#taylor swift world record

[viraltrendsspot]

😱🤯 Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Breaks Records with Over $1 Billion in Revenue!

The Eras Tour has officially crossed $1 BILLION in revenue, making Taylor Swift the first artist ever to hit this milestone.

[bisexualseraphim]

Taylor Swift awkwardly dragging a clearly uncomfortable Lana Del Rey onto the stage to go on about how “she should’ve won not me!” and then proceed to plug her new album was certainly a decision that was made.

[wordpress-blaze-225198939]

Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

I have this weird habit of planning epic trips, only to have one magical moment sneak up and totally steal the show! Case in point: the penguins in Patagonia.

When I first visited back in 2016, I wasn’t chasing penguins. I was chasing some R&R after tackling the Torres del Paine trek. My legs were wrecked. My backpack stank of effort. I just wanted a hot shower and to not move for at least a week.

But while lying low in Punta Arenas, I spotted a local flyer - penguin colonies nearby. Penguins? In Chile? That got my attention! Exhaustion faded. I booked a tour that same day. What followed was one of those rare travel moments that lodges in your heart forever. Pure, unexpected joy.

Fast forward to this year. In October, I’ll be heading back to Patagonia but this time with my mum and Kaydes. Three generations together, boarding a boat across the Strait of Magellan to Isla Magdalena to visit the penguins. It’s a full-circle return, but with little hands to hold and new memories to make.

If you’ve ever dreamt of seeing penguins in the wild, or if you're planning a trip to this corner of Patagonia, here’s what to expect, and why this region continues to feel so special to me.

Why Patagonia Is Penguin Paradise

Penguins thrive where ocean currents meet, bringing a rich supply of fish, squid, and krill. Patagonia’s southern coastline offers exactly that; cold waters, minimal human disruption, and protected areas for nesting. It’s home to four penguin species:

Magellanic – the most common here

King – tall, sleek, and regal

Gentoo – fast swimmers with bright feet

Macaroni – rare but unforgettable, with wild yellow crests

Each species has its quirks, but all are mesmerising to watch in the wild.

The First Penguin Encounter – Seno Otway

The first colony I visited was at Seno Otway, a smaller Magellanic penguin site tucked about an hour’s drive from Punta Arenas. The surrounds were peaceful and raw, and I remember crouching low on the trail, hoping for a quiet moment. Then suddenly, some commotion.

A line of Magellanic penguins emerged from the bushes, single file, like they were late for something! I froze. They didn’t. They just marched past, focused and determined, with that signature penguin waddle that somehow looks both dignified and cute. I started laughing. Out loud. By myself. I couldn’t help it. It was so unexpected, and absolutely surreal.

Sadly, that colony has since moved on. Mining activity nearby disrupted the environment, forcing the penguins to relocate. It’s a gentle reminder: these moments are fragile. If we’re lucky enough to see wildlife like this, we need to treat it with care.

Magellanic Penguins on Isla Magdalena

This October, we’ll be touring Isla Magdalena, home to one of the largest Magellanic penguin colonies in Chile. Tens of thousands gather here between September and March. By October, they’re settling into their burrows, pairing up, and preparing to nest. At their peak in January, up to 60,000 breeding pairs make this place their seasonal stomping ground!

We’ll follow marked trails while the penguins go about their business. Some crossing our paths, others arguing over burrow space, all completely unbothered by our presence.

Magellanic penguins are named after Ferdinand Magellan, the Portuguese explorer whose crew first spotted them in 1520 while navigating the strait. They grow to about 70cm tall, weigh up to 6kg, and build burrows in the ground to shelter their eggs from predators and wind. Their calls are loud, strange, and unmistakable - crossed between a donkey and a foghorn! When they’re not waddling adorably, they’re pro diving up to 75 metres deep in search of squid, krill, and fish.

Watching them interact is oddly relatable. They like personal space, have loud opinions, and always seem to be negotiating something.

King Penguins of Tierra del Fuego

On that same 2016 trip, I made the long journey to Pingüino Rey Reserve in Tierra del Fuego. It was a full-day mission - bus, ferry, more bus - but worth every second.

This is the only King Penguin colony on the South American mainland. Unlike the Magellanic, they’re tall (up to a metre) and their colouring is extraordinary: slate grey, black, and flashes of deep orange around the neck and head.

The colony is split between the river mouth and an inland area, and even from a distance, they command attention. They’re quiet, poised, and elegant. Be sure to look out for their fluffy “teenagers” moulting awkwardly into their adult feathers.

My tour was with Go Patagonia, and it involved a bus, a ferry ride (cue: hold onto your hat), before an hour at the reserve itself. You view the penguins from a respectful 40 metres away from a raised platform – this is where binoculars are handy! Then all the travel was in reverse on the way back to PA.

Travelling Responsibly Around Wildlife

Penguins may look unbothered, but they’re sensitive to noise, light, and sudden moves. If you're visiting:

Stick to marked trails

Don’t use flash photography

Speak quietly (or not at all)

Never try to touch or approach them

Our presence should never come at their expense. Your best souvenir? A memory that didn’t ruffle any feathers! 😂

Planning Your Own Penguin Trip

🗓 Best Time to Visit

September – penguins arrive and start nesting

October – quieter, ideal for fewer crowds

January–February – colony is at full strength, with chicks visible

🛳 Tour Operators

Book with companies like Go Patagonia, Denomades or Solo Expediciones

Isla Magdalena tours depart from Punta Arenas and often sell out in peak season

🎒 Packing Essentials

Windproof layers, gloves, warm hat

Charged camera or phone

Binoculars (especially for King Penguin tours)

Seasickness medication

Snacks and water

Sturdy shoes for boat ramps and trails

👶 With Children?

Isla Magdalena: family-friendly and short

Pingüino Rey: stunning but long—best for older kids or solo travellers

Punta ArenasIsla MagdalenaBahía Inútil, PorvenirSeno Otway

Have You Met a Penguin in the Wild?

Seeing penguins in Patagonia was never on my original itinerary. But it ended up being a highlight!

Have you seen penguins in the wild? Planning a trip to Patagonia or somewhere else on the penguin trail? I’d love to hear where you’ve been, or where you’re dreaming of going next. Leave a comment below or come say hi on Instagram @loreandtempo.

Source: Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

[reputayswift]

I’m never getting that professional Haunted (Live in Detroit) recording am I

[likearecordscratch]

no because 1989 (2014) has a very special and unique place in my heart that none of her other albums have mostly because i have so many vivid memories associated with 1989. i remember the era very clearly and i remember listening to shake it off for the very first time through a livestream and it was mindblowing and quite genuinely changed my life.

And now we're soon getting a rerecording of an album that quite genuinely impacted me as a human being and marked me in a way that none of her albums have done because 1989 is unique in that aspect. some of y'all like to dismiss 1989 very easily but 1989 is the girl who shook up the music industry, she was everywhere, she was the girl you couldn't stop thinking about. y'all can have your favorites but please respect 1989 more. thank you.

