Poppy's cover story for Something About Rocks
Story by Will Lavin; Photography by Cole Sprouse; Creative direction by Tim Holloway; Styling (jewellery) by Joshua Hendren; Styling (fashion) by Shalev Lavàn
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It’s really hard to take Dark seriously if you go from the viewpoint that Darkiplier is just Damien and/or Celine parodying The Actor like Mark implied when talking about DAMIEN.
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oh oh also please darkactor with "carry me" and "you need to take your shirt of" ? Maybe dark ensuring actor doesnt die unless its dark doing it ?? pretty please with a cherry on top
I LOVE this dynamic.
Trigger warnings for blood, gun mention
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Prompt: “Carry me.” / “You need to take your shirt off.”
Dark’s office door flew open, slamming to the adjacent wall, and two men stumbled in, one leaning heavily into the other as he clamped one hand over his stomach, black seeping through his fingers. Another patch of black spread steadily across his shoulder, soaking his white dress shirt.
“I can’t believe you- help me out here!” One of Dark’s knees buckled under Mark’s weight and he nearly went down, managing to right them both just before they could topple.
“Carry me, then!” Mark snapped, his voice tight and laced with pain.
Dark’s face contorted into a grimace. “You know I can’t.”
“Right.” Mark made a noise that could’ve passed as amusement. “Broken spine.”
“I can’t believe you went on Wilford’s game show. Here-” Dark continued. He eased Mark to the carpet, helping him lean against his heavy, wooden desk. He disappeared around the desk for a few moments, and there was the frantic slam of drawers being opened and shut before he came back with a first-aid kit clutched tightly in gray hands. He got to his knees. “What did you think would happen?”
Mark chuckled, leaning his head back to the wood with a quiet thunk. His black eyes tracked Dark as he probed the bullet wound in his shoulder, then pried his hand away from his stomach so he could do the same there, fingers coming away coated in an oily, gleaming substance too thick to truly be blood. His body started to shake as Dark opened the first aid kit. “He recognized me, at least.”
Now it was Dark’s turn to laugh, a black, bitter thing. “Like fuck he did. I’m going to have to take your shirt off.”
Mark nodded. Then he waited and watched as Dark undid his ruined dress shirt. His hand came up to grip Dark’s wrist as he started to unclasp the last button, his deathly pale skin oozing through with gray. “Why are you doing this?”
Dark paused, seeming to collect himself. Then, he met Mark’s eye. His expression was something deep and dark. Hurt and angry. “Because,” he said finally, “The only one who gets to kill you is me.”
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Mail!
This one made a mess of the mailbox, rose petal everywhere!
To My Beating Heart.
Wonderful news I just had to share, it could not wait for you to return to the manor.
It’s been done! The director and production company have agreed to my conditions, all day time scenes are to be shot indoors. And it’s all thanks to you.
You…
I spent so much of my mortal life giving, generous man that I am. Paying for the way of my friends, giving them opportunities, giving them a place to live, had they the need. In the end I gave them even the ability to live forever and why wouldn't I? They were my family! But they were revolted by my gift, claimed it something to be cured. Even Celine, when she did claim to be doing it all for me, the endless studying and experiments, in the end, my well being was never her concern. Just another equation for her to solve and toss away when she got her answers. Knowledge is power, as they say. Bah! Oh well. Didn’t save her in the end, did it?
But you, you have already done more for me in my death than any did while I lived. Though I have to wonder. Is that true? How many times were you there for me without my notice? I’m reminded of the time you came, winded and stumbling, just in time for my character introduction during my final college performance. You burst through the doors and gained everyone’s ire in one fell swoop as you shuffled to the seat you had reserved. You’d just finished writing your own final that your preparation had Damian in a fuss over you, how you had stayed up almost three nights in a row in preparation of your thesis presentation. You must have been exhausted already, but anyone could tell that you had ran. I would like to do more for you in our life together now. Even if that means being more polite to the stage hands during production. Why they deserve my politeness or your protection, I may never know, but if that is your wish.
I will wait to share this gift with you until you are ready. In the meantime, I deeply appreciate how you allow me to feed from you. The racing beat of your heart pumping your blood into my mouth, so eager to feed me and be mine. Return soon, my beating heart. We shall celebrate together, as we shall do all things from now on.
Love,
Eternally Yours
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