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This chapter was formerly posted on Bundeslihaha: Where Fussball Meets Fun Chapter 39.

The idea of making a Bundeslihaha rewrite has been inside me for a few years now, probably soon after I burned out from working on Ask the Bavarian Clubs non-stop for a year. I think I'll try to write a document with the planned plot of ATBC in the next chapter, but since it's finals month, I can't promise anything. But let's go back to Bundeslihaha Redux now~

The idea was born to accommodate "The Reveal", of course. Plot (as explained in the Bundeslihaha blog): the Bundesliga clubs' personifications, who's lived in anonymity for decades, are revealed to the public as a PR stunt to promote the Bundesliga after Germany won the World Cup back in 2014. The clubs are of course not happy about this, and they rebel in various ways: this first draft of Bundeslihaha Redux has the 36 1. and 2. Bundesliga clubs screw up takes on a photoshoot, an idea inspired by Chapter 15: Under the Spotlight from this very fic.

This first version was made before I decided to collaborate with my best friend, amazing writer, and now-partner Nova (http://novanovelwriting.tumblr.com) - they still went by an old name on the Bundeslihaha blog, I really have to change it - and thus was written by me alone. And its author's notes took an entire freaking page lmao. Part of it is because I wanted to post it on Fictionpress as well, which is probably not the best idea. But what category is this on Fanfiction net? This isn't RPF. xD But I digress. Let's go directly to the author's note! (Cut for length obviously :p)

Note: This is the first draft of Bundeslihaha Redux, a rewrite of my 2014 series. To read the original Bundeslihaha, go to archiveofourown (dot) org (slash) series (slash) 155816. But be warned, the writing quality is subpar, and the characterizations will differ greatly from this story. Feel free to give me feedback, though. Improvement is why I wrote Redux in the first place, after all! :)

Also, before anyone asks, THIS STORY IS NOT AFFILIATED WITH HETALIA OR SIMILAR SERIES. That’s why I put it on FictionPress and not FFN.

Haha, yeah, those were the days I RPed with Hetalia OCs on Tumblr as ask-the-bavarian-clubs... I didn't like Hetalia, so I didn't want anyone to think my OCs were made for that fandom.

Warning: This story will contain strong language, drinking, as well as same-sex and polyamorous relationships. Please don’t read if any of those offends you!

Damn. Old fanfic culture, where queerphobes were louder than they are now (which are still pretty damn loud, sadly!), made me have to do this :( or is it football fandom culture? It could be too. I lost all my friends and mutuals and my 15 minutes of fame in the Bundesliga fandom due to this shit, so... (but I have better friends now! And they're queer, too!)

To old readers: Welcome back! Before you continue, please throw everything you remember about the old Bundeslihaha out the window. Done? Good. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy! <3

Harsh but true xD I was kinda ashamed of the old Bundeslihaha at that point in time because it's so old, but now, although I still wince at some of the writing and deleted the more... awful chapters, I find more and more merit in this work. Some of the chapters are actually pretty awesome, and the fact that this project got me to write many original projects until now makes me super proud of Bundeslihaha: Where Fussball Meets Fun <3

But since the author's note is over, let's go to the meat of the story! B)

Bundeslihaha Redux V1

Chapter 1

Frankfurt, June 2014

Germany’s bustling metropolitan was as vibrant as ever. People of every age and race walked the crowded streets, each with a specific purpose, and so did FC Augsburg.

The Bavarian club had dreaded this day since last year, and it only got worse. As he made his way to the designated meeting place (a bar, which was great for his nerves), his palms were sweating uncontrollably, and he had to shove them into the pockets of his jeans to make them stop, but calm down Augsburg calm down , it wasn’t too bad - no one knew who (what) he was, he reminded himself. If this last resort didn’t work, blending in with the crowd would be insanely hard, what with his striking red hair and green eyes and-

“Hey,” someone said, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. Startled, Augsburg whipped his head towards the person behind him - it was Bayern, thank god, how long had he froze there?

“Sorry,” he sputtered, “I just…”

Bayern cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. Now let’s go , Aux. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

Augsburg blanched. “We’re late ?”

“You think?” she hissed. “Come on.”

As expected, the bar was empty, save for the thirty-six clubs, and the bartender looked visibly uncomfortable when Bayern came in like a wrecking ball, a nervous Augsburg in tow.

It was the moment of truth.

“Lights… cameras… action!”

Augsburg did not act.

“Action!” the director shouted, but Augsburg did not, and would not, move an inch. And the others cheered him on.

The director made a small sound of annoyance. Shoving the cameraman aside, he strode towards the silent club on the platform and yelled, “I said action , Augsburg!” His spit flew at Augsburg’s rosy cheeks, ruining the makeup caking his features. “Are you deaf?!”

“No.”

The director gritted his teeth, fists clenched on his sides. “Then why didn’t you read your script?”

Augsburg didn’t answer. On the sidelines, the other clubs stopped cheering - at this moment, as the director’s brown eyes locked into his green ones in a silent battle of wills, you could hear a pin drop.

“Let’s try again,” the director breaks the silence, stomping his way back to his chair. “Action.”

Augsburg ignored the camera once again, turning to the clubs for answers.

Stick to the plan, everyone’s looks seemed to say. So he said nothing, causing the director to start shaking with anger. Hadn’t anyone told the guy about... all this?

The director took deep, calming breaths, and settled on a sigh. “Okay, Augsburg. You look like you could use an example... so I’ll get someone more experienced. Bayern Munich!” he shouted at the crowd, “It’s your turn!”

