#val tremors

[cyberr-v0id]

I get gender envy from guys that would make my lesbian friends cry

[mastercherry]

Y'all I'm watching the 1990 film TREMORS, and let me just say that Val and Earl should be a couple. I need fics of them. I checked AO3 and there's onlike 7 or 8 fics about them as a pairing.

[littledozerdraws]

just dudes being bros 🪱

[emu-the-astronomy-nerd]

My bio dad has influenced my taste in movies and shows, added to the fact that I am queer and trans means shipping the mcs of almost every show or movie we watch together.

[junkh3ad]

Just found out the movie I love and adore so much that most ppl don't know has a little gay fanbase and I'm screaming I love gay cowboys!!!!

[feyd-meowtha]

Every day I get closer and closer to just writing the fucking Tremors fanfiction, so help me God

[raindemon]

not many can reach this level of hotness

[thetremorssaga]

@pangaeastarseed is one of our favourite Tremmies next to @baubeautyandthegeek

[tigirl-and-co]

okay here is my review of Tremors (1990)

1. i have had three shots of whiskey

2. Reba McEntire shoots a big worm with an uzi

3. this is my first kevin bacon film and I Get It Now

4. the practical effects were NOT convincing but they WERE very cool

all in all 10/10 no notes. perfect movie for knocking back a few drinks and going mental.

[nothingenoughao3]

Hello! #15 for the ask game?

From this ask game!

I will select my favorite movie, along with the usual caveats that I can't possibly only have one favorite, there's a rough category of about thirty films that I would say are my favorite for various reasons and which one rises to the top depends on my mood and current fixations and blah blah blah blah.

With all of that in mind, my favorite film is Tremors (1990), and here is the ramble as to why.

Sincerely, I believe this is a perfect movie, up there with The Godfather in terms of its quality. It is a horror/comedy that perfectly balances the split genre in a way many other films can't. It's hilarious AND scary. The practical effects are creative and gorgeous. The actors are all top notch. There is a reason this is the only film of his that Kevin Bacon will rewatch.

The movie's length is perfect--it does not overstay its welcome. The characters in general, and Val and Earl in particular, are gorgeously sketched out despite the runtime; modern films would take twice as long and become bloated with flashbacks and unnecessary details which this film communicates simply by showing us Val and Earl waking up and going about a normal day.

It's endlessly quotable. "The hell you did! Baloney and beans!", "No breakfast?" "STAMPEEEEEDE!", "I'm a victim of circumstance", "I GOT ME A GODDAMN PLAN", "... pardon my French", "I can't believe we said no to free beer!", "I wish you had, Fearless Leader!", "I wouldn't give YOU a gun if it was World War Three!", "Broke into the wrong goddamn rec room, didn't ya, you bastard?!", like, I honestly could go on here but then I'd just be flashing back to the entire fucking script, which is gold, it's gold Jerry.

The opening of the film bookends perfectly with the end. Not a single line of dialogue is wasted; even the goofier shit is brought back later with a purpose. And, well, there's a reason why Burt is such a famous character. Just the fact that he and Heather have bullet makers in their basement shows that the filmmakers knew survivalists or cared about getting even incidental details correct.

And, uh, the practical effects, I do have to mention that twice. The graboids look phenomenal. They still hold up today! They're slimy and gross and weird and also have character; for christ's sake, we sort of get to know Stumpy over the course of the film, learning how much more clever it is than the rest, and calculating. Not only does it look great, it's fascinating. Years before "Jurassic Park", we had a film that perfectly encapsulated how it would feel for a whip-smart predator to actively hunt humans, and what it would take for humans to defeat it.

Also, Val and Earl are absolutely queer for each other, don't even fight me on it.

Basically, everything you love about the plot structure and character building of "Shaun of the Dead" was already achieved in "Tremors".

