So this was supposed to be a smut but then it just became a ball of fluff so there will but two more parts to this so I can put the smut in - Gigi
You were sitting in the local library reading through a text book; studying for your next exam. Your muscles in you bum and legs were all but frozen from sitting in the same position for hours.
“Hey, we are closing in fifteen minuets,” the old librarian said on her way past.
You closed the text book feeling pretty happy with what you had learnt. Once you had all your things you made your way out into the car park. It was just your car and a sleek black antique car.
You were lost in a world of equations and biology that you did not notice the figure standing in your path. He had his back turned to you, inhaling his cigarette.
“What the f-,”
You had ran into the back of Luke Hemmings, one of the toughest kids in the area. At only eighteen he had almost covered his whole body in tattoos and piercings, there was even a rumor that he had his penis pierced.
“I am so sorry,” you say before all but running away to your car.
You had finished school for the day and was walking through the car park of the library when you saw the same black sleek car as last night.
Once in the library you saw a very odd sight. There sitting at the table in the middle of the room was Luke Hemmings. He was frowning at a book absently turning its pages. You walk past over to where you normally sit and started to study. Luke stayed until you left later that afternoon.
The next few days passed just the same Luke would be sitting at the table in the middle of the room frowning at his book and would leave at about the same time as you.
A week later you walked in and Luke was sitting at the chair across from where you sit; still reading his book. You took your seat, eyeing him carefully before starting to study. Occasionally you would glance up at him and he would be frowning; he was always frowning.
“Good book?” after hours of silence you finally ask. You assume the worst that could happen would be him telling you to fuck off.
“Umm.. sorta…” Luke looked up at you and your breath stopped, his eyes were beautiful, such an electric blue.
“What book is it?” you ask glancing down at it and you notice that he had been reading the same book for almost over a week.
“Shakespeares sonnets,” Luke left his finger the mark where he was at and showed me the cover. The tough boy Luke Hemmings was reading Shakespeares sonnets.
“So, you like Shakespeare?” you ask.
“I like listening to it. Though it is quite umm…difficult to read,” he said looking down embarrassed.
It was common knowledge that Luke had dropped out of school at the ripe age of fourteen and that even when he was at school he did very little; so his inability to read Shakespeare was understandable.
“I could help,” you offer quickly adding “if you want,”
He looked down at his book and then back up at you considering you offer.
“That-that would be nice,” he said.
You walked over and took the empty seat on his right and he laid the book between you both.
“Read out loud and I will help you with the words you don’t know,” you say and he starts to read.
“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses…”
“red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music…”
“a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.”
Whenever Luke paused you were filled in the word. You could just listen to his deep voice for hours…and that is what I did.
“We are closing in fifteen minuets,” the librarian said as she walked past holding a book.
We had been sitting there for hours reading through Shakespears sonnets.
Luke silently walked you out into the parking lot which was empty save for the black car.
“You shouldn’t walk home in the dark,” Luke stated “I’ll give you a lift,”
You follow him towards his car, climbing in once he had unlocked it. It was very close to the ground…it looked like Dean Winchesters car.
“Just let me drop you on the corner or something, you don’t have to tell me where you live,” Luke said once the car started.
You gave him directions to the corner right near your house.
“Thank you for helping me,” Luke said sheepishly.
“I had fun,” you said smiling before climbing out of his car.
Marilyn was the best read “dumb blonde” in movie history. Acutely conscious of her lack of official education, in adult life Marilyn was eager to read as much as widely as she could. As a starlet she was seen touting major classics onto the set, and she continued to take reading matter - “heavy books, not light and flight books,” as her stand-in Evelyn Moriarty once said - with her when shooting her last films.
Marilyn was eclectic in her literary tastes. When Marilyn first met Arthur Miller in 1951, they went together to a bookshop where she bought poetry by Frost, Whitman, and e.e. cummings. In his autobiography Timebends,Miller observes, “With no cultural pretensions to maintain, she felt no need to bother with anything that did not sweep her way. She could not suspend her disbelief toward fiction, wanting only the literal truth as though from a document.” He also notes, “With the possible exception of Colette’s Cheri and a few short stories, however, I had not known her to read any thing all the way through. There was no need to: she thought she could get the idea of a book - and often did - in a few pages.”
On her first publicity tour in 1949 for Love Happy Marilyn retired to her hotel room to read novels by Proust and Thomas Wolfe, as well as Freud’s writings on dreams. For entertainment she dipped into Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. During shooting she had often been seen intently studying a cop of De Humanis Corporis Fabrica, a sixteenth-century treatise on human anatomy.
Writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who worked with Marilyn on All About Eve, noticed her carrying around a copy of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet on the set. Marilyn told him, “Every now and then I go into the Pickwick [a Beverly Hills bookshop] and just look around. I leaf through some books, and when I read something that interests me, I buy the book. So last night I bought this one.” After the director agreed that this was the best way to buy books, she sent him a copy the very next day. A shocked Mankiewicz said he would have been “less taken aback to come upon Herr Rilke studying a Marilyn Monroe nude calendar.” There was more to come. Another book she was reading, The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens (1866 - 1936), earned her a word of friendly advice from Mr. Mankiewicz, that she would get into trouble if people saw her reading such radical material. Soon after, when asked by the studio publicity department to give a list of her ten greatest men in the world, she put Steffens at the top of the list, only for him to be omitted as too politically dangerous.
