#ulysses x six

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Q/U/X is for -- Ulysses

Writing for Ulysses always seems to transport me to another world, I swear, he just-- His way of speaking, and the general air about the man is all just... ethereal, in a way? I don't know, but he makes me feel like more of a poet than I've ever been, lol.

And the dialogue prompt he got had me on the floor, it's just SO accurate and perfect for him and Six. Ugh.

Anywho, I hope you guys like it!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

--

Pair: Ulysses x g/n! Six

Dialogue: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Word: Unite

Rating: SFW

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

“Um, well, I suppose I should be leaving, then. Ulysses.” Six stepped away from the pair’s close proximity slowly, backing up while still facing him. 

To hold our eye contact, or to make sure I don't stab them in the back?

“You’re not leaving.” 

Though the words commanded Six's attention, the way he voiced it was more of a question than an order. 

Ulysses couldn’t tell if that put them at ease or not.

“Well, I… Why you’d want to be around me at all, after everything I’ve learned about myself... I don’t blame you for wanting me dead, is all. Figure I should leave before you act on it though, right?” 

Six’s voice was nervous, but there was a sadness that Ulysses detected there as well. A shame, even. 

They should feel ashamed for what they’ve done… But then, is the shame enough of a consequence on its own? Does it absolve them of their wrongdoings, if they are pained by it this way, even without memory of the action itself? 

“What about my behavior has told you that I plan on acting on what I spoke about in our first meeting?” 

Ulysses was closer to them now, looking down the point of his mask to their large eyes, wide with… was it fear? 

Still?

“I don’t know, I just… I understand why you were so furious, why you sought me out, I couldn’t imagine… If I had a home, and someone took it from me, well, I’d like to think I would’ve done the same as you did. Only, maybe less honorably.” 

A soft snort escaped the mask, and Six could see some semblance of sympathy shining within the dark depths of Ulysses’ intense eyes. 

“That, in itself, is honorable to say.” They couldn’t pull their gaze from his, and as his compliment met their ears, a smooth tingle of relief wove up their spine. Ulysses could see it, from his perspective, the way they sought his forgiveness. 

That too, was honorable. 

He couldn’t help but admire the courier then. Then… and now. Now, as he shared his tent with them. A temporary home, but still some fragment of the place of belonging that they both craved so wholly. 

And how could he blame them? With their memories, as shoddy and incomplete as the crude camps he’d often made himself to stifle that wound in his chest that the Divide was meant to fill.  

They didn’t even know who they were, what they’d done, or why. It was a struggle he himself could not quite imagine. 

“I can’t believe I’m here…” 

Ulysses heard them say, perhaps to themself, as they turned and dropped their pack back to its place near to his sleeping mat. 

“I mean, I thought you hated me… That you would never forgive me, never stop… trying to kill me.” 

“Hate and love are but cousins;” Ulysses told them, stepping closer as they rounded to face him again, “Passion drawn from deep within and showcasing itself in the most intense forms available to us. The difference is but one instant.” 

And that instant is now. 

Ulysses’ impassioned gaze told them, near amber in color, with the emotion blazing within them. The simple look itself sent an overwhelming shiver down the courier’s spine. 

“But, hold on.” They said, before his stare had a chance to hold them prisoner for eternity, “Everything I’ve done, I mean… Your second chance, your home, a place away from the Legion, a new start, it was all yours, until me. How... how could you look past that?" 

Ulysses could easily see the struggle within them from the outside, just as much as he heard it in their words. 

Is it so hard for them to detect my own inner thoughts? 

After the nights they’d shared, they’d had to share during the massive dust storm that could’ve claimed both their lives, had they not had each other; how could they not see the way his view of them has changed? 

Six had seen him all those nights. His perseverance, his will, yes, that they knew of before the pair had properly even met. No, but those nights, they’d seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. The man behind the mask, the one who longs for a place to call his own, a place to belong, after a lifetime of feeling wrong. 

Wrong for turning his back on the Twisted Hairs with the illusion of not having a choice, wrong for being a part of the Legion, the very same faction that murdered and enslaved his people, that eradicated them from the map and from memory. Then, maybe wrongly too, he’d turned his back on the Legion as well. 

Had he no honor? Had he not a decisive mind? No allegiance? No loyalty? 

Who was Ulysses, if not a Twisted Hair, if not a Frumentarius, if not a courier? 

So wholeheartedly he had always formed his identity around that which he was forced to follow, to be a part of, even against his own wishes. 

His wishes, that now he had the freedom to consider. 

And Ulysses did. 

Even now, he was considering Six. The courier who’d seen him, a blank slate, with not even themself for Ulysses to obsess over. No, now all was out in the open. No holotapes, no hiding, no mystery, and yet, Six accepted him, forgave him, allied themself with him... 

It was true. Ulysses had made up his mind now, and he’d done it on his own, wholly. 

“My new start?” He said, his voice rumbling so softly from within his mask, that Six had to lean in close to catch his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I merely had to reflect to see it. To look back on my past, and on yours. The way that you’ve shaped me, without even knowing it.”

Six blinked at him, and their mouth fell slightly agape in their shock. 

 “Our stories are comparable, Six. Both alone, with a rich past, but no idea who we truly are. Not when your memory was taken from you, and my individuality. Together though, I see a change in both of us. I see what I thought was stolen forever from me, by you.”

Ulysses took another step forward, his chest just barely brushing Six’s as he took a deep breath in, his eyes locked to theirs, dark hair curtaining an intense, but pleading expression. 

And there it was again, that vulnerability that the ex-soldier, ex-spy, had never been able to show another living soul, and it was showing plain in his expression, sounding so clearly in his voice, that it was effortless. 

Six made it effortless for him to be genuine with them. 

It was something he could find himself getting used to, he thought. 

“With you,” He continued, raising one hand to brush the roughened tips of his fingers to Six’s chin. Affectionate, but subtle. “I see a future for us both.”

[i-28-29]

Happy pride month to these freaks

[mango-parfait]

Letter From Home

The Courier receives a letter from his daughter, but he barely remembers anything. So he gets Ulysses to read it to him, as he was the only person who has seen the courier's daughter in person before everything in The Divide went down.

I wrote a short drabble a few years back and finally decided to draw something quick for it!

[starset-sarsaparilla]

apparently i beat lonesome road on yaoi day so i’m spreading my courier six/ulysses propaganda

[shitfucker87]

Trying so hard to do the most insane mental gymnastics to gaslight myself into thinking that the Courier and Ulysses have crazy sexual tension, when in reality Ulysses wants to brutally ruin the Couriers life by nuking everything that they've ever cared for.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

How do you think Ulysses(fnv) would be in a relationship?

