#but they’ve never behaved as badly as the so called fans who care for justice in this fandom 😂😂😂

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

I personally think that a lot of people in this fandom came to this fandom not because they like music or art. They came to this fandom because they like smut filled fanfiction, celebrity drama and conspiracy theories. So if you take that away, the fandom holds little meaning for them.

I just find some Larries taking it to a place of personal vendetta against a child and a couple of 20 year old girls who have had to deal with numerous tragedies very cruel. Whatever they get out of it, is it worth being that nasty to some really young people?

When I read that Freddie has been “instructed as an actor,” I actually feel nauseous for that level of depravity.

They do it because they think of Louis, Freddie, and the Tomlinson girls as players in a game like “Clue,” and the object of the game is to win no matter the cost, because the Tomlinsons aren’t real.

“Don’t blame us, blame Louis.”

The fandom is insane, disconnected from reality, actually sadistic. You see something like this and you understand why cults cause tragedies. People are insanely cruel.

[nonsensicalobsessions]

apogee/perigee

“What do you want, Tom? Before the gods, I just don’t know anymore.”

Tom looked at her eyes and knew he had to choose his words very carefully. Everything was balanced upon them, and he never felt so pressured, so tongue-tied. He’d stood on countless stages, in front of thousands, but never felt the weight of words laying so heavily upon him as they did now.

“I want...I want...”

Her eyes were patient, as they always were. She wouldn’t hurry him, nor would she be scornful. She would wait for his answer, but he also knew that she had reached her limit with his vagaries. Her heart, as giving as it was, could strain no further.

“I want to be loved as a man, and only as a man. Not as how I am packaged, or as I am presented.”

“I am not naive. I know what the gossip sites say, how I am described on fan sites and webpages. Yes, I admit it, I have googled myself, I did get drunk once and went onto Tumblr, and looked up the stories that have been written about me. I suppose I should be flattered, but in truth, they made me horrified...after I read a few, I was so ill, I had an anxiety attack so fierce i could barely move.”

Part of Tish wanted to laugh. the thought of Tom peeking into Tumblr, or the fan fiction writing sites, made her wanted to throw her head back and howl until her sides ached. She could only imagine the expressions that would have crossed his face, oh, to have been a fly on the wall...but the larger part of her, the better part of her nature, was disturbed to think of her friend, her lover, the man who held her heart and soul (sometimes so carelessly, it seemed) having an anxiety attack. 

Against her will, she leaned forward, and took his hand and clasped it in hers. “What upset you so badly? Can you talk about it? Would it help?”

He pulled away from her and the comfort she was trying to provide as he began to pace, pulling at his hair. “Have you ever been to any of those sites? They’ve built me up to be...some sort of a romantic hero, a sexual paragon! They’ve done everything but measure my cock, Tisha, and while I admit some of my wardrobe choices in the past, in combination with some particular photographs have made things...well...” he winced as he rubbed the back of his neck and licked his lips a few times. “Let’s just say they weren’t well thought out.

“But Tish? I cannot live up to those expectations. I do not walk around spouting Shakespeare at any given moment, I cannot have sex for hours upon hours on end, and cannot guarantee anyone... these...women and men...multiple orgasms...in multiple positions, some of which I am convinced would put me in traction...!”

Tish fought very hard to keep a calm, objective, yet sympathetic expression on her face. While the conversation was not going as she expected it to, it was shedding some light on the difficulties they were experiencing in their relationship. 

She still had to work very hard to keep from smirking. Because in many cases, she was convinced Tom knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he was an attractive man, he knew he photographed well, and he did everything the photographers told him to do. If that mean eye-fucking the camera, well then by God he did everything but grab a condom. Because he was good at it, it helped his career, and let’s be honest—he liked it. And if the enormity of his success was a bit frightening, the fervor of his fans a bit shocking? See above. Lather, rinse repeat.

And gods above knew he wasn’t a fame whore. He valued his privacy, and behaved accordingly. But when he was out and about to promote whatever project he was attached to...? As he aged, he wasn’t all about seducing the camera, but now it was worse: it was his raw passion for the project itself that radiated. 

Women around the world were so used to tepid masculinity, she mused. Caught up in their numbers, their business, their bottom lines, their emails and their phones. Then this Adonis comes along and speaks with fire and energy about truth and beauty and honesty in art and literature and relationships...and his audience simply laid down in droves.

And for some reason that defied all logic, all reason, all the fates and karmic justice in the universe, this man, this insanely handsome, gifted, talented actor, this man, found her interesting. Began a friendship, then a relationship with her. 

