#david mach

[666wxstedfxntxsy]

“die harder,” david mach (2011)

[thunderstruck9]

David Mach (British, 1956), Bombs Away, Commando Collage. Collage on paper, 29 x 28.5 cm.

[machinefetishist]

dante alighieri’s inferno, canto XVI; john everett milais, ophelia; guido reni, christ crowned with thorns; sanctified - nine inch nails; david mach, die harder; leon bonnat, christ crucifixion; martin schongauer, saint sebastian; albrecht durer, st. sebastian at the column; timothy cleary, tracery

[guy60660]

David Mach | Archinet

[sheltiechicago]

“Brick Train” (1997) in Darlington. All images © David Mach

Industrial Materials Reconstruct Local History on a Monumental Scale in Public Sculptures by David Mach

All images © David Mach

“Out of Order” (1989) in Kingston-upon-Thames. Photograph by Mike Longhurst

Render for Mach1, Edinburgh Park, Edinburgh

“The Temple at Tyre”

[microwaveexplosion]

[arinewman7]

Joni Mitchell and David Hockney

Photography by Jacob Sousa

Drawing by Ella Bucknall

Paper-Mache/Clay Characters by Jonni Good

[wingnutz360]

Valkyrie- she is so gorgeous! 54 years ago February 4th 1969 was her last flight. She took off from Edwards Air Force Base,CA and flew to the National Airport Museum in Dayton Ohio for her retirement. Over the next few days I'll be posting a lot more about her. Out of, all the aircraft in history that I've studied. From the Wright flyer to the F-35, J20, Su 57 and of course the one that is the most badass ass of all thee F-22 Raptor! The Xb70 valkyrie has been my favorite I started actively researching aircraft at the age of six, 1974. I would dream daily of seeing her. As of yet I've never seen her in person. That all changes in about 2 months, I'll be seeing her for the first time in her new birth and I am very excited. I've been by the museum three times, but I was only on the East Coast for family emergencies! I grew up and have lived my life on the west coast, in Seattle! Being an aviation historian, has been a fun lifelong Pursuit, full of passion! Valkyrie is truly the most beautiful aircraft I've ever laid eyes on!

[anukkuna]

Ich muss kurz feiern wie Alex ihn entschärft brb

[longlistshort]

There are only a few days left to see Franz West's large, fun sculptures, Echolalia, at David Zwirner in NYC.

From the press release-

Executed in 2010, only a few years before the artist’s death, Echolalia consists of seven colorful, larger-than-life sculptures that seem to stand slightly off-balance, interspersed with three cushioned divans. The work’s title—which refers to the repetition of words and sounds made by young children when learning to talk—was inspired by the artist’s son, who at the time of its creation was three years old and brought his own, distinct perspective to his father’s oversized works.

Not exhibited publicly in more than ten years, the work represents the apotheosis of West’s commitment to sculpture as social space, integrating the viewer within an immersive, total environment. Conceptually, the installation manifests the intersection of many of West’s ongoing interests—most notably, the playfulness of sculpture, the participation of the viewer, and the importance of language.

A voracious reader throughout his lifetime, West was constantly and consistently incorporating various philosophical, psychoanalytical, and historical lines of thinking in his work, as though language itself was another material one could work with.

When Echolalia debuted in Rome in 2010, West published excerpts from the readings that came to influence the work, which included writings from figures across eras and disciplines, including Jacques Lacan, William Shakespeare, Sigmund Freud, Karl Marx, Mike Davis, Jean-Paul Sartre, Max Weber, and over a dozen others.

West’s sculptures and installations often invite the public’s interaction, engaging his viewers in order to subvert traditional exhibition models. In the mid-1970s, he began creating his so-called Passstücke, or Adaptives, a number of which are on view in a concurrent exhibition of West’s work at our Paris gallery.

These roughly hewn, abstracted sculptural forms were intended to be handled by the viewer in a manner of his or her choosing, thereby “adapting” the works to their own physical being and context.

Extending this interest, in Echolalia, the individual sculptures are seemingly weightless and on wheels, meaning the exhibitor can hypothetically rearrange these elements, interacting with the sculpture and evidencing the artist’s longstanding fascination with spatial manipulation and play.

