Title - Sentiment (Alternatively "That Feeling")

Summary - People put deep thought into their actions more often than you'd think. Aspirations and emotions burn deep inside their hearts – very deep.

Pairing(s) - none. unless you'd like to count one-sided/implied relations and situations.

Rating - K+

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.]

bubbles is going first because she's adorable.

Disclaimer - i do not own The Powerpuff Girls.

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Bubbles

There was something about the way the brush splashed the cerulean paint onto the canvas, mixing and combining with the swirls of yellows and reds and pretty purples. It made her feel something – something she could not explain to save her life. She just felt it. It was in those moments that she created a picture within her fickle mind, embedded it to the very front of her memory, and put it on that canvas like it belonged to her.

And yes, it did belong to her.

How was it that she found this passion? She truly didn't know. Perhaps she was simply born with it. It was indescribable; the swell of emotion that pulsated within her as she painted. Yes, charcoal and waterpaint were nice alternatives. But that's all they were. Nice. Nothing is as bold as saturated paint that stains everything in its wake as deeply as blood. It didn't fade. The colors, those pretty colors that reminded her so much of happiness and joy, it was something she could never replace.

And that feeling. It was as if, when she painted, she meant something. She mattered to the world. No, she would not be known for any girlish stupidity or foolish sensitivity, she would be known for her marvelous talent. The talent to create beauty.

Yes, she had more substance to her than a short, ditzy little blonde. She held the power of creation and imagery in her cramped, rainbow stained hands.

That very feeling; it gave her the giggles that threatened her sanity. The dazing colors, the madness of the mixture, the perfection that was her handmade work, the swirls on the canvas that burned all the stars of the galaxy into her eyes and took a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears to spill onto the blank tarp like tears rolling down her cheeks – it was her heart.

She had painted her heart.

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