They became lovers, and although it might not have been everything that he read about online, she certainly wasn’t complaining or left wanting on that score. He was tender and passionate by turns, and certainly very skilled and considerate in the bedroom. Or any room, Tom wasn’t picky.

Tom continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “I want to love as foolishly and recklessly as a schoolboy, without care of how it may be judged and consequences be damned. Which is about as likely as the sun rising in the west. I am not going to howl at the moon, I know what I gave up to have my career...but knowing the price of something doesn't always mean you know what it will cost.”

~

Abruptly, he stopped, and looked at the tiny woman who was curled up in his window seat.

Really looked at her, and her voice echoed in his head:

What do you want, Tom? Before the gods, I just don’t know anymore.

He saw once again her patience, but also saw the sadness that she was wearing like a cloak, stooping her shoulders, diminishing the light he had admired in her eyes.

Like a video on fast forward, images of their relationship flew through his mind—their first meeting, he was preoccupied, and in a hurry, without an entourage, and he burst through a door without pause or thought of who might be on the other side, literally sending the small woman flying as she was juggling her bag, tea, and satchel on the other side while she was trying to open it. The corner of the door struck her cheekbone and brow bone, and she’d struck her head, hard, on the way down. He’d been horrified, insisted on her going to hospital for X-rays. Luke had been apoplectic when he heard how Tom had literally scooped her up, poured her into her car, and broken several very important traffic laws to get the then-nameless woman to the closest A&E, arriving a babbling, panic-stricken mess.

She’d ended up with “only” a black eye. And once she got over the shock of being knocked over, almost knocked out, as well as virtually abducted, she was a great deal more composed than Tom. She refused to allow him to take any responsibility for the event, reminding him “doors open both ways.”

He was the one, though, who ended up falling head over heels, and staying that way.

She was bright, and laughing, and at first, they were two suns, delighting in each other’s warmth.

But Tom’s orbit was wide, and his path swift. He would swing past her in dizzying arcs. She understood it. Accepted it.

What should could not understand, or accept, was being left behind in his thoughts, and his heart. And as night follows day, he saw it happen, in retrospect, over and over again. He went to this Fashion Week in New York, that awards ceremony in Tokyo, and more, and more. He didn’t ask her to accompany him. She had her job, her life. She simply couldn’t drop everything to follow where the cosmic winds would sweep him next. Hell, half the time he didn’t know from month to month until some thing, some opportunity, dropped in his lap, and he would be mad not to follow it with his trademark smile.

And so a visit became a video call, a call became a text. 

And a text...didn’t happen at all. 

He would rationalize it away, “Oh, she’s asleep. I don’t want to disturb her. She works so hard...I know well how hard, she needs her rest.”

What he didn’t know was how lightly she’d be sleeping, if she slept at all, as she kept checking her phone, waiting for it to vibrate in her hand...and then waking to dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Castigating herself for being such a doormat. Wondering when she had allowed herself to become so weak.

After the first such circuit, he returned home, expecting to find a welcoming smile and a warm embrace. He found instead a cautious, wary expression, and an honest, frank discussion. 

No tears. No recriminations, no passive aggressive sighs or comments. Just an open talk on how she felt forgotten, and devalued.

Tom was appalled. He recognized what had happened, how he had behaved abominably, and threw himself at her mercy. Begged her forgiveness. Implored her to understand it was never his intent, he was simply stretched so thinly, there were only so many hours in the day, and he never, ever, thought of any other woman.

Tish saw his contrition and knew it was genuine. She took a deep breath, declared him forgiven, and laughed when he exuberantly picked her up and spun her in a circle, then kissed her breathless. 

“You take away my breath, truly,” he assured her. “Allow me to keep returning the favor?” When she agreed, he bore her straight off to bed, where he kept her for the next three days. Fed her, bedded her, snuggled and cuddled her, beguiled her and spun her head so thoroughly it was a mercy there was a set of holidays she had already taken, for she declared she was completely lost in a universe that had yet to be discovered.

The world at large did not know about her, and she was fine with that. They went places together, but usually arrived and left separately, and Luke was fine with that.

And then, he spun off again, after their wonderfully intense, but rather brief interlude.

And slowly, but surely, the problems began to creep into their orbit once more.

But this time, there were photos...and videos...of him with other women. Other colleagues, other costars, other women who were very quick to make it clear they found him attractive, desirable, and they were very willing to help him in any way he desired.

Tom was always the perfect gentleman, but...he was a man. And she could see when his eyes would light up if something or someone captured his attention...and even if he never acted upon it, she could still see the interest that was there.

