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klausysworld · 1 year

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hello can you do a one-shot for yandere klaus mikaelson where he usually visits y/n in his wolf form

Wolf!Klaus

Pt 2 Pt3

The night Klaus had finally broken his curse, and he was running through the forest killing anything that moved, he came across a little house. Flowers grew outside of it, strawberry and blackberry plants almost fully grown.

There were birds bathing in the little fountain, some eating from the feeders and houses that were high up in the trees. He neared the water source cautiously, watching the house as he lapped at the cool water.

He could see the shape of a womens body, her. His ears perked as he heard her soft voice speaking to somebody on the phone, his head tilted as he listened to her laugh, a sound that sent shivers down his spine and had his ears falling back against his head.

He was glad he had ran ahead of Elijah, his brother would have laughed at the reaction he was having.

But that didn’t stop him from nearing her door, his large paw scraping at the wood as he sat and waited for it to open. To say she looked shocked would be an understatement, she didn’t move an inch as fear pooled in her eyes. He wasn’t able to enter her house, stupid vampire disadvantages.

He breathed her in as his head tilted the other way. Her mouth opened and close a few times as she glanced behind him and then back to his eyes. Her lips were lovely blush colour, he love how they moved as she tried to form words. After another minute or so she was taking small steps back, and yet she left the door open?

She disappeared for a moment before returning with a raw steak on a plate, he blinked at her blankly. He took a step back allowing her to put the plate outside the door and get back inside to safety before moving to eat it. His body lowering to lay before her as she slowly sat down cross legged watching him eagerly. He found her odd yet intriguing.

Halfway through his meal he felt her hand on his head, a low growl bubbled in his throat as he looked back at her. Eyes wide as her hand froze in place over his fur. Reluctantly he put his head down, allowing her to pet him. Her hands ran through his fur from his head down his neck and back, and he absolutely loved it.

Her nails lightly tickled his skin in a way that had him wanting to roll onto his back so she would rub his belly. Of course he did not out of the small amount of pride he still held onto in that moment.

He did however stand up making her panic but was pleasantly surprised when he moved to lay back down, head in her lap making her stroke him once more

“You’re absolutely gorgeous” she whispered looking him over, such soft fur for a wolf, almost as though it had been conditioned. He growled softly in return, almost like a purr to her words.

His tail began to beat at the floor, he immediately growled at his tail and urged it to stop but the way she giggled at him only made it wag harder much to his embarrassment.

As the day grew long she returned to her home and told him to go back to his fun.

But as he wondered back through the woods, and encountered other wild wolves and dangerous animals he began to worry that she would be harmed. He stayed watching her home the entire night. Eventually Elijah caught up with him and nearly had to drag him away from the house

“Niklaus you’re being ridiculous. What on earth are you waiting for?” He questioned annoyed that his brother was prolonging the deal he had made the previous night to reuniting him with their family.

———————————————————————

The next time he saw her was months later. He had almost forgotten about her after everything happened with the werewolf hunting and then his fathers death.

It was only when he found himself all riled up and in need of a run did he find his way to her house again. It was as though she called for his wolf. He ran directly to her home, no hesitation in any step as he raced against himself only to end up back at her door in the middle of the night.

He clawed at her door, whining for her to come see him. He grew frustrated when he listened to her sleep, her breathing still heavy as her body lay in her bed. He had not control over himself as his wolf let out a howl so loud that it shook every tree in Mystic Falls.

His tail immediately went again as he heard her footsteps approaching, the door cracking open as she looked through the gap to him. Her eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness and she took in the creature before her. Her brows knitting together in confused before recognition fell over her.

“What’re you doing here?” She whispered opening the door further giving him a better view of her. Her legs on full display for him as she stood in only her underwear and a shirt far too large for her. Was it a mans shirt? He didn’t like that thought, not one bit.

“Go home” she shooed, he sat before her patiently awaiting her to let him inside making her sigh

“Go, go on, back to your family” she ushered.

Instead he took a different response, his ears went flat to his head, his eyes becoming big, pupils dilating as he let out a soft whimper. He watched as her expression softened

“Are you cold?” She asked quietly glancing to the sky, clouds thick and grey making her feel worse for leaving him outside, he was rather sweet. He hadn’t given her a reason to be feared, no he let her pet him and wagged his tail for her. He was harmless.

“Okay…just tonight though” she muttered opening the door making him stand but wait for her to say those extra words

“Come on, come in already it’s freezing”

As soon as she said them he was inside, brushing himself up against her bare legs as she closed the door and began to walk up the stairs. He followed closely behind her, jumping onto her bed to which she was not keen on

“Absolutely not. No dogs on the bed, down” she pointed to the floor and he blinked at her

“Bad dog” she mumbled trying to push him ofd but he was far larger than any dog she may have encountered, more than half the size on her when it stood on all fours. She could only imagine how tall he would be if it stood on its hind legs. He growled in a warning at her, watching as she gave up and sat before him. He could see her anxiety building, the fear he would harm her in sleep.

In an attempt to comfort her thoughts he moved closer to her, pushing her to lay down and laying with his head on her stomach. Hesitantly she pet him again, slowly drifting off into sleep with him in her arms.

He left in the morning, one last look at her peaceful face as she slept before returning to the chaos that was his life.

———————————————————————

Klaus found that she could be spotted around Mystic Falls far more often than he realised. She was always around at shops or just on walks. Sometimes in the grill with a friend or two. He wondered how she would react if she knew he was the wolf that lay with her at night. How she would act if he were to turn before her, from wolf to man, see her expression as she found a naked man in her bed when she awoke.

He had this thought often. Said thought was often followed by a made up scenario in his head of her kissing him, him showing her just how animalistic he could be. Though at the same time he found he wanted to make slow sweet love to her instead. Show her how gentle he would be for her.

Occasionally he wondered if she would ever let him touch her in his wolf form. He had never thought of anything like it before but imagining her sprawled out on her bed with his long tongue between her legs as her fingers clung to his fur stirred something inside of him.

He had gotten himself off far too many times to the thought of her body, to her face and how she would react to seeing him. She thought his wolf form was gorgeous then his human form would surely stun her.

———————————————————————

He found that he stayed at her house almost every night. It baffled him how she would allow a ‘wild animal’ to stay so close to her but he assumed she must feel safe being wrapped in something so dangerous.

Somebody who is cruel to everyone but her.

He paced her room impatiently as he waited for her to get out of the shower. God how he wanted to be in the room with her.

His claws stuck to the floor as he felt himself becoming frustrated, sexually and emotionally.

When she came back in with only a tiny towel around her he froze in place.

“Oh…what are you doing here? I didn’t let you in” she mumbled holding the towel to her tightly. Yep Klaus had taken to inviting himself in now.

