#gossip queen tabloid

[havenroyals]

Breaking news: Dymond Joy is divorcing Titus Rawkis.

Hours after Dymond Joy's rep put out a statement that the R&B diva is divorcing fellow singer Titus Rawkis, he is spotted with actress Judith Ward. The singer and Hollywood royalty were seen leaving a restaurant for a "lunch date." Sources close to Judith have spoken about their "concerns" for this new "relationship."

One friend said, "The way they got together is a bit sweet, but I still cannot support them. Titus reached out to Judith to check on Diana - after those disgusting photos came out. Judy was so touched and drawn to him. She's been single for a decade, but he is not right for her."

Fans of Titus have taken to the internet to express their rage. Not rage over his split and rebound. The fans are outraged that Titus is in a relationship! Full stop. Not a care that his wife is reportedly divorcing him due to infidelity. Not a single concern that he was accused of shooting Dymond by Gina Rawkis.

The T-lovers - the names of his fanbase - have flooded Judith's socials with hateful comments and weapon emojis. Titus has not spoken out to calm his fans, and they are full-on pissed that he is not available for one of them to snatch up.

Ending on a positive note, Dymond has shared the first photos of her baby boy. No name has been shared, but her PR team has stated the little guy has his mother's surname and not Titus's.

Come back to Gossip Queen for more messy celebrity news.

GQ | Previous | Next

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Happy one year!

It's been one year of @beyondsimsreality 🥳

[anotheruserwithnoname]

From the Jenna Coleman archives comes this little chestnut from Ireland. A tabloid there regurgitated the Daily Fail's (long-debunked) speculation about Harry and Jenna supposedly dating back in 2015 simply based on the two being photographed talking at an event. This rumour even made it into a biography of Harry that was published ahead of his wedding to Meghan Markle (trivia: Jenna once read for Meghan's role in the TV series Suits!). And while the Irish Mirror didn't go so far as to suggest a royal wedding was imminent like SOME media did at the time, it did give them an excuse to run a retrospective of Jenna's career up to that time since she wouldn't have been well known in Ireland beyond Doctor Who.

In the article, they include some images of images of her from Emmerdale and Waterloo Road I haven't seen before. Which is as good an excuse as any to post this link. Even if it's a story based on polo pony poop.

[jackoshadows]

It's so confusing and weird that Bridgerton introduced in world racism both with Lady D and Simon in season one of the show and in Queen Charlotte and at the same time they also want the audience to accept that somehow Marina Thompson or the dark skinned Indian Kate Sharma has more privilege and power than Penelope Featherington?

Kate Sharma was also poor, so much more than the Featheringtons. She depended on Lady D to host them. The Sharmas were looked down on by the ton because Mary Sheffield married an Indian. The Sharmas were disowned and ostracized by the Sheffields.

Kate was also an unmarried spinster. No one was asking Kate to dance. As much as Kate wanted love and romance and to dance at a ball wearing pretty dresses, she got none of that. She was also the woman on the sidelines watching as others danced and fell in love.

Racism and colorism is also very much a thing in eurocentric notions of beauty considering the setting and characters of Bridgerton is 99% white.

We got so little of Kate's backstory, of who her parents where - we didn't even get their names!! - of the trauma (explained for both Simon and Anthony using flashbacks) that had Kate overlooking her own happiness for that of her sister.

Despite bragging nonstop about the diversity of Bridgerton the showrunners thought that the white Featheringtons needed more screentime in season 2 rather than the South Asian family.

And Kate was planning on going back to India and work as a governess to pay for her livelihood. Because, you know, there's more honest ways of being a 'working woman' than running the equivalent of the regency 'Daily Mail' dragging other women down. The modiste Madame Delacroix, Kate planning to teach and Sienna in season one are all working to pay a living. Black, brown and lower class women looking to alleviate poverty.

And considering how much harder Kate already had it as an outsider in the ton, it wouldn't have been easy with Penelope using her gossip rag to describe the unmarried Indian woman as ' a Spinster of a beast'. What did Kate do to Penelope to warrant this? Nothing. Just a way for Penelope to make money at Kate's expense.

That's the thing I dislike the most about the way the character of Penelope is written on the show - her victims don't deserve her vitriol and are often in much worse circumstances than her. From Kate Sharma to the unnamed seamstress who apparently lost all her customers because Penelope wrote falsely about their work in the her tabloid as a bribe for Madam Delacroix.

And I think that's what I find problematic about the writing of the show and even the discourse surrounding it - when characters like Marina Thompson (the poor black cousin who would have ended up destitute on the streets because of Penelope) and Kate Sharma arguably have it far worse than Penelope Featherington as per the show's writing and yet we are supposed to have the most sympathy for Penelope because her crush Colin didn't love her back and she's a curvy white woman?

I guess that's the difference between how I perceive this world and these characters as a woc and the majority white female audience for this show and it's such a huge disconnect for me. I guess this is also partly because the show has this badly written and 'strangely toothless racism' as Ash Sarkar beautifully put it. As in the racism is treated in this world as a little problem solved by handing out a few titles to black people instead of being a white supremacist ideology which treated black and brown people as inferior, serfs and slaves.

From what little we got from season 2, Kate Sharma definitely did not have it easy navigating the ton as a poor outsider and that certainly contributed to her poor choices. She is also put through the wringer, treated like the other woman, is miserable for several episodes, had to apologize again and again and nearly die before Edwina forgives her!

In contrast Penelope's actions have hurt so many and yet she gets a pass by both the show and a fandom that wants Colin to grovel before her because of a single offhand remark and because he didn't return her affections.

Also making it clear here that I am not comparing Penelope to the male characters who always get the better writing, flaws and all. I am comparing Penelope to the female characters of colour - Kate Sharma and Marina Thompson.

I mean, Marina Thompson gets so much vitriolic and sexist hatred for not having told Colin Bridgerton the truth of her pregnancy. How dare Marina hurt this privileged white man Colin Bridgerton. When she was desperate to not end up destitute on the streets or get raped by old white men. And yet Penelope gets a pass for hurting women like Marina and Kate.

It continues a trend of white female characters never being held to the same standard as female characters of colour. Daphne sexually assaults Simon in season one and that was not even addressed on the show. Male rape is apparently no big deal because Daphne wanting children is what's important. It's Simon who has to apologize and within one episode resolve his trauma and accept being a father. This is despite both Daphne and Penelope having more screentime and more writing that builds their character unlike the stick thin writing given to Kate Sharma in season 2.

So yeah, I will be checking into season 3 to watch the ten minutes we get with Kate Sharma since we got so little of her in her own season and it's so singular to get dark skinned south Indian characters in a period drama romance like this. It's just the way the writing on the show, the production and even the fandom treats it's characters, especially characters of colour has been disappointing to say the least.

