#so I drew Mr. Meme going about his life before he got contained

[natcatnhanh]

My gift for this year’s SCP Gift Exchange. The prompt was ‘Something with Gamers Against Weed this year. Slice of life. Normal.’

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Under My Umbrella

Summary: Mr Pigeon 72 and how it should have ended if fandom had a saying in it. An alternate ending to the Adrinette final scene. Contains spoilers and fluff, you have been warned.

For @floweryotter, a gift in my celebratory giveaway.

********

Adrien’s day had started bad and it only got worse from there. So far the only peaceful moment was when he got turned into a pigeon. Blissful time, when he was unaware not only of himself, but also of allergies, extracurriculars and modelling. When he was free from ridiculous advertising ideas. He almost felt sorry, when the Miraculous Cure swept over his bird form, turning him back to his regular, slightly underdressed self. 

Rain drummed heavily on the swimming pool’s roof, while he changed into his clothes and gathered the now half-empty duffel bag. Plagg claimed he needed the extra load for all his heroic deeds of the day. Camembert was possibly the only thing in the universe that got him to shut up about it. 

Adrien shuddered and braced himself for the rest of his afternoon, which he suspected wouldn’t be any different than his morning. He stepped outside and promptly forgot about everything that was waiting for him later.

Because there, in the middle of the rain, stood his good friend Marinette under a familiar umbrella. Strange warmth bloomed in his chest.

‘Wow,’ he drew a breath full of humidity and some subtle, yet familiar smell, he couldn’t quite identify, ‘you’ve kept it all this time!’ 

A thunder rolled over the street. Marinette froze. For a second Adrien was afraid that maybe there’d been another akuma attack and his friend had fallen victim to an unknown villain.

‘Marinette?’ He called hesitantly.

She turned, smiling. The signature word salad spilled from her lips, but Adrien was used to it by now. He actually found it quite endearing. Politely, he waited for her to stumble her way through anything she had to say, until she arrived at a comprehensible sentence.

‘Now I can give it back to you!’ she finally said, offering the umbrella to him.

Both the gesture and the sentiment somehow made her even more adorable.

‘You’ll need it to get home,’ Adrien replied. At that his car pulled over and an idea came to him. ‘Or maybe… we can give you a lift?’ he asked hopefully. 

Marinette smiled at him and nodded. Did she… just agree? Just like that? Without another word stumble or an excuse to leave? He had no idea why, but her calm approval made him inexplicably happy. 

She moved to his side and linked their arms together, shielding him with the umbrella. The brush of her skin sent goosebumps all over his forearm. His heartbeat quickened.

Whoosh! The canopy closed over them, squishing them even closer together. The laughter they shared at that was delicious, like a secret, a reference only the two of them would get out of the entire world.

Adrien opened the umbrella, smiling at his friend.

‘Hmmm, since we already have a good umbrella, maybe we could put it to better use,’ she said. ‘Maybe we could take a walk home? What do you think?’

He liked having her so near and he wouldn’t mind for it to last longer. Especially when she seemed so comfortable and open. He realized how much he missed spending time with her. He was never bored with Marinette.

‘I… ‘ he started, when sudden movement caught his eye. His bodyguard opened the car door, urging him to go inside. Adrien’s smile faded. ‘My Chinese class,’ he remembered. ‘You know, how my dad is. I need to be there.’ He sighed. ‘But I’ll see you at school!’ He added, not to end on such a depressing note.

‘Of course. Till tomorrow, Adrien,’ Marinette smiled reassuringly and he knew she understood. 

In two leaps he was at the car door, but he wanted to catch one last look of her before getting inside, so he turned. 

Thump.

The back of his head hit the side of the car. 

‘Ouch,’ he winced.

Marinette chuckled and he was happy to chuckle with her. His lips stretched into a wide smile. Her laughter already soothed the pain in his skull. He was about to close the door when she called after him.

‘Adrien, wait!’ 

He looked at her questioningly.

Marinette bit her lip. ‘How far is it to your lessons?’ She asked. ‘Maybe we can walk there?’

Oh sweet Plagg. Yes, please. 

Adrien turned his best pleading eyes to the Gorilla. ‘See you after Chinese lessons?’ he mewled.

His bodyguard rolled his eyes, but he nodded with a grunt and turned to the steering wheel.

‘Thank you,’ the boy whispered as he basically floated outside, lifted by the joyous anticipation.

‘Mademoiselle?’ he offered Marinette an elbow in invitation.