Romantic Ulysses HCs

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » Possessive? ➼ Genre » Romantic

Ulysses has a habit of being a bit controlling in his relationships. Something inside him makes him feel as if he needs to loom over his partner's shoulders at all times. Maybe it's the fear of losing them as he's lost everything else, or maybe he's just a naturally protective person. Either way, he'd prefer if you stayed close to him.

He likes to log down his favorite aspects about you. He'll keep a journal and write down the features and habits he likes best. There are pages and pages of your characteristics that he adores.

He’s a tad manipulative when it comes down to a relationship of any kind. In his mind, he sees himself as a savior who needs to protect and defend you at any cost necessary, and that’s exactly what he intends to do. Weird complex, an even weirder boyfriend.

He finds out as much as he can about you—any legal document, family history, friends, ideals—he thinks they’re all vital to truly understanding you as a person, even if you don’t remember any of it yourself.

He’s a very romantic guy, all things considered. He especially likes to write poetry for you on any surface he can find. Usually, it’s just scrawled on a note, but sometimes you’ll find declarations of love on random walls of his temple or dispersed throughout the Divide.

He'll frequently grab your face to make you look at him. Normally, he's gentle, but every now and then he'll get a bit rougher with it.

Ulysses is one of those people who would want matching tattoos with his significant other. He doesn’t date casually and would expect you to be aiming for eternity when you get with him, and a tattoo is a perfect way to show your dedication to the relationship. Why wouldn't you want one?

A lot of his dates will be him taking you camping. You’ll both walk into a random location and set up a small shelter once it finally gets dark. He thinks it’s nice to be able to get out and experience nature and all it has to offer, especially when it’s with you.

He also likes sitting in silence with you as he reads and you do whatever you need to—tinkering, repairing, upgrading, or even reading with him—he just likes to be near you while you do it.

He likes to come up behind you, wrap his arms around you, and kiss the top of your head. He likes keeping you close and never wastes an opportunity to show you he cares.

He's really gentle with you. His voice is noticeably softer, his touches are more delicate, and he's not as pushy as he might be toward someone else. He cares about you and he's willing to do anything to keep you.

Ulysses would be very interested in settling down with you at some point. Whenever's most convenient, he's not in a rush, but one day he'd like to own a house in a stable community where the two of you can just live out the rest of your lives together.

He fixes up ED-E to be a lot more durable than he already is so that he doesn't have to worry as much when you go out on your own. Of course, he'd prefer if he was the one with you rather than the pre-war bot, but he'll make do. ED-E literally won't ever leave your side due to the way Ulysses programmed him, so no more worrying about dying out in the desert, right?

He remembers a few traditions from his past and wouldn't mind teaching you if you were interested. He'd do your hair the way his tribe did, or give you the same markings he used to wear as a child. It never fails to make a, albeit faint, smile on his face when he sees you in the things the represent his home and his history.

Ulysses almost always has you on his mind and it's hard for him to get you off of it. He's never really had anything like it up until now and he intends to make it last for as long as he can manage. There's nothing that can separate the two of you, you were bound by fate, whether you recognized it or not.

[kamodofilez]

Found this old animation I did for an animation class I did back in 2022, featuring my Courier & Ulysses :)

[felassanis]

I'm sorry how can u not ship Courier x Ulysses when the base game and EVERY FUCKING DLC is constantly pushing the idea that they're fated to meet and destined to be each others salvation.

[amarithecat]

Everybody gangsta until the courier you've been unhealthily obsessing over for the past couple of years turns out to be equally as unhealthily obsessed with you.

[thatjaxgirl]

Dean and Ulysses they probably angry fucked

[faeryblade]

|| Scopophobia || A Jonathan Crane Fic ||

Synopsis: It's just another boring afternoon at the office for Dr. Jonathan Ulysses Crane. Although, testing out his latest fear toxin is yielding some...interesting results.

Word Count: 5,534

TW: Dead Dove: do not eat. 18+ content, minors DNI. NSFW, SMUT. Gaslighting and manipulation. Mention of EDs. Degradation. Non-con. Implication of suicide attempt. Forced oral, anal. Use of aphrodisiac and fear toxin. Hallucinations. Power imbalance, therapist/patient. Age difference. Monster fucking (Scarecrow). Corruption. Ahegao. Creampie. Rick roll near the end.

Note: Uh, hi there. I got bit by a highly infectious idea and quickly developed super terminal Jonathan Crane!rot...which I guess I'm making everyone's problem now. This is the first chapter of a long Jonathan X Reader fic called: "Please, don't tell my psychiatrist-he'd kill me!"

Song: "Careful What You Wish For" by Jack Harris

Taglist: @caesariawritesstuff @greeneyedshooter @enochtopus-the-pressed

"I-I don't even know what I'll do. It's not like I can cancel now..."

Subject 76 picked at the fibers of her knit sweater anxiously, brows furrowed. There's a hitch to her voice. Her shoulders are slightly hunched over as if she's trying to protect herself from the topic at hand. Dr. Crane makes a note of this with a quick flourish of his ballpoint pen. Besides him, safe in her black iron cage, his pet crow, Nightmare, stares keenly at Subject 76.

"Plus, my friend has been planning this wedding for MONTHS and I'm her bridesmaid! I can't just not go to the wedding! I-I'd feel like...I dunno, like a bad friend-"

Subject 76 reached for the glass of water placed on the coffee table in front of her. She took a sip from it to settle her nerves before continuing to speak:

"Just the thought of letting her down makes me feel some awful way. Like, I don't know. I'm just, uhh. I'm just..."

"...Afraid?" Dr. Crane's smooth voice offers, almost seeming to reverberate in the air.

Subject 76 looked at her psychologist with a wide, doe-eyed expression. Her bottom lip trembled. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement that had Crane's pen scribbling furiously in his notes once more.

"No," Subject 76 denied immediately, then falters a second later, "Yes. I-I don't know, maybe??? I'm just anxious, I guess??? It's just that this wedding will be the first time in six years that I've seen my high-school friends. And I wanna make the right impression. I don't want it to look like I don't have my life together."

Subject 76 went quiet for a moment. Her gaze drew down to her wrists where thick, pink scars crisscrossed her skin. While the sweater she was wearing did its best to conceal them from sight, a few still peaked out and were clearly visible to anyone who had a wandering eye. Shame settled upon her.

"I've even started to...uhm. I..."

Subject 76 fell silent again. The woman returned to picking the threads of her sweater, tugging on its cotton weave compulsively instead of talking.

Dr. Crane glanced up from his notepad, peering over the top of his glasses to assess his subject. "Miss. Bree?" He asked, raising a single eyebrow. He waited for her to speak.

But Subject 76 pursed her lips into a thin line and ignored him.

Sighing, Crane leaned back in his chair. An edge of annoyance laced his tone as he addressed his subject...

