#the yu sisters are undeniably a lot

[ystrike1]

The Girl of the Black Lotus - By Kuaikan Comics (7/10)

Snore. If you're a shoujo manga fan you'll like this. It moves slow as molasses. Frozen molasses. After 90 chapters or so there's no solid romance and everybody is still pining for each other. It's a Chinese manhwa so if you're looking for something a little different take a look.

This is... different but not unique if you know what I mean. In this setting getting transferred to another body is fairly normal. It happens to alot of people. Our unfortunate main character gets transferred into the body of an annoying villainess named Yu Ling.

She's a cute manipulative girl. In order to return home Yu Ling must make Sheng fall in love with her. Sheng is a yandere shadow villain slash love interest who is VERY in love with somebody else.

Getting home won't be easy.

Look at this relationship chart. It's in like chapter two, and the story basically follows this chart...forever. Yu Ling has to pretend to like Fuyi for plot reasons...while she attempts to romance the insane Sheng. Who is very protective of his adoptive sister, Yao. How complicated...but not really. Yao and Fuyi are already lovers. That isn't going to change. Sheng isn't as evil as he looks. He isn't willing to kill Fuyi to have Yao, because Fuyi is a good man.

Sheng flirts with Yao, sure, but he's the clear loser. He's not a very aggressive yandere. He's basically a convenient guard dog. Yao clearly sees him as a brother, and there's an age gap between them. You just can't tell because of the art style. Anyway Fuyi and Yao want Sheng and Yu Ling to get together. Yao is mostly oblivious about Shengs feelings, because she's a busy demon hunter. That's right this complicated family hunts demons.

If you want a plot heavy yandere story this is a good choice. Yu Ling's romance is kinda in the background for more than half the story. There are side stories about demons and such that take up a lot of page time too. Sheng is very closed off, so it takes ages for him to get attached to Yu Ling. I suppose it's realistic, because Sheng is hard to capture. Getting his heart can't be easy because when Yu Ling wins the reincarnation plot is over, and she goes home.

....it is kinda boring though.

After a while Sheng starts to think Yu Ling is pretty. He's the kind of the pining yandere that has eyes for only one woman. He feels strange. Yao has always been the object of his affection. Admiring Yu Ling in any way feels off to him. He can't accept his growing crush.

Sheng gradually grows closer to Yu Ling. He starts to hate Fuyi, because Yu Ling admires him. He wants Yu Ling to think he's the coolest demon hunter, but Fuyi is undeniably talented.

Sheng is technically stronger than Fuyi and Yao. He uses reverse talisman spells. It's a dangerous type of magic that is usually used by evil people. The user has to use their own blood to write these talismans. Sheng has special honey sweet blood that tastes delicious to humans and demons. His talismans are very potent.

This is the Emperor. I rolled my eyes when he appeared. Yu Ling immediately thinks that Sheng and the Emperor look alike...ew obvious ham fisted foreshadowing. Sheng most likely has imperial blood. Which makes his special blood make more sense I guess. The sudden reveal was annoying though because lmao...the Emperor and Sheng don't actually look alike due to the art style...again...ugh.

After 75 whole chapters we finally get a crazy scene. Yu Ling goes into the demon world to save Fuyi. Sheng told her to stay behind. She didn't listen to him. He doesn't want her to be in danger, and he doesn't want her to care about Fuyi. He thinks about breaking her legs so she can't leave his side, and he unties his hair, which is a big deal for a demon hunter. He feels extremely bitter towards Yu Ling. He doesn't want to be in love with her. He's reluctant to move on from his feelings for Yao. He is a pretty layered yandere, but I don't know. I feel like the plot doesn't focus on Yu Ling and Sheng enough. I don't find the other characters interesting, but the side character cast is huge. I think I like Sheng, and Yu Ling is an ok main character but...there's too many buts. The flow of the story is kinda choppy and slow.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #The Girl of the Black Lotus

[winepresswrath]

Hm! I wonder! What do Yuanyuan's sisters think of Madam Jin? How well do THEY get along? Do you have any thoughts on the matter? (and perhaps also thoughts on where Madam Jin is from, such as if she was from near Meishan or near Lanling?)

They like her, but very much consider her to be Yuanyuan’s little friend.  Every single time they meet her after Zixuan is born there’s a whole production about how she can’t have a baby, surely she is just a baby herself, it feels like only yesterday she was barely taller than her sword, don’t you remember when she and Yuanyuan got caught in that tree hurling pinecones at that pack of wolf demons, it was so cute, why hasn’t the little one fought off any wolf demons with pinecones yet? Is he feeble?   

I personally just go with book canon for Madam Jin, which has Meishan Yu and Madame Jin’s original sects being friendly enough with each other that they grew up together and stayed close even after they were married. I like the idea of Madame Jin’s sect being a little less isolationist than I think of Meishan Yu as being, and her being something a  window into the wider cultivation world for Madame Yu. I am extremely torn on Madame Jin more generally, as she is genuinely horrible to Jiggy, but on the other hand you’ve got her deep understanding of how amazing Yanli is coupled with her ability to terrorize her terrible husband and epic tragic bff thing with Madame Yu. Bad people need loving friendships characterized by enduring loyalty and a willingness to protect and care for each others’ children too!

#mdzs #madame yu #madame jin #the yu sisters are undeniably a lot #like we know nothing of them! #but try to tell me they're normal people who don't think ten year olds should be able to fight off a pack of wolf demons with pinecones #i won't believe you! #anyway i want fic where madame jin is the first person madame yu ever gives access to zidian #only i also don't want that #because getting emotionally invested in madame yu just brings me pain #like i know where this is going and it's horrible

[d00m-d4ys]

Disclaimer: i know this could be better (quality-of-story-wise) but it could also be a whole lot worse, so imo that absolves me of both editing and basic grammatical discipline. Please enjoy the latest instalment of my ‘the subplot of jiang fengmian possibly cheating on his wife was boring; yu ziyuan and cangse sanren should have been besties’ agenda.

Curfew is one of the many rules that chafe, and so she disregards it as often as she can. As undignified as it is to scales the walls of Cloud Recesses, she seethes, it could all be avoided if she was allowed spar with Zidian and teach the second heir of Lan not to look down his nose at her.

This moon is high by the time she returns, and she nearly topples to the ground as a voice calls, “Don’t fall.”

She steadies herself, telling her racing heart to calm itself. She looks to her left and sees the girl: a rogue cultivator, hair diligently unkempt and at odds with her pressed student’s robes.

“Don’t concern yourself with me,” she tells her sternly.

Cangse Sanren sits up, eyes wide. “I wasn’t concerned! Merely speaking aloud. Ignore me, honoured Violet Spider.”

“You mock me?” Zidian crackles in her hands.

“But of course. Jiangs fight best when they’re angry.” She comes to her feet like a puppet tugged along by its strings, lighter than air and undeniably coordinated.

Zidian hisses louder. “I am not Jiang, you insolent—“

Cangse Sanren moves almost too fast to track, and Ziyuan strikes on reflex, Zidian splitting a layer of roofing in half as Cangse dodges back, landing safely out of reach on top of the guard tower. She whistles, long and low. “So this is Zidian. Why do you hide her away?”

She curls her fingers around her ring protectively, unsure of what the girl means to do.

“Is that why? Afraid someone will steal it?” Cangse lights back down on the roof, confident in a way that Ziyuan hates, but not enough to risk using Zidian again. “I’m sorry for insulting you. What are you, if not a Jiang?”

The question catches her off-guard, and she answers before she can think better of it. “This one is Yu Ziyuan.”

“Yu Ziyuan, Yu Ziyuan— I can’t promise I’ll remember, but I’ll do my best.” She bows, again catching her by surprise. “This one is Cangse Sanren.”

She swallows. “I know.”

Cangse straightens up and grins at her, tucking her sword into the crook of her elbow. “I think we’ll be friends. Yes?”

She’s about to answer when the roofing beneath her feet turns slick as ice, sending her plummeting to the ground. Cangse lands mostly on top of her with her many bony appendages, and for a moment all Ziyuan can do is sit there and quietly groan.

It’s probably not a good sign that the clan leader himself had caught them sparring out of grounds and after curfew, but at least she isn’t alone.

-

After that, it was quite obvious that Cangse would continue to be a permanent pest.

“A-Yuan,” she begs, already reaching for Ziyuan’s bowl. “Cangse is so hungry, how can A-Yuan be so cruel?”

“Eat your own damn food,” she snaps, and learns not to regret it. Cangse sighs and returns to her own bowl, identical to hers excepting the absence of bamboo shoots.

Cangse seems to attract trouble: she can see across the room Jiang Fengmian making a beeline for her table, followed shortly after by a disciple whose name escapes her.

The usual niceties are as excruciating as always, and they find themselves seated across the table. Cangse drops her chopsticks and slams her hands down, earning them several dirty looks. “Young Master, I must know your name.”

There is a moment where Ziyuan can see disaster blooming. Both men look delighted at the attention, and both move to answer her question.

She dumps her bamboo shoots in Jiang Fengmian’s bowl, interrupting his train of thought and drawing his attention to her.

It’s a risky gamble: the bamboo shoots are inarguably the best thing in a Lan’s diet, and she doesn’t want to invite implication into her actions, but something so grand and distracting and (hopefully) confusing is enough to render him speechless.

Unfortunately, it also draws Cangse’s ire, though the servant — Wei Changze — is blissfully unaware of her blunders, still basking under Cangse’s attention.

Jiang Fengmian colours a bright pink that she privately thinks is very becoming, and she can only hope that his interest in Cangse is only infatuation. “Thank you, Lady Yu.”

-

The Jin arrive, finally, and so too does her friend from across the river. Hua Yufei is just as ladylike as she remembers, but her immediate taking-to of Cangse Sanren is concerning, to say the least.

“Is it difficult, being a rogue cultivator?”

“Perhaps it is, when comfort is a concern. I have often slept outdoors on nighthunts, when no inn would have me.”

Yufei shudders. “I could never,” she swears, hand daintily resting on her collarbone. “Ziyuan, did you hear the news, or shall I tell you?”

“What news?”

“Sect Leader Jin is in want of a match for his son. I have it on good authority that I am in the running, and that Jin Guangshan favours me.”

Her mother had sent word that her own marriage now had a wedding date, and it filled her with equal parts dread and relief.

Cangse bumps her shoulder, jolting her out of her daydreams. “Congratulate your sworn-sister, A-Yuan, for I have no earthly idea what any of you are talking about.”

Yufei gets far more excited than she should, and hurries to sit next to Cangse. “See that one there? The Jin with peonies on his sleeve? He is Jin Guangshan. If I am to marry him, I’ll be Madame of the second-richest sect in Xianxia.”

Cangse looks critically at him and evidently turns up little to compliment, to Ziyuan’s vindication. “He seems very . . . friendly.”

It’s a very kind way of noting his lecherous staring at the servant pouring his tea. “He will not give up his ways under marriage, Yufei.”

“What do I care if he galavants through every brothel in Lanling? I need only bear a son, and my wifely duties will be complete. I will have Koi Tower, and he shall have his fleeting pleasures. Let others take care of him.”

-

The lectures end, somewhat successfully: Lan Qiren’s facial hair had suffered Cangse’s vengeance, Hua Yufei had secured a tentative proposal from Jin Guangshan, and Jiang Fengmian no longer looked scared of her when she spoke to him.

Yufei hugs her tightly before dashing after the Jin delegation. Cangse stands by her as the Jiang sect prepares to leave, disiciples running about accomplishing what they should have several hours beforehand. “Is Yunmeng your home?”

“For now.” Her betrothal was entering into its vital stages, and it wouldn’t do to return to Meishan just yet. “And yours?”

She lifts one shoulder, staring out over the bustling Jiangs. “Wherever I’m needed.”

Ziyuan spots Wei Changze trying to look as though he’s not watching Cangse Sanren, fiddling with something in his hands. If they’re not careful, the Jiang sect will lose two fine cultivators. “Then you should come with us.”

-

Yu Ziyuan knows that something is wrong. She knows it as well as she knows that her daughter is six, that her son is three, that she has not seen her ill-gotten sworn-sister since before either of them were born.

She leaves without a word, away on her sword and letting her heart guide her.

The last of her steady letters had come from Yiling, paper smelling faintly of sulphur from the Burial Mounds. So west she steers herself, flying hard through the gathering storm and buffeting winds until she hears Cangse calling for her husband. She descends hard and almost falls, Zidian flaring out and cracking against the encroaching fierce corpses. Two fall back, weak enough to be banished, but four more advance in their place, and she seizes her sword for the task of disposing of them.

Cangse does not struggle with fierce corpses. She has a way with them, tames them like dogs under her immortal’s teachings. Ziyuan is almost afraid to turn around, sheathing her sword and searching the gloom and thicket for a trace of teal robes, a beaded jade hairpiece.

“A-Ze!”

Her voice is near. She can hear two sets of footprints, one surer, the other more cautious.

Something was wrong with this forest, if it had separated Cangse and Wei Changze. She feels as though she might crawl out of her skin, the resentful energy mounting with each second she remained. She rushes through thicket and brush, forcing her way through layers of the maze array with sheer force of will, far too angry to be waylaid by such child’s play.

The final layer stretches like rice cake before snapping, and it felt as though a layer of wet cotton had been ripped from her ears, the sounds of the world coming into sharp focus with painful suddenness.

Cangse is there to catch her, though she seems disoriented. “A-Yuan?”

Her voice shakes, and she hates it. “We have to leave.”

Cangse’s mouth sets. “Not without A-Ze.”

The maze array changes even as they speak, and Cangse is too dizzy to do anything but slow them down and ensure they remain trapped. She feels her mouth twist grimly as she wraps her hand around her wrist, dragging her to the edge of the array. “I will find him.”

-

She doesn’t regret finding Cangse first. How could she, for her own sworn-sister? She refuses to regret. She will not regret.

It’s difficult to muster that conviction when she lays Wei Changze’s body down on the ground, overtaken by the hole in his chest where his heart once was.

Cangse wails when she sees him, a keening, heartbroken sound Ziyuan has never heard a person make. The sound is pure pain, and for a moment all she can do is stand there and think about how devestated Jiang Fengmian will be, when he hears the news.

She kneels, wanting to at least close his eyes. Cangse’s wails abruptly peter off and she screams, “Get away from him!”

The suddenness of it startles her away, and Cangse throws herself over his body, protecting him. “Don’t touch him. I won’t let him be sullied by such hands.”

“Such hands?” Already, she is angry. “Say your meaning.”

“You always hated him,” she accuses. “You could have saved him. Why didn’t you save him?” She touched his cheeks, crying over his glossy, dead eyes. “Why didn’t you help him first?”

“And risk the same happening to you?” She doesn’t regret. She doesn’t.

“You should have! He’s the one who should live. It shouldn’t be me.”

She stands, too angry to say anything constructive at the moment. “Wei Ying will be in Yunmeng, while you grieve.”

She’ll never be sure if Cangse Sanren would have heard anything of the living world in that moment, her ear pressed to a dead man’s chest.

-

Jiang Fengmian is in his office, and she lets herself in. “Wei Changze is dead.”

The news is sudden, and horrible, and Fengmian spends a good few minutes unable to speak. “What happened?”

She meets his watery gaze. “A nighthunt. He was overpowered.”

“And Cangse?” He licks his lips. “Is she—“

“You are aware they have a child?” She feels so very angry, and it is easy to blame it on his apparently poor memory, instead of its true source. “You do know that? Or have you only read their letters to trace Cangse’s calligraphy? Are you so eager that you forget your duty?”

He has the decency to look ashamed, but not enough to muster a response.

She scoffed and left the room, making her way to her children’s’ quarters.

-

Cangse Sanren arrives just as Ziyuan’s lies to her son began to wear thin.

She lands softly in the training grounds, leaving stunned and gaping disciples in her wake. She strides to wear Ziyuan stands, supervising Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying as they spar.

“I want my son back.”

Ziyuan lifts her chin, crossing her arms. It hides her anxiety: Cangse is dressed in mourning white, and her eyes are sunken with lack of sleep. She is much paler than she used to be, and much angrier.

Cangse scowls at her, at her silence. “Wei Ying. Come here.”

Wei Ying looks up with a gleeful cry, and rushes to embrace his mother. For a moment, Cangse is her old self again, swinging him into her arms and kissing him on the cheek.

But it soon fades, and Cangse Sanren fixes her with a steely glare and utters perhaps the last words Yu Ziyuan will ever forget:

“Until we meet again, Madame Jiang.”

#mdzs fic #mdzs #yu ziyuan #cangse sanren #exerpt from something i might write someday #i deleted the first iteration of this post on accodent so #hua yufei is the name i gave madame jin #i googled it and someone else also has that name so either i picked a good one or someones parents are also bad at naming. cool either way

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

ok so I tried to come up with three characters like you did for me but this was very difficult. so feel free to ignore some if you don't like it or feel like talking about someone else :'D but the beauty ghost/liu qianqiao (word of honor), yu tangchun (killer and healer, bc i know you like our opera boy) and seo moonjo (strangers from hell, bc i am always curious about you and this dentist lol)

Aaaah thanks for these! 💗 It’s been a joy to answer them, so I hope you can get through my ramblings about them. 

Referring to Give Me A Character

and I’ll break their ass down:

How I feel about this character

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

My answers under the cut: 

Liu Qian Qiao/ Beauty Ghost (Word of Honor) 

How I feel about her: I love her and she deserves better. I’ve not finished the drama yet and I know surprisingly little spoilers about her. I just love to see her acting on her own accord, standing up for the person she loves. Being protective and so caring of Luo Fu Meng, it breaks my heart. From what I’ve seen, she’s gotten on my radar only recently - after they saved Luo Fu Meng from the prison, I got really excited to see more of her and them in general. 

I think she deserves better than that pathetic man whose name I don’t bother to remember. I’m scared of what the show will do to her but I’m so excited to see more, especially now that Scorpion got them in his clutches? She’s on par with him and I’m curious which direction this will go. However, as with many C-dramas unfortunately, she does not really feel tangible to me? There is always something missing, just a small piece that will make her feel more true to me. Maybe the drama will deliver on that? I’m not sure what to expect. 

All the people I ship romantically with her: Luo Fu Meng!!! Lesbian ghosts rights!!! Their recent scenes have been breaking me and I just want to see more of them. I want to know more about their past together, about their dynamic. Luo Fu Meng is her master but right now, Liu Qian Qiao is the one guiding and caring for her. It shows how equal they actually are, even if not in their title. Liu Qian Qiao’s devotion to her feels so burning and determined - whatever she has going on with that man just pales in contrast. She was ready to risk it all for her and she would never abandon her. She’s willing to do anything and I’m just praying for their lives - please don’t fuck it up, @ show writers. 

In short, I just need more of them. Please. 

My non-romantic OTP for her: I loved her interaction with A-Xiang a lot - she truly seems like an older sibling to her and it’s precious to see. I can see them being easily annoyed with each other but also fiercely protective of the other. I can see A-xiang being an unstoppable whirlwind and Qian Qiao trying to ground her, while being incredibly fond. I can also see A-xiang pulling her older sister out of her own head, grounding her and validating her? Tell her that she is more than she thinks of herself, and that she deserves a lot more than she allows for herself. I need more of their interaction because I’m weak for found family tropes and I need more of the ladies doing their own thing outside of Wen Kexing’s or someone else’s periphery. 

Also I want more interaction with her and the Evil Bodhisattva???? The potential that friendship has? Please gimme. 

My unpopular opinion: I don’t know any opinions? I’ve not yet dived deeply into the WOH fandom because I’m not done with the drama yet. I’ve generally seen little content about her and the other ghost ladies, which is a pity. Once I get there, I’m excited to dive into all the fandom has to offer. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’m on episode 24, so I can’t really judge what the show is gonna do to her, but so far I wish for more depth. Less of that horrible man being affiliated with her. Less of her being subjected to violence. More agency. More of her and Fu Meng interacting, caring for each other, being in each other’s space. I hope her to survive and not be killed, so I’m crossing fingers. 

