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inkbee · 7 months

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Summary of 1st half of The Paradigm of Catharism; of, the Historians Illusion by Mark Gregory Pegg

So not counting the introduction this is the first essay in Cathars in Question, a collection of essays between scholars debating the existence of Cathars. If you've been following me for a while or know me irl you've probably heard me reference this as 'cathargate.' I'm making it a little project to write out summaries to the essays and post them both for the sake of my own comprehension on the topic and also because a few ppl I've talked to about it have expressed interest in it. If anything in this post interests you I highly recommend reading the essays themselves, both because I'm not an expert and because Pegg's zingers are kind of funny ngl.

Pegg’s opening postulates that Catharism was exclusively an invention of “late 19th century scholars of religion and history.” It’s important to note that he isn’t claiming that Cathars were invented by medieval inquisition. He specifies that it is not “a construct of the persecuting society” (shouting out bestie R.I Moore) but rather a distinctly modern invention. Because, as Pegg understands it, Catharism is a modern invention, it makes sense that he would therefore first go into where he believes this invention originated. Pegg repeatedly calls back to this idea of a paradigm of Catharism, that is supported by two methodologies he identifies as both distinct and incompatible. In this first post we will discuss the first he identifies, that being the Intellectualist approach.

What is the Intellectualist approach, as Pegg defines it?

“It views the study of religion and heresy as an exercise in intellectual history…presumes that heresies have coherent theologies and doctrines combined and disseminated in canonical texts by heretical leaders”

Pegg says this approach was codified after 1870 via who else but the Germans doing “Religionsgeschichte”, a religious historical school that approaches the study of religion by comparing seemingly similar systems of belief. They have this idea called “world religions” or “universal religions”

WHAT ARE THE FEATURES OF A WORLD RELIGION?

elaborate clerical hierarchy

evangelical missionaries

fixed rituals

foundational sacred texts

clear distinction between secular and religious

World religions are intended to resemble Christianity, Pegg says. World religions include Hinduism, Confucianism, Buddhism, antique paganism, Gnosticism and Manichaeism.

The most important exponent of the ‘religious-historical school’ for medieval heresy was Herbert Grundmann, who wrote Religiose Bewegungen im Mittelalter (1935) He compares the beliefs of individual heretics, wandering preachers, early mendicants and specific religious women in the 12th and 13th centuries. He argues that the religious motivations (such as adopting an apostolic life) were similar, and that there was one general religious movement before 1200 that then fractured into heterodox and orthodox movements during the papacy of Innocent III (Papacy 1198-1216) Apparently this was barely noticed until after 1960. But here in the late 19th century, we have a different problem, and it's called Objektivität.

WHAT IS OBJEKTIVITAT? (according to Pegg)

Approaching history as a science

Approaches religion as a natural process rather than a historical one, meaning you can make scientific generalizations like in taxonomy (lumper problems are forever!)

Desire to study religion objectively without POV from particular religion of historian

This method is seen as distinct from the previous attempt at objectivity, namely, ‘pure historicism’, associated with Leopold von Ranke. Pegg says another characteristic tactic of the religious historical school was to figure out the origin of a particular belief was “finding the first person to think a thought or the first text to expound a belief.’

This is my own input but. You may be thinking “yeah, to find an origin of a belief you go to the first guy who said it” HOWEVER this is under the assumption that the origin of a given belief has a textual tradition, as opposed to an oral tradition. I get the sense Pegg is worried about lumpers again. It seems ‘logical’ to go back to the beginning of a belief in order to figure out the origin, but that is under the assumption that you have indeed found the beginning to a particular tradition, as opposed to a disparate belief/tradition that just so happens to resemble what you’re researching. It also means you’re assuming the religion/belief you’re studying is part of an intellectual history.