This exhibition closes 4/15/23.

[rawrampmag]

ANA POPOVIC @anapopovic #ValentinesSong #Valentines2023 #RecipeIsRomance #RomanticBlues #ArtisteXclusive

ANA POPOVIĆ’S new album, titled ‘Power, will be released by ArtisteXclusive Records on May 5, 2023. “Power” signifies human oneness.The album cover art, which displays two people holding hands in black and white, is just what the world needs. It is the power and the impetus that will propel this world ahead. Without its authority, there would be less amazing music, ideas, and reforms today. This…

[two-red-lungs]

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

[sarahmackattack]

COMPLETELY forgot but! As promised, the finished vampire squid cloak! No pics of it on me, sadly, but the party was excellent.

Other costumes included a geothermal vent (papier mache princess-style hat complete with lipstick tubeworms and a fabric plume), an anglerfish, crown jellyfish, a wolf eel (not a deep sea critter per se but the costume was really cool), two firefly squids, a gulper eel, a boat captain, and a fisherman. We watched a couple deep-sea documentaries and tried to do a David Attenborough-based drinking game, but by the second documentary most of us had to stop because we got a little too drunk too fast.

This. Fuckin. Rules.

THANK YOU for sharing it!!

[saltpepperbeard]

a little tiny and somewhat silly additional point for all my disheartened darlings:

i feel like time is so stretched and so warped right now, and i think that's sort of furthering feelings of disappointment. i think it's in part due to it being uh, january (derogatory), but also just because so much has been happening in such a short time that it sort of just throws any sense of perception into a blender and chaotically whirls it all around.

because i was sitting here last night a little on the gloomier side--not hopeless, just gloomy--because i was like ":( man david really made that suspicious post and then we've just been stuck in radio silence huh"

...only to realize that david had made said suspicious post only two. days. prior.

wednesday.

so i sat back, cackled at myself, and really accepted how chaotic the timelines are right now. i think we're all just running at like mach 5 speed and subsequently expecting 10 billion things to happen every single day as they have been, so a quieter period is almost startling.

but besties. dear besties. these things take a while. these things aren't instantaneous. and we're in the GRAVY BASKET, MAN; TIME IS FAKE HSDKLJS

[reallyhardydraws]

2023.

i hope any of you reading this will forgive the essay. i started posting to this art blog ten years ago in 2013 when i was just at the very end of high school, uploading short animations i'd made for one of my final projects, preparing myself for art school where i was gearing up to become an illustration/animation student.

i went into my art foundation course in 2014, still thinking i was going to be going into storybook illustration or with faint hopes of becoming like a concept artist for game/animation, although even then i'd started thinking about patterns...

and then in 2015 i did go into my BA, going in for that illustration with animation degree that... usually when i talk about it in real life, i say didn't really feel like the best place for me. if i think back, the best things i got out of it were two of my best friends, one of whom is now my partner. looking back on my BA era, there's some bits of sketchbook stuff...

and while i was at university my main fandoms were thunderbirds are go and x-men for a bit... these are from the end of 2015 into the beginning of 2016...

then for a little while i was doing this still sort of pastel-ish lineless situation:

and i alternated between that and this thin fineliner type work (pretty sure all of the linearted pieces were done on paper and scanned, and all the lineless were graphics-tablet-only) - it was in this style that i started to offer commissions for the first time too.

and i also had fineliner-lined work in sketchbooks that i coloured with marker and posca pens, the colours of which were generally a bit more intense just based on not being able to slide the hue/saturation around on paper:

also 2016 was when i discovered the spongebob musical just after it's trial run in chicago (which ended in july of 2016) and i started making fanart at that point... which would have the biggest effect on the way i drew (and i did end up handing in a piece of spongebob musical fanart as one of my art school homeworks lmao)

from summer 2016 until early 2017 things were still quite soft and pastelly in my digital art, colour-wise:

and then suddenly everything got whacked up to 100% on saturation. also i was using the binary tool to give everything really thin pixel lineart for some reason.

