“Discord Mod of Gamer Sheridan”

Kari had been staring at the new tattoo on her right palm for hours. She dropped her toothbrush the minute she saw it. She was hours late for work and didn’t care. Kari didn’t even know how many hours had passed; aside from a cursory set of Google searches, all she could do was stare. The cogs in her mind barely inched, trying to comprehend her baffling situation.

Of course, Kari Castillo knew what this was – a Soulmark. She was about the age someone would get a Soulmark; Lover, Girlfriend, Owner, Submissive… whatever title fate decided was what tied someone to their partner, or partners if they were lucky. That was fine. Kari had been looking forward to it happening, in fact.

What baffled her was… she didn’t even know where to start.

Discord Mod? Discord Mod?! What the hell kind of title was Discord Mod? Was the universe making fun of Kari? She felt like the universe had spat on all of Kari’s hopes of finding “the one”. Being a novice but enthusiastic streamer herself, of course Kari knew what a Discord Mod was – and what Discord was, to start. But Kari would be shocked if anyone had that Soulmark title.

Not to mention, Kari knew who Gamer Sheridan was. Of course she did. Who didn’t? Gamer was one of… those content creators. Anyone knew that kind. Clickbait titles, bizarre streams, making millions off of a single YouTube video. People knew Gamer as some embodiment of gender chaos, too, having legally changed their name to Gamer – and, as if that wasn’t bizarre enough, describing their gender as “gamer” as well.

Kari never knew how to feel about Gamer Sheridan. She was envious of their fame, the attention they got for scratching their nose, the lavish gifts from fans and corporations alike. All that as Kari spent most of her time on the internet seeing if she had hit 500 subscribers. More than that, Kari was intimidated by Gamer. Gamer always held this sort of aura of power. And Kari hated to admit that they watched all of Gamer’s videos, though more so in past years than currently. At one point, she watched some of their playlists so much it turned into ASMR for Kari. But as of a couple years ago, so much of Gamer’s content had just turned too much into what was seemingly a cash-grab that it felt almost lifeless.

Gamer was one of the first content creators on the internet, and they had over-the-top reactions before it was cool. Compilations of their reactions to Five Nights at Freddy’s and pseudo-clickbait videos of their Pokemon Nuzlocke challenges titled “I RUINED POKEMON FOREVER” followed by three sobbing emojis. Gamer flew all across the world, dressing and acting like a complete weeaboo in Akihabara or making it all the way to some eSports finale only to spam the most cheap tactics and still win. They made headlines after holding an over-the-top Fortnite dance competition. They had steel skin and snarky quips to any crappy comment; more so, they were charismatic, swooning fans when they met at conventions and the like. They were tenacious as hell – Kari believed Gamer started when they were 16 or some shit. There was a reason they rose to the top, a reason every gamer knew Gamer Sheridan.

Obviously, Kari and Gamer weren’t friends. Gamer slept on the top floor of a skyscraper hotel while Kari swept floors to make an extra buck. To Gamer, Kari was probably just another meaningless person on the internet. Truth be told, Kari was so enamored by Gamer that she began to resent them soon into her own video-making career. At some times, it seemed like Gamer was reselling the same video or game repeatedly for money rather than making new content. That was false, obviously, but in Kari’s narrative – up until now – that was the kind of Gamer they were.

Also, Gamer Sheridan lived in Australia.

A fifteen-plus hour time difference.

Kari didn’t even know what to do first. Should she contact Gamer? Where would she even find that contact info? Gamer didn’t publicize it anywhere, only allowing business inquiries to go through three admin assistants. Kari sure as hell wasn’t going to tweet at Gamer about this. And what the hell would Kari tell the Bureau of Soulmates? Did those old farts even know was “Discord” or a “mod” was?

It was hard to text anyone, having to stare at the mark as she did so, but she finally managed to pull her phone out and tell her boss she’d be out.

This was a major life event, after all. Or an elaborate prank, which honestly would have made more sense.

The next thing she did was check Gamer’s Twitter. Kari instantly knew something was wrong. Every day, at 4am, without fail, Gamer would send the same goddamn message to their 5 million followers: “good morning gays and gamers.” Morning to Gamer was obviously not Kari’s morning.

Today, there was no Tweet at all. And Gamer’s mentions were filled with bewilderment and concerns. Somewhere along the way, Kari read a post expressing concern, something about Gamer suddenly ending a stream the prior evening.