‘Monsieur,’ she stepped next to him, linking her hand through his arm. ‘Shall we?’

And then they set into one of the most exciting walks of Adrien’s life. Some people would say it was a mundane stroll in murky weather, but it was far from it.

Almost instantly the two of them hit a comfortable rhythm, allowing them to walk without bumping into each other. Adrien offered to carry the umbrella for them, so that Marinette could rest her hand, as it snuggly lay in the crook of his arm. 

They talked about everything and nothing, shared gossip about the upcoming patch for the Ultra Mecha Strike II they were excited about. Marinette kept Adrien from getting cold. Just her presence warmed him inside. In return he kept her from stomping into puddles and getting her feet all wet.

At one particularly large puddle, edging on a street lake, Adrien just lifted her off the ground and leaped over the water, with his friend easily tucked in his arms, princess style. The move felt so familiar, so right, it made him stumble in his step. But Marinette didn’t notice, she chuckled lightly under her breath. Adrien was stricken by the trust she had in him. The feeling filled him with delight and stayed with him, even when he deposited the girl safe and dry on the other side of the great water.

It all ended too soon. Suddenly Adrien wished his Chinese tutor lived much, much further from the pool, alas their time was up. Marinette bid him goodbye. Her smile, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes were the best send off he could imagine. 

After that the afternoon went in a blur. Evening came and brought more rain with it. Adrien sat at his huge windows, a wide grin on his face, while he gazed outside, reminiscing upon the unexpectedly pleasant afternoon walk he had. For a second he even considered transforming and running over the roofs to the bakery to see Marinette again. The thought sobbered him up. Ladybug would have his hide, if he did it.

And then he froze, hit with yet another realization. He hadn’t thought of Ladybug even one time in the entire afternoon. He gasped. Did it even mean something?

But he never learned it, because he decided to text Marinette the funniest meme he saw earlier. He didn’t hear Plagg’s snicker from the duffel bag and even if he had, he wouldn’t know the meaning of it either.

[miseriathome]

Requested (cross)post about celebrity rpf

[Real person fic] is almost always about celebrities. And at a certain point, we don't actually understand or know celebrities as real people. After all, celebrities are never actually genuine to the public--even if they seem genuine, it's always a part of the role they play as highly public figures. Celebrities as we know them are personas that real people put on. Fic about them by people who have never intimately met them before is actually fic about their personas--not about the real person. Likewise, as always, fic isn't actually a representation of what you want in real life. You can absolutely write fanfiction about Martin Freeman/Benedict Cumberbatch while being aware of/respecting their real world relationships with other people, and their potential forever lack of interest in one another along those lines. So to that extent, I don't see why rpf about celebrities should be a big deal.

And because I like pointing out grey areas as a way to illustrate why lines are drawn in the sand and nothing matters, here's a bunch of bullet points:

What about self-insert non-rpf fic? What about second-person/reader fic? Aren't there real people involved in those? What if your original character is a thinly-veiled real person?

How do anti-rpf folks feel about Hamilton? Or Bohemian Rhapsody? Or that Steve Jobs movie? Is it only okay when the real people are dead? What about The Social Network? Or that movie about the Obamas? How far in the past do real events have to be to be acceptably reportrayed with creative licenses taken? Are SNL's incredibly timely political skits acceptable? Or are these things only okay because they're professionally produced? In which case, isn't this all just catering to the invisible line between professional authordom and fanfiction authordom that literally constantly shows up in fandom wank as a blatantly obvious double standard?

To follow that train of thought, is it wrong to make posts like "Steve Irwin definitely forgave that manta ray in heaven?" Because you're literally setting up a fictional interaction about a real person against that real person's consent (since, after all, he could have secretly resented and hated that rayfor killing him, even despite his public persona saying it was just doing its job! Because the disjoint between celebrities' public and personal lives is not one you're privy to seeing!) What about posts that are like "Marie Kondo loves you?" What if it's not true? You're literally putting words in a real person's mouth. Where's the line when it comes to acceptable shared comfort illusions based around real people, and when does it start being "too much" and turn into unacceptable real person fic?

