chinese door



Manhwa: A guy like you
Chapter: 39 Korean raws

Summary: in the beginning of the chapter jinha visits the Chinese dude next door and tells him to stay away from him and siwon. He then grabs siwon from the room and leaves the hotel. It then shows a flashback of when jinha was little and how he met the Chinese dude. They became friends, but one day jinha was smiling at a picture of him and siwon and the Chinese dude got really jealous. After that people around jinha would started bullying him and doing mean things to him. The Chinese dude helped him from getting hurt and then they went to the rooftop. Jinha says that it’s fine but the Chinese dude wants to “help”. He then licks the wound on jinha’s lips and then they kiss. After that it shows the bully and the Chinese dude talking. It was his plan to make jinha his. He was the one to tell the other kids to bully him so he can come and save him.

I FUCKING HATE the Chinese dude!! Ugh poor jinha.

14malbert  asked:

♟: Patching up a wound

♟ Patching up a wound | Percabeth 

“C’mon,” Annabeth said, hand gripping the back of Percy’s shirt. “We’re almost home.”

“I knew it,” Percy replied, throwing his arm out. “I knew something was gonna happen. We never get to have a nice, normal date, like, ever.”

Annabeth frowned. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The last time they’d tried to go on a date, a god showed up. The time before that, it’d been a hellhound hungry for blood (and mushroom ravioli, apparently).

“We didn’t even make it to our dinner reservation,” Percy grumbled. “I was really looking forward to that pasta…”

Keep reading

Thursday | ten

Genre: best friend!au | fluff, lil bit of quite stressful angst but happy ending

Member: Ten / reader

Word Count: 3500ish

Summary: “it was still a mistake”

“no the mistake was falling for you!”

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

It’s a Thursday when they meet.

Their year 7 teacher assigns them partnered projects about the solar system and she pulls names out of a hat. They get paired together. He’s is nice, really nice and she realises he has the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen- she’s not star struck or anything, she just hasn’t seen one like it before.

He introduces himself, she hasn’t seen him around much before so she’s assuming he’s pretty new and his name is a number. “Why is your name Ten?” she asks as they’re glueing planets to pieces of strings.

He shrugs, “It’s just a nickname.”

She frowns, “Well then what’s your real name.”

He sighs, smiling knowingly because there’s no way she’ll be able to pronounce it. “ Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” he says, almost proudly.

She pauses, staring at him, “Yeah I like Ten.” she dismisses because even she knows any attempt at the pronunciation would be embarrassing.

He grins, “You’re funny.”

“Do you want to be friends?” She asks quietly, almost shyly and he likes her already.

He smiles again, “I have a feeling we will be for a very long time.”

She frowns, “What are you a psychic or something?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, pretending that a few second ago she wasn’t worried about what he’d say.

“Yeah I read people’s minds.” He assures.

She narrows her eyes and glances around the room. And then she points to a classmate, “What’s he thinking?”

“That he’s got a really itchy butt.”

And the teacher separates them because they distract each other too much.

“We’re out of Chinese.”

Ten closes the door behind him, frowning as he makes his way past the kitchen to look into the open living room. She’s sitting on the floor with a plate of food in her hands and her laptop on her lap. She’s surrounded by sheets and open text books and colouring pens strewn around in an unseemingly order. “That Chinese has been there for weeks.” He scoffs, dropping his bag onto the dining room table.

She shrugs, “It’s the only thing that was in there and I’m starving.” He breathes a laugh, walking over to sit behind her on the couch. He flops down and sighs loudly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. She pauses stuffing her face. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

There’s a silence where he contemplates telling her, knowing that he will eventually because he tells her everything so he just sighs. “I got fired.”

She glares at him, “Again?” she cries, putting her plate aside to turn around and face him. Her chin barely reaches the sofa but she still manages to scare him a little. “What the hell did you do this time?” she demands.

“Nothing!” he cries cordially but when he sees the look on her face he sighs again, “Okay so I may have burnt someone’s arm.”

She frowns, “How did you do that?”

He rolls his eyes and waves her off like it’s no big deal, “They got in the way of the fire-”


“It was only a small fire and I told him to move, it’s not my fault they put the toaster right under the cupboards.” he defends.

She shakes her head, “You’re insane.”

He sits up, looking down at her plate of food, “Yeah, well at least I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

She waves him off, “I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

“Look at it, there’s mould on the chicken!” he cries, reaching over to point and she bats his hand away.

“Get your own food!” she snaps. He rolls his eyes threading his fingers through her hair and sighs Her eyes flutter closed and she leans her head against the sofa. It’s quiet, the only sound is their breathing and he doesn’t think he wants to move from this very spot when they’re both so comfortable in the silence of their own thoughts. “I’m tired.” she murmurs.

He looks down at her with eyes soft around the edges of the cold look she’s grown so used to and he nods, “Me too.”

