#★. ─── JACKSON FT. GISELLE

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closed starter for GISELLE ( @overwhlcmed​​ ) location: jackson’s apartment… night time… chilly outside 🙂

˖ ✧ ★ ────────────   IT WAS DIFFICULT TO RECONCILE WITH THE IDEA THAT GISELLE HAD BEEN BACK IN HIS LIFE FOR A LITTLE OVER A YEAR NOW. it simultaneously felt like he had never left, and yet like it had only been a few weeks since she’d approached him in the corridors of her office building and he’d left more scars on her heart. things had changed, drastically, since last christmas, but they also felt exactly the same. the boundary line had shifted– away from the shy glances and soft touches that had constituted an uncertain something before, and instead towards the witty quips and easygoing closeness that defined a comfortable something now– but it was still there. despite the cracks that had formed, allowing them both to see between the bricks of the walls around his heart, they were still standing. the ghosts of the past still haunted them– from stanford to their reconciliation to the apology text message lighting up his phone on his birthday. the guilt stayed firm, keeping him from letting go entirely. it reminded him that no matter how perfect the moments seemed, HE wasn’t. his jagged edges could be covered with cloth for the time being, but it was only a matter of time before he mishandled them and accidentally cut her open in the process. 

        his resolve was crumbling, though ; the comfort with his solitude was like a long dead civilization. the longer they lived in this blissful false reality they had created, the easier it was for jackson to believe that the ghosts clinging to his shoulders could be shaken off. his past didn’t matter. the person he was, the people they were, didn’t matter. what mattered was this moment– watching giselle as she worked at stringing up a single strand of christmas lights around his kitchen window, his chin resting against his knuckles and the untouched tea now cold on the table in front of him. she hadn’t done much, just the lights and a stocking for dutchess hanging up behind the door ( something giselle insisted on for her, not him ), but it was more than jackson might have relented for anybody else. despite his complaints, looking at it now, they looked nice– though it was more than just the aesthetics. it was a reminder that he wasn’t entirely alone this year, that while last year she had only been comfortable decorating her space, this year things were better. maybe time did heal old wounds. his gaze only shifted away from giselle when duchess came barreling into the room, skittering across the fake tiles after the end of the wires that were dangling around giselle’s legs. it was then that he pulled himself from his half-asleep, dreamy daze and made any effort to move. 

       shifting from his seat, he picked her up from the floor, before dropping the little white cat onto the kitchen table. she offered him only a meow of protest, before her attention shifted towards hunting a pencil that was hiding in between the piles of books and screws and half-finished coffee mugs. jackson turned his own towards giselle. trying to stifle a yawn, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hindering her movement entirely ; then he rested his chin against the crown of her head, and squinted at the new decoration ( probably the first new thing to enter the apartment since he had moved in. ) “ what is it about the sparkly little lights that say ‘ christ ‘ for people ? “ he questioned suddenly, raising one of his hands to gesture towards the lights. there was a sureness now in the way he crossed into her personal space ; although he was still poised to run like a startled animal, it was leaps and bounds from where they had been at this point a year ago : afraid that eyes lingering too long was crossing a boundary that they hadn’t discussed. now the way she leaned back into him felt comfortable, natural. in the quiet of his own apartment, there was no need for warning sirens. he was content to just be with her– no complications needed. “ granted– i’ve never read the bible, but i have a feeling that john, peter, mark and paul would not have included these on their list of birthday decorations for babies. sheep, though ? that was a necessity. “

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📸 i know this bitch dont take pictures but pretend hoe jackson and giselle

jackson's camera roll → giselle ( @overwhlcmed )

so like, theoretically, if he had photos of giselle, these would be the kinds that he had. . . not featured being all of the stupid pictures she takes with dutchess.

send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has/has taken of your muse(s)

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“ tell me, frankly ── have you ever loved ? “

                                                         “ ── let us not touch on old wounds not yet healed. “

                                                   ( @overwhlcmed )

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*     can i go where you go? :: jackson & giselle ( @overwhlcmed )​

001. lover — taylor swift

ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? with every guitar string scar on my hand, i take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover. my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue, all's well that ends well to end up with you. swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover. and you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me, and at every table, i'll save you a seat.

002. pretty boy — the neighbourhood

even if my heart stops beating, you're the only thing i need, ooh, with me. even if the earth starts shaking, you're the only thing worth taking, ooh, with me. even if the sky's on fire, got you here, it's alright, ooh, with me. and if it's all over, i'm taking this moment, ooh, with me.

