#Bangkok Travel tips | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sgiandubh · 7 months ago

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2023 or last week

That's not really matters', what is interesting is that Caitríona has a very high level of privacy in her movements or travels

She has a private life that is completely away from notice and attention, no press, no ordinary people, no fan who meets her by chance

Wow.. as if she had the invisibility power since 2019.

Dear Privacy Level Anon,

We're going to do things a bit differently, this time, with an audio answer. Nice to meet you, by the way:

For those who need a transcript, here goes:

'Your charade has very simple answers:

No Press? The Press would have to actually care or be sold a juicy tip/story, about that elusive B-lister who is such a compelling Claire Fraser (huh?) from Outlander ('wait a minute, that nice, secksay series around 2016, right?'). Press interest is, however, likely to immediately jump up, the minute she lands a better PR team and/or a part in a really relevant cinema project. Let's see what those two next movies bring, Anon.

No Ordinary People? Imagine you're Jane Doe (aka, an Ordinary Person), traveling from 🛫 London to 🛬Bangkok. Upon arrival at 🏯Suvarnabhumi Airport , while waiting in line for the notoriously looooong passport control (full profile pic included), you spot C (or S, or C and S, or C and S and Boos 1, 2, 3... 554). They vaguely remind you of someone. That someone could be anyone from a) your cousin Matilda's co-worker you have been briefly introduced to, three years ago; b) someone who looks like your homeland's host of 'Who Wants To Be a Millionaire' TV show (totally random example, here); c) someone who looks like that actress you once saw in that TV series which name you can't really remember. Ultimately, the fact that you are unable to put a name on that face really irritates you. Your feet hurt, you are sleepy, grumpy and you need to go to the bathroom ASAP (🚨🚨🚨🚨). Meanwhile, S and C kiss, Boo #456 is as unhappy as you and wants his blankie. Did I mention you need to use the 🚻 (somewhere far away from 🛃) ASAP? S and C 💋💋💋💋 some more. YOU NEED TO USE THAT TOILET AND YOU'RE STUCK IN THAT STUPID LINE. Boo #433 wants their mommy's attention NOW (🥹🍼🤦‍♀️), so you sympathize a bit ('what a cute 👶, just like his/her parents') but you are really focused on your 🧻problem. By the time you dragged your 🧳to the 🚕 area, in the thick, humid heat at Arrivals, you'd have forgotten everything about it, but remember every single second of your Passport Control Ordeal.

No Fan? Outside of these Tumblr/X/Instagram jihadist pockets, no casual 🪭 would probably ask for a pic, provided they remember the name of the series (it is really poor taste to go for it and candidly tell her/them something like ' oooh, I remember you from The Last Kingdom, such a wonderful series'). Out of those who still go for it, I bet the farm:

85% keep The Nice Pic tucked in their iPhones and just randomly share at the next school bake sale/corporate teambuilding/ Rotary Club meeting with random people saying random things like 'oooh, she's nice, wait a minute, wasn't she in The Last Kingdom'?

10% foolishly post on X or Instagram, to be immediately greeted by The Fandom Vigilantes, courtesy of alerts installed on their own iPhones: 'where was it/ when was it/was she alone/yes? why?/no? why and with whom/ what did she say/ did she say anything/ why didn't she say anything'. If, by a very probable misfortune, what you have to dish out does not click with the Greeting Committee's agenda, expect to be: a) treated like a 5 year old idiot or a tortured POW ('was she alone...? was she alone...? are you sure she wasn't alone...? ARE YOU SURE SHE WASN'T ALONE? ANSWER ME, WAS SHE ALONE?'); b) Caitsplained she is married to someone else and what you saw is an optical illusion; c) perhaps even forced to adjust your own narrative (maybe that 6′ 3" Viking was Tony McGill, after all? 😵). You immediately regret posting it on your public Social Media accounts, erase the pic and go private. By the time you do it (12 hours from posting), it would have been dutifully screencapped, in a middle of a full blown Fandom Skirmish.

