Author's Note: Hello all! I am Rosalite, the brains behind the story. Unfortunately, I can't draw worth a damn, so there's currently no cover art. I don't have much to say about myself, because it's all below. Read on, dearest reader! )And don't forget to review).


I, Acadia Renee Valerie Jones, just wanna go on record and say: fuck writer's block. I'm talking straight to hell on a shiny silver platter. May it burn in the deepest, hottest pit with Satan himself.

It's the sole reason I've had to redo my Diabolik Lovers fanfiction two times already, and the meaning behind my other rarely updated stories.

Feeling frustrated, I slammed my laptop shut and punched the wall. I'd usually throw something out my bedroom window, but I stopped because my projectiles always ended up in the yard across the street (I have a good throwing arm) and my fucked-up, cheap-as-hell, hillbilly, country-ass, redneck, white-trash neighbors insisted because the projectile was in their yard, it was theirs.

This one time, I threw my dad's expensive Baume and Mercier watch (my dad's freakin' loaded) out the window (it had been the only throwable thing I could get my hands on) into their yard, and I literally had to brawl Uncle Al (who's not my uncle but some middle-aged deadbeat who's so laidback, he insisted everyone calls 'uncle') for it. He'd tried to go all Bruce Lee on me, but his beer belly got in the way and I ended up kicking his fat ass. I'd thought one of the neighbors would have the decency to call the police when they saw a grown man and a teenage girl rolling around the yard across the street trying to pull each other's hair out, but I sadly was mistaken.

I punched my wall again and began doing that nervous pacing around my room. My bedroom was my center of operations. It was a spacious room in the front of the house with an alcove for a desk, a super-deep closet, and an expansive window (with a window seat) overlooking the street. I wasn't one of those girly girls who had Justin Beiber and Twilight posters plastered all over her wall. Instead, I had a complete bookshelf of manga. That's right, I was a total anime otaku. Fairy Tail, Dragon Ball, Bleach, Sailor Moon Crystal, Kuroshitsuji, Sakurasou no Pet na Kanojo. You name it, I've watched it.

I stopped pacing and took a deep breath. There was no way I was going to get things done with an attitude like this. I dropped back down into my chair and turned my Toshiba laptop back on. A few moments later, I created a fresh new Word doc and logged into my Fanfiction account under my penname Rosalite(pronounced Rosa-light, and is somewhat inspired by the names of the 4 Heavenly Kings from Sailor Moon even though I created the name long before I even thought of reading Sailor Moon. I've thought about changing it to Roselite(you know, that pure gemstone?) but decided to stick with Rosalite since I didn't want to change it after all these years).

Before I started writing, I quickly went under my stories tab to see how many reads my fanfictions had. My most popular story, Falling Apples, had more than 200 new reads, putting it at a near 17,000 reads. Having gotten that many with just 27 chapters in a short span of 6 months, I was proud of myself, but I didn't really feel accomplished like I should've been.

I pulled Word 2007 back up and positioned my hands on the keyboard. I searched my mind for a good plot for my latest Falling Apples story, but found nothing. Ugh, who was I kidding? I couldn't write in this state. Knowing I wouldn't get anything accomplished on Word, I pulled Fanfiction back up and clicked on my profile. Like usual, it was blank except for a small notice about my writing pattern. When it came to profiles, I wasn't like the other FF users who had a whole detailed page about themselves. I've thought about making a bio, but I was too lazy to create one. What would I say about myself anyway?

That I was 16 and had tan skin, jet-black hair, greyish eyes, and natural peachy-pink lips? Was I supposed to talk about my love for anime (specifically the fighting ones), action, and alcohol (the 3 A's as I called them)? Not that I was an alcoholic or anything. I liked to drink, but I didn't have addiction. Yet. Was everyone supposed to know that I liked rollercoasters, flying kites, listening to wind chimes( they're really soothing), riding in my friend's convertible, and on my other friend's motorcycle? What about my 6 siblings and my temper problem?

