Winx - Blog Posts

And this ladies, gentlemen, peoples and aliens is my otp since I'm a child. I will not take criticism.

They are my parents and i don't take any critics. Helia and Flora healed and helped me a lot as a child so yeah... I'm kinda intense about these two 😅😅

Flora and Helia appreciation post

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Something I want to see in Winx reboot

Trix transform. I mean not the sequence but a sudden change of clothing to their witch form. Imagine:

Icy lifting her hands and ice slowly freezes her form and with a single shatter she is in her witch gear.

Stormy throws lighting to the sky, creating a storm cloud which strikes and here she is. In her witch attire.

Darcy either falls backwards being claimed by shadows and shadow like hands grab her palms bringing her back from the void transforming her. Or. She grabs a shadowy han that pulls het to the darkness and she leave the shadow transformed.

um

I'd bring you so much further down and twist your mind until the end of time

Summary: The Trix deal with the aftermath of being possessed by the ancestral witches.

There is a vacancy. A hollowness. And Icy isn’t sure if it is metal or metaphysical. Can’t tell where shock and emotional stress starts and residue dark magic begins. Maybe it is all the same, maybe they are so tightly interlaced that they are one now, completely inseparable and to fix her both problems need to be fixed in tandem.

She doesn’t quite remember too much but she does remember the ice dragon. Remembers that she had been forced to conjure it. It might have been exhilarating and empowering if she hadn’t been rendered powerless and deprived of any autonomy. She thinks that she has always been something of a tool; people use and discard her left and right. First Darkar and then Valtor. And she always falls for the rouse.

Darcy remembers all too much but she refuses to speak about what she remembers. It is hard to reconcile having so much awareness but lacking all of the strength and fortitude to stop it. She has always prided herself on her mental resilience, her ability to resist and withstand psychic assaults. But there had been a chink in her amor that has left her self-confidence completely shattered.

Stormy remembers nothing. Absolutely nothing. And maybe that is why she is faring better than her sisters. One of them has to be doing well. To balance things out Stormy had taken the most physical damage in having her ancestress ripped from her body. She wears no sign of it on the outside but she struggles to walk sometimes and when she does it is usually with a limp or a hesitation of her left leg.

They get no sympathy, why would they? They’d done this to themselves, really. They mess with dark forces and never learn from any of the times that it had blown up in their faces.

Icy stares at her knee, she can never seem to take her eyes off of it–off of that patch of sickly green. Sometimes she swears that it is spreading. Her mind often plays those kinds of tricks on her. She resents that patch of green that doesn’;t seem to have any intention of retracting or fading. Hates that it reminds her of how weak willed she had been. Hates that it mars her formerly flawless skin. She knows that she should stop staring and stop dwelling. But what else is there to do in a prison cell? She can’t even speak to and confide in her sisters; Magicx has wisened up and decided to keep them separated just on time for her to lose her desire for evil plots and scheming. Just on time for her to want her sisters there just to keep her company—just so she can keep them company.

She knows that she has failed them—and failed them in a way that has left them broken. And she can’t even talk to them about it. They are going to hate her. They probably already do.

.oOo.

She wonders if anybody cares about them. She wonders if she would be taken seriously if she asked for help or if they would write it off as another ploy—a careful manipulation from a master manipulator. But Darcy means it this time. Sincerely. She desperately needs help. She desperately needs her sisters.

She feels like all of Magix and beyond gloss over what she and her sisters have been through. More likely, they simply don’t care in the slightest.

She never thought that she’d say as much, but she misses Light Rock. At least they had beds in Light Rock. At least they were comfortable at Light Rock. Mildly annoyed but comfortable. Here they have mattresses to sleep on but they smell of mothballs and are coated in dirt on top of being stiff and chewed by rats.

They should have quit while they were ahead. Should have quit when people were still interested in trying to rehabilitate them. Still interested in extending compassion. Compassion and comfort.

Darcy draws her legs up to her chest, burrows deeper into the darkest corner of her cell, and rocks herself slightly. She can’t get it out of her head; the voice of her ancestress coaxing her to kill. She isn’t the killing type but she wasn’t given a choice.

She wants help. She needs it. She is too afraid to ask.

And when she looks into the eyes of those guards she knows that it would be worth it to try asking.

.oOo.

Stormy misses when her body didn’t ache all over all the time. Icy and Darcy tell her that it’s because she had been possessed. She believes them but it still doesn’t make sense. She still doesn’t have all of the pieces put together.

If only she could talk to Icy or Darcy. Or just one of them. But she isn’t allowed to talk to anyone. And so she has nothing to do but sit with her pain.

To really dwell upon it.

She thinks that it has probably been weeks now and the pain hasn’t lessened, not even a little. She didn’t realize that getting possessed could do that to a witch. She never thought that it would happen to her and certainly not by her own ancestress.

Stormy finds a spot on her mattress and, for once, lays still. Absolutely still as she possibly can. It doesn’t hurt as much when she doesn’t move. So may she just won’t move again.

.oOo.

It has been months since Icy has felt anything remotely close to comfort and so she soaks it in as much as she can when she finally finds herself in an airconditioned room instead of the sweltering heat of her cell. She has become sickly and exists mostly in a daze of dreadful memories.

She knows that it is the heat that makes her sick. That makes her stomach queasy and her head dizzy. Her skin has grown red and is constantly peeling. Peeling but the green still persists. She doesn’t pay much mind to her skin anymore. It is ruined, likely beyond slavaging. Even if it weren’t, the things in her mind call her attention more. She can still hear Belladonna’s voice. It creeps into her brain giving the same commands that she has heard over and over again. And that command always comes with an onslaught of dreadful imagery. Dreadful memories. The ones that she had tried so very hard to repress.

Her own body had done its share of contorting and she will never again, for a second time, be able to forget the sound of her own limbs snapping and her own spine arching. But that pales in comparison to what she had seen of Stormy. Almost every inch of her body had a slash or a scrape. Every bone beneath that ribboned skin had been snapped or popped out of place.

