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Summary
Latin; a dead language with no practical applications except perhaps the deciphering of old texts and as a particularly quaint party trick.
Thankfully, as Harry finds out, Latin is not as dead as he was first taught when he decided to learn the language. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, of course; he loved Latin, and would have been proud to know it even had it been as useless as it was pretty. But in the world of Wizards, the world of Magic, Harry realizes his rare talent with words is particularly valuable, and allows him to use magic that no one's ever heard of, that no one's ever seen. But as time goes on, and he becomes more and more entangled in the webs spun by those around him, he starts to realize just how deep the magical rabbit hole goes and how dangerous power like his can be.
All Harry had ever wanted was for the world to make sense.
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"Harry Potter is mine."
Voldemort took a graceful step forward, the air around him clinging close and darkening as if he had called the shadows to accompany him. "Mine to harm," he continued, his voice a soft. "Mine to conquer. Mine to defeat. Mine to torture. Mine... to kill."
Red eyes bore into green, staring intently as if peering into his very soul."And mine..." His magic brushed against Harry, nearly suffocating with its potency, choking him and binding him all at once, marking him for a fate he never wanted. "... to decide when to kill."
Harry returned from the graveyard to a world drunk on lies and fear only to be taken prisoner by Voldemort right from under Dumbledore's nose. One month wasting away in captivity left him empty, haunted by the deaths of those stolen from him.
Until everything changes, when Harry gains the Dark Lord's interest and is set free of his prison. When he is entered into an altogether different fight - one in which he must finally choose what he really wants.
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Seo Moonjo excels in art. His grades surpass those of his classmates, his works attract attention, and people flock to him for advice on their own projects. However, they often—always—leave empty-handed.
He has no advice to give.
The one thing which Moonjo struggles with is defining what makes his art truly his own. When given a new class project, painting a nude work, he has no idea where to start.
That is, until he lays his eyes on Yoon Jongwoo for the first time. Yoon Jongwoo, who gives Seo Moonjo the first splash of color he needs to pigment his own canvas.
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"My murderer," Tom croons to him, Harry's pulse racing beneath his grip.
"You'll never know the irony of that," Harry rolls his eyes.Harry Potter is a time-travelling, furious mess and he is going to kill the Dark Lord. Like most of his plans, things do not work out.
Tom should not be so obsessed with his would-be murderer. -
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He knows what people might think when they see it. If they see it at all. A work accident. A slip. A stray piece of metal. Something mundane. He imagines the men his dad used to work with at the docks, thick-armed and sunburned, hands like knots of rope, faces mapped with scars no one asked about anymore. Cuts and gashes earned honestly, out in the open, explained by labor and gravity and bad luck. His is a tiny thing. Tinier than it should be. Tinier than what it cost him. Tinier than what he wants it to be, lately.
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Will wants Hannibal to make his cheek scar worse. Hannibal obeys. <3Series
- Part 3 of Precious Moments