#kent bicycles

[diamondsandcigarette01]

pink bike💞

[fanficfanattic]

Okay, okay. So I’ve talked about Keeley coming into the dressing room and teaching the lads how to fuck Jamie into both crying and behaving. Still gold standard right there.

But what if the Man City captain (Billy Brimblecom according to Arlo) had told Roy the best way to deal with Jamie. But Roy thought he was taking the piss. So BB sees that tiff on the field and knows that Jamie is not being taken care of properly. And sends down Jamie’s favorite (and oldest/closet to Roy’s age) teammate to get that sorted.

So instead of it just being something Keeley knows he likes. It was part of his football life the whole time. But Roy played himself. And with himself when it could have been Jamie.

Paddy struts in, calls out sunnily “Jamie, m’boy, c’mere.” And Jamie happily trots over, gets a hug and a whisper from Paddy, then easily sinks to his knees when Paddy pushes down from the top of his knees. The room gapes and Paddy looks around seeing the surprise on their faces. It’s worse than BB thought. It isn’t that they aren’t doing it properly. It’s that they aren’t doing it at all!

He goes right in for Roy. “BB explained the whole process to you.”

“I thought he was joking.”

“This whole time Jamie’s thought you rejected him, didn’t think he was fit enough to suck your cock, when it’s actually just that you’re an insufferable prick?!”

And Paddy turns to his next objective.

“You’re Nate then, the kit man.”

“Yes?” And Nate is trying to figure out how one of Man City’s centre backs knows him on sight and by name. When the team he serves only recently bothered to learn it.

“Sorry you got caught up in the crosshairs. Jamie will apologize properly too, but none of us imagined Kent just…didn’t do anything.”

Nate stammers a response “No apologies necessary,” while staring at where Paddy had gestured to Jamie. Who was on his knees, posture upright and body calmly still, forehead resting against Paddy’s hip. Jamie’s eyes were closed but he was slightly smiling while Paddy carded fingers through his hair.

“He still will. But yeah, your job is to make sure any player that wants to fuck him has recent sti results filed with you. Jamie takes care of the team but the trade off is that the team takes care of him right back.”

And then Paddy’s moved on. Does anyone want to fuck Jamie’s mouth and has recent test results ready right now?

He’s got two fingers tipping up Jamie’s face. Just kneeling was enough to give him a serene face when he finally lifts it.

“Richard’s last check was recent and I just vetted it. Want to show everyone here how you are a championship worthy cocksucker?”

So Jamie shuffles over to Richard, still on his knees, then he grabs each of Richard’s hands to hold in his own before pulling him over to a seated position in front of the cubbies.

What if that, huh!?

[junespriince]

Wally: I sit here today because my uncle retired and you guys just dragged me in here, I didn't have a choice. I was working my own city, the Titans, and sometimes helped other heroes and now I have to work here and come to almost daily meetings? How can I get fired? Can marrying your son in Vegas make you let me leave? I want out of this.

Bruce: the dimension overlord said you must be here, we need a speedster or balance will be distributed.

Wally: how about you disturb deez nuts old man. I don't give two donkeys pucks about this "balance" when I'm forced to look at my two biggest enemies all day.

Oliver: I know Barry raised you, but could you have manners kid?

Wally: can you stop getting pegged by my therapist?

Oliver, blushing as if the league doesn't already know this:

Wally: no? Okay, then shut up.

Bruce: this is a bit excessive, West.

Wally: says the guy who fights his ex father in law/enemy shirtless. I don't know about you, but if my son grandfather challenged me to a duel the shirt stays on.

Bruce: how?

Wally: what does "dating your son" mean to you? Self proclaimed greatest detective over here lady and gents, give him some applause for being stupid. Though, with all the smart women you attracted I guess it has it charms to a certain group.

Clark: a lot of sass today, huh?

Wally: and rightly so Mr. Kent—

Clark: kid, you've known me for years and marrying my kid, it's uncle Clark now.

Wally: sir, I was raised my a Midwestern woman, it's sir, ma'am, and whatnot, deal with it. Anyways, it's rightly deserved, I'm losing a lot of precious time spending it here because Gotham's playboy bicycle decided now he'll have a standard and not fix this problem by helping the dimensions asshat get laid. Do you understand how much this cut into my personal life outside of heroing, Bruce?

Bruce: well—

Wally: shut up sir, you don't because unlike you I don't have a son I was blackmailed into adopting that can run the business, no, I'm an average man here working a real job, and trying to make time for my boyfriend. We get it, you're an emo furry with a tragic backstory that makes it hard to emote, well bucko guess what, I had shitty parents, uncle Hal thinks I have no friends, and what else... OH yeah! I was stuck in the speed force trying to get out and everyone I loved stop trying to save me and assumed I was dead. So, fire me!

Bruce, and his ego™: no. Balance needs to be kept.

Wally: I will make you regret this choice.

Both of them glaring at each other:

Diana: well, at least meetings will be interesting.

Hal: in my defense you didn't have friends over when I visited so how was i supposed to know...

Oliver: didn't Barry told you one time to come because Wally was at my house having a sleepover with Roy?

Hal: ... Okay I'mma be so real right now, I heard come over and the rest was white noise.

Wally: ew. I'm right here.

Hal: kid, hush, the adults are talking.

Wally: ... I'm 29, dude bye. I'm done with this. *Gets up and leaves*

Arthur: he has grown up so much.

Bruce, who knows Wally at his worst teen years: yeah, he's gotten worse.

Oliver: so about this fighting shirtless with your ex father in law.

Bruce: so about you getting pegged by our therapist.

Oliver:

Bruce:

Oliver: I hate you.

Bruce: yeah, yeah, love you too idiot.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 3)

Dinner, dessert, and realizing someone might get hurt.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.8k words

Warnings: Language, plenty of pining, "only one bed" trope I guess

A/N: Came out a bit longer than I intended, but I'm not complaining!

Series Masterlist

Roy’s arm was still wrapped around your shoulder, fingers tracing circles on your bare skin as he laughed at something your brother-in-law said. Another reason you’d picked Roy to be your fake boyfriend: he got along perfectly with your family and didn’t need to create some fake personality to make them like him. They adored Roy. It was probably your dad’s deepest dream to have the two of you get together.

You had caught the look on your dad’s face as he watched you across the room. His smile was that soft, gentle smile, the one he’d worn when you were a kid receiving an award, or when you learned to ride a bicycle, or when he helped you move into your first place all on your own. It was his proud, I love you so much smile. And it broke your heart a little, knowing that he’d be so sad when you and Roy “broke up” after the wedding. Almost as sad as you would be when the weekend ended, and Roy went back to just being your friend’s big brother who you pined after in silence.

But for now, you laid your head on his shoulder as your older sister shared some silly story about your nephew, enjoying the rumbling you felt when he chuckled, that gruff sound that made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned close and whispered in your ear, “How’m I doing?”

Ignoring the shiver his breath sent down your spine, you nodded. “Perfect,” you answered quietly. Just as your gaze flickered down to his mouth, wondering how many kisses you could get away with by excusing them as part of the “act”, a housekeeper came in and announced dinner, asking everyone to follow her to the dining room.

