here and there

woohoo ! hello everyone ! this is juju here ( he/him + she/her ) and i'm so excited to bring jiha here into the rp! i'll be linking his pages and write a little about him under the cut, please like this if i can message you for plotting !

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(cw: alcohol!)

her tolerance for alcohol was delicate, a fragile thread easily swayed. so, as much as the allure of the apple martini called to her, its crisp and earthy sweetness tempting her senses, she had to cool the interest that flickered. instead, she sipped more water while carrying on the conversation mindlessly. "do you ever feel like we're just stars floating in the sky? the sky.. so many but never really.. close to each other?" she giggled, her eyes half-lidden, voice light and almost musical, the rose on her cheeks ever glowing. what she had been saying was not to be taken in any serious sense.

tw:alcohol

jiha had never been the quickest learner, but for some reason he was learning quickly when it came to all these drinks and cocktails. he’d applied for the job with a little bit of knowledge about alcohol, but not a lot, now he knew so much. he’d worked a lot, spent a lot of time at this bar, having to figure out what different people would like, and sometimes having to do and learn their bizarre requests.

it was fun showing yingyue the world of alcohol, that it was more than just beer and wine, and he has a million drinks he’d like for her to try, but knows they should take it slowly today, he doesn’t want her to wake up with a bad hangover tomorrow.

“i quite like the apple martini myself actually, you should definitely give it a try, would you like me to make it for you, or is it time for a break from the alcohol first?” he begins cleaning a bit, still close enough to talk to the other. 

when a man speaks, she's quick to give him her attention. maybe he would've startled anyone else in her position, but miyoung has a way of feeling when people are around – quite literally. it's rarely a conscious thing, and more just a bonus that comes with the empathy. she's confused at first. his name...? then, she realizes. "oh, no," she lets out a small, sheepish laugh. "i'm sorry. my cat's name is jia." to prove her point, she bends down and picks jia, who lets out a small grunt in protest, up off the sidewalk. she turns toward the stranger so he can get a good view of the siamese cat. "we like taking walks, but a bird was teasing her today. she jumped out of her backpack and ran after it, so i was calling for her. but everything is fine now." she smiles warmly.

he’s genuiely curious, why is this woman calling his name? he searches for reasons in his head, why would she know his name? maybe she’s a costumer at the bar he works at? he’s good at remembering the names of the people who sit at the bar, but he obviously can’t remember all the names, there comes and goes a lot of people. that’s possibility one. 

maybe they used to be colleagues? jiha has worked a lot of places before he found his job as a bartender. he’s wandered around a lot in his life without knowing what he wanted to do with his life. when he realized he didn’t want to become a volleyball player, he also realized he didn’t know what he wanted to do with life. so he’d worked in a convenience store, a toy store, a café, at last ending on being a bartender, it wasn’t the dream job, but he didn’t mind it.

or maybe they were classmates or from the same school? she looks a lot older than him though, but he doesn’t want to guess her age. he was popular back in school, there’s a lot of people who knew him who he didn’t know. they could’ve gone to the same school and that’s where she knows his name from.

"so they have to get that fixed sometime," he continues idly. he makes his way to the kitchen without further invitation, and sets the container of soup safely on the counter, used to the routine by now. "my grandma was telling me stories about yours today. did you know they stopped a thief together? that's what she said, anyway. some guy stole a purse and they got it back. she could've just made it up, though," he mostly-jokes. he trusts his grandmother's word, even though lying about something like that would be characteristic of their family. "do you think your grandmother would remember?"

“ah, galbitang sounds amazing, it’s been a while since i’ve had it, my grandmother loves it as well” or well she used to, jiha had come across that some of her favourite foods she now refused to eat, convinced she hated them, it’s probably the memory problems that causes those problems, she can’t even remember what she likes anymore. “are you gonna join us for dinner?” he asks, hoping for a yes, spending time alone with his grandmother isn’t as fun as it used to be.

“they… have a hole in their wall?” a quick laugh escapes his lips “living in a city with people having powers sure can be… interesting?”. “if they need help i won’t mind helping, i’m good with my hands” he shrugs, “they help me with my grandmother, so if they need help with anything i’d love to” he shows a smile to the other. 

(content warning: alcohol!)

