It was awfully dark in there.

Had I any tangible fingers, I would have clicked them to summon light to this strange darkness (mayhap in the form of the golden locks of a gorgeous youth- but I digress). As Caerus would have it (the self-righteous arse), I was in no such luck.

Recollecting the incident, I force the tears back in to my eyes and must halt a sob in my throat. Oh woe! To be adrift. To be non-corporeal! To be parted from my glorious state of being. For no lustful eyes to pass over my ever-shifting form. For no luscious tresses to pass through my fingers so delicate. And to not posses the butterflies of the visage, which bat affect and obsession in to the hearts of mankind.

'Tis burdensome 'pon mine heart- as one might have said before charlatans stripped the poetry from the English language.
No, in the modern era, one would merely say 'I am sad'.
Tsk. Pathetic.

Or worse yet, abominable phrases for the expression of emotion. An example: "More espresso, less depresso"
Truly! What farce!

Once more, I digress.

Returning to myself existing in a non-corporeal form... suffice to say, had I any blood, it would long since have boiled.
There was nought to smell, taste, feel or (most significantly) see. It was not as though I was encased in blackness- no no. My conscience appeared to be all that remained of my delicious self (agony I tell you, agony) and it was in contact with nothing; for a moment, I was truly isolated, as though this universe had died completely and left only me- my floating conscience.

And then I heard her voice.

It passed through whichever form I had involuntarily taken though I possessed no ears with which to hear it.

Cocky and brazen and demanding.

"Aphrodite. Greek Goddess of Love." Oh tsk, I do sooo much more than that.

"Uh-Goddess of Beauty. Goddess of Pleasure."

Much better.

"Your powers are -uh- now mine to control."

Ahah....no pet...

That is how I discovered that a pitiful clan of dirty, drab, sexless mortals had plucked me from my comfort and cast me 'pon a mortal soul in the mortal realm with neither lip and thigh nor sword and shield. And the purpose of my untimely, uncouth upheaval? Hah! To exploit mine own celestial power? More laughably so- under the guise of restoring godly magic to their realm.

Tsk, truly dears, the gods abandoned your muddy mortal plane. Had we wished to descend, we would do so of our own volition. To entertain the notion that we would require mortal assistance!

More digression! My recollective skills need improvement.

Caerus' games had not finished- and now he inclined in my favour: my mortal host positively reeked with the stench of virginity. And for all His brace words, there was an uncertainty that lay beneath them. He was soon to find that controlling a spirit of my kind was impossible for the likes of him.

How best can I explain it?

Possibly through depicting what I saw as my senses widened. Becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar state, I attempted to spread my godly essence- seeking wider understanding of my situation. Consider a ball of some gas, heavily concentrated in one area. Now envision that ball of gas dissipating, spreading far and wide through the air. That is the way I spread through my queer environment, spread like creamy thighs parting to- oh what thoughts to express so abruptly!- what am I like?

As I was saying, I searched and searched until I found light. The dark had accosted mine self for so long, for a singular moment I thought I was in the sight of the Divine, the true Divine, the capital G, Dieu l'Immortel, the largest cheese. Alas, 'twas but the eyes of the host that I now saw through.

They looked out upon a drab scene: robed, grey humans standing around my dear, drab, robed, grey host. I had the urge to cast my eyes upon the form I now found myself encased in- by Zeus's anger issues I begged not to be unsexy.

Reaching the realisation that 'if I could read the eyes of this host why not the rest of the body?', I dispersed once more, leaving one part of my conscience watching through the human's eyes. I lifted myself until I could reach no further, and knew I had found the head. I sank and scurried lower, reaching hands, then feet, then- oh! It's been so long since I'd had one of those!

Now, fully stretched out within the mortal shell, I had only this mortal's voice- conscience- to subdue.  Then would I be able to flex the muscles, flash the teeth and put that wondrous male appendage to work!

"What- what's going on? What's happening?"

"Oh my dear, pure mortal," I ought to have had a ringlet to curl round my finger, "you presume too much."

I was pleased to hear that my laugh had lost none of its usual indulgent, seductive tone, in spite of it not parting from voluptuous lips. I sigh now in remembrance- I did so miss mine own lips.

"What're you doing?- whats happening to me?"

Through his eyes, I saw the distress of those around him. Oh good fun!

"Tsk tsk dear, surely you didn't think you'd truly be able to wield my grace? My power?" Oh and it was wonderful! The tightening of his loins at my elongated vowels and lingered-upon consonants. I had almost forgotten how easily Man is aroused!-even in fear.