And Darcy. Darcy had bled only from her nose but her posture had been uncanny. Disconcerting in the rigidity of her stance and more so in the pose that she had been suspended in. Her face had been twisted up; a mask of rage. Rage that didn’t meet one of her eyes. One of them had been blackened and leaking something thick and inky. The other had been open wide and Icy could see the real Darcy there. A locked jaw had prevented the scream from escaping her throat and so her eye did all of the screaming for her.

Icy imagines that her body hadn’t been in a much better state. Even after their ancestors had left and their transformations settled back into their natural state, her clothing had still been stained bright red. She remembers staring at her shaking hands, lacerated and bloody with the fingers bent and twisted.

She remembers that she was taken to the hospital and that they had done the bare minimum to keep she and her sisters alive. And then they’d tossed her into that cell to deal with the recurring nightmares and the resurfacing memories.

They are at Alfea now with cups of ice water, black tea, and pomegranate fruit punch, a small serving of their favorite meals, and clean clothing to cover their clean bandages. They smell of shampoo; Icy had been the only one of the two who could shower on her own. Icy wouldn’t let the Winx girls near Darcy and Stormy. Icy helped bathe them. Icy had dressed them. Stormy cried the whole time. Icy had been gentle but every single touch seemed to hurt her. Bloom mentioned that they would be seeing therapists of some variety. But all of that compassion has come too late. Stormy hasn’t uttered a single word and Darcy only mumbles to herself. Icy isn’t much in the mood for talking either.

.oOo.

Bloom always has seen the Trix as one entity that functioned as three independent fragments. Seldom do they show up without one another. It has happened several times but nowhere near as many times as they had shown up to start trouble as a trio. These days they are completely inseparable.

And nobody can get too close. Not without Icy giving them a hard time. For as much as the three of them, Icy especially, insisted that they weren’t actually friends she is very viciously protective of them.

So everybody keeps their distance. Nobody seems to know what to do.

Bloom is surprised to find that rather misses their antics. She wants Icy to throw her petty little insults. Things haven’t been the same without them causing their special brand of trouble. Somehow, she has a feeling that those days are over.

The Trix have finally reckoned with a force that they couldn’t handle. That they are struggling to overcome. They have always been resilient but resilience has a limit.

Griffin has mentioned euthanasia. Said that it would be a mercy for the Trix and the alleviation of a burden for everyone else. But Bloom can see it in Icy’s eyes; she doesn’t want to die.

.oOo.

“How are they?” Bloom asks.

“Stormy and I went for a walk.” Icy replies. A slow walk, but Stormy hadn’t complained of pain during it. She had made herself a few small tornados along the way. That old hag, Griselda is probably going to come in and bitch at her for letting Stormy tear up the flowerbeds and draw lazy spirals across the lawn. But it’s alright, it had made Stormy laugh. She has the most annoying cackle but Icy is relieved to be hearing it again.

“What about Darcy?”

“She still doesn’t want to use magic.”

“But is she eating again?”

Icy nods. “Here and there.” It is better than nothing.

It isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world and it certainly doesn’t come naturally to her but Icy sits down next to Darcy and lets the witch lean on her shoulder. Flora thinks that she should try holding Darcy or, at least, rubbing her back. Apparently she responds well to touch. Even if that touch is cold. Or maybe it is the familiarity of that cold that brings her a sense of comfort.

Not for the first time, Icy wonders what it had been like in her mind. What horrors Liliss had shown her to make her act this way.

.oOo.

It is like peeling back gauze or slowly unwrapping herself from a cocoon. Layer by layer, her dread begins to dissolve. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that each layer has frozen and melted away. Icy is by her side most of the time; Darcy can tell that she had run out of things to talk about at least a month or so ago. She is repeating the same stories and making the same small talk. But Darcy doesn’t mind, it isn’t the content of her speech that she likes but rather the sound of the voice that says those words. It is a constant, something routine and soothing in that routine. Icy’s voice has always been very pretty to listen to. And Stormy’s booming voice adds a nice, but semi-jarring ambiance.

She hears both of them but she is never quite listening.

She likes to lean on Icy. To feel that frigid draft that ripples off of her. The texture of her skin is a little rough in those places where the perpetual sunlight of her cell had burned her skin the worst, where the blisters had formed and popped. Her skin has grown pale again, nearly sheet white. Darcy rubs her cheek against Icy’s shoulder; evidently her shoulders had sustained the worst of those sunburns and, by all means, they should be unpleasant to touch. But Darcy finds the scar tissue comforting, it lets her know that Icy is real. And, by extension, that Stormy is real too.

“I guess that I don’t have too much to talk about today.” Icy mumbles.

“What do you mean, not much to talk about!? Stormy shouts. “Tell her the news.”

“There is no news.” Icy grumbles.

“Other than that you made out with me in the hallway.” Bloom says. “But that’s no big deal, right?”

Icy gives a little shift and Darcy lifts her head. “You…kissed Bloom?” She crinkles her nose. Her voice sounds hoarse even to her own ears. It has been so long since she has used it.

And maybe that is why Icy replies… “yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of!?” Stormy asks. “You’re whole tongue was, like, totally down her throat!”

“Fuck off, Stormy.” Icy folds her arms across her chest.

Darcy smiles and rubs her cheek against Icy’s bicep. She hasn’t heard those two go at it in a while. She closes her eyes. She’ll leave them to it.

.oOo.

Bloom knows that Icy hates it, that it makes her uncomfortable but Bloom likes to kiss the scars on the witch’s shoulders. She is almost certain that the witch is insecure about those scars, and that she would probably cover them up with long sleeves if they didn’t cause her to get overheated. She has mentioned getting tattoos. Bloom thinks that that would fit her very well.

More than the kissing of her scars, Icy doesn’t like it when Bloom traces her finger over that patch of green on her knee. She says that it is unsightly and she keeps that hidden beneath ribbons, bandages, and kneepads with spikes and snowflake motifs. She doesn’t wear those to bed. She hardly wears anything to bed, especially if she is going to be sleeping next to her. Bloom can’t sleep without blankets, Icy can only sleep with them if she takes layers of clothing off.

Most of the time Bloom falls asleep first. Most of the time Icy wakes up last. Most of the time Bloom wakes up to find Icy tangled around her. Icy still doesn’t know that she cuddles things in her sleep and Bloom doesn’t have the heart to break the news to her. She has been through enough already.