“Go wait outside while i change” she told him nodding to the door but he wouldn’t budge. She didn’t feel comfortable changing infront of him, something about him was more than just an animal.

“Please Wolf, just for a minute” she pleaded and reluctantly he walked off. Waiting until she let him back in. She wore her flared jeans and a low cut top, of how he adored the v-neck tops she would wear.

He jumped up onto her bed, his tail circling her as his snout pressed to her neck, inhaling her cleaned scent. The smell of cherries and vanilla flooding his senses and he purred for her.

She stroked his fur cooing to him unaware of the way his eyes looked down at her cleavage, tongue licking his lips as he tried to subtly near her breasts. He decided to just go for it and shoved his snout between her boobs making her shriek and grab at his head. A laugh bubbled inside her as he hid his face under her top, his fur tickling her as she shoved at him

“Wolf!” She yelled pushing at him in the middle of a laughing fit. His tongue licking at her valley only tickled her further causing her legs to start kicking as she screeched. She managed to get him off her, still laughing as she lay on her back staring up at him while he stood over her with a tilted head.

He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did but thankfully she didn’t seem upset, she was still struggling to breath through her hysterical state. If he were in human form he would be chuckling too.

———————————————————————

It got to the point where he was stealing her things. Taking items from her wardrobe when he left in the mornings, occasionally he’d try sneak one of her teddy bears or other sentimental possessions.

He had a little collection at home for her, his room smelt of her and he loved it.

He often found he would have the panties he stole in his hand while he humped at his pillow which was cover with one of her tops, trying to replicate how he would mount her and make her his. This helped him relieve himself a lot, no longer getting overly riled up and nearly pouncing on her each time he saw her.

He still followed her in human form but it was so much easier to get close to her in his wolf form besides he could protect her much better aswell.

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those-late-night-feels · 2 years

Text

Choke

Summary: Loki almost killed you during the Battle of New York. You struggle when he returns.

Warnings: If the title didn't give it away, choking. Also, Loki being an ass. Smut. 18+

AN: I'm a slut for comments and reposts!

*****

Why wouldn't he just leave? That irritating smirk, as if something was so damn amusing, lingered on Loki's face, his eyes on you like prey. He was that constant itch that you couldn’t scratch away, the ever looming ache in your side that you couldn’t ignore. While the rest of the team discussed their next mission, you sat at the far end of the table incessantly tapping your foot while he reclined in a chair. It was bad enough that after all the destruction he had caused in New York that he decided to show his face again on Earth, in tow with his brother. But the fact that you had to see him every day, breathe the same air, act like everything was water under the bridge, felt almost impossible. Thor had framed Loki's return in the brightest of lights–that he'd changed, that he had been brainwashed and tortured and wasn't the same person anymore. The rest of the team was willing to be cautiously accepting for Thor's sake, and perhaps were starting to buy into the idea that Loki had turned over a new leaf. But the rest of the team hadn't looked into Loki's eyes, seen that possessive evil, when he had lifted you by your throat while smiling, slowly closing your windpipe as you struggled to break free.

That fateful day had been permanently etched in your memory. New York was under attack and you had been focused on surveillance for the team in Stark Tower when he had shown up, strolling proudly with his scepter in hand. Standing abruptly, your heart pounded as you sized up this towering giant and watched his movements; your combat and defense skills were good, but they'd never been put to the test by a god. "Are you going to attempt to appeal to my humanity?"

His demeanor was so high and mighty, like this was all so far beneath him. "And why would I do that? Clearly you have none."

Your legs mimicked his movements, circling each other around the open loft. He paused and cocked his head, an amused smirk pulling on his face. "Don't tell me you intend to fight me, girl. Adorable, but I can assure you I am no match for you."

"We'll see about that."

"And why would I waste my time fighting you? You could be quite useful to me." He aimed the tip of the scepter at your chest, but you were quicker than he’d anticipated and swiped the staff to the side before kicking him in the chest. It didn't do much, he was as solid as a tree, but it was enough to catch him slightly off guard to kick the scepter out of his hand and you both watched as it slid across the room. Adrenaline pumping, you attempted to lurch at the fallen weapon, but he was faster and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around.

"And where do you think you're going?" His tone was sinister and his large hand wrapped around your neck, lifting you off the ground as your legs flailed. Long fingers slowly squeezed on your windpipe and you struggled to pry them off. Tears blurred your vision and started to stream down your face. "Such pathetic floundering bottom feeders you Midgardians are. I should put you out of your misery."

He smiled while watching you struggle in his one hand, prolonging your agony. Squeezing tighter, the world moving out of focus into black. And then a window shattered and the Hulk emerged, ultimately saving you and smashing Loki in the process.

For three weeks, every time you looked in the mirror you were reminded of what he did to you. Your neck turned black and blue, then purple, then green, then brown and yellow. But even as the bruises faded, it was still raw in your mind.

So when Thor had pulled you aside to convince you why his brother deserved another chance, you screamed internally while plastering a smile on your face. He had to have known the trauma Loki had put you through. "Are you okay with this, y/n?"

The pleading in his eyes confirmed that if you said no, it would break his heart. Thor was like a brother to you, and while his brother was the spawn of Satan, you pushed your feelings aside and lied straight to his face. "If you say he's changed, then I believe you."

*****

Loki knew who you were, what he had done to you. The recognition on his face when you first walked into the room and stopped short was evident. His eyes lingered as you leaned against the far wall, keeping a significant distance between you and him. Absentmindedly, you nibbled at your lip and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"Lady y/n!" The bellowing voice made you freeze as you watched the large blonde man stride over, dragging his darker haired brother behind him with a perturbed look. He wasn't actually bringing his brother over to you, was he? "I'm glad you are here," he smiled, like this was a family reunion, "Y/n, my brother Loki."

The expression on your face was blank as you tried to hold it together. "We've met," you deadpanned at the same time Loki said, "I don't believe she cares to meet me, Thor."

The oblivious blonde shook his head at your responses. "Nonsense! The last time you met was a misunderstanding. This is a chance to start anew."

Loki watched the vein in your neck as you clenched your jaw together, your nostrils flaring slightly at the thought of your near death being a "misunderstanding." The way your hand shook by your side. He knew you were not ready for this.

"Please excuse my brother. Y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you formally.”

You studied the carpet as he spoke, noticing a burn mark on the rug you'd never seen before. He turned to leave, pulling Thor with him.

“Is that it?” The words were so quiet you barely heard them yourself. But Loki paused and turned toward you. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to be near him, didn’t want to be on the same planet as him, but you also didn’t want to be the weak girl that he clearly thought you were, so you pulled your eyes from the floor to look directly at him, your eyes blazing with anger. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

“I… No. I am sorry for any pain that I caused you. It is inexcusable, I know that.”

You willed yourself not to bring your hand to your neck, remembering how the person in front of you toyed with attempting to snuff out your existence without blinking an eye.

