The book poll ended, first of all, thank you for voting @isadomna @asongofstarkandtargaryen @jackredfieldwasmyjacob @queenmiriamele @mortalsilence and the other people who particiated!

In total, there are 15 votes and these are 6 books that I'll be sharing during the following weeks/months:

• AL-ANDALUS. Personajes históricos (Al Andalus. Historical figures) 26, 7% - 4 votes

• Toledo: La ciudad de los muertos (Toledo: The city of the dead) 26,7% - 4 votes

• AL-ANDALUS. Ocho siglos de civilización musulmana que marcaron la historia y la cultura de España (AL ANDALUS. Eight centuries of Muslim civilization that marked the history and culture of Spain) 20% - 3 votes

• España medieval : el origen de las ciudades (Medieval Spain: the origin of the cities) 13, 3% - 2 votes

• Valle-Inclán y el insólito caso del hombre con rayos x en los ojos (Valle-Inclán and the unusual case of the man with x-rays in his eyes) 6,7% - 1 vote

• De Mayrit a Madrid: Madrid y los árabes del siglo IX al siglo XXI (From Mayrit to Madrid: Madrid and the Arabs from the 9th century to the 21st century) 6,7% - 1 vote

The other 6 options that are left didn't receive any votes but I'll include them in another poll with some other books.

I'll try to share at least the corresponding parte of a book once a week.

As I had mentioned, for the book Toledo: La ciudad de los muertos, I had already shared the first pages:

The Best News of Last Week

Welcome to Feel Good News! Each week, I scour the web to bring you a collection of uplifting and positive news stories. My goal is to provide you with a dose of inspiration and hope to start your week off on the right foot.

This week, I have stories about individuals who are making a difference in their communities, companies that are doing good in the world, and much more. I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed putting this newsletter together.

Let’s start with:

1. FDA Plans to Allow More Gay, Bisexual Men to Donate Blood

Gay and bisexual men in monogamous relationships would be allowed to donate blood without abstaining from sex under guidelines being drafted by the Food and Drug Administration, people familiar with the plans said.

The change would be a departure from U.S. policy that for many years barred men who have sex with men from donating blood. The FDA policy originated in the 1980s during the AIDS epidemic, when tests for HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, weren’t considered sensitive enough to protect the blood supply.

2. Biden-Harris Administration Makes $50 Million Available to Clean Up Orphaned Oil and Gas Wells on Tribal Lands

There are several thousand orphaned oil and gas wells on Tribal lands, jeopardizing public health and safety by contaminating groundwater, seeping toxic chemicals, emitting harmful pollutants including methane, and harming wildlife. Some of these wells are underwater, which creates an especially high risk of adverse impacts.

3. Golden bandicoots 'breeding rapidly' in the NSW outback 100 years after becoming locally extinct

The first golden bandicoots have been born in NSW's far north-west in 100 years, after formerly being extinct in the region.

Golden bandicoots have been breeding rapidly in Sturt National Park since being introduced to as part of the Wild Deserts project. There are initiatives in place as part of the project to protect native fauna from feral animals. More native species are set be reintroduced to the area and will be confirmed next year.

Cue the Crash Bandicoot references :D

4. Toledo Zoo welcomes twin polar bear cubs

Twin polar bear cubs were born at the Toledo Zoo, the zoo announced Thursday. The parents of the twin cubs are 24-year-old female, Crystal, and 18-year-old male, Nuka.

Crystal’s eighth and ninth cubs’ genders are unknown at this time. They are estimated to make their public exhibit debut in the spring of 2023.

Watch the video of the announcement here:

Feel Good News by Erica @feelgoodnwsToledo Zoo welcomes twin polar bear cubs

5. A Philadelphia woman collects thousands of stuffed animals and brings them to seniors who are in need of a Christmas gift

Santa Claus isn't the only person who travels around with a vehicle full of toys. Every holiday season, Patricia Gallagher fills her car with stuffed animals and drives around Philadelphia. She doesn't give them to kids, she gives them to seniors. 

"Who would think that elderly veterans would want stuffed animals? But they did," Patricia Gallagher said of the project.

6. 150 sea turtles saved from the cold. An aquarium in Boston has been treating "cold-stunned" sea turtles stranded on US beaches.

An aquarium in Boston has been treating "cold-stunned" sea turtles stranded on US beaches. Experts urge the public not to return stranded animals into the water.

Over 150 sea turtles have received treatment this season for "life-threatening medical conditions" prompted by hypothermia in the New England Aquarium, based in the US city of Boston.

7. 'No K-pop on a dead planet': Meet the K-pop stans taking on the climate crisis

What does Kpop4planet do?

Nurul a 23 year old fan from Indonesia and her colleagues have channeled most of their energy into six different climate campaigns. Over 33,000 fans from 170 countries have taken part in them.

The most successful of these has been ‘No K-pop on a dead planet’. It called for K-pop albums to go green by selling digital rather than physical albums, minimizing the packaging and encouraging low carbon performances.

The movement has proved popular with the fandom. For Kpop4planet work two full-time employees along with 20 volunteer ambassadors from nine countries. The group is funded by Action Speaks Louder, a charity registered in Australia who lobby to hold big companies accountable for their climate change promises.

. . .

That’s it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

Silene Oliveira/Tokyo

been a long time since i last saw you.

this reminds me of the night we met.

don't flirt with me. 

been a long time since i last saw you.

this reminds me of the night we met.

don't flirt with me. 

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

Toledo was a beautiful city, not that you'd been given much of a chance to get acquainted with it before being hauled up to a large remote house per The Professor's instructions. But the scenery was beautiful, at least. The view atop the hill allowed for the perfect view of the setting sun, made all the better with beer and the distant sound of music playing from the patio. A perfect evening and a perfect view... ruined by a voice that made your heart clench with bitterness. 

"Been a long time since I last saw you." Her light, airy, far too casual voice reached your ears. Your muscles automatically tensed, fingers tightening around your bottle, and the serenity of the view promptly faded. You bit your tongue and raised the bottle to your lips, finishing the contents and hoping the effects would soothe your mind. "(Y/N)- Or, well... It's Athens now, right? I guess I should get used to that name before the heist."

You stared straight forward, unable to bear the thought of looking at her without wanting to walk out of the whole operation. A face you once loved seeing, muddled with her actions and memories you'd rather forget. She was a reminder of the person who'd truly broken your heart and trust: René. The man who picked you up from juvie and promised to never abandon you like your parents had. The man who taught you everything you needed to know about heists, about guns, and thievery. The man you looked up to dearly and spilled everything to. The man who slept with your girlfriend nearly fifteen years ago. The man who'd been gunned down in the street only a couple weeks prior. Your brother, your confidant, your partner in crime, and the most disgusting man you'd ever known. 

You still remembered that morning when you returned from a night out with friends, hungover as hell but alert enough to notice the scattered beer bottles on the table, the lack of chatter in the small rented apartment, and best of all, the sight of seventeen-year-old Silene in the arms of thirty-one-year old René. You would've found the surprise and horrified looks on their faces humorous if it hadn't been for the betrayal you felt. Half of the morning was spent arguing with René while Silene cried uncontrollably until you grabbed a few things and got into your car, speeding off down the street and never seeing either of them ever again. 

You hardly mourned René when you saw his corpse and face on the news the day of his death. To you, he'd been dead since that fateful day. And you would've moved on, would've finally found some real peace at last, if The Professor hadn't sat beside you at the park a few days later while you watched your kid run around with his friends and offered you a job; A heist that'd leave you with more than enough euros to never work or be apart from your son ever again. Enough money to send him off to college, to find a nice place to settle down, and to live out the rest of your years doing whatever you wanted without having to worry about being arrested during 'work'. 

"This reminds me of the night we met." Silene - No, the code names were necessary, she'd been right in that regard - Tokyo said, her finger dragging down your bicep. You rolled your shoulder to shrug her off, huffing out a soft scoff. "You remember that night? They wouldn't let me into the bar 'cause I was a kid but then you and René vouched-"

"We helped you, got you a fake id, let you stay with us when you had an argument with your mom, and the week after you said you loved me, you fucked my brother and now left him for dead. Don't pretend things between us are fine, Tokyo. Don't flirt with me. Don't talk to me like we're old friends. We're strangers. Nothing more, nothing less. If you're that desperate for dick then maybe go hop on Rio or Denver's." You sneered at her, brushing past her with another scoff and making your way back to the party, back to the rest of your colleagues and away from the woman who'd ruined your life.

From ABQ with love, Nacho

A Nacho spinoff & LCDP x BCS Crossover AU

Chapter 2

« Masterlist || Previous chapter || AO3 link »

Words: 1.6k Warnings: None? English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

“I have a plan” Four-eyes - that’s what I’ll call him now - says. 

I cross my arms and stare at him.

“Shoot.” 

“What makes a person a villain?”

“What…?” 