then i went on vacation in summer 2017 and didn't draw for maybe a month? just short of? and when i came back i decided to change everything up again... giving characters blobbier, more ugly-cute faces with large squinting eyes and big nostrils and i was worrying a lot less about making anything look smooth, lineart-wise. i turned off the pen stabiliser in SAI and let it wiggle.

then... the spongebob musical opened on broadway in late 2017, i went to see it live in person for the first time... and my whole brain was ENTIRELY consumed by my love of it. i was putting that david zinn inspired pattern explosion into everything, even if it wasn't sbm fanart.

as we go into 2018, i started colouring my lineart. my biggest interest was still broadway musicals (with spongebob at the top of the list)

i think summer 2017 - early 2018 is probably my favourite art era, i was at my most bright and colourful and exciting... although i know in my actual real life i was struggling a lot with my home situation and i had been for some time. art was definitely my escapism back then, and i think a lot of the time i drew really bright, joyful stuff to try and inject that feeling into myself.

as for my university work, i was putting my focus into 3D paper-mache puppets:

and i was also starting to do more repeat patterns, mostly inspired by things around me. i'd learned how to make patterns actually tile and repeat in 2017, so made a few during my time at uni just to accompany some of my projects, but never as the focus of them. one of my university tutors told me that maybe i should put more focus on doing surface pattern, and maybe applying it to textiles, but i said i wasn't interested.

i graduated from my BA in the summer of 2018, and immediately began volunteering at the whitworth art gallery doing anything i could - stewarding, helping with arts and crafts, dancing with families...

in 2019 i was still very colourful... i was trying out more chunky colouring on characters skintones that i think was def inspired by tumblr artist jadenvargen:

but the blobbyness and ugly-cute style of drawing faces was gone by here, and i think... the way i drew characters probably had better *anatomy*, proportions were maybe a bit more realistic...

in 2020 i started adding the black shading to under the chins and some other places on characters' bodies because i started watching the anime my hero academia with my brother, lmao (and i was starting to pastelise colours a bit again, these are the most pastel-ish examples) my lineart has really smoothed back out too, though i never turned my pen stabiliser back on in SAI. i think my hand just adjusted. probably seems a bit insane to miss that, but i do.

by the end of 2020, the almost-year of lockdown over cobid had... made me a bit insane, i think, and i moved out of my mother's house and into a flat with a friend from university.

in 2021 i think things were much the same... i think from this point on is where things have sort of settled. i don't want to say stagnated, but i do think things have been very... like this for a while.

2022 - got the most exciting examples out...

also i was very into these little frames in 2022.

and then on to 2023! in 2022, i did begin trying to shift gears a bit -- hoping to put more energy into sewing and making products (like my tutor has suggested back in uni, even though i'd really resisted the idea.) i sold at a few in-person markets during winter of 2022, but got disheartened by the amount of money i had to sink in up front to sign up for a spot...

which has made me VERY grateful for the people who have supported me via online sales. it has really helped me stay afloat in 2023 - AND it has felt more wonderful than i can describe that there have been people interested in my work... especially when a lot of it has been my original designs, rather than the fanart that i expect a lot of people initially followed me for.

i've also... in the past 2 years... branched out a bit more when it comes to 'being an artist' - and have had the opportunity to deliver arts & crafts workshops with local refugee & asylum seeker support charity, afrocats. it's taken me to their home base in a church to hotels across the city where asylum seekers were temporarily placed while waiting on their new homes, and of course to my beloved whitworth art gallery, where we welcomed visitors from all backgrounds: from the typical white middle class visitors the gallery usually expects, to all the refugee visitors coming into the space for the first time.

and through my volunteering at the whitworth, i showed up so often they decided they might as well pay me. so i've also become a facilitator of... creative play sessions, my favourites of which have been outdoors. monthly, year-round, we have 'outdoor art club', where i get to paint with mud and make potions from leaves with kids & families - here you can see me tell you a little bit about it in this video below with 'crempog' a puppet character that makes videos about activities for kids and families around manchester (my bit starts at 01:10 although i am in the intro and thumbnail haha)

and then of course the summer 'PLAYTIME' activities we've had the past two years: scrap studio in 2022, and play market in 2023. it's the best freelance gig ever -- just to hang out and encourage families to be creative and have fun.

