Earlier this year, the second season of the brilliant and unique show Sense8
was released on Netflix — rather quietly. Shortly afterwards, the show
was cancelled by Netflix, apparently due to low viewership (which might
have been Netflix’s own fault, as there was almost no advertisement for
despite Netflix’s words on the cancellation, we, the fans, shouldn’tlose hope yet. There are many petitions for a third season, as well as
many fans showing their support of the show in various places on the
internet, in form of letters and even in real life, such as at San Francisco Pride.
(Not my gif)
signing online petitions and walking the streets at Pride can only make
so much noise, which the people at Netflix can easily ignore. What they
won’t be able to ignore though, is something flooding their real life mailboxes… and in the case of Netflix, what is more appropriate than a flip flop? This idea has been floating around the internet (e.g. on reddit),
but it’s time to make it real. Mail a flip flop (yes, just one) to
Netflix, and ask them to #FlipFlopSense8, to #BringBackSense8 and
#RenewSense8 for #Sense8Season3!
There is a precedent of something like this actually working successfully: in the case of CBS’s show Jericho, fans didn’t give up after the cancellation. They sent 40,000 pounds of nuts to the network executives and made them reconsider their decision. Jericho was renewed for a shortened second season.
let’s create a huge pile of flip flops at Netflix’s door and make them
flip flop their decision to end this beautiful show on such a cruel
cliffhanger! Give us the finale that the show deserves, whether it be a
third season or just a two-hour special! They claim the show is too
expensive, but if they really want to, of course they can find a way to
finance it — even if it means less stuff in our Netflix library for a
So, here is your step by step guide to mailing your flip flop to Netflix.
Step 1: Purchase a pair of flip flops of your liking. Of course you can also just mail them an old, used one.
Step 2: Write your message on the flip flop and (optionally) decorate it to your liking.
Step 3: Address an envelope to Netflix’s headquarters. The address is:
Netflix Corporate Headquarters 100 Winchester Circle Los Gatos, CA 95032 USA
Step 4: Put your flip flop into the envelope and mail it!
you are of course welcome to share your flip flop with the internet by
using the hashtag(s) #FlipFlopSense8 (#BringBackSense8, #RenewSense8,
#Sense8Season3 #GlobalCluster)! Let’s make this happen!
It’s funny how people go on and on about how they don’t like Roman, will boo him everywhere he goes. But yet they never give any legitimate reasons for why they do. And I’m sorry, but the mic skills and he “can’t wrestle” excuse doesn’t cut it anymore, so don’t even go there. Whether people want to see it or not, he has been improving as a wrestler and on the mic over the last few years. And contrary to what people think, he is very passionate about the business. The fact that he comes from a wrestling family doesn’t detract from that passion. And that doesn’t mean he’s been handed everything and hasn’t worked hard or earned his place in the company.
And so what if he did get into wrestling because of his family? So what if he chose wrestling over football? So what if he does end up becoming the next face of the company? Who are you to judge him for it? Who are you to try to dictate his life and choices? If he decided to be a wrestler instead of a football player, then that was his right to choose. He isn’t selfish or an asshole for it. It doesn’t make him any less passionate for the wrestling business. He wouldn’t be in the business, busting his ass and putting up with all the haters bullshit on a constant basis if he wasn’t passionate about the business. And if he does become the next face of the company, well I say good for Roman Reigns! He’s earned it, he deserves it, he has what it takes to carry on that responsibility.
Also, his fans on the internet aren’t the only ones who defend him. And no, it’s not just women and children who like him! Yeah, I’m putting that out there just in case anyone tries to come at me with that BS. His family (i.e. Rikishi and The Usos) has come to his defense various times. And many wrestlers and people who have worked in WWE for many years, both past and present, have also defended him and said positive things about him – Ric Flair, Mick Foley, Bret Hart, Paul Heyman, Chris Jericho, Big Show, The Miz, Cesaro, Sheamus, Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, John Cena, AJ Styles, Finn Balor…the list goes on and on. And no, THEY WERE NOT PAID TO SAY IT! And it also doesn’t mean that they’re being ass kissers, so don’t even try to come at me with that, because it’s bullshit! They are the ones who see Roman on a daily basis, who are in the same room with Roman, and who have gotten in the same ring with Roman, and have wrestled him multiple times. So yeah, I’m afraid the whole “oh they got paid to say it” and “they’re ass kissers” excuse doesn’t fly either!
I’ve said it in great depth before and I will say it again. Roman Reigns has done absolutely NOTHING to anyone to deserve all the hate and disrespect he gets. You people act as if he intentionally offends people and like everything he says and does is wrong. And if anyone tries to use his suspension as an excuse, well let me just say that yeah, he fucked up. And he knew he was wrong and that he made a mistake. He owned up to it and apologized publicly on Twitter to all his family, friends, and fans. And he paid his dues and faced the consequences like a mature adult. Ever since then, he hasn’t done anything and has gotten his shit together and is doing better than ever.
