#expat teacher

[forteania]

Okay so bags are packed and everything is ready for my Germany trip. I’ll be flying out in like 5 hours? First stop Istanbul where I have a like 9 hr layover :/

[infjinthecity]

Teaching At A Chinese Public School

So I work at a relatively prestigious Chinese public school. Without completely doxing myself, some of the most powerful and wealthiest people in the country sent their kids to my school, so I understand that when I talk about my experiences teaching in China, I’m definitely coming from a place of privilege. Not all the schools are like this, and not all the schools have this caliber of kids, but there are some things about my experience here that is universal across the board.

For example, in high school (years 10 – 12) the kids live at the school. Even at less prestigious public schools, this remains true. Parents can opt out and keep their kids at home if they want to, but most don’t. It seems to serve a dual purpose: the kids are scheduled into classes from 7.30am until 9.00pm at night, therefore maxing out on their learning time, and the parents are free to work as much as possible, ensuring the productivity of the country. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it yet. The kids seem to like and accept it enough and don’t complain about it at all, but maybe that’s just because it’s the expected norm in the country. I will say this: of my students who don’t live in the dorms, and I do have a couple, those particular students tend to have more personality than their counterparts.

Another universal is that school in China is utterly cut-throat and competitive. When it comes to actually enrolling in a high school, all students are required to sit an entrance exam. Your score on that exam determines the kind of high school that you can go to, or whether you can go at all. Obviously, the score to get into my public school is exceptionally high, so I have some of the smartest kids in China walking around my campus. But for kids that don’t do so well on the high school entrance exam, their future is pretty much determined for them at a young age. Kids who don’t do well on those exams end up going to schools that take them out of the running to sit the Gaokao (which is the college entrance exam) and there isn’t a chance for them in the future to go to university. One of my students told me a story this week that his 15-year-old cousin didn’t pass the high school entrance exam at all. When I asked what he’s doing now, my student said that he ran away from home, stole his parent’s car, and is off not attending any school because he couldn’t get into one. He’s basically running around the country getting himself into mess. So yeah folks, that kind of stuff does happen in China too.

I work at the international center at my school. There are a few thousand kids that attend my school, and about 400 of them go to our center. We’re kind of like a school within the school. Our classes are all in English, and our students are all attending university abroad, unlike the other kids they share the dorms with, who are all sitting the Gaokao and will be competing for the elite positions at universities in China. This is another huge decision that kids and families make from an early age. If a student opts into the international center, they immediately take themselves out of the running to sit the Gaokao. That means, despite the fact that they’re Chinese nationals, they cannot go to university in China. And once that decision is made, as soon as high school starts for them, they cannot undo that decision. However, if a student starts on the path of the Gaokao exam, but changes their mind half way through high school, they can then opt into the international center and switch curriculums. They just can’t do it the other way around. So, my kids are all going to university overseas, and some of them will go to the most prestigious universities overseas as well. I currently have a student sitting in my year 10 class that is Oxford bound. Oxford takes only one Chinese international student a year, apparently. Just one from the whole country, and she’s suposedly in the running so we’re all rallying around her to make sure she has the most competitive edge possible.

Obviously, the families that I’m working with have money. You have to, in order to be able to go through the international system. Sending your kid abroad to study is extremely expensive so that means that the kids I’m working with are definitely among the very privileged in the country. It doesn’t matter how smart you are, if your parents don’t have loads of cash, then your only option is to go through the Chinese system, take the Gaokao and stay in China. Which is also a good option. China’s university system has come leaps and bounds and now, apparently, seven of the top ten science programs in the world are here in China. The only problem is, the Gaokao exam is so incredibly difficult and competitive that it’s making the kids mentally ill. China’s youth suicide rate is pretty shocking at the moment and it’s because of this exam the pressure put on the kids.

Not so fun fact: the windows at our school don’t open more than a handspan wide. When I asked why, I was told it’s a preventative measure to stop the kids from jumping. Which – my god. It’s a lot to take in.

As I sent all my kids home from the dorms yesterday and waved them into Golden week (a national holiday to celebrate the unification of the People’s Republic of China) they all told me their parents have scheduled them into private tutoring sessions all week, so they wont be resting and they won’t be playing video games or having fun. They’ll be doing school away from school. I hope they at least get to eat some great food, sleep in their own rooms and in their own beds, and get doted on by their parents. They work so hard and they deserve it.

Till next time, peace.

[justanotherkoreaexpat]

We all have valid and varied experiences and expectations when it comes to moving abroad, this is just a collection of my own

[pascal-et-sarah]

Un, deux…

Un, deux…

Est-ce qu’il y a quelqu’un?

J’avoue je n’ai pas mis à jour ce truc depuis fin 2013. Comme le temps passe.

Bref si vous êtes fan d’un parigot à Séoul (coucou papa, maman 👋) vous adorerez notre nouvelle production (à 4 mains cette fois-ci), deux parisiens à Hanoï.

On va essayer de partager avec vous une partie de notre toute nouvelle vie au Vietnam. Peut être que ça n’aura aucun intérêt peut être que ça sera marrant. On va bien voir.

Bises.

P&S

ps: départ prévu pour le 31 août 2022 ✈️ 🇻🇳 👩‍🏫

[repulsiveliquidation]

Show Me.

Alexia Putellas x Reader [SMUT!]

word count : 2.7k

long distance is hard, will i know how to love you?

//

“Her plane lands in a bit, she’ll be here.”