Roy was on his feet immediately, holding his hand out to help you up. “Feel like I’m on an episode of fucking Downton Abbey,” he hissed, smirking.

“What do you know about Downton Abbey?” you teased with a laugh.

“I know you’ve got a fucking thing for Matthew Crawley,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you.

Feeling like you were being watched, you gripped Roy’s arm affectionately. “Is someone jealous?” you cooed.

“Maybe,” was the small growl before Roy’s lips connected with yours again for a brief, heated moment that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this alright?” he whispered, nose brushing affectionately against yours as everyone else walked past the two of you. “The kissing?” His eyes were full of concern, a look he often gave you when he got protective. As any guy would of his baby sister’s best friend- right?

You shrugged coyly. “Getting to spend my weekend snogging a handsome footballer kind of helps take the sting out of the whole ‘my sister is marrying my ex’ bullshit.”

The smile he wore was a surprised one. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Oh, shut up, you know you are,” you tutted, giving him a playful shove as you moved past him into the dining room. With your back to him you missed the fierce blush that covered his face as he shook his head and watched you, that big smile remaining despite no one being around to see it.

Once everyone had settled in their seats, Jim’s dad raised a glass. “Thank you all for joining us to celebrate our only son and his lovely bride-to-be,” he started, nodding to Jim and Lauren, who sat directly across from Roy and yourself. “It’s going to be a very busy weekend, so it’s nice to have the opportunity to have our first official meal as a family before the festivities.” His eyes lingered on you for a moment, wistfulness flickering across his face for a brief moment.

When you and Roy had arrived at the house and were searching for your room, you’d bumped into Jim’s parents in the hall; there was a lot of clearing of throats and avoiding eye contact from all three of you as you re-introduced them to Roy, informing them that the two of you were now dating. Jim’s mother looked almost disappointed at the news, the corners of her mouth tugging downward, before recovering and offering her congratulations.

Jim’s dad continued his little toast. “I hope this weekend is full of wonderful memories for our new family and that this is the first of many celebrations we share.”

As everyone raised their glasses in agreement, Roy reached under the table for your hand, despite the fact that no one could see it. While you marveled at how determined he was to convince the whole table of your farce, Roy knew the truth: he wanted to hold your hand, plain and simple. And after all this time, this weekend finally gave him excuse to hold it as much as he wanted. There was no way he was going to waste that.

He did reluctantly have to let go once dinner was served, but not without bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your hand first. Across the table, Jim’s eyes narrowed slightly, before he turned to Lauren, acting like the picture of the attentive fiancé. You couldn’t help but notice the more Roy leaned over to whisper jokes in your ear, or found an excuse to touch your hand, or acted generally boyfriend-y, the more Jim mirrored that affection with Lauren. You did your best not to dwell on the observation, instead focusing on how nice it was to have Roy Kent by your side.

When dessert was served, Jim’s mum suggested taking it outside to enjoy the lovely night. Roy grabbed your bowl before you could and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Just grab the spoons, yeah, love?”

Love. Roy Kent just called you love. You’d seen him with other women he’d dated- really dated- and you’d never heard him call any of them love. The word stopped the breath in your chest as you reminded yourself that he was playing a role, acting as the perfect doting boyfriend.

But goodness, you liked the way it sounded.

You led Roy to the garden, where Roy nodded to a bench nestled under a low tree, a bit away from where everyone else was sitting.

“Mind if we sit over here?”

Your chest purred with pleasure at the idea of being alone with him in the secluded little corner, even if just for show. “Sounds good,” you managed.

Roy watched you carefully as you sat down before joining you on the bench, sitting closer than he had to, pressing his thigh against yours. He knew, deep down, that he was kind of taking advantage of the situation, that he was just a friend doing you a favor, but fuck, when was he going to get another chance like this? To dote on you, to touch you, to kiss you, to show you how mad about you he was. He would worry about getting his heart broken later.

“How you feelin’?” he asked, trading your dessert for one of the spoons you held out.

You shrugged as you took the bowl that he handed you. “Alright.” Your gaze flickered to Jim and Lauren, who were chatting with Jim’s parents. Jim’s eyes locked with yours for a brief moment before you turned back to Roy, who watched you with a frown. “How are you? You’re doing a great job with this whole boyfriend thing. You’re a natural.”

Roy turned his focus to his dessert, ignoring how tight his chest felt. “I’m fuckin’ fine. More concerned with you, actually. I’m sure all this… is hard.” He lifted his head to look at you. “It fucking sucks. Watching the love of your life be in love with someone else. Really fucking sucks.”

Something in the fiery way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah. This is pretty damn difficult.” After a moment, you shook your head. “But… I don’t think Jim was the love of my life.” Roy’s raised eyebrows urged you on. “I mean, I loved him. Really, I did. And I would’ve married him. And it hurts like hell watching him marry someone else, never mind who it is.” You shrugged. “But he wasn’t the love of my life,” you repeated firmly.

“How d’you know?” Roy leaned towards you intently, both of you completely forgetting about the sweets in your hands.

“I don’t,” you admitted with a soft chuckle. “But I have to keep telling myself that, don’t I? Have to keep hope that the real love of my life is still out there, looking for me as much as I’m looking for him.”

Roy’s heart was on fire listening to you. He wanted so badly to tell you that he was right fucking there, that he’d been there for years. He wanted to give you a real kiss and whisk you away to the swanky bedroom you were sharing. Fuck, he wanted to offer to take Jim and Lauren’s place in front of the officiant on Saturday if you were keen.

Instead, he gave you a small, understanding nod. “Should write that down, it’s fucking beautiful.” And you knew he meant it. “Right. Well. I am… going to find a fucking bathroom.” He stood, putting down his bowl and forcing a playful smirk. “Don’t eat my fucking dessert, and if I’m not back in an hour, send a search party, see if I fell into a moat or got caught in a dungeon or some shit.” He bent down and kissed the top of your head before walking briskly into the house, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You two were having a pretty serious conversation from the looks of it,” your father’s voice mused.

You looked up at your father, who was observing you carefully. “Just about how weird this weekend is,” you half-lied. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

He nodded. “Well, I’m sure it’s strange for him too. Watching you watch your ex get married.” He bobbled his head. “Be easy on him.”

You shook your head. “Roy knows there’s no feelings there. Just awkwardness, really. He completely understands.”

“He’s a good guy. You know I’ve always thought so.” He laughed. “We’re all just glad you two finally figured it out.”

“Right. Right.” You thought for a moment about the way your family wasn’t completely surprised by your new “relationship”. “You know, I’m still not sure what I was missing all those years. What did everyone see that I didn’t?”

A smile crossed his face. “Really, love? You never noticed the way that fella looked at you? All wide-eyed and flushed? Or the way he’d run himself ragged during matches when he knew you were there, just to impress you? There was one Christmas he came home, and I swear he took one look at you and looked ready to quit football just so he could stay with ya.” He chuckled. “Just glad he finally made his move.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You giggled weakly, pretending you’d noticed those things. “And was I just as obvious?”