His fingers thread through the knots and his thumb brushes her cheek and a part of her feels that this isn’t what friends do, but when he makes her feel like this she doesn’t care. “Can we watch House?” She asks quietly.

He breathes a laugh, “As long as you promise not to spoil it for me.”

This time she laughs, “Well I’m sorry I used to watch ER. At least your life is safe in my hands, imagine, you could have a heart attack right now and I would know what to do.” she assures.

He rolls his eyes, “If I have a heart attack its because of all the stress you cause me.”

It’s a Thursday when Ten realises he might like her as more than a friend.

They’re in the supermarket, travelling between aisles in search of cheap food that they can easily make because neither of them is particularly good at cooking. He’s pushing the trolley and she’s sitting inside it, a lollipop in her mouth as she grabs at rice packets and biscuits and throws them into her lap. “We don’t need those.” He points out as she slides a stack of waffles somewhere next to her knee.

She wags a finger at him but doesn’t turn, “We always need waffles.” She assures.

He shakes his head, “There is literally no situation in which we would ever need waffles.”

She grabs a cowboy hat that someone disregarded in the cereal aisle and pops the lollipop out of her mouth, “well, what if the queen comes around?”

“The queen?” He scoffs, throwing in a pack of cereal that he knows she likes.

“Yeah!” She cries, “And what if she stays for breakfast and we’ve only made pancakes but she doesn’t like pancakes and we don’t have any waffles!” she holds them up to show him, “We can’t let down the queen!”

“Of which country?” He asks in response

She pauses. “England?” She suggests, “Or maybe a Russian Tzar, oh! Do you think Rasputin might come round?” She exclaims, turning to face him with this child-like grin that turns his leg to jelly.

He shakes his head with a small smile, “Rasputin’s dead.” he points out and she waves him off.

“That’s what they want you to think.” She assures, “And if he ever visits I can assure you that he is a waffle person.”

“Okay, now what your reasoning for this?” He asks, reaching forward to pull the cowboy hat from her head.

She snatches it back, “I look good in it, is that not reason enough?”

“Were not going to buy it.” he points out, “Despite the fact that it’s just you and me, we eat a lot.

She mock gasps, “But what if woody comes round for dinner?”

He rolls his eyes, turning the trolley towards the costume aisle, “Don’t you think he’d be offended by you impersonating a cowboy?”

She pauses.

“You’re right!” She cries, ripping the hat off her head. She wriggles around in the cart and clambers to her knees, facing him as she places it against his hair and begins to tie string to hold in place under his chin. “You’d look more realistic as a cowboy.” she smirks and he’s staring longer that he should.

“Can I get a tiara?” He asks, still pushing the trolley and she grins.

“Of course you can princess, any particular colour?” She questions, her eyes crinkling with her smile.

He hesitates, a finger tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Pink or purple, whatever they’ve got.”

She nods, “Yes-sir-ie” she jokes in the most southern accent she can muster and leans out of the trolley, picking up various princess costumes, “Would you like to slip into an apple induced coma or lose a shoe on a wild night out?” She asks, holding them up to face him.

He smirks, “Depends, do I meet the love of my life?” He asks, looking her straight into the eyes before realising the fact that his heart rate is way up.

She smiles, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, “Why, do tell me your deepest, darkest wish and the genie will make it a reality.” She says, again in a southern accent, “Is it princess Jasmine? Was it her beautiful dark eyes?”

He cocks his head leaning closer, “No.” he shakes his head, still staring, too long. She notices. “They look like yours.”

“Shut up.” She jokes and when he doesn’t say anything the smile slowly slides off her face. She hesitates, “You’re serious?” She deadpans.

He shrugs, “Same colour hair, same freckles on her cheek, same smile.” he blurts before he can even realise that this is probably a mistake.

And she stays kneeled in the trolley, their faces close enough to see the truth in each others eyes and that cowboy hat still on his face. She blinks, trying to ignore her heartbeat, “Are you banging my sister?” she raises an eyebrow.

And they laugh, but they never talk about it again.

She glares at him from her seat at the dining room table, “I told you, I can’t.”

He throws himself dramatically onto the table, whining and pretending to sob, “But please!” he begs, praying in her direction and pouting.

She shakes her head, ignoring him, “No. You asked me a week ago and my answer was no, you asked me yesterday and my answer was no and then you asked me today and guess what? My answer is still no.”

“But you promised!” he exclaims.

She stares at him almost astounded, “I did no such thing.” she assures cordially.

He wags his finger, “At 4:30 am on the Friday of last week you said that you would come with me.”

“4:30 am? On Friday? You mean when I had been awake for 52 hours?” she cries.

He holds his hands up, “You still promised.”

“I was sleep deprived!” she yells.

“It counts!” he assures.

“It does not!” she replies, “Now get off the table, you’re sitting on my work.” she demands.

