Tokyo Ghoul artist/writer pair up event!

Main blog: canadianlucifer Deadline is November 30th!

[tgpairup]

The pairs!

And here they are! Please contact your partners as soon as you can, and have fun! If there's any issue, don't hesitate to ask.

Artists on the left, writers on the right

@maryshinonome and @den-den-denji

@shewhoeatssand and @blisslilacwisteria

@midnightcreaturexx and @just-another-tokyo-ghoul-fan

@whatvilecreature and @the-outcast-ed

@gutz-radio and @vampireernie

@climbing-starrs and @milkshakeeee

@exulzae and @ipsen

@contagiosis and @quino7

@karawebo and @roseythorn10

@captain-astors and @mossy-rot

@canadianlucifer and @eltheabberation

@succulent-mud and @justsumfangurlmind

@lizardzap and @desisailormoon

@tatatatatara and @tg-headcanons

@chertpole and @ipsen

Can't wait to see the works that everyone makes!

[exulzae]

etoken for @ipsen , my partner for the @tgpairup

Why am I always late for these things T-T. I hope you like the art <3

[tatatatatara]

A humble offering for @tg-headcanons as part of the @tgpairup because I can never make a piece equivalent to PSYB so I'll use quantity to make up for it.

Inspired by their fic Some Semblance Of Home and their bio!

[canadianlucifer]

My part for tg pair up with @eltheabberation !

[eltheabberation]

My part for @tgpairup with @canadianlucifer :D This was my first time doing something like this and I'm really glad I got to participate. I ended up writing a fic about Touka, so hopefully you like it :D

Drip. 

Touka cursed under her breath. Mr. Yoshimura glanced at her. 

“What’s wrong?” the older man asked.

Touka turned back to look at her cup.

She’d been working at Anteiku for a week now, and yet she still couldn’t get the hang of it. The coffee she made was too bitter, the counters she cleaned were too dusty, and now…

“…pitcher… pours too fast,” she grumbled.

“Hm?”

“I said the stupid pitcher pours too fast.”

He walked over to the counter Touka was working at and looked over her shoulder. Coffee dripped down the sides of her cup. He looked back at her.

“May I?” He held out his hand. She handed the pitcher to him. He took it with a nod and pulled out two more cups.

“You have to be patient,” he said as he poured into one of the cups. “You can’t tip the pitcher too much, then it overflows. Don’t pour in just one place either, try moving it in a circular fashion.” He handed the pitcher back to her and motioned to the other cup. “Now you try.”

Touka fumbled with the pitcher as she tried to copy his movements.

“A little slower,” he said. She tipped her hand back slightly. “And stop.” 

Touka looked at her work. It was… well, it wasn’t overflowing this time. She took a sip and grimaced. 

“It’ll get better,” Yoshimura reassured her. “One day, you’ll look back and think of how far you’ve come.”

Touka wanted to scoff, but hesitated. Instead, she remained silent, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her face. 

“Well, anyway,” Yoshimura said, picking up the cups and pitcher and moving over to the sink. He pulled something out of a drawer, and then walked back over to Touka. “Here. For your studies.”

A math textbook, the grade above the previous one she’d been lent, and another small book. She opened it. 

“It’s a short story collection,” he explained. “To practice your kanji.”

“...Thanks.” Ever since Yoshimura had suggested she attend school, Touka had been studying however she could to try and catch up with the other kids her age. It was hard, but she was starting to get the hang of it. 

“Hopefully you’ll be able to enroll next semester,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, stuffing the books into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. “I have to go, er, make sure Ayato’s alright. He doesn’t do very well on his own.”

“Alright.” Yoshimura gave her a gentle smile. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you.”

***

Touka entered the coffee shop already in a bad mood. Dragging herself to work had been nothing short of a hassle, and her leg still ached from the night before, the bone still not fully healed.

“Fucking Tsukiyama…” she muttered.

“Morning, Touka!” Koma called. The fearsome ghoul known as the Devil Ape was currently busy mopping the floors of the small cafe. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Morning,” Touka replied, brushing past him as quickly as she could. Koma was nice enough, but she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation right now. 

When she made it to the back room, Yoshimura was waiting for her. 

“Morning, Mr. Yoshimura,” she muttered.

“Yomo told me-”

Touka made a purposeful show of completely ignoring everything he was saying, instead moving over to the cupboard to get the supplies she needed for the day. 

“Touka, please, I’m serious, if you keep this up-”

“It’s none of your business.” She pulled a can of coffee beans off the shelf and opened it. Almost empty. “Whatever brand this is, we need to restock it,” she called.

“Don’t change the subject,” he said sternly. “What you and Ayato are doing is incredibly reckless, and if the doves catch wind of it-”

“If the doves catch wind of it, we’ll kill them.” She took another can off the shelf and checked it as well. “This one’s still pretty full.”

“You and Ayato can’t take on a whole army of doves, Touka. And what about the other ghouls in the ward? They’ll be vulnerable too.”

“To hell with all of them,” she grumbled. “Just stop lecturing me.” She reached for another can of beans, this one a shelf higher. Suddenly, she heard a sharp crack, a shock of pain going through her leg. She hissed, her jaw clenched.

“I- Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. She tried to move her leg. “Shit!” More pain, and now her head was splitting. 

Suddenly, Yoshimura was at her side. He held out a hand. She steadied herself and mumbled a thanks.

“I’m just worried about you. You and Ayato both. That’s all,” he said.

Touka fell silent.

“How about you take the day off today?” he suggested.

“Sure,” she mumbled.

“Do you need any help getting to your apartment?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

As she stumbled towards the doorway, Mr. Yoshimura called out one last time.

“Be careful, alright?

“...alright.”

***

Touka set her school bag with a plunk.

“How was it?”

“Huh?” She looked up at Yoshimura.

“Ah, school, I mean,” he said, handing her a kettle. “Can you fill this up please?”

“Sure.” She walked over to the sink. “It was… it was fine,” she said, as she turned it on.

“Just fine?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Well, it was nice…”

“... but?”

She sighed. “There were just… a lot of humans.”

“You didn’t like that?”

“No, I mean, that’s not it,” she said, walking over to hand him the kettle. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He put it down on the counter. “So, what is it then?"

“Well, it’s not that I didn’t… like it,” she said, fumbling to find the right words, folding her hands on the counter. “It just felt… weird. They’re nice and all, but they…” They can have dinner with their families. They can eat without feeling guilty. They don’t have to live in fear of doves. They’ve never had to kill a person in their lives.

They aren’t monsters.

“I understand.” Yoshimura’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. When she looked up at him, his smile was soft. Sympathetic.

“Mhm.” She looked back down at her hands, trying to find another topic. “Oh!” She suddenly remembered something else. “I made a friend today… I think.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!” she snapped, waving a hand around. “Her name was Yoriko. She, uh, seemed nice.” She narrowed her eyes. “She even gave me some of her lunch.”

“So a bit too nice, I suppose,” Yoshimura joked. He chuckled to himself.

“I had to miss 4th period.” Touka grumbled. She grumbled. “At least she seemed happy.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re making friends.” He smiled warmly at her. 

She looked back down. “Yeah…” She started to smile, then stopped. Remembered. Remembered the difference between her and Yoriko. 

“Yeah.” More somber, this time. 

It was a bittersweet day.

***

Touka had barely said a word all day.

When she’d first come into work, she’d been shaking. She quietly greeted Koma and Irimi, before rushing into the back room. Since then, her conversations had been limited to asking customers for their orders and little else. 

How could she, really? How could she go about her day as if it was normal, as if nothing happened?

