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anto-pops · 2 months ago

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Bloody Hell - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: One would think that after putting up with menstruation for so many years, you would be well accustomed to dealing with it by now. That couldn't be further from the truth, however: you hated it. So when yours arrives in the dead of night and forces you to the showers in the hopes of relieving your discomfort, the last thing you expected or wanted was for your boyfriend to barge in unannounced.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian finds you covered in blood after waking up without you beside him and suggests a natural remedy for your pain.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, menstrual cycle, blood (kink?), explicit sexual content, explicit language, shower sex, period sex

It's also up on Ao3

To the anon who suggested this: you're an absolute icon. Never before have I been so captivated by a request. This haunted me all night.

You were no stranger to blood. Fighting Ashwinders and Poachers in the Forbidden Forest went hand in hand with bleeding wounds, scrapes, and bruises. But those things were a non-issue for you. A few vials of Wiggenweld or those poultice’s Nurse Blainey was so fond of handing out typically took care of external wounds with no problem.

But once a month, you were met with blood of a different sort.

The menstrual kind.

Which is why when you awoke in the Room of Requirement with a familiar sensation afflicting your lower stomach, you knew right away what was happening. The weight of Sebastian’s arm slung over your waist couldn’t distract you from the cramping sensation in your gut. It felt like your organs were being twisted– contorted into shapes and squeezed so tightly that a pained groan bubbled in your throat. You stole a glance at the man next to you, paranoid that somehow he would telepathically know what was going on. He was still sleeping, though, and you sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that he would stay that way.

Escaping his embrace was a task in and of itself. There was no such thing as personal space when you and Sebastian spent the night together. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that he would crawl inside your skin at night if he could, but you were immensely grateful that such a thing was impossible. The thought of him being made aware of your completely normal ‘time of the month’ made you shudder with revulsion.

Yes, it was a completely normal part of female biology… but it wasn’t something that any woman just went and talked about. At least, not any self-respecting woman. A lady’s cycle was for her and her alone to deal with.

In the process of crawling across the bed, you felt a telling slickness between your legs that had nothing to do with your previous nighttime activities with Sebastian. You knew the second you pulled your undergarments down, you would be met with the sight of your ruddy, ruined clothing, and that thought coupled with the discomfort threatening to bring you to your knees was enough to cause tears to well up in your eyes.

Dammit! It wasn’t like you could control that either. You were a moody, gross mess. If there was a choice between going comatose for a week or living through this ungodly experience once a month, you would gladly choose the former. Death was preferable to bleeding all over yourself and dealing with sore breasts, cramps, and emotional outbursts.

There was no way in hell you could handle all of this here. The menstrual pads and linen rags you kept handy for these times were at the bottom of your trunk in your dorm, and you’d foolishly left your wand on your nightstand as well. Sleeping in the Room of Requirement had been a last minute decision, and without your wand, there was no way to Charm over the things you needed. The inky night sky visible through the windows told you that it was the middle of the night, which meant that traversing the corridors to fetch your belongings was out of the question. The last thing you wanted was for a resident ghost or a Prefect to catch you and question you about what you were doing out past curfew.

The Prefect’s bathroom was nearby, though. That would have to suffice. You would go there, clean up, and then figure out how the hell to deal with this… situation.

As you shuffled out of the tiny bedroom and through the main chamber of the Room, another wave of pain stabbed at your gut and made you hiss through your teeth. If you didn’t collapse on your way down the staircase, it would be a Merlin-sent miracle.

—

The warm stream of water cascading down your head had helped to clear away the pain-induced haze that clouded your mind. That was the extent of the reprieve you were granted, however. Everything else still hurt– had begun to hurt more the second you’d reached the bathroom. The cramps, your back, your breasts– even your fucking feet. Why did being a woman have to be such a punishing experience?