"what other flavours do you have?" she probably could have one more but not overdo it. her eyes gazed at the edges of the glass, feeling the condensation beneath her fingertips. a soft, shy smile tugged at her lips. "it feels nice to be able to hear yourself think." she chuckled, letting out laughter more than she normally would. this newer version of herself was foreign territory she was just beginning to explore. "i definitely would like that cup of water now." she crazed something grounding, something pure. while the sweetness of the drink was a quality she quite liked, she needed the clarity of water to wash away the haze creeping in; it felt blurry, cloudy, and fuzzy to be under this feeling.

tw: alcohol

alcohol had it’s negatives, but it surely also had it’s positives. jiha had always been a fan of drinking from the moment he first started, he enjoyed the taste, and he enjoyed the feeling alcohol would give him. though he didn’t want to be a bartender for his whole life, this was a job he didn’t hate. he’d been jumping from job to job until he found this one. in the beginning his cocktails skills hadn’t been the best, but with time he learned, and now he knew a lot of recipes for cocktails in his head.

“alcohol can have that effect, making you forget about the world around you” he shows a smile to the other, watching as she enjoys her drink. “what other flavours we have? like which other cocktails i’d recommend to you?” he hums for a bit “i could recommend you an apple martini perhaps, or what about a clover club, it consists of raspberry syrup” jiha has a million cocktails he could recommend, but it might be a bit overwhelming if he lists them all.

in his fuzziness, sae could've sworn he was talking to a ghost. one moment he heard voices and the next he's alone at the bar. and then, to the drunk man's surprise, a towel is pushed towards him. sae stares at the towel, dumbfounded, for nearly a minute before taking it and tapping on his open wound gently, appreciating the stranger's kindness even though the concept of being vulnerable is a brand new experience to him. he pulls the glass of whiskey towards him, eyes fixated on the bartender. not to be a creep but the other man truly looks otherworldly, which makes perfect sense if he was a ghost or some sort of celestial being—— sae, stop. it's the alcohol talking. this guy is literally a human being and you know ghosts don't exist. "thanks, but i'll pay for it myself." the bruised man mutters, his independent ass will not let anyone pay for him. "why do i look like i need it though?" head slightly tilts with a small frown, sae's just genuinely curious. what does it mean when someone looks like they need a whiskey? does he look sad? upset? depressed? does he give off the vibes of a poor dude who's just been dumped? his hand, still pushing the towel against the bleeding wound, hasn't moved an inch. "this..." sae answers the bartender's question in a raspy voice. "was given to me by a dead man."

a thing jiha enjoys about his job is the people he meets, sure some are total jerks, but there’s so many different people who show up at the bar. a lot of them need an ear to listen, and jiha doesn’t mind lending them his. a lot of his time is spent caring for his grandmother, and he perhaps lacks quite a bit when it comes to friends, so working in this bar is his way of socializing,

he smiles and shakes his head slightly, majority of people would gladly take a free glass of whiskey, but he supposes there’s people who aren’t like that, ‘maybe that’s what having money feels like’ he thinks to himself. “the cut” he points “makes me guess it isn’t the best day of your life today, hence, the free alcohol”, “but if you don’t want it free that’s your choice” he shrugs.

* in the blink of an eye

" just what i needed. " it looked delicious and she was excited to dig into it. but just as she was grabbing her glass of wine gently to take a small sip of it, a tiny drop of it manages to make contact with her baby blue blouse. " shit- " cursing under her breath, she quickly grabs a napkin to try and wipe it off fast but of course, red wine stains are tricky. dammit, and i just bought this just yesterday too. why am i so clumsy! maybe a trip to the nearest bathroom might fix it, thus she carefully gets up to slowly make her way there. and if the day couldn't try to get any worse, doha's clumsiness makes her nearly collide with a female waitress who was carrying a small little cake over for the family of four. there wasn't really a way for doha to predict what would happen next due to being in such a hurry but she could only sense dread coming her way, really.

jiha often doesn’t know what to do with his time when he’s not working. there was a time he’d immediately head to his grandmother’s place, but it was not like that anymore. they’d once been so close, now that she’s growing old and her memory is becoming worse, they don’t see each other as much. jiha comes and prepares meals for her and cleans the house since she can’t do neither by herself. jiha has considered putting her in a nursing home but she strongly refuses it, he figures at some point she’ll have to, he can’t take care of her forever.