“God, maybe worse,” your dad chortled, slapping his hands together with glee. “Where to start? Always finding a reason to talk to him, screaming like a banshee whenever you watch him play, and your mother and I overheard more than one late-night call to Sunderland when he was away. I’m just surprised it took him so long to realize how in love you’ve always been.”

Roy chose that moment, with your face starting to warm, to return. He nodded to your dad as he resumed his seat beside you. “Alright there?” He scrunched his eyebrows together. “Your face is all red.” He leaned close and planted a kiss on your cheek, relishing the heat against his lips. “Fucking cute when you blush,” he hummed. His own cheeks reddened when your dad cleared his throat, reminding Roy that he had an audience. “Fuck. Sorry,” he hissed.

Your dad held his hands up in defeat. “Can’t blame you two for wanting to make up for lost time.” He clapped your shoulder lovingly and returned to your mother, who was watching you with a soft smile.

Deciding to let yourself lean into things as much as Roy, you leaned your chin on his shoulder, gazing up at him adoringly. “Feeling kind of tired,” you murmured. “Thinking I’ll head to bed.”

Sure enough, he pecked your forehead. “I’ll join you.”

Rather quickly, you noticed, Roy grabbed your forgotten desserts and carried them to the table Jim and Lauren sat at. You followed him, offering a small wave to everyone.

“Goodnight,” you called.

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “More alone time?”

You wrapped your arms around Roy’s middle and squeezed tight. “Just a bit knackered. And I know tomorrow’s a busy day, want to be well-rested.”

Jim offered a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Goodnight then.”

Conversely, Roy’s smile was wide. “Have a great night, Jim.” He nodded to everyone else before taking your hand and leading you inside.

As the two of you walked down the hall to your room, you couldn’t help but realize that Roy was still holding your hand; you told yourself it must be in case someone happened to see you. That had to be it; Roy committing to this whole fake-relationship thing.

Once you were in the room, you each silently went about getting ready for bed, with Roy letting you use the restroom to change. You quickly removed your makeup, brushed your teeth (longer than usual), and changed into your pyjamas, feeling suddenly a bit shy in your sleeping shorts and oversized shirt. But Roy’d seen you in pyjamas plenty of times; how was this really any different?

For Roy, it was completely different. His breath caught in his throat when you walked out of the bathroom and his grip on the t-shirt he was about to put on tightened. It wasn’t necessarily the view- which admittedly drove him mad- but the knowledge that, in just a few minutes, you’d be in bed. With him.

Likewise, your heart hammered as you once again saw his bare chest- or “bear chest”, as Paul once joked at a pool party. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed when he tugged on his black shirt, covering the hair and the light blush that covered his skin.

“D’you care which side?” he grumbled, pulling back the covers. He knew he should offer to sleep on the floor or something, but he knew you didn’t mind; how many times had you fallen asleep leaning against him on the couch? Or that time your families had gone camping and you had begged him to cuddle with you because it was so fucking cold?

Sure enough, you shrugged and helped him pull back the blankets. “Up to you.”

With a grunt, Roy threw himself on the bed, grinning when you did the same. “Only took, what, thirty years. But look at us, our first slumber party.”

You rolled your eyes and brought the blankets over yourselves; Roy couldn’t help but notice the tender way you made sure he was covered. “Roy, I spent the night at your house so many times growing up. We absolutely had slumber parties.”

He shook his head with a small breathy laugh. “Come on. You weren’t there for me.”

Not knowing what came over you, you turned onto your side and propped yourself up on your elbow, your eyes tracing Roy’s profile. “Who said I wasn’t?” you teased.

It was Roy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, fuck off,” he grumbled, smile playing on his lips. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

With that, he turned and clicked off the lamp that sat on the nightstand, leaving you in darkness, wondering how you were going to sleep with the knowledge that Roy Kent was right next to you. Miraculously, you did finally fall asleep, listening to Roy’s soft snores that you knew you’d have to tease him about.

The next morning, you woke up with your head on Roy’s chest, his arm wrapped around you tenderly as he continued to snooze.

Fuck.

Your breath became shallow as you tried to figure out what to do. Gently pull out of his grasp? Stay this way and hope he woke up and removed his arm? Part of you- fine, all of you- wished you could wake up this way every morning.

Carefully, you removed Roy’s arm, the spot where his hand had been quickly becoming cold, and rolled over as slowly as you could, not stopping until you were flat on your back, a safe distance from Roy. Holding in a sigh, you stared at the ceiling, wondering if you’d be able to get through this weekend with your heart in one piece.

[farmerstarter]

omg please sam + transports for the mundane things ask!

🚗 Transports HCs ───〃★ Sam

a/n: omg hi!! here's some transport HCs about our favorite golden retriever boy Sam. Hope you enjoy! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🌷

Do they have a driving license, whether it's for a car or bikes?

Sam has a driver's license, but he doesn’t own a car. It was actually his driver’s license that landed him a job at Joja Mart. The only times he gets to drive is if he has to do some deliveries for Morris or if Luis has him run errands around Pelican Town.

Do they have any other kind of driving licenses (planes, ships, buses…)?

No, but that didn’t stop him from convincing Willy to let him steer the boat going to Ginger Island. And because I can't live without the tractor mod, I say that Sam took a liking to using your tractor to get to places in the farm. He got it painted red.

Do they own a car?

He doesn’t, but he and Sebastian often browse car websites when they hang out in Sebastian’s room.

Do they own a bike?

He had a kid's bicycle when he was young, but he never bothered to continue biking after Jodi and Kent got him a toy drum set for his 6th birthday. His bicycle is mostly being used by Jazz and Vincent now. Sam managed to convince Sebastian to teach him how to ride a motorcycle.

Are they the kind of person who thinks of their car as if it were their baby? Perfectly clean, not a scratch, almost overly protective of it?

Sam gave names to both the Joja Mart truck and Luis’ pick-up: Billy and Joel. He thinks he’s clever for coming up with them. He takes good care of them when he’s driving, keeping them clean and smelling fresh. He went into hysteria when he accidentally spilled Joja Cola on the passenger seat of Luis’ truck.

Do they use public transports? If so, do they like using them?

Sam does and he’s indifferent to it. Whenever he has to ride the bus, he always sits in his favorite spot by the window. He likes to look out and pretend he’s in a music video. He picks at the leather seats, much to Pam’s annoyance.

Do they like going on trains?

He’s never had the chance to ride on a train before, but he always runs to the train station whenever a train passes through the valley so he can watch it. When you two got married, you and Sam would sometimes just ride the train going to Zuzu city and back to the valley. He takes complete advantage of the free snacks on board.

Do they like going on boats or ships?

Sam loves them and would always go to Ginger Island if given the chance. Sam and Elliott would sometimes hang out on Elliott's boat and talk about music.

Do they like going on airplanes?

Sam has only been on a plane twice so far, and he loved it. He found out about Harvey’s plane hobby when he had to do his doctor’s visit and saw Harvey’s little plane statue on his table. Harvey ended up showing Sam his plane stuff and gave him one of his many tiny plane memorabilia. Sam and Harvey's friendship blossomed from there.