It's an act. It's just for show.

Glaring at him, you didn’t want to believe his words. If he was expecting forgiveness, he wouldn’t find it from you. "You're right," you replied. "It is inexcusable."

Pushing past him, you hated the feeling that perhaps he had been sincere.

*****

The constant stress of being cooped up in a tower with him was weighing on you. The need to leave rooms, change directions, hide out in your apartment; was it childish? You didn't know. But every time you saw him, your pulse started racing, your throat turned to sandpaper, and your stomach tensed.

When Natasha announced it was time they all went out for a night, you were all in, needing to literally let your hair down and dance your cares away.

Stark paid an exorbitant amount of money to have access to an exclusive club that he and his friends could access at any time. You showed up in a little black number with a mission to let your cares go.

Dancing for hours had left you parched and you made your way to the bar. He was already there, arms crossed as he watched others with a judgmental look of disapproval. You ordered a rum and coke, telling the bartender to put it on his tab, causing Loki to roll his eyes but nod all the same. He turned his attention to you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. "Having fun?"

"I was," you snided, sipping your drink. "I thought you enjoyed this type of thing. Thor said you had your fair share of banquets and masquerades."

"Yes, well, my tastes are…a little more…refined."

You rolled your eyes at his snobbery. He was truly the worst. "When are you planning to leave Earth? I'm sure there are other planets just waiting to be conquered."

Hesitating at your remark, he studied you, no longer shaking from nerves and a more bold tongue, chalking it up to liquid courage. Leaning in closer to you, he could smell a mix of your vanilla body wash, sweat, and alcohol. "Why would I leave when my presence is clearly torturing you?"

The sinister smile on his face made the lump in your throat return and you quickly sipped at your drink again, the alcohol pushing your nerves back down. "Look at you. I don't even have to lay a finger on you and you whither in front of me."

Your cheeks went hot under his intense gaze, feeling small as he hovered over you. Swallowing, you looked up at him, butterflies erupting inside you.

"Fuck you, Loki," you breathed. Storming off, you could only imagine that arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you walk away. Heart pounding, blood boiling, you grabbed the first man you saw on the dance floor, gyrating with him under the strobe lights, trying to remove the image of him hovering over you from memory. When you looked up toward the bar, Loki was still watching you, a smile pulling on his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.

*****

Combat training with various team members was grueling but necessary work, dripping sweat and lungs burning. You and Natasha went at each other, you landing a blow to her ribs, her landing a kick which resulted in an armbar. A few rounds and the two of you had called it a night, her leaving to shower while you stretched weary muscles.

"Your combat skills have seemed to improve since the last time I saw them." You heard him before you saw him. Narrowing your eyes and putting on a braver face than you felt inside, you groaned, crossing your arms.

"You're like an annoying gnat. What do you want?"

"I'm curious, when the team goes on missions, who is the one that babysits you? Do they take turns or is it the same person?"

He was trying to goad you, trying to get a rise out of you, you knew that. Well two could play this game. "How exactly did you convince Thor that you changed? All that talk of torture, did you make that up? Is there even a, what was his name? Thanos?"

His face dropped for the quickest of moments and a part of you regretted your words. But when he recovered, the look on his face made you take a step back.

"Tell me, how many nights have you been kept up at night thinking about my hand around your throat."

Your hand reacted before your brain could and the crack of your palm against his cheek was heard before it was felt. He smiled when he turned his face back to you, taking another step in your direction. Fist clenched, your arm swung up toward him, but he grabbed it and held it in place. Another step, your knee came up to his stomach, and he grabbed that too. You felt the wall behind you, a shallow breath released as you tried to hold yourself together, his chest centimeters from yours. When you looked up at those blue-green eyes though, it wasn't the same look as last time. There was no darkness, no evil, no possession. His smile was covering something else. Slowly, your eyes locked on his, you guided his other hand to your neck. His breath hitched as he watched you wrap his slender digits around your throat.

"Wha–" but you silenced his question with your lips. What started as a desperate need to shut him up turned to lips hovering near each other, tongues dancing together, breaths being shared. He pulled away to look at you, a question playing on his face, his silver tongue clearly tied. Your eyes dropped down, embarrassment starting to flood your mind, and his hand flicked your face back up to his and kissed you again, hand gliding from your neck to the back of your head, gripping onto your hair. Your fist was dropped as he glided his palm down your side, wrapping around your ass, bringing you wanting core to him. A whimper left your lips and he pressed into you with need.

Brains turned off, hands scrambled to pull at clothes and feel every inch of one another. His fingers slipped inside your pants, running his long digits along your silky crevices and you shook as the tip of his finger circled your clit, smiling into your mouth. "Seems like you've thought of this multiple times, pet."

"Shut up,” you demanded, greedily scrambling to free his throbbing erection from its enclosure, pulling at zippers and buttons, a relieved sigh escaping from him when it was freed.

He was quick with his movements and flipped you around, hands pressed against the wall, pants yanked down with a swift jerk, fingertips drawing lines up your thigh, up your hip, up your spine, causing shivers. His hand came to rest on your neck, tilting your head back to him. His warm throbbing cock slid between your ass cheeks and through your thighs, playing with your anxious opening.

"Beg me," he whispered into your ear. A strained cry left your throat as he rubbed his hot erection up your slit.

“Please,” you breathed, then moaned loudly as he stretched your tight opening, flexing his fingers under your jaw.

“Is this what you want, pet?” You wondered that yourself as he smoothly pulled and pressed into you, but as he hit your cervix while locked against him, you knew this was exactly what you wanted all along. A secret desire you wouldn’t even admit to yourself. The noises you made were sloppy, no longer able to make sense. He pulled your head toward him again, gripping down a little harder while pounding into you. “I asked you a question girl.”

“Y…ye…yes…” you wailed. You were close, but if it were to coming or passing out, you didn’t know. His cock hit in places you didn’t know were inside of you, and as he reached down to circle your clit, your body shook violently. The world went black for a moment and you collapsed into him, but vaguely you could hear his words. “I got you. I got you. Good girl.”

Pressing yourself into him on the floor, your lungs burned. He rubbed your neck, your arms, your back, while you came back to full recognition. Looking up at him, he pressed his lips together while you bit at yours. “Do not tell anyone about this.”

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt they would believe me even if I did, pet,” and kissed your hand. "Do you still want me to leave Midgard?"

Lowering your face into his shoulder, you hid your reddened cheeks. Your lips pressed together, unable to answer, but knowing you didn't want him to go.

Buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/thoselatenightfeels

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aegoniiwifey · 8 months

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Ma’am!! I’ve come to humbly request something from you! 😔 Id love to see chubby aegon with prompt 25, focusing on a body part other than bellies (asker’s choice). I will go feral over man tiddies and those fingers of his thank you in advance.

