Where Fußball Meets Fun!

Notes:

This chapter has never been posted before, but was originally written in September 2018.

Warning:

Infidelity

Freunde hinter Stacheldraht

Chapter 3: As the Wall falls, Union and Hertha's walls fall down

15.

1983

The Cold War, much to Hertha’s relief, stays relatively cold through these four years, even when she played in third division Oberliga Berlin and went back up. Meanwhile, Union still refuses to tell her what happened that horrible Christmas, when the Stasi caught up to their pub meetings, but she guesses it’s okay now. He seems much happier lately.

And you know what makes it better? Hertha never thought she’d say this, but it’s Ronald Reagan’s speech.

“General Secretary Gorbachev,” The US president addresses her and the mass gathered around the Wall, “if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union, Central and South-East Europe, if you seek liberalization, come here to this gate; Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"

At night, tangled in Karlsruhe’s embrace, Hertha dreams of Union instead.

She has the best of both worlds. She hopes it would last.

16.

November 9th, 1989

The Berlin Wall is no more.

After the East German government tells the citizens they are free to cross the borders, Union doesn’t waste his time.

Hertha waits for him, a shining star in a sea of blue and white, and they don’t let go of each other until duty calls. (Until Karlsruhe calls, but Hertha doesn’t tell Union that. She has the best of both worlds, she will keep both of them.)

17.

November 11th, 1989

When Union told her his fans were going to come to her 2. Bundesliga match against SG Wattenscheid 09, she’d expected a few thousand at most, but she underestimated the power of a united Berlin - instead of the usual ten thousand, 55,000 people are coming to watch the match, including FCU coach Karsten Heine and some of his players… apparently, East German passports were accepted as tickets, too!

At the end of the match, the crowd erupts; for two beings with a soul that isn’t quite human, the chants and cheers of their fans are exhilarating, filling their veins with passion and love and vorfreude. When their lips meet, they have never felt so alive.

18.

January 27th, 1990

The day has come. It’s time for the so-called reunification match - over fifty thousand spectators flocked to the Olympic Stadium, including the clubs themselves.

It’s good football. It’s friendship. It’s joy.

Neither Union nor Hertha knows it wouldn’t last.

Notes:

Vorfreude: joyful anticipation

Hertha and Union’s friendship match in 1990, a legendary milestone of the fan friendship attended by 50,000 people. It was so popular that East German passports were accepted as tickets!

Sources: https://www.deutschlandfunk.de/freundschaftsspiel-nach-dem-mauerfall-als-sich-hertha-und-100.html https://www.11freunde.de/bundesliga/die-zerbrochene-freundschaft-a-fe5dfef3-0004-0001-0000-000000377415

Thank you for reading this chapter! Feel free to discuss the story and its historical context with me in the comments~

Notes:

This chapter was first posted on 26 October 2016.

Warning:

- Swearing - Talks of East German government oppression - Violence between fans - Infidelity

Freunde hinter Stacheldraht

Chapter 2: Union and Hertha come together in a city that continues to fall apart

9.

December 23rd, 1980

Out of everything he could send me, Hertha BSC chuckles at the open package in her hands, he sent me an ugly dress. Again.

It’s not like the Old Lady is that fashionable for Western standards, but after four years of going back and forth from her Olympic Stadium to his Alten Försterei, she at least expects her friend to remember that she’s visiting him as a football fan and not a Communist aunt who was forced to defect.

“You could’ve sent me East German marks, Union,” she shakes her head, clicking her tongue in mild disapproval at the mass-produced abomination, “could’ve saved me a lot of money…”

Actually, she thinks, recalling her expensive candlelight dinner in Munich and the bouquet of blue roses from Baden (she still has no clue how her not-quite-boyfriend got ahold of those), that’s not true.

She has a ridiculously wealthy friend in Bayern München and a ridiculously sweet one in Karlsruher SC, but she can’t ask for their help. Not when she’s been declining their Christmas invitations, with their implications of cuddling in front of a fireplace before – she stops herself, just in time.

The Absteiger sighs as guilt worms its way into her heart. Why must she fall in love – in lust – with not one, not two, but three clubs at once? She wishes nothing more to turn her fantasies into reality, to just let herself go, yet, she finds herself unable. Not when it would be at the expense of the other’s feelings.

That’s not the only reason she’s refusing them, though (except for that one time when she and Karlsruhe found themselves alone in his home, Wildparkstadion… but then again, she hadn’t thought her fans would strike a friendship with the Reds’ supporters). Everything is uncertain now, even her Bundesliga fan friendships. Somewhere deep inside, she knows – soon she’ll be sleeping with the enemy, bedding down with Stuttgart and 1860, and no one will bat an eye. Their dynamic ‘capitalist mentality’ makes sure of that.

But with Union, no matter what atrocities they face, she feels secure.

The thought of the younger Berliner elicits a small smile from her, and she rummages through the package once more. Her eyes light up when her fingers close around an envelope.

Dear Hertha,

Somehow, she can almost hear his voice – friendly yet hushed, as if the secret police could hear his comments from a country away,

Sorry to hear about your relegation! I wish we could’ve stayed up. But I kinda expected it for myself, so I wasn’t too sad. Dynamo wouldn’t shut up about it, though. That bastard.

She can’t help but laugh. ‘Sorry to hear about your relegation’ would be nice to hear at the end of last season, but after the 21st matchday in the second division, it just sounds silly.

Anyway, how are you?

She just beat her city rivals TeBe Berlin 2-0, so ‘never better’.

I hope you’re doing great, or at least better than Chemie Leipzig.

Damn, she shudders. What now?

They caught him and his fans smuggling stuff to Hannover a week ago, and… let’s just say he’s not the same. He can’t even walk right anymore.

Her heart stops. Union often tells her stories of reckless personifications and fans punished in horrific ways, warnings to their already cash-strapped, repressed clubs, but it still infuriates her. How could they? Don’t they have a conscience?

…sorry, got carried away.

She glares, hot tears still stinging her eyes.

I didn’t write you a long-ass letter to tell you about the millionth fucked up ‘incident’ at my place…

Of course you didn’t.

In fact, I wrote this to tell you I’m really excited about tomorrow!

Her anger fades away.

We’ve prepared something special for you Herthaners, so don’t you dare sleep in – we’ll be waiting!

Union

P.S. Merry Christmas! Hope you like the dress!

“Toothbrush… passport… and done!” Hertha whoops, wiping sweat off her forehead. With a triumphant smile, she presses both sides the case, flattening its contents before closing it with a satisfying zip.