[sanguedidragocreations]

Two More Motherhumpers - This piece captures Val and Earl from Tremors fighting off a Graboid from the safety of their truck. The tension, humor, and action all collide in this piece as they take on the terrifying underground monster with nothing but quick thinking and sheer grit.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Curiosity (Demon!Alastor x Reader)

CW: Sensory deprivation, established situationship, smut, porn with way too many feelings, love confessions. Rating: Adult Summary: Alastor overhears Angel Dust telling you about Val's latest thing- sensory deprivation. Curiosity wins out over sensibility.

You lay suspended in the air on a bed of magic, seeing nothing. You heard nothing but the faint undercurrent of static. Even the air was just right, still and warm. You waited, breath coming in nervous pants, for something to happen. Anything. 

Alastor had asked if you would indulge him in a curiosity and you, not having the faintest clue what you were in for, agreed. 

What you hadn’t expected was Angel Dust’s latest talks of his work to be what sparked Alastor’s curiosity. Now you were naked, in his pocket dimension and at his mercy. 

Your ears strained, trying to hear anything that would give away where your lover was. Before now, you hadn’t realized it was possible to feel the straining of your eyes, but you could. Desperately, you tried to look through the perfectly black cloth of your blindfold. 

All you could see was black. All you could feel was air. All you could hear was static. 

“Alastor?” Your voice didn’t even echo back to you. The void all around you swallowed it, like it swallowed everything. 

Your mind spun, struggling to cling to something. The moments leading up to your current situation played in front of your eyes, vivid. Too vivid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were watching it happen, a ghost of the future you as you and Alastor tangled together, lips and bodies clashing. 

He was eager, so uncharacteristically eager, to rip your clothes from your body. Panting breaths feel from your lips, only to be swallowed up by him as he pushed you deeper into the room. Wooden floors gave way to grass as you stumbled into the artificial bayou, naked as the day you were born. 

Hands ran over your breasts, pulling at your nipples. He caressed your folds, running his thigh between your legs before whispering into your ear the last thing you heard from him, “Do you trust me?”

The moment the confirmation of your trust left your lips, he shoved you back from him. Everything in the bayou changed, shifting in the blink of an eye. Then there was nothing. 

You were alone with no sounds, no sensations. There was nothing but your arousal. He left you like that, floating in a sea of nothing. Your mind raced, voice calling out to him, though you couldn’t even be sure he heard you when you couldn’t even hear it yourself. 

Water trickled down your face, wetting the blindfold. Confusion flooded through you for a moment. You clung to the wet sensation because it was something you could feel. It took forever, or perhaps no time at all, to realize the water was coming from your eyes. 

You were crying. 

Why? You were not sad. You were not scared. Well, a little, but not really. Alastor was there. You were safe. Alastor was there. Wasn’t he?

“Alastor?” 

Something ran up the inside of your thigh. Your body jerked, and you screamed, not that the sound of your voice carried anywhere at all. Something ran up your spread thighs. When had you spread them? 

“What’s that?” you gasped, unable to make sense of the sensation. 

Sharp something bloomed in the pebbled bud of your nipple. What was it? Pain? Pleasure? Teeth? Nails? Your body arched and pulled away, unsure which was the correct response. 

Static grew in your ears as the thing moved up your thighs. Something long and thin ran through your folds as you tried to understand what it was. Pleasure. That was the sensation you were feeling. 

It was so hard to identify. 

Soft somethings landed on your naked ribs, stinging blooming from each touch. Tremors ran through your body as you tried to place the touches. Kisses. Those were Alastor’s version of butterfly kisses. You called out to him again only for static to answer you. 

The thing between your legs worked its way into your opening as Alastor’s lips moved over the soft swell of your breast. If he was next to you, if he was running his wet tongue over your nipple, then the thing between your leg must be him too. 

His fingers, you realized as they moved inside you, stretching your opening wider. The pad of his thumb, it had to be his thumb, rubbed against your clit as his breath washed over you, sending gooseflesh across your skin. 

“Please,” you whispered, hips working into his hand. “Say something, Alastor.” 