Currently she and her sisters are walking the streets of Magix, lately they have taken to occupying their usual spot at the Haunting Hex Cafe. Sometimes Bloom is afraid that Icy won’t come back. Now that she is fully healed—now that all three of them are fully healed—they can get back to their mischief. And Bloom suspects that one day they will. But every day, the three of them return and Icy tosses a t-shirt or a really stupid looking stuffed animal at her and says, “here, loser, I saw this and thought of you.” Bloom thinks that this might be her way of saying thank you. Icy isn’t exactly good at expressing her thoughts but she is doing her best. Bloom is just relieved that she is sounding more like herself again.

Stormy and, especially Darcy, still have a ways to go but they have Icy and she takes care of them well.

“It’s my fault.” She admits later that night. “That Darcy doesn’t talk as much.”

“Your fault?”

Icy nods. “I thought that it would be brilliant to team up without ancestresses. I didn’t think that they would…not to us…” she trails off.

“I wouldn’t have either.”

Icy rolls her eyes. “Bullshit! You’d have seen through that.”

“Only because they’re not my family. I would have listened to Daphne even if she had started saying suspicious things. I feel for fake Avalon’s lies.” She pauses. “You care about your family, Icy. You wanted to trust your family. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

This is probably the first time that anyone has told Icy that something she has done wasn’t evil, the first time that someone has hinted that they think that she might be a decent person deep down. It almost definitely is. The witch doesn’t seem to have a response.

After a while she mumbles. “Well it doesn’t matter. I almost lost them…”

“But you didn’t.” Bloom says. “Darcy and Stormy are getting better.”

“Stormy still walks differently.”

“And I think that it bothers you more than it bothers her.” Bloom says. “She’s adjusting just fine. And sometimes she does this thing where she pretends that it does bother her so that people will give her special treatment—I think that she’s enjoying that.”

Icy nods. “She likes attention.”

“Well she’s got it.” Bloom laughs.

“Darcy isn’t doing as well.” Icy replies. “When…if? When…? If…” she settles on, “if she gets better she is going to be pissed.”

“I don’t think that she will be.” Bloom assures her. “I think that if she blamed you, she wouldn’t want to lean on you.” It is so bizarre to hear the ice witch expressing guilt. Bloom rests her head on Icy’s chest and a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She kisses the witch’s neck. “I think that Darcy is going to do a lot better now, she has always been…”

“Less aggressive than Stormy and I?” Icy guesses. “Yeah, there were a lot of plans that she didn’t really care for.”

.oOo.

She is different now. They are all different now.

Stormy isn’t quite as impulsive, her agitation has given way to enthusiasm and a very bold sort of energy. She likes having very heated and very horrible rap battles with Musa. The kind that make Darcy’s cheeks flush with secondhand embarrassment. She has made a surprising connection with Stella who looks even more embarrassed on Musa’s behalf.

Icy is somewhat subdued. Darcy senses that Icy doesn’t like this about herself, but Darcy thinks that it is probably a good thing. Anyways, she seems content enough with Bloom. She had wanted to the Dragon Fire and, in some sense, she has it. She also has reclaimed a sense of normalcy in bickering with Bloom, witty and sarcastic banter. Hearing it brings Darcy some weird sense of comfort. She is a nicer person too, less judgemental. More empathetic, even if she won’t admit it.

And Darcy…she supposes that she has always been rather introverted and that hasn’t changed. What has changed is the way that she works with her magic. For better or for worse she can no longer bring herself to play with people’s minds. She can’t do it without thinking of Liliss. And so she works mostly with the darkness aspect of her magic. She likes telling fortunes too. Looking into the future and telling fairies who is going to ask them out on dates for a few coins or trinkets that she finds interesting. She thinks that maybe one day she will open up a shop and sell crystals and cauldrons and other curiosities. And she can tell fortunes on the side.

She has aspirations now, she realizes, life goals. Simple, mundane ones. But she treasures them nonetheless. For quite some time she has been seeing the futures of others. She can finally see one for herself and her sisters again.

Retribution

Summary: The Trix are newly out of prison. Icy gets into a relationship with Sky only to find that he has a dark side for himself. He tells her that he hurts her because she's evil and that she's lucky that he is even letting her be in a relationship with him after everything she has put himself and the Winx girls through. She thinks that maybe he is right.

CW: Abuse,Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Angst with a Happy Ending, Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Not Sky Friendly.

He has a kind smile and the prettiest, bluest puppy dog eyes. He has a strong physique—sculpted arms, chiseled abs, a great jawline. His hand is gentle until it is not. The same hand that gently strokes her hair sometimes yanks and pulls it. But he treats her well enough. His voice is soft and loving, sometimes he raises it and it takes her by surprise. But it’s alright, she is rather loud as well; how can she fault him for it when she also has a habit of snapping at people. 

She is lucky to have him and she knows it. 

Sky is a good man and she is…

Icy doesn’t know exactly what she is these days but it certainly doesn’t fall anywhere near ‘heroic’ or ‘good’. 

Really she is probably making a simple thing more complicated than it needs to be. 

She is a witch; witches are bad. Inherently. By nature. 

She got expelled from a witch school; she was too bad even for a building’s worth of bad people to handle. 

She is evil. 

It is simple. 

But she hasn’t really done much evil lately. Hasn’t really done much of anything at all. She hasn’t even partaken in a petty bit of mischief. 

But she hasn’t done anything worthwhile either. Nothing that would make her a good person or even a better person. 

So she is still evil. In the most passive sense. 

And so she can’t really wrap her head around Sky would bother with her, especially when his last girlfriend was such a catch. Powerful, resilient, bold, witty, and easy to get along with…kind. Icy craves power and wit. She likes to think that she is resilient. But she can’t imagine herself being kind and easy to get along with. 

Does she want to be?

Maybe?

She thinks so?

But she isn’t sure. 

