#the entire bit where mickey just wanted this kill his dad so badly

[donutcats]

kazurei except it’s just that one bit from the gallavich wedding ep of shameless;

kyutaro: are you trying to put together a wedding today?

rei, handcuffed to the washing machine: they are. I’m not helping

kyutaro: why is rei handcuffed?

kazuki, on his phone: he wants to kill his dad

rei, smoking a cigarette: WILL kill his dad

[bigowlenergy]

stuck + lightening

can only describe this as phantom_cringe_comp_ft_electricity.mp4. no angst only Stupid

au where ghosts are feral cats and danny is a tiny menace who keeps needing rescued by the local ghost shelter no details no thoughts head NOT empty full of chaos

X

Since parking his ass firmly on the threshold of death, Danny has done some truly stupid shit. Pulled a couple fast ones on the universe. Did some sick pranks. Partook in a few shenanigans. Had a little fun now and again. Enjoyed himself, even.

So it is only fair for the other end of the stick to smack him in the face eventually.

“Ms. Genevieve, please let me out,” He begs the old woman as she edges her walker around his prone form. She shakes her head sadly at him, huge white curls swaying in pity.

“If you didn’t want to be caught, you shouldn’t have been fooling around, brat.” She says fondly, continuing on her merry way.

“I’ll carry your groceries!” He pleads, wiggling the end of his tail that’s outside the net and trying to track her with his head hanging off the curb. It’s all he can do. Everything else is frozen tight, like he’s full of power and will burst if he moves. He could probably move if he tried really hard, but electricity and Danny have a complicated relationship at the best of times, and even thinking about it too hard right now makes him keen in distress. Ms. Genevieve hasn’t had her hearing aides at a decent volume for the last five years, so Danny feels zero guilt for the half wailing whine that tumbles out of his throat as she abandons him.

It’s not like she knows it’s him - as in, Daniel Fenton, 14 year old human boy who talks to her at the grocery store and engages in egregious amounts of community gossip - but it still stings. Mostly because she’s, like, the third person to walk by so far. The first was Robert Sanchez, harried mail carrier and owner of the most prized weed whacker in town. Then it was Susan Lee, a middle school kid who snapped some pics and ran. People he only knew tangentially, but still.

The garage across the street squeaks as it opens, and Danny waits for the car to finish parking so he can yell at them. Jennifer Yakult makes eye contact, then just blinks and raises Magni from his car seat. Mickey climbs out the passenger side and does a double take. Pulls his phone out of his pocket and crows, loud enough for the entire block to hear,

“Better than a bug zapper, Phantom?”

Danny’s mouth cannot drop open in affront because he is petrified by a ghost animal trap, so he just yells back instead.

“This is harassment!”

Mickey just laughs and keeps his phone up and oh, oh Danny is so going to turn his chair intangible during third period tomorrow, just watch. His mom calls for him to get in the house, heartlessly ignoring the helpless ghost stuck under a ghost trap like a blanket on the concrete across the street.

Okay, now he feels kind of pathetic. Danny musters the willpower to curl his fingers into the netting his hand is caught in and oop. Nope. A weak current of electricity courses through his body like a wave cresting. Fills him to the brim with static. Peaks around his core. Leaves his vision whited out when it fades away softly. His ectoplasm is a nuclear generator and Danny is just surface tension.

Whenever he surfaces, he’s too whacked out on power to notice the shadow hanging over him. He’s also purring. Again.

“Again, Phantom?” A voice bubbles up from a million miles away. Just turn it off, he thinks fuzzily, too overcharged to speak. But maybe he managed it anyway, because the trap shuts off with an abruptness that chokes him.

The fishingline-fine netting should feel like nothing as it’s dragged off him, but in his hypersensitized state it feels like being dragged through concrete. Someone grabs his arms and peels him off the sidewalk, depositing him gently on bare earth and - oh. His keen cuts out instantly.

Danny wriggles his whole body into the gloriously cold and electrically grounding earth like the stupid little ghost worm he is at heart. Phases into the soil and squiggles around in it until he finishes discharging the excess. He still feels like he could power the entire town as a backup generator, but less because he will explode otherwise and more as a side hobby.

Once he feels stable enough to not humiliate himself further, he peeks his head out of the ground. A good sized chunk of Mr. Jhan’s lawn is burned to the quick and a bit torn up from his claws. A squad of GIW are on the sidewalk, snickering at him. One holds a camera.

