Captain Coffee H. Watson
My name is Jamie and sometimes I do things like write and make bad jokes and look like Martin Freeman. This is my face. I'm taken by a gorgeous girl with a Latin name, diamond eyes, and porcelain skin. I curse a lot and I talk too much. It's all fine.
GRYFFINDOR
{ wear }
Dogs Howling
Anonymous sent: Favorite book, favorite drink, favorite body part

Favorite book: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Favorite drink: I drink a lot of water?? If we’re talking soda, then probably root beer and if not soda then orange gatorade yes many drinks

Favorite body part: Of my own? I really like my calves! Of other people? I always notice peoples’ hands and I think hands are interesting, they can tell you a lot about a person.

EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT | an upbeat mix to pick you up when you’re feeling down and remind you that you’re gonna be just fine, because you’re awesome and there’s nothing you can’t handle

(Source: heathicorn)

Anonymously message me (3) things you want to know about me.

(Source: shitf4ced)

(Source: holmeswilliam)

You are a
hurricane of
a girl;

remember
to breathe
every once

in a while,
do not drown
within your
own storm.

—I think I saw you smile once, Emma Bleker  (via seulray)
sickpage:

Tiene Carlierour body fits perfectly, 2013

sickpage:

Tiene Carlier
our body fits perfectly, 2013

deducecanoe:

fictionalnotfactual:

Scarlett Johanssen and Dita Von Teese - Flaunt USA October 2006

Mmmmfffttt

ivyblossom:

Sherlock Holmes is, if nothing else, odd-looking. He is a truly weird collection of physical characteristics that by rights shouldn’t work, but do. He’s all angles, for a start. He has small, sharp eyes. He’s a bit old-fashioned looking, a bit out of place. His hands are too big, his arms don’t seem to fit properly. His neck is too long. His waist is tiny. He’s skinny. His face is long and thin, intense and tightly controlled, but his hair plays paradox and is shiny, joyful, and out of control. Physically, it’s like he doesn’t make sense. But you can’t take your eyes off him. You can’t figure out how he works, and you want to try. You can only imagine that some part of him rests in another dimension, just outside of your range of vision, making him so oddly beautiful. You want to touch him, but you know you can’t.
John Watson, on the other hand, is perfect. Perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary, the golden ratio of a man. His eyes, nose, and mouth fit perfectly into his face. His hands are precisely the size and shape they should be: his torso is neither too long, nor too short. He is the platonic ideal of a man, a Vitruvian man. You can tell by looking at him that, if you measured his outstretched arms, you would also be calculating his height, down to the last inch. He is so perfectly in proportion that he easy to overlook. When he walks he is perfectly stable, because his legs are the perfect length for his body, and so he has a perfect stride. He does not stomp, lose his balance, or stumble. If you aim for where his heart ought to be, you won’t miss, because where his heart is supposed to be is precisely where it is. John Watson is the most perfectly ordered man you can imagine. Misjudge him, and he might kill you.

ivyblossom:

Sherlock Holmes is, if nothing else, odd-looking. He is a truly weird collection of physical characteristics that by rights shouldn’t work, but do. He’s all angles, for a start. He has small, sharp eyes. He’s a bit old-fashioned looking, a bit out of place. His hands are too big, his arms don’t seem to fit properly. His neck is too long. His waist is tiny. He’s skinny. His face is long and thin, intense and tightly controlled, but his hair plays paradox and is shiny, joyful, and out of control. Physically, it’s like he doesn’t make sense. But you can’t take your eyes off him. You can’t figure out how he works, and you want to try. You can only imagine that some part of him rests in another dimension, just outside of your range of vision, making him so oddly beautiful. You want to touch him, but you know you can’t.

John Watson, on the other hand, is perfect. Perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary, the golden ratio of a man. His eyes, nose, and mouth fit perfectly into his face. His hands are precisely the size and shape they should be: his torso is neither too long, nor too short. He is the platonic ideal of a man, a Vitruvian man. You can tell by looking at him that, if you measured his outstretched arms, you would also be calculating his height, down to the last inch. He is so perfectly in proportion that he easy to overlook. When he walks he is perfectly stable, because his legs are the perfect length for his body, and so he has a perfect stride. He does not stomp, lose his balance, or stumble. If you aim for where his heart ought to be, you won’t miss, because where his heart is supposed to be is precisely where it is. John Watson is the most perfectly ordered man you can imagine. Misjudge him, and he might kill you.

(Source: cumberbum)

(Source: theatrefetish)