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ultravioletqueen · 3 months

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Lo prometido es deuda ¡hice una version de evan de threnody! Habrá muchas diferencias de lore con su contraparte de the vampair series,dicho esto hablemos de su lore:

Anselm nació de una familia normal, donde vivió feliz hasta sus diez años, hubo un incidente en el que su familia fue atacada por brujas malvadas, resultando en el siendo secuestrado por una bruja y que perdiera la memoria en el proceso,olvidando su identidad y quedando bajo el "cuidado"(mas bien cautiverio) de la bruja que lo robo de su vida.

Durante 9 años vivió con la bruja creyendo que era su madre(que incluso ella le habia cambiado el nombre a adan),sin embargo tras escuchar una conversación donde se dio a conocer la verdad el huyo de ella, terminando con el llendo a la aldea más lejana posible donde no lo pudieran encontrar.

El logro hacerse de una nueva vida al mismo tiempo que buscaba pistas de su pasado y sobre quien era en verdad, consiguió un trabajo como sanador gracias a las habilidades mágicas que había logrado aprender de la bruja que lo abducio, lleva 3 años desde que escapo de la bruja.

(Por cierto se que no están el dibujo pero anselm tiene dos acompañantes animales,un perro guardián llamado shuck(haciendo referencia a una criatura llamada black shuck) y un cuervo blanco llamado luna.)

su relación seguiría siendo igual de adorable, con artemis siendo el más dominante,serio y protector mientras anselm es el más pasivo,gentil y educado,son como charlie y vaggie hasta cierto punto y los amo con mi vida.

Se conocieron gracias a las conexiones que tenia la "madre" de anselm(cuando todavía le llamaba adan)con los grinvoes, lograron conectar gracias a sus infancias solitarias y juventudes duras, se entendieron muy bien y solían darse ciertas escapadas de vez en cuando a espaldas de sus "padres"(no me puedes convencer de que artemis no se escapaba aunque sea una vez a la semana de los grinvoe para tener un descanso de estos desgraciados),incluso es posible que artemis le haya ayudado a anselm a esconderse de su secuestradora cuando el descubrió la verdad sobre ser secuestrado de niño.

Anselm no es un brujo,solo sabe algo de magia sanadora y es un buen médico,mantiene una personalidad amable,servicial,optimista y gentil para los demás.

Anselm no es muy diferente a evan,solo que no tiene una ceguera total,solo parcial,fuera de eso sigue siendo el príncipe disney que todos amamos.

Tiene de pasatiempo leer sobre plantas y arquitectura,tocar instrumentos como el piano,coser y cocinar,es una persona muy multitarea gracias a todo el tiempo que ha estado solo.

Para su relación con artemis me inspire en el contenido de @seraphvie ,en serio amo sus publicaciones sobre artemis.

Edicion:olvidé mencionar a @m1ssm1

What was promised is a debt, I made a version of Evan from Threnody! There will be many differences in lore with its counterpart from the vampair series, that being said, let's talk about its lore:

Anselm was born to a normal family, where he lived happily until he was ten years old, there was an incident in which his family was attacked by evil witches, resulting in him being kidnapped by a witch and losing his memory in the process, forgetting his identity and remaining under the "care" (rather captivity) of the witch who stole him from his life.

For 9 years he lived with the witch believing that she was his mother (that she had even changed his name to Adam), however after listening to a conversation where the truth was revealed he fled from her, ending with him going to the village. as far away as possible where they couldn't find it.

He managed to make a new life for himself while searching for clues about his past and who he really was. He got a job as a healer thanks to the magical skills he had managed to learn from the witch who abducted him. It has been 3 years since he escaped.

(By the way, I know that the drawing is not there but Anselm has two animal companions, a guard dog called shuck (referring to a creature called black shuck) and a white crow called luna.)

The relationship with Artemis would still be just as adorable, with Artemis being the most dominant, serious and protective while Anselm is the most passive, gentle and polite, they are like Charlie and Vaggie to a certain extent. and I love them with my life.

They met thanks to the connections that Anselm's "mother" had (when she still called him Adam) with the grinvoes, they managed to connect thanks to their lonely childhoods and tough youths, they understood each other very well and used to take certain getaways from time to time to behind his "parents" backs(you can't convince me that Artemis didn't escape even once a week from the Grinvoe to get a break from these bastards), it's even possible that Artemis helped Anselm hide from his kidnapper when he discovered the truth about being kidnapped as a child.