[dobrien]

Roy Kent vs The Bicycle TED LASSO season three, episode six “Sunflowers”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

About gossip from the Chomondeleys' circle reaching Richard Eden at DM and who might be leaking.

I think it's often forgotten that DM is owned by aristocrats and employs alot of journalists with aristo connections and or aristos themselves. It's not always the circle giving Richard info directly. With few exceptions, they all ran in the Tatler, Spectator, The Lady, Country life, Evening Standard crowd. Information can come from anywhere within those interlocking publications who in turn hear it at their parties and country weekends, vacations and or friend groups. 

At one time, DM hired the editor of Tatler to helm it. The same Tatler editor who had been in charge over there during Kate and William dating years and who'd become the Middletons' media advisor in those years. After he left Tatler, he went on to The Evening Standard. 

We tend to think of Soho house as a hotbed of urbanites and celeb wannabes, but Soho Farmhouse has Rose Astor ( wife of Hugh Van Cutsem) as it's founding member and most of it's devotees are people in the aristo set and includes most of the Gloucestershire/ Coswolds residents which intersects politics, media and UK trendy wealthy, home counties aristos. 

Even the Made in Chelsea ( reality show) is cast from the aristo set eg Millie Mackintosh's husband is or was a good friend of Eugenie. Millie was deliberately befriended and later discarded by Markle and all we have of their friendship is that photo of them on bicycles at Soho house.

Then you have the other private members clubs eg Annabel's and it's sister clubs eg Lou Lou's, Birley's and 5 Hertford - owned and named by the Goldsmith family whose mother/ step-mother is Queen of the London Aristo society, friend of the Royals and in particular Camilla and her sister Annabel, Diana and Fergie, the Michael Kents). Almost every aristo/ royal circle has membership or parties at these 3 clubs including the young royals such as the York sisters, William and Kate. One of the ladies in William and Kate's inner circle, Astrid Harbord, works for Annabel's. 

Olswang, White's and The Lansdowne club are the other three private members clubs that cater to the crowd and also have that incestuous royal/ politics/ establishment/ media/ aristo circle as members. 

My point being that information doesn't always have to come from people super close to the subject in question because it's a very close knit incestuous class of people who gossip about each other and it's only restraint and class rules that prevent all of it appearing in society gossip columns like DM. 

[rhinexstone]

Hear me out: Clark can’t drive.

At first you think: oh he probably just takes public transport in Metropolis, plenty of chances to help people, both his jobs give him transportation if needed, or he just flies.

But what about when he lived in Smallvile? Well, not much use for a tractor when you’re faster and stronger than one, or he sticks to barn work when helping others because it’s a closed space so no one sees him lift multiple tons.

And how he got around smallvile? Bike. His parents insisted because he started helping too many people move as a tween and if he had a truck the entire state of Kansas would figure it out. When he accidentally got a ticket for speeding on a bicycle, the Kents put a very broken motor on it and called it a mo-ped.

He kind of understands how cars work. Like that people need to check their mirrors a lot, but honestly there’s plenty of people (Batman mostly) who want to drive instead. And when he needs to take the wheel, the situations often bad enough that just getting out and grabbing the vehicle is the better choice.

[lemondemonpickuplines]

you, yes YOU could become the next greatest LD pickup artist! that is, if you have a couple free minutes and are a fucking loser. just like me! submit your pickup lines today!

to jumpstart your beautiful and creative minds, I've made a list of songs that are yet to have a line under the cutoff. Remember, though, we're only Lemon Demon in name - you're also welcome to post about a Mouth song, a YouTube video, or anything else that speaks to you and that Neil Cicierega is a part of. GOOD LUCK!

Error

Bowling Alley

Wrong

Hazel's Modus Operandi

Idiot Control Now

Pepper and Salt

Holy Bison Beaks

Fire Motif

Elsewhere

Hydroelectric Viking

The Saga of You

Mr Wolfgang

Destructo

Fly Straight

Oz Explodes

Booja Jabooja

Chu Chu Rocket

Switzerland**

Birdhouse In Your Soul

Mold en Mono

What's In The Toaster

Sunbeam Light Show Flower Seed

Musical Chairs

Matches and Nails**

Relativity

Fancy Pants Manifesto

Go To Hollywood

Sick Puppy**

Almond

Bad Idea

Behold the FUTURE

Not Applicable

Roman Robot Statues

Run, Harry, Run

Take a Picture

There's a Robot in My Head

Dead Sea Monkeys

What Will Happen Will Happen

Subtle Oddities

Gonna Dig up Alec Guinness**

Smell Like a Cookie All Day

Eventuality

March of the Living Figments

Lollipops

Bicycle Race

Fuzzy

Bottom Line

Sky Blue Up

I Want to Wake Up

Stampy

Zero Gravity

Mothers All Over the World

Pirate in a Box

How To Poop

Neil.soul

Dinosaurchestra Part One

Archaeopteryx**

This Hyper World

The Too Much Song

Stick Stickly

Princess Unicorn Bunny Kitten Angel

Abraham Lincoln's Head

Funniest

Snakes On a Plane

Turkeys

Kaleidoskull

Gadzooks**

The Afternoon**

Nightmare Fuel

The Wiggles Hate Each Other In Real Life

You Got a Toothache

320x200

Strangelet

Today's Secret Word

While My Keytar Gently Weeps

Treasure Map

Creepy

Super Hey Ya

Prelude to Presents

Spiral of Ants

Geocities

Angelfire

Gravitron

Moon's Request

Cat Hacks

Kubrick and the Beast

WIERDNESS

Everybody Likes You

Christmas Dog

Clark Kent

Degrassi

eBaum's World Dot Com

Fly Away

Happiest Shit Ever

Sorry For the Text Posts

Experiments in VOPM

Happy Songs

Hydoelectric Viking Funeral

It's Gonna Get Weird

Illemonama Polkarama

Magic Dance

MyNewSong

Pokerap

Prince Ali

Robo

Vanilla

Wiry Song

Wolfden Radio

Yellowfish

Zip-up Rap

**the songs with asterisks may or may not already have lines. my blog is old enough now that I struggle to comb through the whole thing, and tagging isn't always perfect. don't worry about re-using a song, though; as long as it's not an egregious duplication of an existing post, you're alright.

also, I only post every few days, so forgive me if it takes a while to get to your submission. sometimes I don't post lines until months after they've been sent in, so if you've submitted and I haven't posted, it may just be lost in my ass-long queue. or i just don't think it's very good. but you have no way of knowing, do you.

[drainthehero]

Superboy and the Pink K

Clark Kent made his way up the stairs and through the doorway into the First National bank. Being the only bank in a small town it was not exactly grand, but it had served the community well for generations, with its origins dating far back. On this quiet Tuesday morning he found that he was alone in the main room except for the sole bank teller.

Clark had started his internship a few months back with the Smallville Times and had come in today to withdraw the money he had finally saved to buy himself a new bicycle. He was standing at the counter with his completed slip in hand when a group of men armed with guns burst their way into the building.

