Rarepair New Year 2026

Karma Seraphim was the eldest of six, and the only one more proud of that fact than Karma was their father (or had been, until he'd choked on poisoned wine that Karma would have taken great pleasure returning to sender). Karma was a family man (and not just regarding the Family or the Business that came with it). He gave a whole lot of fucks about his brothers, a lot more than Karma liked to admit.

He gave a whole lot of fucks about his brothers, but a lot of good 'fucks' did them when they came home in a ziplock bag.

Striker had been the youngest, nearly twenty years Karma's junior. He'd just finished college, passed the bar, made his first steps as a lawyer. Karma had stood behind him every step of the way, even before he had had to step in for their dad as Striker's guardian.

Is the weight in Karma's chest the grief that comes from losing a brother? Or a child?

Or is it both?

Does Karma just not have it in him to bury two kinds of family at once?

Karma slams the newly-emptied whiskey bottle down onto the desk. It makes the dust in the bag shift, a soft noise that he barely hears over the ringing in his skull that hasn't really stopped since he opened the package the damned bag came in. The Judge hasn't ever really shut up since the accident that ruined half his face (and all of his mana lines), but Karma can't remember it ever being quite so loud when there wasn't anyone to actually weigh judgement on.

Karma doesn't know who did it. They didn't even try to ransom him. This was a message. Someone had reduced Karma's brother to a fucking telegram and he didn't even know who it was.

His hand starts shaking the moment he lets go of the whiskey bottle. There's that not-so-dull ache in Karma's face warning him that he needs another cigar. The old-ass grandfather clock chimes the hour out in the hall, a dissonant percussive tone compared to the internal static of his own thoughts. Karma's trembling fingers settle on the bag of dust, mapping out the shape of a painfully familiar bowtie buried underneath.

He swears it still feels warm. That warmth shoots up his arm, up and up until it coils somewhere between his eye sockets, and then oozes out again as something wet.

The heat and wet only compound the interest on an as-of-yet uncollected debt that someone was going to pay-

Friday night, Red had gotten a series of text messages. Given the look on his face (and the strange combination of fondness and annoyance that each text ushered) Dance could only assume it was Red's friends that Dance did not like.

Red was blowing them off, Dance could tell, but Lust (sweet, caring, forgiving Lust) asked what it was about. Red told them that his friends wanted him to join them saturday for some fun at the beach.

And Lust wanted to go.

Dance wasn't about to be the one to tell him no.

So there he was on saturday, packing a small duffle to go on a beach date with his datemates that he knew was going to suck, because a couple of assholes were also invited. Dance wasn't in the best mood about the whole thing.

"SANS??" Papyrus called from somewhere else in the apartment. "DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT??"

Dance zipped his duffle, slinging it over his shoulder and slinking into the livingroom. "yeah? i'm about to go out, but..."

"OH, WONDERFUL, SO AM I. HENCE MY REQUEST. I LENT MY CAR TO UNDYNE LAST NIGHT AND SHE HAS YET TO RETURN IT. WOULD YOU MIND TERRIBLY GIVING ME A LIFT WITH YOUR SPACE TIME JAPERY?? MY PLANS WERE TO DRIVE, AND I DO NOT MIND WALKING, BUT I WILL BE LATE GETTING THERE IF I DO SO." Papyrus didn't look it, but Dance could feel he was sincerely apologetic about even asking. He knew how much his brother hated being late going anywhere. "I SHOULD BE ABLE TO WALK HOME AFTERWARDS, SO YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT A RETURN TRIP!!"

Dance chuckled. "nah. i don't mind." He held his hand out. "where you headed?"

"THE BEACH!!!"

"fuck."

"LANGUAGE!" Papyrus took hold of Dance's hand.

Dance took a deep breath, quickly texting Lust that he would meet the two of them there (apparently).

"uh, bro?" Dance hummed as he pulled them both through a shortcut. "i was gonna hang at the beach with, uh-"

"WITH YOUR SLIME EXCHANGING DATEMATES??"

