#fucking love yinzers

[mariacallous]

[yeah--maybe]

I love when I can have my windows open and I get to hear my neighbors throughout their day.

Someone on the street is doing some kind of work that requires a saw. So I can hear that. (I didn't enjoy it at 8 am on Sunday morning but besides that idc.)

But right now it sounds like someone didn't measure twice and cut once. Cause I just heard "ah fuck, I don't (unintelligible yinzer ramble)".

Something about the yinzer accent just seals the deal for me.

[bouncyballextraordinaire]

poll because im curious and it came up at my last family gathering

[moro-nokimi]

rewatch part 1

hirogaru yami no naka kawashiatta kakumei no chigiri aishita yue ni mebaeta aku no hanaaaaaaaa

MATSUDA

oh god this reminds me of the really fucked up time when i was thirteen and i was thirsting tm over matsuda so i screenshotted the opening + put a filter over it and was showing my teacher a photo and he swiped and screamed when he saw the anime man

now THIS is ambience

yikes, that headdress

YIKES, EYES

THIS is worldbuilding

god i love brad swaile

of COURSE it’s a religious thing from the Bible

at this point i’m just hearing setsuna f seiei

haha, literally rotting

why his hand so large

oh that sound effect immediately kicked up my rage response. that hasn’t happened in a long time

okay you mean to tell me that no one saw the fucking black notebook that said death note on it? they just fucking walk past it?

nice jumpscare

just use they/them ohba u fucking transphobe

hehe boy go flop

hey what the fuck i just realized that we’re the same age

“what if there was a notebook that killed people if you wrote their name and remembered their face would that be fucked up or what”

THE DRAMATICS. THE MENTAL GYMNASTICS. this tells you so much about this campy motherfucker.

VINCENT TONG?

when do we get to see the mans koki tanakabara?!? i miss him. too bad he shows up ten episodes later. he’s so cool

SAFFRON HENDERSON? god she’s so different sounding than in black lagoon but that show is a trainwreck. but it ALSO has brad swaile. at least he doesn’t say fuck like three times in five minutes within death note

ohhh now we’re talking. the sociopolitics

blah blah blah blah blah dude chillax about your mom. my parents forgot me at school once, u’ll survive if she picks u up late

GROSS

OH NO

NO FUCK

SHIT

YIKES

CREEPYYYYYY

HE JUST WALKS AWAY

EW EW EW

YIKES

oh the heartbeat

AAAAAAAAAAAA

this is almost as bad as the yuki arc in black lagoon s2 when she gets kidnapped by those mob dudes

oh god that voice acting. top notch on the fear factor. got some full body chills going on

EYES AGAIN

i love the sheer eldritchness of ryuk those days

THE AESTHETIC

he looks so completely dead behind the eyes. no wonder, though, bc sachiko doesn’t even listen to him or ask ab his day beyond the test results. sad :(

BRING HIM SOME FRUUUUUIT

jesus that’s a lot of names

oh here we see some of the laugh already! love the creepy

where is light as a burrito blanket! bitch

light, blatantly lying,

lyin yagami

i do genuinely love brad swaile

LOL

EAUGH

oh love the foreshadowing.

oh shit.

YIKES

i interrupted my joke ab catholicism to marvel at the creepiness of brian drummond as ryuk

ryuk is standing like a sim

THE CUTS SEND HELP

SHOTS FIREEEEED

that you’re a little cop, piglet?

LIGHT KILLED EL CHAPO?

DID HE?

he wants to be a coooooop omfg i forgot how obnoxious the prose is

oh light’s psyche tells you so much

bitch the world isn’t a fruit chill the fuck out

OH SHADES OF HIS SPEECH IN 37

OH THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY

the dramatics. the narm.

oh gross i forgot about the montage of people dying

ow

wait

“less guilty but still make trouble for others” uhh??? eugenics? 