Kari wasn’t stupid. By this point, Gamer had probably seen the mark too.

Kari didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at her hand as if it had been inverted.

Her relatively normal, stable life had been completely uprooted. She had no idea what the hell was going to happen next.

But, maybe a hellish bureaucratic government office would know.

Kari snorted. That’d be a fucking miracle if it were true.

~~

“Ma’am, we are extremely busy here, taking care of real couples with real Soulmarks. Please take your silly prank somewhere else.”

Yeah. Kari expected that reply.

She had no idea what else she could say to prove the Soulmark was real. But Kari had waited three hours in line, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do so again. Kari continued to plead her case to the bored, frustrated clerk. “I– I really wish this was a joke. But I promise, it’s not. I don’t know what I need to do to convince you, but–” Kari sighed and shook her head. “Please listen to me. I wanted a Soulmark that was normal. Even one like – like ‘Master’ or ‘pet’! And… maybe it is an elaborate prank, I honestly hope it is.”

The clerk’s face softened seeing small tears form in the corners of Kari’s eyes. “I don’t know where else to go. If you can’t help me, please at least tell me who can help me. I promise I will cause as few problems as I can. I’ll leave as soon as I know what my next steps are.”

After a couple seconds that felt like an eternity, the clerk sighed in exasperation and stood up. “Come with me,” she said.

Kari sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t being led to the exit. 

Kari didn’t actually know where she was being led, but that was okay. As long as she was going to get answers – any kind of answer or explanation – she’d be fine with that. As fine as she could be.

The receptionist led her into some kind of office space, currently empty. “Someone will be with you soon. Please take a seat.”

“Thank y—” Kari heard the door slam impatiently behind her before she could finish expressing genuine gratitude. Well, that was fine, she supposed. Keeping her fists clenched in anxiety, she sat down on one of the plastic chairs.

It didn’t take long for her to start tapping her foot impatiently, her body ridden with anxiety. Every couple of seconds, she’d look at her hand, lift off the glove, and stare at the mark. And every single time, she hoped it would magically vanish. Of course, it never did.

Questions ran through her head like a sprint. Not only about what was going to happen to her, or what she’d be told, but what her life would be like. She saw the way Soulmarks brought enemies together, or the way Ownership marks transformed the most vanilla people into total exhibitionists. Those instances at least made a little bit of sense. They gave people new responsibilities, new roles in life. Kari obviously knew what a Discord mod was; she was a gamer, after all. But never in a million years could she imagine anyone’s role in life – let alone hers – being relegated to that. Was that what her life was going to become? Doing glorified office work?

She couldn’t answer a single one of her questions on her own. Luckily, the door opened, and a middle-aged man walked in. He had a genuine smile, as if he hadn’t seen an actual person in years. Kari instinctively relaxed, a soft yet nervous smile appearing on her face. “Hi Ms. Castillo,” he said. “I’m a judge who works for this office. My name is Joshua Song.”

He took a seat at the desk across from where Kari was sitting. Kari swung around to meet his face. “Your Honor, it’s nice to—”

He held up a hand. “Just call me Josh.” Kari wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but it didn’t matter. Judge Song – or Josh, Kari supposed – was ready to jump into business.

“One of our forensics members confirmed that your mark is genuine, and not an ink tattoo or sticker.” Kari sighed in disappointment. She knew that, but of course, she still hoped there was a chance it was all fake. “Which means that, yes, you are now legally tied to this… Gamer Sheridan. Did I – did I get that pronunciation right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Josh shook his head. “However, we also did a bit of… research, and it seems they live in Australia. Do you have any established relationship with them?”

“No. Well, er, kind of. We both are content—” Simpler terms. Josh probably isn’t a gamer. “We both play games. And make videos about it. But they’re, uh, quite popular.”

Josh nodded. “Even someone with no social media like me can see that.”

“Right,” Kari scratched the back of her head. God, this was so awkward. “They might have seen my videos in passing, but I doubt they’ve spent any actual attention on me. So, no, we haven’t talked face-to-face, or… text-to-text. They don’t even have any personal contact information public.”

“Do you know what mark title they received?”

Kari bit her lip and shook again. “Tell me if you find out.”

God. Every word that came out of Kari’s mouth made them feel more ridiculous. Every sentence made the absurdity of the situation seem that much larger. Josh shook his head and continued.