"cut it out with the slime quips!!"

"CUT IT OUT WITH THE SLIME SWAPPING!!!"

"ugh, yeah, with them. at the beach. so. ya don't mind... uh... not playing third- fourth- unnecessary wheel do ya?"

Papyrus snorted. "I WILL BE TOO BUSY TRYING TO SALVAGE MY OWN BAD DATE TO HAVE TIME TO MEDDLE IN YOURS. BUT IF I COME OVER SAYING 'BROTHER' A LOT AND HINT STRONGLY THAT YOU ARE SICK AND NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION, KNOW THIS IS NOT ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO GET YOU TO SEE DR ALPHYS, BUT A CLEVER JAPE ON MY PART TO EXCUSE MYSELF FROM THE REST OF THE EVENING."

"so i'm your emergency out plan? got it." Dance shifted the duffle a bit on his shoulder, walking with his brother out of the shadow of an alley and out towards the sunny beach, looming, disparagingly crowded. Another reason he hadn't wanted to come. The emotional 'noise' was already giving him a headache. "who is this date with, anyway? not the human again, is it?"

"OF COURSE NOT!! WE ARE COMPLETELY PLATONIC!! NO I MET THIS UNSEEMLY FELLOW AT THE DISCOTECH-"

"dance club-"

"DISCOTECH, LAST WEEK. FRIDAY. THE DAY BEFORE I MET YOUR DATEMATES. I WAS HAVING QUITE A LOT OF FUN, LETTING LOOSE, ENJOYING AN ORANGE JUICE BECAUSE I AM NOT AN ALCOHOLIC-"

"papyrus-"

"SORRY, SORRY, I KNOW YOU HAVE BEEN DOING BETTER-"

"oh my god-"

"AND THESE TWO SMELLY FELLOWS START TRYING TO DANCE ON A TABLE. I BELIEVE THEY WERE INCREDIBLY INEBRIATED. AND I TURN AND TRY TO GIVE THEM A FEW POINTERS, BUT THEN, AGAIN, THEY ARE QUITE SLOSHED-"

"bro-"

"BLOTTO!!"

Dance just started snickering by this point.

"UTTERLY BACCHIC!!"

Dance's laughter became full blown cackling, and he had to hug himself to keep his bones from rattling off in all directions (or so it felt like).

Papyrus beamed, proud of himself for making his brother laugh. "SO I GO OVER TO OFFER MY ASSISTANCE, TO TRY AND IMPROVE THEIR BIBULOUS BUMBLING, BUT THEY IGNORE MY ATTEMPTS TO GET THEIR ATTENTION, AND THEN THIS THIRD FELLOW, THIS THIRD FELLOW WHOM I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS THEIR KEEPER, AS HE IS THE ONLY ONE OF THE THREE NOT SICKENINGLY SQUIFFY-"

"pffft, squiffy-!"

"TIDDLY!! SNOCKERED!!"

Dance knew he looked like an idiot, but there was something unfairly hilarious about his brother's seemingly endless euphemisms for 'drunk' and he could not stop laughing. "h-half-seas-over??"

"KEEP YOUR AWFUL PUNS OUT OF MY STORY!!" Papyrus continued to navigate the crowds, sometimes weaving around the many patrons, sometimes parting the crowd with his sheer presence, leading Dance with a hand on his shoulder. "BUT YES. SO THIS FELLOW IS THE ONLY ONE OF THE GROUP AT HIS TABLE NOT OVERLY FREAKISHLY FUDDLED AND HE TELLS ME, WHILE STONE COLD SOBER, TO-" and it is at this point that Papyrus pitched his voice just that little bit higher, emphasizing the accuracy of his recitation. "'GO RECRUIT FOR YOUR CIRCUS ELSEWHERE. THESE CLOWNS ARE MINE.' AND I AM NOT CERTAIN IF THE INSULT WAS TO MYSELF OR HIS COMPANIONS BUT THAT WAS NOT THE MOST UNUSUAL PART. THE UNUSUAL PART WAS THAT THIS FELLOW WAS COMPLETELY EMPTY. HE WAS NOT HAVING FUN AT ALL. OR THE OPPOSITE OF FUN FOR THAT MATTER. IT WAS QUITE UNUSUAL. AND SO I TOLD HIM, I TOLD HIM, I SAID, 'IF I WERE RECRUITING FOR A CIRCUS I WOULD BE OFFERING THE JOB OF TERRIFYING ANIMAL, NOT CLOWN. CLOWNS ARE FUNNY. AND HAVE GRACE AND MANNERS.'"

