A raven landed dramatically on Banana Delvey’s windowsill, looking like it had just left an after-hours. “Caw! There’s a war for the crown happening in the heart of the capital—Davie Street! The stakes are high, the heels are higher, and the shade is DEADLY.”

Banana gasped, clutching her pearls (well, a broken necklace from Ardene). “A battle for the crown? Say less.” But before she could snatch her sword (a bedazzled foam bat from a past pride float), she turned to Miss October—her sister, her ride-or-die, the diva of all divas—only to find her… wilting.

Miss October had fallen victim to a dark, mysterious illness, one that twisted her week by week into something unspeakable. Her once-glowing skin dulled, her iconic cheekbones sharpened to terrifying points, and worst of all—her makeup started blending itself like some kind of sick joke. Her fiancé was forced to cover every mirror in the house, lest she catch a glimpse and let out an unholy screech that would crack all the glass in Vancouver.

“I cannot be seen like this,” Miss October whispered from under a sheer veil.

Banana, wiping away a single dramatic tear, knew what had to be done. If Miss October couldn’t fight, she would.

With that, she threw on her best battle armor—chainmail fishnets, a sequined corset built like a bulletproof vest, and platform boots that could break a man’s heart and femur. She assembled a ragtag army of fairies, wood nymphs, and goblins (aka every chaotic creature from the queer depths of Commercial Drive) and set off for the battlefield.

The Battle Dome on Davie Street was carnage. Week by week, the war for the crown intensified. Wigs were ripped clean off, lashes flew like shuriken, and the scent of desperation and Ariana Grande body mist filled the air. The contestants fought with lip syncs so brutal that even the DJ feared for his life. There was no mercy—only splits, kicks, and the occasional betrayal.

Banana, ever the hard-hitting journalist, took it upon herself to document the madness in real-time. She live-tweeted every scandal, every shocking elimination, every time someone missed their cue. And then—the scandal of all scandals.

Burna Dart, East Vancouver’s unshakable hero, the icon who had the city in a chokehold, was ROBBED on week two. The crowd gasped. A fairy fainted. A wood nymph threw herself onto the ground in despair. The city was in shambles.

With each passing week, hope faded, Miss October’s transformation worsened, and the battle for the crown reached unimaginable heights. Who would win? Could Miss October be saved? Would Burna Dart ever get justice?

Only time would tell. TO BE CONTINUED…

In the heart of East Vancouver, where the fairy kingdom lay, Lived sprites and nymphs and talking toads who danced throughout the day. Elves and goblins, pixies bright, and unicorns galore, Gathered round the magic glen to hear what was in store.

A pageant most peculiar had begun within the land, But whispers spread of foul play—of a wizard’s iron hand! A pageant rigged? A show unjust? Oh, how the creatures gossiped! A scandal brewing, thick and cold, like potions left un-frosted.

The ogres here were all so grand, and every one was she— Some fairies twirled, some monsters roared, some centaurs stomped with glee! Yet those who shined the very most, with sparkles bright and true, Would make the wizard grit his teeth and turn a shade of blue!

So to the Eastside Sisters went the creatures, big and small, “Oh, Sisters wise, oh, Sisters keen, you must go judge it all! Disguise yourselves, go undercover, sneak into the crowd, And tell us what this pageant holds, and why the rules are foul!”

The Sisters grinned, their eyes alight, “A challenge, you decree? Then fetch our cloaks, our hats, our masks! We’ll be the eyes you need!” With wands in hand and spells at work, they changed their forms just so, One was now a hairy dwarf, one a plump flamingo!

They tiptoed past the wizard’s guards, slipped right into their seats, And watched as ogres twirled and stomped, all trying to be sweet. But something smelled of wicked spells, the judges looked afraid, For every time they tried to speak, the wizard’s wand was swayed.

The cruelest wizard, dressed in silk, sat high upon his throne, And cackled loud as ogres tripped, like cows upon a stone! But when a star would start to rise, a girl so bold and bright, The wizard’s sneer would twist with rage—he hated sharing light!

One fairy sang a perfect tune, her voice a bell so clear, The wizard snapped his fingers twice and made her disappear! A centaur danced a fiery jig, her hooves a blazing sight, The wizard scowled, then waved his wand—her shoes were far too tight!

One monster juggled flaming swords while balancing with grace, The wizard grinned, then flipped a switch—a trapdoor took her place! The ones who shone the brightest were the ones who paid the price, For this old warlock hated stars—he loathed their sparkly spice!

Tune in next week for WEEK 2!

