Summary: Dream is playing a dangerous game-

Ink couldn't say he'd experienced many bad days in life (that he could remember), but today was the worst.

It had been one series of unfortunate events after the other. First, Dream kept talking over/interrupting him during their weekly Star Sans meeting and stole his crayons. Then, the Guardian of Positivity growled at him like a rabid fox before claiming the trash snacks Ink had been eyeing throughout the gathering. And, even worse, he swatted the artist with a stray tree branch when he tried to take them.

The soulless skeleton sighed as he made his way to the kitchen. If he was lucky, there would be some leftover snacks to sate his hunger with- even if they wouldn't be as fulfilling as those abandoned chocolates his traitor of a friend robbed him of.

And it seemed luck hadn't completely forsaken him yet.

There, on the main counter of the large kitchen, laid a plate bearing a single doughnut.

"Yes!" Ink cheered, snagging the prize.

Alas, his celebration was short-lived. Barely a second after he grasped the bready delight, it vanished from his hand and into another's.

"WHY?!" The artist frowned and turned toward the thief.

Dream stared at him, unmoved by his sorrows. "Consider this a taste of your own medicine."

"What does that even mean?!" Ink demanded, reaching to reclaim the doughnut.

The yellow-clad skeleton proceeded to hiss at him before jumping out the nearby window. Leaving. With the delightful, sugary pastry.

"Doughnut..." He dejectedly cried, a blue teardrop and a purple square resting in his eye sockets.