He shakes his head, “Nope.” and proceeds to lie down on top of the mounds of paper and open textbooks. “You’re coming. Get your shoes it’s Latin night.”

“I don’t even dance!” she cries, running short of arguments he’ll just ignore anyway.

He shrugs, “You do with me.” he points out.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and trying her best not to blush. He looks so hopeful and pleading and the white shirt he’s wearing clings to his body like it’s always belonged there. She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, “You’re so annoying.” she huffs angrily.

But he grins, this wide million watt smile that blinds her and makes her forget that she’s angry  because oh god he looks so beautiful. “Yes!” he cries, sitting up. She grabs a textbook and whacks him with it, “Ow! What was that for?”

“For constantly roping me into this shit!” she replies and he laughs, a laugh that makes her heart stutter and die in her chest.

She hits him again.

It’s a Thursday when they first kiss.

Its 3am and they’re still dancing in the club at Latin night. Her feet are sore and her legs ache but she’s got this huge grin on her face and her veins are intoxicated with a flood of alcohol. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, who knows. There are waves of bodies crushed together and music that pounds her ears until the floor shakes and the lights become a haze of colours that ripple through her mind.

He twirls her around and laughs when she does because her laugh is infectious and he can’t stop staring. “Shots?” She asks and he nods.

They weave between the plethora of bodies that nearly crush them and she reaches out to hold onto his hand so they don’t lose each other. She nearly slams into the bar and they both laugh because they’re pretty drunk, and they’ve been here so long the bartender knows what to give them.

“Three, two, one!” They shout over the music and then they lick the salt from their hands, down the shot and then stick a lemon in each others mouths. They laughing and smiling and they’re touchier than usual because they’re drunk and fuck it, boundaries disappear when they’re drunk.

His arms is around her waist and his fingers grip at the bare skin  her hip to hold her in place. She smiles and pushes the hair back from his sweaty forehead, “You’re hot.” She points out, breathing heavily because she is too.

He smirks, “Thanks, I know.”

She laughs and shoves his chest, “You’re an idiot.”

But she pushes too hard and looses her own balance but he catches her  wrapping both arms around her. Her hands land on his shoulders so she can stop herself from falling down and that, right then, is when they kiss.

Because why not?

They’re both consenting adults, neither of them will remember and when he kisses her like that she doesn’t care. His fingers are tangled in her hair and her skin is on fire, their veins feel like they’re being pricked over and over again by tiny needles.

This probably shouldn’t be happening, they’re friends- best friends. Best friends don’t kiss each other like the world is at their feet. But their kissing too deeply, too much like they care that they lose their balance and nearly fall down again. And so they back to dancing, but things change from then on.

“You haven’t spoken to him? You live together!” Johnny cries and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s another problem. I need to find an apartment.” she adds, staring down at her coffee and swirling it with the small spoon provided.

“Are you serious?” He mutters, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “You can’t just move out.”

She shrugs, “Why not? He has six hours of lectures on Thursday, I can pack up some stuff, stay at yours.”

He scoffs a laugh, “You are not staying at mine.”

She frowns, leaning forward, “Why not?”

Because-” he hisses and then pauses, taking a deep breath. “Because you can’t just not talk to your best friend for a week and then move out without any explanation.”

“Fine, I’ll leave a note.” she surrenders, waving her arms.

“Are you serious? Jesus you’re just as bad as each other.” He huffs angrily, leaning back in his chair because he’s sick of both of them.

She pauses and stops swirling her coffee, “What do you mean? He’s spoken to you?” she demands, her eyes wide.

He waves her off, “I’m not playing messenger between the two-”

“Does he hate me?” She asks quietly, looking back down at her coffee.

Johnny purses his lips and sighs, “Of course he doesn’t hate you, you’re his best friend.” he says softly, because he can tell she’s worried.

She swallows, looking out of the window, “I need to move out.” She determine.

Johnny throws his arm up, “Jesus Christ do something.” he begs.

Is a Thursday when they finally realise they’ve been in love with each other for years.

She goes back home when he’s at his six hours of lectures, but she’s still quiet anyway because she doesn’t really feel like she going home, she feels like she’s stepping into forbidden territory. She tip toes in, closing the door quietly behind her, “What are you doing?” A voice says.

She jumps, holding her hand to her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. But slowly she opens them, landing on Ten. He’s sitting on one end of the sofa with a book in his hand and a frown on his face. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and they’ve lost their usual glint. “I’m just uh…” she trails off, pointing to her room

She doesn’t finish that sentence, “Where have you been?” he asks with no particular tone of voice.

She swallows, dropping her keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. “Busy.” She states, “I’ve had this project due so I’ve been living in the library for the past week and-”

“Stop lying to me.” He interrupts sadly, closing the book. He looks disappointed, like he expected better from her. “I think…” he trails off, scratching his head, “I think we need to talk.”

