Can’t believe Bram Stoker once sent a 2000-word fan letter to Walt Whitman which included his exact height, weight and how much he loved his poems and wanted to be friends with him, and that Whitman wrote back saying he liked his letter and hoped they could meet some day, how cute is that
And then he finally got to meet him and Stoker said “I found him all that I had ever dreamed of, or wished for in him” HOW CUTE IS THAT
Ok, I went to look this up, and it is amazing. Bram Stoker actually wrote this long-ass stream of consciousness letter that spanned about 2000 words and which–judging by most sites–had 0 paragraph breaks and just went on and on about his Feelings. He then proceeded to keep that letter in his desk for four years because he was too shy to send it. He finally sent it, along with a slightly less rambly letter, on fuckin Valentine’s day in 1876. In it are such wonders as:
If I were before your face I would like to shake hands with you, for I feel that I would like you. I would like to call you Comrade and to talk to you as men who are not poets do not often talk. I think that at first a man would be ashamed, for a man cannot in a moment break the habit of comparative reticence that has become a second nature to him; but I know I would not long be ashamed to be natural before you. You are a true man, and I would like to be one myself, and so I would be towards you as a brother and as a pupil to his master. In this age no man becomes worthy of the name without an effort. You have shaken off the shackles and your wings are free. I have the shackles on my shoulders still—but I have no wings.
[…]
If you care to know who it is that writes this, my name is Abraham Stoker (Junior). My friends call me Bram. I live at 43 Harcourt St., Dublin. I am a clerk in the service of the Crown on a small salary. I am twenty-four years old. Have been champion at our athletic sports (Trinity College, Dublin) and have won about a dozen cups. I have also been President of the College Philosophical Society and an art and theatrical critic of a daily paper. I am six feet two inches high and twelve stone weight naked and used to be forty-one or forty-two inches round the chest. I am ugly but strong and determined and have a large bump over my eyebrows. I have a heavy jaw and a big mouth and thick lips—sensitive nostrils—a snubnose and straight hair. I am equal in temper and cool in disposition and have a large amount of self control and am naturally secretive to the world. I take a delight in letting people I don’t like—people of mean or cruel or sneaking or cowardly disposition—see the worst side of me. I have a large number of acquaintances and some five or six friends—all of which latter body care much for me.
[…]
It is vain for me to try to quote any instances of what thoughts of yours I like best—for I like them all and you must feel that you are reading the true words of one who feels with you. You see, I have called you by your name. I have been more candid with you—have said more about myself to you than I have ever said to any one before. You will not be angry with me if you have read so far. You will not laugh at me for writing this to you. It was with no small effort that I began to write and I feel reluctant to stop, but I must not tire you any more. If you ever would care to have more you can imagine, for you have a great heart, how much pleasure it would be to me to write more to you. How sweet a thing it is for a strong healthy man with a woman’s eyes and a child’s wishes to feel that he can speak so to a man who can be if he wishes father, and brother and wife to his soul.
I don’t think you will laugh, Walt Whitman, nor despise me, but at all events I thank you for all the love and sympathy you have given me in common with my kind.
Three weeks later–which, considering the speed of transatlantic mail at the time, pretty much means immediately–Walt Whitman wrote back. He had, at the time, been recovering from a paralytic stroke three years earlier that had left him, in his own words, “entirely shattered—doubtless permanently, from paralysis and other ailments,” but he still found the time to respond with a much briefer but still very affectionate letter, the opening paragraph of which read as follows:
My dear young man,
Your letters have been most welcome to me—welcome to me as Person and as Author—I don’t know which most—You did well to write me so unconventionally, so fresh, so manly, and so affectionately, too. I too hope (though it is not probable) that we shall one day meet each other. Meantime I send you my friendship and thanks.