Isn't it kind of fucky to say things like "I ship the Obamas?" I mean, what if behind closed doors, their relationship is actually super abusive? Then you're shipping real life abuse! And what if they got divorced? Would you stop shipping them? Or would you continue shipping two people who don't want to be together against their consent? /s

You know when little girls fill up notebooks with "Mrs [their name] [celebrity name]" because they have crushes on celebrities? That's literally a ship. It comes with daydreams about getting married and being domestic and doing interviews because now you're famous. And daydreams are just... unwritten fic. So if an entire real person fanfiction exists in somebody's mind, is it still a problem? Or is it only bad when somebody can see it? What if that little girl tells a friend about those daydreams? What if she writes the fic in a notebook? What if it's in a word doc? What if it's on a private only-those-with-a-link-can-access webpage? What if it only gets sent to people who signed themselves up to be part of a fic-sharing email chain? What if it's on a tiny blog under a read more? When does a fanfiction actually become a fanfiction, and therefore policeable the way thoughts can't be?

What about when the daydream is subconscious? What if it was a dream somebody had about real people? What if they write it down in a dream journal? What if they tell somebody else about it? What if they submit it to a crowdsourced dream journal online?

Where's the line between a fic and a headcanon? When we made memes about Joe Biden desperately wanting to share government secrets, was that going too far? Is role play based on real people fucked up? Because if it is, then the source of the "then perish" meme should be morally appalling.

Boy, do I have thoughts about people who fight over who a celebrity should "get with." Lots of people will only stan the person that somebody is currently with, speaking to that person's decision to be involved with them... but is a show like The Bachelor where you're supposed to root for somebody with a high probability of being wrong exploitative? The people on that show are all real people, and the proper way to engage with that show is to want two of them to get together, but you don't actually know if they will. So really, you're headcanoning and you're shipping. About real people. While also doing exactly what those tv shows expect you to do. Because it's almost like this wank is a nonissue in regular life.

What about tabloids and reality television? It's well known that tabloids lie and reality television is partially scripted/omits things in favor of creating dramatic and entertaining narratives.

What about when it's a fic about somebody whose public persona is very obviously not like their real self? What about when somebody plays a fictional character, but that fictional character has the same name as their real life self (The Colbert Report, Seinfeld, The Drew Carey Show)? How do you navigate that? Is it okay to write about the fictional characters they play? Or if that crossing a line because in some sense, those fictional characters are still them?

Here's the thing: Being anti- something doesn't do anything. It's not even an ideology, it's just a moral code that nobody else has to adhere to. And especially when it comes to a decentralized, non-industrial, unpoliceable phenomena like fanfiction, there's no way to change what people are putting out or why or how. So really, you have to suck up the fact that even if you hate it and it goes against your personal morals, it's going to happen, and then the real question is "what are you going to do about it?" And that's where an anti- morality falls flat, is because they either can't rise above moaning about it or they go out of their way to attack people for having different moralities. So in my opinion, the far more productive and uplifting ideology is to go "okay, this thing exists and I just have to live with that fact. What can I do to help people?"

And... I think also.......... the argument that real people aren't consenting to be a part of those fanfics falls flat when those real people aren't actually a part of the process of creating that fanfiction. You don't get to consent (or not) to something that doesn't involve you, that doesn't affect you. And the idea that these things affect celebrities is ridiculous. Wank about real person fic, headcanons about OC's, etc are ridiculous. Fanfics are thoughts put on paper and published, and really it's only possible to be against what you can see. If you loudly decree that (any type of) fanfiction is wrong, the least that happens is literally nothing, and the most that happens is you manage to chase it out of the public eye, but it will nonetheless continue on smaller websites or in email chain or in physical zines or in personal notebooks or in peoples' brains. But if anti- types are just satisfied with having it out of sight and out of mind, then they don't actually care about the arguments they're making about peoples' rights... and this effect could have just as easily been achieved by those people curating their own environments to not contain real person fiction, instead of treading on the toes of people writing it.

Being a celebrity means being known and being interpreted and even being misread. In fact, being a social being comes with these risks. People will misunderstand you, misread you, misattribute things to you, misremember you, miscategorize you. I think there are a lot of people who fear what it means to be known, and they channel their anxieties and insecurities into "defending" the "rights" of others not to be misrepresented in others' minds. But that's not how being a secure person works. Becoming, for all intents and purposes, a persona in the minds of others--being turned into a caricature and being framed and reframed through every lens possible--is part of the job description of being a public figure. People are supposed to think they understand something about celebrities. Celebrities are supposed to sell themselves as fantasy/outrage fuel. If a celebrity weren't interesting enough to invoke masses of people thinking about them, they would be out of a job. People are supposed to turn celebrities into dolls to play with in their minds, and there's no shame in engaging with culture as culture is set up to function.