She stares up at the ceiling. This has become her usual passtime. Maybe if she dwells and contemplates long enough she will figure something out. Surely this time will be different; instead of running circles in her brain, this time she will have some sort of epiphany. Some grand spark of self-discovery instead of a languid spiral of self-loathing and pity. Surely, if she keeps at it, one of these days she will come up with an adequate solution, figure out how to help herself. 

“You’re still in bed?” Sky asks and at first she thinks that there is concern in his voice. “Geez, how long can one person sleep for?”

“I’m not sleeping.” She replies. “I’m thinking.” And sometimes she doesn’t have the energy to do much else. 

“With all of that thinking you do, I would think that you’d have come up with something.” 

Yeah.

That’s what she had thought too.

He is probably getting frustrated with her. He lets her stay with him but she doesn’t contribute much. She hasn’t even started trying to put her life back together, not a respectable effort anyways. 

She knows that he is going to raise that soft, gentle voice of his. And lately she has been lacking the energy to shout back. 

.oOo.

“Have you talked to Icy lately?” Stormy asks.

Darcy hates this particular question. Hates it because it comes with a bubbling feeling of dread. “At the beginning of the week and a bit yesterday.” Which is less than how much they had spoken the week prior, which was less than how much they spoke the week before that and so on. 

“Did she have anything interesting to say?” Stormy asks. “Is she going to come with us to see Musa’s concert?”

“She didn’t really have too much to say, Stormy. Other than that she might come if she and Sky aren’t busy.” She scoffs Sky’s name like it is a bitter pill dissolving on her tongue. 

“Well that’s good!” Stormy smiles. 

Darcy hates that hopeful little smile—rather she hates to see that hopeful smile inevitably fade when Stormy realizes, once again, that Icy won’t be joining them. 

And Darcy knows that she won’t, she sounded horrible on the phone; bleak, monotonous, hollow. 

“Maybe we should visit her? Ya know, just check in?”

“I don’t know if she would like that, Stormy.” She trails off. But maybe they have moved passed the point of what Icy would like. Maybe they need to drop by and check on her regardless of how moody and irritated it makes her. “I guess that we can drop by.” Of course that is going to entail taking a few hours to mentally prepare for dealing with Sky bitching about them being on his property. 

Apparently it is a mostly witch free territory. And Icy doesn’t need the two of them to be ‘negative influences’ on her, as if Icy isn’t the most stubborn, controlling person that Darcy has ever met. 

.oOo.

He wasn’t always like this. 

She thinks that it is her fault. That she has broken something in him. She is not a good person and that has rubbed off onto him. 

He had been incredibly understanding. She had gotten out of prison the day that he had broken up with Bloom. And there was definitely something enticing about spending her first day of freedom seducing the now open and available ex-fiance of her arch nemesis. It had been easy to do too. All she had to do was bat her pretty, frosty blue eyes and tell him that she had done a lot of thinking in prison, that she wanted to change but had nowhere to go and nowhere to start. He soaked that right up, lapped at it like a kitten with a bowl of milk. 

And Darcy and Stormy had cackled. Cackled and howled at how gullible he was and how hurt Bloom would be. 

It isn’t so funny now that she has come to realize that maybe her words had been so believable because there was some truth to them deep down. 

It isn’t so funny now that she is on the ground again. This isn’t uncommon. He had told her that it was time to get out of bed. She said that she wasn’t feeling up to it. And now she is on the ground. She doesn’t know what his outbursts still surprise her; doesn’t know why she is so startled to have been pushed from the bed. 

She needed to get up anyways. 

She couldn’t do it herself. 

So maybe it’s true. Maybe he is helping her. 

She wouldn’t be rising to her feet and getting dressed if he hadn’t shoved her out of the bed and taken her spot. 

A part of her screams for her to put him under a sheet of ice like the good old days. But if she does she will be in violation of her parole and carted back to prison. If she does then she will be breaking her promise to Darcy and Stormy; that she wouldn’t leave them, that the three of them would put old rivalries away and try to make something of themselves. 

So she dresses herself and absently fixes herself something to eat although she isn’t very hungry. 

There is a dull throbbing in her knees and and her elbows from having collided with the floor.

.oOo.

“I’m going to go with Darcy and Stormy to catch Musa’s show.” Icy informs. “Don’t wait up.”

“You’re kidding.” He says flatly. 

“You wanted me to get up, I’m up.”

Sky furrows his brow. “So you can’t get off your lazy ass and find yourself a job or a way to go back to school but you can go to a concert?”

At least she is leaving the house. 

At least she is doing something . 

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugs. “I haven’t seen those two in person in a while.”

“Guess that they can’t be bothered to stop by.” He gives a shrug of his own.

“I told them not to.” She didn’t want them to see her like this; sickly, paler than usual, considerably thinner. She still doesn’t. Maybe she should comb her hair a bit more, apply a little more makeup and do it in a way that better hides how sunken her cheeks have become. “I don’t know when the show will be over by—”

“She didn’t invite me.”

“Darcy doesn’t know you. And neither does Stormy. You haven’t made a point of trying to get to know—”

“I’m not talking about Darcy, I’m talking about Musa. Musa didn’t invite me to the show but she invited you? You! ” She swears that he mutters something akin to, “Bloom must have said something about me.”

She really doesn’t care right now. She is getting real damn fed up with him interrupting her. And tonight she is feeling more daring…more like herself. “Maybe they want to listen to the music instead of you whining about how much you miss Bloom.” 

For a moment he looks hurt. Emotionally.

And then she feels hurt. Physically. 

It was a mistake to turn her back on him after that comment. He yanks her back by the hair. “DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT MY RELATIONSHIP WITH BLOOM!” He roars and slams her against the wall. “As if you treated her better!”

He is seething, his breaths are ragged with hatred. 

“I’m not perfect.” He confesses as if she hadn’t already figured that out for himself. “I treated Bloom right! I gave her everything. She’s just so spoiled and picky and she’s so used to everyone praising her and bending over backwards for her that when someone doesn’t, she gets all emotional about it.” Icy wonders if he is still talking to her or if his rambles are for his own ears. “She got so needy. But I put up with it because I cared about her. I loved her and you want to stand there and accuse me of being a bad boyfriend!”

“When did I—?”

“You know when you did it! You know what you said!”

