WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MENTAL HEALTH, SELF-HARMING, GROOMING AND MATURE CONTENT

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(@gossipgirl tweeted)

GOOD morning, followers. In New York, Thanksgiving is more than a day to plan seating charts, triple-check that New York Times recipe, and brace for family arguments. Thanksgiving is also the favourite holiday of yours truly. It's a time to be grateful for what matters. And this year, I'm most grateful for you. For your secrets, your lies, and all the tips you've given me. So try to enjoy the tryptophan and relax. But don't relax too much. Because no matter where you might be celebrating, I'll always have a seat at the table.

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"There's something you're not telling me," Monet exclaimed, standing behind Winnie, helping her put on her infamous spider necklace.

The Dubois heiress cast her an odd look through the floor-length mirror they stood in front of, "What do you mean? All week we've acting like we're in some little fuller house special. I have nothing to hide."

Monet snorted, "I liked to think of it as the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, minus the heteros, but we all know secrets are part of you. So spill."

"There's nothing to spill," Winnie shrugged her off as she put up her hair into a tight ponytail.

Every brush she did she winced, scalp seething with pain but she pushed through.

Monet's eyes softened and helped Winnie, pushing her closer to her bed.

The De Haan teen was close to taking out her twists, she loved them but they were growing and showing her natural strands and she couldn't abide it.

Winnie sent her a small smile, "It's Thanksgiving, Margaux and Luc will dont do Thanksgiving, and neither do I."

"Celebrating the slaughtering of the innocence I thought that was your forte," Monet breathed out.

Winnie eyed her, finding her terminology quite odd.

Monet added rather anxiously, "What I mean is, it's cutthroat, don't the Dubois like a good feast?"

"It's an American holiday and as much as they adapt to the American culture because they were born here as well as several generations of my family, we all cling to our French roots like white on rice," Winnie ranted, sending her an appreciative look after seeing not one strand was out of place.

She caught a few of Monet's dogs calmly strolling around in her room.

"No bullshit, why did you get called into the headmistress's office?" Monet pressed, coming to stand between her legs.

Winnie's eyes grew heated as she let her gaze drag up and down, "Family shit."

"You missed all the drama with the ratty groomer, he's locked away, no bail, some of the parents of the seniors he was scissoring must of had a say."

"Max's parents right?" Winnie received a nod, "Yeah he's been hitting me up."

"And you've been avoiding him, why?" Monet folded her eyes, wanting the gossip since she'd been on the outs.

"Thinking of the right way to shame him."

"Winnie!"

"Not for being groomed, I'm not that bad." Winnie held up her hands defensively and rolled her eyes at the sigh of relief she heard. "Queer Kurt Cobain ditched Ginny for his Ménage à trois, truthfully I get the appeal, two heads are better than one, but it's the manner in which he cast her aside. She's been his ugh and I hate saying it... his rock and he took her shoulder he pathetically cried on for granted. It's treason."

"Wouldn't call it that, Ginevra isn't the queen," Monet stated, settling her hands on Winnie's shoulders, breathily sighing when she felt hands at the back of her thighs.

"We're each heir to our family's fortunes, so yes we are, therefore it's the highest treason."

So it's off with his head, she thought, thoroughly amused.

"I'm an heir," Monet pointed out, breath hitching when Winnine's hands roamed.

"Which makes you a Queen."

"Just anyone's?"

Winnie argued, "New York's, so you have some competition with me."

"Let me repeat the question, am I just anyone's Queen?" Monet reiterated, cupping her face.

"You're mine Mon, is that what you want to hear?" Winnie rasped, tilting her head back as nails delicately trailed her neck.

"I want you to scream that in bed," Monet whispered as their lips trailed against the other.

Winnie huffed and pulled Monet forward, gripping her waist as she straddled her legs.

"That I'm yours and you're mine? What are we exclusive now?"

"Do you want to be?" Monet squeaked when her skirt inched up.

"Well, I don't want anyone else to have you," Winnie stared up at her, with gentle eyes.

More gentle than anyone knew they were capable of being.

"Cute, but I'll need you to say it, so it can be held up in court," Monet teased, basking in the warmth she felt.

It was always warmth, their touches were like fire and kisses like a blaze of euphoria over her skin.

Winnie appeared smug, "Courthouse's and professions of my undying desire for you, are we getting married?"

"This state permits our potential union," Monet smirked at the eye roll she obtained.

"Aww, now Manhatten won't get dragged," Winnie teased, tugging her closer.

"Winnie..."

Winnie quite liked it when she moaned her name so she conceded, "Fine, I want to be exclusive."

"Good," Monet's eyes glistened with joy, "because I too, want to be exclusive."

