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60's live action Batman dangling from a rope ladder and struggling with an obviously fake shark

In media res
(Latin: "in the midst of things")

the practice of beginning an epic or other narrative by plunging
into a crucial situation that is part of a related chain of events.
How to play:

The action has already begun! No blank top-levels, and something must be happening, whether it's a bar fight or your character's meticulously-constructed house of cards being knocked over by a gust of wind. ETA: Top level comments should contain a starter scenario! Sorry if I wasn't clear enough about that.

It's okay to assume characters have already been introduced--if by "introduced" you mean "plowed into while on the run from the zombie horde."
List your preferences, and respect other people's.
Glance over some ideas to get you started, or RNG if you wanna:

01 Chase Scene: On the run from the cops, or maybe you are the cops. However it works, someone's trying to get away, and someone else doesn't want 'em to. Also good for zombies, dinosaurs, and disaster movies.

02 Gambling: Strangers of all stripes can run into each other at the roulette wheel or poker table, whether it's a classy casino in Monaco or an illegal dice game in a Gotham alleyway.

03 A Formal Affair: Maybe it's an elegant dinner or maybe it's an over-the-top post-Oscar bash, but you're at a party where no expense was spared. Obviously someone is going to start a scene. Maybe it's you.

04 An Informal Affair: Not all parties feature red carpets or the family silver. Sometimes you just want to hang out with friends. Sometimes that's not as easy as it sounds. Maybe the barbecue grill's on fire. Maybe the host is. Whatever--this is not as relaxing as planned.

05 In Flagrante: This isn't what you think! Or maybe it is. Either way, someone got busted, and it looks bad. This doesn't have to be NSFW; there are lots of embarrassing things you can get caught doing with your pants on.

06 Lost: I thought you printed the directions! Unfamiliar city or middle of nowhere, you are lost. Maybe the other character's lost with you, or maybe they can give you some guidance.

07 Fight Scene: Bars, battles, barbarians--the punches or bullets are flying, and you're in the middle of it. Will you escape with your roguish good looks intact? Will you escape at all?

08 Handcuffed Together: Some prompts are evergreen, okay.

09 Roll Your Own: Ice skating rink, pirates, picnic lunch raided by giant radioactive ants...I can't think of everything.

From

hallahair here Now with less HTML fail

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((ooc: These all sound aweseome.))

((OOC: Weh too many prompts and choices to deciiide. ;.; Erm - would you be interested in a Terra? You can pick the prompt if you like! Or we can RNG it. ~~I'm totally not foisting decision making here...~~ ]

01. Another day, another op, another chance for everything to go pear shaped. This wasn't really that bad, as far as bad things that could happen during undercover black ops missions, but it had meant beating a hast retreat away from the bad guys in a stolen car.

Jesse was leaning out the passenger window, Peacekeeper in hand, lining up shots in an attempt to slow down or, preferably, stop their pursuers. But there were seven cars to their one, and whoever it was that was driving was not into the whole staying still enough for him to easily line up his shots. He banged on the roof of the car with one fist. "Ya wanna calm it down with the swervin?! I'm riding a car, not a damn buckin' bronco!"

07. It had been a hot minute since Jesse had been in a bar brawl, and he had to admit that it was every bit as adrenaline-inducing as the ones he'd been in while he'd been part of the Deadlocks. He wasn't even sure what had happened, but tables had been flipped, bottles were being thrown, and he'd already dodged several people that thought his face looked especially punchable. Luckily neither of them had taken well to being clocked with a metal hand.

Of course then someone had to pull out a gun, and then things had really gone to shit. He had his own revolver, but there was too much chaos for him to really pick out who he needed to shoot. So, Peacekeeper in hand, he dove behind an overturned table, grabbing a fallen bottle of liquor that was miraculously unbroken. He yanked the cork out with his teeth and took a swig as a bullet took out a chunk of the table next to him. He turned to the person next to him, offering the bottle. "Crazy night, ain't it?"

08. Alright, so that had gone badly. Jesse sighed, he was handcuffed and tied up with the other agent he'd been assigned on this mission with. Back to back, which he had to admit was at least a classic, but between the durasteel handcuffs, the rope, and the fact that he was in his underwear (the bad guys in this case were distressingly thorough with searching his person for weapons) and nothing else, he wasn't sure precisely how they were getting out of this. He turned around partway, trying to see the person he'd been tied to. "Well, got any ideas? Cavalry ain't gonna get here for a bit, and I'm a mite chilly."

[ooc: Pick your poison, or write your own. Okay to go with prose or brackets, whichever you prefer.]

Edited 2017-11-12 19:15 (UTC)

Bakugo was not happy, and the banging didn't alleviate that at all. "What the hell did you say to me!? I don't even have my driving license! Why don't you get your ass in here and drive, you fuckin' shit cowboy!?"

Not to mention, McCree was taking too long to take out their targets. He would jump himself and take care of things, but the responsibility of driving had fallen onto his shoulders. He knew that they could get away from them in a flash if they slowed down, so he was stuck with things as they were.