003. dandelions — ruth b

i think that you are the one for me 'cause it gets so hard to breathe. when you're looking at me, i've never felt so alive and free. when you're looking at me, i've never felt so happy. and i've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime. and i'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine.

004. breathe — lauv

i found new york laying in your arms. we'll melt into the bedroom floor. never knew i'd stay for so long, and this truth cuts. not through one, but both not through one, but both of us. but it's deeper if i hold on, and it's killing me, me to say "i'm fine, " "i'm fine". 

005. preacher man — the driver era

i'm down on my knees. yeah, i'm paranoid. don't wanna repeat what i did before. i wanna believe that there's something more. i wanna believe. hey, mr. preacher man. i've been playing with a heart like a violin. i've been stumbling through the door after 6:00 a.m.. fix my soul so i don't lose a love again

006. paris in the rain — lauv

i look at you now and i want this forever. i might not deserve it but there's nothing better. don't know how i ever did it all without you. my heart is about to, about to jump out of my chest. feelings they come and they go, that they do. feelings they come and they go, not with you.

007. dress — taylor swift

all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. my hands are shaking from holding back from you ( ah, ah, ah ). all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting. my hands are shaking from holding back from all this ( ha, ha, ha, ha ). say my name and everything just stops. i don't want you like a best friend. only bought this dress so you could take it off. take it off ( ha, ha, ha ). carve your name into my bedpost ‘cause i don't want you like a best friend. only bought this dress so you could take it off. take it off ( ha, ha, ha, ha )

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( @overwhlcmed​ )

The act of a person unzipping someones gown, taking off their necklace, undoing a ribbon, etc is inherently romantic. This is not open for debate.

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i was spinning around and around in an ocean of grief, your ladder came down to the sea . i hope the pain never ends. love is so bittersweet. life was easier when I only cared about me ( @overwhlcmed )

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closed starter for GISELLE ( @overwhlcmed ) location: boo boo the fool’s apartment <3 ​

◦ 「 ☆ 」 ────────────  IT WAS STRANGE to feel lonely. of course, jackson had always been lonely, always known it was himself against the world, always acknowledged the dull aching in his chest that simply wished for someone, anyone, to help fill the never-healing void, but he never really felt the effects of it. for the most part it was an omni-present fact ; he learned to live with it until it became something he barely processed. it was part of him. but while he ignored ─ avoided ─ didn’t talk to giselle, it made it’s presence known in a way that hadn’t been there before. there was now a constant voice in the back of his head repeating things back to him. it reminded him that giselle would have laughed at the joke that he overheard standing on the subway station ; that duchess looked real weird in that moment, like the kind of picture she might have sent him ; that his apartment seemed awfully quiet, and his bed rather empty, without a second body there to fill the space. no matter how short it had been, her sudden absence was felt in every part of his life.

        he needed time to think. to collect his thoughts. to figure out what the next step from here was ─ they couldn’t do that again ( couldn’t they ? ) because it was a bad idea ( was it ? ) but he didn’t want to let go of her friendship ( were they really friends ? would they be able to continue to be friends after this ? his heart was doubtful, but his mind was adamant they had to be. ) ─ this was true, and he had been doing a lot of thinking since he’d closed her apartment door behind him days ago. but mostly, jackson was scared. he was scared of how easy it had been for him to completely disregard all logic the moment that giselle had been close. he was scared of how fast he had felt his heart beating. he was scared of the myriad of new ways that had opened for him to hurt her ─ and he was scared that he was already doing it.

         the weirdness that he had created between them was brand new, even if the way that his breathing stopped every time he saw her was just the same. thirteen years ago, jackson never really cared about the consequences of his actions. he didn’t know the ways he was capable of hurting people. he also didn’t know he loved giselle ─ the two of them had been comfortably trapped inside a make-shift reality that they never spoke about, and then the bubble had burst. now, however ? years of experience had taught him that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. it didn’t matter how hard he tried to be good. it didn’t matter how much he knew he loved her. he fucked things up, even without meaning too. he was a self-fulfilling prophecy with no happy ending. this knowledge plagued him and shadowed every interaction, and thus every vulnerability he had extended towards her had been viciously ripped back in an attempt to save them both. 

       yet shaking her out of his mind wasn’t so easy this time. he had felt the ripples of pain that echoed through his body when he’d first packed up and left stanford, but he was able to compartmentalize those thoughts. new giselle was like a parasite that had wormed her way into every thought. he snapped at duchess, at declan, and at just about anyone else who was unfortunate enough to get in his way. he felt guilty for not staying, while simultaneously he felt guilty for letting it happen in the first place. he couldn’t ignore her this time. impulsivity had lead him to her door, just like the first time, with a dinner offer, also like the first time. part of him was expecting her to chase him off. the other part was hoping she would invite him in. pretending had worked this far, right ? 