Wiping at your face with your damp palms, you pointlessly wished that this could have happened at any other time. Late in the evening yesterday when you had been in your dorm, or earlier in the morning today so you could have made it back to your room in time to get your linens. Not now. Not in the dead of night– not the one time students were expressly forbidden from wandering the halls.

The universe hated you. You hated yourself. Even standing beneath the shower head, you felt dirty. No amount of scrubbing would change the fact that your pajamas were soiled. You would have no choice but to put them back on and hope against all odds that no one was awake early to spot the giant stain blooming across the back of your trousers.

Between the rush of water roaring past your ears and your own self-deprecating thoughts, you failed to hear the footsteps echoing throughout the bathroom until they halted right beyond the curtain. One singular, thin sheet mounted to a metal rod by tiny hooks was all that separated your naked, bleeding body from the unknown person, and your heart stumbled in your chest at the vulnerable realization.

“I take it you have a good reason for up and vanishing in the dead of night to come shower?”

Shit. Sebastian. Peeves rising through the floor to taunt you would have been preferable to this. “Don’t come in. I– I had to cool off. I couldn’t sleep– just go back to the Room, I’ll be there soon.”

Liar. If you could somehow get away with spending the rest of the night in the Prefect’s bathroom, you would gladly do so. That was a much better idea.

“Cool off?” Sebastian scoffed, and your throat tightened uncomfortably when you saw his fingers appear around the edge of the curtain as though to yank the barrier aside. “There’s enough steam in here to gag a Dugbog. What’s wrong, darling? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine! Just go back to bed, Sebastian. Please.”

He was quiet for a moment– long enough that you were certain he had caught the shrill edge to your voice. You sounded anything but fine. But then his fingers fell away from the edge of the curtain, disappearing behind the makeshift blockade completely. Any second now and his footsteps would resonate throughout the room and give you confirmation that he was leaving– that you could continue to ride out the waves of pain and humiliation in solitude.

But the sound of him leaving never came.

Instead, you were deafened by metal scraping against metal as Sebastian yanked the curtain aside, his disheveled form staring back at your nude one as you screeched and tried to cover yourself with your hands. “Sebastian! What the hell?! I said leave!”

His eyes raked down your body, starting from the top of your head, then along the plane of your torso, before finally settling on your red-stained thighs. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I beg your pardon? Since when is it acceptable for a man to barge in on a woman in the shower? You’re unbelievable!”

His dark, penetrating gaze returned to your panic-stricken face, his brows furrowing in response to your rightful anger. “It’s acceptable since I’m your boyfriend, for starters. This isn’t anything I haven’t already become intimately acquainted with, darling. Second, I was giving you a chance to be honest with me, but since that’s apparently not going to happen, I need to take matters into my own hands.”

“What are you on about? I was being honest. I couldn’t sleep! Not everyone is blessed with the ability to pass out after laying down for two minutes.”

“Ah, but you’re only being partially honest, sweetheart. Were you ever going to come clean about the blood on the bed? Or the blood on your trousers? Was I meant to overlook that little omitted detail?”

Mortification stronger than anything you’d ever felt made you go rigid. Suddenly the blistering water coursing down your back felt decidedly cold, and your cramps were momentarily forgotten as your stomach churned with nausea. “I– well– that isn’t your business. It will never be your business. So just let me deal with it by myself and go. Back. To bed.”

Sebastian’s jaw hardened as he clenched his molars together, his eyes narrowing challengingly in a way you were all too familiar with. You were well aware of his stubbornness– sometimes you even admired it. His tenacity and ability to get what he wanted was something of a super power to you, but right now it was a downright nuisance. This wasn’t the time nor the place for him to try to bully you into confiding in him. You were naked in a shower, for Merlin’s sake.

Was nothing sacred anymore?

Instead of arguing with you further, Sebastian nodded once to himself before releasing the curtain. His hands fell to the hem of his sleep shirt, hauling it over his head in one swift motion that revealed all of his tanned, freckled skin at once. If you weren’t so bewildered and agitated, you would gladly take a moment to relish in the sight. But then he moved on to his own pajama pants, hastily kicking those away to leave him as nude as you were, and your brows disappeared into your hairline. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not going back to bed without you. If that can’t happen, then I’ll join you in here.”

