#mourn for his (presumably) deceased friend who he clearly had a thing for

[ecstasydemon]

i think i lost one follower during all this and honestly im surprised i only lost one

[asmo-ds]

May I request Satan reunites MC with their cat who passed away before the exchange programme? (I have a HC that Satan’s domain in hell is the cat heaven)

Forever My Kitty

Satan x gn!mc fluff

Summary: While mourning the loss of their dearest feline friend, MC is summoned to the Devildom, where she meets a fellow cat lover who end up aiding her in the best way possible

A/N: I love this prompt I need my soft angy man and YES HIS DOMAIN IS CAT HEAVEN, also naming the cat whiskers because its the most simple generic cat name I can think of

Mourning the loss of your pet is not the ideal time to be summoned to Hell. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened to MC, they showed up to the Devildom with tears running down their face, nose red and runny, and glossy, puffy eyes to top it all off. Just minutes before they’d been summoned they’d discovered the frail lifeless body of their beloved feline, Whiskers.

“Seems like bad timing, I’ll try making this quick so you can get to your new home faster,” a man with tanned skin, golden eyes, and blood-red hair spoke, coming closer with a handkerchief, and wiping the salty tears from their cheeks and giving a soft smile.

After Diavolo’s explanation of why MC was in the Devildom and who the hot demon men they’d be staying with were, MC was quick to crawl into their new bed and continue their sobbing session from earlier that day. 

----

After a couple of weeks, MC had grown closer with the Demon Brothers. They eventually began to smile and laugh more, allowing the deceased pet to leave their mind for only moments at a time.

MC loved Satan, they thought he was the kindest and most patient out of all the brothers. They understood how much he loved cats, but every time cats were mentioned they couldn’t help the painful stinging in their chest. 

Whiskers had been their pet since they were ten years old, losing them after all that time should have been easy, so why wasn’t it?

“MC,” Satan said waving his hand in front of their face, bringing them out of their own head and back into Satan’s room where they sat, studying together, “we’re going to fail the Human Culture exam if you don’t pay attention. When did you tune out? We can start from there,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with MC’s attention span.

“Sorry. The last thing I heard was when we were discussing human world pets,” MC sighed, guilty for causing such trouble for the Avatar of Wrath.

“Are you allergic to cats?” Satan suddenly asked.

“Huh? No?” MC answered, confused about his question, suddenly growing a bit sad thinking about Whiskers once more.

“Cats make you sad, do you not like them?”

MC was a bit taken back. They had been so sure it wasn’t obvious. If I tell him and then he tells his brothers, then they will all call me silly for being so sad about the death of an animal, they wouldn’t understand, MC thought.

They snapped out of it when they felt a hand land on their cheek with a soft and careful touch. Satan had reached over to wipe tears off their cheek. They hadn’t even realized they’d began crying, but now that they were aware they’d already started, their walls broke down and they sobbed loudly. 

A panicking Satan pulled them into his chest, letting them cry as he rocked them softly and whispered softly, “I apologize if you don’t like cats I won’t discuss them in your presence anymore-”

“No no no!” MC sat up quickly, worried that Satan was putting too much blame on himself. “If I tell you this... do you mind keeping it quiet and not telling the others? I think they’d find it silly...” MC looked up at him, teary-eyed and hiccupping.

Satan made a motion as if zipping his lips and throwing away the key, making MC smile a bit. 

MC explained everything. “The day I was summoned to the Devildom, I showed up crying- you were there, right?” Satan nodded, "Just minutes before I was brought here, I went downstairs for breakfast. When I got to the bottom of the stairs I realized my cat, Whiskers, had not come to see me yet, which was odd as she showed up almost every morning to trip me. I brushed it off as her being old and tired as I saw her resting on the couch. After grabbing some breakfast I sat next to her and pet her. When I noticed how cold she was I tried not to believe that she'd passed away. I cried for a few minutes, preparing to say my final goodbyes and give her a proper burial," MC took a shaky breath and attempted to stop crying, "But just as I opened my mouth to say some final words to her, Diavolo was in front of me and I was no longer in my world."

Satan held MC tighter, "I am so sorry for your loss, MC," He whispered in their ear, "you can cry now. I'm here for you I promise, I won't let anything make you cry like this ever again, I swear on my life."

Satan picked up MC, bringing them over to his bed and laying down with them. When their breathing slowed down and it was obvious they'd fell asleep, he placed a chaste kiss on their forehead, before tucking them under his covers and heading to the library to find a book he knew would be able to help him make MC happy.

---

MC stirred, slowly peeling open their eyes and reaching their hand up to wipe the crust that'd formed on their waterline. When they tried lifting their hand though, they found a larger one intertwined with their own. They blushed and suddenly took notice of the larger body spooning them from behind, limbs tangled with theirs and warmth radiating onto their skin. They turned slightly, smiling towards the sleeping blond demon with red cheeks. Hesitantly, they removed their hand from his in order to wipe their eyes and see better.

As MC moved to lay back in their previous position and wait for Satan to wake up, they heard a purring sound from the lounge chair that sat a few feet from the bed, causing them to look up and gasp at the sight before them.

"Whiskers?!" MC shot up, accidentally kicking Satan in their struggle to untangle from the blankets. They fell off the bed, onto the book covered floor still tangled up in a sheet as they quickly crawled to the feline in front of them that had by now woken up and was also making their way to meet MC in the middle. 

When MC's hand made contact with the familiar fur and the cat headbutted them with love, they began to cry. This wasn't a dream, Whiskers was here.

"I know the place where cats generally go when they die," a groggy voice came from behind the human. They turned and saw Satan laying on his side, softly smiling at them. "I pulled a few strings to find Whiskers and I brought her here. She's not a normal cat anymore though, she is stronger and has instincts to protect you."

"How so?" Satan reached over, pinching MC's cheeks harshly, to which the feline responded with a hiss and Satan just barely missed its claws. "Whiskers! Be nice to him," MC commanded. Whiskers looked at Satan with disgust, to which he laughed. 

"Rescuing her came with a price though..." Satan said, MC tilting their head in response.