After brushing dust off her clothes, she throws herself onto her bed, reveling in the softness of the mattress beneath her. Her taut muscles slowly loosen as she closes her eyes, and soon enough, she arrives in the state between wakefulness and sleep, reminiscing about 1977 and the defining moment in their relationship…

“…you’re crazy, you know that?!”

Hertha BSC laughed at her new friend’s playful accusation, loud enough for him to hear over the thousands of fans chanting around them. “Crazy is good, right?” she shouted as she jumped and clapped to the rhythm of the songs. Union, though, fixed his gaze on the large patch sewn on the back of her denim jacket. “Not when the whole world can see it!” he yelled.

“That’s the point!”

He scowled at her. “This isn’t your country, Hertha!”

A heavy silence fell between them as they cheered for the blue-and-white team from Berlin; alas, they had to settle for a 2-1 loss.

“Fucking shit,” Union swore, kicking a beer can on their way out of Slovan Bratislava’s Tehelné Pole Stadium, “yesterday the Pokal, now this…” he grumbled. “Not only did we lose, we’re gonna get fucking arrested because of you!”

“Arrested? What the hell are you on about?!”

“This!” He pointed at the patch on her back, “This shit is gonna get every single one of our fans in jail!”

Of course he’d think that! “Just keep walking,” she commanded, pulling him along by his wrist.

An hour later, the relief was palpable. They’d escaped the watchful eyes of Czechoslovak officers and, as their eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior of this typical Eastern Bloc bar, the Germans prepared to drink away their defeat.

“Now, what’s with that ‘eine Nation’ shit?” Union asked.

“What ‘eine Nation’ shit?” asked the youngest supporter at the table (Hertha didn’t know if he was hers or his, as everyone came in her colors to avoid suspicion, but she guessed it didn’t matter).

“This,” Hertha said, turning her back to display a map of Berlin, so massive it nearly covered the entirety of her jacket. Between Eisern Union’s crest in the East and Hertha’s in the West, a red line marked the Wall,  over which two hands – one red, one blue – intertwined in solidarity. The words “HERTHA UND UNION – EINE NATION” appeared below.

“You’ve got huge balls, lady,” remarked another supporter, his awe obvious, “did you make it yourself?”

“Does it matter?!” Union cut in, slamming the table with his fists, “If they see her, we’re all dead!”

“Calm down, mate,” the young supporter said, “we’re still here.”

“He’s right,” Hertha smirked, “we didn’t make these to get us all killed, you know.”

The boy looked confused. “We?”

“Hertha fans,” she replied.

“Oh!” His eyes widened. “Both of us are FCU fans,” he explained, “I’m Thomas, and this is Alex. Are you both from the West?”

“I am,” she said, “but he’s an Unioner like you two.”

“Well, this is interesting,” Thomas laughed and turned toward Union. “What’s your name?”

Hertha perked up. I wonder what he chose…

Union’s cheeks turned pink. “Wolfgang,” he muttered.

So he’d named himself after his goalkeeper…but why was he so uncomfortable about it?

“And you, Miss…?” Alex asked.

“Hertha,” she answered. The surprise on the brothers’ faces was funny enough, but Union’s scandalized look was priceless. In response, she flashed them her most charming grin. “My parents have been fans since the war ended,” she continued, the well-practiced lie sliding off her tongue.

“That’s nice,” Union spat, arms crossed, “now we know the name of the woman responsible for our future arrest.”

“Shut up,” she shot back, “you didn’t even let me explain.”

He huffed in response.

“I know we’ve been exchanging fan articles for a few years now, and wearing both red and blue in our matches, but we think it’s not enough. We want more people to know that Union and Hertha are friends, so we started making these.”

Before her friend could protest, she continued, “We know it’s dangerous, but listen… The media is strong. Stronger than your secret police, even. So if we get the whole world to notice us, the Stasi will be too afraid to do anything.”

“The Stasi? Afraid? You Wessis are delusional!”

Alex and Thomas exchanged glances.

“She’s right, you know. We can make this work.” argued Alex.

“Not to mention she’s still alive,” Thomas added.

Hertha met Union’s sharp gaze, her blue eyes imploring. He conceded defeat, signaling for another round of drinks.

The moment Alex and Thomas left, Union –who’d drank enough beer to finally loosen up – attempted to focus his eyes long enough to stare at Hertha, his eyebrows furrowed in what she thought was confusion.

“Hertha?” he slurred, leaning closer and closer. God, his breath stinks…“Why’re you Hertha?” he asked.

She frowned. She’d seen her friend drunk before, but this made quite a change from just smiling dumbly at everyone passing their table. “What do you mean?”

“‘Me Wolfgang,” he replied, pointing at himself, than at her, “you’re Hertha. ‘S unfair!”

“Unfair how?” she questioned. “It was your own choice.”

The younger club shook his head vigorously. “It’s them.” He peered through his fingers. “You pick your own name?”

“We do. Most of us name ourselves after our favorite players.”

“Go on….”

“For example,” she continued, barely resisting the urge to snicker at her fellow Western clubs’ choice of pseudonyms, “Bayern’s name is Franziska Beckenbauer.”

He frowned. “Franziska?”

“She prefers Franz, though,” Hertha replied fondly, remembering the days she and the Bavarian had spent together.

“Ohhhhhh, I thought Bayern was a girl too.”

“Union, she is!”

“Niiiiiiice,” Union drawled. And he promptly face-planted on the table, unconscious.

He was much heavier than she’d thought. Alex and Thomas had offered to help her, but Hertha found herself refusing out of… what? She couldn’t explain it.

It just feels right to carry him in her arms.

Yes, his clothes were damp with sweat, and he reeked of alcohol, but for the first time in her life, she saw him truly blissful. His usual tenseness was gone, and his eyes, ever-so-cautious when awake, were devoid of worry.

The Old Lady didn’t consider her scrawny, messy-haired friend attractive, but his smile, god, it was beautiful. She wished he had more reasons to smile when he was awake…

Hertha stares at the ceiling, remembering.

To Union’s surprise, their reckless tactics worked. They still heard reports of the Stasi marking thousands of fans, but as the friendship grew in fame, the punishments ceased. The East Berliner no longer arrived home to a raided house; no longer were the DDR clubs fined for their fans’ clandestine adventures.

She can’t imagine how exciting it would be if – no, when – they actually become one nation. After all, they’d come this far with a Wall between them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem this war will end any time soon.

Guess I have to settle for secret meetings for now… see you tomorrow, Union.

