#alien engineer

[latehere]

Absolutely obsessed with these pictures from behind the scenes of Prometheus

Me and my 8 feet tall buddy

[fungusgnat444]

Alien: Prometheus au König Headcanons

I am plotting something most devious for you guys. you will need to understand the basic plot of Prometheus to understand this but I promise to keep it vague so those of you who haven’t seen it can still enjoy CW: violence, blood, extreme size difference, nsfw (separated from SFW so if you don’t want to read smut you don’t have to), könig with a big Weiner, könig with a knot, cum (too much I’m sorry I’m vile), handjob, decryphilia(he cries), extreme submissive könig, virgin könig, begging, language barrier, we slap him hehe, reader is specifically referred to as female, descriptions of anatomy (both male and female), body worship (like he genuinely thinks your body is sacred) let me know if I missed anything

-the first time you meet he terrifies you. He’s furious. Awoken from stasis after god knows how long by a gang of lower life forms who have the audacity to ask him to give them more life; bringing along a talking machine and an injured female with them. Despicable. His only option was hostility, he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at their screams as he beheads the living machine and throws their frail bodies about his ship with sickening ease and freakish strength. He leaves the injured female (you) alone of course. He would never think of raising even his voice at a woman let alone his fists. If he did so and he were on his home planet he would almost certainly be put to death.

-once he’s sure your vicious enslavers are dead he tries his best to shrink himself and approach you slowly to offer you the assistance you clearly need. But his odd behaviour, intimidating hood and frightening size make you cower and scream at him in your silly little language. He can’t understand you but it’s clear that you’re frightened. He tries to speak to you but his guttural words and horrifically deep voice only seems to make things worse. If only he could take off his hood so you could see how concerned he was but he fears that the scars that carve into his pale skin will only frighten you more. Luckily once he’s managed to back you up against a wall and get close enough to you, you seem to freeze up with fear. He wishes there was another way but it was clear you needed immediate help. You were covered in blood and once he was close enough to sniff at you, something he noticed you seem to be particularly horrified by, his pale irises filled with absolutely dread. The smell of amniotic fluid hung thick on you. He would have to operate on the most sacred part of your body and likely without your consent :(. But you were beginning to become delirious from the blood loss, fainting to moment he lifted you up carefully; he had no choice. He only hopes you’ll be able to forgive him and that he will be able to forgive himself.

-when you finally wake up you’re horrified to find that your laying atop the sleeping giant in clothes that were far too big for you. You start to panic until you realised your caesarean wound was completely healed (there isn’t even a scar), not only that but you were both fully clothed, he’d even seemed to protect what little dignity you had left by wedging what felt like a large pillow between your lower halves. His hands weren’t even on you, they lay sprawled out across the strange bed his massive body seemed to only just fit in. His apparently sudden change in demeanour was extremely odd but it was hard to deny some part of you didn’t like being sprawled out atop his broad chest. He was just so unusually warm, almost too warm, and his bulging muscular chest was an excellent cushion. You almost considered just falling back asleep until you noticed his weird eyes staring down at you.

-you start to panic, screaming, leaping off of him, trying to get as far away from him as this room would allow but you’re left utterly speechless by what he does in response. It’s hard to read his expression because of that strange hood but his eyes almost looked frightened, he couldn’t look you in the eye, he almost looks as if he might start crying. he rushed to kneel before you, bowing at your feet. He immediately started babbling a frantic apology for operating on you and looking upon you in a state of undress. Pleading for forgiveness. You can’t understand a single word of course but his pathetic whimpering and stuttering made it perfectly clear this was an apology of some kind. The last time you’d seen him he’d terrified you and now he was snivelling and whimpering at your feet. You have to shout at him to get him to stop but he remains on the floor not even doing to look at you as you leave the room to fetch that horrible robot. You’d need to get him to translate if you wanted any hope of understanding what he was blithering on about.

-as you return with the robots severed head you sigh in mild frustration at the sight of him still on the floor bowing in your direction.