Changes

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 533

WARNINGS: chubby!aegon, belly kink, mentions of moobs, nipple play, minor references to lactation (kink), nipple sucking, arm kink (?), soft feederism, fat kink, humiliation kink.

A/N - bestie the idea of Aegon with moobs is enough to make me bite wood... you just get me ♥️ I hope you don't mind, I combined the requests together since it was for the same prompt! these requests are based off this prompt list, #25 [focusing on a body part other than bellies (asker’s choice)].

and yes, that is Jim Hopper as a body reference… don’t judge me!

Aegon's weight gain was a change you did not mind at all. In fact, you actually embraced his growth wholeheartedly, even if it was quite substantial.

The most blatant and noticeable physical change was his swollen, plush stomach that tripled in mass and width, fleshy rolls enveloping his sides, ample fat pooling at his hips.

Although, what intrigued you the most about his fattening body, was his tits... Technically, his moobs.

The more he devoured and ate whatever his hungry eyes laid on that was edible, his chest grew exponentially now having handful sized breasts.

The way his nipples and skin around his pecs were sensitive under your gentle, teasing touch, red, raw stretch marks surrounding the skin.

You would often relish in some devious, playful teasing, remarking on how luscious and massive his tits had grown.

"Aeg, baby, your tits are bigger than mine now. Mayhaps we have children, you'll be the one dripping with milk!"

You loved to flick at his sensitive, blush pink nipples. The way he would mindlessly moan when you would caress and fondle at them, massaging his tits with oil and lotion [him having to beg you, as he finds it helps to moisturise his stretching skin].

He would just be squirming, whimpering for more, for him to fuck you for some release, getting stiff from the nipple play.

Sometimes you even greedily enjoy playing with his moobs whilst he is eating or as you hand feed him yourself: as he gets fuller, teasing at how you can sense his tits already growing beneath your hold, the more you stuff him or so he does himself, abundantly.

More so, when you suck on his tits, demanding him to position himself on all fours, stomach just grazing over the surface of the mattress/floor, with you sprawled beneath, lips latched.

Eventually, with the exertion of his heavy weight along with the effects of gravity, his back arching in pain, he much prefers having you seated on his wide, thick lap grinding on him, you nestled in his strong arms, as you suckled on.

Not to mention his ARMS!!!

Aegon originally leaned towards the pudgier side in terms of his physicality.

Although the new lengths he reached now, made the older Aegon look scrawny, as though someone had pumped and inflated him steadily.

His arms bulky and plush now, the meaty flesh filled with copious bulging adipose was enjoyable enough to grip and squeeze.

Often your red, imprinted fingerprints left evident marks against his pale skin, from your tight grip: although Aegon did not mind, he could hardly feel you squeeze with all your bite.

You found them sturdy to hold, especially his broader, softer shoulders.

Even more so, Aegon's hands themselves, his fat had evenly spread across his entire body, even stored in his fingers, becoming pudgier, his grip although rough, was soft with the excess meat on his bones.

His hands, wrists and forearms/elbows scored with creases along certain joints of his body from the ample chub pooling across his limbs.

Nonetheless, you were enthusiastic about Aegon's physicality changes. Worshipping his growth, Aegon was scarcely insecure with his body, for your affections spoke for themselves loudly.

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satancopilotsmytardis · 1 month

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Do you have any AUs you'd like to rant about? I'm currently stuck at work in the middle of an 11 hour shift and in desperate need of some type fuel to keep me going. There's no food around, Shigadabi seems like an equivalent substance

RIP, that sucks, I'm getting ready for a short 4-hour shift soon, but here you go, may some sex demon Dabi/ assigned feeder Shigaraki AU soothe your pain:

There's a species of sex demons that are an offshoot of succubi/incubi, these demons still feed on sex, but they exclusively sleep with men and people who produce semen as their demonic limitation (whereas succubi/incubi are down for whatever). They have two pairs of wings that more often resemble insects than the bird or bat wings of their cousins. They also produce venom to get their targets in the mood, but they keep producing a slightly different venom from their saliva glands and genitals after they've been fed. This venom, when raw, creates a prolonged euphoria that encourages their victims to come back for more and helps to rejuvenate them more quickly. In fact, consuming that venom can actually help to treat malnutrition, dehydration, and a variety of other health issues. It also, when refined, can make fantastic skin/hair treatments, so it is highly sought after from the medical industry to the cosmetic industry, and many of these demons have gotten themselves very cushy jobs at special facilities made to harvest these fluids.

Shigaraki has gotten a job to be a 'pollinator' since the colloquial term for these demons is "honeybee". He got this job mostly because the pay is insane, but also because Spinner asked him if he would just take it on for a trial period to help with one of their problem demons. (He and Shig tried to date once in college and it did not work out, but they're good friends now, and Spinner needed someone on short notice he knew has a big dick). He's given some basic training which mainly boils down to, fuck the demon until they're incoherent, you know you've done a good job when they start to drool/leak a clear pinkish fluid that smells like sugar. Then put the collection bit in their mouths for them to chew on, and the other container on their genitals, and just stay until they stop purring or tell you to leave.

He is shown to the room of the bee who he's supposed to be working with, and he's a pretty demon with bright blue eyes, the wings of a firefly, and irregular patches across his skin that glow when his emotions go high. Dabi has been thoroughly unimpressed with the pollinators he's been given so far, and because he hasn't been satisfied, he hasn't given much venom in turn, which is bad because his contract was extremely expensive for this company because he's from a family of exceptional producers. Shigaraki enters the room and they chit-chat for a little while, though Dabi is pretty standoffish, until he finally just says he's hungry and starts pulling at Shigaraki's clothes.

Not one to let his sub take the lead, Tomura puts Dabi in his place, and dicks him down to the best of his abilities, which is miles above how ever other pollinator treated him (like he was a glass they had to handle with extreme care out of fear of pissing him off or breaking him and making him want to end his contract before the probationary period.) Dabi adores being absolutely dominated and getting fucked that hard and he's gushing by the time Shig is finished with him, purring incoherently and clinging to him and hissing and growling at anyone who comes to try and take him away after Dabi keeps him there for five hours after they've finished.

He demands that Shig be his only pollinator from now on, and fuck is this little honeybee cute, so Shig accepts. They end up being the best pair at the facility, and that earns Dabi extra perks that he eventually negotiates into a private apartment for the two of them for the remainder of his contract so long as he's producing the best and most venom of any of the other bees. It's not a hard quota to fill when Dabi has more than enough to also give Tomura a taste to keep him fresh and able to go as often as Dabi needs while they're paired together. It's a pretty perfect arrangement as far as either of them are concerned.

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #shigadabi

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 9 months

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Do snakes have to be fed whole dead animals or could they just be fed, like a small cut of raw chicken or pork roughly the size of a mouse? I've been considering keeping some small pet species but defrosted feeder mice are hard to come by where I live. Would small pieces of meat suffice?

