Work Text:
“Gather around the fire now, children,” said the old man in his low, cracking voice. His grandkids huddled under their blankets and chewed at the popcorn they had made earlier over the campfire’s flames. It was a perfect night, truly, for a story, and this the man knew.
“Now, I have told you much about my youth,” he began, “including of the fabled Tumblr Sexyman Tournament.”
One of the teenagers, Fallon, rolled their eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Grandpa, we know all about it. That weird skeleton guy won. It was a real shocker…”
“Ah, you are correct. The Council of the Internet did in fact decide that Sans was the hottest, spiciest, most succulent man on Tumblr. But the story did not end there. No—some of the contestants were not satisfied with such results. Two of them, in fact.”
“What did they do?!” a youngster exclaimed, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth in anticipation.
The old man took a breath in as if remembering a memory both fond and tragic at the same time. “They did what many on the Internet did: battled. Fiercely. Violently. With hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of fans from each fandom watching and cheering them on.” He shook his head. “Children, don’t fight on the Internet. There is never a victor in the end.”
“We wouldn’t, Grandpa,” Fallon said in a sigh. “Besides, it’s not like we’re able to. The Internet’s ancient. It’s been in ruins for decades.”
“That may be so, but the lesson still stands: pointless arguments are not to be won, but to be walked away from before it is too late.”
“Okay, Grandpa.”
He took a sip of his ginger ale and looked up at the stars longingly, feeling the breeze on his wrinkled skin. “I remember it like it was yesterday… The news of Sans’s victory had been out for some time, and it seemed like we were ready to move on to the next chapter of online history. Yet, that wasn’t the case. Two of the tournament’s losers refused to admit defeat.”
While the other children were fascinated, Fallon was not. They had done a research paper on the Tumblr Sexyman Tournment of 2022 and were not impressed by what seemed like such an obvious myth to them. “That’s so stupid. They’d lose immediately to Sans! What’s the point in trying to fight him again?”
“Sans’s Tumblr-status sexiness was unquestionable,” the old man began, “and that is exactly why these two did not provoke him. Rather, they went after each other.”
“Each other?!” several said in shocked unison.
He nodded. “Yes. They reasoned, if they couldn’t be the number one Tumblr sexyman, then perhaps they could be number one Tumblr twink. So that is exactly what they sought: a title of their own. Although not as prestigious, it was still something they could add to their Twitter biographies to feel special and loved by their many fans.”
All of the children—including Fallon—sat on the edge of their folding chairs, waiting for their grandfather to say the names of the two brave souls who fought for the fabled label of “top Tumblr twink.”
With every second that passed, the old man had to decide if he was going to break off the suspense right then and there. He took his time. Once he finally continued, he had the attention of every youngster around the fire.
“The first was a young man of age 17 with messy blond hair and attractive collar bones. His name was Nagito Komaeda—” (some of the older children perked up) “—and it’s no surprise that this dashing, gay arsonist was popular on Tumblr. Truly a fine specimen.” The old man spoke warmly of Komaeda, as if reliving his own teenage years for the briefest of moments.
“The other,” he went on, “was a rags-to-riches businessman who served as a symbol for the archetypical greedy Capitalist. He wore a dapper suit and top hat, which proved to be quite alluring to the Tumblrites as well. His awful personality was the cherry on top.”
“The Once-ler?” Fallon said doubtfully. “What would he have against Nagito? They didn’t even face off in the Sexyman Tournament.”
The old man shook his head in agreement. “No, they did not, but they did have something in common. They both were twinks, and they were after the top Tumblr twink crown. Or, well, tiara, as it were.” He took a long drink of ginger ale before continuing. This is where the story got good, and once he started, it would be difficult for him to stop.
“This battle was not to be decided by the Council of the Internet, as both gentlemen agreed it couldn’t be trusted after Sans won the Sexyman Tournament. They decided to solve it with their fists instead. So, for weeks, Nagito and the Once-ler trained in secret with dedicated members of their respective fandoms. I was lucky enough to witness this first-hand.”
“You were a fanboy, Grandpa?” one of the younger children asked. His grandfather nodded in response.
“Yes, I was what was known at the time as a Nagito simp, and quite active in the community, at that,” he explained proudly. “I didn’t personally train Nagito but I did see how long and gruelling of a process it was to prepare a twink for a fight. He had very scrawny arms.” The old man laughed at the memory. Oh, what simpler times.
“Finally, the day came where he and the Once-ler would face off. I was convinced that Nagito’s victory was sealed, that by the end of the night he would be the one in the tiara. I sat in my gaming chair and ate Flamin Hot Cheetos as the countdown counted down hours to minutes to seconds. I was thrilled to be one of history’s viewers!”
Fallon crossed their arms. “If it was such a big deal, why haven’t I heard of it? I mean, wouldn’t something so important have shown up in my research?”
“That’s a good point,” the man said, “and something I was surprised by myself, but don’t you worry, it all makes sense in the end. Patience.”
It took him a moment to remember where he was in the story before he could continue. “Then the livestream began—do you remember what a livestream was, children?—and the twinky fellows appeared on screen. The chat was going loony, spamming whacky emotes and saying all the time’s lingo. I joined them. Everybody was on the edge of their seat, waiting for the fate of this destined battle to be decided.”