Satan pulled off his shirt, causing the human to turn red and look away out of respect for his privacy, no matter how badly they wanted to see him.

"Whiskers didn't seem to like me very much at first, but I think that we'll manage to get along for your sake," the blond said, walking over to MC. MC looked at him and gasped as they saw his abdomen had been scratched up, presumably by Whiskers. "She ruined one of my shirts AND I'm gonna have to listen to Asmo rant about my skin being ruined until further notice, therefore you owe me."

"Anything! I'll do anything to repay you, Satan!" MC smiled innocently, making Satan chuckle as he gripped their jaw softly with one of his hands, turning their face to him. They blushed as he put a hand on their nape.

"I want you to repay me, by allowing me to call you mine," Satan smirks, slightly blushing. 

"Sounds like you're just doing ME another favor," MC smiled, tilting their head, brushing their lips against Satan’s softly. The man was about to fully kiss MC when suddenly there was a furry head, pushing them away from each other and begging MC for attention. 

"Whiskers! Don't cockblock me!" MC scolded before giggling and wrapping the cat in their arms and crawling over to Satan to hold him as well. They felt complete for the first time in a long time. 

[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Daphne Featherington, Simon Hastings, Portia Featherington Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes". (#I’mHereToKillYouAllWithFeels)

While Anthony was absorbed in ensuring the women in their family were saw after, he’d asked Benedict to see to it that Penelope Featherington was returned safely home.

Penelope could scarcely speak much less utter how absolutely wrecked she was about the loss of their brother when she was left at her door step.  If they had allowed her, she probably wouldn’t have left. She was far better off useless there than alone with her own thoughts.

Her mother was waiting like the viper she was. Penelope wasn’t certain she had the strength to fight her off either.

“Since when do you get escorted home by Bridgertons?” her mother asked. There was something implied there like it would have been perfectly acceptable had it been one of her sisters.  “You could at least attempt to look happy about it.”

“Their brother just died,” Penelope found herself snapping.

“Not Anthony!  He would have been perfect for your sister,”  Portia dared to say, which only served to magnify the hurt and anger building up in Penelope. Penelope was used to bottling things up, taking everything on the chin but tonight wasn’t the night.

“No,” she argued, biting her lip enough to where it was close to drawing blood.  She didn’t want to be insolent but this was hardly a time to care about the next social season or making matches in the time between.

“Oh thank Heavens,” Portia said clearly not picking up on the fact that Penelope was actually quite distressed.

“It was Colin,” she said, voice shaking with force at the words.  She was one mere seconds from collapsing in on herself.

“Oh the one you have that silly little crush on. The fool who almost married Miss Thompson,” Portia said as if the first part was public information.  Penelope was in such shock that her mother had even  noticed such a thing that mouth hung open slightly.  She wasn’t prepared for the hurtful words that would come next. “You need not worry, Penelope darling.   He would have never married you anyways. Those books really have rotted your mind.”

It was an absolute slap in the face.  Her veins filled with ice and the slight from her own family. She was painfully aware that she wasn’t as pretty as the other eligible women of the Ton.  It was one thing to know and another to have it spelled out in front of her quite so ineloquently.  The fact that her mother could see her heart breaking and not even try to offer some sympathy was unacceptable.  She was almost grateful for the fact she’d never marry or have children, just so she didn’t have to worry about being as unfeeling as her own mother.

“You need not worry,” she uttered, storming away.

--

There was one thing that Benedict and Anthony agreed upon: the letter could never see the light of day. They couldn’t bring themselves to destroy it though so it was hide it away in a desk with other important paperwork.

The only real question that kept them up in the night was what they were to do about the problem reading it presented.

Colin was young and perhaps not as direct with his wishes as he might have been had he been a few years older but they could read between the lines.  The very wishes Colin expressed toward Penelope would never come to pass unless they saw it fit to carry them out.

They could not agree upon who would be the one to take it upon themselves to ensure she was protected, loved.  Neither fully desired to marry and certainly not a Featherington.  Neither particularly saw the things that their brother did in the girl but there was no denying she had a good heart.  As often as she had been at their home through the years, she might as well have been their sister.

When Daphne and Simon forced their way into the drawing room, the brothers were still arguing amongst themselves over who must do it when the proper mourning period was over.

“What exactly are you not going to allow him to do?” she couldn’t help but ask as she approached, her pregnant belly scarcely hidden by her dress.  She looked well even if it was clear that she hadn’t slept in order to hasten the journey home.  From the look on the Duke’s face, he hadn’t been on board but had been forced.

“Nothing,” the two brothers said almost in unison, greeting their sister with hugs.

“I don’t buy that.”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Anthony said, protective act in full force as he gazed over her before looking at the Duke as if to accuse him of not having a better grip on his own wife.

“Don’t look at me. You know Daphne is of her own mind,” he said with a shrug.

“I only obey when the order makes sense and I’m pregnant not an invalid. I insisted we come as soon as we received word.”

She seemed to have it together far better than anyone else in the family which was almost remarkable, considering she and Colin were close in age and had always been the best of friends.

Perhaps it was all an act though because the Duke had threatened to lock her up should even the slightest hint of distress appear after a lengthy meltdown demanding he order up the carriages ended in his compliance.

“We’re grateful to have you closer to home,” Anthony finally said. “I’m not sure that mother will be able to properly handle planning his rites. I contacted Francesca and she should be home soon as well. ”

There was not body to properly put on display but a coffin would be order and filled to brim with flowers.  It would sit in the drawing room where they might welcome mourners. Someone must be with it day and night though and that was a job fit for a woman.

With their mother crushed and Daphne’s delicate condition, it was likely Eloise and Francesca would be left with most of the watch. She knew there would be no stopping Daphne from taking up the watch some of the time though or helping to ensure Colin had a fitting wake.  Then there was the small matter of tokens for funeral goers.  All would have be completed.

There would be an actual funeral but it wouldn’t be acceptable for any of the women to attend.  That would fall on Anthony, Benedict and Gregory.  They would get through it though somehow.

“I’ll make a list,”  Daphne uttered, throwing herself head first into the work of it.  This was how she was going to survive this moment. She moved toward the desk, going into find unused parchment.  Without sleep Anthony wasn’t thinking properly enough to know that was where they’d hidden the ghastly letter.