Alternatively, are there any small nonvenomous species that can be fed insects like mealworms or crickets? Those are a lot more accessible.

Snakes can be fed pieces of raw meat as treats, but that's not sufficient as a staple. That's because snakes have evolved to eat whole prey exclusively, so they rely on the nutrients they get from bones and organs.

There are small snakes that eat insects, but they uniformly are not good pets at all. They tend to do very poorly in captivity and it's impossible to find any captive-bred. Egg-eating snakes are in a similar boat; they're better pets but unless you've got a steady supply of button quail and finch eggs, it's extremely difficult to source appropriately-sized eggs for them.

It sucks, but unless you have access to a supply of frozen/thawed rodents, a snake isn't the right pet for you. You can look online to see if online suppliers deliver to where you live, but I hestitate to recommend getting a snake if that's the only way you can get feeders simply because of how hard it would be to adjust if your supplier shut down or stopped delivering to your area.

#not a rating #snake food

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insipid-drivel · 1 month

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Personality Ratings Of The Birds That Visit My Bird Feeders

I have the beginnings of a little bird/pollinator garden outside of my bedroom window. It's nothing to show off yet, but I have a pretty big variety of regulars. And, like any bartender, I've come to silently judge them all from afar. Here are my ratings of my local Seed Bastards:

Dark-Eyed Junco:

Bastard Rating: 4/10 They take no shit and don't mind continuing to eat within about 10' of me when I'm actively working outside. Mostly bogart the feeders through numbers rather than actual bastardy. They go berserk for sunflower seeds and shelled peanuts. Don't scare easy but also aren't terribly interested in getting into it with the other birds.

House Finch:

Bastard Rating: 7/10 Refuses to share feeders. Chases other birds except their wives from the feeders, and will fully "nest" on tray feeders so their fat asses block the other birds from getting any from the feeder. I vaguely suspect they're racist toward the other birds because they'll only allow other house finches to eat from the feeders they're squatting in. At the same time, I've seen males feeding other males. Possible problematic queer icons. More review needed.

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee:

Bastard Rating: 5/10 Too tiny to really pose much of a territorial issue, but kinda remind me of flying chihuahuas. They mind their own business when they can, but will not hesitate to throw hands with other birds over either the sunflower feeder or suet cake. Generally don't hold grudges and stay in their lanes, until it comes to suet cakes.

Golden-Crowned Sparrow:

Bastard Rating: 2/10 Hang out in pretty big numbers, but otherwise mind their own business and eat when the other birds aren't taking up the feeders. They prefer the ground feeders. They're generally pretty chill. Their only true crimes are their systematic massacres of my supplies of black oil sunflower seeds.

Varied Thrush:

Bastard Rating: 0/10 Competes with Spotted Towhees in terms of raw cunt-serving power, both my cat and I get all kinds of tingly when this thot shows up. Yeah, he knows you're staring. He knows how good he looks. He's the flashiest bitch on the block. Robins? Dowdy Catholic school kids. Goldfinches? All color, no drama. This magnificent slut is here to slay.

Spotted Towhee:

Bastard Rating: 4/10 The hot goth vampire kid in high school you're 99% has their own OF account. Professionally Round. Uses his phat ass to own the runway (and my feeders) next to his frumpy competition. Is secretly a complete nerd. Basically if Laszlo Cravensworth was a bird.

Pine Siskin:

Bastard Rating: 9/10 This barely-there wannabe-goldfinch would apply lube to the bottom of your heels on Drag Night. The Heelies of the bird world; never truly cool but grasping at any legitimacy he can get. Nobody appreciates plagiarism. And ugh, he couldn't even be bothered to finish blending. What a rank slag. Get off my stage and learn how to work, bitch.

Black-Capped Chickadee:

Bastard Rating: 11/10 DO NOT BE DECEIVED BY THEIR ROUND CUTENESS. These little fuckers are the gangbangers of the forest. Subsist on raw suet cake and spite. They're consistently possessed with the rage of a lust-addled Klingon woman. What the fuck are you doing at their suet cake? God help you, if you're at their suet cake, they will c u t y o u.

Song Sparrow:

Bastard Rating: -1/10 Babygirl. Precious. Just wants to sit on the edge of the gutters or the top of the feeders and make it as independent folk singers. Probably resort to posting hole from time to time to make end's meet. Always eat last because it's all love, my brothers in Christ.

Anna's Hummingbird:

Bastard Rating: 9/10 While they may have cool optical illusions when it comes to their holographic feathers, they verbally abuse me every time I refill the feeder and it hurts my feelings :(

Rufous Hummingbird:

Bastard Rating: 1/10 Shy bois. They stay out of the way until they're sure I've gone back inside before they'll visit the feeders. Generally loners.

Ruby-Throated Hummingbird:

Bastard Rating: 3/10 Generally the It Girls of the bird world. You know your garden is officially making it when these start showing up. They know they're the most popular but generally try to stay grounded about it. Will sometimes hang out and chat while the hummingbird feeder is being refilled. Used to scare me as a kid because my sister convinced me they'd try to stab their beaks into acne spots. While untrue, they don't have much of a sense of personal space.

Mourning Dove:

Bastard Rating: 1/10 Generally only bother the other birds because they're fat and eat in groups big enough to make it hard for the other birds to get at the seed on the ground. Sing beautifully. Makes Hatoful Boyfriend kind of make sense. Ngl kinda wanna befriend one. Confuse me a little bit whenever I see them because I live in a swamp and didn't expect to find any doves out here.

Stellar's goddamned Jay:

Bastard Rating: WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?!/FUCK I KNOW THE SUNFLOWER DISPENSER JIGGLES WHEN YOU TRY TO FLY YOUR FAT ASS INTO IT. NO, I CANNOT MAKE THE FEEDER POLE STOP WIGGLING WHEN YOU PARK YOUR WIDE LOAD ON TOP OF IT. GDI I BOUGHT PEANUTS FOR YOU. STOP IMITATING A SHRIEKING HAWK TO SCARE AWAY THE OTHER BIRDS AND LEARN TO SHARE YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT.

#birds #silly

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winterlament · 2 months

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Funeral March

Hello The Secret History fanbase… I offer you my first TSH fanfiction. this is more an exercise in character than anything, I want to be able to write them all accurately before doing much else of substance — and I really just wanted to write the Greek class being the weirdos that they are. go easy on me but I hope this is at the very least enjoyable.

not canon compliant, Bunny is alive and they’re all friends.