Choosing not to deal with my profile today, I minimized FF and started pacing again.

It was no use. Writer's block was just fucking up my world right now. Wanting to clear my mind, I proceeded to the window. Whenever I needed to refresh my mind, I liked to let the wind into my bedroom. I didn't know why, but there was just something about the wind in my hair and fresh air in my face that made me want to jump for joy. Made me feel free. After struggling with the fucked-up iron latch, I was finally able to pull up the window.

"Oh yeah! That feels great!" I breathed as the cool breezes welcomed themselves to my room. I inhaled the pure air, relief flowing throughout my body. When I had fresh air in my lungs, I felt like I was dancing on the clouds. In my opinion, it was the best feeling in the world.

I sat down on my window seat as my whole body relaxed. Deciding music would increase the mood even more, I took out my iPhone 6, pulled up SoundCloud, and played "Back to Life" by Maria Kacanda.

Singing along with the song, I looked out the window at my street below. The first thing that caught my eye was Uncle Jaxxen (again, not my uncle) in his yard across the street.

He was one of the fucked-up (I say that about everything, right? I know I have a swearing problem. But I don't give a fuck), cheap-ass, hillbilly, white-trash neighbors I mentioned earlier. Jaxxen looked like he belonged on Duck Dynasty with that long, graying beard and matching hair flowing out from under his old worn-out trucker's hat. In his white tank and baby-blue boxers, Jaxxen was publicly exposing his extreme body hair and shameless indecency. The old fucker was sitting in his green lawn chair with a beer in hand, his old cat lying across his beer belly. After wedging a cigarette between his lips, he looked up and noticed me in the window. Jaxxen then nodded and gave me the middle finger.

I nodded and gave him the finger in return. That was our screwed-up way of paying respect to each other. Unfortunately, a man in the passenger seat of a passing car happened to glance out the window and see my gesture. An angry look spread across his face and he did the finger at me, holding it out of the window until the car disappeared down the street. "Jackass," I muttered, returning to my computer with a new state of mind. "Let's do this," I said confidently, cracking my fingers. And with that, I began typing away.

Click clack click clack click clack went my fingers gliding across the keyboard. I could hear my little sister watching Winx Club downstairs. "Magic Winx! Enchantix!" Stephanie, my five-year-old baby sister, yelled with the TV.

I allowed myself to smile as I typed. Ah, Winx Club. I remembered those days. Winx Club used to be (and secretly still was) my favorite cartoon. My oldest brother, Bryce, used to tease me about it back when we were younger. Even back then I was an aggressive tough girl, so I stopped watching it around my family due to my wounded pride.

Just as I thought I was getting somewhere in my writing, writer's block hit me like a Mack truck full-force. "Damn it!" I raged, bringing my fist down onto my desk.

"Language!" scolded Mom from somewhere downstairs.

I ignored her and swore again. Right when I was in the zone! Becoming enraged, I started kicking the walls and my furniture. Why. Did. This. Have. To. Happen. NOW? I screamed with frustration. I hated writer's block more than the Plastics at school! I grabbed my digital clock, ready to chuck it out the window.

Thankfully, I got a hold of myself just in time. There were other ways for me to deal with my anger. And besides, I didn't feel like wrestling Uncle Al again. I aggressively snatched up my One Direction notebook(a lame, cheap-ass, stereotyping gift from one of my aunts) and plopped back down onto my window seat, heated.

I flipped through to a clean page, and angrily gripped my pencil in deep thought. Back in 6th grade, my English teacher noticed I easily got frustrated with my writing, so she suggested I relive myself by fighting fire with fire. In order to get rid of writer's block, she said I write about something I knew I couldn't fail in, like things I didn't like. At first, that sounded a little weird, but ranting on paper actually did wonders for my anger.

