back at it again bestiesssss

⚠️major suicidal actions throughout the entirety of this please be advised before you continue⚠️

User1234: ugh I can't keep defending you sweetie this shit is jus too much

Billieandxstan: frfr

Rickymontgomery: c'mon YN. This is dark even for you

Somewhiteguynamedconor🥶: what the fawk-😃

Girlsluvdev: people that don't know that those marks on her arms are fake scars: 🤡

I sigh as I scroll through the thousands of comments I get from my latest music video. This shit was getting tiring. I pick up the blade off of the counter and bring it to my skin, not even wincing at the thought anymore. The warm liquid flows down my arm at rapid pace and I don't even bother covering it with stitches or a band-aid and let the liquid trickle and stain my shirt an obvious color of red.

"YN!" I hear my manager yell after me and I huff and grab a black hoodie and throw it on, trying to make it less obvious. "We have a meet and greet and- did you cut yourself again, I TOLD YOU PEOPLE NOT TO GIVE HER ANY BLADES!" my manager yells to the crowd of people that I call my team. "Well I didn't get it from them genius, I always keep a spare one in case I get these wonderful comments people leave," I say and smile insincerely and head back to my room. "YOU BETTER BE GETTING READY!" he yells at me through the closed door so it comes out muffled and I groan. "OH SHUDDUP! I AM!" and he walks away, his sneakers squeaking making it obvious.

I decide to put a band-aid on it, and the band-aid soon gets soaked in blood, making me huff in exasperation. I decide to stitch it to see if that'll help. I grab the needle and the thread that i usually use and make the markings with a pen so it's least recognizable with what I decide to wear. I do the stitches and my facial expression doesn't even change. I decide to put on a black shirt, with some baggy black jeans with some Doc Martens. I manage to put all of them on without breaking the stitches and I try do something with my hair.

My stylist is the only one with my hair straightener because they don't trust me with it, so I try to just comb it with my fingers because they also took away my brush. They rarely even leave me by myself because of what I do and they then try to cover it up with the fact that "I'm a troubled teen" or "I fake my scars". My hair is really frizzy so I go to my stylist.

"Can you do something about my hair cus this is not it," I say and she nods and sits me down in her chair as she combs it out and then passes the straightener through it a few times. I thank her and head into the main room where we all talk about things. It's like our common meeting ground.

I was on my world tour and decided to film a music video showing how well it's been since it's almost over. Little did I know it would back fire so badly. I pick out some candy from the basket that the management at the hotel gave my team to enjoy while we we're staying here, since this is the longest we've ever stayed somewhere while on tour. I pick out a watermelon blow pop and place it in my mouth, the white stick sticking out of my mouth.

I sigh as I grab my phone, wallet, and everything else that I would need to make it through the day. "Is there anybody else that's gonna be there?" I ask as we walk down the street. The photographers and the rest of my team is taking a car there due to their equipment or their lack of time while I always walk with my manager and relativity use him against cat callers and just plain old crack heads. "Not anyone to worry about,"

We get to the venue and it's packed with screaming people and their parents just looking confused. Some people spot me before the rest and try to grab out to me, touching my arms, and so security has to pull their arms off my body so I could do the meet and greet.

I keep my hand in my pocket because of the stitches and being afraid someone might expose them or tear through them. I feel kind of sore in my other arm so I pull up my sleeve to reveal a long scratch that someone left there. "Hey, hey, come look at this," I say to my manager and he rolls his eyes. "Fans will be fans," he says and it's my turn to roll my eyes.

I go to the back room to get ready to take pictures and talk to some of the fans. "Alright you ready?" my manager says as he knocks on my door. "Yep," I say and get up from the couch and open the door.

I walk out and I smile, doing what my team tells me to do. "Alright so one person at a time, no violent movements and no scratching and tearing of any clothes," my main security guard, Paddy, says to the 10 fans that come up. I take each of there pictures and put on my best smile for them. I take the 10 pictures and move on to the next 10 people.

It's around 2 hours later and i finished taking all the pictures of the many fans. It was time for the meet and greet portion which was a much easier process because I could just make 10 minutes of small talk. A lot of the people that took pictures weren't going to talk because they didn't pay the extra $10 fee. So there was around 50 people to talk to out of the hundreds that wanted to take pictures.

I talked to everyone and made it so that they could be happy and have their high moment that they would remeber because I know that even though I feel like shit and i don't want to do this it would mean so much to them if I even just looked in their direction much less talk to them.

A lot of people have some interesting stories such as how someone ran away from home and my music was the only thing that made them not give up hope and now their financially stable and have a great life, and how my music made someone else not take their life because of how similar we feel and how if i could do it, they could too. I honestly makes me so happy because of it because I don't want people to end up in my broken state and that's the main reason why I started making music.

"Uhm one last person," I hear a male voice say, but it wasn't Paddy. I whip my head in the direction fo the person that was speaking and it was Jack Dylan Grazer. Paddy let him into the same space with two beanbags and he gave me a hug. "Hello," I say as I sit back down.

Time skip brought to you by the people that do this: T-T

( Yeah I'm doing the alt ending because I have no idea how to write the first ending because idk lolz)

Jack and I have been dating for over 2 years since I've met him at the meet and greet. I've been getting worse and worse but I would never let him know that.

I wipe some of the moisture off of my face and look down at the people doing their separate things on the crosswalk and roads. I smile at the memory of the time we had a picnic at the same roof top where he gave me a promise ring.

He's filming for a new movie so I know he won't be here for a while or at least long enough for me to jump. I turn my body to face the back wall and close my eyes. I open them for a split second and put my letter for Jack right next to me.

I pace the balcony, deciding if what I'm doing is right and I shake it off and internally say fuck it. I tip over the edge and someone's arms hold me, making it so i don't jump.

I open my eyes and Jack smiles at me tears streaming from his eyes. "What are you doing baby?" he asks as he carries me from the ledge to the middle of the roof.

"You know i can't do this," I say and the tears come down faster. "Yes you can, you've been 4 months clean baby, if you could do that, you could do anything," he says and I smile.

I show him my arms with the fresh cuts from a few days ago and he doesn't look mad like my team or parents, he looks more sad. "Do you seriously need help?" he asks and I nod.

"Alright, you wanna go to therapy or like somewhere to deal with it or do you just want to rest for today and deal with this all tomorrow," he says and I smile, a real genuine smile. "Tomorrow," I faintly say and he carries me bridal style to our apartment.

Sorry for it being so long and sad, but that shit was so therapeutic for me, so thank you so much for requesting!