#'scuze me weeps

[stellamancer]

we're breaking the ban again, but listen you cannot tell me you wrote this for my birthday and expect me to let it sit in my drafts and wait til i'm done with my halloween fic to read it!!

liking hope to a disease truly always hits. LMAO. but aughhhh. reader making a promise to yuji… AND FOR STREET FOOD…. i love street food… we don't really have street food culture in the states at least not in the city where i live (which is kind of a damn shame). [continues to blab on about food for twenty minutes]

OKONOMIYAKI… MY LOVE MY FAVORITE….

HEHEHE…. gojo wanting to kiss…. yes… yes excellent…

yuji is just so cute omg. i'm adopting him. taking him home. shh-ing him because i know what's happening in the anime next week.

man… reader told gojo not to say it and he did… twice…. little brat… i'm gonna strangle him!!! i say this but i am smiling as i type HAHAHA

THE HAND ON THE BACK. MY EYES ARE NYOOMING. SUBTLETIES INDEED. your favorite heheheh . :3c

TAIYAKI….. i like the custard ones hehee… there's a place here that has nutella and taro fillings too… drool.. tasty…

heheheh…. watching gojo simmer in jealousy over semi-thirdwheeling this food tour is… heehehehehe i am kicking my lil niku feet.

OH I SEE. I SEE I SEE. story framing!! EVERYTHING MAKES EXTRA SENSE NOW HAHAH…. i was womdering why reader seemed so daazed at the beginning and it's because they were about to slip into a food coma!! i totatlly get that feel…

READER ASKING TO BE FED!!! AAAAAAA AND IT'S ENOUGH TO BASICALLY MAKE HIM FORGET ALL OF THE JEALOUSY HE WAS FEELING OVER YUJIIIII HE'S SUCH A… OMGGGG

Nose kiss…. nose kisses are so very col. I think I have said this before, in fact i'm sure i have….

ah yes…. thematic book ends my beloved…!!!

WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND.

MY.

MY.

MY LOVE FOR FOOD?!?!!??!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH SEL!!!!!!!!!! SEL SEL SEL I'M CRYING I'M WEEPING I'M AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SNIFFLING WAILING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

i really loved this. naturally you did definitely appeal to my love of food... and OSAKA.. weeps i love osaka so much... it really was so cute. reader and yuji's osaka food tour funded by gojo LMAOOO. actually he probably didn't fund too much, maybe. but poor baby... wanting reader's attention so much only to have it stolen by yuji's infectious cuteness.... he got a little smoochie in the end!! it was worth it!! probably!! definitely!! maybe he should consider sharing more of the daifuku and reader and him can feed each other (while maybe yuji is sleeping in his own food coma hahahaha).

(i wonder if my love of jealous gojo has also spread to you hehehe.... it's just so cute to watch him simmer hahaha...)

it was so NICE seeing a nice warm-ish lighthearted bit of col hehe. I MEAN I THINK I'VE SAID THAT BEFORE TOO AHAHAHA. i still need to read the other jealous gojo col fic... soon... SOON... weeps

ANYWAY SEL I LOVE YOUUUUU. i should really be thanking you!! for writing this!! even though i know you wanna finish col4!!! thank you for thinking of me while you were writing it!! for always listening to me!! even when i'm being crochety and bitter, even when i'm crying about how much i miss stupid gojo aaaaaaaa. i'm gonna go weep into my hands now aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

₊˚⊹。look my way, you’re what i crave | gojo satoru

wc: 2.6k

summary: you and gojo made a promise to yuuji.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns used, many food descriptions, a little bit of (playful) jealousy, pouty gojo, yuuji calls reader sensei.

a/n: a small extra scene that takes place some time between col 2.5 and col 3! not a food expert nor am i japanese, so food descriptions are just based off first-hand experience and some research i’ve managed to do! there are some switches in povs (gojo-reader-gojo) but i tried to keep it as distinct as possible! this is also my birthday gift for you, niku @stellamancer!! thank you for sharing this idea with me and for loving the col couple as much as i do!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours) <- you are here -> 03. so this is what it means to be in love + (extended scene) too good to be mine

‘Losing’ isn’t a word in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

If it is, it’s usually addressed to the other party. 

He’s been a winner ever since he was born, two blue eyes and an extra four hidden, holding power that manifests itself only once every few centuries. Some argue that he was born for that reason: to win, without doubt, incontestably. 

And he supposes, most of it is true—which is why he can’t believe the loss he’s feeling right now, standing in front of the Daifuku stall across from you. 

Never in his entire life did Gojo ever anticipate himself losing to anything. But with the way you’d casually nodded off, signaled so nonchalantly that you’d follow him but clearly didn’t—it has his head turning, finding you midbite a singular, shared stick of Yakitori.