Marilyn was particularly enamored of Russian literature, an interest she developed during her early years in the film business, partly through her early professional exposure to the Actors Lab, partly as a reflection of the interests of her drama coach Natasha Lytess. She read Tolstoy and Chekhov short stories, Dostoevsky and Turgenev novels, and poetry by Pushkin and Andreyev.
In 1952 photographer Philippe Halsman went to Marilyn’s modest L.A. apartment on an assignment for Marilyn’s first Life cover. He was struck by “the obvious striving for self-improvement,” and a stack of books that included the history of Fabian socialism, as well as works by Dostoevsky and Freud, Shaw, Steinbeck, Ibsen, Wilde, Zola and her collection of Russian novels. He also found a number of books of art criticism, dealing with Goya, Botticelly, and Leonardo da Vinci.
During shooting of Niagara, Marilyn told photographer Jock Carroll what she had been reading recently: The Thinking Body by Mabel Ellsworth Todd (recommended to her by drama coach Michael Chekhov), Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, and The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. She also told him that she was a great fan of Whitman and Thomas Wolfe. On the set between takes she was seen scribbling down notes of passages she felt were particularly salient.
Marilyn treasured Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince. When married to Joe DiMaggio, she gave him a gold medal with a maxim from this book engraved on it: “True love is visible not to the eyes, but to the heart, for eyes may be deceived.” DiMaggio’s reported response was “What the hell does that mean?”
In the course of her studies with Lee Strasberg at the Actors Studio Marilyn read widely, from Shakespeare sonnets to Colette. After one shopping trip in March 1955 she returned home with half a library, including Ulysses by James Joyce, Fallen Angels by Noel Coward, Shaw’s Letters to Ellen Terry and Letters to Mrs. Patrick Campbell, and Richard Aldrich’s biography of his wife Gertrude Lawrence.
With British poet Edith Sitwell, Marilyn discussed the book she was reading at the time they first met, Rudolph Steiner’s Course of My Life, and then, when Marilyn went to visit Dame Edith in England, they talked of Dylan Thomas and Gerard Manley Hopkins, a poet whose work Marilyn knew well enough to recite some lines.
Perhaps one of the most original excuses Marilyn ever came up with for her lateness was during shooting of Some Like It Hot, when she was so engrossed reading Paine’s The Rights of Man that she reputedly told the assistant director, who had come to pick her up, to “fuck off.”
In 1961 Marilyn was still avidly reading up on psychiatry and psychoanalysis. During her three-week stay in the hospital that February, she spent sleepless nights reading the letters of Sigmund Freud. She also read Sean O’Casey’s autobiography.
To help Marilyn through her extreme nerves at having to sing to President Kennedy at Madison Square Garden, Joan Greenson, daughter of her psychiatrist, gave her the children’s book The Little Engine That Could to take along.
‘The question 'was Shakespeare gay?’ is so stupid as to be barely worth answering, but for the record: of course he was. Arguably he was a bisexual, of sorts; though for all the wives, mistresses and children I’m not entirely convinced by his heterosexual side. Mostly, his heart just wasn’t in it.’ (Don Paterson, Reading Shakespeare’s Sonnets)
Cards Against Humanity an outtake from the Dirty Yet Virginal universe
Prompt 7: Playing Cards Against Humanity which leads to A getting really flustered and B just laughing his/her/their arse off and A just getting worse so B has to comfort him/her/them - maybe it can be opposite from the book and Peeta is the one who gets flustered :) and maybe the other person doesn’t have to laugh that hard ;) also, use the opportunity to create the CAH cards you want to have! (I got this one in my box once and could never write it). [submitted by @titania522 ]
Dear Anon: I tried my best to fulfill this wish humbly this is my: Cards Against Humanity Prompt (From the Dirty Yet Virginal Universe) – Un betae’d so I apologize about the mistakes. - @mega-aulover
Katniss sat on Peeta’s bed trying to read the sonnets of Shakespeare for her Lit Class. She peered over the edge of the book toward the coffee table near the large flat screen television where Peeta played a silly game with his friend Finnick, Cato, Marvel and Thresh.
During the endless winter that the curse had imposed upon the castle and all of its inhabitants, Belle had almost forgotten what summer felt like. Warm air, fresh grass, wildflowers, and the sound of rainfall at night; they were all things that she hadn’t even realized she missed until she had them back. But they were different, somehow, now that she had someone to share it all with. Lying in the west wing with Adam, listening to the sound of the rain falling in time with his heartbeat; trying not to laugh when he complained about how dreadfully c o l d he always was, even on theh o t t e s t of days, now that he was lacking several pounds and layers of fur; and days like today, lounging in the grass by the pond that was no longer frozen, the sun beating down on the two of them while he rested his his head on her lap, reading Shakespeare’s sonnets aloud to her.
It was… peaceful. A kind of peace that Belle had only ever before found in solitude. It was nice, having someone to share in her contentedness
Having already loosened the ribbon keeping his hair back and letting it fall free, Belle smiled as she carded her fingers gently through the strands, her expression turning playful a moment later when she plucked a daisy from the ground and gently tucked it into his hair, behind his ear. He was so engrossed in how passionately that he was reading, Belle couldn’t help wondering if he wold even notice.