While she was here.

There had never been any words spoken about creating a future together. Nothing for her to build a foundation on...and she knew, then, she couldn’t continue. As much as she cared for him, she couldn’t build castles in the clouds, only to see them get blown away any more.

So once again, he returned home, although this time, he too was more tempered in his enthusiasm. He knew better than to expect her to come running to him, and jump into his arms, as much as he wanted to run and throw himself into hers. When he sent her his return flight information, he asked her if she could be there to greet him. She in turn replied if instead, he would come to her flat.

“I’ll have everything waiting for you,” she’d offered.

“Would you come to mine instead?” 

Reluctantly, she agreed.

He knew what that meant.

It meant if he wasn’t very, very careful, what was waiting for him was goodbye.

She arrived with wine. He was met with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, but he could tell she was trying. As soon as the door was safely shut behind her, he took the bottle from her as he took her into his arms.

“Hello, Tom,” she sighed. He was known for his hugs, and she was fighting the magnetic pull that was threatening to overwhelm her resolve.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Instead, he simply kissed her hair. “I missed you so,” he whispered.

When she didn’t reply right away, he pulled away to look searchingly into her face. “What? I did,” his voice both pained and defensive. “Did you not miss me?”

Her hand stroked his cheek gently. “Tom, I missed you every moment, every hour, of every day,” she answered. 

He knew she didn’t lie, and her eyes were sincere. She stood on tiptoe and stretched as far as she could to kiss him. He let her lead the intimacy level, and when she simply brushed her lips against his, his heart sank even further.

He took her hand and led her to the kitchen, where she made the appropriate sounds of pleasure. “Tom, you’ve only been back a short while, you should not have gone through any trouble.”

“I wanted to do something I thought would make you smile, but it looks like I missed the mark,” he replied quietly. 

She squeezed his hand, and looked up into his eyes.

And smiled.

“You succeeded. Let’s eat.”

Because she knew him well, she had him talking easily about his adventures and regaling her with jokes and had her laughing. But after awhile, he noticed how very little she had volunteered about her life while he was away the past weeks, and he kicked himself once more.

“Please, Tish. Talk to me. You’ve barely said two words about yourself since you’d arrived. Have we come to this, then?”

Tish had carried the plates to the sink, over his objections, and they had fallen into their usual, easy pattern of her washing, and his drying, before he had cracked. Her hands went limp in the soapy water, and carefully, he pulled them out.

She faced him, her face as pale as the lacy suds that trimmed her wrists. “I wrote you, Tom, lots of emails...maybe only sent you a fraction of them. I’ve had a difficult time, when you were gone.”

He searched her expression. “It wasn’t the media, certainly? Tish, you know, you know, I’ve told you how it’s all garbage, made-up bullshit...”

She pulled away from him, dried her hands on the tea towel, and nodded. “Yes, you’ve told me, Tom, and I do know.”

“Then what is it...don’t walk away from me, Letitia, please do me the courtesy of not turning your back, at least!”

She turned her head so he could see her in profile. “I am sorry, Tom. My feet and back are killing me, I just want to sit down.”

Helplessly, he watched as she sat in the nearby window seat, where there was no room for him to join her. He sat back at the kitchen table, and rubbed the back of his neck as he asked, “Why are you hurting so much, darling?”

She looked at him and replied, “I told you, in my emails, I’ve been putting in very long hours at work, and I guess it’s catching up with me.”

He rapidly reread her missives in his mind, every line.

Then he read between them.

“No, oh no...” he groaned. “They didn’t...they wouldn’t...”

“They would and they did,” she replied, her smile brittle and for once completely insincere. “They let me go, Tom. To be fair, I was the last of the old regime in place, but I’d hoped, I’d thought if I worked hard enough, they’d see the value in keeping me on...”

“You loved your job,” Tom spoke his dismay aloud, realizing a split second too late he was not helping matters.

Tish bent her head, her long, chestnut hair hiding her from his view. “I did, but it was just a job. Wasn’t a career or anything. There will be others...”

In a flash, Tom was kneeling at her feet. “Stop that. You were damned good at what you did, and you were making a difference. An important difference...”

“Tom, stop it! I worked as a nurse associate...”

“...in an incredibly stressful, demanding children’s hospital unit. You loved those children, Tish. They felt safe with you. Parents felt safe knowing their children were in your care when they were at work. And even though I never got the opportunity to see for myself...Tish? Tish, please look at me...I know those children loved you, too.”

“And how would you know this, Tom,” she softly huffed, trying to hide her tears.

