Considered saving this for Anti’s anniversary (antiversary?) tomorrow, but I have a feeling I’m going to need time to scream about whatever Mark’s doing tomorrow, so you get this a day early. Also, yes, I know there are things to scream about now, but I started writing this way before the 5th and I wasn’t going to leave it undone just because Mark’s being a lil bitch.
Based on a theory of mine and some asks that are now super buried in my blog. I think one was from @lum1natrix? and the other was an Anti ask blog I’m really sorry.
Warnings: blood, strangulation, torture, implied minor character death. What can I say, I like my glitch bitch real evil.
“Thank you guys and I’ll see all you dudes in the next video!”
As he completes his outro, Jack feels his smile is about to falter for a second, but something inside him grabs and pulls and it’s wrong, to feel his body moving without his say, but more than that it hurts. Like hooks digging into his flesh, yanking the corners of his mouth up. For half a second he swears he tastes blood dripping into his mouth, but he catches a glimpse of himself in his camera and he looks just as happy and energetic as the fans have come to expect. No blood. No pain. Just a very loud Irishman with green hair.
The strings pull and tug, and his hands move on their own, shutting down the recording and sending it off for editing. He can feel them, around his wrists, his knuckles, his elbows, every joint and muscle. White hot pain radiates up his arms as they cut into his skin, carving deeper into the half healed wounds left from previous encounters. Sometimes, sometimes, he is free to move on his own, but always within boundaries. Always with limitations.
Sometimes he’s not given a choice at all.
He wants to scream, both from the pain and from sheer maddening frustration. But as the thought crosses his mind, the cord around his throat tightens, cutting off any possibility of sound. Cutting off air.
