A/N: This story is a gift-fic for a dear friend, at her request. The prompt was simply, "A PowerPuff Girls fanfic centered around Blossom's perspective."

I actually barely had any familiarity with the series before writing this, and over the span of a few days, I watched through the animated film and a handful of select episodes in order to do research so I could write this.

I want a lot of the story to speak for itself, and you can draw your own conclusions, but one detail I'd like to emphasize is that I wanted this to be set decidedly within the realm of the official American cartoon but be a bit twisted at the same time: primarily, I wanted to focus on the freakish features the girls possess and use this as sort of a minor plot-point, emphasizing their 'mutant' nature.

You will also notice that one of the characters is...'off.' This is intentional, but I don't want to spoil it, so please read it if you'd like to see what I was going for.

Cold

The city of Townsville...was thriving.

Crime was at an all-time low, business was booming, public works had been on the rise since the newly appointed Mayor had taken office...And yet, all was not so well for three specific citizens, despite their actions arguably leading to this rise of peace.

The PowerPuff Girls, self-appointed guardians of the city, had seen better days, however.

Hovering in her bathroom, Blossom swiped her hand across her phones touch screen, tracing a 'Z' shape to signify her saved contact and poking at the 'Call' button on the screen.

[Calling...]
[Buttercup]

The ringback hummed in Blossom's ear as she nervously fidgeted with her bangs. It was moments like this when she envied 'normal' kids and their access to things like 'fingers.' Having caught herself envying 'normal' kids, Blossom's mouth curved ever-so-slightly downward as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her enormous bug-eyes were glazed over in a moment of remorse as her conscience scolded her for daring to feel sorry for herself. She could fly and run as fast as a bullet, lift objects thousands of times her own weight, and melt things with her eyes. She had no reason to pity herself – and yet it seemed to be a recurring trend she could not shake these days.

As she fended off this self-doubt, Blossom pulled open her personal drawer in the bathroom cabinet, retrieved her fine-toothed comb, and began to straighten her bangs with care. The ringback finally ended, and she was treated to her sister's voicemail inbox.

["I'm not at my phone,"] deadpanned the familiar, gravely-edged voice of the recording. ["Or maybe I just don't wanna talk to you. Whatever."]

[-Beep!-]

A robotic voice immediately followed up:
["USER'S INBOX IS FULL."]
[-Beep!-]

Blossom groaned, slapping her stub of a hand against her face as she tilted her head back in frustration.

"What's wrong?" chirped the sweet concern of Blossom's other sister from the hallway.

With a sigh, Blossom regained her posture, setting the phone beside the sink and re-adjusting her bangs with her comb, undoing the damage her face-palm had just caused.

A teenage blond with trailing pigtails floated into the bathroom, hovering behind Blossom. She was in a formal dress of satin blue. Blossom, likewise, was in a matching red dress of the same texture. A green one to complete the set was hanging off of the shower bar to their side, unoccupied.

Blossom ignored her sister's curiosity as she set the comb down, reaching for a brush. She willed it to cling to her stumpy 'hand' and it obeyed, assisting her in straightening her threads of wavy red hair.

"Sis?" Bubbles' cutesy voice prodded, the girl's cheeks flushed with makeup. "Didja find out what's going on with Buttercup?"

"She's not coming," Blossom bitterly concluded with a stingy passive-aggresiveness, continuing to tend to her locks.

Bubbles whimpered, her lips pouted and her shoulders slumping.

"What are we gonna do?" Bubbles sniffled. "Prom is ruined..."

"Argh," Blossom huffed, slapping her brush against the sink's porcelain. "Bubbles," she growled with impatience, spinning around. Her hands were planted against her temples. "For the fourth time...it is not prom!"

"Oh. It's not?"

"No! Prom is not for, like...a month! Seriously! What is wrong with you?"

Bubbles' huge blue eyes withered with hurt at Blossom's words, her mouth agape with shock.

That self-doubt and remorse stung at Blossom's chest again and she bit her lip, letting her hands fall to her side. She knew full-well what was wrong with her sister, and she shouldn't be taking our her frustration on her sibling.

The two teens bobbed in the air gently, their bodies light as feathers but their heads heavy with tension.

"I-I'm sorry," Blossom stammered, giving her sister a sympathetic look. "I didn't mean to yell."

"But you did," Bubbles mumbled with dejection, her head bobbed. "You've been yelling a lot today..."

"I know, I know," Blossom quickly conceded. "It's just...I feel like no one is taking this seriously."

"Taking what seriously?"

"Ohh, my-!" Blossom puffed out a grunt of anguish, her hands wriggling by her face as she struggled to contain herself. "Have you seriously forgotten?"

Bubbles nodded timidly, her eyes conveying her shame as she lifted a hand to her lips.

She muttered with embarrassment, "...Is that bad?"

Blossom went slack-jawed at her sibling's ignorance. This gave way to her teeth grinding together as she hid her awe-stricken rage as best she could, sensitive of her sister's evident condition.

"You're mad," Bubbles concluded dimly, skulking out of the room.

"N-no, wait," Blossom blurted, catching her sister by the shoulder. "Bubbles...This is important."

"And...that's why you're mad?"

Blossom nodded, her heart heavy at her sister's lack of remembrance.

"Bubbles, tonight's the commemoration of the statue."

"Ohhh, statue." Bubble's face lit up with wonder. "Is it of a unicorn?"

"N-no, Bubbles, it-"
"I love unicorns."
"Yes. Yes, I know that, but...No, it-"
"Is it an octopus?"
"No, why would-?"
"Then what is it?"
"It's a statue of the Professor...Of Dad?"
"Ohhh...Is he riding a unicorn in it?"
"Nnn...No, he's not riding a-"
"Welllll, then, is he riding an octop-"
"No."
"Oh. Seems like a waste to me. So...Is Buttercup gonna be there?"

Blossom sighed, utterly defeated by the apparent futility of this conversation. Bubbles had never been the sharpest tool in the toolbox, but she seemed to have gotten worse and worse ever since the night that had splintered their unnatural family apart.

And here Blossom was, feebly attempting to hold it together when she could hardly hold herself together.

"I hope so," Blossom answered Bubbles' inquiry. "But she won't answer her phone."

"Oh...She's prolly with those boys again."

Blossom's lips squirmed with dissatisfaction at that thought, but it made the most sense.

"Probably," Blossom agreed, a bit surprised at her sister's perception, given her current condition.

"Hmmm..." Bubbles tapped at her chin, surveying the neatly pressed green dress hanging behind them. "Maybe if we show her how pretty her dress is, she'll change her mind."

Blossom's eyes were at this point drained of energy. She patted Bubbles tenderly on the back before floating over to the sink.

"Yea," she lied, complying with Bubbles' misplaced hope. "Maybe she will..."