Chapter Text
Grayson has a horrible habit of butchering the English language by removing prefixes on words to create new slang used only by select groups of people, i.e. his teammates and everyone even remotely in contact with him during his days as robin and nightwing. Damian usually despises these words as he had to learn English perfectly from his mentors with no trace of any accent at all even though the language was not with him since birth which was incredibly difficult. English, despite most people's opinion was not his second language, it wasn't even his third. English was Damian's fourth language with Arabic, Spanish, and Latin being the first three. Latin comes in handy when you are a part of a centuries old organization with a grandfather that saw the fall of Rome and complained about it frequently to you in Latin. But when Damian arrived at America, dropped off in the dead of night by his mother, he was quiet surprised to find that no one there spoke perfect English except fir Todd and Todd is a massive f*cking hypocrite who picks and chooses when to butcher the English language like a Shepard chooses a lamb for slaughter. Yes he is mad about it and no he won't let it go. But he digressing. Latin is also incredibly useful when dealing with magic users as it is the easiest dead language to learn especially since mispronouncing a spell in ancient sumerian can, as Drake once put it "f*ck you everyday to Tuesday". Latin is far more lenient with its magic users and is therefore the safer option. Which is why Damian can forgive Grayson and Todd's horrible grasp on the English language. Because nothing can be worse then being held twenty feet in the air as a villain frantically google translates a spell into Latin in order to curse you and your teammates and have the spell actually work. Nothing proves that magic is bullsh*t more than this moment. "Caro et os detorquent et stamen in timore pestilentiae animum pessimum habent. Sic ego a d sic erit!" The nameless, tacky, second rate, Clarion wanna be looking as villain chants while looking down at their phone. Damian has never hated his grandfather more. Not when you tried to use his body as a replacement vessel for his soul, not during the grueling training he mad Damian endure as a child, not even when he was tossed aside as a failure did he loathe his grandfather this much. Because Damian sat through eight f*cking years of Ra's Al Ghul bitching about the fall of the Roman empire in Latin and then another year and a half of crazed, half minded ramblings induced by the pit only for his mastery of Latin to be spat on by the dollarstore, evil twin of zatanna's faulty google translate magic. Damian is so f*cking pissed. So just this once, he shall follow his brothers examples in carving up the English language to create new, bogus words. Diseffervesce. He'll even use it in a sentence. Damian held feelings of diseffervesce for the situation at hand. The prefix 'dis', meaning apart is of Latin origin coupled with the English word effervesce which I'd one of the roots of effervescent. Diseffervesce- Apart from enthusiasm, joy, or any other such words for joy. It is an adjective used to describe great displeasure regarding a person or situation. Damian can make up words too. He'll make up another one just to proce it to you. Adīmgaudē. From the arabic root Adīm/Adam meaning to be nonexistent, destroyed or devoid, and the Latin word Gaudēre meaning to rejoice. Adīmgaude- Devoid of rejoicement; to have one's cause for joy be destroyed. Verb/adjective depending on the situation it is used in. Example sentence: Damian is Adīmgaude because of the situation at hand. Example sentence number two: The villain Adimguadet with his horrible Latin spell. Yes the language is conjugated using Latin rules, no he will not change it because if he has to suffer so does everyone else. If you try and argue with him that slang is just a languages way of evolving Damian with throw every curse he knows in every language he's ever been taught in at you because slang is horribly confusing when it isn't even real slang. But 5hat wasn't even the worst thing that happened. No. You see the spell actually worked. So Damian is currently stuck transformed into an iblis. His limbs are awkward his bones aren't what they're supposed to be and his uniform has transformed into his feathers. Two red, curved horns jut from his skull like a twisted crown of tree branches give way to tufts of feathers hiding a sharp, cruel beak. Eyes that once saw color are now limited to black, white, and red sit facing forward on his face and have grown significantly in size. Two heavy, awkward wings sit attached just below his scapula, folding and unfolding anxiously. Talons make up his hands and feet and feathers adorned most every part of his body. A spindly tail with feathers near the end and beginning sprouts from his spine, whipping around wildly in rage and fright. Two pointed hears poke out of the sides of his head devoid of any feathers. Standing on two legs is doable but not feasible for prolonged periods of time as the strain from lifting his upper body and the feathers is wearing Damian