What’s next relevant; You’ve got this idea that Cathars are an eastern import. Grundmann argues that the Cathars shared some similarities with western apostolic groups when they initially entered Europe, but ultimately remained outsiders, even if their philosophy sometimes supported the ideas of 12th century heretics, even if it was sometimes shaped by Latin Christianity. According to Pegg this desire to find eastern influences within western religious trends is symptomatic of a particularly German form of Orientalism (Orientalistik) that is a hallmark of Religionsgeschichte, and he claims this Orientalism has been both ignored and carried over by “adherents of the paradigm” (meaning scholars who believe in Cathars as Christian dualists with eastern influences, the conventional narrative.)

Grundmann also says that Waldensianism was a lay Catholic reaction to Catharism, and that Waldensians were provoked more by Cathar heresiarchs than they were by concerns about the Catholic hierarchy. Pegg includes Peter Biller as an example of a contemporary scholar who shares this notion; “Peter Biller, for example, follows Grundmann in arguing that Catharism as an established eastern philosophy…must have existed before Waldensianism, otherwise the latter could not have dome into existence as a coherent western religious movement.” Pegg concludes this section, stating that for both Grundmann and any scholars who believe in the existence of the Cathar heresy, Catharism functions as a ‘world religion.’ Incidentally we’re going to be hearing from Peter Biller himself later in this book. I wonder if he will have any response to the religionsgeschichte allegations.

#next up is Pegg's thoughts on social history as applied to Cathars #and then we leave historiography and get into his analysis on the sources themselves which is exciting #and then John Arnold is on deck #cathargate

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drkoestersmithrpg · 4 years

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The Last Chapter Of Addict

Tony took Peter to bed, of course. He performed well. He could tell – Peter was very expressive with signs, moans, gasps and little yelps and a mouth that seemed to constantly be trying to form words, but failing.

Tony was silent, of course.

Silence was safer.

It was an odd thought he had after it was over, after they had showered and were snuggled in to sleep. “Silence is safer,” his brain told him.

“If you opened your mouth, gods only know what you might say.”

Because he was getting it. It was only the first night of their Three-Day-Weekend-Only-Breaking-For-Food-And-Homework-Sexathon, but it was the first night that he Got It.

“If you opened your mouth, gods only know what you might say.”

Laying in his bed, freshly showered, holding a freshly showered (and blissfully nude) Peter asleep in his arms, he got it. He was willing to say anything, absolutely anything, to keep this boy with him. Including proposing marriage.

He didn’t get up, right at that moment. He lay awake, the boy snuggled into the crook of his arm, his own heart pounding. Peter was dozing but not quite asleep yet. He had a fistful of Tony’s pajama shirt in his hand, held close to his face like a child. He started and twitched, sometimes mumbled, sometimes argued, in his sleep. Tony watched in fascination, waiting, timing his escape.

Finally he couldn’t take it any longer – he worked his pajama shirt out of Peter’s hand and slipped away, mumbling something about tinkering in the lab. Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up alone.

Tony often made his escape this way.

Of course on those occasions he had really gone to tinker in the lab, tonight he went straight to the liquor cabinet.

He poured himself a glass, then picked the whole bottle and took it with him. He sat alone next to the window and glared down upon New York City, and drank.

“Drinking alone is a sign of alcoholism,” he joked to himself in the silent room. He didn’t laugh at the joke.

He tried to think about something, anything, to get his mind off what he was thinking about now. He tried x and y and z [ask von for tech] but his mind would stay on tech. As per usual, his mind was on Peter.

His brain went back to his regular screensaver fantasy, the one he had been going over obsessively lately, which mainly consisted of various sex acts he had experience with that he could introduce to Peter in hopes to keep his interest. Now that they actually had time for said sex acts Tony was beginning to realize the point was moot. Tony had made it clear he was ready to offer anything, but Peter had also made it clear that he was only interested in the standard – Tony on top, Tony inside him, Tony’s head wrapped up in his arms (not that Tony was complaining. The noises that boy made were so sweet.)