[jkbunny2001]

HASBIN HOTEL: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Genre: Lucifer adoring his precious little duckie

Rating: 21+

Summary: You’ve been feeling like you shouldn’t be with Lucifer due to public eye, thinking you’re not enough. Lucifer proves you wrong

Warnings: dom!lucifer, daddy k!nk, edging, orgasm denial, sub space, fingering, eating out, blowjob, demon forms, slight ch!king kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard for you to not be in Hell’s public eye. Dating the Lord of Hell kinda makes you in the media’s camera line. Not that you minded really, you were just happy to be with him and Charlie when needed. You manifested into Hell a couple of years before Charlie was born, and with her mother leaving, she viewed you as a sort of “motherly” figured for lack of a better word.

However, with the fame, comes the drama. Recently, tabloids have been running all throughout Hell about how you even got to be with Lucifer in the first place. At first, you believed it to be just the random gossip of the week. But, after a while it started to stick.

Main headlines read, ‘Is this demon really suitable for the King of Hell?’, ‘Y/N… Hell’s next Queen? Or Tramp of the Week?’ Charlie kept telling you not to listen and that they had no idea what they were talking about. You asked her to not say anything to her father. He would light the reporter on fire for writing what they did.

As you walked around the mansion Lucifer lived in, you kept noticing the servants gossiping about things, but the minute you were in line of sight, they were quiet. You started to grow self conscious. You knew Lucifer loved you, there was no denying that.

But were you enough? You stared at yourself in the mirror of your master bedroom.. ‘is it my horns?’ You thought to yourself examining your own face and body. ‘My red skin? Are my boobs too small? Or.. is it because I’m not powerful enough?’ A million questions were rubbing through your head, you started to cry, tears running down your blood red face…

As your head was down, Lucifer walked into the room. “Hello my little duckie, what’s- are you crying?!” Lucifer was clearly worried and upset. Who made you cry? Who did he have to kill? You quickly wipe your face turning away from him. “Um.. no I’m okay! Just something in my eyes!” You tried to make an excuse know it probably wasn’t going to convince your boyfriend.

Lucifer placed his hand on your shoulder, turning your face towards him. You were about a foot shorter than he was, you always felt petite next to him…. but now you just felt small, in a bad way.. almost insignificant.

“Duckie what’s wrong?? Talk to me angel..” Lucifer held your face in his hands, him towering over you kissing your cheeks. His gentle affection started to make your cry more. His thumb caressed your check and you open up to him. “I’m sorry Luci… I’m sorry that I’m not enough.” That statement stung him. He was so pissed and yet hurt that anyone would make you even remotely think that.

“Shhhh… it’s okay my angel, don’t you ever think that again.” Lucifer held you close, kiss the top of your head as he stroked your hair. “Don’t listen to any of those shit talking idiots.. you are more than enough..” he kissed the side your cheeks, “you’re my beautiful angel..” he deeply kissed you wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your own around his neck, the kiss initiating some excited between the two of you.

Lucifer pulled away, slowly growing in his demon form, and looking you deep in the eyes, cause yours to slowly come out. “I’m gonna make you believe it.”

Almost immediately, he grabbed your thighs, making you cling to his body tighter, as he shoved his tongue into your mouth again. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, as he carried you to the edge on the bed, holding you down with his own weight, slowly rolling his hips against your own.

Lucifer started to get more aggressive, nibbling at your neck with his fangs. You moaned out loud, subconsciously clenching your legs together, only for them to be pulled apart forcefully my his hands. “You better keep those legs open for daddy..” he growled in your ear. Your body shivered with excitement, you loved his daddy kink because when it comes out, you know how the sex is going to be. Rough, intense, and fucking amazing.

As you both get more heated, your true forms slowly started to merge out quickly. Your horns started to wrap around your head and ears, your tail getting longer, wrapping itself around Lucifer’s leg tightly. By the time he was grinding down in you, Lucifer was already in his full form. He reached to your chest and start to rip your shirt with his nails. You felt the tiniest scrap of his claws on your chest, arching your back getting more excited that you let out a small moan.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Oh poor baby, the fun has just begun and you’re already so sensitive..” once your shirt was fully ripped, he snapped his fingers and a rope appeared in his hand. He levitated you to the best of the frame and tied your hands to the bed post, using the sides of your shirt to keep your arms in place.

Again, your legs clenched with anticipation and lust. Out came his snake like tongue, almost giving out a little hiss before he dove his head into your cunt. “OH FUCK!” you shouted in pleasure, feeling that tongue glide across your folds, Lucifer’s hands holding your legs apart.

“Good girl, scream for daddy..” he groaned licking deeper, his fangs scraping on the top of your clit. You throw your head back in pleasure, moaning his name like a mantra. “Fuck yes.. please!” Your tail wrapped around his arm, tightening the closer you were. “Please what baby girl? Tell daddy what you want..”

You sat up to look him in the eyes, “Please daddy.. I want more.. give me more..” you whimpered at the loss of feeling his tongue. Lucifer smirked as he pulled you further up on the bed. He started to undress his own clothes, a snap of his fingers made the shirt wrapped around your wrists disappear. Laying next to you, he flipped to you your hands and knees, putting you a 69 position.

You yelled at the sudden movement, but seeing how hard and big Lucifer was made your mind go blank. “Get to work, duckie.” You didn’t even hesitate in pleasuring your king. You swirled your tongue around his tip, licking from the slit around. He groaned in pleasure as he licked up your slit.

You moaned as you wrapped your lips around his tip, moving your head up and down. Hearing Lucifer groan in pleasure made you want to keep going, taking every inch of him. But it was a struggle when he continued to lick up your pussy, sticking a little bit of his forked tongue in you with every lick.

Lucifer loved to see his little baby struggle, taking every inch down your throat. He stopped licking to push your head down further, making you gag at the sudden push. “Fuck duckie, there you go. I know you can take it all in. Service daddy properly.” He smirked watching you slip into a sub space, your mind starting to go blank.

The reporters and headlines you were worrying about was long gone. All you could think about was Lucifer… your king, your daddy, your lover… and making sure he was satisfied. You relaxed your throat, taking Lucifer so deep, his balls were touching the tip of your nose.

“Fuuckk, good girl! Such a fucking good slut. You want daddy that badly? You want me to fuck your tight, little hole?” You moaned on him, trying to nod your head with him still reaching the back of your throat. Slowly you lift your head up, catching a breath. Lucifer kept you in that position before running his fingers across your folds.

“Shit, I might not even need lube baby.. you’re already so wet for me..” you moaned loud, feeling a finger slide inside. The top half of your red body was faced down into the sheets. How can one finger feel so good? Lucifer groaned at your face, tongue out, drool staining the sheet, your body twitching at the sudden intrusion at another finger being added.

Your tail curled around your leg, looking something to grip onto, feeling your body getting closer and closer to a release. It was very obvious to Lucifer, he knew your body more than you did. “Are you close angel? I barely touched you and you’re already so close.” He asked in a teasing way.

You could barely nod your head, you were so close, just tittering on the edge… then you feel nothing. You whimpered and whine, looking around you for your lover. “Be good..” Lucifer slapped your ass, making you through your head back in agonizing pleasure. “You cum when daddy tells you to cum.”

