#the perfect mixtape
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Devotion in the Way We Sway
Rating: General
CW: Brief reference to sex, but nothing is shown and it's very vague
Tags: Established Relationship, Jazz Music as a Plot Device, Slow Dancing, Love Confessions, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff
For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is the perfect mixtape."
💕—————💕
He found it while cleaning up the coffee table one evening.
The night had been long and lively. Their friends sharing the space, passing around boxes of pizza, huddled in close, watching a movie and cuddling. There were card games and charades. Raucous laughter. God, there was so much laughter, Steve hadn’t heard anything more delightful. It was chilly beyond the front door, but in the couple hours they were together, everybody’s chests were warm.
And yet, it had to end. Steve gave everybody extensive goodbyes. A warm hand on a shoulder or a tight embrace. Little teasing remark there, something sentimental and on the verge of tears here. Then, he retired back to the living room, garbage bag in hand, tossing what he thought needed to be thrown out.
Beer cans. Soda, half drank. Couple loose Redvine straws. Some sticky globs of slightly melted Junior Mints. The pizza boxes, of course. Bags from breadsticks. Red Solo cups.
But as he passed by the coffee table, bag still in hand, aiming for the front door and down his porch steps and over to the garbage bin at the end of the driveway—there was a little shiny, plastic thing sitting on the surface. He picked it up, recognizing it straight away as a cassette case. And pocketed it. He’ll take a look back upstairs.
And he nearly forgot about it until it clattered to his bedroom carpet, a soft thud. He picked it up once more, twirling it between his fingers. There wasn’t an album card. It was one of those covers for a homemade mixtape, Steve’s known plenty of those placards. Usually, they’d have some sort of name written in sloppy Sharpie. Something like: To My Love, or, For My Sweetheart.
This one didn’t. Which he thought was odd. But further investigation revealed a little scratchy line of text: S Jazz Comp (1).
He recognized it as Eddie’s handwriting. Though, it was still a rather unusual thing. It’s jazz, first of all. And, sure, Eddie’s a music guy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s also into jazz or contemporary or funk or whatever. He’s typically rock or nothing kinda guy.
So, of course Steve is curious beyond comprehension. He drifts back down the stairs, pajamas on, freshly showered. And stands in front of his parents’ sound system. He pops the tape in, gently spins the volume dial. Stands back from the speakers, plops down onto the carpet, and waits for the sound to hit his ears.
The first voices, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, flit to his ears. It’s their rendition of “Cheek to Cheek”. He knows this, he’s heard it before. In fact, he’d told Eddie about it. About the first school dance he’d gone to, barely twelve years old, dressed up in a little suit and tie, but no date. He’d been a wallflower. A sorry cup of sticky, all too sweet punch in his grip. Scuffing his shoes against the waxed gymnasium floor, eyes wandering the crowds of other school kids, all of them smiling softly, twirling in each other’s arms, them laughing. He didn’t like being alone. But the music was enough to satisfy him. He swayed where he stood, eyes pierced to the swirl of his juice. It danced with him. It was romantic, nearly. He was satisfied, he still went home happier than when he arrived.
Eddie promised after the story was told, “We’ll dance to it. I’ll find a way to get that song, and we’ll dance to it.” He brushed his palm over the side of Steve’s head, humming something familiar in his chest, and had easily lulled Steve to sleep. All their promises seem to be made in the dark of each other’s bedrooms, right before they drift away, right when they’re the most vulnerable they can possibly be outside of having sex. He preens at the thought that Eddie remembered. They’ve only been together for a handful of months, and he remembered.
The next song starts. Etta James’, “A Sunday Kind of Love”.
Now, this one was just in passing. They walked past a record store on a day trip in Indianapolis. Seems like their day trips always land there. Steve heard the song playing from the entrance of the store. Maybe it’s the hopeless romantic in him, but he was immediately drawn to it. To the soft instrumental. Etta’s crooning, beautiful as a lake voice. He prevented himself from going in, from buying the song for himself. Prevented his innate urge to sway on the spots. Just patted Eddie on the shoulder, as much contact that wouldn’t be considered suspicious, and told, “I wish we could dance right now.” And kept on walking, leaving Eddie rooted to the spot outside the record shop.
Okay, so the ’S’ on the title of this tape is beginning to make sense. They’re songs that Eddie’s gathered because of Steve. They’re Steve songs. They’re jazz Steve songs.