He tried to step over the tile ledge, but the hand you’d kept over your breasts shot out at that moment to slap against his chest. Sebastian frowned, actually mustering up the audacity to glare at you for trying to protect your dignity. “Y-You can’t. It’s not clean in here.”

“It’s a shower. Logic dictates that it’s as clean a space as they come. Now move over–”

“Sebastian, I’m bleeding.” The word left you in a breathless rush, shame and insecurity softening your previously stern tone. He didn’t show any reaction to the confession, though. He just remained rooted to his spot by the curtain with his head tilted to the side. “I’m dirty. It’s on the tiles– you can’t come in here.”

Sebastian reached up to clasp the hand you had planted to his chest tenderly, his thumb stroking over the back of your knuckles. His eyes glimmered with something curious as they roved down your body again, and then he asked, “Why on Godric’s green Earth do you think you’re dirty?”

You swallowed, entirely too embarrassed for comfort. It was bad enough to have to go through this whole ordeal, but to describe it…

“Because it’s blood. It’s gross,” you explained weakly. With any luck, that would be enough to quell the inappropriate conversation and get the man to scurry back to the Room of Requirement.

But Sebastian only looked amused. He smirked in a way that conveyed both disbelief and reassurance before laughing quietly, gently prying your hand away from his chest so he could bring it to his lips. “Darling, we see blood all the time. Our extracurriculars are hardly the safest. Between Crossed Wands, the Highlands, and your Herbology plants sinking their teeth into my legs, do you really think a little blood would gross me out?”

“Well, no… but that’s different.”

“Why is it different?” His voice was like liquid velvet he implored you further, entrancing you enough that you failed to muster up the willpower to stop him as he took a step into the shower. “Because of where it comes from? Those prudes that call it taboo don’t know a damn thing. Not to say I know more than anyone, but I’ve read plenty of books on the subject… do you want to know what I think?”

The entire time he spoke, he encroached into your space more and more until finally he was towering over you. Your shoulder blades pressed against the wall of the shower, Sebastian’s taller frame forcing you to crane your neck back to look up at him. His hair was soaked now– fully at the mercy of the water gushing from above– but he didn’t so much as blink as he waited for you to answer him.

When you mustered up the ability to nod shakily, Sebastian grinned and began sensually trailing his fingertips over your shoulders. “I think it’s a profound thing. Spiritual, even. In other parts of the world, women are revered for being able to create life, and bleeding is a natural part of that. It’s normal, and you’re not dirty. On the contrary, I think you’re beautiful. I mean, you’re always stunning, but there is something about you covered in blood that I find rather ravishing.”

The blush staining your cheeks had absolutely nothing to do with how hot the water temperature was. “Now I know you’re lying. That’s just insane to say–”

“I’ll prove it to you,” Sebastian interjected, digging his nails into the skin of your upper arms. “You trust me, right?”

Of course you did. If there was anyone you knew you could rely on implicitly, it was Sebastian Sallow. He was loyal, caring, and would go to the ends of the Earth for you if such a thing was ever necessary. But this was… well, a little intimidating. You’d spent the last eighteen years believing that the only way to deal with a menstrual cycle was to isolate yourself and hide the evidence. To open up to him this way– to blindly let him guide you towards whatever revelation he was leading you towards– it scared you.

You pursed your lips together, trying to hide the grimace that threatened to take over when you nodded again. Sebastian, much to his credit, didn’t laugh or make a big deal about having your go-ahead. To some degree, he had to know this was a first for you, and you appreciated his candor in that regard.