It was only once she was in there and Benedict elbowed him hard that he saw fit to remember and he knew it was too late.

“What’s this?” she asked as she spotted the handwriting under the blank paper pulling it up.  Her brown eyes narrowed as she began to read it. She gazed up from the words, feeling she’d violated her deceased brother’s privacy for having even read them. She wanted to ask if the others had seen it but one look told her that she had two brothers who knew full well about this.  

The last time she’d spoken one on one with her brother, he’d been so besotted by Marina Thompson that she wasn’t sure that he would ever get over her betrayal.  Clearly, she had not known her brother as well as she thought that she had.  The words on the paper broke her heart.  Her brother had died not fully knowing just how deserving of love he was.

“What did they do?” the Duke couldn’t help but ask, reaching to grab the paper from his wife and glancing it over.   He could pick up on the distress on his wife’s face and he was fully prepared to give Anthony a black eye over it.  This was already an unacceptable situation but if they’d done anything to add to the situation, he was going to be furious. At the moment, he wasn’t quite connecting the dots though.

“How could you?” their sister berated. It was clear the distress they’d hoped to avoid had arrived.  “I sincerely hope that I am wrong about the fact you have hidden this letter from its intended recipient.”

“It would crush her,” Benedict argued.

“It’s not your place,” Daphne argued right back.

“It is our place. Her well-being is our problem now and we won’t have this on our conscious. What good would it do her?” Anthony argued right on back, knowing full-well Daphne would win this argument. She always did.

“She deserves to know,” she told them, fury clearly written on her face.

The Duke was pretty clear from looking at her that he wouldn’t have to be the one throwing the punches. Daphne would be the one doing it, if he didn’t stop her.  He moved a little closer just in case he had needed to hold her back.

“Tell who, what?” a voice asked from the door.

All eyes turned to the tired, somber face of Eloise who had heard the arguing and decided to see what exactly was going on.

Anthony and Benedict gave pleading looks to Daphne to not tell their younger sister.  They might be able to bury this letter with her knowing but not Eloise.

Daphne clearly didn’t heed the warning. She narrowed their eyes at them before grabbing the letter back from her husband, crossing the room and extending it to her younger sister.

“I’ll leave the massacre of our idiotic brothers to you,” Daphne uttered before moving out of the room just as quickly as she’d arrived.  The Duke offered a sympathetic look to Anthony and Benedict before following after his wife.

[12-3amproductions]

Top 9 Haunted Dolls that Exist (not in any specific order)

In today’s article, we will be showing you the most notorious dolls that caused paranormal activity, while also involving people. On a side note, viewer discretion is advised especially for the last doll listed. Do not look into the doll’s eyes, not even the picture.

1. Annabelle

This is the most popular doll based on it’s exposure in the movie industry. We are pretty sure that most of you would have seen her somewhere or know her from movies such as; The Conjuring, Anabelle or Anabelle’s Creation. The name Annabelle was given by a girl named Donna when her mum bought the doll from a hobby shop as a birthday gift. Soon the owner had strange occurrences happen to her whereby she came back from work only to see the doll in a different position which it was last left at. Thinking that it might due to her lack of memory, she ignored all of such occurrences and soon began to receive attacks from the doll. It was then that they found something strange about it and decided to investigate. Annabelle currently remains in the Warren’s Occult Museum, in a locked case that is ‘encrusted with holy water’.

2. Amanda

Amanda is a doll that is reportedly haunted. According to the story, Amanda was originally made by Heinrich Handwerk in 1884. She was later sold on eBay in August 2003, only to be put up for sale again after her owners didn’t want her anymore. Amanda was apparently placed on auction several times. Many people have reported on seeing Amanda move throughout their houses. One woman even reported that the doll had seemingly moved from room to room without any explanation. This doll is also believed to bring bad luck to those that she did not like. If she is happy or likes you, she would never harm you and she would just sit there and stare into space. If she ever grew tired of her current home, she would wreak havoc in the house and owners of this doll would then have to place her on auctions again. It was said that she is currently in the hands of paranormal investigators in Atlanta, Georgia.

3. Mandy

Mandy the doll was made in Germany roughly between 1919-1920 and was claimed to have supernatural powers. She was donated to the Quesnel Museum, Canada in 1991 after a string of events happened that drove her owners to insanity. It was said by the owners that they had experienced “the sound of a little girl crying coming from the basement most nights” but when one of the owners visited the basement to check, there was no child except for an open window and Mandy staring right at her. Strange things started to happen in the museum as well where the staff claimed to hear footsteps when they were alone, lunches began disappearing from fridges to be found somewhere else, and artefacts from the museum would vanish from their display locked glass cabinets and end up in a different one. There will be a detailed case study coming up for Mandy the doll so do check us out on our social media for more updates.

4. Harold

Harold the doll was claimed to have taken several lives of his owner’s loved ones. He was originally put up for an auction in 2003 and is supposedly the first haunted doll ever sold on eBay. There was a digital record test and EMF detector on Harold. Though the EMF detector had no signs of spikes, but there was a clear recording of a voice from the digital voice recorder. There will be another detail case study coming up for this one as well.

5. Okiku

The story of Okiku doll started in 1918, when a 17-year old boy named Eikichi Suzuki purchased a doll for his 2 year old sister named Okiku, as a souvenir while visiting a marine exhibition on the Japanese island of Hokkaido. The doll itself was around 40cm tall and clad in a traditional Japanese Kimono. It’s eyes are black beads set within the life-like porcelain white face and had black long hair. Eikichi knew his sister would love it so he bought it straight away. Okiku was overjoyed to see the doll and played with it everyday. Until a tragedy struck the following year when Okiku fell gravely ill and died from complications of severe influenza and fever. The mourning family placed her beloved doll on the family altar in memory of their daughter. Not long after the family placed the doll on the altar, they noticed something odd. The black hair of the doll which had originally been cropped to about shoulder length, started getting longer each day and the ends of the hair became random and haphazard in length in contrast to the straight cut it had previously. It grew all the way down and brush against the doll’s knees which caused an alarm to the family to conclude that Okiku’s spirit joined the doll. In 1938, the family moved to Sakhalin but was wary of taking the doll with them. They were unwilling to discard it so they brought it to Mannenji temple, in the town of Iwamizawa, Hokkaido, Japan. After explaining the growing hair to the priest, the priest accepted it and soon was able to see for himself the hair phenomenon. Trimming the hair became a regular chore at the temple and soon pictures of the doll with hair of various lengths were adorning the shrine where it was kept. To this day, the doll remains at Mannenji temple, housed within a modest wooden box.

