Humble and Kind.

Max didn’t move. No head turn or glance in her direction- not even a blink.

“I feel… heavy,” the wolfdog replied, his tone yhick with fatigue. He inhaled, but remained where he was, shutting his eyes with his exhale.

But his brows twitched a little; they furrowed into a drained, slightly frustrated, exhausted expression.

“Mmm…” He took several, rapid sniffs, then moved it away from his muzzle. “A man carried this… a dog of some kind who wears strong cologne, as I’m sure you also smelled… and he may have had a hostage or a reluctant accomplice, because the smell of fear is all over this.”

Max yawned, the circles under his eyes looking more like shadows than simply signals of weariness. “Someone’s scared, and it could be the man himself… but if it was, I’d guess that the scent of cologne wouldn’t be as strong as it is. Fear-smell is usually more subtle, but this is practically dripping with it.”

He ran a black-padded paw over his right eye and ear, his movements now more sluggish. “…the same sense of duty is there, and it always is. But I’m so, so tired,” he admitted, shaking his head as if that would wake him up. He shook his head and swung his legs over the bed, beginning to pull his boots on. “I know we’ve got work to do, and I’ll never ignore or avoid any, but sometimes…”

Max put his elbow on his knee, pressed his opposite paw to his face, and let his ears drop.

He grabbed the cloth from Liv and held it closer to his muzzle this time, shutting his eyes and trying to think despite the overpowering smell. Now that he scented it again, something started to-

Max didn’t move. No head turn or glance in her direction- not even a blink.

“I feel… heavy,” the wolfdog replied, his tone yhick with fatigue. He inhaled, but remained where he was, shutting his eyes with his exhale.

But his brows twitched a little; they furrowed into a drained, slightly frustrated, exhausted expression.

“Mmm…” He took several, rapid sniffs, then moved it away from his muzzle. “A man carried this… a dog of some kind who wears strong cologne, as I’m sure you also smelled… and he may have had a hostage or a reluctant accomplice, because the smell of fear is all over this.”

Max yawned, the circles under his eyes looking more like shadows than simply signals of weariness. “Someone’s scared, and it could be the man himself… but if it was, I’d guess that the scent of cologne wouldn’t be as strong as it is. Fear-smell is usually more subtle, but this is practically dripping with it.”

He ran a black-padded paw over his right eye and ear, his movements now more sluggish. “…the same sense of duty is there, and it always is. But I’m so, so tired,” he admitted, shaking his head as if that would wake him up. He shook his head and swung his legs over the bed, beginning to pull his boots on. “I know we’ve got work to do, and I’ll never ignore or avoid any, but sometimes…”

Max put his elbow on his knee, pressed his opposite paw to his face, and let his ears drop.

Max didn’t move. No head turn or glance in her direction- not even a blink.

“I feel… heavy,” the wolfdog replied, his tone yhick with fatigue. He inhaled, but remained where he was, shutting his eyes with his exhale.

But his brows twitched a little; they furrowed into a drained, slightly frustrated, exhausted expression.

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

i'm sorry if this is a bad time, but i need your help.

this is a matter of life and death.

trust me, if i could go to someone else, i would.

i know you don't owe me a thing, but i'm desperate.

this is the last time i ask you for help. i promise.

please don't make me do this by myself.

you're the only one who knows how to do this.

all right, all right, i'm sorry! now will you help me?

i didn't know who else to turn to.

this was the last place i wanted to go.

you know what i'm dealing with. you have all the answers.

please. this is worse than i imagined and i need your help.

you promised them you'd help me.

can we put our feelings aside? i really need your help.

i won't ever ask you for help ever again.

would you just listen to me for two seconds?

i'll explain everything. please come back inside.

i hate this just as much as you do.

i ran out of options.

i don't know how else to ask you.

you're the only person who will listen to me.

you've got to help me out with this.

this is my last chance.

just help me with this, and i'll be out of your hair for good.

i wouldn't come here for nothing.

you're the only person i can rely on.

i trust you to help me.

you helped them. why can't you help me? what makes me so different?

look. put our pasts aside and just help me, would you?

you're my last resort.

it all hangs in the balance.

this is do or die.

you promised me you'd help if it came down to it.

are you busy? i could use your help.

ACTION PROMPTS

[ stormy ] sender arrives at receiver's doorstep soaking wet

[ bloody ] sender arrives at receiver's doorstep bleeding and injured

[ call out ] sender calls out to receiver to help them in a moment of grave danger

[ text ] sender texts receiver asking for them to swing by and save them from a bad or awkward situation

[ call ] sender calls receiver in a time of need

[ wait ] sender is waiting in receiver's house when they come home, there to plead their case and ask for receiver's help

[ find ] sender locates receiver after hours of searching and pleads for their help

[ shout ] sender shouts receiver's name, desperate for help

[ panic ] sender approaches receiver in a panic and tries to explain to them what's going on

[ hide ] sender hides behind receiver's body

[ stranger ] sender desperately asks receiver, a stranger, for help with something

[ reluctant ] sender reluctantly asks for receiver's help

Send one of these to find my muse in different moments of vulnerability and really needing help... + reverse for my muse to find yours

[Sick] My muse is ill and bedridden.

[Wounded] My muse is severely injured and has just collapsed.

[Stuck] My muse is stuck, unable to free themselves without your muse's help. (e.g. under rubble, in a burning house etc.)