Your body shivers as you feel him line his cock at your pussy, leaning backwards to feel as much of it as you can. Only for it to result in another smack from his hand. “You don’t beg that way. Ask properly.” You gasps, your head feeling so light, you were saying things you normally would be so embarrassed to in the right state of mind.

“Fuck me daddy.. please, I want it!” You kept grinding back against him, earning you more slaps, leaving you dripping. “You want what? Say it properly!” “I want daddy’s cock in me, I want daddy to fuck my tight puss-AHHHH!” You screamed in pleasure as Lucifer stuffs his cock into your cunt.

“Fuck baby, always so fucking tight for me.” He growled, starting off fast and hard. Your body trembled in the please it was receiving. Your tongue hung from your mouth, babbling nonsense. All that came out was his name. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. DADDY! “Fuck me daddy! Fuck it feels so good! RIGHT THERE! FU-AHH DON’T STOP PLEASE! FUUCCKK!”

Both of your tails intertwined with each other, your claws digging into the sheet, while his threatened to break the skin on your hips. “Good fucking girl, that’s how you beg! Fuck you feel so good around Daddy, nice and fucking tight.” His eyes started to turn fully red, his climax coming too.

He grabbed your arms and pulled your body flushed against his, one hand holding your wrist behind your back, and the other around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “You gonna cum baby? You wanna cum with daddy?” He kept thrusting harder with every question.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, leaning back on Lucifer’s shoulder. You turn your head to him to say, “Yes please! I wanna cum! I wanna cum with daddy! Cum in me daddy please! I want it!!” your eyes turning red, feeling that same knot in your stomach come undone.

He growled, shoving his tongue in your mouth, kissing with sloppily. Lucifer’s thrusts started to get more and more erratic, chasing both of your highs. “You fucking slut, cum for daddy. Do it now!” You both moaned into the kiss, you almost screamed from the release. You squirted all over his cock, as he pumped his seed so far into you that it leaked out onto your thighs.

Your body went limp against Lucifer. Twitching from the shock of the pleasure he gave you. He groaned as he slowly pulled out and laid you on the bed. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed a warm towel, cleaning every part of your body.

You looked at him with loving eyes, thankful that he takes the extra measure. Lucifer climbed under the covers with, holding your body close and he stroked your hair. “Did I prove it to you?” He smirked, looking down at your body. You giggled back holding he cheek.

“You prove them wrong.”

[olliesallamericanbitch]

Prologue - Who is Y/n?

Synopsis: Meet yourself. Oh well, this version of yourself. You get your own wikipedia page!

Wikipedia

Y/n Vanderbilt

Born: January 1, 2001 (age 23)

Nationality: American

Occupation: Fashion Designer, Entrepreneur

Known For: Founder and CEO of Biltmore, Heiress of the Vanderbilt family and fortune

Biography

Y/n Vanderbilt is an American fashion designer and entrepreneur. The young direct descendant of the Vanderbilt family, she has gained recognition for founding Biltmore, a luxury fashion brand known for its elegance and modern silhouettes.

Despite her illustrious family name, Y/n has been lauded for her efforts to build her empire independently, though critics often attribute her success to her family's wealth and connections.

Vanderbilt grew up in Queens, New York, attending public schools and later studying at the Politecnico di Milano. She launched Biltmore in 2020, combining her love of design with her meticulous business acumen. Her brand quickly gained traction among celebrities and influencers, earning her a spot on Forbes 30 under 30 in 2022.

Personal Life

Known for her poise and exclusivity, Y/n keeps her personal life largely private, sparking frequent speculation in tabloids and gossip columns. In interviews, she has stated that she avoids relationships, citing fears of vulnerability and exploitation.

Her new connection to the Formula 1 world stems from her mother, a key investor and team principal in the General Motors/Cadillac Formula 1 team. While Vanderbilt has attended several races in the past, she remains tight-lipped about her interest in the sport, dismissing it as "a family obligation" despite rumors of closer ties to some of the drivers.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Of Rumors and Bodyguards

CO-WRITTEN WITH @leiawritesstories

Written for Rowaelin Month’s Forbidden Love day; @rowaelinscourt

We’re just two writers sharing little evil giggles and big plans, that’s all.

Warnings: swearing

Words: 1,2k

AELIN GALATHYNIUS CHEATING SCANDAL: SPOTTED IN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH BODYGUARD!!!

“QUEEN OF GLASS” STAR SHARED EMBRACE WITH SECURITY GUARD! DORIAN HAVILLIARD IN TEARS!

Aelin Galathynius caught cheating on Dorian Havilliard with bodyguard! Hollywood’s Darling Has How Many Darlings??? See New Photos

After the third ridiculous headline, Aelin dropped both the stack of magazines and her phone and flopped backwards on the hotel bed with a groan. Her publicist had woken her up with coffee and the tabloids, and she wished she had time to wake up before she had to look at the absolutely crazy stories that the gossiping tabloids spread. Even though she had been acting for years, she still wasn’t used to their prying and the constant cameras clicking in her face, even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed.

Besides, that garbage about her and her bodyguard? It was pure nonsense.

Well, mostly nonsense.

The photos they had taken were true enough, because Aelin had hugged her bodyguard last night. However, there was absolutely no romance involved—Whitethorn had been physically supporting her, keeping her on her feet.

Because he’s her bodyguard. He was guarding her body, that’s all—and a lot less than she would like.

She had been about to collapse after she had received a very brief, very shocking call on the phone she rarely used. The voice on the other end had been low, curt, and to the point. There was an accident during a job. We haven’t heard anything from them. That was two weeks ago.

The implication—they could be dead—made Aelin’s whole body go weak, and her security guard’s rapid reflexes were the only thing that had kept her upright. For a moment, she let him hold her, let him stabilize her, leaned into the solid strength of his Kevlar-covered chest. And then she pulled herself together, put away her burner phone, and stepped away from Whitethorn’s hug. She’d given him a nod of thanks, and he nodded back in quiet understanding.

Simple support, and not even an emotional one. That was all that had happened.

Leave it to the tabloids to take that moment out of context and start rumors that spread like wildfire across the Internet.

And Dorian—he was probably too busy with the boyfriend he was definitely hiding from the tabloids to notice the Rumor of the Day, but his publicist would surely give Aelin a piece of her mind soon.

Elide stuck her head into Aelin’s hotel room, rolled her eyes when she saw the magazines discarded on the floor. “You know they’re a load of crap,” the publicist said as she walked over and picked them up. “Also, I need you to read this one.” She flipped one of the magazines open and laid it across Aelin’s lap.

“Why?” Aelin glanced quickly down at the pages, scoffing at the grainy, zoomed-in photos splashed onto the glossy paper. “Gossip pisses me off, Ells.”

“Yeah, I know, but you need to read the actual words so you know how to respond when the people today ask you about it.” As usual, Elide had a good point.

“Fine.” Aelin frowned, but she began to read.

Is Aelin Galathynius Taken By Someone Else?!?!?

The “Queen of Glass” star was spotted last night in an intimate embrace with a man who sources say is her current bodyguard, Rowan Whitethorn, who has been on her security team since March, when Galathynius began this press tour for the newest season of the Netflix hit series.