how can anyone think he’s doing good

lightbun as he fluffs himself up about his brain and being god

and here we go. slippy slope, grabbing a sled, etc

yes i said slippy. i’m a yinzer

I WANNA HEAR ALUMINA

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

A BANGER

i love the visuals

that pacing... i felt like it was five minutes

[dirtyhands]

oof, i hate my online classes already. i didn’t want this, but i can’t stop moving my life forward in the ways i can just cos the world is in limbo. and i’m lucky that things are not entirely on pause for me. i’ve also taken these classes like three times each in my schooling with no “college” credit. i thought it would be fine. but fuck. my english class graded us on doing an introduction and graded us on responding to TWO other introductions. it feels stupid and petty and not a single person has responded to everyones, but they’ve done more than two. I don’t understand this but I am mad enough that I think I will respond on every single persons. I would never talk to everyone in my classes, but I do like talking to people. but this feels weird. So I’ll just to make a point to myself. Moms back in school have found each other. Doesn’t matter if they’re 44 or 24. Nursing students have also found each other (my group, kind of.) The Pittsburghers (yinzers) have found each other. I LOVE and so much appreciate community college but fuck if it isn’t weird sometimes. I don’t even like social apps and the gaming community, cos I just want to be left alone. and while I learn a lot from the internet and deeply appreciate for what it is at its core, online paid classes are not my thing. I’d rather be there in person. All my relunctancy is not made better by a teacher requiring us to talk to each other for a grade. I just want to do my work. As someone who desires community and is willing to do anything for it, this feels forced and stupid. help. i hate this. talk to me, internet friends. i’m not averse to the internet, but just don’t like this aspect of it. i’m probably going to delete this cos i have been stewing in it for days, and still cant find a nicer way to articulate my feelings for this. just need to vent for minute. but i’ve been avoiding larger parts of social media for a reason and really hate that it’s infiltrating my out of pocket paid for education. 

[musicprincess655]

Hey Itsuki,

You didn’t respond last time, and I kind of hope it’s just because I didn’t take it that seriously and not because you’ve already blocked me. So I’m trying again, and this time, I’ll do it properly.

I’m sorry. I should’ve said that to you a long time ago. I’m sorry I hid things from you for so long. I wish I could say I don’t know why I did it, but I do. I was scared I was going to lose you. Kind of stupid, right? I lost you anyway.

So, yeah. I’m sorry. I fucked up, and you deserved much better.

Mei

Mei stared at his email in disappointment. He’d sent his message days ago, and there was no response. No indication that Itsuki had read it at all.

So he really had been blocked, then.

Still, Mei had expected this from the start. He’d hoped for better, but this was exactly what he’d thought would happen. It didn’t mean he had to change his plans. He still had things to say to Itsuki, after all, even if Itsuki would never see them.

He opened a new message.

Dear Itsuki,

I guess this is it, huh? You’re not listening. I didn’t really think you would. So I’m just going to say whatever I want. I’d say tell me to stop if you don’t like it, but you won’t, will you?

You never did, now that I think about it. You pushed me back on the field, but I don’t remember you ever telling me no when we were together. Is that just because you were okay with everything? Did you feel like you couldn’t? If that’s true, I guess that’s something else I have to apologize for. I know I have a lot of things to apologize for. Give me time. I’ll get to them. I still have my own pride, though.

You’ve never been to America, have you? You hadn’t when I knew you last, but maybe you went after I left. I’m almost sure you’ve never been to Pittsburgh, though. How do I describe Pittsburgh to you? It rains all the time, for one. Like, seriously, all the time. I don’t know how the rivers don’t flood the city from all the rain (spoiler alert: sometimes they do). It’s louder here than it is in Japan, but I think that’s true of just about any American city. The accent isn’t quite what I expected. I guess the accent here isn’t in movies a lot. They call it the “yinzer” accent. Apparently you can say “yinz” to mean a group of people. I’m determined not to pick that one up.

Americans are friendly. I was warned about that coming in. Some people suck because they hear my accent or see my face and that means I’m not one of them, but most people are really nice. I think I fit in here. I can be as childish as I want in public and no one tells me to stop. People just ignore it and keep going. I’m definitely not the weirdest thing they’ve seen today. So take that! I never did have to grow up.

Write back soon :p

Mei

Mei didn’t have long to dwell on the emails, though. It was time to go back to practice.

He walked onto the field to catcalls of traitor! and betrayal! and felt a grin stretch across his face. Being back on his home field felt a little like holding court, and the insults and jeers were friendly, welcoming. It had taken Mei a while to get used to the idea that Americans loved insulting their friends, and to learn to distinguish when it was friendly and when it was serious.