Yes! Augsburg cheered inwardly. The fight was far from over, true, but at times like this, even the smallest achievements mattered. Even Bayern agreed - when he stepped down from the platform, the reigning champion gave him a pat on the back.

And it was the first of many. When he returned to the sidelines, even his rivals approved.

“Great job, Aux,” Mainz 05, one of said rivals, whispered, slender arms snaking around his shoulders, “you look awful, but great job.”

Augsburg cringed as what little pride he had evaporated. “Don’t call me that.”

“Aww, come on, that’s a cute nickname,” the carnival club purred, a manicured nail trailing down his left cheek, “you want me to call you something else? Like ‘darling?”

“Please don’t.”

“Aux, darling!” Mainz wailed, letting go of Augsburg’s shoulders at last - well, not really wailed, as he followed their plan was to stay as quiet as possible, but he couldn’t hear it as anything else. “You’re hurting my feelings!”

“Shut up, lovebirds,” Eintracht Frankfurt snapped from behind them, “this isn’t the time for your unresolved sexual tension.”

Mainz scoffed. “Sorry, Frankie, I have a girlfriend!”

And I have a boyfriend, Augsburg thought, sighing. If this plan didn’t work, he would have to go back to the closet. Not that he had left it, per se, but… He shook his head. It wasn’t the time to think about his messy love life, it was time to ‘observe’ Bayern’s ‘example’.

Bayern, bless her soul for once, followed the plan to a T - she screwed up every single one of her lines, and they all laughed at her, with her - the director tried to be patient, barking orders for the rest of the crew to calm them down, but it was no use.

“It’s working, Augsburg,” SC Freiburg giggled from beside him, “it’s working!”

“Yes!” Augsburg whooped, pulling her into an uncharacteristically tight hug, and she hugged him back. When the director gave up and left the room, more people joined in, and soon, he was buried under thirty-five other clubs, shrieking and laughing...

That night, without appearing in a single shot, the clubs celebrated-

And the next morning, they all paid the price for their recklessness.

End of Chapter 1 (and of Bundeslihaha Redux V1)

Now, the commentary!

Frankfurt

It's supposed to be close to the DFL's headquarters. Redux was always going to be more "realistic" than WFMF.

The Bavarian club had dreaded this day since last year, and it only got worse. As he made his way to the designated meeting place (a bar, which was great for his nerves), his palms were sweating uncontrollably, and he had to shove them into the pockets of his jeans to make them stop, but calm down Augsburg calm down , it wasn’t too bad - no one knew who (what) he was, he reminded himself. If this last resort didn’t work, blending in with the crowd would be insanely hard, what with his striking red hair and green eyes and-

Gosh, that sentence is so long. No wonder people thought I'm German. /lh

But on a less jokey note, I really love Augsburg! Not just as a club (because of my special interest in the Augsburger Puppenkiste), but also as a character. He really went and developed a lot because of that whole "Augsburg and the Puppet Masters" thing which I might publish later (now an original story WIP titled No Strings Attached), and I warmed up to him enough to make him a main character, because he's a cool gay. Uh, guy. But he's also gay ;D

“Great job, Aux,” Mainz 05, one of said rivals, whispered, slender arms snaking around his shoulders, “you look awful, but great job.”

1. FSV Mainz 05 is kind of a wild character, now that I think about it. He's the token straight guy (no really, I know many of the pairings - Sechzig/Lautern, FCN/S04, Hertha/KSC - are M/F, but everyone else, including the M/F couples in Bundeslihaha is queer, okay). And Mainz is also really campy, feminine, etc. I think it really helped me be comfortable in my gender expression (I'm not straight but I was ashamed of my gender expression back then). I think it's amazing to write and see this kinda character - loves football, and as heterosexual, allo, and cis as the stereotypical football fan, but is comfortable in his masculinity enough to never put down femininity, including in himself.

Mainz scoffed. “Sorry, Frankie, I have a girlfriend!”

Hahaha, "Frankie". I feel called out.

Does anyone call Frankfurt "Frankie"? Or is it just me not being German and being a silly person?

“Shut up, lovebirds,” Eintracht Frankfurt snapped from behind them, “this isn’t the time for your unresolved sexual tension.”

"Mainz is straight", I say, as I give him UST with everyone. To be honest, I think I subconsciously wanted to. I didn't know I was queer until, like, 2016 xD (did you know Bayern's buff butch handsomeness is what made me realize women are attractive?)

And I have a boyfriend, Augsburg thought, sighing. If this plan didn’t work, he would have to go back to the closet. Not that he had left it, per se, but… He shook his head. It wasn’t the time to think about his messy love life,

Oh, Augsie. His messy love life was also a part of No Strings Attached back in 2018, before it was even called that (the first version was actually called Augsburg 2009 and then Augsburg sucht die Liebe or Augsburg Looks for Love). The story followed Augsburg's life outside of the matches, who works as a puppeteer in the Augsburg Puppenkiste under the ridiculous pseudonym of "August Schwab". There, he meets and befriends an arrogant young man by the name of Max and later strike a relationship with him and befriended a quiet and smart young woman named Juli. They both appeared a lot in Ask the Bavarian Clubs.

Max has since been reworked into a young woman named Maxine instead, but still shares other story elements with her old version. And actually, as you can see on my original work blog (linked above, or http://feuerverse.tumblr.com), Max has become my new favorite... funny how writing goes sometimes, huh? xP

Chapter Text

Bundeslihaha Redux V2, Chapter 1

No Commentary

To read the chapter with commentary, click here!