[letter source]
Despite Whitman’s parenthetical remark about the improbability of meeting, Stoker did eventually manage to call on Whitman a couple of times some years later, and expressed that
I found him all that I had ever dreamed of, or wished for in him: large-minded, broad-viewed, tolerant to the last degree; incarnate sympathy; understanding with an insight that seemed more than human.
Whitman, meanwhile, found Stoker “an adroit lad,” and “like a breath of good, healthy, breezy sea air.” Adorable.
Look…. To start a book… You have to make room in yourself for new characters and worlds. Do I look like I have the emotional energy for that? Do I look like I can trust like that right now? Just show me the things I already know pay good returns on my investment, except I also want to read something new so I guess they can be in a coffee shop this time.
This fic was inspired by fakesngay's amazing Bucky fan art and strongly encouraged by @delaber
Word count: 4k
Summary: Bucky wants to be tied up, teased, and denied.
Need to know: Sub!Bucky, soft dom!Reader, hands tied, tease and denial, edging, oral (male rec), masturbation, slow teasing handjob, titfuck, p in v, ball worship, cock worship, use of the word daddy even though Bucky is the sub, very light mommy kink, fluffy ending
Please do not post this anywhere else. Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)
Bucky should have been embarrassed. His cheeks should have been ablaze. He should have been stammering excuses and attempting to cover his stiff cock and the mess he had made all over himself. And he would have if he had heard you come in. But he heard nothing beyond the whimpers and moans playing on his phone as he built himself up to another orgasm.
"Whatcha watchin' Buck?"
"Oh shit!" Bucky, once a highly trained assassin, and current crime-fighting partner to Captain America, threw his phone across the room and yanked his blanket over his lap. "Noth–nothing!"
You weren’t supposed to be home until next week! Not that he was complaining, the past two weeks without you had been miserable, but your timing could have been better.
You raised an amused eyebrow at him and bent over to pick up his phone. The erotic noises started again as soon as you unlocked it.
Bucky internally groaned as he felt his cheeks heat up. He was so caught off guard, and his brain was still so full of lust that he couldn't think straight. He needed to get up and take the phone away from you before you saw too much, but he couldn't move fast enough.
He wasn't embarrassed about the porn, but he was embarrassed about that particular video. A video in which a man was tied to a bed while a woman pleasured him over and over, never letting him reach orgasm. No matter how much the man begged and pleaded or how much the woman seemed to enjoy what she was doing, she always stopped short of the final touch that would send him soaring. Bucky had never expressed these desires to you; to be fair, he never knew he had them until today when he stumbled on this video and so many others like it.
He had a routine with you, he always took the lead in the bedroom, and you liked that; he did too. Loved it, in fact. But this…he could be into this too.
But what if you weren't? What if it turned you off? Weirded you out?
You locked his phone and threw it on the dresser before stepping out of your boots and walking toward him.
"And here I was thinking that you missed me."
"Of course I did! I'm sor–"
Your finger pressed against his lips, effectively shushing him. Bucky's mind raced, trying to think of how he was possibly going to fix this. Maybe he could say he hadn't been watching that video; he had accidentally clicked on it.
His panicked thoughts dissipated when you leaned forward and kissed him. It was too gentle for how long he had been apart from you, but it still made his head swim.
"I missed you," he whispered, chasing your lips. "So much."
"I know," you kissed his neck and slowly moved your lips down to his chest. "But it seems you've been a bad boy. Haven't you?"
Holy fuck. Bucky's breath hitched as you threw his blanket on the floor and eyed his heavy cock with heat in your eyes. Were you actually into this? The smirk on your face told him that you were.
"I asked you a question." You dragged one finger down his muscled thigh.
"Ye–yes," Bucky stammered, still nervous despite how excitedly his body reacted to you.
You leaned forward again, whispering in his ear, "you want this, daddy? Want me to take care of you this time?"
You calling him that never failed to turn him on, apparently not even when he wasn't the one in charge. "God, yes, yes , angel, please." Bucky groaned as you sucked his earlobe.