Her hand slipped, fumbling with the pot she was holding. Hot coffee spilled down her hand and onto the counter. She clenched her teeth, put the pot down, and went to get a towel.

“Everything alright?” Yoshimura asked. 

“Yeah, sure.” She opened up one of the cupboards and pulled out a towel, then went back over to the counter.

“We can talk about it if you’d like.”

“I don’t.” She carefully wiped the spilled coffee. “So stop asking.”

“Are you sure?” he persisted. “Because-”

“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” She hadn’t meant to be that loud, but what had come out was almost a scream. She glanced in the direction of the main cafe, then back at her workstation. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Her eyes started to sting. She leaned over on the counter, her head in her hands.

She heard Yoshimura’s footsteps behind her, then felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She looked up, no doubt a few tears were rolling down her cheeks. He offered a small smile.

“I…” She took a deep, shaky breath. “He just- he just… left! I didn’t even know he- he was planning on leaving but he had his- his bags packed and… and everything! How long had he been…

“He said… He said I was going to sc-crew things up one day, like- like Dad, and he didn’t want to be- to be there when that happened.” She hiccuped, and brought a hand up to her face. “And- And he’s right! One of these days- One of these days I’m going to screw things up and then the doves will come for me like they came for Dad and Yoriko-”

Yoriko will hate me.

It was a strange thought, really. Strange and dangerous, because it shouldn’t have meant that much to her. And yet it did. 

She fell silent.

“You’re worried about your friendships?”

“I-I mean, it’s not that, it’s just…” Touka sighed. “If she ever learned… she’d turn me in, and I can’t-”

“Do you really know that?”

Touka frowned, and looked up at Yoshimura. “What are you saying?”

He looked off into the distance, almost wistfully. “I think you might underestimate how much that girl cares about you.” He looked back at her. “And even if something does happen, I promise that we’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe.” He thought for a second. “But that’s not the only thing, isn’t it.” He phrased it more like a statement than a question. 

Touka stared at her hands. “...He was all I had left.”

Yoshimura remained silent, listening. She continued. 

“Mom’s gone, and Dad’s gone, and now Ayato…” She took in a hitched breath. “Ayato’s gone too, and I…”

(don’t want to be alone)

“...don’t know what to do.”

There was a moment of quiet, the only sounds being the muffled chatter of those in the room outside. Then, he finally spoke:

“No matter what happens, you’ll always have us here at Anteiku. I promise.” 

“...thank you.” 

“Would you like the rest of the day off?”

“No, it’s…” Touka got up, rubbing her eyes. “I’d rather stay here.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Alright then.”

She smiled back.

***

Ding.

The sound of the door chimes echoed into the empty room, across chairs stacked atop tables, through unstocked shelves and barren cupboards, around a place that was devoid of life, of memory.

Touka stepped into the building, a bag of supplies slung over her shoulder. She made her way across the room to the back. 

She dropped the bag onto the counter, pulled an elastic off her wrist and tied her hair back. Then she got to work. 

Anteiku was gone.

It had all been so sudden, really. One moment everything was normal, and the next, Yomo was taking her far away from the 20th ward as she watched the place she called home burn. And the next, she was here.

She pulled a kettle from the bag and filled it up from the sink. She pulled it away and set it to steep on the counter.

There were so many others that were gone too, or might as well be. Hinami had disappeared, she probably would never see Yoriko again, and Kaneki… 

He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. Rumours were rumours, and nothing more. He was alive, and he would come back one day.

You said Dad would come back too, didn’t you?

She pulled a pitcher, a filter, and some coffee beans out of the bag and began setting them up. 

How did that turn out for you?

She shook the thoughts away. It was best not to think about it, best not to think about the possibilities, best not to think about him at all.

She had lost too many people already.

Mr. Yoshimura, on the other hand, she knew was gone. She’d seen the footage from the news, CCG investigators proclaiming their defeat of the “Non-Killing Owl.” Tried to look away, cover her ears, pretend that they were lying, that he was alright, and that at any moment he could turn the corner and greet her, apologize for being late, for not being there. And yet that would never happen. 

She poured the water through the filter into the pitcher, then pulled out a cup and saucer.

She let out a sigh, willing the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes to recede. Filled her cup and took a sip. 

Mr. Yoshimura?

She’d lost a lot in her life. Friends, family, and it never really did seem to stop. But she could live with the pain. Live on for them, in their memory, or in the hopes that they would return.

I think you would have been proud of me.

[chertpole]

My job is for @tgpairup event. @ipsen and I discussed a green-haired witch a lot, and in the beginning I wanted to draw different arts revealing her character, but then they formed into a plot

[tg-headcanons]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiii :3 @tatatatatara https://archiveofourown.org/works/50797723/chapters/131442670#workskin

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[mossy-rot]

The Smell of Rotting Gardenias

Cross-posted to AO3, my piece for @captain-astors for the tokyo ghoul pair up!

Drip, drip, drip.

Hide stared at the flowers before him, watching the dew slide off the petals, drop by drop.

Drip, drip, drip.

A ladybug crawled up the stem, slowly. His fingers raised to his face, brushing over the thick bandages with featherlight touch.

Drip, drip, drip.

Images of a damp, cold sewer came to mind. Blurred images of his feet on the concrete, of his hand on a man’s shoulder, of the drool that slid down lips and chin.

Drip, drip, drip.

The ladybug is caught by one of the drops, dragging it down, against its struggle. His fingers clench in the bandages.

Drip, drip, drip.

He remembers his words. He remembers hunger. He remembers pain.

Drip, drip.

A hand reaches into his vision, pale and slender, stopping the ladybug’s descent. It’s freed of its watery prison, now using tiny limbs to wipe away the liquid.

“Poor thing,” a voice murmurs, soft and raspy but not without a lilt that spoke of extravagance. They set the bug on top of the flower, a petal without dew, and watched it scurry away.

Hide lifts his head to see the owner of the voice, letting his eyes settle on him.

As expected from his hand, the man was slender- with a paled pallor to his skin that screamed of sickness, if the way his hospital-sanctioned clothes hung loose on his figure hadn’t said enough. Despite this, his hair- vibrant as a damn marker in its purple color- was still neatly combed, styled to perfection.

Strange, to be so well preened in a hospital courtyard. He felt- well, what was left of his mouth- twitch up into an amused smile.

He leaned over to his side of the stone bench, picking up his notepad. Scribbling a quick note onto the page, he tore it off, offering it up to the man.

The stranger startled at first, looking down at the paper with surprise, before reading the message.

“Save bugs here often?”

It’s a silly question, but he enjoys the way the man’s face crinkles with confusion.

“Oh, no, I’m..” His eyes wander, before he coughs into his fist. “I’m new here. This is my first day out in the courtyard.”

Hide’s eyebrows raise, and his pencil goes right back to the page.

He flips the notebook around, letting him read the message. “Welcome to the garden, I guess. It’s better than inside for sure. I’m Hide.” After he’s sure he read the note, he puts the book down and extends his hand.

“Oh- well, you’re certainly right about that.” He takes Hide’s hand in a gentle handshake. “My name is Shuu.”

Shuu gives a small smile that doesn’t reach the eyes, and sits beside Hide.

The silence they fell into couldn’t be described as comfortable, but he took what he could get. It beat someone trying to talk his ear off. The only noises present were the soft chirping of birds, the occasional bustle of people walking past, and the like.

Shuu barely so much as spared him a glance as they sat together, observing the ladybug he had rescued feast upon some stray aphids. Then again, Shuu didn’t seem to actually be looking at much- staring far past the meager garden, boring a hole into the flora with empty eyes.

As Hide expected, the man went just as he came; quietly, with little to say and the shuffle of someone only present by obligation.

