Hi I mostly go by V, or Viola. You can also call me Vic, or come up with your own nickname for me. I've been called: Violin, Vi, Viol, Villis, Oa
I won't be disclosing my age.
HUUUGE Metallica, Megadeth, and Shock Tilt fan.
I really like Metallica and Megadeth. I'm a guitarist.
I write fanfiction. I write smut, fluff, angst and neutral texts/fics.
But yeah I also edit and here are my public socials;
Tiktok: @Poor Twisted V or @poortwistededitor.inc
Snapchat: Violakicksyoass
And you can always talk to me, Yap to me, just become friends w me. I've got no limits or anythin'. I'm a bit weird but yeah. I'm a very horny lad, just a heads up if you see me post freaky shi.
Hej jag hÜrde Kent fÜr fÜrsta güngen idag/2 juni och jag gillar musiken. Süngtips? Jag lyssnar just nu pü debut-albummet men jag älskar lüten "Pärlor". Hehe tack!
hejsan! kul att du hittat hit :D
om du planerar att lyssna pĂĽ allt dem gjort sĂĽ tycker jag att du kĂśr pĂĽ frĂĽn bĂśrjan till slut! men om jag ska rekommendera nĂĽgot sĂĽ skulle jag säga att Hagnesta Hill albumet har mĂĽnga älskade lĂĽtar! den kändaste lĂĽten mĂĽste nog vara âStoppa mig juni (lilla ego)â. mĂĽnga har den som favorit lĂĽt hehe
eftersom du tycker om âPärlorâ sĂĽ kan du lyssna pĂĽ Vapen & Ammunition albumet! enligt mig är det nog en utav de coolare albumen. Instrumentalen känns spännande och catchy ^^
jag kan lika gärna rekommendera alltihop fÜr allting är sü bra!! münga bra b-sidor pü singlar ocksü!!
hursomhelst, det är svürt att veta exakt vad du är intresserad av. samtidigt älskar jag allt som kent har gjort. men jag tänker att jag delar med mig av lütar jag tycker om! Sü hoppas jag att du har en bra dag!
1. När det blüser pü münen [Kent]
2. Chans [B-sidor 1995-00]
3. Min Värld [B-sida âIngentingâ singel]
4. Beredd pü allt [Jag är inte rädd fÜr mÜrkret]
5. Revolt III [Hagnesta Hill]
6. Sjukhus [RĂśd]
7. Mannen i den vita hatten (16 ĂĽr senare) [Du & Jag DĂśden]
8. 10 Minuter (fÜr mig själv) [Verkligen]
9. Allt har sin tid [Tigerdrottningen]
10. Nostromo [Best of]
11. Saker man ser [Isola]
12. Sundance kid [Vapen & Ammunition]
13. VinterNoll2 [B-sida âFFâ singel]
14. Palace & Main [Du & jag dĂśden]
15. Generation Ex [Tillbaka till samtiden]
16. Krossa allt [RĂśd]
17. Ingen kunde rĂśra oss [singel]
18. Mirage [Tigerdrottningen]
19 FĂśrlĂĽtelsen [DĂĽ som nu fĂśr alltid]
20. Ensam lüng väg hem [En plats i solen]
21. Kräm (sü nära für ingen gü) [Verkligen]
kolla även in musikvideorna om det intresserar dig :)
i wwant to write but I left my laptop in my bag. AAAAAA. and wait... WAIT. no I just realised. I can't use my laptop to write in the summertime... I'll have to write... On my.... Phone!? NOOO
there's so much fucking drama in the megadeth fandom and it's tiring.
what you write aboutâyour fantasies, your fics, whateverâdoesn't necessarily portray how you are as a person, but the way you write it does.
you can be a bad person and write nice tropes, and you can be a good person and write dark tropes. it's the way you word it and how you portray it that lets people know who you are and how you see things.
take that as you will.
also stop throwing around the word pedophile jesus fucking christ.
Summary: James is your older boyfriend, who's engaged in some criminal stuff. He has to leave and as he's gone you get kidnapped by some people whom he owes. He pays his debt and gets you back and at home you two have some lovey-dovey love-making. It's got smut to a small degree (sorry, but it's still worth reading, trust me.)
1.7K words.