-you ask the robot to translate for you and tell the strange giant to get off the floor. You brows furrow as he thanks you for allowing him to stand before you. According to the translation he is “eternally grateful”, and it’s “far more than he deserves”. It becomes clear quite quickly that his whole species seems to have some odd complex about “females”. Sacred womb yada yada ability to create life yada yada female supremacy yada yada. He feared for your life and he only made you sleep on top of him to share his warmth with you. You were so cold after such an ordeal 🥺. And apparently that extends to females of other species as well because his culture values the creation of life above all else. You try to tell him he doesn’t need to apologise and that you weren’t going to punish him for “dishonouring you in the vilest way possible” but he’s having none of it, saying it’s what he deserves, effectively begging to be punished. You end up slapping him across the face just so he’ll shut up about it. He stares down at you after confused as if you were letting him off easy. Tries to thank you for your mercy of course. Idiot.

-after that he will pretty much do whatever you ask him to because he “simply must atone”. Still flinches whenever you touch him tho. He’s not really used to all this attention, by the beauty standards of his culture he’s actually extremely unattractive. Most woman would probably spit at him if he ever tried to talk to them. He knows you’re probably staring, examining him with your (primitive) equipment out of curiosity and scientific interest. But he really doesn’t know what to do when you show interest in him, asking about his people and him. He thinks he might faint when you eventually ask for his name instead of his title that he’d told you. Why would you need to know his name if not for the purpose of courting him. Or marriage (god forbid 😰). tells you eventually anyway, blushing pale purple under his hood. You only manage to pronounce his family name König. If you ever figure out how to say his full name he thinks his poor heart would give out.

-he eventually gets used to your gawking. You stared at lot. It was hard not to. He was at least 2feet taller than you and that was a conservative estimate (looks confused when he tells you he’s about 7foot 8 and you gasp😕 he’s average height at best. But he remembers how small the males in your crew were before he killed them. Thinks to himself how unsatisfied human women must be with such child-sized mates. The poor things😔), he was also incredibly built looking almost like a Grecian statue. It also seem like his culture has very little taboo about nudity, at least for men. The clothes he wears rarely leave much to the imagination. When you ask him about it he says (with very little shame you notice) that in his culture it’s important for a man to flaunt himself so women are able to access their male counterparts. Weather it be to hunt for potential mates or “concubines” or merely to show of their ability to protect others with their physical strength. Basically anything that isn’t a literal reproductive organ was acceptable. Once he’s comfortable enough with you Sometimes he’d even strip down to his skimpy undergarments (basically a thong. He’s a whore) so he can pose and flex for you. Still keeps his hood on so you don’t see him blushing. He says it’s his duty to keep you entertained and pleased, although he mostly does it so you give him compliments and avert your eyes as he strips himself (he thinks your aversion to nudity is silly and funny). - hides his face for quite a while, it’s potentially months before you’ll actually get him to take off his hood. Apologises for his “unsightly appearance”. He’s gorgeous even with the large scar that runs down the entire right side of his face (porcelain as in literally 🥚 white), at least to you he is. Tries to turn away from you, pouting thinking you’re playing a trick on him when you call him handsome. You touch his cheek softly to comfort him. The shaky, loud moan that escapes him as a result surprises you both. The embarrassed purplish blush that creeps across his face is instantaneous.

nsfw below

-his freakish cock is hard as caste iron almost immediately as he tries his best to explain (with the limited English he’s learnt from your time together) that men of his species rarely get touched at all especially on the face unless they’re married or currently mating, begging you not to touch his prominent nose (rubbing noses together is like the filthiest opened mouth kissing to them because their noses are hyper sensitive hence why he could smell your injuries earlier), but you can’t resist it, swiping your thumb softly down the length of it. He’s beside himself. Back arching eyes rolling back cock throbbing violently, the thin fabric covering him already stuck to his sweltering rod from the obscene amount of pre cum he’s producing. You peel back the soiled material gawking at the mess he’d made of himself “st-stop staring… e-embarrassing” he’s whimpering barely able to speak through his ragged breathing and tears filling his eyes. He wouldn’t dare stop you. If you wished to touch him he’d have to let you. God forbid he disappoint you. “V-virgin” he sobs as his cock jumps desperately just from the weight of your heated gaze. More of that slimy clear liquid spurted out of him the more you stared. The head of it was purplish, angry looking. It was long as your forearm and noticeably thicker than your wrist, littered with pulsing veins. His confession of purity barely registers as your eyes travel to the sinful fat lump at the base of him. “Kn-knot… make st-stuck inside” he tries to explain when he sees you staring at it. You’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you but you desperately want to find out. As he speaks your eyes shoot back up to his face. The hungry look you give him makes his eyes roll back again. You ask him if he’s really a virgin (a notion you frankly find ridiculous) all you get is more sobbing and frantic nodding. he starts to babble about how he's undeserving of your mercy when you ask if you can help him. but once your tiny hands are struggling to fit around him his pretty head is completely empty and once they start to glide up and down his sopping shaft he's completely brain dead, drooling and sobbing a distraught baby. the taught muscles of his abdomen flex shakily every time you so much as graze his knot. he's unfathomably sensitive after so long without being touch (even worst when you find out he's at least 50.. with their extended life spans that's comparable to mid 20s). the moment an urge of sadistic curiosity overwhelms you and you squeeze his knot cruelly with your soft hands he's erupting. a near continuous stream of viscous white fluid splatters across his heaving chest as he wails uncontrollably, the thick knot at his base shoots to just below his head siting there pulsing and swelling impossibly larger. it takes a while for him to stop cumming just lies there shaking and spurting messily all over himself as you finally understand what he was trying to say about his knot earlier. you're not sure if he is just particularly virile or if this is considered normal to his race but he's a sopping wreck, it was everywhere, a flaming streak of it had somehow made its way onto his tear stained cheek. if you thought he was devoted to you before you're in for a shock. you've completely robbed him of his dignity and with nothing left to loose, there are now no lengths he wouldn't go to to please his beloved