Once upon a time, nestled high inside the glowing East Van Cross, lived a happy little elf named Tinkletop. Tinkletop wasn’t just any elf—she was a herb specialist at the Eastside Evergreen Dispensary by day and an open mic performer by night. With her trusty ukulele and a pair of glittery clogs, she sang songs about love, community, and the occasional PSA about the dangers of eating too many edibles. Life wasn’t perfect, but Tinkletop made the best of it.

From her perch in the cross, she had a perfect view of East Vancouver’s bustling streets and a front-row seat to the rise of two legendary queens: Banana Delvey and Miss October. Back then, the two weren’t icons—they were just two drag sisters performing at small venues, often ignored or mocked by the gatekeepers of the drag scene. Tinkletop heard every whisper of jealousy, every lie spread by haters, and every dismissive scoff as the queens hauled their dreams from stage to stage.

Then, one magical day, Banana Delvey and Miss October dropped their first hit single: “We're So Eastside”—a hyperpop anthem about sticking together even when the world tries to tear you apart. Tinkletop listened to it on repeat until the East Van Cross practically pulsed in time with the beat. Their next track, “Call Me Clout Chaser”, became Tinkletop’s personal theme song. It was as if these queens were writing the soundtrack to her life, inspiring her to dream bigger and never let the doubters win.

But as Tinkletop’s love for the queens grew, so did the challenges in her own life. The dispensary became stricter about “sampling the product,” and the open mic crowds were dwindling. And then there was the Sewer Queen.

The Sewer Queen, a bitter old monarch who lurked beneath the streets, had declared herself the arbiter of all things drag. “Anyone throwing a show at the Legion,” she hissed, “is booger.” It was clear to Tinkletop: Banana Delvey and Miss October had rattled the gatekeepers. Their rise was shaking the foundations of the old guard, and it was only a matter of time before a new kingdom was born.

When Tinkletop heard about the Eastside Sisters hosting the first-ever Y2K Drag Show at the Legion Lounge, she knew she had to be there. The night was electric. Glitter rained from the ceiling, and Banana and Miss October performed a high-energy mashup of Britney Spears, Aqua, and their own bops. Tinkletop was awestruck—this wasn’t just a drag show; it was a revolution.

Soon, the Legion became a haven for all the magical creatures who’d been cast aside. Trolls with glitter beards, woodland nymphs who loved lip-syncing to hyperpop, and even a few reformed sewer rats gathered to cheer for the Eastside Sisters. Each show topped the last: the Minions Drag Musical had everyone laughing until they cried, the My Little Pony Drag Musical brought joy to the entire kingdom, and the Ryan Reynolds Lookalike Contest made headlines across the land.

For Tinkletop and her fellow fairy tale misfits, the Legion Lounge was more than a venue—it was a home. As they raised their glasses of sparkling mead and sang along to “We're So Eastside,” they knew this was the start of something magical.

And so, under the glow of the East Van Cross, the little elf and her newfound family celebrated the dawn of a new era—one where everyone, no matter how quirky or misunderstood, had a place to shine.

Banana Delvey and Miss October were East Vancouver's most enigmatic duo. Banana, with her penchant for fluevogs, and Miss October, who claimed to be a “seasonal muse,” were always at the center of gossip and intrigue. Yet, no one truly knew their secrets. This, as it turned out, was their downfall—or rather, their shrink-down.

It started one sunny Tuesday morning on Davie Street. Banana noticed her designer shoes suddenly felt like clown shoes. Miss October, sipping her pumpkin spice latte (it was January, but she insisted on living out of season), realized her seat at the café felt more like a booster chair.

“You’re looking… smaller,” Banana said, peering at her friend over her sunglasses.

“Me? You’re the one who could moonlight as a garden gnome!” snapped Miss October.

Within days, the shrinking escalated. Banana’s favorite leather jumpsuit became a leather tent. Miss October had to abandon her signature trench coat because it looked like a deflated parachute on her tiny frame.

They visited every specialist on Davie Street and East Vancouver. Dermatologists, chiropractors, naturopaths—none had answers. One acupuncturist nearly mistook Banana for a pincushion.

“Could it be... stress?” suggested a wide-eyed intern.

“Nonsense,” scoffed Miss October. “We’re the epitome of calm.”

The situation grew desperate. They sought out a witch rumored to operate out of a kombucha brewery. He waved sage, chanted, and made them drink a dubious “potion” that smelled suspiciously like fermented kale. Still, nothing worked.

Banana, now small enough to sit in her own banana bowl, turned to Miss October. “What if the problem isn’t physical? What if it’s... metaphysical?”

Miss October gasped. “You don’t mean—our secrets?”