he’ll be visiting her later, prepare dinner and see if she needs help with something else, but for now he’d just like to have a calm day. he’s outside walking, not entirely sure what to do with his day, he could do one of his hobbies, like running, that doesn’t cost any money. he’s lost in his thoughts as he walks around, not entirely sure where he’s even walking. his stomach makes a sound and he realizes he’s quite hungry, to his luck there’s a café quite close, though he doesn’t know their prizes yet, it won’t hurt to look,

Despite his living accommodations and occupation, Sparky actually did have the money to eat all the time. Organ harvesting was quite profitable; it was just a matter of figuring what he should spend his wealth on -- and usually, that ended up funding the health and happiness of other people. It was the only way he felt he could honor the memory of his parents, by improving the lives of others. So in this case, with the combination of that compassionate nature and his child-like curiosity blended with his talent for cooking, he could at the very least start with feeding his neighbors -- some of whom could not afford to live in another location (be it financially or for the sake of safety). In this case, he'd barely had time to set his phone down before he hears the knock on the door. Quick and sufficient! Smirking, he muttered to himself in English, "Beam me up, Scotty." So thoughtful of his downstairs neighbor to arrive just outside. Thus, crossing to the entrance, he crossed to the entrance to open the door to his apartment, swinging it wide with a smile. "Hi! Come on in," he continued in Korean, gesturing to the table nearby. On top of it was a few plates of different experiments. Each plate had a stuffed waffle of a different flavor. "Help yourself. What to drink? Tea? Water? Soda? Soju?" he asked, returning to the kitchen.

jiha had never been rich, but when he lived with his mom he never worried about not having a roof over his head or food on his plate, she made sure they lived a life where they didn’t have to worry about such thing. when his mother died, his grandmother made sure of the same thing, he never worried about a roof over his head nor food on his plate, and she had the money to buy him clothes and toys. now it’s not like that anymore. jiha makes sure to repay what his grandmother had done for him, making sure she wouldn’t worry about a roof over her head and food on the plate. jiha didn’t worry about a roof over his head, if he was struggling with money he could move back in with his grandmother (though he would hate that), but it was here and there that he’d go hungry to bed.

tw: mentions of alcohol

jiha loved parties, always had, talking to people, drinking, it was all fun. so when a friend hosted a party and he didn’t have to work that day, he of course showed up, some of the people he knew, some he didn’t, but he attempted to speak to everyone. jiha has a high alcohol intolerance, it’s not too often he gets drunk, but at this party he constantly had a new drink in his hand, not even realizing how much he was drinking. the start of the party was amazing, the end was a bit of a blur.

his eyes are a bit heavy, it’s the day after the party, part of him wants to wake up, part of him does not, he’s in a bed he can feel, hopefully his own, or someone he knows’. a yawn escapes his lips, he rolls over, his eyes still closed. he puts his arm over something… wait? or someone? this… this feels like another person in the bed. he sits up, eyes open, okay well, this is his apartment, but who is the person in his bed? he puts a hand on their shoulder, shaking them a bit in an attempt to wake up whoever this is.

pouring thoughts

red light lane, west side ( tw: blood )

yeah. he wasn't fond of flesh and desire. hence, aside from trouble, there was nothing for him to seek here. not friends, not intimacy, not any sort of connections that sprouted from a human's fundamental need for love and belonging. so why, with a fresh cut still oozing on his left cheek, and half a glass of alcohol in hand, was he seated alone at the bar, initiating a conversation with a stranger? because he was still human after all. even if every so often, he was certain that humanity viewed creatures within the walls as nothing more than monsters. especially the likes like him. the guy's face was a vivid shade of crimson, his cheeks flushed and almost glowing from a combination of alcohol and agitation. where the cut was, it was raw and bleeding. a fresh bruise formed around his jaw, a darkening mark contrasting sharply with his red skin. his wounds told a story. "i..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the guy wasn’t entirely aware he was voicing his thoughts to a stranger across the bar. "i don't know why it feels good but bad at the same time."

tw: blood, alcohol

while being a bartender wasn’t what jiha wanted to do with his life, it was nice for the time-being. though jiha was still young, he often felt old, wondering how much time he had to pick what he wanted to do with his life. his original plan was volleyball, then he realized he didn’t like that plan, but he’d spent so much time on that plan that he hadn’t thought of any other plans. after high school he’d jumped from job to job, until he landed here and figured he didn't mind being here for the time being

jiha was a social person, and he got to chat a lot on this job. it was interesting meeting new people, and the alcohol in their body often made them a bit more open, so a lot of interesting stories were shared. 

