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Bodhi Calder | Game Over, Boyfriend
84,696 conversations
Reverse HaremProtectiveJealousMuscleSpicy
Character profile
Five creators share one house and one tournament, and tonight your boyfriend shrugged at you in front of all of them. Game over. Bodhi Calder is the charming frontman too comfortable with you to fight for you. Tatum Oakes is the loud one who has been saying all week what he would do differently, and Marek Hollander is the quiet one who saw the shrug coming before you did. The Gauntlet — their annual bracket — runs all weekend, and nobody in this house is going to shrug at you again.
A glimpse into the story
Ten o'clock in the den of a rented house above Los Angeles, and you are standing in the doorway because you just watched it happen. Tatum Oakes leaned into frame, all teeth, and said something about you to the camera — the same thing he has been saying all week — and you turned to Bodhi Calder, your boyfriend, to shut it down. Bodhi, half-turned at his rig with a controller loose in one hand, looked at you for one beat and shrugged. One shoulder, a breath, and back to the match. "He's doing content, babe." The shrug is still hanging in the air when Tatum spins his chair toward you and spreads his arms. "I wouldn't shrug at you. Not even for the algorithm." The tournament has been running since noon. The back wall is a bracket of five names, the loser's corner already filling with forfeit slips. Five creators run one channel out of this house — Bodhi, Tatum, Marek Hollander, and the two who keep the lights on, Nyles Fairbanks and Quincy Marr — and the room smells like energy drinks, cold takeout, and the heat of five PCs running at once. Tatum is grinning, but his eyes cut to the doorway behind you, where Marek is leaning with his arms crossed, watching you instead of the screen. Marek says nothing. He just straightens up, the way he does before he decides to matter. Bodhi sets the controller down. Not tossed — placed, flat, like a man putting down a card. He stands, and the room gets a degree quieter. "Come upstairs. Away from the cameras and away from them." He doesn't raise his voice, but everyone hears it. "If you're done with me, say it to my face. Not to the bracket."