Yu Tangchun (Killer and Healer)

How I feel about this character: OH BOY. I have freshly baked feelings about him, get ready. Warning for spoilers:

First of all, I always felt the drama did not dive into him as deeply as I had wished. Something was always missing there, but I can’t really name what. Maybe more depth, other than just being sick and out for revenge? He had more potential and I will get to it later. But from all I’ve gotten from him, I love how strong he is, and how much bravery there is in such a small body. He has his own mind and own agenda and doesn’t allow people pushing him around - I also love how deceiving he can be, even to his friends (namely Chen Yuzhi when he asked for that drug). He is a clever fox and I love that for him. Which also made him incredibly unpredictable to me in the beginning - I just couldn’t quite place him? 

In the end, am just incredibly fond and he deserved so so much better than the show ever gave him. 

All the people I ship romantically with him: Zhan Junbai, with all its flaws. From the first moment on, their tension just made me go ???????? the whole time. It was amazing and unsettling to watch, see its development and knowing this could not end well. A very delicious dynamic that always treaded the line of will they or won’t they (whether that refers to killing each other or otherwise). At some point I felt a little more invested into their plotline simply because it was so interesting and unpredictable. The mutual attraction is undeniable, which made what happened later even more heartbreaking and fucked up.

It could have never worked, even if Zhan Zhunbai had been less of a dick. They deserved a different ending - at least Yu Tangchun should have been the one to kill him, or at least they should have had a proper showdown together. After all - they were more than friends at this point. 

My non-romantic OTP: I loved his friendship with Chen Yuzhi, but I must say I would have loved to see him more with Chu Ran! If we imagine a different ending, they could have bonded together so much over what Zhan Junbai did to the both of them. They are both so gentle and headstrong, I wish we had gotten more of them together. It could be relaxing and freeing for the both of them. 

Also I’ve always wondered how exactly Yu Tangchun’s friendship with Jiang Yuelou worked? I think this got way too little spotlight. 

My unpopular opinion about him: I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t? Maybe that I sort of enjoyed the idea of Yu Tangchun joining Zhan Junbai, even though I knew it wouldn’t happen. Let me dream, that could have been a different level of conflict. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Oh boy. Oh boy. SO MUCH. Spoilers ahead if you haven’t finished the show: 

First of all, his ending?? It felt way too rushed and while not out of character, he deserved so much more than his death being an afterthought to the plot and a few sad gay flashbacks. The entire ending felt rushed and oh boy, could I rant about it here, but I will try and focus on Yu Tangchun. So yes, give him the respect he deserves. 

Another thing which I have mentioned above is that I wished they had given him more depth? Just a little bit more other than the trauma and agony he went through. I also wish I had seen more of his opera and his story with it - how he got there, how he thinks about it. We only ever got glimpses and I get that a show can only focus on so much, but still. 

I also wish his ending with Zhan Junbai had been different - in a sense that I wanted him to break Zhan Junbai, lure some genuine emotions on his face other than anger. I wish they had gotten more….closure? I don’t even know. It didn’t feel satisfactory at all. Zhan Junbai went through so much trouble to keep him and then suddenly he let’s him go and then he dies? It just went too quickly. If at least Yu Tangchun had been there to kill him in the end, or at least get some sort of closure. I’m rambling now because I don’t know what I wanted for them but it was certainly more than what the show gave me. I am so frustrated about the ending of the show, help me. 

Seo Moonjo (Strangers from Hell)

How I feel about this character: Conflicted. That is the short answer to that, but of course I’m not here to give a short answer. Do I have to clarify that I do not condone the actions of a cannibalistic serial killer in real life? I hope not. Okay, let’s get to it then. 

Seo Moonjo (or Mr. Dentist, as I lovingly call him) to me is incredibly intimidating. Part of it is that Lee Dong Wook does an incredible job at depicting him as charming and terribly unsettling at the same time. From the first second he shows up on screen, you feel this presence - and you feel intrigue and fear. Which is what Seo Moonjo wants, it’s what he preys on. 

So when I think about how I feel about him, I think he is one of the best villains I’ve encountered recently, simply because he makes me feel the same way he makes Jongwoo feel. I’m very fascinated? I feel Seo Moonjo is a very lonely person, lost in his own ideals and morals. He has absolutely no sense of social propriety and does not intend to learn them. He’s so caught up in his own art and his desire for a certain life, it’s almost pitiful how much he desires it. But of course, once I feel a sliver of pity, he reminds me that he is - indeed - hell personified. I am still lowkey mad that he charmed me (why is being a villain so sexy smh).

Summing up, I love and hate him. What a creepy bastard.

All the people I ship romantically with him: Yoon Jongwoo, despite all the cruelty of it. I think comparing this show to NBC’s Hannibal is very valid, even though these two never got a proper development of their relationship like Will and Hannibal did. I absolutely think that Seo Moonjo is in love with Jongwoo and wants him to be his, wants to wrap him up in his life and make him the ‘perfect art-piece’ he had always wanted in his collection. No matter how sick it is, this obsession is probably the closest Seo Moonjo can get to feeling love - he does not know how else to love. 

So what do I want for them? I want Jongwoo to get his revenge, to make Seo Moonjo suffer as much as he did. I want Jongwoo to see eye to eye with him so they can walk with equal footing. I want Seo Moonjo to realise that Jongwoo has as much power over him as he thinks he has over the other. After this, they can be murder husbands for all I care, in true Hannibal-esque fashion. The emancipation of Jongwoo needs to happen first, and Seo Moonjo needs to realise that he is not the invincible one in this relationship. After that, they can have a good time together, no matter how fucked up that time may look like. 

Also, I am convinced that he ‘dated’ Yoo Gihyeok in a twisted way, before he went and fucked up his plans; and before Jongwoo came to cath his eye.

My non-romantic OTP: As mentioned above - Seo Moonjo is a lone wolf. Yes he had his pack and someone that guided him on this path, but none of them ever come close to him to see his heart. The show itself doesn’t give him much space to see a potential friendship except the one he has with Jongwoo. Jongwoo would be the answer for this as well. (also to be fair, I don’t wish anyone to be friends with him damn)

However, if I could explore more dynamics he has with other people, I would love to see it with Officer So. I think she is an incredibly interesting and strong character and the few scenes they had together were fascinating - she came as his patient and ended up being his enemy. In another installment of this show, I would’ve loved to see more interaction like that and see the development of them being pleasant acquaintances (and maybe Seo Moonjo realising that she too is worth his attention) to enemies. I want Seo Moonjo to find respect for her.

My unpopular opinion: I’m not into depicting him as fancy rich, as many do in fics. Yes he’s a dentist and surely has a ton of money, but I like the idea that despite this wealth, he would always be a shabby sort of person. Not decked out with a luxurious rooftop apartment and wearing dress-shirts every day and expensive watches; but rather using his wealth to make himself safe from detection, finding remote areas, buying utensils and appliances for his ‘art’. So no, I reject the vision of him lounging on the highest building in Seoul with a minimalist empty apartment. I see him in a ratty rundown but expensive old mansion/house that has many corners for his artistic endeavours. I’ve already picked the perfect house for him in Busan, on the top of a hill overseeing the city and the harbour. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’ve mentioned it above, but I wish Seo Moonjo had gotten to feel more pain. We got Jongwoo’s liberation and Moonjo being proud of his ‘artwork’ while Jongwoo kills him, but that was not the revenge Jongwoo needed. In the end, Moonjo still lingers with him, as a constant presence, and he never got a taste of his own medicine. While watching this show, all I wanted was Jongwoo to break Moonjo’s heart. This would not make up the suffering Moonjo put him through but at least they would be equal. So I have my own revenge fantasy with this character that is more than ‘merely’ killing him. Being killed by Jongwoo just felt like an honour to Seo Moonjo and I’m not satisfied with that. 

Phew okay I’m done! Thank you for giving me something to ramble about, it was a joy!! 

#personal #answers #tag game #am gonna tag it like this #word of honor #killer and healer #strangers from hell

[hopelessly-ever-after]

BL Drama Ratings/Thoughts Pt.2

HIStory 2

HIStory 2 consisted of eight episodes, with two main story lines. Therefore, each story line has 4 episodes each.

Episodes 1- 4: Right and Wrong    8/10 This particular story took me some time to get into. I noticed I didn’t really care much for the first episode, I was barely paying attention to it, but by the end I was in love with it. If every single person can be like these characters, this world would be in such a better place!! There are a few noted points of this drama that I hold VERY dear to my heart, VERY DEAR. (Possible spoilers?? Stop reading if you don’t want a hint of anything, lol).

The fact that there was no gay panic. Zero. Zip. Nada. 

The fact that Shi Yi Jie NEVER viewed his relationship with Xiao Fei as a weakness. Shi Yi Jie did not take any bullsh*t from anyone about his relationship. Especially from those who do not matter *cough cough Xin-Ru, you snake*

The side characters were phenomenal and soooooo encouraging. >> Xiao Fei’s momma threatening  Shi Yi Jie with a fruit knife will forever be my favorite memory of this drama. >>  Shao-an slapping some reality into his sister’s face about her ego. ICONIC. “Don’t think too highly of yourself” *yasssssssssssssssssss* >> Yo-Yo being so loving and adorable! Literally, the cutest. 

Episode 5 - 8: Crossing the Line   10/10

Y’all do not know how much I love this drama. I literally love this drama soooooooooooo much, LITERALLY, words cannot describe how much I love it. I am a huge fan of sports dramas, therefore the plot line already had me like, “YES, LET’S GET INTO THIS! I AM EXCITED!” and then it evolved into everything I’ve ever wanted and more. There are two relationships in this drama, Yu Hao-Zi Xuan and Zhen Wen-Zhen Wu.

The Yu Hao x Zi Xuan relationship is everything; the character chemistry is undeniable. There were countless moments where I was like “this is pure emotion, they’re not acting this,” because YOU CANNOT FAKE IT. You cannot fake the way Yu Hao looked at Zi Xuan, you cannot fake how their body language adapts to each other so flawlessly, and you cannot fake the subtle movements in their faces and eyes when they’re with each other. And of course, the locker room dream sequence. It’s probably one of the most well-known kisses in BL drama history, LIKE HOW IT SHOULD BE. (I am still wondering to this day, what song they listened to, to help them get into that certain mood. Like, please share. Thank you.)

The second relationship is between Zhen Wen and Zhen Wu, who became step brothers through marriage. With them being supporting characters, we got just enough information to understand their relationship and tthey had enough growth to make us satisfied enough. The Volleyball Camp confession from Zhen Wen is literally so beautiful; he did such a great job conveying all those years of emotions that I felt like he was confessing to me, lol. (I’m a fool, it’s been known). 

AGAIN, HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS DRAMA. ONE OF MY FAVORITES THAT I REWATCH WEEKLY. ALSO THEIR OST IS BEAUTIFUL AF!! THIS DRAMA DESERVES MORE RECOGNITION!!!

HIStory 3: Trapped     7.5/10

The first of the HIStory series to get a FULL LENGTH drama in (20 episodes / 10 episodes if you’re watching it on VIKI). This makes viewers like moi super excited, because more drama time means more character and story development! YAY!

From the plot line; Trapped is about the relationship and connection between a police investigator, Meng Shao-fei and Tang Yi, the head of the Tianmeng gang. It gives off a very star-crossed lovers vibe due to both leads being on the opposite ends of the justice system.

The Tang Yi and Meng Shao Fei relationship....I don’t even know where to begin with this honestly, haha. From the get-go I was already like *insert squealing emoji*, and they met up to my expectations. Like how do you NOT fan girl over them as a couple? How? I love how persistent and consistent Shao Fei is in everything; whether it’s his job or his love life. I also adore how even though Tang Yi acts so tough and cold, he submits to Shao Fei so easily. (ie; the voicemails he left for Shao Fei….and then getting super shy and embarrassed about them). *I LOVE THAT SCENE!* Also, let’s not forget the fact that Shao Fei publicly pursued Tang Yi and gave zero f*cks about it. They seriously just made me so happy. One minor note, is that I am a little salty we didn’t see the full progression of Tang Yi and Shao Fei’s relationship. It seems like time flew by, but we weren’t really told “how much time”. Again, it’s just something I’d like to see, but many others may disagree with this. 

My mysterious Jack and my naive but always hungry Zhao Zi, why y’all got to be so cute? These side characters are absolutely adorable, and again, on the opposite ends of the spectrum once more. I do have a certain bone to pick with them though, cause in my opinion HONESTY is a huge thing, but I guess love makes you overlook many things. But still, I pray that in an after-story line they eventually talk it out and know where each person comes from. Secrets are never good in a relationship, no matter how cute y’all are together.

Overall, this drama was good. The expectation was a lot higher for me when compared to HIStory 1 and HIStory 2 due to this series being longer, and honestly they were almost met. This drama made me laugh, cry, mad….along with many other emotions and I enjoyed every single second of it but there were a few things that just seemed so disconnected with me. Maybe it’s just me, idk. I wish I loved it more, but maybe I love the idea of it more? It’s confusing. While there are some subtle things that bothered me for the oddest reasons (ie. the guns in episode 1; I am so sorry but I laughed when they cocked the gun. It sounded so hilariously fake, I couldn’t hold in my laughter), I was able to overlook most of it. It’s still a good drama to watch though, and recommended :)

#HIStory 2: Right or Wrong #HIStory 2: Crossing the Line #HIStory 3: Trapped #Shi Yi Jie #Xiao Fei #Steven Chiang #Hunt Chang #Qiu Zi Xuan #Xia Yu Hao #Zach Lu #Lu Yanze #Fandy Fan #Zhen Wen #Zhen Wu #Nick Yang #Patrick Shih #Meng Shao Fei #Tang Yi #Jack #Zhao Zhi #Jake Hsu #Chris Wu #Andy Bian #Kenny Chen #drama review #boy love #bl drama #history series

[lets-break-free-from-our-chains]

Let’s Make It “Happily Ever After”

THE 100 Roan x reader Summary: Reader is from Skaikru and the reader dad is Marcus Kane. The reader use to date Bellamy but you two broke up and after you decided to go to Polis with Roan and a month after you get together you find out your pregnant. The reader is super nervous that Roan will be mad but he actually super happy.

(A/N): I really enjoying writing this one-shot. I hoped I didn't fuck this up to bad, one-shots always go smoother in my head than they do when I actually write it out.However I tried and here's my "masterpiece" Also you guys know I love listening to music with this when I write and read these one-shot, so here the song that will set the mood for this one-shot, Furious Love- By Veridia: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaV3OuLl_Vs

'Oh my god-' I thought, 'I'm pregnant...'

I started breathing heavy, I couldn't believe this was happening. I mean, I always wanted children. I often pictured myself with a little herd of children, each one as beautifully mischievous and full of life, as the next. I just never pictured it this way. I knew roan loved me with all of his heart, that much was undeniably obvious but, would having a child together be a deal-breaker?  Plus, I don't know how a mother should act. My mother died when I was only two years old and, Queen Nia wasn't actually the mother of the year. She treated Roan horribly and, I never understood why. If my unborn child turned out to be a boy I hoped, more than anything in world, that he would turn out exactly like his father, Roan. Roan's loyal, loving, passionate, funny, kind, and honorable. Yet, his mother treated him like he was nothing to her when she should be treating him like the great warrior prince he is. I only know what kind of mother I DON'T want to be. Maybe Abby could help me. She's made her mistakes in the past but, She's never stopped trying to be the best mother she can be and, in my eyes she is a good mother. I had no doubt in my mind or heart that Roan would be a good father. I know he'd be an amazing father unlike the father I had growing up, Marcus Kane.

Though in my father's defense, he has payed for his mistakes and betrayals and, has become more wise and kind because of those mistakes. I've forgiven him for what he's done to me because, after all he is human but, if I had to be honest, I still get a little upset when I think of how he betrayed me, his own daughter. That was one of the first things me and Roan bonded over. The betrayal of the ones that were suppose to love us no matter what. However, Roan's mother had betrayed him many times, and there was no love between them because of those betrayals, where as my father had only betrayed be once. Though, one betrayal is always, one to many. I know Roan dislikes my father, Marcus, for what he did to me and, he most certainly makes it obvious. Roan has no shame in showing his dislike for my father or his betrayal to me. He has a burning hate for it because he knows better than anyone, other than Clarke, how I felt when my father betrayed me. Roan dislikes everyone who has ever did me wrong, even if that person has apologized and I've forgiven them. However, there's one person Roan dislikes more than my father and, that person is Bellamy Blake. He doesn't like him for three reasons. One, because of the way he treated me when we were dating. He started out loving and romantic when we were dating on the ark but, when we made it to the ground he became cold, distant, and disrespectful. He would shamelessly stare at other women and flirt with them and if there is anything that I inherited from my father, it would be zero tolerance for disrespect from others. Roan himself was there to witness said disrespect from Bellamy to me and it infuriated him beyond belief. Roan could not believe that Bellamy would disrespect such an amazing woman of high standing. When I admitted my love for Roan when he told me he loved me, I finally realized I would find everything I ever desire from a man, in Roan. So, I broke up with Bellamy and left for Polis with Roan. Clarke soon after followed us, for other reasons, of course. Another reason being that Bellamy put me in danger by revealing his secret sister, Octavia, to you. When Octavia was caught, you had tried to protect her and, your father threw you in a sky cell for it. The final reason was out of jealousy. If at all possible, Roan doesn't acknowledge that Bellamy I were ever together. Even if everyone knows Bellamy and I were once together, they didn't talk about it in front of Roan, out of fear of angering him and, I most certainly not allowed to be alone with Bellamy.

When that thought came to my mind it help relax me. Maybe Roan would be happy that I was pregnant and, maybe it would ease his fear and insecurities of me leaving him and going back to Bellamy. People may not think that Roan has fears and insecurities but he does and they're very real to him. I would never leave Roan though, hell would have done froze the hell over before that happened. I finally knew what it felt like to be treated like a queen and, know what it felt like to always know that you were the one and only woman for your man. Now that I think about all the ways Roan treats me and loves me, I start to feel silly. However, I don't feel completely confident. There still a small chance that Roan won't want me and the baby anymore. Even if it's a tiny ass chance, it's still enough to scare me.

I broke out of my thought as the doors open and, roan struts into our bedroom. He spots me and give me a smile as he walks over to the couch I'm sitting on, near the balcony. "Hello, my queen," Roan says, while putting his arm around me. "what have you been up to, I haven't gotten a chance see you all day." he caresses my cheek softly with his hand as I smile, "The weathers be so nice today that I've just been reading most of the day," I say, as I lean into his hand. He smiles and nods. "I also talked with my father, Clarke and...Bellamy about the recent things going on in Arkadia." I watch as his eyes dark a little as I mention Bellamy's name and, his arm instinctively pulls me closer. "Really," he says, tense and carefully, "and what's going on in Arkadia?" I thought that now would be as good as any to deliever my news.

"Nothing really. I just wanted to know what's going on back home since I've been in Polis for so long. I'm kind of starting to get homesick and, I miss Raven, Monty, and Harper." I giggled. He nods tensely while staring at the balcony. I take a beep breathe in, "However I have other important news. News involving you and me" I stated, finally getting his attention back."

"Go on then, ai Hodnes. " He says, curious now that he can see my nervous eyes. I look down and let out a uneven breathe, I was losing what little nerve I had to tell Roan . His warm fingers tilt my chin up so our eyes can meet again, "You can tell me anything, (y/n)." He said, laying his forehead as mine.

"I'm pregnant." I say, quietly. He stares at me for a moment and starts to smile. "why is that something to be nervous about, ai gona?" He laughs, "This is wonderful news. we're going to have a little warrior of our own." he stand both of us up and hugs me tight to his body. I hug him back and a few tears of relief and happiness fall from my eyes and on to my cheeks as I bury my face into his big muscular chest. Roan pulls back and and kisses me, passionately, while caressing both my cheeks. he pulls away and wipes away my tears with his thumbs. "This is the best thing thats ever happen to me," he says, "besides meeting and being with you, of course." I laugh as he pulls me to the bed.

