You Son Of A Bitch

sarah | 25 | she/her, queer | artist/writer | new alien sideblog | requests open

[nostromosdead]

Hi! I have a question for you!!

Do you write nsfw?? (Asking for a friend yk)

hfkdhdjd I can certainly try! I haven’t done that yet but I’m done to give it a whirl. if you have some specific scenario in mind, just lemme know 🫵💅

[nostromosdead]

Question 4?? :)

Ooo tysm for this!!

4. a story/idea you haven’t written yet

I recently rewatched interstellar (2014) and was thinking yesterday about temporal anomalies and how I could incorporate that into a fic. I’m not a physics person, so I’d need to do a lot of research/ask my pals who are astronomy/physics people to make sure everything was accurate.

something dramatic though, like the main character (whether it be Ripley, Y/N, etc) finds signs of a colony gone wrong, only to somehow realize that said colony was themselves and their crew mates in the future bc the company abandoned them there? So, do they fulfill the time loop, or try to break it?

idk it’s just silly idea!! thanks for asking 💌

[museaway]

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[lesraarsel]

ALIEN: ROMULUS

happy with how the xenomorph turned not, not so much with andy and raine :(

[nostromosdead]

some v quick rip doodles

[currrsy]

rewatching all alien movies

[xxlunawarriorxx]

this alien shit get serious

[livs-cooke]

ALIEN (1979) dir. Ridley Scott

[spaced-out-reader]

absolutely the character of all time

[nostromosdead]

Mother..please we yearn for ripley

ahhh tysm for all the love!! pls feel free to put any specific requests in my ask box/DMs/replies !!! 💌 let it rip! (for better or worse.) just got two new chapters and I hope to add another chapter soon!! (If that’s what ur referring to)

[nostromosdead]

Hi, I love your Ripley fanfics! Please update again!! I beg you on my knees 😭

Let It Rip! (For Better or Worse.) - Part 5

Ellen Ripley X GN Reader (reader is a paleoanthropologist) TW for blood & gore

A short while later, you and Ripley found yourselves making a meticulous sweep of the corridors near D-Deck. Each corner, each vent, felt like it could be harboring the newly hatched nightmare. As if it couldn't get any worse, the lights in this area greeted the two of you with inconsistency. You clutched a flashlight in one hand, your other hovering near the meager weapon Parker had reluctantly provided—an improvised flamethrower. Nerves jangled in every cell of your body. The Nostromo’s gentle pings and hums echoed, mocking the normalcy of a routine day that had been shattered.

“Keep your eyes open,” Ripley murmured, voice barely audible as she scanned a narrow walkway. The tension between you was undeniable, but it felt different from before. Gone was the playful warmth from earlier that morning. Now, the two of you were bound by a shared sense of dread.

You forced yourself to breathe evenly, focusing on the swath of light cutting through the gloom. “What do we even do… if we find it?” you whispered, the question laced with doubt. “It’s small now—but we don’t know how fast it grows, or what it’s capable of—”

Ripley paused, turning to look at you, a look of bewilderment flashed across her face. 'Ah, dumb question?' You thought to yourself. In the dim corridor, her features were carved by stark lines of worry. But, there was something else, flickering behind her dark eyes: a protective fierceness. “We kill it,” she stated simply. “Whatever it is, it can’t stay on this ship.”

The words settled in your chest, heavy but resolute. Her unwavering certainty grounded you, even if the situation felt more surreal than ever. You gave a single nod. “Kill it. Right.” Duh.

In that brief exchange, you found yourself comforted by her presence. Despite the horror, you were bizarrely grateful that if you simply had to face a monster from the unknown, it was with Ellen Ripley by your side.

A faint scraping sound froze you both in place. Your heart thundered in your ears, your flashlight beam shaking ever so slightly as you swung it to the left. The corridor turned sharply, leading to a T-junction with numerous pipes overhead. You stepped forward: slowly, and quietly.

