#kisukc

oH― OH HE GETS IT NOW. YOU'RE ALL PERVERTS !!

@ichigokurosaki @galeforged betrayal.....

Anonymous asked:

Kisuke you are banned from hats for a day. - Totally not another Kisuke

Banned from hats?

He removes the one that's been his favored of late and pouts at it, a redolent funk of unwashed canvas and stale sweat wafting up to meet his nostrils.

Well... the Collective had spoken.

With a poignant fondness, he bids it adieu and returns it to shelf with the others, there to enjoy a deserved holiday.

Fifteen minutes later...

"Has he gone?"

"I shall seize upon this opportunity to commit acts of laundry!"

@kisukc​

snorts holding in a laugh

@kisukc​ asked:

He heard loving Soifon hours~

Send me 🔪 to stab my muse.

              hatred was a FINE VINTAGE as far as aizen sousuke was concerned. to say that he would ever not despise the man that wore such a ridiculous hat or hairstyle or geta would be honest. oh, aizen loathed kisuke urahara from the very bottom of his soul and his soul was vast indeed, a thing of tremendous power and substance both. but oh, his hatred had many layers to it; kisuke urahara’s indifference to the system that was so corrupt, simply willing to accept it as it was. how foolish. 

              he was not surprised to find benihime had been driven through him, was not surprised byt he pain that cut through the bindings of muken. but what did amuse him was the fact that the hypocrite thought it would halt him. slowly, aizen’s lips parted and he ran his tongue over his teeth. was kisuke urahara blind? truth, kyouka suigetsu had once more manifested within her lord’s grasp and that -- that was far finer a thing than the hogyouku. what it wrought. but still, a god was not made to BLEED IDLY. and to be so heretical as to strike at him was to be of the utmost folly. the bindings of muken held aizen, yes -- but every seal could be broken and aizen was intelligent.

              slowly, his eye shifted to gaze downwards to this man who could justifiably be called his counterpart. he knew those tricks. he knew those traits. and he knew, too, that kisuke urahara was not always clever. just as aizen himself could be felled, had been felled, so too could kisuke. his eye was cold as death, though, staring down into those pools of gunmetal gray, something vast and monstrous rolling up in his body. would he ever speak of what the hogyouku had birthed in him? it had been inevitable for he had stepped away from shinigami -- had felt the power of the cero. his chest had bloomed open on a cold winter’s day long ago. two years ago. twenty-four months. did kisuke think he could surpass what had already been done to him by another man, a better man?

              you’re gonna die with a hole in your heart, just like you always wanted.

              no. kisuke urahara was no gin ichimaru.

              ❝ how interesting, ❞ he said in a mild tone, barely even flinching as the blade twisted in his guts. ❝ so -- the great hypocrite himself chooses to try and fell me in order to bind me in muken once morel. after all that i have done this day for you and your chosen companions. ❞ 

              it was enough to make aizen smile.

              ❝ i remember once what you said, kisuke urahara -- that i would never have willingly touched you twice without a plan in mind. so -- the question becomes -- what plan did you have in mind this time? ❞

              he saw those eyes going wide even as his hand curled around kisuke’s wrist. even through the heavy bindings that wrapped around him, aizen could still exert his POWER. and exert it he did, flaring it, for with how close kisuke was to him, the grip would be his tether to the god as aizen allowed himself to shift a hand upwards, moving it to the seals around his head. long fingers dug under the cloth, pulled at it, worked at it. it hurt -- but no more than what he had done. he was already a pained thing, a wounded god. but his fingers shifted and wrenched, tugging at the seal and then he was flaring his power yet again, anew upon what he already was pouring from his veins. 

              the seal shattered.

              the smallest crack within a dam could unleash the floodgates and this? this was no mere crack. this was something larger, deeper, the dam bearing a crack in it. the water pressure would eventually make it explode, of course, to be a torrential outpouring. and slowly that eye came open, a field of rich amethyst decorated with a dot of argent shade. inhuman. HOLLOW. yes -- something had been birthed within aizen sousuke that day of his own folly. something hungry and monstrous, something that wanted to crack this man’s skull open and feast upon his soul in kind. perhaps he just might do so -- could he tolerate the taste that would linger for likely years afterwards. ah -- but would he be willing to do so? yes. yes and yes and yes.

              ❝ shibari-- ❞

              too little. too little indeed.

              ❝ you think that i do not know why you turn your eyes from the system, kisuke urahara? you are complicit in it. my own research was inspired by yours. and yet -- friend of the seireitei they name you. friend -- when you are just as duplicitous as i am. just as manipulative. after all -- i wonder if kurosaki ichigo and his friends ever figured it out -- you fed souls to your own hogyouku, did you not? i wonder if they did. perhaps they never will; they wish to be blind to what you are doing because you aid them. THE HYPOCRISY DISGUSTS ME. ❞

              his power flared AGAIN. how much more could aizen pull forth? he could feel that skin blistering where his fingers dug into that wrist and he knew that kisuke realized what he did at the same time -- the side of his hand halted benihime’s course towards that arm as aizen began to smile, a true smile now, and not the deadened smirk that so often was upon his face now. 

              ❝ no. i will not let you cut your own arm off to escape me. i still owe you for that kido you used upon me. ❞

              nevermind that his own will had sapped away that day. nevermind he knew why it had been. kisuke urahara had always made him angry. how could a man so intelligent be willing to buy into a system that produced children like himself, like renji, like rukia and gin and rangiku and all the others? how could he so willingly be blind to the pervasions that kurotsuchi mayuri did in the name of being sanctioned by the central forty-six? how could he so willingly choke down the injustice of it all, the broken system, the rotten laws? no. this was no system to defend and uphold. this was a system that needed to be overturned, destroyed, remade.

              at least he had the desire, the ambition, to see it happen.

              aizen’s lips parted slowly and then he was purring out a word. one word. his favorite, the cloying taste of it thick on his tongue, and he did not hold back now.  his voice began to roll, filling with more and power power with every syllable that dropped forth as he felt the flesh starting to char, felt kisuke struggling to escape the weight of his reiatsu, felt him trying, twisting, turning, desperate for once to get free and away. his head smashed forward as he saw those lips beginning to form the word that might give him an edge -- but no. no, he would not permit him to use his bankai. not today.

              ❝ Seeping crest of turbidity. Arrogant vessel of lunacy! Boil forth and deny! Grow numb and flicker! Disrupt sleep! Crawling queen of iron! Eternally self-destructing doll of mud! Unite! Repulse! Fill with soil and know your own powerlessness! ❞

              his grin was FERAL.

              ❝ hado ninety -- KUROHITSUGI. ❞

              darkness slammed in around them both, darkness so deep that it was different than muken. he thought he heard a scream somewhere. shihoin yoruichi? too little, too late. he had caught urahara at last, had he not? the gravity was immense, crushing, a power so vast and far more than what he had brought against ichigo or even earlier in that infernal chair that mayuri had designed. he’d have to speak with the demented captain later about the indignity of it. but the weight was there, lifeless, suffocating, twisting and crushing and he felt something BREAKING IN HIS GRIP--