in working more in these new avenues... outside of being - as i've called myself for a long time - "an internet artist"... i've found myself more interested in this sort of thing. in being a "real world artist" too. in doing surface pattern design, and being a workshop facilitator, i find myself wanting to put more energy into these sorts of projects.

in 2023 i've also dabbled a little bit more in youtube videos! i have had a channel for a while and have made videos in previous years, but 2023 has been the year i've done the most in. admittedly most of them haven't been about my art, and more just like... random things that interest me (the spongebob musical in particular) but i've really been enjoying video editing. that's kind of an art form too, so i'm including it here!

moving forward, want to keep putting even more of my energy into other things. my shop, with a bigger range of products to offer. workshops in real life, where i can make a difference.

as for my art blog... i feel like i've done the least drawing in many years in 2023, and... well, things have been weird and complicated for a bit in my real life. i hope to draw for fun a bit more again very soon, and to return to doing things in more of a wild and crazy way, to be more creative and exciting with the way i draw things. still, here's some of my favourites from 2023:

thank you so much to everyone who has borne witness to my art journey this past decade!!! i hope you will stick with me, who knows, maybe for another 10 years if tumblr holds out. especially a big thank you to everyone who has ever commissioned me, or bought anything from my store, you literally keep me able to make art at all and i cannot, cannot, cannot overstate how much it means to me.

i'm moving homes soon, possibly into very cramped temporary conditions for a little while before HOPEFULLY starting my real life with my partner. if i can take one more moment to plug my work, then [here is a link to my online shop] and [here is my ko-fi page too.]

cheers, cheers, cheers!

- LOREN 🌈🍍🎉

[megamindsecretlair]

Cold on Me, Part 1

Pairing: David Kane x Atlantean!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Plot with smut, cursing, fingering (female receiving) , orgasm denial, dirty talk, Atlantean reader. Established relationship.

Summary: On a mission to recover an artifact sacred to your people, you journey through Rome to meet up with your contact. When he tries to take more than what's offered, none other than David Kane comes to your rescue. The man you hate. The man you would have done anything for. The man you can never trust again.

Word Count: 4,120k

A/N: WHEW! If ya'll only knew the heart palpitations it took to get a proper David Kane fic going! I like the final product. Please let me know if you would like to opt out of David Kane fics! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @harmshake @ciaqui @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @papichulojustice

This was your last chance. 

The contact said to meet him at some rundown bar on the edge of town, just off the coast of Rome. You walked down the dimly lit, cobblestone street with your boots making soft sounds. The weather was frightfully cold, a bitter wind kissing your cheeks where the oversized jacket didn’t cover you.

Rome was a pretty city, if a little rundown. Like you could picture its former glory in the streets, the buildings, and the gargoyles casting down their eyes from the rooftops. At any moment, a sculptor could chip away at the history, grime, and graffiti and then a legionary would walk down the street once more in their scarlet guard uniforms.

It had been a long time since you visited Rome last. Too bad you didn’t have time to explore like you wanted. You finally got a lead on an ancient artifact belonging to your people. You bared your teeth, already getting worked up at the thought of these senseless humans playing with things they knew nothing about.

You had to remind yourself that they were still such children. With finite lives. Most were trying. Most were decent. But they made you so fucking weary every time you traveled to the surfact world. 

You looked up at the street name on the side of the building and turned down an even darker alleyway. You hoped that these people got the sense to install more lights in the alleys. This couldn’t be safe for anyone walking alone at night, holy city or no.

Rumbling laughter echoed down the alleyway as you approached the bar. You took off your gloves and headed inside, pushing past sneering looks and stale beer breath. You knew that you would stand out, but desperate times were pressing on you now. 

The contact, Dom, stated that he would be sitting in a booth. You walked further into the place, boots crunching on discarded cigarettes and…something you didn’t want to think about. The walls were covered in posters that looked baked into the deep red paint, peeling vinyl seats, scratched bartop, and neon signs behind the burly bartender who stood leaning a hip against the countertop talking to a patron. 

