned murder/mystery author.

Most, if not all, of your books were inspired by places you have visited around the world. It was no surprise that your books were on par with Agatha Christie, but you were stuck on this next one. Your publisher was urging you to write your next book, but you were burnt out from publishing book after book.

You were here for the local Oddities and Curiosities convention as a guest speaker. Except your hotel was not as lavish as the convention organizers said it was. Oh well, at least you did not have to pay for it.

You swallowed as you felt like you were the victims of one of your own stories. This had to be a stupid decision. Maybe you should have politely declined their offer of free lodgings. Next time you will be more mindful of that.

The buzz of the lights in the outdated lobby was the setting of a movie you had seen once. Not a particularly good movie, but it was still enough to set you on edge. There were two chairs up against the mint colored walls with a table in between them. The dim lighting almost made everything look like some insane asylum. Even the white linoleum floor gave you this uncomfortable dread. The long hallway before you stretched on for an eternity. It invited you into some horror you could not explain as it rolled in your belly.

DING!

The feeling vanished as you felt yourself nearly jump out of your skin. You turn around to see a man standing at the reception desk. He was leaning against it with his back turned to you.

"Yo! Anyone there?" He said. You noticed he was dressed rather odd. A red coat, leather pants, and boots. The other strange thing was the color of his hair. "Service really stinks around here." He scoffed as he stood up straight. "They tell you it's a five-star hotel, then this shit happens." You knew he was talking to you when he turned his head to the side.

"It could be worse." The words popped out of your mouth. "For all I know, this could be some H.H. Holmes bullshit hotel." You knew the story about the famous Chicago murder hotel in the 1890's. You wrote a fantastic historical fiction novel about it. "Next thing you know, you fall into a vat of acid or something." There was a short laugh from the man with the white hair.

"Heh, I've seen worse." He turned around to look at you. "You look like the type to be into that sort of thing anyway." You shrugged.

"I know a thing or two." After all, you spent countless hours of research on all sorts of egregious crimes. He nodded, probably not really interested in what you were there for in the first place. "Actually, I need to check in."

"Well, I'd go find a better place if I were you." Obviously, but you were a bit on the poor side at the moment. No new book, and you spent most of your money fixing up your Victorian home. "Service is lacking, and there is no bar." A bar was essential for your work to begin.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both you and the stranger in red turned to the direction of the sound to see another man. This man was peculiar. He was just as tall as the odd man you were speaking to, but he was as pale as a dead body. Black hair swept back with as much hair gel that could be mustered to keep those locks in check. He was certainly gaunt withp his cheekbones poking out like sharp alabaster. The dark circles under his eyes also did not help his appearance either.

Just looking at the man gave you a distrustful feeling.

"May I be of assistance?" You gulp at the sight of the man behind the reception desk. He gives you a blank stare. You swear up and down that you are in some kind of dream, but you know you are not. You shake off the tingling feeling going down your back as you look to the red clad stranger you were speaking with earlier. He shrugs with a small smirk on his lips.

"Uh... yes, sorry." You pull out your phone with your reservation details already up on the screen. The receptionist only looks down with his eyes as you put your phone on the desk. "I'm here for the convention. My room should already be paid for the weekend."

"Ah yes... the Author." The gaunt man said with a drill voice that dragged out each syllable. He reminded you of Professor Snape from Harry Potter. The slow retort was enough to make you really wonder if you had stepped into some alternate reality.

The grunt from the man next to you said otherwise.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here for the Oddities and Curiosities Convention." You took your phone from the desk and put it in your back pocket. "The convention people were supposed to pay for all of my expenses."

"Yes, everything is paid in full." The half lidded dark eyes of the man across from you seemed to be staring out into nothing as he turned over a page in the log book. Was this place not up to date? Everything was... old fashioned. "Please wait." It was as if the man were a robot as he promptly turned away.

"Seems like everything here is all analog." You made the observation as you saw the old television sitting on a table in the corner behind the desk. "Even that TV looks like it's straight out of the 60's." You told the stranger you met earlier.