“When have I ever not bragged about hurting someone’s feelings? I said that you like to whine about your breakup and—”

“I’m not stupid! I know what you meant. You think that I got loud with Bloom. That I hit Bloom.” He hits her though, very hard. Right across the cheek, a solid back hand and then another slap on the other cheek with his palm. “I would never do that to Bloom!” He promises.  

But he would do that to her. 

Over and over again, for as long as she lets it happen. 

“You put all of us through so much!  You almost killed Bloom so many times!” He shoves her to the ground. “You almost killed me! Remember that!?” He gives her a good kick. “Do you!?” He asks over and over again until he is breathless. And he delivers each repetition with another kick; to the back of her head, to her stomach, to her ribs… “You’re the evil one, you destroyed Red Fountain, you froze Pixie Village over, you…”

And she knows this. 

She knows that she deserves this. 

That’s why she doesn’t fight back. 

“So go on, go hang out with my friends!”

His friends…he doesn’t think of Darcy and Stormy at all. But she does. And she can only imagine what they would think of her if they knew what Sky, of all people, has managed to reduce her to. It’s humiliating and he knows it. He knows that she won’t say a damn thing.

Not tonight. 

Not tomorrow.

“You’re like a plague to Magix.” He says. “Maybe Bloom wouldn’t have left me if you didn’t get her all moody. You ruined my life.” 

She has done the entirety of Magix a great number of wrongs and she has, indeed, done Sky himself terribly wrong. She is lucky that he has even given her a chance. So she lets him kick her until he is as completely short of breath as she is. Until her ribs are bruised and swollen and perhaps a kick or two away from fracturing. 

Eventually she will have endured enough pain to make up for everything and then the two of them can move on and be happy together.

.oOo.

Darcy is genuinely taken aback to see Icy sitting at their usual table in the Batz Brew Bar & K G rill. Being here again brings back so many memories, including when they had crossed off the ‘G’ in ‘Grill’ and spray painted a ‘K’ next to it.

It will be nice, she thinks, to have the three of them sitting together like old times. They can have a few drinks while they wait for Bloom and the others to pick them up. Musa herself is probably already at the venue and going through her warm ups. 

“Hey!” Darcy greets. 

Icy looks up. “Hey.” Her voice is quiet. Quiet and just as flat as it had sounded over the phone. 

Darcy sighs to herself, she doesn’t know what she had thought that Icy would find herself in better spirits within just a few hours of disconnecting the call. But at least the ice witch is here and not sealed away in that suffocating castle in Eraklyon. It’s incredible, Darcy thinks, that Sky has managed to make such a large place feel so encased. 

“Icy!” Stormy greets, giving her a sturdy playful slug to the arm. Icy winces. “Too hard?” 

Icy shakes her head. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t ready for it…”

Stormy tilts her head. “What do you mean? I always greet you like that after we’ve been apart for ages.”

“It hasn’t been that long?” But her tone betrays how little she believes that. 

They order their drinks and they all get to chatting, mostly they are just catching Icy up on what she has missed. Including Stormy’s idea that they should form some sort of band. “We could ask Mirta and Lucy to join us.” Stormy says, “like if we need more instruments or something.” 

And Icy’s mood starts to lift at least a small bit. 

Once or twice she cracks a smile when they reminisce over their first year at Cloud Tower. And when Darcy mentions that Riven had ruined their last date when he managed to ride his motorcycle into a parked car. Instead of eating at that fancy restaurant down the road, the two of them had been standing around waiting for the owner of the car to get back.

“And it wasn’t even damaged.” She finishes her story.

“Why did you just leave a note?” Icy quirks a brow. 

“Riven said that he is working on bettering himself, just like the rest of us and it would be wrong to flee the crime scene.” Darcy imitates. 

“But you’re leaving a note and contact details…?”

Darcy slaps her hand on the table, she doesn’t miss the way that Icy flinches, “that’s what I told him!” Her second flinch is even more subtle. Stormy doesn't notice at all.

She recovers quickly, “just wait until we invite him to take a swim in the fountain with the ‘no swimming’ sign in front of it.” 

“Oh we’re really gonna be living dangerously!” Stormy wiggles her fingers. 

“Right on the edge.” Icy smirks. 

“Wait, are we actually going to take a dip in the fountain?”

Icy’s smirk grows wider, “I’d like to see anyone try to stop us.” 

And for a moment, Darcy can pretend that Icy is okay. That she has nothing to worry about. The moment passes when Icy stretches her arms and her shirt hikes up a little, just enough for Darcy to glimpse at her alarmingly prominent ribs and the bruises that decorate them. 

But that is Icy’s business, she tells herself.

Icy hates when people pry. 

So she won’t encroach. 

Not unless she is asked to. 

But Icy will never ask. 

She knows that. 

.oOo.

The table is set by the time she gets back and the food upon it smells divine. There are rose petals and candles. “How was the show?” Sky asks gesturing for her to sit.

“It was…not my taste in music but I guess that I wasn’t there for the music. Darcy, Stormy, and I had a nice time.” She pauses. “You waited up?”

Sky nods. “I had to.” He pauses, appearing to choke up. “I…I hurt you and…”

And they have been through this once or twice before. They are in the doting phase now. He will pamper her for days, weeks even. She will be well dressed and wear the finest perfumes. Her nails and hair will be perfectly styled and there will be gifts. A lot of them. Lavish, expensive gifts; diamonds to adorn her neck and ornate miniature gargoyles with sapphire eyes to decorate her nightstand with. 

Every time she swears that this is a sign that she has finally received enough kicks and punches to make up for having put him into a deep slumber all of those years ago. 

But then she says the wrong thing, makes a joke in poor taste and she is face down again with her arm twisted painfully behind her back. She thinks that he is going to break it.

Now that he is on top of her, putting almost all of his weight into pinning her down, she realizes how big he is in comparison to her. Sure, she has height on him but he weighs at least twice as much as she does, maybe thrice as much with how poorly she has been taking care of herself. 

She has made herself fragile. Breakable. 

Unless she uses her magic. 

She can’t go back to prison. 

Not when she and her sisters have plans. 

