mr blanc

In memory of a human rights legend of Taiwan : 2 year anniversary of Mr. Lynn Miles’s Death.


Mr. Miles holding hand with a new immigrant resident of Taiwan during the peace gathering event.  

In memory of a human rights legend of Taiwan: 2 year anniversary of Mr. Lynn Miles’s Death.


Alcohol Time!

Judy: Moonshine. She’s not sure what’s the recipe, but the one Grandpa Otto used to make – the formula of which had been bequeathed with great fanfare to Stu – is her favorite.

Nick: Brandy. It makes him feel sophisticated.

Finnick: Tequila straight. It makes him feel felonious… well, he’s feeling felonious all the time, tequila makes him feel doubly so.

Jack: Bourbon. A working man’s drink.

Skye: Vodka. Not really sure if the brand she preferred was because she really liked the taste or because it sounded the same as her name.

Mr. Big: Sauvignon Blanc. Nothing but the best vintage for the Number One.

Bogo: Stout. Definitely.

Clawhauser: He thought Nick’s drink was tea, and gulped down a glassful of. Bad mistake.

Hey, What’s up Doc? Well, what good Voice Acting Tribute collection would be like without everyone’s Favorite Man with 1,000 voices, Mr. Mel Blanc, since I LOVE LOONEY TUNES!!! This Gentleman is the Voice Genius behind Looney Tune Characters such as Bugs Bunny(also my Dad’s Favorite Cartoon Character), Daffy Duck, Yosemite Sam, Porky Pig, Speedy Gonzalez, Tweety Bird, Sylvester the Cat, Pepe le Pew, Foghorn Leghorn, Marvin the Martian, Wile E. Coyote, the Road Runner, & Tasmanian Devil. Plus he was responsible for the Hiccup noises for Gideon the Cat in Disney’s ‘Pinocchio’, even if there were lines recorded for him, they were not used. And also, the voice of Heathcliff the Cat in the old 1980’s 'Heathcliff’ cartoons.

Honorable Mentions:
Officer Short Shrift, The Dodecahedron, & The Demon of Insincerity in 'the Phantom Tollbooth’
Cosmo Spacely in 'the Jetsons’
Secret Squirrel in 'the Atom Ant/Secret Squirrel hour’
Speed Buggy in 'Speed Buggy’

[Mark] Teacher’s Pet (Chapter 100)

All Chapters

It takes me a subhuman force to hide my surprise when I understand his first love is standing in front of me.

This is Mrs Cooper. The woman who used to make me the most insecure, before I overcame this feeling. And Mark is all over her, again. When I open my mouth to speak, my throat tightens.

I don’t want her to know I know what she means to Mark. I want to act like a confident wife, even if that’s totally not the way I’m feeling.

“Oh, yes. Mark told me about you.” I say, trying to keep my tome even. “You were his… english teacher, right?” I feign guessing.

“Maths teacher.” She corrects me.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” I reply. She turns her big, curious eyes to Mark.

“And I’m not Mrs Cooper anymore, but Mrs Blanc.” She informs him. She’s married, but that doesn’t reassure me at all. I don’t like the way Mark looks at her.

A black man comes between us, draping an arm around her waist.

“Cherie.” He says to her. She looks up at her husband and smiles. I hate her.

“Let me introduce you my husband Charles.” She says. The man gives us a polite smile and shakes our hands.

“Nice to meet you.” I murmur, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

“Charles, this is Mark, an ex student of mine, and his wife Abigail.” She explains to him.

“This is the last place I would have thought about running into one of her student.” He says in surprise, his french accent very thick. Melissa nods, her eyes going back to Mark again.

“He’s become such a gentleman.” She remarks, and at this moment I have no doubt of her attraction for him. The look in her eyes is telltale. She could be looking at him from head to toe while biting her lip, it would be the same.

“What do you do for a living?” Charles asks Mark, sealing the rest of our night. Mark starts talking about his business to Charles and Melissa, who are more happy to listen. Charles turns out to be one of the wealthiest estates agent in the world, which adds more businesses talk to the mix. During the whole time, I remain silent.

None of them, except Charles, try to pull me in the conversation. Melissa is hanging on every single one of Mark’s words, and he likes it. He keeps smiling to her, joking with her, not even looking my way for a second. I feel neglected.