I lay peacefully in Roan's arms as we basked in each presences and, shared loving kisses. We were bonding with each other over the new life growing in my womb that was nestled protectively in-between me and roan. I could believe how happy and excited Roan was. I've never seen him like this. He'd say a few names here and there or talk about which one of us our baby will look like. "I want a girl, " He says, suddenly as he looks down at me. " I want her to look just like you. with your silky (y/h/c) hair and big beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. I want her to act exactly like you too. I want her to be as stubborn as a mule," I punch him in the chest as he laughs and kisses me. "Your one to talk about being stubborn, Mr. It's my fucking way or no fucking way!" I hiss, playfully. Roan only laughs harder and says, "and I want her to be firecracker with attitude just like her mother, and every bit as strong!" He pulls me closer to him, as I start to speak.

"I want a boy so, he can grow up to be just like you. Though at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter to me weather its a boy or a girl as long as their healthy," I say, truthfully "and I know that's so cliche to say but, it's the truth. I mean, people says cliche things like that a the time for a reason, right?"

he nods and agrees with me. " as long as their healthy" he whispers and lovingly kisses the top of my head. My eyes start to grow heavy and as I shut my eyes I hear roan says "Ai Hod yu in, Ai Haiplana" "I love you too, my love." I mumble before I finally give into sleep.

(A/N): Roan and a baby girl?!?!?! UGH, I die! That would be so fucking cute! Anyways I had a lot of fun writing this and as always thank you for reading, Its means a lot and if you liked this story please follow, cause there will be more stories to come! Also I'm still taking request if you want me to write something for you!!! -Love, Heda

#king roan #king roan imagine #king roan x reader #king roan imagines #prince roan #prince roan imagine #prince roan x reader #prince roan imagines #roan kom azgeda #roan of azgeda #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 roan #the 100 roan imagine #imagine the 100 #roan x reader #azgeda imagine #azgeda imagines

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: July 2035 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: A lot of truths come to light at the Queen family dinner not long after the gala.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

July 2035 - Growing Pains

There are days Oliver feels every single day of his age. Today would be one of them.

If you’d asked him back during his time on Lian Yu how he’d feel at fifty, he’d have laughed and said long dead. He hadn’t known in those days if he’d make it through the night, much less to his next birthday - or even when, exactly, that day was. He definitely wasn’t concerned with the realities of aging. Now, it’s a bit different. His body doesn’t take the punishments of his life nearly as easily as it had in years prior. A long night fighting for the city leaves him more achy, more exhausted and with a longer rebound time. Digg might be less prone to jumping off rooftops than him, but Oliver knows it’s got to be even worse for his old friend. After all, Digg has a solid eight years on him. More and more, lately, it’s been little Sara at his side in the field, with Digg driving the van or running recon.

They haven’t talked about it yet, but Oliver knows that’s coming. And soon. Digg would never leave the team, but he’s also facing the limits of his own body. Just as Oliver is. And it’s not like that’s going to get better.

But, nights like last night prove quite clearly how much they’re still needed. A serial arsonist with a penchant for high-occupancy buildings had lit up four apartment complexes on the edge of the business district. It had been far more than the city could handle on its own and it’d wound up being an ‘all hands on deck’ Team Arrow situation. Even Ellie had joined in, much to Oliver’s dismay, showing up on scene with a mask and a dark green bodysuit that had given him flashbacks to two decades prior standing in his mother’s kitchen with a rip in time slicing open in front of him.

She’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for her to be ready for this. But she’d been a help last night, keeping a cool head and getting terrified people away from their fast-crumbling homes, organizing chaos in the streets, her very presence calming fast-spreading hysterics. She’d looked so like him, out there, so clearly a part of Team Arrow.

Jules had scoffed when she’d seen her sister’s choice of outfit later. “Slick look, Dart,” she’d snorted.

“Dart?” Ellie had asked defensively.

“Yeah,” Jules had confirmed in a lofty tone. “Dart. Like a mini Arrow.”

Ellie had not been thrilled at the new nickname, but Digg and Roy had overheard it and they’d both found it amusing, so Oliver’s pretty sure it’s gonna stick. Why Jules had been hanging around the lair while they’d been out on a mission is much bigger question. She’s a busy young woman, these days. Between work and her boyfriend, who apparently she’s a whole lot more serious about than he’d been led to believe, they don’t see her that much and it’s not like she’s ever been all that interested in the family business - either one of them. But the more Oliver thinks about it, the more certain he is that she’d heard something about the fires and had just been worried about her family, had wanted to be in a position to know what was happening as it happened. Her snark toward her sister was relief covered up by sarcasm. He’s almost sure of it.

And it’s not like she’d been the only one relieved when the night ended. Oliver’s eyes had sought out Will’s firetruck the moment he’d gotten to the scene and it would be a complete lie to say he hadn’t stayed as close to his son’s location while helping out as he could. Will might be nearly 28, but he’s still his son and Oliver doesn’t think he’ll ever be without the mixture of worry and pride that fills him at the thought of the life his oldest has chosen for himself. Seeing him all business, suited up and covered in ash as he carried a little girl from the building had put Oliver’s heart in his throat. It’s a hell of a thing watching your child run into a burning building, but he has a lot of faith in Will and he knows his worry is both natural and a little excessive. Will knows what he’s doing.

Oliver’s glad he gets to see him tonight, though. Rationally, he knows his boy is fine. Oliver had been on scene until after the fires were out and the danger had passed. Lyla had caught the arsonist - a metahuman from Central City who named himself Human Blowtorch - and everything was stable by sun-up. But Oliver still feels like he needs to see his son whole and hale. He’s going to feel unsettled until he does.

“How’s dinner coming?” Felicity asks, slipping her arms around her husband’s waist and resting her chin against his upper arm. “It smells great.”

“The salmon is ready to broil,” Oliver tells her, abandoning his task of slicing up some zucchini and squash to lace his fingers with hers for a moment. “Rice is cooking. Just the veggies to sauté and some side salads to whip up.”

“Need me to do anything?” she offers. It’s sweet, but they both know better. School lunches she can make like an absolute pro. Her sandwich making skills are absolutely passable. But anything more involved than tossing something pre-made into the oven for a prescribed amount of time runs the risk of both food poisoning and a kitchen fire.

“Maybe check on the girls and Nate?” he suggests.

“Oliver…” she sighs.

“I know. They’re fine. I know,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing a little at the admission.

“Ellie’s not going to stop,” Felicity tells him. “You know that, right?”

“She’s not even done with high school yet,” Oliver points out.

“Oh, I know. If you think I’m fighting for my little girl to be a full blown vigilante at seventeen, you’re misreading me,” Felicity says sharply. “I’m talking controlled introduction here, Oliver. I don’t want her in the field any more than you do, but maybe if we give her a role, a purpose, she’ll feel included enough that she won’t push for a bit. The last thing I want is her sneaking onto another mission again. That’s a good way to get herself or someone else hurt.”

“What did you have in mind?” Oliver asks with interest, tilting his head to watch her.

“A seat at my side,” Felicity suggests. “Provided she keeps at least a B-average. If she’s dead-set on doing this - and I think we both know she is - then at least she can watch some missions and learn that way. And, maybe we could include her in some of the planning stages, let her see how much goes into it.”

That idea has some merit. Ellie’s always had a space in the room, all the kids have. That’s more been out of necessity than any desire to introduce the kids to their nightlives. But none of them have ever had a seat at the table. And the view looks different when you’re a part of it.

“Half of the reason she’s pushing so hard is that she knows Sara’s out there,” Oliver points out. “You know that right?”

“Yes, well… I don’t see that changing anytime soon either,” Felicity replies.

Oliver sighs heavily at that because it’s absolutely undeniable, but he also wishes Ellie could get past her feelings for Sara. In a perfect world, where Sara returned those feelings, he’d be all for it. She’s a great kid, his best friend’s daughter, and Oliver just wants Ellie to be happy. There’s no doubt in his mind that being with Sara would accomplish that. But Sara’s both oblivious and apparently straight, and it hurts to watch his little girl pine for her best friend. He wants so much more for her than that.

“You’re probably right,” Oliver says, simultaneously addressing all of his wife’s points. “We should talk with Digg, Lyla, and Roy about letting her help with some of the logistics, but I don’t want to talk to her about it until the whole team is on board.”

“And Sara,” Felicity notes. “She’s on the team now, too, remember.”

“And Sara,” he agrees quietly, shaking his head a bit. He still forgets sometimes. It had been just him, Felicity, Digg, Lyla, Roy, Sin and sometimes Big Sara for so long. Adding a new person to the mix feels wrong sometimes, but it’s also Sara Diggle and that’s different. It’s also increasingly necessary, he thinks as he shifts his weight, his knee throbbing painfully.

He’s done his best not to be obvious about the ache in his joints, but Felicity is highly attuned to him by now and he’s not surprised in the least when she hums thoughtfully and gives him a knowing look.

“I took some Aleve,” he promises her. “And I’ll put a heat pad on it again after dinner.”

“How about a doctor’s appointment?” she asks sweetly. This is becoming an old conversation and it’s not like she’s wrong, but he also can’t possibly keep off his knee long enough for replacement surgery recovery time. He can deal with the stiffness and the pain. It’s more annoying than anything and it slows him down only very slightly. For now.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are when you’re worried about me?” he asks, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Don’t be distracting, Oliver,” she chastises half-heartedly.

“Absolutely stunning,” he grins, kissing her as she lets out a frustrated little noise before caving. But their little moment is punctuated by the sound of the front door and a pair of voices. It’s scarcely a moment later when the scamper of little feet patter across the floor and a tumble of little girl barrels into the kitchen.

“Hiya!”

“Hi Bethany,” Felicity smiles down at the five-year-old. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Can I have applesauce, Aunt Felicity?” she asks, staring up with those huge brown eyes of hers. It’s jarring for Oliver. She looks so much like Samantha that it makes him do a double-take. He can’t imagine what it’s like for David.

“Please,” Will corrects his little sister, following closely in her wake. “We say ‘please,’ Bethy. But, I’m pretty sure you can wait for dinner at this point.”

She pouts at that. It’s completely forced, but Bethany can make her eyes water and lip quiver on command in a way that none of Oliver’s kids had ever done.

“No waterworks!” Will tells her sternly.

“But… I love applesauce sooooo much!” Bethany protests. It’s a testament to how comfortable she’s gotten in their house that she lets herself be this whiny in their presence. In some ways, he figures that’s a good thing. She’s lost so much, more than she knows, and she needs more people she feels at home with. Samantha would want that for her.

“Then be a good girl and don’t whine, and I’ll make sure you get some with dinner, okay?” Will asks, crouching down to her level and giving her a serious look.

Her sigh is overly dramatic, but she yields even as she scuffs her shoe against the wood floor.

“I have an idea,” Felicity tells her, abandoning Oliver’s side to walk over and take Beth’s hand in hers. “How about you and I go get Will’s old train set and play with that until dinner’s ready?”

“Okay!” she perks up immediately. “But I’m conductor. Can Nate play, too? He plans real good.”

“He does plan very well,” Felicity replies, subtly correcting the little girl’s grammar. “But I think he’s doing homework. How about we just keep this you and me?”

“That’s good too,” Beth decides with a firm nod. “Come on, Aunt Felicity.”

She’s dragging Felicity toward the stairs almost immediately, excitement obvious on the little girl’s face and a happy smile on his wife’s. She really has missed having a little kid in the house. He’s never regretted that Nate was their last child. Their lives are full and busy. But he knows his wife thinks about what it would have been like to have another one, even if she doesn’t bring it up anymore. She’s nothing to Bethany - not really, just an honorary aunt who babysits sometimes - but he can’t help but think they’re good for each other. Beth sorely lacks female influences in her life and Felicity loves having a little one around, even if it’s just for a few hours here and there.

“Clean up when you’re done, Bethy!” Will calls after them as they scurry up to his old room. It’s a weird mix of a guest room and storage room these days, but it does house a fair number of toys their kids have outgrown that Beth likes to play with when she’s over.  

“She’s usually pretty good about that,” Oliver notes.

“Yeah, but I stepped on a Lego barefoot last week and that’s an experience I never care to repeat,” Will says, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

Oliver chuckles at that, because it’s true. He’s suffered far, far worse than a Lego underfoot, but there’s something exceptionally memorable about the experience.

“What can I help with?” Will asks.

“Maybe put the salad together?” Oliver suggests. Will nods and moves to riffle through the fridge, pulling out ingredients. Oliver can’t help but watch him for a few moments. When he’d been Will’s age, he’d been headed back to Starling, his body and soul littered with scars and tattoos from the five years prior. Will’s had his own trials, his own scars - physical and otherwise - but Oliver’s infinitely grateful that his son’s life hasn’t followed a path like his. And, in spite of his boy’s dedication to teamwork and helping people, he’s glad that he’s never wanted a spot on the team. Ellie will be hard enough. He’s not sure how he’d cope with the notion of more than one of his kids being a vigilante, even if it would mean they’d have each other’s backs.

“I’m glad you guys busted that nutjob last night,” Will says as he grabs a cutting board and gets to chopping veggies.

“That was Lyla,” Oliver supplies. “I’ll pass along the thanks. Your team all get out okay?”

“From my truck, yeah,” Will nods. “Station 49 wasn’t as lucky. They’ve got two in the hospital.”

Oliver winces at that. He’s proud as hell of his son, but he doesn’t need a reminder of how dangerous his job really is.

“Some of us were gonna head over to visit tomorrow,” Will adds, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth. “Carson’s still in surgery, last I heard, but Perez is doing better already. Elliot’s watching their kids while their wives are at the hospital with them.”

“I’ve got some spaghetti sauce in the freezer if you want to bring it over to Elliot and the kids,” Oliver offers. “So they aren’t living on fast food.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Will agrees. “Elliot can’t manage more than a microwaved chicken pot pie. If there’s enough, I’ll bring some to their wives, too. Hospital food is awful.”

“Always has been,” Oliver agrees. “They at Starling General? Lillie keeping an eye on them?”

“Uh…” Will says, his chopping slows down and he gets a grim line to his face. So, Oliver already knows what’s coming well before he answers. “They are, but I don’t know if Lillie’s covering them. We’re not… a thing anymore.”

“Ah,” Oliver nods.

“Yeah,” Will replies quietly.

“So, how’s Amelia then?”

Will stops what he’s doing entirely at that and just stares down at the chopping board, looking more pained than Oliver had expected. He knew his boy was hung up on Amelia. He’d had a long talk with Felicity after the gala two weeks ago, but he’d missed seeing much of it directly. The absolute look of grief on Will’s face for an instant is striking. For someone who never takes his relationships seriously, he sure as hell looks serious about one he’s not having.

“You’d have to ask Thad DeWolfe the Third,” Will answers after a beat, his face shuttering and his voice sharp and petulant.

“Thad…?” Oliver asks in confusion, thinking of his younger colleague in the senate.

“Yeah… her boyfriend,” Will adds. He sounds all of ten years old and frustrated that Jules stole his snack again.

“Ah,” Oliver notes atonally.

“Yeah… ‘ah,’” Will echoes, going back to chopping with newfound fierceness. “She’s dating Thad DeWolfe the Third. She’s moving to Central City to be Willis’ chief of staff and be with Thad DeWolfe the Third, with his stupid pretentious name and his stupid important job.”

Oliver leans against the counter and studies his son. It’s beneficial in a couple of ways. First off, his knee feels a little better instantly. But, more importantly, it makes Will all the more aware of his scrutiny and the younger man squirms under his appraisal.

“What?” Will demands, dropping the knife and turning to his dad. “Are you gonna tell me to let it go? That she’s doing what’s right for her and I should be happy about it?”

“No,” Oliver tells him, shaking his head. “I’m gonna tell you that jealousy is ugly on anyone. Even you.”

“I’m not-” Will starts.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oliver scoffs. “Of course you are. You’re being jealous and petty and snippy.”

Frustration is obvious on Will’s face, his jaw tight and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Oliver thinks that’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, because he’s not done talking yet.

“This is new for you,” he tells his son. “I get that. I’ve never seen you care about someone this much and you don’t know what to do with it. It’s eating you up inside and you’re lashing out like a hurt child because of it.”

“I am hurt!” Will insists. “And, you know what? I have a right to be hurt. There this… this thing between us. If she didn’t feel it too, that would be one thing, but I know she does. She’s said she does. But she’s never given us a chance. Three years I’ve been interested in her, Dad. Three years. I’ve asked her out four times since then and she’s always hesitated but said no. But she says ‘yes’ to Thad DeWolfe the Third? How am I not supposed to be hurt by that?”

“You sound like a child who had his favorite toy taken by another kid,” Oliver tells him. “I don’t know why Amelia told you no all those times, but I do know if you ever want to have a shot at her saying yes, you need to check this attitude, because a woman like that does not put up with this kind of bitterness, Will.”

“I can’t help it, Dad,” Will confesses. “I think of her and all I can think about is that she’s going home to him. That he gets to hold her and be with her and make her laugh and she never even gave me a shot. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”

“Well, not by continuing to berate a man you’ve never met for his name and job,” Oliver points out. “You’re better than that. She deserves better than that from you. And you need to respect her choices.”

“I do!” Will insists.

“No,” Oliver corrects him. “You don’t. You tolerate them. Have you even considered why she said no or have you just felt sorry for yourself about it?”

“That’s not fair,” Will says emphatically.

“You’re telling me she feels the same way you do, but she’s still saying no,” Oliver reminds him. “If that’s true, she’s not doing that out of spite or self-sabotage, Will. She’s a woman in politics in her 20s. She made her name working for your grandmother. What do you think people would say if she started dating a Queen after that? How would that impact her job? Her life? This is a rough enough business for women, nevermind young women. She’s fought hard to be taken seriously and you’re a hell of a risk for her. You’re dangerous, whether you think so or not.”

Something he’s said looks like maybe it’s sinking in because Will’s face turns pensive. “You think I’m dangerous to her?”

“To her job? To her heart? Yeah. I do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“She isn’t…. She’s not other women, Dad,” Will insists. His whole face is begging to be understood, to be believed. And, in spite of his son’s track record with women, Oliver buys that the younger man means every word he says. “I’m not looking for a fling with her. I don’t want that. I want… I want to make her smile and cook her breakfast and dance with her again. I want to hold her hand and argue about baseball and take her to dinner. I don’t just look at her and see a good time. I look at her and I see…”

“The future,” Oliver finishes for him. “You look at her and you see everything you want wrapped up in one person.” He sighs heavily because he knows that feeling. He knows it intimately and, though it’s been a lot of years, he can remember clearly how it felt trying to push that down. “But Will… how’s she supposed to know that? How’s she supposed to believe she’s different from the rest?”

“She’s… she’s Amelia,” Will says in frustrated exasperation. His voice breaks on her name and Oliver has to think his son has a point. The emotion is readily evident, but all the same… his track record isn’t exactly a serious one.

“And Lillie was Lillie,” Oliver supplies. It’s succinct and his meaning clear.

“You aren’t exactly low-profile, Will,” he continues. “I know you don’t pay attention to it, but when you get spotted with a girl and it ends up on gossip sites with a headline that says ‘Starling City Royals’ New Princess?’ There’s no way she’s missed that and you have to know she doesn’t want to wind up on a list of your past flames. Her reputation can’t take that and if she cares about you like you seem to think she does, I doubt her heart could either.”

It seems like something clicks in Will’s head at that as he turns his head slightly in thought, eyes darting back and forth for a second before he meets his father’s gaze. “Do they do that to Jules, too?” he asks.

Ah… that’s what his sudden awareness is about. He’s shifted gears into brother-mode. “They do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“So… Jackson…” Will ventures.

“Was around a few months before Jules said anything,” Oliver supplies. “I’m a politician, Will. My office compiles media clips every week that cover anything to do with our family. That’s part of their job. I’ve known about Jackson since April.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Will asks, his eyes bugging out at that notion.

“Do I corner you about all your dates?” Oliver questions in amusement. “No, I didn’t say anything. She needed time to figure out what that relationship was before she brought it up to us. That’s her business. I don’t blame her for that.”