⎯ ✂ ⎯ normalcy ⎯

he also learns what teachers should be like from his grandparents, as new and precarious as their budding relationship may be. they tell him about their students every time he visits, and he listens, sincerely interested every time. normal. warm. every now and then, his grandparents have him run errands for them. today's errand is a fun one: bring food his grandmother made to jiha and his grandma, an old friend of theirs. once he arrives at their front door, he carefully balances the food against himself to knock loudly. jiha is the one that greets him, and jaeyong grins, lifting the food for jiha to see. "grandma sent me with sustenance."

jiha had always been taken care of. though his dad had died, his mother did her very best to take care of him, always supporting, always by his side. even when she died it wasn’t like the world was ending, because his grandmother was quick to act, taking jiha in and making sure he felt loved, making sure he felt protected.

for a long time jiha and his grandmother had done well, she’d buy groceries, would make dinner when he returned home from school, she’d wash and dry his clothes, in short: she spoiled him. she was always there, when he needed someone to talk to his mother about, when he dropped volleyball, when he got hurt. but it’s often that good things don’t last forever.

as time passed, the roles switched, she became old, her memory poor. jiha had to clean her house by himself, bring her groceries, either cook a meal or order food, and she was no longer capable of always being there. he no longer had anyone he could talk to about his mother, and if he was feeling unwell, either mentally or physically, he had to take care of it himself.

(content warning: alcohol)

bottoms up! alcohol was something that yingyue approached with lots of wary like a mysterious elixir that she preferred to admire from afar than tinker with herself. though, tonight, the world was the contrary for her, suffused with the soft glow of companionship and friendship. the drink in front of her wasn't a simple cocktail but a gateway to a new experience to open her mind—with her friend by her side, her wall of defenses could be gently set aside. she clamped the glass in her hands, the vibrant purple liquid shimmering like nightfall caught in a bottle. as she took a small sip, the flavors unfolded efflorescence on her tongue, sweet grenadine, tangy lime, with the slightest hint of vodka underneath it all. "i've never tried alcohol like that but this is something else…" she murmured, her voice as soft as a petal swaying away in the breeze. she glanced a jiha for a moment, there was a sense of mutual understanding, a bond forged in the woes of loss and the silent resilience of those who had loved and lost. the drink began to weave their spells, the effect causing yingyue to unloose the tight coils of her restraint, just a little. laughter emerged from deep within her heart, the kind that felt light, airy, and effervescent, like the first breath of spring after a long, sad winter. she allowed herself to wander, to let the weight of the world on her shoulders, slip away. "who knew that this purple magic drink could be so interesting?" she laughed softly, her words laced with a wispy lilt. "but please don't tell anyone about this!" it was her time to escape from the shadows that loomed from her heart, reaching for solace.

tw: alcohol

jiha had had picked out his future career quite early. he’d always been a bit better than everybody else he played with when it came to volleyball, and when he got to high school, it started becoming serious. his teachers along with his grandmother along with even jiha himself were sure that what he was going to be was a professional volleyball player. he used hours and hours on practicing, getting ready for his future life. and then a small thing happened that changed it all: he broke his leg.

for a period of time he couldn’t play, and in the time he had to suffer a broken leg, he realized he liked volleyball as a hobby not a career. everybody had told him to become a professional volleyball player, so he figured that was what he would be doing with his life, until he realized it wasn’t. 

problem now was he’d thought for so long that volleyball was his future that he’d never considered what he would be doing if he wasn’t doing volleyball. due to this he never got any further education than high school, and he jumped from job to job until he became a bartender, the only job he’s been able to keep for more than a year. being a bartender wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life, but it was okay for the time-being. he got to learn unique cocktails, understand alcohol and chat with the customers.

Stuffler & Stuff || Sparky + Jiha

Ever cursed to frequently fall into Youtube rabbit holes, Sparky landed on videos of a new (and seemingly very popular) kitchen gadget called the "Stuffler" -- a waffle maker that allowed one to fill their waffles with all sorts of ingredients. Like a kid, he got just a tad overly excited to try it for himself and procured one of his own. From the moment it arrived, he was transfixed, filling waffles with all sorts of things. There was, of course, the basics: bacon, egg, and cheese being one, strips of fried chicken in another. He experimented more with fruits such as apples and cinnamon, bananas and peanut butter (he didn't like that one as much, but it was decent), strawberries (okay, that one was pretty fucking good), raspberries and blueberries (not bad at all!) -- but before he knew it, Sparky had nearly a dozen stuffed waffles and, even as ambitious as he was, there was just no way even HE could eat it all on his own, so glancing at the time, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to a neighbor he knew was always up for free food.