As if that wasn’t enough, they sit at our table. Melissa lets me sit down next to Mark first, thwarting my attempt to sit between them. When I’m seated, she takes the free chair next to Mark, souring my mood even more.

She tells us she’s moved to France and met her husband in a coffee shop. She’s not a maths teacher anymore, but a trophy wife Wanting to remind Mark he’s married, I, from time to time scratch my nails on the back of his neck the way he likes, but it has no effect. He goes on and on about what happened in his life after he left high school, and doesn’t even mention me. And I’m the mother of his child.

When Charles asks if we have kids though, Mark’s face lights up considerably, and he’s very proud and excited to say we’re are expecting our first born. Melissa’s face hardens once she hears the news, but she loses no time to change the subject.

The older woman knows how to be subtle about her strategy, but I’m not oblivious. Mark starts talking to her again, and only her.

I sigh.

“Excuse me.” A voice at my side says softly. I turn my head and see the man who’s sitting next to me, whom I haven’t been paying attention to.

He’s gray but not that old, and has big and curious green eyes. He throws his arm over the backrest of his chair, turning his whole body to face me.

“Do you know Einstein’s theory of relativity?” He asks.

“Yes.” I reply, not sure where this is going. He frowns, taken aback.

“I have to admit that is not the direction this was supposed to take.” He laughs awkwardly. It’s my turn to frown.

“What was supposed to happen?” I ask him.

“You were supposed to say no, and I was supposed that me neither but that it could a fantastic topic.” He explains. I kind of want to ask him if he thought I was going to say no because he thinks all women are stupid, but my feminazi side is outweighed by my emotional state.

“But you do know the theory and so do I, so it doesn’t make it less of a fantastic topic.” He adds.

“Bring it on.”

He smiles.

“People say you could see the future if you fall into a black hole. Why?” He asks.

“Time dilation brought to the max. But I don’t believe that theory.” I reply without hesitation.

“Why not?”

“At 90 percent of the speed of light, the quotient of acceleration is about 5 times the normal speed of time. 100% shouldn’t make such a difference.” I explain to him. He raises his eyebrows.

“You’re not impressed that easily, are you?” He remarks.

“Send me into a blackhole.” I mutter, making him laugh out loud.

“I didn’t even introduce myself.” He says, stretching his hand out to me.

“Noah Musk, I’m an astrophysicist.” He says.

“Abigail Tuan, I’m a psychologist.”

“I heard depression and science were an unbreakable pair.” He remarks.

“Not when you’re underpaid like Einstein’s therapist was.” I retort. He laughs again.

“Does your husband get consultations for free?” He asks, glancing to the back of Mark’s head. I turn, only to see he’s still passionately listening to Melissa talk.

“He doesn’t like it when I go Freud on him.”

“I’d love you to Freud me out.”

I have to laugh.

“Ah, there’s a laugh.” Noah says appreciatively. “And a very beautiful one indeed.” He murmurs.

“I saw how bored you looked and challenged myself to make you laugh at least once.” He explains. Is it that obvious that I’m boiling inside because my husband is ignoring me to spend time with his first love?

“These events raise so much money for the shelter, but they can be so dull.” He says. “Would your husband mind if I offered you a glass at the bar?”

“Yes, he would.” I reply. Actually, I think making him equally jealous would vet me his attention. But I’m not sure that’s he right strategy. I’ve never had to do this before, because his eyes were always on me.

“At least it would make him stop ignoring you, wouldn’t it?” Noah says pointedly. I blush, embarrassed. He knows.

He knows I’m being neglected by my own husband. How embarrassing. If he noticed, other people might have to.

“I don’t drink alcohol.” I prompt.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

I turn around and squeeze Mark’s thigh, making him look at me.


“I’m going to get myself something at the bar.” I tell him.

“Okay.” He nods, his head quickly whirling around. I groan, rising from my seat. Mark doesn’t even notice me leaving with Noah.

Noah is a very interesting man, and he speaks english, he is my only source of entertainment for the night. He’s brilliant and funny, and it’s always better than being ignored.

Ten minutes in our conversation at the bar, I feel a hand on my lower back. Startled, I turn my head and find Mark standing behind me.

“Hey.” He says. In a reflex, I quickly glance at Noah, who his watching me. Mark follows my gaze, and when I look back at him, his stare is cooler. He’s glaring at Noah.

He moves his wrathful stare to me.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed. Uh-oh.