Author's Note

Writer/Artist: Frank - @FeuerVerse on Tumblr

German translator (and the one with good ideas): Nova - @NovaNovelWriting on Tumblr

Dedicated to my 2014 self, because without eir hella rad special interest and unending commitment, I wouldn't be making this reboot.

Warnings: Same as Bundeslihaha: Where Fussball Meets Fun - swearing, drinking, slight violence, suggestive themes, and non-graphic sex and nudity (usually played for laughs). Now also contains discussions of xenophobia, racism, queerphobia, ableism, etc.

If you hate minorities for some reason, you really should find another gijinka story. Thanks in advance.

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

VfB Stuttgart always has a nagging feeling that something is wrong - a constant blip in his head like a pebble in his shoe, not helped by the too-loud sound of the train he's currently riding.

It's a bad omen, his boyfriend Fritz would say. Mostly at how Stuttgart carries himself lately. Like an evil entity is ready to do either of these two things: 1) to prod the tip of an electric baton onto his spine, and 2) push an invisible button and remind him this reality is the dream, and his lost dreams are reality.

The Swabian can chalk his worries up to the management, of course. They shape his personality like they shape his appearance - he's been blonde (like now), he's been a brunette, he's probably gotten a taste of every shade in between - but.

But. It's been wrong for a long time now. He didn't remember the exact date, but it started? Ended? when he woke up from a most bizarre dream...

It was May 2017. He was in Munich, celebrating Sechzig's birthday - okay, more like ruining it - by clinging to Kaiserslautern (supposedly her boyfriend) to make her jealous as she tried to make Lautern jealous by clinging to Freiburg (dressed in a figure-hugging sundress) and Dortmund (in an extremely low-cut V-neck and too-tight jeans)... it was a disaster. So much of a disaster that somehow, Bayern (of all people) had come to drag Sechzig's drunk ass out of the bar, grumbling at the noise from Dortmund and Lautern's making out in the corner - noise that sent red-hot jealousy through Stuttgart's dream-veins.

Stuttgart was ready to ditch when somehow, Augsburg appeared, and of course, Freiburg had taken to trying to get the stoic man to smile. Stuttgart had never met Augsburg - or any other club, really - but why he'd ever spend his free time in Munich, Stuttgart had no idea. He wasn't going to ask, though, much less ask his fellow Swabian to make out to make Lautern jealous, because, he could never, ever get laid by the Red Devil himself. Yeah. To the point that Lautern had somehow chosen to impregnate Karlsruhe last year instead of him. How dare he!? (Then he realized how childish that was.) Thus, Stuttgart geared up to go home...

Until Freiburg tapped him on the shoulder, Augsburg in tow.

"Let's get a drink, all three of us," Freiburg said graciously, suspiciously, "My treat."

With narrowed eyes, Stuttgart planted his hands on his hips. "What's the occasion?"

Freiburg tilted her head, brown curls bouncing as she did. "Can't a girl just buy her frienemy a drink?"

She cannot be serious. "Frienemy?"

Freiburg's lips arched into a pout; she crossed her arms on her chest. "We're not friends, Stuggi," she whined, "But I know stress when I see it." She turned to the man behind her. "C'mon, Augsie, back me up."

Augsburg smiled tightly. "She's also offering me a drink, so I know it's not poisoned."

"Alright, fine," Stuttgart found himself saying. He was promptly rewarded by a cheering Freiburg and a tall glass of beer, but before he could sit down, Augsburg planted himself between him and the Badenser. His broad figure ( what a fucking twunk, Stuttgart thought) was the perfect wall, like the strong walls of FCA's defense.

"Smart move, Datschiburg," Stuttgart smirked. "Stopping a Baden-Württemberg bar fight before it happens."

"You two should really chill with the nicknames," Augsburg said stiffly. He held his glass with a vice-like grip, but sipped his beer like the Royal Family would sip English Breakfast from an expensive porcelain cup. "Kickers will kick whoever's ass gets too chummy with me."

"He's a possessive creep, Augsie, I'm telling you!" Freiburg cried, slamming her already half-empty Tannen glass, "You should tell him you're taken!"

Stuttgart had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn't want to look too out of the loop. "Trouble in paradise, Emperor Augustus?"

Augsburg groaned.

"C'mon, Your Majesty," Stuttgart teased, elbowing the younger club on his side, "It's not a pet name! Kickers is truly a creep if he can't even let your friends be friendly."

"Stuggi's right," Freiburg replied, "And it's not fair to Max either, is it?"

Augsburg shot up from his stool, so fast that the round cushion spinned around its supposedly-fixed axis.

"Don't bring him into this," he snarled, pointing a finger at the Baden club - Stuttgart was acutely aware of the studded bracelet on Augsburg's other wrist when he slammed money on the bar with it. "I'm out of here."

Stuttgart could only watch as Augsburg stormed off out of the bar, into... a white light behind the door?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes. That couldn't be right! But when he looked around, all the windows were bright, blinding white, except where it ripped, revealing a kaleidoscope of colors that swallowed Augsburg whole.

"Freiburg!" Stuttgart cried, heart thundering inside his chest for the stranger, for his dream-friend, "Freiburg, he's gone!" He shook her smaller frame, his brown eyes meeting Badenian-wine red. "We have to save him!"

Freiburg merely downed her alcohol, legs crossed, not saying a word - of all people, how could Sport-Club freaking Freiburg leave an innocent club?!

So he sprung off his chair and ran to the door. Locked. He tried to ram its handle, kick its frame, push and pull and heave and why isn't it opening?!