Not even ten minutes later, you had his wrists tied to the bed and his thighs shaking as you teased him with your tongue. You were working your way up from his feet; each toe had already experienced the delight of your warm mouth and swirling tongue. The pleasure shot up his legs straight to his cock. It was big and hard, curved up against his belly, red and angry at the lack of attention it was receiving. But Bucky breathed through it; you were at his thighs now, almost there. Your teeth gently sunk into his inner thigh, and he groaned as his cock flexed, searching for stimulation. Bucky clenched his jaw as you moved to the other thigh, and your breath tickled his heavy balls. Your mouth repeated the same ministrations, yet the bite still made him shudder.
This was it; finally, you were gonna put your mouth where he needed it most. He was focused on trying to regulate his breathing and gain control over himself, so he didn't immediately start thrusting into your mouth. But disappointment and frustration drew a low groan from him when instead, your tongue slid up the seam where his hip meets his pelvis.
"Such a goddamn tease," he huffed as you did it again. "Please?"
You ignored him, moving to his other hip to repeat the actions. Your warm tongue slithered so painfully close to his cock that he gasped and lifted his hips. You did it again and again, humming at the taste of him. When your lips locked tightly around a piece of skin on his hip as you sucked a bruise, he cried out.
"Please! Please," he drew out the word in a needy moan, "please fucking touch me."
Your eyes flicked up to his for the first time since you had settled between his legs. "No. I'm gonna go shower."
"Wha–what?" Bucky stared at you in disbelief as you climbed off the bed and started shedding your clothes.
"I just got back from a two-week mission. I'll be back." You winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom.
Surely you were joking, right?
Bucky groaned when he heard the water turn on. He could break out of his restraints and join you, but you would have told him if you wanted that.
His eyes squeezed shut in frustration when he heard your music start. That wasn't good. You only played music when you planned on taking your time. How long would you make him wait like this?
He looked down his body at his dick. The tip was red and weeping, pointing up at him accusingly. But, he had never felt so turned on in his life. He could only imagine how good his orgasm would feel once you granted it to him if you granted it to him. His hips flexed up at the thought of being denied, of you using him only for your pleasure.
"Fuck me," Bucky muttered to himself, trying to keep the images of what he knew you were doing in there without him out of his head. Soap-covered breasts and wet thighs. He wasn’t doing a good job. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to try this new kink after missing you and your body for the past two weeks. He could have already been inside you, had you screaming his name…his thoughts were interrupted when you finally exited the bathroom. You were wearing your robe, and Bucky hoped nothing else underneath it.
"Better?" He asked, trying not to sound too impatient.
"Much," you grinned and straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him. You did it properly this time, with all the passion you both had been missing out on.
Bucky hummed in pleasure, a drunk look on his face when you pulled back.
"How we doing, daddy?"
Bucky's eyes fluttered closed, "Need you so bad."
"What do you need, daddy?"
Bucky licked his lips as he watched you sit up. But you didn't give him a chance to answer before you were hovering over his throbbing erection. God, he hoped you didn't have anything on under that robe.
"You need this?" You gently lowered yourself until you were sitting on his cock.
"Fuck me!" Bucky's hips surged up. Your bare pussy gently rocked against his length. "Need–shit–need inside of you."
"Oh baby, I don't think you can handle that," you pouted at him, rocking your hips a little faster. "You’ll come.”
“No, no, I won’t, please, angel?” Bucky’s voice had never sounded so strained. And he was making promises he couldn’t keep.
“You're close already, aren’t you?”
Bucky ignored you, rocking his hips up in time with yours. His dick was nuzzled in your warm wetness, and his tip caught on your entrance with each thrust. Yeah, he was fucking close.
“Aren’t you?” You repeated, undoing your robe and shrugging it off your shoulders.
“No,” Bucky gritted out.
“Liar,” you smirked and lifted your hips, leaving him thrusting into the air.
“Fuck, fuck,” Bucky took a few deep breaths, but you didn’t give him too much time to recover.
