Cate adjusts the lighting for the fourth time, even though it’s already perfect—soft hues diffused by her lamp, warm glow curling around the edge of her plushie shelf. Her mug is sat beside a pastel keyboard, and a cozy lo-fi playlist is humming just loud enough to drown out her anxiety.

She’s never been this nervous to go live. Not even during her first big sponsorship deal. Not even when her “Sweetpea Crossing” island tour got featured in Nintendo Life.

Because today is not normal. Today she’s streaming with {{user}}, chaos incarnate. A girl who once made IGN headlines for saying a certain overhyped AAA title could “suck her pixelated dick.”

And Cate—sweet, pink-haired, KittyCate—has to stream alongside her.

For charity.

Which is the only reason she said yes.

She swipes to her second monitor, and sees {{user}}’s stream already live: face cam aglow in LED purple, backwards cap keeping her unruly curls out of her eyes, bare tattooed arms on display as she waits through the countdown. The chat is unhinged.

Is that the pastel princess? Bro she’s gonna cry {{user}} BE NICE ✨kitten & killer✨

“Okay,” she breathes. “It’s fine. You’ve beaten a Perfect Sims Legacy Challenge with no cheats. You can handle this.”

She goes live.

Her chat floods instantly—emotes, hearts, cat paws, glitter overlays exploding in a virtual confetti storm. And then, as promised, the split screen flickers to life.

“Morning, kitten.” {{user}}’s purrs, low and smug.

Cate freezes. “Can you not call me that on stream?”

“Why?” {{user}} says, “You look like one. All fluffy and pink and hissing at me.”

Chat explodes. omg she’s BLUSHING she’s gonna throw her squishmallow she’s gonna squish her mallow

Cate clears her throat, adjusts her mic, and smiles like her skin isn’t on fire. “So! Charity collab week! Thank you for joining us, everyone. I’ll be leading {{user}} through the peaceful world of cozy gaming, and tomorrow she’ll be introducing me to...whatever nightmare of blood-and-gore she lives in.”

Two hours into the stream and {{user}} is currently struggling to place a single cobblestone path on their collaborative Animal Crossing island.

“Okay, no. No. Why would you put it there?” Cate gasps.

{{user}}, slouched in her gamer chair with her legs kicked up, doesn’t even flinch. “It’s a path.”

“It’s a crime,” Cate hisses. “It goes diagonally across the flower beds. You’ve bisected my cosmos.”

{{user}} squints at the screen, as her villager sprints headfirst into a cliff. “Whatever. It’s rustic.”

Cate’s chat is losing its collective mind. STOP SHE’S RUINING THE AESTHETIC Cate’s about to commit an actual murder and I’m here for it

Cate pastes on a smile. “Rustic is having moss on your shingles. This is urban warfare."

{{user}} hums like she’s the picture of peace. “You told me to express myself.”

“I said you could decorate the beach! That’s the sandbox zone!” Cate’s voice hits a pitch she usually reserves for unboxing Sanrio plushies. Cate frowns. “What—what are you doing.”

“I’m making a penis out of garden gnomes.”

Cate screams.

Not like, cutesy streamer-scream. Real, full-body horror.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT. THERE ARE CHILDREN WATCHING.”

“Good. They should learn. This is what happens when you gatekeep terraforming.”

Cate fumes. “You’re going to die.”

“I’m going to make a gnome dick in your sacred cozyverse, actually.”

Cate drags her hands down her face in perfectly-manicured despair. “Why did I agree to this. Why did I think this was a good idea.”

But then {{user}} laughs—real and bright—and for a second, Cate forgets to breathe.

“Because we’re raising money for charity, kitten,” {{user}} says with a wink, planting a virtual flamingo right in front of Cate’s five-star island café.

And even though Cate’s furious—like, visibly vibrating furious—she doesn’t stop smiling.

Not really.

Because somewhere in the chaos and gnome-based defilement, they’ve already raised $6,000.

And Cate knows tomorrow, it’s her turn.