Anselm is not a witch,he just knows some healing magic and is a good doctor, he maintains a kind, helpful, optimistic and gentle personality in work.

Anselm is not very different from Evan, he just doesn't have total blindness, only partial, apart from that he is still the Disney prince that we all love.

His hobbies are reading about plants and architecture, playing instruments like the piano, sewing and cooking, and he is a very multitasking person thanks to all the time he has been alone.

For his relationship with artemis i take inspiration of the posts of @seraphvie,i just love the content they do about artemis.

Edit:i forgot to tag @m1ssm1

#oc #oc x cannon #missmi threnody #mina rose #mina rose threnody #threnody oc #artemis seraphvie #anselm

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iolaussharpe-24 · 1 month

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Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Chapter One

Shoutouts to both @reallyrallyauthor and @redeyerhaenyra who are both my biggest inspirations for this. I've been working on this for a while and this was like my fourth or fifth draft, each with a different plot. I'm still not confident in it, but I'm hoping to improve my writing so that I can make the novel I'm writing extra special because that project is my baby and I want it to do well. (Grace Smith is my OC. She was inspired by Samara Weaving after I watched Ready or Not. Yes, there were drafts of this story where it was a crossover fic between Big Gold Brick and Ready or Not. No, I am not doing that anymore.)

Story part under the cut. I made the collage myself on Microsoft Word. It's a screenshot so it's a little blurry. Cross posted on my Wattpad page.

“Come in; but hurry the fuck up with it!” came Anselm’s voice from the other side of the door. He sounded breathless and his voice had been strained. Close to climax. Any idiot could tell that fact.

Despite his many different physical limitations, (his age, his breathing problems, and his bad leg, for example) Anselm Vogelweide had an impressively high libido and was frequently seen around his mansion with various people to have sex. While she hadn’t been someone unfortunate enough to walk in on him in a situation like that before now, Grace had seen people leave his bedroom or his office with messy hair or makeup while being half dressed and proudly wearing hickies and love bites on their throats, collarbones, and shoulders.

So, she kept her head down as she entered the office. Her eyes were focused on the silver tray in her hands and her own two feet while she walked. Judging by the sounds she could hear, they were on the desk. Going at each other like rabbits in heat. Today’s “companion” was a woman. A very vocal woman who moaned like an amateur pornstar. Charming.

She turned to the side table and set up the things she brought in quickly. A bit of cocaine, two glasses, a bottle of unopened champagne, and a stack of money delivered by an associate who’d recently lost an impressive bet. She didn’t know the details, just that it was some high school game. Soccer or volleyball or something. A girl’s game. The associate had made a comment about ‘tender young players’ that made the poor worker’s skin crawl. It was disgust-

“GRACE!”

Immediately, she looked up, having been caught off guard by the sound of Mr. Vogelweide’s strained voice calling out her name. A lesson that everyone who worked for him learned in their first five minutes was the need to constantly please. Keep him happy. Do as your told when you’re told, and no one gets shot. However…. She regretted that decision immediately.

Mr. Vogelweide was pounding into a fair skinned woman bent over his desk from behind. One of his hands was on her back, keeping her in place while the other hand was on her face, two of his scarred fingers shoved deep inside her mouth.

She was a lean woman, only a little bit heavier than Grace was. She had long blonde hair that looked like it had been flat ironed recently. It was a little frizzy at the ends. On top of being messy from sex.

As Grace watched them, she noticed that the woman was wearing a bright candy apple red lipstick – the same shade Grace herself was wearing – and her nails were painted a glossy black. She had a dark smokey eye that made the cyan blue of her irises pop even as she was being reduced to a blubbering, drooling, teary-eyed mess on the desk.

It was an… unsettling sight. The woman under Mr. Vogelweide looked a lot like Grace. A lot like her. The hair, the eye color, the shape of her body, the color of her skin, right down to the makeup she was wearing. It was a little eerie in a way. If she didn’t stare too hard – if she didn’t focus on the other woman’s thin lips or the almond shape of her eyes, or her square jaw – if she just watched them like she would anything else, it was like a peculiar out-of-body-experience.

Normally, (as odd as that word sounded in this context) Grace would have written off all of the similarities as a coincidence and walked away. Honestly, she should have walked away anyway. But there was one detail that, when paired with all the rest, she simply couldn’t ignore. One damning piece of evidence that sent a chill up her spine.