“You’re welcome, Phantom.” One coos. Danny hisses halfheartedly at them, his whole face burning cold in embarrassment. He flees.

 -

 Danny is not a stupid little baby ghost who can’t handle electricity any more. He’s seventeen! Guiding current and discharging excess power flow is second nature to him now.

It just makes this situation all the more embarrassing.

“We’re almost done, sweetie,” His mom says, petting his hair gently. Danny kind of wants to cry from humiliation. He’s so overcharged that he can’t help the overemotional response to being petted by his mom when he feels this bad, and the nonconductive hazmat helps a little. Everything is too bright and fuzzy, and being upside down doesn’t help with the disorientation any. A whimper slips out at another jolt of movement above him.

“Two more left, Danny-o!” His dad cheers, moving back into his line of sight briefly. He edges around the tree to angle the clippers at another branch. They’re mostly charcoal by now. Tucker sneezes, ash smeared on his cheek, a loop of Danny’s overlong tail laying paralyzed in his hazmat gloves. He’s the only one who can stand still enough to make non-painful contact with Danny in this state, so he’s on detangling duty. Danny loves him so much right now.

“Do you want some dirt?” Sam asks, sounding partially sincere and also like she’s trying not laugh at him but she’s also totally laughing at him. Yes, Danny wants the goddamned dirt. He’s never wanted anything in his entire afterlife so badly.

“Shh,” His mom says, patting his forehead lightly. It feels like his entire body is a bell and her hand is the clapper, which silences Danny’s pissy hissing immediately. Sam pours soil on the frozen loops of his tail and it’s the best thing Danny has ever felt. It’s so good? He loves her, too.

Another jolt jostles him and he hiccups and gets hushed again. The branch that falls too loudly beside him practically disintegrates on contact. The thicker end smolders a bit.

“Alright, last one! Everybody ready?” Tucker begins releasing the loops of Danny’s tail he’s been supporting, which distracts him from everybody else clearing the area. Doesn’t distract him enough to ignore the fucking firetruck.

The final snip to freedom rings out and Danny slides out of the downed tree with agonizing slowness, feeling every tiny twig brush against his skin like needles. He hits the earth and oh, sweet, sweet relief.

He phases into the park soil completely and just. Stays there. Directs the excess electricity out of his overclocked body until he feels stable enough to surface.

He does so invisibly, silently groaning when he finds his parents talking to the chief firefighter. Again. The downed tree is a husk of charcoal and soaking wet, like a sad, abandoned campfire. He really did a number on the grass. Everything smells like smoke and ozone.

Why couldn’t the lightening have just killed him?

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: Natural Born Killers

Long before Joker taught us that we lived in a society… there was Mickey and Mallory Knox.

Natural Born Killers is a satire that focuses on the relationship between crime, media, and pop culture, and how the latter two make the former a hugely exacerbated issue. This movie is from 1994, mind you. In 1994 a movie came out talking about how the media sensationalizes murder and violence to the point where perpetrators become household names and counterculture icons years before Columbine happened, years before the internet made it horrendously easy to find access to gruesome true crime stuff, it was just a film that was absolutely ahead of its time! And yet… as is the norm for works like this, some people take it at face value, because no matter how blatant or obvious a satire is (and trust me, “subtle” is one thing this movie IS NOT), some people take things too far. The thing is, in this case, “too far” translates to “actively committed horrible murders in twisted tribute to the main characters of this film.”

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; let’s look at the actual substance of the film, first and foremost. 

The movie is actually an altered version of an exploitation screenplay written by none other than Quentin Tarantino, Mr. Foot Fetish himself. Tarantino has gone n record as absolutely loathing this movie due to the extensive rewrites and unlike the other screenplay he wrote but did not direct, True Romance, he refuses to acknowledge this as part of his Tarantinoverse. Here’s the thing, though: I honestly think whatever Tarantino had planned for this would not nearly have been as memorable as this movie is. Yes, this movie is over the top and really beats you over the head with its message, but I think the performances and surrealism really carry it, the latter in particular being something I think Tarantino would not have utilized well. Tarantino does a lot of things well, but he doesn’t do surrealism, at least not to the extent Oliver Stone does in this movie.