“Where do we draw the line? When does one become a villain?”

“I dunno… Maybe when robbing a bank?” Maybe I shouldn’t be such a jerk. 

Too bad I don’t care. 

“Not a bank. The Royal Mint, Ignacio.” He corrects me as if it matters. 

As the lunatic Four-eyes seems to be, he starts pacing the room. “And we’re not really “robbing”... You know about Robin Hood, right?”

I nod. 

“Of course.” Does he think I’m that fucking stupid? 

“That’s our plan. We’re not stealing. We’re printing our own money.”

“...That’s your big plan? To counterfeit some money? Amazing.” 

I don’t know why I’m being so rude, but what am I supposed to do? 

Blindly believe this lunatic to a man successfully will take over one of the most secure places in Madrid? And print money? 

“Ridiculous.” I stand up again.

“Do you have somewhere better to be?” Finally, he sounds annoyed. I shrug. “Do you want me to reassure you that your father is alive?” 

“How dare you talk about him?!” 

Four-eyes looks calm again. How can he be so calm? 

“Ignacio… Like it or not, but we’re allies now. I saved you, and now, I need your help”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then you’re on your own. I can’t save someone that doesn’t want to be saved.” 

On my own. I’d be stuck here, in a country I’ve never been to before. Stay, and wait until someone finds me. And knowing Gus right, knowing the cartel… They’ll make sure it’s a slow, painful death. 

“...I need to think.” I am just about to walk out, and once again - he talks. 

Damnit! Can he shut the fuck up already?

“How about 2.4 billion euros?”

I freeze. 2.4 billion. I can’t even wrap my head around how much money that is. With that money, I could go anywhere. I could start over, somewhere far from New Mexico. I could get a new identity. Never have to work another day. Never have to do anything criminal. 

And… I barely dare to hope, but… Dad. I can reunite with dad. I can bring him to a safe place. With the money, he’d never have to work again. He could retire early, and be the most rich damn old man ever. 

“I’m listening.” 

Four-eyes smiles and behind the thick glasses, I can see an entertained shine in his eyes. Finally - it says.

“Thank you.” 

He once again starts explaining, only this time - I listen. 

After three days my new crew arrives - one by one. The morning when the youngest robber - Rio - arrives at the Toledo House, Four-eyes tells me:

“You need a name.”

“Like an… Alias?”

“Exactly.”

“Nacho.” I say. Professor shakes his head.

“No. A brand new one. A city name”

City?

“Why?”

“No names, and no personal relationships. So what will it be?”

Oh, I know one. 

The man named Rio can’t be more than 19. He seems disoriented. Poor guy. 

It reminds me of myself - when I first joined the cartel. I must’ve looked just like that - young, confused and out of place. I could feel sympathy, of course. But I just stare at the curly haired guy with skepticism. So does Berlin. His dark, dead eyes stare at Rio. Professor walks next to him. 

“Rio, meet your crew.” He nods at me and the fancy son of a bitch.

“Berlin” he says with a nod and then it’s my turn.

“Albuquerque.”

When choosing my city name, it felt obvious to be “Albuquerque.”

The past is already haunting me. Always will. So I’ll embrace it.

Reclaim it.

Our city named crew grows. 

Oslo and Helsinki. Two bearded men that must be almost 6.2 feet tall. Oslo is quiet and reserved - Helsinki is extroverted and impulsive. 

One day, Professor drives me and Rio to an abandoned hangar. His hideout, and where he’ll stay hidden whilst me and the others are locked in the Royal Mint. 

It’s shabby and poorly isolated with rain puddles on the floor by the entrance. Other than that, there’s a table, boxes on the floor and a bunk bed. Four-eyes has a setup with two computer screens, a keyboard, headphones, speakers, a lamp and a red, retro phone. 

“What are we doing here?” I ask. 

“I need help setting things up for later.”

“But it’s five months left?” Rio questions

“Better to be on the safe side, am I right?”

Me and Rio glance at each other but don't question the Professor's words. He calls for Rio, who helps him set everything up and test the equipment. It takes at least 2 hours for him to explain everything to Four-eyes. It reminds me of all the times I’ve helped dad with his phone and computer. I wander the abandoned place restlessly. It’s not much to look at, and I don’t feel like interrupting the Four-eyes and the Computer-kid. I have nicknames for them all. As I walk through the shabby room, my eyes fixate on the corner of the room. At one point I accidentally drop a glass to the floor. The Professor flinches and looks at me. Rio grins. 

I used to despise clumsy people, and those who couldn’t focus when having an important task at hand. How the tables turned. But then again, I’m Albuquerque now. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Professor mutters and turns to the computer again. “We’ll be done soon.”

Yep. Now I really feel like a dumb kid. 

When we’re finally about to head back to Toledo, Four-eyes pulls me aside. 

“I am a man that keeps my promises. I want you to know that.”

The fuck are you talking about? I want to ask. But my words get stuck. He shows me a security camera, probably one that Rio has hacked for him. The camera shows an airport, and a line of people checking in to get on a plane.

Dad. He’s right there, handing his passport and ticket over to a lady his age. She checks it and hands everything back smiling. But dad isn’t smiling. He looks tense. Tired.

Of course. He thinks I’m dead. 

I sink into the chair that Rio just left. 

“This was two days ago. The airport in Santa Fe.” 

He scrolls through other cameras. The trip must’ve been hell. My father prefers to be at home and only travel to different towns, never further than two hours away. He was adventurous when he was younger - just like me. But the older and more anxious he got - the less he left the house unless it was for work. 

…And now he has to move to the other side of the world, because of you. 

The guilt washes over me again. The anxiety I can’t seem to shake off - ever. 

He changes planes two times. The last camera Professor shows me is him arriving at the airport somewhere in Canada. Where I don’t know - I don’t care really.

All that matters is that he’s not in Albuquerque anymore. The cartel, nor Gus, can hurt him anymore. 

“When was this?” 

“Two days ago. He’s safe, Ignacio.”

I breathe out. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and only now can exhale. 

“Thank you.” Is all I can say. The cameras show the same scene over and over - dad getting off the plane. I continue watching it, until I finally believe my eyes. I could cry from relief. Not here. I blink the tears away and stand up.

“Well then. Let’s go back to Toledo.”

I shut my emotions off and walk out of the hangar. 

Dad is alive. And for now, that’s all that matters to me.

“So… A jewelry thief, a hacker, an cartel man and us, two war veterans… Who else?”

Helsinki asks during an awkward dinner. Berlin laughs and I can’t keep myself from smiling. It indeed is a weird gang. But then again, nothing normal about planning a heist.

It’s raining outside. The house is cold, so Professor has lit up the wood stove so we won't freeze to death. I hate the cold. It must look ridiculous to wear a jacket indoors, but I don’t care. Even the food is cold, but still tasty. Or maybe that’s because I’m hungry. And I need the food. When I was on the run back home, food wasn’t my top priority. I’ve lost weight, and muscles. Now, when I have a heist to participate in I need to regain it. 

“Well… We have an ex-drug dealer, a thief, a robber and a money-counterfeiter. They’ll all join us later this week.” 

“And when we’re all gathered, what then?” I ask. 

“That’s when the practical part of the heist begins. I’ll tell you all about the plan and how we’ll successfully make history.” 

Make history. 

The Professor might be a damn lunatic, but still… You gotta be a bit fucked up to succeed. And he indeed is. He has confidence and, whether I want to admit it or not - a good plan.

My dad’s alive and safe, and if I pull this heist off, then I can reunite with him. 

Hope is a dangerous thing but for the first time in years, that’s what I feel.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a like, a reblog or comment if you liked it! It does encourage me to continue writing on this story! <3 Have a good day!!

Vampire Eddie Head Canons

*My work is not to be taken or used anywhere else without my permission. Reblogs, likes and comments are always welcome and much appreciated. Thank you to all who read my work, and recommend it. It means a lot!

Check out my master list here the see my other work. 

Note: I’m basing a lot of this off of Twilight and Only Lovers Left Alive as far as the vampire lore goes. 

Happy Reading!

All of Hawkins still think he’s dead so he stays with you in Toledo. To be far enough away from all the drama until things can get sorted out.

Staying in an abandoned studio apartment.

His body temperature being cold all the time now which sucks for you when you want cuddles when it’s chilly.

Not going out until well into the night.

Occasionally risking travel to explore the city.

Finding a quiet beach on accident and sitting on the sand.

Before you left Hawkins you snagged his guitar so he would have something to do.

At first he refused to be around you in fears his desire for blood would be too strong for him to control.

You’re his rock though and he finds comfort in your presence through all the crazy shit happening.

Refuses to use you or anyone else for feeding on.

Somehow managing to steal some blood donation shit and making him blood smoothies so your boy doesn’t get too weak.

Accidentally biting your lips when you kiss.

And your neck.

He gets a bit too excited and forgets thats he has fangs now.