[superstar49]

is being able to sense the absence of max martin based on vibes alone a marketable skill

[gracerings]

lestat somehow ends up having beef with taylor swift because she released the 15th version of her new album the same day the vampire lestat album came out and made it go number two on the charts. his fans are mad and they say she’s not a ‘girl’s girl’ because they think lestat is secretly using she/her pronouns. this causes MAD discourse on twitter because people say lestans (official name of his fandom) are co-opting struggles of real trans/genderqueer artists and that lestat is clearly just a cis white man who thinks his aesthetic is cool and hip with the times but he’s actually super cringe. lestat has killed his pr team so he tweets himself in response to the drama and says that mademoiselle swiftié is a perfectly fine musician but she’s basically a baby compared to his long relationship with music. swifties ratio him on twitter calling him ‘an old queen’ and ‘world’s worst father’ (this is because they read international bestseller interview with the vampire). lestat has an emotional breakdown and cries for three days and he eats his makeup artist for making him look old. his producers are desperate and they ask daniel molloy to fix him because daniel is the unofficial vampire therapist now. vampire daniel’s idea of fixing lestat is to go on a blood bender with him. somehow this works because in between victims daniel tells lestat to stop being a little bitch and grow the fuck up. here lestat understands for the first time why daniel and louis are friends and asks daniel to telepathically call louis for him because he needs him. daniel tells him to eat shit. as they return to lestat’s shack (yes he still lives there when he’s not touring) they find out that swifties have doxxed him and showed up to the shack to ravage it. lestat starts crying again while daniel falls over himself laughing and records everything and posts it on tiktok. armand likes the video 0.3 seconds after it’s posted. throughout all of this louis is on a beach somewhere enjoying a quiet night, he telepathically asks daniel how lestat’s doing and daniel tells him to not even worry about it.

[jakeranda]

the only thing i can say about abused poets society or whatever the album is called, is that it's all MIDi

[mclager]

Little miss red bull addicted | Max Verstappen x reader

ynlovesredbull

Liked by redbull, redbullracing, Maxverstappen1 and others

Ynlovesredbull @/redbull why there's a guy on my red bull?

View all comments

Redbull Hi! That's our F1 driver Max Verstappen, you don't watch F1 do you?

→ ynlovesredbull I don't, but thank you for answering 👍🏼

→ redbullracing If you want we can introduce you to the sport 👀

→ ynlovesredbull I'm not against it 👀

User33 SHE DOESN'T KNOW MAX?

→ user33 I thought the loves red bull on her user was from the F1 team...

User1 this is awkward I thought she was a fan

User7 I guess she really love red bull, as the energy drink

Maxverstappen1 That's me, hi

→ ynlovesredbull oh... Hi!

Ynlovesredbull

Liked by redbull, redbullracing and others

Ynlovesredbull Going to meet the guy from my lil red bull can, crazy thing to say... Well, living a little right? Thanks @/redbullracing!!! (Loving red bull even more day by day)

View all comments

Redbullracing You're always welcome!

User33 1v1 to know who love red bull more, Max or Yn!

User7 Turns out the guy from the red bull can is really hot try not to fall in love

Maxverstappen1 Nice cap

User1 is Max... Flirting?

→ user33 oh.. ooh...

→ user3 I can see that

Ynlovers

Ynlovers Max Verstappen maxplaning formula one to yn like she is a dumb child is the highlight of my week!

View all comments

User33 She's low-key looking mesmerized by Max

→ user1 RIGHT? But I can't judge I would be too

User7 God's favourite!!!!!!

User16 only Charles and her smiles like that while listening to Max talking about boring stuff

Ynlovesredbull

Liked by redbull, redbullracing, Maxverstappen1 and others

Ynlovesredbull Thanks @/redbullracing for bringing me here and thanks to @/Maxverstappen1 for being so patient and explain me what the fuck is a DRS, you are so nice, I hope you win all the championships! 💙

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Maxverstappen1 It was a pleasure to meet you! If you need anymore F1 insight I'll be happy to explain it to you. You're so sweet!

Redbullracing Please, come to see us again sometime soon!

→ ynlovesredbull As soon as I can!

Redbullracing

Liked by ynlovesredbull, Maxverstappen1 and others

Redbullracing Another weekend, another Max Yn video coming up! After being explained about everything F1 related, Yn came once again to do a hot lap with Max.

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Ynlovesredbull just discovered I love speed, once again thanks @/redbullracing!! Amazing team!

Ynlovesredbull @/Maxverstappen1 It was a great experience being in a really quick car with you, if you need a passenger princess anytime I'll do the job happily (I have a great playlist)

→ Maxverstappen1 Are you applying for a half time job or full time?

→ ynlovesredbull full time of course

→ Maxverstappen1 you're very lucky, the job is hiring, I'll be contacting you soon

→ ynlovesredbull I'll be waiting, thank you for considering me for the job!

User33 Ok, what?

User1 Max and Yn? 👀

User6 This picture... Isn't she too comfortable with him?

User7 I kinda think they look cute together

User99 Does red bull ships this? Or I'm going crazy? Admin?

→ redbullracing ��

F1gossip

F1gossip Did we lost a chapter? From not knowing who Max Verstappen is to kissing him outside a restaurant in Monaco. The influencer @/Ynlovesredbull was invited by red bull to know the sport and ended up recording two videos for red bull socials, with the four time world champion Max Verstappen. Now after a couple weekends, they were caught outside of a fancy restaurant in Monaco kissing like they were a proper couple! Here comes a new wag or that's a one night stand for the world champion?

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Ynlovesredbull

Enchanted (Taylor's version) - Taylor Swift

Liked by redbull, redbullracing, Maxverstappen1 and others

Ynlovesredbull Got exposed by a gossip insta, I'm really famous! Oh, and I'm dating this guy, I guess his kinda famous too 🤷🏻‍♀️ I love you @/Maxverstappen1! Can't believe I met you in a can of red bull, that's why I love red bull more than anything 💙

View all comments

Maxverstappen1 Shit car, great love, I guess you can't win everything! I love you so much red bull head! ❤️

→ ynlovesredbull Is not about the car, is about the driver keep pushing

→ user33 she is really a max girl

User7 Made for eachother!!!

User1 This two together are fucking annoying together I can just feel that

→ ynlovesredbull Yuki said we're, so you're right

→ yukitsunoda0511 Annoyingly cute, that's what I said! Fucking annoying...

Yukitsunoda0511 The yapping in the garage is UNBEARABLE

→ ynlovesredbull I love Red bull minus Yuki!

Maxverstappen1

Liked by ynlovesredbull and others

Maxverstappen1 I love you and no, I won't be putting a Taylor Swift song here.

View all comments

Ynlovesredbull YOU HATE ME

→ Maxverstappen1 What a drama queen! You know you're my daylight

→ ynlovesredbull you love me 🥺

Ynlovesredbull I love you!

User33 NOT MAX SAYING YN IS HIS DAYLIGHT

User7 THE TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCE WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD

User1 Max is REALLY in love isn't him?

Redbullracing Happy to say I did that!

Redbull Red bull gives you wings and true love, you're welcome 🤗

User99 Yn using her passenger princess privilege to make Max listen to Taylor Swift is ICONIC

[bricksh0tz]

TayTay is on top ! <3 🫶

[reidsmanuscript]

Exceptional

Summary: what happens when spencer hears the rumors about your teenage years? what happens when some of those rumors are true?. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: hurt/comfort and fluff at the end! wc: 5.5k! TW: burning wounds, bullying, misogyny/patriarchal behavior, violent and impulsive behavior. not proofread yet. A/N: in the middle of writting this i realized it's very based on "the archer" and "the man" by Taylor Swift Masterlist! (it's not necessary to read the first 4 chapters!)

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

If we're talking about anecdotes from your teenage years, well—there’s not much to tell. Just the totally mundane story of an angry, emotionally volatile teenager with too much brainpower who somehow bulldozed her way into Harvard Law. No big deal.

JJ had great stories about high school—being the captain of her football team, those wholesome, small-town moments straight out of a coming-of-age movie. Emily had the wildest stories—traveling the world, the chaos of never staying in one place, and even the ones that made you feel something, like how badly she just wanted to fit in.

It started with the urgent case the BAU was handed—students linked to an elite Harvard secret society were disappearing, their bodies found staged in ritualistic ways. As the case unfolded, Spencer turned to you, his voice a little more cautious than usual.