[Alone] My muse is isolated, feeling utterly alone and abandoned, needing comfort.

[Exhausted] My muse is physically and mentally exhausted, barely able to stay awake, and needs care.

[Lost] My muse is lost, either physically or emotionally, and is struggling to find their way back.

[Freezing] My muse is suffering from extreme cold, on the verge of hypothermia, and needs warmth.

[Drowning] My muse is literally or metaphorically drowning, struggling to stay afloat, and needs a lifeline.

[Lost Hope] My muse has lost all hope and is in need of someone to remind them what they're fighting for.

[Collapsing] My muse is physically collapsing from exhaustion, illness, or injury, unable to continue on their own.

[Nightmare] My muse is waking up from a terrifying nightmare and needs to be calmed down.

He put it on the table in front of her and leaned on the pads of his paws upon the desktop, an ear twitching as a small fly buzzed around the hot office.

“I can’t say you look familiar, Miss. I suppose I’ll have a few questions for you in a little while,” he told her; in hopes of getting to know at least a little bit about her, should she stick around, he would ask questions, but not too many.

Max slid past her and grabbed the dead criminal’s body up under the arms, then slung him over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta deliver this fleabag to Dr. Woods’ office. After that, you’re welcome to stick around, if you like.”

Remembering himself, Max stuck out his paw (the one that wasn’t clutching the body over his shoulder) for a quick shake. “Marshal Max Bowen. It’s a pleasure.”

He turned to walk out, beckoning the lemur after him. He couldn’t just leave a complete stranger in his office alone, after all.

Once he’d gotten outside and off the porch, but as soon as he turned his head and asked his question… the lemur was gone.

Confused and now somewhat alarmed, the wolfdog looked around; he wasn’t sure if he could trust someone he didn’t know. Not even her name. It took several seconds for him to comprehend what had happened. Where had she gone…?

And then three gunshots rang out, and that was enough for Max to crouch, put the dead guy on the ground next to Doctor Woods’ office, call for him, and run in the direction of the three POW sounds.

When he rounded the corner of the alley, he was stunned at what he saw: three men lying in pools of blood before her. Her pistol was still in her hand, as was his.

Neck fur prickling in shock, shoulders tense, the Marshal stared for a second before he whispered, “what the hell happened?”

Sniffing at the air, he picked up her scent very quickly, and, holstering his pistol for now, he rushed after the scent trail, his ears pinning.

One hot August evening in Wolfpoint, Kansas, U.S. Marshal Max Bowen was alone in his office, his cheek on his desk and arms near his head; his fingers were locked together, but he had fallen asleep a few minutes ago.

The heat wasn’t helpful, but he’d been gone for five days with very little rest, transporting a prisoner to another town for his trial- it didn’t take long at all for a conviction to come back guilty, and as soon as it did, Max left. But it had taken a day and a half to ride out, and another to get back to town. The wolfdog was completely drained… he’d gotten back a couple hours ago, but had paperwork to do, and it was still too early to sleep.

He put it on the table in front of her and leaned on the pads of his paws upon the desktop, an ear twitching as a small fly buzzed around the hot office.

“I can’t say you look familiar, Miss. I suppose I’ll have a few questions for you in a little while,” he told her; in hopes of getting to know at least a little bit about her, should she stick around, he would ask questions, but not too many.

Max slid past her and grabbed the dead criminal’s body up under the arms, then slung him over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta deliver this fleabag to Dr. Woods’ office. After that, you’re welcome to stick around, if you like.”

Remembering himself, Max stuck out his paw (the one that wasn’t clutching the body over his shoulder) for a quick shake. “Marshal Max Bowen. It’s a pleasure.”

He turned to walk out, beckoning the lemur after him. He couldn’t just leave a complete stranger in his office alone, after all.

if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the prompts are being sent for . you can add + reverse to swap roles .

👕 Blood seeps through receiver's shirt from a fresh stab wound.

🗡️ Press a bladed weapon into the receiver’s side.

🤕 Peel back the receiver’s bandage to reveal the infected wound underneath.

💉 Inject a painkiller into the receiver’s arm.

🏹 Yank an arrow out of the receiver’s shoulder with a swift pull.

🪢 Wrap a makeshift tourniquet around the receiver’s thigh.

🔥 Cauterize the receiver’s wound with a hot blade.

🩸 Smear the receiver’s blood across their cheek.

🦴 Snap the receiver’s dislocated shoulder back into place.

🪡 Carefully stitch the receiver's wound with steady hands.

🔫 Press the barrel of a gun against the receiver’s fresh bullet wound.

😴 Carry the unconscious receiver somewhere safe after a brutal fight.

🫳 Trace fingers along the receiver’s old scars.

💥 Slam the receiver into the ground hard enough to crack a rib.

🔪 Drag the tip of a knife slowly across the receiver’s forearm.

🩹 Apply pressure to the deep slash on the receiver’s abdomen.

🦵 Kick the receiver while they’re down.

🫦 Wipe blood from the receiver’s split lip with a rough thumb.

🔄 Twist the knife embedded in the receiver’s shoulder.

🧑‍⚕️ Lay the receiver on a operating table under harsh light.

🪏 Dig fingers into the receiver’s wound to retrieve a bullet fragment.

✂️ Clean and cut dried blood from the receiver’s matted hair.

👊 Punch the receiver to give them a black eye.

🧊 Hold ice against the receiver’s swollen face until it numbs.