He knows this as well as she does. 

She wonders if they would make an exception for self defense. 

But who would believe the notorious witch who had tormented Magix over the charming prince who’d saved it from her. 

She can point to her bruises and he can say that she had attacked him first. 

And she would be in prison once again but without having part taken in any of the fun that usually lands her there.

She wishes that she hadn’t let her body get so weak. She could have fought him off without her magic…

Just when she is certain that she is going to hear the popping of her shoulder he drops her arm and tells her to stand up. She is exhausted, dizzy. But she does manage to pick herself up off of the floor. Her hair is in disarray, it tumbles unbound and tangled over her shoulders. 

“Why can you just stop talking?” He laments. “Why do you have to say things that make me want too…” he holds his hands up, they are rigid an shaking. 

“I could walk right out of here and then you’ll never hear from me again.”

He laughs, it is a hitched, hysterical sound that strikes her ears in all the wrong ways. “Yeah. I guess you can but then what? Where are you going to go? Who else is going to tolerate you!?” He demands. “Everyone else hates you and they should. You’re lucky that I’m here, if I didn’t put up with you, then you would be alone.” 

She doesn’t think that Darcy and Stormy hate her but then she gets to thinking about it. And she remembers how they would always fight and bicker. They probably do blame her for holding them back in life. They probably do resent her for it.

But why then? 

Why would they worry over her bruises? 

Why would they ask her to come got to the Batz Brew with them. 

They don’t hate her.

Maybe the Winx girls are pretending just so that they don’t have to deal with her antics anymore but Darcy and Stormy don’t hate her. They can’t. 

But they can’t provide the type of love that Sky does. She doesn’t want to be alone. Darcy has Riven and Stormy has Musa. She doesn’t want to be the only one who has nobody. She isn’t exactly a pick so she can’t really be choosey either. 

Faintly she wonders what happened to the independent woman who didn’t care at all whether or not she had a date or not. The woman who was content with no commitment flings and one night stands. 

Maybe prison had done her more damage than she had realized.

.oOo.

Darcy says that Riven doesn’t treat her like that. 

And Riven says that even when he and Musa were at the height of their unhealthy relationship, they’d never laid a hand nor spell on each other. 

Stormy says that Musa wouldn’t dream of punishing her for things that are in the past now. 

But that is because Riven and Musa know that Darcy and Stormy were never bad people. They had just been following orders. Orders that she has given them. Maybe Darcy and Stormy should start throwing punches at her too. She would let them. 

She hates the way that they are looking at her; with concern and pity. 

She is not a victim. She is the person who does the bullying and intimidating, not the other way around! She is not weak.

But the two of them are staring at her like she is.

“Look, even if you don’t want to listen to us now…” Darcy says carefully. “We’ll be here when you are.”

“Alright. Sure.” 

She doesn’t want to lose them but she is certain that if she grows distant enough that they will eventually give up and leave her to her own decisions. 

But she thinks about it that night.

About how Riven almost never brings up everything that happened leading up to the summoning of the Army of Decay. How he never throws past mistakes back in her face.

About how Musa introduced Stormy to her father. About how they make jokes about their old rivalry. 

About how bizarre it is that Sky shouts at her over grievances that aren’t even his own. 

Maybe it would be better to be alone. She can’t imagine that Darcy and Stormy will have any qualms about letting her live with them again; that was how it was always supposed to be anyways—the three of them living together, conquering the world together even if they have to apply the statement more figuratively.

Sky is a heavy sleeper and she has grown so thin that she hardly makes a sound.

.oOo.

Darcy rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she makes her way to the door. 

“Uggg, what kind of lunatic comes knocking at this hour? Besides you, I mean.” Stormy grumbles.

“Who do you think, Stormy?” 

Stormy buries her face in her pillow. “Maybe you should have specified that we’d be here when she’s ready between 8AM and 10PM.” 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Well you can wait three to five business days to talk to her, I’m going to answer the door.” 

Stormy lifts her middle finger and grumbles something else into her pillow. 

“Don’t mind Stormy.” She says as she unlocks the door. “You know how grumpy she gets after 10PM.” 

Icy nods. “I just want to sleep.” 

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Stormy’s voice is muffled by the pillow. “Have dark and dreary night and wicked dreams.” 

“Dark and dreary night to you too, Stormy.” Icy replies, flopping down on the bed that they had left waiting for her to take. She rubs her fingers over the deep blue fabric, tracing the little snowflakes sewn into it.

“Like it?” Darcy asks. “Stella helped us sew that up.” 

“It’s handmade?”

Darcy nods, “why do you think that the bottom few snowflakes look like shapeless blobs?”

“Stormy’s handiwork?” Icy quirks a brow. 

The witch in question groans. “Darkness, you guys! We already wished each other a dark and dreary night, you’re supposed to sleep after that!” 

Darcy watches Icy fluff the pillows to her liking. “Whose idea was this?” She gestures to the poorly sewn rendition of Bloom sprawled out with cartoonish X’s in her eyes and her tongue poking out. “It’s hideous, I hate it.” 

Icyis dully amused, she can see it in her sister’s eyes. “Bloom’s actually. She sewed it herself so that you’ll always think of her when you try to sleep.”

Icy crinkles her nose. “Stupid.” 

But she does lay her head on that pillow. The blankets, of course, are more for aesthetic. She has never once see Icy actually bundle herself up. But it does make the bed look nice. Icy falls asleep pretty quickly but for a good while Darcy stays awake.

Looking at Icy’s arm makes her blood boil. It is so covered in bruises that it more purple and red than its usual near sheet-white color. Seeing the gash on her lip and the swelling at the corner of her mouth instills a fury that she didn’t realize she was capable of feeling. 

Sky is terribly lucky that Icy sleeps through the night, seemingly untroubled. 

.oOo.

It is strangely hard to adjust to quiet mornings. She may not wake up to lavish breakfasts that she can only pick at but she does wake up to breakfast. She usually doesn’t eat this breakfast either, not because she lacks an appetite, but because she can’t distinguish one hard, blackened lump from the one next to it. Allegedly one of them is toast and the other is a sausage. They both look like lumps of coal. 

