#I LOVE YOU ELTON JOHN.

[vaperarmand]

some more of my favorite things from the collection of elton john, on auction at christie’s in feb 2024

elton john (1978), norman parkinson / untitled (1982), keith haring / two louis xiv style 'fancy dress' costumes (circa 1994), sandy powell / elton john collector's edition signed pinball machine (2023) / nastassja kinski and the serpent (1981), richard avedon / portrait of elton (1997), julien schnabel

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Oh– [Stammers] Why– I have an Ender Flu? I'm shaking! Oh my god.

Tubbo: No, Pac! You've been impregnated! 😫

Pac: IMPREGNATED?!?! Wait, what? 😨

Fit: Oh god. [Laughs] That's a new one.

Tubbo: You're pregnant!

Pac: How?!

Tubbo: I can't believe preggers Pac is on the QSMP!

Pac: Oh my god, I'm so happy! [Laughs]

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Tubbo: This is not what I want! I don't want this!!!

Fit: [Chuckles]

Pac: Oh– [Stammers] Why– I have an Ender Flu? I'm shaking! Oh my god.

Tubbo: No, Pac! You've been impregnated!

Pac: IMPREGNATED?!?! Wait, what?

Fit: Oh god. [Laughs]

Tubbo: You're pregnant!

Pac: How?!

Fit: That's a new one.

Tubbo: Uh oh, I'm about to– I'm about to not be alive much longer.

Pac: How– ahhh!!!! Wait, this is good? [Tubbo gets killed by a mob] Oh my god, Tubbo!

Tubbo: Guys? Preggers Pac, and Fit, help!

Pac: [Reading chat] "Congratulations"? Thanks guys, I didn't know, man! As always.

Fit: [Revives Tubbo] Alright, run! Ok, you're good.

Tubbo: We got his ass!

Pac: Wait, wait– What does it mean like, I'm pregnant? I'm gonna have babies?

Tubbo: It means you're gonna give birth to a beautiful– a beautiful plethora of children!

Pac: Oh my god, not– [unintelligible]

Tubbo: [Still ranting] Merciful, wonderful babies! Babies! Innocent babies will-

Fit: [Laughs] Yeah, what he said.

Tubbo: –will splurt out of you!

Pac: Oh my god. I think I saw like, Foolish having birth the other day, so I–

Fit: [Fighting a mob] Not this thing again!

Pac: Oh my god.

Tubbo: I can't believe preggers Pac is on the QSMP!

Pac: Oh my god, I'm so happy! [Laughs]

Fit: [Laughs]

Tubbo: It's gonna be such a magical time for you!

Pac: Yeah, oh my god, I have been like, dreaming for–

Tubbo: Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. What do you– have you got any names? What are you gonna name it?

Pac: I'm probably gonna name it "Elton" and "John" if I have like, two.

Tubbo: Ohhh! What a beautiful name!

[pedrospookie]

hello, my dearest 💛

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

Howdy howdy!

Thank you for sending in this ask 🤭 I love me some Jack Daniels— my favourite cowboy! I was inspired by Elton John this week and caught myself listening to I guess that’s why they call it the blues while writing this. I’ll be curious to know if you can spot the songs influence! This is my first crack at writing in over half a decade, so I feel a little rusty… but i think it’s cute!

I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues — Jack Daniels x f!reader (fluff/angst)

wc: 2.1k | mild swearing, intimacy is hinted at, nothing wild for my first crack back

A smoky, twangy voice and the strum of a guitar murmurs through Jack’s bronco, filling the comfortable silence between you. His thick hand wrapped delicately around your thigh, claiming what is his as you parade through the open roads, the sweet smell of honeysuckle filling your lungs with every gust of the evening breeze. The bluebells were in full bloom this time of year, glowing almost a pale shade of purple under the lazy setting sun. These quiet moments with Jack had grown to be some of your most cherished moments together, life often getting in the way of the simple life you shared.

You knew Jack as the wholesome country boy from down the way, a man who straps on his boots and Stetson every morning, who appreciates the taste of an ice cold sweet tea on a scorching hot day and who could tame a horse quicker than a cat on a hot tin roof. The soft, kind boy with the crooked smile and whiskey coloured eyes, who wants to do things right, the boy who would go to the end of the world and back for you. To you, he was just Jack— a simple boy from Kentucky, not Agent Whiskey, not an international spy or trained assassin, just a boy who fell in love with a girl.

Yet, somehow your quiet, simple life together was being interrupted once again. In less than 20 hours, with a kiss and a pinky promise to comeback to his sweet girl, he would be off.

Jack would disappear and Agent Whiskey would be somewhere halfway across the world, undisclosed and unreachable. It made Jack sick to leave you. He knew the toll it took on you and your relationship. It broke his heart to go, every time he stepped out that door he cursed himself for it. He knew how his career haunted you, yet you never complained. You only had one simple ask, that he had to come home. Jack felt resentful towards the countdown running in his mind, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to cherish this time with you, his girl. His sun, moon and stars. Together under the canopy of the setting sun, nestled on the leather seats of his Bronco, Jack was desperate to get you home, where the sleepy ranch awaits, and tangle himself into you.