When he leaned in to kiss you, you were too distracted by his lips and tongue and teeth to realize that he was sequestering you into the corner of the shower. Your mind was too muddled to realize much of anything until his hands trailed lower down your abdomen, gripping you around your waist and urging you to relax. The nauseating pain that came with your cramps returned then, and you groaned into his mouth before pulling away with a shudder. “I don’t know, Sebastian. I really don’t feel well. Everything hurts right now.”

“I can help,” he whispered before his mouth reclaimed yours. A predatory sound rumbled deep in his chest, and the way he overwhelmed all of your senses made your knees buckle. His lips brushed against yours when he pulled back to murmur, “I promise. I’ve heard of a foolproof way to make it hurt less. Just trust me.”

You didn’t have to be a Leglimens to guess what he was implying would ‘help’. If there had been any doubt before now, you would have figured it out when his fingers appeared against your cunt– sliding through blood and water easily as he neared your entrance. “It might be messy,” you supplied lamely, your body betraying your words as your legs parted of their own accord to give him more room. “You really don’t need to do this.”

Sebastian silenced you with a quick kiss before trailing his mouth along your jaw, bumping your head to the side so he could nip at your pulse teasingly. He stepped forward more to close the gap between the two of you, his startlingly hard length pressing against your hip and making your mouth dry up. “You’re always messy for me down here. A little blood makes no difference.”

Merlin– your cheeks turned beet red at his quip. Your resolve was crumbling remarkably quickly, Sebastian’s lips and fingers making you melt despite your reservations. How could he be so unbothered by something like this? It wasn’t just blood he would be faced with. There were thick clots that accompanied your flow, your lower stomach bloated uncomfortably, and your breasts looked two sizes larger than normal. You didn’t feel like yourself– barely looked like yourself when it was your time of the month. Wasn’t he troubled by that?

Sebastian pressed a finger into your core with measured caution, and gods, you were so wet. There was no way of knowing whether it was from the blood or the water, but you honestly didn’t care. As embarrassing as it was to have your boyfriend willingly covering himself in your fluids, it was also strangely arousing. If he didn’t mind the one major thing you deemed disgusting about your cycle, why should you?

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It was harder to actually believe it.

A second finger curled into you then at the same time Sebastian’s other arm wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you flush to his chest as he licked, bit, and kissed at your neck. With every pump of his digits, your legs grew weaker, and before long your boyfriend was forced to pin you against the shower wall with his chest to keep you upright. “Is it good, darling?”

You weren’t sure what to think. Everything you were feeling definitely seemed more sensitive than you were used to, which made sense considering how violent your menstrual cycle tended to be. When Sebastian pressed into you harder and curled his fingers deeper, you croaked weakly and dug your nails into the tops of his shoulders. “Don't– don’t know…”

He repeated the motion a second time before withdrawing his hand from your cunt, holding it up at eye-level to reveal the stark redness that covered his otherwise sun-kissed skin. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to look away or not. It had to be the running water making it seem like so much blood– the mixing liquids transforming into a ripe, pink color that dripped down his forearm and off of his elbow. He smirked when he caught sight of your aghast expression before dropping his hands to your hips, lifting you up easily before motioning for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“S-Sebastian, wait– your hand is filthy–”

He sucked his teeth loudly as he dropped an arm to position his cock against your folds, shooting you a dry look that quelled any further arguments. “Once again, we’re in the shower. And stop calling it filthy– your blood is anything but gross.”

The words you opened your mouth to speak were replaced by an airy moan when the head of Sebastian’s length breached your walls slowly and tentatively. It felt tighter than normal, but incredibly slick, too. Your boyfriend evidently agreed, because he groaned out curses as he fed more of his cock inside of you. Once he had bottomed out completely, he lifted his limp neck to fix his eyes on you, and the way his pupils dilated reminded you of an animal lost to the throes of bloodlust.

He spared a brief moment to readjust his grip on you, holding the undersides of your legs and using the wall to pin you in place. Then he was moving, his strength unwavering as he pulled his hips back before driving them forward again– only this time with more force. His leverage over you allowed him to aim every thrust perfectly, striking the deepest parts of you with alarming precision, and all you could do was hold on to his shoulders for dear life.

