❄️Snowed Out: A Modern Fairy Fail🙅♀️
Once upon a timeline, in a digital kingdom called Mirrorland, beauty wasn’t measured by kindness or courage; followers measured it.
Every morning, millions of users open the Mirror app to see who the platform has crowned as its “Fairest of Them All.” For months, that honour belonged to Snow White, better known as @PurelySnow❄️, whose page overflowed with overly filtered selfies, product hauls, and quotes about “inner beauty.”
Her videos always ended with her signature line: “Mirror, Mirror, on the app—who’s trending at the top?”
And the viewer always replied with: “@PurelySnow❄️—you are the fairest of them all.”
But not everyone loved her. Her stepmother, Veronica, known online as @QueenVee👑, had once ruled the platform herself until Snow’s “Morning Glow” skincare video went viral with over 3 million views. Then overnight, all of @QueenVee’s sponsorships vanished.
One morning, Veronica sipped her matcha latte and muttered, “Mirror, Mirror, on the screen, who’s still the fairest social queen?”
Her tablet chirped: “Analyzing metrics… @PurelySnow❄️ remains the fairest of them all.” Veronica almost dropped her smoothie. “She doesn’t even tag her products right!”
That night, she edited together fake clips. Snow rolled her eyes, mocked fans, laughed at comments, and uploaded them with the caption:
“The real @PurelySnow❄️ 😢💔 #️⃣FakeSnow #️⃣ToxicInfluencer.”
The video spread faster than wildfire. Snow woke to thousands of hateful messages: “Wow, I thought she was kind. Unfollowed. Mirrorland doesn’t need fake queens.”
Within hours, she lost all her followers. Even the Mirror app froze her profile. A single message appeared on her screen: “You have been snowed out.”
Snow stared blankly. Mirror… what did I do wrong? She asked herself.
So Snow ran. Ran as fast as she could. She left the city of Mirrorland, walking until her phone lost signal. Eventually, she stumbled upon a tiny cabin hidden behind vines of forgotten hashtags.
Inside lived seven strange roommates.
Snow walked up to the door with a quick knock before walking in. There stands @Realness, stirring soup. @Kindness💟, handing her a blanket. The others introduced themselves: Hi, I’m @Honesty, I’m @Humour🤣, I’m @Curiosity, I’m @Patience, and I’m @NapTime, who was already asleep.
Snow blinked. “Wait—you’re all still here? I thought everyone moved to the TikTime apartments?”
@Realness chuckled. “We logged out years ago. Best decision ever! That app took up all our time just scrolling through short, dumb videos.”
Snow tried to change. She found herself narrating everything like a vlog in her head: Hey guys—it’s me, Snow! Today I’m chopping onions! Like and subscribe… oh, right… Nobody’s watching.
The others laughed kindly. They taught her how to live offline, how to bake bread without posting about it, to laugh without emojis, to smile without filters, taking out any imperfections with Photoshop or filters.
At night, Snow stared into an old mirror. The reflection wasn’t perfect, her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, but it was hers. And for the first time, that felt okay.
Weeks later, @Humour🤣 ran in holding an ancient tablet. “Snow, you need to see this!” Onscreen, @QueenVee👑 sobbed dramatically in a live stream titled “The Truth About @PurelySnow❄️—Exposed!”
“She broke my heart,” @QueenVee👑 cried. “All I ever wanted was love.”
Snow groaned. “She’s killing the feed again.”
@Honesty folded her arms. “Then tell your truth. Not for followers, but for you.”
Snow hesitated. “No one will believe me.”
@Realness smiled. “Maybe not. But at least it’ll be real.”
That night, Snow went live—no filters, no edits.
“Hey, everyone,” she began softly. “Yeah, it’s me. I used to think that if I were perfect enough, you’d all love me. But perfection’s not real. The Mirror doesn’t care who’s the fairest; it just wants clicks. So maybe it’s time we stop asking.”
The live chat exploded, some angry, some apologetic, some just listening. Then, as if by magic, the Mirror app began to glitch. Follower counts disappeared. Verified checkmarks dissolved. The entire network reset.
Somewhere across town, @QueenVee👑 screamed, “What’s happening to my followers?!”
Snow smiled faintly. “You’ve been… logged out.”
Months passed. Mirrorland went quiet. People met for coffee instead of livestreams. They shared stories instead of selfies.
Snow moved into a little apartment above a bakery. She painted, read, and baked muffins for fun. Sometimes, she even smiled at her reflection—no filters needed.
One afternoon, she sat in the park beside Leo, a kind gamer who’d never owned an influencer account.
“Do you ever miss it?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” Snow said. “But I like hearing real laughter again.”
They shared bubble tea under the sun, and Snow caught her reflection in a store window—hair messy, freckles showing, no filter.
And she thought: For the first time, I don’t need a mirror to tell me who I am.