6. Pupa

Pupa was given to a child in the 1920’s. She died in 2005. Pupa the doll is approximately 14 inches in height and is made from felt. The little girl who owned Pupa often said that her doll was “alive” and had a will of its own. She stated that Pupa and her would talk often throughout the years, and that Pupa held all of her secrets and even saved her life. Pupa and her owner travelled quite extensively throughout Europe and the United States. At the end of World War ll, the little girl’s grandmother passed away. As a way to remember her grandmother, the little girl sewn a button from her grandmother onto Pupa’s dress. Pupa was placed in a glass display after the owner passed away in 2005. According to the family that kept Pupa under their care, the doll does not like being confined and they had several paranormal experiences with the doll. At times, the glass cabinet were heard being tapped, like something was trying to draw their attention. The family also noticed that the doll oftenly changed it’s position within the cabinet. Sometimes her arms will be in a different position, legs crossed or uncrossed and the doll’s expression would also change over the years. Items in the case with her were also being moved around, sometimes haphazardly and at other times done with more purpose. One day someone wanted to clean the glass cabinet as it was quite filthy. They opened it up and exhaled warm air on the glass to fog it over to see the marks clearly and were shocked to find the words ’Pupa hate’ written on the inside of the cabinet. Those who have investigated Pupa say that they have recorded the doll moving. Photos and videos taken over long durations when compared, show movements of the doll easily.

7. Letta

Letta the gypsy doll was found by Kerry Walton in 1972 when he returned to his Australian hometown for his grandmother’s funeral. During this time, he decided to face a childhood fear of his by visiting an abandoned building that had scared him for years. When he went to the abandoned building, he discovered this grotesque looking marionette. Having being crept out of the place, Kerry grabbed the doll and left the building. According to psychics, the doll was made 200 years ago by a Romanian gypsy for his son who had drowned. They believed in spirit transference and dolls would act as a new home for the dead. The doll has real human hair and underneath the scalp is a likeness of a human brain. The doll was then given the name ‘Letta’ due to his European gypsy heritage and because it was said that the doll occasionally screams “Letta me out”. Nothing evil has been reported surrounding this doll in recent years and in fact, this doll was said to bring luck for Kerry as his collectibles business began to boom. Still there were unusual explanations on why it will rain when the doll was taken outside and pictures hanging on the walls might fall off if he is close to one. Dogs bark and attempt to attack whenever they are near Letta. People said that they felt afraid and sad when they see him. Letta is also supposedly capable of moving on his own, changing positions when seated and emitting a pulse while held.

8. Joliet

Joliet the doll was given to Anna’s great grandmother as a pregnancy gift from a family friend 4 generations ago, when she was pregnant with her second child. What wasn’t known at that time was that the family friend who had given Anna’s great grandmother this gift was jealous over something that nobody knows. The doll then, given out of bitterness caused tragic events to take place within the family. Anna’s great grandmother then gave birth to her child who was a healthy boy but he had passed away on the third day after he was born. Not long after the incident, she would hear a baby’s wailing cry late and night and presumed it was that of her deceased child. She did not get rid of the door as she knew that her son was trapped within it and felt that she should ‘protect him���. This cycle had repeated with Anna when she had a daughter and lost her son in three days. Anna said that her son’s cries would be added to the doll as well. This curse still goes on whereby all the sons in the family would only get to live for 3 days as a newborn before they die.

9. Robert

Robert the haunted doll was given to Robert Eugene Otto in 1906 by the Otto family’s servant who got fired due to her religious beliefs and practices that the family had heard about. The servant, originally from the Bahamas, presented Robert the doll. It was three feet tall, stuffed with straw and dressed in sailor’s suit. The face resembled Robert Eugene and had buttons for it’s eyes. Strange occurrences happened when Robert Eugene would start talking to Robert the doll and the doll would reply. At first, Robert Eugene’s parents thought that it was his son responding to the questions in another voice but later believed that the doll was actually the one speaking. The Otto family’s neighbours also mentioned that they saw shadows of a small person moving about in the windows when nobody was home and strange giggles would be heard too. The house servants of the Otto family also claimed to have seen a changes in Robert the doll’s expression, before their eyes and even the doll moving from place to place in the house when they were not looking.

Conclusion

[afishtrap]

This paper, a study of the career of Yu Chi (1272-1348), explores the nature of Chinese literati support of Mongol rulers during the Yuan period. Yu Chi served as the leading apologist for the usurper Tugh Temur (Wen-tsung, r. 1328 and 1329-1332). The most prominent court scholar of his time, Yu Chi devoted himself to the enhancement of Tugh Temur’s prestige, authority, and legitimacy. The paper explores Yu’s activities in detail and speculates on his motivations in serving his Mongol emperor. In particular, it suggests that Yu Chi’s ultimate aim in bolstering the usurper’s claims to the throne, as well as in encouraging imperial support of Chinese cultural symbols and values, was to make Mongol rule more predictable and stable and thus to benefit the Mongol’s Chinese subjects.

Langlois, John D. “Yu Chi and His Mongol Sovereign: The Scholar as Apologist.” The Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 38, No. 1 (Nov., 1978), pp. 99-116.

In the period under consideration, the fact of Mongol military strength was of salient importance. Direct resistance to Mongol supremacy was out of the question until their military might began to crumble late in the dynasty. Furthermore, by and large the Mongols were not considered illegitimate incumbents of the throne of the Son of Heaven; there is very little evidence that the Chinese at the time viewed the Mongols as “aliens” who, because of their “non-Chineseness,” were ineligible to rule the empire. Thus for both pragmatic and ideological reasons, accommodation became largely a matter of everyday existence for the scholar class.