This was the type of place that no one looked too closely at one another. No one looked anyone in the eye too long unless they wanted to be punched in the throat. This was a bar where deals went down in whispered confidences, beer spilled over the rim of mugs, and whiskey shot back among rivals. It was a neutral bar. No fighting. Allegedly.

You bypassed rough looking men with leather jackets, tattoos, and bald heads. You passed rougher looking women with short hair, short sleeves, and even shorter attitudes. You pulled out your phone, glancing at the time.

You were on time, but where was Dom? You texted him, taking off your sling bag, and sliding into an available booth. The seat cracked under you, vinyl digging past your cargo pants. But you ignored it and slid in further. 

Dom stated that he would be there in five minutes, so you relaxed and took in your surroundings. You were drawing a lot of stares. From the complexion of your skin, to the audacity of your hair, you knew that you did not fit in with the olive-toned people native to this country. That was okay. 

Once you had the artifact, you could return it to its rightful place. That was all you wanted. All you longed for. 

A young waitress walked by with black lipstick and a half-shaved head. She popped gum in her mouth and asked what you wanted. You told her your favorite drink and she disappeared, leaving you to your own devices.

You were on edge. You knew you were because this was an important exchange but you couldn’t help feeling a sense of foreboding. That tonight, everything was going to change. You didn’t know how but you’d always had a sense about these things. 

You felt every tick of the clock on the far wall. Right when the waitress returned with your drink, a short white man with short dark hair slid into the booth in front of you. He huffed, settling into the seat as if he had been walking or jogging and now he finally had a chance to rest. 

“You have the time?” The man asked. 

“No one carries watches anymore,” you said, confirming that this guy was who he said he was. He smiled, getting more comfortable. 

“Do you have it?” You asked.

“Depends. Got my money?” He asked.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You were offended that you even had to go through all of this. But the goddess requested that this was an undercover mission. That you limit your exposure as much as possible. You ran your tongue over your teeth and smiled.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said. You didn’t want to seem too eager. Or too interested in the knife in his possession. He thought it was some stupid tribal knife, made of some “funny metal”. You downplayed its importance by emphasizing the metal, letting him know that it was valuable but not as valuable as he was thinking. You were a collector of ancient weaponry, nothing more. 

He could try to melt the thing or sell it somewhere else, but no one else had access to the priceless gems in your pocket. You’d make him richer than the sun itself if it meant that you got your hands on it before anyone else did. 

You drew a pouch out of your pocket, grabbing a diamond from within and placing it on the table. He snatched it up, cupping it in his hands and looking at it. He would need an actual piece of glass to determine the clarity, but he didn’t need it. The diamond was pure, uncut, and best of all, conflict free. 

Dom nodded, but you saw how big his eyes got looking at the diamond. His only language was greed. He fished around in his pocket before pulling the knife out, wrapped in a dark cloth. He untied it, revealing the weapon hilt first.

You fought like hell to school your expression. So that the hunger in his eyes didn’t reflect back in yours. It looked ordinary, carved with ancient symbols that didn’t mean anything to him but everything to you. It depicted a death ritual, once believed to be lost over time. As more and more humans encroached on the ocean, traveling further and deeper than ever before, they constantly ran across things that did not belong to them. Recovering those artifacts was your life’s mission. 

You reached out a hand to grab it, but his hand slammed on top of yours. “I want payment first,” he said. 

“How do I know this is the real thing?” You asked. It could be a replica. It could be sand that would crumble in your fingers. You’d be the laughing stock of all of Atlantis if you dared bring back a fake. 

Dom grinned, showing yellow, crooked teeth and you bit your tongue to keep from grimacing. “I wouldn’t do that to such a pretty girl such as yourself,” he said. His hand began to stroke yours and you snatched it back.

Dom laughed, grabbing your drink and downing it in one go. Let him have it. If this was the genuine article, you could return to the water where you belonged. 

“Once I confirm its authenticity, you’ll get the rest of your payment like we agreed. Not a shiny gem before it,” you said.

He clicked his teeth, eyeing you. But finally relented and moved his hand. You reached out and ran your hand over the knife, feeling the rhythm of the metal singing to you. It was real. It was true. 

