Hi! Just Wondering, When Will The Next Chapter Of Immature Interest Come Out?

just a question, ive been seeing lots of discourse in the comments of immature interest. whats ur thoughts on it? i mean, is your story meant to erotic? is it meant to be critical of the actions of the characters? cause theres some people saying "its like that to show how fucked up they are" while other people are like "i wanna see them do this taboo thing". just curious, as the author, where u stand in all of this.

Absolutely none of my stories are intended as smut unless I state otherwise. I think people tend to grow confused because I depict situations in a detailed and graphic manner, and we’re often in the heads of the predators and how they view the situation.

I tend to hope that my depicting the harmful psychological effects the victim’s suffer through afterwards, how the world around them reacts to the events (ex.: Knuckles going to the cops after Sonic tells him he raped Amy despite him not wanting to see his best friend go to prison) and just the antagonistic nature of the predators make it clear the story isn’t praising them. We’re supposed to hate Sonic and Shadow in Immature Interest. We’re supposed to feel uncomfortable when Sonic fantasizes about harming Tails. We should despise Vanilla for what she did, and we shouldn’t want Shadow to succeed in the end.

I don’t often care to moderate my comments as people are free to call me and my story gross all they want, or praise it, or I guess ask that Tails have his prostate stimulated by the doctors or whatever.

Personally, my fanfics are outlets, and I find comfort in writing the things that I do. Just because I can write these detailed horrific situations doesn’t mean I fantasize about them, or want them inflicted on anyone, quite the opposite actually. That is like stating all horror authors are serial killers because they write about murder. Clearly, this is not true.

Thanks for this ask, btw! I hope this clears up a lot of confusion. :)

FAWN: Page 25

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♫ - More music because why the hell not.

I'm totally overposting today, but I found this! And omg! I really like the art style I was going for with it. I think that's Edge (left) and Stretch (right).

Anyway, I need to get out of that folder, because I found a "manga" I was working on (what the fuck!!!!) as well as like art from an old Instagram account from my first year of college that I can't even remember if I deleted or not. But man if that art isn't edgyyyy.

oh yeah, baby...wasn't I just cringe, but I'm loving it. I'm here for it.

I might need to make a second blog to dump all this art onto. So maybe this will be the last un-fanfic related thing on this account? Idk man. That'll take work and there isn't like a rule against shitting up my own feed with art that has fuck all to do with Fawn, right? Right?!?! What are rules anyway?

ETA: I also found flipping porn I drew of Sans getting—okay! So anyway that probably won’t see the light of day.

Post #26 - Happy Halloween!

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

In this artwork we have future Frisk in different clown costumes—or maybe it's the attire of the cult, but honestly, what's the difference? Badum tss!

And we have reached the end of October! It has been an eventful month for writing. I managed to write over 30k words between 2 fics and 8 chapters! Unfortunately, most of the art goals haven't been met. I will make up for that though!

Soon I will be releasing a larger post explaining the future of FAWN and any related stories, but for now, I'm going to give my brain (and creative fingers) a bit of a break.

Post #24 - Lugubriousity Rewrite

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

First, I want to thank everyone for such warm reception for the last page of chapter one of FAWN. Seeing all the reblogs and likes just lit up my whole week.

Now onto the topic of this blog. As I was reading through Lugubriousity to prepare for the next chapter of the comic, I realized just how sloppy the story is. Yes, I know this very fact is the reason I started this project in the first place, but I feel so compelled to just clean things up, make it better. That’s what I’m currently doing. I will be releasing a PDF containing the first part of the story soon, before moving onto the second part, and lastly the third part sometime afterwards. I already wrote three new chapters for the beginning of part one, and I’m in the process of editing the rest to create a more comprehensive narrative.

The characters are going to have personalities much closer to canon, the setting of the Underground is more expanded and complex, and I will hopefully rid the fic of its many plot holes. Oh! And it’s no longer told in the Underfell universe, but a standalone one uniquely for Lugubriousity/FAWN. All previous tags still apply, so major content warning. I’m excited to get this out for readers to enjoy.

