Warning for the Dust portion.

Fun fact to go with your warning: phalanges can refer to both fingers and toes, and the singular form of phalanges is phalanx, according to what I've seen. I think phalange is also acceptable, but phalanx is more fun, since it can also refer to police officers or army troops. Enjoy your free knowledge. :3

~~~~~

Nightmare. 

~~~~~

It had been three months since that monster stole my son. The multiversal sweep was a failure; neither the artist nor Dust were to be found in any of the AUs that had been searched, and I honestly regarded it was a waste of time..I needed to find my son. Today, I would get my chance speak to the artist. I had only one setback: I wasn't allowed to hurt him. I was allowed to touch him, threaten him, and bribe him, but I wasn't permitted to hurt him; I hated that part. Nevertheless, I accepted the terms; Dream would have spoken to him otherwise, and although he was my brother, he was terrible at getting information out of people..my boys had attested to that more than once after being interrogated. I was given the coordinates for Ink's home, and I went there to speak to the no-good artist. When I entered the house, I found him..not there. I growled, beginning to walk around the house, finding no trace of him in any of the rooms. I was about to leave when I noticed a note on the coffee table in his living room; curiously, I picked it up and began to read it, progressively growing angrier at the words written on it.

'Heya, Nighty! So, you've probably figured out by now that I'm a kidnapper - I'm a lot of other things, too - and I took your precious little Dust. I'm not denying it! Anyways, you're not going to find me in my house, and you're not going to find me anywhere else, either! Although, this seems unfair to you; I mean, you've already gone through the hassle of searching the entire multiverse! So, I'm giving you a chance - the smallest, most imperceivable amount of chance you'll ever lay your eyes on. As you read this, there's a 95% chance that I'm currently torturing Dust in the worst ways imaginable, and I can assure you that his screams are ☆wonderful! ☆ As for your chance, all you must do is follow the clues I've left behind to find your missing Dust. Of course, there's a time limit. I've adapted my torture methods in a way that will likely convince him that I'm the only person he should pay attention to in this world; I mean to say, of course, that if you don't find him in time, he will be mine. However, if you do manage to find him in time, I'll turn myself in, and you won't have to worry about me anymore. I've left a series of clues in the multiverse. This is your first, and I'll make it easy: "A certain Undertale you see, a Sans in the forest piles up sticks; this is a clue to you from me, find it in Undertale eighty.." Fill in the blank, Nighty! Love, Ink.'

"What in the world..?" I couldn't understand it.

I sighed, bringing the note with me through the portal; what was that supposed to mean?! When I returned, my brother immediately approached me with my sons and Error; we had formed a temporary truce to get Dust back, even if Dream was only using it to get to know me better..I wished he would focus on the more important things.

"What did he say?" Dream wondered.

"Say where Dusty is?" Horror hoped.

"He wasn't there." I answered; the group was saddened. "It seems that we're going to have to work hard to find Dust..or things won't be very good."

"What do you mean?" Error questioned.

"Well.." I responded by reading the letter; my boys and Error were slightly scared, while Dream put his mind to the riddle.

"Is Dusty gonna be okay?!" Killer was as worried as I was.

"If we can solve this riddle.." I looked at the paper with a sigh.

"I think I get it!" Dream exclaimed.

"What is it?!" I was silently thanking my brother for knowing Ink better than I did.

"Ink always liked poetry!" Dream thought for a moment. 

"Poetry is an art form..and he is an artist.."

"So it must rhyme!" Dream was a genius.

"Rhyme with sticks.." I pondered.

"Undertale copy eighty-six!" Error believed.

"But what about the wording?" Dream halted us. "It says Undertale eighty-six, not copy eighty-six.."

"That could be the eighty-sixth AU.." I sighed. "All right, Killer, Horror, and Cross, you search the forest of Undertale copy eighty-six, and if nothing's there, search copy eighty-five, too; the number may include the original."

"Yes, Dad!" They saluted and left.

"As for us, Error, do you know the eighty-sixth version of Undertale?"

"Give me a minute.." Error looked through some codes. "That would be Fellswap."

~~~~~

There are so many different versions of Fellswap and Swapfell, so Imma just say it's my own version to avoid looking up who to credit in this vast land of alternate universes.

~~~~~

"Then let's get going." 

I opened a portal to the aforementioned AU, and Dream and Error followed me through. We began to search the forest, looking for what we could have only believed was a pile of sticks; how that would have given us our next clue, I had no idea. We walked for about an hour in the forest, and I was prepared to give up and see if the others had found anything when..

"Nightmare, Dream!" Error called out. "I found it!"

We were by his side in a millisecond, bearing witness to a giant painting of Fellswap's Sans throwing a branch onto a pile of sticks; beneath the painting lay a note.

"It's his handwriting." I decided to read the note out loud. "Congratulations on finding this place! If you found it within a day of finding the note in my house, you're pretty smart! Now we'll test your memory! When you began your little group, you attacked a specific original AU. Your job is simple: go there and find the note I've left in the Waterfall; it should be behind said waterfall in the secret cavern..good luck! I wonder how I'll be torturing your precious little Dust..as you..read this.." I sighed sadly; Dust needed me! I couldn't fail him..

"So..what AU did you attack?" Error wondered. 

"..." Fear struck me. "I don't remember.."

~~~~~

Dust.

