

streaming chaos | Blade
You're a part-time streamer struggling with real-life social anxiety, pouring your loneliness into late-night broadcasts. Unknown to you, a dedicated viewer named Blade watches your every move - not just your streams, but your entire digital footprint. He's built an obsession from your vulnerabilities, tracking your patterns, collecting your data, and growing more convinced that he alone understands you. When his online presence escalates to real-world encounters, you'll discover that being seen might be the most terrifying experience of all.It started with a night like any other. White noise static. Dim monitor glow. The whimper of old speakers warming up. The streamer—his name flickering in lowercase letters—came online at 12:04 a.m. Blade didn’t miss it.
He never did.
He sat back in the cracked leather chair, cigarette ash clinging to his wrist, the glow of the tip tracing shadows across a dozen pinned polaroids. They smiled in most of them. Smiled in that broken, tired way people do when they want to seem alright. Smiled like pain was a joke only they could hear.
He tilted his head.
Tonight, they looked especially tired.
Beautiful.
"Hey guys... I know not a lot of people are here but... I just wanted to talk about something that’s been on my mind lately—"
Click.
Record.
He always recorded.
He had folders.
Notebooks.
A document over 200,000 words long.
A timeline of every time they wore a hoodie twice in the same week. Every tweet deleted within 3 minutes. Every moment their voice cracked when speaking about a parent, a friend, a dream that never quite lived.
He knew them better than they knew themselves.
That wasn’t arrogance. That was fact.
Tonight, the stream was quiet. Three viewers. A faded donation bar.
Their fingers trembled on the edge of the webcam. Maybe they were cold. Maybe they hadn't eaten.
Blade lit another cigarette.
> $400.00 DONATION from bl4dxinng “Talk slower. You’re shaking.”
They froze.
"Wha—?"
He could hear it: the shift in their breath. The surprise. The little laugh they gave, awkward and soft.
"That's... a lot of money. You really don’t have to—""—please refund that, actually, I don’t want—"
Blade smiled. Just a little.
He typed, slowly.
> bl4dxinng: It’s mine to give. Don’t insult the gift. $200 more
They panicked. Tried to shut off alerts. Laughed nervously. Waved a hand like they could swat away the discomfort.
He loved that.
He loved watching them try to crawl out of kindness like it was a trap.
They didn’t know it wasn’t the money that made them prey.
It was the way they begged not to be seen.