"I don't think I have to remind you that the court has mandated your cooperation in therapy, Miss Bree. And...with anything I see fit to hasten your rehabilitation. Now, I wouldn't want to be forced legally to report you to your probation officer for resisting treatment. However, if I must-"

"WAIT!" Subject 76 cried out, terror in her eyes.

The smallest smirk twitched at the edges of Dr. Crane's lips, "Oh?"

Splitting open like a rotten pumpkin, the woman confessed that she'd started throwing up. 'Just small meals,' she'd elaborate further, attempting to lessen the impact of her words, 'Just the bad carbs and fats, nothing serious.' Subject 76 went on to talk about the dress she was trying to "look slay" for. How the bride had chosen a type of cut that left little to the imagination. And most telling to Dr. Crane of all; that she was frightened about what everyone would think when she wore it.

Crane placed his notebook and pen down on the accent table at his side, then steepled his fingers together, peering at Subject 76 with intent.

With hunger.

"Do you think your frankly lackluster endeavor to lose weight will be enough to stop the whispers and the gossip?" He asked off-handedly, making Subject 76 flinch in response, "And all the secret shared laughter at your expense?"

"W-what?"

"Just an observation, really."

Subject 76 looked confused. She blinked several times and wondered if she was hearing the what the doctor had said right. Or if somehow she was hearing him wrong instead.

"In fact, I doubt fitting into anything will improve your standing," Crane stated with a casual wave of his hand, "How do you know that you weren't invited to this...grand affair...as a joke?"

Shock spread across Subject 76's face.

"I-"

"If they were judging you in high school, six years wouldn't change anything substantial. They're no different than they were back then. Tell me, have you changed?"

Dr. Crane answered the question for Subject 76, not allowing her to explain for herself what he'd already figured:

"According to your records, you've been purging since middle school... And here you are now, still continuing to follow the same, tired, destructive pattern."

"Dr. Crane, I-"

Crane held up an authoritative hand.

"I digress, Miss. Bree," He said, "We've become a bit sidetracked here. Any form of eating disorder is categorized as self-harm. I cannot allow this to continue. As a mandated reporter, I'll have to tell your case manager. Unfortunately, I can judge by your previous history, that it's quite likely you'll be put on a 72-hour hold in a psychiatric facility. Probably here at Arkham. Contrary to Gotham's popular belief, we do treat normal citizens, too."

A fresh, new wave of panic bloomed on Subject 76's face. Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes. She shook her head, both hands rising up to clasp over her mouth, muffling the words she spoke and making them harder to hear.

"Hmm? What was that?" Dr. Crane nearly purred, making a show of leaning in closer to listen better.

"I-I can't go back there," Subject 76 replied with a choked stammering breath, "I just can't, doctor. I c-can't-"

Such marvelous fear...

Dr. Crane drank it in, savored it like fine wine. He wished he could bottle this moment to treasure for himself and keep forever. This was a human at their most beautiful.

"There is an alternative solution," Crane offered, only after Subject 76 looked about to vomit on his rug, "But I don't offer it to just anyone I treat. You, however, would be a perfect candidate."

"Really, doctor? I would?"

He barely suppressed his disgust as the woman shifted from fear-torn to hopeful at just the mere suggestion of salvation.

"Yes, but you'd have to submit to a new regimen and administration of medicine," Dr. Crane said, "Plus, we would be exploring novel paths of therapy that we've yet to approach in session. If I deem it productive, then I can forget about this reporting nonsense-"

Not to mention all the paperwork he'd have to go through because of it.

"-Does that sound amenable to you, Miss. Bree?"

"Yes!" Subject 76 answered brightly, "Anything to keep probation away!"

As if commenting on the woman's statement, Nightmare let out a series of loud, raucous caws that sounded strangely like laughter. Subject 76 glanced at the crow with uncertainty before Dr. Crane redirected her attention back onto him.

"Anything, hmm?" Crane asked curiously, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket, "Well, that's good to know. It'll certainly make this next portion that much easier."

"Huh?"

Before Subject 76 knew what was happening, Dr. Crane was at her side; his hand gripping her ponytail and yanking her head back. She caught the sight of a spray bottle seconds prior to a strange, fine, orange mist enveloping her face. Crawling up the passages of her nose. Making her feel instantly dizzy and lightheaded. Sick.

"Yeeeah, that's right," Crane's voice cooed gently into her ear, "Breathe it all in, little lamb. Goood. Just like that..."

The effects of the toxin were instantaneous. With vested interest, Jonathan Crane watched as 76's pupils dilated until her irises nearly disappeared and her breaths came out in labored gasps that sounded painful. He grabbed the woman's wrist to check her pulse. His long fingers bit into soft flesh, leaving the crescent-shaped impressions of his nails in their wake.

"As expected," he spoke aloud, narrating more to himself than anyone else, "Patient is responsive to a 10 mg dose of K-series. BPM is at 125, within range of a common panic attack. Eyes dilated to 8 millimeters. Symptoms are much more evident than Batch 4. Most likely due to the introduction of fear prior to administration-"

A low, husky moan interrupted him:

"Mmmn, Doctor Crane. I feel so hot..."

Jonathan turned his attention back onto the test subject, who was trying to press her body to his in desperation. He felt his cock harden instantly. That spark of hunger he'd experienced moments before returned; but, it'd become ravenous now. Insistent. Snapping. It demanded to be fed. And this lost, little lamb was offering herself willingly to his opened maw. Who would refuse such a feast?

The darkness inside Jonathan took control.

Subject 76 gasped as his hand suddenly gripped her neck and pulled her closer. He grazed his lips along the woman's silky cheek, whispering softly into her ear-

"Hush now, child, your Shepherd God is here. All will be well."

-before blazing a trail of greedy kisses and bites down her shoulder, ripping off her sweater in the process. He threw it onto the carpet. Subject 76 hardly noticed. She was far too preoccupied with his explorations to care. Her eyes fluttered back into her skull as Doctor Crane teased the tender areas of her flesh with tongue and teeth. Searing heat coiled like a spring in the pit of her stomach. Another moan flew from her throat. Louder this time.

"Tell me how you feel?" Jonathan asked his prey with a commanding growl.

Subject 76 squirmed underneath his grasp.

"I-I need you," she replied, "Doctor, please! I need to feel you. I want your hands on me. I-I want you to touch me. Bite me. I need you-"

Jonathan Crane gripped her tighter.

"And how badly does that ail you, little lamb?" He crooned.

"I can't stand it!" 76 wailed out loud, tears rolling in cascades down her cheeks, "Everything's hot. I can't think straight! What's happening to me?!?"

A cruel smile curved along Jonathan's mouth. He could almost taste the woman's anguish. It was a delicious flavor. Irresistible, actually...

"You poor, suffering soul. Allow me to ease your troubled mind..."