“Do you know anything about some Seraphic Circle?”

You didn’t need to think. You’d heard plenty about them. Too much, really. "I’ve heard of them," you said, your tone dripping with disdain and rolling your eyes. “Rich kids with too much money and power. Half of them don’t even deserve to be there, but their families pay for their spot.”

You were reluctant towards accepting going with them to Massachusetts, too much memories and teh constant fear someone might recognize you and call you out for past decisions that maybe weren't the best. Maybe they were worse than you wanted to confess and might even scare Spencer away. 

Still, he had asked you to accompany them. “Do you think they will remember you?”

“Nah… i don’t think so, they have tons of law students per year so…” maybe your words were right, but the higher thn usual pitch on your tone gave you away to spencer, that only he was able to detect, of how you weren’t saying all the true

Long story short, that's how you end up where you are right now, walking behind de BAU towards the Dean of Harvard office, with Spencer by your side. 

You reach the office just as Hotch shakes the dean’s hand, introducing each member of the team. “SSA Jareau, SSA Morgan, and Dr. Reid,” he says, gesturing to each of them in turn. “We also brought—”

“Woodvale.”

The dean’s voice cuts through the room the moment his eyes land on you, recognition flickering across his face. Not even a hundred years would be enough to erase your name from his memory. He didn't like you back then. 

An almost cynical, carefully polite smile curves your lips as you extend your hand. “Dean Langford.”

He grips your hand firmly, his expression unreadable. “Seems like you’ve come a long way from that time your burned one of my students”

The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly, tension crackling like a live wire. But you don’t let it show, ignoring how he didn’t consider you a proper student. Instead, your voice remains cool, measured.

“Those accusations were debunked after no evidence was found,” you say smoothly. “Unlike the very real recordings and witness statements I had of that same student saying—” you pause, tilting your head slightly, your smile sharpening, “women became hysterical when it came to sexual crimes.’”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Emily and JJ smirking, while Langford’s expression hardens.

The dean's smile barely falters. So, he does remember you. Not surprising—back then, you were even more impulsive than you are now. And that says a lot. 

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Don’t ask how, but somehow Garcia had dug up records that gave the team a list of names tied to the so-called “secret society.” Ironically, when the BAU interviewed students about it, everyone seemed to know what it was—just not anything useful.

“They sacrifice animals.” “A bunch of douchebags with too much money.” “They run everything. If you’re one of them, you’re untouchable.”

“Do any of the names look familiar?” Rossi asked, sliding the list toward you.

You scanned it, then shook your head. “Only the last names. But that’s not surprising—most of them come from old money.”

Garcia had also uncovered some interesting financial records. One name stood out: Andrew Carrington, former lawyer at his family’s prestigious Massachusetts firm. A-class dickhead.

“He’s got buildings in the city,” Garcia said, displaying files on the computer. “But his family’s the real power—deep pockets, old money. There are even a couple of campus buildings with their name on them.”

Rossi raised a brow. “Legacy admission?”

“More like a blank check.” You leaned back. “Everyone knew he bought his way in.”

“Any possibility he’s involved?” Hotch asked.

You considered it for a moment before shaking your head. “I don’t think so. Back then, this club was his pride. These murders? They only drag its prestige through the mud.”

“So… this Seraphic Circle thing,” Emily said, tilting her head. “Were you ever part of it?”

The police station buzzed around you, a low hum of voices and ringing phones, but your focus was on the files in front of you. Spencer sat beside you, skimming through pages with his usual quiet intensity. Neither of you was big on PDA—no hand-holding, no lingering touches in front of the team—but subtlety was an art you both had mastered. Your elbows brushed as you shifted in your seat, his knee resting against yours, the quiet pressure grounding.

“Not really,” you answered finally. “They claimed you had to have a big name in law, but what they really meant was that you had to be rich—and if you were a man? Even better.”

Morgan flipped through a file. “But you do know this Carrington guy.”

Before you could answer, Spencer’s fingers brushed against the side of your knee—a light touch so subtle no one else would notice. A quiet signal. He’d felt your tension the moment Morgan had mentioned Carrington.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah… It was hard not to know someone like him. He’s got that whole ‘king of the school’ vibe, but honestly, he’s not capable of something like this.” You spoke nonchalantly, but your voice betrayed a hint of discomfort.

The team shifted focus to the next lead, moving on to analyze the unsub’s possible personality traits. After a few more exchanges, the decision was made to call Carrington in for questioning tomorrow—there was no use doing it this late. The discussion had settled, but Spencer’s fingers brushed against your knee again, just enough for you to catch it. He was still attuned to your every movement, a silent understanding between the two of you.

After that, Hotch made the call for everyone to get some rest. One by one, the team decided to call it a night, heading out to their respective rooms. You and Spencer lingered behind, both of you wrapping up the last of your thoughts on the case.

Spencer was the one to break the silence. He looked around the station, then at you. His eyes softened for a moment before he spoke. “Enough for tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

You nodded, thankful for the break. As Spencer found your coat, you dropped the files onto the nearest table. You stood still as he slid the coat onto your shoulders, the fabric brushing against your skin. As he did, you both made the mistake of letting your hands touch—just a fleeting brush—but it sent a warmth through your chest.

The walk to the motel was calm, with the quiet night air wrapping around you both. Spencer felt a strange mixture of calm and anticipation swirling in his chest, emotions he didn’t usually indulge. It wasn’t something he had the vocabulary for, not in his usual clinical sense. For once, there wasn’t a need for facts or equations to understand the feeling that settled inside him.

His fingers, almost absent-mindedly, curled into yours. It was a subtle movement, but the softness of it caught him by surprise. His thumb traced small, slow circles over the back of your hand, a tender rhythm he couldn’t quite explain. For someone who usually lived in the world of patterns and logic, this was unfamiliar territory. But the simple touch, the way your fingers fit together so naturally—it felt right.

In a world where everything was either solvable or predictable, this felt like the exception. There was no analysis needed. No need to question why it felt so much like a moment he wanted to hold onto. Maybe it was the quiet between you two, or the way everything around you seemed to fade as his thumb ran over your hand. All Spencer knew was that in that moment, nothing else mattered.

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The next morning, Hotch had sent Morgan and Prentiss off to speak with students on the campus, while he and Rossi took over the interrogation. The room felt different now, quieter—like the calm before another storm. 

Andrew Carrigton settled into the chair like he was sitting at a country club luncheon rather than an interrogation room. His suit was crisp, his cufflinks glinting under the fluorescent lights. If he was rattled by the fact that three of his former society’s members were dead, he didn’t show it.

Hotch sat across from him, his expression unreadable. Morgan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unimpressed.

“Mr. Carrigton,” Hotch began, “we’re investigating the murders of three students, all of whom were members of the Seraphic Circle. You were one of its founders. We need information.”

Carrigton exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Tragic. Truly. But I haven’t been involved in years. You’d be better off asking one of the new recruits.”

Hotch didn’t budge. “We’re asking you.”

Carrigton smirked, tilting his head. “What do you want me to say? That it’s a secret society? That we have rituals and secret handshakes?” He chuckled. “Come on, Agent. It’s a networking club. A prestigious one, sure, but hardly the Illuminati.”

Rossi let out a sharp breath, unimpressed. “Right. A ‘networking club’ where only the rich and powerful get in, and anyone who doesn’t measure up gets chewed up and spit out.”

Carrigton raised an eyebrow. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

Hotch didn’t rise to the bait. “The night of the first murder, there was an event. Who was in attendance?”

Carrigton hummed, tapping a thoughtful finger against his jaw. “Hard to say. The Circle’s grown since my time. Dozens of faces, most of which I wouldn’t recognize.”