“About what? The state of our economy?” She smirks, laughing to hide the fear behind her words, “You know, China has had some fascinating developments in-”


“Well no actually, they’ve been working on a new train that is elevated above the city of-”

Hey!” He interrupts again, standing up this time. “You being in perpetual denial does not help anyone.” he scoffs, approaching her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not in denial, denial of what?”

“Do you remember that night?” He asks like he’s making sure she’s genuinely just ignoring him for another reason. He sounds so scared and tired that she opens her mouth but finds nothing to say.

She swallows, looking down at her feet, “It was a mistake.”

He shakes his head and scoffs bitterly, “No. It was a long time coming.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?” She demands angrily-, but deep down she knows so maybe she really is in denial.

He cocks his head, “Wow, you really are oblivious.” he shakes his head and sighs, “there have been multiple occasions on which we’ve basically admitted how we felt and still neither of us did anything.”

She sneers, “We were drunk, people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

He shakes his head, “Sometimes we were sober.”

“It was still a mistake!” She cries, suddenly angry because he’s making her feel bad now.

“No, the mistake was falling for you.” he snaps back immediately.

Her neck snaps up, “What?” She breathes.

He cocks his head with a small smile, “Come on babe. You know what i’m talking about.” he assures, his fingers hooking apprehensively through hers.

She frowns, curling her fingers with his until she feels like he won’t let go. She steps closer to him and he sucks in a slow and steady breath, his eyes widening at the look she’s giving him. There’s this soft smile on her face and her eyes are shaded with hope and wonder and she swallows, “How long?” she asks quietly.

He laughs, “Do you remember when we went to prom and you wore that purple dress and the necklace I got you and the most jaw dropping smile i’ve ever seen another human wear.” he pauses, reaching up slowly and placing a hand on her cheek, “I realised that… there’s no-one else like you.” He smiles, “The day I met you was the day everything became a hundred times clearer, like I finally understood the reason i was put on this earth.”

She smiles as his arms come to wrap around her waist, and she feels like her skin is on fire wherever he touches her. “What happens now?”

And he kisses her again.

Its like poison in her veins, like she’s sliding down a cloud and his smile is the rainbow. “Now-” he breathes against her lips, “Now I think we need to establish something.” he states in all seriousness.

“Oh, okay, what?” She asks carefully.

“Rasputin is dead, and the Queen is not a waffle person” he blurts. “I bet you the queen only eats kale for breakfast or something.”

She looks aghast, “Now hold on a second-”

New Chinese Animation Film!

If any of you know Little Door Gods (and if not go and give it a watch), the Chinese animation studio behind it, Chaser Light Animations, has released a new movie coming the summer of 2017! 

Trailer 1: 

Trailer 2:

(Featuring a cute robot that’s literally the love child of Wall-E and Eve)

bookgal13  asked:

How about Jamie and Claire take Manhattan (mid-20th century AU)?

We Live For Love

Two hours into their first rehearsal, Jamie Fraser asked Claire Beauchamp for a break.

Ever since he had shuffled out of The Broch and shrugged his shoulders against the cold wind pushing toward the East River, heading to catch the IRT back downtown, his mind had been swirling.

At this time yesterday he had been ironing his jeans, dreaming of taking the stage at Madison Square Garden. Standing by the side of some faceless frontman whose wails matched those of his guitar.

Now he was sweating in a third-floor room of a run-down factory, in between the flophouses and Chinese restaurants which reminded him why he always steered clear of the Bowery, praying the electricity wouldn’t fry his only amp – and trying for the life of him to figure out how to coax Claire into sounding like a rock and roll star.

Claire looked from Jamie to Ian – sweating behind his drum kit – to Willie Coulter, another guy from The Broch who Ian had quickly pressed into service as a bassist.

“Sure – I don’t mind if you guys smoke. But I could use some lunch.”

Willie set down his bass and Ian stood, stretching. “Want us to bring you something? I gotta take a walk.”

“The Chinese place two doors down has good lo mein. I’ll pay you back.”

“Get me one, too?” Jamie met Ian’s eyes in silent understanding. “And a Coke?”

“Sure.” Willie nodded, and soon his and Ian’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

Jamie shifted his guitar and turned to face Claire. She was perched on a high stool – just like she had been last night – pursing her lips.

“Look – you got a gorgeous voice, Claire.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” she sighed.

He licked his lips. “But you can’t just sing like you’re on a Broadway stage, or in a cabaret. Your voice is too thin above the music that way. It’ll get lost. And you *can’t* get overpowered by the music.”

“I’m not overpowered – ”

“It’s not *you,* Claire!” He stepped a bit closer to her, feeling the ancient floorboards give a little. “Nothing is about you. It’s your *voice.* It’s about how you present your voice – it’s about your attitude. You have to really *feel* what the song is. To really *feel* the instruments – the rumble of the bass, the thump of the drums.”

