Heart of Ice

Independent and selective Martin Finnegan of the Bioshock series. Mun and Muse are over 21. Please read the links before interacting.

[leoholzer]

[stagecoachjessi]

[leftonice]

(Calls at 3 am to drunkenly sing) stRUT ON A LINE, DISCORD AND RHYME, I'M ON THE HUNT I'M AFTERRRR YOUUU. MOUTH IS ALIIIIVE, WITH JUICES LIKE WIIINE, AND I'M HUNGRAAAAAY LIKE THE WOOOOOLLLF.

Sometimes... Martin wants to maim Hector. This is one of those times.

[leftonice]

30-Day Probation

[leftonice]

Katherine:

“Got it Martin, no worrying about who’s in charge sans some emergency,” Katherine said with an almost smile as she took the, what she considered hideous, but only because it represented her having to work, apron. She was used to getting the opposite lecture about respecting authority and shit, but this, she could admit to herself, was a breath of fresh air, not that she’d say any such thing aloud.

Her eyes flicked toward the sinks as he motioned toward them and nodded to show she was listening, wouldn’t do to lose her job over some twitchy customer being a nuisance. Not that she was really worried she’d forget; she was meticulous when it came to her own personal hygiene.  Some of the things she handled in her, hobby, were not sanitary, and it was better to be on the safe side.

And now it was on to name-tags, she supposed the fancy engraved ones only went to people who didn’t screw up, so she affixed the sad little sticker to her front, still nodding along with all he said. There wasn’t much else for her to say as he explained things, things that should be obvious to anyone with even half a brain in their head, then again she was pretty sure most people she met didn’t even have that.

“Okay notebook thanks, I’ll pick one up later,” not that she thought she’d need it, how hard could this stuff really be? Couldn’t be harder than what she did for fun, having to set up her displays while leaving no trace, now that was difficult.

Only thing she thought she’d find difficult in this job was not strangling some of the idiots she had seen trying to order when she had first arrived.  Yeah, that would be the true test of this job. At least her new boss, or whatever he wanted her to think of him as didn’t seem too bad.

“So thirty days and then I get one of those fancy name-tags?” She asked, unable to resist making at least one sarcastic comment, still she managed to put enough sincerity in her words to sound like genuine rather than sarcastic.

Martin quirked an eyebrow at her. Bubbly and cynical wasn’t an easy combination to pull off, but perhaps he was misreading her posture, her tone, her features. No, he was good at reading people; he had to be. Sculpture and multiple-homicide both require understanding human expression.

“Yes, thirty days and you can consider it officially difficult for anyone here to try and fire you on the spot. Honestly, we’ve had people quit plenty of times but I deliberately try to avoid firing people.” Martin answered with a patient sort of sigh, “We’re one of the most popular cafes in town; we get a lot of customers and things get really busy really quick. We’ve had employees walk out simply cause they got overwhelmed.”

Martin turned to look at Katherine again, leaning back against one of the counters. “I hope that isn’t going to put you off keeping the job.I try to hire people who can work well under stress. Can you?’

[leftonice]

headcanon time:

Martin loves opera, his favorite flavor macaron is almond vanilla, and he’s left handed.

[leftonice]

30-Day Probation

[archived-the-frozen-lark]

A coffee-shop, well there were worse places to work Katherine supposed, though none were currently coming to mind at the moment. Having to take orders from people all day certainly hadn’t been her first choice, but with her limited options, she couldn’t really afford to be picky.

Still a job was a job, and since her ‘hobby’ didn’t actually pay, she needed an alternative source of income, one that wouldn’t put her under some type of suspicion. 

She needed a legitimate source of income, though she was starting to grow bored with waiting, and she wondered what was keeping her new co-worker. He seemed alright, not that she had talked to him much yet, in fact she hadn’t even gotten his name she was pretty sure.

Leaning against the wall of the back-room could hear the customers at  the front all abuzz with the latest news.

Katherine felt the edges of her lips turn up in a smirk at the particular topic they were discussing. It was always nice to hear work appreciated, and she had gone to such lengths to make the display tasteful without leaving any evidence, not an easy feat. 

