basement flat

December 20 1973 - The ETA blows up Spain’s fascist prime minister and successor to Franco, Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco in what was called Operación Ogro. 

Operación Ogro (Operation Ogre) was the name given by the Basque liberation group ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna) to its assassination of Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco, the Prime Minister of Spain, on 20 December 1973. 

Over five months an ETA commando unit using the code name Txikia dug a tunnel under the street from their rented basement flat in Madrid – telling the landlord that they were student sculptors to hide their true purpose. The tunnel was packed with 80 kg of explosives that had been stolen from a Government depot.

On 20 December, a three-man ETA commando unit disguised as electricians detonated the explosives by wire as Blanco’s car passed. The blast sent Blanco and his car 20 metres into the air and over a five-storey building. The car crashed to the ground on the opposite side of a Jesuit college, landing on the second-floor balcony. 

The gif is from a Spanish movie about the operation. [video]

Whispers Under Ground - The Domestic

It has been brought to my attention (by the lovely @sixth-light​) that I am the only member of the tiny fandom in possession of a copy of Whispers Under Ground with the Waterstones’ short story The Domestic. And since this is probably my favourite of all the ROL shorts I think it’s a crying shame that the rest of the tiny fandom hasn’t read it. so here, for your reading pleasure:

The Domestic by Ben Aaronovitch

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Much Tweeting About Crushing

JILY CHALLENGE | @chierafied vs @tadasgay
 Social Media AU

in which James has a hopeless crush on his neighbor and tweets about it, which is fine. Until Evans follows him.

My belated submission for September’s @jilychallenge. You know you’re in too deep when you make a secondary Twitter account so you can get screenshots to include in your silly one shot… >_>

James blinked at the grey cat curled in the middle of his bed.

The cat stared back at him, seeming to dismiss him at the same time.

Feeling confused and just a little surreal, James did the only fathomable thing: fumbled for the smartphone tucked in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled it out.

The cat studiously ignored him as he snapped a picture, then clicked to share it on Twitter.

James’ fingers skimmed across the screen to furiously type a tweet.

The cat yawned.

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Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 1

On FFdotNet and Ao3

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 1 - A Ros(i)e By Any Other Name (Fanworks focusing on Molly & Rosie’s relationship)

Happy Birthday, Rosie

On Rosie’s first birthday, Molly wept at the unfairness of it.

She woke up in the morning and tried not to feel down.  There was a birthday party to attend, after all; and Rosie would need her Aunty Molly to be full of cheerful smiles and comforting words in a room full of less familiar faces and loud voices.

John had been a little overwhelmed with trying to plan a party for a one-year old. Sherlock had been no help at all.

(“She’s one.  She won’t remember a cake and a bunch of grown-ups standing around in stupid party hats.  Why even bother?”)

So it had fallen to Mrs Hudson and Molly to plan a small gathering, more for family and friends than for Rosie herself.

It had been fun at first, planning and giggling over pretty invitations and smash cakes.  Picking a dress for the tiny girl, and a matching shirt for her Daddy.

That’s when it stopped being fun for Molly.

John had grumbled but agreed to wear a button down in the same lavender shade as his daughter’s frilly outfit.  Molly found herself thinking “Mary should have a matching dress.  Or perhaps a ribbon in her hair.” and that was all it took.

Still, Molly pushed through and hid her sadness.  The only one who noticed kept his observations to himself, although she did feel the weight of Sherlock’s gaze following her out the door when she left that evening.

She managed to keep it all inside until the cab ride home after the party.

And then the tears came because Mary Watson should have been there to see her daughter’s first birthday.  Rosie Watson should have been able to feel her mother’s loving kisses and hugs every single day of her childhood.  And someone had taken that away from them both.


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Beastly Chapter 5 (Sherlock x Reader)

Originally posted by fakiramagururluburjuva

Title: Beastly Chapter 5

Summary:  “For who could ever learn to love a beast?“When Sherlock Holmes is cursed due to his cold heart, can he finally fall in love and get it back in return?