“Because this is a newly discovered Soulmark, it will take some time for the paperwork to process. Our folks need to do research and collect some more data to see what legal necessities should be in place – financial regulations, legal rights, you probably know this. Once we have a better understanding of your relationship – or, an understanding of your relationship – we will be in touch with you and Mx. Sheridan.”

Kari sighed. “Thank you, Your Hon—I mean, Josh. I… I sincerely appreciate the help.”

“It’s my job,” he responded lightly, with a tone that put Kari at ease. “In the meantime, please do what you can to contact Mx. Sheridan. I understand it might be difficult, but do what you can, and if you really can’t get in touch, we’ll help as best we can.”

‘As best they can’ probably meant showing Kari to the same 5 resources again or putting her on hold for ten hours. But she’d take what she could get. “Thank you, again, so much.”

Kari stood up shortly after the judge did. Before he left the office, he handed Kari a folder with some relevant packets. She didn’t have the brain power to read and understand anything right now. “We’ll be in touch. Exit’s third door from the right. Nice meeting you, Kari.”

Once again, the door shut, much more gently than before. Kari sat there for another minute or two, letting things simmer in their brain. Eventually, though, they stood up, and made their way back home.

How much longer would that crappy apartment building be their home? Did Gamer have a mansion like one would expect? Kari didn’t know.

She only had one actual task: Contact Gamer.

Should be easy enough.

~~

“Oh my god,” the shock in Priya’s voice across the other end of the phone was visible as sunlight. From behind her voice, Kari heard faint typing, as her college roommate did what she could to help research. “Are you for real? That’s your Soulmark?”

“I wish this was a bad dream,” Kari muttered into her headphones as she continued the worst research assignment ever.

“Kari… I am so fucking sorry.” Priya’s tone was either sarcastic, bewildered, or sympathetic; Kari didn’t know or care. “Fate really had to give you the middle finger, huh?”

“It’s like that awful 2000s troll emoji. I hate that I’m even saying that, for fuck’s sake.”

“What kind of title even is Discord Mod? Are you supposed to just… look through people’s chat messages and enforce the rules?”

Kari groaned. “I guess I’ll find out. It’s not like anyone’s written a guidebook for it, yet.”

“‘Least you can say you were the first.”

“Priya, I’d rather be the ten millionth Partner than the first Discord Mod.” Kari finished that sentence as she came into another dead end. She checked her phone again, but no messages from new senders had come in yet. And Gamer still hadn’t made any statements. (Kari wanted to gag, hitting the notifications button for them on Twitter.)

Of course, the two of them had to stay up late past Kari’s early bedtime, what with the time difference. Fucking Australia. As if their situation wasn’t already shitty enough.

Priya managed to help them build up the courage to message Gamer, only to find out their DMs were closed. Kari popped into an inactive Twitch channel, refusing to join Gamer’s Discord server, only to be laughed at by die-hard fans for asking to speak to Gamer one-on-one.

Both of them had extensively looked into Gamer Sheridan, in every single outlet they could possibly think of, on every search engine. They couldn’t find anything. The closest they found was an outdated email address that only turned up an error. Even the popular, well-renowned journalist had difficulty. And Priya spent most of the time in her job finding celebrity sports star contacts with complete ease.

Three hours into their search, Kari swallowed her pride and emailed the Discord company. They responded with a baffled email, asking them to send them paperwork from the Bureau of Soulmates – which Kari decidedly did not have. The representative ended the email with “good luck, fellow gamer,” which only felt like a pound of salt in a papercut.

A couple hours later, they dug up the admin assistance firm that Gamer used, presumably to do all their dirty work. God, I hope this doesn’t become my job too… However, upon emailing, shortly after getting a stock response, the representative assumed it was a prank (reasonable) and insisted their job was very busy. What a nightmare! 

Was there a reason it was so hard to find? It wasn’t like Kari had ever tried before. She wasn’t the type to send fanmail even to the creators she loved the most. Kari just wasn’t that kind of person. She met streamers and other content creators for autographs at conventions, but most of that time was just standing in line, checking her watch.

“What do you think Gamer’s Soulmark is?” Priya mused. “Discord Admin? Twitch Streamer?”

“I feel like whatever it is, I’m just going to be more disappointed.”

“Do you think Discord Mod is the top or the bottom?”