“But you looked into him,” Will challenges. “I know you did.”

“Will, this is going to come as a surprise to you, but my office looks into everyone that any of you are involved with,” Oliver tells him. It’s a little absurd how much he enjoys the look of shock on his son’s face. “Politics is run on reputation, secrets and favors. If there’s something that’s going to hurt my ability to do my job, I need to know that up front.”

“Who I date could hurt your job?” Will asks astounded.

Oliver has to laugh at that. For all of Will’s intelligence, the reality of politics is not something he’s terribly familiar with.

“Let’s pretend for a minute that you were spotted on a date with a daughter of a mob boss,” Oliver theorizes. “How do you think that would go over with my constituents?”

“I would not date the daughter of a mob boss,” Will deadpans.

“Well, you have better sense than I ever did, so thank goodness for that,” Oliver reflects.

“You dated the daughter of a mob boss?” Will asks, eyes bugging out.

“That you didn’t know that is proof my staff is excellent at their jobs,” Oliver points out. “A year or two before Felicity and only for a few months, but yeah. Helena Bertinelli.”

“Wait… you dated a psychotic daughter of a mob boss?” Will questions aghast. “Didn’t she just get out of prison?”

“You can see why it’s important that I know whatever the press knows,” Oliver tells him.

“Thank god your taste in women improved,” Will says a bit dumbfounded.

“Drastically,” Oliver agrees. “I’m gonna put the fish in and sauté these vegetables. It won’t take long. You about done with that salad?”

“Yeah…” Will says, still blinking as he looks down at the pile of ingredients he’s chopped. “Just need to toss it with dressing, but we should probably wait for that a bit.”

“We should,” Oliver agrees, moving to put the salmon in the oven and pouring a bit of olive oil into a frying pan before turning on the burner and looking back to his son. “Not to harp on Amelia… but you’re a good man, Will. I want to see you happy. And… right from the moment I met her, I’ve always thought the two of you could be good for each other.” He ignores the look of surprise on his son’s face. “She’s smart. She’s beautiful. You share a ton of interests and the chemistry is obvious. I hope you two figure it out someday. But that day isn’t today. She needs to see you can take her seriously. She needs to know she can keep the respect her job demands.”

“And me?” Will asks. “What do I need?”

He looks so young, so vulnerable as he asks that. Oliver tries to remember the last time his son looked so much like a child. He finds he can’t.

“In some ways you’ve grown up a lot,” Oliver tells him. “You’re practically another parent to Bethany. You have an important job you’re good at and you take seriously. But you need to figure out how to let go of this petty grudge against Thad. I know him, Will. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve that from you. And neither does Amelia. Give her a little credit. If she cares about you, I’d say her taste is pretty solid.”

Will nods, but he looks a little gutted by that answer. “He’s a good guy?”

“There are a lot of jerks in the capital,” Oliver tells him. “Men and women who take kickbacks and cheat on their spouses. Some cover up drug habits. Some are in the pocket of one lobbyist or another. There’s no shortage of scandals just waiting to blow up in someone’s face. I’ve never heard a bad word about Thad. He’s smart, he’s driven, and he’s reasonable.”

Watching his son’s heart break sucks. The younger man’s shoulders sag and he shakily runs a hand through his hair as he nods and stares at the floor. “Good,” he says quietly. “I want that for her. I do.”

“But, Will,” Oliver says. “He’s not gonna make her laugh. Not like you can. For what it’s worth, I still think you could be good for each other. Someday.”

“Someday,” Will echoes dimly. “But not today.”

“No,” Oliver agrees. “Not today.” For all his son has grown up these past few years, for all that he’s a man with a life of his own, Oliver can’t help but think he needs to do a little more growing up before he and Amelia have a real shot. That’s okay. He’s got time. “You want to go let everyone know it’s about ten minutes until dinner? Ellie’s in the basement. I’m pretty sure Jules and Nate are in their rooms.”

“Sure,” Will agrees. “And, Dad… thanks.”

“For what?” Oliver asks.

“For calling me out,” Will says with a derisive laugh. “I don’t want to be jealous or act like a jerk. And I am actually glad to hear Thad seems like he’ll be good to her. I just… this is hard.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “Well, you’re welcome.”

Will nods and heads to the stairs, leaving Oliver to finish the last touches on dinner himself. It really is almost done and everyone piles into the kitchen one-by-one over the next few moments. Felicity holds Bethany, who keeps playing with her hair and telling her how pretty it is. Nate’s engrossed with something on his phone, barely looking up when he misses the final step of the stairs and almost falls. Ellie looks like she took the world’s fastest shower, her hair still damp. Jules and Will keep talking in low tones that he can’t hear, but absolutely make his parental senses perk up because the way they keep glancing toward him and Felicity tells him quite clearly that they’re up to something. Maybe it’s just about Amelia, though. He can’t know for sure.

“Ellie, grab the rice?” he requests. “Nate, if you could set the table, that would be a big help.”

“I’ll grab the vegetables,” Jules offers as Felicity grabs the salad bowl.

“Don’t forget the applesauce!” Beth says with alarm, earning an expectant stare from her big brother. She very obviously wracks her brain for a moment before she follows up with a delighted “Please!”

Will nods at that and heads to the fridge in search of her applesauce. Soon enough, the seven of them are seated around the dinner table with Will cutting up pieces of Beth’s dinner and Nate chattering on about the mock United Nations they’re doing at school. It’s nice, calm, even if Jules is strangely quiet.

“No Jackson tonight?” he asks his older daughter after a bit. Her fork freezes halfway to her mouth and her eyes go wide.

“Uh… no,” she says, looking to Will who just scratches at his eyebrow and stares at his napkin.

Huh.

“Everything okay?” Felicity asks, clearly picking up on the same vibe he has.

“It’s good. It’s great,” Jules says quickly. “Super great, actually. He’s just working tonight.”

“Really?” Oliver asks. “Because you almost never bring him to dinner. He’s welcome, you know. We understand he’s important to you.”

“Um… thank you,” Jules says. She’s nervous. She’s painfully nervous and it’s incredibly obvious to the point where even Nate seems to pick up on it because his brow furrows in concern as he looks to his sister. “I… will tell him that.”

“So what’s he doing working so late on a Saturday?” Felicity asks. “I’d assumed he had more of a nine-to-five type job, being in marketing and web design.”

“He’s photographing a client event,” Jules says, swallowing hard.

“Well, he can come tomorrow, if you like,” Oliver offers.

“On a Sunday?” Jules asks, her eyes going huge. “I mean…” Her eyes dart to Bethany. “We have other things we do after dinner on Sundays.”

Training. She means self-defense training. That’s something they’re going to have to talk about eventually, as much as Oliver is dreading that. Sooner or later his kids are going to wind up with real, long-term partners and - one day - spouses. It’s unreasonable to think that his secret should be their secret forever. That isn’t fair to their lives. But he also can’t have them telling every person they ever date that their dad is the Arrow.

“Well… maybe he’s not quite ready for that yet,” Oliver agrees. Jules goes positively ashen at those words and he wonders what he said wrong.

“He doesn’t ever need to be here on Sundays,” Jules says. Her voice is firm, but she’s staring at her plate. “That’s not…” She stops and shakes her head. “Other days are fine, but Sundays don’t need to be a part of his life. I don’t want him here on Sundays.”

Something in Oliver’s heart sinks at that, but he can’t quite define what. It feels… It feels like a divide. Like his daughter is setting boundaries, splitting her life into pieces.

“We haven’t really… talked about that yet,” Felicity says to his side, her eyes darting between the kids. “Sundays, in the future, I mean.”

She means as a family. They haven’t talked about it all together. But he and Felicity have. They’ve lain awake at night in each other’s arms talking in hushed voices about how to handle balancing the reality of what they do, the sensitivity of it, along with their kids’ increasingly independent lives. They’d gotten off easy with Will. There’s never been anyone in his life that he was serious enough about to even consider clueing them into their family secret. But Oliver knows that’s not going to be true forever.

“I’m all done!” Beth announces loudly. She’s eaten most of her fish and a tremendous amount of applesauce, leaving just enough to hide her vegetables beneath.

Normally, Will would prod her to at least try her zucchini or eat a bite of salad. That he doesn’t do that today is Oliver’s biggest clue yet that he’s got a much better idea of what’s going on with Jules than the rest of them do. It makes sense - they’re very close - but it also sits poorly with Oliver, sends a sense of foreboding trickling down his spine and sets the hair on the back of his neck on edge.

Because Jules isn’t the only one who looks nervous. Will does, too. And Oliver really can’t begin to guess at what’s coming.

“How about you wash up and go watch that unicorn movie up in my room, okay?” Will asks his baby sister. “If you play really nicely by yourself up there for a bit, I’ll make sure you get some dessert later.”

“Okay!” Beth declares excitedly, scampering from her seat as fast as she can. She knows a good deal when she hears one.

When Beth’s little footfalls fade away on the stairs, Felicity looks back to the kids and clears her throat. “Obviously, none of you are going to say anything about the team until you’ve cleared it with us. But your dad and I talked about this a long time ago and we both agree that it’s not fair to keep the truth from your partners forever. We want all of you to grow up and have healthy, open relationships. You can’t do that if you’re hiding a big part of who you are.”

“Who you are,” Jules says abruptly. “It’s not who I am. It’s who you guys are. That’s not the same thing.”

“Jules, like it or not, the Arrow is part of your heritage,” Felicity tells her daughter. “Just like being a Queen is.”

“No,” Jules insists sharply. “It’s not. I am a Queen. I’m not a vigilante and I never will be. Jackson doesn’t need to know anything about that side of our family. Not now, not ever.”

Oliver’s heart falls a bit at how guarded his older daughter looks. Ellie’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between him and her sister like she’s watching a tennis match. And Nate just kind of stares on owlishly. But Will… Will’s got his hand on his sister’s back lending comfort and support. Oliver can’t even begin to imagine how on edge she’d be without him there.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Felicity says slowly. “I’m not saying you should tell him right now. You shouldn’t. It’s too soon for that, but if one day things get more serious with him or someone else, that’s not the kind of thing you want to keep to yourself forever.”

“Yes,” Jules counters. “I do. I have never wanted any part of Team Arrow and I don’t want to drag someone I love into it either. Jackson doesn’t deserve to have to deal with that.”

It’s unsettling as hell to hear his baby girl declare she loves someone. It doesn’t feel all that long ago when he’d first held her in his arms. She’d been so tiny, so shockingly beautiful. He’d have done anything in the world to keep her safe. He still would. But she’s a grown woman now - twenty-years-old with a life of her own that he has such a small part of - never had that been more obvious than when he’d found out about the boyfriend she’d been keeping from them. He hadn’t lied to Will. He really does get her wanting to keep it to herself for a bit while she sorts through those first few fledgling steps of a new relationship. But that doesn’t mean it hadn’t hurt a bit, too.

“Jules… we talked about this,” Will tells her in a voice so quiet Oliver barely catches the words.

“I’m not cutting anyone out of my life, Will,” Jules clarifies. “And I’m not hiding any part of myself from him. But this isn’t a part of me and I’m absolutely never telling him about it.”

“Well… it’s not like it’s an issue right now,” Felicity says, trying to force a bit of calm into the room. “Maybe when things are a bit more serious we’ll talk about this again.”

“Mom… They are,” Jules says, swallowing hard. Her voice wavers and her nerves are readily apparent. Oliver doesn’t miss the way Will rubs her back a little and he braces for whatever is coming next.

“Excuse me?” Felicity asks, head tilted to the side a little as she waits for some kind of clarity.

“We’re moving in together.”

A rush of blood in his ears is the only thing Oliver hears for a very long moment because clearly he heard his little girl wrong. She’s not actually leaving home to move in with some guy. The choking noise of his wife sputtering on her sip of wine beside him tells him pretty clearly that he heard accurately, though.

“Oh man,” Ellie breathes out from a few seats down as Nate sputters, “You can’t move in with anyone. You’re not even married!”

Felicity coughs even more violently at those words and Oliver finds his eye twitching in a tick he can’t control as he looks to his wife. “Are you okay?” he asks. Because that’s his first concern. It has to be. Everything else simmers for a moment. His muscles bunch up painfully and his damned eye just keeps twitching and his voice feels tight, but all of that is second to Felicity.

“Not if my ears are working correctly,” she manages after a moment, her voice scratchy and her eyes watering as she keeps coughing a little.

“Mom…” Jules sighs in exasperation.

“Don’t ‘mom’ me right now Julianna,” Felicity tells her sharply. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“You’ve been dating him for like a month,” Ellie says, watching her sister warily.

“No,” Oliver cuts in before Jules can reply. “She hasn’t.”

“You knew?” Jules asks astonished. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did you,” Oliver points out. “I figured you would tell us about him when and if it got serious. I guess I was wrong about that.”

“I’m coming to you now, aren’t I?” Jules asks.

“Yes,” Felicity snaps. She’s so very unhappy right now. Oliver squeezes his wife’s thigh under the table, a subtle reminder that - upset or not - Jules does not respond well to being challenged. “You’re coming to us telling us that there’s someone in your life you’re so serious about that you want to move in with him, but you’ve barely even given us a chance to get to know him.”

“How long have you been going out with him?” Ellie asks. Her tone is strange, unsettled, and she looks more like a little girl than she has in years.

Jules bites her lip as she looks at her sister before saying, “Six months.”

“Six… six months?” Felicity sputters. It’s nearly double as long as Oliver had known about and the only one in the room who doesn’t look stunned is Will, who Jules is very subtly leaning into.

“You knew?” Oliver asks his son.

“I found out at the gala,” Will admits. “I wanted her to tell you, but I wasn’t going to step in and do it for her. It wasn’t my place.”

“You didn’t tell me?” It’s Ellie’s voice and it’s so small and hurt. The girls have been closer in recent years. He knows Jules leaned on Ellie after her breakup with Miles and that Ellie has confided in her older sister about her feelings for Sara. Jules is still closer with Will by far, but Oliver has sort of assumed that whatever was going on in Jules’ personal life, Ellie had known about. It seems like Ellie had assumed the same thing.

“I just wanted to keep it to myself for a bit, Elle,” Jules tells her, sounding a little guilty about it. “Is that so bad?”

“For six months? Yeah. It kind of is,” Ellie counters. But it’s all from a place of feeling hurt and Jules looks like she understands that because her brow furrows and she says, “I’m sorry,” to her sister in an anxious voice that practically begs the younger girl to forgive her.

“Sweetheart,” Felicity starts, taking a deep breath. “Jackson seems wonderful. Your dad and I both like him a lot and we’re very, very glad that you’re happy. We want that for you. But don’t you think six months is a little fast to be moving in together.”

“Wasn’t I born like… nine months after you started dating Dad?” Jules challenges. “Didn’t you buy this house after six months together?”

“Those were completely different circumstances,” Felicity counters.

“Why?” Jules asks, crossing her arms. “Because they were yours?”

“Jules…” Will says slowly, giving his sister a heavy look and trying to rein her in.

“No,” Jules says, shaking her head. “No, I’m an adult. I have a great career and so does Jackson. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m kind of crazy in love with him. So, if he wants to share his life with me and live together, I’m doing it.”

“You’re twenty,” Felicity points out.

“And he’s twenty-four,” Jules notes. “Isn’t that how old you were when I was born?”

“I was twenty-five,” Felicity counters warily. “And if you’re telling me that you’re pregnant right now, I’m going to need like a whole lot more wine.”

Oliver sort of feels like dying on the spot at that idea and he can’t even quantify the relief that runs through him when Jules rolls her eyes. “No. Of course not. There are reasons other than a baby to want to live with someone, Mom.”

“Thank God,” Oliver mutters beneath his breath.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she says sarcastically. “I do know how birth control works, you know.”

“But, you can’t do that… You’re not married!” Nate says again, fully astounded and a little scandalized.

The look Will’s giving his little brother is something that’s gonna stick with Oliver for a very long time. “Nate…” Will says, shaking his head a bit.

“Okay… Nate, buddy, you and I are going to have another chat about girls in the very near future,” Oliver tells his son. “And Jules… I’m grateful to know that you’re being careful, but I’m also going to pretend I know absolutely nothing about you having a sex life for the sake of my sanity.”

“How old were you when Will was born again?” Jules asks slowly.

“I never said it wasn’t hypocritical.”

“Well, there’s that anyhow,” Jules agrees.

“Is Jackson even really working tonight?” Felicity asks, pulling Oliver’s attention to his wife. “Or did you just not want him here for this conversation?”

The way Jules pauses and fidgets awkwardly before replying is an answer all on its own. “He is working,” Jules says slowly. “But I didn’t want him here for this. Can you really blame me?”

“Yes,” Ellie speaks up, pushing her chair back and standing. “Because if we’d known him for the last six months, if you’d told me about him at all, this whole conversation would have gone completely differently. Sorry, Daddy, but I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll go pile up the clothes I’ve borrowed from you Jules. I’m guessing you’re going to want them back since you’re leaving.”

“Ellie,” Jules starts, but the younger girl just waves her off as she grabs her plate and heads back out to the kitchen. “Damn it…”

She looks so lost, so thrown by how she’s inadvertently damaged her relationship with her little sister and Oliver can’t help but think, for all her protests that she’s an adult now, she definitely doesn’t look like one in this moment.

“Give her some time,” he counsels his daughter. “You’ve had six months to build up to this conversation. She’s had about six minutes.”

“She’ll get over it,” Will adds with certainty.

Jules looks at him like he’s got all the answers, her eyes hopeful and pleading. It reminds Oliver strongly of the time he’d sworn to her that she’d get the hang of riding her bike without training wheels because he knew she could. They’re five and twelve in his head all over again, and he has to swallow back that memory because those days are long gone and it hurts to have them flash before him while his little girl is talking about moving in with a boy, moving on with her life, and leaving them behind.

“How do you know that?” Jules asks her big brother.

“Because I did,” Will replies with a thin smile. “Because she loves you just like I do, Jules.”

“You’re really leaving us?” Nate asks from the opposite side of the table. He’s next to Felicity and Oliver doesn’t miss the way his wife’s hand grabs her son’s and she holds on tightly. Whether that’s more for Nate’s benefit or for hers is anyone’s guess. She’s always clung to their youngest.

“I’m not going far,” Jules answers. “It’s not like I’m leaving the city. I’ll still be over all the time. I’m here for Sunday dinners, okay? You might even see me more. And you can come over to our place any time you want.”

Our place. God, this would be so much easier if she just wanted an apartment of her own. He could have coped with that. But with a boy…

“Give it longer,” Felicity blurts out. Jules’ brow furrows as she looks to her mother. “I get it, Jules. I’ve been exactly where you are and I completely understand. But… just give it a bit more time. Until you’ve been together for a year, maybe. Or a few more months anyhow. Give us a chance to get used to this.”

“Or what?” Jules challenges, her chin and defenses both up. “You’ll cut off my trust fund?”

Felicity looks so very hurt by that. Her shoulders sag and her eyes water as she blinks down at the tablecloth. Jules has the grace to look a little ashamed at the question, given her mother’s response.

“Of course not,” Felicity tells her, looking back up. “I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Jules. I’m just… I’m worried. And I’m sad. I want what’s best for you. I want you to stop and take a breath before you make a big decision like this. And I need some time to figure out how to be okay with losing my little girl.”

“You aren’t losing me, Mom,” Jules says. She’s back to sounding uncomfortable and it strikes Oliver suddenly how very much she must actually want this to willingly put herself through this conversation. She had to have known it would go like this and Jules has never been one for exposing her own vulnerabilities. “I’m still your daughter. I’m just grown up. I want my own life, my own home, and I don’t belong here anymore.”

Jules doesn’t get it, can’t possibly understand what it feels like for her parents, but Oliver’s heart aches the same way his wife’s does. Because she’s right, because in some ways it’s very much like losing their daughter, even if it’s just losing her to adulthood. Being a parent, he realized a few decades ago, is equal parts holding on to your child and learning to let them go, little by little, bit by bit as they reach for new freedoms and take their own steps out into the world without you.