But she was a professional by now, not to mention very few people would look at her face and ever think her capable of such acts. Well it just showed you couldn’t judge a book by its cover, or something cliche like that. 

She was drawn out of her thoughts by her co-worker’s return -finally- carrying her new apron, something she certainly wasn’t looking forward to wearing. 

“I didn’t but it’s Katherine,” she held out a hand for the apron giving him a mostly feigned, shy, smile . Might as well be polite as it seemed she would be working with him for a while.  “And I don’t think I got your name yet…?”

[leftonice]

“Martin. I don’t really like the whole... ‘boss and subordinates’ thing so just ignore the fact that I’m a manager until something goes wrong, okay?” Martin sighs softly, handing off the apron before motioning over his shoulder to the sinks. “Always wash your hands; we’ve had the state health inspector come in here three times because of anxious customers leaving complaints with their office. It’s bull, but the customer’s always right....”

Martin wanted nothing more than to skin that particular customer, twitchy and complaining at every turn, but he knew he couldn’t hunt from his home nor his place of work. It’d make it that much easier for the police to track him down someday. As though they could ever catch him.

Martin offers her a name tag from his pocket, a temporary one with a sticker-label on it instead of an engraved one like his own. “It’s a thirty-day probation here, you’ll breeze right through it... we’ll get you started on taking orders first for this week. Just shadow me a bit, I’ll explain what everything stands for and means and you just gotta keep track. Get a small notebook if you need-- cheat sheets are allowed.”

[leftonice]

How does Martin take his coffee?

To be boring, black and warm. It’s easier for him that way and he’s used to it between time spent with coffee percolated on a stove as an art student to over a fire when he was in the service. Later on in life when he can afford the time and energy for fancier coffees, he can be persuaded to try different kinds of drinks.

[arxartis]

Artist: Cameron Stalheim 

You can follow Arx Artis on Facebook   

[lljj00]

Part of my Human Sculptures-series Model: Philippe Schneider Assistants: Luca Sørheim, Eivind A. Hansen 

[fxmille]

“Scales?”

Julian giggles delightedly at the idea, his gaze drifting back up to study the featureless face. His head cocks by degrees, eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he tries to imagine what it–or rather, he–could possibly turn out looking like. Handsome, of course. Perhaps fearsome, or perhaps jovial. The possibilities are near endless, and exciting in their own right. 

Lost in his wondering, Julian’s hand idly comes to rest against the marble. Permission isn’t even a second thought as his fingers wander up and over the soft, silky stone. 

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen a merman before.”

[leftonice]

“They’re symbolic in a lot of ways, especially here in Rapture.” Martin answers with a sigh, rolling his shoulders before he continues with his explanation. “The duality of humanity and nature, the allure of the fathoms, the beauty with the ocean... Purity of nature.”

He looks to Julian, seeing his smile and how it causes the corners of his eyes to crease just a little-- in his older years he’ll undoubtedly have crow’s feet-- and he commits every line and highlight to memory. He shrugs a shoulder in an air of nonchalance that isn’t genuine. No, uncharacteristically, Martin’s heart is starting to thud in his chest as he speaks. “If you want to see a merman, look in the mirror... you make a fetching art piece.”

[chapultepek]

Mexico City - Museo Nacional de Arte MUNAL

francerobert2001

[leftonice]

(Leaves a trail of sleepy kisses along the side of Martin's neck)

The bed is warm. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn; the rest of the world is shut out this morning and Martin is content to hold Julian in his arms for the rest of the day. The kisses make him grin, and soon Martin’s rolling over on top of Julian, kissing him slow and deep like they have all the time in the world.

Slow hands, tracing over sensitive skin enough so that Martin can taste Julian’s giggles as they kiss. His fingers catch Julian’s hips and he savors the gasp he’s rewarded as he settles between the other’s thighs. Martin’s stubble scratches gently at Julian’s skin as he kisses down over his neck. His hips rock forward and his name is chanted by kiss-swollen lips. To hear his name like that... Martin sees the gift for what it is.

A repeat of the night before, though not as rushed, feverish and so new to them both. Instead, it’s slow and relaxed, made all the more sensual with how innately comfortable they both are with each other. Julian gasps and moans his way through each new sensation and Martin treasures that it’s his tongue, his lips, his hands that draws the experiences out for him.