down. You would think that this would be the worst of it but you wold be wrong. You'd be oh so wrong. The new villain was a distraction for Victor Crane otherwise known as scarecrow. He had developed a new fear toxin that he had hoped would interact interestingly with meta DNA however, not everyone on the team was meta and Crane didn't want anyone to be mistakenly immune so he had the google translation wizard curse everyone to transform into their worst fear, sometimes metaphorical and sometimes quiet literal. From what Damian can see of his teammates, Raven is stuck in a situation similar to his. Her form is eldritch in appearance and is clearly based on her father. BlueBeetle is currently a more twisted version of his usual Armour shackled at wrist and hands, Beastboy's hands are skeletal and he seems unable to shift forms. Nightwing is a gnarled, twisted amalgamation of Batman, Bruce, and child Grayson. Cyborg has become an apocalyptic mech, entirely consumed by metal. He can't see starfire from his vantage point but he can faintly hear her sobbing. The transformations were painful and the teargas feed on their suffering. A dark gas cloud settled on the battle field and Damian saw nothing but red. He heard the voices of everyone who he had ever loved taunting him from the grave. "My dear Alexander," His mother's ghost said as she caressed his feathered face, "You have done well by your grandfather. But your usefulness as since expired." There is a blade in Damians chest and blood is quickly blossoming around it. The voices of his family taunting him as hands grasp at him through the ground, desperately trying to drag him to the he'll he is sure awaits him. He sees everyone he's ever loves killed by his hand. Damian sees the ghosts of all thoughs he had slaughtered through is childhood grinning and bloody as the laugh at his suffering. He sees his pets, Alfred the cat, Titus, batcow, and Jerry perish beneath his hands and he weeps. He lays bleeding out as he is tortured with his greatest fears. The worst is the isolation. When every ghost deserts him. When there is nothing but him and blood. Everyone leaves eventually, even ghosts. Tge faces of victims he does not recall stay blank visionettes that fade from existing as though they never existed at all. He tries desperately to flod in on himself, to prevent others from coming to harm by his terrible hands, but he is unable. Every inch of him is too sharp and cuts through everyone he loves. Everyone leaves. They either get wise and walk away with their lives or end up dead because of Damian. If you don't believe him ask Alfred, his ghost would be sure to tell you everyday in which Damian failed. He wishes he could hear Alfred tell him he failed, if only to hear him again. He wished the ghosts did not desert him in his blood because they made the pain less agonizing; it felt more like reparations when the ghosts were there, like his suffering had cause. But without them he would die alone, no one to remember him, no one to know he had ever existed or loved, no one to bury him. He was alone. There was a pinch in his neck and pressure on the wound through his stomach. Hallucinations fading in and out of view as frantic apologies are shouted above him. There is a frenzied chanting of "Please don't die"'s followed by sorries and tears. It puts Damian more at peace to know he won't die alone. 'A selfish notion', Damian thinks, 'to put someone through this and only feel joy that I'm not abandoned. That someone will remember me.' So Damian, ever so careful of his sharp claws that are slowly fading away with the next pinch to his neck, places his hands on top the ones applying pressure to his wounds and holds it gently. It's been a long day. He is in a state of major diseffervesce and he would like to close his eyes for a while. But the voice above him insists that he should keep them open. Whatever. At least his bones aren't in agony anymore. He'd keep his eyes open just a little longer if it made the voices above him happy, even if he couldn't focus on their faces he would keep his eyes open for them. The next time Damian is coherent, he is laying on a hospital gurney surrounded by get well soon cards and chocolates. Jaime Reyes sits slouched in the chair besides his bed asleep in what seems to be a rather uncomfortable position. The first words Jaime Reyes says to Damian is sorry. They are the first words he hears upon awaking and the last one's when he returns to the dreaming world. He scoffs at every apology and brushes them off. It's not your fault he tells Jaime. Stop apologizing, it makes you sound like a broken record. Every apology is meet with dismissal until the last. The final sorry wears his already tired body down and ge changes tactic. "If it will get you to cease your incessant babbling Reyes your apology has been accepted and I bequeth to you my forgiveness, a privilege very few have. You are welcome." Jaime laughs, though it is teary eyed and wet with sadness and regret it is sincere. "Whatever man. Thanks. Get some rest I'll be there when you wake up." Jaime Reyes replied.
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