With all the grins coming at him, with the arm around his shoulders and the hands slapping his back, this couldn’t be anything but friendly.

“You son of a bitch, you stole the medal from us!” Stallings complained with his arm around Mei’s shoulders. “Don’t you have any sense of loyalty?”

“Obviously I just wanted to throw you specifically under the bus,” Mei shot back. Stallings laughed, moving Mei’s whole body with the force of it.

“You’re so hard on your catchers. I hope you gave those Japanese players a hard time,” he said. “They might have won the medal, but they had to put up with your bitch ass for months.”

“I am a delight,” Mei said.

“Come on, be nicer to Narumiya,” Vázquez cut in. “It’s no fun being main pitcher if I didn’t beat him fair and square for it.”

“Speaking of which, I’ll be taking that mound back now, please,” Mei said.

“Careful, you’ll let that gold medal go to your head,” Vázquez warned with a fond smile.

“It’s gone to my head the right amount.”

“Alright, alright.” The pitching coach had come over to break them up. “Everyone quit harassing Narumiya. We still have practice.”

Mei ran himself ragged trying to catch back up to everyone else. He’d been playing at a high level in Japan, but it wasn’t the same as being on this team, and the season was in full swing. No one was waiting for him, and he wouldn’t make them.

He was so exhausted when he got home that he didn’t even check for a reply he knew wouldn’t be there.

Dear Itsuki,

For the record, this feels a lot like a diary. I’m writing to someone who never reads the letters. Maybe I should just invest in a journal and save us both the storage in our inboxes. But I don’t think I’m going to do that.

I’m really trying to enjoy the last of the sun here. Summers aren’t all that different. It’s not until the autumn that the rain starts and then it doesn’t stop until summer comes back. Well, it stops for the snow, but that doesn’t count.

Did you ever learn how to drive? I did. You really can’t live in America without driving. Public transit sucks, and most places are hard to walk to. A lot of neighborhoods don’t even have sidewalks.

I can’t imagine you like driving all that much, if you ever did learn. You were never that good at sitting still. I remember you on the bus to games, all keyed up and restless, and I remember the only way you made it through the ride home was because you were asleep. I love driving, though. I love being able to get in a car and go anywhere, no strings attached. Sometimes just the knowledge that I have the power to get up and go is what makes me stay. Like I have an emergency brake or something.

Sometimes I do just get in the car and start going, though. I’ve found some cool stuff that way. America is a big place, and no one person can ever see all of it, but the only way to try is by driving. I wish I could show you sometime.

Mei

They got knocked out of post season play early. It wasn’t all that surprising. They built their team on the backs of Mei and a few other young players. Remove one, and the entire team shakes. At least they made it to bracket play at all, or so they told themselves.

The entire team crammed into a bar to drink more than is reasonable, and Mei couldn’t help feeling a weird kind of parallel. He’d drunk himself silly after winning a gold medal at the Olympics, but here he was after a loss, nursing a beer. He was disappointed by the loss, but he was already planning for next year, for how they could come back. This was fixable.

A woman came up to flirt with him, and Mei just couldn’t feel any interest in taking her home. Now that he knew exactly what kind of wound he’d been patching with the band aid of one night stands, he couldn’t go back to using them to get out of this. It just didn’t seem worth the effort.

He still left the bar more drunk than he’d been in weeks, and instead of drunk calling his ex, he drunk emailed an ex that wouldn’t be listening anyway.

Dear Itsuki,

Since you’re not listening anyway, I’m allowed to say this: I still care about you. A lot. And maybe that’s not fair, because I’m the one that ruined everything, but it’s still the truth. I have to love a memory, though, because I don’t actually know who you are anymore. That might be my biggest regret. I don’t get to know the adult you grew into. I just have to love the teenager you used to be. Maybe you’re a really cool adult. Maybe you suck. I don’t get to know, though, and I have no one to blame but myself.

We lost in the playoffs. I bet you can see that without me telling you. Maybe you don’t follow American baseball at all, though. So. We lost.