You helped move him into a sitting position with his back against the headboard his wrists were tied to. You straddled him again but kept your warm pussy out of reach, instead choosing to wrap your hand around his aching length as you kissed him.
The sound that came out of Bucky’s mouth as you stroked him from base to tip, making sure to press your thumb into the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, was embarrassing. But he could not care less at the moment. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, your soft legs straddling his hips, and your intoxicating lips hardly left his.
“That feel good, baby?” Your husky voice made his cock throb in your hand.
“Yeah, gonna come,” Bucky answered.
“Yeah?” You taunted in a breathy voice.
“Yeah,” Bucky grunted against your lips.
You moaned along with him as if he was inside you and gave him two more firm strokes, but when his eyes fluttered closed, you stilled your hand at the base of his cock until his breathing settled. Then you started again. And again.
“Let me touch you,” Bucky groaned as you sped up your hand. He wanted to touch and squeeze every inch of you. The restraints dug into his arms he flexed against them.
“No.” You sat back and wrapped both hands around his cock.
The up and down twisting motions of both your hands on him were too much. He couldn’t even form the words to warn you that he was about to come. But you knew and stilled, except for your thumb, which rubbed achingly slow circles against the sensitive spot on the underside of his sensitive tip. Making sure he stayed on the razor-sharp edge without falling over.
“Holy shit,” Bucky mumbled; the veins in his neck popped as he tried to will his orgasm to continue.
“You close, Buck?” You murmured against his lips.
He could only respond with a high-pitched desperate noise as he tried to thrust against the pad of your thumb.
“I bet you are; I can feel your legs shaking.” You let him go and sat back again so you could see him. The pout on your face made a dribble of precum leak from his tip. “Poor baby, this looks like it hurts. Maybe my mouth will make it feel better.”
Bucky whimpered as your warm tongue lapped at his heavy balls and trailed gently up his cock. You made sure your tongue touched every inch of his cock. The gentle caress of it was both too much and not nearly enough. You looked so concentrated, so intent on giving him the most pleasure you could; Bucky could only describe it as worship. But he needed more. He needed you to wrap your lips around him and take him into your throat like he knew you could.
Finally, as if you could read his thoughts, you kissed his leaking tip, and your tongue slid seductively over it. Fuck, this was more than a kiss; you were making out with his sensitive head, moaning and using your tongue like a goddamn weapon.
“Holy shit, angel, that feels so good,” Bucky moaned, the back of his head hitting the headboard. He tensed, waiting for the moment your mouth slid further down his shaft, but it never came. You seemed content to tongue him without ever wrapping your lips around him like he needed.
He lifted his hips, trying to force himself past your swollen lips, but you moved away, focusing your tongue on the spot under his head that made his toes curl.
“Good god, please just suck it, angel, fuck it hurts!”
You smiled at him, and Bucky knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted anytime soon. You straddled his thick thigh and began grinding on it while you continued to run your tongue slowly over his cock.
He wished you would at least match the pace of your tongue to that of your frantic hips. Then a new strategy hit him.
“Angel, let me taste you; I’ll make you come, please.”
You let out a short, breathy laugh. “Oh, come on, Buck, you think I’ve forgotten about all the times you’ve come just from eating me out? No way.”
Bucky groaned; he was beyond frustrated. His cock was shiny with your saliva, yet he hadn’t even been in your mouth, and your warm wet pussy was so close yet so far. He could tell you were about to come, and he would give his right arm to be inside you when you did.
You teased his cock again, nearly slipping it past your lips but stopping short. Fuck being inside you; he would settle for your throat right now.
“Oh my god,” Bucky moaned and pulled on his restraints. “I’m so fucking horny, fuck, suck it, angel,” his voice was throaty and deep as he begged.
“What’s the matter, daddy? Thinking about fucking my face right now? Want me to be your good girl and take it all? Open my throat up real nice for you?”
