02 July 2015 @ 07:54 pm
 
[oom: "She can stay with me... I'll keep you safe, Karen."]

It's been a long day, after a longer night. Matt walks into the bar expecting his apartment. He has a newspaper in one hand, and is holding his cane off the ground with the other.

The bustle of Milliways hits his ears and he pauses, debates, then proceeds into the bar, closing the door behind him.

Bringing the cane back into action he makes his way to the counter; sitting down on a stool and folding his cane up before putting it away into his bag, which gets tucked onto the ground beside him.

"Bar," he says, setting the newspaper down on the counter, "would it be possible for me to get the article on page three about the boy, in braille?"

Matt had originally planned to read the article when he was home, but since he's here and still interested in the limits of the place he decides to try a test.

Bar complies and Matt quirks a smile in amusement when his fingertips brush over the tiny bumps on the top of the page she gives him.

"Thank you."



[ooc: spoilers for episode 1 in the link. Will be in and out all weekend (which for me starts tonight, yay Freedom), so this thread will be open until it scrolls.]
 
 
22 June 2015 @ 05:45 pm
 
 [Out of Milliways: "You want a machine gun? Is Guy Gardner that irritating?"]
 
 
11 June 2015 @ 12:05 pm
 
 A couple of years ago, Dinah lost her Thunderbird. Funny story actually - she and Batgirl were pursuing Firefly and Killer Moth... no, you're right you don't need it in an entrance post.
 
Anyway, Dinah's bike was turned to toast and she sulked about it for at least a week. Until Bruce happened to let it slip into conversation that he's recovered the remains and was keeping it in the cave. "So it couldn't be traced to you, Ted Grant, or any of the rest of us."
 
(Because he's a good friend.)
 
This is why Dinah has had the burned out shell of a Triumph Thunderbird stored in the back of the Arrow cave, waiting for a time when she wouldn't be working, saving the multiverse, babysitting or anything else, so she could work on it.
 
Like all things, sometimes you just have to MAKE the time. By coming into the bar in which time stands still, obviously!
 
Dinah has utilised a cart, and is now carefully wheeling her poor wreck of a bike through a pre-cleared path towards the elevator to the garage.
 
Go on, tell her it's a lost cause.
 
 
03 June 2015 @ 10:33 am
 
[oom: You don't have any money, and we don't have any clients.]

As far as rude awakenings go there aren't many that compare to receiving a phone call about how your brand new client was nearly strangled in her cell overnight.

Matt is all horns and no bull when it comes to confronting the two detectives in charge of Ms. Page's case and he and Foggy secure her release.

While Foggy hunts down a change of clothes for their client Matt wanders the station in search of coffee. He's expecting to find a vending machine, one of the old relics held over from days past that sits in every public building and belches out hot mud. What he finds instead is Milliways.

Stepping through the door he hesitates, then decides to do his stomach lining a favor and go ahead and have a cup of joe here.

Navigating to the counter he sets his bag onto one unoccupied stool, and takes a seat on another; his cane he leans up against the bar, close at hand.

Smoothing his palm over the countertop, he clears his throat and asks, "Can I uh, get a cup of coffee?"

It's still weird, talking to a piece of furniture, and weirder still when she answers.

His fingertips brush warm ceramic and he traces his way around the mug that's suddenly appeared until he finds the handle and lifts it, taking a careful sip.

"Thank you."



[ooc: spoilers for episode 1 in the link and probably more in any threads. ETA: Signing off now. Threads will be picked up tomorrow. Thank you, everyone. The sun rises, and threads are a go again. Warnings for slows, but I'm here all day.]
 
 
22 May 2015 @ 09:40 pm
 
The woman who walks into the bar has been here before.

Once.

Melinda surveys her surroundings for a long moment. She's in a clean pressed pant suit, but is holding herself carefully. It's been a long time since she was this bruised, even if all the evidence is hidden.

Then her mouth lifts slightly, and she moves towards the Bar. She's not going to turn down inexplicable alcohol.

[please see this post for details on Melinda's body language and appearance. Thanks!

Update: Closed to new threads, unless we've already arranged it. <3 I'll try to keep up with tagging!]
 
 
21 May 2015 @ 08:37 pm
 
 [OOM: "Actually, I was thinking we could move to another city..."]