These 3 PDFs will be the new “canon” narrative that the comics will draw from.

That doesn’t mean I will be taking down the original, no not at all! It will stay up on Ao3 for all to read and enjoy, and in order for me to track my writing progress.

Now I have a question for you guys; should I upload the rewrite to Ao3, or only stick with the PDF copies that anyone can pass around and do with as they wish (beyond sell since I believe that is illegal for fanfiction)?

Post #8 - Pink Elephants

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

This post is about two days late, but I have a good excuse for that; work, work, work. Now that I'm on a bit of a holiday break I can see about returning to daily posts, or at least getting the next scene out in a timely manner.

Beyond work holding me up, I binged the latest season of The Handmaid’s Tale yesterday. I wanted to say that it could serve as a great resource for this story, but I don't want this fanfic to be anywhere near as hopeless as that show. I love it, but its total misery porn, and a person can only handle so much misery before it starts to effect their mental health. So Fawn will take some inspiration from the mentioned while following a more heartening tone.

We have the concept for scene four above. Papyrus will come downstairs with his shirt buttoned, lace up his boots, and remind Sans not to be late for his million side jobs (or complain about something equivalent depending on the AU). He’ll leave, and Sans will continue with his slacking off. The television will be on, we get a shot of a ballerina taking a bow, as Sans snorts, smokes, or injects Dust in somewhere or another. 

All of the finer details of this scene will really depend on the AU we choose. I didn't think it would be such a hindrance, but its turning out to be one. What I do know is that Sans drug addiction is fundamental to the story just like Papyrus’ pedophilia, so it honestly doesn't matter what we ultimately settle with. Sans will still be a junky. 

I checked on my stats today to find I now have over 20 followers! It was just last week that I was celebrating 10. I want to thank everyone for sticking through with this so far. I hope to keep it up until the very end of the project.

Post #20 - A Friend Indeed

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

Last week something absolutely amazing happened; I got back in touch with my very good friend on Discord! Before then it’s been a year since we last spoke, so I was very much convinced that that would be it; our friendship cherished, but otherwise mesmerized in the past. I’m really happy we are talking again!

Above, and below, is artwork I drew for two (of many) UT roleplays we have written together. The one above has inspired the writing of The Worst Kinda Curse, even though the main character in the original roleplay was not Alphys. The swampy monster town in Louisiana is straight out of it though. I would share the details, but as I consider it, I realize these are stories we wrote in private and just for our own enjoyment.

The artwork for the above was an AU of the Underground being a religious dictatorship with human slaves. We created a whole new world together and piecing the canon characters into more dubious roles was something I enjoyed tremendously.

Fun times!

She has drawn a ton of gorgeous art as well, her skills are off the charts, but I feel as though it is hers to share if she so chooses to.

I’m grateful to have you as a friend @stickorstones. I hope we can continue to write stories together and create more fond memories!

What Did You Do, Sans?

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

During yesterday's blackout at the resort, I decided to go through some of my old files on my phone, and I came across this unfinished story. It was written back on July 1st of 2020, and I wish I could give you a detailed explanation of what I planned for this one, but I genuinely do not remember. I know it technically has little to do with the current project, but I thought I’d share it with you. 

There will be no post tomorrow since I’m heading back home, and even though I absolutely loved it here on the beach, I’m definitely excited to get back to the grind of everyday life. Well, until the next adventure. 

I hope to show you my plans for scene three of chapter one on Monday—no later than Tuesday. 

While you wait, please enjoy the below. 

A call from an old friend was like a batch of lemonade from the neighborhood’s girl scout; it could be sweet, but it could also be a sour cup of water. There was a bit of surprise there, and with surprise came excitement. Sans liked to believe he was a skeleton seeking the latest thrill, but anyone who knew him knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Despite that, Sans stretched, wiped his sleepy sockets, and answered his phone.

 He bellied a deep, “Hello?” Still unsure of what to expect. 