She stood then, holding her ground. “I don’t want to yell or scream. I can’t lose my voice.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “I won’t let you. Look – you brought me here to help you. Let me help you.”

His eyes searched for hers, pleading. Willing her to understand what he was saying.

Wanting more than anything to establish that connection.

He launched into the opening riff of Blondie’s “Call Me” – the song they’d picked as the first to rehearse.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” he counted, watching her. “One more! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight – GO!”

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car,” she sang. “Color me your – ”

Abruptly he stopped. “No, Claire – no. You can’t just sway into it – it’s not supposed to be a smooth transition from note to note. That’s not how Debbie Harry does it – that’s not how you’ll do it. Make it choppier. Again.”

She frowned, nodded. Wanting to argue back – but willing to learn. Open to his advice.

Four bars – sixteen beats for the intro. He nodded her cue.

“Color me your color, baby – ”

Again he stopped. “No, Claire. Too much. Too choppy.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Show me, then.”

“You’ve got to remember that this is a song about a gigolo, Claire. It’s not a nice topic. Put yourself in his shoes. ‘Color me your color, baby…’”

Then she tried it again.

“Closer. Getting there. You have to just let it out, Claire. Forget every fucking thing your fancy voice coaches ever taught you. Push yourself into it. Let that beautiful voice just GO.”

She looked like she wanted to say something – but then thought again. Steeled herself.

Holy God, she was a warrior.

He plucked the opening chords again – and then –


Her gorgeous soprano floated aggressively over his raw guitar. Ethereal.

“Keep going!” he yelled over the chord progression between the chorus and next verse. “You got this. Keep going!”

She smiled triumphantly. So radiant. And drew from some spirit dwelling deep within her, and sang her heart out.

“Come up off your color chart – I know where you’re coming from – Call me!”

“Call me!” Jamie echoed the backing vocal.

“On the line, call me, call me any, anytime. Call me!”

Her eyes locked with his.

“Call me!”

It happened then – a connection sparking between them. In an instant, he recognized himself in her. Saw his future in her.

“My love, you can call me any day or night. Call me!”

And from the stunned look in her eyes, she did as well.

They finished the song, transfixed in each other.

Shaking with adrenaline.

And woke to the enthusiastic whoops and whistles of Ian and Willie, arms weighed down with paper bags full of egg rolls and lo mein and fortune cookies.

By three o’clock they’d nailed down not just “Call Me,” but also a fun, rollicking version of John Cougar Mellencamp’s “I Need A Lover.” A more traditional rock song, but with much different timing and tempos than Blondie.

It wasn’t too difficult for Willie or Ian – but Claire was clearly exhausted. She was too stubborn to admit it, but the last thing Jamie wanted was for her to truly blow out her voice on their first day.

“Hey – let’s call it a day?” he suggested after they’d finished yet another run-through, watching Claire quietly lean against the stool for support. She had been on her feet since they’d finished lunch – rocking and lunging and strutting as she sang. Her voice – and, more importantly, her confidence – seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each song.

But there was such a thing as too much practice. And Jamie desperately wanted to get some time alone with her.

“Yeah, fine by me,” she agreed, bending over to take a sip from her Coke. “You guys OK with that? Will you be ready for Murtagh to visit in the morning?”

“Not a problem.” Willie was already packing up his bass, and Ian reached for the bag where he kept his drumsticks. “You OK, Claire? Want me to walk you to the subway?”

“We’re going to stay back a bit,” Jamie interrupted, slipping his guitar off his shoulder and nonchalantly unplugging his amp. “Want to pick another song for tomorrow. Three is always better than two.”

He turned back to Claire, who had climbed back up on the stool, watching the three men put away their instruments.

“I want to thank all of you,” she said quietly. Voice strong, but a bit subdued. Awed.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Claire,” Ian smiled back. “We’re happy to – ”

“With respect, Ian,” she interrupted, “You don’t understand. This is – I’ve waited for this day for so long. It’s a dream I’ve risked a lot for. And you’re helping make that dream come true. So thank you.”

Willie picked up his case and softly crossed the room to gently lay a hand on Claire’s shoulder.

“We’re not done yet – tomorrow’s another day.”

She smiled at him – suddenly looking so tired. “Indeed it is. See you here at ten sharp?”

Ian shrugged into his backpack, clapped Jamie on the shoulder, and once again the drummer and bassist for their still-unnamed band slipped out of the rehearsal space.

Jamie knelt to close his guitar case, then stood to face Claire.

How to keep her by his side now, for even a few more minutes? How to extend this indescribable, incredible day?

“You want to get a drink somewhere?” he heard himself say.

This time when she smiled, it went all the way to her eyes.

God, she was beautiful.