He wants to cry. Wants to roll around on the floor. Kinda wants to do a few laps around his house.
Just as he gets up to do so, to expel some of the manic energy that’s overcome him, a knock sounds on the door. He doesn’t bother turning the tape off. There’s an easy excuse: “Oh, just going through my mom’s record collection.” But finds that he doesn’t need to explain himself, at least not completely, it’s Eddie on his porch stoop.
The door opens wider, letting Eddie slip through without words. Yet, when it clicks softly back into place and Steve turns around, Eddie is just standing in the foyer. Standing, hands fluttering at his sides, eyes soft and wide, mouth slightly agape. He stutters, “You—You, uh, you found the tape?”
Steve nods. “Yeah, I was cleaning up. It was on the coffee table. Got curious.” He steps into Eddie’s space. Leaving barely a few inches between them. “I didn’t think you remembered,” he whispers.
Eddie guffaws. “You think I wouldn’t?” He asks, wounded. “Think I wouldn’t remember all the times you told me you just wanted to dance? Baby, that hurts,” he states. It’s not genuine hurt, Steve knows this, but it stings a little all the same.
Song switching again—“P.S. I Love You” by Billie Holiday—Steve sways a little closer. “Maybe instead of remembering, we could…actually do some dancing?” He offers, hand already inching to Eddie’s right shoulder blade. He’s not the best at asking people to dance with him, he gets a little awkward, a little clammy. But his sentiments are the same.
His face must be doing something funny, something wonderful. Eddie looks at him in gentle adoration, eyes glistening, relaxed smile. A hand lands on his right side. Fingers rubbing slightly over Steve’s t-shirt. And, for a moment, Steve realizes he must be especially goofy. In his baby blue plaid pajama pants, barefoot against the carpet, a ratty Hawkins High P.E. t-shirt. Hair soft and free of product. In comparison to Eddie’s frizzy hair and his dark blue jeans, a flannel thrown over a black undershirt, his scuffed Reeboks.
The contrast shouldn’t make Steve weak in the knees, but he finds himself collapsing into Eddie’s careful embrace easy enough. They step in tandem. Knees nearly knocking each other. Their free hands grasping to one another, Steve’s arm wrapped under Eddie’s armpit, Eddie’s hand still soft on his waist.
Eddie positively glows in the pale amber light of the foyer. Smile soft, still. He’s all soft. He’s gentle and quiet and wonderful. He’s leaning a little bit closer, whispering against the shell of Steve’s ear, “You’re cute when you get flustered.”
Steve lolls his head into Eddie’s left shoulder. He chuckles. “Never danced before,” he admits shyly. “I skipped prom, y’know?”
“Really? Figured you’d do it at least once,” Eddie breathes. He sets his own head against Steve’s. Leaning into one another.
Shaking his head, Steve states, “I’m a bad dancer. It’s my least charming attribute.”
“Could’a fooled me,” Eddie chuckles. “You’re a natural, sweetheart.” He goes quiet for a little bit. Melting into the dance, relaxing against Steve just as Steve relaxes against Eddie. They’re boneless to one another. “What d’ya think of the tape?” He hesitantly asks.
“I like it so far,” Steve answers.
And then they go quiet again. Really letting the music drench their skin. He’s content in the moment. Drawn into Eddie’s embrace. If you had asked Steve of several years ago about his future, he’d probably say something stupid like working for his dad. Maybe getting married to a girl, settling down. As if he isn’t freshly twenty. But, he likes the—favors the—detour his path took. Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic, much to his surprise. He’s warm and gentle when he wants to be. His fingers know how to soothe the aches in Steve’s coiled tight soul. Brushing his skin with his fingertips, squeezing his waist. Humming in Steve’s close ear.
The song shifts. This time, it’s “I Love My Baby” by Nina Simone. Yet, instead of her voice through the speakers, it’s Eddie’s slightly rough, deep voice. His low timber, as if he recorded this laying in bed, middle of the night. As if he sang into his tape recorder between nightmares, trying to find the come down. As if he sang because all he could think about, as Steve likes to think about, the warm embrace they share.
Eddie tenses slightly in Steve’s hold. But Steve only squeezes in tighter. Shifting his head against Eddie’s shoulder, kissing the joint through the flannel. He sighs, “You must really like me.”