"That's nothing, you should see the rooms." He pointed over his shoulder towards the hall. "Rotary phones and vibrating beds with coin slots." That was really bad. And gross, but he looked pretty jovial about it. "It's like I'm back in the late 80's." You were not sure if you should run far away or not.

"I'm really glad I brought disinfectant spray." You thought about the can of Lysol you normally carried around for reasons like this. It was safely stored in your backpack. You traveled light, only bringing what you really needed with you. "Can't do anything about the bed bugs though."

"If it makes you feel any better, at least the sheets are clean." Thank the heavens for that. There was one saving grace about meeting the man you were standing there with.

"Are you here for the convention too?" You asked him. You were curious about why someone dressed like him was actually there.

"Nah, just in town for a job." He seemed to be dismissive of the whole thing. "My client is paying for the weekend, but said client hasn't shown up yet."

"That sucks." You wondered what kind of work the man did. He was definitely dressed for something a bit more lucrative. Red coat, faded Henley, and not to mention the guns. Two guns. .45 caliber. Custom made.

You knew guns only by the research you did for your books. He had to be some kind of undercover agent or assassin... something like that. This was giving you some ideas for your next book at least.

"Here is your key." The receptionist came back slamming the key on the counter to grab your attention. "Your room is on the second floor. Breakfast is provided until 9 AM." You hesitantly took the key while trying not to show you were slightly perturbed by the zombie across from you. "Enjoy your stay." He said slowly and ominously.

"Thanks... I guess." You looked at the man you had been talking to before with a bit of nervousness. "See you around."

"Yeah. I'm sure we'll run into each other again." He gave a mock salute with a smirk before turning his attention to the zombie receptionist.

You slowly made your way up to your room. The elevator was apparently out of order, so you took the stairs. Thankfully the second floor was not too bad. It had a different theme going on. Instead of mint green walls, they were more of a salmon color with brown and orange accents. It could be much worse.

Once you found your room, you unlocked the door and opened it. The guy downstairs was right. It was pretty bad, but at least it did not smell like an old musty hotel. It was actually not that bad. The bed definitely had a coin mechanism, but at least it looked comfy with the beige linens and brown comforter.

At least the shower was in working order.

You threw your back pack on the red chair in the corner before getting ready for bed. Tomorrow you were going to have breakfast, then you had to be at the convention center for ten.

You were sleeping pretty well until you heard something strange coming from the vent above your bed. A strange ticking sound had made its way into your dreams before pulling you to the land of the living. The ticking was not like a clock. It was more like little finger nails tapping on the vent. The rhythm of it had you sleepless for the rest of the night.

Until it stopped at 5AM on the dot.

You were tired when you rolled out of bed at 7. Your feet dragged as you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Brushing your teeth had been a slow process as you stared into the mirror. Your eyes had dark circles under them indicating your three or so hours of sleep were not enough. Your eyes were slightly bloodshot from being awake as well.

Hopefully you would get a better rest when you returned from the convention.

Going down the stairs was an endeavor. You held on to the railing for dear life as you made your way to the first floor. You were in desperate need of caffeine and you really hoped the coffee at the breakfast bar was adequate enough for your refined tastes. If not, you could always find a Starbucks on the way to the convention.

Once you finally made your way to the first floor, you found the breakfast room. It came as a surprise to see there were five other people there.

The one you recognized first was the man with the red coat you had spoken to last night. He was sitting quietly at a table practically inhaling his waffles while another man sat in front of him. The two men were similar in features which clearly made them related. While the man in red was more relaxed, the one sitting across looked as though he was losing his patience.

Oh well, eggs and bacon were calling you.

You did notice a man and woman giving each other the cold shoulder as they ate their breakfast. The couple was in their early thirties at most and sat two chairs down from each other. It was obvious they were having a silent fight with each other. She would glance at him with hurtful eyes every now and then.

Then there was the older woman quietly sitting at the table by the window with a book in her hand. Her glasses were on the tip of her nose as she sat there. Her dark skin hinted at her Sub-Saharan ancestors. You admired her poise as she sat there eating and enjoying her book. A book which you had written almost ten years ago.