Your blood is his own personal type of heroin. (Yes I’m using this Edward Cullen reference)

Immediately feels bad afterwards.

“Shit, sweetheart! Did I hurt you?”

You assure him he hasn’t, tho occasionally he’ll sink into a moody spot and stay away from you. The insecurity that you’re too good for him raging even louder now.

He knows you love him, he does. But he’s scared, especially given the new circumstances. He could never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Eventually he comes out of his hiding spot and crashes into your lap, face buried into your stomach as you sit on the couch you had dragged off the side of the street.

“Hey, mopey boy,” you murmur running your fingers through his hair.

His arms tighten around your waist and his nose tickles your stomach as he shifts making himself more comfortable.

Since he doesn’t technically have to breath anymore he can stay pressed as close as he can get against you as long as he wants breathing in your familiar scent.

Black Lightning 1×05: “And Then the Devil Brought the Plague: The Book of Green Light”

Okay, Jefferson’s stunt double is easily recognizable in the flashbacks. They have completely different head shapes.

A new suit upgrade from Gambi gives Jefferson the ability to fly. He’s certainly having fun. (I also really love the soundtrack for this show.)

And then he sees a Black kid on Green Light getting taken down by the cops. Jefferson’s intervention is absolutely perfect. Stop shooting people when they have mental health breakdowns. They need help, not a body bag!

That’s how you de-escalate a situation without killing. “Next time, try using a taser first!”

Uh oh. Now something’s wrong with his mask. Jefferson shrugs it off and says he wants to keep practicing.

At headquarters, Gambi checks the security footage to see … Tobias. Tobias is in his shop! Gambi, don’t do anything stupid.

What do you mean you had a deal? Gambi, you knew he was still alive?

“Only thing I’m gonna measure you for is a coffin.”

Ooh ... Okay, so maybe you’re not a whole traitor yet.

So apparently Tobias and his sister can’t age because of a serum they took? Well, that’s just wonderful.

Tobias says that Gambi’s working for the ASA, which means he has access to valuable intel. Intel on Black Lightning.

Gambi says he doesn’t know anything, but this raises some new and important questions. What is the ASA and why does Tobias think that Black Lightning would be Gambi’s enemy?

I’ll give Jefferson credit; he’s managed to keep his secret identity under wraps for a long time.

If Tobias is going to be paying Gambi visits, they’ve got even more problems.

Anissa, meanwhile, starts doing some research on metahuman abilities and stumbles across this video about an experiment in Freeland. Actually, how far is Freeland from Central City? Are they on the same Earth?

And then, of course, Jen interrupts her. I love their sister relationship. Two of my younger sisters are the same size, so they’re always trading clothes or stealing from each other.

“I said shut the door!”

MOOD.

Apparently, nine superpowered kids disappeared in Freeland thirty years ago.

At the roller rink, Jen is harassed by two girls from another school who take jabs at both her and Khalil. When one of them shoves her, she puts them both on the ground. Yaas, Jennifer! Once again, don’t mess with Black Lightning’s daughters.

And then her friend just shows up like, “Girl, for real?” 😂 Sorry. She didn’t start this fight, but she finished it!

Later, Jefferson steps in to help this man trying to buy medicine for his daughter. How do you have three-year-old medicine sitting on your shelf? Don’t you restock?

The fact that this cashier automatically goes for a bat when Jefferson shows signs of distress is just a microcosm of how quick people are to label Black men as threats. The other man at least has the decency to ask if he’s okay.

Hold on. Their grandfather, Alvin Pierce, was trying to expose a story about vaccines that gave people superpowers? Maybe Jefferson was one of the nine.

Jefferson goes hunting down another potential Green Light spot only to run into a white man with a shotgun. Time to run.

“Lawn jockey”? Oh, heck no, buddy. You’re about to get it.

The man finally says that he gets the chemicals from a guy named Joey Toledo and Jefferson is ticked. Apparently, Toledo worked for Tobias. Now Jefferson is working the Alvin Pierce story from the other side. Seems like you’ve been keeping a lot of secrets, Gambi. Was Joey Toledo supposed to be dead, too?

Gambi! Why won’t you tell him the truth? Whose side are you on? You know Tobias is the one behind all of this – Jefferson’s arch-nemesis! If he finds out about Tobias on the streets or Tobias catches him by surprise, he’s going to be absolutely livid.

In the middle of his rant, Jefferson keels over like a board, no warning whatsoever. Gambi calls in Lynn to take a look at him and they deduce that the headaches might be due to the suit upgrade.

Jeff wants to go after Toledo, but he’s in no shape. Lynn tells him to rest.

Tori tells Tobias that he shouldn’t have gone to see Gambi because “Lady Eve won’t be happy.” What the heck? Gambi knows her, too?

We learn a lot about Tobias’ character this episode, from his rant about needing to be respected, his offensive use of the word “Negroes”, and the way he was treated by his father growing up because of his albinism. I’m not going to lie. I was a bit on the fence about the show having a villain with albinism as it’s so rare to see that condition represented at all, but in the context of this story, it opens up so many conversations about colourism and internalized prejudice. Tobias was never “Black enough” for his father and so he’s spent his life fighting for acceptance and respect. But in the process, he’s distanced himself from other Black people, positioned himself as being above them. As a result, he’s a very self-hating Black man with nothing but contempt for the Black community.

Still, tossing the word “Negroes” around in front of his dark-skinned sister is very tone-deaf.

Tori says that the only way he can move forward is by dealing with his first enemy: their father.

Finally, a talk between Anissa and Jefferson! Seems these girls don’t know much about their family history. Why did I want him to say, “Your grandfather ... was Black Lightning”? No, but that would’ve been cool! 😆

I was hoping that would be a longer conversation, but Jefferson doesn’t seem to like talking about his dad too much. Anissa, however, is not letting this go. She’s following the trail.

She finds the old editor of the Freeland Gazette, David Poe. Bro, that look on his face when she brings up the missing kids … 😨 Nobody wants to talk about this!

Anissa leaves when he kicks her out, but not without telling him that he was supposed to be “a champion for the common people.”

Black Lightning pays Henderson a visit. We’re going old school Quentin-and-the-Hood! Jefferson even gives him a burner phone and everything. 

He tells Henderson that Joey Toledo is back and that he’s prepared to go get him.

“The Black signal.” 

Stop this! 😆😂

And then he disappears just like Batman. Typical.

Lynn is not happy about Jefferson resuming his Black Lightning duties again, but they’re interrupted by …

Aw, great. It’s the girl from the roller rink and her moms. 

If she didn’t want her behind handed to her, then she should have kept her mouth shut! She attacked Jennifer first!

One of them looks like she’s got a bone to pick with Jefferson, too.

Wait, you’re leaving already? I thought you were waiting for Jen so that you could do the disciplinary talk.

Not all three of them side-eyeing her on their way out the door. Keep walking!

Jefferson’s anger fades when he learns there were two girls (that’s why you hear both sides of the story), but Lynn’s not having it. “Not everybody solves their problems with their fists!” she says, looking pointedly at Jefferson. 😂

Editor Poe seems to like Anissa better today. He knows she’s not going to stop, so he gives her everything he has. But that information also got Alvin killed, so she needs to be careful.

Oh, the Whale siblings are going to resolve some daddy issues tonight!

While going through Alvin’s articles about Tobias and the vaccines, Anissa finds a key to an old storage unit. Oh, please don’t go there by yourself!

“Jennifer, do you have my black hoodie?”

Jennifer, fully wearing the hoodie: “No, I’ve got my own hoodies!” 😆😂

Anissa chooses her catsuit instead.

Jefferson’s with Jen now! Finally, we’re actually getting some father-daughter talks for once.

“Sin of omission. Our family doesn’t communicate that way.”

Oh, really? So you’re going to tell her that you’re Black Lightning?

Jen tells him that it’s not exactly easy being the principal’s daughter. Yeah, I definitely get that: loads of pressure, perpetual teacher’s pet, everyone thinking you’re a brat or being afraid of you, this huge reputation to uphold …

Her dad tells her that the best thing she can do is put the fire out.

And Anissa ripped her catsuit. Time to go shopping!

Brighter? Isn’t the idea not to be seen? You don’t want to stand out.

“Red would be great.” Nope. She wants her Beyoncé blonde! 😆

Um, he said “superhero.” He does think it’s a costume party, right? 😳

Henderson gives Jeff a tip-off about a girlfriend of Joey Toledo’s.

Jefferson, don’t be dumb. Let Gambi fix the suit.

Tobias, meanwhile opens a letter from Lady Eve filled with white dust. Oh, that’s cruel. What does it say?

Anissa shows up to the storage facility in her new gear. Alright, girl, I see you! That’s not bad for a first-time suit. Although, the emblem on the chest does look a bit like Batwoman’s.

“If you wanna be a superhero, you can’t be afraid of dead rats.”

