Status - Drabble; Ongoing; Series

Important Notes - so this is basically my complexities and dynamics behind the fanon characters that are normally written in the Powerpuff fandom.

[if anyone wants a specific character to be written next, just suggest the character in your review. the character with the most (or first, if no one is mentioned twice) mentions will be written.]

Disclaimer - i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

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Boomer

He didn't know why he was given such a limited capability. The way words tumbled out of his mouth – not on whim, but on impulse – surprised even himself. He couldn't stop. He just knew that one day the words that forced their way out of his throat would make some sort of sense, and that it would bring shock to those around him. But still, he couldn't make it out.

His mind couldn't compile a single logical thought, and he didnt know why. Every sign he looked at, every book he tried to read – the words...It all seemed like a foreign language to him. Every 'd' appeared to be a 'b' and every 'm' was a 'w'. All the words...scribbling nonsensical paragraphs with vague implications he couldn't comprehend.

It hurt him, really. It gave him this throbbing feeling that wouldn't go away. And, before he knew it, after trying so hard to read the scribbles before him, his eyebrows would contort in anger and his lip would curl and he felt the tears wetting his face and dripping onto the page, smudging the ink. Somehow that image looked more familiar.

He'd seen that imperfection his entire life.

But then, he found a calling. Dazzled by the shiny, slick figures in the window of the music store, he wandered in and that was the beginning of a new era. They made such beautiful sounds, and he could make them even more beautiful with the way he plucked the strings of the acoustic guitar and angrily smacked the sticks on the drums and let his fingers glide effortlessly across the piano. There was no need to memorize any stupid notes. The sounds were all he needed.

Left and right, what came before what – they didn't get mixed up with him this time. He felt his own notes, his very own symphony, a rhythm that thumped in sync with the beat of his heart. Sometimes it made him cry, but in the best way.

Music was all he had. It was the only thing that made sense to him. Well, not the only thing...

And one day, as he pulled out a guitar from a storage closet in the band room and made his way to the hall while classmates were already beginning to flood into the building, he sat down, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes, running his hands along the neck of the guitar and hoping that a short blonde girl would hear the harmonic melody he'd created that encased the corrider.

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