Mei

Mei sighed as his phone gave him another low storage warning. He knew he should delete some of his sent emails, but instead, he’d been making sure none of them got deleted. It had been months without a word from Itsuki, and it was stupid to hold onto them, but they weren’t just for Itsuki. They were for him too, and he wanted them.

Knowing that Itsuki wasn’t reading them had been a freeing experience, in a way. Mei didn’t have to perform for anyone, and he wasn’t. Slowly, he’d let his walls of pride come down until he was spilling his guts into an email server, and it helped. A little. He was more honest with himself now, and even if it didn’t hurt less, maybe it would over time. Maybe this was a necessary pain.

Dear Itsuki,

I think what I miss most is your friendship. I miss sitting around doing homework together. I miss playing that idol game you used to like so much. I miss being on the same team as you, and being in a battery with you. I miss all the stuff we had before I was ever interested in kissing you.

Is that stupid? I’m all heartbroken over you, and what I want back the most isn’t a relationship. Although, to be fair, apparently everyone’s into recognizing platonic friendships are as important as romantic relationships now, so maybe it’s not all that stupid.

You were one of my best friends. Maybe my best friend. Even if I never get your love back, I wish I could have that back. It meant the most to me. You were important to me. I never told you that outright, and I wish I had. Even if you’d never wanted to kiss me or anything else, you still would’ve been important to me. I regret breaking that the most.

I miss you.

Mei

That was the hardest thing to admit, because he had to admit it to himself. He missed Itsuki. He missed him like a limb. He missed the effortless battery they’d had, the way Itsuki couldn’t keep his hands still on the bus, the way he’d argue with a senpai even while he respected authority to a ridiculous degree. Mei had loved him, and maybe still did, but the most important part of Itsuki, to Mei, had always been their friendship.

Mei strategically deleted other emails in his inbox to make room for his archive. He wasn’t giving up all these letters to Itsuki, not now, and maybe not ever. Maybe someday this wound he’d torn back open would be healed for real, and then he could delete these and finally let Itsuki go. But for now, he was still trying to stitch himself back together, and he was trying to do it the right way this time. All he could do was hope that it would be worth it, in the end, that knowing and healing would be better than the willful ignorance he’d forced himself into for eight years.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Mei hoped it would heal this one.

[walkergoesbardown]

Plotting for Pittsburgh

After earning entry into an entity of extra learning,

It’s time to take all the totes and trunks and tuck them in the truck,

And traverse across territories taken by teens and twenty somethings trying to tutor themselves on telecommunications, turf grass science and technical theater.

Here’s a helpful hint,

Happy herbivores head to Harrisburg when harboring a hangry head and hostility.

After an accumulation of accomplished hours , the Amish are around, so always act aware and affable.

After another accumulation allows an appropriate arrival time in the avowed apex of Appalachia,

Pittsburgh is the place for Perks of Being a Wallflower and pupils pressed in publications and paperbacks.

Philadelphia finds itself again as a future foray.

Anticipation awaits a long awaited amble across the Allegheny via the Andy Warhol.

And a cross back on the Clemente connecting with Crosby loving cretins casually carrying cookies and Clark Bars

Failed feltwork projects finished by five year olds make for feeble franchise figureheads; go Flyers!

Here lies a here for now home for hockey, hitting the hardcovers, happiness, healing horror stories handed to me by the holy, and hopefully a Harley Davidson.

My proverbial Pitt Panther patronus is protection from the March Madness mindfuck of mourning mistakes

At the same hour, all the yaks in the yard couldn’t yank me into Yinzer yellow

Yeet me off a yellow bridge instead.

Khalifa can kick rocks.

This city slings me back to the cinema when Stewart’s sweetheart stayed behind sliding doors,

Until the split second Sappho said that swearing straightness was stupid and superfluous.

Subsequently, a secure situation with a sweetheart so far from South Philly sounds seriously substandard.

Fools foraying in film script fantasies face a fate of finding failure.

Fuck that.

Feelings will find fresh air in Fishtown far enough from the frivolous foolishness five hours away

[dropthosegloves]

"They see me rollin, they hatin" - Crosby, probably.

I truly love and appreciate that he doesn’t give a single fuck. I also envy that he has a squad of yinzers like me that would do his bidding and probably die for him. 

