#this man is so interesting. comes from a family of chefs. grandmother and mother taught him how to cook

[liliavalley]

I’ll see the most intriguing detailed creative MK-centered lmk aus and then not once is the man who raised him shown or even considered.

[mariacallous]

Married musicians turned restaurateurs, Aaron Tomasko and Rachel Brashear, are filling a niche — and bellies — by serving up Jewish Ashkenazi staples at Sweet Lorraine’s Latkes & More, located in Portland, Oregon.  

What started out as a food cart focused solely on slinging latkes has evolved into a full Jewish dairy establishment. Portland has a long history of formidable chefs emerging from tiny food carts, but the city is not as well known for Jewish food coming out of those carts. While Jewish immigrants began arriving in Oregon in the mid-1800s, Portland’s Jewish community has historically been relatively small in size compared to larger coastal cities, albeit it continues to grow and thrive. For context, there are more Jews living in the Upper West Side of Manhattan than in the entire state of Oregon. Regardless of the exact population count, it’s clear there’s a hunger for Jewish food.

“Portland has a lot more Jewish people here than the Jewish people think there are, and it is a foodie city,” Tomasko told The Nosher. 

Brashear added, “We also have a lot of regulars and friends who are interested in Jewish food and don’t have a Jewish connection. New York expatriots come to us, or people who saw something on Seinfeld and always wanted to try it.” 

It’s clear why there’s mass appeal, at Sweet Lorraine’s the menu features dishes rarely found anywhere else in the state: classic Askenazi dishes like kasha varnishkes, noodle kugel, buttery matzah brei and egg creams. Tomasko and Brashear pay attention to every detail of every dish they serve, with painstakingly handmade potato knishes, challah made from scratch for egg sandwiches, lox sourced from the Smokery—a small local fish business run by an Irish Jewish family — and fry up latkes fresh to order. 

As a former deli owner and latke enthusiast, I can confidently say Sweet Lorraine’s makes the best latkes I’ve ever had. They have a crackly, crispy exterior, but are shockingly airy and light inside; wide, but not too thick, and not too thin. 

Among friends and family, Tomasko has always had a reputation for making stellar latkes. The pair even joked about opening a latke cart for years. When Covid hit in 2020, they found themselves suddenly unemployed and unable to play gigs or teach music classes in person. The inside joke started to seem like a viable career pivot. While they had no prior chef experience, they took a chance on their gut instincts: People love latkes. Newfound unemployment gave the couple time to develop their concept and test their recipes, and by February 2021, Sweet Lorraine’s opened up shop. They named their cart after Tomasko’s grandmother, who was the inspiration for their menu. Lorraine was known among friends and family for her exceptional latkes, and she taught Tomasko’s mother, who in turn taught him how to make the family’s signature potato pancakes.

“The first year we were open ended up being the last year of her life,” Brashear explained, “she was so proud of it. She told everyone she met that she had a restaurant named after her.” 

“[Opening Sweet Lorraine’s] allowed me to have a deeper relationship with my grandma than I ever had before,” said Tomakso. 

It’s no secret that it’s a tricky time to be in the restaurant business; the cost of running a food cart in Portland has nearly doubled in the past year. After a few years of being open, the food cart pod where they were located decided to close, so Sweet Lorraine’s relocated inside the Labyrinth Forge Brewery.

Their Jewish food business remains a family operation: Brashear heads up the baking and Tomasko mans the griddle. With good communication, they’ve found their stride as partners in life and in food, and dream of opening a little cafe or lunch counter in the future. For them, Sweet Lorraine’s is more than a restaurant — it’s a community gathering space, and one that’s explicitly Jewish while still being welcoming to all. 

Tomasko offers, “Food is this magical thing and it’s our main passion, and our goal is to focus on fostering that connection that unites this community.”

[ladykissingfish]

The Akatsuki as Parents

Obito

Was a bit reluctant when he found out he was going to be a daddy ... at first. Not because he didn’t want kids ((he really did)), but because he severely doubted his own ability to be a father. But the second he holds the baby in his arms, he’s hooked. He will be so eagerly helpful and hands-on that during the child’s infancy, the other parent will rarely have to lift a finger. Diapers need changing? Obito’s on it. Baby needs to be fed at 2am? Obito’s already out of bed and warming formula on the stove. Rash? Fever? A cough? Obito is consulting every doctor within a 20 mile radius on what to do. Note that Obito is a hard-core traditionalist and, if he isn’t married to the child’s other parent before he gets them pregnant, he’ll be persistent about doing so before the kid is born. Sobs the first time his child calls him “papa”. As the child grows older, Obito will be a tireless teacher and mentor, and you better believe that the kid will know every facet of what was once the Uchiha clan. Sharingan training is a bit nerve-wracking for Dad, because while he wants his child to grow strong, he knows the power of the eye is a deadly one, and doesn’t like to see his son/daughter get hurt. Is the type to be a bit more strict with his sons than with daughters, in fact being a complete pushover for anything his little girl(s) wants. Very, VERY likely to insist a girl be named Nohara. Also the type to sneak and let his kid eat lots of sweets (like Obito himself does) before meals, much to the other parent’s chagrin. Also involves the other Akatsuki members as uncles/aunt in the kid’s life, especially Itachi and Sasuke as he wants the kid to be exposed to members of the family more often.

