#buffalo bunch

[crydadoll]

Crydamoure night

[claypigeonpottery]

I’m love her 😍

I turned off the camera before I finished the vulture because I needed to look at the references on my phone 😅

I was a little nervous about making this piece too muddy with all the sponge texture and browns, but 😍

rambling about commissions under the cut

these kinds of commissions are the reason I don’t charge extra for original commissions (vs copies of my previous work), despite sketching and reference hunting taking hours at times. and why I love making variations on the copies too. I want to encourage people to ask me to make new things!

I always enjoy the commissions I take, I generally don’t take them if they don’t suit my art style or if I would find them tedious, but getting a commission that pulls from things I’ve already done and adds new elements, especially ones I wouldn’t have thought to add, is so satisfying!

[theonethatyoudreamon]

13. Where the Buffalo Roam

shout out to yellowstone national park bison photo gallery for inspiration

[goingtothebes]

pictures from various goats shows last week!! i don't recall which ones!!!

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Music Box • Intergalactik Disko (DJ Sneak's Version) • Lovers • Hysteria • Coral Twist • Gator • Wet Indiez • Mirage • Cherie D'Amoure • Wrath Of Zeus • The Turkish Avenger • Spaced Out • T.I.T.T.S • Number Seven (Le Knight Club Remix) • Intergalactik Disko • Troobadoor • Santa Claus • White Winds • In Flight (Raw Club Remix) • Boogie Shell • Coco Girlz • G.M.F • Holiday On Ice

Youtube

[variousqueerthings]

watching a PG thing will go something like: "beautiful man is very competent in whatever field he's in. beautiful man appears in the narrative in a way where other people notice his first entrance and one of the first things noticed is how beautiful he is. beautiful man is in some way alienated from the community he is in due to the way he acts and/or his background. beautiful man is unhinged and power structures dislike him intensely for being very honest. beautiful man has a non-normative relationship to sex which stems from a variety of reasons explored in the narrative. main woman would really like to have sex with beautiful man but he's holding back for some reason or other. beautiful man is very very happy for main woman to take charge in all things though and will follow her lead. beautiful man enjoys getting manhandled. there may be ghosts (literal) or ghosts (metaphorical) but this is optional.

[woman-respecter]

taylor swift you do not have to go to buffalo new york in the middle of january. do not do this to yourself.

[buffa-z]

according to their animal motifs, buffa is the only character of the main four that cant see in the dark. however, he is the only one who can eat chocolate, so who's really winning

[damienthepious]

ough augh rhghg heyyyy!!!! we FINALLY get to the point that i initially thought was going to be the end of chapter ONE of this bastard!!!!! YAHOOOOO

the water that fills me (chapter 5)

[go read on ao3!!!]

[loveofmylouis]

.

[sein-zum-tod]

I think we have 15 bottles of whiskey in my house now. Lmao I might be an alcoholic.

[couldtransitionsaveher]

Pardon me but I still don't get why you banned buffalo bill when you've allowed so many other transphobic characters in in the past

Okay, I'm going to run through a whole bunch of stuff real quick. TW for transphobia and more specifically transmisogyny

So basically, for the last hundred years or so, trans women have been an acceptable punching bag all across pop culture. Basically every sitcom released within the last fifty years (especially 90s-00s ones) have had some kind of a "man in a dress" or "chick with a dick" joke, horror movies still love the "gender-confused serial killer" trope, and the average drama views trans women as trauma sponges. This is without going into how a lot of "good" trans rep is still very tokenizing, assuming it's even allowed to be canon (*cough* Taliyah League of Legends *cough*). If I were to exclude all transphobic and/or transmisogynistic, there would be nothing to post. I have to limit my restrictions to the most egregious examples of pop culture transmisogyny-- specifically ones that have caused material harm.

[catboybiologist]

The General Grant Tree.

When the Civil War ended, the United States had an abundance of soldiers in the East, and a bunch of recently-brutally-colonized lands to the West. So, they put two and two together, and waves of soldiers went West. Most of that legacy is brutality. But some of that is positive- the first park rangers for newly-formed national parks in the Sierra Nevada mountains were part of these companies. Among others, this includes the Buffalo soldiers, all black regimens that scouted and mapped the Sierras, and helped establish better public access.

