༺☾༻༺☾༻༺☾༻༺☾༻༺☾༻
welcome, darling.
if you've somehow wandered into this corner of the internet, make yourself comfortable. leave your shoes by the door, steal a flower from the garden if you'd like, and stay awhile. just don't blame me if you never quite find your way back out.
i'm betty.
though you'll also hear me answer to tina rose, bettybabe, and occasionally whatever nickname has been spoken with enough affection.
xxi. she/her. bisexual. libra. infp.
an economics student raised on monsoon skies, jasmine-scented evenings, old stories, beautiful women, beautiful words, and beautiful disasters.
i spend most of my days buried beneath essays, research papers, and economic theories, trying to understand how the world works.
i spend most of my nights romanticizing things that make absolutely no sense.
my interests are a strange collection of contradictions:
✦ economics and the art of seduction
✦ music that feels like a confession whispered after midnight
✦ films that alter brain chemistry
✦ essays that leave me staring at the ceiling for hours
✦ chess, despite being gloriously average at it
✦ women, unfortunately and fortunately
i'm endlessly fascinated by power, desire, beauty, human nature, and the stories people tell themselves to survive. perhaps that's why i'm drawn to femme fatales, tragic heroines, complicated women, and people who carry entire universes behind their eyes.
my holy trinity:
♡ lana del rey
♡ hozier
♡ cigarettes after sex
current obsessions include cillian murphy's existence, rivals, women who could ruin my life and improve it simultaneously, and becoming the sort of person strangers remember years later.
chel from road to el dorado is my spirit animal.
taggie o'hara owns a concerning amount of my heart.
my favorite flowers are jasmine, gardenias, roses, and moonflowers.
if i could smell like anything forever, it would be jasmine blooming after rain, warm skin, old books, and a south indian evening just after sunset.
add a rainy night to the equation, where the windows fog up, the world goes quiet, distant thunder rolls across the sky, and everything feels a little more romantic than it should.
☾ things that feel like home ☾
✦ jasmine flowers woven into dark hair
✦ gold jewelry catching candlelight
✦ monsoon rain against windowpanes
✦ old songs drifting from another room
✦ kohl-lined eyes
✦ handwritten notes tucked inside books
✦ perfume lingering on silk
✦ october evenings dressed as poetry
