We were such a small moment in time you and I; Like a freeze-frame in a life sequence or a snapshot of a perfect happy moment frozen within a painting. And when all you have is that painting… that single unchanging image of the past, you look at it over and over again imposing different things on it every time.
For me – that painting was everything. It was as if being with you was the whole reason for my existence… like loving you was the one thing I was always meant to do. It was my one single perfect creation… the one thing I ever did right. And I’m so obsessed with it I keep repainting it, over and over again – every day. Just that same picture of you and me in the past, over and over just with different emotional filters imposing different meanings on it each time depending on how I’m feeling.
When I’m happy I feel like it all meant something. I’m grateful for the experience and I wish you nothing but happiness… When I’m sad I feel like I’m being punished for something I did wrong… like I wasn’t good enough and I just want to go back and set things right… When I’m angry I feel like it was all a lie and you never cared about me at all. I feel like I was used and abused and then thrown away like a toy you didn’t want anymore.
But – like it or not – we are in the past now… So it is always the same unchanging picture… it’s just the way I’m looking at it at the time that changes how I see it…
And though I tell myself to move on… to paint another picture without you in it like you are undoubtedly doing with me… I can’t help but wonder how often you look back at what we used to be… and just what light you see it in…….
—  Ranata Suzuki | A Picture Of The Past
I’ve caressed your face countless times yet never have I kissed your lips. Those you save for others who break your heart and steal your bliss.
—  H. Murcia 9:03PM 12/4/2016

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

autumn leaves by suspendrs | @fukcinglouis​ [?, 27.5k]

Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn’t mean to fall in love with him. 
War, soldier (H), French / waiter (L) | POV: L

Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Fruxo | @fruxoo [M, 3k]

During winter break, Louis wants to play with Harry’s nipples. 
Winter, established RS, PWP | POV: H

i just know i have found the place my heart belongs by scagnetism | @daintyharru [?, 32.5k]

the one where Louis has a quiet little girl, Harry has a toy shop with a magic faerie house, and they were made to fall in love. 
Toy shop (H), getting together, kid fic | POV: both

What’s Another Word For… by phdmama | @phd-mama [E, 3.7k]

What happens when Harry goes on Tumblr. 
Canon, established RS, satire, humor | POV: L | bottom!L

you haunt me–
in faces
of your

my heart
in search

my sins
to them
each one
brings me
to you.

kiss my
of sins

so much
their sin–
to taste
your love

fill my
a heart
for your

my door ajar
fly back–
to me
in my
this love

He’s back. Good God, he’s back.
My hands are trembling because here we are, a year later, and everything has changed, but look – nothing has changed at all. There’s still fire in your eyes and your love is still alcohol, novocaine, nicotine, spurting through my veins, blurring me, numbing me, making me high. And you know it. You fucking know it.
I’m elated, but I’m scared – the lines are smeared, the borders are blurred, and how do I know you’re real? Your casual manner could turn into my casualty. It’s so hard to put your heart back in the hands that crushed it, even when your heart is crying for it.
I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. I promised myself I’d let up on my grip on you. I promised myself I wouldn’t keep asking questions you’ve already answered. I promised myself I wouldn’t let my demons pry us apart. I promised myself. I promised.
But maybe it isn’t as sweet as it seems. Maybe there’s a snake hidden somewhere in the honeysuckle, ready to rear back and strike when my guard is down.
All we can do is watch and wait, and enjoy the sweetness while we can.
—  he’s back // abby, day 109
Wrap your arms around me, I’ll wrap my arms around you, and for just a little while, we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
For a little while, we can disappear.
Now that’s what I call magic.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (247/366)