You nodded, tossing him the packet of diamonds. He snatched it from the air like he couldn’t bear a second that it wasn’t in his possession. You stood up, ready to be done with the place. You tucked the knife into your backpack, zipped it up and threw it around your head, securing it to your body.

Dom grabbed you by the wrist. “What’s the rush, huh? We just made a deal. We should celebrate!” He yelled, loud enough to be heard over the booming rock music. You glanced around, nervous that he was drawing too much attention. 

He had glassy eyes and a too easy grin. He would be decent looking if he lost some of the puffiness, brushed his teeth, and took a shower or twelve. But you had absolutely no interest. You yanked your arm back, but he held on.

“I said sit. And tell me why this knife is so important. You outbid some very powerful people,” he said. He was no longer smiling. No longer joking. 

You balled your first, jerking your hand back. But he held on with a strength he shouldn’t possess. You were stronger than humans, capable of breaking their necks with a flick of a wrist. The goddess demanded that you work quietly however. So you were left to play human. 

“Remove your hand, now,” you said. 

“If people come after me over this, I will point them right to you,” he said.

“Is that a threat?” You asked. 

“Friendly heads up,” he said.

“Let the lady go,” a deep, soothing voice said behind you. You closed your eyes and cursed under your breath. He was the last person you expected to be here. But you should have known. If there was an artifact out there to steal, David Kane was the first on the scene to see how much he could sell it for. 

“I don’t need your help,” you tossed over your shoulder. You were always blown away by how tall he was. How he didn’t have to do anything to be intimidating. One scowl, one flex of his jaw, one roll of his shoulders and it was obvious that he was a man that no one wanted to fuck with.

Skin like bruised bronze, wide shoulders, and a chiseled face, David Kane was a walking red flag. He stepped closer to your back, bringing with him a wall of heat that brought up too many memories and none of them good. 

“You look like you’re doing real well without me,” he said. 

“I am, thanks for noticing,” you whispered. You turned back to the contact and looked down at his slimy hand on yours. Why the hell was it wet? Did you even want to know at this point? Maybe if he perspired enough, you’d be able to slip your hand out from his grasp.

“Who the hell is this? Your muscle?” The man snorted. “Your boyfriend?” 

“The lady told you to let her go. So do it,” David said. His voice made your thighs tingle. You took a deep breath. Years. It had been years and he still made you have a visceral reaction to him. Like you were back in Greece, back in his arms. 

You shook the thought from your head and stepped closer to Dom. He smiled, like you were choosing him over David. As if. You flipped your wrist, breaking his hold. You grabbed onto his middle finger, breaking it. Dom screamed and David pushed forward, holding his hand to the man’s mouth.

“Next time a woman tells you not to touch her, listen.” You walked away, throwing your hood back up on your head. You needed to get out of there, fast. You pushed through the entrance before anyone could mention that you broke the rules. You harmed someone while inside the bar. Never mind that Dom started it. You were the outlier. The outsider. You were the one that did not belong. 

They let you pass, faces twisted like they smelled something funky or stepped in gum. You ignored them. Quiet. Quiet. You were going for quiet. 

Out into the crisp night, you headed off down the cobblestone street, dipping down alleyway after alleyway hoping to fend off any type of pursuit. Your steps were the only sound in the quiet night. Like the city was sleeping despite the bars and eateries behind every bend, filled to the brim with locals and tourists trying the latest cuisine. 

The streets were so narrow here and though your bike could have made it through, you did not want to draw that much attention to yourself. You took the long way around, checking over your shoulder every so often. There was no way to track you in this place, no way to leave behind any mark that you existed. 

Still, you cast your eyes behind you, clouds of breath escaping you. Your lungs burned from the cold. Your cheeks stung from the bite. These shoes were killing you. You longed for the safety of the water. 

You stepped around a building, the same pinkish hue that all the buildings seemed to share. Sunbaked and centuries old. You caught your breath. You couldn’t live like this. You weren’t used to looking over your shoulder like this. 

You had to keep moving. You had to make sure that you made it to the nearest open body of water before David caught up with you. Why was he even here? What the hell did he want? 

Fuck him. Fuck him for still looking as good as he did. Sounding as good as he did. Whatever he did now was of no consequence to you. You took deep breaths in, letting the cold awaken your senses. Your mission was not yet over and you needed to keep moving.