When they were sent to survey the West, they found giants. The Giant Sequoias, ice age relics clinging to isolated groves on the West slopes of the Sierras, are the largest single stem trees in the world. The largest individual trees were given names by these soldiers, and naturally, they named them after their commanding officers.

The General Sherman tree in Sequoia National Park is the largest single-stem tree on the planet, but many come close- including the General Grant tree in Kings Canyon national park.

Unlike the Sherman tree, however, the Grant tree obtained a kind of mythic quality. It's been named a national shrine to veterans and the military, as well as the Nation's Christmas tree.

But me? Well, I like the Sequoias themselves as a symbol of enduring nature more than I love the military or Christmas. I love the towering immensity of Sequoias, and largely disconnect myself from the other meanings that this tree has been given.

But y'know what else I love?

Tgirl tummy.

That's right.

This is a tgirl tummy Tuesday post.

Happy tgirl tummy Tuesday from the General Grant tree! I hope I'm being adequately degenerate at this "national shrine" to help divorce it from the US military. I stopped for the night in Grant Grove on my way deeper into the Sierras, so yeah, this is past Sierra with a scheduled post. Apologies for the image quality, these were all taken at twilight. Stay gender fucked, stay faggoty, eat well, and enjoy your public lands!

@xenasaur @lilithtransrights @anarqueeen @whalesharkcat @godless-of-the-hunt @shakukon-to @sagasolejma @eruditegeek @havingsecondthots @subsequentlysilly

[karlachismylife]

Tough Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.2

CW: fem!chubby!reader, mentions of animal marking/spraying/urinating

When you took a break in trying to get your behaviorist degree and took off to partake in this documentary on a whim, you certainly were prepared that it won't meet the highest expectations - life isn't a movie, after all, so perhaps you weren't hoping to find the purpose of life magically after you somewhat lost the direction, or to make an earth-shattering discovery that would turn behaviorist world upside down and earn you a place among scientific hall of fame. A distraction from an all-consuming apathy that creeped up in your life, perhaps, some useful experience close to your field of interest. Some connections and friendships, if nothing else - these were your (pretty reasonable) expectations.

Definitely not having to share a tent with a man you barely knew, because a huge hyena sprayed its stink all over your things, making it impossible to stay near your posessions for a long period of time.

Sure, lucky you - most of your stuff inside the backpack was very salvageable, your clothes and food intact. But everything that got under a direct attack - your little tent, sleeping bag, your favourite thermos and a little sitting mat, all that was most definitely due for a deep clean with some heavy scent remover, and your crew was in for a filming trip for the next several days without returning to your main dislocation at a sanctuary just next to the nature reserve you were filming in. So no cleaning and washing for you in aproximately a week. In short - you would've been fucked, sleeping in a smelly tent and sleeping bag or completely unprotected in a roofless vehicle, if not for Kir.

As you stand there with an apologetic expression on your face, hands clenched guiltily, he just laughs all your muttered thanks and apologies off, flashing you the friendliest of smiles as he sets up his own tent. A true knight in shining armor (some cargo pants and a blank, tight-fitting T-shirt in his case), Kir doesn't even let you help, telling you that your chatting is more than help enough as he prepares your new sleeping arrangements. Out of everyone on the crew he was the first to offer you to share his tent, and the fact that he had a backup sleeping bag only nailed the decision in.

"Don't worry, it's not a bother at all. If I was a newbie and something like this happened to me, you'd help me out too, I'm sure," he makes it hard to argue and feel like you're being a burden. Already a veteran of these filmings, Kir disctracts you from your upset mood with similar stories - about some scientist guy walking straight into a buffalo shitpile, a bunch of monkeys ravaging crew's backpacks and pulling out some poor girl's vibrator to play hot potato with it, a jackal finding one of the timelapse night cameras and flooding it generously... "They're animals, they just have a sense of humor like that. No one blames you for that guy taking a liking to you."