~~~~~

It had been three months since Ink captured me. He no longer stopped torturing me when I started yawning; he forced me to wait at least a week, and even then, it was hard to sleep..pain wracked my body every waking moment! He also began to limit how long I could sleep; I was out for three days once, and he made it clear that it wouldn't be happening again..my limit was four hours. He also didn't leave the room anymore; he stayed there with me. He claimed that it was boring when I slept, but he was willing to wait for me to wake up to play. I didn't like playing; last time we played, he almost broke my spine..he had played with it for the entire week. He told me that I'd find the torture easier to handle if I thought of it as playing; that didn't help..

"Dust, time to wake up!" Ink giggled happily, interrupting my bad dreams. "Another wonderful week of play is ahead of us! What shall we play this week? Cut and Paint? Hide and Scream? Tag, You're Split? Jump leash? Hangskelly?"

"..." I didn't like choosing my own torture..it was frightening just thinking about it! "C-can you ch-choose?"

"Aw, that's so nice of you!" Ink grabbed my leash and pulled me closer. "Well, we played Hangskelly last week..tell me, is there anywhere we haven't gotten to in Cut and Paint?"

I bowed my skull; my body was littered - I wasn't even exaggerating..I couldn't find many places without cuts - with remnants of past torture, except one place..

"Show me, Dust." Ink urged. "Before I decide to find it myself."

I whimpered slightly, taking off my shirt to reveal my untouched sternum; Ink smirked when he saw it.

"Now how could I have missed this?" He laughed.

He took out a bladed paintbrush - my least favorite weapon - and began to make marks on my sternum, one by one. I sobbed as he started to cut the inside as well, paying no heed to the fact that he was touching my soul. At one point, he nicked my soul with a sharp edge on his paintbrush, causing me to flinch back; that earned me ten new marks on my face and the promise that he wouldn't protect my soul from the blade when he began the painting of my wounds..why did I have to flinch so much? Soon enough, he did begin the painting, and he took no steps to cover the blade that now moved near my soul. I didn't know how many times it made contact; all I knew was that it hurt worse than I would have liked, and it was going to happen over and over for the next week. The chipping of the paint came as relief, since my soul was no longer threatened by a sharp blade..for a while. It didn't take long for the process to repeat itself..I had long since stopped counting the repeats of the accursed game. Cut, paint, chip, cut, paint, chip, cut, paint, chip..over..and over..and..over. Ink decided to stop after five days as opposed to his usual seven..he washed and dried my sternum before looking at me.

"Well.." He said. "That's the last place, isn't it?"

I nodded; he had tortured every bone that I could think of..even the tiny ones!

"But..scars won't last forever.." Ink fingered one of the new ones, causing me to shiver slightly. "Right?"

I nodded again; scars didn't stay on skeletons forever..except brands, apparently.

"Unless, of course, we use my special mixture." Ink's words frightened me; I didn't want my scars to last forever! "Oh, calm down, Dust! I won't use it for three more months..I want you to have more scars..this is hardly enough for my pet."

Ink lifted a phalanx up to my face, running it over the scars he had called punishments. 

"And..actually, we haven't played Cut and Paint everywhere.." Ink touched the smooth bone on my skull. "We must have forgotten about this..but I think you'll need more time to prepare, so I'm giving you an extra two days of sleep; you're welcome. In the meantime, I'm sharpening my blades, to give you the best experience I possibly can. Night night, Dust."

Ink allowed me to put my shirt back on and put me to bed as I dreaded the next week..that was why he was giving me extra time..he wanted me to be extra awake for the game involving my skull..I cried myself to sleep thinking of how painful it would be. I must have slept for over a day this time, since I felt well-rested, as opposed to my usual exhaustion. When I opened my eyesockets, I was immediately pulled out of bed and led by my captor to a chair with straps. I was promptly strapped into the chair, where I realized that my skull was completely exposed; Ink had planned this. He tied my leash to a nearby piece of furniture before attaching a few chains to my collar; to end it off, he tightened the collar to the point that made me feel like I was suffocating, despite not being able to do that.

"So, I've noticed that when we play, you like to move your skull." Ink chuckled. "Try to move it now."

I moved my skull back slightly, being met with a sharp pain in my neck; I moved it back to its original position immediately.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Ink tugged at a chain, causing me to scream in pain. "Now there are consequences for moving! So, I expect you to stay still for the next week, understand?"

"Y-y-yes.." I didn't want to risk nodding..that would have hurt.

"Good. Now we'll begin!"

Ink brought out what looked to be a newly-sharpened bladed paintbrush; I wept. He started in the front, where I could see the blade coming for me. He would occasionally pretend to go in for a deep cut before holding back, succeeding in scaring me out of my wits. Other times, he went for it, and there was nothing I could do to stop him..I felt so helpless. Every time he cut me, I flinched, causing that pain to surge through my body; I couldn't help it. When he was pleased with his work in the front, he began with the back, doing much the same things, but I wasn't able to see them. The painting portion eventually began, and I was almost constantly moving my skull; the pain was too much! Ink took advantage of my forcefully closed eyesockets to return to the cutting portion for a bit, finally making cuts on eve part of my body. When the chipping began, I sobbed even more. Then the repeating began. Repetition was my least favorite word..I was begging him to stop..but he didn't. The week felt like ten thousand eternities, but Ink eventually did unstrap me from the chair and force my skull underwater, letting me know that I had survived yet another week of torture.

"That was enjoyable, wasn't it, Dust?" Ink asked, as he dried my skull off. 

I looked at the ground.

"What was that?" Ink leaned in closer.

I nodded.

I wanted my family.

~~~chapter end woot~~~

Dust bean hurt bad.

Thanks for reading my hurting writing!

Bye!