"Stuttgart," Freiburg says sadly, suddenly appearing by his side and squeezing his shoulder, "We can't save him." Behind her, the bar burst into white, and the white burst into colors, bringing the bartender, the glass, Lautern, Dortmund... "And no one can save us."

"What do you mean?" His voice was shrill, unfamiliar to his ears, as he held on to Freiburg's (fading, ripping, bursting) arms. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"Wake up," she commanded, and Stuttgart woke up with a start. He expected a stabbing hangover, a searing pain, a sense of dread, anything-

His tense muscles relaxed, tiredness gone thanks to his being well-rested, somehow, despite the nightmare.

Can't complain about that , Stuttgart thought, straightening himself. He looked left, expecting Lautern, but of course, empty space was his only friend - he wondered if he'd woken up in this good universe, where Lautern was his boyfriend, or the bad universe, where personifications couldn't even see each other.

If the former, he guessed he hadn't taken up Lautern's offer to go to Munich, after all. That was fine. He was prepared for lonely days, considering Karlsruhe lived a few blocks away and always enjoyed a quick shag, the cuckold. He wondered how Hertha hadn't realized her boyfriend of 40-plus years enjoyed cheating on her, or that the redheaded girl Karlsruhe had given birth to, the girl she called her daughter, was obviously fathered by Lautern.

But nothing could prepare him for the weird, old-fashioned phone that greeted him on his bedside table: he'd woken up in the bad timeline. Fuck.

He despises this so much. He hated living in a flat, not a house, he wished he'd woken up in the reality where he lived in a neighborhood full of clubs...

"All personifications are hidden," his bosses in this universe had explained, "Anonymity ensures your safety and privacy, Stuttgart."

He was like, whatever, right? But then, he never dreamed of the good universe again. Not even when he tried, prayed to whatever would listen, not even when thinking about Lautern all day.

Since then, Stuttgart grudgingly sticks with the fake identity of "Armin Hitzlsperger". ('Cause he's a gay champion.) It's weird to have to live without some of the things he'd depended on in his dreams, like 280-character tweets, Alexa, and open relationships with other clubs, but he tries his best, gets used to his job (personifications have a job here: to help club affairs. Transfers, training, whatever they need him for. Apparently they're not just mascots who could slack off, like in his dreams). He has his team. He has great friends. He has Fritz. And he's taller now, thank god. Because in those dreams, he was ridiculously short, the top of his head only reaching up to Karlsruhe's ear. For some reason, Stuttgart dreamed of that fucking Badenser (pun intended) a lot.

As the train zooms forward, Stuttgart wonders: why so many dreams about Karlsruhe? Why so many dreams about the Drittligist being pregnant with Lautern's child? How does that even work? 

He'd never met Karlsruhe in "real life", of course. But now he wonders... has the blue-white parasite been trying to communicate with him through these "dreams"? How about the others? Is it a bad omen? Is it a special power personifications have? To find each other through dreams since they're all isolated?

But that can't work. It's been a month and Stuttgart never dreams about 2017 anymore; also, the memories of that life has begun to fade. And he can't even begin to understand just what the hell was that barmageddon shit with Freiburg and Augsburg! There must've been context, backstory... Why were they all in a web of love problems? Who in the world was Max? Was VfB Stuttgart prophesied to be eternally FWBs with his mortal enemy? To befriend his lesser archrival?

Heh, "prophesied". While the proud Traditionsverein in him puffed his chest in pride, the more rational part of him balked at the notion. Like any prophecy would choose him... Bayern won the treble, you know. Unlike him, the Bavarian would fit the "chosen one" title, if there was one.

Just as the self-deprecating thought settles in his mind (and boils, because like every faded champion, sleeping giant, what-have-you, Stuttgart always takes the chance to wallow in negativity), the train lurches to a stop.

"Frankfurt Central Station," the announcer's voice rings out.

"Finally," Stuttgart groans, louder than his frankly annoying thoughts. He squeezes himself out of the crowded train with a grunt, stumbling slightly as he lands on one leg - he tries to right his alignment, but another person bumps into him from the back, sending them both to the platform.

A curse under his breath, Stuttgart pushes himself up - god, he hopes his nose isn't broken or anything. Being a personification, he heals up from normal wounds fast, but it's still annoying.

"I'm sorry," the person who bumped onto him says, a legit concerned frown in their face as they extend a hand to help him, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Stuttgart takes it; lets them pull him up. "No prob," he says, when he notices the nametag-necklace hanging down their neck.

Wide brown eyes dart to the stranger - the other personification's - face. They've got freckles, loads of 'em. Longish, messy black hair. Wide eyes. Tan skin. Patchy stubble. They don't look like anyone in his dreams, but they're the first club he meets.

"Going to DFL too?" he asks anyway, because. Because!

"Mm-hmm," they reply. "But let's get out of the way, people need to pass."

They - he? speaks full Badisch. So there are two choices: Hoffenheim or Freiburg? He's never seen the former, back in his dreams. But why would Hoffenheim talk to him? But that can't be Freiburg. She's... extremely feminine, he remembers. And pushy. Can't imagine Sundress Girl as a guy. Or bump into him by accident .

So, Freiburg or Hoffenheim?

Does it matter? He'll know at the meeting, right?

But the stranger's tugging his sleeve already. With no choice and with his heart pounding against his ribs, Stuttgart follows the shorter club (a real life club! In 2013! Isolated from everyone until this surprise meeting!) to the side.

"Staring is impolite, you know." Frowns the Badenian club, crossing his arms over his chest... before his knitted eyebrows of disapproval loosen to worry. "Is something on my face?"