"you did not."

"I DID!!"

"bro."

"AND THEN HE GAVE ME A LOOK AND I ALMOST THOUGHT I FELT ANGER FROM HIM!! BUT THEN IT WAS GONE. HIS CROCKED COMPANIONS THOUGHT I WAS WITTY THOUGH!! ALTHOUGH IN HIND SIGHT IT IS NO GREAT FEAT TO MAKE DRUNKARDS LAUGH."

Papyrus found an empty patch of sand, not too far from the water but also not too close. Dance took the hint and sat down, pulling out his towel as he kept listening.

"AND THEN THE FELLOW SAID, 'YOU HAVE SOME NERVE TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT.' AND I SAID 'I DO NOT HAVE ANY NERVES, I AM A SKELETON.' AND THEN ONE OF THE SOZZLED FELLOWS WENT, 'HE'S GOT YOU THERE, BRO' AND THE SOBER FELLOW GLARED AT HIM LIKE HE DID SOMETHING WRONG BUT THE PLASTERED FELLOW ONLY SNICKERED. AND THEN THE SOBER FELLOW SAID, 'GO BOTHER SOMEONE ELSE WITH YOUR IDIOCY. AS YOU CAN SEE I HAVE ENOUGH NONSENSE TO DEAL WITH.' AND THE OTHER TIPSY FELLOW SAID, 'YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH US IF YOU WOULD JUST LOOSEN UP AND HAVE FUN!' AND THE OTHER OTHER DRUNKARD SAID 'BUT MY BRO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO HAVE FUN' AND THEN THE SOBER FELLOW SNAPPED 'YES I VERY WELL DO KNOW HOW TO HAVE FUN!!'"

"why do i get the feeling you poked the bear?" Dance asked, laying back on his towel.

"SHUSH YOU!! WHERE WAS I?? OH YES!! AND THEN I SAID 'I VERY MUCH DOUBT IT, GIVEN THAT HAVING FUN IMPLIES YOU ENJOY SOMETHING, AND YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF ENJOYING ANYTHING!!' BECAUSE YOU SEE HE COULD NOT FEEL ANYTHING AND SO OF COURSE COULD NOT ENJOY THINGS!!! AND APPARENTLY HEARING THE TRUTH MAKES THIS FELLOW RATHER ANGRY, WHICH IN TURNED PROVED ME WRONG, WHICH OF COURSE ALSO PROVED ME RIGHT BECAUSE I AM A FIRM BELIEVER THAT ANYONE CAN DO BETTER IF THEY TRY, BUT I DIGRESS. HE SNAPPED AT ME. HE SAID, 'I'LL SHOW YOU INCAPABLE'! AND THEN GRABBED MY ARM RATHER HARSHLY AND DRAGGED ME BACK TO THE DANCE FLOOR AND-" Dance was certain he felt a flicker of something close to delight at the memory his brother had fumbled over. "...WELL, I AM NOT TOO PROUD TO ADMIT HE WAS RATHER TALENTED AT BALLROOM."

"so you asked him out?"