10.

That morning Hertha had been energized, having dreamt of the events in Prague. It had been an insane day, her infamous Ultras group Hertha-Frösche wreaking havoc throughout. Union, being his paranoid self, didn’t want to join them at first but soon he followed his supporters into the action.

“Who’s crazy now?” she grinned.

He shot her a look as he slung his second opposition banner on his shoulder. “Shut up,” he said, “you bought us tickets. It’s only right if we help you guys in return!”

“Sure, Union,” she teased, gracing another banner with a graffiti’d middle finger, “sure.”

Now, though… well, days like this one really make her wish the Wall would ‘just fucking fall’, as Union so eloquently says it.

Extensive inspections. Interrogations. Adhering to that unwritten rule: NO SPEAKING UNLESS SPOKEN TO BY OUR KINDLY OFFICERS. They hadn’t even been offered a single sip of water. Yet she suspected a few of her friends had peed their pants rather than go to the loo. Add in the bleak skies and the biting cold, and it wasn’t an experience she’d wish on even her worst enemies (save Dynamo Berlin).

Thankfully, they’re now entering the pub, a place she doubts could fit all fifty of them. But kindness is rare around here. And it’s got to be better than the goddamn expensive Interhotels the GDR makes them stay in. The innkeeper is an Unioner (and, of course, a Hertha BSC sympathizer) in his sixties.

As he welcomes them, the Blau-Weißen fans turn their attention to the door, applauding and cheering. Hertha’s jaw drops as FC Union fans file in. Soon both sets of fans are exchanging hugs with fans they’ve met before, wishing “Merry Christmas” to new friends they’ve just made. The joy is so palpable that her fatigue simply evaporates.

But where the hell is Union?

Hertha slumps into her seat. No one will admit to knowing a short, young Eiserner named Wolfgang with reddish eyes and tousled blond hair. But he can’t be late! Out of all the stereotypes in their personalities, only one didn’t quite fit: Union, the Ossi, is the one always reminding her to be on time.

So where in the world is he? she wonders, stabbing at her half-finished meat.

Don’t tell me he’s not coming…

Someone knocks against her table, sloshing her drink and attracting her attention. High boots… black pants… leather jacket… piercings… mohawk… rust-red eyes…

She can only blurt out a pathetic, ‘Union?!’ at the oddly familiar punk.

“Hertha!” he exclaims, pulling her into a tight hug, “I missed you so much!”

She says nothing.

Confused by her silence, he lets her go. “What’s wrong?”

Her look says it all.

“Oh, this?” Union laughs, gesturing at himself. She suddenly notices that his boots’ soles are so thick, he’s now taller than her. “Do you like it?”

She’s tempted to say no, but it’s much more fitting than his usual ‘boy-next-door’ look. “I do,” she replies. “But why? I didn’t recognize you at all!”

“Welcome to the eighties,” he smirks. “Yet… you’re still the same.”

Hertha considers her own look. Straightened hair parted in the middle, bright blue flares, turtleneck, denim jacket. She really hasn’t changed at all. “I don’t see a reason to get a makeover.”

“But you keep dyeing your hair,” he teases.

“How many times have I told you?” she asks. “It’s been gray since I was born.”

“You fucking liar. By the way, is this seat taken?”

“Nope,” she answers. “Want a drink?”

Union laughs heartily at that. “You know me so well!”

11.

Everything happened so fast. The surprise Union had promised in his letter turned out to be the biggest Christmas tree Hertha had ever seen in Communist Germany.

After hours of decorating said tree, they partied all night – singing carols, eating, and of course drinking. Unsurprising, then, that she and Union had ended up side by side beneath the mistletoe. Or that they’d spend the rest of the night chatting. She remains surprised, though, at how good that kiss had felt.

A package and a newspaper are waiting at Hertha’s door. She smiles when she picks the box up – it’s a gift from Karlsruhe – and idly flips through the paper. Her jaw drops when she sees the words ‘Bayern’ and ‘violent’ … please, god, don’t let anything happen to her!

A CHRISTMAS VISIT GONE WRONG

Yesterday, Christmas Day 1980, supporters of German champions FC Bayern München travelled 585 kilometers to visit their friends in Berlin. But what they thought would be a festive atmosphere turned out to be a violent one.

“We waited at the meeting point, just like they told us to,” a Bayern fan said, “we never expected anything but a warm welcome.

“The Hertha fans attacked us without provocation,” the 30-year old, who wished to remain anonymous, continued, “they brought weapons; we were outmatched and outnumbered.”

Will the fan friendship remain?

“Certainly not!” another declared, “They almost killed one of us – a woman, no less. If that’s what those Herthaners call ‘friendship’ then we don’t want any part of it!”

Hertha doesn’t read the rest of the news. Not that she can, what with the tears in her eyes and all.

How could this happen? she wonders, setting the offending newspaper on her bedside table. She should’ve known the fans who’d remained at home would arrange a meeting with Bayern’s… They were friends, right?

Some friend you are.

Bayern’s voice breaks into her thoughts, cold and unforgiving… she deserves the rebuke.

Not just because she couldn’t control her fans, and not just because she abandoned one of the only people who accepted her as she was, but a part of her, the part who longs to tear down the Wall, actually wanted this to happen.

Of course, the imaginary Bayern sneers, just get rid of the third wheel. Or was I the fourth?

Stop! Hertha begs, covering her face with her hands. It wasn’t like that!

You could’ve broken up with me personally, but no, you had to attack my fans!

I’m sorry! she sobs (god, it hurts, it hurts, something’s burning in her chest and please s t o p,) I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me!

It’s too late, her old friend growls. Goodbye, Hertha.

12.

In the middle of the night, Hertha’s telephone rings.

Under her covers, she squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.

13.

The next morning, the West Berliner wakes up to someone banging on her door.

It’s VfL Bochum. Bayern’s real friend.

“She’s in the hospital,” he chokes out, “and it’s all your fault!”

She slams the door in his face.

14.

“It’s not your fault.” The match has just ended and Union has his arm  around her shoulders as he guides her home, “don’t you dare think that.”

Hertha says nothing.

“Hey,” he says, gently turning her to face him, “it wasn’t your fault, okay? You can’t control your fans. None of us can.”

His rust-red eyes are shining with forgiveness – forgiveness she has yet to show herself. She wants to hug him so badly, but –

You don’t deserve it!

“I could’ve,” she retorts, wiping her tears with dirty sleeves, “I should’ve gone home… Whenever I close my eyes, I hear Bayern scream… I could’ve saved her!”