“You’ll always belong here, Jules,” he says, speaking up for the first time in a while. His voice is rough with disuse and emotion. “I don’t care if you’re 20 or 40 or 60, our home will always be your home. And, anytime you want to come back, the door will be open and your room will be waiting for you.”

“Oliver,” Felicity chokes, as she turns and presses her face into his shoulder. It’s hot and wet and he knows she’s crying, but trying to hide it. She was nowhere near ready for this. None of them had been.

“Does that mean I can go?” Jules asks in astonishment.

“I didn’t have the impression you were asking,” Oliver points out, scooting his chair closer to his wife and wrapping an arm around her. She’s so completely leaning her weight into him that he’s pretty much supporting her entirely.

“I wasn’t,” Jules admits, her voice quiet and a little pained. So… maybe she hadn’t entirely anticipated how this conversation was going to go. In truth, she’s always underestimated her own value to her parents. That’s gotten so much better over the years, but ghosts of it are still there and for a split second Oliver wonders how she thought this would play out. “...Mom. Come on, don’t cry.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Felicity says with a wet laugh, wiping at her eyes before looking to her daughter. “You can tell me you’re moving in with some boy I barely know or you can tell me not to get upset. You can’t do both.”

“Maybe… maybe I did make a mistake,” Jules admits. “Maybe I should have introduced him to you sooner. You’re going to love him, Mom. He’s such a great guy.”

“Well, I hope I get the chance to really know him, then,” Felicity replies with a watery smile.

Jules nods at that. It’s slow and thoughtful. “How about Wednesday nights?” she asks after a moment.

“Wednesdays?” Felicity asks.

“Will almost never works the next morning and Ellie doesn’t have volleyball practice Wednesday nights,” Jules points out. “I can’t bring him on Sundays. I won’t. I’ll still come. I need to practice self-defense so I can protect myself and him. But Wednesdays… he and I could maybe both come. As long as you promise not to do the cooking.”

“I think Wednesdays sound good,” Felicity agrees. “And if your dad is stuck at work late, I can very efficiently order pizza.”

“Okay,” Jules nods. The smile on her lips is small but excited. She’s clearly more at peace with the situation now. It’s still going to be a long night for Oliver and Felicity. He knows full well that just the promise of a weekly dinner isn’t enough to mend his wife’s broken heart - it’s not enough to heal his either - but it’s a step in the right direction. This was always coming… someday. They’d just both thought they had so much more time. “Okay. That’s good.”

“When are you leaving?” Nate asks quietly.

“Probably not for another couple of weeks,” Jules tells him. “We started looking right after the gala, but it’s hard to find somewhere that takes big dogs.”

“You’re taking Buster?” Oliver questions.

“Well… yeah,” Jules agrees. “I can’t leave him. You know that. It’s why I never lived in the dorms for college. But Jackson has a yellow lab, too. Her name’s Bokeh. We need somewhere that will let us have both of them. We did find one place we really liked. It’s kind of near Will’s, actually. There’s a dog park just across the street and there’s this big bay window in the eating area. The kitchen is small, but I think that’s probably okay.”

“Did you put in an application yet?” Oliver asks. She will. He can tell just from the way her face lights up as she talks about the apartment. As much as he hates this, as much as it hurts, he can’t help but be blown away by how striking his little girl is when she’s joyful. He finds he’s looking forward to Wednesday nights very much, all of a sudden.

“I was going to go by and do that tomorrow,” she admits. “I didn’t want to take that step without talking to you guys first.”

“We appreciate that,” Oliver tells her. “Just so you’re aware… when the press asks questions - and they will - my office will have to have something worked up to reply with. I’ll have my chief of staff draft up a blurb to run by you both. I’d appreciate if you both stick on message with whatever we agree on.”

“Is that really necessary?” Jules asks, looking a pinch worried again. “I’m just moving in with my boyfriend. How is that even news?”

“Jules, they’ve been publishing pictures of you two for months and calling him ‘the princess’ new suitor.’ So, yes, it’s necessary,” Oliver informs her. On one hand, it’s wonderful that none of his kids have ever given a damn about their popularity in the media. It’s helped them keep far more level heads than he’d had in his youth. But on the other, it means they don’t understand this at all and they’re blindsided anytime the public cares about their existence.

“That’s not fair,” Jules protests.

“No,” Oliver agrees. “It’s not. But it’s part of being a Queen. And that’s not something you can shrug off like you do Team Arrow. It’s your name, your blood and your heritage. We get a whole lot of advantages in our lives because of who we are. We have to roll with the drawbacks, too.”

“But why does Jackson have to?” Jules asks.

“Because he loves you,” Oliver points out. “Do you think the press covered your mom before she knew me?”

“Well… I mean occasionally by my hacker name,”  Felicity muses. Everyone turns to look at her and she flushes a little at the admission. “That was usually trade journals, though. Or… you know… cybercrimes publications. That kind of thing. Ghost Fox Goddess got a bit of play. But that’s sort of beside your point, so go on and pretend like I didn’t say anything.” She’s waving her hands like she’s waving her words away and Oliver can’t help but stop and stare at how adorable she is for a moment. Two decades together and sometimes she still takes his breath away. He stops, watches her, realizes immediately how incredibly, stupidly lucky he really is.

“How are you such a sap, Dad?” WIll asks shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Jules says with a little shrug. “I think it’s sort of cute.”

That’s new from her. But then being in love seems to have changed his little girl a fair bit. For the better, so far. He can admit that. And he wants that for her. He’s always wanted that for her. But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“Man, I’m gonna be dealing with you and Jackson being all ridiculously gooey every week too, aren’t I?” Will groans.

“Maybe if you man-up and get your girl you can bring her along and be too distracted to notice,” Jules smiles sweetly.

The comment falls flat though, and Oliver knows immediately that she’s been too wrapped up in her own life lately to have any clue what’s going on in Will’s.

“I think I’ll be solo at dinner for a bit,” Will answers tightly.

“You never know,” Jules announces in a lofty, sing-song voice. “I saw you two dance. Maybe you changed her mind. Maybe she’ll come running back to Starling right to your door. Maybe you’ve already swept her off her feet and you don’t even kno-”

“Stop.”

Will’s voice is harsh, decisive, lacking any playfulness as he stares blankly down at his empty plate. There’s only one other time Oliver can remember Will’s tone toward Jules taking on this edge of cold frustration. But it’s not Jules he’s angry at. Not this time.

“...I was just playing,” Jules says a bit uneasily. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah,” Will says, clearing his throat and blinking hard before looking up at his sister with no trace of his typically ever-present smile. “I get that. But I still need you to stop.”

“Okay,” Jules nods, watching him with freshly appraising eyes. Oliver wonders what she sees. They’ve always been so in sync, his two oldest. They’ve always understood each other best. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Will says, pushing back his chair and standing with a big sigh. “I should go check on Bethy.”

“Will,” Jules protests, grabbing his sleeve softly.

“Really,” he assures her with a forced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine. We’re okay, Jules.”

She lets go reluctantly with a nod and watches him with concerned eyes as he makes his way from the room toward the kitchen, plate in hand and shoulders drooping sadly. Part of Oliver wishes he could make this better for his son. Watching him heartbroken is so hard. But at the same time, it feels like maybe this is an experience he needs to go through. Will has grown into a wonderful man, someone Oliver is so very proud to call his son, but he’s never had a woman challenge him, never had someone who mattered to him. Not like this. Oliver remembers clearly what a life like Will’s was like, and he knows how much better things were once he had a woman in his life worth fighting for, someone who fought for him too. He can’t say that Amelia will be that woman for Will. Maybe, but right now it looks awfully unlikely. Still, the experience knowing someone like that is out there, that he even can feel that, has to be something that will be good for Will.

In the long run, anyhow.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Jules says, the minute she’s sure Will’s out of earshot. “I didn’t realize she meant that much to him.”

Felicity sighs. “I don’t think he did either,” she acknowledges. “Not until the gala. But don’t bring Amelia up again unless he does first, please? This is hard for your brother.”

“Her name’s Amelia?” Jules asks, looking back and forth between them. “How does he even know her?”

“She worked for Grandma,” Nate informs her. “She’s completely awesome. Is there any more salmon?”

“In the fridge,” Oliver tells him. Nate’s already had two helpings, but it’s not at all a surprise that he’s going back for me. The kid is a bottomless pit these days. “Just leave enough for your mom’s lunch Monday, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Felicity says, waving off the concern. “I have a meeting with R & D during lunch Monday. You can finish it off, Nate.”

“Cool,” he says with a nod. He fidgets as he gets up and, before leaving the dining room, he sort of throws his arms around Jules unexpectedly. She jolts in surprise, but rests her hand on his arm and holds him close anyhow. “I don’t want you to go, but I’m glad it’s not far,” he mutters.

A pleased flush works its way across Jules’ cheeks as she looks up at her baby brother and ruffles his hair. “I’ll still be around, squirt. Just not sleeping down the hall anymore.”

Yeah, Oliver’s trying really hard to not think about where she’ll be sleeping, but at least her words seem to settle Nate a little and he shuffles out of the room with a smile and a small backwards glance.

It’s just him, Felicity, and Jules then and there’s a heaviness to the room that hadn’t been there when it was the whole family. It feels like a metaphor, all of them leaving one-by-one, and Oliver knows instinctively that his wife will have a much harder time with this than she’ll ever let on in front of Jules.

“You aren’t too mad at me, are you?” Jules asks worriedly.

“No,” Felicity says immediately, picking at the edge of the tablecloth. “No, I’m not mad. When I think about where I was in my life at your age… I can’t be mad, Jules.”

She’d been done with college already. She’d been mourning a boyfriend whose death she thought was her fault. At Jules’ age, Felicity had already had her heart broken in ways that Jules can’t even conceive of. It puts things in perspective a bit.

“I’m a little sad,” Felicity continues, in what Oliver knows for certain is a monumental understatement. “I’m going to miss you so much and I’m going to worry about you all the time. But that’s just part of what being a mom is, I guess. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.”

Jules scoffs and rolls her eyes at that. She’s been pretty clear that she doesn’t picture kids in her future. Oliver has to wonder how Jackson feels about that. Have they talked about it? Are things that serious? He hopes they’re on the same page, but at the same time he just wants her to slow down, to savor the moments she’s in. That’s a lesson he learned the hard way in life and one he wishes he could pass on to all of his children, but it seems to be something they need to figure out on their own.

“You don’t have to worry,” Jules assures her. “You’ve raised me well. I can take care of myself and Jackson would never let anything happen to me.”

Oliver’s pretty sure that Felicity was talking about her heart, but neither one of them are about to correct that misconception right now. And besides, Jules isn’t done talking.

“It’s not that I want to leave you guys, you know?” she asks. She looks almost embarrassed by the admission. “But, I want my own space. I’m not leaving you. I’m just… I’m just growing up. That’s all.”

It’s the same thing to her parents, but Jules doesn’t see that. She can’t. And, in truth, Oliver doesn’t want her to. So, he just smiles, nods and reaches for her hand across the table.

“We’re going to support you no matter what, my Julie-bug,” he tells her, watching their fingers. He remembers so clearly when the whole of her hand wrapped around his thumb. But that little girl is gone now and in her place is a beautiful, bright young woman with the whole world in front of her. Letting her go is hard - so very hard - but he can’t help but wonder if she’s more ready for this than he and Felicity are. “Anything you ever need, we’re right here. Whether that’s help moving boxes or someone to talk to or a home to come back to… that’s okay.”

Felicity’s hand settles atop their joined grip. It’s almost imperceptible, the way her fingers shake, but Oliver picks up on it and he knows how very stressful this is for her.

“We’re always going to love you,” Felicity adds, clearing her throat. “No matter what. Always. I can’t lie and say this is easy for us. It’s not. But we both want what’s best for you and if you think that’s moving out and living with your boyfriend… we aren’t going to do anything to stop you. But we do really want to get to know him better and I want to see your beautiful face around this house sometimes still, because you make everything better, sweetheart. And this house will feel so empty without you in it.”

Jules looks stunned. She and her mother so often have had trouble communicating their feelings for each other. They’ve made progress, especially this last year, but it’s rarely been as overt as this and Oliver knows it’s a moment that’s hit them both hard.

Letting go of their hands, Jules gets up and hugs her mother tightly. It’s a firm grip and Oliver watches as Felicity buries her face in the crook of their daughter’s neck and breathes in their little girl’s scent, trying to commit it to memory. His mind flashes back to a hundred times when Jules had fallen asleep on one of their shoulders, her soft little puffs of breath ghosting across their necks. She’d been such a sweet baby, such a reserved but good little girl. In spite of everything they’ve been through with her, in spite of all the challenges they’ve dealt with over the years, he can’t help but think it’s all been worth it because it’s led her to become the incredible, self-reliant woman he sees before him today.

And that woman takes his breath away.

“I love you too, Mom,” Jules says quietly, so quietly that Oliver isn’t sure he really heard it for a second. But his wife’s knuckles turn white as she holds onto the back of her daughter’s shirt and she lets out a shuddering breath, and Oliver knows he heard the words after all. “No matter where I am. Thanks for supporting me and not freaking out too much,” she continues, barely louder.

Felicity’s short wet chuckle answers her as she pulls back slightly and rests a palm against her daughter’s cheek. “I’d support you through anything, Jules, but I can’t say I’m not freaking out. I’ll just keep doing it internally for a bit, okay?”

Jules must think she’s kidding - she’s not; Oliver knows that - because she just chuckles and shakes her head a little before backing off and standing up fulling. “Deal,” she says. “I’m gonna go try to make things right with Ellie, if that’s okay. I just… I need to fix things with Ellie.”

It’s clear that she’s enormously bothered by how upset her little sister is and Oliver can’t help but find that heartening. Just a few years ago, she’d have brushed it off. It wouldn’t have bothered her at all. Some of the change in his older daughter is just age, some of it is the therapy she went through after the kidnapping, some of it is her own professional success. She’s more confident these days, more thoughtful of others. But he also has to wonder how much of this is Jackson. He’d noticed, back in January, that she’d been happier, more open. At the time, he’d credited that to her excitement for her fledgling career. But now… knowing she’d met Jackson at the same time… he has to think that some of it is him. And Oliver is intensely interested in getting to know the young man better because of it.

Anyone who helps his daughter feel open and expressive and happy is worth his time.

“Okay,” Felicity agrees. Her hands rest next to her plate, but Oliver can see her itching to reach for Jules again, to hold on. She’s keeping it together right now, but just barely. “I appreciate that. I think she will, too.”

“Yeah,” Jules echoes, chewing on the edge of her lip. “I hope so… Thanks again.” She sort of shuffles in place for a moment before kissing her mom quickly on the cheek and moving to him, doing the same. She doesn’t linger, escaping the room and bolting toward the stairs.

The breath Felicity sucks in the moment their daughter is gone is ragged and shaky. Her eyes are dewy and her nose a little red. He knows exactly how she’s feeling. He might show it a little less, but she’s far from alone right now.

“I guess I’ll do the dishes,” she says quietly, standing and blinking down at the table as she starts to collect discarded plates. She doesn’t even look his way as she busies herself with mundane chores. It’s clear she’s avoiding her feelings however she can, but he knows his wife well by now. He has no doubt what she needs in this moment and it’s absolutely not to do the dishes.

He gets up and moves behind her, stilling her with a hand over hers. She doesn’t turn to look at him and he doesn’t say a word, but she does freeze in place and let out an unsteady breath that nearly turns into a sob at the end as she leans back into him.

“I want to go back,” she says in a hushed voice. She’s still faced away from him, toward the table, but his arms are around her and his chin rests on her shoulder, surrounding her in his presence as best he can. “I want to do it again. I want my baby girl safe in her crib while I worry about silly things like if it’s too soon to try solid foods or when she’ll start walking. I want to rewind my life just to do it all over.”

Oliver gets it. He feels that, too. Sometimes he looks at their kids and he blinks because they’ve just grown right in front of his eyes. Ellie can’t possibly be applying to colleges yet. Nate can’t be closing in on high school. Will can’t really be fast approaching 30. His little Julie-bug can’t really be moving out with a boy. Just last week, it seems, she’d held onto his finger with her whole hand and called him ‘Daddy.’ They’re so big now and it feels like that can’t possibly be real.

But it is. He knows because he’s held onto every single moment as it’s passed them by, savored every laugh and smile, found joy in little things like waffles on weekends, Will’s ballgames and Jules’ recitals, ice cream with Ellie and camping trips - no matter how ill-advised - with Nate. He can’t claim he doesn’t have a sense of nostalgia that creeps up often these days, but he also doesn’t have any regrets. Not with his children.

“Would you do anything differently if you could?” he asks.

The laugh she gives in return is pained and she turns her head to catch his gaze. “That’s a trick question and you know it.”

“Is it?” he asks. He smiles at her and he can feel the lines around his eyes crinkling as he does. They’re hard-won, those wrinkles, born of laughter and joy and a million moments over the last two decades that he wouldn’t give up for anything.

“If I say no, then there’s no point,” Felicity tells him. “We’d wind up right back here. If I say yes, then I’d change things, I’d change our whole life. And I don’t want that. Not really. I love our life together, Oliver. Even the hard parts. Even the worst parts. Because as hard as this is, as much as I want to stop time and keep them from growing up so fast, that’s only because I’ve enjoyed them so very much.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing her shoulder. “Me too.”

It’s quiet for a very long moment after that. They just stand there, remnants of dinner littered across the table as Oliver holds onto his wife and lets a sense of solidarity build between them both.

“So… Jackson,” Felicity says after a minute. It sounds like she’s testing out the name.

“Jackson,” he agrees.

“Any clue what his last name is?” Felicity asks.

It’s in the media clippings. He knows it is, but in all honesty he hadn’t paid that much attention to them. Not to the extent he should have, anyhow. But hindsight is twenty-twenty and he doesn’t have the luxury of going back and doing things again. Still, it’s very, very obvious that his little girl is a whole lot more serious about this guy than he’d assumed.

“I don’t,” he tells his wife. “But honey… I think we’re gonna need to find out.” s

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfiction #forever is composed of nows #ficon #pieces of always #oliver queen #felicity smoak #william queen #ameliam #julianna queen #ellie queen #nathaniel queen #arrow #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust34 #sorry for the late postage everyone! #i've been hermiting for reasons

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Nansook Hong – In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 4

The Moon and Hong families. From left to right: Jin-Whi Hong (was married to Ye Jin, divorced, left FFWPU), Mrs Gil Ja Yu Hong (mother of Jin-Whi and Nansook, left FFWPU), Moon, Hyo-Jin (divorced, died at 45 from heart problems which could have been caused by his drug addictions), Nansook Hong (divorced her abusive husband and left FFWPU), Hak Ja Han, Sung-Pyo Hong (father of Jin-Whi and Nansook; founder of the Il Hwa company which is a huge source of income for the Moons; he was frequently humiliated in public by Moon; left FFWPU) and Ye-Jin Moon (divorced and seems to be ambivalent about her parents’ religion/organization).

In The Shadow Of The Moons: My Life In The Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Family by Nansook Hong  1998  

Chapter 6    

page 112

I was pregnant with Sun Myung Moon’s grandchild at the same time that he and Hak Ja Han Moon were expecting their thirteenth baby.

Mrs. Moon’s obstetrician had warned her after the birth of their tenth child that another pregnancy could endanger her health, if not her life. The Reverend Moon simply had her change doctors. He was determined to bring as many sinless True Children of the Messiah into the world as possible.

However, the Moons were less committed to rearing those children. No sooner was a baby born to True Mother and True Father than it was assigned a church sister who acted as nanny and nursemaid. During my fourteen years in East Garden, I never saw the Reverend or Mrs. Moon wipe a nose or play a game with any of their children.

The Reverend Moon had a theological explanation for the kind of parental neglect he and Mrs. Moon exercised and that I had endured in my own childhood as the daughter of two of his original disciples: the Messiah came first. He expected believers to dedicate themselves to public proselytizing on his behalf; the pursuit of personal family happiness was a self-indulgence.