There was a beauty mark on the woman’s cheek. Left side. Half an inch under the eye. Right on her cheekbone. Too conveniently placed to be real. Granted, it didn’t look real. It didn’t even look like makeup. It looked like a dot sloppily drawn on with a Sharpie.

It wasn’t a coincidence that the woman looked like Grace. It couldn’t be. Not to that extent. The odds had to be a million to one on that. (Well, maybe not a million to one. After all, skinny blue-eyed blondes are a dime a dozen. But, for her to be wearing that color lipstick, for her to have that nail polish, the fake mole on that specific spot on her face, for Mr. Vogelweide to be screwing her, and for him to call out ‘Grace’ as he did, that was where things crossed the line and the possibility of a coincidence went straight out the window.)

Grace was staring at her own doppelganger as her boss fucked her.

She stood there, dumbfounded, unable to fully comprehend the sight. The woman was bent over, her dress unzipped in the back to expose her skin, the skirt bunched up around her waist so that Mr. Vogelweide had access to her sex. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess and her lipstick was smudged as she sucked and slobbered on his fingers.

God, even her age… she looked like she was only a little bit older than Grace. A few years at most. Anselm had to be somewhere in his fifties or so. This woman looked about thirty. And she was drooling on the polished surface of the desk, moaning wantonly. All while the man, with his pants down around his knees, pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her cunt rapidly; the wet slapping out of skin on skin filling the room alongside their ecstatic moans and grunts.

It was such an odd sight. She might have found it arousing if she had a mind even half as perverted as his. But, thankfully, she didn’t. There wasn’t a person alive in any place or time who was as strange as Anselm Vogelweide. He was incomparable. He was insatiable. He was… insane. Some people would argue that that was part of his strangely addicting charm. That it was the reason why so many people kept coming back to this mansion. To his business. To him.

Sometimes she wondered if she was the only sane person in his weird little world. The only one who would see him like this and recognize it as the incredibly disturbing thing that it really was.

Though Grace had never understood why, she was more than aware of the fact that everyone else on staff assumed that she was Mr. Vogelweide’s favorite. From the other maids, to the kitchen staff, to the gardener, to the bodyguards and drivers, all the way down to the pool boy. They all gossiped about her to one another. They all told each other that she had gained the boss’s favor by sleeping with him. That’s how the pool boy, Óscar, did it. Back when he was the obvious favorite who spent most of his nights in Mr. Vogelweide’s bed.

It was at this moment that the older man seemed to realize that he and his toy had an audience. He kept his gaze locked on the other woman’s face; watching as her blue eyes rolled back from pleasure while she moaned pathetically and desperately suckled on his fingers.

“I thought I told you to be quick and leave, you fucking- ” His voice trailed off as he finally lifted his head and saw Grace standing in front of him. He stopped his thrusting and stared at her. From behind the yellow lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes roamed her slender figure.

Grace averted her eyes from him, just to avoid having to face… whatever this was. “I’ll just go,” she said quickly, bowing her head and turning to leave the room. She walked quickly, praying that the semi-automatic couldn’t come out behind her back. Or the pistol. Or the shotgun. Or any gun in his massive collection. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was for her employer to blow her head off or something. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that. She would know. It was her job to clean the blood out of the carpets and off the walls before they stained.

“Stay.”

She paused but didn’t turn around. That was the one word she feared hearing in this situation. The one thing she didn’t want to do. Staying wasn’t an option for her. Staying at this point meant something and she didn’t want to know what. But the possibilities of what it could be made her blood freeze and her heart pound.

“Ms. Quinn was just leaving,” Mr. Vogelweide said as he pulled away from the blonde woman on his desk. He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. Then, he sat down and began to buckle up his leg brace. It was incredibly old. Probably older than him. The metal rod didn’t look like it was rusted, but it squeaked loudly whenever he walked. Well, whenever he tried to walk would be a bit more accurate. The brace, because of how it held his leg from his groin all the way down to is foot.

Grace glanced over her shoulder and saw that the other woman, Annie, hadn’t moved yet. She was still bent over the desk. Her legs were still spread wide. The back of her dress was open and the skirt was bunched up around her hips. She was breathing hard, hard enough to rival even one of Mr. Vogelweide’s asthma attacks.

She lifted her head and looked at Mr. Vogelweide, clearly disappointed in this turn of events. “Wait,” she started, before being abruptly cut off by him.