Now, what was something really agitating that I had yet to complain about? I just about covered everything that fueled my hatred; the shitty Dunkin' Donuts around the corner, the Plastics at school (that one had been at least ten pages front and back. I know, I have problems), Marco from McDonald's, the Kardashians (especially Kim), Grandma's fruitcake (c'mon, woman! Who'd put prunes in a freakin' cake?), people who damage library books (I once checked out a book, and it had brown shit-like junk smeared on nearly every page), Barbie, perverts, fart (specifically my aunt's, which are so strong they could break a chain. Like seriously, woman. Go take a shit or something. Now I know why Grandma puts prunes in everything), non-Japanese manga, cockroaches, my oldest brother's friends, asparagus, etc….

I happened to glance out the window across the street. Uncle Jaxxen was still out there in his beer-can cluttered yard, smoking and drinking. But this time, Uncle Al was sitting in a lawn chair beside him, laughing and swearing heartily with his beer buddy. I narrowed my eyes. Them. The Trash, as my brothers called them. It wasn't because they were poor, but because they were outright disgusting like trash. First of all, there were like…7 different adults living over there with about 6 kids (that I knew of). But that was just an estimate—the Trash was constantly having other white-trash family and friends over, so I actually had no clue of the exact number of residents.

That was it! The Trash! They would be the topic of my newest rant. They were the perfect subject since there was so much I didn't like about them.

To start things off, their slubiness not only pissed me off, but the whole neighborhood. The Trash's one house alone ruined the beauty of our entire street, South Chiltern Hill. Let's say you were a newcomer who was familiarizing yourself with the community. You happened to turn onto South Chiltern Hill and was immediately mesmerized by it. From cabins to brick homes to cottages, everything was different yet symmetrical and balanced.

All the lawns were manicured perfectly and beside each mailbox was an old, huge oak tree that completely shaded the sidewalk and street. Some of the friendly residents waved to you as you cruised by, and you waved back with a smile on your face.

Unfortunately, that smile disappeared the second you laid eyes on #64. It was the only torn, unkempt house in the neighborhood. The yard was full of weeds, empty beer and soda cans, old cigarettes, and other trash. Not only that, but the house's paintjob was old and peeling. To sum things up: the house itself was just outright disgusting and unpleasant. And to think I had the special privilege of waking up to the sight of it every morning.

The residents were just like their house—unappealing, trashy, and gross. I set to work on my newest rant paper, which was centered on the residents of the Trash:

Jerney: You have to be the biggest home wrecker in this city. I fucking hate the way you saunter around in your Confederate-flag bikini thinking you're hot stuff. First of all, you're stupid as hell because you're basically telling everyone you're racist. Second of all, I detest how you flip your hair thinking you're showing off—you're not fooling anyone with that stupid wig. It's not even on straight!

Brayden: You're a wannabe man-slut to sum things up. Like your stupidass mom Jerney, you think all the "chicks" want you, but you're really out of your damn mind. None of the girls at school even wanna look at your ugly ass—not even the nerdy nerds. And you think drinking and smoking is going to get you somewhere, and it will. Jail.

Sydnee: You've been pregnant so many times—or is that just your beer belly?—I don't even know how many kids you have anymore. It's said to think all of them are going to grow up to be just like you. C'mon woman, you're a terrible mother! With all those baby daddies and their financial support, taking care of your kids shouldn't be a problem. But no. At the end of every month, you always come back with a new purse or something while your kids are still walking around in two-sizes-too-small rags. What kind of bitch-ass mom does that to her own offspring?

Uncle Al: You're a revolting, sorry-excuse for a man. All you do is drink, smoke, swear, and sit on your fat ass all day. How about getting a job to support you and your kid (that's right, I know about your love child with Sydnee)?

Marriah: You're not sexy. Like, at all. Everyone knows you aren't naturally blond. You're forced Southern accent is irritating and your boobs are so fake. You spent a lot of money—perhaps all of it—on a botched boobjob. I mean, honestly! It's so obvious! One book is literally higher than the other, and you walk around showing your cleavage like you're Kim Kardashian. You need to sue that plastic surgeon. I'm not joking either. Find him and sue his ass dry.