Word Count: 3k

Read on AO3 or below the cut! ☕️ ☆ 🕯️

Early morning. Tall blades of unkempt grass glimmered with the shine of dew drops; wildflowers sprouted in lush patches; and damp stepping stones littered the yard. The tang of wet, damp earth lingered heavy and humid; the air thick but clean. The snow had melted in the past week, and the Greek class was enjoying early spring at Francis’ country home. The sun had barely risen above the horizon to fill the yard with light when the smell of something sickly, putrid like an overripe fruit, became abundant.

“Oh, no!” Francis cried, stopping in his tracks and glancing towards the ground. He was in shirtsleeves, and his pants were rolled up to his knees. His pale feet were bare and wet with dew, disrupting the grass where he stood, and drops of water were rolling off him and catching on the hair on his legs. Charles stood next to him, peering down to see what had gotten Francis so upset.

“Look at that, Charles,” he said, pointing to a small clump of feathers and red. “Poor thing.”

Along with rain showers, vibrant greenery, and blooms of flowers, Vermont spring brought songbirds back from a winter away. Francis’ countryside property had found itself full of small birds, singing and chirping away at all hours (starting early, a bit before sunrise, tending to wake Bunny, who decided to wake everyone else in his tired annoyance). Dashes of blue jays and sparrows and warblers in the trees, daring near the ground only in search of food.

“Oh, what a shame! What are we to do?”

“Leave it,” Charles said dismissively. “Why should we have to do anything at all?”

“Charles, look at it.”

The blond crouched down in the grass, blades thick and full, to examine the mass of feathers and, upon closer inspection, gore.

A round, cream-colored bird lay with its wings spread in its full span. Its torn open chest painted the feathers on its small body close to the shade of a cardinal — red; visceral and bloody, vermillion, wine, raw meat. Sternum to ribcage cracked open like a pomegranate, seeds torn out, thrown back on the ground to let it sink into the earth. Its neck, Charles noticed, was turned at an unnatural angle, a bite mark deep in the flesh of its throat. Viscous, sticky liquid surrounded the small corpse, still and fresh. The smell was something awful, sickening but sweet, iron. It made Charles’ stomach clench the closer he got.

Reaching for a stick, Charles ignored Francis’ wailing (‘Oh, no, Charles, don’t,’ ‘I can’t look,’ ‘Oh, forget about it,’ something in French) and poked at the bird from a distance, turning it over and around. Getting a better look at it, the bird was a dove. A white mourning dove, a dove whose coos had likely woken Bunny up in the morning.

Francis’ house had not only been a springtime retreat for birds, but also for small but vicious predators – cats, raccoons, things with claws – one of which had seemingly gotten its paws and teeth sunk into the little dove nestled in a cushion of wet grass and stirred up dirt. Despite the still warm blood on its feathers, the unnatural tilt of its neck, and its exposed and empty abdomen, it looked peaceful, as all doves should be.

Francis’ eyebrows were scrunched together in a worried, pained sort of expression. “It was probably one of those damned cats you’ve been feeding. Look at this mess,” he said. “How horrible. Little thing only wanted some seeds–” tapping his foot – “I should’ve refilled the feeder yesterday. It must’ve been hungry. Oh, we’ve got to get rid of it. It’s dreadful.”

He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.

Unable to rip his eyes away from the mauled remains of the gentle creature, Charles stood in his grass-stained pants, propping himself up on one knee and pushing himself up. The stick, now bloody, was still clutched in his fist.

“The cat was hungry too.”

“What?” Francis asked, wiping his eye.

“The cat that got it,” Charles repeated. “It was hungry too.”

“Oh. Well, yes… but look at it. Brutalized. Careless. A horrible way to go.”

Charles paused, examining the bird again. The curve of its wings, body sprawled on the ground, looking as if it fell right from the sky and into the jowls of a predator with sharp, sharp teeth. Predestined. Inescapable. Fate.

In a way, it was beautiful. In its death, it had fallen into a patch of daisies, fresh and new, stained a color they would never naturally grow. Spring, the season of new life, of thriving, had brought death with it, too. For in the cycle of life and death, there is a profound sense of continuity, repeating and repeating and repeating. Die. Feed. Birth. And though brutal, ripped to shreds, the dove was peaceful – nothing could last forever; nothing that was mortal could ever escape the sharp teeth of death, be it a dove caught in the claws of a feral cat, or something more. In time, it would sink into earth, and feed the plants. Become a plant itself. Grow the seeds it was hungry for. Continuous. To live forever was to die, repeat the cycle. Become again.

However, as beautiful as it may have been, it was clearly distressing to Francis, who was now through with half a cigarette.

“It wasn’t malicious, Francis. Whatever it may have been,” Charles began, “it didn’t know any better. It was hungry. Everything needs to eat, that’s just how it goes. Besides –” he took Francis’ hand in his– “it’ll feed the flowers you like so much. Fertilizer?” He offered a smile.

“Right, sure, but… can we at least, God, I don’t know. Bury it? It’s horrible to look at, and it deserves a resting place, not so out in the open.” Francis said.

–

Across the yard, back at the house, Bunny sat in a porch chair, rosy-cheeked in the morning sun and coffee cup in hand, not paying the slightest attention to Francis and Charles in the grass. He had the radio set up on the table next to him, and he was listening to some awful war song (no one was quite sure if it was on a CD of his or if he had found a military radio station) that was far too loud for the hour. The large, French-style double doors were wide open, propped with books as door stops, and the sun sank into pools of light on the dark floorboards. In the house, Camilla and Henry walked back and forth across the foyer, visible every so often – carrying things, maybe books, Henry following Camilla’s lead.

Charles yelled something and waved his arms, trying to get anyone’s attention, unsuccessfully. He yelled again, this time Bunny’s name, holding up the bloodied stick and waving it around. The blood and the look on Francis’ face seemed to be alarming.

Bunny sprung up from his chair on the porch and ran through the yard — still in his robe and pajama bottoms — his mess of unruly blond hair not fully brushed and his not fully awake body tumbling over itself. He motioned for the others, and Camilla followed him, running towards the commotion with curlers in her hair; the gentle glow of the early morning sun made her face look soft but bare, and the gray of her eyes matched the sky so perfectly they nearly disappeared into the horizon. Shortly after, Richard appeared in shirtsleeves, struggling with pulling his shoes on, his eyes (and limbs) still heavy with sleep. And Henry followed behind them, fully dressed, like a disinterested father caring for his ill-behaved children, trying to control them before anyone had had any breakfast – they’re getting fussy, and he hadn’t had his coffee yet.

Bunny and Camilla came to a grinding halt, nearly crashing into each other upon Bunny’s sudden stop, Richard close behind them. Taking his time to reach the rest, Henry strolled through the grass, admiring the flowers. Charles and Francis pointed at the ground in unison.

They stood in a circle, heads together, mess of bird between their feet.

“Oh, that’s horrible.” Camilla was the first to speak. Her voice was layered with sleep, dark like tinted glass. “How on Earth could that have happened?”