âShhh, baby girl, itâs okay, donât cry.â His deep voice helped soothe you enough for the tears to stop falling. Cradled in his arms, you had cried for the past 20 minutes.Â
Through your blurred vision you saw your beautiful silver fox man. His icy blues were hooded and looked down at you with pure love.Â
âCâmon bae, you know how bad it makes me feel when you cry. I wonât be gone forever, sweetie.â Your ears filled with his beautiful deep chuckle. Â
You curled up even closer, burying your face in his tattooed neck. The scent of him filled you; he smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and trouble.Â
âBut itâs dangerous, canât you stay here with me? Please.â You tried your best to choke back the sobs you felt return in your throat.Â
âMy darlinâ. You know I canât do that. This is my job. I promise Iâll be safe. Donât even worry.â The moon reflected a stream of light in the room; it fell right on you and James. It spread heat inside you, your eyelids growing heavy with sleep. The clock was past midnight; you knew James had to leave soon, and it broke your heart every single time. The streets were scary and you didnât want your man to go back out there. He was getting old, but he was still physically strong, with a mind and soul of someone 40 years younger.Â
You blinked, looked around, and sure enough, he was gone. The couch didnât feel as inviting anymore, everything felt so empty without him. But it was just for a few nights, right? No matter what you wanted, James had to leave. James wasnât just your âolder boyfriendâ; he was your caregiver, your lover, yours. Â
Hours passed, hours turned into a day, day turned into night. Â
You fell on your bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. A sense of belonging, home. Your pyjamas consisted of one of Jamesâ shirts that draped over your body and a pair of pyjama-shorts from Walmart. Nothing fancy, but it was yours, and partially Jamesâs too. Â
A bang on your door made you shoot up from your bed. Your blood ran cold. Nobody should be visiting at these hours. But as you were about to walk to the door, you heard a window shatter. This wasnât right. Someone broke in. And you were all alone.Â
The doors to the closet opened very quietly, your hands trembling with fear as you reached in and wrapped your fingers around the cold steel. The handgun was a nice Glock 19; one James always had in the back of the closet for safety. You held it up to protect yourself. You positioned yourself in the corner and tried to steady yourself.Â
After short two masked guys opened the bedroom door, their rifles pointed at you as soon as their eyes landed on your trembling form.Â
âPut the gun down.â One of the men spoke.Â
You shook your head.Â
âYouâre Jamesâ girlfriend, arenât you? That old man really likes âem young, huh?â The other chuckled.Â
âShut the fuck up.â Your finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire.Â
The menâs laughter died down, and they got a more serious look in their eyes. Floorboards creaked under their feet as they took a step closer.Â
âStay back. Iâll shoot.â Your gaze darted between the two.Â
âSweetheart, youâve got the safety on. And donât even think about turning it off. Drop the gun.âÂ
The men were, indeed, correct. You had safety on.Â
Reluctantly, you dropped the handgun. The sound of when the Glock hit the floor had you feeling defeated.Â
âStand up.â The manâs voice was like ice.Â
In only a matter of seconds you were being led outside in the cold evening air. Cold air hit your skin. You were shoved into the back of a van that stood on your driveway, where James' truck usually was parked. Your hands zip-tied together, which restricted you from fighting back. The interior of the van was clean but rough. Guns scattered across the floor, along with gloves and ski masks. A claustrophobe's worst nightmare. Dark and dusty.Â
The car started with the rev of the engine; the sound rang out through the dark evening atmosphere.Â
A small window allowed you to look out over the city; cars passed, tall buildings, fields and forests. Contrasting landscapes. Some beautiful, some not, but that wasnât important. You had to get out, but you couldnât. Hours into the drive the car finally stopped; it had to have been into the morning hours by that point. The sun rose on the horizon as you got escorted out of the car. Fatigued, cheeks flushed red, eyes puffy from tears; you were led into some abandoned warehouse.Â
Tied to a chair, masked men filled the big space. Someone handed you a phone, it was on speaker, and as you heard his voice you started to feel the tears form again.Â
âHey, baby, how are you? Hurt?â Jamesâ voice was worried, laced with anger and sadness.Â
âMâfine. Not hurt.â You didnât get to say another word before the man took the phone back, turned off speaker and held it to his ear.Â
âYâknow what we want, Hetfield. Youâve got 24 hours. Pay up, or sheâs gone.â Â