“You’re still connected. You know the leadership.”

Another lazy shrug. “I might know a few names. But as I said, things change. The president rotates out, always some eager young thing desperate to prove themselves. They run the show until the next one takes over.” He smirked. “I imagine the current one is quite overwhelmed.”

“Who’s pulling the strings?” Hotch asked.

Carrigton chuckled. “You give us too much credit, Agent. It’s not some grand conspiracy. It’s a club. People join, people leave. Some do well, some don’t.”

“And the ones who don’t?”

Carrigton waved a dismissive hand. “They drop out. Go on with their lives. Or—” he smiled, sharp, “—they stew in their resentment, blaming others for their own failures.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. “You think that’s what happened here?”

Carrigton leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease. “I think it’s always the same story. Someone on the outside looking in, bitter that they weren’t enough. And now they want to take it out on the ones who were.”

Hotch’s voice was cold. “That’s a convenient theory. But it doesn’t answer our questions.”

Carrigton’s smirk widened. “Then maybe you’re asking the wrong ones.”

From the other side of the glass, you watched Carrigton with growing irritation. He was the same smug, arrogant bastard you remembered from college, only now it was worse. His attitude hadn’t changed a bit, and neither had his ability to waste everyone’s time with his deflections.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he ran his mouth, completely ignoring the fact that three people were dead, his precious club possibly involved. He was too busy leaning back in his chair, playing at some sick power game.

You glanced at JJ, your patience already hanging by a thread. “There’s no cameras here, right?”

JJ, clearly thrown off by the sudden question, gave you a puzzled look. “No… why?”

Without answering, you turned your focus back to Carrigton and felt your hands tighten into fists. His polished smirk made your blood boil, his greasy hair gleaming under the lights. Your shoulders squared, the weight of your frustration making your movements sharper. You ignored Spencer’s curious glance, his quiet scrutiny as he watched you.

You didn’t have time for any of this.

You walked to the door and knocked once, the sound sharp in the sterile room. Before anyone could respond, you turned the handle, stepping into the interrogation room.

Carrigton’s eyes locked onto you the second you walked in. His gaze flickered briefly, a subtle but noticeable flash of discomfort before he quickly masked it with that same patronizing grin.

“Well, well,” he sneered, adjusting the collar of his shirt like he was trying to put some distance between himself and the real world. “I didn’t realize the FBI was hiring gutter rats now.”

Spencer tensed from the other side of the glass, his expression hardening as his frustration mounted. He was clearly growing angrier at Carrigton’s smug demeanor, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you were even a little fazed. You simply smirked and kept your focus on the man sitting in front of you.

Carrigton’s glare never left you as you stepped closer, your tone ice-cold. “This ‘gutter rat’ is about to charge you with obstruction of justice if you don’t start talking, Andrew.”

Carrigton's eyes narrowed, his lips curling in a sneer. “That’s blackmail.”

You didn’t flinch. “And if you keep dragging your feet, that’s another charge—contempt of court. Trust me, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” You leaned in just enough to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “You want to keep playing games, or you want to start answering questions?”

Carrigton shifted in his seat, the cockiness starting to waver, but he still clung to that arrogance like a shield, gripping it with white-knuckled desperation.

“I want my lawyer,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even.

You scoff, tilting your head as if you were genuinely considering his words before your lips curled into something sharp and ruthless.

"Is that your way of admitting you’re not a good enough lawyer to defend yourself?" Your voice was smooth, razor-edged silk, venom threaded through every syllable. "Start talking."

His nostrils flared, a flicker of something—hesitation, anger, maybe both. It was barely a breath, but you caught it.

"From what I know, the admission process has gone to hell," he sneered, grasping at arrogance like a lifeline. "I spoke with their president last week about it. I'm not throwing my money at that place just for them to start letting in anyone."

Rossi’s eyebrows lifted as he slid the crime scene photos across the table, each image a stark, undeniable truth. “Are these people just ‘anyone’ to you, Andrew?”

For the first time, Carrigton’s arrogance fractured. It was subtle—the flicker of his gaze, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach for the photos.

And then you saw it. No matter how high his shirt collar was, it couldn’t quite hide the edges of old scars peeking out—angry, uneven marks trailing up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath expensive fabric. 

"We didn’t have anything to do with this," Carrigton muttered, his voice suddenly lacking its earlier bravado. His eyes flickered briefly over the crime scene photos, but his gaze quickly dropped.

"Who’s ‘we’?" Hotch’s voice was cold, demanding, cutting through the silence.

Carrigton didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted in his seat, hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles turning white. He wasn’t as confident as before.

You could feel it—he was trying to hide the discomfort, but it was there. The truth always made people uncomfortable.

You pushed yourself off the wall, your movement slow and deliberate, your eyes never leaving him as you circled around behind him. He tensed, just slightly at first, but it was enough.

The memory was still fresh, and you knew it. He hadn’t forgotten how you burned him—how the scalding coffee had left that mark on his neck. He was trying not to show it, but it was eating at him, that simmering, seething reminder that you’d done it and he couldn’t touch you for it.

You stopped just behind him, letting your presence loom over him like a shadow. He could feel your gaze, feel the space between you—too close for comfort, too close for someone who hated you as much as he did.

"What’s the matter, Andrew?" You leaned in, your voice low and smooth, but your words sharp as a knife. "Don’t like me standing here?"

"I told him to stop accepting anyone," Carrigton muttered, his voice tightening as he stumbled over the words. "Grayson Locke, that's his name. Legacy admission. But I had nothing to do with this. We even went through some names, cut people off."

You could feel the hesitation in his voice, the way he was trying to distance himself from the mess that was unfolding. His words were almost defensive, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. The stammering wasn’t lost on you—it was almost pathetic.

"What names?" Rossi’s voice was firm, but he wasn’t pushing too hard yet. He was letting Carrigton sweat just a little longer, a strategy you were both accustomed to.

Carrigton's jaw tightened, his eyes darting nervously between Morgan and you. "It was a list," he said quickly, almost as though the words were tumbling out before he could stop them. "Just find him. Tell him I told you to give it to you." He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the door. "Outside of that, I don’t know anything else."

There it was. The slip. The admission that he was just as tangled in this as the rest of them. But it wasn’t enough. Rossi stepped out of the interrogation room, heading off to search for the list.

“See? Was that so hard?” You taunted, slumping into the chair Rossi had just vacated, your eyes never leaving Carrigton. His smug façade cracked, just enough for you to see the shift. The sense of discomfort that he could no longer hide.

His eyes flicked to you, venom dripping from his words. “You think you’ve won? All you are is a stray dog who’ll burn in hell.” He spat the words, his jaw tight, but beneath the bravado, there was fear creeping in.

You straightened in the chair, completely unbothered by his outburst. “And you’ll be right there with me. I guess you know a thing or two about burning, don’t you?” Your smirk was sharp, a silent jab at the scars on his neck, the ones you’d left there.

His expression faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make your blood run colder. Without warning, he shot to his feet, slamming his palms down on the table with a force that made it rattle. His face was inches from yours now, his breath stinking of rage and something darker—panic.

“Fuck you, you deranged bitch,” he hissed, his voice barely contained. “You’ll always be the daughter of some filthy addicts. You’ll never belong to this world. My world.”

You didn’t move, didn’t even blink. The words hit, but they didn’t land. “Did I strike a nerve?” You leaned forward slightly, your tone dropping to a razor-sharp whisper. “Or should I say... burn a nerve?”

