As some of you may have gathered, MAPORP is closing. My apologies for not posting this sooner as I have not had an earlier opportunity this week. Due to recent events I’ve had to close down the RP as I simply do not have the time to manage it at this point. I appreciate all who have shown interest in MAPO and those who have joined us. Again, I apologize sincerely for the delay and the closing and I hope to see you all again in the future as you are all wonderful writers!
by the time han lands in incheon, eight plates have cracked and three glasses have shattered. he knows it would’ve broken his sister’s heart, the way it always would whenever he’d bring souvenirs and visit, so he tries to remain thankful for even the smallest of victories. at least she wouldn’t have to cry over broken china anymore. she would never need to cry again.
the restaurant is small. long, wooden tables, an open kitchen along the back. there are dried flowers in the corner and the blue-green tiles behind the stove range look even softer in the evening.
i want it to look like rinco’s restaurant.
the film? but why? you won’t even be able to fit twenty people in here—
because the food she made was magic, han. she didn’t need a fancy menu or michelin stars. all she needed was one table and one guest. her food could heal.
the film had fed: a lonely, abandoned divorcee. a teenage girl, pining after her first love. a widow who had been unable to take off her mourning gown for over twenty years. each of them had been fed and, as his sister had explained, healed. there, in rinco’s kitchen, with its single table, no menu on the wall. just a guest with a hopeless hunger and a meal cooked just for them.
their wishes came true, after eating there. i know it’s fiction and i know my restaurant isn’t magic but — isn’t that the dream, han? i just want… i just want someone to eat my food and if, somehow or some way, it makes them even the smallest bit happier then i think i’ve done a good job, yeah? i just want to be able to cook something and make someone happy. that’s all.
han pours himself a glass of soju at his sister’s favorite table and wonders, alone, what dish would heal him now.
/
open.
@wolrestaurant
wol is back open for business.
we thank all of our loyal patrons for the patience, love, and understanding shown over this last month.
chef kang sol will be missed, but her dream will live on.
let us eat and be happy.
1,201 likes | 27 comments
/
bare bones.
kang han, one of the youngest korean chefs to ever receive a michelin star, abandons what could’ve been a budding legacy in the food capital of the world. thousands of miles away, his sister passes and leaves behind her “one-table, open-kitchen” concept restaurant in mapo-gu to his name.
han’s love for food had started with his sister. when he had been drowning in academia and parental expectations, it had been sol who had helped him discover his food dream. it had been sol who had encouraged him to become a chef. / isn’t it only fitting, then, that he keep her restaurant open and carry out the rest of her dream, too?
His mother abandoned him and his father when he was barely five. His father for good reason; his short temper, combined with a penchant for whiskey, proved to be nasty mix, one that left scars and promises of rehabilitation that never came to fruition.
Jinseok couldn’t understand why she left him with the man, to deal with aftermath that came in the form of cleaning up vomit and broken bottles off the floors of their shithole apartment.
That is, until he witnessed her on the streets of Hongdae holding onto the arm of a man about three times older than his father—and about a hundred times richer—and she was happy.
He has mommy issues (obviously).
Would stay at his grandparent’s home as much as possible.
His grandfather, having been a part of a band much like wuju cowboy, would teach him the bass, while his grandmother shared her skills in sculpting and various other art mediums.
They were the small sliver of happiness Jinseok clung to.
Inherited his father’s short temper, smashing failed pottery pieces usually helps.
His poor eyesight he got from his mother. Replies on contacts most of the time, though he prefers glasses when at home or in studio.
Sculpting is his primary occupation, taking commissions every once in a while and selling other pieces (paintings, pottery pieces) in a small shop located in Mapo-gu.
Can’t cook for the life of him, so he purchases a large meal at the start of every week that lasts him until the following week.
Can be wary of others but feels the most comfortable with his band mates.
Avoids alcohol as much as possible, but he’ll drink if the occasion calls for it.