“You can go now. I want a private word with Ms. Smith.”

‘Ms. Quinn’ lifted herself up into a semi-standing position, her eyes still on him. “But… I didn’t-”

Again, he cut her off. “You have your hands. I’m sure you have toys. I don’t care how you do it or where. Just get out of my house first.”

Grace watched as her doppelganger stood up the rest of the way and pulled down her skirt to try and hide the wetness running from between her thighs. She was clutching her chest with one hand to keep her open dress from falling off her shoulders. Her knees wobbled a bit as she stood up straight. When she walked, she kept her legs apart and limped slightly. She walked to the door, then paused when she saw Grace.

For a brief moment, the two women’s eyes met. Grace’s sapphire blue orbs and Quinn’s cyan blue ones. They stared at each other, seeing all the similarities between themselves. Grace watched, almost in slow motion, as Quinn realized what she had been doing.

Just before she exited the office, she reached up and touched the fake mole on her cheek. The spot that perfectly mirrored Grace’s natural beauty mark.

The last Grace saw of Quinn was her shocked expression. Wide eyes and parted lips. Hand on her cheek. Then the door closed. She was gone.

Grace was alone with Mr. Vogelweide.

The poor girl kept her eyes faced forward, staring at the door. She wanted to go. She wanted to run and hide from the topsy-turvy, boss-wants-to-fuck-the-maid, trashy porno scenario that she’d suddenly found herself thrust into. (Pun not intended.)

She swallowed hard, trying to gather whatever shreds of courage and dignity she had left and said, in an attempt to excuse herself despite his wishes, “I’m sorry, Mr. Vogelweide, I should have-”

He cut her off just like he done to the other woman. “I’d have asked you to watch if I thought it would make you wet.” Grace stiffened when she realized that he was standing directly behind her, whispering into her ear. He reached around and touched her face with his scarred left hand. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb then gently turned her head so that she’d look at him.

“Why?” she asked. Though, she couldn’t figure out what she was asking about. Why was he touching her? Why would he say that? Why was he fucking her doppelganger? Why hasn’t she run away yet? She wasn’t sure, but she’d take whatever answer he gave her at this point because it honestly felt like someone took a whisk and scrambled her brain into a thick pink paste as it sat in her skull.

“Because you’re my favorite. You’re like a delicate flower. Beautiful and fragrant. All I want to do is pluck you from the ground and keep you with me.”

His fingers trailed down to her throat before wrapping around it. Instinctively, her head tilted back a bit and she held her breath. His grip was firm but not tight by any means. He wasn’t squeezing her, he wasn’t even trying to make her think that he would, but she knew that he could apply that pressure at any moment. The fact that just one of his hands was large enough to encompass so much of her neck. She could feel her pulse pounding against his fingers as they lay over her jugular veins.

“If I weren’t such an empathetic person, I might be tempted to take you by force. If you were not so good to me, I would.” He gently pulled her to bend backwards a bit, her back arched and head tilted back and to side. She stared at him as he forced her to lean against and rest her head on his shoulder. He stared back at her; the foggy yellow lenses of his glasses made his already dark eyes seem nearly black in color. His graying beard tickled the skin across her cheek and jaw as he smiled.

“Mr. Vogelweide,” she started to plead before being cut off again.

“Anselm, dear. Don’t be afraid to use my first name.”

“Ah… Anselm…” she said hesitantly, still staring into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Óscar was always your favorite. He’s very proud of that fact.”

Mr. Vogelweide actually laughed at that. “I’m sure he is. Óscar is a puppy chasing cars he can never catch. Give him an inch and he’ll run a mile never realizing that he’s in a hamster wheel. He wasn’t my favorite anything. He was entertaining. You are different from him. You aren’t entertaining. At all. You’re quite dull, in fact. I’ve seen you in your spare time. Always reading. And it’s always the same cheap, sexless paperbacks. You’re boring and yet that’s the very thing that makes you so enticing to me. Despite everything that happens in this house, you remain pure and untarnished by both it and me.”

He leaned closer so that he could whisper in her ear, his voice practically dripping with seductive intent. He already had an oddly sensual quality to it. There was something about the odd mix between his German accent and a subtle lisp that could capture and hold anyone’s attention. It didn’t matter what he was saying. He could drone on and on about absolute nonsense and it would hold the attention of an audience. Mostly because his voice was just that enchanting; almost like a siren song. Partly because ignoring him would be a death wish granted in a split second by a hail of gunfire from the semi-automatic hidden in his desk.