The voice on the other end was quiet for a long, painstakingly lengthy, minute, before letting out a shaken breath. There was thought put into the upcoming words, like this unknown individual had been reciting this speech for a long time. They prepared for it, wrote it down, and revised it a trillion times until they got it right. But now, like a child in the school play just stricken with stage fright, they froze and forgot their lines.

 Sans wasn’t an intimidating guy, or at least that was his belief, so he’d figured he’d help break the ice. He’d cut the awkward tension rather than simply hang up—this was an old friend after all. “It’s been a while. I haven’t heard from ya since we all left the Underground.” That was a good conversation starter. He hoped they would take it.

 There was more silence.

 Sans pulled the phone from his ear cavity to look the number over one last time, to make sure he did, in fact, recognize it. This all could be a dumb prank call, and in that case, a waste of his precious nap time. The digits looked familiar enough. He had a knack for remembering little intricate details, but phone numbers had always been a hit or miss. “Well, if you’re not gonna say anything I better get going—“

 “I-it has been a while. How are you?” Finally, a voice, and a voice he could identify. It was soft, warm as mother’s milk, and it was also a whisper. Perhaps she was at a library, a public bathroom, the DMV—and Stars knows that place wasn’t the loudest location in a strip mall. She had to be somewhere discrete since Sans could see no other reason to talk so low at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. 

“Good. But..uh are you alright?” He asked as he sat up on the couch. 

 The voice suddenly became self aware, clearing her throat before continuing. “Yeah! I’m fine. I was just hit with nostalgia and thought that maybe we could talk like old times?”  Her tone got gradually louder the more she spoke. There was still this underlying oscillation, like she was putting up a joyous front, like she was wearing a mask. “You can share more puns, and we can swap stories, and maybe… maybe this is a bad idea. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

 Sans quickly intervened before she could hang up. “No, no. wait! That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Tell me your address and I’ll come over.” He was tripping over himself to worm out of the wool throw to find a piece of paper to write on. The noise was making quite the commotion on the other end of the phone, he was sure. It sounded like a battlefield with the constant banging, crashing, and muffled cursing. Finally Sans was victorious as he gripped a capless pen in his palms.

 “M-my address?” The voice stuttered after a moment of quiet debating.

“This is Toriel, right?” Sans wiped the sweat from his skull with his sleeve. 

 “It is.” She whispered again.

 “If you don’t want to meet up at your house we can meet up at mine.” It then dawned on him that she might be uncomfortable alone with him. That made him frown. Looking back in his memory bank he couldn’t see why she would ever feel that way. They were good friends Underground, he’d argue best friends. Maybe. Maybe not.

 But again, Sans wasn’t an intimidating guy. There was nothing to be afraid of.

 “Or we can meet somewhere public if you’re scared I might bite,” Sans snickered to himself, intending the comment to be a joke.

Toriel didn’t laugh. “I’ll send my address. How about we meet in an hour?”

 Before Sans had a moment to respond the phone clicked. She was gone. He looked at his device with wide sockets. A second later there was a ping and a message with an address. Nothing else. No, “sorry my phone turned off”, or “I didn’t mean to suddenly hang up on you.”

 The whole conversation was strange, but maybe because their friendship left off on a strange note? One day things were normal, and the next Toriel refused to come to the Ruin doors for his daily dose of shitty jokes. He often wondered what he did to screw things up.

 Now he could find out.

Sans knocked once, twice, thrice, then waited. He actually bothered to shower and change his dingy sweater for this special occasion. With a quick armpit sniff, and a swift adjusting of his T-shirt, he stood up straight. Often his spine would default to a slouch. It was almost a full C at this point. He swore he was developing quite the hunchback.

 It took three minutes—three minutes he deliberately counted since he told himself he would leave by the fifth—before someone came to the door. There were footsteps at first, loud, barefooted steps, that stopped just short of the dark oak.

 Silence again.

 The constant silence was beginning to become unnerving. Sans instinctively backed up. Suddenly this felt like an ambush, like someone was waiting to snatch him up, and he’d never be seen again. Maybe that wasn’t Toriel on the phone? It would explain the odd behavior almost too well. He clenched his fists and prepared to shortcut out of there if need be.