"OF COURSE NOT!! THEN HE STOMPED BACK TO HIS BROTHER AND HIS FRIEND WHO HAD STARTED CANOODLING WITH EACH OTHER AND HE SAID 'QUIT EMBARRASSING YOURSELF!!' AND THEN ONE OF THE SOUSED FELLOWS SAID, 'YOU ONLY THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU CANNOT GET A DATE.' AND THEN THE SOBER FELLOW SAID, 'I CAN DAMN WELL GET A DATE YOU INSUFFERABLE BOOZEHOUND!!' AND THEN I SAID 'LANGUAGE!' AND THEN-"

Dance cackled.

"AND THEN HE TURNED TO ME AND WENT, 'YOU. ME. NEXT WEEK. TWELVE O'CLOCK. THE BEACH. BE THERE.' AND I, NEVER ONE TO TURN DOWN A CHANCE TO PERFORM CHARITY, GRACIOUSLY AGREED."

Dance's brother was a pretentious, prideful bastard, and Dance loved him. He was the coolest. Even if he did drive Dance absolutely up the wall sometimes. "bro, its like 11 now. your date isn't until noon. why-"

"BECAUSE IT IS A BEACH DATE. SO OF COURSE I MUST ARRIVE EARLY TO SECURE A SUITABLE LOCATION!!"

Edge interrupted. "DO YOU REALIZE YOU JUST SET THE MICROWAVE FOR 1.5 HOURS?"

"meh."

"THAT'S ENTIRELY TOO LONG. NOT TO MENTION THAT IF WE WAITED THAT LONG FOR YOU TO "COOK" WHAT I WILL CHARITABLY CALL "FOOD," THE STORES WILL BE CLOSED."

"shame," Red muttered.

"hmm, well. how long d'you think these take to cook? 80 minutes? 70?"

"THE PACKAGE SAID READY IN SEVEN (7)."

"that doesn't seem like enough, but i guess you're the boss."

He made no move to adjust the humming microwave, which was steadily counting down from 88:88.

Edge reached for the buttons, but Sans gently blocked him. "careful, the mic's custom. we can just stop it when 7 minutes have gone by."

Edge subsided.

The three of them stood around in silence except for the humming of the appliance. Red watched the first couple of digits cycle. When the minutes spot should have switched to a 7, instead it showed a cartoon hand pointing down, then left, then a frown emoji, then a pennant.

"uh…" Red pointed wordlessly at the timer. Sans turned to look.

Three more symbols followed: a raindrop, a flag, and the raindrop again.

"is… is your microwave calling for help?"

Edge frowned in confusion. Having mostly grown up here in Ebbott, Edge wasn't quite fluent in the old tongue. Red really needed to talk to him in their mother language more often.

"oh, uh, it does that sometimes." Sans smacked the side of the machine with a bony clatter. The display went dark, then showed "666" in red, then went back to peacefully counting down. "i think the display's picking up stray hawking radiation. might not have put enough shielding in the waveguide…."

Red stepped back. "hawking radiation? your microwave is emitting black body radiation? like, from a singularity!?"

"ehh… just a little one." Sans held his thumb and fore-phalange up, almost imperceptibly close together.

There was a pause. Edge looked like he was thinking of stepping back but decided that as a body-guard his duty included protecting his charge from whatever quantum physics doom might emanate from his kitchen appliances.

"that's," Red tried to keep his tone even. "the coolest fucking thing i've heard all week. how do you keep it from dragging your kitchen into low-earth orbit?"

A smile, more genuine than the plastic expression he had been wearing all afternoon, spread across Sans's face like an octopus stretching its legs.

"i was worried about that at first too, but the trick is just to trap it in a li'l time-space inversion. y'know-"

Red interrupted. "three dimensions of time, one of space, i understand. but that don't do nothin' about the-"

"dark matter?" Sans finished, eyelights shining. "yeah i thought that was going to be a problem too, but then i remembered this terry pratchett line, and-"

The both descended into what Red was not too proud to call "excited nerd rambling" until Edge cleared his throat a couple of times.

"IT'S BEEN MORE THAN SEVEN (7) MINUTES. SIGNIFICANTLY MORE."