You moved through space, or at least you thought you did. Your lover’s touches disappeared, leaving you with nothing but the memory of his touch, the lingering sting of his kisses and the wetness between your legs. 

“Alastor?” you called out, again and again for him, sobbing his name. “Please, Alastor. I need you. Please, please don’t leave me.” 

“I’m here,” he whispered into your ear, voice too loud and too soft somehow at the same time. You shuddered at how close he sounded. “Cher?” 

Your breaths came in shudders, body wanting to reach out to him but unable to be convinced to move. 

“Cher?” he asked again, hand resting on your ribs, grounding you in contact that felt overwhelming and yet you wanted nothing more to curl yourself around his hand. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m okay. You’re here. It’s okay. We can keep going.” 

Alastor waited a few moments longer… or was it an eternity? Tears dripped from your face as his hand ran down your side as he made his way around your body. Large hands wrapped around your knees, pulling them up and out. 

You sat like that, feeling like eyes were on you from every direction, folds exposed and cunt spread open. Static. All you could hear was static. It danced off your nerves and filled your ears. Static.

You wanted to hear his voice. 

Something warm and rounded pressed into your folds. There was a moment of resistance, hardly a second, and then it was inside you. Thick fire passed through your walls, spreading you open on the thing until something pressed into your hips. 

“Alastor,” you sighed his name, voice broken with overwhelming desire. “Alastor.” 

Static. That was alright, you could feel him. There wasn’t a way it could not be him. You knew the way his cock felt buried in your body. You knew the way he twitched, the press of his head against your cervix.

Yet, you doubted what you felt, even as hips pressed into you. Something, a body, folded over yours as arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you up. Was it up? Your body went to his as stinging kisses peppered your neck. 

The hips pulled back, his cock pulling from your body in a drag that set nerves afire. You felt every ridge and vein of him in a way you never had before. Pleasure cut through your core with a knife’s edge, ripping through any other sensations. 

It burned in your blood as he thrust into you. Each slap of his body against your clit lit up your nerves like fireworks. No longer were you surrounded by nothing. Now it was him that surrounded you, static and teasing touches of his hands over skin. Breath washed over skin, filling your lungs with him. 

You were drowning in him. He was everything. He was your everything. 

“I love you,” you whispered, saying the words you had felt in your heart for far too long and been too scared to say. It didn’t matter, your voice didn’t go anywhere but into the void. You could say whatever you wanted, feel everything as he pushed his cock into you again and again, pace and pleasure building. 

“I love you,” you whispered again, not for his ears as he thrust into you. His hair brushed against your shoulder as he kissed your neck, more sensations in a sea of him. 

“I love you,” you sobbed the words, fear running through you. You feared the power of those words. They meant so much. They meant handing him something far more valuable than your soul. They meant handing him your heart. 

Did he want it? Would he take it? Were you nothing more than a body to him? Would he let you love him, anyway? Could he love you back? Would he?

“I love you.” Large wet tears ran down your cheeks as your arms found strength, hands finding his shoulders. You clung to him, grounding yourself in the feeling of touching him, not just being touched by him. 

“I love you.” It was a prayer on your lips as he worked himself in and out of your twitching opening. Your walls trembled, gripping him from the inside with the same strength as your arms around his shoulders. You took refuge in the feel of his chest pressed against yours, the feeling of his heart beating in his chest. 

“I love you,” you said, pleasure crashing through you in violent waves. It could have been painful, you didn’t know. All you knew was it stole the breath from your lungs. 

He swelled inside you, twitching as you ran your hands over him. Nails scratched over the short hairs at the back of his head as he sighed. Finally, another sound!

Each twitch of his cock inside you brushed his tip against your cervix. Soft hair, thick and almost fur like, slipped between your fingers. You could feel the shape of his skull, the way his ears, so well masked as hair rose above his head. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he twitched violently inside you. You could feel the way his cock moved, the force of it expanding ever so slightly in waves as he shot rope after rope of seed into you. Every pulse of his member, you felt in your core. 

