#he needed connection he needed unconditional consistent support and his mother got it for him…… it made noises when he squeezed it :(

[aboutfivebees]

“The child is claiming what is after all a genuine right of his - attention, love and companionship” Nagera (1969) on reasons why children may form an imaginary companion

[lightchildofthespring]

Hey, happy Friday! I'm sending you an ask for Fanfic Friday. Can you tell me which of your fics is your fave right now? What do you love about it?

Thank you for the ask!

My favorite fic is The Song of Love. I think it'll remain my favorite fic for a long time. It's not just because of how much effort I put on the writing, it's not just about how hard I worked on it. To be completely honest, the reason why I love this story so much is that I realized all of my Digimon Adventure dreams through it.

As a child (and, let's face it, as a grown-up as well) I was always frustrated at how Taichi and Yamato got way more screen time than the other kids. You see, I had more love for the other kids than for the main two, I found them more interesting, I wanted to see the show explore more of their complexities, their flaws, their fears. I wanted them to be the main characters.

Yeah, I know, blasphemy!

But that was the sentiment that got me to start this story. What if Taichi and Yamato had never become chosen children? How would the group dynamic be without them? What if Sora had to be the leader? What if the children equal screen time and complex arcs since the beginning?

I didn't have too much ambition when I wrote the first chapter. I was sure it would be ignored like my other fics and I would eventually abandon it. But then, the most incredible thing happened. I began to get reviews on a consistent basis and they filled me with encouragement I had never felt before towards writing.

And since this fic was an AU and I had no obligation to tie it to canon, I took as many liberties as I wanted. Classic Adventure villains now had backstories and goals that were relatable (in fact, most of them became more of antagonists than villains) and LadyDevimon became the most complex and interesting of them all. I can't put in words how much I loved writing for her and making her so conflicted and hurt through the story but still having a lingering warmth that wouldn't make her completely fall from grace.

And I also dove deeply into the kids' backstories and how they affected their behavior. That was, after all, what I loved about Digimon Adventure. Sora's turbulent relationship with her mother made her strive to be as different from the version of Toshiko she had in her head as possible. But because Sora worked so hard to be good and reliable to the other kids, she wondered if she was an actual good person or if she was simply lying to everybody. Nobody knew the real Sora, and if they did, they would definitely reject her, she thought. And how wonderful it was to slowly and steadily prove her wrong. Despite losing control of her temper at times (especially when someone made her think about adults being bad to children), accidental reveals about her past and terrible mistakes (everybody makes at least one terrible mistake in this story), despite the massive guilt and self-loathing that assaulted her, nobody turned their back at Sora. Her insecurities and mistakes were met with comprehension and unconditional love. And that's what made her accept the mantle of leadership and made her start to try to understand her mother.

Koushiro's arc parallels Sora's in many ways. He also had self-loathing issues and did everything to hide his true self from others. For not seeing worth in himself, he tried to be as useful as he could to other people. For not believing he was capable of understanding or giving emotional support to others, he tried to help in practical ways. In trying to avoid hurting anyone's feelings by accident, he defaulted to perpetual politeness. But the main aspect of his arc was how he his will to understand the things around him masked the deep fear he had of looking into himself. Koushiro was sure that he was not a good person, compared to his wonderful parents and friends, but a faulty individual that could only hope to help others despite his glaring imperfections. What a joy it was to deconstruct his warped worldview! Koushiro learned that he too could emotionally connect to his friends and help them, he learned that his friends would love him and fight for him regardless of whatever comes in his way and that he'd do the same for them. In a twist for the crest of knowledge, what Koushiro needed to learn the most was something that had been inside him since the beginning. If I could sum up his arc, it would be by showing what he said to Tentomon in chapter 43:

“Now that I had the opportunity to see my entire life flashing in front of me, now that I came to see how great were the things that tried to destroy me and failed… now that I see how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown… for most of my life, I was afraid to get to know myself better, sure that I’d only see terrible things in me. I was myself a mystery that I didn’t want to solve. But you encouraged me to do so… I had a lot to learn and I wasn’t so afraid of the unknown with you by my side. You kept on teaching me… all of you… that’s how I came to get to know myself. Do you know what I learned? What I concluded after taking a good look inside me? I’m actually pretty great!”