Warnings: Pretty much the whole series is just a bad telling of Beauty and the Beast…so…

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The Game

I was going through my Instagram account and came across this old drabble I did a long time ago, based on ↑↑↑↑ that photo.

Dean x Reader AU



“Down here, Hun?”
You heard your husband’s voice coming from the ‘man cave’.

It was actually your basement, with a big flat screen tv, a couch, pool table, a bar on a corner and some other stuff that Dean had placed around as ‘decoration’.

You poked your head down from the small stairs.
“Hi baby, I’m home!” You said with a big smile.

“Hello princess, hope you don’t mind but the rest of the guys are coming over and we’re watching the game…” You nodded and looked around to see your brother in law.

“Hi Y/N/N!” Sam said waiving at you.

“Hi Sammy! Is Jess at your place? I’ll just go over there and we can catch up with some gossip.” You said coming down the final steps.

You walked towards Dean as he leaned to kiss you sweetly on the lips.
“Your day good?”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later… You need anything before I go?”

“Nah hot stuff, just gimme another kiss and then go have your fun!” He wiggled his eyebrows and you guys kissed again with a little more passion.

“Get a room you two!” Sam said as he took a beer from the mini fridge.

“We have our suit prepared for later.” Dean responded before smacking your ass making you yelp.

You said bye again, going up stairs, out the street and next door, to your BFF’s, that happened to be married with your husband’s brother.

And you couldn’t wait to tell her the big news before anyone else knew.

As you opened the door from her house you place a hand on your still flat belly. Guessing Dean could wait, Jess always was the first to know everything!

The Price

It had been 4 months since the divorce was finalized. John kept living in his basement flat after Mary moved out, a decision Sherlock did not understand. Baker Street was a lonely place without John and Sherlock was baffled by the fact that John hadn’t asked to move back in. John hadn’t even slightly hinted at wanting to move back in. He still met Sherlock every few days for cases or to get dinner after his shifts at the clinic. Sherlock found himself texting John everyday as if they still lived together. John would even bring milk and groceries occasionally because he knew Sherlock would never buy any on his own. But this distance took its toll on Sherlock and one day after finishing dinner and an exciting case, he finally broke. John walked out to hail a cab when Sherlock called to him, pleading.

“John. Please. Move back to Baker Street.”

“What? Sh-Sherlock, I can’t…”

“Please. John. I’ll do anything you ask. Name your price. Just… name it and it’s yours. Anything.”

“Sherlock, you can’t be serious - ”

“Name it! Christ, I’ll give up corrosive experiments in the kitchen. I’ll take Mrs Hudson out more often. I’ll do the shopping. I’ll play your favourite song on the violin until my fingers chap! Anything! Anything you want just, please… come back to baker street.”

“Sherlock, I can’t move back in. I can’t. It’s… not how things are anymore.”

“Why not?! You loved living there! We had remarkable adventures together, you know, if you include nights in watching crap telly or coming to blows over a rousing game of Cluedo…”

“Stop it, Sherlock. Just… stop this. I’m not moving back.”

“Why not?! WHY NOT?!”

“Because my price is too steep.”

“Try me.”

“Jesus, S-Sherlock, just… trust me when I say you can’t afford the price it takes for me to move back in with you.”

“I want you to name your price, John. Please.”

John swallowed and sucked in a breath as a cab approached. He pulled open the door and stuck himself in. Looking out at Sherlock on the sidewalk, door still open, John named his price.

“I can’t move back in because I don’t want things to be like they were. Sherlock, that life that we had isn’t enough for me anymore. It was great at the time, but it isn’t enough. I’ve loved and I’ve lost, then I loved and lost again. I am not the same John Watson you met all those years ago. I want a partner, Sherlock, someone to share every part of my life with. EVERY part, you get that? I’ve never had it all. Not with you, not with Mary, not with any of my other partners throughout the years. I crave that, Sherlock. I crave having someone to come home to and wake up to. I crave feeling comfort in their arms. I crave the thrill of the chase. But there’s no point in naming my price because it’s too rich for your blood. You’ve made it abundantly clear you are not up for the challenge. Please, Sherlock, just leave it alone. Things cannot be as they were. Never ask me to move back in again.”