The conversation after that went "what about my shop?" "...what about your shop?" "It's here." "We'll buy a new one."  Because if there's one thing about Oliver Queen, it's that he hasn't been not-a-millionaire for very long and still doesn't really know how money works.

But they can work it out.

Probably.

Dinah is in a booth, having ordered a bunch of real estate literature from the bar, and is currently comparing prices in neighbourhoods in a number of cities on the west coast.

Also coffee. She is drinking that as well.
 
 
19 May 2015 @ 08:32 pm
Cassie has developed a few ways of dealing with new and stressful situations. Unfortunately, this bar doesn't have wi-fi or non-squid-related television, and there isn't anybody lining up to get their ass kicked just yet. So that leaves just this one. She was about due for it today anyway.

You might hear some familiar music piping in from inside the gym, through a small set of speakers.

If you chance to enter, you'll see a soldier in workout gear, doing squats and looking moderately pissed. Botherable.
 
 
17 April 2015 @ 06:46 pm
 
 "Okay, okay..."

It sounds like Dinah is muttering to herself as she uses her hip to push open the door. What she's actually doing is muttering to the fussy baby in her arms, who is screwing up her face and making definite whiny sounds.

"We'll figure it out, don't worry. There's got to be some..." this is where she looks up, and realises where they are... "oh thank god. Bar?"

There is a perfect temperature bottle of baby formula waiting for them in the two seconds it takes to cross the floor.
 
 
13 October 2014 @ 10:15 am
 
 [OOM: After seeing Nightwing bartending, Dinah catches him up with what's been going on since he died.]

She has what she'd refer to as an emotional hangover this morning, and she's not a fan. Dinah went to bed miserable, and she's woken up angry.

You might find her at a table with a good view of the bar, a cup of coffee cupped between her hands, a sausage-and-egg burrito being currently ignored while it cools down enough to eat.

She's watching the bar patrons, trying not to resent them for being either alive, or at the very least not murdered by an old friend.

She'll feel better after coffee.
 
 
11 October 2014 @ 09:04 am
There was a conversation, upstairs. It began with "DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK," endured a brief detour into the usual so-I-guess-you-know-my-real-name-then territory, and wound up with Steph practically towing Nightwing behind the bar.

Friday night bartending gets busy. She needs extra hands. Nothing at all to do with preventing people from holing up in colossal Bat-Sulks. Nope, not here.

(Nightwing seems mostly tolerant of this, so far, so she thinks it's gonna work out fine.)


Steph leans back and considers her artwork for a moment, then, carefully, leans up to make an edit.


"That's better."

Getcha colour-coded drinks from superheros here!

 
 
09 October 2014 @ 07:52 pm
 
Alyx is up to her eyeballs in administrative work at home, trying to keep the Greenbrier colony on an even keel as harvest and winter planting overlap each other. Gordon's trying to take some of that load off her shoulders at Milliways; there's a lot of seed inventory to go over and save-for-planting versus save-for-eating decisions to be made, and it's easier to do that here than at home with the kids and the robots.

It's busy at home, okay?

One-eyed, heavily scarred nerdy-lookin' fella with a crowbar hanging from his belt at a table full of charts and papers, with beer and an empty seat if anyone feels like stopping by.
 
 
08 October 2014 @ 10:46 pm
She fades into existence, not by the door but by the Bar, which is convenient because as soon as Black Canary appears she slumps forward, holding on to the bartop for support. Her other hand wraps around her midsection, clutching it in a way that suggests cramps maybe, or indigestion, or a sudden urge to keep her innards in her torso.


She's older than you've seen her. And in full costume but maybe not the one you're used to, with the armoured shoulders and the throat, and the folded wings on her back. She's also pale - very pale. Dangerous levels of blood loss pale.

Keeping her head down, she breathes. In and out, centring herself, telling herself that she's done, it's over, she's safe. Hopefully.

Only then does she gather the strength to lift her gaze and look around, now genuinely surprised.

What kind of afterlife is this?
 
 
07 February 2014 @ 10:05 pm
 
 [Out of Milliways:

The sun no longer sets me free
I feel the snowflakes freezing me
.]

(same warning as before.)
 
 
07 February 2014 @ 09:32 pm
 
 The door opens, and Dinah appears behind it.

She's not bruised, she's not limping, there are no signs of physical injury. But her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, her hair plastered to her head with sweat or water, and her face is pale, and somewhat damp. And above everything else, she's tired.