And Jyou! What can I say about Jyou? Remember how I said that each kid makes at least one terrible mistake? Jyou made his in chapter 4. He was so adamant about following the rules he believed he had to follow and enforcing them... that he got little sympathy from the others in the beginning. Jyou had deep confidence issues, he believed he had to work harder than anyone else because he was not as naturally gifted as other people. To try to conquer his fear of being an “average at best” person who was not really capable of becoming a doctor, he pushed himself to unhealthy lengths and endangered himself constantly. He came to understand that he shouldn't just think about what he's supposed to do or what is expected of him. Jyou could do and become whatever he wanted! His journey was to learn to be true to himself.

Mimi didn't have family related trauma, like the others. Her growth was tied to trusting her compassionate instincts and trying to reach others through her words. She was outspoken and strong-willed, she was not afraid of calling people out and was fiercely protective of her friends, not understanding how they could put themselves down so much. Mimi also happened to be the person who most easily forgave other people, but not before scolding them. Mimi at times doubted herself, but her emotional honesty allowed her to recover quickly. She might be the strongest chosen child due to her being the least afraid of being vulnerable.

Takeru went through a lot in The Song of Love. As if it was not enough to be stranded in a strange world with kids he didn't know and without his big brother, he had to deal with a huge loss very soon. Takeru had a hard time, especially during the second arc, dealing with his trauma, which made him a bit aggressive. But he got better with time and support from the others. Aside from the loss of his partner, Takeru also suffered from a lingering fear of abandonment derived from his parents' divorce. Because of that, he was adamant about people facing their problems head on.

I really can't say too much about Hikari's arc because it's not possible to do it without spoiling the biggest twists of the story. To be as vague as possible, she wanted to do things on her own and prove to herselt that she could be more than what other people expect of her. Her arc was about learning that she didn't have to be alone.

Yeah, I know I wrote too much, but I'm really passionate about this story and these characters. Once again, thank you for the ask!

[pcrozier87]

Today is Mother’s birthday. As I reflect on the wonderful presence she is in my life, I find myself reminiscing. 30 years of memories with her make me so grateful to have her as my mother, my best friend, my confidant and sounding board. She is the sound of reason, the voice in my head, the one I turn to for advice and comfort, my number one fan, and the absolute best example of unconditional love. I know there will always be nothing but love from her. She is quick to respond with positivity and support, ideas and creativity, and her own personal brand of vivacity. In 60 years, when she’s 112 and I’m 90, I’ll probably have to say goodbye to her, but even then it won’t have been enough time with her. She’s incredible and amazing, and I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s the woman who came to organize my apartment because I didn’t have a chance to do it before the baby was born. She the woman who, when I asked to borrow her giant pot to make some dishes for my family, responded with, “Absolutely!” I see so much of her in me. And I’m sure as my own daughter grows I’ll hear her words coming from my mouth more and more. After all, my whole life has been filled with her.

There’s something about cooking that takes me back to the past. Back to days in the kitchen with Mother. With Granny. Back to my childhood. Chicken and dumplins–the rolled out kind, not the dropped ones, pinto beans, rice, corn bread, banana bread, chicken breast… I made those a few days ago. All of it. All at once. Cooking isn’t a challenge if you only have one pot on the stove and nothing in the oven. Heaven knows I like a challenge. My bonus daughter asked me how I learned to cook. The thing is, I don’t really know. I just watched. Cast iron skillets, Magnalite pots, corningware dishes, pie plates, and cookie sheets. There was magic in the kitchen when I was little. I watched Granny cook endlessly for the first 11 years of my life. I remember sitting on the yellow formica countertops stirring the roux so it would get nice and brown without burning. I remember finding recipes and measuring ingredients to make pies and cookies to feed the people who seemed to always be at Granny’s house. I remember the dumplin pot full of goodness and watching the women of my family make the recipe that was never written. Casseroles and soups and things we made up as we went, those were the magic of that kitchen. I learned to love to cook there, though the practical application and technical skill came later. Training to be a restaurant manager will teach you things about being in the kitchen that you never thought you’d need to know. I know how to do things that no single person ever needs to tackle in their own home, but learning it was useful. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is just as powerful, after all.