5% know what Tumblr actually is (at a minimum) and/or are actively involved in its Fandom Subset. The minute they post is the start of just another Nagasaki episode. The DM inbox will explode with a rich array of pleas/insults/more Caitsplaining. Comments will range from the ecstatic to the revoltingly vulgar. And remember (LOL for weeks):

The Fandom will eventually never forgive you for sharing.'

#anon #fandom #shitshow #weekly audio #Good morning Vietnam

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signa5874 · 8 days ago

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namtanlovesfilm · 25 days ago

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hi axelle!! I'll be traveling to bangkok in a few months and since you're living over there I'd like to know if u have any tips for like going around by myself? and also if u can rec some places to see!!

thank you sm💕

hi! I hope you'll enjoy your time here :)

tips:

- don't use tuktuks (they're scammers for the most part)

- don't respond to heckling even when it's people saying "hello" or "how are you." these are not creepy bad people but they WILL try to sell you something & it will disrupt your walking flow bc these people are very aggressive sellers

- don't hail taxis on the street, use apps like grab & bolt (bolt tends to be cheaper but not always so having both apps to compare prices is best)

- if you do still wanna ride a tuktuk, muvmi is a shared tuktuk that is very cheap, although it is limited to certain zones (like you can't go from one zone to another) and sometimes they take some time to arrive. but they're very cheap & quite nice imo

- use the bts/mrt at least once to experience public transport, but I don't recommend relying on buses bc they're highly unpredictable & many of them don't have aircon

- motorbike taxis are also much more efficient due to being able to navigate bangkok traffic (which lasts all day lol) so if you're fine with that you can also try it, it's my main mode of transportation with the bts personally

places:

- talad noi is my fave neighborhood, it's near the water & has so much street art and art galleries. I recommend the cafe hong sieng kong (go there early bc there's always a queue for it) and river city bangkok if you like art!

- I do recommend going to the erawan museum even though it's all the way down the bts line bc it's a beautiful temple/museum (I don't recommend the ancient city though which is in the same area bc it gets very hot there & doing it alone would be soooo tiring)

- lastly I recommend following bangkok pages on ig or tiktok bc I don't know exactly what kind of holiday you're looking for, but tbh for me bangkok isn't a super touristy city in terms of monuments & temples (you can see most of them in 2-3 days), but if you like cute cafes like I do? you'll love it. shopping? you'll LOVE it. overall I recommend the entire sukhumvit area on the light green line of the bts, from like ekkamai to national stadium there's things to do at every stop & stores are super cute :)

xxx

#answers #bangkok #thailand #axelle goes to thailand #damn so many of my followers are coming to bangkok! thats exciting!

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yvetteheiser · 8 months ago

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Yvette Heiser Travel with Taste: Mastering the Art of Food Photography on the Road

Traveling opens up a world of culinary delights, and what better way to capture the essence of these experiences than through the lens of food photography? Whether you're a seasoned travel photographer or a food enthusiast with a passion for visual storytelling, mastering the art of food photography on the road can elevate your travel experiences to new heights. In this article, inspired by Yvette Heiser's insights on "Essential Qualities Every Travel Photographer Must Have we explore the fusion of travel and taste, delving into the captivating world of food photography and its role in documenting culinary adventures around the globe.

Embracing Culinary Diversity: The Intersection of Travel and Food Photography

As a travel photographer, the irresistible charm of varied cuisines and culinary traditions offers a unique chance to encapsulate the essence of a destination. From savoring street food in bustling markets to indulging in fine dining experiences at local eateries, every dish tells a story, and food photography serves as the visual narrative. The vibrant colors, textures, and intricate details of a well-prepared meal offer a rich tapestry of visual content that can transport viewers to the heart of a culture. Yvette Heiser talks about Food Photography, illustrating how this art form captures the soul of culinary experiences in her insightful discussions.