Winnie paused her elation, "Still in secret though?"

"Until the time is right," Monet muttered, slightly cautious.

"Who knew Monet Makeda De Haan was a pussy."

"I am what I eat, so now let's seal this milestone with a kiss," Monet basked in the laughter she received from her quip and leaned in.

Just as their lips were about to meet, a voice interrupted them.

"Monet! You'll be late. Winifred, your mute guard is here, hurry, appearance and attendance are everything!" they heard Camile scream from the ground floor.

Winnie dropped back in annoyance.

Monet groaned, "Coming!"

Winnie chuckled, erotic images came to mind, "A phrase you said many times last night."

"And this morning, can't forget the dirty details, Dubois," Monet winked as she got off of her.

"I doubt I ever could."

—

"You made it exclusive, but didn't seal it with a kiss? Have I taught you nothing?" Ginny questioned quietly as they strolled through the school.

"Drop the dramatics, I know you're hurting, direct your energy onto that," Winnie retorted, shooting her a glance.

They both appeared more... tired, not as vicious as usual, not just them but the school overall was off, ever since the public arrest of Mr Caparros.

"You're deflecting," the blonde addressed. "And you haven't gone home since the riots."

Winnie groaned, "Ouch, you know why I haven't. Besides I'm going today, I have to or the dementors will send a swat team to drag me to the Ostroff Centre," she lowered her voice towards the end, "I swear I never saw the similarities between Margaux and Joan Crawford until now. Tonight I might freeze at the sight of wired hangers."

A brief smile made its way onto Ginny's face, "Well, your mom does have a certain old Hollywood vibe to her."

"Old yes," Winnie murmured, glaring at Miss Keller who swiftly passed with her band of anxious teachers.

"All the teachers are acting more insane than usual," Ginny gagged when they almost bumped into her.

"I'd rather them insane than predatory," Winnie said a little louder, freaking out the students around, before her eyes narrowed onto someone she wanted to see, "Speaking of that, I spotted the big bad Wolfe, give me a second."

"Winnie not now," the girl broke out of Ginny's grasp before she had a say, "and she's off."

Winnie materialised in front of Max like a vampire making him jump, then sigh when she smacked his books out of his hand, alerting a few onlookers to the scene, luckily Ginny who stood afar warned them not to take out their phones with a single look.

"Seriously? What is this, CW bullying?" Max felt too exhausted to pick up his books.

"With that receding hairline Max... they would probably cast you so yes, but that isn't the only thing I have a problem with," she scoffed, shaking her head, "I see you've settled for Ginny's clone. And here I thought it was the drugs that made you all twisted or was it the manipulation of a grown man?"

"A little early for all this questioning Pooh Bear. couldn't you wait? I tried calling but you were ignoring me," Max frustratedly restored, furrowing his brows.

"For a reason," Winnie gritted her teeth, "and for what it's worth, I thought you were decent as a peer. I even played a part in making your obsessive crush on that poorer-than-poor Predator disappear. And this is how you repay me? Ginny? But calling quits?"

Max continued trying not to flinch at the mention of the jailed teacher. The moment he discovered the other students that Rafa was pursuing he laid off, and tried sabotaging his career, hoping that gossipgirl would aid him but that wasn't the case and the whole plan backfired. But that's when the regrets multiplied, time sought Rafa out, indulged in flirting, followed him around, desired to feel something, hands on his body, lips on his...he felt sick. Disgusted with himself and knew he had to distance himself from the very girl who helped him, forced open his eyes to see that he wasn't okay, unhealthy and unhappy.

Scared that if he could be burned, scolded by the anonymous app, he didn't want Ginny to be scathed, so he made sure she could get out while she still could, leaving him to the comfort and extra sensual hands of his dear friends. He thought it was easier that way, even if it was a secret, it soothed him.

Max huffed quietly, "I didn't ask you to do that, nor did I think this thing between me and Gin would progress, I thought she was using me as a pawn in your game."

"So you treated her like Dr Phil, now that's insulting," Winnie sneered.

"I liked Ginny, no I like her but it won't work and she knew that. I was too –"

"High? Drugged up? God Max we know," the boy looked hallowed out in her opinion, "but that doesn't mean you had to use her."

Max deadpaned, "Pot. Kettle, Black."

Winnie reeled back, "One, that's Racist, and two, to think I was your black saviour," she took a step back, irritated by the lack of thanks, "Colour me wrong."

Hearing the commotion they were swarmed by their friends, Audrey and Aki stood behind Max, Ginny pulled Winnie back as Monet cautiously strolled over and stood between them.

