#sechzig

Bundeslihaha: Oktoberfest 🍻

Wiesn is here! ❤️ Enjoy my drawings of the Munich ladies, Bayern and Sechzig, from 2016 💙

Bundeslihaha: Sechzig x Freiburg

Bundeslihaha 2023/24: Bundeslihaus #2

a.k.a. illustrations for "Der Mörder Hotzenplotz", the FC Augsburg birthday special!

Happy 117th birthday to Fußball-Club Augsburg 1907 e. V.! And if any Augsburg fans come across this post, I wish you a good season ❤️💚🤍

This week, I’ve got an influx of contributors. Check out the Applications page for the updated list, and if you’re one of them, thank you so, so much for helping me with this project!

Bonus: Augsburg, Freiburg, and Sechzig won’t get a drastic redesign because I’m satisfied with their appearance~

(List of small changes: Augsburg - less bulky, darker hair, paler skin, less garish eye color Freiburg - darker and curlier hair, darker eyes Sechzig - none, as of yet)

2. Bundeslihaha: The Squad \o/

A long time ago, I found a Draw the Squad base for 18 people. Yes, eighteen! Can you believe it? Me neither! But it does exist, so before I say anything else, I’d like to thank @redwooded-wood for making it! I hope you don’t mind the changes...

Next person I gotta thank is @rexoubi for her kind comment and for suggesting me to draw the 2. Bundesliga crew <3 Although my hands hurt like hell, I had a lot of fun drawing these dorks :’D I hope you guys enjoy my (temporary) goodbye post! ;)

Real Madrid C.F. had just finished taking a celebratory team photo after his totally deserved win, thank you very much! when he felt something vibrate in his jeans, so hard that he jumped higher than he thought was possible.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, man?” one of his boys asked, snickering.

When he landed, he couldn’t help but join in the laughter - he was on top of the world, now, on the road to his twelfth European title, maybe he’d even be the first to-

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzt.

Oh, yeah, the call, he berated himself, pulling his phone out of his jean pocket. It was probably Perez, in which case, he was fucked unless he answer this instant. Click.

“Sorry, sir,” he said without preamble, “I was-”

“Is this Real Madrid?”

Wait, who the hell was he talking to? He didn’t recognize that voice. And I don’t recognize this number, either, he thought as he looked at the screen, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He knew +49 was the country code for Germany, though. Was this some German fangirl? No wonder that accent sounded familiar. He asked his caller as much, with a note of seduction for good measure.

“Fangirl? You wish!” The voice on the other end spat.

“Who are you, then?!” he demanded, planting his phone-free fist on his hip. I’m having a celebration here!

“1860 Munich,” she replied, less sharply now (although it was like nails scraping on a whiteboard in comparison to his own, perfectly civil tone), “Just wanted to thank you for kicking Bayern’s ass.”

“1860 who?” he asked, vague memories of the past resurfacing, but he still didn’t quite remember her.

“Bayern’s nightmare, kicked your ass in 1966,” she said haughtily, like she just memorized the European Cup Wikipedia page or some shit. “But you could’ve said ‘you’re welcome’, you know. Guessthebastardwasrightforonce!”

“What?”

The girl only scoffed at him. “Forget I said anything. Good-fucking-night!”

He opened his mouth to retort, but she’d already hung up. Fuck you too, he grumbled inwardly. Whoever she is, she’s probably irrelevant.