Kir's bright smile and cheerful words reassure you. He's being a gentleman about everything else too - allows you to take the higher ground to sleep there since the spot where his - and your now too - tent stands has a bit of an angle to it, lets you choose which sleeping bag you want, stays outside as you change for sleep even though you were perfectly fine doing it in the sleeping bag itself. The only un-gentlemanly thing Kir does is stay up with you until deep into the loud wild night, telling you more stories, already from his job at the sanctuary. As you whisper to each other and try to muffle your giggles, you hear rustling outside, someone walking around on soft paws, stopping several times at your tent and even sniffing loudly - you left your backpack nearby, unwilling to put the stinky thing into the tent. But the smell seems to work for you this time, since whatever it was, it leaves soon after.

In the morning you barely get out, a bit tired after your late night talkshow with Kir, only to learn that there were two hyenas in the camp - a bunch of the crew are crowded around a patch where the parprints are especially visible, getting the footage just in case it'll make into the final cut. One of the scientists measures the prints and estimates the sizes of both hyenas: both could be up to 1,8 meters in length judging from how wide apart their footprints lay. In other words - fucking huge, even for spotted hyenas.

"You think your friend from yesterday came with a buddy to spread some more perfume?" You scrunch your nose at Kir's joke and rush to check on your backpack, but it doesn't seem to be chewed on or reek worse than yesterday. Great news, honestly, since you'll be driving with that thing tucked into the back of a Land Rover while you follow the path of the lion pride you should be filming.

The sun is alredy high up and pretty ruthless by the time you come across any significant wildlife - and it's not lions, but something equally good for the documentary: a big herd of zebras. Once again, you are mesmerized, majestic striped horses so close to you that it doesn't seem real. They are aware of your crew's presence, but stay chill, perhaps seeing people and their weird appliances not for the first time.

Following your instructions, you carefully tread the tall grass to move a bit further from the parked vehicles and take some shots of the herd; you choose your favourite zebra - a mother with a little baby waving it's puny tail and constantly shoving its adorable snout under mother's belly for milk - and zoom in on her, setting quite a neat shot. After you settle the videocamera, you take out your personal one to take some photos, but suddenly the zebras perk up, ears twitching and chewing coming to an end. You lower your camera at first, confused by their reactions - you didn't hear anything? - but then lift it up againt to search for the source of zebras' worries through zoom.

And source of worries you find.

Two hunched silouettes, out in the open, dark manes fluffed up and tails in a clearly aggresive stance - a couple of enormous, compared to the zebras, hyenas are creeping up to them, hind legs tucked up under their bulky bodies, ready to pounce... and then one of them, a smaller one with darker fur, darts forward.

A hunting hyena is an impressive view, their speed exceeding what one might expect just looking at their burly, asymmetrical builds - but exactly that legs length difference allows them to speed so fast that your camera struggles to capture them. But what's impressive onscreen, is fucking terrifying in real life.

Because a herd of zebras is panicking at the sight of a predator closing in on one of them, and in panic they start to run.

You're in their way.

The sound of dozens of hooves hitting dry, solid ground mixes with your own blood pumping in your ears. In an act of brain malfunction, you somehow find yourself more worried about the expensive camera (it's not even yours) being trampled than yourself, and try to pick it up with the tripod - seconds dragging on like molten resin boiling under the cruel noon sun. The ground is trembling under the scared animals, dust and dry grass up in the air.

A high-pitched sound breaks you out of stupor. Loud cackling with an undertone of alarm gets closer too, and as you stumble backwards, a big dark form zooms past you, rushing fearlessly towards the fear-crazed zebras. It's reckless even for a carnivoure they're afraid of: nothing can guarantee that the herd will stop or turn away as the hyena approaches them head-on, and you prepare yourself to witness a gruesome scene of a hunter falling by the hooves of hunted.

But it somehow works. Last moment, the zebras notice the hyena flying at them with a scary laugh and change the direction of their fleeing route, less lucky among them falling and getting pushed over, but hyenas - more of them now, four, it seems? - don't bother pouncing the fallen ones, putting all their efforts into... simply chasing their prey away?