He thinks he might have just experienced his first loss. 

And the victor is none other than Itadori Yuuji. 

.

You made a promise to Yuuji. 

Back when he was still up for execution by virtue of being Sukuna’s vessel, you’d laid your confidence in Gojo. 

“Sensei, do you really think it’s possible?” he asks, voice hesitant but eyes tinged with hope. You were discussing the ways his execution could go down—if it even will go down. 

Shoko’s always pointed out that the most dangerous thing about you is hope, and how you hold onto it so deeply that you pass it onto others like a disease, spreading it to seep into skin and bones.

Gojo calls it your hidden technique, the trump card you pull out when everyone’s knocked down, spirits low. It’s what sets you apart, he thinks, how you’re able to survive in a world that serves as an antithesis to the values you hold. 

“If Satoru said to leave it up to him, he’ll find a way,” you answer immediately, like you’ve known it all this time, experienced it first-hand—a memory. Then you add, an affirmation that sounds so close to fact, it reassures him, “he always does.” 

“Let’s go to Osaka and eat all the street food when everything’s done.”  

You made a promise to Yuuji, and here you are now, with Gojo, keeping it. 

The streets of Osaka are bustling, crowded pretty much any time of the year—carts of all sorts of street food lined up with restaurants hidden in every corner. Neon banners and LED signs light up overhead, a twinkling food heaven reflected in Yuuji’s eyes. 

It must be his first time here, you surmise, because he’s looking at every food stall like he’s ready to devour. You glance at Gojo, hands tucked in his pockets with his blindfold sitting snugly on his face. His presence is bright, blending in with the light, and he turns his head to you slightly, flashing you a small smile. 

You tell yourself the warmth you feel is because of the heat radiating from all the vendors’ stoves. 

“Sensei, what do you want to try first?” Yuuji interrupts your train of thought, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean to. He’s just excited, and his energy has always been infectious, spreading to both Gojo and you. 

Gojo isn’t too big a fan of savory things, so you know you’re going to end up having to choose. You take a look around you to survey each stall, before turning back to Yuuji with a plan on how exactly you’re going to eat and conquer. 

.

Gojo watches—the way you zig-zag across the street, following Yuuji as he walks up to each vendor. It’s amusing and endearing, seeing you being just as, if not more, enthralled at all the savory options in front of you. 

Between the two of you, he’s always had the sweet tooth, so it tickles something in him that even when you don’t, you still sandwich-ed your game plan with alternating savory-sweet-savory food.

Yuuji’s first pick is of course, Okonomiyaki, an iconic must-have in Osaka. He asks for one first, but you insist on two, knowing that the boy is more than capable of finishing one on his own. On the frying sheet lie columns of the pancakes, all made up of a simple flour, eggs, and cabbage mix, fried and coated in flavors bursting of sweet, savory, and smoky. The lady vendor is generous with the toppings and sauce she pours over it, packing the two pancakes in separate plastic containers before handing one to you and the other to Yuuji.

You turn back to find Gojo a few steps behind you, so you beckon him closer.

“Let’s share,” you whisper, once he sidles up next to you. The plastic crinkles in your hand as you try to slice a piece. He can hear Yuuji’s muffled ‘whoah’ from the side. 

You blow on the slice, lips shaped into a small ‘o’—and he doesn’t want to stare, not with Yuuji right there; neither of you have made anything official yet. 

But this is really tempting him to kiss you. 

He doesn’t know if you can tell—any hint of his desire concealed by his blindfold, but you shove the slice right to his lips. And, though it isn’t graceful at all, with the sauce probably smeared all over his mouth, it’s a good distraction from how much he wants you instead of the food right now. 

The texture of the Okonomiyaki hits right every time, the crunchy and creamy combination providing a great contrast that complements how sweet and savory it is. The bite you take after his has your expression mirroring Yuuji’s, and he takes out his phone to start taking pictures. 

“Gowo-shunsheh! Tek a shulfeh!” Yuuji shouts, mouth still full as he lifts his fingers up into a peace sign. You grin, ear-to-ear, evidence of your happy tummy; he wants to pinch your cheeks. 

“Okay, copy!” he raises his phone up at an angle, fingers hovering over the volume button as he grips the edges, “ready! 1…2…3… say Okonomiyaki!” 

Only Yuuji shouts it, and when Gojo reviews the photo, you’re halfway through a fallen smile—disbelief that he said something that cringe in his typical, loud, Gojo fashion too. 

“Hey!” he points out, zooming into your face in the photo, “Again! You’re not smiling!” 

You shoot him a look. 

“We can try it with a .5 this time, the kids love doing it these days.” he suggests, flipping the phone and gathering you and Yuuji to come closer. 

He takes two photos: one with flash and one without, and the moment he counts down, you mumble right by his ear to please not say Okonomiyaki when you have to smile—he chuckles. 