Which produced an entirely new problem – if Peter wasn’t interested in new and exciting sexacts, what the hell did Tony have to offer? (Tony had SUGGESTED one specific other thing, but Peter had given him a hard pass. That hurt, but then again, who was he to demand anything? He was demanding enough as it is.)

“You’re screwed, Stark. You’re so fucking screwed,” Tony mumbled to himself. He glared at the amber liquid in his hand.

He was so definitely, thoroughly and completely screwed.

Since the moment he first felt Peter’s cock growing hard in his mouth, he knew.

All the signs were there. The obsessive circular thinking. The dreams. The tension that began to build in his body when he realized how long it had been since had felt it, and how long it had been since he would feel it again. And the reaching, the constant reaching for the thing that would numb the need/kill the time until he could taste it again.

But illicit substances were out – Peter disapproved. (Besides, he was an Avenger now, whatever that meant.) As were other cocks- he had promised Peter that it was the “person attached to the cock” that he wanted, and he was loath to go back on that promise now.

“ -the thing he bragged about in WHICH - “ he had bragged absurdly on the day he gave peter the roses, and he wished to god he hadn’t, because what he had voiced it outloud he realized how easy it would be. They wouldn’t be Peter, of course, [???just like alcohol wasn’t cocaine???] but one thing could ease the tension until he arrived at the other thing. But of course he had BRAGGED THAT HE WOULDNT DO THAT so now, of naturally, he couldn’t.

Besides keeping cocks around at work to suck on during the day would just be admitting he had a problem, and he most certainly was not prepared to admit he had a problem.

But he most certainly had a problem.

He had, after all these years, managed to develop a sex addiction.

And Peter – ah god – Peter was so incredibly accommodating. Actually changing his schedule and altering his daily life to accommodate Tony’s absurd demands. The boy was flattered by the attention – for now – but it seemed obvious that he wasn’t going to be flattered forever. He had already implied that Tony was more interested in the bodypart than the person and while the 12 dozen roses had seemed to work for the moment…..

….. the time would come where there wouldn’t be enough roses to keep the boy around.

No matter what he did, this was doomed to failure.

He drained the glass and poured himself another, brooding.

Why was Peter so much different than any other man?

With other men there had always been a time before the fear came – a limerence period with nothing but peace and the joy of new discovery. Before the fears came. Before the realization that one (usually the other guy) wanted a long haul and the other (usually Tony) very much did not. But with Peter that limeremnce (???) never happened – this had STARTED in fear. STARTED knowing this was all painfully temporary, a momentary cease-fire in the verbal war, a tender cease-fire that was just long enough to remove clothing and exchange bodily fluids.

Granted, the cease-fire had been extended, far longer than Tony had ever imagined, but that didn’t make it anything other than it was. Every minute, every day, every sexual encounter was obviously the last. That was the way cease-fires worked. There was no lasting treaty, here.

Someday, Peter was going to realize he had accidentally fallen into bed with Tony Stark and run for his life.

“Goddammit,” Tony said out loud to his drink. His drink didn’t answer. He lived so much in fear of that day he was almost eager for it to happen. When it happened, it would be over, and he could recover.

Which was different from any of his other addictions – the drugs, the alcohol, the suits. Each one seemed like they could easily last forever – actually it had appeared the suits WOULD have lasted forever – and maybe they would have, if it weren’t for Peter.

Peter.

Peter, who tasted like light. (Jesus Christ, had he really said that out loud? This is why talking during sex was a bad idea.) That had been one secret he was ready to take to his grave, but dammit the boy didn’t taste normal at all. The New York fans like to claim he had ‘radioactive blood’ and Tony could attest that other bodily fluids might be radioactive too. Christ he was probably giving himself cancer.

“Not that it matters,” he muttered to himself as he downed his drink and started in on its brother.

He really was addicted to pain, just like his ex-wife said.

And the kid was catching on, that much was certain. Had pointed out that if Tony really wanted to taste him he could catch the taste on his tongue, not the back of his throat. Smart kid. But the kid didn’t know that the alcoholic can dream all day about the taste of scotch, only to chug it back too fast to enjoy the taste.