Ripley tensed, stepping in front of you just enough to shield you with her body. You felt a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, gratitude, and yes, that warm thread of something that had absolutely no place in a deathtrap scenario. But it was there nonetheless, drifting through your veins.

A burst of steam hissed from a vent, making both of you jolt. "FUck-ah..." you cursed, exhaling in a trembling rush. There was nothing there—just the croaky churn of the Nostromo. For a second, you almost laughed at how easily your nerves had frayed. Emphasis on the almost.

Ripley looked at you, a tight, humorless smile tugging at her mouth. “False alarm.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, lucky me. We should probably keep moving.”

And so, you did. 'Do it bad, do it scared!' You tried reassuring yourself in your head, to no avail. Pressing onward into the Nostromo’s depths, your hearts pounding practically in sync, the terror was still fresh in your minds. The ship’s corridors seemed endless in the faint, flickering overhead lights. Each clang of the hull made you flinch, every vent and shadow felt alive with potential threat.

Yet through it all, Ripley stayed close—so close, you could feel the warm brush of her arm from time to time. Even though each moment dragged you deeper into the nightmare, that small, steady point of contact remained: a wordless promise that neither of you were in this alone.

Somewhere in the darkness, that... chestburster slithered on, biding its time. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that every single thing you thought you knew—from your role on this mission, to the nature of life out here—had changed the moment Kane’s body hit the table.

Whatever came next, it wasn’t going to be simple research and maybe-or-maybe-not so unrequited crushes. It was going to be survival. And you’d do anything to ensure that both you and Ellen Ripley made it through.

A few hours after you and Ripley had begun to search the Nostromo, you found yourselves racing down a narrow corridor toward frantic shouts coming from behind a sealed bulkhead. Your pulse battered your ribs as you spotted Lambert on the other side of a thick glass window, eyes wild with terror. She was backed against a console, slamming her palms futilely against the locked door’s control panel.

“Open the damn door!” Her voice trembled, nearly drowned out by the low, resonant hiss that echoed from somewhere behind her.

You darted forward, your fingers flying over the access keys. “It’s jammed!” you said, throat seizing with panic. “I— I can’t override from here!”

Ripley pressed closer to the glass. Inside the room, overhead lights flickered, revealing a glistening shape slithering along the far wall. It stayed to the shadows, coiling behind crates like some monstrous serpent, its sleek silhouette barely visible in the strobe-like flashes.

Lambert squeaked in horror. “It’s… it’s circling around me!” Her terrified eyes begged you to do something—anything.

Your heart seized at the sight of the creature’s elongated head. Just as the emergency lights flickered, the xenomorph emerged fully into view. Tall, impossibly graceful for its size, it leaned around a crate and fixed its eyeless stare upon Lambert.

"OH SHIT---" you exclaimed, basically involuntarily.

From behind the glass, you and Ripley tugged at the door release, nearly rattling the metal from its hinges. But the lock refused to budge. Inside, Lambert began retreating further, as if there was any corner left to hide in. The alien twitched, its lethal tail lashing the floor with a dull clang, and took another step.

“Lambert, move!” Ripley yelled, banging on the pane. “There’s gotta be a side exit—go!”

But Lambert, paralyzed by fear, could only shake her head. Her eyes flicked from Ripley to you, then back to the towering nightmare blocking her path.

The xenomorph tilted its skull—almost curious. It stood there for a moment, waiting to see if you two would actually get the door open. When your efforts appeared fruitless, it began to drift closer to her---every motion deliberate. You scrambled desperately on the keypad, trying to force the door mechanism. Sparks rained from the console as you attempted a manual override.

Lambert’s trembling hand reached for a jagged tool on the floor—one of Parker’s wrenches, perhaps. She managed only a feeble swing. The creature hissed, dodging with eerie fluidity, then rose to its full, terrible height. You heard Lambert’s final gasp, choked off as the xenomorph lunged.

A horrific gurgling sound cut through the door, and then the lights in Lambert’s compartment went dark. As blood soaked the glass, the rest of the scene became a grotesque secret. You and Ripley slammed your palms against the glass, powerless. For a moment, silence reigned—broken only by your ragged breathing.