 The door unlocked and slowly creaked open.

 It was dark inside the house. Sans could barely make out the window shining sunlight in a back room. At first he saw no one until a tuft of white fur peeked behind the door like a socket puppet springing from a cardboard stage. The rest of a delicate goat head followed shortly afterwards until Toriel’s whole body was revealed. She wore a strained smile, not exactly pleased to see Sans, but still welcoming him regardless. “You actually came?” She said in disbelief as if she hadn’t just invited him an hour ago. “...please come in.”

 Her gaze fell, never quite making Sans sockets. The door was extended open, and she moved her body out of the way.

 With his bony hands shoved in his pockets, he climbed the porch steps, hesitantly marched past a hanging swing set, and entered the dimly lit house.

 The door shut behind him.

 Sans blinked to allow his eyesight to adjust. The two of them simply stood near the door for a while, looking everywhere but at each other. It was awkward to say the least. “So, uh. You have a nice home.” He pointed at her pleasantly decorated, but with a touch of grandma’s house,  furniture. 

“Thank you.” Toriel gripped the front of her mom jeans. Her head remained low as she avoided Sans gaze. This felt less like a meeting between old friends, and more like a hostage situation. Did she not want to see him? 

 She was deliberately making things uncomfortable now.

 The skeleton was inches away from confronting her. He swore he’d bug her to know what her deal was and why she suddenly cut off all contact with him. He held himself back, though. Maybe something else was happening in her life and she needed a temporary positive light. Maybe he’s meant to be said light.

 There were pictures on the wall. Sans approached them and got a great big look. In each frame were fond memories of Toriel and a human child. “How’s the kid doing? Still being a little nuisance I’d imagine?” He chuckled. Still no reaction from his host. God, what a tough crowd to please.

 “They are good. I made sure we were alone today, so you don’t have to worry.” Sans didn’t know why she felt the need to be alone with him, honestly he would’ve loved to see Frisk. He didn’t word his feelings. Of course he wouldn’t since he appeared to catch a bad case of the cottonmouth. 

Toriel led Sans to the living room. There was a tray of tea on the coffee table in front of a floral sofa. She waited for Sans to take a seat before sitting on an opposite couch. “Tea?” She offered.

 “Sure.” He leaned back in the lazy boy. It was pretty huge, a little too huge. He noticed more of the family photography, as well as a pair of large oxfords at the front door. The house looked far more lived in than his own, and definitely nothing about it screamed royalty. It wasn’t until he saw the golden ring on her finger did his suspicions get confirmed. “It’s nice to see you and Asgore are together again.”

 Toriel immediately stopped pouring the tea. Her hands shook a little, spilling the hot liquid all over her paws. Sans shot up to help her clean up, but the minute he touched her, she jumped back. “We aren’t together...I’m deeply sorry. Please drink your tea.” Her smile was more painful than the burns under her ivory fur.

 Sans took the mug and returned to his seat without another word just so he could avoid causing more conflict. He sipped his tea and watched as she very slowly wiped the mess. It was amazing how long it could take a person to complete such a basic task. Not that he had a leg to stand on, being extremely lazy and all.

 Silence followed once more.

 “I just came up with a fitting pun—“

 “How are you so unbothered about being around me? It’s almost like what happened never did.” When Toriel finished with the spill she neatly folded the rag and placed it down on the tray. Her hands were still shaking, her head still hung low, and she still avoided looking at Sans.

 Sans scratched the top of his head, totally confused. He had no idea what she was referencing. What happened? Is this hidden event the reason she dropped their friendship? Of course it was, but he had no idea what he did. Maybe he told too many bad jokes? Or missed too many of their talking sessions? He wanted to just flat out ask, but judging by her demeanor, he feared he would insult her for being unaware. So he tried to play along to fish out more information.

 “You’re right. I should take it more seriously. I can’t believe I let it happen.” He responded very vaguely. He expected her to go into more detail, but instead she broke down into tears.