The Artistry of Food Photography: A Visual Feast for the Senses

Food photography is a delicate art form that goes beyond simply documenting a dish; it involves capturing the essence of flavors, aromas, and the cultural significance of a meal. Through skillful composition, lighting, and attention to detail, a travel photographer can transform a simple meal into a visual masterpiece. The interplay of natural light with the textures of food, the arrangement of ingredients, and the context of the dining environment adds depth and dimension to the visual narrative, inviting viewers to embark on a journey that engages all their senses.

Unveiling Culinary Destinations: The Role of Food Photography in Travel Documentation

In the world of travel photography, food becomes a captivating subject that captures the essence and spirit of a destination. From the vibrant street food stalls of Bangkok to the rustic trattorias of Tuscany, food photography becomes a means of preserving and sharing the essence of a place. Through evocative images of local delicacies, traditional cooking methods, and the conviviality of dining, a travel photographer can create a visual diary that encapsulates the spirit of each destination, inviting others to embark on a gastronomic adventure.

The Tools of the Trade: Tips for Mastering Food Photography on the Go

Mastering food photography on the road requires a combination of technical skill, creativity, and an understanding of the unique challenges posed by different environments. From selecting the right camera equipment and lenses to making the most of available lighting and composing captivating shots, a travel photographer must adapt to varying conditions while maintaining the integrity of the culinary subject. Additionally, embracing the local culture and engaging with chefs and food vendors can provide insight and authenticity to the visual narrative.

Conclusion: Capturing Culinary Adventures Through Food Photography

In summary, the amalgamation of travel and culinary exploration presents abundant prospects for travel photographers to hone their skills in the realm of food photography during their journeys. By immersing themselves in the varied culinary experiences, comprehending the artistic essence of food photography, and capturing the spirit of culinary destinations, photographers have the opportunity to craft a visual banquet that honors the convergence of travel and gastronomy. Therefore, seize your camera, embark on a voyage of flavors, and encapsulate the essence of culinary escapades through the captivating art of food photography. It's the perfect time to travel in search of taste and relish the visual wonders that await worldwide.

#yvette heiser #photography #camera #photographer #wedding #moments #pictures #childphotography #photographytips #events #travel photography

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haeseolar · 1 year ago

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where the sky kisses the waters

kinnporsche - merman!porsche

rated G, 2.4k words

twitter / based on this fan art

tw: mentions of kinn grieving and mourning his mother's passing.

----

It isn’t often that Kinn comes to the beach.

The ocean always reminds him of his mother, who would clumsily walk across the uneven sand in her sandals until she reached the shore, the skirt of her sundress rippling in the wind as she gazed out into the distance. She always felt so far away in those moments, trapped inside her own mind as she watched the waves and felt the cold salt water wash up over her feet. Kinn would be left to stand beside her in silence, having learned that until she snapped out of it, there was no getting through to her.

There were many times Kinn thought this would be their last beach trip where they’d travel all the way from Bangkok in his mother’s car, racing away under the anonymity of night with the sunrise pulling back the veil to welcome them when they reached their destination. Kinn knew his father knew, and his mother knew, too, but it didn’t stop them. Each time, when his mother shook him awake, whispering conspiratorially and shushing him with a finger over her lips and a glint in her eyes, he expected it to be the time they finally left.

It never was time to leave. Not even when Kinn’s mother died, or when Tankhun was too sick to take over as the head of the family, and not even when Kinn went through the worst betrayal of his life. It just never seemed like the right time, or enough to warrant such a decision. And so Kinn stayed, living the life that his father had crafted for him, forcing him to be everything he wasn’t - all for the sake of the family.