At the last word, Union closes the distance between them, his breath mingling with hers. The falling snow weighs on their coats and chills their bones, but the feeling of his body against hers, of his acceptance, is pure warmth. She melts into his embrace, little by little, just like the way she did under the mistletoe a lifetime ago…

“It’s okay to make mistakes, Hertha,” he whispers, a gloved hand stroking her hair while the other steadies her shaking form. “Cry if you need to.”

Yes, just cry, traitor. You’re clearly the victim here.

She lets her head fall on the smaller club’s shoulder.

“Hertha?” Union calls, alarmed by her silence, “Hertha, are you okay?”

She shakes her head fervently. (Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry) “So… c-cold…”

“Shit,” Union swears under his breath. “We gotta get you home.”

The walk takes just a few minutes, thank god. She stands at her door, her hands shaking, hoping the  stupid key will go inside this goddamn hole –

“Do you need a hand?” her friend asks, leaning so, so close she feels his breath once more.

“N-no, thanks,” she sputters, finally forcing it in. “See? The door’s open now. You should go home, too. It’s late.”

“Alright,” Union says reluctantly, “see you later, Hertha.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

The moment the door closes, she breaks down, tears cascading down her cheeks. She shouldn’t cry herself to sleep yet again, but it’s the only way to block out thoughts of the attack, the only way to avoid hearing Bochum’s accusation again and again… oh, if only he’d stay…

“Union!” she cries, slamming the door open, “Union!”

She runs out of the house, yelling for her friend, not even noticing the bitterly cold air. But the snowfall is so heavy it’s impossible to ignore. For a moment, she curses his bleached hair. “Union! Come back!”

“Hertha!”

She spots him running towards her, long coat swishing behind him. It’s frankly a ridiculous sight, but she has no time to think about it.

“Let’s get inside!” he shouts over the wind, “It’s fucking freezing out here!”

“God, I’m never going outside again,” Union groans, collapsing to the floor beside her. “so, what now?”

With an enigmatic smile, Hertha stands up, takes off her shoes, and hangs up her coat. “You can take a warm bath, if you want to.”

“You look like you need it more than me,” he remarks, looking her up and down.

She turns to walk upstairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” he yells. “It’s not nice to just abandon a guest!”

Despite everything, he managed to make her chuckle.

“Hertha, wait up!”

“What, can’t catch up to an old lady?” she teases, staring down at Union, who’s a few steps below her on the staircase.

Disbelief fills his eyes at this. “Is that a challenge?”

“Why don’t you come in to find out?”

For once, Hertha wakes up earlier than her Eastern counterpart.

And damn, she muses, he’s even cuter sleeping than he is wasted.

Although the wall separating their countries isn’t showing any sign of tumbling down, the wall between them sure had.

Notes:

As the old website once said, Coming soon: post-wall, both literal and metaphorical.

Absteiger: Relegated club

This link had a great explanation of the history of the Union/Hertha fan friendship.

As the years went by, the GDR (East German) government became increasingly worried, because it wasn’t only Union who has Western (Hertha) sympathies, but that Hertha has sympathies for the East (Union) as well. Why did this happen?

Well, Union’s greatest rival is BFC Dynamo, the Stasi-sponsored perpetual champions. In the eyes of Union fans, Hertha are fellow underdogs, so they are attracted to each other.

Source: https://www.11freunde.de/bundesliga/es-gibs-nur-zwei-meister-an-der-spree-union-und-hertha-bsc-a-f162cd2f-0004-0001-0000-000000564103

The legendary fan friendship between Karlsruher SC and Hertha BSC started on 14 August 1976 and still stands until today. Sources: https://www.herthabsc.com/de/nachrichten/2023/11/geschichte-fanfreundschaft-ksc-2324” https://www.ksc.de/profis/saison/news/show/article/hertha-und-der-ksc-wie-alles-begann/ https://hb98.de/freunde https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cH0O4PAYbo” https://fixupx.com/GGFN_/status/1850135642467864690

The Reds: Die Roten, a nickname for FC Bayern.

FC Bayern and Hertha BSC’s fan friendship began because all the other clubs hate them. Why they hate Bayern is obvious… I’m not sure why they all hate Hertha, though. Hertha and Bayern not only visited each other’s matches, but would also go to Oktoberfest together. The friendship faded out, and later ended, because of Hertha’s relegation in the 1980s.

Sources: https://www.fanpoint-muenchen.de/die-geschichte-unserer-fanfreundschaften https://web.archive.org/web/20210221163130/https://www.hauptstadtfussball.berlin/hertha-bayern https://www.stern.de/sport/fussball/fc-bayern-fanfreundschaft--mit-diesen-anhaengern-koennen-die-muenchner-besonders-gut-32706746.html

Now, I have no damn idea what possessed me to make the friendship end due to fan violence. I unfortunately didn’t do the Loose Canon practice of saving all my sources in 2018. Sorry about that! Maybe I just did it for the drama. It's historical fiction, after all.

The Christmas party where Hertha and Union fans mingle was inspired by the secret party in 1985, where the Stasi arrested fans who went there.

Source: https://www.n-tv.de/sport/fussball/Als-die-Fans-ueber-die-Stasi-siegten-article7122736.html

Notes:

This chapter was first posted on 7 October 2016 on a now-defunct football website.

Warning:

- Excessive swearing

- Consumption of alcohol

- Mentions of the East German government punishing dissidents

Freunde hinter Stacheldraht

Chapter 1: Union and Hertha find each other in a city torn apart

1.

August 24th, 1963

TSC Berlin arrives home from training covered in an extra sheen of sweat, thanks in no small part to the news buzzing on everyone’s television set: Bundesliga. Tonight.

The Wall might not fall now, he grins, throwing himself onto his couch with a beer in hand, but I have a good feeling about this…

~

Ninety minutes later, in the West, another Berlin club rejoices at her one-all draw. The first matchday for West Germany’s national league is finished. But will it change everything?

2.

November 9th, 1963

‘Shit, I should’ve come sooner’ is the first thought that crosses Eisern Union‘s mind as he steps into the bar. Though the tenth matchday won’t start for another hour, the establishment is already packed with football fans. Unfortunately, the pleasant view of mingling fans is blighted by the wine-colored shirts of Dynamo Berlin. His blood boils at the sight of the club gloating in the middle of his ‘supporters’. If only he wasn’t backed by the fucking Stasi…

With a deep breath that does nothing to suppress the urge to throttle his rival, he makes his way to the almost-full bar, asking for a pint of beer.