It was, evidently, unnerving. Francis explained that he thought it was a cat, and Camilla cocked her head but was shushed by Charles before she could question him. Richard tried to hide his expression, one of disgust, but his nose scrunched and his eyebrows turned up. Bunny appeared similar, hiding it less; holding his nose closed with his fingers. Henry seemed indifferent, staring at the wounded bird with a lack of emotion.

“I want to bury it. I don’t like the way it looks,” Francis said.

“It’s just a bird,” Richard interjects. “What’s so wrong about it?”

“It’s eyes are open. It’s looking at me.”

“Sure is.” Bunny agreed. His voice was nasally, more than normal, nose plugged by pointer and middle. “Nasty sight. Damn awful smell, too. We should bury it, yes, yes. Hold it a proper funeral.”

“A funeral?” Camilla asked.

“Well, sure. Can’t just bury it all unceremoniously, can we? If we’re burying it, we might as well make a show of it. None of that Catholic bullshit. A real funeral! Like the Greeks! We’ll mourn, wear all black, pray to the gods. And Henry can dig the hole.”

–

Before Henry had much of a say about digging the grave, he stood in the garden, shovel in hand – expressionless, digging a dove-sized hole under a large willow tree next to the lake. He was wearing a black pin-stripe English suit, per Bunny’s request, and was narrowly avoiding getting dirt on his freshly polished Oxfords.

Bunny, Francis, Charles, and Richard had also found themselves in black suits – pieces of Charles’ suit oversized and borrowed from Bunny, as he doesn’t wear much black, nor did he plan on attending a funeral over the weekend. Francis wore his suit over a thin, starchy white shirt with turnback cuffs, his flame-colored hair slicked back and pince-nez glimmering in the (now afternoon) sun. Richard’s was ill-fitting, tight on the elbows, and had quite a few loose threads, adorned with a little golden lapel pin, shaped like the top of an Ionic-style column. They each held flowers in their hands, taken from the garden, that Camilla and Francis had tied together with strands of twine and ribbon. Charles still held the red-stained stick.

To Henry’s left stood Bunny, ordering him to dig the hole deeper and refusing to help. He had a black sheet thrown over his shoulder, a mockery of some sort of toga. Camilla stood to Henry’s right in a knee-length black dress with sheer black stockings underneath. She held the bird in her arms, wrapped in an old curtain Francis had found in the attic, laid in a small brown box, a makeshift coffin. Flowers lay around its body, and the smell of rot had been overtaken with the smell of a strong, floral perfume — stinging cherry blossom and bitter notes of bergamot. Bunny used his pocket square to wipe the sweat off of his, and then Henry’s, brow.

The smell of freshly turned dirt, woody and sweet. The air had warmed and cleared as the early morning turned to afternoon, the dew on the grass had evaporated, and the sun reflected off the lake in a blinding, star-like way. A dense, large willow shaded the funeral part; lush curtains of green cascading off of thin branches surrounded them and swayed with the breeze. The hushing sound of wind ruffling leaves was cut through by a funeral march – Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2, playing on the radio sitting on the tree roots. The glow of the sun hit the backs of Bunny, Henry, and Camilla, encasing the three of them in shadow haloed in gold, like a group of God’s finest angels, harbingers of death, or vengeful creatures sent by Hades up from the underworld. Henry mumbled something unintelligible to Camilla and held the shovel to his side. With that, Bunny began:

“Lady and gentlemen, we’re gathered here today in honor of this here dove. Tragically, our little friend was taken from us much too soon. Even though it woke me up this morning, no bird deserves a fate this bad, no, no. I’m sure it had a family, a bird-wife and chicks, you know, it’s spring and all. Real sad it ended up like this, all torn apart… Anyway, enough lamenting, right? This isn’t some pious, uptight mass, no, no Hail Mary’s. This is a celebration of this bird’s life! Sending it off.

“O Hermes, messenger of the gods, we ask you to guide the soul of our dearly departed dove safely across the river of Styx. Grant passage to the underworld of Hades, and let it find peace in the Elysian Fields, or wherever doves go,” Bunny said, talking with his hands and looking to the sky, like a preacher.

He rambled on, choosing his words carefully, about the underworld and the afterlife and how even sweet little birds had to meet their makers. When he finished, he wiped away a pretend tear, and Francis clapped, everyone else following his lead. Henry stifled a smile, covering his hand with his sleeve.

Thank yous were said to Bunny, and he bowed like he was a talk show host walking off stage – see you next time, folks! – and Camilla stepped forward in his place, box in hand, standing at the head of the grave plot and glancing down into the earth.

“Put him in, little lady.” Bunny motioned with his head towards her and put a hand on the small of her back.

She nodded, crouched, and lowered the box into the hole. The dove’s feathers ruffled in the breeze, its eyes still open and glossy as it and its box-casket were placed into the earth. Camilla placed it down gently, careful not to disturb it, as if she might’ve woken it up if she jostled it around. Henry offered his hand, and she took it in hers. He pulled her up, looking like he could’ve swept her up into a press lift as if they were dancing pas de deux. When she stood, her stockings and shoes were caked with damp dirt.

“Say goodbye, gentlemen. François, any final words?” Bunny asked.

Francis stepped to the head of the plot and threw his bouquet on top of the bird. “Au revoir, mon petit amie. Live forever, and let the flowers grow on top of this awful mess of dirt.”

Following his lead, Richard threw in his bundle of wildflowers, followed by Charles’, as well as the stick that had been stained with blood. Camilla unclasped her necklace – small, gold – and threw it in unceremoniously.

Henry, who had disappeared through the flower-tossing service, had returned, a bottle of wine in hand. He stood next to Camilla, his jaw clenched and his eyes glossy behind his glasses. With a pop, the cork, too, found itself in the shallow grave. The scent of grape, aged and spiced, poured into the earth, on top of the dove, and in the box. When the bottle neared being half empty, Francis ushered him to stop, and he did – taking quite a large swig of it himself – and handed it over.

The bottle was passed around between them as Henry shoveled the dirt back onto the grave. Bunny made reception small talk about “fond memories” of the dove while Camilla sat in the grass, tying pieces of twine around a bundle of sticks and flowers.

“Did we offer enough, do you think?” Charles asked, wrapping his arm around Francis’ shoulder.

“Sure,” said Francis, the bottle clenched in hand. “I’m just glad I can’t see it anymore.” He tilted the bottle up and finished it off.

“I’m sure Bunny’s speech was more than enough,” said Henry, calm and unbothered. “We gave it a thorough send-off. Returned it to the earth. The first dove to have a real funeral like this, I’d say. If the gods choose to care about a dove, this will be the one. Besides, I’m sure your flowers will look wonderful, Francis.” He threw another large pile of dirt into the grave, twirled the shovel in his fingers, and patted the earth down. “Factum est. Camilla, would you hand me that?”