Hidan

The literal first words out of his mouth are “pregnant? Why the hell didn’t you make me wear a condom?!” Takes a long time to warm up to the idea of parenthood, but once he does, he’s surprisingly better at it than anyone would anticipate. He tends to be very fast-paced in his body movements and not really used to being careful, so if he’s holding his infant it’s best to make him sit still in a chair first. Once the kid(s) is older, it’s better, because Hidan’s energy levels will match (and overshadow) even the liveliest of children. It will be a big point of contention between Hidan and his co-parent on whether or not to introduce their kid to Jashinism, and Hidan will eventually promise to wait until the child is an adult to start talking about “all that shit”; although Hidan’s idea of adulthood seems to be when the kid is old enough to use a kunai. Puts a startling amount of emphasis on his kid getting a good education, and will be sure to send him or her to the best village school that he possibly can. The reason behind this is because Hidan himself had a poor education growing up, and is in fact barely able to read or do basic math; and he says over and over that his kid “isn’t gonna be some dumbass like his/her father”.

Kakuzu

Nearly faints when told he’s going to be a father. Will immediately get out a calculator and start figuring out expenses like diapers, food, toys, education ... is so preoccupied that he ends up neglecting the person who carries his child, causing them to go off on their own expecting to be a single parent. Oddly, it’s Hidan who sets the old guy straight. He stays on his case and talks to him until the nonagenarian sees the error of his ways, and goes after the person having his baby. Kakuzu will be gentle with a baby, and show a surprising affinity for making up and singing lullabies. As the kid gets older, Kakuzu will be a bit more strict. “Food is expensive; you better eat every bite on your plate.” “A hole in your pants? No give them to me and I’ll mend them; buying new clothes is unnecessary.” His child will grow up knowing how to stretch a buck and budget money better than any other kid their age. Kakuzu isn’t really one for showing much warmth or affection, but there will be a few rare moments in his kid’s life where his father hugs him and tells him how proud he is of him. Kakuzu knows that the life of a shinobi is hard and therefore encourages his kid to pursue other career paths, such as opening up his/her own business.

Konan and Nagato

These two are so closely intertwined that they could only be parental mates to each other. When a baby comes into the picture, Nagato will still maintain his position as leader of the Akatsuki as Pein, but will insist that Konan quit. It’s for a practical purpose rather than a sentimental one; they both lost their collective parents to war, and Nagato always thought that if he had a child, he’d ensure that at least one parent would be around to always take care of him or her. Konan, however, will still keep in touch with all of the Akatsuki members, who will become very enthusiastic uncles to her child. She’s always been a good cook but with a child she’ll level up to professional chef caliber, creating dishes that are fun and healthy. Her child(ren) will be taught all of their mother’s paper jutsus, and Nagato will work to devise a way for the brightest one to get his rinnegan once he passes. The kids will primarily spend time with Nagato through Pein, and only be taken to meet their father when Konan feels they’re ready. Because Konan and Nagato had a childhood devoid of parental love, they’re often at a loss for how to be affectionate or sentimental, instead putting a lot of emphasis on “toughening” their kids up, so that they’re prepared to face the cruelties of the world. But the kids will know that mom and dad love them; it’s obvious in everything they say and do.

Deidara

Will be the fun, loving, yet highly irresponsible father. As soon as his kid is born he anxiously awaits to see if he or she inherits his explosion-release kekkei genkai; and if the kid DOES, he’s ecstatic. “Art is an explosion” won’t just be a saying in his household; it’ll be a way of life. The child will grow up given complete freedom to express his or her artistic tendencies, with Deidara highly praising any and every impact they make on the outside world. Yet despite being for artistic creativity, he’ll be (surprisingly) strongly against the child joining any kind of organization that’s like the Akatsuki; he regrets his own decision to join as he feels it out a horrible damper on his artistic expression and independence. Likes to tell his young children stories every night, which are actually just heavily edited and sanitized versions of his Akatsuki missions. Like Obito, will be a bit more of a pushover for a daughter than a son, and will love spending hours brushing and styling the beautiful long hair that the girl inherits from him. He’ll let any member of the Akatsuki around his kids except for Hidan (because he doesn’t want his foul language around the child).

Zetsu

There are people in this world who know for certain that their lives wouldn’t be fulfilled by having children, and Zetsu is one of these individuals. While wanting no offspring of his own, he IS rather a good “uncle” to the children of his fellow Akatsuki members ((although the majority of these kids are too terrified of his physical appearance to want to go anywhere near him until they’re at least teenagers)).