Became the bassist for Wuju Cowboy after seeing an ad for an opening at the local bar. He has an average singing voice, which he figured helped.
Has a cat named Michelangelo (Angelo for short, of course), purely because it was the subject of a book he had been reading once he came across the kitten and he could think of nothing else.
Gets most of his musical influences from classic rock artists like Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, The Doors, and The Smiths, but loves RnB of all eras.
Mostly keeps to himself, quiet in nature.
Purposely softens his tone when he speaks so he appears nothing like his father.
He could talk your ear off about films, though—mostly horror, but he appreciates most genres.
He thinks cigarettes are a nasty habit, but it’s hard for him to stop. He can occasionally be seen outside his shop, smoking a cig when his habit gets the best of him.
Loves greenery but is deathly afraid of bugs (please someone help him).
figuratively, yoona’s name is scrawled on every shooting star that’s ever sailed the night sky.
literally, out in the countryside, situated far away from the evils of pollution and corporate entities, it’s easy to tell when the sky is falling— and as a babe, she’d use this to her advantage, wishing (begging) for anything but to be surrounded by dirt roads and rice paddies that seem to stretch on for miles and miles.
she discovers through mainstream media that the city has a place for girls like her. however, having dreams and ambition means fighting against traditions and expectations that are biologically wired in the seo women. so, it takes a few years of struggling through humdrum and routine for yoona to finally open up about her desires, and what she hopes to achieve by the end of high school.
it all unfolds one summer afternoon, when the women in her family gather in their greenhouse to prune and cut away at foliage.
yoona has her fingers between rose thorns, carefully discarding all prickly points so she could prep the flowers for the family’s all-purpose plant shop. they’re supposed to go out for dinner later to celebrate another season of good business, but thoughts of wanting more than this begin to consume her, eventually drowning out the korean folk playing softly in the background. as she diligently works her way down the stems, she breaks it to her mother and her grandmother slowly, choosing each word carefully as to not offend them.
“i want to move to seoul,” she finalizes. and when her statement ends, the song slows into a gentle fade, and then an abrupt radio silence that surprises her into pricking herself.
what follows that night is disappointment, but mostly heartbreak. it holds weight in years of wasted tutelage, along with the sad reality that their traditions will now cease to exist. she knows more than anyone that in the process of claiming the rights to her life, she’s also done more harm than good.
( THE BEGINNING )
six months and countless arguments later, she makes the big move to seoul. whatever guilt that had gnawed at her before had festered into something more fiery: good for the career but bad for the soul. she goes and grows through shady landlords and rocky homes, while juggling the shit that comes with being a creative, such as scams and having to budget for months at a time.
luckily for yoona, she has a daring personality and the resourcefulness to give her just the edge she needs to make it out alive. (thanks, small town living!)
she finally lands herself a permanent position as a photo editor a few years later, going from a country pauper to a metropolitan princess. long gone is the habit of wishing upon shooting stars; she now has the ability to make her dreams come true without the help of cosmic intervention.
it hurts sometimes to think about home, but then she reminds herself that it isn’t really supposed to be her problem anymore.
could we get a discord server by chance? i like this rp a lot, but plotting has been really slow going like this and i feel very detached from the group as a whole
For the interim since we’re not a large group I think it’s okay though I won’t have the discord set up until this weekend due to commitments outside of rp. But as a general disclaimer if issues do arise related to the discord server it will more than likely be deactivated in the interest of the roleplay. Also the server is in no way mandatory to join for those who choose not to.
Hopefully though I should have the discord set up by Saturday for everyone.
Jung Soojung (Krystal), Actress — CCDF_01 / TGPY_05
Kang Seulgi, Red Velvet — CASM_01 / PLYS_04
Seo Kangjoon, Actor — PLYS_02
** denotes extension
APPLICATIONS
— Accepting 9/25 at 7Pm PST
Im Jaebum (JB), Got7 as Kwon Jinseok — YSFB_04 — ACCEPTED
Jo Hyejoo, Actress as Seo Yoona — CASM_03 — ACCEPTED
Min Yoongi (Suga), BTS as Kang Han — RECEIVED
i’m so mad i’m JUST finding out about this place but oh man have i been looking for a good sol for a looong time. thank you, admin(s?) 🥺❤️
Yay! Thank you for sending this, this really made my day! Didn’t think the rp would get much interest since sol isn’t a very popular genre of rp anymore but I’m happy that we’ve generated interest! Hope you join us soon!