The Reverend Moon even designated particular couples among his original disciples to assume responsibility for the moral and spiritual development of each one of the Moon children. Assuming those parental duties himself, the Reverend Moon argued, would distract him from his larger mission: the conversion of the world to Unificationism.

Sun Myung Moon was not unaware of the bitterness this attitude engendered in his children. “My sons and daughters say that their parents think only of the Unification Church members, especially the 36 Couples,” the Reverend Moon said in a speech in Seoul just months before my wedding. “I eat breakfast with the 36 Couples, even chasing my own sons and daughters away. The children naturally wonder, ‘Why do our parents do this? Even when our parents meet us someplace, they don’t really seem to care for us.’

“It is undeniable that I have loved our church members more than anybody else, neglecting even my wife and children. This is something Heaven knows. If we live this way, following this course in spite of our children’s opposition and neglecting our family, eventually the nation and the world will come to understand. Our wives and children will understand, as well. This is the kind of path you have to follow.”

Apparently the Reverend and Mrs. Moon had little idea of the real trouble that was brewing along that path. Soon after I enrolled at Irvington High School, In Jin and Heung Jin transferred there from Hackley. Father claimed he had abandoned the private school because his children were being tormented by teachers who mocked them as Moonies, but the truth was that some of the Moon children were terrible students. Once in public school, they adopted the dress and slang and behavior of their most wayward classmates. They even assumed Western names to use among their new friends. In Jin, for instance, called herself Christina for a while, and then Tatiana. When Hyo Jin joined them for parties, he called himself Steve Han.

It wasn’t only through their assumed names that the older Moon children sought to distance themselves from the True Family. Most took a perverse pleasure in ignoring every tenet of their religion. The Moons paid scant attention. They had more public problems to contend with that spring: Father was about to stand trial for being a tax cheat.

The previous fall, only weeks before Hyo Jin and I were matched, an indictment had been handed up against Sun Myung Moon in federal court in New York. He was charged with filing false personal tax returns for three years, failing to report about $112,000 in interest earned on $1.6 million in bank deposits, and failing to disclose the acquisition of $70,000 worth of stock. An aide was charged with perjury, conspiracy, and obstruction of justice for lying and fabricating documents to cover up the Reverend Moon’s crime.

The Reverend Moon returned to the United States from a trip to Korea to plead not guilty to those charges. Father told twenty-five hundred cheering supporters on the steps of the federal courthouse in New York that he was a victim of religious persecution and racial bigotry: “I would not be standing here today if my skin were white and my religion were Presbyterian. I am here today only because my skin is yellow and my religion is the Unification Church.”

Father had made similar pronouncements earlier that year when a jury in Great Britain concluded at the end of a six-month libel trial that a national newspaper, the Daily Mail, had been truthful in describing the Unification Church as a cult that brainwashed young people and broke up families.

The High Court jury described the church as a “political organization” and urged the government to consider rescinding its tax-exempt status as a charity. The jury also ordered the Unification Church to pay $1.6 million in court costs at the end of the trial, the longest and costliest in British history.

In the New York tax case, Father had been released on a personal recognizance bond of $250,000, cosigned by the Unification Church and one of its umbrella corporations, One Up Enterprises. The trial began April 1. Despite the advanced stage of her pregnancy, Mrs. Moon accompanied Father to  federal court every day. Un Jin and I went only once. I did not understand a single word of the proceedings because the language barrier, but I did not need to understand what was being said to know what was happening in that courthouse. Sun Myung Moon was being persecuted, not prosecuted.

Father had explained to us that what was happening to him was part of a long history of religious bigotry in the United States. Even though early settlers came to North America seeking religious freedom, they had found intolerance instead. In his Sunday-morning sermons at Belvedere, he told us of innocent women who had been tried and hanged as witches in Massachusetts, of Quakers who were stoned in the South, of Mormons who were murdered in the West. The Internal Revenue Service investigation that resulted in Father’s trial was part of that shameful tradition.

Every morning there would be a pilgrimage of family and staff to Holy Rock, a clearing in the woods on the eighteen-acre East Garden estate. Father had blessed as sacred ground this spot high on a hill above the Hudson River. It was a beautiful, unspoiled place. Praying there I felt closer to God and further from the twentieth century than in any other place I had ever seen. It was a place for quiet contemplation, looking little different in 1982 than it did when Henry Hudson first explored this area of the continent in 1609.

Father prayed at Holy Rock alone before dawn every day. The prayer ladies, older women including my mother, held vigils there every day of the six-week trial. Sometimes the True Children and Blessed Children from the surrounding area would meet there to pray for Father’s exoneration. I remember how cold it was on that hill. I was pregnant and my joints would ache from the chill, but my discomfort was small next to the suffering Father was enduring.

There were tears when Father was convicted in May, but I’m not sure that anyone, outside the inner circle of the Reverend Moon and his advisers, understood the gravity of his situation. None of us really believed that U.S. District Court judge Gerard Goettel would do what was in his power and sentence Father to fourteen years in prison. The gloom in East Garden about Father’s conviction for tax fraud had been offset by the ruling of a separate court in New York that the Unification Church was a genuine religious organization and entitled to tax-exempt status.

Two months later, Judge Goettel sentenced the Reverend Moon to serve eighteen months in prison and pay a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine. Father accepted the sentence stoically. In the Reverend Moon’s scheme of things, his imprisonment — his martyrdom — was providential. Mose Durst, president of the Unification Church of America, even compared Father’s conviction to that of Jesus Christ “for treason against the state.” The Reverend Moon’s lawyers filed an immediate appeal. “We have the utmost faith that through the court system in America, justice will be done and our spiritual leader fully vindicated,” Mose Durst told the press. “As with all of the world’s great religious leaders, he has been met with hatred, bigotry and misunderstanding.” In response to threats by prosecutors to have the Reverend Moon deported, the church hired Harvard Law School professor Laurence Tribe, an expert on constitutional law, to handle his appeal. Professor Tribe argued successfully that deporting Father would deprive him of contact with his six American-born children, who then ranged in age from two months to ten years. Judge Goettel agreed that deportation would be “an excessive penalty,” though he acknowledged that the public animosity toward the Reverend Moon made this “a difficult decision, one that is bound to be unpopular with a lot of people.” Father was allowed to remain at home, pending the outcome of his appeal.

Father seemed unfazed by his conviction. That summer, when Hyo Jin was in Korea again, I accompanied the Reverend and Mrs. Moon to Gloucester, Massachusetts, where the church owned fleets of fishing boats and a processing plant. The Reverend Moon has said he founded the so-called Ocean Church to feed the world’s hungry. We all suspected he bought the fleets because he likes to go fishing. In Gloucester, Father owns Morning Garden, a mansion he purchased from the Catholic Church. (All of the Moons’ residences had names designed to evoke the Garden of Eden: there was East Garden; Morning Garden; North Garden, in Alaska, where Father also owned a fishing fleet and two giant fish processing plants in Kodiak and a third in Bristol Bay; West Garden in Los Angeles; South Garden in South America; and yet another enormous estate in Hawaii.)

That summer, Father also rented a house in Provincetown on the tip of Cape Cod so he could fish even more. It was my responsibility to wait on Mother and the children on the beach while the kitchen sisters who accompanied us prepared meals. I would serve the family lunch on the beach, dry off the children after swimming, and generally act as Mrs. Moon’s lady-in-waiting. It was a frustrating and thankless job. I could not swim unless she swam. I could not take a walk unless she did. I could not even visit the bathroom unless I was accompanying her. I was there to wait on her, no more, no less. At night I slept in a sleeping bag surrounded by her children, her cooks, and her maids. She boasted that she was providing us all with a relaxing vacation, but she and the children were the only ones who looked relaxed to me.

Despite my own pregnancy, I felt like a servant child in the Moon household. In East Garden, when the Moons were in residence, I was required to rise before they did and wait outside their bedroom for them to awaken. It was my duty as their daughter-in-law to serve the Moons their meals and to attend to Mrs. Moon’s needs throughout the day. When I was not at school and on the weekends, I was at Mrs. Moon’s side from morning until night. I spent most of this time waiting to be called upon to fetch her something, to serve her something, or to accompany her somewhere. I spent hours watching videotapes with her of the mindless Korean soap operas she enjoyed and I abhorred. I had to pay attention, though, in case she commented on the plot.

I ate my meals in the kitchen with the other children, while True Parents dined with church leaders and visiting dignitaries. We learned of developments in the tax case through whispers; Father never spoke with us directly about his situation. We were only children in his eyes.

I can’t say that I disagreed. The kitchen was the one place in the compound that felt like a real home, with the little ones spilling their milk and the older ones chatting about school. I often fed Yeon Jin in her high chair. Hyung Jin was just a toddler. I would take him from the big round table in the kitchen out onto the hills of East Garden, where we would pick wildflowers. I grew up with the Moon children, more a sibling than a sister-in-law.118

I would go with Un Jin sometimes to New Hope Farm, the horse farm that the Reverend Moon had purchased in Port Jervis, New York. An accomplished equestrian, Un Jin loved horses. The South Korean Olympic equestrian team trained there. Thanks in large measure to Sun Myung Moon’s money, Un Jin would become a member of that Olympic team in 1988.

Heung Jin was the only other older Moon child who showed me much kindness my first year in East Garden. He was just a few months younger than I. He was a sweet boy. He kept a cat in his room. When she had kittens he could not bear to part with any of them, so they took over his room. Sometimes we would find Heung Jin sleeping in the small telephone alcove next to his bedroom because the cats had made it impossible for him to slip into his own bed. My first winter at East Garden, he had given me roses on my birthday, a gesture especially memorable because Hyo Jin did not even buy me a card.

I went to language school that summer and fall, trying to master English and disguise my advancing pregnancy from my older, mostly Spanish-speaking, classmates. Mrs. Moon had sent my mother back to Korea that summer to look after my younger siblings, so I found myself lonelier than ever in East Garden. My pregnancy was a more frightening than joyous adventure. I was plagued with debilitating morning sickness that I was too young to know would pass. I worried there was something terribly wrong with me or with my baby.

Hyo Jin was rarely at home. Whenever he got bored, which was frequently, he would announce that he was going to Korea for a “seven-day course” or a “twenty-one-day course,” church training programs designed to bring one closer to God. Despite his announced intentions, word usually filtered back from Seoul that Hyo Jin was spending his time with bar girls or his old girlfriends. When he was at East Garden, he demanded sex every night, despite my protests that it was terribly painful. More upsetting than the pain was the disgust he expressed as my waist and hips expanded with our growing child. For me, it was a miracle. For him, it was an affront. He called me fat and ugly. He made me cover my tummy when we had sex so that he did not have to see.

The Reverend Moon would say that I needed to pray harder for Hyo Jin to come back to God, that soon fatherhood would change him. Not incidentally, he said we must all pray for the health of the baby I was carrying. No one spoke of it above a whisper, but I knew that everyone in East Garden feared the baby might suffer the consequences of Hyo Jin’s insatiable appetite for drugs and booze and unprotected sex.

I went to Lamaze childbirth classes alone. A driver would drop me off with my two pillows at Phelps Hospital. Every other pregnant woman was there with an attentive partner. The teacher paired me with a nurse who was studying the Lamaze breathing and exercise techniques. I felt that God had sent her to help me. Grateful as I was, my heart ached looking at all the loving couples, preparing for the birth of their babies. The women chatted about crib styles and car seats. They debated the merits of cloth versus disposable diapers. The men looked awkward but proud, placing their palms gently on their wives’ bellies to feel the babies move inside. Hyo Jin had just scoffed when I asked if he would like to try. I spoke to no one for six weeks of classes. I wondered what they thought of me. I was alone and so much younger than all of them. I must have looked pitiable. I had to accept during those classes the truth that I pushed from my thoughts each night: Hyo Jin did not care about me or our baby.

My mother returned to East Garden in January in anticipation of the birth, which we expected in early February. She slept downstairs in Cottage House. It was good she was there because on February 27, when I began to have contractions, my husband wasn’t. I was three weeks overdue. Hyo Jin had returned from Korea, but despite the impending birth, he went to New York every night to the bars. That’s where he was when I went into labor. My mom walked me around the house to ease my discomfort, but at 10:00 p.m. we finally called the doctor, who told us it was time. Hyo Jin had not bothered to leave a telephone number where we might reach him, so an East Garden security guard drove me and my mother to the hospital.

I was terrified. Even on the fifteen-minute drive from East Garden to Phelps Hospital, the pain intensified. I could not believe what was happening to my body. I had not missed one childbirth class; I had read up on labor and delivery; but nothing prepared me for the searing pain that ripped across my belly with each contraction. I could not sit comfortably in the car. I felt every pothole or turn in the road like a knife in my womb.

My mother stayed with me during that long, sleepless night. She held my hand and dried my tears when the pain came. Every hour I would beg the nurses to check to see if I had dilated enough to deliver this baby. One centimeter. Two centimeters. My cervix opened as slowly as the hands of the clock turned. I thought the night would never end. I thought my skin would split open. I thought I would die.

Hyo Jin did not come to the hospital all night. When he did come in the morning, he looked hungover and did not stay long. He watched the waves of pain pass over me as each contraction crested. He saw me cry. He heard me moan. Then he fainted. It was quite a sight, this man who thought he was so tough splayed out on the labor room floor. The nurses laughed as they helped Hyo Jin to his feet. If I had been in less agony, I might have seen the humor. Instead I saw only that once again he would leave me alone when I needed him.121

In the waiting room, Mrs. Moon huddled with the prayer ladies and fortune-tellers. They sent word to the labor room that the baby must be born before noon in order to achieve the best future. The doctor was willing to help. “If that’s your culture, I’ll do what I can,” she said. My mom had to wait outside the delivery room, so I depended on the compassion of the nurses to pull me through. They were wonderful, although I confess wanting to strangle them when they laughed at my impotent pushes. The baby’s head would emerge and then retreat. I just didn’t have the strength. The doctor performed an episiotomy and used forceps to ease the baby out of the birth canal.

It was a girl. She had a mass of black hair. She had red marks on her face from the pressure of the forceps. Her eyes were closed. I felt sorry for her. She was so small and fragile looking —just under seven pounds — that I was afraid to hold her. I could feel the nurses’ disapproval. They exchanged glances when I did not take the baby right away. I worried that they thought I didn’t love my daughter. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I was just so young and so scared.

In the waiting room, news that the baby was a girl was greeted with the disappointment I had expected. It was my duty to produce a grandson and again I had failed the Moons. The reaction would have been the same in Korea, even had I not been a member of the Unification Church. Boys are still valued more highly than girls in my culture. But my responsibility to produce a son was tied to the future of the Unification Church. As the eldest son of True Father and True Mother, Hyo Jin Moon would inherit the mission of the church. It was my duty to deliver the son who would follow Hyo Jin as the head of the church.

I was overwhelmed by feelings of incompetence after the birth of Shin June. She could not latch on to my nipple and the nurse and I could not figure out how to help her. The nurses on the maternity ward were impatient with my youth and my difficulties with English. But I knew then what women mean by maternal instinct. I had never seen anything as miraculous as my baby’s tiny fingers. I had never felt anything as soft as her translucent skin. I had never heard a more reassuring sound than her gentle breathing. Even though I did not know what to do, I looked at my baby and felt a love I had never known before. We would figure it all out together, God, my baby, and I.

The baby and I were discharged from the hospital at 1:30 p.m. on March 3. Hyo Jin drove us home to East Garden in Father’s car. The Reverend Moon was waiting at home to bless the new baby. He prayed, pointedly I thought, that God would work to restore Hyo Jin through the baby’s birth. But there was to be no miraculous change in Hyo Jin’s behavior. He stayed with us on our first night home from the hospital. After that, though, it was back to the bar scene.

My mom remained at East Garden for several months to help with the baby. I felt guilty for needing her as much as I did. The ease with which she cared for Shin June only underscored my own fumbling manner. I would have been lost without my mother, but it pained me to leave her awake all night with the baby while I slept. As much as I loved my baby, maybe because I loved her so much, this was one of the loneliest periods of my life.

I began to keep a diary after my daughter was born. To read it now is to weep for the girl I once was. The diary itself is testament to my youth — the cover is a portrait of Snoopy, the canine cartoon character.

March 6, 1983: “Hyo Jin came home at 2:00 a.m. last night and slept through until two o’clock in the afternoon. Then he went out with Jin-Kun Kim.”123

Eight days after a baby’s birth in the Unification Church, a ceremony of dedication is performed. The number eight signifies a new beginning in Unificationist numerology. The ceremony is not a baptism, since we believe that Blessed Children are born without original sin on their souls. The dedication is more of a prayer service to thank God for the birth of the new child.

On March 7 we held such a ceremony for Shin June. My diary records the event: “Hyo Jin was holding the baby. Father prayed. We passed the baby among us. Everyone kissed her cheeks. During breakfast. Mother was holding her the whole time. She was in a good mood. She said the baby looked just as Hyo Jin did when he was born. Father said her eyes were like those of a mystical bird and that this meant she would be witty. Westerners have round eyes that show what they are thinking. Easterners’ eyes are dark pools that can’t be penetrated. Father said this means we have a bigger, deeper heart.”

The next evening, only five days after Shin June and I came home from the hospital, Hyo Jin left for Korea. He did not have to go; I think he wanted to get away from us, from the responsibility that the baby and I represented. “I try to think that I am less sad than other times, since the baby is with me. But after I put her to sleep and came to my room, I was overcome with loneliness. It seems like there is a big hole in my heart and I am very sad and empty,” I wrote in my diary. “I pray to God for Hyo Jin’s safe arrival in Korea. I thank God for giving me my baby so I can fill this lonely, empty, and sad heart. Tears keep pouring down.”

I wanted so much for Hyo Jin to share my joy at the birth of our precious daughter, but I knew we were not in his thoughts once he arrived in Korea. “I wonder if Hyo Jin arrived safely in Korea. Even though I asked him to give me a call when he arrives, I don’t expect it,” I wrote in my diary. “I am going to wait several days and then I am going to call him. I decided I am going to capture many beautiful pictures of the baby and send some to Hyo Jin.”

It was not easy to capture those photographs in the early weeks. Like most babies, Shin June had trouble establishing a regular sleep schedule. She would cry all night and sleep all day. My mom was exhausted and I was wracked with guilt. “My mom raised her children and now she is raising her grandchild. I feel guilty to make her suffer like this. I really don’t know much. I feel guilty toward my baby and I thank my mom,” I wrote. “I gave her a bath. I washed her hair and put her in the bathtub. I couldn’t even wash her with soap and my mom finished her bath. I thanked my mom and I felt ashamed. I feel bad and guilty toward my little girl. I feel very inadequate as a mother. I want to be a good mother but there are so many things that I don’t know. I cannot stop feeling guilty toward her.”

Days went by and still Hyo Jin did not call and still I waited. “I wonder what Hyo Jin is doing now. I wonder if he is thinking about his daughter even a little bit,” I wrote. “Father asked, ‘Did Hyo Jin call?’ I felt bad since I had to answer no. I heard that Hyo Jin gave a talk to leaders about the wife’s role. I wonder what he’s doing right now.”

I was not feeling well physically after the birth. Korean women take extra care to protect themselves after a baby’s birth. We wrap ourselves in several layers of clothes to ward off the cold. No number of layers could keep away the chill I felt. I had never been sickly, but I was small. My body was not ready to give birth. I had pains in my joints that would worsen with each pregnancy. That March my emotional, physical, and spiritual miseries were in competition with one another. “My eyes are hurting all day long. My teeth are sensitive, so that I can’t eat anything. I don’t know why I don’t feel well. I have a headache and my heart is heavy. I have to breast-feed the baby a little later. I feel bad toward her,” I wrote. “I wonder what Hyo Jin is doing. He doesn’t call. I don’t even think about it, but I am still waiting for his call.

“It has been a long time since I prayed with all my heart. I became lazy after the baby was born. When I was pregnant, I was more conscientious and diligent in praying for the sake of the baby. But after the birth, I think I became inattentive. When I am down and disheartened, when I think of Hyo Jin, I look at the baby. Then my heart is filled with hope. She is all my hope. My only hope lies in her and I pray that Hyo Jin will come back. Once again, I thank God with all my heart for giving me my daughter. Amen.”