Perhaps the best example of this surrealism is the sitcom-style flashback sequence, which shows our leading lady Mallory’s shitty home life before she met Mickey and began her career as a serial killer. There’s a laugh track, an offbeat corny vibe, and Rodney Dangerfield is even here playing Mallory’s dad! Haha, so wacky! He’s a rapist who abuses his own daughter and is absolutely horrifyingly creepy! It’s actually a brilliant use of an actor playing against type; it kind of reminds me of how they used Jon Lovitz in Southland Tales, except this movie is marginally less insane and is legitimately good rather than hilariously bad. The entire sequence, and numerous other chunks of the movie, feel like an insanely bad trip, and that’s exactly what I appreciate about it. I’m a big fan of surreal movies in general (I love Lynch’s Eraserhead and unironically love Death Bed, for instance), and the fact that this one has such a solid message underneath it all helps a lot.

Of course, the surrealism only gets you so far, and Rodney Dangerfield is only in a small part of the movie; who’s carrying it the rest of the time? Well, we have our leads played by Juliette Lewis and Woody Harrelson, with Harrelson in particular defining his career for the next couple of decades with this role. Gone is the lovable idiot from Cheers, here is the crazy gun-toting violent loner we’d see in just about every role he’d play after this.Even to this day, this is still one of my favorite roles of his. Rounding out the rest of the cast are the likes of Robert Downey Jr., Tommy Lee Jones, and Tom Sizemore, all doing the jobs they need to do excellently.

So overall, this is a very good movie, with a great cast, lots of surrealism, and a message about how the media just loves to glorify murderers that resonates strongly today. Still, there are some problems with the movie, such as the lack of subtlety. I get that with a message like this it might be best to not hide it behind smoke and mirrors, but I really feel like Stone could have reeled it in a little bit and still made an effective movie. Sure, I think Tarantino is a moron for hating the sitcom sequence, which is absolutely the highlight of the film, but seriously, some of this could have been dialed back, particularly the ending bits which do drag on a fair bit and at the point they occur are kind of beating the moral into the ground. I also feel like the fact Mickey and Mallory get away with everything is a bit of an awkward ending, especially since an alternate cut has them killed by another killer, but at the same time it might be surmised that Stone may have done as many audience members did and just liked Mickey and Mallory too much to kill them… ironically falling prey to the very thing his movie is raging against.

Ah, but now comes the elephant in the room… unlike movies like Joker, which journalists seem to really want to inspire shootings and violence, this movie ACTUALLY DID inspire killings perpetrated by sickos who decided to emulate the characters in the film. Most of it was done by teenagers, which means yes, there are a lot of school shootings tied to this, and yes, the Columbine cunts are one of the copycats listed on the Wikipedia page. It’s honestly depressing this movie inspired so many sick fucks to commit murder and become glorified for doing so that it warrants an entire Wikipedia page. Again, though, I really don’t want to put a lot of blame on the film here, because the movie is so relentlessly in-your-face about what the moral is that it kind of baffles me how anyone could misconstrue it so badly as to see it as an endorsement for murder. Maybe it just worked a bit too well at highlighting the problem of sensationalization of violent crime in the media, and when twisted minds see a movie saying “This is bad that the media does this!” they end up just hearing “...the media does this!” and from there go to horrible extremes to achieve the very fame the movie is telling you is disgusting and abhorrent.

I still definitely think this movie is good, and if you can stomach intense violence and preachiness that would make Parker and Stone blush and turn away, and you also have a taste for surrealism, this is a really solid film, one I’d argue is one of the best films of the 90s even. It does a lot well, but I feel like its legacy was unfortunately muddied by the very worst kind of fan you could possibly have, which has led to the movie having a weird level of obscurity where it isn’t unknown, but I hardly ever see it talked about on the same level as other 90s films. It’s definitely not a film that teenagers or anyone who hasn’t fully developed their moral compass or critical thinking skills should watch, but it’s definitely an underappreciated classic, albeit one whose underappreciated nature is understandable due to the numerous tragedies attached to its name. It isn’t the movie’s fault at all, but when the Columbine cunts are citing you as inspiration… it’s hard to ever really detach yourself from that.

[talinexa]

Little One - One Shot

So... there are quite a few memes about KH3 Riku looking like Noctis... and I don’t entirely disagree so I really couldn’t help myself.

Riku left Insomnia for Destiny Islands when he was still young. He didn’t remember Insomnia well. Some days he couldn’t remember it at all. Regis and the queen knew, after finding out that their eldest, Noctis, was the Crystal’s Chosen King, that they had to protect their youngest from the dangers that would surround Eos. Noctis being the Chosen meant the Starscourge was coming to its peak.