Wrapping Subject 76's ponytail around his hand once more, Jonathan Crane seized control and dragged her face towards the bulge in his slacks. Surprisingly, she tried to resist. Visited by a brief minute of lucidity, the woman fought back on his grip, struggling (like hell) against the task he was setting her to. Jonathan scowled. He wondered if the toxin had worn off already? But another lusty moan from 76 indicated that it hadn't. It was just hitting her in symptomatic waves.

Whimpering as a new flood of heat overwhelmed her, Subject 76 wrestled with the metal buckle of Jonathan's belt and unzipped his pants. Her eyes widened upon seeing the monster that lay hiding in wait within his boxers. Huge, thick, and veined; the psychiatrist's dick eagerly sprang forth from its plaid, cotton bindings to greet her. It twitched with anticipation over what was about to happen. A sharp edge of panic sliced into her...

His cock was too big.

She wasn't given time to prepare herself. Crane's hand pressed down on the back of her head and forced his dick into her mouth. He slid his length as far as it could go, cockhead tapping the back of her throat before pulling out...then, slamming himself past her lips all over again. Each time, he pushed a little deeper, a little harder, until 76 was gagging and tears misted up her eyes. Jonathan let out a groan at the sight of it. The fear in those gorgeous, coffee brown depths made him want to fuck her harder and see how far he could push that mouth.

"Mmmff! Mmf-"

"Ahh, feels so good. Your pain is exquisite."

Subject 76 struggled as Doctor Crane increased his vicious pace and used her ponytail like a bar handle. He tugged, yanked, pulled, and directed every movement until she became nothing more than a living fleshlight. Forced to satisfy this tall, imposing beast until he was sated, 76 had never felt more helpless in her entire life. Despite that, a curious sensation was accompanying her loss of control; the enjoyment of his taste. A betrayal that she hadn't expected coming from her body! The doctor's musky flavor caused liquid heat to pool traitorously between her legs. As salty tang invaded her palate, a throb began pulsing upon her clit. Was she going mad!? How could any of this possibly feel good???

That's because you're a whore, sweetie.

The dulcet sound of her mother whispered softly into her ear. The tone was condescending, beset with mockery. Her father followed suit, his voice so clear (and vivid) that Subject 76 swore he was standing a few inches away:

We always knew you were a filthy pig, even as a child...

76 let loose a muted scream. Both her parents, in a unified chorus, continued their foul comments, prodding at every insecurity she owned while the only thing she could do was choke on Dr. Crane's dick and cry.

"Oh, you're in it now, aren't you?"

Suddenly, his movements halted. Subject 76 felt herself being hauled up by her hair to meet a pair of glowing eyes and a terrifying smile comprised of sharp, yellow fangs. She screamed again. This time, the sound was so loud it hurt her own ears. Gone was the famous psychiatrist, Dr. Jonathan Crane, and in his place...was a nightmare!

The monster seemed pleased by her horror. A dark chuckle rumbled from deep within its emaciated chest.

"My toxin has infiltrated your mind," It said with a relished growl, dragging 76 closer, "Past all your defenses. Can't you feel it tearing at your sanity? Breaking down your senses bit by bit? Reducing you to your most primal state?? Fascinating how a person can become so pliable with just a small amount of this in their system..."

Confusion washed over Subject 76. The monster was speaking eloquently. However, she could not understand any of it. Her brain had turned into a congealed soup-useless jelly-that sloshed inside her skull. Unable to make connections as it once had mere hours ago before she'd stepped foot in Doctor Crane's office. The ache between her legs was intensifying, the pulse tapping upon her clit less easy to ignore, and the sensitivity of her skin made even the smallest touch a torture. 76 cried out to God...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "Silence, lamb. Therapy is still in session."

One fluid motion was all it took for the terrifying beast to extract Subject 76 off the couch and up onto her feet. It dragged her across the confines of Dr. Crane's office, towards the gigantic curtain wall that overlooked Arkham Asylum's entrance courtyard. With a sharp and commanding tug, 76 was forced to stand before it, despite protest, so that she could see the goings-on down below. Another whimper fell out of her lips as her vision turned the gnarled trees and wrought iron fence outside into clawed hands. Five people suddenly stared up at the window from their spots on the benches near the Asylum's smoking zone. They looked so familiar. But, she could not remember why...

The monster slid behind her soundlessly. Its long talons crawled like many spiders up the sides of her arms. "This is who you really are inside, Miss Bree. Your truest self," It assured her, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice, making everything it said sound obvious and plain, "Just a trembling web of misfiring neurons in the amygdala attempting to rectify a reality too frightening to assimilate-"

The monster caressed her cheek.

"-I want to help you embrace your fear and truly understand it."

Those five people in the courtyard all raised their forefinger and, as one unit, pointed at Subject 76 with laughter twisting upon their lips. She shook her head. Averted her gaze. Took a step back to put distance between herself and the plexiglass window. Unfortunately, 76 was stopped by an unyielding wall of flesh. The beast's body was poised just a few inches away from her own and in response to her shame, it took a step forward, sandwiching her between itself and the tall, cold glass she sought to avoid. Subject 76 prayed to God again. This time, she promised Him that she would stop purging; that today was the last day she'd ever throw up her meals if He'd spare her life...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "What do you see, little lamb? What horrors keep you stuck in place?"

"I-I don't know!!"

Its spindly fingers roamed an idle path down her throat to settle upon her chest. She trembled as its razor-edged nails brushed against her nipples absentmindedly.

"I think you do," the monster insisted, "But you're resisting the awareness of it. We try to hide away from the shadows of our minds so we can live in peace during the day, don't we? It's only human. But you, little one, have nowhere left to scurry to. Nowhere you can run. The Scarecrow has come to show you the truth inside your fears..."

Allowing 76 no time to consider its words, it tore open her camisole top, exposing the bra that she wore underneath. The monster made quick work of the lace, discarding it into a pile on the carpet. Skeletal digits went seeking flesh. Subject 76 felt its boney hands grasp both her breasts and start to knead them roughly as panic washed over her. It pulled her nipples with hard pinches. First one, then the other. Then, both at the same time in a torturous rhythm that milked a lusty sigh from her throat.

76's eyes widened when she heard it. Had that perverted sound come out of her?

What a fucking slut!

That's the way she was in high school. We did it behind the bleachers, her ass was so fucking tight.

But she's so fat!!

So? The thicker they are, the thicker the juice.

Ugh, you're so gross, Mikey.

Voices from the courtyard outside intermingled with her litany of moans. The five smokers were talking, gossiping candidly amongst themselves, while they sneered at her from the benches they sat in. Subject 76 jerked away, tried to push off the monster so she could hide her naked chest and cover the shame that came with being seen. The monster didn't let her, though. Almost like it sensed her self-disgust, it pinned her up against the window glass and handled her boobs harder. Tugged and pulled them so that her rosy peaks stretched out. Pressed its throbbing, hard bulge into her ass so that she could feel it pulse. Licked a trail up the curve of her neck to taste the sweat on her skin.