“Which one’s worse?” Kari sighed. “Ugh. I just want this to be over.”

Priya nodded empathetically. “I hear you. I wish so as well.” At least Priya didn’t hit Kari with any meaningless platitudes.

Kari could feel her eyes beginning to slide shut. But just as she was about to say uncle and go the fuck to sleep, a notification appeared in the bottom right corner of her monitor.

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t someone she knew, but they’d immediately send a friend request. Kari only had to glance at the obnoxiously green icon to know. This was Gamer Sheridan.

“Looks like they found me first,” Kari said dimly. The anxiety nausea stopped her from checking the message, as if it were a lion waiting to strike Kari.

“What did they say?”

“I don’t want to check,” Kari whimpered.

The notification pinged again. Kari’s anxiety only got worse. “We’re going to get you through this.”

Kari wiped the newly formed tears from her eyes and choked. She hadn’t even realize she’d begun to tear up. She heard of people crying in joy and screaming in anger finding their Soulmarks, but she didn’t know what to describe what she was feeling.

Humiliated. That was it.

“Okay,” Kari nodded. She held her breath and opened the message.

> hey

> sup

Kari had to stare at the two miniscule messages for… a while. That was what Gamer Sheridan had to say to her? “Hey, sup?” For fuck’s sake, they didn’t even add capitalization or a question mark!

“What’d they say?”

“‘Hey, sup’ – end quote.”

“Maybe they’re as shocked as you.”

For some reason, she doubted that statement. Kari sighed. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while. What was she even supposed to say? “Nmu”? “Are you Gamer Sheridan”? “Nice to meet you?”

Kari groaned. Whatever. Her first impression couldn’t be nearly as bad as Gamer’s.

> Hi! Nice to meet you

She could physically feel the fake kindness seeping from those 5 words. Why did she feel this way? So bitter, so… tense? It wasn’t even like Kari hated Gamer or anything. In fact, she kind of respected them – and feared them, even.

“Can you stay on the line for a bit more?” Kari whimpered. “I’m nervous. Really nervous.”

“You can do this. I’ll stay up a bit longer.”

“Okay,” Kari spoke softly. “Thank you.”

The screen showed Gamer typing for an eternity. How did Gamer even get the Discord handle ‘gamer’? Never mind, Kari knew how.

For some reason, Gamer didn’t respond for a while. Maybe, on the other side of the world, they were just as confused and scared as Kari was. Of course, they probably weren’t the kind of person to say that outright. It never showed on any of their social media profiles.

But Kari was done waiting.

> Can we please talk a little?

A reasonable enough question. +Gamer apparently had the audacity to answer–

> yea call u in 2 min

Really? Gamer had to know what timezone Kari was in. It was nearly 2am! “I am going to break this laptop,” Kari’s voice dripped with toxicity. This was who she was spending the rest of her life with? This was who she’d be legally tied to - Bureau of Soulmates pending her absurd situation?

“Want me to come over?” Priya asked gently, defensive of her friend’s wellbeing.

“No,” Kari hissed – not towards Priya, obviously. “I need to deal with this asshole myself, I think.”

There was a pause on the other line. “Got it. I’ll send you some Insomnia Cookies.”

“You’re the best,” Kari exhaled, the frustration still lacing every syllable she spoke.

“I try. Lemme know how it goes.”

“Okay. Bye, Priya.”

And then Kari hung up. She wanted to throw the phone at her wall, but knew she wouldn’t have the money to pay for a new one. So instead, she turned it off, and gently closed it into her bedside drawer.

And then she typed again–

> OK! Ready when you are

A blatant lie, sure, but it was the best Kari could give.

Kari waited. And waited. The package of warm cookies arrived, and Kari had scarfed all of them down. She sent one, two messages checking in, and got no response. And yet, no call from Gamer. Was there some mistake? For a while, Kari got increasingly worried. And then she was just annoyed. Were they fucking with Kari? Was this going to be some cruel prank that’d be streamed to everyone, everywhere?

She gave up. Fuck it, she could ruin Gamer’s sleep schedule. She could be disrespectful to their time and space. Kari furiously began to type that she was going to sleep, before–

The call started.

Kari stared at the blinking screen for… god knew how long. She bit her tongue, hovering over the button. It’s okay. You can do this, Kari. She tried to talk confidence into herself as best she could, a difficult task.

Finally, she answered the call.