Obviously this write-up overlooks non-celebrity real person fic which has more nuance to it, but ultimately I think the point that “people are going to do it anyways, so what are you going to do about it?” still stands.

[iamherenotthere]

It’s 15 minutes after the deadline, but here’s my contribution for Ichirukimonth 2018: Day 14: Any 

Summary:  My take on the meme started by Prettysketch, Dance With Snow White.

“The Soul King is the key to this world.  If the Soul King dies, Seireitei, the present world, Hueco Mundo, Everything…will disappear. -Hyōsube Ichibē”

He saw his blade strike home, saw Zangetsu cleave through Ywhach’s body.  Then everything…shattered.

“It’s starting Orihime” Ichigo said.

“Be right there!” His wife cheerfully replied.

“You seen Kazui?”

“Hrmm.  He should be upstairs. According to Tsubaki and the others, he just got back in from snooping around Hiyori’s place.”

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. I’m married to Orihime? He thought.  What?  Why would that happen? That just doesn’t make sense.

Nothing Ichigo saw was making sense. The latest fragment drifted away from him tumbling end over end glinting like a mirror shard.  They surrounded him as far as the eye could see.  He floated in a formless void, helpless and confused, surrounded by the glowing, glassy things displaying light and life and sound.  Some of the fragments made sense.  There he was as a child learning karate with Tatsuki.  Over there he saw Isshin treating a patient.  Further out was someone he didn’t even know going about his daily business setting up shop.  Ichigo couldn’t understand what it all meant.  And every once in a while, he’d see something that he knew didn’t happen.

“Traitor!” Ichigo snarled.  “Did you really think you could get by me with something like this?” Angrily he held up a silver arrowhead.  “How dare you call yourself a Quincy?  How dare you raise your hand against the emperor?”

Ishida raised his head up from the dust to glare up at Ywhach’s successor.  Blood spewed from his mouth as he fought for breath staining the boots of Ichigo’s snow white uniform.

“Don’t be a damned fool Kurosaki.” He panted. “Can’t you see?  He’s no leader. He’s a monster!  He’s going to destroy everything.  You have to fight the hold he’s placed on your mind Ichigo.  You have to break free!”

The former Shinigami sneered as he drew Zangetsu from his back. “The only thing I have to do is eliminate the last obstacle to our future.”

Ichigo turned away.  He couldn’t bear to watch anymore.  There’s no way that could ever have happened. Ishida was his friend.  What could ever make him want to harm his friends?  It was a lie.  It had to be.  

Floating around was getting him nowhere.  He tried touching one of the fragments.  It moved away from his fingers like a soap bubble.  Reaching for another had the same effect.  There had to be something he could do!  He sighed as a different fragment drifted past his eyes.  

Ywach chuckled. “You never had a chance Kurosaki Ichigo.  There was always a missing element in your attack.”

“I’m not done yet.” Ichigo declared. “Let’s see if I can find that element.”

“No need.” Ywhach mockingly assured him. “I’ve found it for you.”

Reaching into his billowing cape of eyes, he dragged out something large.  Or rather, someone.  Tightly bound and hobbled, she struggled to stay on her feet as Ywhach cruelly dragged her forward by the rope around her neck.  Ichigo had flashbacks to Aizen pulling her by her prisoner collar.  

“Rukia!” Ichigo cried.

“Yes, Kuchiki Rukia. “ Ywhach confirmed.  “By trying to protect her, you have engineered your doom.  Had you attacked me as a team you had a slim, but very real chance of winning.”  

“Ichigo…” She gasped fighting off strangulation. “Run...”

“Don’t worry Rukia.” Ichigo said bringing Zangetsu to the ready position. “I’ll save you!”

“Oh, I can’t allow that.” Ywhach countered.  “While you have a slim chance with her alive, dead you have no chance at all.”

Ichigo screamed in terror as Ywhach drew his sword.  Even as he moved with every ounce of strength in his body, Ywhach seemed to move even faster.  He was powerless to do anything as the blade swung down.

“NO!” Ichigo shouted. “RUKIA!”

“Ichigo?” A far away voice answered.

“Rukia? Is that you?” He called back.  

“Of course it’s me fool!  Who else would it be?”

He smiled.  Just hearing her voice again made him feel better.  At least he wasn’t alone.  The spinning fragment containing her death drifted away forgotten.

“Where are you?” He asked “I can’t see you.”