Goddess protect me. 

You rounded the corner, back to civilization with its street lamps and passing cars. You were approaching the mouth of the alley when a hand pulled you back, deep within the shadows. You kicked out your leg. Despite his height and size, David was incredibly agile. 

He chuckled, pulling you close to his body. His warm, tall body. He wrapped his arms around you, but before he could lock you in, you broke his hold. You turned and punched and kicked at him, he laughed and dodged like this was a sparring game and not you fighting for your life.

You managed to land a solid punch, feeling great satisfaction from watching his head snap back. Your moment of triumph was short lived as he took the fight more seriously. But he was more focused on subduing you than fighting you.

“I deserved that, but you only get one,” he growled. 

He blocked your next two punches, grabbing both of your wrists and spinning you to face the building. He pushed you against it, yanking your arms behind you. You growled and wriggled, but there was no way to break out of this. Not when he pressed his chest into your back, pinning your further against the building. You were trapped. With your worst enemy. 

Wait till your team back home hears about this one. In fact…they didn’t need to know this part. You’d never told anyone about David, too afraid that your sisters would tease and mock you. The fish who fell in love with a bird. It was a joke. A cautionary tale. A tragedy. 

You stopped fighting. Your gasps created tiny clouds in the air. David huffed and heaved behind you, pressing his chest into your back with every inhale. “You gonna punch me again if I let you go?” He asked.

“Depends. Let me go and we’ll see,” you said.

He laughed, dropping his head to your ear. You hated that you shivered. You hoped he thought it was because of the cold and not because of his proximity. Bastard. Fuck him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said. 

“I was counting on that, actually.” Out of the seven seas and the seven continents, you did not think you’d bump into David Kane again. What were the odds? What sick, cruel fate brought you back into David’s war path? 

Didn’t matter. You needed to escape before he found the knife in your bag. 

“You didn’t miss me? Not even a little?” He nuzzled your ear and you bit your lip. What game was he playing? 

“Not even a little,” you said. Your voice was even. Your stomach was doing backflips. Fuck him. Fuck him. You repeated it like a mantra in your head, trying to hold on to the burning hatred in your veins. Your body betrayed you. Remembering every glide of his fingers. The shape of his lips. 

“Shame. I missed you,” he said. His lips tickled your ear and you moved your head away. Since his body covered every inch of you, there was no room for you to move. He dipped his head again, lightly brushing his lips along your neck.

“Fuck do you want from me, Kane?” You asked.

“Oh, it’s Kane again?” He asked. 

You rolled your neck. Getting angry only made him act more childish. He got off on seeing you squirm. You used to think it was charming. Now it was just annoying.

“What are you doing in Rome?” He asked.

“I could ask the same question,” you said.

“Following up on a lead. Heard there were some coins from Ancient Egypt on the market. Wanted to see if I could make a direct offer,” he said.

“By stealing it.” 

“If it came to that,” he said and huffed out a laugh. At least he was more open about his thievery. He was a man without honor and you had no patience for him. Not anymore. 

“What do you want?” You asked. 

David moved his hands, lower, searching your body. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Trying to see if you got any weapons on you. I just wanna talk without the fear of you shooting me,” he said. His search was anything but friendly. He groped. He kneaded. He gripped your thighs with his massive hands and squeezed. A small moan escaped you before you could call it back. 

“Do you remember Miami?” He asked. 

You pressed your lips together while he finished his search. When you stopped giving him the response he wanted, he moved his fingers below your shirt. His fingers grazed your tummy, dancing over the edge of your pants. You shivered. 

Your pussy ached. It was freezing cold outside, but he was doing a damn good job blocking out the chill and warming you up. You melted into him as he unbuttoned your pants. “I remember how you looked when we first woke up. Sun hitting your back. The way your hair sparkled like embers of a fire.” 

You sighed. You shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be entertaining this. “David…”

“You were the last thing I expected to find here tonight. But as soon as I recognized you, I couldn’t let you get away. I shouldn’t have let you go then and I can’t let you go now,” he said.

