if i ever met satan the first thing i would say is “did it hurt…when you fell from heaven??” It would be hilarious. The next thing I would do is probably burst into flame and get impaled dozens of times but it would still be hilarious
lip gloss– good at arguing, sings a lot when alone, likes attention, gets tired easily, provides good hugs, midnight conversations, really supportive & accepting
eyeliner– chill but gets stressed often, likes writing & drawing, makes a lot of small but dumb mistakes, wants to travel around the world, has underrated humor
blush– spends a lot of money, loves empty cafés, talks too much, cute earrings and pink aesthetics, the psychologist friend, confident but insecure at the same time
chapstick– uses emojis ironically, hella social anxiety, says they’re bad at art but they’re probably not, peach soft drinks, the reasonable friend
mascara– bullet journaling, gets injured a lot, intimidating but is actually soft ™, strawberry milk, screwed up sleep schedule, odd humor
traditional celtic folk music makes me go buck fucking wild. i don’t know what it is, if it’s just in my blood or if it’s a past life or just ‘cause it’s objectively soulful but I hear that fiddle and I immediately transform into this heartbroken irish widow in 1787 with a shawl draped over my shoulders staring over the cliffs of moher, waiting for my ghostly lover to return from sea
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