He felt the scorned gazes of a thousand people, all watching and waiting for him to fuck up, to crumble under the weight of their debts and his misdeeds. Everyone relied on him, one way or another, for good or bad reasons, but he had no one to turn to. He was responsible for their lives, their wages, and their futures, and he had the power to end it all or get into a position where it was done for him. Their loyalty knew no bounds, and he saw it, he felt it: the way they’d bow and reverently refer to him as Khun Kinn no matter how nasty he became, or how warped time and stress made him. He’d hear their whispers, reminiscing about the ‘old Khun Kinn’, acting as if he was once their saving grace.

This wasn’t his burden to bear. He knew that. His father knew that. His brothers knew that. But they didn’t hold out a hand, or offer him a lifeline.

As the sun rises on the horizon, the sky and the ocean becoming one, warm hues of reds and yellows changing into cool blues and greens, he understands why his mother would get lost in her thoughts here.

The ocean air is salty and makes him cringe as he adjusts, but once he’s settled it’s the freshest thing he’s ever smelled. He breathes it in, feeling his lungs expand around the oxygen, the toxins expelling as he breathes it all out again. Kinn allows the wind to carry it away for him, his eyes following a random route as he imagines his worries being taken away and becoming the universe’s problem rather than his.

There’s nothing sensible in his attire, kitted out in his specially tailor-made suit, his dress shoes hanging on the tips of his fingers by their heels with his socks stuffed inside them. But there’s no one here - no one watching him, or waiting, or relying on him to do anything at all. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in months, maybe even years.

It’s been so long since he allowed himself to come back to the beach his mother used to take him to and to relish in the sights he’d only ever seen with her by his side. There’s an innate thing inside him that has been tugging him forward, beckoning him towards the beach, a voice in his head telling him that something is there, waiting for him. As the days passed by, the urge got stronger and more powerful until it took over his whole being until this morning, where he couldn’t sleep and finally snuck away to escape and to answer the ocean’s call.

Somehow, it’d been easier than he thought it would.

Where his mother’s ghost follows him with every step, feeling the warm brush of her arm against his, or the gust of wind that blows by sounding like her voice calling out his name, it doesn’t hurt as much as it once would’ve done. His heart pangs, his stomach in knots, but it feels right being here.

“Mae,” Kinn whispers, just to feel the way it feels on his lips again. It feels foreign, and clunky in his mouth, but it eases the pain in his chest for a moment. A waft of her soft, floral perfume permeates the air, and as soon as he smells it, it’s gone again.

Kinn’s eyes fall closed. He scrunches them up, massaging his temple as bursts of colour and shapes form on the back of his eyelids from the pressure. He’s almost thirty, and here he is, acting like the timid, soft-hearted boy he can never become again. He should go home, turn around and dust off the sand sticking to his feet and in between his toes. He should forget about this for good and move on, just like his father always tells him to.

You’re so stuck in the past that you can’t see what’s right in front of you, Kinn. His father would say, giving him a cold, pitying look as he then would say: Checkmate, leaving Kinn with nothing left on the chessboard to move with.

Kinn ruffles his hair, and then slicks it back again, hoping that the wax he put in it this morning before he left does its job and puts it back into place. Where the cool, salty tang of the morning breeze and the ocean lapping at his ankles was soothing, it’s now too much. Goosebumps ripple across his arms and make him shiver, the shifting granules of sand washing back and forth across his skin are like tiny knives slicing their way through, so he steps back, out of the water’s reach, sinking into the sodden ground as it gives beneath his weight.

One step back, two more, then three, and the sand becomes dry again, warming in the sun that’s drifted higher in the sky.

He should leave. There’s nothing here for him anymore, nothing but a ghost and an unfulfillable dream. There’s so much more he should do - he should be a filial son, a cold-hearted businessman, and a strong leader.

