Musings & Rants
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If you’ve been waiting for more chapters of my fanfic, don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about it. The next chapter will be up before World of Winx season two premieres.

I never thought I’d end up writing Winx fanfiction — especially about Aisha and Nex. I didn’t always like this couple. Like a lot of fans, I hated Nex when he was introduced, and I couldn’t imagine her dating him.

After all, I still wanted Nabu to come back. If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you may remember some of my comments during season five. For example, when Aisha snapped at Roy in “The Power of Harmonix” (5X06), I said she needed Nabu because without him, she’d gone back to hating boys.

Seeing her with another guy felt weird. It still does sometimes. She and Nabu seemed like a sure thing — if for no other reason than we didn’t think Rainbow would break any of the initial couples up. I even said that in a post during season four: “Would Rainbow actually split our sweet couples up? All we can do is keep watching to find out!” Little did I know.

Story-wise, Aisha and Nex don’t feel as stable. Nex is no charming prince. He’s rude and arrogant sometimes, and we’ve seen him and Aisha argue. Plus, it’s not an arranged marriage, so the relationship doesn’t have a goal yet. Who knows they’ll even end up getting married?

This couple’s unfamiliar and unpredictable, offering no promises and guarantees.

Nabu’s death and the season six love triangle add to that feeling. Now you can’t help but feel like Aisha’s love life is always up in the air. She’s been with a different guy every season or two. Why let ourselves get attached to Nex, especially since he seems to be the least likable?

Plus, this relationship’s moving slowly. Aisha’s relationship with Nabu seemed fully developed after less than a season! If he came back, we wouldn’t have to wait for a happy ending. Why should we gamble on Nex and risk getting our hearts broken — again?

If Aisha and Nex have the most strikes against them, why do I love them? Read the rest of this post

10

I’ve been getting lots of fanfics recently! They’re great! Keep ’em coming!

This one’s from Tabby (a.k.a LoveLoveLovix). As she explains it, it’s “a Bloom/Aisha story set mostly as a prequel to Winx Club, but partially at the beginning of Season 2. It is a mixture of all three English dub canons.”

Not gonna lie: this is one of my favorites so far. I think you’ll love it. 🙂

If you wanna see your own fan art or fan fic featured on the blog, email it to [email protected]!


“You Were My Best Friend”

December 10, 1994

“Bloom, honey!” Vanessa called as she opened the door to her young daughter’s bedroom. “It’s time to get up on your happy birthday!”

The girl sprang up so fast that her mother almost doubted she had been asleep at all. “It’s morning? Do I get my surprise now?”

Vanessa and Mike had promised their only child a special surprise for her birthday. Her older, eight-year old, friend Mitzi Addams had been taking dance since before she was in kindergarten, and Bloom had waned so badly to join her. Though the Peters family didn’t have much, Mike had worked overtime to be able to assure his daughter a year of dance lessons at Madame Morgana’s studio down the road, starting that day.

Mike walked into the room right on cue, pulling on his winter jacket. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Five is awfully young for a surprise as big as this…”

“But Daddy, I’m six today!” Bloom laughed.

He grinned. “That’s right! I forgot! So that means you’re just barely old enough. Get your clothes on and Mommy will help with your shoes, and we’ll get going.”

Racing to her dresser, Bloom tore off her pajamas and struggled into a bright yellow shirt, checking to make sure the tag was in the back and not the front. She slipped into a pair of overalls, then wiggled ten small toes into her socks. When she was done, Vanessa put a pair of sneakers onto her little feet, then coaxed tangled red hair into matching pigtails on the sides of her head. “Ready?” she asked her daughter as she helped Bloom into a small coat.

“Uh-huh!”
The family piled into the car and drove only a little ways down the road before pulling into an unmarked building. “Where are we?” the youngest Peters asked as she looked around.

“Nowhere special,” Mike commented. He swung a drawstring bag around until it hung off his shoulder casually. “Just a school.”

“A school?” Bloom wrinkled her tiny nose. “But it’s Saturday!”

“Well, maybe you’ll give this school a try. Here,” he said, handing her the bag. “That can be your school supplies. Open it up and see what you need!”