Sources report that Aelin and her co-star Dorian Havilliard are often seen getting cozy together outside of press appearances, and an exchange in a recent interview confirmed that the pair’s wild, explosive chemistry on-screen has spilled off the screen too. Fans all over the world were overjoyed to hear of the star’s new romance.

But the photos from last night tell an entirely different story. Could it be that the actress has more than one man after her heart? Or could she be keeping something secret?

Last night, sources say that Galathynius was walking back to her hotel with Whitethorn as her escort when she stopped briefly in a nearby park. Only minutes later, she was spotted in her bodyguard’s arms! Looks like a romance is brewing, or even already in progress! After all, her incredibly popular character in “Queen of Glass” spent the whole first season secretly in love with Dorian’s character until they finally brought their romance to light. Is life imitating art?

According to an eyewitness, the embrace lasted for several minutes before the actress moved away from her bodyguard and began walking to her hotel again. At this time, we do not know any additional details, but with the ongoing press tour, we are certain that she will make an announcement soon. Keep your eyes on our social media for the latest, hottest updates!!

“They’re such vultures.” Disgusted, Aelin threw the magazine at Elide, who caught it before it could smack her in the stomach.

Elide huffed. “It’s their job to stir up the people. Be prepared for at least half the interviewers today to ask you about this.” She launched into her daily spiel about what Aelin should expect during the press that she, Dorian and a few of their castmates were filming. “And above all, don’t you dare let Dorian answer any of the questions they’re going to ask about the plot of this season. You know better than anyone how much of a spoiler machine he is. He gets one spoiler this time. One.”

“I might have to tape his big mouth shut,” Aelin joked. “Bet the press would eat that up.”

“Honestly, it might give them something else to yap about.” Elide straightened, one finger up as she recalled something. “Pap walk! We’re doing a round of pap walks to get their attention somewhere else. I’ll text the details, but so far…”

Elide flipped through her notes, and Aelin was about to ask a few follow-up questions when there was a rapid, firm knock on the door.

“What?”

Rowan Whitethorn cracked open the door and stepped into the room. “They’re ready for her in hair and makeup.” He scanned the room, his gaze sharp, alert. “Morning, Miss Galathynius.”

His face was perfectly neutral like it always was, making it impossible to tell if he knew anything about the new rumors. He probably did, but Rowan was so professional, it got unnerving sometimes.

“Morning, Sergeant Whitethorn.” He’d never been in the military, but she called him “Sergeant” anyway. Mostly because it made him delightfully grumpy.

True to form, he frowned, but instead of his usual snarky retort, he just held the door open for her and walked her across the hall to another room, this one full of stylists. She was swept into their whirlwind, and by the time she turned around, her bodyguard was once again outside the door, on watch for any potential mishaps. Rowan really was an excellent security guard.

Too bad he was also a highly wanted criminal.

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[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I discovered my best friend is following ARO on Instagram. When I confronted her over this horrific betrayal, she said, “I think I like her now!” My devastation knows no bounds.

I was discussing this with my boss, a fellow royal watcher, and we decided I need to make a PowerPoint presentation, complete with citations (we are lawyers, after all), “shining a light” on MM’s numerous atrocities and proven lies over the years. I thought you would be invaluable in such a venture. Any suggestions to include would be very much appreciated!

Old ask from March 18th

Ok, so I didn't mean to sit on this one for (checks calendar) 6 MONTHS. ohhh, that's worse than I thought. Sorry, anon. Your ask got completely buried.

Anyway. I actually have been keeping a list of Meghan's lies and falsities. I don't remember when I compiled it (I feel like it might've been a 2022 thing) and I forgot I had it for a very long time. We'll probably need to crowd-source some updates to this list.

So buckle up, y'all.

Grew up an only child

Never had relationships with Sam or Tom

Grew up poor eating Sizzler buffets for splurge dinners

Didn't know who Diana was

Didn't know that Diana did Panorama interview

Lied about having a SAG card to be cast in Suits

That she was being written off Suits because she was marrying Harry

Doesn't have any family except Doria

Paid for college herself with student loans

International relations and theatre degrees from Northwestern

Merch tour of Aussie with Jess

Didn't want to serve Archie on a silver platter

Couldn't do a photo call at the hospital after Archie's birth

Wasn't in contact with Oprah

Wasn't working with UK Vogue

Lilac blazers

Couldn't wear the same color as anyone else

Could only wear neutral clothes

Wasn't dressing her child like a Victorian ghost doll

Going to get her UK citizenship

Gave up her Hollywood team

Spectacle wedding for the public

Eloped three days before with the Archbishop of Canterbury

Loves her engagement ring

Received permission from Queen to name her Lilibet

Loves Africa

Loves charity work and philanthropy

Red carpet for wedding

No tabloids in the US

All Americans have a 5am work ethic

Paparazzi chases

Plagiarism

Korean spas as a kid

Collaboration with Scobie on FF

People letter

Archewell donations and income

Family she never had

Gave up everything

IVF twins

Pregnancy announcement not at Eugenie's wedding

Loves kids

Dog too old to fly

Dog hit by car

Couldn't decorate with royal collection

Kate made Meghan cry

Warm friendly relationship with Queen

Best boss ever

She made her own banana bread

Suicidal thoughts night of Cirque du Soleil

Advised by Obamas

Children refused titles because of racism

She refuses children's titles

Pen pals with Hillary Clinton

Witnessed the LA riots

Independent grassroots journalism

Hit the ground running

5'5

worked at the embassy when she only attended a study program

Didn't know she had to curtsy to the Queen

Didn't know how to curtsy

BRF took her passport, car keys

Not allowed to go out unless just for work

Climate change/private jets

Evicted from Frogmore

Royal Family refused to help Meghan with her mental health

That Meghan was silenced

Privacy in LA

Archie was denied 24/7 protection because he wasn't a prince

Family gossip about Archie's skin color

Palace forced Meghan to take her name off Archie's birth certificate

Egg in wedding food

Not allowed to have scents in church

Meghan said the palace was locking up the birth certificate

Angela refused hair trials

Bond girl

Fire in Archie's nursery

Linked, not ranked

Archie too young to fly (summer after his birth)

Lied about her age (to work in Hollywood, narrative since corrected since marrying in)

Belly padding

Bot farms on social media

Miscarriage

Zoom calls with Cambridges during lockdown

Zoom calls with the Queen during lockdown

Flowers on Philip's casket at funeral were from Sussexes

Sussexes were invited to the Beckham wedding

Royal christening for Lili

Lili baptized

Invited to the diplomatic reception before The Queen's funeral

BFF/dog-walking buddies with Jennifer Aniston

Photoshops the children's appearances

Jimmy Fallon interview in Dec 2022

Time 100th Anniversary coverage

Bodyguard 2

she’d have 40 photographers taking pictures when she did Archie’s school run.

Sussexes declined invitation to Westminster wedding

She made the strawberry jam herself

50 jars of jam

"The Bench" was a bestseller

Visiting/staying with Oprah (Oprah was across the country at her father's bedside)

All the times she said she'd be a secret presenter at Hollywood award shows

Uvalde

Can't tailor her clothes to fit because they're from small brands/labels.