Which is why when it happened a second time, Hide found himself intrigued.

Hide had developed what he liked to call a routine during his time in the hospital. The regular rounds of check-ups, bland meals every few hours, and his time out in the gardens- the only time he got to enjoy, to the best of his ability. The outside was, at bare minimum, free of sterile halls and the tired song of heart monitors.

To have a new addition to this routine was… interesting.

As the day before, he had huddled himself up on his usual spot- a cold, rough bench that got just enough sun to be tolerable- watching bugs skitter by.

He didn’t have time to get lost in his thoughts today, though, as by the time his mind began to wander into all those little dark corners, the space next to him was filled.

The glint of vibrant purple in the corner of his vision was enough to let him know who had taken the spot. It wasn’t unwelcome, really, just unexpected.

He wrote a quick note, sliding it over to the man. “Welcome back.”

Despite not glancing back over, he saw the hint of a smile in his peripheral vision.

Like the day before, they sat together in silence, observing the area around them, basking in the warm sunlight. He noticed that some of the plants had begun to wilt- the roses, maybe? He wasn’t sure what they were called.

He wondered if Shuu noticed, too.

Of course, he was still in the hospital. It was only a matter of time before they had to call him back into his little personal hell.

A woman, nice enough but surrounded by an aura of exhaustion that you felt bad simply by being there, walked up to him. “Alright, Hide. It’s time for your favorite part of the day,” she spoke, her words pressed through a sieve of corporate safe vocal inflections. He heaved a quiet sigh, near inaudible through the layers of gauze, as he lifted himself to his feet.

He didn’t acknowledge the soft ‘oh,’ of disappointment he heard, but he did manage to give a half-hearted wave as he was guided back into the building.

Check-ups went as they always did- poking and prodding here, a nasty jab of a needle there. At the very least, they didn’t make him look in the mirror this time.

By the time he manages to zone back in, the doctor seems to be on an entirely different subject. His facial reconstruction.

“We can’t guarantee the success of a voice box for you, but for the time being, it could be a good option. Then, you would be able to talk without the difficulty of your mouth in its current state.” The doctor said- what were they talking about before?- after handing him a stack of papers. He could assume they were.. some sort of waiver? He didn’t want to think about it right now.

He wasn’t allowed back outside that day. He could merely yearn for the spring chill from the confines of a room much colder than the free air, buzzing with fluorescent light.

He wondered if the news was right, about the Eye Patch ghoul being missing. About perhaps even being dead. He wondered if people would celebrate, if that was the case, or if people would move along with their day, as if nothing had changed.

He wondered if the ghoul missed him. He wondered if he thought about his taste, if he felt regret. He wondered if the pain was worth it. And as the night grew close, the sun dipping behind the horizon as it welcomed the stars, he touched his bandages with not an answer to speak of.

It happened again, again, again. But the seventh time it had happened, he was thankful.

Fresh air could only do so much, really. Not when you have all your secrets bundled up in a nice, tight rubber band ball, awaiting the one little slice that will make it go pop . It was a dangerous game, but it was one he didn’t mind playing.

Breaks were nice now and again, though.

As usual- a word which felt all too domestic- Shuu had saddled up next to Hide. With a glance, he could tell that something had changed. Gone were his hospital clothes, now replaced with a colorful cardigan and white dress pants, a white button down underneath. They still refused to fit right.

It wasn’t until one of the cracked, browned petals fell off did Shuu speak.

“They didn’t water it enough.” Was the statement, one utterly bizarre to have unprompted. Hide stared at him, meeting his eyes. He didn’t hold the contact for long.

“The soil needs to be damp all the time. Look at that,” He motioned toward the flowerbed, to the dry dirt beneath the plants. “They really should take better care of their gardens. Hell, I could do it- pardon my language, but honestly. What good are dead gardenias?”

It was the most he had ever heard the man speak in the few days he’s known him, and it made a terrible swirl of joy in his chest.

A dry, cracked noise that vaguely resembled a laugh escaped his throat. Picking up his notepad, he scribbled a note.

“Strong opinions on the flowers, huh?”

Shuu turned, surprised, as if he thought he had been talking to himself the whole time. He cleared his throat, messing with a thread on his pants. “Of course. Anyone who’s spent even a minute taking care of plants would know that.” He said, like it was common knowledge.

Hide slid him another note. “You seem to be really into this. Do you garden?”

He figured it was a dumb question, but found that he was more surprised than anything when Shuu shook his head. “It was never my job, but oh, we did have such a lovely garden in my younger years. I spent hours out there, learning all the meanings of the flowers..” His eyes looked to be a bit unfocused, a contented smile on his face at the memory.

“I still remember most of them. The white gardenia, for example,” Hide watched him lean forward, to gently cradle one of the flowers between his fingers. “means purity, peace and harmony. It makes sense, doesn’t it? With how soft the petals are and how sweet the scent is.”

It was as if the mere sight of a dying plant was enough to break the floodgates, like he had been waiting to spill all his plant-based knowledge onto Hide from the moment they had met.

He couldn’t say that he minded, though.

But it appeared that Shuu had forgotten Hide’s condition, so being met with silence made him pause, shifting awkwardly as he fell quiet. Hide picked up his notepad again, hesitantly writing his next words, before sliding the book to Shuu. “Tell me more?”

And just like that, the light had flickered on again, and Shuu began another ramble. For once in this awful place, he could forget the night’s approach, to be lost in flower meanings and floral history.

But, as it always did, the time to return to their rooms arrived. Opting to do this before needing to be retrieved by a nurse, Hide stood, making a gesture for Shuu to follow.

With great hesitance, he did.

The first few steps were fine, taken in casual stride without a hint of difficulty.

The next, Hide was watching Shuu’s knees buckle beneath him as he began his descent to the ground. For both of their sake, he was glad he was fast- able to frantically throw his arms around the man before he met the cement.

He was heavy in his arms, of course, but he could still feel the harsh press of bones against him, somehow could feel the lack of weight more than anything else. Something in his stomach twisted as he watched Shuu’s expression, his eyes wide, sliding slowly from one thing to another, his mouth dropped slightly open.

Sounds, sorry attempts at jumbled words, crawled from his throat in a horrific manner that drew Shuu back to reality.

“Oh.” He murmured, his grip becoming tight on his arms. “I.. I’m sorry. I felt fine, I swear, I..” He trailed off, attempting to get his legs to work underneath him. “I suppose I really should be going back to my room now.”

Hide wasn’t able to say anything as a nurse trotted over, panicked, and stole Shuu from his arms. He couldn’t say anything when Shuu stared back at him, eyes apologetic.

He didn’t see Shuu for a few days after that.

Despite waiting at their spot- did people start avoiding this bench now? It seemed like it- there was never any show of the man, nor did he ever encounter him in the white hallways of the hospital.

When Shuu finally did reappear, he was back in his hospital attire, his face gaunt, but with a new addition: a wheelchair.

“They didn’t want me having another incident,” He said before Hide could so much as pick up his pen, a quiet venom in his voice. “It’s like they think I can’t do anything. I’ve been getting out here just fine, haven’t I?”

Hide furrowed his brow. He hadn’t expected him to be so… biting, after what happened.

While Shuu marinated in his pout, Hide rolled his pen between his fingers. He was curious, but was it insensitive to ask?

Taking the plunge, he wrote his question and slid it to him. “Why are you here? What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Shuu’s eyes widened, his lips pressing into a thin line. Hide heard him swallow.

“I.. lost someone, and.. my body doesn’t take well to my grief.” He turned away, unable to see the ache in Hide’s eyes. “I’d rather not discuss.” His tone held something more, locked away under layer after layer. It felt familiar in a way that made Hide’s stomach twist in knots.