Max sent the Wellington blonde an apologetic look, which she chose to ignore, "Drop it Win, like you said, he's degraded. From the original to the average Doppelgänger," that earned her glares from the couple, "Good luck Maximus, you'll need it."

They strutted off before they couldn't even respond.

Monet's eyes lingered on Winnie's behind.

"Seems like money doesn't buy class," she heard Audrey say.

Which made Monet scoff, "You'd know."

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(@gossipgirl tweeted)

Spotted: Tensions are high, and bonds are bound to break, like the wishbones on your turkeys. Gobble Gobble fellow followers, I know secrets will spill, so be careful not to slip on the truths... and would you look at that it's barely noon.

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"Oh, what do you want?" Winnie groaned, bumping into Zoya in the library named after her family.

She was only here spending her free period learning Excel from a private tutor instead of Mr Glassberg whom she couldn't stand.

The curly-haired girl had been moping around all fourth period, "I came here to ask why you sent me a cryptic message about riots and love."

"Oh yeah, your sister and boyfriend," Winnie managed to make sexual gestures whilst holding her Macbook, making the freshman freeze, "rekindled during his poorly organised protest attacked my family's property, stained the windows whilst he stained Calloway's walls no doubt."

Zoya instantly shut her down, "What? You're lying."

"Believe what you want Zoya, I didn't have to tell you this, I could've just forwarded you the CCTV footage of them kissing but I thought honesty was the best policy."

"No – this is just some trick. I know you stoop low but this is fucked up Winnie," Zoya snapped, uncaring of the zero-talking policy.

Her body recoiled at the thought of her sister betraying her with her own boyfriend, her first boyfriend, the boy who she loved. She would never believe something like that even after all the hardships she and Julian faced.

"You're telling me, I'm glad I don't have siblings," Winnie went on, raising a brow when Zoya clenched her fists and scowled.

"You're wrong, ever since I moved you've been trying to get me on your side, to get back at my sister and it didn't work the first time so your last resort is to spread cruel lies," the heiress amusement began to falter as she heard Zoya angry discourse, "I knew you were fucked in the head but I didn't think you'd do this, no wait, actually this doesn't surprise me."

And that clearly struck a nerve, Winnie's eyes twitched as she leaned down and maliciously whispered, "Believe it or not but that doesn't stop them from fucking." she grinned at the tears in Zoya's eyes, "Happy turkey day."

—

Winnie sat opposite the woman he was now her... therapist. The Ostroff Centre sent her nerves into a frenzy, even when she walked into the building she was searched like a criminal and asked questions like she was being interviewed by a detective. She wanted to sprint out of there, but until she met her hourly requirement of spilling her secrets she wouldn't be allowed out, no matter how much she tried and bribe Caesar and the additional bodyguard her parents sent.

She was forced here, not allowed to be in at her tennis practice which messed up her whole day, the structure was ruined, and it prevented her from setting up a meeting with a Calvin Klein campaign manager.

20 minutes had passed and Winnie shifted again in the seat she ensured was wiped down. The room was on the 3rd floor and had sufficient sunlight but it was also dull, books clung to the bookshelves, and awards and accomplishments decorated the walls. Dr A. Anchor was the woman's name. A few shades lighter than Winnie, had thick kinky locs trimmed to her bust, dense reading glasses placed on her nose above a pleasant smile kissing her lips. A small rock attached to a wedding band was the first thing that caught Winnie's attention before she realised it was only 3 karats.

The therapist decided to softly clear her throat, "Can I ask Winifred –"

"Winnie," the teen corrected, now locking eyes with her.

Dr Anchor noticed how her callous eyes darted across the room the moment she strutted in with all of the confidence of the world, a common trait she saw with patients of a certain economic background. A pretty girl with a foul mouth, her assistant informed her.

Dr Anchor's smile hadn't faded, "Winnie, why do you think you're here?"

"Because this is clearly my parent's way of punishing me."

Winnie rolled her eyes at the woman taking a few notes.

"Therapy is a punishment to you, not a means of improving one's mental state or aiding it somehow?"

Winnie laughed in disbelief, "No, I'm here because they want to teach me a lesson before I have the chance to return the favour."

Judging from how she spoke about her parents, the doctor wanted to adjust her questions.

"Your parents, what's your relationship with them?"

"They hate me," Winnie answered with indifference and yet part of her tone screamed out to Dr Anchor.

Pain. The therapist wrote down.

"You believe they hate you?" she went on to ask.

"Well, they clearly don't love me," Winnie gestured around the room she happened to be in as if it was such an obvious take.

"And why do you think your parents don't love you?"

"What's there to love?" Winnie snapped, earning a slight frown from the woman.

