bairnsidhe

Pan is for Panic

When nobody knows

How to pin you down

And so they trip over

Themselves instead.

Pan is for Pantheon

The long long list of

Virtues and vices

Deified into orderly lists

Of people you might want.

Pan is for Pandemic

Everywhere and all at once

Things they overlook are

Now growing strong and

They are outnumbered.

Pan is for Pandemonium

Chaos’s favored child

The heart and soul of a storm

Riotous rout, a tumultuous

Outpouring of songs

Pan is for Pan

The great goat-horned god

Wildling of wild woods

Companion of nymph and satyr

Sexual being unbound

By restriction of rule of law

A rustic ruler of his own

Nature and nurture.

Battle blooded with gods

Child of trickster Hermes,

Fearsome to small minds

His greatest trick echoes

Across the sea at Paxi

Pan has never yet died,

He lives in the hearts of

His many soul-kin, lovers

Who seek where they find.

Pan is for All

“That’s gay,” a voice accused over the group’s voice chat.  The tone was snide and insulting.  Charlie pulled a hissing breath between his lips, hoping it could be one isolated incident, a micro-aggression that could be endured, and not the first flake of a snowballing avalanche of hate.

“Damn right it is, son,” replied Sarge and Charlie hunched his shoulders in his computer chair.  Sarge was called Sarge because he was a Marine, old and battle scarred and using the internet since it was a military intranet that DARPA was considering letting the public have a version of.  “Gayest shit ever, and I should know, since it takes one to know one.”

The line echoed with shock from everyone in the pre-fight room.  “Sarge, you… you’re gay?” Charlie asked.

“Yes I am and I did not lose a damn leg to be told that’s wrong by some young fool on the net.”

“But… you were in the military!  The only reason I went DARPA instead of joining up was because I was afraid what they’d do to me when they found out!”

“Probably what Oscar and Delta teams did to me,” Sarge said.  “Ask why that was relevant and buy a shit load of lady-boy pin-up mags to find a better model for my unit’s tattoo, since a sexy woman tattooed on a gay man don’t make much sense.”

“Eh, you’re lucky Sarge,” Micro sighed.  “I came out to my squad and they requested a transfer for me.  I didn’t much care since when the Brass found out why they dumped me in with the ladies and those gals could party.”

“You were military, too, Micro?” Saph asked, her tone happy and light.  “I didn’t know that.”

“Navy, Saph, not as macho as the Marines.  I wasn’t even a SEAL, so it’s not like I carry that with me.”

“So, wait a second,” Devorak said.  “Sarge, Micro, and Charlie are gay, Sarge, Micro and Saph were military, and I’m a lesbian defence contractor.  Except for the newbie, we’re the Gay Army up in here.”

“Oi, I’m a fan of Taco Tuesday myself here, love,” Saph protested as the team laughed and Charlie watched the username of the new player wink out, resetting their wait time.  Somehow, he thought nobody would care, they were having too much fun modding their avatar’s armor to design a uniform for the Gay Space Army Guild that Devorak suggested.


//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\^^^//////////^^^\\\\\\\\\\

The lovely and perceptive Pizilden over on Habitica has composed a march for the Gay Space Army, complete with voice re-enactment of the fateful discovery of Sarge's orientation.

Quest straightened her shimmery white capelet as she prepared for the most uncomfortable, most annoying, least fun part of being a super heroine.  Press conferences.

“Relax, you’ll be great,” her PR manager Jean-Paul said.  “The city loves you.  You saved the day, again I might add.  Everything is going to be okay.”

“And Darkmatter thinks I’m the optimist,” Quest muttered.

“Get your heroic tuchas on stage before I carry you on,” Jean-Paul threatened.  Quest went.  She wasn’t a super-genius for nothing.