“I know, it’s just we’ve never met till today since that night and I’m a little nervous.”

“You’ve seen her face before, it’s not like you’re going to be catfished!”

“Alexia!”

A body runs up to her and gives her a huge hug. The familiar blond locks with the way she said her name tells her who it is. The time has finally come, after being in a long-distance online relationship for 1 year, you finally managed to get a ticket and come see her in Barcelona. You were actually moving in with her; you got a job as an English teacher in a nearby school that was popular with British expats.

You jump up into her arms as she spins you around and takes you in. Oh how wonderful it was to finally have a body to hold and a scent to inhale; flesh to trace and skin to adorn with unholy marks. You were both crying tears of joy, thankful to finally be able to hold each other.

“Oh my goodness, you’re finally here!” she says, putting you down.

“You’re beautiful, so much more beautiful in person,” you tell her, cupping her face and pressing your lips to hers. It was like fireworks went off and you two were the only people in the world. She grabbed your waist and pulled you into her, groaning softly against your perfectly slotted lips.

You’re rudely interrupted by your girlfriends best friend who clears her throat and smiles. Alexia lets you go and introduces you, pulling you into her side.

“Mapi, this is Y/N. My girlfriend.” She says proudly as you give Mapi and Ingrid a hug.

“Yeah, the one you won’t shut up about! She can go for days talking about you, you know.” Ingrid takes your bag and Mapi wraps her arm around yours as you all walk out to Alexia’s car. You’re about to hop in the back when Ingrid blocks you.

“No, no. You’re her passenger princess now.” she tells you, opening the door for you. You hop in and smile, Alexia slipping in with a wide grin on her face. She begins the drive home, her hand immediately finding a home on your thigh. You interlock your fingers together; she gives you three squeezes and kisses the back of your palm. Mapi fangirls in the backseat and takes a hundred pictures, Ingrid smiles fondly at the two of you. Alexia had been stressed about asking you to move in with her, with her being who she was and where she lived, she didn’t want it to be stressful on you. Luckily, there was an opportunity for you to be a teacher in Barcelona which coincided with her asking you to move in with her so you jumped at the chance.

You step into her house after having lunch with Mapi and Ingrid before dropping them off, little Nala ran up to you and you scooped her up. She kissed and kissed you, your giggles filling the area of your new home. Alexia’s heart about tripled in size at the sight, your bags safely brought in by the Catalan.

“Welcome home, Mi Reina.”

You put Nala down and saunter over to her, hands wrapping around her neck as her rough ones snake around your waist. You kiss her, the fireworks that were rudely interrupted earlier resume their private show. Her lips mold perfectly to yours, her tongue exploring your mouth with desperate flicks. You moan into her mouth, her hands pressing against your lower back to pull you impossibly close together. You pull away when you both need air, foreheads resting against one another’s while looking deep into each-other’s eyes.

“I love you,” you breathily say, hands playing with the baby hair’s she had on the back of her neck.

She kisses you again and pulls away seconds later, eyes wide and locked onto yours. Words cannot explain the relief on her heart now that you were finally in her arms. Now that she had you, she never wanted to let you go.

“I love you too, cariño.”

//

“Have a good day at school, I love you. I won’t be late for dinner, I promise.” Alexia says before kissing you softly as she heads out to training. She grabs an apple but forgets her kitbag, walking back into the house to see you holding it up with a smirk on your face.

"Gracias, mi amor.” She says as she grabs her back and gives you a kiss on your cheek before running out of the door.

“Of course, I love you too!” you yelled as she ran out, shaking your head fondly.

Adapting to a new school environment was hard, especially when you’re teaching kids who can’t communicate with you properly. They were good students who deserved someone who would make sure they did learn and you prided yourself with that task. Slowly but surely you managed to have the whole class recite the times table in both Spanish and English, promising them a treat if they could do it in front of the class. They all did, happily going home with a lollipop and a sticky gold star.

You got home to find Alexia in the kitchen cooking; the apartment was cleaned and the smell of lemons filled the air. She smiles and runs over to you, kissing you passionately. It takes you by surprise and you drop your bag, pulling her closer to you as you stand there and make out with her. She pulls away and looks down at you, suddenly she leaps out of your hold and pulls a pan off the stove that was about to catch on fire. You laugh at her as she puts the pan down and pouts, arms crossed and everything. She looks between you and the burnt chicken breast in the pan, eyes about to well up in tears. You see her eyes change, immediately rushing over to her.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh honey.”

“Dinner is ruined, I wanted to surprise you with it!” she whines, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can just order your favorite Italian, hm? Spending time with you is more important to me baby, you can cook for me another time.”

She sniffles, pulling you into a hug. You sit up on a counter and pull her between your legs. You cradle her head, she looks up at you with red and puffy eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” you blurt out, to which she chuckles and huffs softly. She rests her head on your chest, your hands stroking her bleached locks. You kiss her head as she finally gets the confidence to say what’s on her mind.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Ale, of course you do.”

“No, I don’t.” she says with gritted teeth, more tears falling down her cheeks. You wipe them away, forcing her to look into your eyes.

“Yes, you do. We had this conversation already. You did not take me away from my family, I wanted to be here with you. You didn’t force me to leave my job, I found a new one that happened to be closer to you. You did not force me to move in with you, again, I wanted to be here. With you. You’re the love of my life. Ever since that day in England where you came to my school to teach a little clinic with the girls. When I saw you, I could hear bells (a/n if you know this reference, you get a star ⭐️). My mother always told me that when you saw your soulmate, you can hear bells. I heard it that day.” You tell her, her eyes filling up with new tears; this time they are emotional and full of love. She listens carefully, head pressed against your heart as she listens to both.