At first glance it seems remarkable that Yu Chi, descendant of a hero of the Sung resistance to the Jurchen, became an avid and durable supporter of the victorious Mongol invaders. Yu Chi, nearly seventy, wrote of one important reason for serving in a poem to a friend from Kiangsi who was setting out on the long journey to Confucius’s shrine in Shantung: the Mongols had united China again. It was possible to “see the pines of Ts'u-lai and the cypresses of Hsin-fu. ” “Compared to the era of division, when if one wanted to travel [to such places] it could not be done,” he concluded, “is not such a journey a joyous occasion?” The rhetorical question suggests that for many Chinese, especially southerners long cut off from the north by the Jurchen occupation, Mongol rule brought with it a cherished freedom to travel. Clearly, to Yu Chi at least, that opportunity to visit the north had an importance of its own which the rulers’ non-Chineseness could not tarnish.

Yu Chi had received his first rank (8a) along with an honorary title under Khaishan in 1311. During Ayurbawarda’s tenure he advanced steadily, and the symbolic rewards for his service increased. By 1317, he was a compiler in the Chi-hsien yuan or “Hall of Worthies,” with the court rank 6A, and he took charge of local-level examinations in the Ta-tu Circuit. Yu Chi spent most of the reign of Shidebala (I320-23) out of service, mourning the death of one of his parents. But Shidebala’s successor Yesun Temür brought him back to active duty. Advancement came quickly. A chin-shih examiner in 1323, Yu Chi then became a vice-director of the Kuo-tzu chien with the rank of 5A. In 1325, Yu Chi accompanied the ruler to Shang-tu to lecture the emperor on the Confucian Classics.‘0 The revival of these lectures, called “The Classics Mat,” in 1323 represented the ruler’s artful manipulation of Chinese symbols to enhance his prestige. Yu Chi was a willing and avid participant in the effort, in spite of the fact that his patron had acceded to power through the murder of the reigning sovereign Shidebala.

Yu Chi was rewarded for his efforts by prestigious appointments when in 1327 he became the vice-director of the Hanlin Academy, in charge of edicts and pronouncements,’ and was assigned the position of cointendant for the dynastic history. In addition, he became “Classics Mat officer,” and was promoted one grade higher in the honorary court hierarchy. Finally, in 1328, on the eve of the great upheaval, he was appointed chancellor’ of the National College, a position which bore the lofty court rank of 3B.  

As Classics Mat officer,  YU Chi faced the problem of explaining the classics to the khaghan through interpreters. Yu Chi knew no Mongolian, and Yesun Temür knew little if any Chinese. As his official biography put it:

“During the editing and translating, [Yu Chi] was troubled by the fact that when he set forth the sacred learning, [the translator] could not easily obtain the full gist, and when he dealt with matters of contemporary importance it was especially difficult [for the translator] to convey fully the circumstances. He always chose persons who were well versed in these two kinds of learning to carry out this task, and even then several days would be spent before completing an essay. [Yu] Chi carefully researched distinctions among names and things, both ancient and modern, and sought thereby to explain the texts successfully without committing error. But his words conveyed barely a miniscule of the whole, and so on each occasion he retired with personal regrets.”

El Temür was in full control of the capital when Tugh Temür stepped down from the throne. Thus that camp had little to fear from China-based sources of rivalry. Shang-tu similarly presented little challenge, since Aragibag and his supporters had been killed or rounded up during the preceding months. When Tugh Temür abdicated, it was barely more than a symbolic gesture. El Temür was biding his time, waiting for the prey to fall into his net. Tugh Temür was named heir apparent in exchange for his stepping down from the throne. Khoshila moved gradually towards Shang-tu, presumably intending to enter the city and take over. But El Temür and Tugh Temür set forth into the steppe to greet the arriving sovereign. A period of three months ensued, during which the hostile but nominally friendly brothers drew closer and closer to each other. Finally on the 26th of August, Tugh Temür entered the tent of his brother at a place known as Onggachatur near the modern Dolon in Inner Mongolia. A banquet was held in honor of the visit by the “heir apparent.” Four days later Khoshila was dead. He was twenty-nine years old.

Tugh Temür and El Temür then raced back to Shang-tu where, on 8 September, Tugh Temür ascended the throne for the second time. In his drive for the throne, Tugh Temür had violated a host of conventions. He disregarded the Mongol custom of election at an assembly; he overthrew the designated heir apparent of the deceased ruler; and he reaped the benefits of the murder of his elder brother. To compensate for these flaws in his legitimacy, Tugh Temür’s court launched a volley of propaganda designed to create an aura of justice. At the core of the effort was the claim that Yesun Temür had been an illegitimate interloper in the rightful succession from Khaishan. Tugh Temür attempted to argue, in essence, that regular dynastic principles of succession rendered ineligible those who were not direct descendants of Khubilai through his grandson Darmabala (see Figure 1). Of course, everything depended upon military might in this case. But Tugh Temür, because of his background in Chinese culture, and because much of his power rested on China-based armies, saw and attempted to enjoy the benefits of ideological and symbolic sources of legitimacy which were uniquely Chinese.

To make the propaganda campaign work, it was necessary for the emperor to have the services of major Chinese scholars. Only the scholars knew how to manipulate the verbal icons of orthodox Chinese legitimacy to full effect. Tugh Temür called upon several individuals to assist in this task. One of them was Yu Chi. Yu Chi, who had served previous rulers, including, of course, Yesun Temür, with loyalty and distinction, allied himself firmly with the cause of Tugh Temür.

Tugh Temür’s efforts to legitimize his capture of power thus required that he justify not only the destruction of Aragibag, but that he cover up the elimination of his own brother. The rationale for the first part of his legitimation effort has already been noted, namely the claim that Tugh Temür had “restored” the line of Khaishan in a righteous war. The second part of his effort could not be rationalized, so it was concealed. The new emperor simply asserted that he was a “brotherly” person who had deferred to his elder at the proper time. Beyond these two difficulties that had to be overcome by the new ruler, the ruler saw clearly that a bold initiative on what we might call the cultural front would help his campaign greatly. For all of these efforts, the emperor called upon the aid of the scholar Yu Chi.

