Hey! Sorry I haven't posted in awhile, but I had been formulating and working on this idea. While scrolling through archive of our own (really good fanfic site, generally classy fics. Check it out!) I saw a fanfic about an AU they called "asylum tale"
In this AU, frisk, chara, Asriel and monster kid are in a mental hospital. The 6 fallen humans were kids in the asylum who had committed suicide, and the staff doesn't care. The place is run down and in desperate need of bettering. The staff, once againo doesn't care and their laziness might result in a budget cut, or the establishment closing down. So they hired two new social workers (sans and papyrus) to go and try to see if they could help the kids. I took to this idea, and I've been trying to figure out how I would fit in everybody else that I thought would work in this fic. I came out with these ideas! Thanks for being patient with me!
(Normally I would make chara non binary, however with two non binary characters it would get confusing who was talking to who. I decided on female as that's what I relate to more.)
The car ride was long, monotonous and boring in every way. Frisk could hardly believe they had managed to get themself into this situation, how had this all begun? They could hear toriel humming in the front, a gentle lullaby tune that was all too familiar to them. They could hear Toriel said tight breathing, and see her tight grip on the wheel. These little ticks that showed how upset and nervous she really was.
Frisk had been caught a week ago, red handed. The knife in their hands glimmered and shone in the dull light, the silver specked with red. Blood was all over the comforter, and frisk sat there with their arms bloody. Bleeding. Frisk had turned when the door opened, eyes wide with panic at toriel entering, biting their lip at the sound of a plate hitting the floor. Mom had just wanted to give them pie.
Toriel had immediately rushed into the room, her eyes glossy with tears, and snatched the knife. She'd picked Frisk up, the blood working its way into her nightgown. She'd rushed Frisk to the ER, where they made sure Frisk wouldn't die, but had Toriel get Frisk into a mental hospital. After a week of packing and tearful goodbyes to their friends, Frisk had climbed into the car.
"My child?" Toriel's voice snapped them out of their memory. They looked up, making eye contact through the rear view mirror. They nodded on, silently signaling for her to continue. "Are you ready? We are almost there."
Frisk simply nodded. They'd appreciated how Toriel didn't treat them any differently, aside from hiding away all the knifes. Frisk couldn't say they'd done the same, and treated everything as though nothing had happened. They had refused to speak, similar to how they had for years awhile back. From ages eight through twelve they hadn't spoken, learning sign language in order to maintain communication. They'd finally spoken on their twelfth birthday, at which Toriel had cried. Now they were fifteen, and back on linguistic strike.
"There will be other children there as well. Some your age too!... My child, I need you to promise me something. Something small, nothing too hard." This piqued Frisk's interest. Toriel had told them she'd had a friend in college who took promises so seriously that he'd be willing to die rather than break one. Since then, Toriel never asked for promises, because that had a new, deeper meaning to her. "I need you to promise me you'll try." The car pulled into the lot. "Try, at least, to follow what they say. Try to get better. Please, my child… For me?"
Frisk nodded, though it hurt them to do so. They didn't want to try, they wanted to die! They didn't want to get better. They wanted it all to be over so it couldn't get worse. They didn't want this to go on, they didn't want life to go on!... But they couldn't hurt Toriel like that. They couldn't hurt their pet, Toby the dog. They couldn't hurt all of their friends. So they nodded yes, and unclipped their seatbelt.
Toriel was soon out of the car and by their side, taking their hand and leading them inside peachford mental hospital. There was a fish tank in the wall, filled with a whole rainbow of fish. There were two or three people in the lobby, and no one glanced up as toriel walked in. She and frisk wandered over to the reception desk, where a glamorous looking man sat. He had hair sweeping over one eye, and the figure of a god. Frisk couldn't help but run their eyes over the long, perfect legs and sigh, knowing they would never have that because they would be dead before they had a chance to because their body was different.
"Why hello there, darlings! You must be the…. Dreemurrs?" he glanced down at a mostly blank paper, with one name scrawled across the top in pink glitter pen. "Then you would be frisk! Aww, she's so cute!" Frisk scowled at the floor, while Toriel breathed in deeply.
"Frisk prefers they/them pronouns." It was said tightly, with venom just an inch away from her voice. Mettaton's visible eye lit up in shock, and he gasped aloud.
"Oh my lord! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to misgender you. Trust me, I understand all about that." Mettaton sighed, adjusting his hair with a hand. "Allow me to give you two a tour. Then we'll drop Frisk off at lunch and get down to the boring paperwork." Toriel checked with Frisk and when they nodded, the group set out on the tour.