Then, the corridor lights fully blinked on, leaving the two of you in a red reflection of your own horrified expressions. Lambert was gone. And the creature was still somewhere nearby.

You and Ripley retreated down the corridor, back into the narrower walkways that cut through engineering. Safe—at least, for the moment. Ripley’s knuckles were white on her flamethrower, jaw set in fury and grief. Your heart still hammered from the sight you’d just witnessed.

Eventually, you found a quiet corner near a bank of ductwork. The overhead lights flickered, casting moving shadows that kept your nerves on edge. The metallic tang of the air only intensified the knot in your stomach.

Ripley let out a long breath, her voice low. “I can’t believe we just—” She didn’t finish the sentence, shoulders trembling with pent-up anger. “We have to stop it before it kills anyone else.” You wondered who she specifically had in mind.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the sour taste of guilt. “Ripley…” you whispered, forced to steady your voice. “I’m—look, I’m no paleontologist, but as a paleoanthropologist—I’ve studied how cognitive skills and hunting behaviors evolved in early human ancestors.” Images of Lambert’s final moments seared through your mind. “That thing in there—it wasn’t just a wild beast. It knew exactly how to corner her.”

Ripley stared at you, the tension in her face easing into the slightest glimmer of curiosity. “Go on.”

You took a shaky breath, recalling the glimpses you’d had of the alien’s skeletal structure—and the bizarre fossils you’d been analyzing. “From what we saw… the xenomorph displayed extremely intelligent, adaptive behavior. It stalked Lambert. Waited for the perfect moment to strike. That’s not random violence—it’s practiced, strategic. And it was watching her.”

Her brows tightened, listening intently. “Meaning... it’s thinking on some level. Problem-solving.”

“More than that,” you clarified, summoning your analytical training to steady yourself. “Our hominin ancestors developed tactical intelligence before physical prowess. It’s how they became apex predators—learning to manipulate environments, coordinate hunts. This creature may be alone... at the moment, but its behavior is so deliberate. Like it’s bridging the gap between mindless beast and cunning hunter.”

Ripley inhaled sharply. “And you saw that in the fossil remains…?”

You nodded, remembering a portion of the strange cranial fragments you’d been hired to examine—everything pointed to an entity with an enlarged braincase. “There was an endocranial cast that... displayed the capacity for advanced neural pathways. At first, I thought maybe The Company thought this was just some weird, evolutionary offshoot—some unknown species with a bigger brain than we’d expect, I mean, why else would they hire me? Now, seeing this alien’s... fleshed skull up close?” You shuddered. “Whatever it is, it evolved to outsmart prey... We are the prey now.”

A heavy pause settled between you. The Nostromo’s hum drummed beneath your feet.

Ripley lowered her eyes. “If it’s that intelligent, we can’t just wander around. It’ll pick us off one by one.”

“That’s the problem.” You let out a humorless huff. “It’s learning our movements. Maybe it’s testing us, figuring out our weaknesses. That’s exactly what hominid brains did during the early hunts—constantly adjusting tactics.”

She placed a hand on your arm, the warmth of her skin momentarily distracting you from the looming nightmare. “Thanks for explaining all that. We’ll use it... and hope you're right,” she said quietly. Her firm grip lingered, a fleeting moment of genuine connection amid the chaos. “We might not stand a chance if we keep charging in blind. We have to think like it. Adapt as fast as it does.”

Despite the terror clawing at your mind, a flicker of something else lit in your chest at her touch—an anchoring sense of comfort, of trust. For a moment, you simply allowed the closeness, the slow burn of adrenaline and relief that someone else was in this with you.

“Come on,” Ripley murmured, pulling back with obvious reluctance. “We need to regroup with Ash, Dallas, and Parker—tell them we can’t go at this alone. We’ve got to set a trap or... or uh something.”