“I love you, Ale. God forbid if my mind ever forgets, I know my heart will always remember.”

“I love you too,” she croaks out before crashing her lips to yours in a wet kiss. It’s desperate but says a million things. She picks you up off the counter, strong arms holding you up as she walks you over to the bedroom. She lays you on the bed gently, never breaking the kiss. She gets on top of you comfortably, kissing down your neck hungrily. She bites just below your ear, whispering in your ear softly.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“You never have to ask, my darling. You never have to ask,” you breathily tell her, crashing your lips to hers again. She moans into the kiss hungrily, knee shifting between your legs for you to grind down on. She pulls away to grab your shirt to pull off, your back arches into her as your core grazes her strong thigh through your jeans. She hears the whine in your throat, grinning as she latches onto the meaty flesh that spilled out of your bra. She bites a dark hickey just below your collarbone before unbuttoning your jeans. She pulls it down teasingly slow, kissing her way down your breasts and stomach before settling face to face with your mound.

She throws your jeans onto the floor over her shoulder, pressing your legs open a little before softly kissing the wet patch between your legs. She pushes the soaked material to the side, licking slowly at your glistening folds. Her eyes roll into her head, tongue delving into your heat with fragile licks. She’s treating you like glass, which isn’t like her. Your countless sessions of erotic phone sex were evidence that Alexia liked to break you down into pieces and put you back together herself. Tonight she was being careful and calculated, wanting to memorize you and all your nooks and crannies.

“Eres tan delicioso, mi mundo. I cannot believe that we had gone so long without having tasted each other.”

It was your first (second if you count the night you met where she fucked you senseless in the back of your car) time since going long distance that you’re having sex, wanting to get to know each other in real life before moving into the next chapter in both your lives.

“M-More Ale, please stop teasing…”

She pulls your thong off, slapping the side of your hip before turning you onto your stomach.

“Arch your back for me, princesa.”

You whimper and do what she says, pushing your ass up and out for her as she caresses your ass with a grunt of approval. You look back at her, eyes begging for her to touch you how you want her to.

She leaves you there for a second, hopping off the bed to put her strap on, grinning when you look at her with blown out pupils. She kisses your hip, settling behind your legs.

“I rode this on so many of our midnight sex calls. Do you remember them, Mi chica perfecta?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I know exactly how this feels when it fills me. I know how it feels when you tell me I’m a good girl for getting off with you; now you can know too.”

You moan her name loudly, knees parting for her as her hand slips between your legs to caress your cunt. She rubs large circles over your clit, short nails catching on your folds as you whine and whimper her name.

“That feels good, doesn’t it? I remember you telling me to touch myself like this.”

“I remember A-Ale, it felt so good hearing you whine for me…” you struggle to tell her, her lips biting on the back of your thighs as her hand sped up.

“Yes, then you told me to use my fingers. ‘Slip them in, Ale; you know you want to,’ you told me.” She did exactly that when two of her thick fingers slipped themselves easily into your hole. You cried out her name, gripping the sheets tight as she pressed down on your sweet spot and dragged her fingers over it fast.

You shuddered and were now panting hard, feeling immense pleasure as the wait to have your girlfriend use you was over. Your late-night calls were convenient for both of you since the time difference didn’t really matter. Alexia was different over the phone, she loved controlling you but enjoyed letting go of the reigns sometimes.

“Oh bebita, you feel so velvety inside. Can’t wait to fill you up with my cock, sí?”

You can only nod, her tongue sliding over your second entrance in surprise. You collapse off your knees, her tongue and fingers simply follow and continue their ministrations. You cry out her name again and can’t even tell her you’re coming, shuddering all over as your intense orgasm takes over. She grins between your legs, helping you through your high.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing.” You tell her, flipping over before she crashes her you-soaked lips on yours. The kiss somehow has even more fireworks; your bra is unclipped and she grasps them both to knead. It makes you moan, laying back as she settles over you.

“I’ve had too many dreams of fucking you to waste another second,” she tells you, “You are spectacular, mi cielo.”

“I want you so bad, Ale.” you whine out as she pushes your legs back and settles the toy at your entrance. She teases you, poking the head at your hole before you start to fuss and she gives in. She fills you and it overwhelms your senses, jaw slacked in pure sexual bliss. The whole thing sets itself deep inside you; she gives you a minute to adjust to her. She bites more hickeys across your chest, hands kneading lovingly at your full breasts. She’s watched them tease her for a year, now she gets to enjoy them for the rest of her life. She feels you relax around the toy and gives her hips an experimental thrust to which you moan softly; her hips speed up and begin to absolutely astonish you. She thrusts with precision and finesse, exactly how she plays football. She had already analyzed your body and knew where she needed to be, hips pounding accurately up into your sensitive sweet spot. Your back arches high off the bed as your nails dig into her muscular thighs, lips chanting her name, desperately trying to keep yourself grounded.

Her calloused hands hold your much smaller waist, manipulating your body how she wanted as she fucked you into tomorrow. Your clit grazed her stomach at this angle, the added stimulation tumbled you towards your oncoming orgasm. Her mouth whispered horrendously filthy things to you, voice gradually becoming breathy and shallow as her own orgasm approached.