"Aren't you supposed to be good with that thing? Hit them!"

"Can't do that, yer already drivin' an' ya can't change horses midstream, didn't y' ever learn that, kid?" He hadn't realized Bakugo was quite that young, and it had just ended up that he'd been the one driving while Jesse was shooting. He ignored the rest of the shouting, lined up a shot while he figured the boy was too busy arguing to swerve, and took out the driver of two of the pursuit cars causing them to crash into each other in a spectacular manner, causing some serious problems for two others that had been following a bit too close.

"I am good, when you ain't swervin' like a drunk after th' bars close. Now hold this damn thing still." He ducked a bit as bullets whizzed past and then lined up the last two, taking out one gunmen and the other driver a split second later.

He slid back into the passenger seat, grabbing his hat from the dashboard and settling himself. "There, see? Bet yer sorry y' doubted me." He flipped open the revolver, relading it with practiced ease and a flick of his wrist. "So, any idea where we're goin'? They're gonna send more once they figger out this last batch didn't take us out." And they had two days until the rendezvous.

There's no one in the world to have at your back in a bar brawl then the former Crusader. Though he's gotten older and wiser, there's still nothing like the taste of alcohol and the rush of rowdy behavior. Sure, he's supposed to be some paragon of virtue. A knight that shields others, but by god, there's still the griffon within the noble lion and he finds nothing more enjoyable than standing in the middle of the chaos, laughing merrily, throwing punches that send his opponents flying.

He hears more than feels the bottle that shatters against his back. (It's not like any of these civilians can reach his head). But friendly bar fights didn't get all that friendly when assholes bring guns to a punch-fight. He's not one to go hiding, but it's not like his has his armor or his shield. He's got the tables and he's got himself and he's got Jesse McCree handing him a bottle of that rotgut whiskey the boy likes so much.

Reinhardt takes a swig like it's water and hands it back with a feral grin. "This? This is just like I'm home. Though the fraulein hit harder than this lot!" He laughs again, bracing his back against that table that barely hides him. "Think this table can handle a few gunshots?" Because it's the closest thing he has to a shield and he can use it to draw the shots and give Jesse time to make his own. "Just no headshots all right. There is no honor in killing drunk idiots, ja?"

McCree should have known that Reinhardt would be great to have in a brawl. He'd been right there in the middle throwing around punches from his ham sized fists and laughing like he was having the best time in the world. It was actually a lot of fun. But then the guns had come out and they'd both found refuge behind one of the larger tables. He laughed, his grin more than a little manic. He looked over the (thankfully) thick wood.

"It's a good table, I'm perty sure it can handle a coupla bullets. Not like that shield ah yers, but close enough, right?" He grinned, flicking out the revolver's cylinder to make sure it was loaded. "Don't worry, I'll jes be getting the legs an' arms. Ain't no used takin' em to jail if they're dead." He took one last swig of whiskey, setting the bottle of badly disguised paint thinner down on the floor. "Alright, ready?" He wouldn't be able to see or shoot through the table, but that was okay. He'd work around it.

He nods in the assessment. It's nothing at all like his shield, but it's not like he's going around wearing the gauntlet to go drinking. But even if it wasn't that strong of a table, Reinhardt knows he can probably eat a few bullets. It really won't slow him down too much, though he's going to have to take care of it himself. He's more afraid of Angela being mad at him for being reckless than getting shot.

"Right. Close enough." He'll wrap hands around the table legs, his legs get into a running pose and he grins to Jesse. He looks like he's about to charge. But he would warn Jesse if he was going to do such a thing.

"I'm ready. On three. Eins, Zwei..." On Drei, Reinhardt will stand, that heavy table lifted like it's nothing, making for a good shield. "I have you covered. Give them hell, Jesse."

(7)

This is just another disaster, Susan thinks as she peers around the corner. Of course, usually that involved whipping out the handkerchiefs after a playground scuffle, or keeping the more adventurous students out of the crafts cupboard.

Not faerie creatures, looking for fun while the dimensional borders were fuzzy. Seeing them, seeing how they've been snatching up people gets her blood boiling.

((OOC: feel free to add your own too! Will match whatever writing style is used by taggers.)

Edited 2017-11-12 18:35 (UTC)

Grace isn't the kind for nightlife. Usually her extent of going out would be a drink after work, or laying on her couch watching a movie. But ever since her life went upside down she's felt so much less comfortable in her apartment, and she thinks that if she keeps going out, maybe she'll meet new people or at least find something to take her mind off having to testify against the person she trusted most in the world.

So she's dolled up in a dress, for once, and hanging out at the casino bar. She's played a couple successful hands of blackjack and not wanting to push her luck any more than she already has, she'll just have herself a beer and see if anyone wanders by. Maybe someone she knows will be out tonight, or it wouldn't be a bad idea to meet new people, since the last people she got close to turned out to be criminals.