[7he0th3r]

(Enlarge for quality improvement. fr tho is so silky smooth <3) Look at those expressions! The form detail! The light grey images showing an extra look between our pair <3<3 @aki-owo Is the artist! Our new possible Engineer lover <3<3 Be sure to give love!!!!

[midala-of-the-valley]

Prometheus Kinktober Day 8 - The Last Engineer

The Last Engineer x Reader - Sex Pollen Wordcount: 2,5k Warnings: Sex pollen, Size difference, Enemies to lovers? At least Enemies to bonded mates against their will lol. Shrooms.

Running through the dark, curved halls, your lungs burned as if they might burst – everything had gone to pot. Half the scientists were already dead, torn apart by unknown horrors, and now the so-called god that had been awoken was on a rampage.

The mission’s android, David, had spoken to the Engineer, and in his fury the giant had ripped off his head, crushed Peter Weyland’s skull with it in a single blow, and dispatched Ford and the mercenaries as if they were nothing – a casual shove to the chest, a swing of his arm, sending bodies crashing against the walls like ragdolls.

Dr. Shaw had fled before you could even move. You had been rooted to the ground, paralysed by terror, staring up at the bloodthirsty giant with wide eyes – and his abyssal gaze had locked with yours, cutting straight through to your soul.

The sound of Ford’s ribs breaking still rang in your ears, nearly drowning beneath the thunder of your heartbeat.

He was coming, the creature was coming, right behind you.

At last, when he was way too close, the paralysis broke. You turned and ran, feet hammering against the floor as fast as your body would carry you in your panic.

But you knew it was in vain.

He had already tasted blood, and he would not stop until he had you.

What had humanity done to deserve such hatred?

Bolting into an unfamiliar chamber, you realised far too late what you had run into. Not that you really knew in the first place.

Rows upon rows of dark-purple mushrooms sprouted from the floor, climbing up the walls, their clustered heads thick as a forest.

A scream ripped from your throat as the deep rumble of the Engineer’s breath closed in behind you. Damn it-!

Blind with panic, your feet tangled beneath you, and you stumbled forward, landing headfirst into the midnight coloured caps, arms barely breaking the fall.

Rolling onto your back, heart hammering, you looked up at your persecutor - only to still and marvel at the sight before you: from the crushed mushrooms rose a cloud of amber motes, drifting into the air around you.

They swirled weightlessly, shimmering like fireflies you had once watched on summer nights from the porch of your home.

Mesmerised by their dance, you forgot yourself - until they brushed against your skin. Where they touched, they melted into you, leaving faint trails of gold that glimmered for a heartbeat before sinking deeper.

They looked more benign than the black veins that had crawled through Holloway’s body, or the grotesque mutations that had malformed Millburn and Fifield… but nothing on this cursed moon had been kind so far.

Terror squeezed your heart, perhaps being killed outright by the vengeful god above you would be more merciful than whatever this was.

At last, you dared to look at him and froze - he had followed too closely, too blind in his pursuit of you. Now the spores clung to him as well.