Brayden: Quit hitting on my mom, you dumbass.

Uncle Jaxxen: Your mother was obviously high when she named you. You're 6th sense for drinking obviously came from her. Hell, for Halloween, you somehow managed to stuff your beer belly into a Bud Lite box and tried to pass it off as a costume. Also, you need to audition for Duck Dynasty ASAP. You already have the country-ass accent and beard to match. You'd fit right in. I'm calming down now, so I'll sum it up in a few words: you're an alcoholic, a pervert, gold digger, and a bum.

I breathed out in relief. That really helped. Now, to get back to the real stuff. I sat my ass at my desk again, and was about to start a new Falling Apples fanfiction, but I stopped myself just in time. Trying to force another chapter would just give me writer's block again. I needed something fresh. Something new.

Yeah, I already had four fanfictions, but I didn't wanna work on those. I wanted to try my hand at another fanfiction. But off what cartoon? There were so many, but I needed to choose something I was well familiar with.

Suddenly, my little sister burst into my bedroom in her Bloom-Believix costume. "Cadey, Cadey! I'm a fairy!" she laughed, waving her Tecna doll in my face.

"Not now, Steph," I hissed, moving her arm out of the way. I was trying to brainstorm, which was impossible with my Winx-club obessed-

"Winx Club! That's it!" I cried out, "Steph, you're a genius!"

"I know," giggled Steph, "now if you'd excuse me, I have more Winx Club to watch." Humming the Enchantix song, my little sister skipped out of my room.

Winx Club! Why hadn't I thought of that before?! I knew my way around the WC universe, so writing a fanfiction about it would be a piece of cake! But the question remained: what would the story be about? I'd skimmed through the Fanfiction archive before, and all the popular stories were about pairings or the next generation of WC.

But I didn't want to use those ideas; I wanted to do something no one's done before. But what? Coming up with a whole new plot and villains would be way too complicated. I'd thought about giving a FloraxHelia story a try, but I was not really into all that romantic stuff. Action was where my interest was.

In that case, maybe a Sailor Moon story would be better? At least that was a "girl show" with some decent action. I had nothing against Winx, but the fights could've been a little better. I mean, seriously! If Aisha had the power of water manipulation, why didn't she ever use it? And how come Musa never used her ability of sound to kill an enemy's hearing forever? I knew it was a show for small girls, but c'mon! The fights looked way too simple, and the characters never used their all abilities to the fullest. It was just throw a spell, dodge a spell. Throw a spell, dodge a spell. Nothing more, nothing less.

I yawned. All this thinking was kind of making me sluggish. Maybe I needed to take a quick nap, and resume the brainstorming later. Yeah.

I sleepily kicked off my shoes and laid across my bed. Maybe Steph could help me write my fanfiction when I woke up.

"Magic Winx!" was the last thing I heard before I slowly dozed off into dreamland…


"Hey, lady! Get out the damn road!"

The sounds of frantic car honking and shouting woke me right up. The first thing I saw was a flash of red and blinding headlights so I screamed and shielded my face, expecting to get run over. After a few seconds of quivering, I dared to peak through a space in between my fingers, wondering why I wasn't dead yet. The car that nearly hit me was gone, and all I could see was miles and miles of empty street stretching ahead.

How the fuck did I end up in the street anyway? I wasn't that careless. With trembling legs, I slowly rose back up to my feet. One of my brothers must've thought this as a dumb prank. What the hell was their problem? I could've got kille-

"Oh my fucking gosh!" I gasped, my hands flying up to my mouth as I looked around. I was surrounded by glass, futuristic structures with high, busy freeway ramps circling around them. I cringed and covered my ears as a train on the bridge overhead raced down its track with a loud whoosh. This was not South Chiltern Hill!

"Hey, you! Lady!" I whip-turned to see a floating red car parked behind me. An older-looking guy stepped out of it onto the street with an annoyed look on his face. "What's your problem? Standing in the road is a good way to get killed."