It was the only secret Riku never told his friends when he was little. The one secret his biological parents made him promise to keep. Sora and Kairi knew Riku wasn’t born on the islands, but unlike Kairi, Riku had been there long enough that Sora couldn’t remember when Riku first arrived.

Riku hated Destiny Islands. He knew he’d been sent away from Eos to keep him safe, but he felt trapped. He desperately wanted to escape.

Not necessarily return to Insomnia---just get off the islands. Be free. Travel and explore. See more than the same ocean and the same group of people.

He loved his adoptive parents, but the isolation of the island was getting on his nerves.

It took Riku many adventures to want to go back to the islands. To seek something familiar.

He was eighteen, with a Keyblade in his hand, the first time he thought about both Destiny Islands and Insomnia as home. He hadn’t been to Insomnia since he was almost too small to remember, and knew he likely would never consider it a real home, but he wanted to see it again.

More as a... learning opportunity. Just to see it again. To get familiar. To see where he came from and understand why it was so important for him to leave.

He sighed and sat on the ground. His Keyblade dissolved into light.

“What’s wrong, Riku?” Mickey asked.

“I haven’t seen my birthplace in... fifteen years? Fourteen? A long time,” he said. “I barely remember it. I have an older brother I barely remember. Noct... he and I were... total opposites.” Riku chuckled. “My adoptive parents on the islands told me he was more like Sora---a bit of a slacker. I’m... more... driven. I guess.” He folded his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I want to go back. To see the place. To meet my brother again.” He closed his eyes. “I used to write, you know. I would send letters to my brother and my biological parents. I used to get letters back. Then... one day when I was still pretty young... they stopped.”

“Riku... I don’t see why you couldn’t go back. For a little while. We all need to follow our hearts,” Mickey remarked.

“You’re right, Your Majesty. As usual.” Riku smiled sadly and shoved his fingers through his silver-white hair. “We just... never seem to slow down long enough for me to have time.”

“You could try now. We have some time.”

Riku looked to the horizon, where the moon was setting. It distorted slightly, appearing larger, as it neared the edge of the world. “Yeah. Yeah I think I will. Thanks Mickey.”

The king nodded.

Riku hit the ground hard with an, “Oof!” as the robot struck him down.

He heard a cry and then saw a streak of blue light. There was a loud Clang! and the shrieking of metal-on-metal and the robot crumpled. Riku coughed to get his breath back and sat up gingerly.

“Y’alright, kid?” a voice asked.

A young man, not much older than Riku himself, was holding a hand out to offer Riku help in standing. Riku took the young man’s offer and let him help him to his feet. The newcomer wasn’t particularly tall---but then again neither was Riku---and had spiky black hair. There was a genuine grin on his face. Riku’s mouth fell open.

“N... Noct?” he asked.

The young man took a step back, his own jaw dropping. “R... Riku?”

In moments, smiles broke out on both of their faces and they were pulling each other in for a hug. Riku felt tears brimming in his eyes, and felt something fall to the shoulder of his shirt. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he whispered, clinging to Noctis tightly. He remembered Noct better than the rest.

As far as he could recall, they’d been close.

“It’s me, Little One. It’s me,” Noctis replied. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Me too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to... to see Insomnia again. Eos. I don’t... remember it nearly as well as I should,” Riku said.

Noctis sighed and let Riku go. “Come with me,” he said.

They started to hike across the field. Riku watched his older brother carefully. “You inherited Dad’s bad knee,” he observed.

Noctis started laughing. He slowed his pace and turned. “Oh, Little One, you probably will too. A bad knee is hereditary on the Lucis Caelum side.”

Lucis Caelum. It had been a long time since Riku heard that name.

“I hope not,” he said. “And stop calling me Little One! I’m taller than you!”

“By like four centimeters,” Noctis retorted with a smile.

Riku smirked. “Still taller.”

Noctis snorted---then went quiet. “Mom and Dad used to call you Little One,” he said. His voice was soft and sad.

“Noct... what happened?”

“C’mon. Let’s get back to the others and we’ll explain. Ignis... he’ll tell it better than I can.”

Riku blinked. “I vaguely remember Ignis,” he said.

“You’ll remember more when he starts talking,” Noctis joked somberly. Riku couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Who are the others? The ones other than Ignis.”