They spent the rest of the visit in silence, and Hide yearned for words of flowers.

Days trickle down, turning to weeks. It takes a few days for Shuu to start speaking properly again, to which Hide could assume his depression had swallowed him up once more.

It was a rainy day when they did begin to talk again, cooped up in the cafeteria.

Hide tapped away on an empty pudding cup, feeling the cool air conditioning against his exposed neck and mouth. It was quite a bit after lunch, so thankfully the room remained mostly empty- with the exception of the two of them.

Raindrops streamed down the windows in uneven paths, pooling at the concrete sill. Shuu’s reflection was obscured and distorted beside his.

He turned his head to glance at the man, feeling his hair brush his shoulder- damn his hair for growing so fast. He knew that the dye was fading at this point, but only now did he consider the fact that they probably wouldn’t let him redye it until after his-

His surgery. His real surgery was approaching. His stomach did a flip just considering it. Suddenly, hair dye didn’t matter so much. He rubbed a lock of it between his fingers, hoping to will away the swirling anxiety. What did push away the anxiety wasn’t his own actions, however.

It was the touch of Shuu’s hand, brushing unruly bangs from his face.

In an instant, his vision snapped up, eyes wide. Shuu wasn’t looking at his face- just a bit above, at the dark roots of his hair.

“Health and hope,” He mumbled under his breath, before drawing his hand back. Hide tilted his head, brow furrowed. Blinking, Shuu’s actions seemed to have caught up with him. “Ah- that’s- pardon me.” Shying away, he rested his hands on his lap. “Your hair reminds me of a sunflower, is all.”

A page landed on Shuu’s hands. “Is that what they mean? Health and hope?”

Nodding, he looked back up. “They also mean resilience, and good luck. It’s.. fitting, to you, I think.”

Hide blinked, staring at Shuu with confusion. “With your injury, I mean, it- it’s not something people live through every day.” He absentmindedly touched his face, as if he thought his skin had changed to match Hide’s. “That, and, well.. It’s been nice, the past weeks. You’ve made it bearable.”

Oh.

Something in Hide’s chest stirred. Something familiar, too familiar to the point it made him ill.

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving a dry laugh as he wrote a quick ‘thank you’ on his notebook. He hoped that the terror didn’t show on his face.

But it seemed not to, as Shuu turned his attention back to the window, watching the lighting crash in the distance.

The thought of… this , made his head spin. It was brand new, an uncharted, messy situation that could go wrong in any number of ways. But it hadn’t- not yet anyway.

The one comfort he could take was that it couldn’t possibly end any worse than Kaneki.

And so, swallowing back the fear, he pressed his pen to the page, his anxieties pouring out into the cheap ink.

“You remind me of a morning glory.”

The words baffled Shuu, if his expression was anything to go off of. “How so?” He asked, tilting his head, bangs falling around his face.

“They do that thing where they close up until the sun comes out. You kinda do that. You’re all quiet and closed off until you get to talk about something you like, and then you’re the most charismatic guy in the world.”

He scribbled down an additional note at the bottom, in smaller text.

“And they’re purple.”

He watched as Shuu’s eyes lit up in a new array of emotions, before they crinkled as he began to laugh, a wide smile breaching his face.

It was so full of utter joy , joy Hide hadn’t gotten to witness up until now, that his whole being ached with the need to see him smile again. Not that he was going to acknowledge that at this moment. For now, he joined Shuu in his glee, laughing lightly.

After a moment, the man cooled down from his fit, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, oh Hide, mon chéri. You’re a delight, and more right than you could ever know.”

The words were vague, but Hide couldn’t be bothered to care right now.

Their conversations carried on, day after day, but it felt different. Like he had unlocked a new level to Shuu’s personality, after wading through the sickly depression that wracked him.

Not to say that there weren’t days like that, of course. There were some where Hide didn’t see him at all, others where he didn’t say a word, to merely sit beside him in mutual comfort.

The time had made them grow close, of course. So, it wasn’t a wonder when Hide began to notice Shuu’s fluctuating health.

Dips in his stability, going from needing a wheelchair, to being able to trot around the courtyard freely, to nearly collapsing again. The way the pallor on his skin would vanish in a night, replaced with a flush of healthy pink.

The way he never saw him eat, even once. How this only happened after visits from his father, or his family’s servants.

He wasn’t stupid. He had already learned the signs the hard way.

He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to deal with all of this again.

But before he could deal with that, he had more pressing matters- his facial reconstruction.

Despite all his stress- which Shuu had spent a great deal of time soothing him through- his surgery went fine. It felt strange to have a voice box, like something was blocking his throat but not at all at the same time, to hear his voice through a speaker.

The face he saw in the mirror was a vague echo of his own, but it was recognizable in an uncanny sort of way. He was just happy to have a decent portion of his skin back.

In testing it, he found that he tripped over certain words, having difficulty with words that required having lips to sound out. No matter, he’d find a way around it until that could happen. Call him a fool, but he was excited to show his friend the results.

So excited, in fact, that he had snuck out of his room.

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating his path through the halls as he tiptoed his way around. It was quiet at this hour, perfect to slip away into without notice.

As he arrived at the room, he took in a breath. A part of him felt guilt for going to wake Shuu at this time, knowing that he was most likely dead asleep. Another simply hopped around like a child, thrilled at the aspect of showing off his ability to speak. Regardless of his internal conflict, his hand landed on the doorknob, creaking the door open.

Drip, drip, drip.

The scent hit him first. Thick, coppery, unforgettable. The kind of scent that filled your head, that fogged up the whole room and choked anything else out. And the scene, oh, the scene .

Drip, drip, drip.

Shuu sat on the floor beside his bed, his white sleeves kept pristine as they were rolled to the elbow. His hands were stained, glistening with red under the moonlight. His face was rather clean, surprisingly, but his pale pink lips now donned a painful shade of crimson. The same shade as his eyes, now surrounded by a swallowing black that made them stand out all the more, even in his dazed, starved gaze.

Drip, drip, drip.

Hide wasn’t shocked, if he was being honest. He wasn’t even scared.

Drip, drip.

He was just tired.

Crimson met brown, and widened in horror.

Time didn’t stop, nor did it slow down. They simply both fell still, letting the sight of each other soak in as the clock ticked away.

There was remorse and pleading in his manner, a fear so primal that Hide hardly recognized him, an emotion so vivid in his own memories that it made him feel a thousand times heavier.

Hide held himself, a hand gripped on the doorknob, the other around his own waist, as though one wrong move would have him pierced against the door. In fact, it likely would.

It was just his luck, wasn’t it? He’d eaten his words now, and he was left with the stomachache.

But somewhere, buried in the desperate, empty recedes of a damaged heart, he wanted to try again. Foolish as it was, he yearned for the choice.

And so, he took it.

He released the doorknob, taking a cautious few steps forward. Shuu startled, shifting to stand at an instant, before Hide raised his hands slowly.

“Shuu, it’s okay.”

His voice crackled a bit, dry and unstable in its inflection, but it was enough to halt Shuu where he stood, his eyes flashed a fleeting spark of excitement before being consumed by a wave of shock.

“I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

He smiled, as best as he could. Memories fought to bubble to the surface, the sound of fighting above, echoes through concrete. But he swallowed them down, closing the distance to sit down on the hospital bed. He patted the seat beside him.

Licking his lips- Hide didn’t bother to watch as they were cleaned of blood- Shuu sat down, like a guilty child, refusing to meet Hide’s eyes.

Hide rested a hand on his.

“Did I ever tell you about my best friend?”