And Tony, the addict, could NOT get Peter into his mouth without taking the boy down into his throat.

“Because no one will ever blow you the way I do, kid,” he muttered to himself, and that much, at least, was true. He had that, at least, as a decent argument for when the kid decided to bail. At least, as long as the kid never got around to asking why Tony was so damn good at this…..

“I just won’t answer,” he argued with himself. He had gotten GOOD at not talking. He was amazed at how easily it had been for Peter to shut him when no one else could, of course, he never needed anybody the way he needed Peter. And if he wanted to be with Peter, he had to keep his damn mouth shut.

“Except when I’m sucking Babyboy’s cock,” he joked humorously.

Or when you’re texting.

Tony frowned at the internal voice. Peter didn’t complain about the texting (except when he did.) And Tony had been sparse with the texting, using it only when he flat out couldn’t take it anymore. When he wasn’t desperate, he left Peter alone, knowing how busy the boy was. Even when Peter texted him about mundane things Tony kept his replies short and to the point – Peter was an extremely busy boy, and Tony was proud he could give Peter space.

But then again…

Growling in frustration Tony stood up to find his phone. He wobbled a bit (wait how many drinks did he just have?) but found it fairly quickly. With shaking hands he brought up Peter’s screen…..

What ya doin’ pretty baby?

Letting those pretty college boys suck your sweet cock?

I can part your physics. ; )

What do you expect from me? I need my fix.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and Tony read the texts like a blackout drunk read his crimes in the daily paper. ‘Letting those pretty college boys suck your sweet cock?’ No wonder the boy was in a constant state of irritated at him. ‘I can part your physics’ was embarrassingly sophomoric but at least it was on purpose. He often aimed for the embarrassingly sophomoric. Tony was safe as long as Peter was only rolling his eyes. It was when Peter was angry and shouting that his chest began to tighten.

Tony moaned as he read the texts. He knew (and hated) the man who had sent them. Normally Tony would think and rethink, type and retype, a single text over and over again until the majority of his texts would never see the light of day. Then (just like an alcoholic deliberately getting blackout drunk) he just hitting send as fast as he could type. But wasn’t that typical Tony? Pushing people away before they could leave him. Before they could run from him.

He started scrolling backward, looking and the other texts, the careful texts, the ones he had had stressed appropriately for.

Then he found the video and his blood ran cold.

This was what Peter had been talking about (Tony had hoped Peter was confusing his own porn with a text.) He had sent that video, one he had entitled ‘Want’ and dammit, dammitdammitdammit, he had sent it to the boy?! Jesus Christ in heaven saints preserve us. He had hit send on accident. He threw the phone across the room and downed another drink.

This could have been it. This could have been the night he said the wrong thing (sent the wrong thing, dear gods above) and sent Peter running.

“I really am addicted to self-destruction.” He couldn’t drink much more. Peter was staying the weekend and he had to be functional in the morning. Still he looked hard into the glass, talking to himself. “Addicted to pain, just like Pepper said. Pushing them away before I have to open up to them…..no.”

But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that he pushed people away before he had to talk to them, he pushed them away before they had the chance to betray him, before they had to chance to lie to him, before they had the chance to murder him because he was endangering the company by announcing they wouldn’t sell weapons anymore.

But not Peter.

No, he was just trying to push Peter away before he had to open up to him. That was all.

“A toast to self-destruction,” he said, pouring himself the last drink.

It was a form of pain, he mused, holding on to the razor’s edge of Peter leaving, standing right there at the edge of agony and heartbreak. What if he just….ignored it? What if he just pretended like it wasn’t going to happen? Now that would be self-destruction. Now that would be self-destruction at it’s finest.