Blondie, “Call Me”:

John Mellencamp, “I Need A Lover”:

anonymous asked:

What are thoughts when Americans say the US will lose it's important role as a superpower to China or whoever?

I have a lot of thoughts on this. I think it’s possible that China will overtake the US as the predominant world power at some point over the next century, but it’s far from guaranteed. It’s useful to imagine three scenarios to illustrate a range of possibilities: 

  1. China-pessimistic: China stagnates. The CPC fails to continue development at current rates or experiences a severe crash it can’t manage. The failure of the CPC to continue delivering economic gains to Chinese citizens opens the door for demands for significant democratization, likely leading to state repression and a reversal of any gains made in political liberalization.
  2. Middle-way: China meets the US in strength. China continues to develop, albeit at a slower rate than before, and fully meets the United States in global power at some point over the century, establishing a new bipolar international system.
  3. China-optimistic: China overtakes the US. The CPC overcomes structural problems in the Chinese economy and keeps China on a path of strong growth, allowing for an expansion of international influence. The Party allows for greater cultural freedom, giving them cultural exports to compliment their new international roles. This leads to China overcoming the US at some point over the next century.

The actual reality, as I imagine, could be any shade of gray in between those options. I tend to gravitate towards the middle way. There’s a number of factors that make me skeptical of the idea China will be able to blow past the United States in global power. I’ll break this up into two parts: economic and military.

  • Chinese GDP growth, even after accounting for their inflated numbers, is almost certainly higher than American GDP growth. However, growth rates have been trending downwards for years. For 2016, China published its annual lowest growth rate since 1990- the year following the turbulence of the Tiananmen Square protests- and it was only even that high because of a significant government stimulus. There’s a number of reasons for China’s economic slowdown:
    • Like the US, the country is in the early stages of a pretty significant demographic crisis, but unlike the US, their’s is due primarily to the one-child policy. The portion of the population in the workforce is on the decline, while the portion of the population needing support in old age is on the rise. This demographic transition will much harder for China to handle than the US due to their lower state of development.
    • The Chinese economy is worryingly over-leveraged. Indeed, some critics go as far as to say that the Chinese economic model is based around inefficient debt-based overinvestment. Here are two good articles on the topic: one arguing we should worry about Chinese debt causing a financial crisis, and one arguing we shouldn’t.
    • Tyler Cowen gives a good, simple argument in the video below about a structural problem that the Chinese economy has hit which partially explains their over-reliance on debt-based investment. China could achieve massive gains in growth in earlier decades by grabbing all of the “low-hanging fruit,” all of the reforms that a dictatorship can accomplish quite easily which are necessary to create a sound economy- liberalizing trade; investing in the basics like infrastructure, transportation, housing, etc.; and so on. High levels of investment were enabled by its high levels of pre-reform savings, allowing for an explosion in growth once liberalization occurred. However, as they’ve reached a higher level of economic development, they’re now faced with much more complex problems that a dictatorship is less well-equipped to deal with: creating systems like education and healthcare which are hard to design and which require a lot of feedback from those most closely involved in them, creating an environment for market-based entrepreneurship, etc. Instead of going after those hard tasks, the Chinese government has continued to poor investment into enterprises with lower and lower returns, leading to overcapacity in a number of sectors in the economy. They waste all this money on inefficient investments to keep the economy propped up and make it look like it’s growing at a fast pace so as to keep the loyalty of Chinese citizens, attract foreign investors, and so on. I strongly recommend the video.