Bloom sat down on the ground, not paying any attention to the cold, and started to rifle through the gift Mike had given. She pulled out a pair of miniature ballet shoes, tights, and a leotard before coming to the pièce de résistance — a small pink tutu. “Is this ballerina fairy princess school?” the little girl gasped.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Vanessa laughed. “But it certainly is dance lessons.”


December 31, 1998

At barely ten years old, Bloom Anne Peters called herself a dancer.

The rest of her sixth-grade class called her a little nerd.

It was probably an accurate name. She had skipped two grade levels, she drew manga all over her pre-algebra notebooks, she wasn’t part of the It Crowd, and her nose was usually stuck in a fantasy novel or non-fiction exposé about the supernatural. Her personal favorite was Fairies: Myth or Reality? and it was what was currently lying in the studio lobby with the rest of her school things.

Bloom wasn’t thinking about any of that at the moment. She was too busy dancing. That distraction had been precisely the point. It had been a very rough day, and if Bloom danced hard enough, she could go to her happy place.

Her happy place was a very tangible thing, to her, at least. And going there was quite an experience. The setting of Madame Morgana’s would first fade… then slowly, a new world would appear. This new world featured Bloom high up in a tower, one without walls. She could see blue sky all around. If she looked down (very carefully, at first), it was easy to see the most beautiful water she had ever encountered. Bloom could have spent all day looking at these sites, every day. But her body would keep dancing until she chose to return, and if she spent too long in her happy place, when she got back, she would be exhausted and incredibly hungry. She knew this from experience.

She could stop for a while in her dream, if she chose. But today, Bloom was in the mood to dance. Four years of ballet, with two years of jazz added on when she was eight (at the expense of a yearly Christmas gift), gave her a fun, twisted style that she played with as she spun and twirled. She stayed in one end of the room until she noticed a girl.

Not much younger than her, the lovely child had gorgeous dark skin and hair. She wore an elaborate blue headpiece and stunning yellow dress. Bloom could tell immediately that she was some sort of royalty. But her dreams had never conjured up another person. Maybe there was a reason… or maybe, the girl was magical! “You’re a princess, right?” she called out, slightly nervous. The girl looked up. “My name is Anne,” Bloom continued. She knew she had read somewhere that you should never give a fairy or other spirit your real name. But her middle name was probably safe… and she would respond to it if the girl cried out for her.

The beautiful girl spoke with a voice that seemed older and more weary than her young face did. “What are you doing up here in the Royal Tower?” she asked.

Bloom grasped at the first answer that flew to her head, hoping she sounded natural. “I snuck up here,” she said as she leaped a small distance. Then, completely honestly, she answered, “It’s my favorite place to dance.”

“I wish I could do that.” The girl sounded awed and a little bit friendlier. In return, Bloom hummed a melody and showcased some of her favorite steps.

As she landed from her last little leap, she spun to face the princess. “Do you want me to teach you?” she asked.

With obvious caution, the royal girl stood up and walked gracefully over to Bloom. She placed a small, dark hand in Bloom’s pale and gangly one. “Would you really? I would love it. Oh… I’m Princess Laylaisha.”

“Laylaisha,” Bloom said, testing it out. “Can I just call you Layla?”

Laylaisha looked shocked, as if nobody had ever suggested such a thing to her. But quickly, her expression turned into a smile. “Yes, please. Call me Layla.” Read the rest of this post

This week’s “Fanwork Friday” feature is a fanfic by my affiliate Ella Anders, owner of the blog Winx4Life! Read the rest of her work on Fanfiction.net!

If you want your fanfic or fanart featured on the blog, email it to [email protected]!


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“Conversations Never Had”

I.

It had been years since she had last seen him last, years since she had betrayed her family, her realm, but above all Sky herself. She had performed high treason when she had aligned herself with Valtor in a vain attempt to rightful regain what rightfully belonged to her, him. Diaspro had been so sure of herself that she was going to get away with everything; that she and Sky would be together again.

Then yet again she had messed everything up. Oh how Diaspro hated Bloom. It was all her fault that her and Sky weren’t already wed.

The truth of the matter was, as painful as it was, they could never be. Sky loved Bloom in a way much different than the way he had loved her. Or rather tolerated her. She supposed the stereotype of arranged marriages not working was true, yet she found herself longing for his embrace, his kiss and above all, his love.