Oh, honey, there could be so much worse in there.

She breaks into an old safe to find a vial full of chalky white crystals. Tell me that’s not the vaccine.

Jefferson finds the girlfriend without a hitch and confiscates her phone. Now we’re catfishing Joey Toledo. 😆 Sorry, Joey. Your girl’s not coming.

Oh, wow. No hello or anything. Jefferson’s just throwing hands.

Just like Gambi warned, the headaches start up again. This is why you don’t go out with a faulty suit!

Lynn’s going to be ticked.

5.

I was overcome by an exhaustion that, no matter how much I rested, wouldn’t go away. For the first time, I skipped school. I was absent, I think, for some two weeks, and not even to Antonio did I say that I couldn’t stand it anymore, I wanted to stop. I left home at the usual time, and wandered all morning through the city. I learned a lot about Naples in that period. I rummaged among the used books in the stalls of Port’Alba, unwillingly absorbing titles and authors’ names, and continued toward Toledo and the sea. Or I climbed the Vomero on Via Salvator Rosa, went up to San Martino, came back down by the Petraio. Or I explored the Doganella, went to the cemetery, wandered on the silent paths, read the names of the dead. Sometimes idle young men, stupid old men, even respectable middle-aged men pursued me with obscene offers. I quickened my pace, eyes lowered, I escaped, sensing danger, but didn’t stop. In fact the more I skipped school the bigger the hole that those long mornings of wandering made in the net of scholastic obligations that had imprisoned me since I was six years old. At the proper time I went home and no one suspected that I, I, had not gone to school. I spent the afternoon reading novels, then I hurried to the ponds, to Antonio, who was very happy that I was so available. He would have liked to ask if I had seen Sarratore’s son. I read the question in his eyes, but he didn’t dare ask, he was afraid of a quarrel, he was afraid that I would get angry and deny him those few minutes of pleasure. He embraced me, to feel me compliant against his body, to chase away any doubt. At those moments he dismissed the possibility that I could insult him by also seeing that other.

He was wrong: in reality, although I felt guilty, I thought only of Nino. I wanted to see him, talk to him, and on the other hand I was afraid to. I was afraid that he would humiliate me with his superiority. I was afraid that one way or another he would return to the reasons that the article about my quarrel with the religion teacher hadn’t been published. I was afraid that he would report to me the cruel judgments of the editors. I couldn’t have borne it. While I drifted through the city, and at night, in bed, when I couldn’t sleep and felt my inadequacy with utter clarity, I preferred to believe that my text had been rejected for pure and simple lack of space. Let it diminish, fade. But it was hard. I hadn’t been equal to Nino’s brilliance, and so I couldn’t stay with him, be listened to, tell him my thoughts. What thoughts, after all? I didn’t have any. Better to eliminate myself —no more books, grades, praise. I hoped to forget everything, slowly: the notions that crowded my head, the languages living and dead, Italian itself that rose now to my lips even with my sister and brothers. It’s Lila’s fault, I thought, if I started down this path, I have to forget her, too: Lila always knew what she wanted and got it; I don’t want anything, I’m made of nothing. I hoped to wake in the morning without desires. Once I was emptied I imagined the affection of Antonio, my affection for him will be enough.

Ferrante 2012. The Story of a New Name, tr. Goldstein. pp. 28-30.

BRIEF INTRODUCTION OF 'EI RASTRO'

Known the world over for its crowded, transient flea market that's held on Sundays and public holidays and offers a diverse range of goods, El Rastro is a bustling shopping area in the city centre that’s open every day of the week and stands out for its jumble of specialist shops, typical bars, historic sites and interesting places like the Museum of Popular Art.

The long, steep street Calle de la Ribera de Curtidores has multiple shops specialising mainly in mountain sports –new and second-hand sportswear by top brands at Makalu, Barrabes, OS20, El Rincón de la Montaña, etc.–, handcrafted furniture, photography –Fotocasión is one of the city's top establishments– and antiques –set around two courtyards with carefully designed architecture, one on either side of the street (Piquer Galleries and Nuevas Galerías), are multiple antiques dealers and restaurants– but you’ll also find bookshops, scraps of fabric, hardware shops and pet supplies for sale.

Scattered amongst the many shops, there’s no shortage of typical bars where you can have a wine, beer or vermouth on tap with some paella tapas or a calamari sandwich, as well as traditional restaurants where you can enjoy a nice cocido (chickpea stew) or some tripe.

The Museum of Popular Art and Traditions, an interesting museum that houses ethnographic pieces from all over Spain, is also worth visiting. In addition, Saturdays at El Rastro, Madrid’s oldest, most traditional and most iconic leisure fair, is held on the first and third Saturday of each month (in Plaza del General Vara del Rey) and features the best antiques, vintage pieces, auction houses, collectors’ items, gastronomy and entertainment.

The popular flea market held on Sundays and public holidays

The image of El Rastro that immediately comes to mind is that of its crowded, transient flea market which is held on Sundays and public holidays. Documents mention the market as early as 1740. Originally a hub for the sale, exchange and general wheeling and dealing of second-hand clothes, it offered an alternative to street peddling. Its curious name (The Trail) may owe itself to the fact that the market was held near a former slaughterhouse and the dead, unskinned livestock transported to it would leave a trail on the ground. In the 16th century, the word “Rastro” was also used as a synonym for butcher's shop or abattoir.

Today, the market hosts over 1000 merchants who start to sell their goods at about 9am and pack up at roughly 3pm. Located in the vicinity of Calle de la Ribera de Curtidores, the market has its hub in Plaza de Cascorro and occupies a large, almost triangular block delimited by the streets Calle de Toledo, Calle de Embajadores and Ronda de Toledo. It also sprawls down other streets, such as Calle de San Cayetano, Calle de Fray Ceferino González, Calle de Carlos Arniches and Calle de Mira el Río, and into squares like Plaza de General Vara del Rey and Plaza de Campillo del Mundo Nuevo.

Depending on which section you pass through, you’ll find different items ranging from artisanal goods, clothing and accessories to kitchenware, trading cards, second-hand albums and magazines, pets and all sorts of objects of varying ages.

Chapter 12.5

Now when he was a young man,

He never thought he'd see

People stand in line to see the boy king.

It’s true that as pharaohs go, Tutankhamon wasn’t really all that memorable. Not in terms of his achievements. Nor was he infamous for some or other empirical blunder. He was just a kid. Nine years old when he ascended the throne. Dead at nineteen. Perhaps then the Boy King captured the childlike imagination inside of us all.  

Or rather it was his toys. Because the real reason you and I know Tutankhamon was his tomb, and more specifically, all the wonderful things contained within it. Lucky for us, the entrance to his tomb had been obstructed by rubble and debris — likely the handiwork of some fly-by-night ancient Egyptian contractors in the course of their renovation of a neighboring tomb unit in the Valley of Kings (KV). As a result of his being hermetically sealed away as such, like in a storage unit, all of his royal stuff was preserved in near-mint condition. Likewise, the many looters who had plundered nearly every other crypt of note couldn’t get their grubby grave-robbing mitts on it. So that when KV62 was finally discovered, largely intact, in the early Nineteen Twenties, the public could be spellbound by the opulence of these his burial goods. Among the artifacts, a great many of them gilded, there was an iron dagger, rare for the Bronze Age, revealed by X-ray fluorescence to likely have been fashioned from a meteorite. Hell yeah. As well as there were luxury chariots, designer sandals, linens of ancient Egyptian cotton and of course his iconic funerary mask, forged of solid gold, baby. Those and hundreds of other treasures were buried there for what was supposed to be all-time with his diminutive teenage mummy. For he was a sickly boy king. And like Russian nesting dolls, laid alongside his there were a pair of sarcophagi which were tinier still, whose occupants were later proven by DNA analysis to be his daughters, probably stillborns.

(King Tut) How'd you get so funky?

(Funky Tut) Did you do the monkey?   

The media frenzy resulting from the find was unprecedented in the history of Egyptology. Newspapermen from all over the world reported breathlessly as contents were extracted from the tomb and catalogued somewhat haphazardly by the attending archeologists. Their readers simply had to know … What would they dig up next?

They had hit paydirt. Tutankhamon had arisen from his tomb, a popular cultural phenomenon reincarnate. Before there was Beatlemania, there was Tutmania. That was seriously the suffix by which they called his ascent to fame. Three thousand years posthumously, King Tut — as he was so affectionately nicknamed — had achieved -mania Mode. (Other previous and subsequent -manias include: Tulip Mania, a period during the Dutch Golden Age when the speculative price of tulip bulbs reached exceptionally high levels before collapsing dramatically, and Beanie Mania, a period during the American Golden Age wherein the same thing happened with plush toys stuffed with plastic pellets. Also Billy’s favorite -mania, Wrestle, which remains ongoing.) 