Clark immediately lost his excitement about his withdrawal and switched to hero mode, but realised he could not possibly change into Superboy without giving away his secret. He decided to wait and watch, and only take action if he could do so discretely or if lives were in danger.

The group quickly secured the entry and took the mild-mannered young reporter as hostage. They then split up, leaving Clark under the annoyingly close gaze of two of the thieves while the rest went down to empty the vault.

The crew was quite efficient, and within 15 minutes they had returned with full bags, ready to make their exit. Clark was dragged to his feet and found himself alone with the crew, assuming the bank teller had been tied up downstairs.

“Boss,” said one of the gang with a worried tone. “What if Superboy shows up?”

“Don’t worry about the boyscout,” came the confident reply. As he spoke he drew an oddly shaped chunk of pink rock out of a satchel and held it in his hand. “The boys at the lab assured me this will stop him in his tracks.” He looked again at the rock and added, “hmmm, I didn’t notice it glowed. I wonder how it does that.”

Clark felt instantly alarmed and looked at the rock closely but could not see anything unusual about it, nor could he feel any harmful effects, like those he felt when exposed to kryptonite, and so he continued to wait and watch, assuming it was just another failed experiment.

A big van finally arrived outside and the crew rushed toward it, dragging Clark along as a hostage. A small part of the young hero’s mind wondered why he did not just resist them, but just as quickly he told himself that he was going to find their base of operations.

The trip in the car was not too long, but Clark found himself distracted and unable to concentrate. He would absently trail his hands slowly over his body, feeling his hard muscles through the costume beneath his clothing. He also noticed a stirring in his crotch as skin rubbed against the concealed spandex costume.

When they arrived at their destination, Clark felt his blood pumping and heart pounding and decided he should just continue his act and not try to save the day. However, as two men grabbed him around his biceps to drag him out of the van, he could not help but moan as a feeling of ecstasy swept across his body.

“Hey boss, this kid don’t look too good. Maybe we need to get him to a doctor.”

The boss, still holding the rock, moved toward them as he cast a doubtful look at Clark. “Let me take a look at him then.” He removed Clarks glasses and started to unbutton the shirt, before letting out an exclaimation of disbelief.

“Whoa! What are the odds, boys. Look at this, we got ourselves the Teen of Steel himself! Looks like this pink rock works on him as promised!”

The thieves all stopped to look at Superboy, as he stood with his arms seemingly held fast and he swayed weakly on his feet. The top of his bright red cape could now clearly be seen popping out, as could the royal blue spandex and the iconic S shield covering his impressive chest.

Superboy realised his predicament and felt a surge of adrenaline which cleared his mind. He flexed his still powerful frame, throwing the two assailants away from him, then quickly completed his change into the mighty Teen of Steel. “You’ve had your sick fun. Now you’re coming…” his confident tone trailed off and he found himself gazing at the pink rock. “You’re coming… coming… with…” but even as he tried to complete the sentence, Superboy could not fight the rising urge to have those hands once more wrapped around his arms.

The boss continued to hold the now glowing pink rock and advanced on the Boy of Steel as he gazed helplessly at the strange rock. “What a surprise. To capture the Teen of Steel himself?” The pink rock was held right near the young hero as he continued, “what exactly does this little chunk of rock do I wonder?”

The boss placed his free hand onto the muscled chest and was rewarded with a groan from the Boy of Steel as the contact caused a burning hot erotic charge to erupt on his chest. In one smooth motion, Superboy let his hands fall to his sides and looked down at the hand sitting upon his chest. “Uhhhh… please… touch…”

A big smile spread over the face of the boss as he realised some of the power this rock possessed. He quickly hung the pink synthetic kryptonite around the muscular neck of Superboy. He lifted his hand away from the Chest of Steel and was rewarded with a whimpering and moaning sound from the young hero as he gave a pleading look. “Urgghhh… god… please… touch me…”

Hoping to attract their attention, the young hero brought his arms up to his sides and flexed his impressive biceps. “Do you want to feel my super guns?”

At a nod from the boss, two of the crew moved beside Superboy and proceeded to rub and squeeze the steel like muscles, causing him to moan with delight. “Ohhh… thank you… uhhhh… feels so good…”

A further nod caused two more of the men to kneel down and run their hands up and down the spandex clad legs of Superboy, while also caressing the Buns of Steel.

The moaning from the young hero increased and the boss could see precum on the red briefs plus the outline of the hardening shaft of steel.

“Do you want me to hold your shaft, Superboy?”

The young hero nodded weakly but a frown crossed his features as the boss gently grazed his hand against the bulge and added, “No. You have to ask, Superboy.”

The young hero’s mouth opened but he managed to fight back the words, and so the final gang member moved behind the hero and wrapped his arms around to place a hand on each pectoral and rub gently. At this, the final shreds of resistance evaporated and Superboy quickly responded. “Please, please, hold my cock.”

A single eyebrow was raised in response and Superboy quickly understood his error and corrected himself. “Please sir, please, hold my… Shaft of Steel.”

The boss admired the view as the mighty Superboy stood before him with his entire body – encased as it was in tight fitting spandex – flexed for the enjoyment of he and his men. He removed the yellow belt and savoured the feeling of the tight stomach and abs.

The boss then dragged the red briefs down, allowing the hard cock to bounce free. As he took in the Shaft of Steel the boss could not help but chuckle at its diminutive 4 inch stature, causing a new pained look to spread over the face of the Superboy.

“Oh Superboy, I presumed it was still growing. I must say I was expecting that you would be packing a lot more ‘Super’ in those briefs of yours.”

The Teen of Steel felt his cheeks burning red with the heat of shame and fought back tears of humiliation. The boss made sure to quickly take some photos of the sexy young hero in all his glory.

Superboy had learned from an early age that his manhood was much smaller than other guys and so had always been sure to hide his cock in the change room. “I… uhhh.. err…” having never been exposed in front of another person before, this confrontation of his shame and humiliation was a completely new experience for the young hero. But he was desperate for the men to continue touching his body. “I’m sorry sir. I know my… Shaft of Steel… is small.” He gulped before continuing. “But please sir. Please continue to worship my body. I need it. And please sir, please hold my cock. I need to feel you stroking it sir.”

Superboy had a momentary flash of insight and continued, “I know it is small sir, but it is still my Shaft of Steel and Balls of Steel,” he added proudly. “You can abuse them if that would please you sir.”

For all its small stature, the boss had to concede it was a nice-looking cock. It curved up as it moved away from the groin of Superboy, making for a nice – if small – handhold. Testing this, the boss wrapped his hand around the shaft and squeezed, eliciting a new moan of ecstasy from the young superhero and creating a small jet of precum to ooze out.

“Ahhhhh,” sighed Superboy as he felt the hand close around his aching cock. “Thank you, sir. That feels so good sir.”

The hand was quickly removed however as the boss was keen to test the invulnerability of both the shaft and the balls. He started to slap the shaft, making the little member bounce around and for the young hero to gasp in pleasure. Maintaining his slapping on the shaft, the boss added smacks for the balls of steel, which hung tight and close to the base of the shaft.