Your voice shuddered as you came hard on his thigh. He flexed it up for you, drawing your orgasm out as much as he could and hoping you’d return the favor.
With a tired but satisfied sigh, you slid off his thigh and landed between his legs again. Bucky nearly yelled when your mouth wrapped around his balls. You sucked on them like you typically sucked his cock. Cheeks hollowed, moaning, and messy. You tongued at the tight seam down the middle of his balls, and Bucky’s thighs started to shake again.
“Please?” He whimpered.
You ignored him, sucking him like it was your life’s work.
“Please,” he said a little louder, “please suck my cock, I’m begging, fuck your mouth feels amazing, suck my cock, angel!”
You slowly pulled your mouth off of his blue balls and placed a soft kiss on his tip. “Okay, but you’re not gonna like it.”
Bucky lost track of time as you gave him the blowjob he had asked for, no teasing, no slowing down, at least not until he was about to come down your throat. Then you stopped everything and listened to him beg for mercy before you repeated the process over and over again. Eventually, you got bored of blowing him and started torturing him in new ways. You edged him with your ass, grinding on him while you fingered yourself, your hands, and even your feet when you got tired. Every part of you that he worshiped, worshiped him right back.
Now his twitching dick was buried between your breasts. And just like the video, no matter how much he begged, you got him to the edge and stopped. He was very close to crying. His legs were shaking, his body covered in sweat and precum. The sounds coming out of his mouth were hysterical; at one point, his gasping, whining moans made it sound like he was laughing. But nothing was remotely funny about how bad he needed to come.
He bit his lip, trying to hold back the brimming tears. You were so fucking into this, and it turned him on so much he was buzzing out of his skin. The angry tip of his cock peeked out between your breasts, and you tilted your head down to swipe your tongue across it.
“Jesus, fuck, please, please, please,” he said like a prayer. But it went unanswered as his balls tightened and your warmth disappeared. A frustrated tear ran down his cheek.
“Angel, please, please, I can’t take anymore.” His breaths came in gasps, and his voice shook.
Your hand was on his face in seconds. You made him focus on you as you shushed him and brushed his tears away.
Once he calmed down, you kissed the tip of his nose and then both eyes. “You good, baby? Color?”
You smiled wide at that. “I’m glad, baby, but as much fun as I’m having,” you leaned in closer like you were going to tell him a secret. “I really wanna come on your cock. I’ve never seen it so hard, and I need it inside me right fucking now.”
Bucky groaned, “yes fucking do it, please.”
“You’re gonna be my good boy, right?”
“I’ll–try.”
You smirked and straddled his lap again, lining up his cock and slowly sinking down on it. “If you come without my permission, I’ll ruin it.”
That got Bucky’s attention, even as his brain started to turn to mush at the feeling of your pussy gripping him. “Wait!”
But it was too late, your ass settled flush against his thighs, and you both groaned at the feeling of finally being united. You didn’t give yourself, or Bucky, time to adjust. Your hands landed on his heaving chest as you worked yourself frantically up and down his cock.
“Oh god! You gotta slow down!” Bucky’s hands clenched as he fought his restraints. The sound of his vibranium arm whirring with the effort to stay put made your pussy flutter around him.
“Can’t,” you breathed out, “feels too fucking good. I should keep you this hard all the time.”
Bucky whimpered; he fucking wished. He just had to hold off until you came, and then you’d let him have his too. He tried to focus on something other than how fucking good your tight pussy felt sliding up and down his dick. Or how beautiful you looked using him for your own pleasure. Or the fucking sounds coming out of your damned mouth. His hips were thrusting faster than they had the right to be.
“Oh god, right there, daddy,” you gasped as his swollen cock head rubbed against your g-spot. “Fuck my little pussy.”
These were things you usually moaned in his ear when he had his way with you—when he filled you up over and over until you couldn’t take anymore. And now he couldn’t do anything but take what you gave him. He felt the pressure in his cock grow, and his balls tightened painfully.