They both stared at each other, their tiny faces pale. It was true. For years, they had hoarded secrets like dragon hoards gold. Gossip, scandals, mysteries—they sat on it all.

“Fine,” said Banana, pulling out a microphone. “We’re starting a podcast. Eastside Sisters!”

“Do we have a choice?” sighed Miss October, now sitting cross-legged on a coaster.

They recorded their first episode in Banana’s dollhouse, spilling secrets into the void. “We’ll never name names,” Banana declared. “But we’re airing it out.”

As the secrets flowed, something miraculous happened. Miss October’s trench coat no longer looked like a hot air balloon, and Banana could wear her jumpsuit again.

“Keep talking!” shouted Banana.

By the time they wrapped episode three, they had returned to their normal heights. The podcast, however, was a smashing success. “Eastside Sisters” became the number one show on every platform, and they were lauded as the tiny queens of catharsis.

Their lesson was clear: don’t keep secrets bottled up—or you might end up doll-sized on Davie Street.

Once upon a time in the fabulous kingdom of The Eastside, there lived two beautiful twin princesses, Banana and Miss O. These girls were the definition of fierce, always rocking matching tiaras and sparkly dresses. But don’t let their glitter fool you – they were total badasses ready to slay (literally) any day!

One sunny morning, Banana and Miss O were busy getting ready for their BFF fairy Flora’s birthday bash. They were deep into makeup magic, trying out new shades of pixie dust eyeshadow, when a frantic knock echoed through their glittery castle.

“Oh-em-gee, who’s at the door?” Banana asked, fluffing her curls.

“I bet it’s those ogres again,” Miss O sighed, adjusting her tiara.

Sure enough, when they opened the door, there stood their royal messenger, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Princesses, the ogres are causing chaos again! They’ve stolen all the fairy dust!”

“Not on our watch!” the twins declared in unison, exchanging a determined look.

Armed with their sparkly wands and a fierce sense of fashion, Banana and Miss O set off on their mission. They strutted through the enchanted forest, where giggling fairies and cheeky pixies waved them on. “Slay those ogres, queens!” the fairies cheered.

Finally, they reached the ogres’ lair – a gloomy cave that totally needed a makeover. The ogres, big and grumpy, were lounging around a massive pile of stolen fairy dust.

“Hey, ogre dudes!” Miss O called out, twirling her wand. “Time to give back that dust!”

The ogres laughed, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with. With a flick of their wands, Banana and Miss O summoned a rain of glittery sparkles that left the ogres bedazzled and stunned. The twins then unleashed their secret weapon – a spell that made the ogres break into a dance battle. Those ogres could not keep up with the princesses’ fierce moves!

“Can’t touch this!” Banana sang, while Miss O did a flawless pirouette.

Defeated and exhausted, the ogres finally surrendered the fairy dust. The twins, victorious and fabulous, returned it to the fairies who threw the most epic glitter party ever to celebrate. Flora, the birthday fairy, gave them both big fairy kisses and declared them the official heroes of The Eastside.

As the party went on, Banana and Miss O giggled and gossiped about their adventure. “Like, who knew ogres had two left feet?” Banana laughed.

“Right? And that cave was so last season,” Miss O added, sipping her fairy nectar.

With peace restored and their kingdom safe, Banana and Miss O danced the night away under the twinkling stars, knowing that as long as they were together, no ogre, grumpy or otherwise, could ever dim their sparkle.

And they lived happily ever after, slaying each day in style. ✨👑

If you heard your name you heard us wrong...

It had been one of those days. You know the ones. Banana Delvey and Miss October were behind the counter at the gas station in East Van, pretending to work. Banana leaned against the cash register, staring at the half-stocked shelves like they were a tragic art installation. Miss October scrolled her phone behind a sad rack of lighters, occasionally flipping a chip bag for dramatic effect. Customers wandered in, demanding solutions to things that weren’t their fault.

"Pump 5's broken!" one man barked. Banana blinked at him, unfazed.

"Wow, tragic," she said, offering exactly zero help.

Hours passed in a fog of apathy and smoke breaks. The store fell further into chaos. Neither of them cared. The gas station was their stage, and slacking off was the performance.

Finally—finally—their shift ended. Banana shoved open the gas station door like she’d been freed from solitary confinement. Miss October shuffled behind, clutching an energy drink like a lifeline.

“Home, sweet garbage heap,” Banana muttered as they trudged to their rickety rental on the edge of East Van. It was held together by luck and mold. The rats had squatters’ rights.

But as soon as Banana opened the front door, they both froze.