Sasori

A child would be hard-pressed to elicit any kind of emotional reaction from Sasori, as the man cleared himself of most feeling when he underwent his puppet transformation. However, one thing that he could never rid himself of, was his ability to love. Even if he has difficulty showing it, he loves his child and would do literally anything to help or protect them. When the child is a baby, Sasori will spend hours crafting tiny puppet-dolls for the kid to play with. As he grew up with a skilled medic grandmother, he possesses a wide knowledge of herbs and healing, which he will painstakingly pass on to his children. Not one to baby his children by any means, as he lives by the philosophy that the world is tough meaning you have to be tougher; however will offer advice, support, and encouragement on any issues that may be troubling his son/daughter. Early on he expresses a desire for his child to learn to be a master puppeteer like himself; however will be understanding if they choose to pursue a different path. Is very smart and naturally mistrustful of strangers, so will likely choose to educate his kids at home rather than send them to a village school. The type to seem more like a trusted mentor or an interesting uncle than an actual father; also the type to relate to his teen or adult children better than young kids.

Itachi

Itachi never feels like he deserves any of the good things in life, because of what he’s done, and therefore doesn’t know how to handle blessings that are given to him. A baby is the ultimate example of this. Itachi will feel as though any child of his would be better off not knowing him or being “exposed” to the cursed Uchiha bloodline, so at first he’ll make it a point to barely be around his baby ((even though this kills him inside)). Surprisingly, of all people, it’s Deidara who will talk him out of this mindset, telling him how important it is for a child to be around their father “even if he is a damned red-eyed weirdo”. Once Itachi allows himself to fully commit to parenthood, that’s it — he’ll be the best damned father in the universe. He’ll be warm and affectionate, especially liking to pick his kid up (no matter how old they are or how embarrassed it makes them) and squeeze them. He’s not much of a disciplinarian, believing that kids need to be able to make mistakes in order to grow from them. The only time he’ll ever get angry is when the child does something that could have resulted in a serious injury. Itachi’s intelligence has always been off the charts, and he utilizes this to help his kid be a spectacular student. In fact, as the kid gets older, they’ll start bringing his/her friends around the house in order to receive Itachi’s tutoring. Itachi’s brother Sasuke will adore his nephew/niece and come home more often simply to be with them. Also Kisame will come around practically every day, and the kid will grow up learning an impressive arsenal of water jutsus to compliment the traditional Uchiha fire jutsus.

Kisame

The tall, somewhat awkward father that scares all of his kid’s friends with his intimidating physical appearance ... until he opens his mouth and they hear a god-awful dad joke come out. Any child of Kisame’s is going to be part shark, and therefore have some affinity for being in/breathing under the water. Kisame’s favorite pastime will be taking his baby (and yes, I do mean baby, as he tends to start his kid on this when they’re young) out for long swims in the ocean. Kisame has always been self-conscious of his looks, so from the time the child is born he will spend a good deal of time teaching him or her to have self-confidence and love for him/herself. Like many of the others in the Akatsuki, Kisame never received much of a formal education, and therefore puts a lot of emphasis on his child going to a “normal” school and giving it their all when it comes to their studies. When the child proves him or herself physically capable, Kisame will start training with them on how to wield/control samehada, as well as fight with a variety of swords. It goes without saying that Itachi will be in Kisame’s kid’s life from the day they’re born, and be their favorite “uncle”.

[recurring-polynya]

Drabble time again!

This one is response to comment I got over at ff.net, from Chie723:

Would you consider writing a Drabble about Rukia and Renji meeting Hisana's former lady-in-waiting? If I have gone a bit...overboard it's because @kaickos and I were just talking recently about how much we are obsessed with the staff of Kuchiki Manor and I saw this as an excuse. (The bit about Bonnie is also for @kaickos, who told me that's what she thought Hisana would name a dog after I told her that Byakuya's other dogs were named Sakura Bloom Cascade and Mountainside Granite Crest)

You can read this and my collected drabbles on AO3 or ff.net

It’s almost impossible to find someone in Rukongai, the old saying goes, but it’s not exactly true. There are no records, no central offices, so much death and rebirth and death again. It’s hard to find someone in Rukongai, but it’s far from impossible.

Renji found people all the time.

Renji found Rukia twice between the time they met and the time they officially became friends, once because he wanted to yell at her, and once because he needed a striker for a football game. Rukia wasn’t used to being found in those days, and she found it a little terrifying when he just showed up with that sour scowl on his face.

“It’s just a matter of paying attention,” he told her, a few years later, after he got home from beating up a guy who had stiffed him 200 kan on a delivery job. “Asking around. Being the sort of guy people tell stuff to.”

This ancient conversation popped into Rukia’s head one evening as she was telling her maid, Mikan, a drawn out Hollow-hunting story while Mikan brushed her hair. It suddenly hit Rukia like a bolt of lightning that Hisana must have had a Mikan, too-- someone who knew her and took care of her, who listened to her thoughts and feelings and daily tribulations.

This was the Seireitei, not the Rukon. Finding someone shouldn’t be such a big deal. The Kuchiki family was real big on record-keeping, for sure, and Rukia was sure that her brother’s stiff-necked Head Stewart, Seike, surely had the woman’s name and dates of employment written in his tidy hand in a ledger somewhere. The problem was that Seike would sure tell Byakuya she had been asking, and Byakuya wouldn’t approve of this enterprise. Byakuya felt that servants were servants and that to talk to them or engage them in matters that were not related to their jobs was rude and invasive.

Rukia wondered if Byakuya told Hollow-hunting stories to the ethereally handsome valet that brushed his hair. She guessed not.