“Prompto and Gladiolus. You never met Prompto. And Gladio... no you never met him either.” Noctis shook his head. “C’mon. Just over this hill.” They started a shallow climb. “And, for the record, my limp isn’t that bad yet.”

“No,” Riku agreed. “It’s barely noticeable. But I knew to look.”

At the crest of the hill, Riku caught sight of a tent up ahead. Three young men were bustling around it. Two taller ones and one shorter.

Noctis jogged down the hill. Riku followed.

“Guys! Look who’s back!” Noctis shouted.

Ignis dropped the pot he was holding. Thankfully it was empty. “Your... Your Highness?”

Riku couldn’t remember ever being addressed that way and it took him aback. “Huh?” he asked eloquently.

Ignis gave him a bow. “Welcome back, Prince Riku.”

“Please don’t.” Riku shook his head, uncomfortable with the formality.

“WAIT! This is your brother, Noct?!” the shortest of the four demanded---he had slightly-spiky yellow-blond hair and lots of freckles.

Noctis chuckled. “Yup. Prompto, this is Riku. Riku, this is my best school friend, Prompto Argentum.”

Riku found his hand being shook aggressively by Prompto. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. Noct talks about you a lot! You two didn’t have enough time together.” Prompto kept rambling, shaking Riku’s hand for a lot longer than necessary. Riku glanced at Noctis, silently pleading to be saved.

Noctis smirked. “That’s enough, Prompto. You’re overwhelming him.”

Prompto immediately let go. “Whoops. Sorry.”

Riku shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s just... this is a lot to take in.”

“I know---Noct having friends? What gives?” the tallest of the four---who was absolutely towering with bulky muscles---joked.

“Shut up, Gladio,” Noctis retorted.

Riku laughed. Then sombered up. “So... what’s with the camping?”

Ignis sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. When they were younger, four years older seemed like a huge gap. Ignis had always seemed so grown-up and mature. But now that they were older, the gap between 18 and 22 seemed a lot smaller---and Ignis looked too young to be as worn-down with heavy burdens as he was. “That... is a long story. Have a seat, Your Highness. We’ll explain to the best of our abilities over some dinner,” he said.

Riku squirmed. “Don’t... call me that. Please.” He brushed some loose bangs back into place. “Riku is fine.”

Ignis shrugged and put the pot he’d picked up again onto the camping stove. “Very well,” he said.

Noctis guided Riku to a set of camp chairs and pulled him to sit down. “Before we get to the sob story and the doom-and-gloom, tell me about what’s been happening to you.”

Riku snorted. “A sob story with some doom-and-gloom,” he said. “My best friend is the Chosen One destined to open the door to light to dispel the darkness and put an end to the Heartless and I’m...” He shook his head. “I have too much darkness in my heart. The ‘bad guys’ target me and try to make me one of them but I can’t just... abandon Sora like that. I tried and it... went very badly. For me. I got possessed by an extremely powerful Heartless and nearly killed my best friend and that was just the beginning.”

“I do believe the darkness in your heart is a function of who you are,” Ignis remarked from the stove.

“Huh?”

“You’re a Lucis Caelum,” Noctis put in.

“Right...”

“The power of the Lucis Caelum family has long been considered ‘black magic,’” Ignis said. “Apart from their ongoing attempts to rid the lands of the Starscourge and protect the Crystal, many of your ancestors could be considered... as you said... ‘bad guys.’” He paused in thought. “Though, I’d rather not consider Niflheim ‘good guys.’ Conquering the countries around them and attempting to take control of the world is hardly a move made out of kindness. But rather, greed.”

“So you’re saying I have so much darkness in my heart because I’m a Caelum?” Riku asked.

“It’s very possible,” Ignis said. “Difficult to know for certain when we’re not sure how darkness functions in the lands you grew up in, but possible.”

Riku sighed and set a hand over his heart. “I see,” he muttered. “So I’ll never conquer it?”

“That’s unclear,” Ignis said. “I’m unfamiliar with how darkness works for you. I could very well be incorrect on multiple accounts. And given my unfamiliarity, I assume I am incorrect. Perhaps the darkness I know and the darkness you know are different forces, Prince Riku. I see the ‘black magic’ of the Lucis Caelum line as being considered ‘darkness.’ However that brand of magic doesn’t exclude the notion that its wielder is incredibly kind and caring. Merely a label attached to a certain set of powers. The Nox Fleuret family magic is considered ‘white magic’ due to its incredible restorative properties. Healing. Whereas the Lucis Caelum power is more... destructive. Take everything I say with a grain of salt. The darkness you know could likely be quite simple for you to conquer, however neither you nor I are aware of how.”