His order comes not a minute later. After thanking the tired barman, his gaze travels to the wine red crowd around him.

He groans, downing his drink in what he thinks are three gulps, I’m not gonna make it out sober if I keep sitting here.

Even when he looks away from the pile of shit and towards the TV hanging over the bar, he can still hear the grating sound of Dynamo’s voice and his posse’s half-drunken cheering.

Ugh.

He really should’ve come here earlier… his ears are fucking bleeding right now, thanks to the crap Stasi Boy’s ‘fans’ are spewing!

I mean, he thinks, downing his beverage in just a few gulps, sure, Hertha’s lost on six out of nine matchdays, but they are. Not. Shit.

When the last drop slides into his throat, the blond Berliner pauses to catch his breath. Well, he lets out a long sigh, they played like shit when Hamburg and Dortmund steamrolled them… but that does not make them a shitty club!

As if reading his mind, Dynamo’s posse laughs.

He groans for what feels like the millionth time. “One more, please!” TSC shouts.

Another exhausted bartender serves him his second pint, which he grabs straight away.

He doesn’t drink it all in one go, though. He glances at the clock: it says 16:30. Still thirty minutes left – what would his friends say if he got wasted before the starting whistle?

What would Hertha say?

He pauses at the thought of Die Blau-Weißen‘s personification. While he knows Hertha’s players and matches almost as well as his own, he has no idea how the club looks, or how they act, or… anything, really. To be honest, although the mandatory Stasi meetings mean he knows his fellow DDR-Liga clubs by sight, he doesn’t know much beyond the surface. The dictators likely want to keep it that way.

Does Hertha go by a fake identity, too?

While he admits the West is a bit less… oppressive than the East, (he continues drinking at this) he doesn’t know if that leniency stretches to people – beings, whatever – like him. They could be classified as aliens for all he knows!

…Damn, this is getting really weird. He thought he could hold his liquor… focus on Werder – Hertha now, TSC. Focus.

So he shifts his attention to the TV, watching the ads blur into each other until the match begins… after which, the beers blur into each other as well.

Ninety minutes later, wearing a silly drunken smile, he turns to walk home.

Alcohol really does wonders to spice up brave comebacks like this, even if the end result is a draw.

3.

As the season passes, whenever time permits, Die Eisernen watches his blue-and-white counterpart with unparalleled zeal, supporting them through the ups and many downs.

When Hertha finishes 14th, a point above the relegation zone, he sits on his front porch and raises his glass for a toast, letting the wind carry his congratulations over the barbed wire.

4.

The next season, TSC lounges on his terrace every other week.

He doesn’t talk only about matchdays, or how much he hates Dynamo. There are times when he launches himself into a spiel about his hobbies, his favorite food, his crush…

Despite the Wall,

despite the Stasi,

despite the sheer impossibility of it all, he likes to believe Hertha can hear him.

5.

May 16th, 1965

HERTHA BSC DEMOTED AFTER BRIBERY SCANDAL

Although they finished outside the drop zone, Hertha BSC have to part ways with the Bundesliga as they face charges for bribing players to keep playing in what has become a difficult time for West Germans…

His heart clenches.

Liebe Berliner Mauer, can’t you just fall already?

6.

Regionalliga matches are harder to follow, but he couldn’t care less about it.

He just hopes his faith in Hertha will pay off.

7.

It does.

In 1968, Hertha win the promotion play-offs with Kickers Offenbach.

8.

Years later…

It is a summer day  in Berlin.

In the mid-1970s, representatives of the fan groups of both East and West Berliners first make contact with each other.

Not only they start personal friendships and exchange info or fan articles, they start coming to each other’s stadiums in hundreds, their voices united in song-

Ha-ho-he, es gibt nur zwei Meister an der Spree – Union und Hertha BSC! Wir halten zusammen, wie der Wind und das Meer  die blau-weiße Hertha und FC Union! Wir halten zusammen, uns kann nicht trennen – keine Mauer und kein Stacheldraht!

(Ha-ho-he, there are only two champions on the Spree – Union and Hertha BSC! We stick together like the wind and the sea, the blue-white Hertha and FC Union! We stick together, nothing can separate us – not the Wall nor barbed wire!)

The Unioners’ chants remain stuck in the memory of the blue-and-white supporters. They remain in the mind of their beloved club, too.

And so, die Alte Dame finds herself in the Friedrichstraße Station.

Normally, she wouldn’t even consider going there without a good reason (or a well-planned vacation). But ever since she heard her supporters make the trip from Charlottenburg all the way to the Köpenick in a show of solidarity, Hertha couldn’t sleep well. It’s as if something inside her begged that she find  her counterpart-of-sorts in the East – and see them, if possible. So with her admittedly limited resources, she sent them a letter the day before her departure.

And now she waits near the checkpoint, eyeing the people traveling through the borders.

Only after half an hour does a man approach her – perhaps he’s the one she’s looking for.

~

Many things have changed on the Red side of Berlin.

Over the last seven years, not only has Union won the FDGB-Pokal (the East German Cup) and established himself in the first division before getting relegated, promoted, and relegated again, he also won the UEFA Intertoto Cup twice and reached the final stages of the DFB-Pokal almost every season.

…Well, ok. He watched Hertha do all that, but he did more than share their jubilance – he celebrated their victories like they were his own. Unioners all over the East started wearing blue under their red shirts, singing the famous ‘Ha-ho-he’ chant in bars, and casually chatting about European aspirations in between DDR-Liga matches.

But no matter how much he appeared to be carefree, he still steals glances over his shoulder, especially when he’s alone, and every time the Old Lady appears on TV, he discreetly warns his fans, please, not too loud, not here.

And as the Stasi tightens its iron fist around his country, he sets a curfew for himself, earlier and earlier each time people whisper rumors of suspicious disappearances, and stops his weekly ritual. His messages are no longer spoken, but relayed mentally.

When his fans start to cross the border to send – and receive – physical ones, he starts to lose sleep. Every night becomes torture as his imagination runs wild. But it was that faithful match, Hertha’s last home match of the 1973-74 season, that really caused him to panic.

Hertha were 8th, Stuttgart were 10th, so  it was natural for him – and everyone else in that bar – to expect a win, right? His joy after Hertha won 1-0 was quickly replaced by shock. In the dying seconds of the game, he started hearing familiar chants… dangerously familiar ones.

He stayed rooted in his seat until all the patrons left, mesmerized and terrified at the same time.