My husband is working overnights right now, but he has weekends off, so I’m thankful for the consistent schedule. I’ve been able to prepare meals in advance for him because of his steady hours, so cooking a week’s worth of meat and putting it in separated Tupperware means one less obstacle for his day. This is the easiest part of my time in the kitchen. I’m so thankful for the genius who came up with those pre-cut foil sheets. One per chicken breast, seasoned individually so he’s not eating the same flavors every day, then into our awesome mini-oven below the microwave (originally intended mostly for pizza, I think, but we use it CONSTANTLY). 425 degrees for 45 minutes for thawed and 90 minutes for frozen, then out comes an easy entrée for my hard-working honey to eat on the job.

We have my bonus daughter here for the month. Well, she got here on June 23rd and she goes back to her biological mother on July 23rd, but this is her “month” with us. This is the first time she’s been able to spend the full four weeks with her father and me. There were always scheduling conflicts in the past. It’s been wonderful and interesting having her here. I’m able to see the young woman she’s becoming, and I’m able to influence her in those aspects I find important to being a mature, well-behaved lady that she may not be exposed to elsewhere. Things like not eating in bed, picking up trash, cleaning up after yourself, brushing your hair more than once a day, brushing your teeth and showering regularly, making smart food choices, not needing a dessert after every meal, being responsible for cleaning up your living space, and being observant and considerate are all lessons of the summer in a roundabout way. She loves her baby sister, though she gets bored with her lack of mobility, I think, but she is always willing to help. At 11, she’s showing those signs of teenage “attitude” that I see at school, and her fashion choices are very much on the dress-down side, and so I see a lot of myself in her, despite the lack of biological connection. I actually feel the need to apologize to my mother on a regular basis for my own fashion choices and hormonal attitude at that point in my life. It’s completely different and I understand her so much better looking at it from this side.

She’s the reason I’ve been pre-packaging fruits and veggies, making more chicken and dumplins than I’ve ever made before, and cooking big meals with leftovers. She hasn’t quite learned the kitchen and can’t really cook more than Ramen, and even that’s with supervision, so she makes sandwiches and heats things in the microwave. With the new baby demanding time and energy, I welcome her autonomy when possible. She genuinely seems to like what I cook, especially dumplins. Except for the beans. She said, “I’m not really a fan of beans in general, but if I were, I would like these.” That’s the most back-handed compliment she’s ever given, I think. And I’m pretty sure she was just being nice. You can’t please everyone, I suppose. This is the same child who likes Brussels sprouts and claims to not like cheese.

I find my role as both mother and bonus mom significantly colored by the experiences I had with my own mother. I see what she went through in my own life, and I thank the Lord above I have her to observe, that I grew up watching her deal with life and all of its challenges, especially the ones that come from having children that you’re trying to shape into the best adults possible.

Dumplin’ Pot

Cast Iron

Chicken and dumplins

Cornbread in cast iron

Pinto beans with rice and cornbread

Banana bread

Seasoned Chicken

Chicken in Foil for Baking

I like to cook. I make things up as I go along even more now than I did before. Mother does that. I learned how to make dumplins and pinto beans from her. A little of this, a little of that, season it until it tastes right, though my palm is my measuring cup. Mother learned it from her mother, who learned it from her mother, as far as I know. Those are Mother’s recipes. Nothing is written down with any sense of certainty. Just approximations and estimations, eyeballing amounts in your hand before dusting them into the pot and knowing it just fits, smelling things and picking out the flavors you want, mixing and matching tastes and ideas and feeling that certain something in your gut that makes you add an unorthodox ingredient that makes a dish perfect. Like sugar with sour cream, or peanut butter with honey or bananas, or tomato and mayo on a sandwich. All of those are things my husband just doesn’t get. I follow recipes, too, but I’m not afraid to add a little something here and there to make it my own. I run into the problem all of the cooks in my family deal with, though. Once it’s made, we have NO idea what went in it! I got my own set of wonderful Magnalite pots and pans for Christmas last year, and I’ve had cast iron for ages now. I love them. Magnalite pots and cast iron skillets are the cornerstones of my kitchen. If the kitchen is magic, I come from a long line of witches. The foundations of my happiness in the kitchen are firmly ensconced in Magnalite, magic, and Mother’s recipes.

Magnalite, Magic, and Mother’s Recipes Today is Mother's birthday. As I reflect on the wonderful presence she is in my life, I find myself reminiscing.