People on the ceiling. Great sign.
Never have I ever wanted to reach through the TV and hug a fictional character more than I want to hug Sam right now.
i think this could be useful for the people who is not totally sure about spend their money in this movie, it has their good and bad points, but generally is a great movie, so please, let’s show them that “An Hispanic story” can be as good as any other one, or even better!.
Alaina Huffman / 9 favorite pictures
Castiel, sort of from my original story. Started out as vent art. Sketched with my dominant hand before I got injured, inked and colored with my non-dominant hand. :)
Goes with this song.
New drinking game for the Constantine Facebook promos:
Someone mentions Keanu Reeves - 1 sip
Someone bashes Keanu Reeves - 1 sip
Someone bashes the people bashing Keanu Reeves - 1 drink
"The movie was crap!" - 1 drink
Incoherent defense of the movie - chug the bottle
Castiel is invoked - 1 drink
Constantine accused of ‘copying’ Castiel’s costume - chug the bottle
John Constantine crouched like a predator on the coffee table, a near-spent cigarette in his lips. The regular thread of smoke hazed the negative space while he watched both Castiel and Jack Harkness in turn. Detroit filled the massive windows behind them with snow, lending a wan blue light to the dark space.
Castiel leaned forward, interrupting Constantine’s meditations. He didn’t reach out for the cigarette; time and experience warned him better. He smoothed his palm along Constantine’s thigh instead, where it nested around his own knee. The low couch put Castiel’s face on level with the magician’s.
The smoking continued; ashy exhales washed across Castiel’s cheeks. He tried not to grit his teeth.
Suddenly, Constantine’s eyes locked on his. Castiel felt the edge of power, dark magic brushing over an angel’s Grace with a hum like two naked powerlines. The cigarette butt sketched a glowing smirk.
"Don’t try so hard, Feathers," Constantine purred, plucked Castiel’s hand and pushed his cheek right into the cupped palm. His eyes closed. "You play a pretty, pretty long game, but I’m not in the mood.”
“John,” Castiel growled.
michael morpurgo, writer of war horse, and joey the horse visit the tower of london