The house was clean. No flickering lights. No smell of stale pizza. The air smelled… nice.

“Miss October,” Banana whispered, wide-eyed. “Did you leave this house… fancy?”

“Absolutely not,” Miss October snapped. “Who’s here?!”

They tiptoed inside—and froze again. On their couch sat Banana Delvey. Identical. Same face, same wig… except slightly shinier.

“WHAT IS THAT?!” Banana shrieked, pointing.

“Calm down,” said Banana Delvey 2, sipping tea like royalty. “I live here now.”

“NO, YOU DON’T!”

Before Banana could throw a shoe, another Miss October walked out of the kitchen. She had a better wig and a tray of cookies.

“Oh, you’re back,” said Miss October 2 casually. “We cleaned.”

“WE?!” Banana screeched.

That’s when they noticed it: a glowing portal in the corner of the room. Another Banana Delvey—Banana Delvey 3—stepped out holding a succulent plant.

“Is that a dimension portal?!” Miss October asked, jaw dropping.

“Yeah, it’s cute,” said Banana 3.

Over the next few hours, the house filled with more versions of them. Banana Delvey 4 vacuumed. Miss October 3 alphabetized their wigs. Banana 5 baked muffins. The originals yelled, but they were ignored. These newcomers were cooler, cleaner, and somehow more productive.

“I can’t live like this!” Banana yelled, as Banana 6 redecorated.

“I kinda like it,” Miss October admitted, as Miss October 4 fixed the broken window.

By the end of the night, nobody could tell which Banana or Miss October was the original… and honestly? No one cared. The house looked fabulous. The portal stayed. And East Van became the multi-dimensional headquarters of slaying.

Because if one of us is good, more of us is better.

It was a sparkling Tuesday morning when Banana Delvey slammed down her rhinestone coffee mug and announced, “Miss O, today we are embarking on a mission—a quest for the most charismatic feet in East Van!” ✨👠 Miss October raised an eyebrow, draped luxuriously on the couch in a leopard-print robe. 🐆 “Charismatic feet? Banana, this is why we can’t have normal hobbies.” But she grabbed her purse anyway. “Fine. Let’s see where this goes. But I’m calling dibs on any brunch we pass.” 🥂🍳

Their first stop was a cozy café where whispers of an underground ballet star had brought them. The feet in question were peeking out from under a table, flexing and pointing as if they had a mind of their own. 🩰✨

Banana clutched her pearls. 💎 “Miss O, look at those toes—delicate but commanding, like they’re choreographing a masterpiece with every step!” Miss October nodded. “Those feet could lead a waltz and make the whole room weep. 😭 But they also look like they’d demand you pay your rent on time. Too disciplined for us.”

Later, at a grungy bar, they spotted a pair of feet perched on the edge of the stage. These toes had stories to tell, chipped nail polish and all. 🎸🖤

“Banana,” Miss October whispered, “these feet have been places. They’ve hitchhiked, moshed, and probably staged a protest or two.” ✊ Banana nodded solemnly. “They scream rebellion, freedom, and maybe a love of strong coffee. ☕ These feet are cooler than us.” But they decided to move on. They weren’t ready to keep up with a pair that could stage dive at a moment’s notice.

In a peaceful studio, they found the next contenders—barefoot and poised in tree pose. 🌿🧘‍♀️ The feet glowed with serenity, perfectly balanced and at ease. Miss O tilted her head. “Those feet meditate, Banana. I swear I can hear them chanting.” 🕊️

Banana leaned in, mesmerized. “They’re wise, patient, and probably make their own kombucha. 🫖 But can they handle a night out at Blumpkin Bar? I’m not so sure.” They bowed respectfully to the zen feet and left.

At an East Van gallery, the queens encountered feet that weren’t just beautiful—they were expressive. Covered in flecks of paint, these toes were busy creating art even as their owner chatted animatedly with admirers. 🎨🖌️

Banana’s jaw dropped. “Miss O, these feet are visionaries! Each toe is a brushstroke, creating masterpieces wherever they go.” Miss O nodded. “They’ve got personality. These feet could tell a whole story without ever needing a shoe. 👟” But as compelling as they were, Banana and Miss October agreed they weren’t quite the ones.

Just as they were about to call it a day, they wandered into a hidden garden. 🌺🌙 There, among the flowers, was a pair of feet so enchanting they seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.

Banana gasped. “Miss O, those feet—they’re magic! ✨ They have the confidence of a drag queen in 7-inch heels but the softness of a kitten landing on a cloud.” 🐾 Miss October clutched Banana’s arm. “Those feet could lead a revolution, host a dinner party, and still have time for a bubble bath. 🛁 They’re perfect.”