“F-Fuck, Sebastian–” you stammered dimly, your voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the rushing water. He groaned eagerly– your only sign that he had heard you– and then leaned against you more so that when he freed his blood-soaked hand to fondle your tender breast, you didn’t fall.

Red, finger-shaped stripes appeared along your skin as Sebastian massaged your swollen chest, timing every gentle squeeze with each plunge of his cock. You wanted to be disgusted by the sight of your body’s essence being smeared across your flesh, but that thought came secondary to the realization that everything he was doing felt good. Every thrust seemed to grant relief to your twisting insides, prompting your muscles to relax before shifting to clench around his length. The pleasure was rapidly overshadowing the pain, and once Sebastian took note of your pliant state, he abandoned your breast to tilt your chin up and kiss you.

His tongue swept along the inside of your mouth, wringing tiny noises from you that he enthusiastically swallowed up. The way Sebastian held you fast to the wall with your legs clamped around his hips made it so that his pelvis rubbed deliciously against your clit as he moved, and you fully surrendered to the bliss that came to replace your apprehension. Your eyes squeezed shut as something far different from your cramps began to build in your lower stomach– a telling heat that grew in intensity and threatened to burn you from the inside out.

“I can feel you,” Sebastian panted against your lips. “You feel so warm– so tight–” he punctuated the statement with a hurried snap of his hips, expelling a strangled gasp from your throat. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s good.”

Sebastian returned both hands to supporting your rear as he speared his cock into you harder, gripping you with strength so intense that you knew it would bruise. The realization that you craved his marks on your body left you moaning fervently. You wanted the memory of this moment etched into your skin long after the blood had washed away, because you didn’t want to forget a second of it.

The blasted man had been right, but you weren’t keen on telling him as much.

As the pleasure mounting in your gut amplified, you tried to rut down onto Sebastian’s cock in a bid to chase the euphoria dangling in front of you. The water beating down on both of your bodies made it difficult, however, and Sebastian stilled your movements by pressing you into the wall so firmly that your shoulder blades scraped against the tiles. He held you there securely, rolling his hips into yours as he slammed into your cunt over and over and over again until finally you were crying out his name, your walls clamping down on his cock viciously.

You felt lightheaded as your climax washed over you, your muscles tensing and limbs trembling as Sebastian held you through all of it. When your head fell back against the wall, you heard and felt the low rumble in your boyfriend’s chest as he found his way to his own precipice. The warmth of his release filling you somehow soothed the lingering soreness in your abdomen, and the minute rocking of his hips settled your nerves marvelously.

When you finally found your voice again, all you managed to say was, “Bloody hell.”

Sebastian huffed out a laugh, lifting his head to stare at you through his dark lashes. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“No, you dunce. I’m just… surprised.” You looked down to stare at where the two of you were still connected, not at all shocked to discover that both of you looked like you had been maimed from the waist down. Blood was everywhere; on your stomach, your legs, and the base of Sebastian’s cock looked like someone had tried to saw it off. It was a ludicrous sight.

But a new, budding part of you also found it to be equally arousing.

Maybe exposure therapy wasn’t the worst way to handle your aversion to your own womanly… period of time.

When Sebastian gingerly withdrew from your walls and set you down on your feet, you were pleased to discover that your cramps had miraculously calmed. There was a lingering ache between your legs that ebbed up to your inner-stomach, but it was nowhere near as harsh as it had been earlier. You weren’t even sure if you could blame your cycle for that.

Something told you that the culprit of that bizarrely nice soreness radiating from your lower half was hanging between Sebastian’s legs.

“I take my thanks in the form of kisses, by the way.”

Your eyes skirted away from the blood running down your thighs to land on your very smug, very arrogant looking boyfriend. His brown eyes twinkled with amusement when you pouted at him, and his laughter shook the walls of the shower when you reached out to smack his chest. “You don’t have to be so boastful about it, you know. Can you blame me for being hesitant?”