“Hm?” Eddie squeak-hums.
“You must really like me,” Steve reiterates. “Y’know, to sing for me?” He sighs again. “Must love me.” There’s only an ounce of insecurity to his voice.
But Eddie susses it out. Because of course he does. Because some days, when Steve gets too deep in his own conscious, Eddie knows him better. “Yeah, baby, I really do. Love you, I mean,” he whispers. They sway for a few beats more. Before, abruptly, Eddie states, “I used to hate the idea of marriage.”
“What?” Steve finds himself laughing out. Out of nerves, mostly. Out of humor from the extreme change in subject. “What are you—“
“My parents, their marriage sucked,” Eddie speeds through. His voice only a hushed thing. Almost tiptoeing, pulling apart Steve’s brain to see if what he’s saying is okay. It is, of course it is, but Steve fills with sadness still. “It sucked. They were awful together. But I—Despite that, some days I think marriage is nice.”
Steve presses his cheek against Eddie’s. His rough stubble scratching Steve’s freshly shaven jawline. “Why’s that?” He finds himself breathing. “Feel like that would be your nightmare,” he explains a little, “the conformity of it, or whatever.”
Eddie chuckles lightly. “You’re right a little bit. Maybe I don’t like the idea of spending too much money on basically just the paper to admit my love. But…With the right person, I could be convinced.” He turns his head, pecking Steve’s cheek. Resting back into their swaying hold, he whispers, “With you, I’m convinced.”
He can’t help it, the tears that sting the corners of his eyes. The lump that he has to swallow past in his throat. He clears around it, croaking, “Really?”
Eddie nods. “Yeah,” he easily whispers. “If we could, right now, I’d marry you in a fucking heartbeat, Stevie. It’s—“ He laughs at himself. His little condescending, self-deprecating one. One that crumbles Steve a little every time he does it. “It’s stupid early for that kinda thing, I know that,” he breathes. “I know that, but I—God, Steve. With you, something’s different. You feel like…You’re love personified, I don’t know.
“Am I fucking everything up? Please—Actually, don’t tell me. Just dance.”
With every fiber in Steve’s body, he wishes they could meld souls or something. He can’t get any closer in this hold, there’s no more places to be pressed, but if he could reach out and massage Eddie’s soul, he would. By God, he would.
He sniffles something wet and that’s when Eddie pulls away. But before he can ask anything, Steve is setting both of his hands on Eddie’s cheeks, pulling him in. Pulling him in close, enough that when their lips meet, his nose plunges into Eddie’s skin, popping it, smashing it into oblivion. He kisses with fervor, yet holding him gently. He may break with the sentiment.
Eddie’s own hands come up, one over Steve’s right, the other caressing the back of his head. He responds, he always responds. But when he pulls away, “You’re crying,” he utters, “Baby, why—You’re crying.”
“Happy tears,” Steve chokes, “Eddie, god, they’re so fucking happy.”
In return, Eddie can only smile. He pecks the tip of Steve’s nose. His thumb sweeps over Steve’s skin. His right hand tangles into his hair. “I want everything with you,” he whispers, “I want it all, sweetheart. You make me so fucking happy.”
Later, when they’re tangled in bed—sweat drenched, cooling on the sheet, passionate with hickeys to show for it—Eddie holds Steve to his torso. Laying him over the length of it. Their hearts rabbit against each other. A hand runs soothingly over Steve’s back. Another scratches at his scalp. “The mixtape,” he starts. “What’d you really think of it?” The insecurity is gone from his voice. Lost somewhere between the last dance and clothes being peeled.
Steve’s fingers sketch the outline of Eddie’s scars. He sighs in contentment. “It’s perfect,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.” And he kisses Eddie’s chest, his pulse hot and fast over Steve’s lips. “At Last”, Etta once more, flitters from downstairs.
💕—————💕
#stranger things#steddie#fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddielovemonth#day 8#the perfect mixtape#fluff#tooth rotting fluff#jazz as a plot device lmao
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all mixed up
for @steddielovemonth prompt “love is the perfect mixtape’
rated t | 940 words | cw: brief mention of recreational drug use | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, love confessions, fluff
💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
The silence in the car was stifling.
It was hot. Like, entirely too hot.
Steve was about five seconds away from taking his shirt off and dealing with Robin’s rolled eyes when Eddie, surprisingly, beat him to it.