[tkuhnhackl]

Do multiples of 5 or perish

wow guess i’ll die then (jk my body’s already trying its best to kill me, so I guess I might as well do these while I wait for my sinuses to explode)

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile?

my dog because flora’s my baby and i love and miss her a lot even if she’s a bitch to literally everyone except me10. are you good at hiding your feelings?

this is pretty much the only talent i have; I’m great at pretending that everything is absolutely fine when it’s very much not (people are genuinely surprised when they find out that I have anxiety and depression bc I’m an expert at hiding it so that I don’t have to answer questions). I’m also great at acting like I like people when internally I’m screaming and want to escape their company

15. personality description

a fucking idiot who lives in a constant state of stress, mom friend, delays all personal things for ‘a later time’ which is yet to come, doesn’t like strangers and yet weirdly friendly towards people (maybe it’s a pittsburgh/midwest thing, idk), talks about sports 24/7 and in rare moments when i’m not talking about sports i’m talking politics, cooks and bakes to make up for my lack of personality and to bribe people into liking me, doesn’t give a fuck and yet gives too many fucks, likes to travel alone (there are exactly two people in the entire world that i will travel with but that’s it), runs away to the woods and climbs a tree to escape the real world, a nerd who reads books on marine biology/agriculture/military history/art for fun (apart from the art books I’m already reading for classes)

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?

Girl by Maren Morris because it came out yesterday and I’m in love (with her and the song)

25. role model

I already answered this!

30. favourite tv show(s)

Parks and Rec, Brooklyn 99, Secret Life of the Zoo, Hunted, The Mash Report, Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, The Good Place, Stranger Things, Museum Mysteries, Secrets of the Museum

35. favourite subject

I guess I should say art history since I’m literally going to grad school for it?? But I was that kid that loved literally every subject in school (except physics because the idea that all the equations you learn are only valid if its in a vacuum is stupid and not realistic for anything in the real world, don’t @ me physics people), but I always had a soft spot for social studies/science/history

40. favourite memory

hmmm I have a few that would compete for top spot, but I guess one that always makes me happy is when I was in the Finger Lakes region of NY and was walking through a field in one of the state parks looking for sandhill cranes, and this butterfly with a broken wing came and landed on my hand and just chilled with me for a while

45. how you found out about your idol

I’m realizing that I’m not actually sure I have an idol???? Like there are people I admire, look up to, and follow but no one living that I really idolize anymore. I guess if we’re talking living or dead, then the one person I’ve truly idolized since childhood is Roberto Clemente; I found out about him when we moved to Pittsburgh in 2001 and went to see the Pirates play (I think it was on Clemente Day? or they were just giving out Clemente shirts/bobbleheads/something, I was in 2nd grade, my memory is hazy); from there, I just sort of became obsessed with him and wanted to find out as much as I could and, even now, my room back home has a ton of Roberto Clemente bobbleheads and posters and framed pictures (thinking about this question made me realize how many now-retired (sometimes now dead) baseball players I idolized as a child and still do idolize to a point today???)

50. favourite picture of your idol

(partially because it has two other people that I grew up admiring, and also because I have a framed print of this at the bottom that has a small description and reminds us that, for as much as we yinzers love Clemente today, he wasn’t all that popular when he started out and was notoriously underpaid)

55. tumblr friends

There are a lot of y’all that I love dearly and I’d tag all of you but I don’t want to forget anyone. But please know that if you’ve ever talked to me, I love you and consider you a friend

60. ask me anything you want

Well since you didn’t ask me a question, I’ll provide a random fact: I got second place in a national German competition in high school (sponsored by a German institution) where the top finishers won a trip to Germany but I wasn’t allowed to claim my prize because I had been there before and I’m still bitter about this

[curmudgery]

Iron City Light

#4 Nittany Lions to Host Pitt Panthers The main title of this post is the name of a detestable brew that is a favorite of Pitt Panthers fans: Iron City Light. Known by the Pittsburgh locals (aka “yinzers”) as IC Light, it inspires me to repeat an old riddle: Q: Why is IC Light like making love in a canoe? A: They’re both fucking close to water! (Well, given the impending storm and a possible…