[theroyalsims]

"A DISGUSTING INVASION OF PRIVACY" PALACE CRIES FOWL OVER ANYA AND GUS PHOTO LEAKS

Our favourite newlyweds are currently on their secret honeymoon, but it looks like it's not so secret, after all!

Last night multiple paparazzi photos showing Anya and Gus on a beach were posted by a Champs Les Sims tabloid on their website and social media accounts. The photos also predominantly feature on the gossip rag's latest issue, out today.

The photos were released with the headline:

"SEE ANYA AND GUS' TROPICAL LOVE FEST!"

Snippets of the article are reproduced and translated below:

"Brindleton's future Queen should reconsider and ditch her dowdy long dresses and stuffy coats, especially since the whole world now knows what she's hiding underneath her grandma outfits. Maybe flash some more cleavage! She should throw a palace pool party and wear that tiny red bikini again so her royal subjects can get a better look!"

"Brindleton need not wonder why Anya waited so long to marry so she could track down Gus - look at him! Wonder what he's hiding under his flashy green shorts?!"

A total of five different photographs were published by the tabloid. The grainy snaps, clearly taken using a long-range lens, show the couple enjoying what should have been their private vacation. Included in the released photos are intimate pictures of Anya and Gus kissing and hugging.

The article claims that the photos were taken on a private island, off the coast of Enamorada. The tabloid also admits to using high-power telephoto lenses from a yacht to capture the photos.

The Palace is reportedly outraged, and a well-placed source claims:

"There are now serious talks about what legal remedies the Prince and the Crown Princess may seek against the magazine. They have spoken to The Queen and their legal team.

Their Royal Highnesses feel betrayed and disappointed at this disgusting invasion of their privacy. After a very public wedding, they were hoping they could finally privately enjoy their new life together, even for just a little while."

Several women's groups have also shown their dismay and called out the rag for being "demeaning and utterly misogynistic."

Side note - look, we know that Gus has tattoos but we didn't know he had this many! Is that a massive pair of wings on his back!?

Okay, back to the important matter - we're hoping TRHs sue the crap out of this tabloid because this is so abhorrent and incredibly upsetting! Leave these two be! They're on their honeymoon, for crying out loud! They already gave us a very public engagement and wedding - let them enjoy each other's company in peace!

[royal-confessions]

“I think it’s hard for William and Kate to balance being regal/royal and also giving in to the demands of the world for them to be more open. I think the world is too demanding of them tbh, because a lot of people still view them as gossip fodder or like people they wanna gossip about in the most salacious, scandalizing way. Like, they went through a health crisis and of course wanted to protect their privacy during that difficult time, but look at how the world reacted. I think William and Kate with the video they released are simply trying to be “look, this is our world, this is the way we live, we’re letting you in a bit so please leave us alone now”. It’s pointless to compare their position/situation to the King and Queen because Charles and Camilla also went through a period where they (+ Diana) were the tabloid fodder. Honestly, much of the pressure on William and Kate is because of Charles and Camilla’s actions (and Diana’s).” - Submitted by Anonymous

[havenroyals]

Merry Christmas from the Crown Princess Family

'Tis the season...for recycling.

Instead of posting a new Holiday card for the year, Crown Princess Emelia's office has released a collage of old photos of herself and her children throughout the years.

While we at Gossip Queen love a trip down memory lane, we can't help but wonder why recycle? The Crown Princess has cut back on many of her engagements this year. This last month alone, there hasn't been a spotting of Princess Odette going to or leaving school.

Is the lack of new photos due to the rumored feud within the family? Where are the royals?

Happy holidays however you celebrate it. Gossip Queen will see you in the New Year!

GQ | Previous | Next

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟎   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   NAKAWE, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

The costume party’s aftermath—and it had, finally, been confirmed to have been a costume party, a basic clarification that quieted some of the clamor around the princess’s attire—reinvigorated interest in the last several months of Leonor’s life. A disastrous spectacle had that kind of effect. It made observers ravenous, and they scavenged the bones of past controversy even after the latest scandal was picked clean. Old news received new scrutiny. Yesterday’s gossip, gossip from six months ago, took on a whiff of freshness by association. And, it was impossible to talk about Leonor’s unprecedented behavior without calling the obvious trigger for it all by name.  No one actually talked about Safya, however, because they wanted to talk about Renzo instead.

❧ i've had this scene in my head for a long time, and i am just ... i love the domesticity of it ! i love the juxtaposition of beatriz doing serious policy homework while she watches garbage television, mocking matias in one breath and calling him a genuine term of endearment in the next,

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The costume party’s aftermath—and it had, finally, been confirmed to have been a costume party, a basic clarification that quieted some of the clamor around the princess’s attire—reinvigorated interest in the last several months of Leonor’s life. A disastrous spectacle had that kind of effect. It made observers ravenous, and they scavenged the bones of past controversy even after the latest scandal was picked clean. Old news received new scrutiny. Yesterday’s gossip, gossip from six months ago, took on a whiff of freshness by association. And, it was impossible to talk about Leonor’s unprecedented behavior without calling the obvious trigger for it all by name. 

No one actually talked about Safya, however, because they wanted to talk about Renzo instead. 

He was a man in triplicate: the evocative film actor to whom Uspana’s culture critics were warming thanks to an unexpected performance with international acclaim; the subdued, even sedated, interviewee whose quiet remarks revealed his humble upbringing; the tempestuous, aggrieved celebrity whom cameramen provoked in the streets. Popular attention focused on the latter without fail, and this predilection went into overdrive once he acquired an unlikely sidekick. They might have imagined their princess attached to other versions of him, smiling at film premieres and taking a sudden interest in arts patronages. It was astonishing to see her consumed instead by the one they knew best. 

How had she so quickly and thoroughly become part of this sensational scene—become comfortable clinging to the worn sleeve of his jacket while he shouted at photographers, offering them vacant and conciliatory smiles as she wobbled on foal’s legs. It was astonishing, and it was thrilling. Very few saw the sight firsthand, but published pictures and televised clips made, for the masses, an introduction. Abbreviated in the tabloid headlines where she now lived, Princess Leonor, their heir’s heir, their queen’s “little shadow,” had become “Princess L.” Respectable outlets still reported on her work alongside her uncle. Yet, Uspanians didn't much care. They were far more likely to see Princess L., illuminated by flashbulbs and inseparable from the man her aides refused to call anything other than “a friend.” 

Daytime programming uncorked these discussions and asked the questions neither straight newscasters nor late night hosts could truly entertain. Foresa led that pack for a reason. Her show was entertaining, but she invited Uspana’s midday viewers to join her conversation as if she were an aunt pontificating in their living room instead of a stranger on a screen. Laughing and ribbing her studio audience, she kept the tone light and playful. Her words themselves were flippant and careless and cutting—“a mishandled knife,” one of those culture critics had once said of her. A callous aunt attacking a neighbor might rub her relatives the wrong way, but Foresa’s targets were fair game. Shaming only went so far with the nation’s richest and most powerful, but it did make her humble viewers feel good. 