She threw you back down on the bed and hoisted one leg over her shoulder, hips now pistoning into you sideways. Her whole cock filled you now; so deep you felt her in your stomach. She pressed her hand on your stomach and felt the cock fill you, a satisfied smile on her face as you looked up at her with tears in your eyes.

“Please let me cum, Ale…fuck you’re so deep!”

“Yes, mi amor. Put your pretty hand here, can you f-feel my cock filling you so well?”

“Yes, yes!”

“You take my cock so well, cariño. Go on, cum for me.”

You shriek and cum hard, legs trembling violently as your orgasm takes over. She keeps thrusting, reaching her own high seconds after you. You pant hard and reach for her, she lays on top of you with her cock still snug inside you to kiss you. You kiss back lazily, caressing her sweaty hair affectionately.

“Did I show you how much I love you?”

“That and more, Mi Reina.”

//

“Ale, that’s the delivery guy!”

“Gracias, keep the change.”

She walked back into the living room with your Italian takeout, cracking open the containers to plate up. She gives you your plate, settling on the floor between your legs to eat. Nala begs for a little corner of your chicken parmesan when Ale softly kisses your knee.

“What is it baby?”

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

[welcometotheravenclawcommonroom]

(South) Indian Harry Potter Headcanons:

Harry knew he was Indian (mostly because the Dursley’s used to say racist shit to him) but he didn’t know where in India the potters were from until he went to Hogwarts. He finds out from the Patils, who were close with the potters because desis stick together.

The Patils are from the north and use Hindi to speak to each other. Neither of them knows Telugu/Tamil/Marathi/Malayalam/insert Southern language of choice here (I personally headcanon Telugu because it’s the only Indian language I speak and because there’s a huge diaspora of telugumandi in the west, but feel free to choose whatever you’d like). So Harry has to rediscover his heritage language on his own.

He also studies Sanskrit, and it opens up a HUGE world of spells that they don’t teach at Hogwarts (because of course Indian wizards don’t do spells in Latin). He and the Patils know a bunch of spells that nobody else does.

Harry’s pleat game is ON POINT. It makes sense, since he had to do all the chores at the Dursley’s and that includes perfectly folded and ironed laundry with the edges aligned neatly, or else he would risk being punished. But the result is that if you want your saree drape to pass the inspection of even the most judgemental auntie, you go to Harry to help with your pleats.

Even when they’ve graduated and all have their own homes, it’s a pretty regular sight for the Patil twins to come through Harry’s floo, half dressed, to have Harry pleat their sarees or their lehenga dupatta for them.

Harry LOVES spices. The dursleys only liked bland food, but Harry has always liked flavorful foods, and has no problem with (hot) spicy food either. He uses lots of spices in his own cooking now. His food is very flavorful, but when he’s cooking for himself, it’s too spicy for all his friends (even the Patils). So nobody can eat his leftovers unless he was specifically cooking with other people in mind. Ron learned this the first time he rummaged through Harry’s fridge after a night of drinking. Now Harry labels all his food as to whether or not it’s “Harry spicy”.

James LOVED to buy Lily sarees. He’d order them with custom, wizard-themed designs from weaving villages in south India. The women who made them assumed he was just very imaginative, so he wasn’t violating the statute of secrecy since saree patterns are often vibrant and unique. Harry finds some of them in the old potter manor, and they still smell like the perfumes and scented oils his mother would wear when James took her to the local temple for Hindu holidays.

Indian witches often store extra magic in or enchant pieces of their copious jewelry with spells that can keep them safe if they’re ever in a situation where they don’t have their wands. stuff like, each bangle can function as an emergency portkey that can take you to different safe locations if you say the activation word, or ones that create an instant magical shield when you tap them. Harry finds some of his mothers gajulu, gives them to his female friends.

He ties Rhaki on Ron and Neville, and all the weasley boys. Ron was the first person he ever tied it on, because Ron was the first person who he ever bonded with, and his closest brother.

Harry always cooks idli sambar or dosa for his friends for breakfast the next morning after a night of drinking together, and it’s the perfect hangover food because it definitely brings you back to full alertness/knocks the last bit of post-hangover grogginess right out of your system.

Harry’s parselmouth abilities are valued in his native culture because of the sacredness of snakes in Hinduism, and it comes to be something he’s really proud of (personally I think the ‘parselmouth connected to the horcrux’ thing is dumb, so I’ve always imagined Harry was just naturally a parselmouth).

As the number of Indian immigrants/expats continues to grow after they graduate, Harry helps some of his students (he’s the DADA teacher) start the Hogwarts “South Asian Student Union”.

He always has snacks out for his students when they come to visit his office hours, and they’re all Indian snacks and sweets. His personal favorite is kaju barfi, but he always has a good variety of both sweet and spicy treats, especially for stressed out owl and newts students.

He collaborates with Hermione, who works in the ministry, to make it mandatory for Hogwarts students to a “foreign magical language” course so they can broaden both their minds and their spell repertoires. Padma Patil becomes the “Sanskrit Spells” teacher, and Seamus teaches “Irish Gaelic”. (It took him a little longer to get his course started, since it turns out that at least 40% of Gaelic spells are just increasingly complicated and violent ways to repel the English).

Hermione and Harry also work together to make sure there are employees in the international magical cooperation department who specialize in post-colonial relations, because the magical world also has its issues with that colonialist mindset towards countries that were formerly part of the empire.

Just south Indian Harry embracing his heritage, learning about what was ripped from him, and using it to enact meaningful change in a multicultural magical society.

