The Bonechelor

Round 1 (next)

Chapter 1: Introductions

Welcome to The Bonechelor! Where eight skeletons will be competing for the affections of our attractively wealthy bachelor–Cash! You can find some awesome art of him here! (by @paintys-actual-art)

(This is just a silly little shitpost-style thank you to all of you for helping me reach my 400 follower milestone! I’m so grateful for your support, and I hope you find this little game entertaining.)

In this first chapter, we will be introduced to our eight contestants–and at the end of each subsequent chapter, I’ll be posting a poll where you guys will be able to vote off the skeleton you think is least deserving of Cash’s affections–or perhaps you’ll vote according to which skeletons you find the most entertaining. (If you’re anything like me, seeing Cash suffer probably brings you great pleasure.)

Anyway–without further ado: The Bonechelor!

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Cash gazed sullenly at
the long empty table before him. Tall, golden candelabras had been placed at
the centre of the deep violet table cloth, their flames flickering in the
breeze let in by the open windows across the room. Rich fruit and fresh bread
filled the bowls beside the candles, and the finest porcelain plates and silver
cutlery had been arranged at each place setting.

The marble floors of
the dining hall had been polished to shining perfection, and every surface,
ornament, and sculpture had been rigorously dusted. The soft scent of lavender
perfumed the air—along with the citrus of the orchard of trees in the gardens
outside.

Cash leaned against
the arm of his chair with his chin resting on his hand, and yawned. The evening
ahead was going to be tiresome—but he knew he had no way of getting out of it
(as much as he’d have liked to).

A small part of him
silently hoped that he might draw entertainment from watching the other
skeletons fight for his affections. It could prove amusing. And there was
certainly no fear of attachment—they were only here for his money, after all.

“Heya, Patches—why so
broody?”

Cash jumped at the
sound of a low voice and the sudden feeling of hands curling over his shoulders.
He grimaced, turning to glower at the skeleton standing behind his chair. “what
do you want, twisted?” he asked, irritably.

“Just makin’ sure yer
ready, sweethear’,” Twist said, grinning. “The others are gonna be here soon.”
He rounded the table, sitting in the seat beside Cash. Leaning in, he narrowed
his sockets, examining Cash’s face with a scrutinising eye. Cash flushed
slightly, looking away. “Hmm, I’m impressed—yer lookin’ very presentable.”

Twist leaned back,
swinging in his chair (much to Cash’s disdain). Scowling, Cash stared at the
table, fiddling with a thread of the silk cloth. “yeah, whatever. doesn’t
really matter, does it? they’re here for my…”

“Fer yer cash?” Twist asked, snickering. Cash
lowered his gaze, his frown deepening. “Ah, I think ya’d be surprised,
sweethear’—yer not half bad, ya know?”

Cash regarded Twist dully.
“you don’t have to humour me just because i’m letting you host this ridiculous
endeavour.”

Twist only chuckled,
standing and making for the door. “I’m gonna go get ready ta welcome yer
guests.” He shot Cash a wink over his shoulder. “They’re gonna be droolin’ when
they see ya—purple’s really yer colour.”

Cash dipped his head,
flushing hotly as Twist left. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, preparing
himself for the agony ahead of him.

****

The buzz of excited
chatter echoed through the extravagant dining hall, accompanied by the chink of
and scrape of cutlery on plates.

Cash’s food sat
untouched before him, the nerves in his soul too rampant to accommodate his
dinner. He cast a weary glance up and down the table; to his left sat Edge,
Red, Papyrus, and Sans; and to his right, Stretch, Blue, Slim, and Razz. They
all seemed quite content to ignore him for the moment (a fact he was more than
grateful for), occupied by their dinner and each other.

It was only when Twist
re-entered the room that Cash felt his ease of mind waning—Twist wore a
confident smile, and strode purposefully up to the seat at the far end of the
table. Surveying the table’s other occupants keenly, he cleared his throat to
gather their attention. Slowly, they broke away from their individual
conversations, looking up at him. He smiled broadly. “So, yer probably all
wonderin’ why Patches ‘n I invited ya here.”