The windows were down, but the radio was off, and sweat was dripping from every pore of their bodies onto the sticky leather seats of Steve’s car.
Eddie’s shirt was sitting on the seat next to him, and one of his hands was gathering his hair up so he could get some wind on his neck, not that the wind was any real help.
“What if we just all go to Robin’s?” Eddie asked when they were only a block away from her house. “Soak up some cool air.”
“Her parents are home,” Steve said for the fifth time.
“I don’t see the issue.”
“They think you were targeting me as the next victim,” Robin shook her head. “I don’t know how many times I’ve explained to them-“
“Fine!” Eddie said, too hot to bother listening or trying to argue. “But I swear we’re getting the AC in this car fixed tomorrow.”
“Oh, do you suddenly have $140?” Steve was met with silence. “Thought so.”
When Robin got out of the car, she slipped $20 into Steve’s hand. “For gas or AC, whatever.”
It was the first time Eddie had ever seen her give Steve any form of payment for rides, and probably the last going off of the way Steve’s entire face went from mildly uncomfortable to physical pain.
Eddie moved to the passenger seat and buckled up.
That was the biggest rule in Steve’s car: everyone wore seatbelts unless they were being chased by Upside Down creatures.
Steve backed out of the driveway once Robin was inside, and once again tried to flip the AC on.
Nothing.
“Why did this have to happen right before the hottest part of the year?” Eddie groaned.
“Just lucky,” Steve shrugged.
He should’ve taken his shirt off when he was in Robin’s driveway.
He pretended not to be distracted by the sweat glistening on Eddie’s chest, his skin flush pink from the heat. Steve pretended to not notice his newest tattoo, a nail bat that could have been identical to Steve’s real one under his bed.
“Oh!” Eddie suddenly said, nearly making Steve slam on the brakes or steer off the road. Maybe both.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot,” Eddie started to say as he reached through the backpack he had on the floor at his feet. “I made a…ah-ha!”
He held up a small rectangle, beaming over at Steve, who was too focused on driving to really see what he was holding.
“Uh. What is it?” He asked.
“It’s a mixtape! You were complaining about the kids stealing all your tapes and I thought I could make one for you,” Eddie opened the cassette case and shoved the tape in the tape deck. “I fit as much of what I knew you had on here, but there are limits to my magic so-“
“You seriously made me a mixtape of a bunch of pop songs?” Steve rolled to a stop at a stop sign, finally able to properly look over at Eddie.
He was pulling a lock of hair into his mouth, nervously looking back at Steve like he was unsure he’d done the right thing, like this was a test he hadn’t studied for and had a big chance of failing.
“I mean, I did throw in one of my favorite songs halfway to shake things up,” Eddie said nervously.
“You recorded fucking Blondie on a tape for me?” Steve asked incredulously.
“One song is Blondie, but-“
“And Tears for Fears?” Steve was still stopped in the road.
Eddie glanced behind them, ignoring the squeak of his slick skin rubbing against the seat. No cars, thankfully.
“Yeah, they’re on there.”
Steve put the car in park.
“Steve, you’re in the road, you can’t-“
“Shut up!” Steve turned completely towards Eddie, his face serious. “You made me a mixtape.”
“Yes and now I’m regretting mentioning it while you were driving.” Duran, Duran started playing and Steve let out a small gasp. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Do you remember when you told me that music was your love language? We were high and you said that you would give the person you love a mixtape to show you cared about them?”
He did say that. It was well over a month ago, when he and Steve had been sitting on his roof smoking, when Eddie had almost told him then how much he loved him. He’d held back, but barely.
“I…yeah, I remember.”
“And you made me a mixtape.”
“I did.”
“Eddie…”
“Steve…”
“Is this you telling me you love me?”
It wasn’t. Not intentionally. Not really.
But as expected, Steve saw through him, had a memory like a steel trap despite how many times he’d had his lights knocked out.
“You love me.”
Eddie was desperate to touch him, but the reminder of how hot it was, how much sweat was dripping off of him made him pause.
“When we get to your house, I’ll tell you.”
“What? Why not now?” Steve pouted.
Eddie fell harder.
“Because if I kiss you in this car, I’ll be mad about suffering in the heat longer. You have a house with AC and a cold shower." Eddie poked Steve's bottom lip back in. "I can show you if you hurry."