“She’s alleviating the boredom of being neglected.” Noah chimes in.

“By spending time with someone who knows how to appreciate such a beautiful and smart woman.” He says, his eyes drifting to me. Mark bristles, taking a threatening step towards the man.

“Get the fuck away from my wife, Noah.”

When Mark says his name, I understand the animosity he feels for him doesn’t date from tonight. They know each other.

“Oh, come on. You were so busy with Mrs Blanc that you didn’t even notice me sitting at your table.” Noah retorts pointedly. I have to admit that this man knows exactly how to get on Mark’s nerves. I feel incredibly embarrassed, because i didn’t know I was spending a good time with someone Mark hates.

“Another glass, Abigail?” Noah asks me. This man is so observant, he knows exactly what is going on.

“No.” Mark snaps, grabbing my hand.

“It’s not his fault if he’s right.” I mutter, stopping him in his tracks. When he slowly turns his slightly offended yet extremely cool gaze to me, I know he’s going to snap, blatantly in front of Noah.

“Well,” He prompts, letting my hand go.
“If you enjoy his company so much, who am I to prevent you from having your fun?” He says. I stare at him, shocked. He’s going to leave me alone with a man?

“I’ll see you later.” He says, addressing Noah one last cool stare before ambling off. I turn around and watch him, my mouth hanging open.

I am witnessing my own husband, Mark Tuan the irrationally jealous, possessive and over protective man, leaving me alone with a man he despises to go find his Mrs Cooper again.

I’ve had enough. I can’t stand this.

I turn around, my eyes starting to sting. My heart is breaking in thousand pieces, and it’s the most unexpected emotion, feeling so neglected, by him, by this man who used to be literally obsessed with me.

I can’t stay. I have to leave.

“Excuse me.” I mumble, storming past Noah who’s been watching me.

“Abigail, I’m sorry.” He calls after me, but I’m already crying and I don’t want to make a show of myself. I keep pacing away, trying to find the exit.

I manage to hail a cab and head back to our Villa. Not wanting to be too dramatic, I warn Mark via text and shut my phone. I cry throughout the whole journey back, still shaken, shocked and heartbroken.

When I get to our villa, I jump into the shower, making myself unable to make the difference between my tears and the water. I hate him. I hate him and I hate her.

After six fucking years, all the shit he’s put me through, everything I had to do to fix him, make him feel better, all the suffering, all the fights. For about a month, ever since I told him about the baby, I felt like all of that was behind us. She comes and everything crumbles down. I’m left drained, exhausted.

I drag myself out of the shower and wrap myself in a bathrobe. At the same moment, Mark barges inside our bedroom, huffing and puffing angrily. He glowers at my, his angry aura overwhelming me.

“Abigail, what the fuck is your problem?” He hisses. I fasten the lash of my robe and take a deep breath, feeling my emotions turning into a turmoil.

“You know damn well why I left.” I articulate. He point a threatening finger at me, his eyes furiously blazing.

“Don’t make this about me, you’re the one who wanted to spend time with this twat.” He says accusingly.

“I tried to enjoy myself, but I couldn’t knowing that all you wanted was to be with her all the time.” I retort.

“Who? Melissa?” He asks, frowning heavily. How oblivious is he? “You left because you were jealous of Melissa?”

“Well, yes!” I admit. He looks at me in disbelief, shaking his head.

“You’re seriously acting crazy.” He says to me. Of course I am. That is so my style.

“Well, don’t bother with me then. You’re so good at doing just that.” I mutter, not wanting to deal with him. If he thinks I’m crazy, a fight will take us nowhere. I’m wrong and he’s right.

“You left me to be with that prick!” He cries.

“What was I supposed to do?! Sit there in silence until you were done?!”

“Talk to me!” He shouts. “You don’t run off on your own like this, if you have a problem just come to me!”

“You were ignoring me!”

“I wasn’t!” He counters. Oh, that takes the cake! He wasn’t ignoring me. He’s oblivious, and he calls me crazy.

“Okay, whatever.” I say, wanting to cut the discussion short because I don’t want to cry again. I turn away from him,

“Why are you trying to make me feel bad by crying? You know you shouldn’t have ran off like this.”

“So it cancels out the fact you were flirting with her?” I ask, facing him again, my voice unstable.

“I wasn’t.” He repeats. I groan, shoving my hands in my hair.