Carrigton’s entire body stiffened, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white, veins bulging from his hands. His chest heaved with the kind of raw anger that radiated off him like a furnace. “You’re still the same psycho bitch I met years ago.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t let his venomous words land, only smirked. “Have you learned how to make women come, Carrigton? Or are you still calling them hysterical? Is that why your wife is filing for divorce?”

It wasn’t just the words, but the sharpness of your tone, the deliberate push of your venom that made it sting even more. Garcia had provided all the dirt, the skeletons hidden deep in his closet. You weren’t above having a little fun with it, using it to your advantage. Carrigton, though, was losing his composure with every word you threw at him.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Hotch beat you to it, rising from his seat. "Enough. We appreciate your time, Mr. Carrington. We'll contact you if we need further information," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Andrew huffed dismissively, rising to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, casting one last venomous glance in your direction. "You think you’ve got a place in this world? Trust me, you don’t. People like you? They end up alone, scrambling to hold onto the little sanity they have left before it all slips away."

He didn’t wait for a response, Spencer’s gaze locked with yours the moment Andrew was out of the room. His eyes were filled with concern, but you chose not to address it. Now wasn’t the time.

Instead, you stayed silent, the words echoing in your head. Something about them stuck, gnawing at you. Maybe it was the way he spoke—like he knew something about you that you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. Scrambling. It was true, wasn’t it? You were constantly on edge, barely holding it together, pretending that you didn’t feel like you were one step away from losing it. Maybe it would be easier to just give in, let go, and fulfill everyone’s expectations of you. Be the damaged, angry, broken thing they wanted you to be.

For a moment, you almost believed his words.

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

If murdered students weren’t enough to set the rumor mill on fire, your presence definitely did. The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfire.

“Sooo… guess what we’ve heard?” Emily’s voice broke through the room as she and the others approached, grinning like they had just uncovered the juiciest piece of gossip on campus.

“Anything useful?” you asked without looking up from the file you were flipping through. “Or is this about the librarian hooking up with students in the archives? Because if it is—old news.”

Morgan smirked, shaking his head. “Nah, actually, we heard about some girl who once got a professor fired.”

“And,” Prentiss added, leaning in with a knowing smile, “was banned from mock trial as a freshman after making another student indirectly confess he bought the answers to his exams.”

Your fingers froze for just a split second—the briefest pause, barely perceptible to anyone but Spencer, who noticed it right away.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “People get weirdly creative when it comes to making up rumors.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “So you’re telling me,” she pressed, “that you’ve never heard of the girl who burned some rich kid’s manuscript because he plagiarized her?”

You sighed, closing the file with exaggerated nonchalance. “Sounds like a legend. And legends aren’t real.”

Emily snorted, clearly enjoying this. “Or when she threw a chair at a debate judge for interrupting her?”

Morgan gasped dramatically. “And don’t forget when she flipped a Monopoly board at a networking event after some trust fund brat said she didn’t have the ‘pedigree’ for law.”

Emily smirked. “I heard she broke his nose.”

You shrug it off. “Monopoly makes people violent. Everyone knows that.”

You knew they weren’t trying to be mean, but you’d rather die than show any hint of regret. You had made some questionable choices in the past, but those didn’t define who you were now. Right?

Morgan chuckled, crossing his arms. “Right, right. So I guess the whole thing about you making a guy cry so hard during a mock trial that he dropped out of law school is fake too?”

You were forced to pretend not being able to stop the small smirk tugged at your lips, “Okay, in my defense, that guy was pretentious and thought using big words would make him win.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “Some student mentioned you, uh, burning people when they pissed you off.” He exchanged a glance with Prentiss, both of them catching on to your lack of eye contact. “Is that what the Dean was referring to?”

You couldn’t help but feel a slight heat creep up your neck, but you managed to keep your gaze on the desk, avoiding their eyes. You didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothered you. “People talk,” you muttered. “But if you believe everything they say, you’re as crazy as they are.”

You could’ve fooled anyone in that room full of profilers, because hiding behind your indifference mask was something you were well-practiced at. That was, of course, if they didn’t know you deeply. If they didn’t spend weekends with you, cooking together, exchanging quiet conversations and inside jokes. If they weren’t Spencer Reid—the only one in the room who could read beneath the surface.

He noticed the way you winced when you shifted your neck, the subtle way you massaged the sore muscles with your hand, avoiding eye contact with everyone. To anyone else, it might have seemed like nothing, but to him, it was a clear sign that something was off. You weren’t as fine as you were pretending to be.

"Anyone want anything? I’m doing a coffee run." You don’t wait for an answer, already making your way toward the break room. But the laughter behind you lingers—harmless, good-natured, but still too close to the laughter of your ex-classmates. It curls around your ribs like a memory you don’t want.

You don’t notice Spencer saying he’ll come with you, but you realize he’s there when you hear his footsteps—loud enough for you to hear him, deliberate so he doesn’t startle you.

At the coffee machine, you take a breath, ignoring him. You press the buttons and try to shake the feeling off, but when you glance at him, just for a second, all he sees in your eyes is guilt. Shame.

"What?" Your voice comes out sharper than you mean. "You also think I’m a menace to society? They’re lucky I turned out halfway functional. Statistically, I shouldn’t have.” 

Spencer stays a few feet away—close enough, but not crowding you. The perfect arms-length distance. It was something he understood about you, something you never had to say out loud. Letting you decide if you needed space or needed closeness. Giving you control, even in something as simple as this.

"None of them think that," he says quietly. "I don’t think that."

It takes effort to look at him, but when you do, the tightness in your chest gets worse. You hate it. You hate the way it feels when you take a step closer, resting your forehead against his shoulder. And you hate how naturally his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair in a slow, soothing motion, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

"I didn’t mean to—God, have you seen the scars on his neck?" Your voice cracks, barely above a whisper. "What kind of… monster does that?"

His hand stills against you for a second.

It breaks his heart every time you talk about yourself like this—like you’re one of the people he spends his life trying to stop.

"Technically, the probability of someone from your background reaching your level of success is less than three percent. And even among that group, only a fraction manage to sustain high-pressure careers."

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah? And what’s the probability of me snapping one day and proving everyone right?"

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is?"

He exhales, steady and patient. "The point is that I could pull up hard data showing how statistically, you shouldn’t have graduated at fifteen. Or made it through law school on a full ride. Or become one of the best prosecutors in D.C. The odds of that happening were lower than one percent. But you did it. So if we're playing by numbers, then statistically… you're exceptional."

He pauses, watching you carefully. Then, softer "And not in the way you seem to think."

Your fingers curl into the edge on themselves, nails pressing into your palms as you process his words. You hate how much they settle into your chest, how they make something raw and aching twist inside you. You exhale, forcing out a scoff, trying to grasp onto the sarcasm that usually keeps you afloat.

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of miracle," 

"You might as well be the proof that God exists to me," Spencer says simply, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

Your throat tightens. You shake your head, swallowing past the lump forming there. "I hate how you do that," you murmur.

"Do what?"

"Make me feel like maybe I’m not beyond saving."

His hand stills for a moment before he squeezes the nape of your neck, grounding. "Then I guess I’ll just have to keep doing it until you believe it."

And for once, you don’t have the energy to argue.

　　　　 　　  .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　

The case wrapped up when the team uncovered that one of the students they had interviewed had been fixated on getting into the Seraphic Circle. After his rejection, it became his breaking point, driving him to kill the members in a vengeful spree.

You would have laughed in Andrew Carrington’s face and shown him just how much that exclusive little club had spiraled into something violent and twisted, you would’ve. But, of course, that would’ve been disrespectful to the victims, so you didn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself sink into that bitterness.

But, it didn’t matter in the end. When you landed back in Washington—home, dear home—it didn’t matter. The case was closed, and, for the first time in a long while, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. Your past mistakes no longer haunted you, and as you stepped into the familiar rhythm of your life, you realized that, just for this moment, you could breathe.