Peter had seen him without his armor. Peter had seen him without his meticulous shave and without his fine suit. Peter had made a demand and that’s why Peter had seen him without his biting wit, his constant humor. Without that, he was just Tony. And Just Tony had never been good enough for anyone. Peter wasn’t catching on, not yet, but…

“…I am falling up.” He would never deny that it was sweet here, this razor’s edge of heartbreak. Yes, obviously, that would make it all the more unbearably painful when Peter wised up and left, but until then?

Tony drained the glass and left it behind. No tinkering, he was going right back to bed to hold his sleeping lover in his arms. He was dedicated to self-destruction, and, well, this self-destruction was going to be epic.

#The Addcit

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soujun-arts · 5 years

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Case 4 : Cupcake Madness

Reginald’s 4th Case ! English isn’t my first language so bear with me.

You can read the previous cases @ /~SilverBaron

Neovia, 15:30

I'm laying in my bed, staring at the roof of my room. I've been stuck in there for 3 long and boring days already and it doesn't look like it will be over anytime soon... My name is Reginald Acorn, I'm 20, a grey gelert and I'm currently fighting a cold. I'm a detective working for the police force of Neovia. Three days ago, the boss and I had to hide in front of the abandoned asylum to catch all sorts of thieves, including the most annoying one you can think of. And by the looks of it, thieves aren't the only things I caught that night ... But, the good news is, we were able to recover a stolen locket and give it back to Vincent Von Verzweiflung. The look on his face when he saw the "treasure" inside was well worth this nasty cold. I'm getting all emotional just by thinking of it !

It reminds me of how I miss Mama ... When I was young and sick, she would make me the most delicious of cocoa with some marshmallow floating in it. It was delicious and helped distract me from whatever sickness I was suffering under at that time...

A loud knock on my door makes me go back to reality. The doors opens to reveal an enormous darigan skeith, engulfed in tightly fitted trench-coat. A hat is deeply screwed on his head, letting only small tufts of grey hair around the sides of his head show.

_"Oh good, you're still alive kid !" he says, laughing loudly and slapping his stomach.

_"My wife made this soup for you. It's extra spicy but it should help free your stuffed nose." he grumbles as he lays down the bright red tureen on my table.

This tall and heavy Skeith is my boss, "Big Skeith". His name is actually Marcus Worsley but everyone calls him Big Skeith at the station so being the new guy, I just went with the flow. He's a bit rude, has a very loud mouth but I assure you that you could never hope for a better chief of police. He also kind of became a father figure for me since I've never met my own father... I respect him a whole lot ! _"Oh, almost forgot, I also got you this, kid." he says as he puts down a small green bottle on my night-stand. "Should help fight the cold, at least, that's what the pharmacist told me. And if it doesn't work, I can always arrest him!" Big cackles at his own joke like it was the funniest thing he ever said. I smile, not because of the joke, but because I'm genuinely happy he's there for me.

_"Okay, I must leave now, I have a job to do yaknow. I'll stop by later tomorrow to check on you kiddo, so sleep well and eat like there's no tomorrow. See ya !" he yells as he storms out of my flat. Big's appearances are always something.

I taste Big's wife's soup and it's absolutely delicious. No wonder he keeps on praising her cooking everyday ! I'll have to ask him to thank her for me, when he comes back to check on me. It really is spicy though, I thought, fighting the tears coming in my eyes. I glance at the medicine bottle ... I've always hated medicine and mama had to trick me with cookies every single time to get me to take them. The bottle is really pretty and the liquid is bubbling inside. The eagerness to go back to my cases is stronger than my disgust for medicines. I drink a spoonful of it and promptly go back to sleep.

Neovia, 7:15 am

I let out a big yawn and stretch while still laying in bed. The pharmacist kept his promises as I really feel fresh and ready to tackle whatever challenge comes my way ! The only weird thing is that I don't feel hungry at all, and if you know me, you know I always crave a huge breakfast. Thinking nothing more of it, I jump in the shower and let the warm water drench my fur. I wash my grey hair that is a bit sticky for some reason, plus it really needs a trim, they're getting way too long...