“I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky’s body tensed; he swore he could feel his cum moving up to the base of his cock. He couldn’t stop it; he needed it too damn bad.
“You’re not,” you said matter-of-factly, reaching behind you to pull his balls down, effectively stopping his orgasm. “You don’t have permission.”
Bucky couldn’t form words anymore; he was beyond rational thought as he writhed underneath you.
“I’m gonna come for you, daddy, gonna come all over your fat cock.”
Jesus, you were cruel.
More tears streamed down his face as your orgasm hit you and your walls clenched rhythmically around him, trying their best to make him come too. He couldn’t breathe. His words came out between gasps of air. “Please! Let me come! Oh god, oh god!”
But you didn’t answer him; you kept your iron grip on his balls until your orgasm ended. Then you slowly sat up until his cock slipped from you, and he let out a pained whimper.
“Don’t worry, baby, mommy’s gonna take care of you. You did so well.”
Bucky didn’t know why but that made a choked sob exit his mouth. Despite everything, he swore he had never felt this good. You had spent hours showering him with attention, worshiping every part of his body, and now? Now you were gonna take care of him.
You gave him a soft smile before turning around and assuming his favorite position. He loved your ass more than he loved himself sometimes. He sucked in a deep breath as you once again slid his cock inside your tight heat.
“Knees up so you can fuck me properly.” You tapped on his thigh, and he immediately planted his feet on the bed.
You started moving, and he met your thrusts, slowly at first, he was already so close to the edge, and each bounce of your ass made him want to dive straight over.
“Faster, Buck,” you groaned.
He hesitated, his balls already tight in anticipation. “I can come?” He almost didn’t want to ask.
“If you fuck me harder. Give it to me!”
Bucky took that as a yes, and his head fell back as he pounded into you as hard as possible in this position. Your sounds of pleasure made his cock twitch inside you, and his balls got impossibly tighter. He swore they were gonna snap off if they tightened anymore.
“Please don’t stop; god, I’m so close,” Bucky huffed, moving like a machine with how hard and fast he was fucking you.
“Such a good boy, fucking mommy so well, baby.”
Your words broke him and healed him at the same time.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck, fuck , I’m coming!” A spike of fear flitted through him at the thought that you’d pull away at the last second once again, but it quickly disappeared when the first shock of pleasure pulsed through him from head to toe. He had stopped moving, moaning in ecstasy, but you kept riding him through it, taking him for everything he had.
“Oh god, I can’t stop cumming,” he gasped, “feels so fucking good,” Bucky whined, finally breaking his bonds to hold you. His flesh arm wrapped around your chest, holding you close and squeezing your breast. The other wrapped around your hips and helped you move.
“Thank you,” he murmured over and over again with his face buried in your neck.
“I’m so full, daddy,” you groaned and kept grinding your hips until you came again.
Bucky gasped as the pleasure quickly turned to pain. He had never been so overstimulated. But keeping true to your word, you eased off him quickly. You turned around in his arms and planted kisses all over his face, careful to avoid touching him anywhere else.
“How about a warm bath, Buck?”
Bucky nodded, trying to talk but giving up when only mumbled nonsense came out. It made you laugh, though, which made him smile.
“Was that better than your video?” You asked as you laid him back onto his pillow.
Bucky managed a weak thumbs up as his head lolled to the side.
“Good.” You kissed his temple and left the bed.
Bucky wanted to reach out for you, but by the time he made his arm move, you were too far away. “Come back,” Bucky mumbled.
“I’m right here. Gonna clean you up. Bath later.”
Bucky hummed in pleasure as you gently cleaned his body with a warm towel. “Thank you,” he whispered as he rolled to the side so you could slide the towel he had used to protect your sheets out from under him.
It felt like you were gone forever as he fought his slipping eyelids. He didn’t want to fall asleep without you there. But just as he was about to lose the battle, you slid in bed behind him and laid your warm cheek against his back.