Stuttgart lets out a long hum, savoring the nasally sound until Shorty's wine-red eyes narrows in annoyance. "Nah," he replies, "Except if you count those freckles."

"Right," the Badenian says tersely... talk about no sense of humor, kid. "Now, I'm sorry for being rude, but I think we should get acquainted after we get to HQ."

"Fine by me," Stuttgart shrugs, ignoring the wrong wrong wrong in his head. "Lead the way, Shortstacks."

To be continued on Chapter 2!

Chapter Text

Bundeslihaha Redux V2, Chapter 1

with Commentary!

To read the chapter without commentary, click here!

Author's Note

Writer/Artist: Frank - @FeuerVerse on Tumblr

German translator (and the one with good ideas): Nova - @NovaNovelWriting on Tumblr

When I said I wanted to widen the reach of Bundeslihaha, my partner offered to translate Bundeslihaha Redux into their native language - you know, I always felt weird that a series about German football is entirely in English, but my German (A1/A2 level) is totally not good enough to make a series in German. So, I took their offer. First for the comic (which got to two chapters into the sketching stage). This plan fell through because a comic was too time-consuming for me, and exacerbated my chronic hand pain. I ended up making a prose version of Bundeslihaha Redux (does that make this one V3?); however, after three chapters were translated in 2018, we both wanted to focus on our own original projects. (We're both writing spy fiction, what are the odds?)

It went well! Their project is going very swimmingly. Mine? Oh, I operated on a different ballpark. They focus on one at a time. I can't do that... I got really bored. So I write 2 original projects in turn... and many, many fanfiction on the side. While the original projects can be found on my writing blog @FeuerVerse, the fanfics can't be found here. They're somewhere else. lol.

Why did I say Nova was "the one with good ideas"? Well, they imagined a lot of scenarios for their own club (VfL Wolfsburg, but they are sympathetic to Union Berlin and FC Augsburg), and it spurred me on a lot. Especially on the Furrionette (Wolfsburg/Augsburg) parts. One of these days, I need to post those ideas of mine that were inspired by them... but you already know some of it! Like this Halloween special comic and the succeeding post. xD

But they also gave more serious ideas. They're just amazing like that.

Dedicated to my 2014 self, because without eir hella rad special interest and unending commitment, I wouldn't be making this reboot.

Warnings: Same as Bundeslihaha: Where Fussball Meets Fun - swearing, drinking, slight violence, suggestive themes, and non-graphic sex and nudity (usually played for laughs). Now also contains discussions of xenophobia, racism, queerphobia, ableism, etc.

If you hate minorities for some reason, you really should find another gijinka story. Thanks in advance.

I wanted Bundeslihaha Redux to comment on social issues related to football and its fandom. Particularly xenophobia/racism, sexism, queerphobia, and increasing commercialism. (Which is why the plot is about the personifications fighting back against ridiculous PR moves like "The Reveal" and the ensuing reality shows.) It's extremely ambitious. In hindsight, I don't think I had the maturity for it back in 2018.

Still... it's something worth making a statement about. As I said in the Bundeslihaha blog... I still really want to share this story and get my ideas out there, even if it takes me 10 years.

It hasn't been 10 years yet since then, so I guess that's pretty cool that I'm sharing these works in progress!

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

Yes, it’s a High School Musical reference. I wanted all the chapter titles to be song titles, because I thought it was neat to find song titles that fit… and play guessing games with the readers!

VfB Stuttgart always has a nagging feeling that something is wrong - a constant blip in his head like a pebble in his shoe, not helped by the too-loud sound of the train he's currently riding.

It's a bad omen, his boyfriend Fritz

Yes. “Fritz” is Kaiserslautern’s pseudonym, from “Fritz Walter”. Yes, Stuttgart coincidentally is dating his boyfriend from the other timeline, because I love dramatic irony. <3

would say. Mostly at how Stuttgart carries himself lately. Like an evil entity is ready to do either of these two things: 1) to prod the tip of an electric baton onto his spine, and 2) push an invisible button and remind him this reality is the dream, and his lost dreams are reality.

Yep. This is the “reality-breaking shit” I told you about in the summary. Did you figure out what was going on?

The Swabian can chalk his worries up to the management, of course. They shape his personality like they shape his appearance - he's been blonde (like now), he's been a brunette, he's probably gotten a taste of every shade in between - but.

But. It's been wrong for a long time now. He didn't remember the exact date, but it started? Ended? when he woke up from a most bizarre dream…

The fact when you don’t sleep in your sleep, but have an entire other life. Ouch. Every personification must be tired as hell in this universe. xD

It was May 2017. He was in Munich, celebrating Sechzig's birthday - okay, more like ruining it - by clinging to Kaiserslautern (supposedly her boyfriend) to make her jealous as she tried to make Lautern jealous by clinging to Freiburg (dressed in a figure-hugging sundress) and Dortmund (in an extremely low-cut V-neck and too-tight jeans)... it was a disaster. So much of a disaster that somehow, Bayern (of all people) had come to drag Sechzig's drunk ass out of the bar, grumbling at the noise from Dortmund and Lautern's making out in the corner - noise that sent red-hot jealousy through Stuttgart's dream-veins.

This is the wild shit that happens in the WFMF universe, all the time. Sometimes I wish I lived there!