Confused and still stunned into a frozen mode, you watch the little baby zebra buck its tiny legs at a hyena barking at it lazily and clamping its huge maw, capable of crushing huge bones, on thin air. Trotting for a few more meters, the predator stalls and then simply turns away, casting you a glance before slowly treading back to its buddy. The one whose disheveled mane and wide stance you recognize immediately.

Blinking, you finally find yourself able to collect your equipment, although with trembling hands - your shoulders are still tense in a protective manner, and you flinch, when Kir rushes to you to help with the heavy camera.

"Oh my god, are you okay? I thought I'd shit myself when I saw them running at us," he looks sickly, you're probably no better. You dump the tripod and the camera into his arms happily, clutching your own, and walk on stumbling legs back to the rover.

You're met with a pair of bit wet eyes when you finally get to the car.

Somehow a single hyena - where did its buddies go? - doesn't seem all that scary after you nearly avoided being stomped by a hundred zebras, so you take a few more steps before finally remembering to be cautious. Kir is just a few meters away, loading the camera into the car, so it means he walked past the hyena unharmed, right?

You don't get to ask that question or shoo the animal away: just like yesterday, it appears up next to you in a gracious pounce, nuzzling your hip again. The noise that leaves its throat is absolutely horrid, an annoying screeching, sightly hoarse and just as high-pitched as its laugh. Wagging its tail, the hyena circles you several time, bumping into your legs - each time you don't respond or move, the screech gets only louder, until you give up.

"Stop it! Hush! S-stop yelling, shut up!" Bold of you to try and order a wild animal around. Maybe that's exactly why it works - the noise cuts off abruptly, the hyena taking a step back to plop its chonky ass on the ground. It looks at you just like a tamed dog would - mouth slightly agape in a toothy smile, head tilted and ears fluttering, as if it's eager to hear what else you have to say.

You're not made of steel to stay indifferent an wary at this sight.

"Huh. So you do listen sometimes. I guess you just hated my backpack that much," you still grumble at the hyena, and it flattens its round ears with guilt, slowly dipping down to the ground. Aren't they supposed to be like cats? But this one looks at you with the definition of puppy eyes. "You could've done worse... and I guess you saved me today. Thank you, Stinky."

The hyena lights up and sits back up with its chest puffed out as it hears you acknowledge the way it steered the scared herd away from you and your crew, but all its pride fizzles out as soon as you give it a name. You get a disapproving look and a loud giggle, clearly mocking your sense of humor in naming the hyena.

"Don't look at me like that, I can't sleep in my own sleeping bag now because of you. Have to share a tent with Kir," you nod at the young man sitting in the driver's sit with an amused expression, and the hyena turns to look at him too. Judging by the way Kir's smile fades, the look he recieved from the animal wasn't a kind one.

"Come on, we have to get a move on, still about fifty kilometers to cover today," he mutters, and you try to move past Stinky (oh yes, you're keeping the name) to the car, but it suddenly jumps to its feet and barrels at you again, rubbing at your legs and nuzzling your thighs. It even shoves its snout into your crotch, tail flailng up high, but the loud sound of an engine starting right behind it finally scares the weird animal away. It trots to the side, stops to look at you again, as if checking if you're still stumbling after being scared half to death by the herd, then resumes its leisurely pace, waving its tail.

You huff, getting into your seat, and dust your pants of some coarse fur the rascal left.

"Weird fucking guy," you mutter about the hyena more to yourself than yo Kir, who already jokes about you being a hyena whisperer. "And stinky, too."

You'll just have to hope his buddies won't try to follow into his pawsteps.