Kinn sighs, glancing around the area one last time, making peace with as much as he can right now. It’s a small, private area that’s set apart from the main beach by the rocky terrain that surrounds it, cocooning him in with small coves and uneven surfaces. There’s technically no entrance to it, you just have to be brave and curious enough to scale up the dunes and down the rocks. He’s not sure how his mother found this place and the realisation that he’ll never be able to ask her hurts. Because he wants to know. He wants to know how she got here, why she always brought him along and allowed him to share her space when she so clearly wanted to run away from it all. She didn’t have to do any of that, and yet she did.

But she always took him back. She never would've known that her death would lead to a cold, lifeless house with a traumatised Khun, an angry Kim, a husband and father who lost any form of warmth along with her passing. And Kinn - her dear son, who was lonely and barely keeping his head above water regardless of how much he tried.

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, after all.

Kinn turns to leave, the sun warming his back, but then there’s a splash and a chirping noise coming from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder, expecting a seagull, but instead, he’s faced with a pair of light brown eyes watching him from a few metres away in the ocean. Kinn gasps, twisting and stumbling back as he eventually loses his balance, falling right on his ass.

The eyes watch him, eyebrows raising in question. Kinn can’t fully see the person they belong to, his head mostly submerged in the water, but he can make out loose, dark curls that stick to his wet skin, some strands floating on the water’s surface.

“What the fuck?” Kinn exclaims, panic seizing his whole body. He curls his fingers into the sand, taking fistfuls of it to try and steady himself.

The person in the water responds with another sound that suspiciously sounds like a laugh, and begins swimming towards him until the water goes lower and lower, slowly exposing his features and body. The man’s skin is rich and tanned, glowing and reflecting the sunlight. It emits an unearthly glow around him, like a halo, but it only brightens him instead of casting shadows. His features are delicate, pretty, almost feline with the soft curve of his eyes, his nose and the full pout of his lips. They’re so pink, even from this far away, Kinn can still see. He can see how beautiful the man is, how otherworldly he seems, moving through the water like it’s a part of him, the waves gently encouraging him forward as the ocean obeys his every command.

The curls fall around him as they leave the water, clinging to his skin and droplets cascading down his bare chest. Kinn can’t help but watch the path of one, following it all the way from the point of his chin and down the slope of his neck, down, past the curve of his pecs and the flatness of his stomach, all the way to his -

Kinn’s breath catches in his throat.

“You have a tail.”

A beautiful, prismatic blue one. Each scale shifts in colour, an iridescent sheen glossing over them, but they remain varying shades of blue. They go lighter, darker, pastel and deep, royal and fantastical. The man - merman? Kinn’s brain corrects, and comes to a stop, lying on his front with his tail kicked up behind him. The large fin at the end sways back and forth, almost like a cat’s when it’s curious.

The merman’s head tilts to the side, now propped up on his palm. Kinn’s eyes catch more blue scales winding their way up and around his neck and face, patches of them marking his skin.

“You don’t remember me?” The merman questions, his voice light and melodic.

Kinn wants to crawl forward, to lean into it, make the stranger keep talking to him like he’s singing a song that will lull him to sleep. He craves it, his stomach bottoming out, his arms shaking and knees becoming jelly.

“Should I?” Kinn asks in place of that, shoving the urge down. He’s acting on autopilot, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can even think twice about it.

He’s dead. Or hallucinating, or maybe both.

“Yes,” The merman pouts and Kinn’s heart stumbles, his pulse quickening. “You’re Kinn.”

The way his name is spoken sounds like a poem, a well of feeling and emotions that Kinn could never possibly hope to define, the slight twang of an accent to it, the harshness of the k into the soft, breathy n sound at the end tells a whole story he’s not privy to. But he wants to know.

“Who are you?” Kinn asks, his voice breaking on the second word.

“Porsche,” he replies, along with an eye roll, as if Kinn was stupid to ask.

“Porsche?” Kinn repeats incredulously, not expecting the name. It sounds too modern, too human, and nothing like what he would’ve guessed a creature he once believed fictional to have attached to him.

Something in Porsche’s eyes changes. His tail stops moving, his posture tensing.