And he says it again. Both times. 

You expected no less, but at least you tried. 

“You should be our human tripod next time,” you tell him, letting Yuuji go ahead. 

The photos look good, with you tiptoeing as you balance a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, Yuuji at the back with his hands raised along with the empty plastic that used to house his Okonomiyaki.

“Knew you were just using me,” he pouts, hand reaching behind to rest at your lower back. 

It’s been the subtleties with him this trip, tonight especially. 

“Yep,” you play along, smiling at him oh-so-sweetly, “I knew those freakishly long arms were good for something.” 

Before he can retort with something cheesy, along the lines of: ‘to hold you’ or ‘to hug you in your sleep’, you move away, catching up to Yuuji. 

Your pick, for Gojo, is Taiyaki. It’s not his favorite thing to eat, but it’s sweet, and is still a good, nostalgic dessert, you’d like to think. Batter is poured all over the fish molds before being filled with the red bean filling. Then, after a few minutes of waiting, it pops out perfectly, ready to be eaten by the three of you. You ask for two again, only because this time, you know Gojo can finish one whole. 

But when his eyes land on the Taiyaki you’re taking a bite from and he realizes very quickly that it isn’t his, he feels a pinch. 

The crunchy outside and soft, full inside of the Taiyaki is enough to make him shrug off this feeling. 

As the food trip goes on, you end up in many more stalls—

—a Takoyaki one, where Yuuji’s ‘ooo’s’ and ‘aaa’s’ are heard every time the balls are flipped and formed. The cooking on it is perfect, the octopus sitting just right with enough bite as flavors of soy and Worcestershire come through in its glaze. Gojo only eats one from the set of six that you ordered, and he wishes he just waited, because now Yuuji is eating half of the last one you couldn't finish. 

—a Kushikatsu one, deep fried beef and vegetables coated in crispy, crunchy breadcrumbs and dipped in Tonkatsu sauce. Yuuji ends up finishing three whole sticks, while you manage to eat one. It’s an animated conversation between the two of you that Gojo can’t seem to insert himself into. A part of him feels a little pathetic now, tailing you both like a dog, but he just wants a little bit more of your attention. 

—a Soba shop (not so much a stall) that serves the most amazing Cold Soba he definitely isn’t missing out on. Yuuji is practically buzzing, excited for anything noodles; it’s the main reason you’d suggested Osaka in the first place. He ducks in the shop last, Yuuji first with you in the middle, and when you settle in your seat right beside him, he endearingly snickers. Gojo can see everything, you’re reminded of that everyday and in moments like this especially—the way you sigh as soon as you release the top button of your pants immediately.

You pout at him as you’re served an order of noodles each, the dipping sauce in small ceramic as the noodles lie in bamboo boxes. It’s refreshing and light, just the right balance of sweet and savory; the buckwheat noodles have a lovely bite to them, not at all mushy. When he glances at you, halfway through your bowl, he can tell that you’re already full. 

But just as he offers to finish yours, Yuuji speaks up, 

“Sensei, are you going to finish that?” 

You shake your head, pushing your bowl towards him; Gojo feels that pinch returning. 

A few good minutes of walking find you on the way to another stall—

—a Yakitori one that Yuuji practically skips to, as if he didn’t just finish a bowl and a half of Cold Soba, three sticks of Kushikatsu, three and a half pieces of Takoyaki, a half of one Taiyaki, and a whole order of Okonomiyaki. It’s unbelievable how much this kid can eat; does he have more than one stomach? 

Gojo decides to sit this one out, eyeing the Daifuku stand across the street—one, he’s gone here plenty of times before; two, he wants you to try it while it’s still fresh—soft and oh-so-delectable. 

He takes off his blindfold, ruffling his hair. With Yuuji having gone ahead, it’s just the two of you. 

“I’m going to buy Daifuku, there’s a special one I want you to taste,” he whispers excitedly, wiggling his eyebrows. 

The expression on your face is the last thing he was expecting. 

Your eyes are dazed, half-lidded, almost like you’re sleepy, and you blink at him twice before you’re able to fully process whatever it is you were saying. You could be having a food coma right now, just standing. 

“Oh, okay,” you hum, nodding as you smile, dopey, “I’ll follow.” 

He actually considers just waiting for a bit, because he wants you to go with him. But you insist and shoo him away, telling him that they might run out by the time the Yakitori line reaches Yuuji. 

So he goes, and maybe it’s a little petty, and immature, and stupid-silly, but he hates how this entire food trip has felt like a battle for your attention between him and Yuuji. 

Even though he’s probably the only one who feels it.

So it’s one-sided. Definitely. 

And he’s losing. Terribly. 

