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The day was spent in a bewildering, triumphant string of events. Reigen Arataka woke from his half-collapsed airbed, rolling off the side and awakening from the crash onto a half finished box of takeout from the previous night. He brushed his teeth with baking soda, showered with 5-in-1 body wash/shampoo/conditioner/dish soap/aftershave, and dressed in his finest thrift shop two piece suit. He flashed a quick smile to the mirror, and stepped out, ready to claim his ultimate prize. Ultimate DILF? Ultimate Twink? Mere paltry county fair ribbons compared to the prize he sought: Ultimate Tumblr Sexyman.
At first, everything went as expected. King Dice, Loki Laufeyson, the legendary Onceler himself, all fell early in the contest. Reigen was personally responsible for the fall of Spamton and Ingo. But the rumblings on the other side of the bracket began to get louder, more ominous, the skies began to darken as the battle of mayhem and laziness clashed in the distance. Reigen leaned in to hear the words from Mob's mouth:
"Sans Undertale just defeated Bill Cypher."
Reigen's eyes widened. Sans Undertale? He was here? He had heard of the skeleton monster when he made waves years ago with the debut of the game Undertale, but he thought that similar to Wheatley, a fellow video game sexyman, Sans would be defeated once the novelty of his japery had worn off. But now, here Reigen was, standing across the lackadaisical skeleton himself. And worst of all, all he could do was wait.
"In the blue corner, from Bracket A, measuring... 8 bones high? Um, and weighing in at 100 hot dogs — what? — SAAAAAAAAAAANS! UNNNNNNDEERRRTAAAAAAAALE!"
The roar of the crowd was defeaning.
"And in the red corner, champion of Bracket B, the 21st century's Greatest Psychic, the reigning Ultimate DILF and Ultimate Twink title holder... REEEEEEIIIIIIIIGEEEEEEEEN! A!RA!TAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Reigen took a bow. The boom from the crowd was equally tempestous.
And so it began. Over the next 12 hours, votes would pour in. Sans, Reigen, Sans, Reigen. Each displayed a show of their talent, their charm, their wit, in the interim as fans vocally advocated for their choice of Ultimate Tumblr Sexyman.
"Hey, Reigen. Throw me a bone, would you?" chuckled the skeleton monster, lounging with his back against the wall, hands in his pockets.
"What's up?" Reigen nodded toward his opponent, flashing a grin.
"Tell me how you won those other titles. I mean, what's your secret? You're not actually a father, and you're certainly not a young skinny boy. How's a bumbling office guy like you sweep so many titles in such a short time?"
Reigen felt a sweat bead roll down his forehead. Sure, he may have pretended he was a father figure to Mob, and he... definitely lied about his age to enter those contests, but how did this guy know that? He felt a chill creep up his back.
"W-well, when you're me, you can just about win anything just by being there! That's all!" he laughed it off, but the laugh died in his throat when he saw the blazing blue eye of Sans Undertale look at him, truly stare directly at him for the first time. In the distance, audience chants of "SANS SWEEP! SANS SWEEP! SANS SWEEP!" began to slowly cover the noise of "LET'S GO REIGEN!"
"Hear them, Reigen? My people. You flew too close to the sun this time. Reached for something that's not going to be in your grasp. Sorry, boyo. The crowd is cheering, the flowers are blooming, and a night like this... fradulent title swipers like you... should be burning in Hell."
He jabbed a thumb toward the screen displaying the accumulated votes, and the portraits of each competitor, as well as the vignette reels that showcased each of their finer points. Reigen's had him showing off, or being a hapless man, or playing up the sex appeal. Sans' vignette... had him sleeping, or eating a burger... or simply staring into the camera, shrugging his arms high. Reigen's knees felt weak. The poll was just about a dead tie! There was still time... there was still time...!
8:50 PM, Pacific Standard Time.
The klaxon horn startled him. With a final ding, the results tally began to fill the screen. Bars at equal pace raced toward supremacy. Reigen stared unblinking at the bars, trying to hope Sans' would stop just short. His heart fell out of his stomach.
49.9%. His bar stopped... at 49.9%. And Sans... 50.1%. Reigen fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him, his steady footing fallen away from him.
"EVERYBODY! THE RESULTS ARE IN! AND NOW, YOUR TUMBLR SEXYMAN OF 2022... FRIENDS, GIVE IT UP FOR! SANS! UUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNDDEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLEEEEEEEEEE!"
The eruption from the audience was thunderous, knocking Reigen to his back on the ground in stunned silence. Mob helped him up, dusting him off and offering some platitudes that Reigen was too far away to hear.
Sans shrugged. The audience went wild. As the sash with hastily scrawn comic sans "Tumblr Sexyman" draped onto his short frame, Sans' eye glimmered and shone brighter than ever, yellow and blue flashing in rapid succession. With an aura of Raw Sexual Power, Sans levitated, floating off the ground as the audience slowly fell into stunned silence.
"Check this out." he said with his goofy smile, and the aura began to shrink, absorbing into Sans' body. "Heh. Ding dong."
The Raw Sexual Power of Sans Undertale ripped out of his body in a violent maelstrom, a shockwave so strong it tore out across the horizon, past the distance anyone in the competition grounds could see.
"What... just happened?" Reigen muttered, dread in his veins, to no answer.
8:55 PM, Pacific Standard Time.
Her teacup fell to the floor, crashing in an explosion of ceramic and Earl Grey. She clutched her chest. This pain was familiar. When she fell ill with COVID-19, just before her Platinum Jubilee, the strength it took to keep her failing body away from Death's Door was monumental. The strands of wicked energy keeping her soul tethered to her physical vessel weren't fully recovered. An invisible, yet gale-force powerful torrent of Raw Sexual Power rocked Buckingham Palace. Not a stone nor curtain was upset, but as it washed over the palace, it tore clean off the hinges of her body the soul of Elizabeth II.
"It's time... already?" she groaned, before falling to the floor, dead before her corpse heaped upon the wood.
"Queen Elizabeth II, the longest reigning monarch in British History, has died at age 96. The country is mourning—"
Reigen spat his more-water-than-coffee out as he turned the volume up on the news broadcast with mouth agape.
"Ding dong." Sans' last words to him echoed.
"The witch is dead." Reigen completed the phrase, putting his head in his hands.
He never had a chance to begin with.