“You really don’t remember,” Porsche says quietly, looking down at his reflection in the low tide.

“I don’t even know what’s going on!” Kinn replies sharply, the dampness of the sand seeping through his trousers and making this whole ordeal even more uncomfortable. “Why - how am I supposed to know you?”

Porsche glances up at him, his expression neutral. But then he smiles. It’s wide, making his eyes crinkle and his flushed cheeks bunch up. His eyes glitter, and the beautiful browns in his irises crescendo around Kinn like harsh waves crashing against the rocks. It completely and utterly disarms him, all the barriers and uncertainty and grief that possess him are lifted away, and the next breath he takes feels like he’s finally above water.

“It doesn’t matter,” Porsche replies, the smile never once dimming despite the anguish in his tone.

Kinn feels as if all the lights in the world have been shut off, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.

“It does,” Kinn says quickly, finally able to make his limbs move. He crawls forward, not caring that he’s ruining his suit and that seashells and rocks are cutting into his palms as he approaches Porsche. “What if I want to get to know you? Again?”

Kinn stops when the water is up to his wrists and soaking his shins and calves, when he’s within reaching distance of Porsche. He’s even more stunning up close, a feat that Kinn didn’t think could be possible. Porsche looks up at him through his eyelashes, beads of water clinging to the tips of them, cobwebs of dew connecting them all.

He can tell Porsche is assessing him, and he lets him. He allows this stranger, this mythical creature, this Porsche to look at him as much as he wants. He doesn’t care what Porsche sees - if he sees a weak man, a lost man, a lonely man or a desperate man trying to cling to the first thing that sparks something deep inside him. This could all be a trap, a dangerous siren coming to shore in hopes of luring Kinn into the depths with him, but it’s not a shock to him when he realises that he wouldn’t mind that.

Porsche sighs, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

And then there’s a hand reaching out for him, cupping his cheek, reeling him in until their lips collide and splashes of colour and memories bloom in his brain, filling out the gaps and crevices of things that he’d long lost: a friend, a lover, his Porsche.

#kinnporsche #my writing #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche the series #kpts

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wanderlustphotosblog · 1 year ago

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An All You Need Phuket, Thailand Travel Guide

With breathtaking coastline and stunning beaches, the mountainous island of Phuket in Southern Thailand is one of Southeast Asia's top travel destinations. Learn how to visit this incredible place with my all you need guide to Phuket, Thailand.

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amarnoban · 6 days ago

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❨－－𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ∖❩

NAME: Amara Kamon Manoban NICKNAME(s): Riri, Amie, Kamie. AGE: Twenty-Nine BIRTHDAY: January 30th, 1996 BIRTHPLACE: Bangkok, Thailand ETHNICITY: Thai NATIONALITY: Thai GENDER / PRONOUNS: Female / She, her ORIENTATION: Heterosexual OCCUPATION: Owner of Blue Rhapsody / Executive Assistant RESIDENCE: Lakeside Terraces LANGUAGES(s) SPOKEN: Thai, Chinese, French, English and ASL (American Sign Language)

❨－－𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ∖❩

BIRTH PARENTS : Chaeo Manoban ( mother / deceased ), Phakdi Manoban ( father / alive ) BIRTH SIBLING(s): Arak Manoban ( older brother ), Arun Manoban ( twin brother ). EXTENDED FAMILY: Somkhit Manoban ( stepmother ), Taworn Manoban ( uncle / father’s side ), Vimol Manoban ( aunt / mother’s side ). PET(s):

Cleo, the british shorthair cat given to her as a birthday gift.