All of these years and Stormy still hasn’t learned to cook nor has she learned that sending the wrath of Zeus down upon a piece of bread isn’t a good way to make toast. But the clap of thunder that follows the lightning bolt is as good an alarm clock as any. 

So maybe, ‘quiet morning’ is a bit of a stretch. Stormy makes plenty of ruckus. But she doesn’t wake up to bitching and shouting. Just bitching. But not at or about her. 

It is strangely even more difficult to adjust to thoughtful gifts. They aren’t elaborate or fancy like Sky’s but they do suit her much more. She doesn’t know exactly what that thing that sits on her nightstand is but it is terribly unnerving to look at and it does haunt her dreams. Apparently Darcy found it in a thrift store and thought of her. 

“This is definitely a cursed object.” She mutters.

“Oh yeah.” Darcy agrees. “Absolutely.”

“So, like, are we going to get rid of it or…”

“No!” They say in unison. 

“Should we at least put it in a cage or something?” Stormy asks. 

“...Yeah. Probably.” Icy replies.

.oOo.

She knows that she shouldn’t answer the phone. Not when Sky’s name shows up on the caller ID. But she can’t help it. She misses hearing someone tell her that they love her and that they want to be with her. 

He says that he is sorry.

She knows that, that is bullshit. 

He reminds her that she is going to die alone.

She informs him that Darcy and Stormy will probably be taking aesthetically pleasing pictures with her corpse.

He tells her that that’s disgusting and that she knows what he meant.

She does know what he meant. 

He reminds her that nobody in their mind is going to date a criminal like her.

She knows that, that much is true.

He says that she got off easy and that she’s still supposed to be in prison, that she’s going to be on the streets sooner or later when their silly band is a flop and that she’ll be lucky if he gives her another try. 

Sometimes she thinks about going back there. When she has an argument with Darcy or Stormy. She can let him throw her around a bit and she’ll remember to not treat Darcy and Stormy like shit. 

Sometimes she doesn’t even need to fight the two of them. Sometimes she only needs to think about the Winx girls. About how they have been doing their best to make re-entering proper society so easy for the three of them. She can never figure out why the Winx would want to help them. 

“Who are you texting?” 

She must have leapt a good several feet to make Bloom laugh like that. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Bloom, the nosy little cretin, cranes her neck to get a peek at Icy’s phone screen. Her face falls, “it’s Sky isn’t it?”

“Why would you think that?” 

“Because he likes to text me to tell me how great things are with you, how you’re a much better girlfriend than me.”

Icy wishes that the fairy would sound more bitter so she would have a reason to tell her to fuck on off. But she doesn’t, she says it just as plainly as Tecna speaks of her computers and their data. 

Icy sniffs, “we haven’t seen each other in person in like a month.” 

Bloom pulls out her phone and shows her the photo on the screen. “He said that this was from your date last night.”

“He might experience the passing of time differently than the rest of us.” Icy shrugs. “That was taken months ago.”

Bloom nods. “But he’s not lying about how great things are, is he?”

“Jealous?”

Bloom is quiet for quite awhile. “Does he ever talk about me?”

“He calls you a whiney, needy, attention whore.” Icy says bluntly. She doesn’t mention that he has called her much worse. “Why did you leave him?”

She shrugs. “I guess that he just wasn’t who I thought he was.” She holds her silence for another extended duration. Icy is starting to prefer that endless annoying chatter that the fairy usually pesters her with. “You don’t talk much about him.”

Icy shrugs. “I’m not really a kiss and tell type of person.” She pauses. “Unless of course I’m trying to hurt someone’s feelings after taking their man.”

Icy realizes that she slipped up after that smug smile creeps onto Bloom’s face, “you’re sparing my feelings? Well gee, I didn’t realize that you felt that way about me.” She holds a hand over her chest. “Why, I’m touched, Icy!”

“I’ll touch you!” Icy grits her teeth but Bloom is snorting and snickering before she even has a chance to declare that, that was both a horrible comeback and a poor choice of words. 

Bloom’s smile fades again. “Does he…does he treat you well?”

“He treats me the way that I deserve to be treated.” She replies simply. 

Bloom is not a very subtle person. Her eyes fall on the few remaining bruises that decorate Icy’s ribcage. Mostly they have faded. Enough that most people don’t ask questions. Why would they? Icy has a rough personality, it isn’t exactly out of character for her to pick fights. “I don’t blame him.” She shrugs. “I basically put him in a coma.”

Riven never brings up our bad history.

Musa and I like to dramatically re-enact our fights, the two of us should make a short film!

She swallows hard. 

“Do you think that I’m a bad person?” Bloom asks.

Icy furrows her brows. “What? No. Of course not, you’re the most irritatingly moral person I know—not to be confused with Flora who is nauseatingly moral.”

“Yeah well Sky would ‘punish’ me too.”

“For what?” 

Bloom shrugs. “I guess whatever he could come up with. I pay more attention to Stella than him, I focus too much on saving the world and don’t make time for him. I can’t just leave him because it’s my fault that his betrothal to Diaspro fell apart so it’s not right for me to leave him on his own.” She stares at her palms. “So I didn’t leave him because I felt like it would be unfair to leave him on his own after ruining his relationship with Diaspro…”

“But you did leave him?”

“Yeah, after a few years of letting him tell me that I’m the worst person he ever met. Brandon and Riven were so mad at me for ‘hurting’ Sky and then Stella got mad because her talking to me was causing tension between Brandon and Sky and so that was causing tension between her and Brandon. And then Musa broke up with Riven because she saw through Sky’s lies and Riven hadn’t yet.” 

“Well I guess the difference between you and I is that he’s wrong about you.” 

“He’s…”

“I did put him in a coma, I did try to take over Magix several times over, I did try to kill you…”

Bloom blinks, “you were trying to kill me?”

“You didn’t notice?” Icy quirks a brow.

“I thought that we were just part taking in a good old fashioned rivalry.” Bloom replies. “You wouldn’t have killed me. What would you do with your free time if I wasn’t around to bother?” 

“Regardless, he wasn’t wrong about me. I’m not a good person.” 