With the amount of supporters that had crossed, and then been shown on fucking live TV, suspicions were sure to arise. What would the Stasi ask when they got back? He can’t let his supporters suffer, not to mention his club… god knows what they’d do to keep them in line!

To complicate matters, a letter claiming to be from Hertha arrived yesterday.

He tried to read it upside down and backwards and puts it under the lamp on his desk, but there was no trace of invisible ink, no indecipherable code – just plain, simple Hochdeutsch.

After devising an alibi for when the Stasi surely come looking – if they’re not the ones who sent the letter themselves – TSC takes a train to Friedrichstraße.

~

Oh, god.

The garishly-dressed woman he spots right after he leaves the train couldn’t scream Wessi louder if she tried. Who the hell wears metallic flares to a train station? And no self-respecting Ossi would dye their hair silver, for god’s sake.

But maybe she does it on purpose, a part of him suggests, refusing to concede to the headache caused by the assault on his sight, maybe she is trying to grab someone’s attention.

He pauses. And then it clicks.

This is gonna be one hell of a meeting…

~

“You shouldn’t come here dressed like that, you know.”

Hertha gasps when she hears the man’s voice for the first time, but the strange expression on his face ensures her surprise doesn’t last long. In fact, it tugs the edges of her lips upwards. “You’re Union, I assume,” she greets him.

The East Berliner before her blushes, but quickly recovers himself. “That’s me. And you must be Hertha. Nice to finally meet you,” he replies, offering her a hand.

She gives it a firm squeeze. “Likewise.”

“Now, back to the important stuff,” Union says sternly. “Are you dressing like… this… (he gestured towards her clothes at this) on purpose? Because that’s like saying you have a death wish. Do you?”

Union may be sympathetic, Hertha muses, but he obviously is an Ossi. “Yes, since I can’t die regardless of what I wish,” she shrugs, “and…” she stares at him squarely, her deep blue eyes meeting rust red, “don’t you think it’s a bit much for you to talk about safety when your fans are the ones who waltzed into my stadium?”

His features contorted in anger. “I didn’t tell them to ‘waltz’ into your stadium, damn it!” he hisses, the fire in his voice nearly making his whisper a roar. “Also, don’t pretend your fans are innocent. I saw your supporters in my stands, too!

“Do you know how much it could affect my life? My fans’ life?” he continues, throwing his hands up in frustration, “the Stasi’s definitely gonna interrogate us! I don’t care about me, but what if they’re marked as dissidents or something like that? They can’t work anymore, Hertha! How are they going to feed their children?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she snaps, swatting his hand away, “we just met!” Can’t you take a little joke?!

“And?” the Köpenick team spits back, “I’m not the hypocrite, Wessi!”

His use of the degrading nickname extinguishes his own anger. “I’m sorry….”

The 1892-born club crosses her arms on her chest, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. “I’m sorry, too,” she replies after a long silence. “Start over?”

“Yeah,” Union beams, his voice filled with warmth, “I’d love to."

Notes:

As that once-thriving website said at the end of the original post, Tune in (...) for Part 2, when the Wall comes tumbling down...

1963, the first year of the West German Bundesliga (nationwide league), television became widespread in East Germany - in the 1970s, apparently East Germans would have a favourite West German team from watching them over the years. Source: https://www.bpb.de/themen/deutschlandarchiv/199829/fussball-verbindet/

TSC Berlin refers to Turn- und Sportclub Berlin, which was the sports clubs formed by the merging of TSC Oberschöneweide, SC Einheit Berlin, and SC Rotation Berlin at the Central Council of the Youth Organization Free German Youth. Source: https://www.fc-union-berlin.de/en/club/1-fc-union-berlin/club-history-eVO6?tab=41-170

Dynamo Berlin, or BFC Dynamo, has a rich history of being the government’s favourite - the “centre of excellence”. The players of SG Dynamo Dresden (who were top players) were moved to BFC to rival Hertha (from West Berlin). Then, they were sponsored by the secret police. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berliner_FC_Dynamo

Hertha BSC 2-2 Werder Bremen is a match that happened in the inaugural season of the Bundesliga, on 9 November 1963 (Matchday 10). Source: https://www.transfermarkt.com/vergleich/vereineBegegnungen/statistik/86_44

Hertha’s relegation was caused by bribing players to keep staying in the club, because a lot of them wanted to leave due to the isolation and unstable political situation in Berlin Sources: https://www.espn.com/soccer/story/_/id/37620918/hertha-berlin-windhorst-promised-bundesliga-glory-went-wrong https://www.mnufc.com/news/get-know-hertha-berlin

Berliner Mauer: Berlin Wall

Hertha and Offenbach contested a promotion/relegation play-off in 8 May and 22 May 1966-67 Regionalliga (then the 2nd division), but lost that one. Sources: https://datencenter.dfb.de/datencenter/mannschaftsvergleich/hertha-bsc/kickers-offenbach https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1966%E2%80%9367_Regionalliga#Bundesliga_promotion_round

However, in 1967-968, Hertha and Offenbach both finished first in their respective groups and got promoted from the Regionalliga to the Bundesliga. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1967%E2%80%9368_Regionalliga

In the mid-1970s, Hertha and Union Berlin fans started to meet via personal contacts. They started inventing fan chants that show solidarity between the two clubs, such as Ha-ho-he, es gibt nur zwei Mannschaften an der Spree – Union und Hertha BSC! / Wir halten zusammen, wie der Wind und das Meer die blau-weiße Hertha und FC Union! / Wir halten zusammen, uns kann nicht trennen, keine Mauer und kein Stacheldraht! . Continued in this link, Hertha’s matches in Eastern Bloc countries would be visited by Union fans as well. Source: https://www.bpb.de/themen/deutschlandarchiv/199829/fussball-verbindet/

Some of the “unified Germany” fan creations (patches, banners, slogans) are done in private, still. Source: https://www.11freunde.de/bundesliga/es-gibs-nur-zwei-meister-an-der-spree-union-und-hertha-bsc-a-f162cd2f-0004-0001-0000-000000564103

“With the amount of supporters that had crossed, and then been shown on fucking live TV, suspicions were sure to arise.” Yes, Hertha’s chants were broadcast to East German TV as well. Source: https://www.11freunde.de/bundesliga/es-gibs-nur-zwei-meister-an-der-spree-union-und-hertha-bsc-a-f162cd2f-0004-0001-0000-000000564103

Designing the Hessen clubs were fun because I'm basically making their features complementary...