[captain-astors]

Unfortunately some stuff kept me from properly finishing the full exchange piece on time, but here’s a bit of a prelude for my half of the exchange event with @mossy-rot ! Based on a scene from the lovely fic he wrote.

[succulent-mud-deactivated202505]

HI HELLO EVERYONE, I might have been abcent for a while, but here we are alive again >:)).

For the TGpairup event I got paired with the wonderful writer @justsumfangurlmind we choosed to do a very sweet moment between Kaneki and Ichika, I really loved their part of the work and I hope all of you do too, check it out here!

This is my part

[justsumfangurlmind]

Here’s my work for the Tokyo Ghoul pair up event!

I got paired up with the talented @succulent-mud

We chose to do a father daughter piece. This was so much fun to do!

Alright. Here we go!

Today was supposed to be a quiet day. A nice quiet day to himself, Kaneki thought. On Sundays they all would go to the store to buy groceries for the week, but since they decided to go a day early due to a sale, it was basically a free day. Touka had gotten an invitation from Yoriko to spend the day together at the park with their children. Kaneki had asked her if she wanted him to tag along, but Touka said no. She said it had been a while since she and Yoriko spent time together alone. Kaneki thought it was a little weird to say it like that since they would have the kids, but he knew what she meant.

Going down the stairs of his home, Kaneki saw his pregnant wife right before she was about to leave. Yet he noticed that their daughter, Ichika, was missing from her side.

“Touka?”

“Good morning. Did I wake you?”

“No. Are you leaving?”

Touka nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to get there early so that I have some time to talk to her before she gets more occupied with the baby. You know how it is.” Touka chuckled a little as she spoke.

So did Kaneki. “Yeah I suppose so. Where’s Ichika? Is she still getting ready?”, he asked.

Touka scratched at her head. “Ah well you see about that…” Kaneki’s eyes widened just a little bit. Was something wrong? Did Ichika fall ill? “I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t budge. She insisted that she wanted to stay home.”

“Oh really? She insisted?”

“Well more like she gave me the biggest grumpy face ever and then hid under the blanket.” Touka sighed. “I’m sorry. Usually I would’ve been able to handle it better, but as you can see,” Touka pointed to her baby bump, “I don’t think this little one would have made it easy.”

Kaneki just laughed it off. “It’s alright. I’ll spend the day with her.”

“Are you sure? I know you were excited to have the day to yourself. Maybe you can just get her ready real quick and then we’ll be on our way.”

“No no. It’s fine. I’m her father after all. It’s my job to take care of her.”

Touka’s eyes softened. “Kaneki… I”, yet before she could finish, she had a look at the clock and gasped. “Ah shoot! I’m late! So sorry, but I have to get going. I’ll see you guys later, okay”, Touka said as she already put one foot out the door.

Kaneki waved to her as she left. “Yes. We’ll see you later.”

As the door shut, leaving Kaneki all alone in the living room, the man pondered. Now what? His plans for relaxing were out the window now. Ichika was a pretty active kid and always kept everybody on their toes. Kaneki decided that it would be best to just wake her and go from there. Before he could take a step, he heard little footsteps coming downstairs. Yet when he turned his head around there was no one there. Now he heard the steps coming from the kitchen.

Perhaps she’s trying to hide from me, Kaneki thought.

Going into the kitchen, Kaneki spotted Ichika pulling a chair towards the pantry. He almost wanted to laugh at the little grunts she was making. Poor thing. The chair must be so heavy for her.

“What are you doing?”

“Hungry.”

“You’re hungry? Okay. What do you want to eat?”

“I’ll do it!”

“Do you want me to get it for you?” As he took a step closer to her, Ichika let go of the chair and began pushing Kaneki away.

“No no! I’m gonna do it! No!”

“Alright alright”, Kaneki said as she kept pushing him. Looks like she was in a mood. It reminded him of Touka and, oddly enough, Hide. Once she got him out of the kitchen, Ichika went back and started pulling the chair again. When Kaneki went to look at what she was doing again, Ichika got mad.

“Papa no! Go!”

“Oh? I can’t watch?”

“No!”

“Okay okay”, Kaneki said as he put his hands up. He pretended to walk further away when he turned the corner. Once he heard her moving again, he figured it would be a good time to spy on her. Peeking into the kitchen, Kaneki saw that Ichika had climbed the chair to grab a bag of flour from the pantry. However, the bag she was grabbing was too heavy for her small arms so it quickly fell onto her, creating a cloud of flour.

“Ichika!” Kaneki swiftly made his way towards his daughter checking if she had any injuries. “Are you okay?” He saw her nod, but heard her trying to hold back little whimpers. “Look at that”, he said pointing to the top of her head. Her dark roots were covered by the flour. “You look just like me.” Kaneki smiled when Ichika laughed. She seemed to be just fine. After all, Ichika was always quick to bounce back.

After dusting her off Kaneki went to go get the broom and dustpan. Coming back, he saw Ichika trying to get something from the pantry again.

“What are you getting now?”

“Eggs.”

“Eggs? What for?”

“Pancakes. I wanna make pancakes like from the cafe.”

“Oh.” Kaneki remembered the cafe they would all go to. Ever since Ichika was a toddler, she loved eating the fluffy pancakes from there. Before he swept up the flour on the floor, Kaneki picked up the bag and placed it onto the counter.

“The eggs are in the refrigerator. They’re too high for you to get so I’ll help get them.”

Ichika was now watching Kaneki as he swept.

“Papa knows how to make pancakes?”

“Yes.”

“But papa can’t eat food like me.”

“Just because I can’t eat it, doesn’t mean I can’t cook.” Ichika seemed so stunned at the information, Kaneki couldn’t help but chuckle. As soon as the floor was clean, he put on an apron.

“Get ready Ichika because you’re about to witness a cooking papa!”

Seeing her normally mild mannered father have so much confidence made Ichika giddy with excitement.

Approaching the pantry, Kaneki pulled out a small box of baking soda.

“Go put this next to the flour.”

“Okay!” The small child nearly leapt off from the chair as she went to go do as she was told.

“And once you do that, go grab your little stool.”

“Yes!” As she ran off, Kaneki took this time to get the remaining ingredients.

Bringing back the stool was no problem for her. It was a lot lighter than the big chairs they had. When Ichika came back, she saw an array of ingredients on the counter. She quickly set the stool down in place and stood on it to get a better look.

“Are you ready?” Kaneki asked.

“Yes papa.”

“Alright.” Kaneki reached over and rolled up Ichika’s sleeves before doing the same for himself. “This is so we don’t get dirty.” He saw her nod and try to roll them up even more.

“Okay. First, let’s combine our dry ingredients.”

Ichika looked puzzled. Kaneki wondered why, but then it dawned on him that she was five. She didn’t really understand what dry ingredients were yet. “Oh. Um, we have to put these into a bowl.” Kaneki then pointed to the flour, salt, sugar, baking powder and baking soda.

“Oh okay.” Ichika grabbed the bag of flour and tipped it over so that it could go into the bowl. Kaneki was able to stop it from falling again, but some still spilled out.

“Not that much. We only need two cups.”

“But I can’t reach the cups.”

“Not those ones.” Rummaging through one of the drawers, he pulled out some measuring cups and spoons. “Use this one. Remember. Only two.” Kaneki watched Ichika as she counted while collecting and pouring the flour.

“Good job! Now use this one for the sugar.” He then gave her a smaller cup.

“How many?” Ichika asked, nervous that she was going to mess up.

“Just one”, Kaneki said as he put a finger up.

Once she had finished that, he decided that he should handle the measuring spoons since they were so little. Ichika didn’t really like that idea so she tried to take the spoons from Kaneki’s hand. She was unsuccessful and only managed to spill some of the powder.