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 3

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog

[menagerofmischief]

Hi, I love that you're also doing this !!

for my dinner order Served by Carlos Sainz can I please get Charcuterie board as a starter with a hot appetizer

For main : Buffalo wings, Sushi and Cheese fries

For drinks: Iced tea (receiving), Mint tea and vodka Redbull With dessert of course, thank you

Ps. My favorite tracks are Monza and Singapore 😉

Dia's Diner Menu

charcuterie board dating hot appetizer sweet sex buffalo wings "Count them for me" sushi "Better quiet down you don't want them to hear us" cheese fries "I love making you squirt" ice tea oral mint tea body worship vodka redbull squirting dessert aftercare + pizza "My good girl"

TW: oral sex, fingering, semi-public sex (driver's room), squirting, PiV, unprotected sex

WC: 1.7k

“You did good today,” I said, my lips stretching into a smile as Carlos wrapped his arms around me. 

Today was Saturday, which meant quali and Carlos Sainz, my beloved boyfriend, got P2. With the car he was driving that’s the equivalent of pole position. 

“Thank you, carino.” Carlos said, resting his chin on the top of my head as he wrapped his arms around me just a bit tighter.

I giggled, trying to push away from him only to be met with failure. “Carlos,” I whined, attempting to put some space between us. “You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed, releasing me from his hold and taking a step back. “Better now?” He asked and I nodded. Carlos slipped his hand into mine and intertwined our fingers, and then with a gentle but still firm hold started leading me towards his driver’s room. “Come on,” was all he said.

The tone of his voice left no room for argument and I knew where this was heading and it was going to finish up. Every good race and quali ended the same way. First with my legs thrown over his shoulder while he ate me out like I was his last meal and then with him buried deep inside of me, fucking me desperately and passionately, like the world depended on it.

As soon as we’re inside of his driver’s room he lets go of my hands and closes the door. I hear a click, letting me know the door is locked and then Carlos turns back around to face me.

His pupils are blown wide, his eyes slightly narrowed and darkened with desire. He crosses his arms and looks me up and down. His eyes sliding from my legs up to my head and then back down to my legs, his gaze intense enough to make goosebumps rise on my skin.

“Strip,” Carlos commanded, his voice rough and the intensity of his gaze making me hot all over.

I hesitated only for a second before I began removing my clothes, peeling item after item away from my body, fumbling with buttons until I opened them all. I stood in my underwear, a red set Carlos had bought me the last time we went shopping, and looked at him.

Carlos only raised a brow in response, silently commanding me to keep going and take my underwear off as well. “I said strip, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, my voice barely above a whisper. First I took off my bra, reaching my hands and unclasping it before letting it fall down onto the floor where the rest of my clothes were. Then I hooked my fingers under the waistband of my pantied and pulled them off, my cheeks burning when I noticed the huge wet patch on them.

Carlos hummed, I didn’t even notice he approached me until his hand wrapped around my wrist when I went to drop my panties to the ground. His thumb rubbed over my skin before he grabbed the material, bunching up the panties tightly in his hand, he gave me a smirk before making one step towards his jacket, hanging on a chair and putting my panties inside of his pocket.

“I’ll be keeping those,” he said in a matter of fact voice. He took slow, determined steps towards me and with each of his I took one step backwards until my legs hit the couch.

Carlos towered over me, looking at me the way a predator looks at its prey before sinking its teeth into it, and smirked. He brought his hands up and placed them on my shoulders, giving me a moment of comfort before pe gently pushed me onto the couch. 

He climbed over me and placed a few kisses on my collarbones and between my breasts before moving down so was eye level with my pussy. His hand gripped my thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circled into my skin. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me, carino?” He purred, his voice like velvet of my skin, his breath warm.

“Yes, Carlos, I’ll be good.”

He hummed, dipping his head down and placing a kiss onto my clit, gone as soon as it started, making me whine and buck my hips trying to chase any kind of friction. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a good girl and let me do with you as I please. I think,” he stopped for a second, deciding the rest of his sentence. “I’ll make you cum for me three times. Think you can do that?”

I nodded in agreement instantly. “I can do that!”

He smiled, dipping his head down, tongue darting out and licking from my opening to my clit before his lips left my core, again. “Good,” he growled. “I want you to count how many times I make you cum. How many orgasms you are about to have - I want you to count them for me.”