Each individual piece of Daifuku looks majestic, pink mochi with red bean filling, sliced in the middle to leave room for a whole syrup-glazed strawberry. He orders two boxes to bring back home and an extra two pieces, one for the two of you to share and the other for Yuuji. 

Gojo’s mouth is watering and he really wants to take a bite already, but you aren’t anywhere near him. So when he turns around and spots you, no doubt midchew on the last few bites your stomach can handle from that shared Yakitori stick, he feels that pinch again. Because al you’d done was split savory food with Yuuji, and all he wanted was a bit more attention sharing half-bites with you. 

When you finally meet his eyes across the street, signature blue amidst bright reds and neon greens, he’s pouting, and he hopes he’s making it really obvious that he wants (needs) you to go to him. 

Your eyes widen before crossing the street, Yuuji right on your heel. 

“Whoah, Sensei! That looks good!” Yuuji’s voice booms, earning a few looks.

Gojo holds one Daifuku on each hand, the other two boxes tucked in a plastic bag hanging by his elbow. 

“It’s their special one!” He smiles at Yuuji, handing it over. 

You look at him curiously, head tilted to the side as you watch him closely—how his smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. 

Once Yuuji moves out of earshot, his series of ‘mmm’s’ getting softer as he explores more stalls around you, you face Gojo and open your mouth wide, “Aaaah,” 

Gojo doesn’t move for the first few seconds, but you meet in the middle eventually, his hand inching towards feeding you while you move your head closer. He keeps his palm open under your chin, cupping it to serve as a catch tray for any filling that might spill out. 

There’s something about the look of you, half-sleepy and asking to be fed, that makes him feel warm and fuzzy—like that pinching feeling earlier never existed. Like he’d gladly do this everyday if you asked for it. 

The soft, plush exterior of the mochi touches your lips, and you bite, the filling oozing out just enough for you to get a good portion of it. Flavors of red bean and strawberry hit your palate, and the filling doesn’t leak, but the syrup coating the strawberry catches onto your nose when you move away. 

At the tip of your nose is a shiny red spot, glistening under the busy lights. The expression on your face is pleased, content—your head doing that side-to-side sway whenever you like the taste of something. 

“Mmm,” you smile at him, “it’s yummy.” 

And he doesn’t know what it is, if it’s the look you’re giving him, or if it’s something in the air tonight but he feels warm and full and still very much like he wants to kiss you. 

So he decides, damn all the passersby.

He does one quick scan around him, making sure that Yuuji, at the very least, is away from the immediate vicinity. And when it’s all clear, he leans in. 

Gojo kisses you on the nose in the middle of a busy street food road, and his lips are soft, almost feather-light, swooping in quickly before anyone can notice. You’re stunned into silence, but the moment you come to, he’s already swiped the strawberry syrup off you. 

His cheeks are starting to turn pink, the sides of his neck already as red as the signs on the food stalls. And he can tell you feel it too, with the way your sleepiness seems to have faded into what now looks like surprise. 

Still cute though.

(Always will be, in his eyes). 

So, ‘losing’ isn’t really a word in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

But if it is, he thinks he’d gladly lose to you. 

(Still not to Yuuji though. He still has to keep a maybe eye out for that one).

thank you notes: to niku for being there always!! from answering my questions, brainstorming together, and just all-around everything!! col wouldn't be what it is now without you!! i love u, i hope i gave your love for food justice, niku!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[shaepschift-a]

matpat is retiring : scuze me while I weep

[maximumbob-universe]

So this just might be the best record ever made  “Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely" is a dark, lonely and sad record.  Arranger Nelson Riddle used touches of jazz and classical music against a lush string background, providing the perfect setting for Sinatra’s brooding vocals. There are numerous highlights, “Angel Eyes” begins on a bright note as Francis sings “Drink up all you people”, then sinks into sadness as the singer contemplates what he has lost, or more importantly can never have. He ends with the line “’Scuze me while I disappear” as the song becomes a tale of not only personal loss but pain so deep that he is lost in it. “Willow Weep for Me” has the singer wanting nature itself to recognize his sorrow. Even the old chestnut “Blues in the Night” becomes a journey into the dark night of the soul, especially when he sings the line “he knows things are wrong and he’s so right”. The closing song “One for My Baby” is a tour de force for Sinatra as he turns in his most powerful vocal performance on record against the tinkling, bar room piano of Frank Miller. “This torch that I’ve found, it’s gotta be drowned or it soon might explode” is delivered with such conviction that you can feel the pressure of his inner despair and depression weighing on him. Not an album for the faint of heart, each song is presented in a slow, dirge like tempo, befitting the concept. In my opinion, no singer in blues or rock, country or pop ever put out an album this sad or forlorn. Sinatra liked to call himself a saloon singer, and on this LP, he made saloon singing a form of high art.