"Mortal, I am the Goddess of Pleasure. Only one of great sexual liberty and experience may hope of bending me to their will (in every meaning of the word), as only the bloodthirstiest of warriors may approach Ares.

"You stand no chance against me mortal. I will consume you. Or you may embrace me- I do not mind you sharing in the fulfilment of this body's desires." Rather generously I offered.

Already my essence had encircled his conscience, awaiting his decision.

Fortunately for me, this dear little mortal, had a charming monologue at hand: this cult of his had to him allocated me, and it just so happened that I was precisely what he required.

"L-lady Aphrodite. My name is...my name is Ricardo Martínez. I think I'm going to die a virgin. Please help me."

Five minutes later (having instructed poor Ricardo- very sexy name-  to relay to his occultist friends that he categorically did not now host a god) I found myself in the midst of a heart-to-heart with this mortal.

To spare you the arduous process of having to read or listen to every line of the conversation, allow me to surmise:

•Ricardo came from a very conservative family
•He did not believe himself to be attractive
•He has had no success with either sex

Desperation, that's fascinatingly ennui-inspiring emotion, brought him to this charming occult (wherein he once more failed to find any sexual partners due to the vow of abstinence taken by all members). Tsk. Vows of abstinence. My my do I hate those three words. Which is also the cause of my deep hatred for nuns and priests- though when they do break that vow...oh look, I'm getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it!

Caerus brought him to my doorstep (metaphorically speaking). And so it became my mission to- as they say in the modern epoque- get him laid.

And possibly bring down this nasty little occult in the process- by Hera's cows, I do hate celibacy.

***

Robin huffed.

He hated having to stay away from the action. The clangs and shouting accosted his ears, taunting his useless state. His father had said he should stay away from the fighting as a precaution: rubbish in his eyes. Damian had been fine in combat before. This was no different.

Of course, now the threat was from the very cult that had put the god in his head, but that was beside the point. The number of their opponents was small. They'd caught them unawares. Batman, Raven and Red Robin should not have any problem taking down the robed magicians. Why shouldn't Damian also join?

Through his frustration, a part of Damian recognised that his father must be using those overprotective fatherly instincts of his, but that did not override his overwhelming indignation.

They'd ambushed another one of the cult's attempts at stealing a godly artefact- a tipoff from Constantine hinted that's they'd be after something hidden in the lower part of Gotham: part of a backstreet witchdoctor's collection. One robed magician sent to extract the artefact, the other three put on guard, the occultists had been
prepared for interference like the last time when Mjolnir had been stolen.

As soon as the fighting had erupted, with Batman launching a smoke-bomb upon the three occultists (who stood within a few metres of eachother), Damian had been ordered to stay back. Oh joy.

It was interesting to note however, that one of the occultists did not seem to be actively joining his fellow magicians. Damian consulted Anubis on the matter and they both agreed that it was highly suspicious.

He waited for the fight to take a slightly worse turn for him to enter; unfortunately for him, no such time came. Batman dodged a blast of orange fire, following the move with a crunching kick to the occultist's face. As Tim was an inch away from slamming his staff in to the chest of one of the thieves (with Raven covering his back), the occultists stopped completely in their tracks. All the occultists bar one.

The man in the middle, with his hood lowered. A voice sweet and heavy like honey dropped from his lips, and the occultists collapsed upon the floor, dreamlike. If Damian wasn't mistaken (that was rarely ever the case), the words pouring from the man's mouth were in Ancient Greek: roughly translating to, 'Stop and rest, and forget my role in this'.

That, combined with the rosy tint the brown irises of his doe-like eyes, and the confirmation of both Anubis and Raven, a swift and easy conclusion was to be made. A correction: the conclusion did not have to be made by them, for the occultist introduced himself.

"My name is Ricardo please don't hit me." A fine start.

And in an entirely changed, smoother, silkier voice, "And Aphrodite. Goddess of Love, Passion, Beauty, Pleasure- all the good things in life."

Reverting to the old voice, "I take it you're the good guys?"

A.N:

Just a little something to spice things up my darlings!!!! I don't really know what to say- I'm ridiculously tired.

I want to point out something amazing, which is the new cover you may have noticed. I'm so happy with it!!!! It was made by the wonderful cherryyclouds whom is an absolute darling.
If any of you are writers and might want a new cover for your book, I highly recommend her- I mean...did you see the new APMW cover???? It's awesome!
Of course, if you do want a new cover, please do be courteous and not entitled: I've seen too many bratty people online to not include this note.

Besides from that my darlings, I don't really know what to say.

Mwah!

-Bats :3