I honestly thought I would never have to cover this topic again, but this needs to be said.

Finn Balor didn’t get “buried” on RAW yesterday, I know you smarks love to use that word whenever your favorite wrestler loses, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.

In wrestling terms to bury something is to pretend that something never happened and never existed to begin with.

Here are some of the things and people that are actually buried in WWE.

Hulk Hogan

Chris Benoit and his entire career.

Ronnie Garvin’s World Title Reign

The match between Booker T and Buff Bagwell on RAW during the Invasion angle.

Christian’s time in TNA

TNA in general

WWE’s version of ECW

Fandango’s short lived stint as Johnny Curtis on Smackdown

Husky fucking Harris

Road Warrior Hawk’s drug relapse storyline during the attitude era

Kurt Angle lusting after Booker T’s wife

The Batista and Melina sex scandal storyline

I could go on, but we’d be here all day if I did. The point is, stop claiming that WWE is “burying” your favorite wrestler. It’s a scripted TV show, the win loss record doesn’t mean dick.

And let’s not forget SummerSlam 2016 when the smarks were shitting all over the title match between Rollins and Balor all because they hated the look of the Universal Championship, then they had the fucking GULL to chat “You deserve it” after Balor won the match.

You fuckers don’t give a shit about anybody but yourselves, if Finn had lost to anybody else, NONE of you would complain, but because he lost to Reigns, suddenly it’s the worst thing ever.

Give me a fucking break, for years I have heard you assholes constantly bitch and complain about the WWE not pushing any new stars and when the WWE finally does push new stars you double down and complain even more!

If Vince truly didn’t give a fuck, then Rollins, Wyatt, Styles and Ambrose wouldn’t all be former world champions. If he truly didn’t care then he wouldn’t have had Daniel Bryan close out WM 30. If Vince truly didn’t give a fuck then he wouldn’t have bothered signing on these indie guys to the company.

I swear, if Twitter and Facebook existed back during the attitude era, the smarks would be bitching about Rock and Austin being “shoved down their throats”.

You cannot please these people, they will always find something to bitch about the current WWE product and they’ll still support it with their wallets like the idiots that they are. That’s what makes me laugh the most about these smarks, they constantly whine about the product but they still end up buying WWE merch and going to live shows just to boo Reigns.

It’s John Cena all over again, where the smarks shit on the current face of the company for no real reason other than they need to feel as though they are part of the “cool kids” club.

Smarks make me ashamed to be a wrestling fan, that’s why I stopped talking about wrestling on my podcast because I was just so sick and tired of these entitled smark shitheads constantly bitching about Reigns and claiming he’s the “WORST WRESTLER EVER”.

Also funny how these smarks lost their goddamn minds when Reigns beat Taker at WM but didn’t say a goddamn thing when Jericho beat Owens for the US title at Payback. I guess it’s okay for Owens to lose to veterans but it’s not okay for Reigns to beat Taker at WM.

Fuck the smarks and their entitlement.


Oh, I don’t know what you’ve been told
But this gal right here’s gonna rule the world
Yeah, that is where I’m gonna be because I wanna be
No, I don’t wanna sit still, look pretty 

“Oh… Hi.” Aurora said as she stopped dancing and singing around when she saw someone at the door. “I… um… am I being too loud again? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to bother you.”

damnitjohn asked dinosaursplayingtimecrisis: Mourn Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death. Rhia mourning John.

“No dar'manda is getting into the storage block, not without the aliit'alor’s permission and definitely not without a guard.”

Rhia huffed. “I have the aliit'alor’s permissio—”

“The real aliit'alor.”

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It was the curse of being infantry in the black. When your weapons were the gun in your own two hands and your body, there wasn’t much you could do when fleets collided in the void. You could wait, keep your head down, listen to energy blasts fizzle across the shield and hull, listen to the alarms blaring, and pray, really pray, that your ship wasn’t the one that broke first.

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 asked you: Celebration — Our characters celebrate together. Or have a party. Algy & Doc.

Unease set in before he was even marched through the door of the Ice Tap. The pilot’s lounge wasn’t exactly on the physician’s list of favorite social hotspots, much preferring a quiet glass of wine in the barracks with one or two squadron companions than overpriced drinks with random Confederates. That he had been coerced here by a superior officer did very little to brighten his outlook. Algernon really hadn’t given him any say in the matter, all but pulling rank in the end after one too many polite declines. In explanation he’d offered nothing beyond a vague “Tell you when we get there.”

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There are characters, and then there are characters.

You know the type, the ones that you spend time obsessing over and perfecting over, hours upon hours of putting them in situations.

The kind that make you stay up until 5 AM with another person, watching them react and live and breathe and make you hurt inside.

The kind that you have invested so much of your soul into that you can’t help but feel as they feel.

The kind that are so close to your heart and mind that they aren’t distinct entities so much as pure expressions of yourself that think and act differently.

The kind that become friends and companions in a way that you never expected, or that stick around long after you thought they’d be gone.

The kind that get surprising evolutions and leaps in personality from situations you never expected to happen.

The kind that form relationships with other characters that are so strong it almost scares you.

The kind that makes you sad when they make mistakes, not because they did, but because you know that they had to.

The kind that tears out your heartstrings and stomps on your soul and makes you feel a sadness you thought you never could, but at the same time, it makes you feel so alive.

The kind that you know are heading directly towards a tragic and unhappy ending, but that you can’t possibly change because you know this is the way it has to be.

It’s those characters that end up taking the most out of you, but after you write with them, you feel more complete than you ever have before.