Shadow dissolved from your face, letting the man, usually dripping in red to come into view. He was naked, pressed to you as he weakly thrust into your body. Two bodies moved through the void together, as one. 

The look on his face was one you had never seen before. You couldn’t read it. Instead of trying, you simply bathed in it along with the feeling of being surrounded by him. 

“I love you, too,” Alastor whispered as the void slowly returned to his bayou. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[sammylkcho]

Mayhaps Sebastian saving us from something just outside his shop? Pretty pls?

Here you go! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like the result, dear anon.

Warnings/Notes: slight descriptions of wounds, some blood mentioned but nothing major, unedited

"I'll go grab some blankets and cushions then, I won't take too long!" You informed Sebastian, gripping the canvas bag hanging from your shoulder. You planned on stuffing everything you could find inside it so you wouldn't have to carry things in your hands or deal with any extra worries when you returned.

Sebastian responded with a soft hum, his eyes still fixed on some classified documents. He had been busy reviewing, flipping through, and sorting various papers. Maybe he’d made some progress, or maybe not—you didn't really know since he wasn't telling you. So stubborn.

"Be careful out there. The anglers are a bit more aggressive lately. Some expendables managed to evade them, and it seems to have pissed them off. Big surprise…" He muttered the last part with a tone full of sarcasm, like the anglers were acting like spoiled kids who didn't get the toy they wanted. Hearing that gave you a slight shock and sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it with a soft hum.

Showing fear or the slightest tremor in this place could get you killed.

Every day outside the four walls of Sebastian's shop was a vals with death, never knowing what danger could be lurking around the corner. The only threat you'd managed to neutralize, thanks to Sebastian, was Painter's turrets. After Sebastian talked to him and explained the situation, the AI had mocked you but grudgingly agreed not to try and kill you anymore. Right before you were about to leave, however, the AI had apologized, explaining the reasons Sebastian had already mentioned.

You parted on good terms. You considered him a friend, though to him, you were just an acquaintance… It was progress.

"Well, don't miss me too much!" You waved goodbye, ducking to exit through the vent.

Once you crawled out, you looked both ways, like you were crossing the street, making sure no cars—or rather, no Pinkie or Pandemoniun—were coming your way.

Hearing nothing, you stood up and headed a few rooms over, careful not to stray too far.

When you came back, you had a blanket and three cushions you'd grabbed from one of the couches in one of the rooms.

You had to hide a few times, crouching into corners when you couldn't find a locker to duck into, praying to any god that you were in an angler's blind spot.

Now, you were on your way back to Sebastian's shop, looking forward to some warmth and safety in that little secure place. All you wanted was to curl up in the things you'd gathered, your body and mind exhausted.

Just as you were about to duck into the vent again, a sudden, sharp yank and the piercing bite that followed knocked the wind out of you, the attack violent and unexpected.

A high-pitched scream escaped your throat as the sensation of thousands of needles tearing into your skin like you were nothing more than food shredded through you. You could feel your blood spilling, staining both your wetsuit and neck crimson. The pain was unbearable, and the awkward angle your neck was pulled into made it hurt even more.

Your strength was fading, and your vision was speckled with black dots that refused to disappear no matter how much you blinked. The agony consumed you, and the urge to close your eyes wasn't helping.

You heard a faint noise coming from the walls (or above?), like something sliding quickly, but you couldn’t focus on it through the wave of pain as the wall dweller yanked and bit into your flesh.

The sound of one gunshot, then another, sent chills down your spine.

The wall dweller dropped to the ground, and its grip on you vanished, causing you to collapse from the loss of strength.

You braced for the cold, hard floor, but instead, two pairs of arms—plus one extra—caught you firmly, preventing you from injuring yourself further.

You glanced up and recognized Sebastian's clothes. You tried to smile to show your gratitude, but all you could manage was a weak grimace.

"You're lucky I've got a extra medkit. I won't charge you for it this time. Just be more careful next time, idiot." You could hear a slight hint of concern in his voice, along with that familiar frown he always made when you were possibly to blame for something.