You nodded, forcing your feet to move, even as you cast one last glance at the dark corridor behind you. Lambert’s screams still reverberated in your skull. You clenched your jaw, adrenaline simmering into raw determination.

This monster might be a perfect predator—evolution’s monstrous apex—but no matter its cunning, you refused to let it tear down everyone and everything you cared about. And if that meant turning your knowledge into a weapon, so be it.

One after the other, you and Ripley advanced—the sweet, sweaty heat of unspoken reassurance flaring with every breath you released against the back of her neck. And in the distant halls of the Nostromo, somewhere beyond the flickering lights, the creature prowled anew.

[angelcake-222]

ripley's birthday is january 7 so shout out to my girl

[the-little-nightmares]

👀👀👀

Yesterday I watched the new part with these guys. :P

[nostromosdead]

hi mother <3 what's ur sign?? you write like a capricorn. am i right?

!!! whoa lol I am a Capricorn actually — like Ripley! except my bday is in december, not january

[nostromosdead]

^o^ I’m so excited you are back

I was the previous anon + sent you the archeology meme, I think you’re really cool. Are you studying paleoanthropology specifically? The way you write the quiet yearning and over analyzing every small thing whenever Ripley is around shdjdkfkcjb yes but then also being so unsure about reading into it too much. But also the jaw clench of both trying to talk about suspicions through gritted teeth. And the way you capture atmosphere, you do a great job. I keep coming back to read the 3 chapters you’ve posted. Can’t wait for another update!

ohhh omg hi hello!! <3

Thanks so much for your interest in my writing and studies!! I am in a graduate program that broadly studies different aspects of human evolution. I have peers who are primatologists, evolutionary geneticists, paleoanthropologists, etc. I'm actually a Paleolithic Archaeologist and am specializing in Oldowan stone tools. My undergrad degree is in anthropology, where I specialized in archaeology. I worked as a field archaeologist for a university for a few years before pursuing grad school!

you are so kind !! ghdhdshgd I don't feel super cool, but my DMs and ask box are open any time !!

[nostromosdead]

Let It Rip! (For Better or Worse.) - Part 4

Ellen Ripley X GN Reader (reader is a paleoanthropologist) TW for blood and gore (like in Part 3!)

A deep, guttural shudder seemed to ripple through everyone near the table as the realization sank in. Kane was dead—or at least what remained of him certainly was. The eerie quiet that followed was broken only by Lambert’s ragged breathing, Parker’s low curses, and Dallas’s hushed attempt at regaining control. Somewhere in the distance, the ship hummed its usual mechanical lullaby, indifferent to what had just transpired.

Instinctively, you pressed yourself closer to Ripley, trying to quell the panic that surrounded you from all other sides. Her hand, still clinging to your arm, shook faintly. Her grip was definitely going to bruise you. No one dared breathe too deeply, as if the creature might slink back in. I mean, what if it could be drawn by the smallest hint of movement or sound? You certainly wouldn't be the one to take that fucking chance.

Finally, after what felt like a million eternities, Dallas found his voice. “Jesus Christ… Lambert, uhh... get the med kit. Parker—grab a… blanket or something. Please.” His tone cracked under the weight of the moment, all pretense of calm leadership crumbling.

Lambert rushed off, clearly shaken. Parker seemed as though he, too, wanted to bolt, but he steadied himself with a visible swallow and moved to grab something—anything—to cover Kane’s body. You were beginning to get the vibe that there wasn’t really a 'proper' protocol for… whatever this was.

Meanwhile, you and Ripley still stood side by side. Unsure of whether to help or simply stay out of the way, your eyes began to truly absorb the scene. Your heart hammered erratically, your gaze glued to the pool of blood spreading beneath Kane’s chair. A swirl of nauseating dizziness threatened to knock the air from your lungs. The sweet reek of the gore and the acrid tang of blood on hot metal conjured the worst sort of reminders: that you were out of your depth, and there were absolutely no graduate-level courses, or any amount of Weyland-Yutani company training, that could have prepared you for this.

