For the writing prompt thing, how about the Layton siblings playing Mario Kart?

Oh thank you Robyn, this was so much fun I love them with my whole heart- enjoy this wii chaos. (Sorry if the formatting is off, I’m on mobile)

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“Stop shoving me!” Alfendi was referring to Katrielle’s elbow, which was digging into his side. He was only moments away from knocking her out if she didn’t cut that shit out now.

“Then maybe you should stop cheating!” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Being better than you isn’t cheating, Kat.” He had finally had enough and rammed over into her, practically knocking her over.

“Would you two keep the bumping inside the game please?” Flora was on Al’s other side, glad to be out of the firing zone. They were seated on the floor, backs against the couch, simply because that was how they had always played as children.

But children they were not.

“See ya later!” Katrielle was passing Alfendi as they headed into the final lap. He had fallen for her tricks and was so distracted by her physical assaults that his driving suffered for it. Flora laughed a little but was mostly focused on her own little square. It was so rare they got together like this now; it filled her heart just to see them having fun.

If screaming and wrestling could be considered fun.

“Give me a minute- I’ll be in front when it counts.” Al spoke like he was confident, but he was smart enough to know it was more a game of luck then of skill. He just needed one person behind them to grab a blue shell and Kat would be eating her words.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Al.” Kat was a menace. She enjoyed pressing Al’s buttons, loved to see him all riled up. This wasn’t a secret, they all knew this- it was a game to her. Dragging out Al’s other half was a sign she was winning.

Flora, meanwhile, was slipping further behind. She just wasn’t as competitive as the other two, and she didn’t play as much with them growing up. Honestly, she preferred just to watch.

Somewhere behind them someone had picked up the blue shell. Al smirked knowing he had a shot now that they were closing in on the end. Katrielle’s grip on the wheel tightened. As the youngest, she had always pouted and whined to get to use the wheel- it was still hers. She was driving now with her whole body, not just her hands, turning into each curve like she could outrun it.

Hubris.

Alfendi laughed as the sound got louder, as her doom approached. She could not outrun the sun, the shell was upon her, she could only accept her fate. As her cart exploded, Al passed her, focused, dialled in. He could do this, he just needed to hold steady for-

Flora giggled beside him as her bullet zipped right by him. It dropped her off mere inches from the finish line, and she was able to finish first.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Al almost dropped his controller. Kat could only groan. Moments later they both crossed the end as well, but without smiles on their faces.

Flora was happy. Not to have won, but just to be here. She remembered when they were younger. When Luke would stop by and be their player four. When Al would play cross-legged with little Kat sitting in his lap. When occasionally Kat was able to force Hershel to play for a bit, despite the fact he had to ask what the buttons do every thirty seconds.

This was fun. This was nice.

“Okay losers, wanna go again?” Both of their jaws dropped hearing her say that- her smile and tone were both too pretty for trash talk.

“Yeah sure thing, let’s see you get lucky like that again.” Alfendi was fast at recomposing himself, sitting up straighter. He meant business now.

Whether she knew it or not, Katrielle copied him, scooching back and straightening up. “It’s on.” She glared at them both.

Flora, however, was just really hoping she wasn’t about to become a victim in the next assault.

machi,,, there’s a hole in my dress,,, can you teach me how to patch it up?

Machi has never been one to see the humor in life.

There are those who delight in irony, those who rebuke it, and people such as herself who don’t give it a second thought. However, the tides shift. For a brief second, she considers those who have been mangled by her Nen, flesh and bone cut clean through in pursuit of the Spider’s ambitions. 

By her fingertips, people fall. And from every word that leaves your lips, so does she. 

“It takes patience,” Machi remembers that you’re still standing there, twirling about, showcasing the hole on the skirt of your dress. “Can you handle something requiring that?” 

You pout, then try to woo her over by fluttering your eyelashes. She once told you this method wouldn’t work (it does, almost every time, unfairly so). 

It’d be infinitely easier on her if you were to hand the garment over. Nen stitches would patch the fabric up easily enough, even if the usual purpose for the ability was usually macabre. The mundane suits it just as well if it’s for you. But no, that’d be too easy, you’re going to make this difficult for her. 

How can she concentrate on teaching you if you’re watching over her shoulder, oohing and aahing over the simplistic of techniques, and bombarding her with silly questions? Machi can envision it now. You might tease by asking her to embroider a M on the dress or pester her to slow down so you could follow her movements easier. 

Yes, there’s no denying that you are her most glaring distraction. 

Machi sucks in a sharp breath then relents. 

“Fine. Just don’t come crying to me if you poke yourself with a needle.” 

You light up, eyes almost sparkling from winning her over so fast. Normally, you’d need to beg a while longer, displaying a whole list of theatrics until Machi caved to your demands. The process was sped through. 

“You say that, but if I asked, I know you would kiss it all better,” you declare with confidence. 

“I wouldn’t.” 

(She would). 

You’re off to fetch Machi’s sewing kit, which she’s kept more for nostalgia’s sake than anything else. As you skip off with a pep in your step, Machi wonders to herself how much longer this honeymoon phase might last. When the day will come where you open a Pandora’s box that can never be closed. For now, she basks in your radiance, greedily soaking up every ray. 

There shall come a day where the moon eclipses her sun and there it will stay, until Machi forgets what the light ever looked like. 

If you were to ever find out her true occupation... discover the blood that soaks her hands which you hold each day, swinging back and forth, what would she do? What wouldn’t she do? 

For now, the anxiety is shoved into the deepest recesses of her mind. The moon has yet to rise — she intends to keep it that way.