March 18, 1983: “It’s been raining hard since morning. The wind is also very strong. I’ve been sitting in front of my desk and loneliness fills my heart. I feel that I am all alone in this world. I often feel that there is nobody with me and I am removed from everybody. Even though my baby is in the next room, I feel like I am all alone. . . .”

March 19, 1983: “I had bad dreams yesterday and the day before yesterday. In the dream, Hyo Jin was with two other women even though he was married to me. I don’t even want to think about it, but the dreams were very real. They are so vivid that it seems as if they are not dreams, but real. I can remember the women’s faces so clearly. I have never seen them before. Last year when Hyo Jin brought his girlfriend to New York City and didn’t come home for a week, I dreamed twice that he was with her. I knew her, but I don’t know the women that I dreamed about this time. There were two different women on both days. Anyway, it is not a good dream. I don’t know why I am dreaming this kind of dream. Maybe I am thinking about him too much! Or maybe this is Satan’s test! I have no appetite and I think I am getting weak spiritually. Before I gave the baby a bath, I called Hyo Jin. I don’t understand why it is so difficult for him to call me. When I am alone or try to sleep, I can’t stop thinking things about him. I try not to think but the thread of thought continues. I don’t know why I am like this. I am afraid to be alone.”

March 22, 1983: “Mom scolded me because I didn’t eat breakfast because I have no appetite. I lost my appetite since having those bad dreams. Mom told me that if I become physically weak Satan will invade, so I should eat, thinking I am biting Satan! I heard Hyo Jin is doing well at the workshop but I still have bad dreams. Maybe Satan is testing me. I think I have become mentally and physically weak. I shouldn’t lose to Satan. I should quickly get stronger physically and fulfill my responsibility to God, Hyo Jin, and our daughter.”

March 27, 1983: “The rain and wind are very powerful. In spite of the bad weather and her tiredness, my mom went to Holy Rock for an hour at three o’clock. My poor mom and dad. I feel that they are not well and always suffering because of their daughter, because of me. I wonder whether Hyo Jin is doing well in the workshop, and what he is doing. I heard from my mom that on the sixth day he called his two girlfriends for an hour each! Satan invaded on the sixth day. Our Heavenly Father, how he is watching Hyo Jin and is worried. Our poor God.”

March 31, 1983: “I was angry for no reason yesterday. Maybe it is Satan’s test. I couldn’t control myself. Since the birth of the baby, I cannot fit into my old clothes. I have been somewhat worried about that these days. I told myself, I shouldn’t be doing this. I am seventeen years old now. I should be doing things and going places, but I have a baby and I have become a middle-aged lady. What a pathetic girl I am! I even regret being here. Why am I like this? Heavenly Father does not feel happy and I feel repentant. Yet I still feel that it is better to meet an ordinary man and receive his entire love. I know I shouldn’t think like this. I repent, Heavenly Father!!”

April 4, 1983: “Monday, 2:00 a.m. When I write in the diary, I think about what I did today. Well, how did I spend the day? During the day, I try to forget about my situation, but while I write in the diary I organize my thoughts. I always feel empty inside. Is it because of him? While waiting to feed the baby when she wakes up, I read the letter that I found. It’s a letter from the woman in L.A. Previously, I ripped up old letters that I have found from his other girlfriends. I don’t know why I didn’t tear up the new letter. I don’t have any feelings about the letters. I am not even angry. I think about this as a pathetic situation. I wonder how I became like this. I am not upset at the women he is dating. I feel pity for them. The person I am upset with is Hyo Jin.”

Hyo Jin did not return to East Garden until summer. Our daughter, a tiny newborn when he left, was by then a bright-eyed babbling baby. He seemed just as indifferent to her as he was when he went to Korea. I was at a loss, fearful for our future. That summer the Moons decided I could not return to Irvington High School. They worried that public school officials could get too curious about the cause of my extended leave of absence, that there would be rumors about the baby. I was still below the age of consent in New York when she was conceived. They did not need their son accused of child abuse or even rape.

I was admitted to the Masters School, a private school for girls in Dobbs Ferry, New York. I was very excited. I had been yearning to go back to school since spring. In my diary in April, I had written: “I should study very soon. I also have to practice piano. I am just wasting my time, not doing anything. I have to make plans to study.” School would be a distraction from my loveless marriage and my depression. It would make me a better mother. I was full of hope for the first time since coming to East Garden.

One morning the Moons called me to their room. I was alarmed. When they sent for me, it usually meant I had done something wrong in their eyes. I never knew which one of them would be angry at me. Both of them had horrible, raging tempers, but they rarely were angry at the same time. This time it was Mrs. Moon who began shouting as soon as I fell to my knees to bow to them.

Did I know how much the tuition was at the Masters School? Did I have any idea how much money it would take to educate me? Why should they be burdened with this expense? I was not their daughter. They already had to pay to feed and clothe and house me. How much more did I want? She could barely speak, she was so furious. The Reverend Moon said nothing while she ranted. I kept my head bowed, bit my lip, and began to cry. I thought I had done everything the Moons wanted. I married their wayward son. I stood by him even when he left me, pregnant, for his girlfriend. I had given them a beautiful granddaughter. Why was Mother screaming at me?

Mrs. Moon said that Bo Hi Pak’s daughter had received her high school diploma through a correspondence course. I could do the same. What did I need with a fancy education? I could do what Hoon Sook Pak had done. She was a ballerina now. It had all worked out. I could study at home and care for the baby at the same time.

I was stunned. My parents had always valued education. They sacrificed their own comfort to ensure that their seven children had the best schooling available. The Moons were going to let me get a diploma through the mail? I knew that I needed to go back to school, to see people my own age, to get out of the Moon compound for part of my day. I was so grateful when the Reverend Moon finally spoke up. Those correspondence courses are no good, he told Mother quietly; we have to send Nansook to school.

The two of them discussed the options as if I were not there, on my knees sobbing before them. They made every important decision about my life and then blamed me for the repercussions. I tried to will my tears to stop. I had done nothing wrong. I should not be crying. I could not help myself, though. When she had fully vented her rage, Mrs. Moon suddenly remembered I was still there. “Get out!” she shouted. I scrambled to my feet and tried to avert my eyes from the staff as I rushed down the stairs and back to Cottage House.

The entire summer went by with no mention of my education. One day in September, I was simply told that I would begin the eleventh grade the next day at Masters School. I was driven to and from school that year. In my senior year, I learned to drive. Hyo Jin had offered to teach me, but after one session of his screaming abuse, I told him I preferred to learn from one of the security guards at East Garden. It was the first time I had stood up to Hyo Jin. I knew I was not going to learn if he shouted, and he would not stop shouting. I even learned to parallel park, without ever leaving the Moon property.

I loved the Masters School. The academics were challenging and the student body included several Korean girls. Most of them were musicians, studying at Juilliard at Lincoln Center in New York City on the weekends. To them I was just another teenage Korean expatriate being educated in the United States. My parents, like theirs, were at home in Korea. None knew about my relationship with Sun Myung Moon. None knew I was a wife and a mother. They thought I lived with a guardian in Irvington. No one asked for more information than that, and I found myself grateful for the discretion of my Korean culture.

One girl at Masters School was especially sweet. She was younger than I and treated me like a big sister. When she needed a confidante, I was happy to fill that role. She could not bear to speak to her mother when her family telephoned from Seoul. Just the sound of her mother’s voice would make her weep with homesickness.

I felt so sorry for her, but I envied her, too. It only occurred to me in comforting her that I did not experience the normal range of emotions of a girl my age. If I missed my mother or my family, I felt I was failing God. If I longed to go home, I felt I was resisting my fate. If I hated my husband, I felt I was doubting the wisdom of Sun Myung Moon.

I was free to feel my failure and my loneliness, but I was not free to express them. As a result, my friendships with classmates were strictly superficial, one-way propositions. I could not confide in anyone that school year when I realized I had suffered a miscarriage.

I had known for weeks that I was pregnant but had missed my first doctor’s appointment. When I began to notice small amounts of blood staining my panties, I did not think much of it. When an ultrasound confirmed that I had lost the baby, I was devastated. I had to be hospitalized overnight for a D and C. Hyo Jin did not come to see me until it was all over. He found me weeping in my hospital room. Instead of comforting me, he said my tears disgusted him. He cared less that we had lost our baby than that I was making a scene. “You are very unattractive when you cry,” he said, before leaving me alone with my loss.

I wished, then, that I had a real friend, but I knew that my life and the lives of the girls I sat alongside in the schoolroom were alike only on the surface. If I was going to survive in the True Family, I realized after Hyo Jin’s heartless response to my miscarriage, I would need to compartmentalize my emotions even more than I had already done.

More than most young women my age, I was suspended between childhood and adulthood, with a foot in both worlds. I was still young and dependent enough that spring to ask my mother to pick out the long white dress I would wear to my high school graduation. I was also old enough to have a toddler at home, watching me get ready for the ceremony, where then-Vice President George Bush would give the commencement address at the request of his godchild, one of my classmates.

“Can I come, Mommy?” my daughter wanted to know. I longed to have my little girl with me on my big day, but I left her at home in East Garden. I had not figured out how to integrate the two very different worlds in which I lived.

Chapter 7    

page 133

December 22, 1983, dawned cold and damp in the Hudson River valley. The gloomy weather reflected the mood at East Garden. Father and Mother had left days before for a major speaking tour in Korea. The Reverend Moon was scheduled to address a rally in Chonju, South Korea, an antigovernment stronghold. There were fears for his safety because of his close ties to the repressive military regime of Chun Doo Hwan.

He had to go into the camp of the enemy. Father told us, because only by direct confrontation could he defeat the Communists, Satan’s emissaries on earth. We thought Sun Myung Moon was the bravest man in the world. The prayer ladies spent the day at Holy Rock, praying for a successful and peaceful trip.

The link between religion and politics had been explicit for Sun Myung Moon since his childhood in Japanese-occupied Korea. The division of our country into Communist and democratic zones had further defined the lines of political demarcation for his religious ministry. The Communists had imprisoned him as an itinerant preacher. They had outlawed religious pluralism. They were the enemy. He devoted his public life to the spread of Unificationism and the defeat of Communism. For Sun Myung Moon one goal was inseparable from the other.

If Hyo Jin was concerned about his parents, there was no change in his behavior to indicate it. Early that evening he went into New York to visit the bars. I was at home alone with the baby when the telephone rang after midnight. It was one of the security guards. “There’s been an accident,” he said. I feared immediately for True Parents. “No, it’s not Father,” he said. “It’s Heung Jin.”

Heung Jin?

The second son of the Reverend and Mrs. Moon had been driving home from a night out with two Blessed Children when his car slammed into a disabled truck on an icy road not far from the Unification Theological Seminary in Barry town, New York. Heung Jin and his friends often went to the seminary to use the firing range that the Reverend Moon’s sons, all avid hunters, had built on the grounds. All three boys were hospitalized.

My brother, Peter Kim, and I rushed directly to the emergency room at St. Francis Hospital in Poughkeepsie, New York. None of us was prepared for what we found. Jin-Bok Lee and Jin-Gil Lee were injured, but not seriously. However, Heung Jin had suffered severe head trauma in the crash. He was in the operating room undergoing brain surgery when we arrived.

I watched Peter Kim walk to the pay phone in the corridor to call Father and Mother in Korea. He was weeping. “Forgive me. I am so unworthy,” he began. “You left me in charge of your family and the most terrible thing has happened.” The call did not last long. The Reverend and Mrs. Moon said they would be on the next plane home.

I had never been exposed to serious illness or life-threatening injury before. It was terrifying to see a boy my own age, especially a boy as sweet as Heung Jin, lying in an intensive care unit, attached to all manner of tubes and machines. He was unconscious. He lay perfectly still, the only sound the hum of the respirator that pumped oxygen into his inert body. We did not need a doctor to tell us the gravity of his condition.

We all went to New York to meet True Parents at the airport the next day. I’ll never forget the stricken look on Mrs. Moon’s ashen face. It was clear she had not slept since receiving Peter Kim’s call. We followed the Moons to the hospital, where church members had all but taken over the ICU waiting room and were conducting a prayer vigil for Heung Jin.

The Reverend Moon concentrated on comforting everyone else before he entered Heung Jin’s room. Mrs. Moon wanted only to be with her son. There would be no miracle. Heung Jin was brain dead. On January 2, 1984, the Moons made what must have been the hardest decision of their lives. With all of us gathered around his hospital bed, the ventilator that kept seventeen-year-old Heung Jin Moon alive was turned off. He died without ever regaining consciousness. Mrs. Moon clung to her son’s lifeless body, her tears staining the crisp white bed linens. The Reverend Moon stood dry-eyed beside her, trying to console a mother who was beyond consolation.

The rest of us wept copious tears at the death of our brother, but the Reverend Moon ordered us not to cry for Heung Jin; he had gone to the spirit world to join God. We would be reunited with him one day. We all remarked with admiration on Father’s strength, on his ability to put his love of God before the loss of his son. As a new mother, I was more mystified than impressed by Sun Myung Moon’s reaction.

There was an enormous funeral for Heung Jin at Belvedere. At Mrs. Moon’s instruction, the women and girls in the family wore white dresses; the men wore white ties with their black suits. Church members wore their white church robes. Upstairs as we got ready for the service, I felt my usual awkwardness. I was not a True Child, just an in-law, so I did not know quite where I belonged. I found my place at the edge of the family. The kitchen sisters had prepared all of Heung Jin’s favorite foods to remind us of the boy we had lost. The table looked as if it had been laid out for a teenager’s birthday party: hamburgers, pizza, and Coca-Cola.

I had never been to a funeral before. Heung Jin’s open coffin was placed in the living room. It was a large room, but overflowing with two hundred people, it soon grew very hot. For three hours, friends and family offered testimonials to Heung Jin, to his goodness and his kindness. I wept openly, despite my promise to Father not to cry. I was not alone. The Reverend Moon instructed all members of the True Family to kiss Heung Jin good-bye. The littlest ones understandably were frightened. I lifted some of the smallest to kiss Heung Jin’s cheek, as I did myself. He was so terribly cold.

Father walked to the front of the room and instantly all sounds of weeping ceased. He told the funeral gathering that Heung Jin was now the leader of the spirit world. His death had been a sacrificial one. Satan was attacking the Reverend Moon for his anti-Communist crusade by claiming the life of his second son. Like Abel before him, Heung Jin had been the good son. Hyo Jin looked wounded by Father’s comparison, but he knew himself that he bore more of a resemblance to the Biblical Cain.

Heung Jin, Father said, was already teaching those in the spirit world the Divine Principle. Jesus himself was so impressed by Heung Jin that he had stepped down from his position and proclaimed the son of Sun Myung Moon the King of Heaven. Father explained that Heung Jin’s status was that of a regent. He would sit on the throne of Heaven until the arrival of the Messiah, Sun Myung Moon.137

I was stunned by the instant deification of this teenage boy. I knew Heung Jin was a True Child, the son of the Lord of the Second Advent, so I was ready to believe that he had a special place in Heaven. But displacing Jesus? The boy I had helped search for a lost kitten in the attic of the mansion at East Garden, he was the King of Heaven? It was too much, even for a true believer like myself. I looked around me, though, and the assembled relatives and guests were nodding gravely at this imparted revelation. I was ashamed of my skepticism but powerless to deny it.

Heung Jin’s coffin was carried out to the hearse and driven to JFK International Airport for the long flight to Korea. The Reverend and Mrs. Moon did not accompany their son’s body. Je Jin and Hyo Jin went home with their brother. Heung Jin was buried in a Moon family plot in a cemetery an hour outside of Seoul.

Almost immediately, videotapes began arriving at East Garden from around the world. Unification Church members in various states of entrancement were pronouncing themselves the medium through which Heung Jin spoke from the spirit world. It was so strange to watch these tapes. We would gather with Father and Mother around the television and watch one stranger after another purport to speak for Heung Jin. None of them offered any profound religious insights. None displayed any confirming familiarity with Heung Jin’s life in East Garden. But all praised True Parents and reinforced Father’s revelation that Jesus had bowed down to Heung Jin in Heaven.

I not only did not believe the claims in these tapes, I was offended that so many people would try to exploit the grief of the True Family in such a transparent attempt to gain favor with Father. I was naive. This was exactly the approach most likely to win Sun Myung Moon’s affection. Father clearly was thrilled by this “possession” phenomenon, occurring spontaneously around the globe. It was impossible for me to tell whether the Reverend Moon actually believed his son was speaking through these people or if he was using their scam for his own purposes.

One theological problem with the deification of Heung Jin Moon was that Sun Myung Moon teaches that the Kingdom of Heaven is attainable only by married couples, not by single individuals. Father dealt with that expeditiously. Less than two months after Heung Jin died, a wedding ceremony was held in which Sun Myung Moon joined his dead son in marriage to Hoon Sook Pak, the daughter of Bo Hi Pak, one of his original disciples. Hoon Sook’s brother, Jin Sung Pak, was married on the same day to In Jin Moon. The joint wedding on February 20, 1984, can only be described as bizarre.

In Jin was furious that Father had matched her to Jin Sung, a boy she could not stand. In Jin had many boyfriends; marriage was the last thing on her mind. She called Jin Sung “fish eyes,” after the most distinctive physical characteristic of the Pak family. The truth was she had a crush on a younger boy. The year before, In Jin and I had shared a room in a Washington, D.C., hotel, where we were attending a Unification Church conference. She thought I was sleeping late one night when she telephoned this boy at his family’s Virginia home. She was whispering softly and giggling in a girlish way that was unlike her in my experience. I realized she was flirting with him, telling him that even though Blessed Children were not supposed to kiss, she thought they could make an exception.

It was a dangerous infatuation. What neither of them knew at the time was that they shared the same father. The boy is Sun Myung Moon’s illegitimate son. My mother had told me so a year before, but it was clear to me that night that no one had told them. That the boy had been born of an affair between the Reverend Moon and a church member was an open secret among the thirty-six Blessed Couples. It was not a romantic liaison, my mother had explained to me. It was a “providential” union, ordained by God, but one that the secular world would not understand. To avoid any misunderstanding, the baby was placed at birth with the family of one of Sun Myung Moon’s most trusted advisers and was raised as his son. His real mother lived nearby in Virginia and played the role of family friend in his young life. The Reverend Moon has never acknowledged his paternity publicly, but by the late 1980s, the boy and the second generation of Moons were told the truth.

The placement of a baby in the home of an unrelated church member was not an isolated occurrence. It happened all the time. Infertile couples in the church simply were given a baby by members who had several children. Since we all belonged to the family of man and the only True Parents are the Reverend and Mrs. Moon, what difference did it make who actually reared a child? The Unification Church often dispensed with such legal niceties as adoption proceedings and simply shared out children in much the way one neighbor might lend another an extra garden hose.

We had gathered at the Belvedere mansion for the double wedding that February just as we had for my own two years before. In their white ceremonial robes, the Reverend and Mrs. Moon presided first over the wedding of their daughter In Jin to Jin Sung Pak. Immediately following the ceremony, the crowd fell silent as Hoon Sook entered the ornate library in a formal white wedding gown and veil. A beautiful young woman, she was twenty-one, an aspiring ballerina. The Reverend Moon would found the Universal Ballet Company in Korea to highlight her talent under the stage name Julia Moon.

She carried a framed portrait of Heung Jin down the aisle to Mother and Father. My husband, Hyo Jin, stood in for his dead brother next to the bride. He repeated the vows that Heung Jin was not able to recite. Hoon Sook was such a beautiful bride, I felt sorry that she would never be able to marry a living groom. But as my eyes moved from her to Hyo Jin, I felt something else stirring in me; it was envy. How much better, I thought, to be loved by a dead man than to live in misery with a man you do not love and who does not love you.

