Gay Bars New Brunwick Nj

Title: call to perfection (wrong number)
From: lynethe
To: phoenixgfawkes
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Jenny / Blair, one-sided by J.


is my first foray into the fandom, and my first pseudo-femmeslash, but I am very excited. Giving gifts, especially someone who writes so damn cool as you, always makes me nervous, but just hope you like it.

call to perfection (wrong number)
De Lynethe to Mariana.

is rare.

always been a smart girl, right? No distant and academic style of his brother, but in a somewhat more practical and subtle but high school teachers and his family all his life said he had a talent special. Still, never understood what the "value of youth."

a child, the (even more) little Jenny just wanted to be one thing more. His dream of designing came later but, before, during and long after, his greatest dream was to become a woman, using elegant dresses, stroll along the boulevards, take important decisions of your life and have fun until dawn, or until his body could no more.

For a couple of months, and for the first time, had been the case. Skiing in Aspen. Gossiping and drinking all night. Knowing guys in bars and owner of ancient art of walking in high heels, had failed to consider a child and had been an adult, mature, accomplished.

So it is curious that now, walking alone through the frozen streets of Manhattan, once one person.

not know when to go all the roads that separate it from the Waldorf home, but before you know it is already rushing through the entrance and seconds later observed, agitated, his mirror image at the bottom of the elevator. Pathetic. Sweaty, disheveled, with worn lip gloss and eye makeup and Stupid run written all over his face, from the neck line to the cheeks daubed with rouge. Do not know why, with the general appearance, is spent on closing down his jacket to expose the front of her dress. But it does. A time to not be seen when the metal doors open and, once again, in that hellish night, she is discovered.

It's almost as if it was waiting.

- Well, well. But if little Jenny, rising from its ashes.

Blair Waldorf. Morena, haughty, comfortably reclined in the plush chair in the room as his lips curved in a feline smile, addressed only to it.

won.

know who won, the thrill of victory is slipping through the pores, makes it shine in the dim light of the apartment like a star, like a moon of satin. You look at the note: no doubt-never had "that if the luxury around you is beautiful, is due solely to her.

And it could be just today, tonight, at this point in the front presented Blair with tired arms and head bowed in which Jenny realizes that there is a wall between indivisible, a barrier I could never overcome just to enter a world not born for and would not survive, but it is not. It is simply the night that gives up.

always knew because he thinks, as he begins to confess his defeat aloud, "I always knew that she and Blair Waldorf belonged to different worlds, just not in the way other people thought . Not in the way that someone from Brooklyn and Manhattan someone could be different: it would have been nothing that a little determination could not fix. What separated them was something much larger, a gap as there is between heaven and earth or between gods and mortals tiny.

By the time Jenny had entered high school, I knew all about Blair. He knew his reputation and his family, his circle of friends, clubs they frequented, the clothes he had worn in all events of the year, his favorite subjects in school. Even had learned, on good authority, their favorite breakfast for winter and summer.

I did not know, and nobody could warn, is that one can never be prepared enough to face a Waldorf.

The first time I saw it directly with his followers sitting on the stairs input, he felt out of breath. Her white skin, huge eyes, the brown locks that fall gently on the face if only "sensitive" was a word that could be associated in some way to someone with such energy, such power. From where she stood, it was obvious that Blair was the owner of those stairs, from that school, those girls who clustered around him like satellites, seemingly entranced by the fact of being under their control. Owner of the world, which stopped spinning for a few minutes the first time I went to talk to her, in her art class.

At first, Jenny had been almost like a slave, and could not be more pleased about it. Pertenecíaa their world, and serve him with a pleasure that was beyond anything I ever would have been a delirium that bordered on masochism but that made her feel fulfilled. His knees trembled as she looked down, and with each order yes, Blair " slipped from his lips naturally.

not know when it started to want more.

not know how it started, just that one day he began to wonder what it would not be his subordinate, but his equal. Was first an innocent question, a snort of disgust to find that-again-your work was not worth as much as expected and had left out. But it was growing, growing, becoming, as a dream, a goal.

the end he degenerated in ways they never would have thought since day the seguíay strove to keep up, to reach their level, but too many nights alone at home, fantasizing about being superior.

Sometimes, even I dreamed. She at the summit, above all, including Blair - especially Blair, "who assisted, followed, obeyed the as commanded, in all its vagaries. In his dreams, his head bent Blair revolt brown curls and said, "Yes, Jenny" , his voice soft and submissive, whispered, sometimes between Jenny gasps and those times he woke up covered in sweat and unable to think of something else.

was like flying into the sun.

is not until now that I think, but believed to have been having this recurring fantasy so that made him mad when he realized he would never be true. Blair Waldorf that never see the child as more than silly small manageable J. Humphrey, and possibly why did all that was later to prove who was at the height of that Jenny in her dreams on his knees in despair, with astonishing ease.

It's clear that none of it worked. In the end, just the inevitable happened: the bubble burst and the dreams were like dreams as life-and all he had done to her in recent months, fell above, yet mood to crush and sprinkle trampled to death by Manolo Blahnik shoes.

And now, here it is again subjected to the power and influence, but today only a farewell. Stop when increase compared to that brilliant and distant figure, now without dreams, without want, without searching.

- I no longer expect anything.

is going as he came quickly and quietly, with a uncontrollable desire to get home and forget how could all that had happened. Apologize to his family, hot drink, perhaps mourn a bit for the last time.

And take off their heels, which are done while the killing. End