Golden freckles bloomed across his ivory skin, scattering across his face, the bared parts of his throat, the vast span of his hands and wrists.

Snapping out of your wonder, you desperately rubbed at your arms, your throat, trying to wipe the shimmer away, but the gold had already vanished beneath your skin, leaving only a maddening tingling in its wake.

There was an old tradition - you remembered it dimly - of broken pottery repaired with powdered gold, cracks turned whole again.

That was what he reminded you of now: A piece of art. A very displeased-looking piece of art.

For one terrifying moment, you pictured those fingers closing around your throat - snapping it, breaking you - and at the thought, an involuntary moan slipped from your lips. Humiliation seared through you. He wanted to kill you! And your body betrayed you by quivering at the fantasy of it…

Above you, the Engineer loomed, every line of his marble-carved face filled with rage. Your lungs clawed for air, involuntarily inhaling the dust - and to your shock, fear was not the only thing pulsing through you now.

Heat began to pool low in your belly, strange and searing - what the fuck was happening to you?

And apparently not just to you.

The giant’s breath rasped, uneven and heavy, his gaze lingering on the honeyed spores clinging to his arms. His massive hands flexed and clenched, as if he could crush the rising need out of his own flesh.

The sound drew his eyes to yours, and they appeared even darker than before, bottomless, as if you could drown in them.

Something new flickered in them - not wrath, not anymore. Irritation, vexation, a hunger he seemed just as powerless to suppress.

Every breath dragged more of it inside, fanning the fire higher, until fear and need tangled into one. Through half-lidded eyes, you caught the way the Engineer’s nostrils flared, the way his gaze prowled over your body with reluctant desire.

A guttural, deep sigh tore from his chest, vibrating through the cavernous room. Immediate, unbidden, the sound raked down your spine and straight into the ache between your thighs.

You gasped, clamping them together as if that would ease it, but the heat only spread, devouring - it was so sharp you fell backwards, again disturbing the carpet of fungi. Amber spores burst around you, whirling slowly like snowfall in still air.

Hastily, you were lifted from the ground - thankfully not by your throat, no, his large hands had clamped around your hips, hauling you against his chest, face to face with the very thing that meant to end you. Up this close, his lips - pale with a violet hue - hovered a breath away from yours. And gods help you, you had to fight the feral urge to close that distance and find out what he tasted like. Did Engineers kiss?

Before you could think further, he hoisted you higher, pressing you against him until your face brushed his neck - you could see the dark veins beneath his skin, not sickly like Holloway’s had been, but natural, pulsing. Was his blood truly black? And was that another violet flush staining his cheeks?

With another growl - rumbling, delicious - that rocked like waves through your body, he strode through the curved corridors, leaving the hall of shrooms behind.

You felt so tiny in his arms, every step jolting you closer against the warmth of his flesh.

You should have fought him, should have screamed, should have pounded your fists against him, demanded to know where he was taking you, but the spores - motes, whatever this was - turned your thoughts to a careless mush.

So instead, your lips brushed the smooth expanse of skin above where his biomechanical suit ended, tasting foreign smooth flesh, trailing up to lick along a dark vein behind his ear.

The sound that he made was frustrated, feral, laced with reluctance and need - but he gave in, moving his hands to the shell-like armour at his chest - a mechanism clicked and the suit split apart, peeling away to reveal a body sculptured like an Olympian god - veins of indigo ink rippling across pale muscle, his form both otherworldly terrifying and celestial beauty. His broad shoulders and the strong arms that had killed your companions with a single blow lay bare; his stomach ridged like carved stone - alien, and currently irresistible.

Startled, he froze for a heartbeat, then quickened his pace, carrying you into a chamber you had not seen before. You barely registered the strange architecture around you - only that he tossed you onto a soft surface that yielded beneath your palms and spine. A bed? Something like it. Not that it mattered.

What mattered was the harsh scrape of your nipples against the compression suit, the heat slicking your thighs, and the way the Engineer towered above you with a heaving chest.

He motioned sharply for you to do the same, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if you would have preferred the roughness of him ripping the unwelcome fabric off of you; the thought alone made a chuckle slip from your throat - too husky, too seductive. Gods, were you really about to have sex with the being who had slaughtered your crew? And did you really not care enough to fight against it?

The next wave of heat silenced every doubt - fire poured through your veins, and you tugged desperately at the fastenings of your suit, stripping it from your feverish skin.