He moved his body slightly so that she could feel the hard bulge of his still erect cock as it throbbed against her ass. She screwed her eyes shut at the feeling, trying hard not to focus on it.

“Part of me wants to break you. To pick the flower from the ground and pluck away the petals until there’s nothing left but the pistil. I want to bend you over and ravish you until you can’t take it anymore,” he said, practically moaning out the words like he was on the verge of orgasm from the thought alone.

For a moment, not even a fraction of a second, Mr. Vogelweide’s grip on Grace’s throat tightened. She drew in a sharp gasp as his fingers dug into her soft skin.

Then it was over. He released his hold entirely and walked away, his leg brace softly squeaking with every other step he took. Grace turned fully to stare at the boss as he moved away from her. She wasn’t sure how to process any of this. And his explanations only muddied already murky water.

He was across the room, staring out the window, his hands clasped together behind his back. Despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Grace stepped closer to him and looked out the window as well. Óscar was outside cleaning the pool. He looked up at the office window, a smile on his face, and gave a flirty little wave. He blew a kiss up to Mr. Vogelweide before setting back to work, moving a little more sensually than necessary. Putting on a little show.

“If you knew half of the half of the nasty things I’ve done to that boy you wouldn’t be standing so close,” Mr. Vogelweide said, his voice lowered for a moment on the word ‘nasty,’ while his lisp dragged out the ‘s’ in the middle. It stood out and caught Grace’s attention more than the rest of the sentence had. It tickled her curiosity and sparked her imagination to try and picture the two men together. The young pool boy and the older mob boss that signed his paychecks in the blood of his own cousins.

Óscar was the kind of person who lived for others. The embodiment of an almost self-destructive people pleaser. He was a lemming in the worst way who would stand on the edge of a cliff and backflip off of it if someone told him to. Well, maybe not just any old ‘someone.’ He wouldn’t waste himself on someone he didn’t feel was worth it.

Anselm Vogelweide wasn’t like anyone else in the world. He was strange and alluring. Everything about him screamed danger. Especially to people like Grace and Óscar. The people that worked for him and lived near him. The people who saw, on a daily basis, exactly who he really was. Not that ever made an effort to hide.

He had things hidden all around the house. Things that Grace often found on accident while cleaning. Toys; both new and used. Suspicious stains that smelled old and sour. Books with dirty titles and dirtier pictures. She could only imagine what he did to the people that had sex with him. She had her theories, everyone did, but something about his words made her think that the speculations paled in comparison to the truth.

“Sir, I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this.”

“I told you, child; you’re my favorite.” He turned away from the window to face Grace again. Startled, she automatically backed away from him. He followed; though his movements were slow and awkward, that didn’t stop her from being intimidated by him. She didn’t focus on the way his brace made it impossible for him to bend his left knee, making him hobble. She didn’t focus on the way the brace squeaked every time he lifted his leg to take a step. She focused on his eyes. On the darkness and hunger in them. She felt like prey under the searing gaze of a predator.

In the question of fight or flight, Grace liked to pretend that she’d stand up and face her fears head on. She wore a brave face in casual conversations about hypothetical situations that were never likely to happen. She’d imagine herself as a gun-toting badass in the face of a zombie apocalypse or a strong survivor in the face of an attack in a dark alley. She’d taken self defense classes. She kept pepper spray in her purse. She wore a ring knife.

Theoretically speaking, she could protect herself if she needed to.

Empasis on the word “could.”

She could do a lot of things. She could be a novelist. She could become a rocket scientist. She could marry a tech billionaire. She could do any of those things. They just weren’t likely to happen.

She didn’t know the first thing about writing a novel. She was terrible at math. And there was nothing significant about her in the slightest that would ever put her in the same room as a tech billionaire, let alone marry one.

The reality was that she wasn’t the brave warrior she liked to imagine herself as. In the question of fight or flight, Grace would always fawn.

She’d try to run first. Then, as her fears grew and her heart started to pound, she’d start to freeze up. Then, as things only seemed to be getting worse and worse and her pulse threatened to send her into cardiac arrest, she’d give in and let the nightmare consume her.