    • All of this complicates the CPC’s ultimate goal of moving China from an export-based economy to a domestic consumption-based economy. Accomplishing this goal would make the Chinese economy significantly more stable, and is probably a smart move for long-term prosperity. Doing that requires a number of things: raising wages, establishing a stronger social safety net, improving education in both quality and reach, and liberalizing markets. That’s a transition that will be difficult to accomplish for the CPC, especially as they’re trying to simultaneously balance their debt burden and their oncoming demographic crisis.
    • Add to that balancing act one final problem: enormous levels of pollution in Chinese cities that do significant damage to their economy. Part of the reason for this is not only China’s massive population, but also the inefficient nature of their economy. In a quote I linked to earlier, Chinese economist Gao Shangquan points out that, from 1949-2009, China’s GDP increased 14-fold, but its consumption of natural resources increased 40-fold. But, even with this fact aside, keeping Chinese growth high over several more decades to come will only bring greater environmental challenges, which need to be dealt far sooner than later.
    • All of this is greatly complicated by the fact that the Chinese government can’t necessarily sacrifice short-term growth for long-term gains, because, to quote Evan Osnos (in his book, “Age of Ambition”): “without ideology, the legitimacy of the Chinese government rest[s] ever more on its satisfying and pleasing the public.” A failure to deliver material goods to Chinese citizens would allow for the emergence of the popular pressures for democratization that the CPC is trying to repress.
  • China’s military is strong and growing, but they’re still far behind the US in their ability to project power internationally. 
    • The United States has a military presence all over the world, while China has only just announced the creation of its first overseas military base (this, as part of an overarching trend of China breaking with it’s anti-colonial past).
    • The Chinese Navy is at a natural geographical disadvantage compared to the United States, being surrounded by the Korean Peninsula, Japan, the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia; while the US has unimpeded access to both the Pacific and Atlantic. This natural disadvantage is likely part of the reason they’re pursuing claims of territorial control over the East and South China Seas so aggressively. And, as I’ve briefly mentioned elsewhere, it seems like China is currently more focused on the development of a regional, “green-water” Navy than the type of sea force capable of projecting power globally. This may be a temporary orientation on their part, attempting to appear humble and, to use Deng Xiaoping’s phrase, “lie low” until they have the ability to construct a larger navy.
    • The Chinese military suffers from problems of corruption and is in some ways less powerful than it portrays itself.
      • As a counterpoint: as is discussed in that second link, China has responded to its comparative military weaknesses by placing focus on high-tech “asymmetric” military capabilities meant to interfere with America’s command of the commons: anti-satellite technology, drones, cyberattack capabilities, etc.
    • As for soft power, China is doing very well on the institutional end and very poorly on the cultural end. Investment in Africa, getting the Renminbi elevated to the status of a key global currency, and the creation of the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank as an alternative to the World Bank are all very smart moves on the part of Beijing to claim a larger role in the international system. The last, in particular, is important considering the dominance of the US and Europe over the current international finance system. However, China’s restrictions on artistic expression and risk-taking prevent them from developing cultural exports that can be used to further spread China’s influence (See: the “Kung Fu Panda” problem).

In sum, though China’s rise may sometimes seem inevitable, it has a number of obstacles preventing it from matching the US in global power. First, further economic development requires an extremely precarious balance between sometimes conflicting goals (management of demographic problems, deleveraging, shifting to a consumption-based economy, anti-pollution measures), and the stakes are high due to the importance of maintaining economic growth. Second, China is significantly behind the US in its ability to project global military power, though it has shown signs of starting to compete for international political influence. I imagine China will continue to grow in power both absolutely and relatively, but I’m skeptical of the idea that it will easily overpower the United States at any point in the near future.
Red Doors filme completo
lesbian film

Sebastian is in this as the cute, high school love interest of the youngest daughter. It’s an adorable indie film about cultural differences, finding love regardless of race/sexual orientation, dealing with empty nest syndrome, coping with depression and suicidal tendencies. Also, the youngest girl and Seb’s character have a series of pranks that they pull on one another and it’s super cute. Favorite line: “Katie, there’s a penis in your pocket.” “Don’t worry, it isn’t mine.”

Park Jisung || Young Love

Requested by @johnnys-silky-hair

Genre: Fluff

Originally posted by kunxxxsol

“Jisung! Wake up!” The young boy groaned as he heard a familiar male voice shouting his name. Jisung woke up from his small slumber, lifting his head up from the desk and noticed that his mouth was wet.

“Ack! Jisung, wipe your mouth.” Donghyuck complained, handing him a tissue. Jisung flushed red from embarrassment and accepted the tissue from Donghyuck, grabbing it and quickly wiping the drool off of his mouth.

“What were you dreaming about that suddenly made you drool?” Chenle asked him.  Jisung just rolled his eyes at the older yet shorter Chinese boy.

The door to the classroom opened widely, revealing their teacher. The boys immediately hurried to their seat and quickly sat in them as the teacher walked in.

“Okay, class, today we have a new student.” The teacher announced. “She just transferred here. Y/N, come in.”

As the teacher finished speaking, a girl, clad in the female’s school uniform, walked into the classroom slowly.

As she came in, Jisung couldn’t help but stare longingly at the unfamiliar girl. ‘Oh…. My…. God.’ Jisung thought, not realizing that he was drooling again.

“Hey, you’re drooling.” Chenle said from behind him, tapping him on his shoulder.

Jisung wiped his mouth with his sleeve in embarrassment and put his attention back to the pretty girl, who was now standing at the center of the classroom.

“Y/N, go and sit wherever you’d like.” The professor told the new girl. She just nodded her head shyly and walked towards the seats, trying to look for an empty seat to sit at. Jisung just continued staring at her, hearts in his eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, nor is he planning to.

“Uhm, e-excuse me? I-is this seat taken?”

Jisung jumped and widened his eyes, finally snapping out of trance, and stared at the new girl, who was standing right in front of him. Jisung’s face turned a bright shade of pink, shaking his head furiously. “N-no.” He stuttered out.