So, instead of going directly to the source, she tried to pay attention and figure out who might be ripe for asking around. Rukia wasn’t exactly the sort of girl people liked to talk to, especially not the servants, but Hirai, the man who devoted his days to Byakuya’s trio of exquisitely-bred hunting dogs, was a known talker, and also, Rukia never minded going down to the stables to pet the dogs, who had better manners than a lot of shinigami she knew. Hirai didn’t really remember Hisana’s maid, although he figured she must’ve had one. He also happened to mention that the prize-winning grandmother of the current pack, Bon Lanterns On the Current, had actually just been named “Bonnie.” Apparently, Shiba Kaien had told Hisana over dinner that was what his little brother had named the boar Kaien found in the woods for him, and Hisana thought it was the cutest name she had ever heard. When one of the bitches whelped a week later, Hisana immediately staked her claim. Byakuya had pinned a fancy name on Bonnie retroactively, because he felt strongly that you couldn’t just give a dog a regular name. This story had layers. Rukia couldn’t stop thinking about it for days.

When her shamisen lesson rolled around, later that week, she recalled that the genteel elderly woman who taught her had been Hisana’s teacher, as well. “Oh, yes,” Ms. Nanaha nodded as they tuned their instruments. “Yes, her name was Ujiie and she had a beautiful singing voice. You sister had a lovely voice, too. Deep for woman's-- like yours. Singing for too long took her breath, but Miss Ujiee was always happy to accompany. Those were nice times.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Lord Byakuya would often be ‘conveniently’ walking through the garden during Lady Hisana’s lessons. She used to bring a pile of chestnuts and pitch them out the window at him. Lady Hisana had a very good arm, but Lord Byakuya was quite skilled at catching.” She smiled mildly. “Such a lovely couple.”

Ohori, the cook liked Rukia because she gave him the only excuses he ever got to make desserts. Ohori loved his job, but he also loved crafting delicate little wagashi. He had been a junior chef in Hisana’s day, and he remembered her maid quite well. Hisana had apparently had a fondness for dorayaki, and also a fondness for eating them in the library while she was drawing. The maid, whose given name was Yoshiko and had light brown hair, always pulled back in a chignon, used to come down to fetch them and also flirt with him. This last bit was delivered with a wisp of fond nostalgia. Rukia felt inordinately proud of her detective skills.

That glowy feeling of success lasted until bedtime, when Mikan was brushing out Rukia’s hair again.

“Do you know if we still have someone named Ujiie Yoshiko on the staff?” Rukia mused to Mikan hopefully.

“We-elll…” Mikan drew out, and then explained that she, too, had been asking around. Apparently, upon a suggestion from a friend in the House Guard, who had it from one of the House Guard old-timers, that she should talk to old Uka in housekeeping. Old Uka was a good person to know, apparently, if you were interested in 300 years of Kuchiki Family secrets and happened to have a tipple of sake about your person. After a quick side trip to another friend, Assistant Sommelier Katsunogi (since when was Mikan friends with the sommeliers??), Mikan had found out that Ujiie had left the household after Hisana’s death. “She apparently went off to become a governess for a lesser noble family after the mother died,” Mikan frowned as she teased a knot from the ends of Rukia’s hair. “She didn’t know which family. I’m sorry.”

*   *   *

“I can’t decide whether to be blown away by Mikan’s intelligence gathering skills or depressed because the trail goes completely cold after that,” Rukia sighed over her own sake, later, to Renji. “I guess it was a dumb idea in the first place.”

“It doesn’t sound like a total loss,” Renji pointed out. “You heard some new stories about your sis, right? Cripes, I would love to see the captain get nailed in the head with a chestnut.”

“True,” Rukia admitted. “Oh, look at this!” She rummaged around in her sleeve and pulled out an old photograph. “I found a picture in the library of Brother and Bonnie-chan!”

Renji snorted at the sepia-toned photograph of his captain standing stoically in hunting gear, the effect totally ruined by the cheerfully panting hound at his side. It seemed to Rukia that her boyfriend had that look on his face like his brain was off engaged on some other problem. He had a tendency to get a little quiet when the subject of Hisana rolled around. Rukia didn't like to press the matter, so she dropped the subject and listened to Lieutenant Hinamori tease Lieutenant Kira about his new haircut instead.

In fact, Renji was busy thinking about something his Ninth Seat had offhandedly mentioned to him once, and thinking about doing a little asking around of his own.

*   *   *

Rukia had never been to the Shirogane’s house, although they were frequent visitors to Kuchiki Manor. She was somewhat surprised to learn that Renji had been invited over for dinner on a semi-regular basis since he’d taken over the vice-captain post from Ginjirou.

“At first I thought he was worried about your brother,” Renji explained, “and wanted to make sure I did a good job. But he later told me that he could tell I had a lot of potential and that he was sure I was gonna get in good with the captain, and was, uh, hoping me and Mihane would hit it off.”

Rukia gasped. “Are you telling me you gave up your chances to inherit the sunglasses store for me?”

Renji stretched and interlaced his hands behind his head. “I don’t think Mihane would have me anyway. Gotta keep my sights realistic, y’know?”