Far from causing pain, the Boy of Steel was clearly euphoric at the attention. He was groaning audibly and he freely leaked precum. Feeling enjoyment at this control and abuse of the young hero, the boss quickly grabbed a baseball bat from the back of the van and proceeded to swing it like a golf club up into the balls. The bat connected with a solid thud with no change to the face of Superboy. In fact he spread his legs out wide to invite further attention.

The boss could feel his own excitement rising and he proceeded to swing strike after strike into the exposed balls and shaft of Superboy. Each swing was met with a satisfied groan from the young hero and an occasional, “thank you sir,” or “more please, sir.”

Finally the boss felt himself grow weary from the exertion and examined the groin of the hero, noting that all his efforts had caused no damage at all. Superboy merely moaned in ecstasy as his balls and shaft were held and explored.

These powerful sensations were completely new to the young hero, greatly enhanced as they were by the effects of the pink rock. Superboy had started to show off different muscle groups, moving through poses for the benefit of the men. The generally shy and reserved young hero found that he could not get enough attention from these men and craved new ways to please them.

“Do you like my body sir?” he asked almost timidly. “I am sorry that my Shaft of Steel is disappointing to you, but I hope my super body pleases you.”

The boss could feel the desire to be worshipped and controlled emanating from the hero. He wrapped his hand around the still hard Shaft of Steel and started a very slow stroking motion.

“Thank you, sir!” exclaimed Superboy as he felt the large hand wrapped around his small member and spurted even more precum. “Your touch feels so good, sir.” The Boy of Steel felt a tightening in his balls accompanied by a growing need to cum. Glancing down at his balls he noticed that they were much larger than usual. “Ughhh… arghhh. Sir, I really need to cum.”

Instinctively the hero’s hand moved toward his shaft but the boss shook his head simply, saying, “uh uh hero. You don’t get to touch yourself now.” To emphasize the point all the criminals instantly withdrew their hands, removing the sensations of touch which he so badly craved.

“Arghhhh!” he cried, the absence of their touch almost akin to a feeling of pain washing across his body. “Yes sir! Of course, sir,” panted the Boy of Steel as he immediately resumed flexing for his audience. “Please sir, please feel my muscles!” he cried in desperation. Superboy knew that this self-debasement was completely out of character and he should just fly away, but the need to be worshipped and groped by these men was overwhelming and he thought he might pass out if he didn’t cum soon.

At a nod the hands resumed their caress of the hapless young hero. He cupped the mighty Balls of Steel and played with them in his hands. The sensation on his smooth balls was heavenly and Superboy just moaned his appreciation. A hand was placed on the back of his head and he did not even think to resist as he was bent forward or when his briefs were dropped around his booted ankles.

The boss alternated between rubbing the balls and slow, sensual stroking. Given the fact that Superboy was quite young, and clearly inexperienced sexually, he did not want the heroic teen to blow his load too quickly. “Tell me Superboy, has anyone ever held your little Shaft of Steel before?”

Superboy again felt his cheeks blush at the mention of his diminutive member but shook his head, “no sir. You are the first to ever see my Shaft of Steel.” He paused before he added, “I have always been embarrassed by its small size, but it feels so good when you hold it, sir. Thank you.” To emphasize his appreciation, the hero flexed and held poses across his major muscles, making them like solid steel for the men.

“Very nice, Superboy.” As he continued the gentle stroking, the boss placed a hand on the now exposed and flexed ass of Superboy and felt the amazingly hard buns, rubbing them gently. He ran a single finger down into the crack between the two mounds and said, “now relax Superboy.”

A small voice screamed an alert in his mind, but Superboy was a slave to these feelings and relaxed his ass, nodded and murmured, “yes, sir.”

The finger slid down until the boss could feel the tight puckered asshole of the young hero. Believing it would be practically impossible to enter that opening he merely played with the hole and massaged it, causing the teen superhero to moan and shake his hips.

Superboy thought he was going to go crazy from the stimulation and the effects of the pink kryptonite. “Please sir, I beg you, please make me cum.”

“Good boy,” came the response and was accompanied by an increase to the pace of the stroking.

“Ughhh, thank you sir. Your hand feels so good on my shaft.” He continued to move and flex his muscles, “And my body. I hope my muscles make you happy sir.”

The hero was now completely lost to the feelings rolling across his body and could think of nothing other than his desire to impress these men and of his need to blow his load. As the stroking continued to increase in pace, his body started to twitch uncontrollably. Superboy moaned and groaned as he felt the feeling build in his balls and the base of his shaft. “Ughhhh… Oh sir… ahhhhhh…” he trailled off briefly. “Please, may I cum sir?”

“Good boy. You may cum now Superboy,” replied the boss.

Within seconds the body of the young hero spasmed as a powerful orgasm rocked across it. The small shaft shot out a large load which went more than 20 feet in the air before falling to the ground far in the distance. Superboy could feel sweat beading on his brow and bucked his hips as the stroking continued on his highly sensitive head.

As the hero blew his load, it went unnoticed that the pink kryptonite stopped glowing, and Superboy felt his mind quickly clearing of the cloudiness and distracting urges.

“Quite a big load out of that little Shaft of Steel, Superboy,” said the boss as he continued to hold the cock of the Boy of Steel in his hand. “I think maybe it’s time for us to christen your costume, hero. How about we cover you in our cum, Superboy?”

As the cloud lifted from his mind, the young hero was hit with the impact of his recent actions. For a few moments he stood in a daze, his cock still held in the grip of the boss as it softened and shrank to an even smaller size. As he processed the events his shock turned to anger which he directed at the criminals.

Launching himself into the air to hover above the group he looked down on them with eyes glowing red. Ripping the pink kryptonite from around his neck he dangled it before him. “I don’t know how you made this foul thing, but it won’t be helping you any more.” He squeeze his powerful fist causing the pink rock to shatter, sending shards flying.

Belatedly, the Boy of Steel realised his oversight, and quickly pulled his briefs back up and repositioned his belt to once again appear mighty and awe-inspiring to the criminals.

The gang scrambled to make an escape but they had no hope against super powered Teen of Steel. Within moments he had bundled them into their getaway van and flew it to the Smallville police station to drop them all off. Not wanting to hang around and relive the story of his humiliating defeat, he quickly made his exit.

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

10 characters/10 fandoms

YESSS THANK YOU @jaynesilver FINALLY MY WIDE READING OF FIC COMES IN HANDYYY

We're gonna go chronologically through my life because I think that's REALLY FUN (I legit couldn't choose a west wing character just know that if there's a secret 11th character is the ensemble cast of the west wing)

Artemis Fowl, Artemis Fowl

My first antihero, and we started YOUNG on that, I was reading these books premiddle school. I was obsessed with these books as a kid, and I'm still obsessed with them today. There's rumors of a third, more adult series when Artemis and Holly may get together and I will EAT THAT SHIT UP I LOVE THEM

2. Vexen, Kingdom Hearts

I Legit think this man primed me to enjoy Hux as a character. Like, I'm not kidding, I was obsessed with him as a kid. I'm 90% certain I wrote deviant art fan fic, but I have since abandoned that account so it's hard to know for sure if it ever got published. I was definitely roll playing at age, like, 13? way too young but god I loved him he was BATSHIT

3. Ianto Jones, Torchwood

Man, I can't really explain how much Ianto Jones as a character, he and Jack's kiss on screen, their relationship, and the events of the 456 changed me? It was DEEP though, I woke up the next day a different person, with much less trust in television writer's and their good intentions.