She must be there for the convention as well.

Just as you were dropping spoonful of scrambled eggs on your plate, a scream rang out through the entire first floor.

All at once, everyone in the room stopped moving and turned their attention to the hallways outside. Your immediate instinct was to find out where that scream originated from, so you took your plate and headed out of the room.

Being the true crime fanatic that you were, you followed the wailing sound of a woman who was in obvious distress. Turning left down another corridor, you saw her kneeling on the linoleum floor with her hands over her mouth as she cried. You did not even bother to put your plate down as you stepped closer to the red headed woman sitting on the floor.

"Are you okay, Miss?" She did not turn to look at you as she began to shake uncontrollably. You noticed there was a puddle of blood in the doorway as you moved closer. "Miss?"

"He's... dead." The woman muttered out while still staring into the room she was about to enter. You crept ever so slowly to look inside, but what you saw made you drop your plate.

It was a blood bath.

The whole room was coated in blood. The body of a man had been contorted in an unnatural way. It was something you had never seen or heard about before in any case. Murder like this was not murder, but something else entirely.

"What the hell?" Was all you heard before you suddenly found yourself being pulled from the scene by a hand on your arm.

[havoc-if]

Welcome to Havoc-if!

This page is still under construction, but asks are always open if you want to know information about the upcoming interactive lgbtq+ story!

Get to know me - My name is Nia, She/Her, I’m 20 years old, and a bpoc :)

Synopsis - After meeting your best friend, Noelle, when you were just 14-years-old, the years passed and your friendship only grew stronger. Nothing could separate the two of you, right? Well what happens when the two of you grow distant and eventually cut contact after you come to a realization that you might like her? And what happens when the two of you run into each other again years later? Will the two of you be happy to see each other again? Or will you resent each other? Check out next time on Havoc-if! (Please note there will be multiple love interests as well!)

DNI - Racists, homophobes, literally anyone with no morals whatsoever..this is for fun, don’t be a jerk!

Minors do NOT!!! interact as this story will feature foul language, suggestive themes, sex, use of drugs and or alcohol. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

[star-writez]

Should I make a interactive lmk x reader fanfic?

[spyxangst]

⚡ ALONE: A Tonitrus Bolts Interactive Story - Final Part ⚡

It looks like you were just as torn as we were about which option to choose. After compiling the votes, we had a perfect tie!

Read below to see how our story ended...

Missed part 3? Read it here!

⚡⚡⚡

Anya felt Papa’s anger reverberate through the room. She knew it was her telepathy, but it wasn’t a thought–or if it was, it was far too strong for her to register it as such. It was steely, its weight crushing everyone in the room. And Anya was pretty sure–no, really sure–that Mama felt it too.

“I didn’t expect a complication like this,” he spoke, words bearing burdens so sharp that Mama winced from across the room. “But it’s clear that this isn’t safe.” Anya watched as he put emotion over himself like another disguys of his, making sure there was enough so Mama didn’t forget that he was still human, even if he was Twilight. But he also was thinking, thinking about how he was so close to having a chance at feeling some sort of human connection, trying not to recognize how he cared about Anya and Yor, trying to figure out what all of this meant. And he was also scared, something that Anya didn’t think Papa could feel.

“No… it’s okay. I understand.” Mama collapsed onto the ground, her tears silenced. She had given up. She was questioning everything, wondering what was real and what wasn’t and if any good could ever come out of this. She was regretting becoming an assassin, even though it kept Yuri alive, even though it kept her alive because she had killed so much in the process, and now she had slashed through her one chance at normal, stabbing it in the throat like any other victim.

Anya didn’t even realize she was shaking at first. She stopped paying attention solely to Mama and Papa’s thoughts when she felt tears land on her hands. Bond was crying, low and mournful whines unspooling like a tapestry falling apart. She was crying too, now, just like Mama had been earlier, her whole body breaking down, the world was being ripped apart, Papa knew this was dangerous Mama had given up Papa knew Operation Sticks was too dangerous Mama had tried so hard yet it was her who tore everything apart Papa Mama Papa and Mama–

“Anya?”

