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“sweetie! fix your tiara and step
into our pink-carpeted warzone.”

𑣲⋆ ────────────────

the air was thirty percent oxygen and seventy percent synthetic white feathers. a velvet cushion flew past the vanity mirror just as a bedazzled flip-phone aggressively snapped open, cutting through the chaos. “cease fire. we have a code red,” she announced, tapping the screen with her acrylic nail.

minutes later, the flip-phone snapped shut, locking the most scandalous gossip of the year into the vault. let the outsiders survive on cheap rumors. they could try to guess their next move, but they’d never crack the code. the rest of the world might only have the whispers... but they will never survive our warzone.

₍ 𝚡𝚘𝚡𝚘, 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎! ₎
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@beourbabe ಄ the guest list is officially open, but strictly for ‘00—‘07 girls. bring your bedazzled flip-phones and let’s make some perfectly glamorous wreckage!