But then, there was that low, familiar voice.

Ripley’s words oozed through gritted teeth as her harsh grip finally turned your arm loose. You desperately wanted it back.

“We need to… get him—get him out of here, he shouldn't be left sprawled out like that.” She glanced at you then, her eyes dark with shock but still resolute. “Y/N, help me.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. A nudge, to pull you back from the brink of dissociation.

Your gut twisted at the thought of approaching Kane’s body, but you swallowed hard and forced yourself to nod. Though you were used to working with dead things, they were looong-dead things that typically lacked any semblance of soft tissue. And you had no choice but to assist, if you wanted to hold onto any semblance of control.

Careful not to step in too much of the blood, you and Ripley crept forward. She pressed a hand against the back of Kane’s shoulders while you gently supported what remained of his torso. You tried not to think too hard about the unnatural weight shift that came with the gaping hole in his chest. The wet, slack tilt of his head. The emptiness in his eyes. You swallowed against the bile creeping up your throat and lifted.

It felt like ages before the two of you laid Kane on the floor. Parker, finally, returning with a blanket or tarp of some sort, helped you cover him as gently as one can in a crisis like this. (Which is to say, not particularly gentle.) Blood quickly soaked through the fabric, but at least it offered a thin veil between the man you’d shared a meal with just minutes ago, and the mangled remains he’d become.

Dallas exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. “We need to find that thing—whatever it is—and kill it,” he said. His voice was tight, barely concealing his panic. “Parker, Lambert… let’s see if we can track where it went. Make sure it didn’t crawl into any critical vents or compartments.” His gaze flickered to you and Ripley, and there was a glimmer of guilt, or maybe relief, at your presence. “Ripley, start thinking about how to report this. And Y/N---… do what you can here. We’ll—just be on comms if anything happens.”

With one last horrified look at the damned tarp, Dallas, Parker, and Lambert hustled out of the mess hall. The door hissed shut behind them, leaving you and Ripley alone in the space that smelled of blood, sweat, and steel.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. It felt like if you tried, your words would be sucked into the vacuum of shock radiating from the stark reality at your feet. Ripley’s breathing was shallow, but she kept her composure better than you could have hoped in such a situation. The fact that she was unsettled only made your own panic intensify, like a flame starved of oxygen.

Finally, you broke the silence, voice barely above a whisper. Your fear began to flirt with curiosity---you were a scientist, after all. “He was… fine. Just… fine,” you managed, remembering the banter at the table, Kane’s easy grin moments before. “How does a thing like that even—?” You couldn’t finish the question.

Ripley shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I have no goddamn idea, but we have to focus. There’s a lot going on right now.” She swallowed, her voice raw. Her eyes flicked to you. “Y/N, are you okay?” It felt less like a genuine question, and more like a plead for you to pull yourself together, for her sake.

But, that question actually made you want to laugh—though it wasn’t humor you felt. It was more of a hysteria edging on mania. Am I okay? Did that term even apply anymore after witnessing a monster explode out of your colleague’s torso? But, you didn’t want to be alone with the panic roiling in your gut, so you answered the only way you could.

“No,” you stated, deadpan. “But, I’m here.” And that would have to do.

Ripley reached out then, her touch fleeting on your forearm—like she was granting you permission to be undone, if only for a second. The moment was fleeting, but you latched onto it like a lifeline.

Squaring her shoulders, the mask of a practical Warrant Officer returned. “We should—” Her mouth thinned again. “We should move Kane somewhere more secure, eventually. Ash might have an idea of what we’re… dealing with.” Her expression tightened, like she wasn’t entirely sure about that. This event seemed outside even mechanical wisdom. “And after that, we’ll have to figure out how to help track this thing.”