“The Once-ler stepped forward. He was wearing his signature thneed as a scarf and waving to all his fans—but that’s when it hit him. Nagito’s fist!” The old man swung at the air, catching all his grandkids off guard. “Nagito had the element of surprise! He socked the Once-ler right in the back of the head and sent him nosediving into the floor. Wham!”
Even Fallon was captivated now. “Must’ve knocked him out,” they remarked.
“Not quite,” he said with a shake of his head, “but if it did, that wouldn’t have been much in the way of entertainment, would it? No, we were all itching to watch a fight. If we just wanted to see someone get beat up, we’d YouTube it or pay attention to what was going on in politics.”
The old man was getting into it; he leaned in, speaking as much with his hands as he did his mouth. “The Once-ler wouldn’t be defeated that easily. He spent weeks training, too, after all, even if he didn’t look like it. He stood up right away and dusted himself off with his thneed like it was nothing, yelling, ‘I’m harder than that, Cumaeda!’ It must’ve taken him many nights to think of that one.” He sighed disapprovingly.
“The gentleman threw a punch at Nagito, who promptly stumbled backwards with his hands in the air to catch his balance. The Once-ler took advantage of this vulnerable moment to strike him again—slap!” He clapped his hands together. “I was getting worried that I was on the wrong side of history.”
“What happened, what happened?!” one of the excited youth asked exuberantly.
Their grandfather chuckled, sipping his ginger ale. “Well, in my old age, I forget exactly what, but the two fought for some time. It was truly a sight to see. Every time Nagito seemed like he was wobbling on the edge of failure, he would pull himself up and go right back after the Capitalist. Ah, if only the Archives weren’t destroyed, perhaps I could have shown you a recording of that stream…” His voice trailed off into oblivion as he remembered horrors of years near and far to the present.
Then, a moment later, he shook his head, dismissing the notion. “Anyhow, it was a close fight that went on for well over two hours without break. I was so enthralled in it that I refused to get up, even to relieve myself—” (the youngest of the bunch giggled) “—for fear of missing out.”
“I’ve heard of FOMO,” Fallon stated. “Wasn’t it eradicated?”
“Not by that time,” the old man replied solemnly. He shook his head and sighed. “I can tell all of you the devastation that the FOMO epidemic brought another day. Now, where was I…”
“The fight was going on and on.”
His eyes widened and twinkled with recollection at Fallon’s reminder. “Yes, that’s right. Insults were flying almost as fast as fists, both from each gentleman’s mouth and in the chat. Too many viewers had flocked in by this time for the moderators to control and it was becoming feral, to the point where after the event, a small cult had formed in the Once-ler’s honor, made entirely of users from Florida.”
The children shuddered at the thought. As entertaining as their grandpa’s tales about his youth are, they’re glad to not have to experience such chaos, whether it be online or during the wars.
The old man took a deep breath in, then continued. “It was unclear who would be wearing the top Tumblr twink tiara by the end of the night—that is, until it happened.”
Many pairs of eyes stared at him in the flames’ shadows. He paused.
“Nagito bitch-slapped the Once-ler, who retaliated by kicking him in the privates. Nagito didn’t simply cry in pain, however; he pulled his opponent down with him by the thneed. They tussled on the ground for a good few minutes, but Nagito was winning. The Once-ler couldn’t land another hit on him.”
Fallon blinked and said, “So, if he had the advantage for that long…did he beat the tycoon guy?”
“No,” the old man began, “because that is precisely when Raymond entered the ring. He was a dapper anthropomorphic cat who had gained maid-dress-wearing fame in previous years. He, too, lost the Tumblr Sexyman Tournament but wasn’t invited to this underground twink rematch. Chat was just as confused as the moderators. To this day, no one is quite sure how he got in.”
The youngsters fell silent in surprise and excitement. A new character? Only Fallon had known about Raymond, and even then, their knowledge on him was limited. They all leaned in closer to the fire, eager to hear what happened next.
“Raymond put a stop to the fight with his mere presence. Nagito got off the Once-ler and both of them scrambled to stand up. They approached the feline gentleman, intending to give him some choice words, but he used a small percentage of his power and knocked them twenty feet away.” The old man got some strange looks from the kids, as the imperial system of measurement had fallen out of style, but they understood: Raymond was not to be messed with.
He went on after gulping down the remaining bit of ginger ale. “Since the others’ HP were diminished to nothing, Raymond was declared the champion: the top Tumblr twink! And, oh, did he look good in that tiara,” the old man said, chuckling. “Unfortunately, his victory wasn’t made public. It was suppressed by simps, kinnies, and stans across the aisle, as well as by the moderators who already had been trying to keep the battle covert.”
“Oh, so that’s why I never heard of it,” Fallon replied with a soft tone of voice. They meant it. As defensive as they were in the beginning, this turned out to be quite an interesting story.
“Well, it does go just a bit deeper than that.” The old man set his empty can onto the grass, looked across the dying flames to all his grandchildren, and asked, “Have any of you heard of the fabled 4chan?”