?

Log in

alan_shore
Alan Shore
alan_shore
Alan Shore
I have the utmost respect for the law. No, really.

November 2010
 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30


Back Viewing 0 - 10  
Alan Shore

For someyoungpup (with love and squalor), in response to a meme posted almost exactly a year ago and nominally inspired by Fall Out Boy's "Dance, Dance." You have been warned.

"Don"t ask questions like that," Alan says, "please. They make me want to hang myself with my shoelaces."Collapse )

Current Mood: accomplished
Alan Shore

Reply here and I'll confess something to you, about you.

Self-involved enough to involve yourself?

Current Mood: blank blank
Alan Shore
This is Alan Shore returning your call [for manorly_wayne]

“Alan.”

Alan’s had a newspaper-a-day habit for as long as he cares to remember; since Bruce’s arrest he’s upped it to two, but neither Globe is quite so informative as the timbre of Denny’s voice. Today he sounds jovial, congratulatory. Alan’s name is transformed into a two-syllable slap on the back.

"I had nothing to do with it," Alan says.Collapse )

Current Mood: anxious anxious
Alan Shore
[for manorly_wayne]

The guards at Blackgate are starting to know him by sight. There are no pleasantries exchanged (unless the occasional sneered “Mr. Shore” can be considered a pleasantry) or special privileges accorded (although this is Gotham—there are some who’d say emerging unscathed from one of its prisons is a special privilege), but he’s now a known quantity, a familiar face. Vesper died not a week ago and already his visits have become routine.

It’s one of the few things the legal system can almost always be relied upon to do—bury the macabre, the grotesque, the horrific in routine.

He hasn’t been back to Boston since Bruce’s arrest—hasn’t had the time, since his client’s reticence (to put it mildly; to put it kindly) has obliged him to mount not only a defense but an investigation. He doesn't know what to make of it, the refusal to so much as put forth an alibi. Could it be shock? Grief? Guilt, to the extent that Bruce would rather die than protest his innocence?

He doesn't much appreciate being obliged to play amateur psychologist, either.

“Bruce,” he says, once he and his client are face to face, “so good of you to see me.”

Current Mood: stressed stressed
Alan Shore

If you, as a child, could see yourself now, what do you think you would say?

What happened?

Current Mood: amused amused
Alan Shore
OOC

As part of an ongoing effort to get Alan to hate me (and because I'm going to be spending a sizable chunk of tomorrow at various airports), I present to you this meme:

Give me any two characters from any game past or present, as long as one of the characters is mine, and I will tell you - no matter how ridiculous the pairing - the following about their first child:

A. Name
B. Favorite school subject or activity
C. PB (or description if I prove unable to find a good face)
D. Circumstances of conception
E. Three random facts


Completely insane suggestions are encouraged!

Current Mood: tired tired
Alan Shore
On the Town [for someyoungpup, because their friendship transcends time and space]

Alan owns one tie. His mother chose it—it’s the blue of a baby’s bedroom wall, a color that supposedly matches his eyes. He keeps it—sometimes folded, sometimes wound into a spiral—in his sock drawer, and it’s seen use as blindfold, snare trap, and almost kite tail.

He can tie it by himself. He does so now, solemn and careful, thinking of his father’s hands, replicating motions they’ve gone through hundreds of times. The knot he fashions doesn’t look right, looks cockeyed, but he tips his head back and pulls it tight.

Downstairs he scrambles into his winter clothes: coat, hat, boots, a mitten. He stuffs the mitten’s partner in his pocket, where it remains until he’s unlocked the door and stepped out into the frosty morning.

“I’m leaving!” he yells at the house. The cold air does something to his voice—it sounds sharper, carries farther, like a crisply folded paper airplane. “Goodbye and good riddance!”

His parents think he’s spending the night at Paul’s. Technically that’s not a lie. If everything goes according to plan (and why wouldn’t it?), he’ll be snug in a sleeping bag on Paul’s bedroom floor, diligently feigning sleep, by eight-thirty.

He tramps across town to the Dedham train station, taking to the road on the quieter streets and braving icy sidewalks when traffic demands it. He’d expected the platform to be deserted, but it isn’t—a couple of teenagers slouch on one of the benches, exchanging teenage secrets punctuated by the occasional cackle of laughter. They don’t wear hats and they look bored.

Alan sits down and attempts to adopt his own nonchalant pose—first resting his hands behind his head, then experimenting with various shoulder-slumping techniques. He tries to imagine himself as the kind of person for whom a trip to Boston is no great cause for excitement, the kind of person who eats his meals in restaurants at the tops of skyscrapers, who’s seen it all and found most of it unimpressive.

But when the bell starts to clang and the lights begin to flash, he’s on his feet before he knows it.

Current Mood: excited excited
Alan Shore
OOC

1. Put your mp3 player on shuffle and take the first 25 songs it gives you.
2. Link to the Youtube videos.
3. Let your friends assign you a song and character(s) to write a drabble to.
4. Try not to flake out completely!


Song:
Preferred pairing or characters to include?:
Would you like me to include your muse?:

Collapse )

Current Mood: hopeful hopeful
Alan Shore
Kara Marie Keating.

We had a deal. You were to run my foot over with a lawnmower.

Current Mood: annoyed annoyed
Alan Shore
Because the alternative is offering to post pictures of my bathtub.

Go here, reload until you have five quotes that sum up your philosophy or outlook, then post them.

I sent the club a wire stating, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER.
-Groucho Marx (1890 - 1977)

The people who are regarded as moral luminaries are those who forgo ordinary pleasures themselves and find compensation in interfering with the pleasures of others.
-Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
-Tom Stoppard (1937 - ), Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

Treat the other man's faith gently; it is all he has to believe with. His mind was created for his own thoughts, not yours or mine.
-Henry S. Haskins

Words ought to be a little wild for they are the assaults of thought on the unthinking.
-John Maynard Keynes (1883 - 1946)

Current Mood: amused amused
Back Viewing 0 - 10