If Ginjirou was at all disappointed at the failure of his matchmaking scheme, he certainly didn’t show it. This was apparently the first time Renji had visited since his courtship with Rukia had been officially recognized, and one would have thought it was Ginjirou’s own child who stood to marry into the Kuchiki main line.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Mihane told Rukia while her father dragged Renji off to show him some of his new goggle designs. “She was my nurse when I was little, but she’s been with us so long, she’s practically family. Apparently, she used to work for your family. I didn’t even know that until Vice-Captain asked me if I knew someone by her name. I guess he remembered something I said a few years ago about my mom dying around the same time Lady Kuchiki did. I don’t even remember saying it. He’s got a mind like a steel trap, that guy. It’s awful working for him, you know.”

“I bet,” Rukia echoed numbly as Mihane pushed open the shoji to the gardens.

“Auntie Yoshiko, Lady Rukia is here!”

A middle-aged woman stood on the engawa. She had light brown hair, streaked with grey, and kind eyes that were filling with tears. “It’s true,” she gasped. “You do look just like her!”

*   *   *

“Was it a good visit?” Renji asked gently on the walk home.

Rukia nodded rapidly, too emotional to say anything.

“That was a pretty good trick,” Renji noted. “Tracking her down like that.”

Rukia snorted. “What are you talking about? I mean, I tried. I tried to do what you said, pay attention, ask around, be the sort of person people tell things to. But then you and Mikan found her without me doing anything.”

Renji’s brows scrunched. “When did I say that?”

“I dunno. A million years ago or so.”

Renji slung his arm around her shoulder. “You know I get hit on the head a lot, so you’ll forgive me for not remembering the exact conversation, but I think what I was trying to say was that the trick is finding some busybodies to do the work for you. Which sounds like exactly what you did.”

Rukia leaned against him, and he pressed her into his side affectionately.

“What I want to know now,” Rukia said slowly. “Is how Mikan is getting so much intelligence out of the House Guard.”

“Oh, they’re all terrible gossips,” Renji pointed out. “But if you want to know which one she’s ‘befriended’, I’ve got a sparring date with Guard Captain Kamata on Tuesday. I bet he knows who’s a soft touch for a pair of big eyes and freckles.”

“Gosh, who isn’t?” Rukia sighed. “Maybe we should just let Mikan keep her secrets. I want her to tell nice stories about me after I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Renji replied.

[sweetserenityrp]

“For the glory we sing our broken, take a side and I’ll take the other one.”

Noah GRAVES is thirty-five years old. He/him is employed as a sous chef at Sullivan’s restaurant.

☆ PAST

Noah grew up in California surrounded by love and comfort. His parents were two of the greatest people he’d ever met and their relationship served as a glowing example for what true love and partnership should look like. Being the middle child of three, Noah was able to get by unnoticed from time to time and he took full advantage of that freedom whenever he could. He had a tendency to get bored easily with whatever he was doing, even as a small child. Since his parents never scolded him for his toddler art projects on the walls of their bathroom, he felt like he had the freedom to explore new things whenever he wanted. They always encouraged him to learn whatever he could, whatever he was interested in, and to follow his dreams no matter how big or small they were.

He was a free spirit, perfectly at home in California, throughout his adolescence. Nothing in his life had ever gone wrong before which was why his father’s death shook him to the core. His father was his role model, he was the man who taught Noah what being a man even meant; how to act and treat others, how to build things for himself, how to fix cars, whatever he knew he knew because of his father. Losing him rocked his world in a way he couldn’t get past for a long time. It was senseless – a drunk driving accident – and it wasn’t fair. The one thing he was able to channel from that tragedy was his drive to become an EMT. He was positive that if he was trained and experienced, he could save some other sixteen year old kid from having to know the same pain, the same loss, as he’d learned at that age.

By the time he graduated the EMT program he was antsy and ready for a change. For whatever reason Texas seemed to be calling his name so he packed up and moved South where he quickly found a job and, soon after, the love of his life. She was beautiful and kind and thoughtful and generous; her list of good qualities was never ending. He fell for her fast and hard. They were only eighteen when they met but their bond only grew with time. They were twenty-one when they got married an it was truly the happiest day of his life up until the birth of their son two years after. Noah couldn’t be happier with his life and he knew he was making his father proud because he was being the kind of man he’d taught him to be. He even gave up his EMT career in favor of joining the police force so he could have a more stable schedule that allowed him more time with them.

After he graduated from the police academy he and his family picked up and moved to New Jersey so they could be closer to his wife’s family because her grandmother was having some health issues. They enjoyed five years of bliss, even through the brutal winters, and Noah was sure he’d be happy for the rest of his life here. It wasn’t until his precinct received the call to the scene of a crime and one of his fellow officers called him directly from the scene telling him he had to get down there– not because they needed his help with the scene, but because they needed him to positively identify the bodies of his wife and son. It was a snowy night in March and a car driving too fast hit a patch of black ice and lost control. The two people he loved most in the world were killed on impact and suddenly Noah had no sense of direction anymore.

