[The girl harshly tugs at Mystic's shirt from behind, pulling at his shirt collar so his body would jerk backwards]

"Hey! Didn't anyone tell you to look where you're going?! If I weren't here, you would've gotten seriously hurt!"

[The moment in which Solar pulled the guy backwards was the moment where she prevented him from taking that one extra step that would've ended in his collapse. She gestures towards an open manhole that bore no lid]

"Speaking of which... ouch. I almost ripped off my nails when I had to pull you back."

Send “Shield” for my muse’s reaction to yours placing themselves between my muse and danger.

[Mystic’s soul almost left his body as he yanked back. He stumbled briefly before catching himself against the wall of a business on the side of the street.

He actually was about to turn around and thank this stranger, but her comments managed to irk him enough that he almost hoped he had fallen into that gap on the ground.]

Oh, I’m so sorry, darling. I’m just a clumsy fellow passin’ by! But how lucky am I?! You were right in time to help me!

——No, wait! I never really asked for help, did I? Oh, you’re just that much of a kind soul! How lovely!

Xion groaned in pain as she stirred slowly. The last thing she remembered was screams around her. The flash of gold meeting bright blue in a furry of rage and anger. Why-…Why had Xigbar attacked Twilight Town? Who were those masked men by his side? None of it made sense. It had all been a blur to her after the building she had been near had fallen down around her fragile form. But she remembered being called out to, a yell from a man she had once feared.

When she stirred finally the girl looked up, gaze blurry with the pain and ache of confusion. That was until he heard him call out for her again. It was weaker this time…broken…wait…she knew that voice.

“Isa?” Xion turned more alert at that, sitting up in the rubble with a hiss of pain until her gaze finally settled on the broken body besides her…blue hair and hazy teal lit eyes. His scar had opened up on his face…had he used his Beserk mode to protect her?

No-…No way.

“Isa? I-Isa!” Xion yelped out, crawling through the debris to get to him. She pushed away a small cement boulders and shoved marble to drag his wounded frame closer, her eyes full of confusion and concern.

Did he…save her?

“Are you okay?! Isa! W-Wake up!” The girl whispered down to him. “Please b-be okay…Isa?” Xion murmured as she gently rubbed some dirt off his cut and scarred cheek.

“Wake up pl-please!”

Well. Having a building dropped on him was not the most fun Isa had ever had in his life.

Better him than Xion, though. She had always been a tank in the Organization, but Isa knew very well that his human body was less resilient than his Nobody body had been. Who knew what the recompletion process had done to her? That aside, Lea would never forgive him if Isa saw Xion about to get crushed and didn’t do anything about it.

Using his Berserk ability was a lot harder in Twilight Town, where the moon was never visible. He did it anyway; the burst of energy through his body was enough to deflect some of the rubble and soften the impact of the collapse. The press of the energy channeled through Isa’s body formed a bubble around them, and then it ran out and it all came down.

Ouch. Berserk always took a lot out of him; even under the best of conditions, the end of a Berserk had always left Saix vulnerable for a bit. This was far from the best of conditions; without actual moonlight, some of the energy had to come from Isa himself. It was that, much more than the collapse, that put Isa down for the count.

He came to groggily, and realized there were hands on him. He started to pull away before he recognized who it was. Isa grunted as he moved to struggle half-up.

“I’m alright.” Insofar as he wasn’t dead. Isa was really feeling having a building fall on him. He squinted at Xion in the dim, dusty light.

Send “Shield” for my muse’s reaction to yours placing themselves between my muse and danger.

It was too short a time span for Mystic to react. He clutched the aching area of his stomach just as a blur rushed past him to stand between him and the coming assailant.

The color of his face drained away and his feet went cold. Everything before him seemed to slow down until words finally left his mouth. “Gwen, stop!”

Send “sword” for my muse to put themselves between your muse and danger.

[Mystic’s body shuddered in the midst of the deadly silence. He snapped around to look at Hana, eyes widened, and launched in front of her, wrapping her in his arms.]

——Watch out!

[Then came a ringing round of gunshots. He crouched down, dragging her along. He balled up into the ground as much as he could, hoping to hold out until it was over.

A bullet flashed dangerously close to his arm, but managed to burs open a gash on his bicep. He hissed through gritted teeth, crawling back behind a knocked over table.]

Shit, shit, shit, shit—!

Send “Shield” for my muse’s reaction to yours placing themselves between my muse and danger.

Jinora was oblivious that she was about to be attacked, until Lin swiftly jumped in front of her, blocking her assailant. Rendered speechless, her eyes widened with fear and awe.

(Uhhh tw for homophobic language and violence, also modern au again bc dammit I’m at least Preserving the Timeline until we finish Weathered XD)

Python had just wanted a goddamn cigarette on his break, and the alley next to the bar is usually fine- a few homeless people sleeping, maybe, but Python can make conversation with them (he’s very nearly been them, though he doesn’t like to talk about that).  Occasionally he’ll accidentally catch a pair of guys from the bar making out (or fucking, that’s happened more than once), but if it’s that, he can just smoke somewhere else.

At first, it seems to be quiet and empty tonight, but when his cigarette has burned halfway down, he catches the silhouettes of two men slipping into the alley towards him.  The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and immediately he knows he should get inside, but they’re already between him and the door and fuck he’s screwed up.  They encroach quickly into his space- scruffy faces, no taller than Python but definitely broader and stronger- and of course it’s Saturday and the fucking bouncer is at the front door kicking out asshole teenagers without IDs.

“Alright, faggot,” one of them growls.  “Hand over your phone and your wallet.”

“Ain’t got ‘em,” Python croaks, dropping his cigarette and lifting his hands in the air, mouth suddenly bone dry.  It’s not even a lie, it’s all locked up in the back room of the bar, but he suddenly wishes he did have them.  He’s flat broke anyways, and ID can be reissued and a damn cell phone replaced- it would be better than pissing these guys off, which it’s immediately obvious that he has. Somehow, he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to talk his way out of this one.

“Wrong fuckin’ answer.” The other man reaches behind him for something on his belt, and Python freezes.

His mind is racing over every self-defense video he’s watched halfway through on youtube, every bullshit martial arts movie he’s slept through, anything that might save his ass if this guy pulls a knife (and if it’s a gun, that’s pretty much it, isn’t it?), when suddenly the man is jerked violently away from him by the back of his shirt and thrown face-first into the brick wall next to him.  Then there’s a body between him and the second man, and thank fuck he knows that hair and that headband and maybe he’s not dying in a fucking alley tonight after all.  Gerik’s elbow slams into the man’s face with enough force that Python hears his nose crunch (and with some stupid line about picking on someone their own size that might have offended him if he wasn’t still scared shitless.)

That turns out to be all it takes. The muggers must have just wanted money, not a fight, and they run off with their tails between their legs (and the one with blood streaming from his nose).  Python doesn’t even know what Gerik is doing out here instead of inside, and fuck, they’re going to have to tell the bar owners and probably call the cops, but it’s impossible to care at the moment when he’s suddenly nauseous and his legs are shaking so badly that he slides down the wall and buries his face in his hands.

“Shit…hey,” Gerik kneels next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder in a way that’s grounding and helps him breathe just a little.  He’s breathing hard and there’s a little quaver in his voice too, but he sounds a hundred times better than Python does. “You okay?”