Stuttgart was ready to ditch when somehow, Augsburg appeared, and of course, Freiburg had taken to trying to get the stoic man to smile. Stuttgart had never met Augsburg - or any other club, really - but why he'd ever spend his free time in Munich, Stuttgart had no idea. He wasn't going to ask, though, much less ask his fellow Swabian to make out to make Lautern jealous, because, he could never, ever get laid by the Red Devil himself. Yeah. To the point that Lautern had somehow chosen to impregnate Karlsruhe last year instead of him.

How dare he!? (Then he realized how childish that was.) Thus, Stuttgart geared up to go home…

Until Freiburg tapped him on the shoulder, Augsburg in tow.

"Let's get a drink, all three of us," Freiburg said graciously, suspiciously, "My treat."

With narrowed eyes, Stuttgart planted his hands on his hips. "What's the occasion?"

Freiburg tilted her head, brown curls bouncing as she did. "Can't a girl just buy her frienemy a drink?"

She cannot be serious. "Frienemy?"

Freiburg's lips arched into a pout; she crossed her arms on her chest. "We're not friends, Stuggi," she whined, "But I know stress when I see it."

Freiburg/Stuttgart, or FreiStu for short, was also one of my ships. The belligerent sexual tension between these two derby rivals in WFMF was too much. It’s even teased in the Bundeslihaha Redux comic, too! :p

She turned to the man behind her. "C'mon, Augsie, back me up."

Augsburg smiled tightly. "She's also offering me a drink, so I know it's not poisoned."

Freiburg is a ball of sunshine and kindness, like the city and the fans’ reputations. She’s even relatively kind to her rivals (as opposed to, say, Dortmund and Schalke brawling in Chapter 1 .) Many clubs are positively annoyed by her optimism in the WFMF world (though that might also be sexism, who knows?) But their attack-centric (as opposed to defensive) game in the 2. Bundesliga, as well as Christian Streich (their coach)’s outbursts, makes the personification a very hot-tempered person you shouldn’t mess with. (I wish I’d written more of this character!)

Here’s a related personal anecdote. I was going to an SC Freiburg fanpage on Instagram, where they post player line-ups, awareness of social issues, and most of all, memes . On one of it, there’s this Baden vs. Swabia (Schwaben) joke (translated to English):

“Once there was a Badener walking along the river. There, he saw a man trying to drink the river water. The Badener realized the water is poisonous, and went to warn the other man. However, he saw the other’s VfB (Stuttgart) scarf. So he decided to say, ‘drink slowly, dude, the water is cold’.”

This posits that Freiburg would 100% poison Stuttgart.

However, the comments on that post were all along the lines of, “What the hell, admin? We Freiburg fans are above joking about murder!”

So what do I think? As a Freiburg fan, I don’t think they would poison Stuttgart, out of principle. They’d just mock him a lot, as many Freiburg fans (me included) are wont to do. #NoMurder!

"Alright, fine," Stuttgart found himself saying. He was promptly rewarded by a cheering Freiburg and a tall glass of beer, but before he could sit down, Augsburg planted himself between him and the Badenser. His broad figure ( what a fucking twunk, Stuttgart thought) was the perfect wall, like the strong walls of FCA's defense.

"Smart move, Datschiburg," Stuttgart smirked. "Stopping a Baden-Württemberg bar fight before it happens."

“Datschi”, short for “Zwetschgendatschi”, is an Augsburg traditional dessert. It’s a “plum sheet cake”.  Some locals call the city of Augsburg “Datschiburg”, I heard. Gosh, I’m hungry now.

"You two should really chill with the nicknames," Augsburg said stiffly. He held his glass with a vice-like grip, but sipped his beer like the Royal Family would sip English Breakfast from an expensive porcelain cup. "Kickers will kick whoever's ass gets too chummy with me."

"He's a possessive creep, Augsie, I'm telling you!" Freiburg cried, slamming her already half-empty Tannen glass, "You should tell him you're taken!"

Stuttgart had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn't want to look too out of the loop. "Trouble in paradise, Emperor Augustus?"

Augsburg groaned.

"C'mon, Your Majesty," Stuttgart teased, elbowing the younger club on his side, "It's not a pet name! Kickers is truly a creep if he can't even let your friends be friendly."

"Stuggi's right," Freiburg replied, "And it's not fair to Max either, is it?"

Augsburg shot up from his stool, so fast that the round cushion spinned around its supposedly-fixed axis.

"Don't bring him into this," he snarled, pointing a finger at the Baden club - Stuttgart was acutely aware of the studded bracelet on Augsburg's other wrist when he slammed money on the bar with it. "I'm out of here."

Augsburg’s love problems was planned to be a subplot in Ask-the-Bavarian-Clubs . It was cancelled along with the entire blog, but the gist of it is, Augsburg has never met the personification of Kickers Wuerzburg despite the two clubs’ fan friendship. So he already got into a relationship with a human (named Max). Kickers doesn’t like this at all, so Augsburg ends up going backstreet with his human boyfriend, and the only people who know are his human friends, Stuttgart, and Freiburg.

Stuttgart could only watch as Augsburg stormed off out of the bar, into... a white light behind the door?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes. That couldn't be right! But when he looked around, all the windows were bright, blinding white, except where it ripped, revealing a kaleidoscope of colors that swallowed Augsburg whole.

"Freiburg!" Stuttgart cried, heart thundering inside his chest for the stranger, for his dream-friend, "Freiburg, he's gone!" He shook her smaller frame, his brown eyes meeting Badenian-wine red. "We have to save him!"

Freiburg merely downed her alcohol, legs crossed, not saying a word - of all people, how could Sport-Club freaking Freiburg leave an innocent club?!

