Morena Baccarin portrayed Ryan Reynolds’ on-screen love interest in the film.
You’d think an A-lister like Ryan Reynolds would make a lasting impact on anyone he kisses… but it appears you’d be mistaken.
Morena Baccarin spent two days kissing the Canadian star, comparing it to ‘kissing a gigantic latex condom’.
Blake Lively, if you’re reading this, before you see red and go ape s*** on your husband and baby daddy, remember that he was merely acting while filming Deadpool.
If you saw the 2016 film, you’re surely familiar with the sex’scene’, which is actually a collection of sequences showing a year of intimacy.
Baccarin was entrusted with kissing her on-screen spouse during the original Deadpool film and its 2018 sequel, when she played the protagonist’s fiancée, Vanessa Carlysle.
In fairness to the Wrexham owner, he was wearing a mask during the jam-packed sex scene montage, and Baccarin praised his professionalism throughout.
In the funny scene, the couple dress up in various clothing to honor the various seasons and holidays that occur throughout the year.
They celebrate Valentine’s Day, International Women’s Day, and Christmas, among other national holidays.
In 2017, Conan O’Brien interviewed Baccarin about the film, during which she discussed the X-rated two-day shoot.
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She responded: “[The film] was really fun… minus the two days of sex scenes, it was wonderful, the whole experience.”
The Greenland star went on to say, “It took two days to shoot the sex scene since I believe we had been making beautiful love for a year. So it was all about the holidays, you know. “So we dressed differently for each person.”
Baccarin told People magazine in 2018 that Deadpool’s costume did little for Reynolds.
“I keep saying that kissing him in that mask is like kissing a giant latex condom,” she said.
“It basically just smells like rubber the entire time.”
That’s not what you want to hear from the person you’re kissing, right?
However, Baccarin has stated that her co-star’s professionalism made the entire situation acceptable.
“There is a lot of laughter. “That stuff is always uncomfortable,” she told Collider in 2015. “But, we made the best of it.”
Baccarin added, “By the end of the day, you’re like, ‘Okay, where do you want me, how do you-?’” You’re spreading your legs and saying whatever; it’s just that you become used to each other.”
Okay, I’m not exactly a kissing expert; in college, a friend overheard a girl I kissed at a party declare she ‘just had the worst kiss in her life’… but she didn’t call me a condom, did she? Yates 1-0 Reynolds.
I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.
Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.
I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.
Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.
Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.
At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.
I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.
I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.
Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.
I never should have opened that door.
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