FSV: Dark skin, dark hair, blue eyes, curly hair, strong nose

Kickers: Light skin, light hair, red eyes, curly hair, wide nose

Eintracht: Light skin, dark hair, red eyes, straight hair, strong nose

Darmstadt: Dark skin, light hair, blue eyes, straight hair, button nose

FFC: Tan skin, red hair, blue eyes, curly hair, wide nose. FFC is the "in between"/odd one out because she has no men's team and is pretty much an outsider to the Reveal bullshit until her fusion.

And then of course, the Eintracht + FFC fusion combines their traits (will be explained further below :D)

FSV Frankfurt - she/her (Saskia), he/him (Richard)

For those not in the know, Saskia is the personification of FSV's defunct women's team, while Richard is the personification of the men's team. They have been sharing a body since 1970. This outfit is a combination between Saskia's butch tastes and Richard's femme tastes. (Though the goth style is fully Richard's choice, considering Saskia is a simple dresser... but some goth sub-styles is growing on her). Plus, the ringlets balances Saskia's preference for curly hair and Richard's for straight/relaxed hair. They discuss a lot about what to choose for their shared body! The really respect and love each other <3

FSV Frankfurt is sometimes called the little brother of Eintracht by the fans, so their physical form shares some features, namely the strong nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and black hair. It's more obvious on the photocards, look at it :3

The Frankfurt Gang. They're not literal siblings, and only Richard feels a brotherly bond with Eintracht, but they're best friends. Saskia was even attracted to Eintracht for a bit. Saskia and Richard are not attracted to each other, though. Neither of them is a clone-fucker x)

Kickers Offenbach - he/him

Surrounded by extremely fashionable people, I think I'd like to make Offenbach be more laid back with his style, though with some edginess in the choker and funky shoelaces; the main rival of Eintracht Frankfurt gotta be at least a little edgy (But probably not too much, considering Bayer AG's control). He's got a black-red bracelet to symbolize his fan friendship and partnership with Bayer 04 Leverkusen since the 1980s 🌈

Eintracht Frankfurt (until 2020) - he/him

Ah, Mr. Randalemeister... I thought I might make him fancy like in the funeral outfits, but then again, even for the funeral, he doesn't wear a suit jacket, and is so irreverent still, with no tie and unbuttoned shirt. So I'm making him dress like... I don't even know how to describe this except with the word "sexy". I think in formal wear he also enjoys showing off his body, like this.

This taste in fashion is probably also why it took him his entire life to discover that he is asexual, he likes his physical form and showing it off (not just out of self love, but also because he loves to provoke people), so to dislike sex so much even though he likes people admiring his physical appearance, just baffles him. Sadly, his confidence was shot down a bit by the Kon Man's body shaming. He's recovering from it after the director was ousted!

Here are his accessories:

He is wearing rings for 1. FC Magdeburg, Waldhof Mannheim, FSV Frankfurt, and MSV Duisburg. His patch says "Schwarz-weiss wie Schnee", "Nur die SGE", "Adler im Herzen", and "1899". His belt says "Deutscher Randalemeister".

FFC Frankfurt (until 2020) - she/her

FFC Frankfurt, like her partner slash arch-rival Turbine Potsdam, has a "normie" fashion sense too, though she's hourglass-shaped as opposed to Potsdam's rectangle, and she's more futch than Biene's femme, e.g. with her always keeping her hair short, and preferring to wear no makeup. She dresses more modestly too. She wants to get that Female Gay-ze.

She's also a fangirl who loves not only fiction fandom, but also personification RPF, so of course she's sewn AO3 pockets onto her jeans :p

Here's her accessories:

Pins: "I 🩷 YURI", a football, a rainbow flag, a lavender, "support fangirls", and the DFB logo being crossed out.

Patches: "Addicted to women ⚢", FFC Frankfurt logo

Belt: Frauen-Bundesliga Meisterschale (trophy) buckling the lesbian flag (the pink-orange one)

Fused Frankfurt (2020-) - she/her (FFC), he/him (Eintracht)

This fusion happened when FFC Frankfurt (the club/team) joined forces with Eintracht Frankfurt and became Eintracht's women's team. FFC is absorbed into Eintracht's body, while FFC's body dies and is buried. These two are highly self-assured personifications with rich histories, so conflict is inevitable.

FFC at first is more dysphoric, but as her features start creeping into his body, Eintracht starts to grow more stressed with the changes too.

To be specific, Eintracht's pale skin becomes more tan, his straight hair gets wavier, his wider jaw narrows, his nose widens, his heavy eyelids are gone, his eyes change shape, his body grows curvier on the bust and posterior, and he grows a little taller. Basically, they're getting closer to FFC's features.

They take a while to get used to sharing a body and compromising on what they make or buy (as in, belongings), time used to control the body, gender affirmation (e.g. voice training, binding chest), and so on. Since Eintracht Frankfurt has been through this and is friends with other plural people (FSV Frankfurt, Hamburger SV), he has advice from close friends (and later on, FSV reconciles with FFC).

FFC doesn't like Eintracht's long hair, so she'd prefer to put it in an updo, and she hates having a beard, so Eintracht keeps just the sideburns or shaves it all. She also doesn't share his love for jewelry.

Eintracht doesn't want to dress modestly like FFC, he wants more jewelry, more masculine style, and showing more skin, so they're wearing this blouse with a low neckline, even though he's extremely distressed about his growing bra size and thigh+hip circumference.

SV Darmstadt 98 - she/her

You know, people call someone who is pale "lily white" so I'm giving Darmstadt medium brown skin. Eintracht Frankfurt (pre-fusion) is the one who fits that description, ironically ;p

warning: mentions of transphobia, nonbinary-phobia, slurs, and death (unrelated)

I didn't really think about eastern German clubs besides Union Berlin for "Freunde hinter Stacheldraht". But now, I'm far more interested in them! I thought it's an interesting tension between the disillusion that drives many in the former DDR into extremist/fascist ideology... the fans being like that, and the personification of their favourite clubs not being the "perfect" cis straight white guys that they probably expect.

Carl Zeiss Jena (until 2020) - she/her

Ah, Carl Zeiss Jena, the 2nd division women's club whose men's team is in an even lower division, but the fusion is so interesting to me that I had to make a design and story for her.

Being affiliated to the Zeiss optical company, of course I had to give her glasses. The cat's eye glasses is shaped like her crest somewhat. She has dark blue hair, almost black, and yellow eyes, like the club colors. To contrast the hourglass shaped Energie Cottbus (who also has yellow eyes), she has dark skin and a rectangle shaped body.