[gemsofgreece]

Positive news of the day:

Sklavenitis (big Greek owned supermarket brand) stops the insanity of 6-day working week and switches it to 5-day working week for both part time and full time employees, while motivating other brands to follow the trend.

As you may know, Greece suffers from extreme urbanisation while remote islands and provincial settlements fall into desolation. It is not uncommon to go in villages in Greece and find them entirely empty with only one or two elderly locals trying to keep them alive. The priest of one such shrivelling village in the very mountainous region of Evrytania took the initiative to call for relocation of people to the village, announcing there was a house available for free (or for low rent, not sure) suitable for a family and ensured job for at least one adult. He was aided in this project by the teacher of the village who could not bear see her classes empty anymore. The call was answered relatively fast - a family of Greek expats with six children :) formerly residing in Germany are relocating to the village, aiming for a rural lifestyle far from the stress of Berlin or Athens. This phenomenon is prominent in many regions of Europe and such tactics have been employed in Switzerland, Austria, Northern Italy etc. I hope to see this start happening in Greece as well - despite and against the financial issues of the country - because the population distribution in Greece is HORRIBLE. EDIT: There was interest from 100 families!!!

[max1461]

"Expat English teacher at a private Christian school in Thailand" is like five red flags all in a row. I mean come on.

[gentil-minou]

Gentians on Doorways

Written for the @mdzsrbb and inspired by the beautiful artwork made by @wrecklwj !

“How were you and my mother…acquainted?” “Acquaintances? She was my best friend!" ~ After a decade of living abroad, Lan Zhan returns to China to sort through his mother's affairs after her death. There, he meets Wei Ying, his mother’s friend who she'd commissioned to illustrate a book of nursery rhymes. But Lan Zhan is out of his depth in a land that was once his home. After all, there's no step-by-step guide for when your mother dies.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Wakes & Funerals, Falling In Love, parental loss, Expat Lan Zhan, Artist Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, writing a funeral scene and trying to not make it accidentally horny aka the wangxian curse, just lots of feelings about moving away from your parents, and the fickleness of memories

Lan Zhan & Madam Lan + Wangxian | Complete | 33.7K | Rated T

Preview under the cut

The hallway seems to stretch into infinity, each click of the head teacher’s heels echoing through the vastness of space. A preposterous exaggeration, given that the feet that tread these walls belong primarily to small humans with smaller legs, and such a length would be impractical.

To Lan Zhan, in this moment, it’s the longest hallway in the world.

The head teacher gestures for him to follow her around the corner, as if Lan Zhan was like her young disciples and prone to getting lost in a singular hallway with no intersections. She’s younger than Lan Zhan had expected for a head teacher of an elementary school. She can’t be more than a few years older than him.

"Her classroom is just this way, south facing,” Haung-laoshi rambles, sending him another overly kind, pitying glance. “She loved that room. Lots of natural sunlight."

Lan Zhan nods absently, more out of politeness than true agreement. The light streaming in from the windows that line this hallway grates on his jetlagged state. His head is absent of most thoughts, only the inane recognition that south-facing windows must have meant her classroom would be sweltering and excruciating during a heatwave. Even now, the sun beats down on Lan Zhan, stifling in the late afternoon.

The windows face an inner courtyard. Distantly, Lan Zhan can hear the children laughing and playing, but much of it is drowned out by clicking heels on tiled floor.

He turns his head away from the glaring sun to the interior wall displaying a gallery of crudely drawn blocks and splotches of paint arranged unintelligibly on colored paper. A tiny placard next to each denotes the name of a kindergartener and the vision. Family pets, the playground, a favorite toy, a doting sibling.

A mother, her stick figure arms just out of reach of her stick figure child.

Hastily, Lan Zhan turns back to the endless hallway, where a wooden door seems to grow smaller and smaller as the walls expand outward impossibly so, like the distance is growing wider, not smaller, and clicking heels and laughing children run circles in his pounding head. Everything, from the rhythmic thumping of Lan Zhan’s shoes against tiled floors to the distant ringing in his ears, from the chipped paint along the baseboards to the glaring sunlight arcing overhead, pounds against Lan Zhan’s head like a stampede of charging elephants.

He should be running. Running and running, far and away before the stampede barrels over him leaving his body cracked and bruised in its wake. He shouldn’t be here. He should be anywhere but here.

Then, abruptly, the clicking of the heels ceases when Huang-laoshi stops in front of that wooden door, now a normal size and directly in front of Lan Zhan. A tiny frosted glass window rests above the doorknob in a vertical pane, with leftover pieces of tape missing the accoutrements they once secured.  A row of neatly painted purple flowers blooms through the wood on the bottom of the door, caught in motion as they dance in an unseen wind.

There is no wind to suggest this. He knows simply by looking at the brushstrokes, familiar swirls like the ones that once adorned the wooden doors of his childhood home. He can see it clearly in his mind’s eye, each stroke of a well-worn paintbrush and the subtle sighs of contentment when the artist in question lifted her brush and beamed back at him with pride.

“What do you think, ZhanZhan?”

This far away, the children’s roughhousing fades into the din leaving behind empty space.

Somehow, silence is worse.

“You must be so shocked. It was all so sudden…” Huang-laoshi remarks kindly as she retrieves a crumpled tissue from her pocket and dabs at the corners of her eyes. “I know I already said this, but I am so sorry for your loss.” She lifts a hand as if to pat his shoulder, but Lan Zhan takes a measured step to the side and her hand falls to rest by her side.