So people really need to move on and get over it already. Roman Reigns isn’t go anywhere. And one day, he will be back in the main event scene and he will be either a four-time WWE World Champion or WWE Universal Champion. You can believe that! And as always, haters gonna hate.
I like what they say on why the show should bring in Ravager, Blue Beetle and Aqualad. But then they go with some really faulty reasonings why not have Cyborg, Terra, Damian Wayne, Artemis, Superboy or Jericho and I’m just rolling my eyes….. Every time I think CBR gets better they prove me wrong. Every time.
So here's the full list of all the WWE Superstars who are pro Roman Reigns
- Dean Ambrose
- Seth Rollins
- The Usos
- Triple H
- Mick Foley
- Ric Flair
- Bret Hart
- Paul Heyman
- Chris Jericho
- Big Show
- The Miz
- AJ Styles
- Finn Balor
- John Cena
- TJ Perkins
- Brian Kendrick
- Lilian Garcia
- Kevin Owens
- Bray Wyatt
- Lance Storm
- Kurt Angle
- Jim Ross
- Corey Graves
- Scott Hall
- Eric Bischoff
- The Undertaker
- Shawn Michaels
- Stone Cold Steve Austin
- Rosey (Roman Reigns’ brother)
- Scott Dawson
- Santino Marella
- R Truth
- Enzo Amore
- Kofi Kingston
- Xavier Woods
- Big E
- Byron Saxton
- Aleister Black
- King Ricochet
- Tommy Dreamer
- Jake “The Snake” Roberts
- Peter Rosenberg (even though he’s not a WWE Superstar, but I’m counting him in!)
And if you Roman haters don’t like it, you can fuck off! I really don’t care anyway. Just ignore and scroll past it. That simple! Hahaha sorry not really sorry!
And let me also add that if you suddenly hate on your favs just because they like Roman, you have no right to call yourself a fan! Because that’s not what a real true fan does!
I’m having the worst time writing. Like many of us writers, I think that my writing is shit. When this happens, I turn to fan fiction. But even now, I’m dying over this.
So here’s a snippet. I normally wouldn’t do this, but I I’m posting an unfinished piece to see what people think. This is my first attempt at a Reader narrator, and I think that’s throwing me off. Thoughts?
You’re in the middle of a mixed tag team match. Your partner, Seth Rollins, currently had a choke hold on Chris Jericho. Charlotte glared at you from across the ring. You were the new number one contender to the women’s championship. The match was weeks away, but this would be the first time in months that you were paired against Charlotte. She was more than intimidating. You were determined not to let your fear show.
Jericho broke the choke hold, wiggling away from Seth quickly enough that he tagged in Charlotte. Because of the stupid rules, that meant you were in.
“You got this,” Seth said as you switched places.
You vaguely registered the fact that he was especially attractive when he was sweaty. The thought completely drifted away when you locked eyes with Charlotte.
Her smile was smug. And for good reason. You slowly circled each other. You felt like prey being stalked. The feeling didn’t sit well with you.
You attacked first.
In a blink, you were on the ground. Charlotte had the cover. You kicked out at two.
You scrambled away on your butt. You needed to focus. You needed this win.
“Get up, dammit,” Seth yelled.
You growled in general annoyance. Using the ropes as leverage, you pulled yourself to your feet.
You could do this.
You charged Charlotte, grabbing her around her middle. The crowd roared as you flipped her over your head in a suplex. You hooked her leg.
Jericho broke the cover by dragging you away by your leg. You flailed, kicking at him. Seth appeared, superkicking Jericho, who let you go as he fell.
Fuming, you started kicking Jericho’s middle.
“Whoa, whoa,” Seth grabbed you by your middle and dragged you, flailing, away from Jericho. His bare chest was slick and warm against your back. For a moment, you didn’t hate the skimpy sports bra you were wearing.
“Put me down!” You shrieked. You elbowed him in the stomach, rolling away when he dropped you. You turned on him, fuming. He was bent over, clutching his stomach. “I don’t need your help!”
When he straightened, his face was set in anger. He started to say something, but you pushed him as hard as you could. The crowd reacted with “oooh”s.
Seth barely budged. His jaw clenched as he glared at you.
Then an arm was around your middle and Charlotte pulled you into a small package. Surprised, you didn’t react in time.
One, two, three.
The bell clanged and Charlotte let you go.
You covered your face with your hands. Once more, you let your temper get the best of you.
When you opened your eyes, Seth was standing over you. His hands were clenched into fists.
“What was that?” He demanded.
You slowly climbed to your feet and ignored him. Charlotte and Jericho were already down the ramp, celebrating their victory. You watched them, angry and defeated.
“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N, I’m talking to you.” Seth’s voice suddenly came over the arena. You turned to find him with microphone in hand. “What’s wrong with you? You claim to be a fighter, huh? You’re the best thing to happening to the women’s division, huh?”
Without a microphone, you raise your chin, glaring at him the best you could.
“You’re nothing but a pain in the ass. A whiney little girl.”