“Mark, did you forget that I have a double license in behavioral sciences?” I remind him, taking angry steps towards him.

“So what? You saw my cock twitch?”

My blood boils through my veins, tears spring to my eyes, and I slap him across the face without hesitation

“Alright, I deserved that.” He admits quietly. I glare at him, tears running down my face, but I’m way too angry to sob.

“You know very well that I never get jealous for nothing.” I say, my voice trembling.

“But I also know that when you do get jealous you get irrational about it.” He retorts. Me? Irrational? Look who’s speaking.

“That sounds more like what you do.” I retort.

“Look, I don’t know if it’s because of your hormones or-”

“My hormones?!” I utter, offended. He dares invoking my hormones after he does this to me?

“Mark, you completely ignored me to talk to your first love all night!” I cry.
“I can’t begin to imagine how you would have imagined if it had been mine and I didn’t talk to you during the whole night just to be with him.” I remark.

“If that Taylor-”

“Tyler.” I correct him. He glares at me and opens his mouth to speak, but his phone ringtone cuts him off.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and when he looks at the ID, I see his jaw clench.

“Who is it?” I snap. When he doesn’t respond, a take a step towards him. The M that I read is enough for my blood to start boiling again.

Before I can take a closer look, he puts it back in his pocket.

“She just wants to know if you’re okay.” He says, raising a calming hand to stop me.

“You took her number?!”

“Along with her husband’s, he wants to order a-” He stops when I whirl around, storming back inside the bedroom, not wanting to hear more. He fucking gives all his attention to her all night, take her number, and I’m the crazy cranky pregnant woman.

“For fuck’s sake, Abby!” He calls after me. “Why can’t you just listen to me?!”

I turn to face him, fuming.

“So I can hear you say I’m wrong and I’m crazy and my hormones are making me cranky? No, thank you.” I spit. “Be honest with yourself, and then come talk to me.” I say before turning back around, walking in the closet.

“Fine. Walk away without listening, perfect way to handle problems.” He mutters. I open my robe and let it fall to the floor, the idea of being naked in front of him not even ringing any sexual bell, even as horny as I can get.

“You fucking took a number, Mark.” I remind him, grabbing a nightie.

“She was worried about you.” He retorts.

“Tell her to kiss my fucking ass!” I shout before throwing the cloth over my head.

“Very mature of you.” He mutters. I turn to face him, pulling the material down to cover myself. I give him the nastiest look I can manage.

“Now that you’ve seen her, you want more mature, don’t you?” I remark. He looks at me impassively.

“You’re delusional.”

“That’s what you’ve always been into, after all.” I shrug, turning away from him.

“I had forgotten why.”

When he says that, all words leave my throat. I stare at him in shock.

“You looked for it.” He says, a warning edge in his voice.

“Get out.”

“That wasn’t what was supposed to happen, was it?” He says, an it’s his turn to get nasty and mean. I start to tremble with rage.

“I was supposed to kindly listen to you say all those nasty things to me without saying anything, wasn’t I?” He provokes me. Well, yes! I’m actually the one who gets bitchy. I know I’m reacting like a spoiled brat, but I can’t help it.

“Get out!” I yell.

“Fine!” He says, throwing his arms in the air. He storms out of our bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I burst into tears, sinking to the floor, sobbing in both anger, pain and regret.


The next morning is hell. My eyes are red and puffy from crying all nigh, I’m even angrier than yesterday, my mood sour, acid even. As take a sip of my morning apple juice, Mark makes his appearance in the kitchen, in a T shirt and sports shorts. His face looks as handsome as usual, but I can tell his mood isn’t better than mine.

“Good morning.” He mutters, walking over to the fridge. I put my glass down and swallow.

“You’re not scared to talk to the cranky hormonal lady?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit, Abigail.” He sighs, swinging the fridge door open.

“I know that since yesterday.” I sass. He sighs again, taking a bottle of orange juice out and closing the door.

“Cut that shit.” He snaps.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re provoking me. When I loose my patience you’re going to start crying, making me look like a monster.” He mutters. I feign minding my own business as he pours himself a glass of orange juice, but the temptation is too big. I need him to admit he felt something yesterday. I need him to break my heart for good.

“Did you call her back?” I ask quietly.

“I told her you were okay.” He replies.

“Did you talk about the good old times when she taught you how to speak French and how to play the guitar?” I muse, tracing the edge rim of with mt forefinger.