He shrugged and stepped under the spray of the water, tipping his head back to shift his wet hair out of his face. “Not really, no. But you should know by now that you can talk to me about anything– even the embarrassing stuff.”

“Well, I know that now. I’m not a villain for assuming you would be grossed out by all of this, though.”

Sebastian smirked and tugged you under the showerhead alongside him. He situated you so that your back was to his chest, then reached around to run his hands over the red-stained parts of your stomach, gently washing away the streaked blood. You couldn’t help but relax into him– entirely too at peace to deny yourself his touch any longer.

“That’s a fair assumption…” he mused thoughtfully, lowering his head so his lips were pressed directly against your ear. The feeling of his breath fanning across your damp skin sent a chill down your spine, and you swallowed thickly when he proclaimed, “But any wizard of true merit wouldn’t be opposed to getting a little blood on his wand every now and again.”

Gods. His madness truly knew no bounds.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy oneshot #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #menstruation #my writing #it's rare for me to honestly put out any piece of writing for a prompt so fast but this one was. something.#idk deranged freaky Sebastian just does something to me #he's insane your honor I LOVE HIM

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the-most-humble-blog · 10 days ago

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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta species-type="honored-civilian"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="MIKE_HARRIGAN::YAUTJA_COMBATANT_CLASS::NON-MILITARY_DOMINANCE" EFFECT="male courage reactivation, cinematic justice memory restore, primal loyalty surge" TRIGGER_WARNING="graphic masculinity, mythic truth, alien violence, 90s sweatcore" </script>

🎙️ “MIKE HARRIGAN — THE SWEAT-SOAKED GOD WHO FOUGHT A SPACE DEMON IN HIS OWN DAMN LIVING ROOM”

You wanna talk about grit?

About loyalty?

About what a real man does when every last advantage has left the room?

Let me tell you a story.

It ain’t about capes. It ain’t about super serum. It ain’t about billionaires in batsuits or techno-samurais with plot armor.

It’s about a man. A black man. A sweaty man. Who chased a goddamn alien into its own spaceship and ripped its spine out with nothing but a service pistol and an overwhelming sense of you killed my family, now you’re gonna die.

Let’s talk about Detective Mike Harrigan. Played by Danny Glover in Predator 2.

You know the one.

Not the jungle. Not the mud camouflage. Not the Arnie bodybuilding fantasy. No. This one was in Los Angeles. In hell heat. During a gang war.

And Harrigan?

Was already fighting for his life before the Predator showed up.

💥 SETTING THE SCENE:

Imagine this:

You’re a middle-aged cop. Overworked. Jaded. Watching your city get torn apart by cartel violence, crooked politics, and rooftop shootouts.

And then, invisible death starts showing up.

One by one, people are getting carved like Thanksgiving turkeys. Spines yanked. Skulls polished.

And the only one who sees it for what it is?

You.

Because no one else wants to say it out loud:

“That ain't no gangbanger. That’s something else.”

🩸 HE DIDN’T RUN. HE DIDN’T “CALL FOR BACKUP.” HE FOLLOWED THAT MOTHERFUCKER INTO ITS OWN SHIP.

Because his friends were dead. And you don’t let that slide.

You don’t go home. You don’t retire. You HUNT.

📌 CHARACTER PROFILE:

No superpowers

No tactical squad

No access to high-tech weaponry

Just a badge, a gun, and grief burning into wrath

This wasn’t a battle of equals.

This was a grudge match against God.

🪦 ROLL CALL — WHO HE LOST:

🔸 Danny Archuleta: His partner. His brother. Gone. Skewered like a pork roast.

🔸 Jerry Lambert: Bill Paxton. Comic relief. New guy. Dead.

🔸 Leona Cantrell: Only one who made it. Only because she was pregnant. The Predator let her go. Not out of mercy. Out of ritual code. Out of honor.