“Martin...” Julian’s hands have found their way to Martin’s back, fingertips pressing, clutching to the older man as he’s filled. He can’t help the soft gasp as a strong arm wedges between his back and the mattress while the other cups his face so tenderly. Martin kisses like he’s porcelain but rolls his hips a little harder because he knows Julian can handle it.

The soft moans are met with a low growl or groan from Martin. Julian resigns himself to the soft bedsheets and even softer pillow as he looks up at Martin in the dark, drinking in the sight of him. His unruly hair, the tone of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest, which is touched with a thin layer of hair as well. They don’t paint men like Martin... they wouldn’t do him justice, in Julian’s eyes.

He reaches for him and Martin knows what he wants without a word. He leans down and kisses Julian deeply, pouring every bit of love into a single intimate gesture. Yes... that’s new to him. He knew before he took Julian to bed for the first time the night prior that he loved him. Completely.

To not be a good fuck for a night or a man trapped to the whims of a fickle or frightened lover... was new to Martin. To have someone hold onto him afterwards, sighing into his hair with an enamored contentedness was all but alien to Martin. Now that he has it, he hopes it’s never taken from him. He prays it never is.

He’s cursing quietly in French by the time Julian spills over their stomachs, and he’s climaxing soon after. Martin keeps himself propped over Julian as the younger tries to catch his breath. The labor of his lungs isn’t the worst it’s ever been. He knows he’ll be fine. He instead pulls Martin down for yet another kiss, the pair of them tangling back up in the sheets to sleep for another few hours.

Perhaps when they wake next, there will be a third time. Or there will be breakfast. Either way, Martin is content.

[fxmille]

'Don't take away my moon' [x]

Songs for a terminal boy & the heart brave enough to love him.

1. Better—Betty Who | 2. Sacred Heart—The Civil Wars | 3. I Belong to You/Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix—Muse | 4. Take Me With You When You Go—Jack White | 5. Arms Tonite—Mother Mother | 6. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road—The Dear Hunter | 7. Heavy in Your Arms—Florence + The Machine | 8. From Eden—Hozier | 9. If I Die Young—Michael Henry & Justin Robinett | 10. I Lived—OneRepublic | 11. Who Wants to Live Forever—Breaking Benjamin

[speak-slow]

#rapture #bioshock

[digitalfrontiers]

[cedenike]

Powerviolence. two steps of Shot 16 by Sadania

[leftonice]

Julian :

Julian is speechless upon arriving, eyes wide as they wander in earnest awe. He’s seen his fair share of studios over the years, though none quite so intimate. What few pieces Martin has on display are unlike anything he’s ever seen in person before. Though unfinished, they capture grotesque pain and fury that might’ve belong to a different man entirely. The one that had escorted Julian home the night before seemed far gentler in comparison. 

A silly smile touches his lips at the offer, while a fond sigh escapes through his nose. Julian doesn’t reply, but rather, meanders forward to inspect the disciple’s latest work. It’s a sizeable marble figure, seemingly halfway finished, unsheathed where it stands in the center of the floor. The younger man takes slow steps to circle around it, delighted to explore every fine detail. 

"What’s this piece, Martin?" his brow lifts curiously, "It’s rather lovely."

The latest piece. Martin had been pouring over it for some time, trying to get it to look exactly like the sketches he’d drawn beforehand, which were a collage taped up on the wall beside the piece for reference. The shoulders and the neck in the first sketch had been anatomic but otherwise devoid of any real unique form. Generic. The more Martin had drawn for the piece, the more subtle changes poured into it; slimmer hips, longer fingers. The form went from generic male anatomy to an individual, who’s face wasn’t included on the sketches. He is hiding within the marble, back arched out as though he's crawling out of the block, and again, his face is incomplete. His features are anonymous.

“That is a loaded question. He’s not going to be finished for some time…” Martin motions to the bottom half of the man’s figure, which is smooth at the moment, but is curved in a way that doesn’t suggest that the man has legs. “If I carve out the scales, it’ll take a while.”