And that’s exactly what she did in Mr. Vogelweide’s office. After taking only a few steps away from him, she gripped the edge of his desk and froze, her eyes fixed on his body as he continued to advance on her. When he was near enough, when he was directly in front of her, gripping the polished wood on either side of her slender frame, she felt herself give in. She could try to tell herself that she was just putting more distance between the two of them, but she wasn’t. She was surrendering. She bent over backwards and let him hover above her.

Mr. Vogelweide seemed to realize this fact. He stared down at her, a smile playing across his lips. He leaned down so that his face was just above hers. Their noses were a hair’s width away from brushing against each other.

“Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to claim you?” he whispered in that same attention-grabbingly sensual tone. “Do you have any idea how tempting that idea is?”

As he spoke, Anselm ran one of his hands up the length of Grace’s body. He started at her navel and lightly slid his hand up to her chest, over the mound of her left breast, across her collarbone, and up the side of her neck to her cheek. He rested his palm on the side of her head for a moment. Ran his fingers through her soft blonde locks.

Her heart was pounding in her throat as she stared up at him. She was breathing heavily beneath him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Shush,” he murmured, grabbing her jaw with his thumb and first two fingers. Like his earlier grip on her throat, he was holding her just tight enough for her to feel it without coming anywhere near actually hurting her. He lifted her head and looked down at her lips. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t hurt you. I’d never dream of it.”

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Grace’s eyes widened and a high-pitched whimper escaped her. He pressed his body against hers; squishing her down onto the desk. She felt his tongue slide across her teeth for a moment before he squeezed her face just tight enough to make her open her mouth to him. She let out another, louder, whimper as his tongue entered her mouth to circle and swirl around hers.

It took him a long time, but he did finally pull away from her mouth. He released her jaw and stood up straight, adjusting his suit and tie. Suddenly, he was back to his usual self. Cool and unbothered by the world around him.

“That’ll be all, Ms. Smith; thank you.”

That was it? He’d had sex with a doppelgänger, told Grace he only did it because he wanted her, kissed her, and then did nothing else? He was just going to dismiss her without another word?

Wait… why was she even asking herself that?! She didn’t want or expect any of this. It was thrust on her in a moment that she wasn’t even supposed to see. She didn’t know how to deal with any of this. She didn’t know if she was supposed to get up or stay where she was. Hell, she didn’t even know if she’d still have a job after this.

Mr. Vogelweide started to walk away, then paused. He turned to face Grace again and said, “Oh, before I forget, would you be so kind as to clean up in here? I’m afraid Ms. Quinn made quiet the mess on the other side of the desk and I have a meeting in half an hour. You might need to come back to clean up afterwards. I’d like to avoid it, but there may be blood in the rug before the hour is over.”

She looked at the other side of the desk. Where he’d had the look-alike bent over so he could fuck her brains out and pretend she was Grace. There was a wet spot on the polish. It smelled like sweat and… ugh… old fish. The lingering residue of a shamelessly wet pussy.

Back to business as usual then.

Grace stood from the desk and nodded her head. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“One other thing,” Anselm said as he watched her. “I want you to know that, on the off chance you ever change your mind, you need only to knock.”

“Knock?”

“On my door. The day you decide to me mine, I want to take you in the bedroom. Mine. Not yours. There are… things I’d like to try. Harnesses I’d like to see your body in. Toys I want to put inside you.” His dark eyes moved up and down her body at an agonizingly slow pace. Grace was fully dressed; wearing leggings, a knee-length dress, and a small sweater with sleeves that came down to her elbows. She wasn’t showing any skin that she shouldn’t be. Nothing more than her forearms. And it wasn’t even that the neckline of her dress was low either. It sat right on her collarbones. Yet she felt naked the longer he stared. Like he was peeling off her clothes with his imagination.

This is sexual harassment isn’t it? This was the kind of behavior that got the #MeToo movement started. Back when protecting victims actually meant something to people. She could quit for this, right? Wait… no. No. That was a bad idea. If this were a normal job for a normal person, she wouldn’t even consider it. She’d leave.

But he wasn’t a normal person.

This wasn’t a normal job.

She spent her time cleaning blood out of Anselm Vogelweide’s carpet and cum off of the furniture and walls. Everything in his house was about money and sex. People died here. On a regular basis. There were guns and bottles of lube in every room.

She knew too much about him. There was no leaving. There was only dismissal. And that would likely mean a hail of gunfire that would cut her life short in the living room before his massive bodyguards took her away to some place where she’d never be found again.

All because she caught his eye.

#anselm vogelweide #anselm/oc

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