So he sprung off his chair and ran to the door. Locked. He tried to ram its handle, kick its frame, push and pull and heave and why isn't it opening?!

Stuttgart learns compassion.

"Stuttgart," Freiburg says sadly, suddenly appearing by his side and squeezing his shoulder, "We can't save him." Behind her, the bar burst into white, and the white burst into colors, bringing the bartender, the glass, Lautern, Dortmund... "And no one can save us."

"What do you mean?" His voice was shrill, unfamiliar to his ears, as he held on to Freiburg's (fading, ripping, bursting) arms. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"Wake up," she commanded, and Stuttgart woke up with a start. He expected a stabbing hangover, a searing pain, a sense of dread, anything-

For one second, Freiburg was totally possessed by an omniscient deity or something as reality broke apart around these two.

His tense muscles relaxed, tiredness gone thanks to his being well-rested, somehow, despite the nightmare.

Can't complain about that , Stuttgart thought, straightening himself. He looked left, expecting Lautern, but of course, empty space was his only friend - he wondered if he'd woken up in this good universe, where Lautern was his boyfriend, or the bad universe, where personifications couldn't even see each other.

If the former, he guessed he hadn't taken up Lautern's offer to go to Munich, after all. That was fine. He was prepared for lonely days, considering Karlsruhe lived a few blocks away and always enjoyed a quick shag, the cuckold. He wondered how Hertha hadn't realized her boyfriend of 40-plus years enjoyed cheating on her, or that the redheaded girl Karlsruhe had given birth to, the girl she called her daughter, was obviously fathered by Lautern.

More Dancing With the Red Devil references! So, Karlsruhe got pregnant with Lautern’s kid, because Lautern is a swinger and thinks Karlsruhe is ring-a-ding-ding.

(“Swinger” means “playboy”, and “ring-a-ding-ding” in this context means “hot as fuck”.

Watching Frank Sinatra ruined enhanced my vocabulary. I’d talk like a person from 2021 then suddenly bust out the 1950s slang. And it makes people laugh! Frank Feuerverse is a successful clown!)

Anyway, in my humble opinion, Hertha totally knows that the redheaded girl (named Phoenix) is not her biological child. But she loves the kid too much to care (also she probably enjoyed taking care of a pregnant Karlsruhe.)

But nothing could prepare him for the weird, old-fashioned phone that greeted him on his bedside table: he'd woken up in the bad timeline. Fuck.

He despises this so much. He hated living in a flat, not a house, he wished he'd woken up in the reality where he lived in a neighborhood full of clubs…

I’ve never thought about the logistics of the WFMF universe. It wasn’t important; what was important was the interaction and humor. While I didn’t mean to make it seem like they all live in a Bundesliga Personifications Neighborhood, judging from how easy the clubs met in the main story, it might as well be.

"All personifications are hidden," his bosses in this universe had explained, "Anonymity ensures your safety and privacy, Stuttgart."

He was like, whatever, right? But then, he never dreamed of the good universe again. Not even when he tried, prayed to whatever would listen, not even when thinking about Lautern all day.

In case you’re confused, there are two timelines.

2017: the so-called “good timeline”, which is the WFMF universe. This is now Stuttgart’s dream.

2013: the “bad timeline” (according to Stuttgart), which is the Redux universe. This is now Stuttgart’s real life.

Since then, Stuttgart grudgingly sticks with the fake identity of "Armin Hitzlsperger". ('Cause he's a gay champion.)

Armin Veh was the coach when Stuttgart won the Bundesliga in 2007. Thomas Hitzlsperger is a football player from VfB who came out as gay after he retired.

It's weird to have to live without some of the things he'd depended on in his dreams, like 280-character tweets, Alexa, and open relationships with other clubs, but he tries his best, gets used to his job (personifications have a job here: to help club affairs. Transfers, training, whatever they need him for. Apparently they're not just mascots who could slack off, like in his dreams). He has his team. He has great friends. He has Fritz. And he's taller now, thank god. Because in those dreams, he was ridiculously short, the top of his head only reaching up to Karlsruhe's ear. For some reason, Stuttgart dreamed of that fucking Badenser (pun intended) a lot.

As the train zooms forward, Stuttgart wonders: why so many dreams about Karlsruhe? Why so many dreams about the Drittligist being pregnant with Lautern's child? How does that even work? 

You live in a fanfic world, Mr. VfB. M-preg is a thing. But here is a headcanon I like: Karlsruhe is trans, duh.

He'd never met Karlsruhe in "real life", of course. But now he wonders... has the blue-white parasite been trying to communicate with him through these "dreams"? How about the others? Is it a bad omen? Is it a special power personifications have? To find each other through dreams since they're all isolated?

Unfortunately, you lot don’t have any powers. Sorry!

But that can't work. It's been a month and Stuttgart never dreams about 2017 anymore; also, the memories of that life has begun to fade. And he can't even begin to understand just what the hell was that barmageddon shit with Freiburg and Augsburg! There must've been context, backstory... Why were they all in a web of love problems? Who in the world was Max? Was VfB Stuttgart prophesied to be eternally FWBs with his mortal enemy? To befriend his lesser archrival?

“Barmageddon” will come up again later.

Heh, "prophesied". While the proud Traditionsverein in him puffed his chest in pride, the more rational part of him balked at the notion. Like any prophecy would choose him... Bayern won the treble, you know. Unlike him, the Bavarian would fit the "chosen one" title, if there was one.

Just as the self-deprecating thought settles in his mind (and boils, because like every faded champion, sleeping giant, what-have-you, Stuttgart always takes the chance to wallow in negativity), the train lurches to a stop.