They composed big band songs about him on Tin Pan Alley. Cast him a leading man of the silent film era. Women flocked to department stores to purchase household goods, some modeled faithfully after the primeval appliances, others crudely appropriated of their exotic-sounding names and likenesses. 

You can bet your sweet ass that Big Museum cashed in too. Exhibited over the decades from Tokyo to Toledo, Ohio, London to New Orleans, Louisiana, Paris to St. Petersburg (Russia, not Florida), King Tut’s treasures became arguably the most well-traveled relics in history.    

Born in Arizona,

Moved to Babylonia (King Tut).

In the Fall of Seventy-eight, KT — or more specifically a life-size replica of his mummy — was subletting an unfurnished wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the last scheduled stop on his three-year North American Tour. By that time his shit was hot, having already been cargo-shipped around the world and back again. Circumnavigations that included a visit to the former Soviet Union, which at the time harboured considerably friendlier relations with the Egyptian government than its Cold War combatants. As you may imagine, this constituted a great embarrassment to these United States. So much so, that following Secretary of State Henry Kissinger’s deft diplomatic interventions during the Yom Kippur War, President Nixon immediately cashed in the resultant political capital, boarded Air Force One to Alexandria and personally appealed to his counterpart Anwar Sadat to please, let his people look upon these magnificent things. Sadat relented, and years later, while Tut was lying in state at the Met, Sadat was himself stateside at Camp David, signing the as-titled Accords with Israeli PM Menachem Begin.

On that very same day that President Jimmy was brokering Middle East Peace  (okay … two things that Hayseed got right, Hank would have begrudglingly allowed), meanwhilst untold thousands of tourists were descending upon the Upper West Side like locusts with fanny packs, there was An American Band — nay, The American Band — kicking off a three-night run at the New Sound & Light Theater just outside Cairo, which from Tutankhamon’s down valley resting place was about the same length-drive from New York to D.C., albeit along the banks of the Nile, a Hell of a long way from the Hudson or the Potomac. The Grateful Dead gigging Giza and the Great Pyramid was mostly Phil’s project. Go figure. Like they had recently been to Stonehenge or something and he was on this kick about them playing Places of Power. The pyramids are like the obvious number one choice, he said, because no matter what anyone thinks they might be, there is definitely some kind of mojo about the pyramids. Fucking-a. But on the other hand, show me a place of power and I’ll show you one of suffering, someone might could have informed him. Live From Chornobyl. Europe 72 AD (recorded at the newly constructed Colosseum). At Folsom Prison. 

(Plattsburgh Air Force Base? Big Cypress?)  

Whatever. Hank wasn’t there if you were wondering. They’re weren’t hardly any capital-f Fans in the audience. Mostly members of The extedned Family. You know, usual suspects: Mountain Girl, Kesey, Ram Rod, Bill Graham, Bear, Portland Trailblazers’ center Bill Walton, Big Steve. As for local party crashers, the nearly blindingly nearsighted Lesh claimed to have caught out of the corner of his soda bottle-bespectacled eye some shadowy figures gathered on the crowd’s outskirts, swaying rhythmically in dark flowing robes. Somehow it was later backchanneled to him that these were Bedouin, the nomadic horsemen of the desert, and that they’d been drawn in by the lights and the music, falling on and echoing off the eroded profile of the mighty Sphinx. 

Hank did attend one of the shows they put on back home to help offset the cost of hauling all their crew and equipment, all the way to fucking Egypt. (Whereas aformentionedly he heard the debut rendition of Shakedown Street, the title track of the forthcoming studio album.) This had not been a treasure-hunting or even profit-seeking Arabian adventure. What meager proceed there was had been donated to the Antiquities Society. (It belongs in a museum!)

Hank had however seen the Tutankhamun traveling road show when it stopped through his town. Fucking everybody went. Even the Grateful Dead! The band members had been, in a way, so resurrected by their experience in Egypt, that they couldn’t hardly wait to visit the blockbuster exhibit for themselves. Conveniently its final destination was right down the street, at the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum in Golden Gate Park. (The U.S. tour had originally been announced without any San Francisco dates. Area Tutheads bombarded the Mayor’s office demanding that he wield the fullest extent of his executive power to Bring Tut To The Bay. de Young Museum trustees flew to Cairo shortly thereafter to negotiate the terms of his visit.) Let the good times roll!

By all accounts, Jerry had especially high expectations for Egypt. They were going to harness the power of that ancient place and levitate the pyramids, he was purported to have said. Of course, Abbie Hoffman and the yippies had attempted that same metaphysical feat on the Pentagon in the decade prior, granted the geometric parameters were incongruent. They were ten years on from the Summer of Love. Garcia had since forsaken the world-expanding properties of LSD in favor of heroin, which as we know constricts time and space down to a much more manageable plane. Although now the walls of his tomb were closing in on him. Maybe that’s what he felt that day at the museum. That the existential jet lag had set in, and the big trip was really over for good this time. All that was left was the sand in his pockets and all these souvenirs. 

Alas, the show must go on. Record company’s on line one. We got a studio album to cut. One of the lest-remembered tracks on Shakedown St. is its finale: If I Had The World To Give. As a fairly straight-ahead love song, it’s sort of an outlier in the Dead oeuvre, even for a Garcia-Hunter ballad. Okay, obviously, there’s TLEO, but isn’t that about love as a concept, conceptually, rather than the act of loving somebody? THEY love EACH OTHER. And it’s a warning. Their love is like a freight train, and boy they better take care it don’t run ‘em clean over. Easy for you to say, watching from the station.   

A true love song — it could be said — is about love in the first person. I love YOU. From my POV, where I stand astraddle these tracks, I can hear the whistle blowing, see the locomotive coming round the bend, smell the steam now as I feel the cattle guard sweep me off my fancy feet, launching me sky fucking high, to kingdom come. And, baby, I don’t care if I ever come down. Because even if I brought you back heaven and the moon and the shining stars above, you still wouldn’t love me back, would you? Don’t lie to me, baby. That’s alright. That’s just fine with me. Because I got something bigger and better. Don’t believe me? Wait till you hear this … (It could also be said that the best love songs are about romantic feeling unrequited. If he or she already loves you back, then really, what the hell are you strumming an acoustic guitar for, like an asshole? Wasting time which could be better spent screwing. That’s what.) This song that I sing to YOU, with these assembled here today as my witnesses: the acid heads and the speed freaks, the Jerry Side and the Phil Zone, the spinners and the tapers and the nomadic horsepeople. It is a divine force all too powerful and too pure for YOU and ME to keep locked away in this tomb of love. THEY have to know what WE have. It is something they can never understand but they can hear it so that they may feel an infinitesimal fraction of it for themselves. THAT is what all THIS is for. 

They only played it three times, all in that same Fall of Seventy-eight, the last of which rendition was performed in Cleveland, of all fucking places, arguably the third best city in Ohio (possibly fourth best, depending on your tolerance for the delicacy which is Skyline Chili), and undoubtedly a long fucking way from Cairo. (Famously, Cleveland is home to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The city lobbied for the right to host the Hall by citing that local disk jockey Alan Freed had coined the term, Rock And Roll. Additionally it pledged sixty-five million dollars in public money to fund the construction. The building was designed by hall of fame-architect I.M. Pei, who drew up the blueprints for many-a-museum, including the Louvre, which like its Clevelandish cousin, also prominently features a glass pyramid for its plaza facade.) November the Twentieth. By then they were a poorly fucking lot. Bobby was purportedly backstage puking his guts out for the better part of Set Two. Phil, for his part, was by his own accounting a fully-blown drunk in Seventy-eight. Kreutzmann had a cast on his hand, which he busted getting bucked off a goddamn camel. Speaking of the Grateful Dead and their Great Pyramid scheme, the Rocking the Cradle live album they had planned to release as a means to pay for this boondoggle in full had to be scrapped. So here they were, a half a million in the Red Sea, all on account of some crew member had gotten into a row with the piano tuner, who then tendered his resignation in protest. So Keith was off-key in addition to being offbeat. The latter owing to his accelerating abuse of cocaine, which does a number on one’s sense of time. Hard on a marriage too. So, of course, he and Donna were on the rocks. What else is new?