Queen Beatriz was no humble viewer, but she was a faithful one. Her schedule made it impossible to watch Foresa during her recurring daytime slot, but the queen had been one of the first people in the country to acquire home taping devices in the 1970s; she watched VHS recordings of daytime talk shows in the evening, preferring it to dignified evening news and late night comedy hours. Although her family knew well of her interest, the world of daytime television only had vague, unsettling hunches. Beatriz had met Foresa at a party once but pretended to have no idea who she was or what she did. It was plausible. She was still clawing her way out of obscurity at the time, trying to convince her channel executives that 1988 would be her year. At the end of the conversation, Beatriz commented innocuously on a segment in last airing. Foresa stood red-faced and silent as the queen abruptly walked away. 

She didn’t share her relatives’ discomfort with the shows, but Beatriz understood it. They all had thick skin. They were not, however, the kind of masochists who enjoyed hearing dozens of voices laugh while a nobody bullied them by name. Or, they had more discipline than that. Whatever curiosity they had, they stamped it out to protect themselves. If it was worth knowing, it would come summarized in a report the next morning. Beatriz didn’t fall into those traps either. What she had was a perverse ability to laugh along with the cruelty. She was shameless. No one said anything she wouldn’t say herself, but their room of writers and impeccable comedic timing ensured it was much funnier. That was what their queen wanted at the end of a long work day. She put her tired, abused feet into comfortable slippers, curled up with briefings for the next day of work, and pushed in a tape. She wanted to be entertained—to have light made of problems that aggravated and vexed, to be given permission to exist outside of her role as matriarch.

TRANSCRIPT:

[Television intro music]

FORESA (O.S.) | The royal experts are saying it’s a “suffocation” method. What an exciting term! And for something so boring. They’re just shutting up and hoping we all forget. The fire metaphor does suit the drama, I must say. I’d like to do my PR with that kind of flair.

FORESA (O.S.) | Anyway, look, I want to talk about them. That’s right. Because there is a “them,” isn’t there? You know it. We love it. Why be so coy—[Audience reacting] That’s what I’m saying! Come on, lovebirds.

FORESA (O.S.) | He’s had a good publicist for the last six months or so—her doing?—and this Sharon Greenwater—she’s Simerican, too, I guess—refuses to say a word. What’s he paying her for? To say “We’re waiting for the right project” or “He wasn’t charged for that, actually,” over and over again? [Audience laughs] Meanwhile, Princess L.’s been mute, too! So, we don’t know. Really, we don’t, but we can spec—

BEATRIZ | Do we know? MATIAS | Know what? About—? Ah. Well, she doesn’t talk about it—not to me. When she answers my calls, oh, it’s exactly what you’d expect. BEATRIZ | No, we don’t speak on the telephone. What does that mean?

MATIAS | Reticent, I suppose. I gather she doesn’t want me to worry, and she doesn’t want to be honest about things that she imagines I would find objectionable. Which, I do find that unfortunate, because I like to think that I’ve always tried to be— BEATRIZ | Uh huh.

FORESA (O.S.) | We always get these fun photos of them out and about. Doesn’t it just make you jealous? If I got hit with a flashbulb at one o’clock in the morning, on the way out of a party, no less, I wouldn’t look that cute! [Audience laughs] Eightieth birthday party, actually! Renzo Ledford is friends with the Josèp Amador. Small world, huh?

BEATRIZ | I like him. MATIAS | [scoffs] Of course you do. BEATRIZ | It makes sense to me. He’s real. Arturo? I did not get that.

FORESA (O.S.) | —thinking that we might get our royal wedding after all! Of course, I’m sure she’ll be wearing some kind of trashy sheer mini dress instead of a princess ball gown—and mini dresses, on a girl with legs like that? Someone break the bad news to her—and he wouldn’t wear nice patent leather shoes if his life depended on it, but still—

BEATRIZ | A man like that is not joining this family. MATIAS | What, now you wouldn’t have him? BEATRIZ | Ah, ah. He wouldn’t have us.

BEATRIZ | There are always contingency plans. A page from the Blanca playbook, I would think: stint at the Bancroft Center, cry for Inti Rivera at six o’clock, out to pasture, a foal or two— MATIAS | Birdie …

BEATRIZ | If you think your “help” is working, fine. Foresa is right. Still, oh, maybe she’s the exact same little girl—not a damaged orphan of a woman, like she seems—and is just waiting for old, gentle, credulous grandfather to make it all better. One more awkward phone call ought to do it. Doubtful but, well, it’s not my time to waste, is it?

[leoramage]

competition + part one

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [being shady af, slandering, tune in for plot twist!]

⊹⊱ theme - [social media au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [ex!mick schumacher x thai beauty queen!y/n x ?]

⊹⊱ face claim - anntonia porsild

⊹⊱ keywords - [rumours. "i promise that you'll never find another like me." emotional scars trope. "you're talking shit for the hell of it." girl fight. "anything you can do, i do better." bitterness and envy. "who do you think you are? are you better than me - no."]

INSTAGRAM

mickschumacher posted a story and a photo

liked by pierregasly, estebanocon and others

mickschumacher 🤍

truemickfan Wait, did I miss a whole season? Mick and Y/N were just together during Miami Grand Prix, and how's he's all cozy with someone new? 😳

estebanocon 😍😍

⊳ racedaydreamer estie bestie, explain what happened to my parents! 😭

⊳ speeddemonette I AM DISAPPOINTED BARFING, CRYING, HAVING SEIZURES RIGHT NOW!

mickfanatic Is it just me or does anyone else feel like Mick moved on way too quickly? Y/N is not just a casual fling!

micksupporter YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH Y/N WAS ALMOST 4 YEARS MICK! 😭 4 YEARS!

gridgirlgossip Goodbye, I am sending you my therapy bills.

cornercruiser #downgradeofthecentury

NEWS FEED

TWITTER

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The night was alive with the glow of twinkling stars, casting their silvery light over the event you had just finished hosting the glamorous charity event, Your radiant smile never left your face as you effortlessly guided the evening. The applause echoed through the grand hall, and for a moment, you felt like the world was yours as you were dressed in elegance and grace, embodying beauty and poise like no other, leaving behind a trail of flashing cameras and clinking glasses. But as you retreated backstage, reality caught up with you.

Your phone buzzed insistently in your hand, a notification lighting up the screen. You anticipated it to be a congratulatory message, a reminder of your brilliance on stage. Instead, it was a photo that sent shards of pain through your heart.

Mick.

There he was, smiling broadly, his lips on her cheek and an arm wrapped around a woman – you realized who she was – the Instagram model whose presence had been splashed across tabloids and gossip sites recently but whose ingenue beauty was unmistakable.

Your heart sank as you realized the truth: he had moved on like you and him never happened.

3 years of being with him – going 4 years – all thrown aside like a trash.

You were with him, in his ups and downs.

You were there when he lost his F1 seat.

You were there when he questioned his ability...

His talent...

His whole being...