To be honest, you weren’t the same person you were back then. The young teen you once were would have never believed, or even considered, that she could be in a loving relationship with a man who would love her unconditionally, no matter what. She never would have believed that someone like Spencer could ever like someone like you. 

"Are you hungry?" Spencer asked, his voice soft as he dropped the go-bag by the entrance of the apartment. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead "I saw this new recipe for homemade lasagna," he added, his eyes lighting up in that way they always did when he was excited about something. "It has layers of ricotta, mozzarella, and this really rich, savory meat sauce that I think we could definitely pull off. I thought we could make it together—maybe add a little twist of our own, like some fresh basil?"

You smiled at his enthusiasm, noticing how his fingers brushed through his hair absentmindedly as he spoke. It was always endearing to watch him get excited over the little things. "Homemade lasagna? That sounds amazing," you replied, already picturing the cozy evening ahead.

His grin widened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, swiping through the recipe. "It’s supposed to take a bit of time, but it’s not complicated...just a lot of love and patience—so, you know, I think we can manage. Plus, it’ll give us time to talk...and eat a lot of cheese."

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. "I think I’m sold. Lasagna and cheese? Definitely the kind of night I need."

He gave a small nod, as if he were confirming his excitement to himself. "Okay, I’ll grab the ingredients. You’re in charge of setting up the music. Deal?"

"Deal," you said, already feeling that comforting sense of peace that only came from spending time like this—together, in your little shared world, filled with small moments that meant everything.

Who would’ve thought you’d be cooking lasagna with the soft crackle of a vinyl player spinning Billy Joel and Elvis Presley in the background

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

tag list: @arialikestea @hellsingalucard18 @pleasantwitchgarden @torturedpoetspsychward @cultish-corner @nymph0puppp @l-a-u-r-aaa @cherrygublersworld @theoceanandthestars @i-need-to-be-put-down @alyeskathewave @kore-of-the-underworld

[alpha-mag-media]

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[wordpress-blaze-225198939]

Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

I have this weird habit of planning epic trips, only to have one magical moment sneak up and totally steal the show! Case in point: the penguins in Patagonia.

When I first visited back in 2016, I wasn’t chasing penguins. I was chasing some R&R after tackling the Torres del Paine trek. My legs were wrecked. My backpack stank of effort. I just wanted a hot shower and to not move for at least a week.

But while lying low in Punta Arenas, I spotted a local flyer - penguin colonies nearby. Penguins? In Chile? That got my attention! Exhaustion faded. I booked a tour that same day. What followed was one of those rare travel moments that lodges in your heart forever. Pure, unexpected joy.

Fast forward to this year. In October, I’ll be heading back to Patagonia but this time with my mum and Kaydes. Three generations together, boarding a boat across the Strait of Magellan to Isla Magdalena to visit the penguins. It’s a full-circle return, but with little hands to hold and new memories to make.

If you’ve ever dreamt of seeing penguins in the wild, or if you're planning a trip to this corner of Patagonia, here’s what to expect, and why this region continues to feel so special to me.

Why Patagonia Is Penguin Paradise

Penguins thrive where ocean currents meet, bringing a rich supply of fish, squid, and krill. Patagonia’s southern coastline offers exactly that; cold waters, minimal human disruption, and protected areas for nesting. It’s home to four penguin species:

Magellanic – the most common here

King – tall, sleek, and regal

Gentoo – fast swimmers with bright feet

Macaroni – rare but unforgettable, with wild yellow crests

Each species has its quirks, but all are mesmerising to watch in the wild.

The First Penguin Encounter – Seno Otway

The first colony I visited was at Seno Otway, a smaller Magellanic penguin site tucked about an hour’s drive from Punta Arenas. The surrounds were peaceful and raw, and I remember crouching low on the trail, hoping for a quiet moment. Then suddenly, some commotion.

A line of Magellanic penguins emerged from the bushes, single file, like they were late for something! I froze. They didn’t. They just marched past, focused and determined, with that signature penguin waddle that somehow looks both dignified and cute. I started laughing. Out loud. By myself. I couldn’t help it. It was so unexpected, and absolutely surreal.

Sadly, that colony has since moved on. Mining activity nearby disrupted the environment, forcing the penguins to relocate. It’s a gentle reminder: these moments are fragile. If we’re lucky enough to see wildlife like this, we need to treat it with care.

Magellanic Penguins on Isla Magdalena

This October, we’ll be touring Isla Magdalena, home to one of the largest Magellanic penguin colonies in Chile. Tens of thousands gather here between September and March. By October, they’re settling into their burrows, pairing up, and preparing to nest. At their peak in January, up to 60,000 breeding pairs make this place their seasonal stomping ground!

We’ll follow marked trails while the penguins go about their business. Some crossing our paths, others arguing over burrow space, all completely unbothered by our presence.

Magellanic penguins are named after Ferdinand Magellan, the Portuguese explorer whose crew first spotted them in 1520 while navigating the strait. They grow to about 70cm tall, weigh up to 6kg, and build burrows in the ground to shelter their eggs from predators and wind. Their calls are loud, strange, and unmistakable - crossed between a donkey and a foghorn! When they’re not waddling adorably, they’re pro diving up to 75 metres deep in search of squid, krill, and fish.

Watching them interact is oddly relatable. They like personal space, have loud opinions, and always seem to be negotiating something.

King Penguins of Tierra del Fuego

On that same 2016 trip, I made the long journey to Pingüino Rey Reserve in Tierra del Fuego. It was a full-day mission - bus, ferry, more bus - but worth every second.

This is the only King Penguin colony on the South American mainland. Unlike the Magellanic, they’re tall (up to a metre) and their colouring is extraordinary: slate grey, black, and flashes of deep orange around the neck and head.

The colony is split between the river mouth and an inland area, and even from a distance, they command attention. They’re quiet, poised, and elegant. Be sure to look out for their fluffy “teenagers” moulting awkwardly into their adult feathers.

My tour was with Go Patagonia, and it involved a bus, a ferry ride (cue: hold onto your hat), before an hour at the reserve itself. You view the penguins from a respectful 40 metres away from a raised platform – this is where binoculars are handy! Then all the travel was in reverse on the way back to PA.

Travelling Responsibly Around Wildlife

Penguins may look unbothered, but they’re sensitive to noise, light, and sudden moves. If you're visiting:

Stick to marked trails

Don’t use flash photography

Speak quietly (or not at all)

Never try to touch or approach them

Our presence should never come at their expense. Your best souvenir? A memory that didn’t ruffle any feathers! 😂

Planning Your Own Penguin Trip

🗓 Best Time to Visit

September – penguins arrive and start nesting

October – quieter, ideal for fewer crowds

January–February – colony is at full strength, with chicks visible

🛳 Tour Operators

Book with companies like Go Patagonia, Denomades or Solo Expediciones

Isla Magdalena tours depart from Punta Arenas and often sell out in peak season

🎒 Packing Essentials

Windproof layers, gloves, warm hat

Charged camera or phone

Binoculars (especially for King Penguin tours)

Seasickness medication

Snacks and water

Sturdy shoes for boat ramps and trails

👶 With Children?

Isla Magdalena: family-friendly and short

Pingüino Rey: stunning but long—best for older kids or solo travellers

Punta ArenasIsla MagdalenaBahía Inútil, PorvenirSeno Otway

Have You Met a Penguin in the Wild?

Seeing penguins in Patagonia was never on my original itinerary. But it ended up being a highlight!

Have you seen penguins in the wild? Planning a trip to Patagonia or somewhere else on the penguin trail? I’d love to hear where you’ve been, or where you’re dreaming of going next. Leave a comment below or come say hi on Instagram @loreandtempo.