“You can’t hold onto me anymore,” you said. He once compared your relationship to holding water in the cup of his hand. He could hold it, for a second, believing that it would last. Then it would slip through his fingers. Water could not be contained, he told you. He told you a lot of things. A lot of useless shit. 

“Let me try, please,” he said. He unzipped your pants, pushing it lower off of your hips. You ground your ass into his crotch. His dick strained against his pants. He hissed, pulling back for a moment. 

“Say you don’t miss me and I’ll let you go,” he said.

“I don’t miss you,” you said. Your voice cracked. David’s long fingers played with the curls at the core of you. He bit your ear, dipping a finger into your wet heat and groaning as he made contact. 

“This pussy say otherwise,” he whispered in your ear. 

You were burning up inside your coat. Your head fell back against his chest, giving him better access to nibble and kiss on your neck. You opened your heavy eyelids and looked at him, bracketed by the stars above.

This would be hot at any other moment. You would have lived for stolen moments like this when you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other like a couple of young adults, fumbling and following after each other. Like you couldn’t quit each other. 

“You didn’t ask my pussy, you asked me.” 

“How long has it been? Have you been able to replace me yet?” He asked.

You huffed, refusing to allow him a full laugh. Fuck him. He knew fuck well that no one compared to him. No one compared to how he made you feel. You dropped your head forward. You couldn’t look at him and let him play with your body like no time had passed. If you didn’t look at him, you could pretend. 

“Yup. Sure did,” you said. The answer was sarcastic as hell. You didn’t care if his ego was inflated at the moment. It had been forever. And you needed the sweet fucking relief that didn’t come from your fingers for once. 

He swirled his fingers lazily through your essence, taking his time to make you tremble with need. 

“A lot has changed. I’ve changed. And I know you don’t forgive easily. But I need you to hear me,” he said. He pushed a finger inside and you groaned, not caring if he heard you now. You weren’t going to fall onto the sword of Pride like some martyr. You never denied yourself anything, least of all his deft fingers as he pumped them inside of you. 

Your thighs shook as you began to squirm. He moved his other hand up your shirt to cup your breast in his hand. He squeezed it, quickly finding your nipple and rubbing it between his fingers. You hissed, squeezing your legs against his hand to trap him there. 

You braced yourself against the building, the pads of your fingers seeking any kind of fissures to hold on to. Your nails scraped. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. His pace was steady but strong, driving you to the height of pleasure. 

David groaned behind you. He grinded into you, pushing your hips forward. Making you ride his fingers instead of sitting back and letting him do all the work. He mimicked stroking and moved against your hips with enough force that you could imagine it was his dick fucking you and not his fingers.

Fuck, you were so close. You began to whine, needing him to go faster. Go deeper. Do something.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he groaned in your ear. 

You did too. 

You leaned up on your tip toes, tensing up and getting ready to cum. David slowed his fingers, pulling them out altogether. At the same moment, your sling bag was unbuckled from around your chest and the heat of David’s body was gone. 

“Motherfucker!” You screamed into the dark alleyway. There was no point following him. He was quicker to move around than you were. More adept at the surface world. He held maps in his head that you still needed help with. You relied too heavily on those stupid phones than your own sense of direction.

You punched the building and leaned your forehead against it. Of course he hadn’t changed. Of course he was after the knife. Of course he would confuse you with talks of memories and Miami. Giving you flowery poetry. Of course he left you unfulfilled like he always did. 

Greedy bastard. You got played. You jumped up, pulling your pants over your thick hips and zipping it back up. You could only laugh as you walked, uncomfortably wet, towards your bike. 

You weren’t going to panic. You had patience…sometimes. You hid a tracker in the lining of the bag, turned off for the time being. If you were David, the first thing you would do would be to search for bugs. You’d replace the bag as soon as you could, but that would have to come later. When you weren’t focused on getting away, not leaving a trail.

One thing about David was that he always had an exit plan. Always an escape. Two could play that game this time around. 

You made it to your motorcycle and unhooked the helmet that you secured to the front. You placed it over your head, throwing your leg over and straddling it. You started it up, letting the engine rumble between your legs. At least something got to rumble there tonight.

Game on David Kane, game on.

There shall be more! The Secret David Kane Files