“Because you are you. How could they not?” He wiped the ones that escaped with the pads of his thumbs.

“Because I know I do. Love you, that is.”

And so, Tish looked into Tom’s eyes, and asked him:

“What do you want, Tom? Before the gods, I just don’t know anymore.”

~

And it struck him, as he’d been talking in circles, he was speaking to her but getting no closer to getting to the center of what she asked him...

“Tom, I believe you can have all of those things...but I don’t think you can have them with me.”

He felt the tectonic plates in his heart crack and the beginning of a cataclysmic pole shift as his world teetered on its axis.

“Why not, Tish? Why not?”

She leaned forward and gently butted her head against his. “Because the world wants to belong to you, Tom. You have a gravitational pull all your very own. People talk of you being a star, but I see you as the sun, with so much warmth to give, radiating joy and happiness...You have success, you have a career, you have staff, for gods’ sake, and you have an amazing heart to go with it all. Everything and everyone revolves around you.

“I have spent nights waiting for your calls. Your texts. And when they didn’t come, I realized I had a choice to make. I could be one of the many spinning in orbit around you...or I could blow you a kiss for luck, and break free, in the hopes of finding someone that maybe, just maybe, wanted to belong to me, and we could revolve around each other. Create our own family, in time, and we could expand our own universe...”

As she spoke, her fingers absently played in his hair, catching and smoothing his curls by turn, caressing him. Her hands were very good at speaking for her, with her.

Tish scarcely noticed when he drew his head into her waist, and buried his face there. If it wasn’t for the slight tremor in his broad shoulders, she might not have noticed it when she did, and the faint dampness that was seeping through her blouse to touch her skin.

“Tom?”

Stricken, she tried to pull back, but he would not allow it, and kept his arms firmly wrapped around her.

“Please.” His voice was muffled and shaky. “Please, give me one more chance. The world can do as it damn well wishes...but I...I want to be that one...I want to belong to you...”

“Tom, you’re tired, and you’re upset. I’m upset as well, I do care for you. I love you, but you can’t...”

He reared back, his eyes red and watery. “No, Tish. You don’t get to tell me how I feel. You say I am the sun, but...I say you are the moon.”

“A cold, dead, barren, hunk of rock only ever seen through a reflection of your light but otherwise invisible to all?” She lifted an eyebrow and pulled a lock of hair.

He reached up and pulled a strand in return, unable to repress a chuckle. “No, smart-ass. A heavenly body that has its own real gravitational pull, and lets me know when I’ve gone too far from shore, and also lets me know when it is time to rest. I am no star, but just a man, residing on this planet, remember?”

“You said you don’t go off spouting Shakespeare.”

“That wasn’t.”

They looked at each other in silence.

“Tom, you are tired.”

“I am. You said that you love me.”

“And I do. I have for some time.” Her hand kept stroking his scalp. “You should get some rest.”

“I...that is, would you...”

Tish smiled, a real one, reaching her eyes and her lips as she waited. She never rushed him.

“Would you stay with me tonight?”

She nodded, a little nervously. “I didn’t bring anything with me, I didn’t think—”

Tom interrupted her, “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not know what your thoughts were for tonight.” He was grimly validated by the flush he saw build from her neckline. 

“No matter.” He pulled himself up, then extended a hand to her. “I am looking forward to sleeping in your arms tonight, sweetheart.”

As they ascended the stairs, fingers entwined, Tish asked, “Come to think of it, doesn’t Shakespeare have some pretty unkind things to say about the moon..? Don’t most poets, do in fact, find it a symbol of inconstancy?”

“Not always, my darling. And you have been ever constant. You’re thinking too hard, just as you’ve been working too hard. Let your mind rest. I promise you, you don’t have to be anxious now.”

“But...”

“You don’t.”

“I...”

“Letitia.” He led her into the bedroom. “Let it go. I am here, and you are here.”

As they curled themselves around the other, each exhausted physically and emotionally, Tom murmured, “You are the star to my wandering bark.”

“...now that was Shakespeare.”

“Goodnight, Tish. I promise to see about those multiple orgasms tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Tom. No traction, please. You are more than enough man for me as you are.”

Tom fell asleep with those words in his ears, and in his heart, where they remained safely locked away for the rest of his days.

Tish awoke the next morning to his arms still around her, never again to wonder if she was to be the center of someone else’s orbit.

Apogee: the point of the orbit of the moon or satellite when it is furthest from the earth, also, the climax/culmination

Perigee: the point of the orbit of the moon or satellite when it is closest to the earth

My Constellations: @hopelessromanticspoonie @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @winterisakiller @fruitfly123