 “Since then, all I wanted was an apology. Please, Sans. Can I have one?” She sobbed into her palms, her large chest jiggling with each shaken inhale, sniffle, eye rub. Sans was hypnotized by it. The goat woman’s breasts were nice and plump, squishy. The faint outline of her nipples poked out daring him to pinch them.

 Sans downed his tea.

 Staring at a woman’s tits as she cried her eyes out was so inappropriate. The fuck was he thinking? 

 “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again, you have my word,” Sans placed his mug down to see Toriel staring at him. She looked like a shellshock animal, a deer in the headlights, aimless eyes honing in on his sockets. They stayed like this for a long moment, engaging in an eerie blinking contest, neither one of them wanted to be the first to break contact.

 It took a loud thump from the ceiling to take Sans out of the trance.

 He looked towards the stairs. It was far too dark to see anything beyond the fifth step. The house grew quiet again, white noise drowning in his skull.

 “Sorry for what? You can’t be sincere if you don’t admit your faults,” Toriel pulled his attention back on her. Now the goat was a seat closer to him. Sans’ stomach started to gurgle, which was odd since he didn’t have a stomach. His head felt hazy.

 “I’m sorry for offending—“

 “No! Just say it! Why can’t you admit what you did to me?!? Did I mean that little to you?” Toriel started a new fit of tears. She cradled herself, rocking back and forth, weeping.

 “What did I do? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sans grew nervous, terrified. He could sense the oncoming danger like the stillness before a twister. Another thump came from the upper floor, and this got Sans on his feet quicker than the speed of light. His head, his poor dome, was spinning. He was seeing doubles, triples, five different Toriels. Maybe he got up too fast? He wanted to believe he got up too fast. 

 Suddenly he was in the chair again and his friend was one seat closer. 

 “You really don’t remember? I’m not going to put the words in your mouth. Please, all I want is a proper apology.” She was now begging Sans to confess his crimes, crimes he did not commit. Crimes he wasn’t even aware of. “I can’t.. I can’t move,” Sans attempted to stand up, get out of this situation as soon as possible, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t shortcut. He couldn’t move his limbs. He was a living statue. A skeleton halfway buried in sand. 

 His facial ‘muscles’ worked, he could move his jaws, his sockets, his brow ridge, but that was about it. 

 Toriel was still crying to herself, now on the floor, continuously wiping at her eyes. “It’s temporary—“

 “Why did you drug me? I didn’t do anything.” Sans would yell if he could, but now his voice came out low and flat. The thumping upstairs got louder. It got more frequent.

 “I’m sorry...I’m just—he was so mad...I had to lie.” Toriel barely got anything out between trembling wails. Her explanation did little to answer the many raising questions in Sans’ head. The main one being who she was referring to and why he would be upset with her to the point of holding Sans hostage? Perhaps he already knew the answer to those questions. Perhaps he liked to pretend he was nothing more than an innocent party in this equation. 

 The thumping upstairs finally stopped. “I thought we were alone?” Obviously they weren’t, yet he still felt the need to point out more of her lies.

 For the millionth time that day, the house grew silent.

 Then footsteps came crashing down the stairs. Unable to move his head, Sans had to rely on Toriel’s reaction to know what was happening beyond his vision. She looked terrified as she quickly got to her feet. “Please don’t do this. I swear it wasn’t his fault.” Her panicked pleas were followed by a quiet quarrel.

 A bead of sweat ran from his forehead as he tried to make out the other voice. They were whispering something. It was far too low to make out. Sans tried desperately to move, if not move, at least form some fraction of magic. There was nothing, like some unknown force was holding back his mojo.

 Toriel returned to his line of vision. He could hear footsteps behind him, someone stopped, and then a large hand graced his skull. Sans held his breath. He didn’t know what to expect, so he expected the worst.

 Would begging for his life be too pathetic? Would it even work? If he was going to die he’d rather not do it like a punk. “If you’re gonna kill me, kill—“ He was cut off by a hard blow to the back of his head. Sans was out cold in seconds.

 The last thing he saw before the world faded to black was the crying face of Toriel.