[rupertgayesarchive]

Title: l’ours et le roi Pairing: Michael/Ryan Summary: A year after King Haywood’s faithful knight is presumed dead, the only thing that rouses him from his sadness is the strange appearance of a bear he finds while out hunting. A very well behaved bear, at that. A/N: Based on the medieval French story called ‘Bisclavert’ by Marie de France (this version is only slightly more homoerotic than the original, just so you know). I wanted to write this in the style of a fairy tale, which is why there’s a lot of narration and other stylistic differences. Also - this was done for Myan Week 2017 - Minecraft/Kings! au

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Once upon a time in a faraway land there lived a loyal knight by the name of Michael Jones. He was considered unparalleled amongst his peers; youthful, fiery, and beloved, especially by the country’s sovereign, King Haywood. The Lord loved his knight dearly, and his affections were clearly displayed; through every acre of land he added to Michael’s home; every jewel encrusted along his sword hilt; every kiss he placed upon his brow, it was no secret that Michael was his favorite.

Some viewed Michael with respect, others fear, and still others envy; but Michael was careful, and any true threat to him was easily exposed to the King. He knew, for example, that a novice knight had been upset with him after accusing Michael of escaping the castle grounds several nights a month; Michael had retaliated by drawing his sword, and the jealous knight had merely fled, cementing his own cowardice to the rest of the castle.

Despite the technical victory, Michael grew worried, because knight’s accusations were founded in truth: he had snuck out of the castle for several days each month. He never revealed the reason why he did this, not even to his precious King. Even worse, his time to flee outside the castle’s walls was fast approaching, and he doubted that disagreeable knight would soon forget Michael’s insult to him.

Still, on the next clear night, Michael crept out of his room. He had gotten exceptionally good at sneaking down the corridors without being spotted, and once he had bypassed the common guards and entered the royal garden, he assumed he was free. However, unbeknownst to him, he was being watched. A dangerous mix of curiosity and spitefulness prodded that jealous knight into following Michael on such an evening. He hid around corners and behind statues until he too had gotten outside. He reached the edge of the garden just as Michael began climbing its tall stone wall, which was covered in thick ivy vines. He went up with the ease of a cat before jumping to the other side. The knight began climbing up himself, not nearly as easily. When he finally reached the top of the wall he looked down to see Michael undressing in the dark. Perhaps he was meeting a lover then, the other knight thought sourly. Michael tucked his pile of clothes beneath a flower bush and walked several paces towards the large forest that acted as a barrier against prospective invaders, or sometimes hunting grounds for royal parties. Now, however, he saw Michael hunch onto the ground, as if wounded by an invisible force.

Michael twitched and rolled, and his form grew exponentially in size and became covered in dark hair. The other knight watched, disgusted and perplexed, until finally the transformation was complete, and where a human man had once been a monstrous brown bear was instead. It moved its head to the left and right before walking into the dense woods, disappearing from sight.

The knight was revolted, truly – to have a beast hiding in their midst! To have stolen the King’s attentions with his skills as a fighter when in reality he had attained everything through magic. He hopped down onto the other side of the wall. Now, as a suspicious man, the knight had always known a bit about transformations, lycanthropes, and so on, and he suspected that as in other cases, Michael needed his human clothes to turn back into a man. So, thinking himself very clever, the knight gathered up the tunic, belt, sword, and shoes into his arms and took them back to the castle. The very next day, the knight bundled up the clothes and gave them to a courier to send to his home in the country to ensure Michael would never find them again.

After three days and three nights with no sign of Michael, King Haywood began to grow distraught. He asked the knights and gentlemen of his court if they had seen the man, but no one had. After a week, a search was called, and every able man and woman searched high and low for Michael – even the knight who had succeeded in banning him. In fact, he searched hardest of all, calling for parties through the woods he knew the beast would go to. And after a month of fruitless searching, the knight was satisfied to report to King Haywood that Michael was missing forever, if not deceased already. With a heavy heart, King Haywood gave the same knight – who seemed nearly as motivated as himself to find Michael – Michael’s own land and home as a reward for his dedication, to which the knight happily retired to, reveling in fortunes he didn’t earn.

As for the King, he found himself to be more depressed and more inconsolable with each passing month. Without his skilled warrior – without his dear friend, Michael, what was he to do? He mourned eccentrically; commissioning a monument of Michael Jones in the town square, and his portrait in the royal gallery, so that the young man’s image could stare across at his own. He locked and boarded up the fallen man’s chambers and hung one of his diamond swords above his own bed. As the year drew on, and the King’s sadness only deepened, his advisers grew worried, and his other knights scared. Something must be done.

-

A year passed. Perhaps spurned by the anniversary, King Haywood announced a hunt should take place; the knights and advisers rejoiced, and so the King and other gentlemen went walking one day through the dense forests behind the castle. The dogs they brought were large and bred for sniffing out animals, and soon they caught trace of a sizeable creature – “A wolf?” a man asked, “A boar?” his friend supposed; suddenly a beast broke out from the underbrush and ran off, dashing through the trees with a line of dogs barking at his heels, the men following afterwards. “A bear!” King Haywood shouted. “I saw it and it’s definitely a bear! The largest I’ve ever seen.” They spent hours following the dogs, this way and that, nearly losing them several times, and every once in a while catching a glimpse of the large beast’s movement through the vegetation.

By the late afternoon, the dogs had trapped the bear, forcing it towards the end of a cliff edge. Without anywhere to go, the men drew their swords and bows, waiting for their King’s call. King Haywood took his place at the front of the crowd, taking in the size of the beast. It peered around desperately, and seemed to lock eyes with the men.

Suddenly it leapt forward, towards the King; before anyone could signal the dogs, the bear reached for the King’s hand, grasping it, the beast kissed his leg, then his foot. It then looked up at him with ink colored eyes; they were glassy and rounded, almost like buttons. And yet, the King saw a spark in the depths of the creature’s gaze; an undeniable human quality within them. He pushed past the fear he felt – for the beast still had a claw curled around his limb – because surely the thing would have decimated him by now, if its plan was to strike out. But it remained still, looking up at Ryan, its face set in what he had to label as a pleading expression.