A fleeting urge to sprint back to your desk and compare its slick, ridged exterior to the fossil fragments you’d been handling nearly overtook you. The resemblance was uncanny—and nauseating—like your usual digs turned inside out, but with the remains still very much alive and lethal. Those archaic bones had hinted at something strange, but seeing it in the flesh was horrific. Was that thing really the key to those bizarre fossils you’d been agonizing over? The realization tied your stomach in knots. For now, though, with fresh gore spattered across the deck and a newly hatched nightmare stalking the corridors, you assumed any further research would just have to wait.

“Right,” you finally answered. “Let’s… let’s find Ash. Maybe if we can get some sort of medical readout on Kane, we can figure out at least the… biology… of that thing.” You dreaded the thought of sifting through the carnage, but figured knowledge might be your only edge against the unknown.

Quietly, you and Ripley dragged yourselves out of the mess hall and into the corridor. The walls seemed to press in even closer now, every hiss of the Nostromo’s mechanical workings echoed ominously. Ripley took the lead, but her usual measured steps were taut, each one betraying her tension. You followed close, the memory of her comforting touch still tingling in the form of bruises on your arm. Bruises formed in tenderness... you shook away the rest of that thought.

The journey to the small infirmary-like corner of the sci-med bay was a blur primarily consisting of adrenaline and dread. You half-expected the creature to slither out of the shadows at every junction. Ripley’s shoulders remained rigid, her eyes flicking back to you every now and then, as if to make sure you were still there.

Ash was waiting—or, more accurately, he was perched at a terminal, hands gliding over a panel. His eerily calm demeanor hardly matched the crisis unfolding around him. When he noticed you both enter, he stood. “Ripley, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice tinged with a bizarre, almost clinical neutrality. “I heard the commotion. I assume our… new lifeform has made itself known?”

You fought the impulse to retort with something acidic—like "Kane is literally dead, you bitch"—but held your tongue. You weren’t sure why your hair prickled at the back of your neck whenever Ash addressed you. Maybe it was the same sense of secrecy that Weyland-Yutani insisted upon. Maybe it was that quietly unblinking stare.

Or maybe you were just paranoid.

Ripley exhaled sharply, setting her jaw. “It killed Kane. Burst out of his chest. We need an expulsion plan immediately.” She glanced your way, as though picking up your train of thought. “And maybe... to do that, we need to figure out what the hell it is.”

Ash’s eyes gleamed with a reserved interest. “I see.” There was a fleeting flicker of something in his expression—fascination, perhaps, overshadowed by an overly formal veneer. “I’ll begin scanning the… remains… to gain some insight. I will need Kane’s body, of course.”

Ripley flinched, but her voice remained steady. “It’s in the mess hall, covered, but…” Her gaze dropped for a second, a faint tremor in her jaw. “Just—be respectful, Ash.”

He nodded curtly, his voice flat. “Of course.”

You stared at Ash a moment longer, an uneasy feeling roiling in your stomach. The small lab area you’d been calling your own was attached to this same bay. The lockboxes with the abnormal remains waited just beyond a sealed door. Suddenly, it felt less like you were studying them, and more like they were pulling all the strings.

Before you could dwell on it too long, a flicker of motion across the hallway window made you jump. It was only Parker rushing by, but you almost expected to see that thing. You realized your fingernails were digging half-moon crescents into your palms.

“Come on,” Ripley said quietly, her voice pulling you back into the moment. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s see if the others need help.”

You managed a tight nod, forcing your shoulders to straighten. Whatever meltdown you were destined for would have to fucking wait.

[nostromosdead]

Hi Mother I hope you are doing well and that finals also go well!

omg hi!!! 💌 I just saw this. my finals did go well and I actually ended my first semester of grad school with all A’s! so, now that the holidays are over, i have some time to write again! expect an update soon 🎉

[nostromosdead]

https://www.tumblr.com/bigmammallama5/763960112522067968

I thought you would appreciate this, and I hope classes are going well and that you’re having a good October 🎃

HFKDHDKHD TYSM!! I’m in an R programming class that’s kicking my ass rn, but other than that, it’s just a lot of reading to develop the background section for my thesis. my other classes are going great!!

I hope you have a great October as well 🎃💌