My brain could barely process his voice, I was so awestruck. With my mouth hanging wide open, I managed a nod as I continued to stare at his floating car. Why the hell was this? "Kids these days," grumbled the man, apparently losing interest in me as he marched back over to his floating car. "Can't even trust 'em with their own lives."

With my trap still wide open, I watched the man climb back into his vehicle, crank up its engine, and start back down the street in his floating car. "What the fuck?" I managed in an unsteady voice, staring at its back bumper until it disappeared around the corner.

"I must be dreaming," I said dizzily, feeling my head. "There's no way this is reality." I looked down at my feet. They were still in the same Converse, but something seemed different about them. I wriggled my toes. Oddly, for this to be a dream, I could feel them rubbing against each other perfectly. I stared at my shoes closer, trying to find the difference in them. I gasped in horror when I finally put my finger on it.

They were…cartoonized!

This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream. I started to pinch my arm frantically. When that didn't work, I resorted to punching myself a few times, choosing to ignore the looks the other cartoonized people were giving me.

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH MY FUCKING GOSH! I wasn't waking up! THIS WAS MOTHERFUCKING REAL!

From behind me, a different floating car was honking angrily at me. "Hey! Get out the road!" yelled a feminine voice from within it. "I gotta be somewhere in few minutes."

Usually, I would've told her to rack off, but I was too shocked by everything. Blocking out the surrounding commotion, I stared down at my new cartoonized fingers. How did this even happen? My hands began to shake and the wind started to howl out of nowhere and the sky grew dark.

Civilians on the sidewalk picked up the pace so they wouldn't get caught in the incoming storm, and the floating cars had enough sense to drive around me. I was in a cartoon. I was in a cartoon. I was in a cartoon. My loose black hair began to blow as the gusts got more powerful. I was in a cartoon! And that meant I wasn't in the real, fucked-up world anymore.

The Trash, the Plastics, Grandma's stupid fruitcake… They were all gone. All my problems were gone!

"Woohoo!" I exclaimed, leaping for joy in the middle of the street. While I was in midair, it felt like the wind embraced me. Like we somehow shared a connection and were as one for that split second. When I landed on the ground, the howling gusts went away and all traces off the storm cleared out.

"Hey! Will ya get out of the road already!" shouted a driver in a floating car behind me.

For once, I looked behind my shoulder. "Oops. Sorry about that," I called, sidestepping onto the sidewalk. I accidentally bumped into a man in the process. "Oops. My bad," I giggled. I was in a really good mood; usually, any normal person would be freaking out about being teleported into another world (dimension? Realm?), but then again, I wasn't your normal person.

"It's no problem." The young man was pleasantly upbeat. "I could tell you're a newcomer by the way you were holding up traffic back there."

I giggled again. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Completely."

Now that we were on the subject, now would be a good time to ask where I was. (I was kind of hoping I was in Sailor Moon or Dragon Ball, but the "animation" didn't fit match neither.) "By the way, I'm kind of lost. Could you tell me where I am?"

The man kept his smile. "No prob. You're in the capital city of the universe. Welcome to Magix City."


"Oof! Damn!" I cursed as I accidentally lost my footing and slid down the muddy slope. I landed face-flat in an equally muddy puddle. I swore again as I rose to my feet. Shit. I looked down at myself. Great. My clothes were ruined now. Eh, no big deal. Lake Roccaluce was somewhere around. If I came across it, I'd just take a quick swim to wash the mud off. EZ-PEE-ZEE LEMON SQUEEZY.

I hummed to myself as leaves and twigs crunched under my feet with every step. With every hum, the wind seemed to brush against me and fill me with even more glee. It was so…refreshing. The nice gusts made the trees rustle, and I swore I could hear the sounds of distant wind chimes from somewhere. Alfea had to be close.

See, I had a plan. If I was in Winx Club, then that only meant one thing: destiny brought me here. Obviously. It couldn't be a coincidence that I got morphed into my all-time favorite cartoon. No fuckin' way. I had to be here for a reason.