Piece by piece, barrier by barrier, the distance between your flesh and his vanished. And when you were finally bare, you found yourself unsteady on your knees, staring at him, drinking in every detail. You needed to touch him.

Stumbling forward like a newborn fawn, you were too weak to hold yourself up and he caught you, his enormous hands wrapping around your arms, not gentle, not cruel, simply firm. He rumbled something in his tongue - words rolling like thunder, sadly incomprehensible, but nonetheless utterly intoxicating.

Breathless, pupils blown wide, you tilted your head to the side. “Whatever you say.”

Your gaze dropped to the straining bulge in his smallclothes. Oh. A tent. A very massive tent. Could this possibly fit? The thought should have terrified you, but the lust roaring through your body was louder. You would somehow make it fit.

He shoved you back onto the mattress, the surface sagging under his massive frame as he caged you in, his obsidian eyes sweeping over you, taking you in with the same relentless hunger you felt towards him.

He had never seen a human like this - skin flushed, nipples peaked, thighs trembling and slick with need. Compared to him, you were prey, and yet something softer lingered in his gaze, fascination sparking as a single finger traced the blush of your collarbone.

The explorative pause was only a brief one; a moment later, his hands tore away his underclothes with a harsh tug, and your breath caught at the sight - he was enormous, thicker and heavier than anything you had imagined or experienced before.

Your walls clenched in both warning and anticipation. Could this really fit? It had to, you needed it to. You needed him.

The pressure burned - exquisite, unbearable, divine.

Seemingly seeing your torn expression, he pressed his broad palm flat to your belly, pinning you down as his other hand slid between your thighs.

With a thoughtful hum, his thick fingers, smooth but mighty, pried you open.

Not too gentle, but not cruel either - he tested, stretched, pressed into the slick heat spilling from you, feeling your depths until a broken cry slipped from your lips.

Pain laced with pleasure - and he answered with a low purr, entranced by the way your body struggled to take him in, but still managed to suck him in deeper.

One finger, then two. Too much - and yet, the aphrodisiac and need made you buck against him, urging for more, nearly riding his hand.

Curious, his thumb brushed over your swollen bud, and stars burst behind your eyes. He paused as if to memorise your gasp and reaction, the way your body shuddered, before pressing deeper, curling, rubbing, preparing you for the size of him, coaxing high sounds from your lips.

When he decided that this was enough and pulled his fingers free, he dragged them over the thick, darkened head of his cock, slicking them up with your juices. 

His gaze never left you as he positioned himself, caging you, watching as his heavy weight pressed against your entrance, head slowly parting your fold.

You trembled, but still clung to him, arms winding around his broad neck as you searched his eyes - only now noticing the faint difference in colour, pupils darker than the rest. At your timid nod, he pushed, splitting you open around his girth.

So full, so overstuffed - it felt glorious. 

The stretch was brutal, impossibly so - he was enormous, and the deep groan that rolled through his chest vibrated straight to your core.

Inch by inch, he pressed forward, your hips tilting up instinctively, begging for more, demanding him to give you everything he had.

Your whimpers, your watery eyes - it drove him to push deeper, patient and unrelenting, stretching you wider than you ever imagined. He was careful not to harm until at last, with one final deep thrust, he filled you completely.

A shudder coursed through his massive frame; he was not unaffected at all. Where he was huge, you were impossibly tight.

One of his hands cupped your throat, not squeezing - just holding, his thumb brushing your jaw while he braced the other beside your head.

Pulling back agonisingly slow, you whimpered at the loss of him before he drove forward, burying himself as deep as your bodies allowed.

For a moment he slowed, concentrating on the movement of your lips, ardently plundering your mouth before his thrusts came harsher, your clenching heat reminding him that you both desperately needed to fall over the edge.

The impact sent you arching, walls spasming - again and again. Each thrust rocked you open, deeper, harder, until the chamber itself seemed to shake with the sound of his hips slamming against your bottom, and your cries echoing through them.

You could not think, could not breathe, only feel.

Desperate to stifle your cries, you finally drew his mouth down to yours, whimpering as his teeth grazed your lower lip - he answered with a low, possessive growl as if to say that every sound you made belonged to him now.

Engineers did, in fact, kiss.