“Hi.”
Bucky smiled as he felt your breath against his skin. “Welcome home. I missed you.”
You responded by squeezing him tightly. “Sleep; I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Bucky fell asleep with a soft smile on his face, safe in the knowledge that nothing between you had changed and feeling more loved and cared for than he ever thought possible.
no pressure tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shamelessfangirl-3 @thenhewaswrongaboutme @buckmepapi @summerofsnowflakes @delaber @captainsimagines @healanette @raindrcpsangel @rookthorne @bucky-barnes-is-a-cupcake @bbyboybucket @thestrangestinthisstrangeland
I notice alot of my followers on here skipping these posts just to mess with my lgbt ones, suspiciously the white popular ones.
Heres a not so friendly reminder, as an lgbt metis person, i dont give a single fuck what your blog is themed or if this is too painful for you to look at. Reblog this post. Reblog this post with the sources of the 751 children who were found.
Your compliance and silence as well as the compliance and silence of your ancestors is what allowed these schools to open and kill first nations children. The children of MY people.
Dont follow me if you cant reblog this post or the one with sources to your political blog or your most popular blog. Add trigger warnings if you must but if your political blog is only focused on the harms you personally face like being lgbt then you need to see some bigger pictures and stop being afraid of angering your racist mutural or actually saying some shit about racism. If you can reblog some antifa graphics or add blm to your bio to be a surface level ally, you can reblog some sources on the genocide first nations people faced and still face today.
Fake comic covers inspired by The Swimsuit Special, an annual magazine-styled comic book published by Marvel Comics from 1991 to 1995. If you are interested in my other Marvel series, check out my Marvel Series Masterpost. ♥
Tatiana Maslany was literally insane for playing like 12 different people with the same face and then interacting with multiple versions of herself for five whole seasons
No! No, but here's the important thing! She did it so flawlessly, that you would actually forget these characters are the same actress.
I found myself feeling bad for the actor who plays Alison's husband, because "he never gets to work with Maslany," because in my head I kept equating her with Sarah, when literally he only worked with Maslany!
The special effects were so seemless, and her performances were so flawless that we have never seen this gimmick done this effectively, this naturally. And I don't think we ever will again.
It’s impossible to describe how phenomenally good a job Maslany did with these characters. Like, it wasn’t just that she played every one of these characters so genuinely and distinctly that you forgot they were the same actress. It was also that the characters, being clones, would deceive people by playing each other.
Alison would be on the screen, and you’d be like, “that’s Alison”. Then Sarah would be on the screen, and you’d be like, “that’s Sarah”. Then someone who looked exactly like Sarah would be on the screen, and you’d be like, “Oh, Alison is pretending to be Sarah.” And some of the clones were better at pretending to be each other than other clones were. And you could always tell who you were looking at and who they were trying to imitate.
the best thing about this is that when there’s plenty of resources, domesticated cats will naturally form colonies. in these colonies female cats raise their kittens communally with their kin. so you get situations where moms will raise kittens with their daughters from a previous litter, cats from the same litter will raise kittens together, etc. so not only does this little old kitty see her human as family, she is also excited to help her with her kitten.
She initially auditioned with psychiatry as her topic, and the producers basically told her that it wasn’t dramatic or interesting enough of a topic. For example, Gino Prato, the first big winner of the show ($32,000) was a shoemaker whose topic was Opera.
So she did a bit of research and found that there were relatively few facts and statistics when it came to boxing. So she just studied up and memorized them all, came back and said “I’m an expert on boxing”. And they took her.
In addition to not wearing makeup, she was simply too calm answering the questions. They felt she was boring. So they started asking her questions like the name of the referee in a boxing match. But clearly she had researched from the same books they were getting the questions, cause she’d memorized it ALL.
And it was basically that national exposure that made her one of America’s most well-known psychiatrist - she became a staple on talk shows and the like for the rest of her life.
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