Anyway, if I was in Magix, then my only reasonable option was to enroll at Alfea. Hopefully, I had magic. Didn't all girls in this dimension?

"HELLO, NEWCOMER!"

I yelped, startled, and whirled around to see some creepy guy in all-gray robes standing behind me. "What the fluff!" I cried out, jumping back. "Who the hell are you?" I took a long, hard, good look at him. His masses of thick black hair covered his eyes, and a worn-out top hat set atop his head. He kind of reminded me of the Undertaker from Kuroshitsuji.

"Who are yooouuuuuu?" The creep giggled slowly. "I don't recognize you."

"Wait. What do you mean 'recognize'?" I demanded.

"I know the faces of all the Alfea students," replied Creep with a creepy smile, "and I've never seen yooouuuuuu."

Hold up. Who was this guy? Last time I checked, a pervert in the woods was never written into the storyline. Maybe I was in the future or something? "Wait. Alfea's around here?" I asked hopefully, not even bothering to question him.

"Very. It's just beyond those treeees." Creep slowly raised a finger and pointed at the trees in the distance. "You can't miss it."

"Thanks." I was too anxious and excited to feel disturbed by his presence. Without saying anything more to him, I started jogging in that direction. I'd come way too far to get held up. First, I had to find directions to get to Alfea. And since I didn't have the proper currency for the bus (fuck American dollars), I had to wander through the city by foot. Then I came across this random forest and I've been lost in it ever since.

"There's something different about you," said Creep, who was supposingly following me, from behind.

I was sure to stay a few feet ahead of him. He looked like the type to land a slap on a butt cheek every once in a while. What was he doing in Alfea's woods anyways? Didn't they have security or something?

"I am," I called over my shoulder. "I'm from…someplace far, far, far away."

"I see. And since you're going to enroll at Alfea, I can only imagine you have magic. But of what kind? Absorption? Electricity? Water?"

His question made me stop dead in my tracks. "I…don't know," I admitted slowly, reality (well, part of it) hitting me like a wrecking ball. Pun intended.

If I could see Creep's eyes, I knew he'd be raising an eyebrow. "You don't know? Well, you must be one of those confused ones. Do you even have magic?"

"I…don't…know."

"I see. Well, you must have magic in order to become an Alfea student. This much I hope you know." He tickled my sides. "But don't worry about it. You can dwell here in the forest with me."

I kicked him. "Don't touch me, creep."

Creep didn't seem bother by the assault. "Luckily for you, there is a way you can determine your magical makeup. If you have one."

"Really? How?" I asked suspicious.

Walking the speed of an old lady in high heels, Creep started towards the direction of Alfea. "Just follow me."

I raised an eyebrow. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe he was planning to rape me. He was obviously attracted to young women; why else would he be stalking around an all-girl school? But then again, I didn't know what the hell I was doing, so Creep was my only hope of finding out if I was a fairy. "Fff-ine! I'm coming!" I sighed like I was annoyed, proceeding after him.

I could see Alfea's giant structure through the treetops, which made me a little queasy. Creep was waiting for me behind a tree. "See the school?" he asked, pushing aside some leaves and pointing straight ahead.

I bent down into the shrubs so the bushes would hide me just in case. I then pushed aside enough of the leaves so I could see Alfea. From my position, I could see the school gates, which was a large pink archway with two opened wing-like gates. And since the gates were open, I could see into the central courtyard, which was surprisingly empty.

"Walk over to the gate," instructed Creep lowly.

"What? Why? You aren't trying to jump me, are you? Because if you are-"

"Alfea is protected by a barrier spell. Only those with magic can pass through it onto the campus."

Shit, why didn't I think of that?

"Won't someone see me?" I asked worriedly.

"The students are currently on vacation; no one is around except for a few teachers and the headmistress maybe."

"Right." I nodded and took a deep breath. My next few steps would determine my future. "Here goes nothing." Anxiety –stricken, I took a baby step forward. A gust breezed by, rustling the trees. This time, I took a bigger step forward. Another, stronger gust made the trees rustle even louder.