Once I've dried myself, I dress with my usual work attire and feel tremendous joy at the thought of finally being able to get back to work. I step outside and let the freezing air fill my lungs. Yes, to another awesome day of investigation !

Neovia, 8:00am

_"Oh hey kid, you're back !" shouts Big as I enter the police station. "Guess that potion and the soup worked well uh ?" _"Yes, they did ! Thank you for taking care of me boss ! And please thank your wife for me, she really is a talented cook !

_"Ahaha, I know, right !! Well, since you're up and ready, how about you join Lenny. He's going to investigate a theft and break-in at the Crumpet Monger.

_"Sure boss ! I'll be going !"

I've never had the occasion to work with Lenny before. Lenny is, well, a Lenny. He's a weird mix of faerie and grey colours and looks always completely depressed. Maybe it's the fact that he is bald that makes him so upset ? He's very nonchalant and walks as fast as snail. He also speaks in a monotonous voice and I always feel like sleeping when I hear him talk.

Neovia, 9:00am

Finally, I can see the Crumpet Monger ! The shop is actually only 20 mins away by foot from the station but Lenny being so slow, it almost took us a WHOLE hour to get there. And since I'm still the newbie, I can't say anything. The Crumpet Monger shop is relatively small but it sells the best baked goods in all Neovia ! A cupcake is drawn right over the porch roof, and just underneath, an elegant door that opens upon a world of delicious treats ! As we get closer, I can see that the door was fractured but the frontage is thankfully intact. Lenny pushes the door and a bell rings inside. We were standing in the entrance when a mountain of hair came rushing out of the kitchen like a storm. Underneath all that hair, a meerca.

_"Oh so yer finally here ! Thank goodness ! As yer can see, we were robbed last night. All ther cakes, scones, pies, tarts and everything in between, gone !" she shrieks, visibly upset.

_"I see." ponders Lenny, completely out of it. _"Did they steal anything else, like the cash register ?" I asked, ready to do my job.

_"Well, yer see, no they didn't. They only stole and ate whatever we had in there.

But ... shouldn't the shop be empty of pastries during the night since you make fresh ones everyday ?" I say, pointing at a small sign saying so by the counter.

_"Oh yer, we do ! In these kind of jobs, we work at lot at night. My main baker was working tonight, made a whole storm of pastries yer see to set the shop for ther morning. He then left for a short while to see our supplier as per usual yer see. It was during that short time ther shop was ransacked." she lets her arm fall flat on her sides. "We lost a lot of money tonight yer see...

_"I'm very sorry Mrs Crumpet. We will do our best to wrap up things quickly so you can re-open again. Would it be possible to talk with your main baker ?" I glance at Lenny as I speak, hoping he would step in to take the reigns but he was busy dozing off with a bubble popping out of his beak. Charming.

_"Sure yer can darling ! Aaron please come yer !" she shouts.

Coming out of the kitchen, wiping his hands covered in flour on a towel, a young Maraquan Gelert. He's of average height, has a long and weird tail with a, what, fin on it ? He is purple and his hair, which kinda look like algae, is greenish. He wears a big cooking hat on his head and a fancy looking uniform with a star on it. Around his neck, a red neckerchief.

He holds out his hand and I shake it amicably, this guy seems to be really friendly.

_"Hello, name's Reginald Acorn and here's my colleague Lenny Dot. We're here to investigate and we'd like to hear what you have to say please.

_"Thanks for coming, both of you. My name is Aaron Watson, I'm the main baker here. I think you won't have much trouble finding the culprit.

Really ? How so ?" my ears rising up in surprise.

_"Look at this, they left their prints all over the display cases. Should be easy enough to find, no ?

I get closer to the case and indeed, Aaron was telling the truth, you could see distinct prints all over it. I glance at the few leftover cupcakes there, suddenly feeling hungry.

_"Hmm yes, this is all very importance evidence...

_"Hey Regie, I hope you're talking about the prints and not the cupcakes" cackles Lenny, suddenly awake.

