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...sn't have to be this way. You can always come back home.”
“I'm not going to fight you, Buttercup,” Blossom said blandly. She used to say those words heatedly, almost in a motherly tone. She turned away. As she closed the door behind her she heard Buttercup sputtering from the shock, then pause, inhaling.
Blossom flinched under the truth and from then on those words reverberated in her thoughts.
They stayed up countless nights perfecting the final plans, mostly contained Mojo putting in the details, then asking her if there were any loopholes. It was grating to dig up these holes and fill them in. It almost seemed impossible to make a flawless plan.
Now that she was actively embracing her job as “plan checker” (and said plans didn't involve her sisters' annihilation), she couldn't help but let a smile creep over her features as she muddled over equations, testing both Mojo and her own smarts. Occasionally, she would brush her hand across his knuckles in thought. Many times they stole endearing glances, proud to share something productive.
The next day he enacted his-- their-- plan. It was all a blur, slow but blurry. Her sisters fought harder than before, more so...