It's been a year since I last wrote a fanfic, so here's to a year of not writing fanfic. My crowdfunder-only stories will be open to all for a week from now. These are some of the parts that were taken out or changed per thranduilion's suggestion and editing.

Thank you, readers and crowdfunders. Stay safe. Do what hurt you less. Stay alive.

Her body did not wait for Sooyoung to finish before she reached to grab her hand, looking like she’s trying to pull it out of its socket. A hiss broke free from Sooyoung’s mouth, but she was smiling. The glistening blood from palm called for Seungwan. No, not for me. For my monster. Not me. I am not a monst—

“Good girl,” Sooyoung murmured. Her hand, her bloodied hand, her bloodied, mangled hand was so, so close. “Now feed.”

Seungwan tried to move away from Sooyoung’s hand, but Sooyoung’s hold on the back of her neck prevented her from evading the hand. Her stomach lurched and called for sustenance at the same time. “No,” she gasped. “No. Please. I don’t—I can’t—please—no.”

“Feed, Seungwan.”

No. I’m not a monster. Joohyun, please. Help. Joohyun, why did you—Joohyun, help me—Joohyun—no. No. I’m not a monst—

...

...

In this small kitchen, Alges was a plate of bacalhau topped with cebolada and a bottle of vinho verde. The three of us had finished half the bottle. The bacalhau was excellent, much better than the ones served in my hotel, but the cebolada I thought went better with beef. Yet: “It’s Lenten Friday,” our host had said, unapologetic. In this small kitchen, strings of onions hung from the ceiling, its ends almost touching the basket full of garlic on the counter. Shallots, too, I noticed. Jorge said he had grown to love fried shallots since his days along the equator. On the wall shelves were also jars of piri piri, bird’s eye chilis, and cayenne peppers. Spicy, fiery, and hot. “Warm, Overseer. Warm,” Jorge corrected. “Not hot.” Still, though I was more of a chilis fan than oni