Outside, sunshine cascades through flowering trees and leaves speckled shadows dancing in the grass. A breeze slips in through the windows and winds through strands of Lan Zhan’s hair. The subtle scents of a summer on the rise, lying in wait for season’s change.

The breeze does little to soothe his heated skin. “Thank you,” Lan Zhan says politely with little inflection.

Huang-laoshi pauses, waiting for Lan Zhan to continue. But Lan Zhan has little more to say.

Ever since he’d arrived here, everyone seems to think Lan Zhan has something more to say.

What is there to say about his mother dying?

Read more on Ao3

[armandsdivorcelawyer]

@yekkes

Oh my god so glad you asked!!! There are many different types of Expat in Korea:

FB Rant Woman is who I’d classify as “First Time Minority.” There are many of these. They’re white people that usually believe that they now understand systemic oppression because they’re now a minority group in Korea and xenophobia exists. Probably doesn’t believe that they have white privilege in Korea.

Will say anything seemingly negative that happens to them is racism. Korean person not interested in having a serious relationship with expats that will most likely leave the country in the next 1-2 years? Racism. Korean person doesn’t understand their accent when they speak Korean (their pronunciation sucks)? Racism. It’s all racism. They understand now. Don’t you see, American Person of Color? Here, we’re the same 🫶🏽

Other types of expats are:

The Koreaboo

They love KPop and K-dramas and moved to Korea to find their oppar. This expat either has a Korean boyfriend who is an ugly loser or is attractive and clearly not taking the relationship as seriously as she is, or a revolving cast of Korean boyfriends that changes so fast you never can actually learn their names. You would warn her that most men looking to date foreign women are only really looking for casual relationships, but she’s insufferable so you don’t bother.

If she sees you on the street when she’s with her boyfriend, she’s going to glare at you even though he looks like a foot and is chronically unemployed. In her mind, you want him. And that’s all that matters.

She’s an English teacher, but she really doesn’t care about her job. Has an annoying social media presence with titles like “My KOREAN BOYFRIEND tries NEW YORK PIZZA for the FIRST TIME!!”

She posts on the FB groups about how her boyfriend won’t introduce her to his family. People try to tell her that, culturally, people in Korea don’t introduce partners unless they’re engaged and about to get married. She doesn’t get it.

The Loser Back Home

This person is usually a white man who for some reason could not cash into his white male privilege in his country of origin, so he came to Korea expecting Korean women to throw coochie at him simply because he’s white. The LBH fetishizes Korean women, and loathes non-Korean woman. He’s also insufferable.

Also an English teacher, not good at his job. Has lived in Korea for 10+ years and speaks little to no Korean. Sometimes has a Korean wife that you pray divorces him eventually. He usually relies on her to do everything because he refuses to learn Korean.

The “Why are You Still Here?”

This person has also lived in Korea for 10+ years and they HATE the country. They don’t like the food, the people, their jobs, the culture, everything. Chronically miserable.

You ask them why they’re still here, and they never have a straight answer. It’s implicitly understood that they’ve been living in Korea for most of their adult life, and don’t know what they’d do if they left. If they do leave, they’re going to a nearby country (probably Japan or China) to start the process all over again.

The College Student

This person is studying abroad for a semester. Commonly seen in Hongdae clubs. They’re 19 and they can drink legally in Korea and it’s about to be everyone’s problem!

This group has overlap with the Koreaboo.

The Military Man

This person is a man in the US military. He’s either looking to get married to someone after knowing them for 5 business days, or is cheating on their wife with whom they share 3 children (with one on the way!) Swears he gets tested regularly, but will give you an STI. If he’s been in Korea for years, he probably ended up on The Black Book fb group to warn women to not interact with him. (TBB got shut down because other women started leaking the information to the men listed in it, and they threatened to sue the moderators. RIP TBB you saved many a life.)

This person is reviled by everyone in the country, expats included, because he is a menace. He and his friends terrorize the innocent citizens of whatever poor city their base is closest to. Avoid at all costs.

The Traveler

This person hasn’t lived in their country of origin for years, and has mostly been jumping from country to country for adventure! They live in Korea because 1. It’s a nice place to live., 2. Relatively low cost of living, and 3. Close to other countries. A holiday is coming up? They’re going to Thailand. They got vacation days? They’re spending it in Vietnam.

Either very chill and interesting, or insufferable.

And finally; The Running Away from Something. (That’s me!!)

This person is living in Korea because for some reason they do not want to be in their country of origin.

Shitty family? It’s hard to keep in contact with a 12 hour time difference. Don’t know what they’re gonna do with their life? English teaching in Korea is a good gap year job to let you save and figure your shit out. Mentally ill? Oh you stupid bitch. Go make that appointment at the Itaewon International Clinic. DO IT NOW.

Is either staying 1-2 years, or ends up living there forever. No in between.

[joescloes]

l dont know if this idea has been explored before, but Dutch Demigods

In Dutch Highschools, when you take the highest level you have to take either Ancient Greek, or Latin, and obviously you get mythology class too.

So with this information heres a list of things l cant stop thinking about

when youre dyslectic, you arent required to take a language, but you can take a different subject, and lm pretty sure this is done frequently, but while knowing they are dyslectic, when having classical languages in the first year, the demigod realises Ancient Greek is coming easily, like way too easily, while failing French, and Dutch, they exell in an dead language

what place do they live? Amsterdam. While the heart of the Western civilisation is in America, there are ALOT of expats in Amerdam, it wouldn't be weird if a god took a day trip there once or twice

the dutch school system is pretty accommodating to learning disabilities imo, so that might actually get them good grades (no demon algebra teacher)

cant think of anything else rn but might add more later!!