“I suppose it was
wishful thinking to assume it was only for the pleasantness of our company,”
Papyrus said with a yielding sigh.

Razz looked at Cash,
the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I wasn’t aware the stingy beanpole
possessed the emotional capabilities for appreciating good company,” he said,
snidely.

Cash scoffed. “awfully
rich, coming from you, asshole.”

Sans perked up. “rich,
huh?”

Papyrus pinched his
nasal bridge. “Sans. If you’re going to pun at Wealthy Me’s expense—you could
at least attempt something more creative
than ‘rich’.”

Cash caught Twist
smirking at Papyrus, before he cleared his throat again to recapture everyone’s
attention. “Well—actually. Yer company—pleasant or not,” (spoken with a deliberate
glance in Razz’s direction) “is pretty essential ta what we’ve got planned.”

There was general
muttering around the table, and Cash caught a few suspicious glances in his
direction. Edge sniffed primly, looking at Twist dubiously. “And what exactly
does this ‘plan’ of yours entail?” he asked.

Twist grinned,
glancing at Cash. “Why don’t ya do the honours, Patches?”

Cash grimaced,
slumping further into his chair as eight sets of eye sockets fell on him. He
glowered at Twist, sighing heavily. “so, um.” He cleared his throat, heat
already rising to his cheekbones. “i seem to have found myself in possession of,
uh, quite a bit of c—money.”

Cash ignored the
barely-stifled snorts from Stretch and Red, pressing his teeth together before
continuing. “and, well… twisted wants me to. share it.”

Red’s smile slipped
slightly, and he regarded Cash with raised brow-bones. “since when do ya care about
sharin’, stash?” Despite the clear dubiety in his voice, Cash could tell he was
intrigued.

“twisted’s idea,” he
muttered, turning his gaze away from the prying stares of the other skeletons.

“Ya don’ wanna tell ‘em
how we’re gonna decide who gets the
cash?” Twist asked.

“you tell them,” Cash
said, shortly, “it was your stupid idea.”

Twist chuckled. “Alright,
if y’ insist.” He turned to survey the curious gazes of the other skeletons. “Yer
all familiar with the reality show called ‘the Bachelor’—right?”

For a few moments,
everyone was silent, until Blue released a silent gasp, cupping a hand over his
mouth. “No,” he hissed, horrified. “Twist—no!
You can’t be serious?”

Twist grinned,
shrugging. “Hey—are ya tellin’ me ya’d pass up the opportunity ta woo someone
as delectable as Patches?” Cash closed his eye sockets, counting backwards from
ten as he bit back his stinging retorts. He could practically feel Twist’s smug smile on him, and
opted to keep his gaze firmly fixed on his plate.

Quietly, Slim cleared
his throat, looking embarrassed. “i—i’m sorry, but i don’t think i’ve heard of it
before.”

Razz scoffed loudly. “Really,
mutt? Have you been living under a rock?” Everyone looked at Razz—and he
suddenly flushed, realising his slip up. “Well. The ads are always running. It’s hard to miss.” He
fell quiet, scowling at the table.

“Well, Pup,” Twist drawled, his gaze wandering very deliberately to
Razz. “Since y’asked—allow me ta elaborate.” He pushed back his chair and stood,
coming to stand behind Cash, who cringed away a little as Twist rested his
hands on his shoulders. “Patches here is our bachelor—rich, handsome… lonely.”

“oh—just tell them the
bloody rules, asshole,” Cash snapped, yanking himself out of Twist’s grip. He
caught Sans snickering, and pinned him with a cold glare to silence him.

“Aw, sweethear’—as the
host, it’s my job ta sell ya ta yer suitors.” He glanced around at the other
skeletons. “Would ya like a list a’ his redeemin’ qualities—we might be here
fer a while, but I’m tellin’ ya, ‘s more than worth—ah, alrigh’, Patches,
alrigh’,” he said hastily, as Cash caught his wrist in a vice-like grip and
glared up at him.

