Tokyo Ghoul Stitches Novels & Stories

Callum stays silent nearby, his presence strangely reassuring as he watches. When Dr. Bennett finishes with the stitches, she moves to my face, her expression softening. “Your eye needs stitching as well,” she says gently, examining the gash above my eyebrow. “It’ll heal fine, but it’ll scar slightly. I’ll try to make it as clean as possible.” I nod, my throat too tight to speak. Her hands are steady as she works, her voice quiet and calm when she tells me to hold still. The stitches sting, but I barely notice. I’m too tired to focus on anything but the relief that someone is finally helping.

Silas dived for me, but as he touched me, he let out a scream of agony. "Don't!" I gasped. "The feedback... it’s coded to hurt 'Glitch' signatures." ### The Investors Arrive "Now," Marcus said, straightening his tie. "Enough with the theatrics. The 'Investors' are here for the walk-through. They want to see the 'Product' before the grand opening." He turned back to the obsidian door and bowed. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and Non-Binary Entities of the Core... I present to you: **The Stitched Humanity**."

Sofia whispered, her hands shaking as she watched the wound in his chest begin to close. The torn flesh didn't just heal; it aggressively fused. The jagged edges of his ribs snapped back into place with a series of loud, sickening cracks. The skin crawled over the opening, weaving itself together with an efficiency that made the Montague stasis pods look like primitive toys. Within seconds, the gaping, fatal hole was reduced to a faint, silver scar. Somito took a deep, shuddering breath—a breath that didn't rattle.

There wasn’t much he would be able to do except to stop the blood from gushing out from where his dick used to be. We went through every cage. They all got what was coming to them, whether it was me, Ink or Snake who delivered the beatings, by the time we were done, Stitch had his work cut out for him. “Holgate, come and get them.” Ink muttered into his cell as we left the basement.

It wasn't a moon or a wolf. It was a vertical slit. An eye. "I am the one who made the Stitcher," Ashford said quietly. "I wove the roots from the hair of the women I scoured. I am the Architect of the Silence, Amara. Not you." He twisted the knife. The Stitcher let out a high-pitched, metallic scream. Its root-body began to unravel, the river-stones falling from its chest like heavy, grey tears. The entity collapsed into the churning water, dissolving into a pile of mud and dead leaves.

"I'm good. The stitching shouldn't be too bad. Just get it done. I want to get off this granite slab." Raphael nodded. He got the suture kit out, laid it out just so. Before he got started, he wiped away all the blood off his brother's leg. Switched into a clean pair of gloves. "Don't move your leg. I like my stitches neat," Raphael declared, a threaded needle poised over Massimo's leg. Massimo nodded. "Just make it fast." Raphael nodded, took the first stitch. I had to look away at that point. I didn't mind cutting into flesh, but the whole needle thing threw me off. Made my belly twist and turn.

Honestly I don't want to go, but I knew to be safe as well. . . . Author's P. O. V Thomas stared at the bag, reluctant to open it. Eventually he did. With great care he removed all of the things that where in it. There was a picture, a locket an most importantly a plus size needle. Thomas had no idea why his heart skipped a beat seeing that one. He picked up the needle and checked the sides. And he saw the names and initials engraved on it.

Hana reminded, but I was not the gentle type. His blood-soaked skin was thick, but the needle was sharp enough to pass through it. I kept stitching the edges of his torn skin together. The upper to lower, upper to lower, and upper to lower. Every stroke of the needle made him whine, and every time he would cry, Hana seemed swallowing a stone. Good thing I made sure that the thread was enough in length, for the gash was actually longer than I expected. I securely closed the wound with a tight knot. And the moment I was done, the stone on Hana’s throat had gone.

With a click, the clasp came undone, and the pendant fell to the floor. In a flash, Zoe’s eyes widened. She grabbed my collar like a madwoman. “Y-You… You didn’t switch fates? You lied to me?!” I looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Miles suddenly exclaimed, “Ow, Maisie. My neck feels itchy.” He pulled down his collar, exposing his collarbone, and clearly revealed who was actually wearing the demonic fate-swapping lock.

He quickly grabbed the things needed for the stitches again, and after cleaning the blood away and removing the old stitches, he started to stab the needle in and out of the skin to pass the surgical thread through. Asher let out another painful hiss, the muscles along his abdomen tightening as moisture gathered in his eyes. When he noticed Zane looking at the tears in his eyes, he quickly screwed them shut to hide the embarrassment. Zane could barely bite back his smile. Even though he stabbed harder than he should, when Zane finally finished, the threadwork was the neatest and prettiest he’d ever done, and he took a minute to admire his handiwork with a gleam in his eyes before schooling h