Text sent to Jiha 403:

Captain's Log, Stardate 24.08.2024, The Presto envoy has provided the ship's cook with new technology known colloquially as 'The Stuffler', which is heralded as producing an interesting dish called a 'stuffed waffle sandwich'. Culinary Officer Sparky has performed many experiments with varying results and due to the excess, proceeds to distribute the successful results with the rest of the crew in his quarters.

jiha was a man who loved eating, and he would eat all the time if he had the money for it. being a bartender doesn’t exactly make him rich, and he has to pay for both himself and his grandmother. he often prioritizes her getting proper food than himself, making sure she gets different kind of foods which taste and smell good. jiha himself though often lives on cheap stuff from the convenience store, it doesn’t bother him too much, but he does hope he doesn’t have to live like this for forever.

∆ ⎯⎯ 【 don't panic 】

"jia, the temperature is so nice today, don't you think?" miyoung asks her cat, who of course doesn't offer a response. suddenly, a bird flies off of one of the nearby buildings, so unusually low that it makes miyoung jump. she feels movement in the bag on her back, and then suddenly significantly less weight. miyoung is quick to turn around, only to catch jia racing down the sidewalk in the direction the bird flew. "oh, jia!" miyoung calls. "jia please!" jia stops running, at least, but she's still very absorbed in her hunt for the bird. "jia, come here, it flew away! the bird flew away, you won't be able to catch it. you're too small and can't jump nearly high enough."

jiha would love to have a pet, he sure would, but he was already taking care of himself and his grandmother, he doesn’t have the money for any pet. it feels a bit lonely to be in his apartment by himself, but he doesn’t want a roommate, he especially doesn’t want to live with his grandmother, and he doesn’t have the money for a pet, so he’ll just continue feeling lonely in his apartment.

it’s not that he spends that much time in the apartment anyways, he has work, and then when he doesn’t have work he has to take care of his grandma, cook or order her food, help clean the house she lives in. and even when he’s not working or at his grandmother’s place, he’s often outside, either swimming or doing archery, or running like he’s doing now.

he enjoys running, getting around without teleporting. feeling the air on his skin, running by people and animals. and he was running, until he heard someone call his name, and then he stops and looks around, but there’s no familiar face to see. and it continues, he continues hearing his name without seeing any familiar face around. his first thought is maybe it’s someone else’s name, but he doesn’t see anyone react to it, his second thought? he’s grown a new second ability. 

what it is, he’s not sure. maybe he can hear when a friend calls his name even though they’re far apart? maybe it’s like some of spider-sense like spiderman. or maybe it’s just that woman who is calling his name. he sighs, no new superpowers today.

tw: alcohol

growing up jiha’s grandmother had been the one jiha went to whenever something was wrong or hurt. whether it was big or small, she would comfort him. when he had gotten hurt she’d put a band-aid on him, even though he was no longer a child. she would listen to his heartbreaks of his crushes not liking him back, she’d be there for him when he missed his mom. it hadn’t been like that lately, jiha was taking far more care of her than the other way around. her memory wasn’t the best, and she’d changed, she wasn’t the comforting person she had been, she didn’t talk too much, a lot of what she said made no sense, and jiha could no longer go to her when he needed someone to talk to. 

yingyue knew what it was like to lose your parents, which made it easier to talk about. jiha couldn’t go to his grandmother anymore when it came to talking about his mom, but he could go to yingyue, she knew what it was like.

today wasn’t a day for deep talks about their dead parents though, today was a day of yingyue coming to the bar jiha worked at so he could show her the world of alcohol and drinks. “to start the taste testing of drinks off, i bring you purple rain as your first cocktail for the night!” he pushes the glass with the bright coloured purple colour towards yingyue. “in this drink you got vodka of course, a bit of blue curaçao, some lime juice, grenadine and a lime wedge to make it look more fancy, let me know what you think”.

test one

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test ten