Bloom shrugs. “You seem…”

“If you say nice, I will show you exactly why you are incorrect.”

“Morally ambiguous, very prickly and grumpy but otherwise mostly harmless to me.” 

“What does that even mean, Bloom?”

“That you aren’t evil or a bad person anymore but you’re definitely kind of a jerkass a lot of the time.” 

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing, any time!” Bloom grins. And then she falls silent again for a good while before replying. “You should stop texting him. He’ll get all mad about it, he’ll probably come over and try to fist fight you, but the minute you transform he practically wets himself.”

“I will be sent back to prison if I use my magic to kick someone’s ass.” 

“I won’t let them send you back to prison.” Bloom replies. “They know why I left him and why Diaspro left him almost immediately after he won her back. He has a history too.” 

But she does text him back.

She snaps a photo with that idiot fairy and sends it to him. 

.oOo.

“You should make me a matching pillow.” Bloom declares. 

“I am not sewing up an artistic depiction of my own demise.”

“But it would be funny. People would ask a lot of questions like, ‘why do you have this’ and ‘who sewed this for you’ and ‘but why would Icy sew an image of herself dying?’ And then we can swap pillows and I can sleep on my own corpse and you can sleep on yours.”

“And I thought I was morbid.” Icy mutters. “It’ll be a super cute way of letting everyone know that we’re a thing now.”

Darcy snorts. “As if it wasn’t plenty obvious from the start that, Icy had a thing for you.”

“I did not!” Icy declares. 

Stormy contests with a rather straightforward, simple, and indisputable comeback.“Bullshit!”  

“Icy, you came on just about as strongly as I came onto Riven.”

They go back and forth about this for some time with Bloom periodically and unhelpfully interjecting to point out one of several times that couldn’t tell if Icy was flirting with her or insulting her.

“That is how Icy flirts.” Darcy informs. 

“Maybe if I call this idiot stupid enough times, she’ll fall head over heels in love with me.” Bloom says. “Sound logic, if you ask me.”

“It worked though.” Icy mutters under her breath. 

“Mmm mmm.” Bloom shakes her head. “That’s not why I love you.” 

Icy cringes. That word still makes her feel awkward. 

“I love you because you’re a strong person and you’ve got a great sense of humor when you aren’t bullying other people. You never give up on things and…” She prattles on and on and Icy pretends like she isn’t absolutely soaking it up. 

.oOo.

Now and then they argue.

But it is always over recent, usually trivial, drama. 

Sometimes she gets angry when Icy falls back on old habits; her knack for nasty insults and biting words. Mostly they argue because Bloom is worried that she will revert and find herself back in prison. And truth be told, Icy dreads the same thing. 

Their first fight had ended almost as quickly as it had begun. At that point it had still been an instinct to flinch at the raising of a voice or at sudden hand motions. Bloom hated seeing her flinch. Bloom had cried that night. 

It had hit too close to home. 

She had asked how long it had taken Bloom to stop being so on edge. 

Bloom says that it had taken quite a while. 

It doesn’t take all too long for Icy. And maybe that’s because she knows who she is talking to. Maybe it’s because Bloom had dropped the argument completely that first time. 

She brings up the past often, but never in their arguments. She doesn’t bring it up this time around either. And this argument ends like most of their other arguments; with Bloom laying in the bed next to her even though they face away from each other and refuse to talk.

Tonight is a little different. 

Tonight Icy wakes up in the middle of the night to Bloom stroking her hair. 

“What are you—?” Icy murmurs. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you were awake.”

“I just woke up.” That is a bit of a stretch. She is groggy enough to fall right back asleep if she closes her eyes for more than ten seconds. “What are you doing?”

Bloom shrugs. “You looked like you were having trouble sleeping. That happens sometimes. Usually when I touch your hair or rub your back, you relax a little.” She pauses. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t remember.” And from the sound of it, she doesn’t want to. Probably about Sky. Or about her time in prison—that wasn’t a particularly lovely experience either. She rolls over to face Bloom who pulls her in closer. 

“Try to go back to sleep. We have to wake up early tomorrow before Stormy has a chance to cook all of us breakfast again.” 

Icy gives a small, sleepy laugh. “I’m supposed to be pissed off at you…”

Bloom pats her head. “You’re surprisingly not good at holding grudges.” 

“Fuck you, I can hold a grudge. I maintained our rivalry very dutifully over the years. In fact, I think that I carried that relationship.” Icy rubs her cheek against Bloom’s shoulder. 

“Mmmhmm, you did a good job at that.” 

Icy does slip back into sleep. It is easier to do when she doesn’t have to worry about a shouting match in the morning. It is easier to do when her past isn’t consistently thrown back in her face. It is easier to do when she doesn’t feel like a lost cause. It is easier to do knowing that she’ll wake up to the banter of her sisters and someone who is happy to see her in the morning. 

The Trix’s apartment is small and devoid of luxuries. Their cooking is usually horrendous, bordering on inedible. But it is so much more comfortable than a huge bedroom with chandeliers and meals that could feed ten people. Her girlfriend has the impulse control of a firecracker and a really stupid sense of humor. But it is so much better than what she had. It is exactly what she had been hoping for. 

Icy sleeps very easily that night.

She wasn't allowed to sing karaoke 😢

bloom after the battle with Icy in the 1st season

I like to think that Bloom is pretty old-fashioned when it comes to music. She likes old rock, rock'n'roll, sometimes jazz or soul. Everything Mike used to play when she was little. As for pop music, it seems that Bloom doesn't really understand what young people are listening to nowadays.

I like to think that Bloom is pretty old-fashioned when it comes to music. She likes old rock, rock'n'roll, sometimes jazz or soul. Everything Mike used to play when she was little. As for pop music, it seems that Bloom doesn't really understand what young people are listening to nowadays.

There will be a lot of angry bloom here

"Because when I fix other people, I don't have to think about how fucking broken I am."

- Sky

Honestly the only good redesigns of this reboot

as a trix enthusiast, forgive me for the person i am going to be once the winx reboot comes out because wdym the trix look this good in the one-second frame they appeared in the official teaser??? also can we appreciate the details of their initials!!!

something something childhood something something raised me