Your eyes widened, of course you expected this, but actually hearing the words stung. Your heart ached, if only you were back in Jamesâ arms, the safety, the comfort, but instead you were kidnapped in some warehouse, unsafe and scared for your life.Â
You fell asleep from pure exhaustion only a few minutes of agonizing crying later.Â
The sight before you when you opened your eyes was one of shock. Your eyes shooting up, your entire body shook awake. He was here.Â
Your James, face bruised, his beautiful silver âstache had red stains of blood from his split lip. He still stood tall as ever, nonetheless his state. His leather jacket was wet, clinging to him, probably because of the rain you suspected because of the sounds of droplets that fell on the roof. His hands were on his belt; his big fingers had a tight grip on the buckle. He looked angry, frustrated, and worried, yet he was somehow collected.Â
Jamesâ eyes softened as he saw you awake. You tried to move a little but thatâs when you felt something cold against the side of your head. You froze in fear, suspected the worst, and stood corrected. A gun pressed against your hair. You felt the tears prickle in the corners of your eyes again but didnât dare let them fall.Â
âJames, please...â Your voice was a plead for help. Desperate hope. Like a hand reached out, waiting for someone to take it.Â
âI know, baby. Iâll get you out of here. It wonât be long. Just need to pay some debts:â His voice was gruff as always, yet the comfort you sought in it didnât arrive.Â
You could hear your own heartbeat. The constant thudding against your insides, the rhythm seemed to seep into the entire room, a part of you on display.Â
Thud-Thud.Â
âGive it over, Hetfield.â Â
Thud-Thud.Â
James reached into his pocket.Â
Thud-Thud.Â
The sound of leather brushing against leather.Â
Thud-Thud.Â
Voices blurred together in your head but-Â
Thud-Thud.Â
You couldnât listen, couldnât make sense of it.Â
Thud-Thud.Â
An inner voice screamed.Â
Thud-Thud.Â
The dusty scent of the room.Â
Thud-Thud...Â
Your hands got untied, and you let out a sigh of relief.Â
Thud-Thud...Â
The cold metal wasnât against your head anymore. And soon you were in Jamesâ arms once again. You held on so tightly.Â
Thud-Thud...Â
The thuds were softer, your heartbeat at an almost normal and steady pace again. James' warm embrace surrounding you as your tired feet finally got to walk out. At that point, you were finally safe.Â
The car door closed, then plush car seats of leather dipped underneath your exhausted body. Not one word broke the silence. And that was how it stayed for the entire ride back home. Home.Â
The same landscapes as before passed but not with sorrow, with hope. A hope for comfort once again. The drive wasnât long though. Â
A soft click, a dark and familiar apartment came into sight. Nothing held you back from going in; it was what you wanted the most. But a little kiss for your knight in shining armour needed a kiss for his bravery. Â
You reached up and your lips met his, your arms seeping their way around his broad shoulders. It was soft, brief, yet it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Everything else fading away as his moustache tickled you ever so slightly. Â
âI love you, baby. I havenât said it enough, but Iâm yours.â His icy-blue's softened and you couldâve sworn you saw the love glisten in his eyes when he spoke these words. Such a beautiful gentleman. Your beautiful gentleman.Â
ââLove you too, so much.â You answered. A blush creeping up your neck.Â
James chuckled softly, a small, beautiful sound. His strong arms wrapped under your knees and your arms and he picked you up. Â
The familiar scent of home filled your lungs as James carried you deeper into the apartment. Â
He finally put you down onto the bed. Â
âIâll get you a new pair of pyjamas from the closet, okay?â Â
You nodded and watched as he walked out of eyesight towards the closet. The closet doors creaked open and he took out one of his usual T-shirts and a pair of panties for you.Â
âLet me help you out of these clothes sweetheart. Just relax, Iâve got you.â Â
He gently helped you get your shirt off, his eyes grazed over your delicate skin. He then helped you off with your shorts, when an idea crossed his mind. A playful smirk grew on his face.Â
âWell, youâre already naked. Might aswell make the most of it, right?â Â
You looked down, then back up at him and bit your lower lip before slowly nodding in agreement.Â
James took off his leather jacket, and shirt along with his dirty, worn-out jeans. Â
Kisses and moans were audible; skin met skin as James slowly made love to you. Not rough, slow, sensual, sweet. He left praises all around you.Â
âSo beautiful. I love you. Youâre doing so good.âÂ
His chest glistened with sweat that dripped down to his happy trail. His hands caressed you in a way that they had never. His hand cupped your breast, squeezing lightly.Â
His cock pumping in and out of you, but it wasnât dirty. It was sex, but it was also more. A bond. One that could never be broken.Â
And then you came, a light feeling cursing through your veins, a feeling of love.Â