Sherlock was stunned silent as John stared out from the cab.

“Oi, mate, it’s getting a bit scary again. Look, I’m sorry I said anything. Just get in, we’ll share the cab, drop you off first.”

Sherlock climbed in and refused to look John in the eye. They sat in silence the whole way to Baker Street. Upon arrival, Sherlock asked John one question.

“Can I have one night?”

“One night? For what?”

“One night to convince you to move back in.”

“Sherlock, I told you never to ask me again-”

“I won’t ask you again. I promise, John. But only if you’ll do this for me. Spend the night here, with me, and in the morning if you want to leave you can, I won’t stop you.”

“But what good is that going to do? I’ve already made up my mind. Besides, I don’t have a change of clothes. My bed doesn’t have any sheets or pillows; it’s just a bare mattress-”

“I hardly see how that’s a problem,” Sherlock lazily called out behind him as he opened the cab door and led the way to 221b.
“You’ll be spending the night in my bed.”



Fashion, music, and collaboration… aren’t they fantastic? Courant creative director Franck Lada never thought his mind would merge to create a brand so unique in a space that is now very saturated thanks to the ease of creating online shops in the digital era.

Mostly because of his sensitive creative process often played out in his mysterious basement flat/office/music studio and vintage showroom; eventually leading to a random commission with underground artist Ben Montero.

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On 7th December 1989, the body of missing 15 year old Karen Price was discovered buried in the garden of a house being renovated by builders. Wrapped in carpet and badly decomposed, Karen was last seen on 2nd July 1981 before running away from a children’s home in Cardiff and remained untraceable until her death over 8 years later.

Although initially unidentifiable, Karen’s body had been submerged in clay under the ground and so the remnants of some materials remained preserved. Investigators were able to determine that the bra worn by the mystery woman was a 36B and manufactured by a Liverpool company called Shadowline, which was sold by a Cardiff retailer called Mrs Knickers. Additionally, the deceased was found to be wearing a size 18 Levi sweatshirt sold around 1980, which also gave detectives an approximate time of death. Meanwhile, facial reconstruction artist Richard Neave had been able to recreate Karen’s physical appearance by using her skull as a guideline. This is essentially what brought about the identification of Karen Price, as the likeness of the model caused her parents to come forward and subsequently provide a positive DNA match. This particular case was actually noted as one of the first to successfully incorporate the use of DNA technology.

In 1991, two men named Idris Ali and Alan Charlton were arrested and charged with Karen’s murder. Charlton had occupied the basement flat at the residence where Price’s body was uncovered and Ali solicited himself as a pimp to teenage runaways in Cardiff. Apparently, Ali had persuaded Karen to become a prostitute after learning that she was desperate for cash. A few weeks later, Ali met Charlton and told of his links to the local prostitution rings. In return, Charlton gave Ali an invite to a sex party taking place at his apartment. He took Karen there with him. Whilst there, Charlton asked the victim and another 13 year old girl to perform lesbian acts, and once Karen refused Alan Charlton turned very nasty. He allegedly beat her until she was unconscious, all whilst the other younger girl cowered and cried. Following this, Mr Charlton restrained Karen’s hands behind her back, forcibly placed a plastic bag on her head and proceeded to rape her. Her body was then buried in the back garden, with the help of Mr Ali. Once imprisoned, Idris Ali’s sentenced was reduced to manslaughter and as a result he was released in 1994. However, Alan Charlton is still serving a life sentence.

America: Hello! I’m Alfred!

Canada: I’m Matthew.

A: I messed up Arthur’s magic in the basement and now this flat box with letters and buttons appeared on our play room floor. Arthur said not to touch it, but it’s too late now!

We made this… thing… together, so come ask us questions!

C: Oui, and Papa Francis comes over a lot too. So you can ask him and Arthur questions!

England: What are you two doing?!

A + C: Nothing!