He towered over her, encasing her in his shadow, and she handed over her stick-and-twine gravemarker. It was delicately made, but the details were clumsy: knots too big and in the wrong places, flowers lacking petals, an uneven bow in the front. Henry told her it was beautiful and stuck it into packed-down earth at the head of the burial site.

The six of them stood around the grave, now marked and permanent in Francis’ yard. The dirt was the color of freshly brewed tea, ornate and flowery, shaded by the dense overhang of weeping leaves and branches. In true fashion of spring, the sun had found itself behind a blanket of gray, surrounded by curls of hazy, dark shades, accompanied by the air marginally warming.

“You know,” Bunny began, slapping Francis on the back (startling him to a jump). “Every funeral I’ve ever been to, there’s been food after. A luncheon. And –” checking his watch – “It’s almost noon; that’s lunchtime. I’m starving, gentlemen.” Before any of them could answer, Bunny was already strolling towards the house – no, the driveway.

“I think it’s going to rain,” Richard cautioned, looking at the overcast gray of the clouds narrowly closing in.

“We better hurry up, then!” Bunny yelled as he took off towards the cars – Francis’, Henry’s. “Got to beat the weather, yes, yes!”

Glances were exchanged; the twins shrugged in unison, and took off after him. Gracefully, they moved their legs identically, and their feet kicked up dirt in unison. Charles yelled for Bunny to wait, and Camilla ran beside him, giggling. Francis took Richard by the hand, running along with him, and Henry followed behind the lot of them, patting his pockets to make sure he had his wallet.

#the secret history #tsh #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #edmund corcoran #richard papen #henry winter #donna tartt #they’re all friends!!!!#mine #please enjoy. i hope this does them some justice

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slutdge · 1 year

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101 sludge metal band recommendations

'cause all I ever see is people talking about the same 5 sludge bands on tumblr, I thought I’d make a list of some lesser-known/underrated stuff.

tried to include a little description/synopsis for most of them so you can decide if it might be for you or not and a link to one of their releases for you to check out because its a very long list. I’ve compiled everything here into a youtube playlist if you’d prefer to listen that way.

Black Market Ministry - harsh, raw and dark, if you like Eyehategod and Buzzov•en you should have a good time with them.

Drip - features members of Eyehategod, if you like Eyehategod you’ll probably like this

Grim Earth - almost powerviolece-y, newer band but reminiscent of old school sludge

Gloomy Sunday - almost like a mix of Electric Wizard, Crowbar and Eyehategod

Leak - I’d recommend them if you’re a fan of Acid Bath and Alice In Chains

13 - One of Liz Buckingham’s bands before she joined Electric Wizard, grim, grating, everything sludge should be.

Christbait - if you like Fudge Tunnel’s Hate Songs in E Minor definitely give them a try

Aragorn - sludgey death metal, good if you like Edge of Sanity

Leechmilk - if you like Buzzov•en you’ll probably dig them

Christworm - blackened sludge, check them out if you like Haarp

Sourvein - check them out if you like Electric Wizard, one of my absolute favorite bands on this list

Creep Diets - aggressive and grim, good if you like Fudge Tunnel and Eyehategod

Factor 8 - sludge with groove metal elements

Outlaw Order - features members of Eyehategod and sounds similar

Drained - good if you like Stressball and Crowbar

God’s Iron Tooth - good if you like Infant Slug and Eyehategod

Scumchrist - good if you like Eyehategod and Superjoint

Charger - good if you like 16

Graveslime - good if you like Eyehategod

Dugdemona - check them out if you like Acid Bath

Gnasch - sludge with hints of death and black metal

Hawg Jaw - features members of Eyehategod and Soilent Green, if you like those bands you should like them

Slugs - Crowbar before they were called Crowbar

Never - face-ripping raw sludge, features members of Eyehategod and 13

Fistula - good if you like Eyehategod

Golgotha - Acid Bath before they were called Acid Bath, a few of their songs ended up making it onto When The Kite String Pops

Infant Slug - old school sludge-death

Shrüm - cool industrial-sludge band, features Audie Pitre of Acid Bath

Four Days To Burn - good if you like Eyehategod

Ordeal - good if you like Infant Slug and Haarp

Frogskin - good if you like Haarp

Bottom Feeder - good if you like Eyehategod

Woorms - commonly criticized for being a Melvins ripoff and I can’t really argue with that, but they’re still good

Grief - more grim and miserable old school sludge

Dyevyat Gram

Abuse - sludge with some death metal elements

A Horse Called War - good if you like Eyehategod and Leechmilk

Axehandle - good if you like Outlaw Order

Toadliquor - despairing and gloomy sludge, a little similar to Eyehategod’s really early stuff

Big Frank - good if you like Down and Crowbar

Choke - sludge with groove metal elements

Haarp - sludge with black and death metal

Eternal Witch

Lord By Fire - good if you like Eyehategod

Greenmachine

Stressball

Addicted - sludgey death metal

Ghostsmoker - good if you like Thou

Gemini Lounge - good if you like Abuse

Saints of Pain

Rabies Caste

Brainoil - good if you like Eyehategod

Cavity

Shallow North Dakota

Goblinsmoker - good if you like Electric Wizard and Thou

Sludgehook

Drug Problem

Slaves of Freedom

Within Rage

Crone - good if you like Soilent Green and Stressball

Madcastle - sludge with groove metal elements

Third Degree Burnout

Bowel

Dysphoria

Edible

Baptizer

Another State of Mind

Hobnail

Token Tantrum

Falkirk - good if you like Stressball

Stinky Humans Abuse to Subsist - you’ll definitely like them if you like Eyehategod and Buzzov•en

Demise - sludgey death metal

Marks of Sin - good if you like Infant Slug

Medicine Noose

Deep Tomb

Cower - good if you like Grief

OfHisOwnHand

Mange

Abandon

Love Your Witch - thrashy sludge, good if you like Corrosion Of Conformity

Dead By Dawn

Second To None - 90′s sludgey death metal from Japan

Facedowninshit

Seven Foot Spleen

Beggar - good if you’re into stuff like Indian Handcrafts/Motherslug/Thou

Sloth

Guilt Trip - good if you like Soilent Green

Eyehatelucy

Garadama

Wuzor

Porn - good if you like 16

Sea of Deprivation - comparable to Dystopia

Halfway to Gone - good if you like Corrosion Of Conformity

The Bodybag Romance - grindcore-y sludge

Meth Drinker - good if you like Weedeater and Grief

Meth Messiah

Mutual Aid

Pissbucket - good if you like Black Market Ministry

Evil Cosby

Aaching

Carkoon - post-metal sludge band, good if you’re looking for something a little more chill

#sludge metal #🎧#let me know if you find something you like from this list

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