She dresses like it's the 1960s because it's just cool to me, no deep reason or anything.

She prefers to have short hair.

FF USV Jena (until 2020) - she/her

The women's club who fused with/was absorbed into Carl Zeiss Jena due to COVID-related financial problems, has been preparing herself to die. She made a will, advance directive, everything.

She wears a combination of flowers (a botanical marvel in the city, and Carl Zeiss Jena's symbol), plus the butterflies (symbolizing death and transformation). To contrast the atheist CZ Jena, FF USV is religious, specifically a hellenic polytheist. She has the inverted torch, which is a symbol of Thanatos.

Her hair is dark brown, but dyed/bleached a lighter brown. Her eyes are a purplish dark blue (purple crest, blue jersey). Her build is fatter and curvier than CZ because of the wider crest.

She dresses like it's the 2000s because it's just fun to me. Although I think it's rare for her to wear clothes that expose a lot of skin like this one. This is just her summer clothes. Otherwise she'd wear like a turtleneck under her top.

She likes growing her hair out really long.

Carl Zeiss Jena (2020-) - she/her

The fusion result combines both Jena traits, the nose is both wide and long, and a tall, curvy build. She has naturally dark brown hair (bleached and dyed silver) and light brown skin, with one eye being yellow and the other being blue. Still needs glasses though. B:P

Jena suddenly feels like she wants to grow out her hair like USV, but CZ's desire for short hair is still in her, too...

Hansa Rostock - he/they

Friendless Jerk Extraordinaire. Being queer and trying their best to deny it gives them constant tension in life.

Hansa's quite fashionable here because SC Freiburg and Borussia Dortmund have dressed him up for his dating endeavor xD Otherwise, he would've just worn a T-shirt and jeans and beanie, and even cover his face with an ultras-like mask, like in Alle Mann Over Board. Still hasn't got the will to take care of their curls, though. Tragic :(

Hansa Rostock and Energie Cottbus are both nonbinary (Rostock is agender/genderless, Cottbus is unlabeled/questioning) and androgynous (in the "minimalist" way, instead of the "maximalist" way that St. Pauli presents themself), and here they both even wear cross-shaped neckwear!

They are an extremely toxic pair who will not hesitate to call each other slurs. They often fight even when they're "dating"... I mean, being deeply in denial, so basically Hansa is like "I'm totally a real normal manly man" and Energie is like "I'm happy to be a woman I'm so cis and straight" even though Energie is also sort of sapphically connected to VfL Osnabrück.

Energie is probably one of Hansa's first pick for the "blindly dating all the 'girls' among personifications".

Hansa Rostock being genderless is basically him thinking, "clubs have no gender, so I don't have a gender either, but unlike those personifications, I accept being a man because I have a ~male body~. I accept if people use 'they/them' because that's what normal people call football teams" (author's note: They do not actually accept being a man... it is a big part of their unhappiness.)

Dynamo Dresden - he/him

Dynamo's hair is based on his crest, naturally. His fancy clothes is based on the Baroque and Rococo architecture in the city. Thank you to neonmice for the inspiration! The contrast between the punk hair and handsome outfit is a fun one ;D

He has an hourglass, broad-shouldered build, and red-gold eyes with gorgeous thick eyelashes, in contrast to the scrawny Hansa Rostock whose eyes are never visible.

Also he's a trans man because I want him to be trans. Also I want him to be super masculine in a pretty way.

Union Berlin - he/him

His style is inspired by "Queen of German Punk" and club-anthem singer Nina Hagen, with the knightly chainmail and morningstar from his mascot, Ritter Keule. He's androgynous to make him stand out amongst the other "Ossis".

Union is wearing green, white, and black piercings, which are the colors of Gladbach.

Bundeslihaha deep lore trivia: Union Berlin is naturally a brunet, as per "Freunde hinter Stacheldraht"! (Though other parts of that story will be changed for Loose Canon.) He bleaches his brown hair into an almost platinum blond.

1 FC Magdeburg - she/her

The brutal fans and brutalist city, inspired by neonmice also (much thanks to them), and also a feminine style as explained in the battle of the gay posse... Techwear is cute and sexy for her pear shaped build. And naturally, it's practical (lots of pockets to carry stuff!) The half-white and half-blue elements are based on her crest, of course. Her bangs are also M-shaped.

Magdeburg has piercings in yellow, blue, and red - the colors of the Axis of Evil (Braunschweig, Mannheim, Frankfurt).

Energie Cottbus - they/them

Energie Cottbus has curly hair because it's rare in the group (only Magdeburg has it), so yeah! The undercut and eyebrows has two cuts/lines just like their crest. Their eyes and hair is yellow/gold/blond because of the crest's laurels.

As discussed in the Hansa Rostock section, I want Energie (and Hansa) to be masculine-of-centre. Cottbus and Rostock do not pursue medical transition, they like their bodies the way they are. Well, except Cottbus is far more confident about it. Hansa on the other hand thinks he's not manly enough because of his sparse facial hair and thin build and other shit he hears from the "manosphere".

I thought Cottbus is a constantly questioning person, considering their fans are swinging between hardcore neo-nazism and trying to fight back against it, so their political views, gender, tastes, etc. is all over the place. They try to be kind and good, though it doesn't work so well at times with their explosive temper, their environment, and also hanging out with Mx. Hansa "wir kriegen euch alle" Rostock.

Cottbus also joins the unethical (but probably funny to the personifications xD) "What will Hansa Rostock come out as?" betting pool, and bets that they're going to come out as a trans woman. I thought it's an interesting idea that Hansa would judge Energie, not just for "failing" to be a woman, but also for "not going all the way" to be more masculine and distance themself from their assigned gender (e.g. wearing a binder, taking testosterone HRT, etc.) and Energie would think that Hansa is so cruel to them specifically because he's the one who "wants to go all the way". (Because transphobia makes no sense.)

To contrast the also-yellow eyed CZ Jena, Energie has light skin. And also, they have an hourglass build like Dynamo Dresden.

Turbine Potsdam - she/her

This is a really fun brush to use tbh. I tried to do an art study of a tumblr artist I like, but their style is really hard to do with a disability like this, so.. like, i've always wanted to do art studies soooo bad all the time. but. well. happy disability pride month everyone!

Bonus: Richard Bornheimer's depression haircut

It's very uneven because he just can't care anymore. I might edit it to be messier later. Saskia is here for him the way he was there for her after the women's team's disbandment.