         “ hi ─ um, hi. “ his words sputtered out all together, like he had rehearsed what to say and then forgot the moment she opened the door and he saw her ( he had ). “ these are for you. “ the bundle of daisies he was holding was unceremoniously shoved at her ; he wanted to move past it, and quickly, acknowledging the flowers without acknowledging the why. the way he skirted around the elephant in the room was awkward, and he was very obviously out of his element ─ odd, considering this hadn’t been the first time that he’d appeared from the land of ghosts to reinsert himself into the timeline once more ( but this was the first time it mattered. ) his gaze then briefly jumped down to the paper bag, and he held it up slightly. “ this is for you, too ─ well, on a technicality, it’s for both of us, but if you were somehow planning on eating all this food on your own i’d just let you have it just to see you try. “ he looked back to her, nervously running his tongue against the inside of his cheek and rocking back on his heels. “ i was just ─ i was in the neighbourhood, and i ─ well i hoped you weren’t working late, but your lights were on from outside. not that i was explicitly looking at your window ! ─ this hole just keeps getting deeper. i’m going to stop talking now. “ 

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closed starter for GISELLE ( @overwhlcmed​ ) location: jackson’s apartment ? grace is throwing hands if he was at her apartment so this is the best we’re gonna get.

     ★. ── jackson had never once celebrated valentine’s day. even on the years where he was technically obligated too, his time matched with ‘ girlfriends ‘ ( in the loosest sense of the term ), he would spew some nonsense about capitalism and the ploy to sell flowers and chocolate and leave it at that. it wasn’t that he was really anti-romance ( though he claimed he was, if someone were to breeze through the worn novels that made up half the clutter in his apartment, they would see plenty of underlined quotes that would prove him otherwise ) ; just that the concept of a day where you were obligated to make showy displays of affection to prove your love to other people felt ridiculous. he refused to participate, having never quite grown out of the the immature, stick-it-to-the-man attitude that he had developed in high school ── and because if love was real ( like he quietly wished it was ), then surely it wouldn’t be the kind of thing that was only celebrated once a year. 

        it made sense, though, that giselle would be born on the one day that was officially dedicated to bouquets of red roses and pink boxes full of chocolate and all the things the every day person associated with love. she was so full of adoration and hope for the world that it could be seen spilling out of her all the time ( so had giovanni, although his manifested itself in a different, less obvious way ) and when someone learned that her birthday coincided with february 14th it always seemed to just click. it also worked out that jackson didn’t have to ask much more than what she was doing on her birthday. it was a perfect excuse when luvena or bowie had questions for him that he didn’t know how to answer ── she had visited him, after all. it would be rude to not return the favour. 

     there were implications between them now. the longer time went on, the harder it was getting for jackson to plaster the label of “ friends “ on whatever the hell him and giselle were doing when asked by other people. it was easy, at first, to brush off every encounter with light excuses that gave no hint at what was actually happening under the surface. but now, months down the line, they were still pretending, and every time they did things got more and more dangerous. it was getting easier and easier for jackson to ignore the guilty conscious that told him to pull away when they were lingering too close to each other. 

       “ oh ── that’s, um, that’s for you, by the way, “ at a momentary pause in conversation, jackson jerked his chin towards a plainly ( and poorly ── he hoped she wouldn’t look too closely at the seams ) wrapped box sitting to the side of his table. he was hoping that giselle wouldn’t ask too many questions ── that she would unwrap the book and the shitty little usb and that would be the end of it, until she was by herself and could find the old photos tucked inside the pages and the recordings and jackson wouldn’t have to answer for them. he spent an embarrassing amount of time re-learning chords and parts for songs he wasn’t even sure that she still liked, and talking about it was dancing a little too close to talking about the invisible line that they kept blatantly stepping over. without looking up from the carrot he’d been cutting, he shrugged his shoulders, acting ( in typical jackson rhodes fashion ) as though it didn’t mean anything. “ you don’t have to open it now. it’s not anything important. i just didn’t want to forget. “ 

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( @overwhlcmed )

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closed starter for EZRA ( @pinkpcnyclub ) location: spooky woods