“Alright. Let’s stir the bowl.” Giving her a whisk, Kaneki told her to do it gently. “We don’t want it flying out.”

Now that the dry ingredients were all mixed, it was time for the wet ingredients and Kaneki was a bit nervous to say the least. Cleaning up powder was one thing. This, however, could end in catastrophe. He had already melted the butter. All she had to do was put it in the bowl.

“Here’s the other bowl. Put the butter in here.” Doing as she was told, Ichika noticed her father was starting to pour milk into one of the measuring cups.

“I wanna do it!”

Before he could stop her, it was already too late. The way she had lunged for the cup made his grip on the milk slip so it fell. Over half of it had spilled out getting all over the counter and dripping onto the floor. Luckily, he had already gotten the amount he needed.

“Sorry…” Ichika had a guilty look on her face. The look that would make everyone melt.

“It’s alright. We’ll clean it up before mama gets home”, said Kaneki. Him and Touka were used to the messes. “Here. Help me with the vanilla.”

“Ice cream?”

“No no. It’s a mixture. We’re gonna put it in the bowl.” He handed Ichika one of the measuring spoons. “I’ll pour and you put it in.” Ichika nodded happily. Once they had done it twice, Kaneki grabbed the one egg and cracked it into the bowl. Ichika didn’t make a fuss about it. He supposed that she knew cracking eggs would be too hard for her to do by herself.

“Okay. Now mix this one too.” Kaneki had forgotten to tell her to do it gently, but he saw that he didn’t need to. Ichika was being careful. It made him feel a bit of pride seeing that she remembered.

She really has grown up, Kaneki thought. It seemed like just yesterday when she could barely hold a spoon.

“Do we make pancakes now?” Asked Ichika.

Kaneki smiled. “Not just yet. We have to combine the bowls now.” He then poured the bowl full of the wet ingredients into the bowl with the dry ingredients. “Now we have to mix it again. Make sure it’s mixed together really well.”

“Okay.” When Ichika started mixing, she noticed it was a bit harder than the previous times. So she began to use more force as she stirred. And when that didn’t feel like enough, she put even more force into it. At that point, her sleeves had unrolled themselves. Pretty soon, there was batter splashing out. Kaneki decided to not say anything. She was still a child. Let her have fun and get a little messy. He only stopped her when the stool beneath her started to shake.

“Ha ha! Look papa!” Ichika raised the bowl to show him. “I did it! I mixed it!”

“Fantastic job Ichika!” Kaneki clapped as Ichika did a little dance with the bowl. “Okay. Now we can make the pancakes.” He grabbed the bowl from her and set it down. Grabbing a pan, Kaneki looked over at Ichika. “I have to do this part because it involves the stove. How about you go wash your hands?”

Ichika nodded and left the room. Kaneki looked over at the mess that was made. He sighed.

When Ichika came back she decided to grab a fork before sitting down to wait. She watched her father intently as he began flipping the pancakes.

“Some of these will be for mama so remember to leave some for her.”

“Yes papa.”

Once he was done, Kaneki stacked some on a plate and gave it to an eager Ichika. As he was doing so, he could’ve sworn he could hear a faint ‘pancakes! pancakes! pancakes!’ coming from her.

He watched as she took a bite. “So how is it?” He asked.

Ichika smiled brightly. “So yummy! Even though they aren’t fluffy.”

Kaneki felt like there was glass shattering. She had asked for fluffy pancakes. They just made regular ones. His face became so gloomy that Ichika started to panic.

“Papa no! They’re very good! I like them a lot! Can I have more?”

“It’s alright Ichika.” Kaneki said with a defeated smile. “I’ll learn how to make it for you.”

The end

:) I hope you all enjoyed! Be sure to check out the wonderful artwork done by @succulent-mud !

[quino7]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My piece for @tgpairup done with my partner @contagiosis

[horrendousmustard]

Art trade with @blisslilacwisteria for @tgpairup :)

[ipsen]

Off the Grid

For @chertpole for the @tgpairup event! I gave them some AriEto to chew on, and you can too! Enjoy the meal :]

Eto had never been one for nostalgia.

She had always been too busy, too focused on other things to look backwards. The past was a place of pain, of longing, and of what would never be again. It was not a source of strength, but evidence of weakness. Only by looking forward could she grab an inkling of the strength she sought.

And yet, the moment her feet touched mainland Tokyo, she went here: the old shrine where it all began.

It had long since fallen into disrepair; it was on no map in the first place, and no one who knew about it bothered to tell. She remembered being attracted to it for that very reason. After all, she was similarly discarded. With her mother dead, her father had seen fit to discard the very thing that reminded him of his failure, and a tool was no longer necessary when everything was fixed. In occupying it as a fellow forgotten one, they would remember each other.

It was stupid, really; places never remembered the people that trampled upon it, but foolish girls were wont to dream.

Eto traced the branch of one of the trees, which had grown tall and strong these past thirteen years. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, and it towered above her, when before it was but a mere sapling, under threat of being crushed on a whim. Not only that, but its roots had finally broken the stone before the shrine, the spot where her world finally began to turn.

Time really did fly; being here now, she almost remembered the scene like it was yesterday. Her, missing an arm and collapsed in a heap within her kakuja. The shrine, broken from the weight. And then, suddenly—

“You’re here.”

Eto looked up and, upon seeing who it was, smirked. There was only one person who could sneak up on her like that, and as the years went by, she minded it less and less.

Seeing him here, it almost made her think the past had caught up to her, but she knew that wasn’t true. There were little differences to this new old meeting that made it so. Stark white hair instead of a nightshade blue. Her own hair, grown into a wild mane. An eye that couldn’t see anything anymore, and hers that had to squint when reading text on a book.

“Kishou Arima,” she said with a mirthless giggle. “Come to bask in your glory days?”

“No,” he said simply, as flat as ever. “I was just on my way to the 23rd.”

It was a little frustrating, to be honest, how little she could get out of him, but at the same time, that veil— or rather, that wall— was a comfort. The idea that there would always be something she could never truly understand, that there would always be something more to discover— It kept her going on some days. It meant she could keep digging, keep searching, keep fighting, and there would still be more. The Sysyphian assurance of an expected, if infinite, battle.

“And you?” Arima brought Eto out of her thoughts. “Why?”

The nostalgic question made her scoff. There were many people who asked similar things, but he was the only one she answered. “You’re asking that now? Are you truly so—”

“I am,” he interrupted. “Why?”

His gaze was unwavering, but a trick of the light made her think that there was a twinkle to them. Maybe, deep down in his empty void for a soul, he was actually amused. She chuckled at the prospect, then decided to indulge it. “I’ve just come back from Rushima, and I got a call that my editor is being ‘interrogated’.”

“By who?”

“You know who.” She didn’t have to say the name. “He had that look, you know. Almost reminded me of you.”

Arima paused. “He’s begun reading your work again. They remind him of himself, it seems.”

“So I noticed. And you? What do you think of them?”

He shrugged. “They’re wordy.”

She rolled her eyes at that. He never was one to talk at length, even about books, which he supposedly liked. Even now, where the end for them was in sight, he did not waver in this.

“Anyway,” she shrugged, “cutting through here is faster to get to where he is.”

It was a lie, just like Arima’s reason. This place was far too out of the way to justify coming here, regardless of destination; that was why Eto had chosen it in the first place. However, neither of them called the other out; they knew without saying.

“You’ve made your decision, then?” she asked, as if she even needed to.

He nodded. “The raid’s set to happen soon, and Squad 0 will be guarding Cochlea.”

“I feel safer already.” She smiled, but it faded soon enough. “It will be difficult for him.”