She blinked her tears away, rubbing her eyes blearily. Wait, why was she sitting? And why did it feel like she just had sat up?

“Borf!” Bond was laying on top of her like he did each night. He was her favorite blanket as well as the only one necessary. Sunlight was pouring in from the blinds in her room. But she wasn’t just in her room, was she? She was–she was doing something, she couldn’t remember, but it was bad and–

“Anya! My goodness, I could barely wake you up!” Mama smiled warmly, as if (I’m so sorry Loid I didn’t know I understand) she wasn’t doing the horrible thingy Anya couldn’t remember a few minutes ago. “Unless you hurry up, we’re gonna be late!”

She seemed a bit frazzled, but she was acting normal. Was it all just… a dream?

Anya got out of her bed, giving Mama a hug. It caught her off guard, but after a moment, she hugged Anya back (and Anya knew she was making sure not to hold her too tight). 

A few footsteps preceded Papa looking into the room. “Ah, breakfast is–”

He sucked in a breath, and Anya felt her heart speed up, because it was just like (this isn’t safe why did I do this– a child shouldn’t be part of this) what had happened during the don’t-remember. But after a scarifying pause, he walked over to them, gently wrapping his arms around the two of them.

“We got each other, ‘cause we’re the best family!” Anya whispered.

She didn’t need to look up or listen to thoughts to know that they both smiled in response.

(This is all my fault Mama and Papa were just fine I’m not good enough)

Though no family was forever, as fleeting as a dream–or perhaps, a nightmare.

END

⚡⚡⚡

Want to see more like this?

Follow us to be the first to hear when Tonitrus Bolts releases! We've got a great line-up of artists and writers, who will deliver top notch angst for your enjoyment.

Want to read the whole fic in one place? Check out Mod Kyaurum's AO3 publication here!

[eefaevie]

If you play your cards right in Choose Your Own Adventure: Reunion!, you can let them snuggle 💕

twitter | instagram | prints | ko-fi ❤️

[onceuponapuffin]

As much as I worry that I'm annoying people with how much I scream about it, I'm honestly really proud of my tumblr poll fic that I have going.

Fanatic Intervention

omg it’s FAN FICTION FRIDAY

Reblog and promote a fic of yours <3

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[hitechlatte]

Is there anyway we can support you better in making them game?

And is fanart allowed?Weired question ik but I just wanted to make sure dienkwkwkekqke

Anyways remember to eat,sleep and drink enough!

Thank you so much!! That's so kind of you to ask!!

There's a few ways people can help if they'd like!

Feedback/Bug Reporting: If you play the demo and anything is confusing or frustrating or even if you want to mention something you like and want to see more in the full title, leave that here: Bug/Feedback Form

Fake Social Media Posts: I'll eventually make a form for this but will let you know now if you wanna think ahead! To make the social media section seem realistic I'll need lots of fake posts to filter through! So if you have a post you think someone from the ROTTMNT crew would make feel free to leave it!

Puns: I love puns but I'm terrible at thinking of them, and Leo will be a part of the game so if you know of any puns that he might post online or say in a text convo feel free to suggest them. Again I'll make a form for this, but feel free to think ahead!

Character Creator: Please let me know if there are certain hairstyles, clothes, colors, body types, etc, you'd like to see in the character creator. The one I have right now is VERY basic, but I want to make sure everyone feels like they can see themselves in the game, so if there is something specific you'd want to see in the characters creator let me know. (I may add this to a form as well!)

And regarding fanart of course! I am always super honored when people make fanart 💕💕💕 You all are crazy talented and creative so I love seeing stuff and feel free to tag me so I can see it!

THANK YOUUU regarding sleeping/eating. You all are so supportive and always tell me to take care of myself and can I tell you, you all have me sobbing. Thank you for being so kind and caring 😭😭😭