Mike?

Mike didn’t get spared. Mike got targeted.

And he chased that invisible bastard anyway. With bullets. With fists. With raw desperation converted into holy fire.

🔥 THE FINAL ACT ISN’T A CLIMAX. IT’S A CRUSADE.

Through buildings. Through blood. Through walls and fire escapes and electrical grids.

He doesn’t care where the fight goes.

Even when that predator activates its nuke-bracelet—

He doesn’t flinch.

He slices off the bastard’s arm.

WITH ITS OWN GODDAMN WEAPON.

☠️ And don’t forget:

The Predator was built like a NFL Linebacker on space steroids (A WALKING DEATH SENTENCE)

It didn't matter.

He gave it that mandibled-bastard the same energy as a Jehovah's witness at his doorstep.

Harrigan didn't respect the alien’s size. He disrespected it.

Called him a pussy-face right to his alien pie-hole.

He rushed it.

Screaming.

Bleeding.

Spitting.

📜 AND THEN HE WALKED INTO THE SHIP.

He entered the Predator’s domain. The space demon’s cathedral. The trophy room.

And he won.

He didn’t trick it. He didn’t out-tech it. He out-willed it.

💀 ICONIC SCENE:

“WHO’S NEXT!?”

Blood on his shirt. His city collapsing. His friends dead.

And Harrigan still had enough venom in his chest to challenge an entire species.

👽 AND THEY CAME.

The other Predators. The tribunal. The observers. The elders.

They saw what he did.

They didn’t attack.

They honored him.

They handed him a flintlock pistol.

Why?

Because in that moment, they knew.

“We hunt strong things. But this one? This one hunts back.”

🧠 PSYCHOLOGICAL REALITY:

You know what it feels like to be tired?

To be fucking done?

And then one more awful thing happens?

And you gotta stand up again?

That’s Harrigan’s soul.

That’s real masculinity.

No bravado. No slogan. Just get up. Again. And again.

🛠️ ARNIE WAS A WARRIOR. HARRIGAN WAS A VICTIM TURNED AVENGER.

Arnold fought in the jungle. Mike fought in his apartment complex.

Arnold ran traps. Mike ran out of time.

Arnold had muscles. Mike had wrath.

⚠️ THE AFTERMATH:

No medal. No parade. No speech.

Just the silence of survival.

And a gun. And a city. And graves.

🕯️ THIS IS WHO YOUR MOVIES FORGOT.

This is who we forgot.

The middle-aged man who refused to break. Refused to bow. Refused to let them die in vain.

🛡️ MODERN TRANSLATION:

Harrigan wasn’t designed to win.

He was doomed. He was surrounded. He was outgunned. He was emotionally mangled.

And he still won.

Why?

Because he had no other choice.

Because if he didn’t do it—no one would.

You wanna talk about masculinity?

It’s not a look.

It’s a refusal to die quiet.

Mike Harrigan was done with everything.

But he didn’t stop.

Because real men don’t let their brothers die for nothing.

Because sometimes Daddy doesn’t need to call Superman.

Sometimes Daddy IS THE APOCALYPSE.

You remember that the next time somebody calls you washed up.

You remember that when the young bloods think your wrinkles mean weakness.

You remember Mike Harrigan.

Who stood face to face with a walking trophy-hunter from the stars—

And stabbed him in the heart with the future.

Reblog to give this sweaty god his damn flowers.

If you don't know him, or what he did, ask your dad...

or your mom.

She knew him well.

Reblog this to let someone know: You don’t need a cape. You need grief + grit + a reason not to quit.

---

🧠 Read more respect-coded doctrine and emotional architecture at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Masculine polarity. Scrolltrap psychology. Unforgiven words. 🚪 Warning: This post made three fathers cry and one son call his dad to apologize. </div>

[AUTO-WIPE IN: 00:00:00 — LEGACY RETENTION ENGAGED]

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