Steve took the car out of park and hit the gas, his perfect mixtape playing on the radio and Eddie laughing in the passenger seat.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddielovemonth#love is the perfect mixtape#friends to lovers#getting together#love confessions#fluff
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Today in songs that I both think Sleep Token would kill in a cover and somehow fit their lyrical themes perfectly:
And I won't hold you back
Let your anger rise
And we'll fly, and we'll fall and we'll burn
No one will recall
No one will recall
This is the last time
I'll abandon you
And this is
The last time I'll forget you
I wish I could
#they would smash a cover of this#and the drumline is so full and rich - ii would GO OFF on that#a room bellow/piano version would also be so so beautiful#Vessel has the perfect voice to do Matt's amazing falsettos and high notes justice#and we all know how very moaning/breathing matt belamy's voice is#you cannot tell me Muse isn't an influence on Vessel's songwriting/composing#sleep token#Spotify#darya's mixtape
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so close to freedom. only 2 things left to draw and, they're both my own funny little guys. at least i know who i'm saving for last.
spooky day's comin' up! so i drew a spooky bouncy little pumpkin.
my headcanon voice for him is forever the one that Joel uses. you can't tell me otherwise.
#like serious baby joel is. the absolute perfect voice for him. perfect voice for the round silly boy.#my art#october 2023#artists on tumblr#deltarune#deltarune lancer#feed him 1000 mixtapes. he's a good boy he should eat well.#best cartoon splat sound effect boy.
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got my dino photobook in! he looks absolutely amazing in all the outfits and photos! i’m so so proud of him!🥺😭💕💖
#i can’t wait for all the other mixtapes to come out!#4/13 done!#i need everyone else’s asap#also bibble is iconic and the perfect representation of me when seventeen releases anything or even breathes tbh#stan bibble#madds.txt
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NO, I MEAN—WE AREN’T EVEN ATTRACTED TO EACH OTHER, REALLY.
— lily-rose belongs to my beloved @dihardys
#god this is fucking hilarious and the perfect introduction to Them#shrimp and dickhead about to drop the hottest mixtape of 2022#sorry lily rose#x: lilryan#foc: lily watt#c: ryan carr#edits
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tag drop!
#moodboard • and we'll all be here forever.#thought • i've got dreams again.#hc • a minute from home but i feel so far from it.#musings • i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul.#literally • don't take yourself so seriously.#tweet • you're here for a reason but you don't know why.#aesthetic • the weight of the world ain't that bad.#asks • i'm in the business of losin' your interest.#conversations • and my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it.#instagram • inside the world of beautiful people.#text • if you reach with no reply… i'll see you when i see you.#face to face • let's go to perfect places.#starters • do i speak my truth or do i filter how i feel?#reflection • only getting older by the day.#mixtape • life is like a dance floor some of the time.#attire • out here drippin' in finesse.
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undertaker playing right after pg 13 is such a blessing to my ears
#i listened to final girl 3 years ago and i based my whole personality (and gender ) off of it#im actually never gettibg over this mixtape its literally perfect#finn.txt
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bomb rush cyberfunk is basically everything i could want out of a JSRF follow up so far. i keep getting distracted from actually making progress because moving around and building up insane combos is far too much fun.
#i think my only complaint is that the 'mixtapes' get a little too repetitive#even if the music itself is really fucking good#i hope they add in a feature to make your own playlists and stuff that would be perfect
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oh this my fave song she's put out by a lot
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Flowers can say so much @sorceryr
They were barely friends, which was just fine, honestly, and so it was his twin that suggested he brought something to break the ice a bit. Flowers were perfect for conveying messages, or so she had mentioned and since it was spring, getting lilacs were absolutely perfect. At least to him, especially since their meaning was of spring and renewal. Now whether Merlin would view the flowers as an innocent gesture was up for debate, but nevertheless these came from Mellie's personal garden. Not the one in which she sold from in The English Garden. "You're welcome and tea sounds wonderful. Sorry 'bout just suddenly showin' up, by the way."