Each push wrung a moan from you, muffled against his mouth til he tore away, dragging his lips along your cheek, along your ear - guttural words spilling from him, unintelligible and raw against the skin of your neck. Turning your head, you pressed open-mouthed kisses against his cheekbone, desperate to answer him in the only way you could.

His massive hand drifted down from your throat, cupping your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, teasingly flicking over your nipple, drawing a sharp whine from your throat that made his rhythm stutter.

Under that endless, consuming gaze, you broke apart. Your vision went white, your body trembled - dragging him with you, milking him with every pulsing contraction.

A guttural moan tore from his chest as he drove himself to the hilt, spilling into you - thick, scorching, filling.

You felt born anew, exhausted yet unbearably comfortable, full of the god’s seed and his still half-hard cock. The fire ebbed away, smaller with every second of release. 

When his breath steadied, he did not withdraw.

Instead, his hand returned to your cheek, cupping it - his fascination sharpened into something more dangerous, more certain.

Perhaps the mushrooms still whispered in your blood when you leaned into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, sealing a bond neither of you had chosen.

He had just lain with you. He could not kill you now.

You were his, and it didn’t matter if you two wanted this or not.

[theropoda]

These are gonna make me insane actually throughout the whole movie david is fascinated by engineer technology and culture so i imagine when he finally meets and speaks to one he's smiling like *this* out of a sense of childlike wonder and excitement, maybe pride to be the first one to communicate to an engineer, but also there's this sense of almost.... Seeking approval... parental almost.... i wonder if that's what's going on here... *throws ball at wall* Idk we already know this guy has daddy issues up the wazoo and by daddy issues i mean not just weyland but humanity and A Creator as a whole.

Regardless this reaction is DEFINITELY in stark contrast to his later actions of just. Destroying them all. Maybe this is the moment he hated them but before hate there had to be something else

[feral-lore-creature]

I'm admittedly one of those fans that refuses to believe David 8 created the Xenomorph. Reverse engineered? Sure! I can believe that. The Praetomorph and Deacon classifications exist for a reason. People keep fucking with the thing.

I like to think the Engineers ran into the XX121 naturally, fucked around with their genetic material, and found out the hard way. David played god because he wanted to.

Also, the idea of nature on any celestial body being so inherently volatile to the point of creating the XX121 naturally is a fuck-ton more terrifying than any "false-god hubris" philosophical concept.

I guess maybe I'm a little more into the Sci-Fi side of things than the gore LMAO.

[deceased-madam]

Engineer OC — Lorenzel

Prepare for a wall of text.

Lorenzel is an Engineer/Mala'kak who is 250cm/8ft2 tall.

He is a military chief scientist who specialises in bioengineering, he studies different cultures and goes sightseeing in his free time. He was overconfident in his work but that led to an outbreak, so now he is extremely strict with how things are operated. He is a bit of a humourless person and a party-pooper, though he does harbour an appreciation towards art and is selfless.

During his stay on LV-223, a nearby military base had an outbreak, so he went into hibernation. After waking he discovered that the Juggernaut assigned to his base has been stolen, so he sent out a distress signal that got picked up by Mulakai (another one of my OCs) while she was travelling through the sector to evade Enforcers. The two have stuck together ever since as he feels too much shame plus guilt to show his face to his people ever again, and Mulakai just happens to also be an exile, though her exilement wasn't voluntary. Currently is her mentor and teaches her his bioengineering knowledge in exchange for her saving him from the desolate moon.

[agirlhasnonamehotd]

I am spending the weekend watching all of the Alien franchise in chronological order, including Alien Earth, and a few things are stuck in my head.

1. All these god damn movies/ shows, and still only twenty fucking minutes (and that's being generous) of the god damn Engineers. Ridley, good sir, GIVE US A PREQUEL FOCUSED ON THE ENGINEERS YOU TALENTED FUCK. Respectfully, of course.

2. I like David, I do...BUT WALTER. God damn. I have new feels about Walter. I know, I know. Fassbender is both. But as Walter he has me all kinds of fucked up.

3. Romulus creeps me out. So many brutal themes.

4. Neomorphs: NOPE.

5. The Offspring in Alien Resurrection still gives me nightmares. Nope. Fuck that shit. If that thing came up to me wanting a warm hug I'd drop dead. Poor, miserable, creepy ass thing.

6. Alien Earth scares me because of the idea that companies would govern and rule... which... doesn't feel that far off currently. Businesses making vital decisions.... ugh.