4. Desmond Miles, Assassin's Creed

We have to jump a few years to mid high school, because no joke I was on that Kingdom Hearts train for a WHILE. I love him, he was probably my first blorbo, before the term was invented. I tried to play the games after (MAJOR SPOILER) but I just couldn't do it. They didn't have the draw without him.

5. Stiles Stilinski, Teen Wolf

Now we've hit late high school, arguably my second blorbo. As a kid with ADHD, he was no joke valuable representation to me, even if it was sometimes played for laughs. I was also the least athletic kid on multiple sports teams who still tried really hard, so I got him, yknow?

6. Will Graham, Hannibal

It's legit tough for me to chose if I like the Will Graham of the books or the TV show better. (Don't ask me about the movies, I haven't seen them, and I probably won't. Movies and I have trouble. See: ADHD.) I'm not sure if he's a blorbo or just like, a regular character I like? My hannibal phase was my last 8 year ship, so the line is pretty blurred.

Now we've reached the part where I dived into a lot of fandoms at once, because I dropped out of college and kind of did a weird spiral? Idk, we've lost chronology is what I'm saying

7. Artemis Crock, Young Justice

god I cannot say enough good things about her and I also cannot express how much (MAJOR SPOILER) made me mad FOR HER. Like it was cruel specifically to her and we should talk more about that, honestly. She was definitely a blorbo, but we're still PRE blorbo as a word in my vocabulary.

8. Darcy Lewis, MCU

My first real fandom bicycle, I ship her with everyone from Loki to Agent Coulson to Natasha. As someone who often feels like the comic relief character in their own life, I appreciate her.

9. Kent Parson, OMG Check Please

My sweet, sweet disaster son. My emotionally constipated hockey boy. The reason captain america is my SECOND favorite character with a birthday on the Fourth of July. I love him, he was amazing, and also my first experience with like, really toxic fandom was being so mad when people tried to equate his canon mental health issues with a noncanon, imagined abuse?? It was wild, I ended up so distressed about it i did have to leave the fandom.

10. Armitage Hux, Star Wars

I mean you've been on my blog for like ten seconds i think it's obvious?? The others needed explanations but like YOURE HERE YOU KNOW

WAIT I FORGOT TO TAG PEOPLE SHIT @sariastrategos @gingersnappish @fallingdeeperintothispit

[mymashupmayhem]

roy kent be like: bi-curious? no. BIKE FURIOUS *throws a bicycle at jamie*

[innervoiceartblog]

I’m captivated by this Eyvind Earle artwork of Big Sur, California,1970 and his interesting life story and work... (1916-2000)

Born in New York in 1916, Eyvind Earle began his prolific career at the age of 10 when his father, Ferdinand Earle, gave him a challenging choice: read 50 pages of a book or paint a picture every day. Earle choose both. From the time of his first one-man showing in France when he was 14, Earle’s fame grew steadily. At 21, Earle bicycled across country from Hollywood to New York, paying his way by painting 42 watercolors. In 1937, he opened at the Charles Morgan Galleries, his first of many one-man shows in New York. Two years later at his third consecutive showing at the gallery, the response to his work was so positive that the exhibition sold out and the Metropolitan Museum of Art purchased one of his paintings for their permanent collection. His earliest work was strictly realistic, but after having studied the work of a variety of masters such as Van Gogh, Cézanne, Rockwell, Kent and Georgia O’Keefe, Earle by the age of 21, came into his own unique style. His oeuvre is characterized by a simplicity, directness and surety of handling.

In 1951 Earle joined Walt Disney studios as an assistant background painter. Earle intrigued Disney in 1953 when he created the look of Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom, an animated short that won an Academy Award and a Cannes Film Festival Award. Disney kept the artist busy for the rest of decade, painting the settings for such stories as Peter Pan, For Whom the Bulls Toil, Working for Peanuts, Pigs is Pigs, Paul Bunyan and Lady and the Tramp. Earle was responsible for the styling, background and colors for the highly acclaimed movie Sleeping Beauty and gave the movie its magical, medieval look. He also painted the dioramas for Sleeping Beauty’s Castle at Disneyland in Anaheim, California.

[jomiddlemarch]

made up title: "ride it out."

you can choose Gareth (Mallory) x Vivian (the 007fest is occurring right now if we want to pop in and say hi) or Joel x Grace. Maybe Roy Kent makes an appearance. or Beard. or both. or you can be annoyingly overachieving and do some six-sentence ficlet for each pairing. while I'm still writing this shitty first draft. 😂❤️

For Joel/Grace: Grace finally agrees to let Joel give her horseback riding lessons, since it would allow them to venture further away from Jackson in scavenging missions. Ellie offers what she considers helpful concrit from the sidelines; Grace considers it teenage snark but developmentally on track, so she tries to keep from snapping or using the tone of voice she remembered Lauren’s mother employing for the majority of their adolescence. Beard keeps the brim of his ten gallon hat nearly covering his eyes and is completely silent, possibly asleep. Joel is remarkably patient, given that Grace is barely willing to climb on the horse and has no miraculous talent for riding. She is stubborn and refuses to give up once she’s on the reportedly docile Appaloosa Lulabelle, even after she manages to fall off three times in a row.

“I fell off a bicycle six times before I mastered it and that is a marvel of human engineering—I can stay on a goddamn horse,” Grace said, every word jostled out of her with every clip-clop of Lulabelle’s hooves, Joel raising his eyebrows in disbelief, though it was unclear which clause he found most dubious.

For Gareth/Vivian: There’s a heatwave in London and Vivian is dismayed to learn that neither her flat nor Gareth’s has anything that could even pretend to match an overworked window AC unit in the States, so they are forced to turn to other measures. Drawing the curtains. Filling Gareth’s refrigerator with ice to the exclusion of nearly every other foodstuff. Gareth insists that they should eat a lot of very spicy, very hot curry with some extremely unscientific explanation he ultimately agrees is an old wives’ tale and the old wife was his Great-Aunt Phyllida, who’d spent her early childhood in India and never let him, or anyone else, forget it. Lolling about in a state of undress, undress largely consisting of skimpy cotton items when it turns out Vivian hates sweating into her favorite silk negligee.

“A cool shower after this sounds blissful,” Vivian said, straddling Gareth’s narrow hips and moving as languidly as she could while trying to keep the building heat between them within the narrowest confines possible, an erotic challenge she wouldn’t have asked for but found she couldn’t entirely mind.

[snapthistiger]

exercise 09212023

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

5 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

45 minute spin class

3 x 10 cable row

3 x 10 cable press

bike ride to visit my Mom, then home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses and York mints

my Mom is doing ok. home health nurse came by while i was there. occupational therapist coming to evaluate Mom tomorrow.