_"Of course I am !" I yell angry he found me out. "Dust for the prints instead of dozing off, that'd be helpful" I say, still sulking.

Alright, alright, let the pro do his job baby." he shouts proudly while holding a weird pose, showing off.

_"I really hope you catch that thief, but in all those short years I've worked here, it's really the first time this happens.." adds Aaron, rubbing his chin with his hand, still in disbelief.

_"No offence here, but you seem really chill for someone who had all his hard work eaten without being paid for...

_"Oh, that's because he took out his anger on yer poor innocent dough sweetheart" giggles Mrs Crumpet.

_"Boss, please !"

_"Okay I'm done dusting the prints and taking pictures here" says Lenny, striking another weird pose. "We will have the results tomorrow or so, so you can get cleaning your fantastic shop my beautiful darling." he adds, kissing Mrs Crumpet hand in a what I assume was supposed to be a gentlemen like gesture.

_"Oh, Oh, my, my, what a charming gentleman you are Mr Dot !" says Mrs Crumpet, blushing.

_"Urhg, disgusting." whispers Aaron while laughing slightly. "Then, I'll get back to work, thank you for coming."

Neovia 13:30

I'm sitting at my desk, eating my sandwich. It took us forever to get back here, as Lenny took his sweet, sweet time. Sometimes I really wonder how come this guy still had a job considering how slow he is in everything he does, but Big told me that he's the best when it comes to little details and all the other stuff we tend to overlook. He's currently studying the prints we found and comparing them to the files we have. Whenever someone decides to move in Neovia, they're obligated to give their prints as well, I'm not really sure why, but I guess after being a cursed town for years, they prefer to use some caution. I had to do it too when I filed all the paperwork in the City Hall. I swallow the last bite of my meal when Lenny comes rushing out from the lab and sprint right into the boss's office. How weird it is to see someone as slow as a snail go as fast as a cybunny ... I guess he did find something. Not two minutes later, Big yells for me to come to his office right now. Why do I feel like I'm not gonna like this ?

_"Kid, we have a match for the prints you guys found." says Big, dropping the file on his desk. He turns around to face the window, turning his back to Lenny and I. "The culprit is a Gelert.

_"Oh, really ? Is it that annoyingly annoying jewel thief ? Though, I wonder why he would steal cupcakes..." I say, rubbing my cheek.

_"No, praise Fyora, this guy is innocent for once. Though, I wish it was him right about now...

Knowing how Big despises that thief, I feel the anxiety rushing through my body.

_"That thief never leaves any prints behind, that's why we have so much trouble identifying him... Reginald, don't you have anything you want to say to me ?" he says calmly, turning back to face me again.

_"No.. I don't understand, I haven't done anything wrong..

_"Kid, the prints are yours. Your prints are all over the display cases of the Crumpet Monger shop. Lenny even found some grey hairs that belong to you on the scene, hair that were covered in frosting. You are the cupcake thief." he looks at me, visibly disappointed.

_"But ... I haven't left my flat yesterday.." I cry, upset I could tarnish my reputation this way. "I ate the soup you brought me, took the medicine as well and went to bed. I swear I didn't do anything wrong..." I state, still sobbing. Disappointing Big is one of the last things I want to do...

_"Look Kid, I know you, I know you're not a thief nor a liar. There has to be an explication, and we will find it." he says, putting his clawy hand on my shoulder. "Oh and wipe your nose, I don't want any snot on my desk!" he adds, smiling snarkily. "Let's go on a walk, I think you need some fresh hair. Thanks Lenny for your work, you can go back in the lab work on whatever you have left to do."

Neovia 14:00

_"Okay, let's go to the pharmacy and see what the guy has to say. I don't feel like you're lying like I said, but how come every evidence found incriminates you..." he grumbles as we walk in the main street.

_"I don't know, I'm really lost here... I don't remember a thing, but I do recall not feeling hungry this morning and my hair being sticky when I woke up." I follow him, looking at my shoes, still feeling shameful.