He cradled you in his arms, and you didn't protest. You didn't feel like moving and could feel yourself about to pass out any second from the blood loss you were dealing with right now.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were already inside the shop. How? You didn't know, and you didn't feel like overthinking it right now. Instead, you noticed how Sebastian's movements with his third arm were a mix of hurried and precise, like he didn't want to make a mistake with what he was doing.

You hissed as he began cleaning the open wound, wrapping a gauze around your shoulder and applying pressure to stop more blood from spilling.

You didn't pay attention to what he did next because of the discomfort and the awful itch spreading through the wound. It hurt, itched—you didn't even want to move your injured shoulder in case it opened up again or got worse.

Even after Sebastian finished, he didn't let go or lower you from his arms. He just stayed there with you, for who knows how long. Just you and him.

And you'd thank him later, verbally, for everything he’d done to help.

[bindeds]

₊˚・୨୧﹕ angel dust comforts sexually abused reader. … now, for anyone who’s a stickler for details, this is actually half a vent post, let’s leave it at that. i might expand on this later on but here’s an imagine for now <3

mlist. requests.

the pink hues of Angel’s room was all you could see when you curled up in his bed, tears stinging your eyes red after having just woken up from the nightmare.

“Baby i’m headed off to … oh …” Angel said, the shift in his initially cheery tone dissipating in seconds as his warm hands wrapped around your arms and your back. “Oh, no … baby …”

The fact that he didn’t even have to ask was already horrifying in its own right. The way you choked on your own terror had your lungs flooded with tremors as you hid your face, wanting to claw at your own chest for daring to shiver. “Angel … I’m sorry—”

“Baby no, no don’t ever apologize,” Angel cut you off before your voice could crack. He laid back down in bed with you despite being fully dressed and kissed your forehead, cupping your wet cheek in his hand. “Just focus on me, okay?”

“Angel, you need to go, Val’s going to—”

“Fuck Val. Fuck. him. I can’t leave you like this. I’ll never leave you like this,” he insisted. “I’ll get you water, okay? Just—”

Your hand gripped tightly onto his own on your cheek. Your lip crumpled as more sobs attacked your tongue, but you concealed them for just a bit longer. “Anthony … please don’t leave me.”

“Okay baby, okay, I’m right here,” Angel consoled as he immediately shifted back into bed as his forehead touched yours. “They’re gone. I promise, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again, you hear me?”

“Okay,” you sniffled, eyes finally closing as you soaked in the feeling of Angel’s thumb rubbing gentle circles into your cheek. “Okay.”

[paperyowl]

A while ago I did a little Rockon ficlet about Rocker being a little touch-starved. This is a kind of follow-up snippet for that. (I will link it if I can find it again.)

Rockon, T-rated

ignore all these things was the only reason they worked at all.)

"Can I sit on your lap?"

The question hung in the air, a small, hesitant thing. Deacon blinked, surprised, glancing at Rocker beside him on the couch. Rocker’s eyes, usually so bright and teasing, were wide and a little vulnerable. He seemed almost as surprised as Deacon that he’d spoken at all.

“Never mind,” Rocker mumbled, a slight stutter betraying his unease.

Deacon’s brow furrowed. That stutter didn’t belong there. Not in Rocker’s confident, cocky, sweet voice. He gently took Rocker’s arm and tugged him closer, guiding him firmly onto his lap. There was a brief, awkward shuffle of managing limbs as they settled, and Deacon instinctively placed a hand on Rocker’s spine, a reassuring weight.

“Of course you can,” Deacon said, his voice warm and steady. “Comfortable like this?”

Rocker nodded, his body slowly relaxing, like a wary animal finally accepting a gentle touch.

This quiet vulnerability was a stark contrast to Rocker’s usual demeanor at headquarters. There, he was the life of the party, dishing out teases and playful jabs, always ready with a fist bump or a quick hug. Deacon had never suspected this hidden fragility.