[forteania]

“Ugly” Christmas Sweater day at work. Think I’m gonna win!

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 8! Part 1

Last time we left off, Tony had just returned and Matthew met “his” future stepdad. It was a shock to come face to face with Tony the way he did, but Mattie didn’t give himself away. He’s had plenty of practice dealing with curveballs by this point. So, they all sit down for breakfast and, afterwards, Matthew gets to witness Arthur and Antonio interact. Just ordinary domestic stuff. Mattie observes, and soon he can see what Alfred meant when he said that - although he likes Tony - he doesn’t think Tony and his dad are a good match. They get along, but there’s no passion. It’s almost like a business friendship, albeit an affectionate one. Tony is a nice guy and Mattie enjoys laughing at his jokes and chatting about ordinary, day-to-day things. So, no potential evil stepfather subplot here. But he still feels his stomach sink at the thought of what could happen in the future after he and Alfred swap back.

Can Matthew picture Arthur married to Tony? He can, but it’s not a picture that sits well with him.

What picture would sit well? Ah, isn’t that just the question. But one we’re not ready to answer. Yet

Meanwhile, Alfred is enjoying his time with Francis but Mattie’s jibe last time they talked is still niggling him. Alfred knows that he isn’t really a bad kid, but he does frustrate and exasperate Arthur. Lot’s of calls from teachers about talking in class and angry neighbours clutching baseballs and complaining about broken windows. Stuff like that. The thought of Arthur being happier with his more well behaved son? A son he won’t have to constantly excuse and apologise for? Yeah. Alfred no-likee. He’s well on his way to loving Matthew as a brother, but still. A little seed or resentment being planted? Maybe. Both twins have some complex feelings to deal with. I mean, on top of everything else going on with their situation, lol

Things go on as normal, until a few days later when Alfred comes home from school to find Uncle Gil waiting for him. Francis was called away last minute for work and so Gil is here to babysit. Alfred doesn’t mind. Gil is awesome! The two of them are ignoring Francis’s meticulously laid out instructions and making their own idea of food instead (“Hey, Uncle Gil, can we have a can of frosting for dinner?” “Sure, kid!”) when Gilbert casually brings up that his brother is getting married soon. In New York. Seems his fiance, an Italian expat, runs a restaurant there. Afterwards, Gil’s brother plans to move to New York permanently to live with his new spouse. Without thinking, Alfred starts enthusiastically talking about how great NYC is and how much Gilbert’s brother (Uncle Ludwig to Mattie) will love it there.

Alfred goes on and on about his home city for so long (homesickness nipping at the lad? Yep) that he doesn’t realise Gilbert has fallen silent and is just standing there, watching and listening. With an unreadable look on his face. Alfred trails off when Gilbert suddenly reaches out and tilts Alfred’s head, brushing his fingers behind his ear. Alfred is confused.

“Uncle Gil? What-?”

“You fell off the wall at the end of the garden when you were a kid,” Gilbert says. “Fell and cut yourself on a stone. Bled like a stuck pig and needed stitches. First time in hospital. Fran was having kittens. Think he cried more than you. Remember?”

Alfred feels his heart start to bang in his chest. Mattie never thought to tell him about that. It happened too long ago and they didn’t have time to go over everything. Alfred tries to sound confident when he replies:

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“You do, huh? Like you remember New York?”

Alfred’s mouth is dry. The confidence is rapidly ebbing.

“I - y-yeah…”

“Weird, since you’ve never been.”

Alfred’s heart stops.

“I…I…”

Those red eyes bore into him.

“Or,” Gilbert says. “Should I say, Mattie’s never been. Or is that wrong now, too?”

Gilbert feels behind Alfred’s ear again, then takes his hand back. And stares Alfred down.

“No scar.”

Alfred can’t speak. He feels like he’s going to faint.

“Let me guess,” Gilbert says. “Alfred?”

(Dun dun dun! In the end, it was Gilbert who worked it out first. Whodathunkit? Anyway, that’s all I have for now. So, please enjoy and stay tuned for part 9! (´ε｀ )♡)

[thana-topsy]

Your anatomy and art overall is flawless, how long did it take you to learn? Oh won’t you tell us, Mister Moon?

Thank you! I'd hardly call it flawless, but I appreciate the compliment regardless.

I did have two years of studio art training in college before switching majors. I was fortunate to have an incredibly skilled, though slightly terrifying figure drawing teacher. He was a Russian expat and ran his class a bit like a bootcamp. No music, no distractions. Just 3+ hours of meticulous live model drawing with him pacing back and forth behind us. And if you were fucking up, he'd come up behind you and say "give me your pencil" with a thick accent. Then he'd sit down and show you what you were doing wrong.

It was amazing, but I was also one of his favorite students. So I had a much better time than the people he didn't like. I pity those he didn't like.

All that to say, I'm still learning and improving. He taught me the foundations, and now I'm still building upon them. I think it took me about 6 years of consistent work to "get good" to the point that I felt really confident with my figure drawing. Most of high school and college. Now it's just about keeping up the practice.

(Mister Moon??)

[xbuster]

I remember looking into an expat forum for people who want to go to Asia (primarily Japan) to work like over a decade ago and it was full of dudes using working as an english teacher as an opportunity to sleep around every night for little effort.