Why the fuck was I so scared? This was so unlike me. I wasn't going to be intimated by some spell or whatever it was. Clenching my fists at my sides, I marched straight over to the gate. Around me, the wind was blowing quite fiercely.

When I made it to the gate, I stopped. If I was a fairy, I would be able to pass through into the courtyard. If I wasn't, then the spell would probably throw me back in the woodlands. Eh, I looked at it this way: if I wasn't a fairy and the barrier did chuck me into the forest, I'd probably get a concussion, fall out unconscious for a few days, and end up back in my world. The Real World.

And if I woke up to see I was still in Magix, I would still have other options. I could simply disguise myself as a boy and enroll at Red Fountain. There. Problem solved. See, I was smart. Ish.

"Alright! Here I go!" I declared, closing my eyes. And as if I was running into battle, I charged forward. I partly had been expecting myself to bounce off the shield, but that surprisingly didn't happen. Huh? I opened my eyes to see that I was standing in the central courtyard, surrounded by the rest of the pink castle.

"I did it!" I triumphed, "I-I'm magical!" From behind the tree, Creep gave me a thumbs up. I gave him one in return. I was so happy! Like Steph, I'd always dreamed of becoming a fairy when I was little. Now, it was finally going to happen.


I bit my tongue as I counted up my money. So far, I had 4 different currencies (some paper, some coins) but they didn't add up to much.

I sighed and stuffed all of it back into my money jar. Life in Magix was not as easy as it looked. I set my jar back into my new purse (I found it lying around in the street, and I was like: score!) and started out of the alley back onto the busy Magix street.

I was pretty much use to Magix already. It's pretty much like the Real World if you get over the floating cars and high-tech gadgets and machines.

The hard part was its culture. Since it was the capital planet of the entire magic dimension, its population consisted of inhabitants from all the different realms and planets (thus the reason I had so many money currencies). And there were so many languages! Thankfully, most of the people spoke English (or whatever it might be called here. I was kind of surprised the main language wasn't Italian). I wasn't complaining about anything, though. I was gonna get used to everything eventually.

As I was crossing the street, I nearly got ran over by a group of Specialists on hoverboards. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" I shouted as they swooshed by. They ignored me and kept going.

I watched enviously as they disappeared around the corner on their boards. I had to get myself one.

No, no, top priorities came first. And that meant making enough money to get into Alfea before the next school term started. I had no idea how much a scholarship cost, but I could guess the amount was large. Very large.

But that was okay! I wasn't going to rest until I had enough! So far I managed to get two jobs but ultimately lost two jobs. How did it happen? Well…

*Flashback*
"Yes! This is so easy!" I insisted, stacking another clean plate atop the stack of equally clean dishes. I was going to get rich in no time. Hopefully.

I hummed the Believix song as I washed another dish. I was in a great mood even though I was in a stuffy-ass kitchen with a shitload of dishes to wash. Eh, work was work. I had no complaints as long as I was getting paid. Eventually, I would be at Alfea helping the Winx. That is, if I was in their timeline.

I put the last of the dishes in the soapy water to soak and moved on to the ones I had already cleaned. Grabbing the cloth, I began to dry them happily. I still couldn't believe I was in the magic universe. Out of all cartoons, Winx Club! This had to mean something!

A draft brushed against me, making me feel even more hopeful. Would I get to fight? Who will be my allies? The Winx? What if there were bigger forces at work? What if all of this is a piece of a bigger puzzle?

Another draft breezed by, but was this time much stronger. I gasped as it made a stack of plates wobble. "No, no, no!" I panicked, hurrying over just in time to steady the tower. That was way too close.

Just then, I heard the plates on the opposite counter teeter behind me. What the? I whirled around and hurried over to them, steadying them before they fell. Unfortunately, the ones behind me came crashing down onto the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.

I cringed. That…wasn't my fault. Was it?