NSV = met a guy at the gym that said he has seen me on my bicycle for more than 20 years. he lives on Kent Street which is near Pecan Street and the park that i ride through on my way to the gym. it is nice being known in town as the bicycle guy.

top left = found a rubber bungee strap on the road. i can always use another of these.

top right = cricket in the gym.

Peanut inside for awhile this afternoon. she needs a cat nap.

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[grandmaster-anne]

Princess Anne

Horse & Hound | Published 13 August 2020

“IT was a fairy story ending,” read the 1971 Horse & Hound report of the Princess Royal’s victory at the European Championships at Burghley. “Of course, everyone knows now that Princess Anne won the individual championship, but only those who were there can appreciate the extent of the popularity of her victory, or the tension that gripped the thronged arena during her jumping round on Sunday.”

The reporter WW Thomson’s gushing account of the 21-year-old’s performance aboard Doublet perhaps reflected a nation gripped by this sporting tale; a rapid rise to the top, a home-bred destined to be a polo pony and a mother who happened to be The Queen.

“This really was a fabulous event. The Queen and Prince Philip were there, the weather was right, the winners were right, and Princess Anne not only beat the best in Europe, but trounced them,” it read.

In the following decade, the Princess was on the podium at another European Championships with a different horse, at an Olympic Games and in the top 10 of the world’s biggest four-stars, silencing any sceptics who’d wondered if Burghley had been a chance feat.

“It was very new really, having a woman royal doing such a tough sport,” reflects her fellow competitor and former team-mate Lucinda Green. “Not long before, eventing was considered a man’s sport. She was more than up to the task of eventing, but she just had to deal with the press, which is never easy. In retrospect she did our sport a huge service.”

FOR someone barely out of teenage-hood when she reached the sport’s highest echelons, the Princess’ start in the saddle was refreshingly low-key, with ponies turned out rugless and ridden straight from muddy fields.

The setting was, of course, grander than most – Windsor, Sandringham and Balmoral served as sprawling riding schools, and early equestrian thrills came from riding in her grandmother’s carriage to watch Trooping the Colour on Horse Guards Parade. But there was also an unremarkable Shetland (Fum), a hefty Welsh pony who stood on her toe (Kirby Cane Greensleeves) and humiliating bending races on the 13.2hh Bandit.

By the time she was riding the 14.2hh Watersmeet High Jinks, who was stabled at the Moat House riding school in Kent during her last year of boarding school, there was no escaping her gilded status.

On one occasion, workmen spotted the Princess’s policeman leaning against the end of the school, before calling out “‘Oi! You!... Are you royalty or something? Why’s that man watching you?” she recalls in her 1991 autobiography Riding Through My Life.

“At the age of 16 or 17 you’re not terribly ready with an instant repartee to queries like that, so I replied, ‘Well, yes, I am.’”

Competition discipline and manners were instilled by the riding school’s owner Cherry Hatton-Hall, one of many who helped shape the Princess’s eventual prowess. Before the Princess and her older brother were competent enough to ride with The Queen, Her Majesty would impart knowledge from her bicycle as she rode alongside them. And then there was the groom Frank Hatcher at Windsor, who was a stickler for ensuring feet were picked out and tack was on correctly.

But it was perhaps Alison Oliver (see box, above) who was the vital piece in the puzzle that enabled Princess Anne to transition from a horse-mad schoolgirl to a sportswoman riding for Britain in just three years.

“I was very fortunate to be in the right place at the right time,” says Alison about her royal student. “We just clicked.”

WHEN the Princess realised that a conventional career didn’t seem viable on leaving school, she was determined to channel her energy into doing something well – and the answer was equestrian sport.

As Mary Gordon-Watson, who was part of the British team at the 1971 Europeans, says: “She was obviously very determined and hard-working, like she is in everything that she does. She wanted to succeed, and she did, at the highest level.”

At first, the Princess was lured by the prospect of polo; riding her father’s ponies had given her a taste of the competitive spirit of horses. But it was the combination of being lent the crown equerry Lt Col Sir John Miller’s horse Purple Star, who sparked her interest in horse trials, and being sent to Alison Oliver’s stables at Warfield in Berkshire, that meant that an eventing career was set.

By the time she won gold at Burghley in 1971, she’d ridden at just two other-three-day events, but it was soon obvious that this was no flash in the pan.

“You couldn’t fail to be impressed when she achieved success all over again [at subsequent championships] with Goodwill, who was a totally different type of horse,” adds Mary.

“From Doublet, Princess Anne went to a veritable hurricane in Goodwill,” says Lucinda about the difference in the Princess’ two championship rides; the first who was bred as a polo pony was polite and willing, and the latter was a famously strong former showjumper.

“If Doublet had turned up later in my career, we would all have looked at him and said: ‘What’s that?’,” the Princess told Eventing magazine about the gelding who The Queen had bred out of an Argentine mare and on whom Prince Philip had played polo.

“It was only because he came along at such an early stage in my life and because he was home-bred that he got his chance to be an eventer at all.”

In contrast, she remembers Goodwill as “nearly everybody’s idea of the ideal type of event horse… with excellent conformation, strong, active paces and well-developed jumping muscles”.

The pay-off for this raw talent, however, was having to learn to adapt to the gelding’s strength.

“Dressage was largely a case of containment,” she admitted.

AT the 1973 Europeans in Kiev, the Princess’ and Goodwill’s appearance came to an abrupt end when she fell at the second fence.

But out of the saddle there was also her own high profile to contend with; a bugging device was found in her hotel room telephone, and on one occasion she was accosted with outstretched arms by an over-friendly hotel maid.

“She might have mistaken me for somebody else, somebody more famous like Lucinda Prior-Palmer for instance, but then we shall never know,” quipped the princess.

At the Europeans in Luhmühlen two years later, she was subjected to press speculation that Goodwill’s good dressage score was the result of doping, when what they had in fact seen was Capt Mark Phillips giving the horse a sugar lump before the test.

This angst – combined with waking up on cross-country morning with a cold – didn’t detract from her performance. She clinched the individual and team silver medals, a triumph she looks back on with greater satisfaction than her gold four years earlier.

“By that stage, everything that could have gone wrong had done, and I’d started again,” she told Horse & Hound.

However, it was at the Montreal Olympics the following year that the Princess was given a stark reminder of the levelling nature of the sport.

With her parents and three brothers watching on, concussion after a fall on cross-country day meant that she was even stripped of the satisfaction of remembering finishing the course. But her upbringing had armed her with an enviable sense of perspective and the luxury of being able to see her sport as a hobby.

“I had other things to do that would not be affected by my performance, good or bad,” she reminisced in her autobiography.

The following year, her son Peter was born, and although she went on to finish sixth at Badminton in 1979, no more championships beckoned. For over a decade, however, whether photographed with a medal around her neck, or dusting herself off after hitting the turf, the media – and public – were captivated. Eventing had been dealt an ace card.

Pictures by Keystone Press/Alamy, Leslie Lane, Alec Russell, Press Association, PA Archive/PA Images and Central Press Photos