I barely had time to nod before his lips wrapped around my clit, giving it a long suck before his tongue flicked it, making me moan. Carlos pulled himself away just a bit and looked up at me, “The walls are thin, you know? And the garage is full of employees. You better be quiet, you don’t want them to hear us, do you?”

“No,” I whisper but it comes out more like a broken whine. However it’s enough for Carlos before he returns his lips to my cunt.

He concentrates his lips on my clit, sucking and licking like a starved man and it’s not long until I feel my orgasm approaching. “Gonna cum, Carlos, fuck! So good!” I moan, my hands grabbing his head and fingers tangling in his hair as I attempt to push his face further into my cunt.

I felt his tongue flick my clit one more time before I was cuming with a moan, my legs squeezing around his head so hard I was afraid I was going to suffocate him. 

I was breathless, my chest raising and falling with each shallow breath I took, my body burning. “One,” I said, my voice cracking. “That was one.”

Carlos turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to my thigh. “There we go,” he said, his lips brushing against my skin with every word he spoke. “That’s my good girl.”

I felt blood rush to my cheeks at his praise and Carlos chuckled when he saw me blushing. One of his hands gently stroked my waist, his eyes locked onto mine. “Good to keep going, carino?”

“Please,” I said, almost embarrassingly fast, nodding my head along.

Carlos smirked, moving his hands instantly. His lips wrapped around my clit again, making me whine from how sensitive I was from my last orgasm. A moment later I felt his fingers circling around my entrance, making me moan.

His fingers easily sink into me, all the way to the knuckles and he wastes no time to begin thrusting them inside me. I’d be embarrassed from the squelch my wetness makes while he fucks me with his fingers but with how good I am feeling, I can’t bring myself to care.

His fingers hit my G-spot every time and he sucked harder on my clit. I felt my orgasm fast approaching and before I could open my mouth to say something I felt myself tip over the edge.

This time felt different than the previous and I realized why when I heard Carlos groan and looked down to see myself squirting. The drops of my pleasure all over his face and soaking up his fireproofs.

“Fuck,” I whispered, feeling like my body was vibrating with pleasure. “Two.”

Carlos pulled away, locking his eyes with mine and brought his fingers up to his lips, licking them clean. “I love making you squirt, carino.” He said, his voice rough. “It’s my favorite thing actually.”

“Carlos, please!” I whined, reaching my hands towards him and grabbing his shoulder. “Need you to fuck me. Need to fill you in me.”

“Is that right?” He growled, already undressing himself from his racing suit. “My pretty girl needs me to fill her up?”

Carlos settled over me on the couch, leaning down to kiss me, pushing his tongue into my mouth and making me taste myself. In the meantime he ran his cock through my folds, covering himself with my wetness before sliding into me.

He filled me up in one thrust, burying himself to the hilt and making me moan into his mouth. His thrusts were slow, deep and passionate. This time he wasn’t fucking me, he was making love.

His hands ran all over my body, fingertips ghosting over my skin before one of his hands grabbed my tits. “You’re so pretty, carino.” He said, his lips brushing against mine. “The prettiest woman - and all mine.”

“Yes Carlos, yours! All yours.”

I could tell he was close from the way he twitched inside of me. He snuck his hand down, his fingers playing with my oversensitive clit and I was cumming around him. Just moments after Carlos stilled, releasing himself inside of me and filling me with his cum.

He waited a moment for me to catch my breath and then slowly pulled out his softening dick. He got up and went to the bathroom to grab a towel before coming back and cleaning me up. 

He kissed my forehead, moving a strand of hair from my face. “You did so well, carino.” He said, his voice holding a gentle tone. I felt his arms wrap around me and then next thing I knew he pulled me up into his arms and started carrying me to the bathroom.

“We’re gonna take a shower now,” he said, his thumb rubbing against my skin. “And then we’ll get dressed and go out for ice cream before going back to the hotel. How does that sound?”

Carlos put me on my feet in the shower and turned the water on. “Amazing,” I hummed in content, feeling his hands gliding over my body as he started soaping me up. “It sound amazing.”