"You think you're unlovable? Why?"

Winnie instantly leaned forward, "Don't put words in my mouth. I never said that."

"Then can I ask what did you mean by your previous comment?" Dr Anchor continued to write.

The jotting from the pen was doing the teenager's head in.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Winnie wanted out, but of course, all the windows were restricted, put on a safe latch so no one could jump, the exact thing she wanted at this moment.

"Let me ask you a different question. Why do you believe that they don't love you, your parents?"

"I don't know," Winnie gritted out, glancing at the clock since they took her phone away to see only 2 minutes had gone by.

"Do they spend time with you? Go on trips, invest in your life, other than financially," the doctor was relentless.

"No." other than dinner time,  the summers in Switzerland and other small trips, but even then they weren't present which meant she didn't have to be.

Spending more time on screens was the best thing for her to do, the very thing she felt comfortable doing. Her parents were as comforting as a bag of coal. They weren't there to raise her, but to watch her since that's what they thought parenting was; waiting and watching until she messed up and they made sure to penalise her whenever she did.

It was Dr Anchor's turn to lean forward, and put aside her notebook, "Would you like them to?"

An uncharacteristic frown made its way onto Winnie's face due to the question. Would I like them to? God no she wouldn't but it would be nice if they were there, not saying anything negative or bossy or mean. Her mother made sure she was put onto this earth as a pawn of the company, the fortune she was born into. She was supposed to be appreciative of the fact but she wasn't, how could she? She was a weapon of the future, not a daughter so why would she want to spend time with the exact people who reminded her of that?

The doctor reaching for her pen broke the teen from her thoughts, which drove her to stand up, "I think we're done today."

"I seem to have upset you."

Dr Anchor's eyes softened when she saw the tears streaming through the teenager's face.

Winnie didn't realise she was crying. Crying in front of a stranger, crying in fucking public, so she wiped her tears and stormed over to the woman.

"I'm not upset this whole thing is useless. Asking me about my life and love as if I would be able to answer the questions. It's a trap, you're here to trap me. I don't want to talk, I don't want to be here. You've taken my parent's money, so be glad to spend it on a new hairdresser because your unruly hair is causing me more distress than your questions or maybe even spending it on a partner that will leave you the moment you don't do what they say. But don't sit here and act as if you care, you're not interested in what I think, I'm nothing to you but a paycheck, a cash cow, an object for your financial gain, not a person but an entity you squeeze information out of until there is nothing left but a submissive cunt that listens to you and only you!" And after that, Winnie went to the door but just as she shakily went to grip the handle, the doctor called out to her.

"Like you said, I see you as nothing but a paycheck so indulge me, a studious girl like you wouldn't miss the chance to do so," Winnie didn't turn around but she did listen as Dr Anchor questioned, "Do you like yourself? Not love. Do you, Winifred Dubois like yourself?"

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(@gossipgirl tweeted and tagged @slitherWin)

Rumour has it that the Dubois heiress has a couple of screws loose. I'm all for therapy, but it was only a matter of time before her Hyde took out her Jekyll. Are Mommy and Daddy dearest certain this is who they want to take over their company? ... just like oil and water, it appears Winifred Dubois and sanity don't mix.

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Caesar had to force the heiress out of the car before she had the chance to slam her head into the window again, no bruise was visible but the dazed look on her face was evident. The gossip girl blasted exposed her and to make matters worse it made her look weak, defenceless and on a day that was about celebrating genocide.

No fucking thanks!

Winnie felt humiliated, even when she heard the news that Calvin Klein still wanted her as an ambassador but not for being real, instead they wanted her to celebrate mental health and if it wasn't for Ginny she would've let the whole campaign go.

Monet was blowing up her phone and other people too.

She had to shut it off.

When she arrived home, Caesar and the other bodyguard informed her father about the ride home.

"Where's mom?" Winnie asked as her dad insisted they sit in the living room.

She was expecting a reprimand from Margaux but didn't get one.

She could feel her father grimacing at her forehead, to see any damage but there wasn't one.

He looked concerned. "Cancun, she set out this morning."

Winnie made a face, mind racing with images of why her mom had returned to the scene of the crime.

A moment passed and her father was awaiting a reply so she blurted, "And I wasn't informed? She didn't say anything to me."

"Your memory must be selective Winnie, you weren't here this morning, or yesterday, or the entire weekend. You were with the De Haans."

"My lesbian lover, you can say it, Dad," she taunted.

"Grayson informed me what you were doing with his daughter. Sweet girl," Luc tried.

"Yes, she is," Winnie's double entendre was obvious. "So, dissimilar to mom, who because of some petty discrepancy didn't alert her child she was leaving the country."