Your anger boiled. You stomped over to Seth. He didn’t move when you pushed at him again. Damn his strength.
You grabbed the microphone out of his hand. “I’m a pain in the ass?! That’s rich, coming from the cockiest jerk in the company. Tell me, Seth, when was the last time you won a match when it mattered? Huh, ‘champ?’ When push comes to shove, at the end of the day, you can’t. Get. It. Up.” The crowd went crazy at that.
You dropped the mic at his feet. In your haze of hurt and anger, you made the stupid mistake of staring at him and taking a step closer. The look on his face was dangerous. You didn’t care. You weren’t going to take his brand of shit anymore.
That’s when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him. Then his mouth was on yours and your head was spinning and the crowd was roaring or was that the blood in your ears?
You kissed him back because damn if you haven’t thought about it. And like everything else, he knew what he was doing.
He broke the kiss first. His self centered smirk turned your passion back into rage.
Two can play this game.
Bracing yourself with his shoulders, you jumped up, pulling his face back down to yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The bastard held you as if you weighed nothing.
Then you maneuvered so your legs were at his shoulders and your head was near the ground. And you threw him in a hurricanrana.
You left him, stunned, in the middle of the ring.
Everyone stared at you backstage but no one talked to you. You stormed into the women’s locker room and punched one of the metal lockers. The wrap around your knuckles numbed the pain.
You looked up. Bayley, Nia, and Sasha were in the locker room. You didn’t even know that they were still here.
“Peachy.” Your cutting tone proved that you weren’t so peachy. You swung another punch at an open locker. It slammed shut with a satisfying bang.
The door to the locker room swung open. You glared at the entrant.
Seth FREAKIN Rollins. With his bare chest and his drying hair and his god damn arms.
“Get out,” he growled, casting a glance at the three other women.
You ignored everything around you as they left. You started unwrapping your knuckles, really pulling at the tape.
“What the fuck was that?”
You continued ignoring Seth, turning your back on him. One hand was free from the tape. You worked on the other hand.
“Don’t fucking turn your back to me.” His hand on your shoulder. It took all your effort to not flip him over your shoulder. Or try, anyway. You knew he only sold that hurricanarra because it would look cool, because the audience would pop, because his reputation could take it.
That pissed you off even more.
But you let him spin you around. You slapped his hands away.
“Don’t touch me, Rollins,” you said.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, right at the root. “You don’t talk to me like that.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
He leaned in so that his mouth was right next to your ear. His hair tickled your cheek. “Make. Me.” He whispered, his breath hot against your neck.
You snaked your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp as you pulled tight, and tugged at his hair. Hard.
It surprised him enough that he released his hold.
You put a good five foot distance between the two of you. He was bigger, but you fought dirty. There was a reason most of the fans hated you.
“What is your problem?” You yelled.
“My problem?” He cackled there, that infuriating cackle. “Sweetheart, you’re the one with the problem.”
“Yeah, and that problem is named Seth Rollins.”
“Please.” He oozed attitude. “I’ve seen you look at me, babe. You’re just pissy because I won’t fuck you.”
Won’t. That one word hit you in the stomach like a bullet.
You weren’t like most of the women in the division. You didn’t care about looking sexy or being sexy or pretty or anything. You wore pants and boots, not cute bright ones like Bayley, but dark ones. You didn’t wear skimpy tops. You wore sports bras and a tank top. Your hair wasn’t long and curled. You kept it shoulder length and out of your face in two french braids. You were here to kick ass. To dominate. To show them that the women could be just as good as the men.
But it worked too well.
Because even Seth Rollins won’t look your way twice.
You felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes but you refused to cry, especially not in front of him.
Instead, you ripped off the last of the tape from around your hands.
And somehow your anger grew even more.
“Why did you kiss me in the middle of the ring, then?” You asked. Calmly. Too calmly.
Smug. Egotistical. You needed a thesaurus to describe his smirk. “Because I needed to shut you up somehow.”
You smiled. But it was your crazy smile.
“So you’re a tease,” you said.
“I’m not a tease.”
You sigh. “Then I was right. You really can’t get it up.”
He laughed. “This is your plan? This is how you’re trying to seduce me?”
“Rollins, if I were trying to seduce you, you’d be on your back and I’d be sitting on your face.”
“I don’t think so.”
You stepped toward him. “Is that a challenge?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stepping closer to you.
You were chest to chest now.
“Because,” his lips hovered over yours. “I’d have to be interested.”
Your breath hitched as his lips grazed yours, soft, barely there. More like a whisper than a kiss.
“And I’m not.” His heat was gone suddenly. You blinked, unable to focus for a moment. When you did, he was smirking again, across the room, arms folded, biceps bulging. Then he was turning, walking away, leaving.
“What?” You asked. Everything was confusing for a moment. He had that effect on you.
“I said,” he spelled it out slowly, as if your english wasn’t too good. “I’m not interested in you.”
And then he was gone. Final words and all.
You tugged at the last of the wrist wraps and pretended that your eyes weren’t blurry with tears.