˖ ✧ ★ ────────────   “ BOO ! “ jackson had gotten good enough at blending into the background of these kinds of things so that people didn’t pay much attention to him. he was grateful. he didn’t want the attention, usually, considering his game of standing back and acting the supporting role to those who did ( his brother, giovanni, luvena, sami ). and while some might have considered that boring, jackson thought otherwise— because when nobody paid any attention to you, it was easy to do this. reaching his hand out, he had grabbed a hold of ezra as the other man was wandering alone through the trees. he had followed him over here with the intention to scare him. he’d been amping the monsters in the trees up the whole afternoon ; if anything to just give ezra one good fright before the end of the evening. mean ? maybe. but once a pesky older brother, always a pesky older brother — even if he had no contact with those who were actually his family anymore and instead made the likes of bowie and lu and ezra deal with it. “ i’m surprised you’re still here. everyone’s been talking about ghosts and ghouls all night, once i lost you i was convinced you were a goner. “ he reached out to ruffle ezra’s hair out of place, before something clearly dawned across his features. he pointed his finger in towards ezra’s chest. “. . . but then again, i also saw your little freak friend around here too. i didn’t put two and two together until now, but makes sense how you’re still alive, if you were trailing your feet after them all night. any demonic cults out here would know they would be getting their hands full with that one. “

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( @overwhlcmed )

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( @overwhlcmed )

Mädchen Amick and Dana Ashbrook as Shelly Johnson and Bobby Briggs TWIN PEAKS: Demons (1990)

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( @overwhlcmed )

LENNY BRUCE & MIDGE MAISEL The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, “How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?”

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( @overwhlcmed​ )

GILMORE GIRLS | HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY (3x18)  

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( @overwhlcmed )

Rory Gilmore & Jess Mariano in Gilmore Girls 3.10 “That’ll Do, Pig”

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overwhlcmed​:

☁️ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ────────────  courage wasn’t easy for giselle to call on. she found comfort in being complacent. she’d turned herself into a welcome mat over the years for others to stomp over as they took what they needed and left. served herself on a conveyor belt and allowed parts of herself to be carved away to keep others happy rather than confront the misuse of her kindness head on. she thought confrontation, no matter the degree, would always lead to destruction. the times she confronted jackson had shown her as much. the first hint of disagreement and he’d vanished. giselle went to bed that night tears staining pillows, hands holding his shirt to her chest, thinking she’d get to talk it out with him in the morning. only the morning never came. a little over a decade would pass before she saw him again and her approach had yielded an outcome that was almost as damaging as the first. there wasn’t any room for another misstep.

after initial reunion, she thought that distance had changed everything. especially for him. the heart within her as delicate as annealed glass known to break in long, jagged shards had finally shattered and failed in keeping them both safe from injury. perhaps they had a love built for memories. but he’d shown up at her office door, extending the branch she needed to get her out of rushing water and back onto the right path. it was the second chance she had hoped they would get. she wouldn’t mess it up again, of that she was sure. giselle had mastered the art of burying emotion. those feelings that threatened to bubble up and spill over every time they were together were quickly swallowed back down. she could give him what he needed. he wasn’t ready for the hard conversations yet, she reminded herself time and time again. maybe he’d never be ready. a possibility she hoped to reconcile with if it meant getting even the smallest parts of him. it was better than having none of him at all.

contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t easier to hold onto someone who lived only in recollections and deepest dreams. not whenever they stood right in front of you and cleared thunderstorms,  and brightened your days. even through the dim glow of her bedroom lamp, she could recite his every feature. give her an easel, a canvas, she could produce a sketch that recalled each expression in every beautiful detail. she spent nights memorizing the lift in his brows, the curve of his nose, natural tint in his cheeks. while he slept peacefully beside her, she had watched him. pads of her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, and the plump in his lips. her haze pierced through him as if trying to decipher whether or not he was real, in the quiet of the night she’d ask ‘ are you real ? ’ but he’d give no reply. only wrap his arms around her tighter as if he’d heard her, and pulled her close, and wasn’t that answer enough ? time would do what it always had: pass much too quickly, and offer no comfortable solution, but it hadn’t taken away his memory. she had thought the only inevitable thing was change, yet her heart beat only for him all the same. distance hadn’t let the heart to wander, and she was sure if he’d ask her then, she’d still be his.

her body remembered him in all the ways her heart thought he forgot. he was a sea that she was dropped into and never fought; simply allowed her frame to move with the tide instead of going against it. as he closed the breath between them all anxiety forgotten, and anticipation dissipated. her hand gripping even tighter on the shirt balling up in her palm as his hand held tightly onto her; as if they were both fighting against something unseen trying to tear them apart. with his hands resting on her, and his lips moving so perfectly against hers he became all of her favorite things: he tasted like freshly cut mangos, felt like silk pajamas just out the dryer, sounded like isn’t it a lovely day on vinyl, smelled like honeydew melon, and looked like a field of different colored dahlias: he was her favorite thing.