_"We're here." he says as he pushes the door open.

_"Oh hey it's you !" points a young Zafara with his head full of blond and spiky hair. "How is it doing man ?

_"I'm not your man, kid.

_"Yeah, yeah, what can I do for ya ?

_"I want "ya" to tell me more about this medicine I got from you yesterday. Are there any side effects I should have been told about when you gave it to me ?" asks Big, pushing his finger into the zafara's coat.

_"It was groovy eh man ?!" he says, still pointing his fingers at us. "I think I'm gonna slap some sense into this idiot, if you know what I mean." whispers Big in my ear.

Oh, Oh...

_"Stop being such a moron Arnold !" yells a middle-aged Kacheek, hitting his head with a stack of paper. "Ugh, I swear to Fyora, you're really an idiot. Please excuse my employee sirs. What can I do for you ?

Big Skeith, after a glance at my pathetic face, decides to explain the situation to the Kacheek himself. She closes her eyes as she listens to him. _"Uh, Uh, I see. I do have an explanation for you, I believe. Did you wife happen to add some clawmatoes in her soup ?

_"Yes, it's one of her favourite things to put in there. Why ? Is there an issue with it ?

_"As stupid as it sounds, yes actually. I do not know the full details, but they contain some enzymes or something that react quite badly with the cold medicine your friend here took. They can induce sleepwalking tendencies and cravings when mixed together. Since the poor guy doesn't remember a thing, I believe that's what happen. What were the odds though ?

_"I see, thank you Ma'am ! Please keep slapping some sense into your apprentice.

_"I will good sir, have a nice day, sorry for the trouble !

Neovia 14:30

_"Wait for me here, I won't be long kid." says Big gently slapping my shoulder as he opens the door of the Crumpet Monger shop.

I'm leaning against the façade, still unsure about what's going to happen. Am I going to got to jail ? How are Mrs Crumpet and Mr Watson going to react ? They seem really nice to me and I really don't want them to hate me. As I'm wondering what's going to happen, I hear the bell and the door opens. It's Aaron.

_"Rough day, eh ?" he says as he leans against the shop next to me.

_"Yeah, pretty much. I assume you know everything." I whisper, still full of shame.

_"Yes, I do."

The sharp answer makes me shiver, but I didn't feel any anger in it. _"Look, as upset as I am, we know it's not your fault. Your boss said he was going to pay for the damaged door.

_"Really ? But what about the cupcakes, I mean, I ate all your stock...

_"You sure did!" he cries in laughter. "I can't believe you ate all that without feeling sick, you have some strong stomach kid !

_"Hey, don't call me kid, you're barely older than I am !" I manage to utter as I start to laugh with him.

_"Now that's better ! We have agreed on something with your boss. We're not gonna ruin a promising career, so hear me out. When you're not working your usual job, you'll come and work part time with us, that includes cleaning, deliveries, tasting my new recipes and other little things. That's how you're going to pay your debt to us. Does that sound fair to you ?" he grins.

_"You bet, thank you so much !" I say sobbing, finally relieved from the tension in my shoulders.

Neovia 21:30

I lay down my pen on my desk. I desperately needed to write a letter to mama to tell her everything. After that chat with Aaron, we came back inside the shop were Mrs Crumpet gave me a delicious crêpe to cheer me up. We ended up having a good laugh over this unlikely story and I'm going to start working part time with them tomorrow. I'm really eager to make it up to them. Once again, Big Skeith was there for me, and I can't thank him enough. He talked food with Mrs Crumpet during what felt like an eternity but it was a peaceful moment. As for Aaron, despite him being rightfully angry for his destroyed goods, he opened up to me and showed me how passionate he is about his job. I felt like we were the same on that point. I really wish I can become his friend because I really enjoyed his company. I better go to bed now, I have quite a doozy of a day tomorrow !

#neopets #neolodge #reginald acorn #writing #gelert

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