And the pressure of him being the racing prodigy after his father.

You were there when Mercedes took him in and welcomed him as a reserve driver. You celebrated late at night and cuddled by the flame drinking beers while Coldplay plays on the background. It feels like home to be with him but...

Where could have you possibly lacked that he found another one so easily within two months?

Were you that ugly?

Were you that unworthy?

Were you that replaceable?

Were you not enough?

The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring your vision as you crumbled into a chair. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the deafening silence of your pain echoing in your ears. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – hurt, confusion, and an undeniable sense of loss.

He said that he won't break your heart, let alone shed tears because of him. Yet here you are, a sobbing mess because he found a replacement 2 months fresh after your break up.

You hated him. No... You loathed yourself that you've ended up this way with your heart and soul. Yet a part of you feels guilty and loves him despite letting you burn yourself in the process. He said he'll protect you but...

He had set fire and left you alone - sacrificed yourself for your ever-unsalvageable relationship.

It simply costs you. Your being.

You lost yourself so that he could find himself.

You didn't know what happened. One day he wasn't the Mick you knew.

He changed that was all.

It felt like a betrayal, a stark reminder that he had moved on while you were still grappling with the aftermath of your breakup. The break had been raw, an ache that had haunted you since the day you parted ways. Two months had passed, yet the wound was far from healed. The emotions you had been pouring up for weeks seemed to return like an overflooded river, and the dam you had so carefully constructed - every week you put on a brave smile and face the world - finally crumbled once again.

You completely lost him.

Amid the tears and the sobs, you allowed to release the anguish that was held back. It was as if the universe had given you permission to feel, to mourn, and to heal.

You clung to your friends, letting their unwavering support become your lifeline, traversing the caverns of your own heart. Your friends rushed to your side, their faces filled with concern.

And a new familair guy was there too, like a true friend. He knelt in front of you, his big copper eyes locking onto yours. "Y/N," he whispered, "I'm so sorry... You don't deserve this." The sobs wracked your body as you buried your face in your hands before he pulled you into an embrace that lulled your lamenting and already ravaged heart. But the pain was too raw. It was misery that had been festering for two long months, a pain you had hidden behind your dazzling smile.

You thought you were fine, that you were strong enough to handle seeing Mick with someone new. But in that moment, all your strength crumbled. It felt like your heart had been ripped out and stomped on.

His hand grazed your back with your face buried in his chest, his voice was low but soft but filled with empathy. "He doesn't deserve you, Y/N." His accent was thick upon whispering in your ear, feeling bad that you had to go through this.

As you cried, you realized that the pain wasn't just about Mick. It was about the weight of expectations, the pressure to always appear strong, and the fear of being alone. It was about the depression that had been silently eating away at you.

You had been wearing a mask for so long, pretending to be okay when you weren't. It manifested from you losing weight, skipping meals and even your sleeping schedule had been hell. And now, in this moment of vulnerability, you felt like you were breaking free from that suffocating facade.

He whispered soothing words, reminding you that you were loved and that your worth wasn't defined by a relationship.

As the tears continued to flow, you realized that healing would take time. But for the first time in months, you felt like you were ready to take on the path to recovery. The pain was real and there was nothing for you to do but it shouldn't be stopping you.

You promised that you would be stronger than you had ever known.

TWITTER

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Morning aftermath...

As the morning sun filtered through your window, you found yourself still wrapped in the cocoon of sleep, the weight of last night's breakdown lingering like a heavy fog. But as your phone began to buzz with notifications, reality swiftly came crashing back. Friends had texted you, their words a mix of concern and reassurance.

"Hey, just wanted to let you know that there's a tweet going around. We're here for you, always." — F/N1

"Some fan or paparazzi sent a picture of you crying backstage last night to a Twitter account. They're all with you. We are always here for you, Y/N." — F/N2

You sighed, sitting up and staring at your phone. It didn't take long to locate the tweet they were referring to – a photo of you, vulnerable and raw, with your friends surrounding you to comfort you. The tweet had gained traction overnight, becoming a symbol of empathy and support from fans all over...

As you scrolled through the replies, you were taken aback by the outpouring of compassion. Fans of both Mick and yours had come together, expressing their concern and sending well wishes. The sight of your shared pain resonated with many, they felt upset for you over a single Instagram post of Mick that drew out all the vitality in you last night.

With a sigh, you knew you couldn't remain in bed all day, wallowing in the events of the past night. You were stronger than that, and you owed it to yourself and your supporters to show them that you were okay. Taking a deep breath, you decided to update your fans through an Instagram story.

You snapped a picture of yourself, the gentle sunlight casting a warm glow on everything it touched. Typing out a caption, you chose your words carefully.

With a sense of purpose, you tapped the post button. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a step forward. The response was immediate – an influx of messages, hearts, and encouraging words flooded your inbox. Each notification felt like a virtual hug, a reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

INSTAGRAM

yourusername posted a story • 4 mins ago

seen by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 962,820 others.

Later that day...

As the sun began its slow descent, you found yourself deep in thought, your mind weaving through possibilities and aspirations. The idea had taken root within you, a flicker of determination that refused to be extinguished. You wanted to show the world that you were more than just a single pageant title or relationship and that your journey was far from over.

The world felt a little brighter, and the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter.

With a sense of purpose, you reached for your phone, your fingers dancing over the keys as you composed a message to your pageant coach, RL Duangkong. Your journey to a bigger goal is just about to start.

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Author's Note: THIS POST HAD BEEN UPLOADED WAY TO SEVERAL TIMES THAT I ALMOST LOST PATIENCE. The effort I poured onto this fic is ungodly. Which is why I appreciate smau!writers out there. I was having an internal monologue on how the lines would be distributed properly. I honestly loved making this - it is such a challenge and a struggle to be fair. Please do not repost or take the edited pictures without my consent. Some media in this post are mine and it's hard to do photoshopping/photo manipulation. Any kind of support is appreciated as I continue writing as long as I keep dreaming. Until then, stay updated for part 2! 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

[logically-asexual]

Style Queen Magazine sends a request for an interview with Gabriel about whether he has gotten or might get inspiration from the miraculous users for his work. Gabriel figures it would be weird to reject them, mostly because it’s Audrey’s magazine, and it should be fine as long as he’s careful with his answers, so he accepts.

the interviewer does ask many of the expected questions like what he thinks about Ladybug and Cat Noir’s costumes setting trends with young people like wearing polka dots or black leather or whatever, as well as general unrelated questions. later they subtly bring up the topic of the peacock by asking him about how blue, one of the colors he uses for his most striking designs, along with red and green, has been seen often in his clothes that also seem to be inspired by birds. and also about how the incoming trend of feathers sparked by that one hat Adrien modeled seems to already be influencing gabriel’s current work.

he answers normally until they mention that someone found an archived design from back when the Gabriel brand had just been established for a few years and it was still growing, but the dress was “ahead of its time” and under-appreciated. turns out it was a blue and green dress inspired by Emilie’s appearance wearing the peacock miraculous, but only Gabriel knew that, of course. he gets nervous when they show it to him, and when the interviewer asks about his inspiration for it Gabriel gives a generic answer that applies to most of his work, pretending it’s just some other random piece.

but then the interviewer brings up pictures of his newer designs, which, they insist, use a lot of rich indigo or royal blue colors paired with resemblance to birds and feathers. they point out that they couldn’t find other designs lately that seem to be inspired by the rest of the miraculous users, unless Gabriel would like to point them out (and, before he can answer) if not then, is he trying to bring back that original design because it has personal meaning to him? they guess not, since he didn’t seem to be very attached to it, so why so much interest in the peacock miraculous?

or rather.. why so much interest in Mayura?

this leaves Gabriel speechless for a moment. Nathalie is standing on the other side of the room about to bite off a corner of her clipboard.

