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starkeyshirt · 6 months ago

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Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

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JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

"Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

"Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

"J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

"Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

"Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

"Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

"Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

"Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

"C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

"It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

"Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

"You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

"Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

"Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

"Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

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fangomusic · 4 months ago

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Please, Try Again

While Kanye West updates some of his songs directly on streaming services and Taylor Swift has re-recorded dozens of her own songs to regain control over her rightful work. The re-recording of a song can sometimes breathe new life into a track that initially went unnoticed. Often, an artist revisits a piece with a fresh perspective, an updated production, or a different approach, which can resonate more strongly with listeners.

These new versions might capture the attention they originally missed, connecting with an audience in a way the first recordings did not. Whether it's due to changes in musical trends, the artist's evolving style, a better production approach, or simply better timing, the re-recorded version can lead to the song's long-overdue success, showcasing the transformative power of reinvention in music. We can call them demos if they went unpublished, other can be named early or original versions if they didn't get the attention they deserved on the first try. Anyway, in this playlist you'll find 20 examples (plus an honorable mention not available on Spotify) of revered songs that were re-recorded.

A-ha, Take On Me A-ha first released "Take on Me" in 1984, but the initial version failed to gain much traction. Despite its catchy melody and innovative sound, the single didn't chart significantly and received limited attention. However, the band remained determined, leading to a re-recorded version and the creation of an iconic music video that would eventually propel "Take on Me" to global success.

Blondie, Heart of Glass Blondie initially released "Once I Had a Love" in 1975 as a raw, disco-influenced track during their early recording sessions. Regardless of its potential, the song didn't make a significant impact at the time. However, the band later reworked the track, transforming it into "Heart of Glass," which became a massive hit in 1979 and one of their most iconic songs. The evolution of "Once I Had a Love" into "Heart of Glass" highlights Blondie's innovative approach to blending rock and disco elements. Coldplay, Don't Panic Coldplay first released "Don't Panic" as part of their debut EP The Blue Room in 1999. This early version of the track showcased the band's budding sound but didn't receive widespread attention. However, when the song was re-recorded and included on their 2000 debut album Parachutes, it became more widely recognized, helping to establish Coldplay's signature style and contributing to the album's critical and commercial success.

Due to character limitations on Tumblr 😟 if you want to read the whole article click here.

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