He noticed a faint tremor in Rocker’s shoulders. Concerned, Deacon stilled his hand on Rocker’s back. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Rocker whispered, his voice barely audible. “Really. It’s just…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence lost in a mumbled breath.

“Don, can you repeat that for me?” Deacon asked gently.

“I’m not used to it,” Rocker admitted quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush.

The confession hit Deacon with a wave of understanding. He tightened his hold on Rocker, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken pain. He knew, instinctively, there was a story there, a story Rocker was hesitant to share. Deacon was certain he knew who was part of that story too.

“She wasn’t cruel,” Rocker continued, as if he had guessed that Deacon had made the connection to Val. his voice small and defensive, but Deacon already knew that wasn’t the whole truth. “It was just her way of… I guess, showing me when I wasn’t treating her right.”

Punishment. The word echoed in Deacon’s mind. It was cold, calculated punishment disguised as something else.

“She was never very… tactile,” Rocker explained, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “When she was upset, her touches became… perfunctory. Like she was reminding me that she had the right to withhold affection.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m just… needy that way. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“No,” Deacon interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He felt Rocker flinch slightly, and he immediately softened his tone. “You’re not too much, Don.”

Which wasn't what he had said, but the implication had been clear enough. Deacon pulled Rocker closer, wanting to offer comfort, a safe haven from the shadows Rocker had bravely revealed.

[sugarrushproductions]

What we didn't see in HH, EP 5

Husker took in a deep breath and tried to stop the tremor in his hands. Tried being the keyword. Angel and Pentious were busy talking to Mimsy, the later complaining about not having another drink.

When he finally felt he could do his job without dropping the bottles he walked into view.

"Well it's about time, pussycat," Mimsy scolded, holding out her empty cup. "What's it gonna take to get some service around here?"

Angel had noted Husker's tremor the moment he came into view. The cat demon was good at keeping it from his hands and his ears, even his wings were as still as possible when moving. The only place he saw it was his tail. As Husk took Mimsy's cup, which he did softer than he needed to, Angel had the sinking feeling that this mood change had something to do with Alastor.

He remembered how Val could sometimes make him feel, how scared he was when....

Angel scratched his neck, looking at his nearly empty drink. His eyes lit up with an idea. One that would have him going back on his word, but at least it would get Husk out of his funk.

"Hey, poor me another too, Whiskers," Angel gave Husk one of his cockiest smirks and let his bedroom eyes shine. Other than a quick flick of one ear, all he got was a quick glance as Husk put down Mimsy's drink.

"Sure thing," was Husk's short reply. Angel shared a worried glance with Pentious when he turned around, but put the look back on when Husk turned around with his new drink. Before he could pull his hand away, Angel put one of his lower ones on it. That got Husk to meet his eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Thanks, Whiskers." Angel slid his hand further up his arm, getting narrowed eyes in response. "Is there anyway I could... repay you?"

Mimsy scoffed. "This kind of service, it seems he needs to be givin us a repayment."

Husker growled and gave her a glare out of the corner of his eyes. It softened as he felt Angel's grip tighten on his arm. Looking back at him he found nothing of the mask that the spider had just moments before. His pink eyes were filled with annoyance as Mimsy just sipped her drink.

Realization washed over Husker, making him turn his ears back to hide his blush as best he could. He'd been trying to keep them from seeing the darker side of Alastor considering everyone liked him to some extent (and the fact that Alastor would make good on the threat he'd just made). But

Angel saw through it. Of course he would, he knew what it was like. With a small smile, he gently grasped Angel's hand to move it.

"Nothing right now, kid," Husker said, turning around to make sure the heat on his white face wouldn't be see. "Thanks for the offer."

Before Angel could answer, the hotel shook as the front door creaked.

"Mimsy, we know you're in there you lousy bitch!" Someone yelled from outside, the hotel shaking once more.

The bitch in question just winced and ducked to the ground.

Headcannon: Sir Pentious definitely created a defense system after the attack. With or without Vaggie's permission, I don't know.