"What's going on in here?" demanded the boss, barging into the kitchen. He took one good look at the floor. I knew what he was going to say long before he even said it.

"You're FIRED!"
*
End of Flashback*

*Another Flashback*
"Hello and welcome to Joyful Burger!" I greeted cheerfully, "how can I help you this wonderful day?" The four girls sitting at the booth looked me up and down.

"Like, what the hell are you wearing?" asked the blond, wrinkling her nose. I looked down at myself. I wasn't wearing anything fancy. Just a pair of jeans, a plain white tee, an apron, and my Converse.

"Are you like, poor or something?" asked the brunette in disgust, "your clothes are so trashy."

I pressed my lips together. "Can I take your order?" I asked, now forcing the cheeriness. Ignore them, Cadey. They're just bitches. Don't let them bother you.

Redhead laughed airily. "You poor thing. You're probably so poor, you've been forced to work at a dump like this. I pity you." The other girls giggled.

"I bet you're one of those homeless girls living in the dumpster," said the one with black hair in a sickeningly sweet tone, "I wonder. Why did you get a job here? Was prostituting getting too hard for you?"

I gasped and the girls laughed. NO SHE DIDN'T. "Are you ready to order?" I asked, struggling to keep my cool.

"You called that one, Candi," Blondie giggled to the black-haired one. "She kinds of looks like a slut when you think about it. I bet the reason she stopped prostituting was because she wasn't good and men stopped coming to her."

I bit my lip so hard, I could taste blood. "Are you ready to order?" I repeated.

"Or maybe she was just too expensive," suggested redhead, glaring at me. "Her boobs are kind of big, so maybe she charged more."

Brunette snorted. "They're probably fake. How sad. Instead of buying food for herself, she chose to buy plastic for her body." She rolled her eyes. "Girls these days. Such a shame."

Candi yawned. "The indecency epidemic is so real. Anyway, let's go ahead and eat so we can get out of this dump."

The other girls seconded their agreements. Finally. I waited patiently as the girls looked over the menus. "Everything looks and sounds so disgusting," scowled Brunette. "How can people eat this garbage?"

"Probably because they are garbage." Blondie flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back up at me. "Hey, do you guys sell any real food here? Some of us are watching our weight."

I nodded slowly. "We have a variety of salads-"

"They probably go straight to your hips," commented Candi rudely. She looked straight at me. "Maybe you should try one. You could afford to gain some weight. Oh, wait. You can't afford a bigger size of pants now can you?"

That's it! Supernatural winds began to blow around the restaurant. "You four are the rudest, bitchiest girls I've ever met!" I raged at them, throwing my pad and pencil on the floor. The winds picked up. "I'm not a prostitute, and I'm definitely not poor." Well, the poor part was kind of a lie. A tornado was forming behind me , picking things up in its path. But oddly, my feet remained firmly on the ground.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I can tell you one thing!" I yelled at them. All around me, people were screaming and avoiding the projectiles the tornado was throwing. "You all belong in hell!" That's when it happened. I was so angry, I accidentally released an omnidirectional air wave. The people all around me screamed as the wind hit them full force, throwing them onto walls and the counter. The four girls, who happened to be sitting by the window, screamed as my wind hit them as well. The impact was so strong, it sent them flying through the window and onto the sidewalk outside.

I gasped in horror. Did I just—

"That girl! She's a monster!" yelled one of the customers, pointing at me.

"No! I didn't mean to-"

"She's a witch!" cried out a woman.

"No! No, I'm not!" I shouted at her, "it was accident!"

"Someone call the authorities!" ordered a woman who was picking herself off the ground

Shit. Time to fly. Panic-stricken, I raced for the backdoor. I was as good as fired.
*End of Flashback*

And that was how I lost two jobs and found out I had the power of the air and wind. But a question still remained: was I a witch, or a fairy? Honestly, I didn't think there was a different between the two. Fairies just chose to use their magic for good, while witches for evil.

And in that case, I was a fairy. For now. Hehehe.