Source: Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

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[universefcb]

A BIRTHDAY WITH LANDO, LANDO NORRIS.

→ Summary: It's your birthday and he has a surprise plan for you.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: This picture of him is so...🫦

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Waking up on your birthday used to be a common occurrence. A notification or two on social media, a call from your mother, maybe a quick message from a distant friend. But that day started differently. Even before the first rays of sunlight had penetrated the bedroom curtains, your phone vibrated with an unusual notification: a calendar reminder created by someone else.

Today: The most important birthday in the universe. Get ready for the best day of your life. Love, Lando.

She smiled to herself, still half asleep. She didn't even have time to reply to the message because, in the next second, the doorbell rang.

Dragging herself to the door with one of his hoodies slung over her shoulders, she slowly opened it. On the other side, Lando was smiling, hair messy, a kraft paper bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Happy birthday, my favorite person,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up here before seven in the morning. “Coffee from your favorite coffee shop and chocolate croissants. I’m outdoing myself, huh?”

She let out a low laugh and pulled him inside by the hand.

“Did you hack my calendar?”

“I broke in. I really hacked. And this is just the beginning.”

They spent the morning together, taking lazy bites of breakfast and making out softly on the couch. He insisted that she couldn’t make plans for the rest of the day—“You just have to trust me,” he’d say with a mischievous smile. And she did.

Around 10am, Lando handed her a small backpack and told her to wear something comfortable.

“Not a spoiler?” she asked, curious.

“Not one. But I guarantee there’s sunshine, blue skies and something you’ll remember forever.”

The car took them out of town. Along the way, he put on her favorite playlist, sang off-key on purpose, and made up absurd versions of the lyrics just to make her laugh.

Finally, the vehicle stopped in front of a large field full of sunflowers, with a picnic table set up in the center. A wicker basket, two light-colored wooden chairs, and a small radio playing Taylor Swift's Lover in the background. She put her hand to her mouth in excitement.

"Like you...?"

“I listen when you talk, you know?” he replied, leaning his forehead against hers. “You once said that you always dreamed of a picnic in a field of sunflowers, but never had the chance.”

With tears in her eyes, she threw herself into his arms. Lando held on tightly, as if he knew that gesture was worth more than any words.

They spent hours there, laughing, eating strawberries and cheese, telling stories and taking pictures with an analog camera he had hidden. Every detail seemed carefully planned: the smell of the flowers, the taste of the food, even the position of the sun when he suggested they take a break to lie down on the grass.

“Do you want to know my real gift?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the sky. “Because what you’ve seen so far has just been the warm-up.”

She raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Is there more?”

“Yes. But you need to trust me again.”

The way back was quicker. He led her blindfolded to the top floor of his own apartment. When he removed the blindfold, she found herself in a transformed room: soft lights, dozens of photos of them hanging with little clothespins, white rose petals scattered on the floor, and a dining table set for two.

But what caught his attention was the small screen at the back of the room. Lando had set up a mini movie theater at home.

“And now... the special session: Our best moments.”

It was a compilation of videos he had filmed himself over the months—some she hadn’t even known he had recorded. Little moments, smiles exchanged in silence, her dancing in her pajamas in the kitchen, the two of them laughing until they fell into bed.

When the video ended, Lando was silent for a while, just holding her hand.

“I thought a lot about what to give you as a gift. And nothing seemed good enough... until I realized that the best thing I can give you is my time, my attention, and every version of me. Because if you want me to, I want to be here for all your birthdays. Every single one.”

She didn't respond with words—she didn't need to. The kiss that followed said everything she felt: gratitude, love, and the certainty that this was the best birthday of her life.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader do the suspects challenge

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask :)

After a week of y/n showing and sending Drew videos of people doing the “Suspects Challenge”, Drew decided it was time for the two of them to attempt it. Not usually one for social media, especially the goofy stuff y/n and Madelyn would often do on set, y/n was quite surprised by Drew’s suggestion, but was more than happy to join him. The weather was beautiful, the leaves in Charleston having just started to turn, the air becoming cooler, and the sun casting a golden warmth over the landscape, so the two of them decided to go outside.

“Ok, you can be the suspect first.” Y/n smirked, setting up her camera as Drew played with Charleston, the dog barking excitedly as he bounded around the backyard. With a countdown, Drew immediately took off… at a full sprint.

“Suspect— oh my god, slow down!” Y/n laughed, nearly tripping over her own two feet as she giggled. Y/n attempted to keep up with him, but with his long legs and years of sports, she found it nearly impossible.

“What? Too slow?” Drew teased, raising his hands in faux innocence before he grabbed Charleston’s ball, chucking it across the yard before walking back to stand next to y/n again.

“Ok, take two. At a normal speed.” Y/n said with a quirk of her brow. Drew took off at a jog and y/n started the camera.

“Suspect drinks at least one glass of milk every day.” Y/n says, Drew grinning and shaking his head before taking the camera from her. He turned it around, the two of them switching directions before continuing the video.

“Suspect went to college and has never used her degree once.” Drew said cheekily. Y/n gasped, taking the phone from him, the two of them continuing back and forth.

“Suspect poses like a dumbass in every photo I take of him.” Y/n laughed.

“Suspect takes five hours in the shower.” Drew retorted.

“Suspect never does his hair.” Y/n giggled, Drew’s cheeks turning red as he just smiled, bashfully running a hand through his messy hair.

“Suspect is the loudest chewer in the world.” Drew laughed.

“Suspect is old.” Y/n grinned, Drew quickly taking the phone from her with a smirk.

“Suspect loves Taylor Swift more than she loves her boyfriend.” Drew said. Y/n’s eyes widened, looking into the camera with her mouth open.

“See, she’s not even denying it—” Drew laughed, pointing at y/n’s shocked expression.

“Stop, that’s not true, Joseph!” Y/n frowned playfully. Drew’s lips drew up into a lopsided smile.

“For the record,” y/n paused dramatically, “I love my wonderful boyfriend more than Taylor Swift. I promise.”

Drew grinned, turning the camera around to flash a thumbs up before ending the video. Y/n rolled her eyes, pulling Drew into a hug as he pressed “post” on the video.

“I do love you more than Taylor Swift, Drew. I really, really love you.” Y/n said into the front of Drew’s shirt, causing him to chuckle, tilting y/n’s head back to look at her.

“I know, baby…” Drew pressed a kiss to y/n’s nose. “But I love you more.”

[plathfolklore]

Taylor swift is bringing it all back home in Thunderbird (2026).

In her anticipated twelfth record, Taylor is on her way home to country rhymes and a letter she tucked away under her pillow 20 years ago.

🌼 Hushed away from the world since the tour de force , The Eras Tour and buying back her older catalogue in a million-dollar deal, she’s now singing of her honeysuckle childhood that honed her preternatural ambition (in the fan favourite song Guitar Lessons), of a woman who fears her ambitions are eating her alive (in Burning Chairs), and of a lover’s early years in Practice Sessions (a sing rumoured to about her boyfriend who plays for the Kansas City Chiefs). Thunderbird is an album that swings to and fro between country-pop&indie— Shania Twain is featured in the country ballad No Regrets and Folk legend Joan Baez makes an appearance in Simple Woman, [produced by T and longtime collaborator Aaron Dessner] humming with T a solemn siren song— still an influence cannot be ignored: Rock.