Sans leaned back in
his chair, his permanent grin tainted by his narrowed eye sockets. “dunno,
twisted. i think some of us would like to hear what this guy has to offer—‘cause
frankly, i’m not sure i’m convinced he’s worth all the trouble. no offence
intended, moneybags.”

Cash forced a smile. “none
taken,” he said, stiffly.

“Hey—give ‘im a chance,
short-stuff,” Twist said. “He’s got a lot ta sell—just look at ‘im.” He leaned
in to whisper against Cash’s acoustic meatus. “Smile, darlin’—makes ya look
even sexier.”

Cash glanced up at
Twist with a bland expression, earning him a chuckle. “Aw, tha’s not a smile,
love—still sexy, though.” He turned back to the group as Cash ducked his head,
blushing furiously. “Well—fer those a’ ya not convinced, there is a… monetary incentive.”

A few of the skeletons
seemed to perk up at this—most notably, Stretch. Amusement sparkled in his eyes
as he regarded Cash. “so, basically what you’re saying is… he provides the
money, we provide the sugar? does that make him our sugar d—”

“no,” Cash said insistently, scowling at Stretch, who beamed. Cash
looked up at Twist with a weary sigh. “remind me why i have to endure this,
twisted. my patience is very rapidly diminishing.”

Twist lifted a brow-bone,
but Edge interrupted him before he could respond. “I’m afraid I have to second
that, Twist. Money is of little interest to me, and to be candid—neither is a
sexual relationship with Cash.”

Cash blushed hotly,
gritting his teeth. “no one said anything about this being sexual!”

Edge blinked. “Oh. Forgive
me. I merely assumed that was what was on offer—I suppose I can be convinced to
muster up the zeal for a date or two, then.”

Cash wanted to melt
into cracks of the marble floor. His face burned, and he could feel the amused
grins of the other skeletons on him. He didn’t bother shaking off Twist’s arm
when he crouched down beside him and slung it over his shoulders. “Tha’s the
spirit, Edgelord—an’ the rest a’ ya, be grateful fer this opportunity. He’s
more th‘n worth it.” He coughed. “An’, well—fer those a’ ya who’ve got yer
heads too far up yer asses ta see it, prize money should more th’n make up fer
it.”

Razz hummed, narrowing
his eye sockets. “And just how much
are we discussing here?”

Twist winked. “Trust
me, kiddo—even you won’ be
disappointed.”

Razz looked
suspicious, but allowed the topic to drop. “So, how is the winner chosen?” he
asked. Something about the way his gaze wandered Cash’s body made Cash’s bones
crawl. He quickly looked away.

“Patches picks, a’
course,” Twist said. “At the end a’ each week—one a’ ya will be eliminated,
based on how much ‘e likes ya. Or doesn’ like ya.” He grinned at Razz. “Hope ya
got some tricks up yer sleeve, little guy.”

“Oh,” Razz said, with
a sultry smile in Cash’s direction. “I can assure you, I do.”

“so… one of us is
voted off each week,” Stretch said, slowly. “until…?”

“Until there’s two a’
ya left—then he’s gotta pick.” Twist glanced at Slim, who looked anxious. “Could
be a tough decision, or…” His gaze travelled to Razz, “an easy one.” Razz
rolled his eyes, while Slim ducked his head, his cheekbones glowing.

Excited chatter broke out
among the skeletons. Some—Blue, for example—appeared a little more enthusiastic
at the prospect than others—Red and Sans. Cash’s gaze landed on Slim, who wore
a small smile. He quickly averted his eyes when Cash looked at him, flushing
lightly. Across the table, Stretch and Edge were eyeing each other—Cash recognised
the competitive flare in their eyes, but there was something playful there too.

Twist gave Cash’s
shoulders a gentle squeeze, his lit eye socket sparkling with elation. “Looks
like yer the most excitin’ dish on the menu, Patches.”

Cash couldn’t decide whether
to be excited or terrified by the prospect.