It was all too late now, for Diaspro to be with him. He had already popped the question to that no good princess, Bloom. They officially could never be.

After hearing the news of the two’s big announcement Diaspro when into a period of mourning. Eating anything and everything she wanted with no portion control, staying in old sweats, watching sappy movies, reading trashy romance novels recommend on Griselda’s blog and so on. Her depression was only short lived when she received a call from a once dear friend, Princess Krystal of Linphea, according to the pink headed royal Prince Sky had lost his memory and Bloom was going insane trying to get him to remember who she was. A bright, mischievous smiled formed on Diaspro’s face as she heard this joyful news. Sky didn’t remember anything, this was her chance to win him over and steal him back from underneath Bloom’s clutches. Finally giving herself her dreamed about happily ever after.

When painfully naive Krystal helpfully suggest her stopping by Alfea to trigger Sky’s memory, Diaspro was more than happy to help her friend retrieve his memory…the memory she wanted him to have, where he loved her not Bloom.

As she packed and headed for Magix, Diaspro’s mind flooded with ideas, stories and memories she longed to tell Shy. Just the thought of being with him again without her past mistakes being rubbed in her face by him made her giddy with glee. As she entered the wing-styled gates of Alfea she had even motivation in the universe to brain-wash him into falling in love with her once more. That was until she seen him, her heart sank as he cluelessly inquired who she was. When she opened her mouth to speak, she stopped herself short. This wasn’t right, she had told herself. As much as she longed to make him hers, she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do this to him, not again. With a sigh she explained who she was. “My name is Diaspro, Sky. Growing-up we were friends- best friends, we were also arranged to be married at one point. But you feel in love with Bloom, and I hurt and betrayed you.”
Click here to read part II!

6

This week’s “Fanwork Friday” feature is a fanfic by Alexandra989. In her own words, this story serves as “a bridge between season 5 and 6.” Check out the rest of her work on Fanfiction.net!

Don’t forget to send your fanart or fanfiction to op_wi[email protected] if you wanna see it featured on the blog!


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“Comfort and a Resolution”

The battle was over. The Winx Club had triumphed once more. Tritannus was to be banished to oblivion, where, hopefully, no one would ever see his face or hear from him ever again.

From the cave in Magix where they had chosen to sought refuge in for a short time while waiting for the whole hullabaloo that followed the defeat of Tritannus to die down, Icy hugged her knees as she sat on the cold, hard ground, looking out at the brightly-lit building in the distance which was the school for fairies their enemies attended, anger blazing in her eyes. But beneath that anger, well-concealed, was hurt, sorrow and longing.

Icy’s thoughts wandered back to Tritannus. She realised with a pang that she still loved him. He had betrayed her, of course, and she seethed with rage at the thought of her, being so naive and gullible. But she had truly grown to care for the Mer-monster over the past several months. And in the end, he had cast her aside like she was nothing more than garbage, even lowlier than the ones she and her sisters accumulated for him.

A tear escaped from her cold eyes and ran down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away, fearful her sisters might see her crying, which all three of them agreed on, was something that showcased weakness. Icy sighed softly and rested her chin on her knees as questions raced through her mind. Why was she so gullible? Why was she and her sisters constantly being tricked, betrayed and fooled by those whom they were loyal to? What were they doing wrong? Did they deserve such treatment? And why did Tritannus betray her? She had actually thought the relationship was real.

Icy choked on her own tears and finally, allowed them to flow. Resting her forehead on her knees, she began to sob silently. Her body shook, but she could hardly be heard. As she cried, Icy thought about about the years before; she remembered the first day she stepped into Cloudtower, a young, ambitious, rebellious witch. She had so many dreams. Then, when she was in her senior year, that pesky little fairy named Bloom arrived. And ever since then, they had always defeated the three witches. Part of their defeat they sometimes brought upon themselves, like how she had trusted Tritannus. Frustration gripped Icy. She felt so useless, so hopeless.

Soft footsteps could be heard approaching her. It had to be either Darcy or Stormy. Icy hurriedly wiped away her tears, glad that the cave was dark which meant her sister wouldn’t be able to see her tear-streaked face… unless it was Darcy. As Icy looked out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that it was Darcy. Shoot. Read the rest of this post