The announcements went fine, she could run down the details of Darkmatter’s latest plot and rattle off hotline numbers and donation information in her sleep at this point.  It was the question and answer session she dreaded.  The press, led by her ex will-they-or-won’t-they, Brian Bradson, had an unfortunate tendency to divert from the topics she could answer easily.  If they stayed on target, she’d be fine, but they always veered into messy personal matters.  Especially since she told Brian she didn’t think he was being smart with his choices.  Putting himself in danger and taunting her nemesis just to get rescued when it went horribly awry was no way to build a relationship.

“Quest!  Quest!  Over here!” called a plucky young reporter.  Quest privately thought all newspapers had a quota of plucky young people that had to work for them.

“Yes, you, young man,” she said, nodding at him instead of pointing.  When you could and sometimes did lift semi trucks with a finger mounted gravitation reversal ray, pointing was more than just rude.

“What do you have to say about the recent photos leaked of yourself and the as yet unidentified woman in an… interesting pose?”

She knew what he was talking about of course.  The media had been trotting out pictures Brian’s photographer Charlie took of her checking Dacia for injuries since she told Brian the answer was solidly ‘no’.  They looked a lot more intimate than it had been.

“The young lady has declined to approve her name being shared with the media, and has made a full recovery from the injuries I was checking when those photos were taken.  Next question.”

“I didn’t actually mean those,” the kid said.  He held up a tablet open to CapeWatch.com and a shot that made Quest’s gut drop.  She was hugging Dacia, the shorter woman resting comfortably against her chest, arms at the small of Quest’s back.  “These were released last night.”

Quest’s cheeks burned.  “My personal life is just that.  Personal.  Next question.”

“Does this mean you’re coming out as a lesbian?” shouted someone at the back.

“No.  I’m not currently identifying as lesbian, however my stance on the basic human right of all, regardless of sexuality or gender still stand.  Next question.”

“What about the rumors that this woman is the infamous villain Darkmatter?” Brian called and suddenly the crowd’s roar was a mutinous whisper.  Quest would be willing to bet it hadn’t been a rumor until just now.  Of course, Brian knew Dacia and Darkmatter were the same person, he’d been there when Quest talked her down once and the hazy gloom that surrounded her dropped enough to see her face.

“I’ve already said I won’t be betraying her identity to the public media, Mister Bradson,” Quest said with a glare, “and you of all people should know I have no problem talking about Darkmatter.  You’re the one who printed the words, and I quote “Quest spends so much time talking about her nemesis, it’s no surprise she has yet to be seen with a boyfriend or husband, it would be the rare man who could tolerate that level of infatuation with another man.”  End quote.  Make up your mind Mister Bradson.”

Brian blinked, his face growing dark.  Then the sky grew dark and roiling clouds appeared in the previously sunny sky.  Darkmatter dropped down from one like an acrobatic drop of rain, and slapped a canister from Brian’s hand.

“GRAB IT!” she howled, her powers forcing her voice into a tinny reverb that echoed oddly.  “HE HAS TETRAMINE!”

The crowd broke from their panicked freeze to dogpile the can of Quest’s only weakness.  The ordinarily harmless chemical could make Quest… dangerous.  Uncontrolled.  Darkmatter had used it once.  Only once.  She knew where the lines were, even if she claimed to like coloring outside them.  Nobody wanted a repeat of that, though, so when her shadow-minions lunged at the can, it was locked down.  She sauntered over to Quest.

“Sorry to interrupt your little show,” she sneered, the androgynous tone somehow catching the sarcasm.  “But nobody fucks you over but me.”

“Dac-- Darkmatter,” Quest sighed.  “I’m tired.  Can we do this another day?  I just… I just can’t right now.”

“Alright,” Darkmatter agreed.  “Tomorrow.  Tonight, go home to your little girlfriend and make the most of what time you have.  Muahahahaha!”

As Darkmatter vanished in a mist of gloom, Quest rolled her eyes.

“What did Darkmatter mean, girlfriend?” a reporter asked.  “You said you’re not a lesbian!  Are you bisexual?”

“Let’s just say I’m questioning,” Quest sighed.  Her supervillain girlfriend was going to get an earful tonight.  “Thank you for coming, no more questions.”