The lead single, Thunderbird exceeds expectation of the those who would claim the genre is at cross with Taylor’s amorous reputation. Penned firstly with Stevie Nicks, whilst at a dinner party commemorating Tortured Poets Department (2024), the song was stacked away in a drawer in her New York City home along with others— Balthazar, Bringing it All Back Home (namesake inspired by the Bob Dylan album), Burning Chairs; before the verses coming back to life in Electric Studios, New York last year in a shell shock self discovery we’re all thankful for. Taylor keeps re-writing her ways and musical history along the way.

Four editions of the album are available.

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Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

I have this weird habit of planning epic trips, only to have one magical moment sneak up and totally steal the show! Case in point: the penguins in Patagonia.

When I first visited back in 2016, I wasn’t chasing penguins. I was chasing some R&R after tackling the Torres del Paine trek. My legs were wrecked. My backpack stank of effort. I just wanted a hot shower and to not move for at least a week.

But while lying low in Punta Arenas, I spotted a local flyer - penguin colonies nearby. Penguins? In Chile? That got my attention! Exhaustion faded. I booked a tour that same day. What followed was one of those rare travel moments that lodges in your heart forever. Pure, unexpected joy.

Fast forward to this year. In October, I’ll be heading back to Patagonia but this time with my mum and Kaydes. Three generations together, boarding a boat across the Strait of Magellan to Isla Magdalena to visit the penguins. It’s a full-circle return, but with little hands to hold and new memories to make.

If you’ve ever dreamt of seeing penguins in the wild, or if you're planning a trip to this corner of Patagonia, here’s what to expect, and why this region continues to feel so special to me.

Why Patagonia Is Penguin Paradise

Penguins thrive where ocean currents meet, bringing a rich supply of fish, squid, and krill. Patagonia’s southern coastline offers exactly that; cold waters, minimal human disruption, and protected areas for nesting. It’s home to four penguin species:

Magellanic – the most common here

King – tall, sleek, and regal

Gentoo – fast swimmers with bright feet

Macaroni – rare but unforgettable, with wild yellow crests

Each species has its quirks, but all are mesmerising to watch in the wild.

The First Penguin Encounter – Seno Otway

The first colony I visited was at Seno Otway, a smaller Magellanic penguin site tucked about an hour’s drive from Punta Arenas. The surrounds were peaceful and raw, and I remember crouching low on the trail, hoping for a quiet moment. Then suddenly, some commotion.

A line of Magellanic penguins emerged from the bushes, single file, like they were late for something! I froze. They didn’t. They just marched past, focused and determined, with that signature penguin waddle that somehow looks both dignified and cute. I started laughing. Out loud. By myself. I couldn’t help it. It was so unexpected, and absolutely surreal.

Sadly, that colony has since moved on. Mining activity nearby disrupted the environment, forcing the penguins to relocate. It’s a gentle reminder: these moments are fragile. If we’re lucky enough to see wildlife like this, we need to treat it with care.

Magellanic Penguins on Isla Magdalena

This October, we’ll be touring Isla Magdalena, home to one of the largest Magellanic penguin colonies in Chile. Tens of thousands gather here between September and March. By October, they’re settling into their burrows, pairing up, and preparing to nest. At their peak in January, up to 60,000 breeding pairs make this place their seasonal stomping ground!

We’ll follow marked trails while the penguins go about their business. Some crossing our paths, others arguing over burrow space, all completely unbothered by our presence.

Magellanic penguins are named after Ferdinand Magellan, the Portuguese explorer whose crew first spotted them in 1520 while navigating the strait. They grow to about 70cm tall, weigh up to 6kg, and build burrows in the ground to shelter their eggs from predators and wind. Their calls are loud, strange, and unmistakable - crossed between a donkey and a foghorn! When they’re not waddling adorably, they’re pro diving up to 75 metres deep in search of squid, krill, and fish.

Watching them interact is oddly relatable. They like personal space, have loud opinions, and always seem to be negotiating something.

King Penguins of Tierra del Fuego

On that same 2016 trip, I made the long journey to Pingüino Rey Reserve in Tierra del Fuego. It was a full-day mission - bus, ferry, more bus - but worth every second.

This is the only King Penguin colony on the South American mainland. Unlike the Magellanic, they’re tall (up to a metre) and their colouring is extraordinary: slate grey, black, and flashes of deep orange around the neck and head.

The colony is split between the river mouth and an inland area, and even from a distance, they command attention. They’re quiet, poised, and elegant. Be sure to look out for their fluffy “teenagers” moulting awkwardly into their adult feathers.

My tour was with Go Patagonia, and it involved a bus, a ferry ride (cue: hold onto your hat), before an hour at the reserve itself. You view the penguins from a respectful 40 metres away from a raised platform – this is where binoculars are handy! Then all the travel was in reverse on the way back to PA.

Travelling Responsibly Around Wildlife

Penguins may look unbothered, but they’re sensitive to noise, light, and sudden moves. If you're visiting:

Stick to marked trails

Don’t use flash photography

Speak quietly (or not at all)

Never try to touch or approach them

Our presence should never come at their expense. Your best souvenir? A memory that didn’t ruffle any feathers! 😂

Planning Your Own Penguin Trip

🗓 Best Time to Visit

September – penguins arrive and start nesting

October – quieter, ideal for fewer crowds

January–February – colony is at full strength, with chicks visible

🛳 Tour Operators

Book with companies like Go Patagonia, Denomades or Solo Expediciones

Isla Magdalena tours depart from Punta Arenas and often sell out in peak season

🎒 Packing Essentials

Windproof layers, gloves, warm hat

Charged camera or phone

Binoculars (especially for King Penguin tours)

Seasickness medication

Snacks and water

Sturdy shoes for boat ramps and trails

👶 With Children?

Isla Magdalena: family-friendly and short

Pingüino Rey: stunning but long—best for older kids or solo travellers

Punta ArenasIsla MagdalenaBahía Inútil, PorvenirSeno Otway

Have You Met a Penguin in the Wild?

Seeing penguins in Patagonia was never on my original itinerary. But it ended up being a highlight!

Have you seen penguins in the wild? Planning a trip to Patagonia or somewhere else on the penguin trail? I’d love to hear where you’ve been, or where you’re dreaming of going next. Leave a comment below or come say hi on Instagram @loreandtempo.

Source: Pursuing Penguins in Patagonia 🐧

[phoenixyfriend]

Honestly I think they're about on par but that Taylor is more famous due to the fact that people will encounter her music whether they want to or not, but Ronaldo is isolated to Just The Sports World.

(My brother has been having a meltdown because I said that I think Taylor Swift is more famous. I know Tumblr is a very non-sports place but hey whatever.)

EDIT: to be clear, my definition of fame here is 'how many people know them by name?' If given the name and asked the most basic fact of 'what industry is this person famous in,' then would more people be able to answer for Ronaldo or for Swift? It's got nothing to do with positive popularity or 'I don't actually care.' It's purely about name recognition.

For part of why I do think they are comparable, here's the Google Trends since 2004. Ronaldo was more present for most of that time, but at current, he's not. You could argue that search volume is a non-indicator because soccer/football is more popular than Taylor Swift in countries that use a non-Latin alphabet... but also, the Eras Tour documentary broke box office records in China, a country with the second-highest population in the world, where soccer isn't even in the top three sports; Taylor Swift is the second-most listened to non-Chinese solo musician, nearly tying with the most popular solo artist by streaming numbers, and she's third-most popular artist overall (first place is a group). Meanwhile, India is almost definitely more familiar with Ronaldo, even though soccer is only the fifth-most popular sport, because Taylor is really far down their list of popular acts from outside of India (according to numbers from Gaana, their streaming service).

So... who knows? Ronaldo is very known in countries where soccer is important, but there are countries other than the US where it's just not as big of a deal as we think. So maybe Taylor is more of a household name at this point.

They named an economic phenomenon after her, so I feel like that's worth considering.