They should all be publicly executed

[silurisanguine]

OC Questions tag game - (lisa-and-shadow question answers)

I was tagged by @lisa-and-shadow in the oc questions tag game and I'm going to answer the three given me as all 4 of my ocs!- Seren Jones, Aeryn Ryder, Zofie Orel and Kiara Black This was great to really delve into their personalities as i wrote these, i hope that comes across! Since this is going to be a long post, answers behind a cut! And I'll tag @vorchagirl @despicablediet and @bearlytolerant @staticpallour @fangbangerghoul @a-cosmic-elf @atonalginger @eridanidreams @toxiclizardwrites @therealgchu @aro-pancake with these three questions to answer, no pressure though! What is your favourite place to visit? Do you have a signature style or look? What was your favourite toy as a child?

First up Seren Jones (My Starfield, Coemancer Starborn OC)

What was your first kiss like? "Oh...fumbled, messy and embarrassing!...but kinda nice too. I was fourteen and so innocent in that regard. It was with a girl I'll call Katie, a fellow expat I'd met and grown fond of in the Akilan secondary school I ended up in after my parents and I had moved back there. I'd known from the moment i started thinkin about other kids in that way that I liked both boys and girls and finding a girl that seemed to like me too, well I jumped at it...guess my curious explorer streak came out early! It was such a classic trope, kissing her behind the school sheds during break. She basically dared me and I'd never kissed anyone, so I just sort of smushed my lips against hers as she opened her mouth and yeah...messy. Then a teacher came round the corner and discovered us and although they weren't angry I was so embarrassed. Katie I think more so as she kinda avoided me after that." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "Now? I guess my starborn suit. It feels like it's part of me... I dunno. When I'm reborn in a new universe, I'm already wearing it, like it's born with me. But style? I tend to go practical, what will fit under it, so sportswear or jumpsuits, anything fitted or light. As for what I like, I guess I used to enjoy wearing fitted suits and formwear in dark colours, like blues, blacks and greys, sombre tones rather than bright colors. That I leave to my hair! Think my favourite item of clothing though...was my wedding dress. That was this cream and deep dark navy blue sleeveless gown I'd found in a shop in New Homestead, but I think that had a lot to do with the way Sam looked at me when he saw me in it." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I'd like to say even keeled most of the time, even when I'm seething inside I play it cool usually. Why I survived that gauntlet going undercover with the Crimson Fleet for Sysdef. I used my anger to play the role and I think when I do show anger it's the cold kind. I don't tend to scream or shout, unless it's the Hunter provoking me, then...well I tend to react." Next Aeryn Ryder ( My Mass Effect Andromeda pathfinder)

What was your first kiss like? "Oh god let me think...Okay, you know, I don't actually remember exactly as those days have become a blur. I can tell you though the first kiss I do remember, the one that set the bar for all future kisses. That was with Kesala when I was eighteen, a research assistant on a prothean dig I was peacekeeping. She was this petite lavender skinned asari that just made everything so interesting. She had such enthusiasm for her work that it was infectious and she brought that to the evening I spent with her at the bar. She was what...112, young for an asari but I could tell she was experienced if you know what I mean. The kiss itself was tender, slow and made my legs weak...and that's all I'm saying on the matter." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "My black leather jacket, I love that thing so much. I usually pair it with a simple top, and fitted pants and my go to sneakers, usually in purple shades. I like comfy and casual. Not that I don't like dressing up, I love dressing up, but I never get chance now! I'm either in armor or wanting to wear something comfy afterwards. I did get to see these gorgeous fabrics back on Aya that Jaal told me were used to make gowns for ceremonies and important parties. Maybe one day I'll get something made for myself, when we can finally celebrate." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "Feisty, that's what my brother Tristan says I'm like. I've had to temper it as Pathfinder with all the important people I deal with and SAM thank god really helps there, calming me down from doing or saying something I might regret. But there are times they know to just let me loose and let it out my system!"

Next Zofie Orel (My Deus Ex / Assassin's Creed OC)

What was your first kiss like? "Hmm. Jason, a fellow Assassin acolyte in the Coterie. We shared a birthday so we shared a kiss too after both of us getting a little drunk at our eighteenth party...He died in the Incident protecting civilians. He was a gentle soul really, I don't really think suited to the life, but he was a damn good scout and very good kisser." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "I only wear red, black and white clothes as it makes it easier to mix and match when travelling and I rather like the symbolism. I suppose I have different signature outfits depending on who I am at the time. As Sofia, I wear sleek, expensive clothing, usually a fitted suit. As myself when on a job I wear my custom made tac vest and armoured combat trousers and when I'm off the job, it's what ever is clean but I tend to go for more high end clothing, just in case I need to put on the Sofia persona." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I would be lying if I said I didn't have a temper, but I've been trained to control it, hone it into a weapon. Some may call me cold for it, but I feel things strongly, I just hide it well, lest my emotions be seen as a weakness by the enemy." Lastly Kiara Black (My Thief/Dishonored OC)

What was your first kiss like? "That's a bit personal, why do you want to know?" *a few minutes pass* "Fine, you're not going to let this go are you? It was a streetgang kid when i lived in Dunwall, nothing special." Do you have a signature style of dress/favorite outfit? "Anything dark and fitted so I'm not noticed. I tend to swap between my gear - this leather and twill get up I'm wearing now and something loose after to let my skin breath." Are you quick tempered? Or even-keeled? "I...try not to be. But some people make me angry with their bigotry and arrogance. I can't do much about it though, so there is no point in getting angry, it's better to get even."