This ceremony would have seemed strange, indeed, to anyone outside the Unification Church, but the Reverend Moon frequently joined the living with the dead in matrimony. Older, single members were often matched to members who had gone to the spirit world. In what must stand as his ultimate act of arrogance, Sun Myung Moon actually had matched Jesus to an elderly Korean woman. Because the Unification Church teaches that only married couples can enter the Kingdom of Heaven, Jesus himself needed the intervention of the Reverend Moon to move through those gates.

A few years after their Holy Wedding, Julia Moon and the long-dead Heung Jin Moon would become parents. She did not actually give birth, of course. Heung Jin’s younger brother Hyun Jin and his wife simply gave Julia their newborn son. Shin Chul, to raise as her own.

The civil authorities were unaware of these allegedly miraculous doings, however. Four months after Heung Jin’s death, the U.S. Supreme Court, without comment, refused to review the Reverend Moon’s conviction for federal tax evasion. Sixteen amici curiae briefs filed by organizations such as the National Council of Churches, the American Civil Liberties Union, and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference portrayed the case as one of religious persecution with profound implications for the free exercise of religion. If Sun Myung Moon could be targeted, the thinking went, what unpopular evangelist might be next?

“The precedent has been set for the government to examine the internal finances of any religious organization,” warned the Reverend George Marshall of the Unitarian-Universalist Association.

The Reverend Mr. Marshall was one of four hundred religious leaders around the nation who spoke up in support of Moon in rallies staged across the country. The Reverend Edward Sileven, a Baptist minister from Louisville, Nebraska, compared Moon’s plight to his own. The Reverend Mr. Sileven had served eight months in jail for refusing to obey a court order to close down his unaccredited fundamentalist Christian school. “People ask me, ‘Don’t you feel funny coming to a rally for the Reverend Moon?’ But I’d rather fight for your freedom once in a while than come together with you all in a concentration camp.”

Jeremiah S. Gutman, president of the New York Civil Liberties Union, organized an ad hoc committee of religious and civil rights leaders to protest what he called “an indefensible intrusion in private religious affairs.”

A U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee panel chaired by Senator Orrin G. Hatch reviewed the Moon case and agreed.

We accused a newcomer to our shores of criminal and intentional wrongdoing for conduct commonly engaged in by a large percentage of our own religious leaders, namely, the holding of church funds in bank accounts in their own names. Catholic priests do it. Baptist ministers do it, and so did Sun Myung Moon.

No matter how we view it, it remains a fact that we charged a non—English speaking alien with criminal tax evasion on the first tax returns he filed in this country. It appears that we didn’t give him a fair chance to understand our laws. We didn’t seek a civil penalty as an initial means of redress. We didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. Rather we took a novel theory of tax liability of less than $10,000 and turned it into a guilty verdict and 18 months in federal prison.

I do feel strongly, after my subcommittee has carefully and objectively reviewed this case from both sides, that injustice rather than justice has been served. The Moon case sends a strong signal that if one’s views are unpopular enough, this country will find a way not to tolerate, but to convict.

The Reverend Charles V. Bergstrom of the Lutheran Council in America testified before Senator Hatch’s committee, but he was more subdued in his assessment of the Reverend Moon’s tax case. “I have a question about whether he had a fair trial. The court denied Reverend Moon’s request to have a judge decide the case, and the judge told the jury not to consider him a religious person for the purpose of the trial. But I also have to ask: Why did he have to handle all that money?”

The answer was clear enough to anyone inside the church: the Unification Church was a cash operation. I watched Japanese church leaders arrive at regular intervals at East Garden with paper bags full of money, which the Reverend Moon would either pocket or distribute to the heads of various church-owned business enterprises at his breakfast table. The Japanese had no trouble bringing the cash into the United States; they would tell customs agents that they were in America to gamble at Atlantic City.

In addition, many businesses run by the church were cash operations, including several Japanese restaurants in New York City. I saw deliveries of cash from church headquarters that went directly into the wall safe in Mrs. Moon’s closet. From here, on any given day, she might distribute five thousand dollars to the kitchen staff for food or five hundred dollars to a child who had just won a game of hopscotch.

There was no question inside the church that the Reverend Moon used his religious tax exemption as a tool for financial gain in the business world. The pursuit of profit was central to his religious philosophy. A capitalist at heart, the Reverend Moon preaches that he cannot unify the world’s religions without building a network of businesses to support believers. To that end, he has built or bought food processing plants, fishing fleets, automobile assembly lines, newspapers, companies that produce everything from machine tools to computer software.

No matter what the lawyers said in court, no one internally disputed that the Reverend Moon comingled church and business funds. No one had any problem with it. How often had I heard church advisers discuss funneling church funds into his business enterprises and political causes because his religious, business, and political goals are the same: world dominance for the Unification Church. It was U.S. tax laws that were wrong, not Sun Myung Moon. Man’s law was secondary to the Messiah’s mission.

The Reverend Moon’s philosophy sounded benign enough: “The world is fast becoming one global village. The survival and prosperity of all are dependent on a spirit of cooperation. The human race must recognize itself as one family of man.” What his civil libertarian allies outside the Unification Church failed to realize was that Sun Myung Moon, and only Sun Myung Moon, was the head of that family.

Using church funds to finance his anti-Communist political agenda was a given, part of the Unification Church philosophy. In 1980 the Reverend Moon had established CAUSA, an anti-Communist front that the church described as a “nonprofit, non-sectarian, educational and social organization which presents a God-affirming perspective of ethics and morality as a basis for free societies.” In practical terms that meant CAUSA supplied crucial funds to oppose Communist movements in El Salvador and Nicaragua.

The Reverend Moon was never shy about drawing attention to the roots of his anti-Communist beliefs. “The need for unity among the God-affirming peoples of the worlds became profoundly clear to the Reverend Moon when he was imprisoned and tortured for his Christian faith by North Korean Communists in the late 1940s. CAUSA is an outgrowth of his commitment to America and to world freedom.”

In the 1980s Latin America was the focus of the Reverend Moon’s anti-Communist zeal. The missionaries he sent to support anti-Communist sympathizers in the region did not come wearing church robes. They came in business suits, under the auspices of the many “scholarly” organizations that Father quietly established and funded without any overt reference to Sun Myung Moon or the Unification Church. With titles such as the Association for the Unity of Latin America, the International Conference on Unity in the Sciences, the Professors World Peace Academy, the Washington Institute for Values in Public Policy, the American Leadership Conference, and the International Security Council, the Reverend Moon’s missionary arms had an academic veneer. Speakers to conferences sponsored by these groups, many of them prominent figures in the media, politics, and scholarship, rarely knew that their fees, hotel rooms, and meals were being paid for by Sun Myung Moon.

Personally, the Moons had an almost physical aversion to paying taxes. Lawyers for the church spent most of their time trying to figure out how to avoid them. That’s why the True Family Trust fund was based not in a U.S. bank but in an account in Liechtenstein.144

It is only in retrospect that I see the hypocrisy of Sun Myung Moon’s claiming religious persecution for his efforts to manipulate the law for his own gain. At the time, I was an impressionable teenager, a new mother, a faithful follower. That year, I returned to Korea for the first time in order to secure a more permanent visa. I had been in the United States illegally for three years before the Moons decided it was time to legitimize my immigration status. I was not alone. East Garden was full of maids, kitchen sisters, baby-sitters, and gardeners who had come into the United States on tourist visas and just melted into the subculture of the Unification Church.

I had not really understood then that we were breaking the law. It would not have mattered to me. God’s law supersedes civil law and Father was God’s representative on earth. Even the importance of the Reverend Moon’s trial the year before had escaped me. But prison? That I understood. We all were heartsick that Father would actually be locked up for a year and a half.

At 11:00 p.m. on July 20, 1984, Sun Myung Moon took up residence at the medium-security federal prison in Danbury, Connecticut. The day before surrendering to prison authorities, Father had met at the mansion in East Garden with church leaders from 120 countries. He assured them that he would simply move his base of operations from home to prison. His living accommodations would be quite different in Danbury, where he was housed in a dormitory-style building with forty or fifty other inmates. He was assigned to mop floors and clean tables in the prison cafeteria.

He was allowed visitors every other day. I dutifully accompanied Mrs. Moon in order to serve them both. I fetched food from the vending machines, slipping black extract of ginseng into cups of instant soup at Mother’s instruction to give Father extra strength during his ordeal. The leaders of his various business enterprises and church leaders came to consult with him frequently. The business of the Unification Church continued uninterrupted.

Whenever we visited Father, he would give the children homework assignments, to write a poem or an essay. We would then read them to him on a return trip. I remember one he gave me, “The Life of a Lady.”

In Jin took on the role of public defender of her father. In a rally for religious freedom in Boston, she told 350 supporters that Sun Myung Moon’s plight was similar to that of Soviet dissident Andrei Sakharov, the Nobel Prize-winning physicist. “This is a very difficult time for me to bear and understand,” she told the crowd. “In 1971 he came to this country obedient to the voice of God. For the last twelve years he has shed his tears and sweat for America. He told me God needs America to save the world. Now he is sixty-four years old and guilty of no crime. When I visited him in prison and saw him in his prison clothes, I cried and cried. He told me not to weep or be angry. He told me and millions of others who follow him to turn our anger and grief into powerful action to make this country truly free again.”

In Jin shared the stage that night with former U.S. senator Eugene McCarthy, who denounced Father’s incarceration as a threat to liberty. The Reverend Moon’s prison term was turning into a public relations coup for the Unification Church. Overnight he went from being a despised cult leader to being the symbol of religious persecution. Well-meaning civil libertarians made Sun Myung Moon a martyr to their cause. They, too, were being duped.

Shaw Divinity School in Raleigh, North Carolina, awarded an honorary Doctor of Divinity degree to Father while he was imprisoned. The school cited Sun Myung Moon for his “humanitarian contributions in several areas: social justice, efforts to relieve human suffering, religious freedom and the fight against world communism.” Joseph Page, the vice president of the school, insisted that the Unification Church’s thirty-thousand-dollar contribution to Shaw Divinity School had “absolutely not” influenced the board of trustees to honor the Reverend Moon.

While he was in prison, the Reverend Moon sent Hyo Jin to Korea to direct a special workshop for Blessed Children, the sons and daughters of original members. “Previously, each was heading in his own direction, and there was no discipline among them,” Sun Myung Moon would say later in a speech. “But now they have been brought together in a certain order. It is significant that this happened while I was serving my prison sentence because after Jesus’ crucifixion, all his disciples separated and ran away. Now, during my incarceration, the Blessed Children from around the world came together, to the central point, instead of running away.”

Even as Father was gaining respectability among mainstream Christians and consolidating his hold on the second generation of Unificationists during his time in prison, his son was growing in stature after death. Reports of messages from Heung Jin were proliferating, although some of them were less than profound: “Dear Brothers and Sisters of the Bay Area: Hi! This is the team of Heung-Jin Nim and Jesus here. We need to establish a foothold among you and bring true sunshine here to California,” read one written on official Unification Church stationery. It was purportedly transcribed by a church member while in a trancelike state.

“Our brother has received messages from Heung Jin Nim, St. Francis, St. Paul, Jesus, Mary and other spirits have come to him as well,” Young-Whi Kim, a church theologian, wrote of one such medium. “They all refer to Heung Jin Nim as the new Christ. They also call him the Youth-King of Heaven. He is the King of Heaven in the spirit world. Jesus is working with him and always accompanies him. Jesus himself says that Heung Jin Nim is the new Christ. He is the center of the spirit world now. This means he is in a higher position than Jesus.”

Back on earth, after thirteen months in prison, the Reverend Moon was freed on August 20, 1985. He was released to the cheers of his new friends in the religious community. Both the Reverend Jerry Falwell of the Moral Majority and the Reverend Joseph Lowery of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference called on President Ronald Reagan to grant Father a full pardon. Two thousand clergymen, including Falwell, Lowery, and other well-known religious leaders, held a “God and Freedom Banquet” in his honor in Washington, D.C.

At East Garden it was as though Father had returned from a world speaking tour and not from a prison term. The old rhythms returned. The meetings around his breakfast table resumed. But something was different. There was a perceptible shift in the Reverend Moon’s Sunday-morning sermons at Belvedere after his release from the penitentiary. He talked less and less about God and more and more about himself. He seemed obsessed with his vision of himself as some kind of historical figure, not merely as an emissary of God. Where once I had listened intently to his sermons in search of spiritual insight, I now found myself more uneasy and less engaged.

The Reverend Moon’s hubris culminated later that year in a secret ceremony in which he actually crowned himself and Hak Ja Han Moon as Emperor and Empress of the Universe. Preparations for the lavish, clandestine event at Belvedere took months and hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Church women were assigned to research the regal robes of the five-hundred-year Yi dynasty that ended in the nineteenth century. Others were ordered to design solid-gold-and-jade crowns modeled on the ones worn by tribal kings. My mother was in charge of buying yards and yards of silk and satin and brocade material and finding seamstresses in Korea to turn these expensive raw materials into the costumes of a royal court. All twelve of Sun Myung Moon’s children, all of his in-laws, all of his grandchildren, were to be outfitted as princes and princesses.

In the end Sun Myung Moon’s crowning ceremony looked less like a historical reconstruction than like a popular Korean television soap opera set during the Yi dynasty. I felt silly, as though I were dressed for a period comedy rather than a sacred religious service. The Reverend Moon was aware enough of how an act of such monumental egotism would be received by the world that he banned photographs from being taken at the actual ceremony. Invited guests, all high-level church officials, who arrived with cameras had them confiscated by security guards, who blocked the entrances to gate-crashers.

In his gold crown and elaborate robes, Sun Myung Moon looked to me for all the world like a modern-day Charlemagne. The difference was that this emperor bowed to no pope. Since there was no authority higher than the Reverend Moon, the Messiah had to crown himself Emperor of the Universe.

The coronation was a turning point for me and my parents. For the first time we voiced our doubts to one another about Sun Myung Moon. It was not an easy thing to do. Much has been written about the coercion and brainwashing that takes place in the Unification Church. What I experienced was conditioning. You are isolated among like-minded people. You are bombarded with messages elevating obedience above critical thinking. Your belief system is reinforced at every turn. You become invested in those beliefs the longer you are associated with the church. After ten years, after twenty years, who would want to admit, even to herself, that her beliefs were built on sand?

150

I didn’t, surely. I was part of the inner circle. I had seen enough kindness in the Reverend Moon to excuse his blatant lapses — his toleration of his son’s behavior, his hitting his children, his verbal abuse of me. Not to excuse him was to open my whole life up to question. Not just my life. My parents had spent thirty years pushing aside their own doubts. My father tolerated the arbitrary way in which Sun Myung Moon ran his businesses, inserting unqualified friends and relatives into positions of authority, promoting those who curried favor and firing those who displayed any independence. My father survived at the top of Il Hwa pharmaceuticals by accepting the Reverend Moon’s frequent public humiliations. For his part, the Reverend Moon left my father in place because Il Hwa continued to make money for him.

If the deification of Heung Jin and the crowning ceremony tested my faith, the emergence of the Black Heung Jin nearly destroyed it. Many of the reports of possession by Sun Myung Moon’s dead son came from Africa. In 1987 the Reverend Chung-Hwan Kwak went to investigate reports that Heung Jin had taken over the body of a Zimbabwean man and was speaking through him. The Reverend Kwak returned to East Garden professing certainty that the possession was real. We all gathered around the dinner table to hear his impressions.

The Zimbabwean was older that Heung Jin, so he could not be the reincarnated son of Sun Myung Moon. In addition, the Unification Church rejects the theory of reincarnation. Instead, the African presented himself to the Reverend Kwak as the physical embodiment of Heung Jin’s spirit. The Reverend Kwak had asked him what it was like to enter the spirit world. The Black Heung Jin said that upon entering the Kingdom of Heaven, he immediately became all-knowing. The True Family need not study on earth because they were already perfected. Knowledge would be theirs when they entered the spirit world.

That rationale appealed to Hyo Jin as much as if offended me. He had flirted with some courses at Pace University and at the Unification Church seminary in Barrytown, New York, but my husband was more interested in drinking than in learning. I was put off by the suggestion that we did not have to work to earn God’s favor. We in the Unification Church might be God’s chosen people, but I believed our efforts on earth would determine our place in the afterlife. We had to earn our place in Heaven.

The Reverend Moon was thrilled with the news from Africa. The Unification Church had been concentrating its recruitment efforts in Latin America and Africa. Clearly a Black Heung Jin could not hurt the cause. Without even meeting the man who claimed to be possessed by the spirit of his dead child, Sun Myung Moon authorized the Black Heung Jin to travel the world, preaching and hearing the confessions of The Unification Church members who had gone astray.

Confessions soon became central to the Black Heung Jin’s mission. He went to Europe, to Korea, to Japan, everywhere administering beatings to those who had violated church teachings by using alcohol and drugs or engaging in premarital sex. The Black Heung Jin spent a year on the road, dispensing physical punishment as penance for those who wished to repent, before Sun Myung Moon summoned him to East Garden.

We all gathered to greet him at Father’s breakfast table. He was a thin black man of average height who spoke English better than Sun Myung Moon. He seemed to me intent on charming the True Family, in much the way a snake encircles and then swallows its prey. I was anxious to hear some concrete evidence that this man possessed the spirit of the boy I once knew. I was not to hear it. The Reverend Moon asked him standard theological questions that any member who had studied the Divine Principle could have answered. He offered no startling revelations or religious insights. Maybe what most impressed Father was his ability to quote from the speeches of Sun Myung Moon.

The Reverend and Mrs. Moon suggested that we children meet with the Black Heung Jin privately and report back to them on our impressions. It was an amazing meeting. Hyun Jin, Kook Jin, and Hyo Jin kept asking the stranger questions about their childhood. He could not answer any of them. He did not remember anything about his life on Earth, he told us. Instead of inspiring skepticism, the Black Heung Jin’s convenient memory loss was interpreted as a sign of his having left earthly concerns behind when he entered the Kingdom of Heaven. Everyone in the household embraced him and called him by their dead brother’s name. I avoided him and found myself thinking that I was living with either the stupidest or the most gullible people on earth. There was a third alternative I did not consider at the time: the Reverend Moon was using the Black Heung Jin for his own ends, just as he had used the American civil liberties community before him.

Sun Myung Moon seemed to take pleasure in the reports that filtered back to East Garden of the beatings being administered by the Black Heung Jin. He would laugh raucously if someone out of favor had been dealt an especially hard blow. No one outside the True Family was immune from the beatings. Leaders around the world tried to use their influence to be exempted from the Black Heung Jin’s confessional. My own father appealed in vain to the Reverend Kwak to avoid having to attend such a session.

The Black Heung Jin was a passing phenomenon in the Unification Church. Soon the mistresses he acquired were so numerous and the beatings he administered so severe that members began to complain. Mrs. Moon’s maid, Won Ju McDevitt, a Korean who married an American church member, appeared one morning with a blackened eye and covered with purple bruises. The Black Heung Jin had beaten her with a chair. He beat Bo Hi Pak – a man in his sixties – so badly that he was hospitalized for a week in Georgetown Hospital. He told doctors he had fallen down a flight of stairs. He later needed surgery to repair a blood vessel in his head.

Sun Myung Moon knew when to cut his losses. When you are the Messiah, it is easy to make a course correction. Once it became clear that he had to disassociate himself from the violence he had let loose on the membership, Sun Myung Moon simply announced that Heung Jin’s spirit had left the Zimbabwean’s body and ascended into Heaven. The Zimbabwean was not quite so ready to get off the gravy train. At last sighting, he had established a breakaway cult in Africa with himself in the role of Messiah.

Nansook Hong interviewed (with full transcript)

In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 1

In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 2

In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 3

In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 5

In the Shadow of the Moons book, part 6

WBZ News and Mike Wallace interview Nansook Hong

Second Generation gives a testimony on life with Hyo Jin Moon

Hyo Jin Moon came to court in Concord in the company of no fewer than four high-priced attorneys to fight Nansook Hong

Nansook Hong – [C-Span] Book Discussion – ‘In The Shadow of the Moons’ with FULL TRANSCRIPT

#Nansook Hong #FFWPU #Unification Church #Sun Myung Moon #Hak Ja Han #Hyo Jin Moon