“He’ll succeed,” Arima said, and he almost sounded reassuring. “I’ll make him.”

“So you will.” A chuckle. “You always were one to force things.”

“Better than never letting things happen at all.”

“Hmph.”

Forcing things— that was the way of the One-Eyed King. Forcing his way to the top, clambering over the corpses, and creating a living legend that ghouls all over Tokyo despaired over. To supplement it, Eto became the Owl, his shadow, to give humans a reason to cling to him and justify their needless killing. She ate and ate and ate, taking the corpses and creating a shawl with which to conceal herself.

However, the thing about despair was that hope could just as easily be born from it. Were someone to topple that legend and create something new of it, ghouls would suddenly have a shining beacon of hope to look toward, and they would finally be willing to fight for their existence, finally be willing to live and not just survive. Not only that, but the humans who killed ghouls would finally be forced to turn inward and face the truth of the matter: they were played for fools.

But the thing about toppling such a legend was that it required a sacrifice. One unique sacrifice, and that, in and of itself, almost made it precious.

Eto stared at the coveted object as he turned on his heel and walked away. The way he still refused to really and truly look at her, even after thirteen long years, told her that there was still something he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter, of course; things were only ever going to end this way. The two of them were only cracks in the shell, crumbling in on themselves so that the real king could crawl out to the other side. Neither of them were strong enough on their own, nor did they have the tools or background to see it through themselves.

Still, they would try, and someone else, someone better, that made up the best parts of them, could do it when they couldn’t. They could find someone like that, surely, and they had. A miracle, not lying on cold concrete, but shining and flying through the sky. As his predecessors fell into the abyss and closed their eyes to that sparkling beacon, they would go satisfied, knowing it wasn’t all for nothing.

Despite that, though, as Eto watched Arima, she wondered if things could be different. If he could find— or rather, if he could see a way where he didn’t choose death over the world. Where he survived, and continued the fight. Would that result in a better outcome? If the Reaper turned his blade on the strings keeping him down instead of going limp in their grasp, could things change?

… No. No, they couldn’t; he had come too far down his bloody path to try and pave a new one. Much like her, a bloody cannibal who couldn’t find the bottom of her own stomach, he had piled up a tower of corpses far too high to topple it over now. They were monsters, simple as that. They, who took lives on a whim, were not worthy of seeing the new world, nor should they be allowed to fight any longer than they had to. Death was just as much a part of life as living was, and so they would entrust their legacy to their successor— their better.

Their king.

Still, if death was to be their fate, she wanted to try something out. She wanted to leave nothing unsaid, and as much as she hated to admit it, this was one of them. With a step and a call, she spoke a single word:

“Kishou.”

He paused halfway down the road. She waited for a reaction, for anything, really. She didn’t fully understand why she wanted to say what she said; she just knew she had to say it before the coming end. It felt strange saying it, but it had to be said.

Perhaps a part of her wished for him to turn around, and in doing so, change his mind. Change his path. Because if he could, so could she. In saying his name, she was positing a question: could they defy the death that would inevitably catch up to them? Was there a world where miscreants like them could exist together?

A gust of wind blew through the area, and leftover dew on the tree leaves, like blood, slipped off and hit the ground. Eto stared at the white back of his coat as she waited. Always, she waited.

It felt a little ridiculous. What exactly was she waiting for, anyway? It wasn’t like changing what she called him would cause him to turn around and— and what? Smile at her? Touch her? Kiss her?

She frowned. That sort of thing wasn’t possible for people like them. They shouldn’t— they couldn’t seek something like that. There were always bigger, more important things than trash like them.

Eto wet her lips in the silence.

She wanted him to turn around. So, so badly. She wanted him to turn around and run back to her, enthusiasm, anticipation, and joy springing him forth instead of emptiness, anger, and despair. She wanted him to gather her into his arms and hold her like she was the world, like she was the only thing that mattered. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, desperate and longing for the touch of someone who knew his greatest secret, from someone he had bared his heart to, even if only slightly.

She could be that person. She could touch him like he wanted to, and he could do the same to her. They would fit quite well together, she imagined, like pieces of a broken puzzle. Two terrible souls who, at the bottom of the barrel, had found each other. It could work, if she were more delusional and presumptuous than she was.

Fortunately, her feet did not obey her misguided and silent desire; they stayed planted, waiting as they always did. Arima also seemed to remember himself, and continued walking as though she hadn’t said anything at all. All began to fit itself back together. He walked, she watched, until she was alone again.

With a practiced sigh, she shrugged off the heartache.

[ipsen]

Twisted Wound

For @exulzae for the @tgpairup event! They wanted AyaKane, and I did my best! Enjoy :]

Aogiri was supposed to be colder than Anteiku.

Kaneki expected that much; the only warmth provided in Yamori’s playroom had been the sweat from his own brow, the blood spilling from his fingers and toes, and the heaving breath of the man himself as he grappled with killing Kaneki on the spot. A foolish mistake, in hindsight— now he was going to be another weapon of the Doves, like so many before him.

As a replacement, Kaneki assumed many of his responsibilities— chief among them being convening with the other executives.

All were cold in their own way— Noro was tall and silent, roaming the halls like a zombie. Accompanying him at all times was Eto, a childish— thus dangerous— mystery who always seemed to be watching Kaneki when he wasn’t looking. There was Naki, the new White Suits leader, who was overly emotional and unstable. And then Tatara always glared at Kaneki when he spoke up, as though he knew Kaneki’s true purpose, despite that being impossible.

In a way, it was good. Kaneki truly felt nothing towards these ghouls— these monsters— and counted to himself the days until their demise. He would consume them once they became useless, and he would climb on their corpses to the pinnacle of strength, upon which he would finally be able to protect what mattered to him.

But then there was Ayato. Touka’s younger brother, and a roaring fire amidst the cold. He was a lot like his sister, much as he likely didn’t want to admit: strong-willed, and a face full of swears and glares for anyone disagreeable. It should be easy to hate someone like that; those were the types that pushed people away and ended up all alone because of it.

If that were true, then it must have been the burden of nostalgia on Kaneki’s shoulders, because he found himself hesitating. Bringing down Aogiri meant confronting Ayato again, meant grappling with the choice he’d made in the 11th ward. It meant questioning his actions in that checkerboarded room, and rendering them meaningless.

And then it happened. Kaneki hadn’t been sent out to exterminate ghouls for a while, and he felt the pangs of hunger clawing at the walls of his stomach. The monster inside him craved sustenance, but his sense of justice and heroism demanded only one type of food— villains. And yet, the powers that be demanded he bide his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. He had to feign loyalty to Aogiri lest they catch onto his plan, and a true predator knew when to keep his claws beneath his cloak.

In a show of what must have been amused pity, Eto had suggested to Tatara that Kaneki accompany Ayato’s squad to a 15th ward raid. However, there were no ghouls, like Kaneki anticipated— they were going to attack a Dove’s nest.

Humans.

He knew this day would come eventually; it was just the consequence of working with ghouls. Humans would be attacked. Humans would be killed. But Kaneki, a former human, hunting his old kind— it stilled him. He knew how fragile they could be, how much easier they crumbled compared to ghouls. That was what Yamori had taught him.

Yet, when Ayato recklessly charged ahead and got stabbed by two hooks of a strange quinque, Kaneki almost thought he was just another human. The way Ayato crumbled when his ribs shattered like glass— Kaneki acted before he realized it. His kagune, grafted onto him like a broken branch onto a foreign tree, spilled forth wilder than anything before.

Two appendages around Ayato, and two through the Dove that did it.

Blood, human blood, spilled over Kaneki’s implanted organ, and the intoxicating smell of raw meat. He had always resisted the temptation, and the heat of battle always made it difficult. But Ayato needed attention now, and Kaneki used that to push him forward.