“I don’t know.” She griped.  “I’m just sort of floating around out here.”

“Can you see me?”

“If you can’t see me, then how can I see you?”

“Good point.  Wait a minute, I’m going to try something.”  

Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind.  Closing his eyes, he focused inward, trying to see with his mind’s eye.  It didn’t take long for him to see it.  The unbreakable bond.  The red ribbon connecting him to Rukia.  Now that he had a fix on it, he gathered spiritrons under his feet and followed it through the glittering cloud.  

I’m coming your way.” He announced. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Me too.” He heard her say.  “You sound louder.  We’re getting close.”

They nearly bumped heads when met. They both clutched the others sleeves to stop moving.  Ichigo managed to pull enough spritrons together under his feet to create a “floor” allowing them a place to stand.

“Rukia. What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“I…I couldn’t stand waiting for you Ichigo.  I felt I had to be there with you for some reason.  I followed you and Renji as fast as I could.  I’m…I’m sorry Ichigo.  I wasn’t there in time to help.”

“Did you see what happened?” Ichigo asked. “One second I’m fighting Ywhach, the next we’re…here. And where is here anyway?  Are we in another dimension?  Another world?”

She sadly shook her head.  “No Ichigo. This isn’t another world.  Oh...how can I explain this? This is...all the worlds.  All of space and time.  Everything that was and everything that might have been.  All smashed to pieces.”

“How is that possible?” He said. “How could our battle destroy everything?”

“Don’t you see?” She replied. “Soul Society set up the Soul King as the linchpin to reality. Ywhach took on that role when he absorbed the Soul King’s power. When you defeated him, that linchpin was destroyed.”

“What, seriously?” Ichigo demanded.

“Yes! Seriously!” Rukia countered. “Do you have a better explanation for what you see here?”

“Well is there anyone else here?” Ichigo asked. “Hello! Hello!”

They both tried shouting.  “Hello! Hello!”

“Looks like it's just us here.” Ichigo observed. “Why is that?”

“I don't know.” Rukia replied.

“So what happens now?”

“I don't know.”

“Well what about...”

“Ichigo!” Rukia snapped. She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.  I didn't meant to do that.  I...I'm a little scared right now.  I knew something like this could happen if the Soul King was killed, but I was never trained, never prepared to deal with it.  I'm sorry Ichigo. I can't help you.”

Ichigo gave a wry smile.  “I'm sorry too. I'm so used to getting my answers from you.  You've always been there to tell me what to do.  I think I might putting too much on your shoulders sometimes.”

“It's all right.” She said. “Someone has to be there to keep you steady.  Right?”

They both smiled bravely, but the fear persisted.  Unconsciously, Ichigo pulled her close.  He could feel her heart pounding against his chest as the fragments swirled around them.  

“Ichigo, look.” Rukia pointed. “That piece over there.”

Following her finger, he quickly realized what was happening.

“It's dying.” He said.

As they watched, the “life” guttered out of the fragment leaving it gray and dull.

“Is this what's going to happen?” He asked. “Is everything just going to fade out?”

“I think so.” Rukia replied. “With reality broken, there's nothing to generate new energy.  New life.  I think this is the end of everthing.”

As more fragments began to sputter and die, it became harder to maintain the spiritrons under his feet.   Ichigo stumbled as he lost his footing.

“Hey be careful.” Rukai warned.

“I'm trying.” He replied trying to regain a hold. They began spinning in place.

“Let me try.” Rukia offered.  She had no more luck than Ichigo.  With energy fading there was less to work with every second.  

“I'm starting to get dizzy.” Ichigo complained.

Rukia nervously chuckled. “Why Mr. Kurosaki, you dance divinely.”

Ichigo tried to think up a comeback when he noticed something.  

“Hey Rukia. Do you feel that?”

She frowned. “Feel what?”

“I'm not sure.” He answered. “Just follow my lead.”

Instead of trying to stop the spin, Ichigo began using what little push he could generate to increase it.

“Can you feel it now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Rukia replied. “I can feel something.  I can feel power.  We're generating something.”

It wasn't long at all before they could create a solid spritron platform again.  

“Interesting.” Rukia noted. “But what good are we doing?”

“Who knows?” He replied. “It's not like we have anything better to do.  Besides, it just feels right.”

“I've trusted your instincts before.” She said with a smile. “And yes, what else do we have to do.”

Ichigo had an idea. “This is getting boring. Let me show you a few moves.”