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

“I’ve met women from your past before, and you’ve never reacted like this.” I remind him. I’ve seen classmates of his, uni buddies, but it was never like that, he was always politely distant.

“Let me get it straight,” He prompts, walking to me and leaning against the breakfast counter on the opposite side of mine.

“Do you think I’ll cheat on you?” He asks. As crazy as I can be, I don’t think he’ll sneak out to sleep with her while he’s with me. I believe he has that much respect for me.

“I think you’d break it off with me first.” I reply evasively, not wanting to sag no.

“Do you think It’ll happen?”

“No.” I admit eventually. “But I think you’ll keep thinking about her.” I add.

“I could tell you that I won’t and that I’m not, but you’re so sure about what you think you know.” He says bitterly. I hate how he makes me look like a crazy stubborn shrink, which is absolutely not what I am. I haven’t got my license yet.

“Why did you ignore me the entire time she was there then?” I ask him.

“I’m not going to lie, I did feel something.” He admits, making my heart tighten and twist violently.

“But it wasn’t anything physical or romantic.” He adds quickly. It doesn’t appease me. At all. I’m not that sure it wasn’t anything romantic. She’s his first love.

“She’s the only woman of my past who didn’t hurt me. I was just happy to see her.” He explains. He’s been ‘happy’ to see people before. If I had been jealous like this because of everyone he was ‘happy’ to see…

“It was almost like you had missed her.” I retort.

“I didn’t. I haven’t thought of her until yesterday-”

“And now you do?” I cut him off, challenging him. He sighs.

“You keep bringing her up.” He counters.
“But I don’t think about her in the way the think I do. Not at all.” He says.

“I’m not buying that.”

He rolls his eyes, bringing his glass to his mouth.

“Shrinks only believe their own diagnostics anyway.” He mutters.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s only so much bullshit I can’t take, Abigail.” He says exasperatedly.
“I understand I made you feel some kind of way yesterday, and I’m sorry. I don’t mind talking about it, but you’re stubborn and unreasonable.” He says. He’s oblivious, that’s why he think’s I’m being crazy.

“Stop provoking me.” He grinds out.

“Start by being honest with yourself.” I retort.

“You know what? I’ve had enough.” He snaps, turning on his heels and walking off.

“You were touching her, you were joking with her, you were making a spectacle of yourself for her, you were hanging on her every fucking word all the damned time.” I call after his back, and he stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face me.

“We both know very well what she means to you, so I’m sure we both know you were not just ‘happy’ to see her.” I tell him.

“It took me months at the beginning of our relationship to believe you really loved me and you weren’t trying to relive your past relationships through ours. I took me so long to trust you with this, to believe I was enough to make you happy, to stop comparing myself to them.” I say more calmly, struggling to keep my tone even. I feel like I’m taken back to our early days when I was so scared of being terribly hurt and used. I don’t want to feel so scared again. He watches me in silence, his eyes softer than before.

“And when I saw you with her, everything just crumbled down.” I whisper, not trusting my voice.

“I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. Not against her.” I declare. His brows furrow a little as he stares at me.

“Are you talking about leaving me?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t know, should I?” I shrug.

“I’ve done worse, Abigail.” He argues.

“No.” I shake my head, feeling the tears coming back again. “You’ve never made me feel like this before.”

“Abigail, we’ve been through all kinds of crap-”

“There’s only so much bullshit I can take.” I cut him off, because I have nothing better or more constructive to say. His brow cease and he stares at me, both angry and surprised.

“I see.” He says, the calm in his voice chilling. “So, you’re going to ask for divorce, three weeks after our wedding, over this.”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me know when you make up your mind, then.” He mutters before leaving.

In memory of a human rights legend of Taiwan: One-year anniversary of Mr. Lynn Miles’s Death.

anonymous asked:

What do you think are top 10 female roles in theatre?

Top 10 Roles I Would Want If Casting Was Totally Blind and I Was A Good Actor:

  1. Hedda Gabler
  2. Vanda from Venus in Fur
  3. Rosalind
  4. Lady Bracknell
  5. Heidi in The Heidi Chronicles
  6. Masha in Three Sisters
  7. Gena in Bachelorette (any of the ladies would be a fine choice, but Gena gets the amazing blowjob monologue)
  8. Blance DuBois
  9. Mrs Lovett
  10. Sally Bowles