In Japanese folklore, Gashadokuro, (がしゃどくろ) also known as Odokuro, or (“starving skeleton”) are giant skeletons that are fifteen times taller than an average person. If a Gashadokuro sees a human, it will grab it and attempt to bite its head off with its giant teeth. Gashadokuro are created from gathering bones from people who have died of starvation. The only way a Gashadokuro can be detected before it appears is by hearing a ringing in one’s ears.
People who are being targeted by this mammoth- sized skeleton hear extremely loud bells ringing throughout their ears. Gashadokuro targets people when they are alone. It roams about after midnight.
When in need of comfort, look no further than a duo of cheese and potatoes staring back at you.Skillet Scalloped Potatoes
just a reminder that tomorrow is the day the first kaiju is set 2 attack us
Heeee—our local shop finally has it!
if you put a period at the end of your post i don’t trust you
Star Trek fans, rejoice!
We cannot wait to see what Benedict Cumberbatch brings to the table with his portrayal of a new super-evil villain.
“He’s one mean dude!” Pine told us at the L.A. Film Festival premiere of People Like Us. “He’s great. Wait till people see. He’s going to knock it out of the park, I promise.”
Details are still being kept very under wraps, but Pine, 31, promises the flick will be “bigger and brighter, faster and louder on the effects side. And on the character side, these characters are all still on their journey to becoming the crew that we know and love from the original series.”
OMFG NO. NO. NONONONONONO. STOP.
Well, I’m having to use my imagination and you know it’s a weird one…
just a friendly reminder that this blog is still nsfw and I WARNED YOU ABOUT NSFW BRO I TOLD YOU DOG
uh so what happened here is i was just taking a break from working to doodle and suddenly some crazy johnlock shit happened you know what it’s good anatomy practice oh shut uuuup
Benedict Cumberbatch in Wreckers
Carried away with an experiment involving flammable substances and cotton fiber, John’s old robe was toast, and that was putting it lightly. He came home to the smell of smoke and the smoldering mess that lay in the kitchen sink.
“What the hell? Sherlock!” The raven-haired man poked out of his room, in a grey shirt and black slacks, looking prim and polished, not evidence of his wrong doing, safe for the sorry look in his eyes and the ashy remains of the garment.
“It was an accident. For an experiment.”
“You used my dressing gown? Why?! Why not use your blue one?” He poked and prodded at the musty lump with a spatula before slamming it down and clutching hi forehead in both hands.
“You have no respect for my personal belongings. What if You came home and found your violin busted or-or your bloody skull in pieces?”
“I wouldn’t mind much, I’d have to go out of my way to replace them, but I would get over the setback.” John stared at him with white hot fury.
“There you go! There you sodding go! You have no sentiment for things like that, so you think it’s okay to tamper with mine? I need some tea.” He turned and cleaned out the sink before making a kettle. Sherlock didn’t have much to say, so he retired to his room, to think.
John sat in the living room, tapping at the keyboard of his laptop, chronicling their latest case. He wasn’t as angry as he was the few days before, but he still wished Sherlock were more…human.
Sherlock strolled casually into the room, with a large bag in his hands. John didn’t look up from the screen, and when he didn’t, Sherlock cleared his throat to make his presence known.
“I know you’re there, I just don’t know why you want me to look at you, I’m busy.”
Sherlock leaned over, clicked Save and closed his laptop, tossing it on John’s empty armchair. John’s anger was creeping back. Before he could stand to protest and retrieve his laptop, Sherlock gently put the bag in John’s hands, smiling like a git.
John eyed it and gave a small, annoyed pout. “Dead cat? Conjoined twins? Anthrax? I really don’t—”
“Please, John. I insist.” His eyes were kind and an apology hung in them as he nodded at the bag. John sighed and opened it, pulling out a lump of fabric. It was a new dressing gown. Black with thin crème colored stripes.
“This is lovely, Sherlock. But you didn’t—”
“Don’t tell me I didn’t need to, of course I needed to. I destroyed the last one and got you a new one. It’s Egyptian cotton. I hope it fits, try it on for me, would you, I need to know if I need to get a different size.”
John started slipping his arms through when Sherlock stopped him.
“In order for me to know if it actually fits, John, you need to remove your clothes.”
“I bought it, it’s the least you could do.” John stood, looking down at the gown in his hands before handing it to Sherlock and removing his jumper. His undershirt and—reluctantly—his jeans followed. He was down to his shorts and socks and reached for the robe. Sherlock pulled it away and his sincere grin turned sinister.
“All of them.”
“Sherlock, no. My underwear won’t make a difference.”
“Fine, put it on.” He tossed it at John who slipped it on effortlessly. Synching the front and started to model it a bit, turning and looking at himself. He saw how incredibly short it was and began to blush.
“It’s…uh…it’s kind of short, Sherlock.”
“It looks fine to me.” His words were so nonchalant, but his eyes and lips told another story. Stepping forward, Sherlock reached down and ran a hand up John’s leg, tucking under the fabric and pulling at the waistband of his shorts. He cupped John and found him quite hot already, and began scoping every inch he could get his hands on. Slow and savory, with Sherlock’s breath running over his cheek.
John’s breath was growing shallow as Sherlock’s head dipped down to bite at his neck, delicate fingers shimmying John’s shorts from his taunt arse and thighs, pooling at his feet.
“Just short enough, I’d say.” He growled into John’s ear as he pressed him into the wall. Sherlock spun John around and untying the robe, he clews with on hand over his chest and stomach, while gripping his hardened member with the other. John was already breathless and they had only just begun. Sherlock’s mouth latched at John’s nape, sucking and tonguing at the burning skin.
“God, Sherlock…” He moaned, feeling Sherlock rubbing himself against the cleft of his arse, the silky smoothness of the gown like heaven over his skin as Sherlock rocked into him, and pressed the fabric over his back and his shoulders as well. The stirring in him was unreasonable, and it was all because of Sherlock, he had to let him know.
“Feels so good.” John managed to choke out as Sherlock’s fingertips grazed over the crown, hips rocking into the groove of Sherlock’s fist as it swept back down the length. Faster and harder still, Sherlock started whispering sweet things in his ear, edging him on, making him shake and want and keen. It was too good, it couldn’t last.
And there was the crashing blow, as Sherlock pressed hard at the base of his cock, sparks fluttering from his eyes. John arched his back and through the friction against his back, Sherlock’s fingers against him and Sherlock’s mouth on his neck, he climaxed. The ache of his muscles was countered with the pleasure rolling through his whole body, his release was rough and overwhelming. Sherlock heard his own name in his ears and felt John’s seed rolling over his fingers as they slowed to a stop.
He drew his hand up in front of John’s face and showed him, nuzzling into his ear.
“I’m a bit dirty, love. So are you. I think we should do something about that.” John panted and turned, smiling just as wide as Sherlock was. He reached out and grabbed the taller man, kissing him hard enough to make Sherlock dizzy, he deserved it. The gown was shed as they hurried to the shower, but not for long; it would always find use with these two around.
In an interview with Empire on the set of SHERLOCK Season Two, Benedict revealed how the ending of the The Hobbit films might play out. (from a book written in the 1940s, a minor speculative spoiler)