His knights surrounding him murmured fearfully, as frozen as the King was, and only the bark from one of the hounds snapped King Haywood back to reality.

He put a hand out. “Stop! This is no ordinary animal – look how he kneels, like he’s begging for mercy.” Ryan swallowed, watching the bear carefully. “It would be inhumane, possibly dooming to kill him. Our hunt ends here.” Still anxious for his safety, he placed a hand on the bear’s head; the thing was unbothered, tilting its head upwards, leaning into his touch. The bear’s fur was soft and warm from the beast’s body heat and the sun beams that shone down onto the forest floor. “You have my word, noble… bear, that no harm will come to you.”

“Sir,” one of the knights said. “What shall we do now?” King Haywood glanced at his men, then at the still kneeling beast. After a moment, it moved its face, nuzzling his snout gently into Ryan’s palm. The King laughed out of surprise – the beast was more tempered than he had thought.

“I suppose we shall take the bear and place him in the castle. He hasn’t harmed me, or any of you. Something with such a human demeanor deserves to live like a human.”

The bear seemed to understand the King’s words, and it stood on all fours; it towered over all of the men in the clearing, and dwarfed the hounds, who sniffed him curiously. King Haywood sheathed his sword – the other knights did the same – and they all proceeded in a line out of the forest, the King in front, and the beast to his side.

Imagine the surprise of the rest of court, seeing the King and his knights return with a bear the size of a cottage, walking on all fours in time with his genial captor. The whole scene caused quite a stir, and some members of court wondered if their King had been knocked in the head while hunting; for King Haywood talked to the beast, and let it wander around the castle freely; there were no chains holding it, not even a leash. Luckily, the bear seemed fond of the King, and typically stayed by his side, following dutifully behind like a pup. The most disruptive the creature got was when it would nose at the King’s hand until the man would pet its head, or scratch its chin, and the bear would let out soft growls of contentment.

There were nobles who complained, of course, but even the residual grievances of the kingdom’s nobles were quelled when a pair of children – brought into court one day by their blueblood mother – had shaken themselves from her grip and began to crawl on top of the bear, who had been laying by the King’s throne. Everyone, especially the lady who had brought her children, watched in fear, waiting for the beast to roar and attack. Instead, it merely walked over to the hysterical woman, and let her pick her precious babies from its back before wandering back to where the King sat; from then on, the bear had irreversibly won the hearts of everyone in the castle.

For lack of a name, the King merely referred to him as Bear, or ‘noble beast’; he saw the creature as a treasure to the kingdom, a natural blessing to the country he ruled, and he made a public decree that no harm should befall the bear; it was given the best food, a large tub to be bathed in, and was brushed daily until his fur shined.

The King allowed the bear to roam through the castle grounds, and it followed the King everywhere he went, even to his own bed chambers! Ryan would attempt to talk the beast into leaving his rooms at night – for the bear must have understood human speech to some extent – but it never budged, and no amount of men could push such a large animal somewhere it didn’t want to go, so the King was resigned to keep the bear with him while he slept; he in bed, the beast curled up by the fireplace (though on occasion he would climb into Ryan’s bed while the man was asleep, and the King would wake, nearly falling onto the floor as the beast snored contentedly on top of the covers.)

The constant companionship worked wonders on the King’s temperament; while he was a generous and cunning ruler, everyone in the castle knew he had been pushed into a great sadness upon the death of his beloved warrior, Michael. His unexplained disappearance seemed like a crushing weight the King could never rise up from. And yet, in a matter of weeks it was as though the King was back to his old self; his laughter flowed throughout the halls like music; his smiles appeared often and easily; his posture no longer bent anxiously, and his steps took on a renewed confidence. It was only when his cherished bear came to stay with him that everyone could see the King was previously living as a shadow of his former self; and for that alone, the bear became a sacred symbol.

Perhaps the bear was magic, or at least a divine miracle. Even the King himself had noticed his own happiness had been found again. One night, nearly half a year after having found his companion, he sat in a chair by his bedroom window, the bear resting its head in the King’s lap. From where he sat, the King could see the capital’s green, surrounded by stout brick houses, their chimneys letting out gentle wafts of smoke into the sky. “Bear,” he murmured, and the beast lifted its head. Ryan pointed out the window. “You can’t see it from here,” he said, “But down below there’s the statue of our nation’s best warrior, a dear friend of mine. His name was Michael –” The bear moved suddenly, raising itself up on its hind legs to peer out the window. “I said you can’t see it!” Ryan said, laughing, tugging gently at the beast’s fur until it settled again. “In any case, he went missing over a year ago now.” The King sobered, and sunk both hands deep into the bear’s mane. “I don’t know which thought is worse – that he went out into the wilderness and died, or that he ran away for some other reason, instead. We were very close, you know; I knew nearly everything about him. But he would vanish for days at a time, and he would never say why.”

The bear chuffed softly and slid its head off Ryan’s lap. It used its mouth to tug gently at the King’s pant leg, a familiar gesture which told Ryan to stand up. He obeyed, and followed the bear to his bed. He worked his way under the covers, and blew out a candle that was placed by his bedside table. The bear’s dark eyes watched him as he situated himself, before the beast sat down on the floor by Ryan’s side. “I’m a blessed man to have found you, my friend,” he murmured in the darkness. A paw came up and touched the King’s hand, and Ryan let it drop off the mattress. He felt a wet tongue lick at his fingers, then a warm nose against his palm. The King smiled, resolute, and fell asleep with a hand on the noble beast’s head.

Many more months passed, and the King took a ride through the countryside of his kingdom – the bear naturally accompanying him. While the leisurely pace he traveled was like that of a vacation, his true purpose was to visit the various nobles who remained in the country permanently, collecting taxes from the farmers and villagers working on their property. This brought him to a large stretch of property that had once belonged to Michael himself, but was now ruled over by the very knight who condemned him to a life trapped inside a beast’s form.