She doesn't come into the bar, though. She stands in the doorway, and she looks around, and she looks like she really wants to come in, especially that longing look she sends towards the infirmary.

Then she looks over her shoulder, at the apartment beyond.

(No, Dinah, she thinks. It doesn't matter if time doesn't pass. It doesn't matter if it's just a minute. Or an hour, or to catch your breath. Don't you dare. That boy needs you.)

She can't leave him. It doesn't matter if he wouldn't know. She'd know.

Dinah shuts her eyes, appears to nod to herself just the slightest amount, and leaves the bar the way she came.
 
 
07 February 2014 @ 09:08 pm
 
[Out of Milliways:

Something's blowing in my head
Winter's ice it soon will spread
]

[Warning for I didn't actually research drug withdrawal.]

 
 
26 January 2014 @ 11:56 am
 
[OOM: Before the sunflowers wilted, Lucas and his friends took New Pork City by storm. The fight for the last Needle reaches its terrible conclusion.]

It's just another end of the universe on the outside of the Observation Window. Nothing too terribly special. If one world's end seems brighter than the others, well, that's just your eyes playing tricks on you.

But out on the grounds of Milliways, there's a bright light descending from the sky. It's a much gentler fall than usual. The boy softly lands, his body no worse from his arrival or the cold surrounding him. All things considered, Lucas almost looks like he's taking a peaceful nap.

He could use the rest.



[ooc: And Lucas is finally finished with canon and back in Milliways! Super special thanks to Debi, Valerie, and Cass for all of their hard work on this OOM. You guys rock! :D]
 
 
13 November 2013 @ 02:03 pm
As patrons enter the bar today, they may notice something a little different. A little more color, a sweeter scent; flowers, beautifully arranged. Sitting unobtrusively to one end of the Bar near the message board is an easel-mounted wreath arrangement, at its center the name Angus Urquhart, with the dates of his life, his afterlife, and his ultimate passing from the bar.

Should you follow the arrow pointing to the back door, similar but smaller flower arrangements mark the path to the lakeside. There, a modest affair is underway; seats, sturdy refreshment tables at Miss Sunshine's behest, music, and the makings of a bonfire closer to the shore for when it gets dark. The occasion may be somber, but above all this is a celebration of life — of the ever-so-much-more-than-nine lives of Angus Urquhart.

Come have a drink in his honor, or share your stories of his many adventures.
 
 
12 November 2013 @ 02:02 pm
Sometime after the bar returns to normal — or what passes for normal in Milliways — a note appears on the message board. It's written in a fine, looping pen, on paper embossed with pressed flowers.


Angus Urquhart
of Monadhliath


A wake will be held to honor the passing
of the man most knew as Urquhart
Wednesday, at two o'clock
November the Thirteenth
to continue until dark.

All are invited to attend,
and may bring a bottle of aged whiskey to send off their friend (or foe).
(Should any wish to help with arrangements, inquiries may be left below.)
The wake will be held by the lakeside.

 
 
 
12 November 2013 @ 07:34 pm
A young man in his early 20s comes into the bar looking travel worn and tired. His motorcycle leathers are dusty and have seen better days (and a few too many close encounters with road surfaces.) His hair is dishevelled and he keeps having to push the white streak back from his face.

He looks around, almost surprised to have found himself somewhere hospitable after such a bad run. He sidles up to the bar, combing through his assorted currency.

“Anyone know where I can get motorcycle parts around here?”

[ooc: New around here so let me know if I’m doing this wrong.]
 
 
28 October 2013 @ 02:44 pm
 
First thing this morning, Rae left a note with the bar for Dinah Lance. )

That done, Rae took a large thermos of citrus-lavender tea with her out towards the lake. The chilly grey October murk isn't ideal, as far as weather goes, but it's certainly an accurate reflection of Sunshine's mood.

The baker, not feeling like baking today - not feeling like much of anything - sits on her usual boulder by the lake's edge, with her arms about her knees, looking out into where the lakescape disappears into the mist.

Though her tea has long grown cold, she continues hoping the quiet stillness of the morning will help her find that same stillness in herself. Too many emotions are swirling through her - raw grief, dizzying shock, gnawing worry - it makes her stomach hurt. There are no sobs, but her eyes are red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy from her intermitent tears.
 
 
Current Mood: grief-stricken