On top of all that bullshit, before the curtain fell, the band’d just been informed of an unspeakable tragedy that had occurred only two days previous. Leo Ryan, a U.S. congressman representing California’s fightin’ eleventh, where indeed all the band members resided (and some of them paid taxes), was gunned down on an airstrip in Guyana. Murdered by an outfit by the name of the Red Brigade on the order of its commanding officer Jim Jones, another erstwhile San Franciscan and embattled leader of the Peoples’ Temple, which had fled to South America to escape persecution for their fringe religious beliefs and raised this settlement that they called Jonestown. (Congressman Ryan had launched this fact-finding mission at the urging of the loved ones of the alleged cult members, many of whom were his constituents. Upon completing his investigation, he was prepared to report back that living conditions were indeed adequate and that, by his judgement, no one was being coerced to remain there against their wills.) Anticipating swift reprisal for this slaying of a sitting U.S. congressman, the Reverend called upon his flock. Rather than be themselves slaughtered by the capitalist pig forces which had been conspiring against them (among whom Jones cited the CIA, the FBI, the U.S. Postal Service and others), he beseechethed thee to commit an act of Revolutionary Suicide. In single file they lined up — men, women and children … alphabetically by height — to be served red plastic cups of grape Flavor-Aid, ladled from a large metal vat. In place of LSD, this fruity concoction had been laced with a cocktail of chemical agents that which notably included the compound commonly known as Cyanide. Small children died within five minutes. Less for babies. (Mothers were instructed to administer their own infants’ doses via syringe.) Adults took an agonizing twenty-to-thirty minutes to succumb. Just over nine hundred people died that day. All but one — Jones was found with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the left temple, his head cushioned by a pillow — died of the poisoning. The events at Jonestown constituted the greatest single loss of American civilian life in a deliberate act until the incidents of September the Eleventh.   

Maybe Jerry was thinking about that. Or, albeit less likely, he could have still been hung up on Ole King Tut, laid to rest beside his wife and half-sister Ankhesenamun, their two deadborn daughters — cherubs, elaborately embalmed — and all their fabulous worldly possessions, when he sang, presumably for the last time, these words: 

Well maybe I've got no star to spare, or anything fine or even rare,

Only if you let me be your world, could I ever give this world to you.

Could I ever give this world to you.

An arctic blast that gripped much of the United States on Saturday left more than 700,000 without power, at least 16 dead from weather-related car crashes and thousands stranded due to flight cancellations. Plummeting temperatures were expected to bring the coldest Christmas Eve on record, and energy systems across the country were strained by rising demand for heat and storm-related damage to transmission lines. The latest outage numbers are a sharp drop from the 1.8 million U.S. homes and businesses left without power as of early Saturday morning, according to tracking site Poweroutage.us. Many electric companies continued to ask customers to conserve energy by not running large appliances and turning off unneeded lights. Duke Energy (DUK.N) by late Saturday afternoon told customers it had ended the 15-30-minute rolling blackouts across North and South Carolina that it had initiated earlier in the day until additional electricity was available. Disruptions upended daily routines and holiday plans for millions of Americans during one of the year's busiest travel periods. More than 2,700 U.S. flights were canceled on Saturday, with total delays tallying more than 6,400, according to flight-tracking service FlightAware. More than 5,000 flights were canceled on Friday, FlightAware said. The American Automobile Association had estimated that 112.7 million people would venture 50 miles (80 km) or more from home between Dec. 23 and Jan. 2. But stormy weather heading into the weekend likely ended up keeping many people at home. Weather-related car accidents around the country left at least 16 dead and hundreds stranded on ice and snowbound roads, according to media reports. In Erie County, in upstate New York, about 500 motorists were stranded in their vehicles on Friday night into Saturday morning, with the National Guard called in to help with rescues, Erie County Executive Mark Poloncarz told media. At least one person was found dead in a car, he said. "There's no place for anyone to go, everything's closed, so just stay home," he told MSNBC. Two motorists were killed, and numerous others injured, in a 50-vehicle pileup that shut down the Ohio Turnpike in both directions during a blizzard near Toledo, forcing an evacuation of stranded motorists by bus to keep them from freezing, officials said. Three deaths were reported in Kentucky, where Governor Andy Beshear, on Saturday, warned residents, "Stay home, stay safe, stay alive." "I know it's really hard because it's Christmas Eve. But we're having dozens and dozens of accidents," he said in an online briefing. "It's simply not safe." Blizzard conditions remained on Saturday for Buffalo, New York, and its surrounding county on the edge of Lake Erie in far western New York where 4-to-6 feet of snow will fall by Sunday, the National Weather Service (NWS) said. The city imposed a driving ban on Friday that remained in effect on Saturday, and all three Buffalo-area border-crossing bridges were closed to inbound traffic from Canada. Temperatures were forecast to top out on Saturday at just 7 degrees Fahrenheit (minus-13 Celsius) in Pittsburgh, surpassing the city's previous all-time coldest Christmas Eve high of 13 F, set in 1983, the NWS said. Cities in Georgia and South Carolina - Athens and Charleston - were likewise expected to record their coldest daytime Christmas Eve high temperatures, and Washington, D.C., was forecast to experience its chilliest Dec. 24 since 1989. The flurry of yuletide temperature records was predicted as a deep freeze sharpened by perilous wind chills enveloped much of the eastern two-thirds of the nation. "The cold snap will persist through Christmas," said meteorologist Ashton Robinson Cook, at the NWS Weather Prediction Center. Minneapolis was the coldest spot in America on Saturday at minus-6 degrees Fahrenheit. On Christmas morning, the coldest spot will be Fargo, North Dakota at minus-20, Cook said. It will start to moderate west-to-east across America, with the high plains and Central U.

S. getting back to normal by Tuesday, but it won't warm up on the East Coast until Thursday or Friday, he said. "For now it's staying cold," he said. The severe weather prompted authorities across the country to open warming centers in libraries and police stations while scrambling to expand temporary shelter for the homeless. The challenge was compounded by an influx of migrants crossing the U.S. southern border by the thousands in recent weeks. The National Weather Service said its map of existing or impending meteorological hazards "depicts one of the greatest extents of winter weather warnings and advisories ever."

Now that Hallowen is near, I have decided to share an interesting book I have been reading in these weeks, its title is Toledo: La Ciudad de los Muertos (Toledo: The City of the Dead), writen by Ventura Leblic García. The topic is to divulge about the stories and death rites of people of the several cultures and religions which have inhabitated the city throughout history. I'll be sharing scans of the pages of the book through posts here on Tumblr if anyone it's curious about the topic. Here's the first set:

PART 1

Cover

Toledo: The City of the Dead

Ventura Leblic García

Covarrubias Editions

Backcover

Toledo is a city that the living and the dead share. It is a great historical necropolis. But do we really know our "neighbors"? Do we know where they "live"? Do we know the cultural and social environment in which their lives were spent? Do we know the culture of death in the different civilizations that inhabited the crag of Toledo? Carpetans, Romans, Visigoths, Muslims, Jews, Christians... their rites around death, beliefs, customs, the evolution of cemetery spaces... It is time to know what history has left us, trying to unravel the truth in the uncertainty of a tomb.

Toledo: The City of the Dead

Ventura Leblic García

Covarrubias Editions 2013

INDEX

Introduction. Page 9

Chapter I. Funerary practices in ancient times. Page 12

The indigenous people. Page 14

Chapter II. The cemetery spaces outside the walls of Toledo. Page 19

Roman cemeteries. Page 19

The early Christian cemetery. Page 24

Visigoth times. Page 31

Toledo's maqbara. The Muslim cemetery. Page 38

Toledo's Mozarabic cemeteries. Page 47

The Jewish cemetery. Page 50

Chapter III. The interior of churches as cementary spaces. Page 63

Chapter IV. Parish cemeteries. Page 70

Chapter V. The cemetery and the municipal cemetery. Page 103

Chapter VI. Royal burials in Toledo. Page 112

The New Kings Chapel. Page 136

New chapel. Page 139

Royal funerals in Toledo. Page 144

Chapter VII. Tombs of royal lineage in Toledo. Page 149

Chapter VIII. Other tombs in Toledo of people who made history. Page 170

The tomb of Doménikos Theotokópoulos "El Greco". Page 178

A frustrated pantheon of illustrious men. Page 182

Don Álvaro de Luna and Doña Juana de Pimentel. Page 188

An empty tomb for four hundred years. Page 191

The tomb of Cardinal Mendoza. Page 194

Francisco de Pisa. Page 196

The flying priest. Bartolomeu Lourenço de Gusmão. Page 197

Chapter IX. The Cistercian monastery of Monte Sión. A case of pantheon foundation. Page 201