"Why do you care so much? You dislike her."

"I liked to be informed."

"We know you do," Luc paused as maids set down a makeshift table for their own feast of the evening. They could only dine in the living room when Margaux was absent. Luc hated Thanksgiving so instead they were having French cuisine for dinner, "How was therapy?"

Winnie scowled, picking up the TV remote, "I'm not going back."

"You will," her father wasn't leaving room for argument.

She craned her neck to the side, "And why is that?"

"The therapist said we should continue your sessions based on today."

Winnie froze at the memory of the questions that were thrown at her today. Do you like yourself? She never answered it and instead ignored the rest of the things Dr Anchor said for the remaining 37 minutes.

"Isn't she breaking doctor-patient confidentiality for telling you? She could lose her license if that ever got out," she murmured, turning away and trying to search for a movie to watch.

Luc sighs at her answer. "They inform parents about the details of sessions if there is a possibility the patient is a danger to themselves or others."

"I am not a danger to myself! And I am not idiotic to endanger someone else."

Luc frowned, knowing that wasn't the case and the display in one of their cars was evidence of that, and when he discovered it, he shuddered. His daughter was only ever physically aggressive when she played tennis, so perhaps seeing Dr Anchor was a bigger priority.

And so he said, "We're continuing your sessions."

She dropped the remote, "Then I'll discharge myself."

"You're a child, you cannot discharge yourself," Luc sighed.

"Oh please, I've never been a child."

Luc averted his gaze, rendered pained by the thought of her being right, "We're continuing your sessions until we see an improvement."

"Then you can eat alone," she forcefully shoved the makeshift tb#able away, spilling some of the delicacies onto the floor, leaving the staff to fuss over the mess whilst her dad waved them off.

Luc called out her name, but all he received with loud stomps as she ascended the stairs.

Winnie didn't come down that night, she ordered food from her favourite Mexican restaurant, stuffing it into her gullet as she rated the dry Thanksgiving meals all over her feed. Some of her fans who were now offering her support about seeing a therapist sent her sweet messages, she lost several thousand followers because she visited the Ostroff Centre and just as she was about to dash her phone across her newly made-up room, it vibrated, alerting her to another missed call from Monet.

She ignored in fear of judgment and ignored the messages from Ginny about Monet potentially jumping ship.

They were exclusive, right? So why would she do that?

Getting fed up by the notifications, she tossed her phone, turning to Abaddon who whined at the foot of her bed, she was just about to let him up when she realised she had to discard her takeout before it stuck up the room and was too stubborn to let the maids in so she picked up the trash and walked out.

Winnie muttered to herself as she descended the stairs, irritated by the entire day, thanksgiving was a curse overall, so why would she think any different?

Her muttering came to a cease when she got to the first floor and overheard her father's muffled voice as he argued with someone over the phone.

She stayed to the side, cautious of his bodyguard standing outside the room.

"Davis Calloway is finished, Roger Menzies informed me of the transgressions that took place, William. I know one of the victims, paid her enough to keep her mouth shut until I say, she said she couldn't be brought but everyone has a price," he paused, listening to his response, "Yes I know, outing a predator will help with my future campaign, and having a victim on my side will help with the democrats, not just the republicans." she heard her father laugh, which drove a shiver down her spine. "Now I have to donate to a few foundations and that'll be the next step in this race."

Winnie struggled not to drop the bags of trash when she heard everything.

Julian's dad was a predator and yet she was more terrified of her father.

"Fuck my life," she whispered.

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a/n:
sanaa lathan as 𝗱𝗿 𝗮. 𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿

mmm whatcha say?

monifred are exclusive but with no kiss to seal the deal? yikes, but writing monet into episodes she was cut out is so odd to me, because if they adjusted the plot she would've fit but she was an afterthought to the producers and the writers.

quick shoutout to NekodaDotR for the manip

winnie was doing zoya a favour by telling her that she was cheated on abut she also wanted to cause drama, but when zoya claimed she was fucked in the head... and it struck a nerve and then wanted to go for the jugular. similar to winnie and max, they have never been close but she didn't mind him, but as soon as he fucked over ginny she gagged him.

why was margaux in mexico? and what do you think of another luc and winnie moment? i think this is the most dialogue I've ever written for him. i do think he cares more about his daughter's mental health, and margaux cares more for her public image. which has been made worse for the family because of gossip exposing her therapy which goes against her own brand, so winnie is just going to continue to sprial, i just hope the therapist can do some damage control before she gets worse.

i liked writing the dr anchor, even just to find out winnie's thoughts without her just blurting them out to just anyone.