He ran as fast and as far as he could, far behind the front lines. It went against all of his logic, all of his choices, all of his resolve. If he had woven a tapestry in which he styled himself the hero, this slashed a knife through it and turned it into scraps on the floor.

He could feel the confusion from the others; the Eyepatch hadn’t established a habit of retreating, and Ayato hadn’t established a habit of being protected. But battle was battle, and there wasn’t enough time to consider it.

A few buildings later, once the screams of combat were silent memories, Ayato stirred. “Shit…” he muttered. “Take me back, half-ass.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yeah, obviously!” As he said it, he hissed in pain. “Shit…! Look, if you let me feed, I won’t be injured!”

“How will you feed if you can barely stand?” Kaneki countered.

“You don’t know shit, half-ass. I need to eat.”

“You need rest. I’ll figure something out.”

“And what do you know about what I need, huh?!” With a forceful shove, Ayato tumbled out of Kaneki’s grip and clambered to his feet. He clutched his wound, but neither his words nor his scowl were any less vicious for it. “Prancin’ about and actin’ like you’re better than anyone, just cuz you beat Yamori or whatever…!”

Kaneki stood at a distance, watching Ayato struggle with the injury he was ignoring. He’d been observing Ayato’s feeding habits, and it was clear he didn’t cannibalize. He was floundering about in the world of ghouls, yet he refused to steal from them. That was what they were built to do, after all. But if he didn’t eat something soon, then—

“Why’re you even here, anyway?” There was a wall for Ayato to sink down against. “You kill shitty Doves, but you only eat when it’s other ghouls… It’s stupid; they taste disgusting.”

Kaneki said nothing. It was true, to an extent, but there was a limit to one’s base instincts. He had to overcome them, ascend past the sheep and become a shepherd, so that he might pick the ones most suitable for slaughter.

“You ain’t in Fantasy Caféland anymore,” Ayato continued. “We’re ghouls, Eyepatch. We eat humans, not each other.”

Kaneki stepped toward him, deciding to entertain the boy. “If you’re picky about what you eat, you’ll never become strong; those you care about will slip through your fingers like sand.”

“And who said I cared about anyone?” Ayato fired back. “I only need me, myself, and I… That’s how ghouls operate, you bastard. We can only count on ourselves.”

“What about Touka, then?” Kaneki squatted down to his level.

He clicked his tongue. “What about her?”

“You could have killed her back in Anteiku or in the 11th ward, yet you didn’t. You let her live.”

When Ayato didn’t respond, Kaneki knew he hit the nail on the head.

“You’re protecting someone, just like I am. Killing Doves en masse won’t solve anything; battle experience only gets you so far. You must be able to expand your limits, too. And to do that, you must eat. You must feed.”

He grabbed Ayato by the shirt collar.

“Like this.”

In one swift motion, he lunged forth and sunk his teeth into Ayato’s shoulder. Ayato hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled.

“Teaching you a lesson.” Kaneki stood up, wiping the blood off his mouth. The taste was still the same, like spoiled goods that no chef could salvage. It was the foulest trash one could consume. “You said you needed to eat, and if you don’t, you’ll die. So show me your resolve.”

Ayato clutched his shoulder, glaring. “Bastard…”

“Calling me names won’t fill your belly.” Kaneki balled up his fists and shifted into a fighting stance. “Now feed, Kirishima.”

“I’ll do more than that…” Ayato struggled to his feet, crouching low. He suddenly smirked. “I’ll wipe the goddamn floor with your fucking guts.”

Kaneki didn’t notice his own smirk. “Come and try.”

Ayato lunged first, driven by hunger and newfound frustration. Kaneki didn’t expect the sudden speed, and felt Ayato’s nails scrape his cheek as he dodged to the side. He aimed a fist at Ayato’s cheek, but the boy turned, and his kagune, though shrunken by lack of sustenance, burst out of his open back, lining Kaneki’s hand and arm with small shards.

Kaneki jumped back to try and reorient himself, but he underestimated a ghoul’s hunger. He’d never been on the receiving end like this; Ayato chased him down and grabbed him by the arm, his fingernails sinking into the flesh so as to not let go. Kaneki winced slightly at the sensation, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was when Ayato’s teeth sank into Kaneki’s shoulder, far deeper than expected. It was as if he wanted the wound to never heal, and wanted to leave lasting proof that it was by his power that Kaneki suffered it. Ayato’s power, and no one else’s, simultaneously claiming victory and possession both.

Yet, for some reason, it was a familiar— thus comforting— sensation. Not familiar in the sense that Kaneki had been bitten like this, but familiar in the way that he had been held with the same intent before. The way Ayato’s hands clung to his shirt and arm, combined with the searing pain of his flesh being torn— it was like being held in both affection and contempt, love and disgust.

But were those not two sides of the same coin? By coveting that which we hate, desiring that which we despise, do we not also love them? Crave them? Need them?

Despite himself, Kaneki felt himself clinging to the sensation as Ayato fed on him, took from him. He clung to it like it was the only thing that mattered, far beyond kings or weeds or bad coffee beans; this current, familiar, foreign moment was all that mattered.

He enjoyed it.

He despised it.

Ayato’s hair was a shaggy, bloody mess, unkempt and uncared for. He needed to wash it, Kaneki thought. Did he even know how to wash it? Was that something a ghoul like him, so entrenched in that world, knew how to do? Would Kaneki have to—

“You taste weird,” Ayato said, getting off and wiping the blood dripping from his mouth.

Kaneki stayed still on the floor, bordering on rigid. “So I’ve been told,” he responded, feeling his shoulder struggle to put itself back together. “You were hungry.”

“N-No shit I was hungry!” Ayato shouted back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. There was a new color in his cheeks: a reddish and healthy hue. “Still… Still am…”

And that was why Kaneki continued to hesitate. Ayato, every so often, displayed behavior that was so much more… human than the other executives. Unlike Tatara, Eto, Noro, or even Naki, Ayato knew things. Knew the joy of peace, the sorrow of loss, and the painstaking existence of never having both as a ghoul.

However, Kaneki simply nodded, stowing away such thoughts for his greater purpose. “The raid must be over by now.”

“Hmph, no thanks to you.” Ayato rolled his shoulders. “The others are probably lookin’ for us. C’mon.”

Kaneki rolled to his feet, calming himself. He was not here to… frolic with the company he kept now; he was on a mission, and not even Ayato would stand in his way. “Alright.”

Despite that, Kaneki stared at his new wound, surrounded by torn fabric. It was closing, as it always did, but something was different. Instead of a bare patch of skin, Kaneki saw a scar in the shape of Ayato’s teeth. Almost like a brand, marking one’s territory, one’s property.

What loathsome pleasure he felt.

[tatatatatara]

And no that's not everything.

I was worried that my work is not an equivalent trade to such a wonderful fic like PSYB so I asked my friend Vàng for help, and she was happy to draw something for our local CEO of Shuunaki because she liked Shuu and was amazed with PSYB too. (And yes still wedding theme. I like wedding too much for an aro).

It came with a bonus damn my friends are amazing.

Hope you enjoy your gifts @tg-headcanons 😭 thank you again for PSYB

[tatatatatara]

My work for the Tokyo Ghoul pair up event with the wonderful writer @tg-headcanons !! PSYB is the best thing that happened to me this year and it helped me through my hardest time of the year so I'm really grateful.

Since we're supposed to make something based on the same prompt I decided to draw the ghoulfuckers club wedding, based on your headcanon. I have a lot of fun doing these and I'm planning to do more in the future so stay tuned!!