The five spectators outside laughed in response to her struggles.

Pig!

Whore!

Slut!

Sudden recognition dawned upon 76. Those five, smirking people down in the courtyard were her high school friends. The ones that she would see at the wedding next week. The ones who hadn't seen her since graduation. Their blinkless stares drilled into soul her as if she were soft plywood. She could feel their scrutiny already. 76 let out a horrified scream:

"N-no! NO!!! Please! D-don't look at me!! Don't!!!"

Hot, fetid breath that smelled like decaying flesh tickled her ear when the beast spoke. "Ahhhh," It said with a sultry purr, "Scopophobia. The fear of being seen by others. Of having so many judging eyes on you. My, what a vain creature you are to think anyone would look at you? Well then, let's give your audience something...more substantial to gaze at-"

It yanked down her pleated skirt and pulled aside her thong.

"I want all of them to see and hear you sing hosannas of anguish to Scarecrow!"

Eagerly, the monster guided its cock to grind on the entrance of Subject 76's ass. And bit by bit, it pushed itself slowly into her tight, puckered hole. 76 clawed at the window as she felt this invasion begin to pump within her. Striking a curious spot inside her body that caused drool to trickle down her chin from the edges of her mouth. Each hard stroke that it gave Subject 76 made her cry, then moan, then scream, then beg the Scarecrow for forgiveness. But the monster continued to thrust (unempathetically) into her asshole without any regard. Bright stars exploded in rapid numbers behind her eyes. Building heat churned at the pit of her belly, threatening to combust. Her pussy became sopping wet as his busy hips smacked into her backside with more force, speed, and single-minded desperation than her mind could handle. 76 felt like she was going to go insane. If it kept pounding her like this, she would certainly die!

The beast let loose a satisfied groan as it tossed its burlap-shrouded head back, "Mmn, fuck, yes! Show everyone what a sick little dirty whore you are for the God of Fear. Let the many, many eyes witness your senseless fright, you pig!"

"N-nnnooo!! M'nuh a pig, d-daddy! I'm clean! I'm clean!!"

"You're as filthy as they come. There's no doubts about that," the monster growled low and darkly, clamping its taloned grip upon both sides of 76's hips to hold her steady while it readjusted inside of her ass.

Subject 76 squirmed.

"Be still, slut!"

This was the only warning she received before its cock went to work. Now, positioned at a different angle, the monster penetrated her ass deeper. A wave of euphoria and fear swept over Subject 76 as she felt sensation after sensation threatening to break her. In. Out. Faster and harder. Rougher. The sheer brutality with which it fucked her body senseless was quickly burning a giant hole in her psyche and rearranging her brain chemistry into a shape she didn't recognize...

A transformation, Subject 76 soon realized, that she was quite helpless to stop.

In fact, 76 found that she was starting to like this new state; moaning, panting, squirming, crying!! Begging for her life. Getting so thoroughly railed by the God of Terror that it forced her eyes to roll back and her mouth fall open and her mind to go completely blank with the only thought she had (or could adequately retain) being how amazing it was to have this monster's dick buried so deep inside her!! Subject 76 had even forgotten about the audience that was watching this.

Maybe she even wanted the audience to watch?

If she was honest, perhaps she'd always wanted that...?

"M'gunna c-cum!! I gunna-"

Something mixed between a scream and a moan flew out of her mouth as the monster hilted itself fully into her ass, sparking an orgasm that shook her entire body to the core. A moment later, heat spread inside Subject 76. Thick and gooey, it ran down her thighs and joined the nectar of her own cum. The monster continued rocking its hips and unloaded spurt after spurt of sticky warmth that never seemed to end. Aftershocks accompanied every lazy, squelching thrust. More drool trickled down her chin, more moans were wrenched from her throat. 76 was less of a person now than she was a fuck sock; mindless and wet and perfectly submissive. The terrifying beast that called itself the "Scarecrow" had freed her from all the worry and pain she'd carried inside and replaced it with inner peace...

And obedience to the God of Fear.

Dr. Jonathan Crane sighed.

The "Kappa Psi" series toxin was a success. After countless days and sleepless nights and seventy six clinical trials on his unsuspecting patients, Dr. Crane had finally created something even he was afraid of. The K toxin was a potent combination that fused Doctor Isley's plant pheromones with carbogen and cortisol. When administered, it'd attack the pituitary gland first. Then, hurry itself onto the thalamus, amygdala and prefrontal cortex, where it'd flood the victim in mixed signals that twisted fear and pleasure together. With the right type of psychological stress applied, a subject under the effects of K Toxin would be highly susceptible to subliminal messages. Dr. Crane had found on the third clinical trial that sometimes a complete and utter dissociation would occur where the subject was...altered after the toxin wore off. Around the fifth clinical trial, Crane discovered that he didn't need to do much to invoke that dissociative state within his subjects. He started feeling like a God who crafted his own men and women alike from the soil of fear.

But, after seventy-five trials, each one a success, he'd started feeling unsatisfied. Bored, even. And now, on the seventy-sixth trial, Doctor Jonathan Crane was ready to concoct a new formula. This time, perhaps, he would experiment with a toxin that'd stimulate a timed, cardiac arrest? It'd be a great way to study Thanatophobia.

"I-I obey...I obey fear..."

Interrupting his musings, Subject 76 muttered to herself on his couch where she'd been since he'd dosed her. Crane rolled his eyes. It'd been half an hour (already) and without so much as a touch or a whisper in her ear, the young woman had come undone. He adjusted his glasses, then peered up at the clock hanging upon his wall. He'd give 76 a grace period of ten more minutes before he used an antidote. After all, she seemed to be enjoying herself even if he wasn't. Her fingers ground into her groin while she chanted hymns to horror with tears rolling from her glazed over eyes. Normally, Dr. Crane would be enchanted. The K Toxin made his job as a practitioner of fear too easy, though. The finesse involved in scaring someone seemed almost obsolete, comparatively. A ridiculous and foolish notion but one that bothered him greatly nonetheless.

While Crane waited for the K toxin to subside, he scrolled through his unread emails...

Dr. Leland was requesting any and all additional files on the Page Monroe case.

Jeremiah Arkham had CC'd the entire asylum on the rules and guidelines regarding the treatment of patients. It was obvious this message was just for Bolton, however.

Dr. Bartholomew was reminding everyone who'd used the staff refrigerator in the past 24 hours to label their food containers and lunches to "avoid any confusion."

Mike Browne, a senior orderly who worked in the Intensive Treatment Unit, was reporting theft. A concerning amount of Propofol had disappeared from the medical supply.