He remembers a shining in the water. How it caught the light of the sun, beckoning him closer. The stories Eomma told him about long-dead kings having lost their treasures to the gods of the sea. Appa taking him treasure-hunting along the shore, digging up seashells and other trinkets that had been buried in the sand. Wanting nothing more than to find his own precious gem.
The rest is all a blur.
—
The water is never the same after that.
While the local kids splash and play along the shore, Jiho’s feet remain firmly planted in the white sand where it is safe.
His friends are puzzled by the way his body locks up tight at the sight of the ocean. At first, they think he’s joking when he digs his heals into the ground and begins to shake, attempting to drag him by the arms into the sea. Only when he starts spewing heavy sobs do they stop, backing away from him as if he is a volcano waiting to erupt.
The therapist he sees every Tuesday talks about trauma a lot. She tells him that it’s something he carries, comparing it to a splinter in his side. A constant inconvenience, one that’s difficult to get out.
She suggests he try expressing himself through art one session, handing him a blank sheet of paper wreck havoc on, a box full of markers and colored pencils at his disposal.
He draws a boy being swallowed up by a monstrous wave.
—
The house becomes a ghost town.
Appa throws himself into his work, taking extra shifts at the restaurant. He comes home in the early hours of the morning, smelling of fish and grease, before crashing on the couch. His smiles turn paper thin and disappear too soon.
Eomma is there, but not quite. She locks herself in her room, and Jiho has to remind her to eat, to shower, to breathe. She stopped writing a long time ago. He can’t help but think it’s his fault.
Years go by in the blink of an eye.
—
He can’t stay here, not if he ever wants to truly live. Seoul calls to him with its immenseness. A place of second chances and possibilities.
The acceptance letter from K-Arts arrives just as tourists are starting to flock to their little corner of the world. He packs his things that day, the entirety of his life contained neatly in two small bags.
At the airport, his parents look hollowed out among the crowd of bright foreigners. He waves until they fade from view and tries not to drown from the guilt.
(Is leaving supposed to feel this good?)
—
To: Park Eunja
XX-1, Hando-ro, Seogwipo-si
Jeju-do
Eomma,
You know I’m not good with words. That’s why I’m an artist and not a writer like you.
Honestly, I don’t know how you do did it. I can hardly write two sentences without wanting to erase everything on the page (I’m still not sure choosing to write this with a pen was the best decision, though, because now you’ll be able to sea see all my mistakes; then again, we can’t all be best-selling authors).
I’ve always admired that about you. How dedicated you are. Which is why I don’t understand Most of my paintings take about a day to complete, but even then, I sometimes find myself starting to lose interest only to start another painting the next morning until my apartment is a mess of half-finished portraits and outlined landscapes. How I manage to make any art at all is beyond me.
I never told you how much that meant to me, by the way. The support you and Appa gave me when it came to my art. I know it’s not lucrative, but it’s the only thing I want to do and I’m willing to struggle for it.
What do you think Hajoon would be doing if he were still alive?
So I’m staying in Seoul.
I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid you’d try to change my mind. I should have said this over the phone, but I knew I’d cave if I heard your voice. I should’ve done so many things that I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry for this.
Please don’t ask me when I’ll be back. The truth is I don’t know. It’s nothing you or Appa did. I just need time, I think. To work through some things, and to learn how to be me again.
Thank you everyone who submitted and who reserved! We have officially finished our first acceptances, just because it’s opening day we will continue rolling acceptances for a few more hours today! Other than that I’m so happy to open the roleplay!
