#flights to Wellington

[the-technicolor-yawn]

put some respect on jemaine clement’s name for the love of god

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

this specific flavor of silly dynamic duos that own my soul 💖

[jesuschristt-thatsaprettyface]

i don’t understand why people say “i could never watch that show because of the second hand embarrassment”. bestie i am choosing shows for the secondhand embarrassment ok it makes me feel alive.

[standupcomedyhistorian]

Hey, everyone!

Just one more day left for New Zealand Comedy Month, which means I have one final (spooky!) post—What We Do in the Shadows and its spinoffs! 🧛‍♂️

I will be delving into the short film from 2005, the movie from 2014, and the two shows that resulted from the acclaimed vampire film.

The identically titled FX show, featuring Matt Berry and the first female lead vampire in the Jemaine/Taika universe: Nadja!

The program also has one of the best characters EVER imo, the energy vampire Colin Robinson.

And, of course, the wonderfully weird and sweet Wellington Paranormal, which is based on the two easily hypnotized cops from the movie.

The best character on that show is the hilarious Sergeant Maaka who makes fake button noises before “entering” into his secret paranormal room haha

I hope you enjoy the article, which will be available tomorrow morning, and keep it here for more comedy fun! ✌🏼🐔

[urineedward]

AUTISM AUTISM AUTISM AUTISM AUTISM SECOND PART OF THE JEMAINE CLEMENT WELLINGTON PARANORMAL PODCAST INTERVIEW CAME OUT AUTISM AUTISM AUTISM CROCHET BLANKET FROM FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS MENTIONED AT ONLY 10 MINUTES IN AUTISM AUTISM AUTISM

[youmagnificentbeast]

if i had a dollar for every instance of jemaine doing a robot voice i'd have three dollars, which is not much, but it's funny it happened thrice

[kingsofgaytham]

i have rewatched ofmd and binged wwdits (first watch, loved it) right after...

is it bbc ghosts time now? flight of the conchords? wellington paranormal? reservation dogs? the mandalorian? so many choices

[nfcomics]

FLASH no.794 • (ONE-MINUTE WAR) • cover art • Taurin Clarke [Mar 7th 2023]

The Fraction is moments away from victory, but they forgot about one thing…an almost-10-year-old with red hair and the power to turn things around.

Finally, Irey West has found her new superhero name, and she intends to use it while saving the Flash Family from certain doom!

(W) Jeremy Adams (A) Roger Cruz, Wellington Dias (CA) Taurin Clarke

[dykethang]

i am being soooo sane about this btw (i'm losing my mind)

[hidden-highlands]

personal, negative .

my grandfather's in hospital for unidentifiable reasons atm and i'm visiting my family and it's a terribly difficult thing to be living amongst.

all his tests have come back clear, no one can find anything physically wrong with him other than the fact that his lucidity is tenuous at best and getting worse by the day. he's 87 and never recovered from the death of my grandmother; it's coming up on three years and in all honestly we never expected him to survive this long after she died. i wholeheartedly believe that it's just his will to live disappearing on him. he doesn't want to be here, and he's doing his best to go be with my grandmother.

when my nan died, it was from terminal cancer; we watched her slip away from us over the course of three long, painful months in which her body was hanging on but her mind was long gone, and in so many ways it's happening again with my grandfather. but in some ways it's harder this time around, because even though he's not dying it feels like he is. we're all living on this tentative knife-edge, making plans for his future that might very well be upended tomorrow, and all the while it's resurrecting the agony we lived through with nan. even though he's here he's not here, not anymore, and it's hard seeing him struggle to understand what's going on, it's hard seeing the briefest flashes of the vitality and the cheeky spark he once had in the moments when he is lucid, it's hard seeing my dad and my aunt -- both incredibly staunch people -- struggle to hold it together. tonight my dad said to my mum "i love my dad dearly, and it'll devastate me when he does go, but it's time. he needs to be with mum."

i've said it all along: pa died when nan did. while i'm writing this i'm looking up at the family photos of us all from my dad's 50th, my university graduation -- both less than a year before nan got sick. and seeing these photos every single day, while we're waiting on updates from my aunt and uncle, while i hesitate to ask how pa was when dad visits him after work, while my dad repeats "just take it one day at a time" more for his sake than anyone else's is devastating. i miss them. i don't want to be doing this again. i don't want to watch the way my dad and my aunt lean on each other and look at my sister crying beside me and think of the day we'll have to do this for our own parents.

and it's the weirdest dichotomy because... the whole family's here to celebrate my sister's birthday. we're going on fun trips together and having celebratory meals out and absolutely tanking at the local pub quiz and then we come home and hear my aunt frantic down the phone because she was at the hospital with pa until one in the morning, we're fighting back tears at his bedside, we're sobbing as we clear out what remains of my grandparents' house. idk man. shit sucks.

[mrsgurgle]

Sunrise on my descent into Auckland

[walkinginlothlorien]

Nearly bought Stray Kids soundcheck tickets for myself for the second Melbourne date but I didn't because I already have tickets for one day, even if they're not soundcheck. This is how you don't frigging gatekeep a concert we've all been waiting so long for.

[meazalykov]

she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or. 

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona. 

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first. 

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look. 

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away. 

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine. 

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team. 

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers. 

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I. 

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward? 

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside. 

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too. 

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates. 

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside. 

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout. 

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong. 

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I. 

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy. 

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated. 

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong? 

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking. 

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16. 

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly. 

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other. 

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking. 

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027. 

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals. 

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final! 

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover. 

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!”  (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed. 

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16. 

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again. 

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear. 

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms. 

<3

[standupcomedyhistorian]

Hi, everyone! Happy October! 🎃🍁

First, I just wanted to share my FAVORITE spooky season item ever:

"Witch Better Have My Candy"

(cue Homer Simpson: It works on so many levels!)

Anyway, I am sad Kate Berlant Month has ended (I am still working on the list of articles and primer), but I have a whole new theme this month—New Zealand Comedy!

Yes, I will be examining the works of one of my favorite comedy groups, Flight of the Conchords, as well as more recent comedy pieces like those from Jemaine Clement's friendship with Taika Waititi (who directed a number of episodes of their HYSTERICAL tv show), which spawned multiple paranormal spinoffs.

Yes, that's right—2 Oscar winners in one HBO show (Bret and Taika)!

And, of course, Our Flag Means Death (which features both Taika and FOTC regular Rhys Darby). Season 2 starts October 5th on Max!

I hope you enjoy learning more about Kiwi comedy, and stay tuned for more spooky fun! 🎃

[eddy25960]

Standing nude portraits of Mr. E. H. Garland, photographed by S P Andrew Ltd of Wellington in 1916.

Edgar Henry Garland (1895, Wellington, New Zealand - 4 May 1973), New Zealand soldier in World War I. He trained at the New Zealand Flying School at Kohimarama, Auckland in 1916. He later made twenty-four flights over the German lines before being shot down. He made a forced landing in Ostend on 22 August 1917 and was interned at the infamous Holzminden prisoner-of-war camp, a camp reserved for British and British Empire officers.  From Holzminden, he participated in the largest POW escape of the war - the first “Great Escape” - in July of 1918; twenty-nine officers escaped, but only ten made it out of Germany and, eventually, to Britain. Flight-Lieutenant Garland was recaptured but went on to make a total of eight escape attempts; it appears he was regarded by the German War Office as one of the most cunning - and slippery - of the British officers. And at the end of the war his exploits were much written about, earning him the nickname “The Elusive Garland”.