He tried for almost a year to find a groove again but everything in New Jersey reminded him of his wife and son. He needed a fresh start and there was no better way that completely disappearing to some small town he randomly selected on the map. Serenity, Georgia. He’d never heard of it before which was perfect because no one would think to look for him there. He had to find a way to pay the bills but he couldn’t bring himself to get involved in law enforcement or first responder positions anymore. He took a job as a busser in one of the town diners and somehow worked his way up to a prepping station in the kitchen under Lily Loe Sullivan.

☆ PRESENT

It surprised Noah how much he took to working in the kitchen. He’d never considered himself much of a cook beyond the 2-3 old family recipes he knew how to make perfectly. Some of his memories of working in the kitchen with his mother and grandmother started to come back to him and, with Lily Loe’s blessing, he began to mess around with ingredients here and there. His creativity and seemingly natural instinct for flavors marked him as the one to watch in the kitchen and before long, Lily Loe promoted him to her sous chef. They slowly became good friends beyond the conversations they’d have behind the line. Although he was still grieving the loss of his wife and son (and probably always would be on some level), life seemed to be evening out for Noah once again in the most unexpected way.

The Role of Noah GRAVES is played by Charles Michael Davis and is currently OPEN and this FC is nonnegotiable.

[rxdclhxxd]

[ GIGI HADID, 20, FEMALE, SHE/HER ] welcome to the du pont institute for the young & gifted, [ RYDEL HOOD ]. you have been accepted as a [ REGULAR ]student from [ USA ], going into your [ SOPHOMORE YEAR ] and majoring in [ MANAGMENT ]. your peers at the institute say that you are [ +CHEERFUL & +LOVING ], but being [ -NAIVE & -JUVENILE ] may be the reason why the police are asking about you. did you think they wouldn’t find out that you were michael’s [ FAILED HOOK-UP ]? [ DUCKIE, 23, SHE/HER, CST ]

Tw: stalking

general information.

full name    rydel ‘red’ hood

alias    red, ry, del

age    twenty

date of birth    july 25th

place of birth    lodon, england

zodiac    leo

gender    female

nationality    european

religion    non-practicing catholic

orientation    straight

relationship status    single

physical attributes.

face claim    gigi hadid

height    5′2′’

weight    114 lbs

hair color    blonde

eye color    blue

voice claim    gigi hadid

tattoos    small heart on wrist, whisk on left arm

distinguishing marks    moles on body, brighte blue eyes, sharp features

outfit/clothing style    anything cute and red

background information.

hometown    Northshire, NY

current residence   Northshire

past residences   N/A

spoken languages    english

financial status    high-class

education level    high school

occupation    none

familial information.

mother    patricia hood

father    donovan hood

siblings    kellan hood

children    none

personality.

positive traits    sweet, cute, playful

negative traits    naive, ditzy, rebellious

likes    baking/cooking, red, social media, her grandmother

dislikes    darkness, hatred, conflict

moral alignment    chaotic good

mbtie    nfp-t

enneagram    type 2

temperament    helpful, loving, patient

BIOGRAPHY

 Growing up in the heart of Northshire a little girl had a lot to learn. After all there are dangers out in the world and most kids learned; no talking to strangers, stay in groups, and always do as you are told. This wasn’t the case for Rydel Hood. No one ever could figure out how she could be so naive to the dangers the world possessed but some how the girl seemed to grow up in a bubble and in that bubble was a world that let her do anything. People didn’t even seem to mind; she was such a sweet little girl and everyone knew her. Welcoming her as she walked down the street with a smile and a wave. No one could really miss the girl after all, she stuck out even in the most crowded places. A mix of this was to due with her beauty and the iconic red wardrobe she has devoted herself to. “Red goes with everything.” She would say with a giggle and be on her way.

 Now, a saying like that was cute at first but as her beauty grew so did the lust others seemed to hold and soon people were seeing that saying as a flirtatious gesture. Rydel would never intended on this of course, she was a sweet girl, boys weren’t really the thing she was after; not that it stopped them…

After living a happy life Rydel went on living it, somehow her innocent and naive nature was never too much of a problem. Until she was about 16 and boys really started to take attention to the sweet young girl, everyone tried their best to get her attention but all she ever seemed to want to do was bake and cook. The girl was good. She made the best lemon cakes, her frosting skills were above a piece of art, and when it came to dinner time you were sure to be at Rydel’s house with a plate. Now, she couldn’t take all the credit, everything she knew was taught to her by her beloved grandmother. Every day the woman spent hours with Rydel teaching the girl everything there was to know to succeed in being an amazing chef.

Things were perfect. Rydel was doing so well in school, she was happy, and she was popular. Now 20 years old the girl still so blind to what the world could be she was completely unaware of the much older boy that seemed to lurk in any shadow that she seemed to be. Drake Wolff was the man’s name and bad was his heart. He took quick notice of the girl after he moved down the block from Rydel and watched her as she walked to school every day. Everyone saw him as a creep, some even heard rumors of a bad past. Did Rydel ever take note of this? Oh no. And every day when she walked by she’d wave and give him a nice smile. At first his obsession was harmless, making sure every day he was out at the exact time she walked by to say hello. Then it grew to following her to school and home, always a few steps behind. Then he would stand outside her house, then it became her window, and finally he took it as far as climbing through into her bedroom and watching her sleep.