“Darlin’, can you promise me one thing?” Jack’s rough voice breaks through the silence, pulling your attention to him.

“What’s that, dear?” You smile, placing your hand on top of his, both resting them on your thigh. Jack lowers his sunglasses with his free hand, looking at you sincerely. The look in his eye sent butterflies bursting through your tummy, it was so charming and sincere. Your sweet boy.

“That when I’m back, you’ll take the day off so we can spend the mornin’ together again? Like that one time?” His chocolatey, brown eyes beg, voice so soft that it is nearly a whisper. The sound of his request tugging on your heart strings. How could you deny him that?

That morning had been perfect.

After several long, agonizing, worrisome weeks apart, Jack had finally made his return, embracing you the moment he entered the door and refusing to let go until the next morning.

You woke in a messy tangle of limbs and bedsheets, the sun shining through and glittering it’s rays across Jack’s soft brown hair that was sticking up every which way, coaxing a small laugh from your lips. Your soft laughter stirred the cowboy awake, his grip on your increasing until he had you nestled under him, burying you with affection. I have a lot of catching up to do, he murmured gently along your neck, pressing open mouth kisses down your pulse points. Once he had had his fill, he was overcome with hunger. I’m a lucky man, he chuckled, getting my dessert before breakfast, the words tumbled from his plush lips as he flipped eggs in a fry pan. The record player was crooning along to an old Hank Williams album as you watched your darling cowboy make his way across the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder as he focused on making the perfect sunny side up egg for his sunshine. He was just an old sweet soul taking care of his girl, pure domestic bliss. A sigh found it’s way across your lips as you admired the man in front of you. It felt so right to have him back, to have him home with you. Your sigh caught his attention, a smug look crossing his face as he approaches you at the kitchen table, spatula still in hand. Can I have this dance? He asked in a tone as sweet as sugar, quirking an eyebrow in anticipation. Jack would give anything or find any excuse to have you in his arms. How could he not? You looked extra beautiful, seated at his table, wearing his shirt and the warm morning sun cascading over you, making you glow. Maybe she was an angel after all, he thought to himself as he pulled you into his chest, his large hand pressing into your lower back, beginning to sway along to Hank’s melancholic voice. Jack had no idea how he managed to snag a woman like you, but he counted his lucky stars for it. He would lasso the moon for you, if you asked. Jack inhaled deeply, catching the sweet scent of your shampoo and the lingering remnants of your perfume. It was good to be home.

Your moment of bliss was rudely interrupted by the blaring sound of the fire alarm, smoke starting to waft through the kitchen, stirring a panic between the two of you. Fuck! The eggs! Jack yelped, reaching for the window above the sink and promptly flinging the burnt scraps from the fry pan out the window.

“I’m pretty sure I still owe you a dance.” Jack chuckles, thinking back to that morning, the sound of your laugh tugging on his heart strings. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road, the short peeks weren’t enough for Jack. He wanted to see the way you crinkle your nose when you giggle like that.

“And a new fry pan.” You shoot back with a cheeky grin. Jack could only shake his head at you before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, steadying his gaze on the road ahead. I’ll get you something even better than a fry pan, Jack smirks to himself as he admires your small hand in his, thinking about the twinkling secret tucked at the back of his night stand.

“And a new fry pan.” He rolls his eyes playfully, “But I will be cashin’ in on that dance once I’m home, gorgeous. I’m gonna wine ‘n dine ya ‘til the cows come home.”

“We’ll see about that, cowboy. Do you remember the last time you promised to take me out to the city?” You snicker, watching his mouth fly open and his moustache framing his surprise, completely aghast.

It was a day hotter than hell itself.

The tall grass moped, praying for a break from the beating sun, crunching under each foot step as Jack led you towards the barn. One last chore, he had promised with a wink, needing to put out some extra water for his horses before taking you into town.

The hose groaned awake as Jack twisted the squeaky spout, the sound of flowing water starting to rush through the rubber. Anticipating a splash, you held out the rusted bucket waiting for water to hit. However, your pail remained as dry as the desert. A look of confusion crossed your face, lacing your brows together, matching the similar look on Jack’s face, until he spots the reason for this drought. His rough, calloused hands pick the old hose up and twist it, relieving the rubber of the kink in its form and releasing the pent up water from within it, dousing you in the process. The shot of cold water shocked your system, spraying your face and chest, the bucket in your hands doing a piss poor job of catching any of it. Jack was beside himself, eyes as wide as saucers, moustache twitching as he mutters apology after apology. Sugar, I am SO sorr—He is interrupted by a loud splash, water hitting him square in the chest, his white shirt sticking to his bronze chest as a roar erupts from you cutting the tension in the air. His worried eyes relax as he chuckles along with you. Oh, now you’re on, missy, he warns, picking the plastic hose back up and chasing you through the old barn.