They stepped into a long hallway, with doors dotting all along with one way glass windows everywhere. In some of the rooms there were people, reading, laying in bed, and much more. Each room was identical, with a twin sized bed in one corner, a dresser in the next cornering the middle, another twin bed in the other corner, two chairs, a table and a single motivational poster on the wall. Every poster was cheesy, some had cats dangling with the words, "hang in there!" Others had images of landscapes with things such as, "don't give up!" Or other dumb things. Some were of famous people with quotes. All of them were stupid.
The paint was peeling on the walls, the windows were chipped and dirty. Nothing was actually in clean shape, and there were six empty "rooms" filled with stuff. Blood was all over the floor of one of the rooms. Toriel seemed uneasy, wondering whether or not it was really a good idea to send her child here, but Mettaton was already speaking. "That room is a memoir to one of our patients, who committed suicide. In all of our years of operation, we've had a total of 6 people commit suicide. We've been operating for 60 years!" He pulled the focus away from the blood and to the prestige of the place, and Toriel immediately piped up. Frisk seemed to sink in on themself.
In the next room, there was a pair of patients. One of them was a kid in an orange striped shirt and orange pajama bottoms. He was sitting on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge. His eyes were bright, and he had a Mohawk of an easy going ginger color. He was talking animatedly with another kid, on the other bed. This other kid had on a green and yellow striped massive sweater, hanging down to his knees. He had black jeans on beneath, and fuzzy white slippers. His hair was dead white, and hanging downs bit on the sides. It was clear he hadn't had a haircut for a good long while. He was listening, and tapping his fingers in a rhythm on the table.
As Frisk walked by, the kids smiled at Mettaton, but as soon as he was passed the kids looked at Frisk sadly, almost in a warning say. Frisk immediately swallowed down a nervous sound, and bit their tongue. They wouldn't make sound. They would go here, and they would wait until they were cleared.
The next room only had one patient. She was sitting in the corner, holding a book and reading. One leg was tucked against her while the other was laid out flat on the floor. As they walked by, she looked up, and scoffed at Mettaton. "Hey there big man."
Mettaton said face darkened, and he sped up, clearly trying to avoid what this child was going to say. "What's for lunch today?" She gave a slight sneer.
"Macaroni and cheese, green beans, milk." Mettaton huffed. "Come on, let's view the cafeteria!" Mettaton's normal spunk and cheer returned as soon as Chara was out of earshot. He swept them into the cafeteria, a large room with many circular tables. Uncomfortable looking a metal chairs surrounded each table, with room for six at each. Mettaton showed them how there was "room for healthy, monitored socialization."
"And then, of course," Mettaton flipped his hair. "We have rooms for small groups where you talk about how you're feeling, therapy rooms, and… Panic rooms." Frisk looked up at this, tilting their head. "A panic room is where we take children who are having a panic attack. They stay in this room, filled with stress fidgets and comfortable chairs as long as they need." At that Frisk beamed. Finally there was something this place had that could actually help them.
"You seem to have a fine establishment running here! Frisk will have a good time here. My child, is this alright to you?" Toriel looked down at Frisk, concerned but hopeful. Frisk plastered on a smile and nodded. "Excellent! We shall get frisk a room immediately. Mettaton, I shall go fill out the paperwork in the lobby while you take them to their room."
Toriel stepped into the lobby, and went to the desk to talk to the other lady. Mettaton guided Frisk. "Now then, frisk, get this straight. There is only one room available currently, and that's shares with… Chara." Mettaton got a scowl. "Darling, if they threaten you, tell me, and I will have that taken care of." Frisk swallowed a bit of spit, and stepped into the room. Mettaton backed out and went to Toriel.
"Hey there. I'm Chara… You?" Frisk but their lip, then raised their hands to sign. They made their name, nervously, not knowing if Chara would understand. "Frisk? Sorry, if I got it wrong, I haven't had to read sign in… 2 months?" She sighed. "Are you deaf, or is this by choice? I won't be mad either way."
"By choice." They decided to keep it simple, just for Chara.
"Alright. Listen, pretty much everyone here speaks sign language… Well, not the staff, but still. All the kids do." Frisk nodded. "The staff here is awful. They ignore us, they hardly feed us, and… Everything is awful. 6 people committed suicide in this year." Frisk's eyes shot open. That was not what the desk attendant had said.
"I'll fill you in on the etiquette. It's alright to ask why someone got put in here, but it's not alright to press for details. It's fine to sass people, it's not fine to attack their mental illness. It's alright to misgender someone the first couple times, but past that it's rude. You got it?" Frisk just nodded their head and sighed. They had a feeling this was going to be a long, and painful stay.
So…? What did you think? I really want to get this continuing, I think this will be around 7-10 chapters? This was just the introduction, so we haven't even introduced sans and paps, that should be around chapter 3. Maybe later. I have a serious plan, so let me know if this is good! I've already started chapter two, so it should be out in around 4-5 days.
Word count: 1,762