Rydel Hood never saw it coming the one night she woke up and staring at her in the darkness were two large eyes and a wide grin. She tried to scream but he was quick and covered her mouth. It was her moving around as he forced desperately to take advantage of her that got her families attention and soon they were running into the room just seconds too late Drake had made it out her window and got away. The last thing that Rydel saw of the man were those huge eyes and that enormous grin.

The police could never find Drake, he had left the same night of the attack and even though he is still being looked for Rydel apparently hadn’t been his first victim, he knew how to leave town and not be found. Of course after everything Rydel was left scarred by it all but with the help of her family she was able to keep herself stable and even graduate high school. Wanting nothing more then to be away from that city Rydel went to a place that she hoped would help and after being accepted. 

secret:

There are times when her skin crawls and she feels that she would never really be safe from Drake unless he ends up being caught. The attack has left her afraid of the dark and if her room ever goes dark at night she instantly goes into a panic.

michael’s connection:

Michael and Rydel always grew up together as neighbors and through the years michael tried so many times to flirt with Rydel but she never realized it. He was gorgeous but she focused on other things and when he found out about her stalker she was terrified about people finding out. 

SUSPECT? leading up to michael valmont’s murder, [ GIGI HADID ] was allegedly seen [ WAS SEEN WITH MICHAEL THE NIGHT OF HIS MURDER ]. the police have now listed michael’s [ FAILED HOOK-UP ] as a person of interest because [ HE FOUND OUT ABOUT HER STALKER AND SHE WANTED TO MAKE SURE HE KEPT IT A SECRET ]. 

[multiracialmedia-blog]

I Am Slowly Accepting That I am Japanese

In addition to being African American and White, I also slowly learning to accept the fact that I am Japanese.

In February I wrote about the results of the DNA test I took in November 2016. Although I had been surprised to learn about the small percentage of Black in me, nothing surprised me about the 25 percent Asian in me. I have always known I am Japanese—my maternal grandfather was born and raised in Japan. Honestly I am not sure whether having the DNA results has been blessing or a curse as I am still trying to figure this whole identity thing out.

I grew up self-identifying as Black and after the journey of co-authoring the book Being Biracial: Where Our Secret Worlds Collide, I started accepting all the parts that make me … me. This includes being Japanese. 

The problem is, although I am Japanese, I know nothing about being Japanese. I’ll explain.

My Japanese grandfather with my great-grandfather, circa 1928.

My maternal grandfather “Francis” Inouye was born in Osaka, Japan in 1888. When he was 18, he joined the Japanese Navy where he worked as a chef. Although I’m not sure why, in 1929 he came to the United States and after meeting my grandmother, Cleopatra Allen—an African American woman—they fell in love and he never went back to Japan.

My mother, Emily, was born in 1933. At the time, both my grandparents were 45 years old. My grandmother was employed by a wealthy White family as their domestic: a combination house manager, house keeper, cook and nanny.

They lived in White Plains, a suburb of New York City. They were one of only two non-White families in the town. My mother and grandparents lived on the bottom floor of a two-family house. Upstairs was a Black couple raising two daughters who were around the same age as my mother.

White Plains was no fun for any person of color. Growing up, my mother was accustomed to being discriminated against by White people. Rocks were routinely thrown through their window, and once or twice the KKK burned a cross on their front lawn.

Conversely, my grandmother’s employers treated my mother and grandparents very well. This included my grandfather, despite the fact that he wasn’t American and he hardly spoke any English.

Occasionally my grandfather would pick my grandmother up from work, and he’d offer to cook for the family. It’s a given that my grandfather cooked Japanese food, which included preparing sushi. His specialty was making origami animals and flowers using vegetables like carrots.

My grandmother’s employers were very impressed with my grandfather’s culinary skills. With connections in the restaurant industry they got my grandfather a job as a sous chef at a nearby restaurant.

Before long my grandfather worked his way up to head chef and by the time my mother was three years old my grandfather owned a Japanese restaurant.

Although by this point he was fluent in English, my grandfather didn’t take the bus to and from work but was driven and my grandmother’s employers made sure he was never out in public alone. On paper, my grandfather did not own his restaurant. My grandmother’s employers did all the paperwork in their names and were very honest about making sure my grandfather received all of the profits from his business.

Why all the secrecy?

In 1924, the United States Congress introduced The Immigration Act of 1924 (also commonly referred to as the Johnson-Reed Act) restricting legal immigration from various countries, in particular from Japan. The purpose of this was to protect the homogeneity of the U.S.

This of course meant that my grandfather was living in the United States illegally. It also meant my grandparents were not legally married. My mother said of those times that she often wished she were living “high up on the mountain tops, far from the eyes of cops.”—a mantra she continued using as I was growing up. They lived in constant fear of my grandfather being deported.

Because of this “Act,” which ended in 1952, as a child and into her adulthood, my mother continually lied about who her father was. She learned at an early age to tell people my grandmother’s first husband, James Allen (a Black man who died before my mother was born) was her father. Indeed his name, and not my grandfather’s, is on my mother’s birth certificate.