The feet had an energy unlike any they’d encountered before—both grounded and whimsical, ready for adventure but also happy to chill in a cozy sock. 🧦 Banana knelt dramatically. “Will you let us honor your soles in the Hall of Fabulous Feet?” The feet wiggled in a way that seemed to say, “Yes, but only if you promise to respect the pedicure.” 💅

Banana and Miss October returned home with sketches, selfies, and a newfound appreciation for the artistry of a well-turned toe. 👣✨ “Miss O,” Banana said, sipping her wine, “I think we found our soulmates—in their soles!” Miss O rolled her eyes. 🙄 “Podling, if you ever drag me through this city for feet again, you’d better bribe me with more than brunch.” 🍸

And with that, they clinked their glasses, already planning their next great adventure—maybe hands this time? ✋🍹

If you heard your name you heard us wrong!

Once upon a fabulously dramatic time in the glittery world of Vancouver, two queens ruled Davie Street High: Miss October, a sassy diva with an emerald-green aesthetic and a heart as fierce as her eyeliner 💚👠, and Banana Delvey, a hilarious, larger-than-life queen who could light up a room with her laugh and her bling 🍌💄. But honey, these two were not instant besties. Oh no. This story is a tale of drama, betrayal, and one very shady royal: The Meanest Queen on the Davie Scene 👑🔥.

Miss October arrived at Davie Street High already labeled a weirdo thanks to her mysterious green glow and her bold refusal to play by the rules. The other students whispered behind her back, but did she care? No, ma’am. She had bigger plans, like overthrowing the unfair dress code and banning boring makeup palettes 🎨💅. Banana Delvey, on the other hand, was the it girl of Davie Street: funny, fabulous, and known for her over-the-top entrance looks (feathers, sequins, and sometimes actual bananas). Naturally, when they were assigned as locker buddies, the drama began.

They clashed like matte vs. gloss—Miss October thought Banana was shallow, and Banana thought October was a total buzzkill. But one fateful night at the Drag-A-Palooza Talent Show 🌟, Miss October’s power—turning drag wigs into works of art with a single touch—was revealed, and Banana saw the queen behind the shade. They Kiki’d, spilled some tea ☕, and became the most unexpected duo Davie Street High had ever seen.

Now, every school has its villains, but the Meanest Queen on the Davie Scene was in a league of her own. She was the self-proclaimed ruler of the Vancouver drag circuit, known for her icy reads and habit of canceling anyone who dared to outshine her ❄️💔. When Miss October’s rising star threatened her throne, she invited October to her velvet-draped lair above the Blumpkin Bar.

Miss October thought this was her big break—a chance to join forces and bring positive change to the scene 🌟💚. Banana, loyal as ever, tagged along in a sparkly gown, hoping for free drinks 🍸✨. But girl, the Meanest Queen wasn’t looking for allies—she wanted minions. She demanded October use her powers to sabotage other queens and keep Davie Street under her glittery iron rule 💄👠.

Miss October was like, “Oh no, darling. I don’t work for free, and I definitely don’t work for you.” She stormed out, while Banana hesitated, dazzled by the promise of fame and a headlining spot at the Queen’s next party.

With the Meanest Queen spreading lies, Miss October became the talk of Davie Street for all the wrong reasons. Everyone called her "Wicked October," and posters with her face and the caption "Too Green to Be Seen" were plastered everywhere 😔💔. Banana, meanwhile, was stuck hosting the Meanest Queen’s events, drowning her guilt in Dirty Shirleys and bad decisions 🍒🍹.

But Miss October wasn’t about to let some icy queen ruin her sparkle. She staged a glittery rebellion during the Meanest Queen’s biggest event, "The Emerald Gala," complete with fog machines, backup dancers in neon green tights, and a surprise confetti cannon 💚💃. Banana finally saw the truth and joined October on stage, the two of them reading the Meanest Queen so hard her wig flew off. "You’re not mean, honey—you’re just boring!" Banana shouted, twirling her boa.

Davie Street High cheered as October and Banana reclaimed their thrones as the reigning queens of the Vancouver drag scene 👑👑. The Meanest Queen on the Davie Scene? Honey, she slinked off into the shadows, her reign of terror officially over.

In the end, Miss October and Banana Delvey proved that even the fiercest rivals can become besties when faced with a common enemy and a whole lot of glitter 🌟. As Banana famously said, "We’re too fabulous to fail, podlings." And with that, they sashayed into the sunset, leaving a trail of rhinestones and broken wigs behind them.

THE END. ✨