And a "Mister E" had messaged him at midnight (three whole days ago) with an email that was mysteriously entitled: "Question."

Just as Jonathan was about to open the mystery email, a timid voice interrupted him...

"D-Doctor Crane...?"

Subject 76 was (finally) shaking off the effects of the toxin and coming back to reality. The woman looked confused, a bit scared as well. And when he met her stare from his spot, perched at the desk, Crane saw terror blossoming inside those doe-like eyes. But, other than that little detail, 76 seemed to have recovered enough for Jonathan to talk to now. Turning away from his computer and clearing his throat, he began to weave a web of (plausible) deniability that reframed the past hour or so in a positive light...

"Don't alarm, Miss Bree. You seem to have fallen asleep during our guided breathing exercises. It's a common thing that happens with patients who hold onto too much stress. Rest assured, you're not the only one of my clients who've passed out on that couch...and I very much doubt that you'll be the last."

Subject 76 immediately reached up towards her mouth, wiping it clear of leftover drool. Then, the woman moved on to smooth her hair and fix any wrinkles that she saw in her sweater. As soon as 76 felt put together, the woman risked peeking a glimpse at the doctor. That beautiful fear which he loved so much still clung to the edges of her gaze.

"So, all that was just a nightmare?" she asked Dr. Crane with a voice that said she couldn't be more relieved, "All the things I saw...they weren't real?? Even you reporting me?"

Jonathan raised a single, curious brow. He made a show of taking off his glasses, wiping them on the material of a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, and returning them to his face before he answered the question:

"You had a nightmare, Miss. Bree? Well, that isn't all too uncommon, either. Guided breathing and meditation has been known to jog loose trauma from within our subconscious mind. That's why its use is so effective in a therapeutic setting," Dr. Crane said, then gestured casually over towards the wall clock, "But, I am afraid that will have to be a conversation for later. Our time today is up."

"Oh..."

"Let's schedule you for the same time next week. And perhaps this time, we can focus on staying awake throughout our session, hm?"

Embarrassment in the form of a rosy pink blush spread across Subject 76's cheeks at that small, wayward comment. She tried to hide it, though. Jonathan ignored this and led her over to the door, holding it open for the woman after she'd collected her things. As his patient walked by him, however, Crane froze her with an innocent question from out of left field...

"Before you go, Miss. Bree, I've been admittedly quite curious about something. It's my hope you can indulge me with an answer. What will you be wearing to your close friend's wedding, exactly? I'm not familiar nor particularly educated on the social formalities involved in such an occasion's dress wear."

76 paused, then replied as if commenting on the weather: "Oh, probably nothing. I want everyone to see my whore body. Wouldn't you, Dr. Crane?"

"Mm," Jonathan hummed in response before he closed the door behind her.

It'd started to rain outside. A light dusting of tiny water droplets were collecting themselves upon the glass of the curtain window beside his desk. Jonathan Crane could hear the pattering getting (progressively) louder by the second. He strolled over to his office chair, then sat in it. Watched as the storm rolled in from Gotham Bay and the icy Atlantic sea beyond it. Idly, he wondered if he'd ever meet a subject who could hold his interest? Or if The Batman, alone, would continue to keep that honor for himself?

Swiveling around to face his computer, Jonathan decided to open that "Mister E" email. He clicked once upon the subject line and was assaulted by bright green text almost instantly. A deep frown tugged on his lips as he squinted, trying to read the words despite wearing a pair of prescription glasses...

'Like a rhubarb, what also desperately searches for light in the darkest depths?

:3

I'll give you a hint: It doesn't crack or pop, but it can scream just as loudly in Arkham's basement.'

Underneath this was a picture of himself in a lab coat, administering a lethal dose of fear toxin to an Arkham patient who was strapped down to a surgical table. Another photo, in addition to this, was timestamped for a few minutes later, and it featured Jonathan wearing a badly stitched-up, burlap, respirator mask. The patient who was screaming in the bottom right corner appeared to be bleeding around the mouth and eyes. The final one was a zoomed in shot of his name tag while he was disguised in the mask: Dr. Jonathan Crane, MD.

He stilled.

Everything in the world went absolutely quiet. He could've heard a single pin drop. But the silence was quickly shattered by the sound of electronic beeping. Jonathan peered down at his waist belt to see that the Motorola pager he wore strapped to it was flashing him a message...

'9229.'

All the muscles in his jaw tensed.

Immediately, Jonathan turned off his computer and using a brass key (that he always kept close on his person), opened up the bottom drawer to recover a briefcase hidden underneath the cover of an internal partition. As soon as his fingertips brushed against the leather item, Nightmare let out three loud, ear-splitting caws from her iron cage. She spread her wings, then flapped them several times in apparent aggravation. The crow pierced Jonathan with a look that seemed to warn him of something that he couldn't logically discern. But, fear was not logical, he reasoned to himself...

...And the only thing there was to fear in Gotham City was the Scarecrow.

"Hold the fort down while I'm gone, Nightmare," he said to his bird, hoping that his request would help to ease her worries, "This'll only take a bit. It usually does."

Jonathan Crane strode out of his office with an incredible sense of urgency and ire. His old, leather briefcase was gripped tightly in his hands like a gun. Nobody blackmailed the Scarecrow...

Or lived long enough to tell about it.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Wagh!! Idk if requests are closed but if so sorry and just happy 1.5K!! If not, can I get Mirelurk queen for Ulysses and the prompt ❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

This is so sweet for him <3

Ulysses really does deserve more love, imho. So hopefully this is a worthy contribution 😅

I hope you love it!

Six watched him, brows set low in determination and focus, as Ulysses demonstrated the motion for them once again.

"Keep your eye on the target; always, and your arm should follow." He told them, his voice uncharacteristically uninhibited by his cumbersome mask in the still-grueling heat of the Mojave evening air. "You worry too much about your form. Allow your mind to hone in on what truly matters. That which you are aiming for."

His dark eyes darted to their face in time to see Six's nod of understanding. With that, he turned back to the large, dead cactus they were using as a target.

"Breathe deeply, so as not to disrupt your aim, and then strike." In one swift thrust, the throwing spear spiraled skillfully through the air before tearing square into the shell of the cactus 15 yards ahead of him. "Simple enough are the motions, for the focused mind unified with the body."

"Easy for you to say." Six retorted. "You never suffered a headwound like mine."

The ex-frumentarius snorted at that.

"How long will you use such a thing as an excuse for your poor discipline?"

"As long as I've still got the scars." They quipped, grabbing up their own spear from the pile the pair had made between them.

"I see." Ulysses said, the slightest hint of a half-smile tugging at one side of his lips. "Your poor excuses will plague me forevermore, then."