My mother, circa 1943. She was Black and Japanese.

In 1938 when my mother was five years old, her father died of pancreatic cancer. The following year World War II started and in 1941, the United States broke their neutrality treaty and entered the war. Many troops were sent to Japan to fight and throughout the United States there was a lot of anti-Japanese sentiment.

Under President Franklin Roosevelt’s administration (1933-1945 and the only three-term president), anyone of Japanese ancestry living on the west coast was rounded up and sent to internment camps. They would remain in them until the war ended in 1945. Although it was unlikely my mother would have been sent to one, she continued keeping it a secret her father was Japanese. Her dark complexion and hint of almond eyes made it possible to fool people.

In 1958 my mother met my father, and they were married in 1960. My father was White and a mixture of German, Dutch and Irish. They met and married at the height of the Civil Rights Movement when Blacks were fighting for the right to eat in the same restaurants as Whites, sit where they wanted on public transportation, integration of public schools and universities and the right to marry whom they wanted. They were also fighting to end the systematic police brutality against them.

Before I was born, circa 1965. Although the Japanese is present in my mother, she identified as Black.

All too quickly my father was caught up in her fight—and the fight of all Black people—and as a result, they raised my brothers and me to identify as Black. Their rationale was that society will see us this way (even me, and I am much lighter in complexion than my brothers) and we should be prepared for the racism that will come our way. Believe me when I say I am grateful to them for this. It taught me to have a very tough exterior.

By this point, not only had my mother buried her Japanese heritage, my parents had made a conscious decision to do the same with their kids, but for different reasons. Their choices were not uncommon in those days. I knew many families who were biracial and multiracial who identified with only one.

My mother often said about many things in life, “parents give their children unspoken commands that their children implicitly obey.” This would describe my brothers’ and my relationship with being Japanese. We knew growing up that we were a rich blend of heritages, and we were taught to appreciate the cultures and histories of them all (along with everyone else’s), but at the same time, my brothers and I were taught to self-identify as Black.

Although I Am Japanese, Too, I Am Still Very Much a Work in Progress

After I started college (when I was 16) I began to give myself permission to examine my “mixedness” more closely. For about ten years (between the ages of 22 and 32) I was a Buddhist (as was my grandfather). However, my journey embracing the fact that I am Japanese has been a bumpy road and today I am still very much a work in progress.

It’s not that I don’t accept that I am Japanese, I am very proud to be mixed race with so many ethnicities and cultures inside me. However despite my pride, I look in the mirror and I don’t “see” Japanese. In the same way my mother was able to convince herself through years that she was Black, I had done the same.

I may be Japanese, but I sure don’t look like it.

What we typically think of as Japanese is not in my hair, my eyes, my face or my build. I am taller than my mother and grandfather were and I am big boned like my father’s German side of the family. I have a light tan complexion (which is actually about the same complexion as my grandfather) with curly hair and high cheekbones like my mother and my maternal grandmother. I have large eyes that nobody mistakes for being remotely Asian.

When I lived in the United States, I had become quite used to fielding questions like, “What are you?” and “Where are you from?” The beauty and the curse of being multiracial had become the same. When the curiosity and labeling me exotic wore off, the judgments, people’s assumptions (usually erroneous) and racism were soon to follow. I got to a point where I used to wish I could blend in better—not with them but with the walls around me.

And yet, I am Japanese. I look at photos of my grandfather and my mother, and I see that they were clearly Asian.

My brothers have their own relationships with being Japanese. My oldest brother has never shown any interest in identifying as part Japanese. He looks the most Black of the three of us (he looks a lot like President Barack Obama, actually) and he has had to deal with so much racism over the years that it has dominated his self-identity.

My middle brother looks most like my mother and actually looks Japanese with a darker complexion than I have. He is the only one of us with straight hair, and he is often asked if he is Asian of some kind. I think he feels a connection to the Japanese side more than my older brother and I do.

Paul and me in 2009.

And now since my husband (who’s Black) and I have lived on Puerto Rico since 2008, I am often assumed to be Puerto Rican because Puerto Ricans are a beautiful mixture of West African, Taino Indian and Spanish from Spain. Because I blend, I don’t usually correct people. This is partly purposeful because it’s been wonderful not being on the defensive about who I am with total strangers the way I had to when I lived in the U.S. I so often say about Puerto Ricans, “when you’re here, you’re family.” There is a genuine acceptance here that I rarely felt when I lived in the U.S. This is not to suggest that there aren’t race issues here that stem from colonization and slavery but it’s 99% better than it is in the U.S.

On the occasions when I do tell people my racial makeup, while I do get people asking me all sorts of questions, it’s not because I feel they’re judging me but because Asians aren’t the norm here. Asians (all combined) comprise just .02% of the island’s population). And oftentimes after I have explained my racial and ethnic makeup, people respond by saying, “Oh well, you’re Puerto Rican now. You’re one of us.”

And this is the reason my husband and I live here and why we’ll never leave.

I Am Slowly Accepting That I am Japanese if you want to check out other voices of the Multiracial Community click here Multiracial Media