#sorceryr#v; appreciate every mixtape your friends make#two months later and I finally continue this#sorry about the wait#also I had him get lilacs because Merlin and purple is too perfect to pass up on
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HOW'S THE GUY UR DATING
AAHAHSHDHDB OKAY ITS NOT OFFICIAL YET BUT HES. AMAZING. LITERALLY SMILING KICKING MY FEET THINKING ABOUT SEEING HIM TOMORROW
#he sent me a tiktok of someone getting a gerard way cutout and was like ''im gonna do this for ur bday''#im putting together the perfect mixtape for him rn actually. as a christmas gift. im gonna burn it into a cd for him#asks
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so PacRim Liam's got the absolutely craziest playlist and I'm so obsessed with it?
#it's got something I'd dean's mixtapes#and some of the songs i grew up listening to through my father#and it's like a total cluster of several decades of music#but i love it#and it's so perfect for this Liam#it's also 5h long dfggdhd#teen wolf#pacrim thiam au#liam dunbar
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eli, we’re not doing the quest.
oh, auden, of course we are.
heart of gold: griff [it's not that i don't feel a thing, 'cause i do/it's that i've gotten used to tryin' not to] sparks: beach house [you go to school, you follow all the rules, you live inside/realize there's something in your eyes, you're back again/from the spine rising through the mind, you give it up/(just like a spark)/it's a gift taken from the lips, you live again] 400 lux: lorde [we're never done with killing time/can i kill it with you?] i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) (cover): illuminati hotties [so when the night falls/my lonely heart calls] in a good way: faye webster [i didn't know that you were right in front of me/until i looked out] warm blood: carly rae jepsen [i saw myself tonight/caught my reflection in the mirror/my hands and heart were tied/but i was scared of almost nothing at all] head on fire: griff, sigrid [i think i'm losing my mind/over here, over you, every night] run: taylor swift, ed sheeran [there's been this hole in my heart/this thing was a shot in the dark] secret life: bleachers, lana del rey [i just wanna have you in a secret life/'cause i'm sick of chasing after holy ghosts/been tryin' to tell you i want you the most] call it dreaming: iron & wine [say it's here where our pieces fall in place] the promise (cover): mint julep [when your day is through/and so is your temper/you know what to do/i'm gonna always be there] summer girl: haim [walk beside me/not behind me]
listen
#along for the ride#along for the ride netflix#sarah dessen#fanmix#mixtape#romcom#i've loved this book forever and the adaptation isn't perfect but i still really enjoyed it#macy and wes are my favorite dessen couple but auden and eli are a close second#auden west#eli stock
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A Land Of Hopeless Glory
Badfinger - No Matter What
Chicken Shack - I'd Rather Go Blind (BBC Live)
Faces - Cindy Incidentally
Wings - Letting Go
Sandy Denny - Listen, Listen
Rory Gallagher - For The Last Time (BBC Live)
Anne Briggs - Living By The Water
John Martyn - Fly On Home
Jeff Beck Group - Greensleeves
Peter Green - In The Skies
Bert Jansch - A Woman Like You
Led Zeppelin - Over the Hills and Far Away
#Badfinger#Faces#Wings#Chicken Shack#rod stewart#jeff beck#christine mcvie#christine perfect#rory gallagher#anne briggs#paul mccartney#sandy denny#peter green#bert jansch#led zeppelin#sixties#seventies#rock#folk#mixtape#mixcloud
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#UMM HELLO THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL AND WERE NOT TALKING ABOUT KT#WHY ARE WE NOT TALKONG ABOUT IT#⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️#THIS WAS ALL FROM ONE DRIVE#ALL TODAY#LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT AND THE SKY WAS SO KIND TO ME AFTER A SHITTY DOCTORS APPOINTMENT#i hate going to the cardiologist so so much but I go back in a week to get results and that's the scary one#but I got my first echocardiogram today and it wasn't that bad and the lady was nice but it was just so weird being in a doctors room and#especially being alone like without my mom in the cardiologist office and also I forgot to pay today#well not really but the lady let me leave without paying and I was like hmm weird but she told me I was good to leave and I come back i#in a week so I can pay for both next time and I didn't like run away she showed me to the door but I feel like I should I've said something#but I was just so excited to not be there anymore#but I saw my heart on the little screen so that was cool#i was just staring at it like 'you better not do anything to fuck this up' it meaning my body or life#threatening my heart in my head so it behaves#real normal of me huh?#anyways#sky is pretty life is okay I have a week to do nothing but check my email for responses from job applications and play the sims and make#mixtapes and annoy my mother
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