The graves. Page 204

Chapter X. Bodies of saints and blesseds venerated in Toledo. Page 215

Chapter XI. Those who did not return. Page 232

Saint Ildefonso of Toledo. Page 232

Grave of Alfonso VI, king of Castile. Page 237

Alfonso X the Wise. Page 239

Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros. Page 240

Queen Joanna I of Castile. Page 242

Alfonso III de Fonseca, archbishop of Toledo. Page 243

Juan de Padilla. Page 244

Francisco de Rojas. Page 248

Cardinal Lorenzana. Page 249

Bibliography. Page 251

Events 1.15

69 – Otho seizes power in Rome, proclaiming himself Emperor of Rome, beginning a reign of only three months. 1541 – King Francis I of France gives Jean-François Roberval a commission to settle the province of New France (Canada) and provide for the spread of the "Holy Catholic faith". 1559 – Elizabeth I is crowned Queen of England and Ireland in Westminster Abbey, London. 1582 – Truce of Yam-Zapolsky: Russia cedes Livonia to the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. 1759 – The British Museum opens to the public. 1777 – American Revolutionary War: New Connecticut (present-day Vermont) declares its independence. 1782 – Superintendent of Finance Robert Morris addresses the U.S. Congress to recommend establishment of a national mint and decimal coinage. 1815 – War of 1812: American frigate USS President, commanded by Commodore Stephen Decatur, is captured by a squadron of four British frigates. 1818 – A paper by David Brewster is read to the Royal Society, belatedly announcing his discovery of what we now call the biaxial class of doubly-refracting crystals. On the same day, Augustin-Jean Fresnel signs a "supplement" (submitted four days later) on reflection of polarized light. 1822 – Greek War of Independence: Demetrios Ypsilantis is elected president of the legislative assembly. 1865 – American Civil War: Fort Fisher in North Carolina falls to the Union, thus cutting off the last major seaport of the Confederacy. 1867 – Forty people die when ice covering the boating lake at Regent's Park, London, collapses. 1870 – A political cartoon for the first time symbolizes the Democratic Party with a donkey ("A Live Jackass Kicking a Dead Lion" by Thomas Nast for Harper's Weekly). 1876 – The first newspaper in Afrikaans, Die Afrikaanse Patriot, is published in Paarl. 1889 – The Coca-Cola Company, then known as the Pemberton Medicine Company, is incorporated in Atlanta. 1892 – James Naismith publishes the rules of basketball. 1908 – The Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority becomes the first Greek-letter organization founded and established by African American college women. 1910 – Construction ends on the Buffalo Bill Dam in Wyoming, United States, which was the highest dam in the world at the time, at 99 m (325 ft). 1911 – Palestinian Arabic-language Falastin newspaper founded. 1919 – Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, two of the most prominent socialists in Germany, are tortured and murdered by the Freikorps at the end of the Spartacist uprising. 1919 – Great Molasses Flood: A wave of molasses released from an exploding storage tank sweeps through Boston, Massachusetts, killing 21 and injuring 150. 1934 – The 8.0 Mw  Nepal–Bihar earthquake strikes Nepal and Bihar with a maximum Mercalli intensity of XI (Extreme), killing an estimated 6,000–10,700 people. 1936 – The first building to be completely covered in glass, built for the Owens-Illinois Glass Company, is completed in Toledo, Ohio. 1937 – Spanish Civil War: Nationalists and Republican both withdraw after suffering heavy losses, ending the Second Battle of the Corunna Road. 1943 – World War II: The Soviet counter-offensive at Voronezh begins. 1943 – The Pentagon is dedicated in Arlington County, Virginia. 1947 – The Black Dahlia murder: The dismembered corpse of Elizabeth Short was found in Los Angeles. 1949 – Chinese Civil War: The Communist forces take over Tianjin from the Nationalist government. 1962 – The Derveni papyrus, Europe's oldest surviving manuscript dating to 340 BC, is found in northern Greece. 1962 – Netherlands New Guinea Conflict: Indonesian Navy fast patrol boat RI Macan Tutul commanded by Commodore Yos Sudarso sunk in Arafura Sea by the Dutch Navy. 1966 – The First Nigerian Republic, led by Abubakar Tafawa Balewa is overthrown in a military coup d'état. 1967 – The first Super Bowl is played in Los Angeles. The Green Bay Packers defeat the Kansas City Chiefs 35–10. 1969 – The Soviet Union launches Soyuz 5. 1970 – Nigerian Civil War: Biafran rebels surrender following an unsuccessful 32-month fight for independence from Nigeria. 1970 – Muammar Gaddafi is proclaimed premier of Libya. 1973 – Vietnam War: Citing progress in peace negotiations, President Richard Nixon announces the suspension of offensive action in North Vietnam. 1975 – The Alvor Agreement is signed, ending the Angolan War of Independence and giving Angola independence from Portugal. 1976 – Gerald Ford's would-be assassin, Sara Jane Moore, is sentenced to life in prison. 1977 – Linjeflyg Flight 618 crashes in Kälvesta near Stockholm Bromma Airport in Stockholm, Sweden, killing 22 people. 1981 – Pope John Paul II receives a delegation from the Polish trade union Solidarity at the Vatican led by Lech Wałęsa. 1991 – The United Nations deadline for the withdrawal of Iraqi forces from occupied Kuwait expires, preparing the way for the start of Operation Desert Storm. 1991 – Elizabeth II, in her capacity as Queen of Australia, signs letters patent allowing Australia to become the first Commonwealth realm to institute its own Victoria Cross in its honours system. 2001 – Wikipedia, a free wiki content encyclopedia, goes online. 2005 – ESA's SMART-1 lunar orbiter discovers elements such as calcium, aluminum, silicon, iron, and other surface elements on the Moon. 2009 – US Airways Flight 1549 ditches safely in the Hudson River after the plane collides with birds less than two minutes after take-off. This becomes known as "The Miracle on the Hudson" as all 155 people on board were rescued. 2013 – A train carrying Egyptian Army recruits derails near Giza, Greater Cairo, killing 19 and injuring 120 others. 2015 – The Swiss National Bank abandons the cap on the Swiss franc's value relative to the euro, causing turmoil in international financial markets. 2016 – The Kenyan Army suffers its worst defeat ever in a battle with Al-Shabaab Islamic insurgents in El-Adde, Somalia. An estimated 150 Kenyan soldiers are killed in the battle. 2018 – British multinational construction and facilities management services company Carillion went into liquidation – officially, "the largest ever trading liquidation in the UK" 2019 – Somali militants attack the DusitD2 hotel in Nairobi, Kenya killing at least 21 people and injuring 19. 2019 – Theresa May's UK government suffers the biggest government defeat in modern times, when 432 MPs voting against the proposed European Union withdrawal agreement, giving her opponents a majority of 230. 2020 – The Japanese Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare confirms the first case of COVID-19 in Japan. 2021 – A 6.2-magnitude earthquake strikes Indonesia's Sulawesi island killing at least 105 and injuring 3,369 people. 2022 – The Hunga Tonga-Hunga Haʻapai volcano erupts, cutting off communications with Tonga and causing a tsunami across the Pacific.

I want to know, how and why did you become a fan of the teams you are a fan of? I genuinely want to know. I'll start and go in alphabetical order (I'll only talk about the teams that I will actually post about, to help it from getting too long):

Columbus Blue Jackets: I was a huge Rick Nash fan as a kid. I wouldn't say I was necessarily a Blue Jackets fan at that time, but I was a big Rick Nash fan. I did have some affinity towards the team though, seeing that I grew up in Ohio. Then I was a Bobrovsky fan, and at some point, I don't know when, I just became a fan of the team, instead of just individuals.

Detroit Pistons: My first love in sports. They're the team that not only got me into basketball, but into sports, period. I loved Chauncey Billups and Ben Wallace. Heck, I modeled my own game after Chauncey. I read every book I could find on basketball. It's history, tactics, etc. I have never done that for any other sport, even hockey, despite it being my current favorite sport.

Detroit Red Wings: My current favorite team. I was raised a Red Wings fan. Lidstrom was my favorite hockey player as a child (then later Zetterburg, and then Howard, and now Vrana). “Hockey” was also one of my first words. So, yeah, I was raised a Red Wings fan.

Fort Wayne Komets: It took me awhile, but after living in the area, and now the actual city itself for nine years, I grew into a fan. It helps that this is the only hockey team that I can listen to on local radio.

Michigan Wolverines: pretty simple, I was raised to be a Wolverines fan, despite how hard extended family wanted me to be a Notre Dame or Ohio State fan. I admittedly almost went down the Notre Dame route, but then Denard Robinson showed up, and I was a Michigan fan for life.

Minnesota Whitecaps: I wanted to get more into women's sports, and so I looked up to see what women's hockey leagues there were. I found the PHF, and chose the Whitecaps because of the color scheme and jerseys. That's the whole reason.

Toledo Walleye: it's pretty simple honestly, I was born and raised in the Toledo area. I have only been to one hockey game in my life, and that was as a toddler. We went to a Toledo Storm game. I barely remember it, but I remember having fun. So, even though the Storm are dead, becoming a Walleye fan wasn't too hard.

Anyway, those are the teams I am a fan of (the ones I tweet about, anyway). Now, tell me about your teams and what made you a fan of them!

While browsing through the various counties, I noticed a special building that stood out in the game UI which was the City Walls of Toledo. It is currently owned by Emir Yahyah of Tulaytulah, which gives the Wilayah of Tulaytulah a good smattering of buff modifiers.

Meanwhile, my rival Rodrigu whom I had been holding in Alfonso's prison and reserving for a special time to execute, was assassinated by King Antso of Navarra our cousin, as part of our ongoing house feud with House Oviedo over the murder of Alfonso's sister and lover Infanta Urraca. This assassination of Rodrigu accomplished our vendetta and Alfonso chose to end the house feud with Oviedo, since the original murderer was dead.

