and then it's called for offside

anonymous asked:

Hello! I'm really sorry that bayern lost the game but I was just wondering why there's so much hate for real over this? There were 2 offside goals but we would have still gone through? And also there were a lot calls not given for each side but I sorta saw Robert coming off and the decision to play mats and boa as being bayerns downfall? You guys still played ridiculously well though and I completely respect that, the hate is just a little much for a newbie- sorry if I offended you!And respect💙

yooooo oh dear no darling anon, you didn’t offend me. Let’s list the reasons why. And if anyone from real or my real mutuals wants to add to this, please be respectful, that’s all i ask

1. Carvajal,Casimero  and the myriad of missed ref calls, bitch is blind idk maybe the ref just don’t see

2. the offside goals,ohohohohoho the offside goals my oh my, there was a tiny, sliver of a chance that if they weren’t counted our morale would stay up but fuck that shit now its aqua passata

3. even if we still didn’t have a chance to win it doesn’t matter because this shows inexcusable decisions that eufa lets past and obviously biased referees which affect the game in poor taste

4. Ancelotti fucking messed up letting the loose bomb that is Vidal that long on the pitch, he took up space when he should’ve been subbed off, when he was given an UNFAIR red card we were down to 10 men whereas if Carlo’s ass moved sooner this could’ve been all fucking avoided.

5. We had to play Mats and Boa because we had no centrebacks left. They wanted to play, we let them play, they put up an amazing fight and i’ve never been prouder of the both of them

6. Ancelotti fucked up again (apparently he forgot he wasn’t managing for Real anymore) and subbed off our main and honestly almost only source of goals this season. Robert Lewandowski. We all love Thomas but he’s been lacking goals this season and while Kimmich is our lord and saviour he isn’t played nearly enough to even deliver goals from the bench.

7. Real is a popular team so y’all just gon have to deal with that like the rest. There’s always been hate against Real, there will always be hate against Real just as there will always be hate against Barca. 

These are all my points, i’m a depressed mess, I hope you see this essay anon because fml I actually wrote this. 

It’s still the Christmas season, right??

Because I am slightly delayed with my Secret Santa gifts…

@jscoutfinch I wish I could say “Surprise!! It’s me! I’m your GFSS!” But…..no LOL. So instead, my darling Jen, I will say I am so glad we have found our way to each other this year - I love our little sojourns to the gutter, our open and rather honest conversations and the absolute hilarity that often ensues.

Merry Christmas lovely lady - all I have to offer are my words so I give them gladly - some fluffy fluff that skirts the edges of something vaguely smutty but does involve our favourite favourites falling for each other again.

And Leroy. I brought him.

ON FF.NET

All I Want For Christmas

“Well, I am not paying for this disaster.” The shrill voice rang in Emma’s ears as yet another unhappy mother jabbed her red painted nails at the images on her computer screen. The small girl featured in the photos sniffled beside her mother, the occasional sob still racking her small body. The lollipop in her hand was doing little to calm her and Emma couldn’t say she blamed the kid.

This was the kind of thing that turned kids off Santa for good.

It was certainly the kind of thing that was turning her off Santa for good. As she reassured yet another irate customer that of course there would be no charge for the photographs, she caught a glimpse of Santa, slouched in his sleigh, his eyes narrowing at the waiting children.

Not that there were too many of them left. This last mother had been particularly vocal, and coupled with the disconcerting wailing from the little girl, the waiting crowd had definitely thinned.

Where the hell had Mary Margaret found this guy?

Emma stalked towards him, doing everything in her power to look imposing while dressed in green tights and pointy shoes. “Come on, Santa, can you quit scaring the kids?”

Santa looked her up and down derisively. “Tell you what, sister, how about you get with the snappy snappy and I’ll bring the Christmas cheer? Last time I checked I’m the one wearing the red suit around here.” Emma was well aware she had been dismissed and made her way back to her camera, shaking her head.

“Come on kid, I haven’t got all day,” Santa barked at the next in line. The little boy was cute as hell, all dark hair and dimpled cheeks, his smile wavering slightly as he approached the sleigh. Santa’s eyes flashed as he clambered towards his lap. “Woah, woah, woah, where do you think you are going, kid? On the seat. Don’t touch the big guy.”

The child’s bottom lip had a definite wobble as Emma lined up her shot, hoping that maybe this time she could get a halfway decent picture before all hell broke loose. Again.

It wasn’t to be.

Christmas had never been her holiday - years in the foster care system followed by years of bad romantic choices had put paid to that. And yet every year she ended up behind this camera, the only employee of her best friend’s promotions company that had the combination of photography and tech skills to run the equipment. And put out the parental fires apparently.

At least last year’s Santa was happy.

The little boy was only moments away from meltdown, his parents hovering beside her. The father looked anxious, reassuring his son gently, coaxing him to smile with a stuffed monkey toy he had pulled from a backpack. The mother, on the other hand, was stalking angrily, her heels clicking on the tiled floors.

“This is ridiculous,” she snapped at Emma. “Since when is it a picture with Grumpy Claus? If you think for one minute I am paying for this…”

Emma sighed deeply, holding in her desire to snap right back by the finest thread. She took a business card from under the counter and slid it to the dark haired woman. “Ma'am,” she said through clenched teeth, “I hear you. But I just take the pictures. Perhaps you should talk to the person who does the hiring?”

“Well if I have anything to do with it, they’ll be doing the firing too,” she threatened. Her demeanor changed as she spoke to her son, her voice softening as she held out her hand to him. “Roland, sweetie, Santa has to feed his reindeer. We’ll come back again when he is less…busy. Let’s go.” Her husband gathered up the kid and they hurried away, leaving Emma glaring at Santa, who just shrugged his shoulders and wandered off towards the gingerbread cottage that doubled as a break room.

Keep reading