Riku fiddled with one of the buckles on one of the belts around his leg. “Thanks Ignis,” he mumbled.

Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose. “Of course.”

“Wow. Insomnia fell... just like that?” Riku asked.

“Make no mistake, we weren’t there,” Ignis said. “I’m certain there was more to it than what we’ve told you.”

“It definitely had to have been more complicated than that,” Prompto agreed.

“So... there’s no chance of me seeing Dad again,” Riku said. “Or Mom.”

“Mom died when we were still really young. Not long after you left,” Noctis said. “I was about... seven or eight. Meaning you would have been five or six.”

“Explains why the letters stopped,” Riku remarked.

Noctis rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, Riku. I never meant to stop writing. It was just... when Mom died... Dad got more distant and I...”

“Hey man, I get it. I’m just glad to know the reason why the letters stopped,” Riku said. “Hey Ignis, can I help you clean up dinner?”

“I would appreciate the assistance, yes,” Ignis said.

Riku helped Ignis gather up everyone’s plates and silverware and took it over to the cooking station. While they started washing dishes, Riku sighed. “Ignis?” he asked quietly. Prompto and Noctis were shouting about a game Riku didn’t know anything about, drowning out him and Ignis to the other three.

“Yes, Your High---Riku?”

“How’s everything really been while I’ve been gone?” He rubbed the back of his head. “How’s... how’s Noct been?”

“He’s been handling it as best he can,” Ignis said. “It’s not his fault his father and his home were taken from him. Your arrival could not have been more opportune. Nor could it have been any more ill-timed.”

“Meaning?”

“You’ve lifted his spirits but it’s dangerous here.”

“Ignis, I’ve been fighting darkness and monsters since I was fifteen now. I can handle myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Ignis said in his peculiar accent. “I just mean your parents sent you away to keep you safe from the dangers of Eos until your brother completed his destiny. That hasn’t happened yet and the dangers are coming to a head. If your parents knew you’d returned now, they would be extremely cross. I suggest you return later in order to ensure your safety. After Noct has completed the Crystal’s mission and fulfilled his destiny.”

“Fulfilled his destiny...” Riku muttered. He shook his head. “My big brother. Then my best friend. Looks like I’m always the one that destiny skips over in favor of someone else.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, don’t you agree? You are free to make whatever life you want.”

“I don’t think I should be trusted to make decisions like that. When I made the life I thought I wanted I ended up giving in to the darkness in my heart and getting possessed by an evil Heartless.”

Ignis sighed. “No one makes good decisions in their teen years.”

“Even you?” Riku teased. “You seem... really responsible and mature.”

Ignis laughed. “Even me,” he said. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Even Noct doesn’t know about my rebellious activities.”

Riku laughed. “You’ll have to tell me about those sometime.”

“I will.”

“Hey Riku! You gotta take a ride with us in the Regalia in the morning! You’ll love it!” Noctis shouted.

“Sure thing!” Riku smiled over his shoulder. He vaguely remembered the Regalia—just like everything else about his earliest memories in Eos, all he really had for certain was a glimmer of an idea. A sleek black vehicle that was graceful and should never ever be driven by Riku. 

He’d been so busy learning how to use a keyblade and fighting darkness and Organization XIII that he’d never learned how to drive. Even Sora knew how to fly a Gummiship but Riku never really had the chance. 

And for a while he hadn’t had the need. When he’d given in to the darkness for the second time in order to defeat and subdue Roxas, taking on Ansem’s appearance again, he could open dark Corridors and use them to travel. But since then... he still hadn’t found the chance.

But he was looking forward to riding in the Regalia as a passenger.

He glanced at Ignis. “I’ll head home after taking a ride,” he said quietly.

Ignis nodded. “Of course, Your Hi---Riku.”

“You’ll get it eventually,” Riku remarked. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys again.”

“As am I,” Ignis agreed. “Perhaps at some point the four of us could come meet this best friend of yours.”

Riku thought of how strange his life might seem to any on the outside. He couldn’t remember talking, magic ducks in Eos. He knew Eos was beyond the reach of the Heartless. They had their own problems.

But he also knew they would all love Sora. How could they not? Sora was just one of those lovable people.

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah maybe.”