With El Cid leading the army at the Battle of Hervas, another decisive victory was secured, and with the final capturing of al-Ishbuna, we won the war of the Leonese Clash against Taifa of Batalyaws which lasted from 30 Sep 1069 - 23 Jan 1073.

No Monsters in Me - Chapter 1 (blur detectives! au)

Summary: October 31st. A call from Scotland Yard interrupts a silently night in a small police station between Essex and London. Four detectives answer the solicitation and dive into the vanishing of a farmworker. The case got more disturbing when the investigators found a dead body totally melted and carbonised, but with his clothes intact.

Genre: Mystery, horror, thriller.

Word count: 1549 words (chapter 1)

Warnings: This story contains graphic descriptions of violence and death. Not recommended if you’re underage or have triggers to these subjects.

A/N: Hello! As a huge fan of detective and mystery stories, I decided to write my first Blur fanfiction in an alternative universe where Blur members’ are investigators. This story is based on a true event that happened in 1994 in a small city called Pedro de Toledo, in Brazil (www). This is my first story written completely in English, so I’m sorry if I did any mistakes. Hope you like it!

 [I] 

The call ended abruptly.

— Alex, we need to go. - Damon uttered, removing his leather jacket from the wood coat hanger. — Prepare to go while I tell Graham and Dave.

— Why? - Alexander inquired. His dark eyes didn’t even get up from the masculine magazine he read so attentively. — What so serious happened for all four to leave at the same time?

— The Scotland Yard superintendent called. A farmer in Brentwood said his farm caretaker vanished and his animals are dead.

— Oh. - the man said, realising a long pause to swallow his cigarette. — Tell the farmer to hire a worker that feeds his animals and not flee with prostitutes. Case solved.

Damon studied James for some minutes and desired to be unconcerned like him. Alexander graduated with honours from the London Police Academy. He was an expert shooter, despite not showing his abilities in public. The tall and slim man had a typical celebrity charm and attractive extroversion that gave him success between the women from the London-Essex boundary.

— We'll leave in ten minutes, inspector. - Damon limited his speaking, walking into the interiors of the small delegacy.

After walking through an empty corridor, the sergeant arrived in the small room where Graham Coxon was. A rock song surpassed the sound of the thick raindrops falling out at night.

Coxon was a skilful forensic investigator. Despite starting his career a few years ago, he demonstrated an emphasis compared to his workmates. Mostly known for his sharp analysis capacity and the precision of his investigative methods, Graham was brilliant but retiring. Yet Damon, Dave and surprisingly Alex were the only ones capable of starting a friendship with him.

— Graham? - Damon called him, reclining into the door frame.

— Yes, sergeant? - the lad emerged behind a big shelf full of books.

— No formalities, please. - Albarn outlined a rapid smile. — A farmer relates the death of his animals and the vanishing of his home-keeping in Brentwood borders. Let's go over there and verify what happened. We'll leave in ten minutes.

— Alright. I'll dress my coat and take my bag.

When Damon turned around, the figure of Dave suddenly appeared in his front. The gingered-hair man sipped a steamy drink that Damon judged be tea.

— Dave, what a fright! Oh, you caught me off guard!

— Sorry, sergeant. - Rowntree gave a smile between the sips. — Something happened?

— We're going to check an occurrence in the York-Shepherd Farm in Brentwood. 

— A farm caretaker vanished?

— How do you know?

— I heard you talking to Graham. - the scribe put his free hand in the trousers pocket.

— I hope the man just drank too much and locked the farmer out of his house. But, anyway, let's realise our work.

— Certainly, sergeant. I'll get ready.

Albarn watched David leave in silent steps. Rowntree was the older between the four and his family served the United Kingdom Police for decades. He chose to follow the administrative area and realised the bureaucratic work like no one. Practical, organised and, above everything, loyal: Damon knew he could count on Dave on any occasion.

Alex was the last man to enter the vehicle with his gun and distinctive, wearing a heavy overcoat. Rowntree was the driver and Albarn was impatient in the passengers' seat. Coxon and James shared the rear seats.

The car started running through the rain, cutting the dark streets of Essex. The storm only seemed to increase.

— Tell us, Damon, the details about the case. - Alexander broke the silence instituted in the group. — By the way, what's the name of the farm?

— York-Shepherd. - Damon answered, running the hand through his blonde hair. — The owner's name is Roger Shepherd. He hired a man to take care of the farm while he was on a business trip. Roger came back from Surrey and found some of his animals dead in the estate entrance. The worker vanished and the farmhouse is locked.

— Let's do this: - Alex delineated a smile with the corner of his lips. — I bet this is something serious. This farm caretaker was a scammer and escape with some money. Or he's drunk in the farmhouse with some woman. If I'm right, you three are owing me a drink after the expedient. If I'm wrong, I'll pay for your drinks.

— This is a serious thing... - Graham mumbled, straightening his glasses.

— I remembered something. - Dave passed straight to a semaphore. The urban landscape became more sparse while the first rural properties appeared progressively. — The York-Shepherd farm already staged a vanishing case. If this man disappeared, maybe we're dealing with something cyclical.

— How do you know this? - Alex questioned.

— I know a lot of things. - Dave answered with his neutral voice tone.

— I'm starting to feel something very strange in this. - Damon muttered, fixing his blue eyes on the horizon.

[II]

The investigators faced a crooked dark way that lead to the entrance of the York-Shepherd Farm. Damon and Graham shared a brolly; Alexander and Dave divided the other. At the end of the path, an ajar gate, whose creak filled the air, indicated they should follow to the property interior.

A putrid smell invaded their noses. Coxon's eyes immediately fixed in dozens of dead chickens spread by the farm's entrance, dispersed in the sludgy route, shed under the twisted trees and in the sparse lawn.

The group accelerated the steps.

Roger Shepherd was waiting for the detectives not too far from the entrance, shrunken into a heavy grey overcoat. His hectic hands were crumpling a checkered beret and the few hair strands he had were dishevelled, trembling according to the wind.

— Detectives! Oh, finally you arrived. - Roger shouted, walking towards the four. David readily gave his umbrella to protect the man from the precipitation.

— Mr Shepherd, sorry for our delay. - Damon articulated, extending his hand and receiving an energic and quick greeting. — This is Graham, the forensic investigator, David, the scribe and Alex, the inspector.

— I'm ashamed for my manners, lads, but I think I saw something inside the house. You need to see this. - Roger pointed to the house.

The old Shepherd started an anxious walk in large steps to the farmhouse. The construction followed an antique gothic design and was raised imperiously in front of a small and dark lake. Built on two floors involved in shadow and fog, the York-Shepherd house provoked discomfort in Damon. The more the sergeant studied the building, its cracks and stains on the wall, the more the thorns of affliction pierced his chest.

The elderly stopped by the side of a lancet window, peeked inside, realised several nods with his head, sighed and walked away. With a pale face and perplexed eyes, told:

— Look, sergeant! Look at this! I refuse to believe that is he! Poor Ravenswood!

Albarn approached step by step, half-closing his blue eyes to look at what was inside. He glanced at the interiors searching for what disturbed Roger Shepherd in that way. When he found it, an instant node formed in his throat.

— Alex, enter. - the sergeant mumbled to the inspector. James nodded, taking out the weapon from its holster. — Mr Shepherd, keep your distance, please.

Alexander pointed his gun to the door lock. A well-calculated shot ripped the air and hit the latch, causing a metallic noise that mixed with the sound of the rain. Two kicks were necessary to open the door, revealing a dim and silent hall.

— Dave, write Roger's testimonial and call Scotland Yard for reinforcements. Graham, don't enter the house in any hypothesis until we verify if all the rooms are empty. - Damon said, looking at Coxon for some moments. Removing his revolver from the case, Damon followed Alex and entered the farmhouse.

James held a lantern above his gun, partially illuminating the hallway. The house was full of patterned carpets and mysterious paintings, confusing and creating illusions in the scatterbrained eyes. The people portrayed in the pictures seemed to observe the sergeant and his inspector entering the house, the painted eyes following their careful steps.

Alexander and Damon parted ways when a bifurcation made the large corridor follow opposite sides. Pursuing the right track, the sergeant came across two half-open doors: one led him to a piano room and the other was a space full of bookshelves. Both were empty, but something captured the sergeant's attention: the windows of the two rooms were blocked with thick wooden slats.

— Oi, Damon! Come and see this! - James' voice echoed far away.

Albarn followed Alex's voice in fast steps. He met the inspector in the last room of the left corridor. The light beams from the lantern pointed in the direction of something that made Damon's stomach turn over: a dead man's body completely carbonised and tense was on the centre of the chamber.

Alex and Damon looked at each other.

— Shit. - James cursed. — I lost three beers.