(m/m for shipping, otherwise ota)

Matt knew he wasn't ready to be back in the field, but he also knew his city needed him. So he'd hunted down Melvin gotten a new set of armor and headed out to patrol. He sat on the rooftop when the scent of trouble caught his nose. A mugger or worse. He hooked his billy club around the fire escape and swung down to kick the first mugger in the face before dropping down to punch the second one.

God he missed this.

Malcolm smiled as he entered the room and glanced at the other party goers. He had made an effort not to stand out. His tuxedo was crisp and he moved like he belonged here. Only those who knew him well would be wary enough. He was armed to the teeth under his suit, knives and a sword. He was at this party to work and was being paid very well to do so.

Just because the League had been disbanded didn't mean the Magician couldn't make a little money doing something he knew he was good at. He flexed his robotic hand as he eased his way through the crowd.

The League may have been disbanded on Earth One, but that meant nothing for the Leagues on other worlds, particularly Earth Two.

When he moves through the party he moves like a wraith. Swift and silent, the hardness around his eyes and the predatory nature of his stance keeping most of the gala's attendants from assuming that he wanted to talk to them.

It's a miracle that the Mayor was visibly somewhere else in Star City.

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<heh here is Earth-2 Malcolm/Arthur's background so you can see where his head is at: https://shadow-thief.dreamwidth.org/profile] Malcolm knew Robert thought he was insane to go into this operation so heavily armed, but he'd been a solider and a performer both. He knew how hard and cold the world was and so he was always prepared. He was also the one willing to track Robert's son when Robert himself hesitated. "I'm in," he hissed into quietly, "I have eyes on Oliver." He slid through the crowd one eye out for the Mayor and the other on Oliver. He slides his hand into his suit jacket as he reaches the younger man. "If you come quietly your father would be thankful," he warns Oliver, "he seemed very unhappy with the prospect of my hurting you."

He slips backwards a step, making his evasion seem incidental. "Touch me again at your own risk," he murmurs into his champagne.

"You know the League," he answers, eyes flicking around the crowd. "Have we ever surrendered or gone quietly?"

Malcolm's knife vanishes easily back into his clothing and he snags his own drink. He can play this game, he's been a circus performer long enough that he can easily play the long con. He taps his ear with his other hand turning off his comms amused by Robert's gruff hiss of his name. They still don't always agree on what actions to take even after working closely for over a year. "I'm well aware of what the League can do," he replied, "I was tempted to join them before your father made his offer." He sips his drink with a slight smirk. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you take down the Mayor...despite how corrupt this city is."

"Then you should be well aware that R'as does not ask nor require your permission." Careful eyes flick across the crowd, always watching, always evaluating.

"I am his heir. And I do not fail."

His associate had left to escort Reiji Takatori back to his suite on the VIP floor of the casino, and Crawford settled down at a busy Poker table, flagging a waitress to bring him a Scotch on the rocks. He needed a drink after shadowing the magnate for most of the day and listening to his inane chatter with carefully constructed deference. For someone with his particular talent, Poker was one of the few games of chance that held any appeal. Pure randomness, which enthralled the mundanes, held little interest for him: The roulette will turn whether or not he was present, the number and the color bright in his mind before the ball even stopped. Random events were the most predictable for those who could gaze into the future.

But Poker... Poker was different. The future quivered on an edge as he took the time to decide whether or not to buy in. His presence would influence the outcome of the deal. A deal he could never completely predict, as people folded and cards were left face down. What he never saw, Crawford could not foresee. And what he could not foresee made life interesting.

He carelessly tossed a few chips on the table and unbuttoned the jacket of his expensive Italian-made suit, making himself comfortable, as the waitress returned with his Scotch. He turned to his neighbour, who was about to bid, and magnanimously decided to warn them. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

(01) CHASE SCENE

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

Of course, Dia'ndria Starfall, as a fugitive, is hardly going to let anyone catch her. Leaping from building to building and running as quick and light as she can, she makes for a difficult target to track and keep up with, even with the black robes.

Admittedly, the fact that it's night helps tremendously, but search lights, flashing local security lights, and along with the commotion that she's no doubt causing.

She didn't mean to cause so much trouble, but killing one bloody bounty hunter who was looking for an easy score always lead to so much trouble.

Edited 2017-11-13 05:52 (UTC)

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Noctis Lucis Caelum | FFXV | OTA

Re: Noctis Lucis Caelum | FFXV | OTA

Jesse McCree | Overwatch | OTA

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7 - if that's okay

Of course!

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Susan Sto Helit | Discworld

grace hollingsworth ( oc )

Eren Jaeger | Shingeki no Kyojin

Matt Murdock l MCU

Malcolm Meryln l Arrow

AU times if that works?

Re: AU times if that works?

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Brad Crawford | Weiss Kreuz | OTA (Prompt #2)

Dia Starfall | Star Wars OC | F/M for shipping or smut, ota otherwise