“Well darlin’, I don’t remember you complaining about that,” Jack murmurs smugly, “something ‘bout how I’d win a wet t-shirt contest?” He flashes you an award winning smile, his moustache curling ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth, this gorgeous smile sparking a warmth across your face and chest.

“Alright, alright. Easy does it, cowboy.” You chuckle, refusing to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing that he’s right. You were going to miss his playful banter and southern charm. The weeks away were always hard, even when you tried to fill them with hobbies and your friends.

“You know I’d keep you under the covers all day if I could, sugar.” Jack croons with a twinkle in his eye, placing a delicate kiss to each of your fingers before reaching the back of your hand. He could feel the mood shift, dancing away from lighthearted teasing to something deeper. He caught the sad look in your eye, feeling guilt wash over him. He looked back at the road ahead of him once more, before turning back to look at you.

“More than just the covers, pretty girl, I need you every day.”

He could feel it in his heart of hearts, that burning desire to be home, that it was time for him to hang up his lasso. Jack was ready to be wholeheartedly present with you, that it was time that could be better spent with you. Making memories together, building your life together, making babies together. His life as Agent Whiskey was one that had come and passed, exciting and cathartic at first, but it had sucked his soul dry. He was tired — exhausted — and ready to be home, to spend his days on his quiet farm, dedicating every waking moment to you. Jack would get that dance, and at then end of the night he would share that twinkling secret with you in hopes that you will say yes. This was promise to you; that you would finally start living the life that he promised to give you.

His grip on your thigh tightens, giving you a little love squeeze bringing you both back into the present. The sun now peeking lower on the horizon.

“I’m going to miss you.” You murmur, tears slowly filling your eyes as you fight the growing lump in your throat. You keep your eyes on the road, counting the stop signs to distract yourself. 3 more until you’re home.

The sound of your breaking voice tugged on Jack’s heart strings. It killed him to see you this way, to know that it was because of him, that he caused this pain and sadness.

“I know, darlin’. I’ll be missin’ you every moment of every day.” He smiles weakly, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand, refusing to let it go. “It won’t be long before I’m home, it won’t be forever. There’s never a moment where I ain’t thinkin’ of you, of your beautiful eyes, that gorgeous smile…” his voice drifts off for a moment, until he sighs. “I’ll be countin’ down the hours til I’m back here with you, baby.”

While he’s putting on a brave face, his eyes give way to every emotion he is feeling, a mistiness creeping across those big brown puppy dog eyes.

“Please come back home to me, Jack,” You beg, squeezing his hand to emphasize how serious you were.

“I always do, baby. Pinky promise.”

tag list: @josephquinnswhore @iamasaddie

[kissthebridee]

i really am obsessed with these photos of elton, like genuinely these are SUCH good photos

[calnexin]

thinkin' bout the good old days again

[sweetyoungthingy]

elton john on the muppet show in 1978

[hooked-on-elvis]

Some of my favorite pictures of EP and two cute ballads. ♥

♥

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

they can never make me hate you

(collage by me)

[argesta]

no one is allowed to tell louis “GIRL GET UP 🗣️” ever again. no one is getting up after this

[stucky-just-stucky]

old man logan is so eric clapton, phil collins, and elton john coded

[fantazulio]

Another round of "guess which two songs i realized have a remarkably similar vibe"

[vaperarmand]

some of my favorite things from the collection of elton john, on auction at christie’s in feb 2024

a neon horny?! sign (circa 2003), david lachapelle for elton john / i'm a girl in your head and a boy in your bed (1997), julien schnabel / your song (2008), damien hirst / hercules punishing diomedes (part I and II) (1950), andres serrano / portrait of elton (1994), todd murphy

[beedreamscape]

I was searching for what type of sexual dimorphism Cerrit would present, being a Phillipine Eagle, and this is what the wiki says:

The level of sexual dimorphism in size is not certain, but the male is believed to be typically about 10% smaller than the female, and this is supported by the average length provided for males and females in one source.

This is reverse sexual dimorphism. Females are not only heavier but have a wider wingspan!!!

Wrayne is (very likely) bigger than Cerrit!

(And even if she's another type of eagle, this rule still applies. The difference can even be higher than 10%.)

[ansy-tea]

Y'all ever stopped listening to your favorite bands for about 2 years for reasons you don't even know yourself. Maybe it's because you're busy. Maybe it's because you thought you've acquired new tastes. You really don't know. But then suddenly you listened to one song of theirs again and now you're sobbing over how good the songwriting was? And now that you're not a dumb High Schooler without much experience you understand the lyrics even more?

Anyways that's me with Fall Out Boy right now lmao. It's high time I listen to their new album later.

[kissthebridee]

if i ever stop talking abt this movie just know im either dead or have been hacked because oh my god. genuinely the most gorgeous movie ive ever seen.

[purplegn0mes]