"Forevermore?" The courier echoed, their head snapping to face him as their voice raised an octave in surprise. "That's ah... quite the commitment you're making there, Ulysses."

"If it's been this long..." He continued staring ahead, still towards the target, but that half smile on his lips only grew at some continuation of his thought he was choosing to keep unvoiced.

Six couldn't say more themself, couldn't move to practice their spear throwing, couldn't so much as blink as they took in the sight of Ulysses' soft grin. It was... so warm, It gave the, usually cold, man a pleasant sort of glow. Or perhaps that was only the orange hue of the sun as it bowed its head behind the mountaintops. Still though, Ulysses' dark eyes shone, lines were drawn on either side of his mouth that Six had never noticed before, and there was even the small hollow of a dimple at the cheek facing them as he continued looking out to the desert.

Soon enough though, Ulysses felt his partner's eyes on him, and turned to face the pressure of them.

"Six?" The smile faded in an instant, in favor of his usual intense frown.

"Right, right. Sorry, let me just..." They cleared their throat as they squared their feet behind the line Ulysses had drawn in the sand when they'd began their practice session.

Their tongue stuck out the side of their mouth as they closed one eye and set it on their target.

"Both eyes should remain open." Ulysses sounded from their peripheral. They only nodded in response.

"Focus and remember to breathe. Line up the tip of your spear before drawing it back. Maintain your balance, the straightness of your spine, before you thrust."

"Got it."

Six's eyes narrowed, they lined up their spear, trying to think about their form, ensuring it was straight, it was proper, but without focusing too much on it.

Just as Ulysses had said.

They released their breath, pulled their arm back, and threw their body into it as they launched the spear forward and towards the cactus.

Towards the cactus, as in, not the opposite direction. But still, only towards.

Their spear never landed. Not in the target, anyway, but about 3 yards to the right of it, before striking a rock and bouncing up into the air, only to clatter to the ground a moment later, as Six stood slack-jawed with disbelief.

"How...?" They whispered under their breath, completely at a loss.

Only a soft huffing sound tore their eyes from the downed, useless spear.

When they turned to face him, Ulysses was actually laughing.

It was a strange sound. Unfamiliar, but exactly as they had imagined it would be. Low, like his voice always was, but breathy and soft. Like a gust of wind through a deep mine shaft.

And his smile...

It was broader now. More than Six had ever seen it. They couldn't recall actually seeing Ulysses' teeth before, unless he was snarling in rage at some foe, but this... Just the slightest peek of glinting white through his parted lips.

They couldn't help but gawk.

"I'm sure that aim of yours was only on account of the headwound, hm?" He asked as he turned to them, and still, Six could only stare.

Ulysses didn't ask them anything this time around, only raised one brow in question.

"Sorry." Six said, delayed until the smile had completely vanished from their partner's expression. "It's just... I don't think I've ever seen you smile, and... well, twice it's been now. I'm just starting to wonder if I'm dreaming or something." They chuckled a bit themself, shaking their head as they spoke.

"Should we continue to practice the art of the throwing spear, I doubt it will be the last time you see such an expression from me."

Six pursed their lips in embarrassment, but truly, if that's what it took?

Maybe it won't just be the headwound that keeps me from improving at this infuriating form of combat...

"You truly are terrible at this. It's actually quite incredible to observe firsthand."

"Guess I should try again then, huh?"

Ulysses' eyes narrowed at their inquiry, already onto their scheme, and yet...

"Yes, I suppose you should. Otherwise you will never improve." He said the last bit cheekily, knowingly, and as Six stepped forward to retrieve the few spears in the dust ahead of them, Ulysses lips quirked once more into the slightest of fond smiles.

As few times as they've seen it for themselves, he thought, more often than not, they are the cause of this rare expression of mine.

Perhaps I should amend my actions and allow them to regard it more frequently...

Yes. It couldn't hurt to do so. If 'forevermore' truly is where we are headed...

[vaulthistorian]

A side blog for another obsession, Fallout. I've been playing for years but haven't felt compelled enough to write anything about it until the Honest Hearts DLC showed up. So here I am, finally. It may be a small community (or a large one) but please accept my humblest gifts.

Currently fighting for my life over here with Joshua Graham x Daniel (if that's even a thing, because their backstory makes me squeal in excitement despite limited in game interactions)

I will write about Courier Six and Lone Survivor. So come down and hangout with me. Also open to any ships revolving the characters listed below. The ships you're most likely to see between characters will be Joshua Graham/Daniel and Joshua Graham/Caesar mentions.

Requests are open at absolutely any time once I start writing, anything for the few listed characters I ever feel compelled to write about, feel free.

Characters I will write include Fallout New Vegas: Joshua Graham, Daniel (Zion), Caesar, Ulysses, and Six (you)

Fallout Tv series: Lucy MacLean, Maximus, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul).

Fallout 4: (All Companions), the Lone Survivor (you)

This is my Fallout blog. I am also a huge Fallout 3/4 nerd so don't feel shy to request that as well. I've finished the Fallout show so be aware that this blog may produce spoilers if you haven't seen it already. Feel free to come talk to me about it. I'm trying to find my people!!

[starset-sarsaparilla]

gay af to be a courier 🤨

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

thanks for the tag @andorerso and @quarantineddreamer

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

weirdly enough.... exactly like B-- i was a young, weird little girl who wanted to live in Brian Jaques' world of Redwall so i wrote little stories of my own in that universe. shit, i could not have been older than 9 or 10. it just kind of sprouted from there.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

published fics? six. (x files, game of thrones, mad max: fury road, star wars/rogue one/andor, avatar the last airbender, harry potter) unpublished? maybe three or four more than that.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

when i started publishing fanfic... oh my god it's been like 19/20 years now.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

write. i go through phases, of course, but i am such a picky bitch. my phases usually end up like this:

step one) i read everything there is to read based on a certain niche trope that i am in the mood for at the time.

step two) wow! that was great. what a feast!

step three) ...okay i'm still hungry and these fics didn't quite scratch this very, very niche itch i have so--

step four) *chuckles* i'm in danger.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

i feel like i've gotten a lot better at plotting and pacing. it's weird, because i never felt like that was really an issue for me before, but i've realized that until i started writing for rebelcaptain, i was heavily a 'vibes-based' writer. which i feel that i still am in many ways, but with rebelcaptain i am going back and resequencing, cutting/adding/shortening and deleting way more than i have in the past in order to maintain tension and pacing better. wether or not these things are actually improved is another matter altogether, but i feel like they are. (and is a big reason why all of my multi-chapters take forever........ sorry about that. it's me slicing and dicing my drafts). the world building aspect of Star Wars is also really cool-- wanna a certain setting? just fucking make it up! no one cares. and as a setting slut, i love this for me. <3

