This Teletype machine was enhanced, at NYC Resistor, by an Arduino controller which mimicks the signals of a second teletype. Connected to a network, the controller can transmit messages from Twitter, associated with a specific hashtag. An awesome integration of old and new.
((Not single. Sorry, Nathan. You are not single anymore.))
60. flightless bird - iron & wine
Anonymous asked: You have beautiful shoulders and wrists. I adore your bone structure. Seeing the muscles in your face work as you do is fascinating. Your smile causes the skin on your jawline to stretch so slightly. That tiny movement alone is enough to cause my breathing to suffer. If you were single, I'd have with me you for dinner. Would you come with me?
Oh. Er. That’s… um. Thank you… er… I-I don’t r-really go out. I’m sorry. But thank you.
Byzantium (2013) [x]
Ulysses’ smile was like the perfect moment chocolate melts in your mouth, the very first morning light peeking through curtains before it woke you up, that second before you burst out laughing. He felt all those moments in the corners of his mouth as he smiled, blinking slowly enough that his dark eyelashes rested on his cheeks for a second as he enjoyed the sensation of Nathan’s long fingers in his hair.
“Me too. Like, I mean…I’d love to learn to figure out if you were reading Baudelaire or, um…” He bit his lip, not so literary as he suddenly wanted to seem for Nathan, “Or Dickens? Yeah. I’d love to learn how to figure out what you were reading before I’d even opened my eyes. Like, by smell or something.” Too forward. Couldn’t stop.
He tilted his head up slightly to kiss Nathan, kissed him as though it was something he was allowed to do all the time. Like smoothing his fringe or singing while they sat together. That Nathan was somehow his and he was Nathan’s, and it was a perfect give and take so it didn’t matter who was kissing whom, who was taking liberties, because they weren’t being taken so much as the other was openly giving. He rubbed his hand on the other man’s slim side, pulling back to smile again. Smile still? He wasn’t sure he ever stopped.
“It would be harder for you to figure out a way to get me out of bed early in the morning. We’re talking the stuff of miracles.” He didn’t pull back more than a few inches, voice library-hushed and happy.
Nathan closed his eyes and kept Ulysses’ smile - the sort of smile he’d never seen directed at him - in his mind, and allowed himself to picture it this time, lying in bed with him and a book and that smile, playing almost absent-mindedly with his hair, just like now, how different could it possibly be from now? Ulysses was picturing it, so it didn’t seem disrespectful somehow to imagine it himself now. And, Christ, he wanted days like that. He wanted to be able to lose track of time and steal someone’s body heat. His skin still tingled wherever Ulysses touched him. It felt like he was brushing the first layer of loose ice-flakes off a frosted over window.
But to have any of that, he’d have admit that he’d been terrified to let Ulysses - not specifically Ulysses, just someone, anyone - into his flat at all. He wasn’t sure that he could even comprehend the actuality of having him in his bed, let alone for an entire night, to wake up to the morning after, and then for enough mornings for books to be learnt and normality to be found somewhere in amongst it all. His heart fluttered, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the usual anxiety or something else entirely new.
He smiled back at him all the same, when Ulysses eased away from the sort of kiss Nathan wouldn’t have at all minded drowning in. It was impossible not to return the man’s smiles, lose a little bit of time in them already. And playing along, even though the realisation that Nathan really might need to work out how to fall asleep and stay asleep next to another person again, was something that came naturally.
“I’d play piano - Rachmaninoff, because I can only play the left hand properly and I’d need you to play the right. Or sometimes there’s a starling that sits on the balcony railings at about six in the morning, and he’s so tame now that, if you don’t startle him, he’ll eat breadcrumbs straight from the palm of your hand.”
His voice didn’t sound like his own and his expression felt new. He was looking at Ulysses with an openness he didn’t recognise in himself but couldn’t help showing, almost like a confession. These were things no one else knew.
“But they don’t sound like m-miracles,” he added, finally faltering. He thought he’d be much more likely to just lie there very quietly with him and let him sleep and find a comfort and a strangeness in it until he had to get up and leave him to open the shop. His hesitance only lasted a moment. There was just something about how close Ulysses willingly was, and the blueness of his eyes, and the confidence in his hands, and all the tiny little things about him Nathan was learning. A smile crept back on to Nathan’s face.
“I’d have to resort to trying to make you breakfast in bed so you’d have to get up to stop m-me burning the place down.”