The girl smiled and took the seat next to Jisung. Jisung stared at her as she took out her books and her utensils. The girl took out cute Hello Kitty pens and a notebook with Pusheen stickers on the cover. Jisung quietly giggled to himself. ‘Ah, she’s so cute’ Jisung thought, continuing to admire her in awe.

“Oooooh, is our maknae in love?” Jisung heard Donghyuck say from behind him. Jisung turned his head around and glared at Donghyuck and Chenle as they kept making kissy faces at him.

“Shut up!” Jisung mouthed at the two annoying boys, who continued making kissy faces and smirking.

The final bell rang, dismissing the class. Jisung stood up quickly, excited to leave the classroom. As he ran quickly towards the door, he turned back slowly to see the new girl. He didn’t quite catch her name yet?

The girl was having trouble stuffing all of her things in her bag. Jisung widened his eyes as he saw the girl struggling, so he ran over to her, offering to help her.

“O-oh… Thank you.” The girl said shyly, her face turning bright red. Jisung shot her a small smile.

“It’s no problem.” Jisung told her. He slung her backpack over his shoulder. “S-Should I walk you out?” Jisung asked.

“O-oh, sure, if you’d like.”

Jisung and the girl walked side by side on the sidewalk, her backpack still slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re able to still carry that? It’s quite heavy.” The girl asked Jisung, reaching over to grab her backpack from Jisung. Jisung grabbed her wrist and stared at her.

“N-no, it’s fine. You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things like this, anyway.” Jisung told her. The girl looked down at her wrist, noticing Jisung’s hand still wrapped around it. The two of them blushed and swiftly let go of each other.

“U-uh, this is my house right here.” The girl said. She grabbed her bag from Jisung as he handed it to her. “Thanks for walking me home.”

Jisung shot her another smile. “It’s no problem, it was nice walking with you.”

The girl blushed again and looked down at the ground, a smile appearing on her face. “W-well, I’ll be going now. See you tomorrow!” The girl said before opening the door to her house.

Jisung raised up his hand. “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”

The girl turned back to him. “My name’s Y/N, how about you?”

“Oh, Y/N. I’m Jisung.”

She smiled at him before waving at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, Jisung. Have a nice day.” She said before closing the door.

Jisung just stood there, smiling to himself. ‘Y/N. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful person.’

Jisung could feel himself blush as he kept thinking about her throughout the whole walk home. He’s definitely ready for tomorrow.


SUMMARY | You two couldn’t be any more different, and yet you wouldn’t mind spending any time of the day by his side.

( Little do you know, he feels the same. )



NOTE | Because I couldn’t get enough of @workofteaguk ‘s Jungkook one-shot, so I decided to make my own taking some inspiration from it. Pretty simple and unedited (writing this late at night) but I’ve been having a lot of Yoongi feels and I hope you like it!

Your eyes flutter open on their own, met with a pale pink ceiling you could never associate with the sleeping body whose arms are wrapped around your waist. You turn your head and can’t help but smile at how tranquil he looks; so different from the nebulous busybody you encounter during the day. After almost a year of dating, one think you’ve picked up on is that the only thing Yoongi loves more than work is his sleep.

Not that you can blame him.

Biting your lip, you gently wiggle yourself away from his grasp. Unfortunately, you’re not the most stealthy person ever, so you end up waking him up. He blinks and fidgets and groans, tugging your index finger back before you can vacate his room.

“Mmmm… Where are you going?” he murmurs, his voice still laced with exhaustion. You remember that when you crawled into bed he was already dozing off; a true rarity since he was usually up until the early morning listening to music or reading a book.

You press a kiss to his forehead in response. “Relax, sport. I’m not going anywhere.”

He hums and buries his face in a pillow, and soon he’s back to the gentle dull snore you woke up to. You traverse down the hallway to the kitchen; you’ve spent enough nights at his place to memorize most every nook and cranny. Another smile crosses your face; this time it won’t leave. It’s been like this ever since you started dating, not that you weren’t already cheerful before.

Peering into his refrigerator, you find next to nothing: half a jug of milk, a few bottles of condiments, leftover Chinese food, eggs, some vegetables, and some cereal in the pantry. This doesn’t surprise you, either; Yoongi - though pretty good at cooking - doesn’t really eat, and when he does, it’s usually takeout food from the Chinese place next door. You admire how he can live off that every day.

Taking out the eggs and the vegetables, you decide to make a little breakfast for both you and himself - mainly because you’re super hungry and it’s far too early to order anything from any restaurant. Pretty soon, you’re chopping the vegetables and whisking the eggs and making the whole house smell of food.

You’re just about done with heating up the pan when Yoongi comes striding into the kitchen, rubbing his fatigued eyes. He gives you a stare that makes you think you’re doing something wrong, the same stare that - one year ago - would have meant that he thought you were an inconvenience. 

But now, you know better.

“What are you doing?” is the question that escapes his empty lips, though they twist into a smile just seconds after.

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