as he pulled her way the pout was instant, chest rising and falling with the air that came rushing in, and before she could pull him back in he spoke. her eyes watched him, confusion quickly turning to recognition; of course, she remembered. she could picture the yellow highlighted line in the copy he’d given her still sat on her shelf. many nights she’d combed through each book searching for his writing in the margins, would trace her fingers over the pages and imagine him, eyes narrowed in concentration, as he took the highlighter to the pages. of course, she remembered, but she was elated to learn that he had as well. “ i missed you. ” the whisper came soon after his recitation, flowing much too quickly for her to put a stop to. more admissions wanted to tumble out one right after the other, but he’d pulled her in again; concerns about her dress slipping away as she moved her hands to his waist; palms pressing into him as she willed her kiss to say what words couldn’t: i love you, i never stopped thinking about, i never stopped wanting you, please stay.

◦ 「 ☆ 」 ────────────  ‘ I MISSED YOU. ‘ it was a soundbyte that felt like it came directly from a dream. how many times had he hoped to hear that again ? for giselle to wrap her arms around his shoulders and rest her forehead against his and say it, like it had only been forty minutes since they’d last seen each other and not thirteen years ? she had been the only one to ever tell him that. he had heard ‘ where have you been ? ‘ and ‘ i haven’t seen you in a while, ‘ but she had been the only lover ( person ) to ever be so honest and open about it ─ i missed you. you matter to me. he didn’t even try to fight the smile that broke free against her lips as he grabbed a hold of her words and tucked them carefully into the little box of love he had for her, amongst the cobwebs that they were slowly clearing away to make room for new furniture.

in the moment there was no fear. it was like with one kiss, with her quiet voice, giselle had completely evaporated the anxiety from his body. all that mattered was that she was there and she was real, and she missed him, and six feet away there was a bookshelf full of memories that she hadn’t let go of. he had forgotten how addicting it had been to feel wanted, and to want someone else. for years he had been simply passing through other people like a ghost — hands and lips touching skin but never quite making the contact that he needed to feel something. they came and he left, and it never really mattered, because in time they’d be replaced with someone new and equally empty. they didn’t want him and he didn’t want them, and he thought that was easiest because the inevitable end never hurt. giselle’s hands left sparks that skittered across his body and he didn’t want them to ever stop, even if it meant they would eventually engulf both of them in flames and ruin them to ashes.

          he didn’t care. the path they treaded was well worn and familiar, despite the time that had passed — jackson pulling her into him, pressing his fingertips into her skin like he was trying to convince himself she was real, like someone who had never been close before, and giselle stepping in time, following his movements eagerly — and yet it also felt different. she wasn’t shyly meeting him halfway anymore, all nervous giggling and soft skin ; her hands were gripping onto his waist like she was afraid he was going to disappear again and she wanted to stop him, to hold him there. jackson couldn’t blame her. he didn’t even trust himself not to pull the same shit ─ it wasn’t like the years apart had changed him into a better man. in many ways, it had made him worse ; there were women in new york who would’ve told giselle to turn tail and run before he could. but no matter what the future consequences would be, he had waited years for this moment. he wasn’t letting go until she wanted him too.

         without pulling away from her he dropped one of his hands to meet hers at his waist, his fingers sliding up her forearm. they paused at her elbow, before in one fluid motion he shifted his hand to rest against her lower back again. he dragged her in towards him, closing the small gap that was still between them completely. he didn’t want room to breathe. he didn’t need too. his other hand shifted to the back of her neck and curled against it, trying to pull her closer, closer, closer, like he could somehow relay years’ of stories and apologies into the way he held her against him. like that could be the only explanation he needed to give. like that might tell her ‘ i missed you too. ‘

    one hand followed the familiar curve of her back to rest in the centre of her shoulder blades, and the other twisted into the hair at the back of her neck. he pulled away from her lips, but only so he could draw her in closer. for a quiet second, he just wanted to hold her, to exist in the moment ─ he was here, right now, standing with her, and he didn’t regret it. “ was this your plan the whole time ? “ he murmured teasingly against her temple as he delicately kissed it, his voice soft enough not to disturb the comfortable peace that had settled over the room. his thoughts were blissfully silent, his mind too focused on the ridges of her spine under his hands as he traced them ; the taste of her lipgloss still lingering against his mouth ; the feeling of loose curls tickling the side of his face. it was he’d been living his life in shades of grey, and giselle had dragged him back into the world of colour. he felt alive. jackson forgot how dizzying that could be. “ because when you said you needed my help with something, i didn’t really expect it to be your dress. “