❨－－𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ∖❩

FACECLAIM: Davika Hoorne HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Dark Brown HEIGHT: 5'7'' WEIGHT: 110 lbs BUILD: Slim TATTOOS: None. PIERCINGS: Ear piercings ( lobe, upper lobe, helix )

❨－－𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ∖❩

POSITIVE TRAITS: Bright, Calm, Adaptable, Compassionate, Creative, Gentle NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Silly, Secretive, Self Conscious, Quiet FEARS: Astraphobia. HOBBIES: Fashion Design, Calligraphy, Photography, Traveling HABITS: Twirling rings around her fingers, the ability to fall asleep anywhere, chewing the tip of a pen or pencil.

❨－－𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂��𝐈𝐎𝐍 ∖❩

TW: Mention of Death

Out of the three Manoban siblings, Amara had always been the one to break the mold. The only girl in the family, she grew up under the shadow of her father’s expectations and the subtle weight of societal traditions. Her older brother, Arak, and her twin brother, Arun, were her constant companions —more like co-conspirators than siblings— especially since their parents were emotionally distant, always too consumed by work or appearances to spare much affection. Instead, the three of them had grown up with nannies and luxury, attending the best schools in Thailand and later abroad, but lacking the one thing they truly needed: warmth.

Their father, a successful businessman with a legacy to uphold, had instilled in all three of his children the expectation that they would eventually take their place in the family empire. Arak was groomed to lead, Arun to support, and Amara… well, Amara was expected to marry well and find happiness in a life of social grace, children, and obedience. But Amara had other plans. After graduating from a top university in the United States with her brothers, she didn’t return to Thailand immediately. Instead, she invested her savings in stocks, studied the market relentlessly, and launched her own business in Chicago. A bold move, especially for someone her father never truly believed in.

Though the distance sometimes strained their connection, her brothers secretly admired her resolve. Ethan would call late at night asking for her opinion on strategies, and Arun frequently sought her advice about handling clients. Amara didn’t mind staying in the background, even as they took credit for her ideas—it was a small price to pay for proving, if only to herself, that she was just as capable as them.

For Amara, Chicago wasn’t just a new start; it was a statement. She poured her heart into building a business that thrived on innovation and determination, fueled by the lingering need to prove her worth. The whispers about what a woman "should" do or "could" do no longer held power over her. Amara is carving out her own path—and she isn't just succeeding, she is thriving.

❨－－𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 ∖❩

Amara’s world shifted four years ago when her mother passed away, leaving a quiet void in the family. Her father’s remarriage to a woman nearly half his age —a demanding and impulsive individual— only worsened things. The new wife often makes unreasonable requests, treats the family’s wealth like her personal piggy bank, and has a knack for stirring up drama. The siblings try their best to stay civil, but they won’t hesitate to put her in her place when she oversteps. These confrontations often lead to heated arguments, especially since their father, who once ran a tight ship, now seems incapable of saying no to his new wife’s whims. It bothers Amara deeply to see how much their father has changed, especially since he was so much stricter with their mother and them growing up.

Despite her blessed life, Amara remains incredibly grounded. She doesn’t like to flaunt, and most people who meet her wouldn’t immediately guess she comes from money. Her compassion and humility set her apart from others in her circle. She lives in a lovely apartment at Lakeside Terraces (#315) but avoids bringing business into her personal space. Instead, she keeps a room reserved at Magnolia Inn, a cozy and neutral space where she meets clients or new acquaintances until she trusts them enough to invite them into her personal space.

Amara quietly gives back to the world that has given her so much. She’s a dedicated philanthropist, donating anonymously to causes that resonate with her; whether it’s funding education programs, supporting animal shelters, or helping communities affected by natural disasters. While she doesn’t seek recognition, she finds joy in knowing she’s making a difference in people’s lives, even from the background.

Over the years, she has become cautious about who she lets into her life. Having been taken advantage of by people who only saw her as a stepping stone or a wallet, she’s grown wary of others’ intentions. It takes time to earn her trust, but those who do find a loyal and kind friend. Amara values sincerity above all else, preferring to have a small circle of genuine connections rather than being surrounded by superficial relationships.

#wp.intro #tw mention of death

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