 Sans woke up to jiggling breasts. His head laid in a warm lap, the jugs rested on top of his forehead. It was like two pillows, two heavy clouds, and he wanted so badly to grope them. A perverted grin spread across his face as he tried to enjoy this wet dream of his.

 Now to remove that top.

 As Sans tried to reach up to cup a feel, the realization he wasn’t dreaming hit him harder than whatever blunt object whacked him unconscious. He was brought back into the moment, fear-ridden adrenaline pumping through him. He felt a draft brush his bones, and figured he was stripped naked. There was no telling for sure since he couldn’t move his head. There was a blanket over him. Whether it was to keep him warm, modest, or hidden mattered little when a foreign hand joined the picture. It rested above his rib cage, fuzzy and clawed.

 “Looks like our guest is awake. Welcome back, JUDGE.” A deep voice vibrated throughout his bones. He didn’t need to see its ace to know who it was.

 Toriel lied again. Shocker.

 “Y-your Majesty, I’m innocent..I didn’t do anything—“ The hand gripped one of his rib bones. It was far too tight, aggressive, painful. Sans let out a sharp yelp, effectively cutting himself off.

 “Enough of the lies. Why don’t you accept your punishment like a good little criminal!” Asgore poked his goat head out of the blankets. He didn’t look furious as much as amused. “Touching my Toriel is strictly forbidden.” Whether Asgore thought Sans helped Toriel “cheat”, or he assumed something heinous was done to her, it all became irrelevant. Sometimes hateful revenge didn’t need a logical reason. Sometimes an assumption was enough.

Or a lie.

 Had he ever touched her? That was hard to do through stone doors. 

“Your majesty, I—“ Sans was hauled into the air by the ribs. He was left suspended in Asgore’s grip, gasping, and trying not to dust under the goat’s strength. 

“Remove your top, dear.” Asgore cooed. “He desired to play with your breasts before, so I'm sure the sight of them will excite him.”

The need to explain he was blameless was tempting for Sans, but he physically couldn’t breathe, so instead he shook his head. This wasn’t what the king thought it was, but as Sans was hovered from the couch and given a chance to see beneath the blankets, it was confirmed that he was naked. 

And so was Asgore. 

Toriel was hesitant to undress.

Post #18 or 19 - Get Sans Right!

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

okay, so as I was sketching out the next page of the comic, I had to stop! I wanted to really get a handle on Sans so I have less work to do when I'm drawing the finished draft—sure, that's part of it. Another part of it was this strong urge to just get him right for his sake. Like, really right.

So how the heck am I supposed to do that?

I went right down to the bare bones (ha!). I didn't want to get too influenced by all the very impressive fan art out there, and there's just too much to count on this very website, so I used the original Sans sprite as a reference (I realize my version appears as if his arms were cut at the elbows. We'll just silently ignore that...). I then drew a real skeleton because my brain has a hard time with properly tying the two together. I suppose what I mean is, I try to imagine what the monsters of the Underground would look like in our real world, and also with a more humanoid appearance, so when I see Sans I naturally compare him to what is inside our meat suit despite him being a cartoon who should have the freedom to flourish in his art style. Its hard, I'll tell ya that! But I made an attempt here to try something that aligns more with what I want for the comic.

Maybe this will be the final look? I love to see this version of Sans having a more urban fashion sense, aggressive personality, and a bad drug problem that leaks into all aspects of his life. I'm definitely pulling from the images I included in this post, and honestly? I think we need more poverty polish applied to his bones.

I kind of want to make a similar character sheet for more of the UT cast. All in due time...

does papyrus like certain dresses for frisk?

I’d say he does. Having a strong attraction towards girly characteristics (baby pink, frills and bows, dolls), if he had his way Frisk would be in Lolita all the time. Of course, things didn’t work out that way in the previous story since he had to keep her a secret from Sans, and it would make for a very awkward encounter if Papyrus brought home a tiny pink dress that clearly didn’t fit him. Good luck explaining that, though Sans likely wouldn’t mind. He’d find the concept of Paps cross-dressing very arousing.

Regardless of what Papyrus wants, once Gaster enters the picture Frisk will only wear traditional cult garb. Exhibit A below.