With a solid “floor” under his feet, he began to move in a pattern.  Placing his hand on Rukia's waist, he held her hand out to the side. “Here, follow my lead. This is a basic box step. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4.”

Rukia was surprised. “You never told me you could dance.”

“Mom used to teach me when I was little.” He said. “I was planning to show you some day.  Let's try this now.”

Ichigo showed her new steps and moves as they went along floating in the vacuum.  The energy they generated grew stronger and stronger.

“The fragments.” Rukia said. “They're glowing again.”

“And they're moving different too.” He added.  “They were all moving outward before.  Now they're starting to move back.  Let's keep it up!”

As the fragments bumped and collided around them,  they began to make a strange sort of music.  The young couple began to forget the predicament they were in and were actually enjoying themselves.  With the energy growing by the second, it began to affect them. Before Ichigo's eyes, Rukia transformed into a vision in frosty white.  Laughing she pointed at him.  He was transforming into his final form, covered in black flames.  Fire and Ice, Yin and Yang, they danced in perfect balance and harmony.  

Suddenly Ichigo saw it.  Reaching out, he pulled a fragment out of the maelstrom.  He showed it to Rukia. It was them.  It was the very first moment they met in Ichigo's room. Rukia spotted another fragment and seized it.  It was the moment she gave Ichigo her powers.  Using his flame, Ichigo melded the fragment together.  Using her ice, she sealed the mended pieces together. They soon found more.  Going to school together.  Fighting Shrieker. Battling Renji and Byakuya.  Meeting again in Soul Society.  Moment leading into moment, piece leading to piece, the broken pieces of reality were being reforged.  It became a part of their dance as they moved back and forth, finding and repairing reality, one shattered piece at a time.  

How long could it take to repair infinite pieces?  It didn't really matter.  In the void there was no time, only the satisfaction of purpose, the joy of creation, and the dance, always the dance.  They put back together not just their lives, but all lives.  They fixed the warped and damaged pieces created by Ywhach's perversion, setting things right.  They were new gods of creation, remaking the world with the power of their dance. After an infinity of time that didn't seem that long at all, they were done, all of reality arcing overhead, a rainbow of light and life and possibility.  The song of the universe was quiet now, only a steady thrum like the beating of a heart.  And still they danced.

“It's almost done.” Rukia told him. “There's only one part left.”

Ichigo nodded. “Us.  Once we go back, it all starts again.”

“I wonder what's going to happen?” She asked. “I wonder how it will be when we go back.”

“I know what you mean.” He answered.  “I'm kinda nervous myself.  Let not think about that for now.  Lets just dance for a little while longer.”

Swaying in each other's arms, they put all other thoughts aside, simply enjoying each other's company.

“Rukia.” Ichigo began. “Before we go back, I just want to tell you...”

She put her finger against his lips. “I know.”

The music slowed, then stopped. Rukia let him go and stepped away.

“It's time.”

Nodding, he took her hand.  Reaching upward, they rejoined the rest of the universe.

A strange voice was speaking.

“When the two that share destiny part and reunite, beyond the frame of time the ceased clock will awake and start to tick once again.”

Opening his eyes, he saw a strange tall man standing over him.

“Hello. Ichigo is it? I'd like to thank you for putting everything back together. I have to admit I was a bit worried. Prophecy's not as cut and dried as people think.”

It was then Ichigo noticed his eyes.  They were just like Ywhach's! He scrambled to his feet in alarm and whipped Zangestu off his back. 

“Just who the hell are you!?” He snarled.

“No need for that.” The strange man assured him.  He began to stretch and wave his hands around. “Ah, it's so nice to have my arms and legs back.  I hope they had a good time.”

“Listen freak!” Ichigo warned. “If you don't tell me who you are and just what the hell is going on...”

He was interrupted by a smack on the head.

“Fool!” Rukia shouted. “You can't talk to the Soul King like that!”

“Argh, dammit Rukia!” He complained rubbing his head. “Wait a minute. That's the Soul King?  Wait.  Rukia? We're back? We're back!”

Dropping Zangetsu on the floor, he swept Rukia up in his arms.  Laughing and talking excitedly, they lost all notice of their royal host.  He turned his back to give them some privacy.  Well, as much as a near omnipresent being like himself could give.  There would be time to go over his plans for them later.  This was only the first step in a series of badly needed reforms in Soul Society.  They still had a lot to do and Ichigo and Rukia would be key to every step.  Judging by the way they were still holding each other, he was sure they wouldn't mind.