Gabriel is a little red with anger and goes “excuse me?”

the interviewer says they’re only seeking to confirm the rumors about his inspiration for all these new clothes, and Gabriel quickly shuts them down by saying that he accepted this interview because Style Queen is a reputable fashion magazine and not some tabloid for gossip. and then he just stands up and leaves, with Nathalie scampering to catch up behind him.

later Gabriel questions Nathalie about those “rumors” the interviewer mentioned, because, as he can now see after looking it up, it’s all over the internet that he has a crush on Mayura and that’s why he’s making all these clothes inspired by her. Gabriel was totally oblivious to this because he relies on his staff to update him about his public image and he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing with his designs. Nathalie, on the other hand, did know about it, but was too embarrassed to tell him and she had no idea how to bring it up.

now Nathalie is apologizing, swearing that she thought it was just unimportant gossip that would dissipate soon. Gabriel says that anything that could link him to Hawk Moth and Mayura is a huge risk for them, and that he’s even finding already some people who claim Mayura must be someone working at Gabriel. Nathalie’s eyes widen in shock and she walks up to stand on the podium next to Gabriel and look at the screen. he opens an article about that theory and scrolls through it until he stops on a picture of Nathalie and him. around it, the text says stuff like ..about how everyone knows these two have something going on, but that’s not the topic of this article because it’s just clear as day,, the important thing is who is Mayura. and then they put up a picture of Mayura next to one of Nathalie.

and both Nathalie and Gabriel are like.. fuck fuck fuck. specially Nathalie, since she should have known about this and now Gabriel is looking at the screen like he’s going to punch a hole through it.

the article doesn’t have many views or comments but still they now just realized the danger they’re in. and they don’t know what will happen after today’s interview gets published and what everyone will make of Gabriel storming out the room after being asked about Mayura.

and now they have to come up with a plan to ensure people think 1. Gabriel is definitely not attracted to Mayura, 2. Mayura and Nathalie are not the same person. (and Gabriel’s secret personal third objective which is to prove (??to himself??) that he is NOT attracted to Nathalie, not at all).

[kitty-is-writing]

writemas day 2!

thanks to @agirlandherquill for this game, you can find the day 2 prompts here

this one, uh, kind of ran away with me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the prompt I picked is: "You did this... For me?"

Oliver stared, his eyes wide and popping, at the man he had long considered his most loyal guard and closest friend.

"You did this... for me?"

"For us," Zach corrected. "For us, and all those like us, to have a chance to live freely as ourselves."

Oliver sank into the throne, head in his hands. He had known for some time that his sister was involved in this equality movement, along with some others, but he had never imagined Zach would join them. While he agreed, in theory, with some of what the group wanted, he had doubts it could ever truly work in practice.

"The public's opinions do not echo your father's, Oli. Most have little thought to spare for the relationships of others. Many I have spoken with support the rights of anyone to live in peace, without threat of imprisonment or ostracism."

"And what of my right to privacy? My right to have some sliver of a personal life not exposed to all and sundry? What we have is between us, something special and personal, not a piece of gossip to spread around the tabloids!"

"What we have is a secret!" Zach shot back, clearly sick of holding in his feelings about this. "A dirty, shameful secret to be hidden away in shadows while you parade around with the Queen in public. I love you, why should either of us be ashamed of that? Because your father hated everything he couldn't understand?"

"Because nobody would accept a deviant King, Zach! If anyone realises what I am, there will be chaos, and everyone I love will be caught in the crossfire, including you!"

"Nobody would care! You're still taking the prejudice of a dead man as gospel truth!" There was a moment of heavy, ringing silence as the two men caught their breath. "I know the things your father said were terrible, but you can't let those words rule you the way he did. If not for yourself, then for the good of your subjects. You're not the only one who has suffered under the name of deviant. People have died because this ridiculous, outdated bigotry is enshrined in Kingdom law. Set your people free from the past, Oli."

Oliver shook his head. It couldn't be that simple, there were decades of tradition to account for, and foul slurs echoing in his mind from years past. "What of the rest of their manifesto? Abolishing the ruling class and setting up some... commoners court, isn't it?"

"An elected government, yes. The two would, we hope, go hand in hand. With less pressure and attention on you, at least in the context of ruling the kingdom, your personal life would be less fascinating to the gossipmongers. With the Crown less of a centrepiece in running the kingdom, the public would be freer to support their own values and beliefs, which do not always align with centuries worth of monarchs' whims."

Oliver lifted his head to look at the man who had meant everything to him for so long, the man who he trusted with his heart and soul, and who knew him better than he knew himself. "If I do this - if I abolish old laws against deviancy and put an end to prison sentences for those like us - will you stay at my side regardless of what backlash may come?"

"I will always be by your side, Oli."

"Alright." Oliver stood. "It looks like I have some decrees to write. Would you tell Alicia to meet me in the study? I have a feeling she will have opinions on what I'm about to do."

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[ivyindreamland]

Where the Armour Ends

Everything was fine until the 2016 elections.

Chapter 3: Darkest Little Paradise [AO3]

Warning: This chapter contains violent imagery and a graphic description of (imaginary) suicide. Please read at your own discretion.

The last time Dorothea and I were seen together in public was in November, just before the elections, for Lourdes’s birthday party. The next night, we were on Dorothea’s Anthropologie couch with our arms wrapped around each other and our eyes glued to the TV. By 4:00 a.m. we'd cried every tear we had in our bodies. And when I woke up the next morning, Dorothea in bed beside me with her hair more mussed than I'd ever seen it and her arm over her eyes to cope with the hangover, I had a text on my phone from Moon ordering that I couldn't be seen out with Dorothea anymore. It was a battle. I'd been with Sam for years, I pleaded. There was no way out of the contract early. Moon wasn't having it… and Dorothea, who fought for me back in July when Moon wanted to blacklist me over Queen's nomination, agreed with her this time. That's the only option, unless we run away together … She was serious. Where would we go? I asked. There was nowhere in the world that her fans wouldn't find us. What would we do? Dorothea felt she was already past her prime, so she didn't care. She'd spent her two years on top of the world with me at her side before tabloids and gossip columns took it all away from her - well, that's how Dorothea felt about it anyway. My journey was still just beginning. I'd been a Victoria's Secret Angel for years, but I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to be educated. I wanted to do something good for the world.