Michael had since grown used to his new body, and perhaps could have gone on as such for the rest of his life; but when he caught sight of the retired knight’s face, a wave of rage came over him, and he leapt from the behind the carriage where he had been walking beside the King. He gave a roar full of carnivorous animosity and swiped at the human, watching with pleasure as he crumpled to the ground, blood blooming across his face.

There was a flurry of movement – the King jumped from his horse, caught between helping the baron or the bear, while the knight cursed and spat at the beast; “It’s crazed!” he shouted, knights flanking him and pulling him up onto his feet. “It’s going to kill all of us if we don’t strike it down first!” The King paled, watching with fear as what he thought was his tame beast growl dangerously at the baron. “Get it away from me!”

“I don’t understand,” one of the knights said frantically. “He’s lived with humans for more than a year, and he hasn’t even growled!”

“It’s a wild beast!” The baron shouted. “Kill it!”

Thinking frantically, the King spoke: “Could it be… that you offended it?” All the men stared at the King.

“How would I offend this thing?”

“He’s been nothing but polite, as though he were a person all this time. The only reason such a creature would act so out of character must be some sort of offense on your part.” The knight’s face flashed with fear, though he tried to conceal it. But Ryan was shrewd, a necessary component of a King, and he nodded to his guards. “If he won’t admit anything, then we can bring him back to the castle and hold him there until he confesses. I’m not above torture, if necessary.”

“You’re mad! He’s just as insane as that monster!” The baron wriggled in the grip of the knights, to no avail.

“Insulting your King? It’s you who must be crazed. Let’s tie his hands to the horse’s saddle and make him walk back to the castle –” As the baron was pulled, his hands tied at the wrist, he yelped and broke down. Not a strong man in physicality or feeling, he admitted his crimes.

“Alright, I’ll tell you! Just let me go.” Hesitantly, the knights stepped away from him. The King watched him warily. “The truth is, that beast used to be a man. A man you all knew very well. A man you thought was dead!” The King paled, and sent a horrified look at the bear, who was intent on watching the knight, its dark eyes flashing.

“Do you mean, Michael?” The King asked.

“He humiliated me!” The baron roared, fighting his binds. “He was a nuisance! Disappearing all the time to turn into that – that beast and back again! And yet you still admired him the most. Oh, I wish I could have killed him, but I thought I’d never see him, as a man or a bear, ever again.”  

“Then… he can be turned back into a man?” The King asked.

“Is that your only concern?” The baron spat, making the bear – Michael – growl again and step protectively in front of the King.

“Michael, whether a man or a beast, has been more useful to me than you have ever been.” The King straightened his stance and squared his shoulders. “I hereby ban you from your kingdom, for your crimes against a fellow knight.” He directed two of his men to hoist the baron onto a horse, and take him far outside the kingdom’s borders with no regard as to where he was left. The man could go to a new land or starve for all he cared, he just knew he wanted the man far away from him, or from Michael.

The baron attempted to fight, to curse the King and his knights, all while travelling down the road and slowly out of sight. Ryan turned his attention back to the bear. “Well, surely you must know how to change back?” he asked hopefully. Michael dipped his head, and began walking towards the house that had once been his.

Ryan opened the doors, and Michael walked through, snout high in the air as he sniffed. Passing from room to room, the King’s hopes slowly dimmed like a dying candle – whatever Michael was searching for, could he find it? What if that baron had already gotten rid of whatever it was Michael needed to turn back to a man? He fretted and frowned, dutifully following Michael and opening any closed doors the creature wished to inspect.

Eventually, they found the baron’s own bedchambers. Michael nosed around, focusing on the man’s wardrobe and pawing at the door. Ryan opened it, staring into its contents. Once again, Michael began to paw at something, and Ryan took out a wooden box that sat on the bottom of the wardrobe. Opening it, he found now musty pair of nightclothes. “Are these… yours?” Michael nodded, the gesture looking quite strange on him. “Well! Put them back on and we can take you home a man!” Michael merely stared at him, and sat back on his haunches. “Michael?” The bear let out a huff, and ducked down, delicately taking the clothes into his mouth and wandering out of the room, and out of the house entirely. He deposited the clothes in a knight’s arms and began walking down the road, the way they had come. The knights asked what the King’s orders were, and though he had no idea what Michael was waiting for, or what he was meant to do, he declared that they were going back to the castle in order for Michael to transform into himself properly.

When they reached the castle, Michael took the clothes back into his mouth and found his boarded up bedchamber. The King ordered for it to be opened and prepared, desperately wishing that his guesses were correct.

Once the bedchamber was in a clean state, Michael wandered inside, and, before the King or any curious servants or knights could follow, he nosed the door shut.

“Does he want privacy, perhaps?” One of the knights supposed.

“Why would a bear need privacy?” Another asked.

“I suppose Michael always had some secrets,” The King said. “I will check on him in a few hours. And, God willing, he will be a man by then.”

Hours passed at a torturous pace, and the poor King thought he would go mad before the end of it. Michael, dear Michael, alive and living under their nose for so long! Would he even be able to transform back? He took a seat by the window in his chambers overlooking the town. He watched the sun crest, then fall, and sink beyond the sky. Then he finally rose and found his way to Michael’s room.

He quietly opened the door and nearly shouted in surprise – for there wasn’t a beast on the floor, but a man asleep in his bed!

The King quickly ran to his side and held him close, pressing a dozen kisses to his beloved knight’s face to wake him up, then another dozen more when he saw the familiar brown eyes open, and the fondly remembered mouth turn up into a smile.

“It’s you,” the King said, unable to catch his breath or still his heart. Michael did not speak at first, instead wiping the tears from his King’s eyes, and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“It is,” Michael replied, voice faint and raspy from so little use. “I’ve returned to you, my King, and this time I won’t be leaving so easily.” They shared a grin, and Ryan held Michael even tighter, promising the return of all his land, and treasures, and more gifts that could be named.

“Does this mean we’ll have to remove my statue in the town square?” Michael kidded.

“My dear,” the King said, “not only will we keep it, but we shall have entire days of celebration to honor you – and your beastly form.”

And so with the King and his knight happily reunited, the kingdom prospered, and moreover, Michael never had to hide his beastly nature from the kingdom again, and no matter what form he took on, he was always regarded as a joy for all to see.

The End.