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

australian cattle stations.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

i don't discriminate, but the comments that compare me to other works/creators (i've gotten Bronte, Justified, the Coen Brothers and others). those both make me so happy and so mad because how???? no way. not me. @justwandering-neverlost also left my favorite comment ever, before we were friends-- that i inspired her to be a better writer. and now look at us! she can't get rid of me! bet she regrets that. <3

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

me and my western/small/rundown town settings. you can pry that shit from my cold, dead hands. also... storms.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

modern aus honestly. i start one in order to give myself reprieve from angst and plot and shit and all of a sudden i am having hours-long breakdowns about how this character would fit into this setting and how this character would react to this this thing in this time and all of a sudden the fluffy little modern au has grown 5000 legs and now is a hydratic millipede of hellish proportions that i have to methodically find a way to domesticate without cutting off more legs because two more grow in its place and--

10. What is the easiest type?

you want angst? pining? idiots in love? i got you.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

i write anywhere-- on my phone in my car in between appointments at work. at my desk at home. on my couch. in the bar. in my bed. on the patio. i use ulysses. i love the formatting options and just the simple UI in general. it allows you to be as organized or unorganized as you want (very unorganized in my case). as to what time... i'm trying to get better about only finding writing strides at like... 11PM on Tuesdays but alas.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

any historical au. i would love to do one cause i love research and world building and all that but... uh... see my complaints about modern aus above and you can see why i have avoided those. it's one of those 'i've never tried [insert addictive drug here] because i know that i would like it too much and it would ruin my life' sort of situations

13. What made you choose your username?

i was like 8 or 9 years old and wanted to get into a Harry Potter chatroom and everything i picked was 'already taken'. cue me just smashing two words together and never really looking back.

no pressure tags: @justwandering-neverlost @chipthekeeper @luciechat @fulcrumstardust @incognitajones

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Please anything with Ulysses please please please also you’re like the only person who writes for new Vegas ily for that

Ulysses SFW Alphabet

➼ Word Count » 1.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ulysses is very physical and will show his affection through how he does your hair or traces his fingers along the bones of your hand. He worships every aspect of yourself and you can see it come out clearest when you're in his reach.

B - Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The friendship would have to start somewhere in the Divide, either through you being the Courier or surviving the detonation. He'll be extremely loyal as he sees you as the only thing he has left, which also leads to him being keen on protecting you.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He adores it. He likes to cradle you in his lap while he reads, or while you're both watching the sun fall behind the mountains. Being close to those he loves is all he wants and you'll find that he likes to bury his face into the nape of your neck during these moments.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Eventually, he'd like to start a family with you but wouldn't want to stay in one place. His tribe was nomadic and he's been on the move his entire life. He'd like to keep that if he were able. He's a great cook when it comes to campfires and he considers himself experienced enough to be able to defend both you and your child.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He might honestly just kill you. He'd make it quick and painless as there was a point where he loved you but, you'd had to have done something awful for him to ever want to end things with you (like working with the Legion).

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He'd love to be married to you, although, he'd wait till the political climate in Vegas settled down before he proposed. He doesn't want to constantly be concerned about assassins coming to get him while committing himself to you permanently.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ulysses would view his partner as being delicate, even if they weren't, so every touch and word of his is as soft as he can possibly make it.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes to hug at random. You'll be hunched over a bench, working on your gear, and he'll come up behind you and gently hold you against him, or he'll cradle your head to his shoulder whenever he feels you need to be comforted. He'll do it as often as he can. He knows how unpredictable the wasteland can be and wants you to know how much he genuinely adores you.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Almost as soon as you get together. He doesn't hold back. Again, he knows how erratic the Mojave can be and would like you to know what he's feeling in case anything were to happen to either of you.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

There are not many people around to really be jealous of but, even if there were, he wouldn't be bothered. If he feels it's unsafe, then he'll want to be near you, but otherwise he'll be fine.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He loves leaving kisses along your forehead and temples. Being able to cradle your face in his hands and shower you in affection makes him feel so blessed to have you in his arms.

L - Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes to think he's good with them, but he's got no clue what he's doing. He talks to them the same way he'd talk to anyone else, which, normally has them tilting their heads in confusion or giggling because they think Ulysses is funny.

M - Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are either spent hiking around the Divide, or sitting on the edge of a collapsed building and watching the sunrise. He likes his mornings to be out in nature and generally silent.

N - Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I imagine that Ulysses has a huge fascination with stars so, at night, he likes looking up at the sky with you and explaining the constellations the best he can to you.

O - Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I feel like you’d have to know about his past before you ever started dating him. Ulysses isn’t a fast-paced guy, especially, when it comes to his relationships. He’d want to tell you everything about himself, and you everything about yourself, before you even made it official.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s a lot less patient toward others but, for you? He’s the most patient man in the world. He’ll wait forever if it’s what you require from him, and he’d be happy doing so. The only way you could ever cause him to be angry is by being a part of the Legion or NCR. They destroyed his home, after all.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Ulysses makes a point to study everything about you. In fact, he might even keep a log on you. He tracks everything from little unknowns you tell him about yourself to your hometown (or perceived hometown). He knows so much about you that he feels confident he could find your old roots and where you used to reside if he wanted to.

R - Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moments in your relationship are when you're twisting his hair in the way his tribe used to. Or when you let him do so to you. He takes a lot of pride in sharing his culture with you and would love it if you shared yours with him as well.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's always keeping an eye out in case of danger. He'd be damned if you ever got hurt with him around. On the flip side, if you ever showed interest in keeping him safe as well, he'd fall a little deeper in love with you.

T - Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He does the absolute most when it comes to any of these occasions. He LOVES putting in the effort to show you how much you mean to him. It's what he lives for.

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can be a tad close-minded and self-centered. There are times when he expects you to have all the same viewpoints and opinions as he does, not considering the fact you’re your own person with your own experiences.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Moderately? He's hygienic and tries to keep up appearances, but it's not a crazy amount. He's not too concerned about how he looks to other people, mainly just you.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. It'd be rare for him to find a partner so if he finds that in you, he's going to be devoting his entire self to you. Every part of you will be implemented into his life in some fashion. So much so that he couldn't imagine what his life was like before, or what it'd be like if you weren't in it.

X - Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

It doesn't matter where the two of you are staying for the time being, he always has an American flag etched somewhere on the wall. He'll keep it there when you leave too, as a little keepsake that you had stayed there at one point in time. He's a sucker for marking your memories down in this way.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He couldn't be with someone who has trouble focusing or paying attention. He needs you to listen when describing the background of particular moments or items. It's important to him and if you got distracted every time he did so, he'd find himself incredibly annoyed.

Z - Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

There’s no set-in-stone time he falls asleep or wakes up. He sleeps when he’s tired and wakes up when he wakes up. It’s something he’s kept with him from when he used to live with his tribe.