As a fan of a small club, I had to take potshots at fans of big historical clubs-turned-relegation candidates who act like they’re still great. And I think the idea of a Traditionsverein is way too rigid. But that’s a topic for another day!

"Frankfurt Central Station," the announcer's voice rings out.

"Finally," Stuttgart groans, louder than his frankly annoying thoughts. He squeezes himself out of the crowded train with a grunt, stumbling slightly as he lands on one leg - he tries to right his alignment, but another person bumps into him from the back, sending them both to the platform.

A curse under his breath, Stuttgart pushes himself up - god, he hopes his nose isn't broken or anything. Being a personification, he heals up from normal wounds fast, but it's still annoying.

"I'm sorry," the person who bumped into him says, a legit concerned frown in their face as they extend a hand to help him, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Stuttgart takes it; lets them pull him up. "No prob," he says, when he notices the nametag-necklace hanging down their neck.

Wide brown eyes dart to the stranger - the other personification's - face. They've got freckles, loads of 'em. Longish, messy black hair. Wide eyes. Tan skin. Patchy stubble. They don't look like anyone in his dreams, but they're the first club he meets.

"Going to DFL too?" he asks anyway, because. Because!

"Mm-hmm," they reply. "But let's get out of the way, people need to pass."

They - he? speaks full Badisch.

Like Christian Streich, Freiburg speaks in full Badenian dialect. I don’t understand him at all. It’s also the motto of Baden-Wuerttemberg (the state they’re from): Wir koennen alles, ausser Hochdeutsch! (We can do anything except speak standard German!)

So there are two choices: Hoffenheim or Freiburg? He's never seen the former, back in his dreams. But why would Hoffenheim talk to him? But that can't be Freiburg. She's... extremely feminine, he remembers. And pushy. Can't imagine Sundress Girl as a guy. Or bump into him by accident .

So, Freiburg or Hoffenheim?

Does it matter? He'll know at the meeting, right?

But the stranger's tugging his sleeve already. With no choice and with his heart pounding against his ribs, Stuttgart follows the shorter club (a real life club! In 2013! Isolated from everyone until this surprise meeting!) to the side.

"Staring is impolite, you know." Frowns the Badenian club, crossing his arms over his chest... before his knitted eyebrows of disapproval loosen to worry. "Is something on my face?"

Stuttgart lets out a long hum, savoring the nasally sound until Shorty's wine-red eyes narrows in annoyance. "Nah," he replies, "Except if you count those freckles."

"Right," the Badenian says tersely... talk about no sense of humor, kid. "Now, I'm sorry for being rude, but I think we should get acquainted after we get to HQ."

"Fine by me," Stuttgart shrugs, ignoring the wrong wrong wrong in his head. "Lead the way, Shortstacks."

Uh-oh… first change (read: redesign) and Stuggi is already worried. Is Freiburg worried too? Does he have any memories of the bad timeline? What do you think? ;)

Chapter Text

Bundeslihaha Redux: Happy Halloween from SV Darmstadt 98 -

and her terrifying intestine costume!

[ID: A lineless, cartoony digital art of SV Darmstadt 98 from Bundeslihaha. She is a person with dark, warm-toned brown skin, dark blue eyes, flat nose, a bright blue wig with a bob cut, and a blue fleur-de-lis tattoo. She is on the left side of the drawing, grinning cheekily with arms outstretched. She is wearing a dark pink sleeveless dress with a squiggly line pattern, with a light pink bandanna, belt and dress-straps shaped like realistic intestines. She is also wearing light pink gloves that extends to above her elbows. On her right is white text saying “Happy Halloween 2021!”. On the top right and left side are white text saying, “bundeslihaha.tumblr.com” and “31.10.2021″. The background is a deep navy blue. End ID.]

.

The joke is that Darm is the German word for intestines. This is the most cursed thing I’ve drawn in a very long time. I feel a little sick lmao.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Another Medium

The bus driver slams their brakes hard, so hard that everyone inside shoots forward - probably because nobody's speaking and it makes for a boring ride to the land-pilot. Only Stuttgart's grip on the hanging... grip-things... keeps him from falling over entirely.

"This is our stop," says Shorty McFreckles, stepping out the door (that just slid open like a second ago, holy shit), "Come on."

Stuttgart trails him one step behind. The DFL's HQ looms before them, closer and closer, sprouting butterflies in his stomach. He feels like he's not looking ahead anymore. He doesn't even register where the Badenser is... because everyone around him is wearing the same nametags. Everyone here is a personification. But who's who? None of these people look like the faces in his dreams... Except. Except that guy! The wanker who got mad at Freiburg and died in the barmageddon! Sure, he's a bit off. His hair is darker, he's taller, and he looks like a twink instead of a twunk. But Probably-Augsburg is far more familiar than Shorty, so Stuttgart approaches him.

Shortstacks, realizing Stuttgart's gone, follows him, judging from the footsteps on his six.

Why is he following me?

"Hey," Stuttgart greets the ginger, offering a hand. "I'm VfB Stuttgart."

Probably-Augsburg turns to him - he's also paler than in Stuttgart's dreams, his cheeks rosier. He can't help but think of haunted porcelain dolls - or probably, more accurately, haunted puppets - as the ginger beams.

"FC Augsburg, Aux for short," he says, shaking Stuttgart's hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope my hands aren't too sweaty..."

"No, that's... fine."

To Stuttgart, seeing Augsburg nervous (or with any other expression than slightly-bored, slightly-pissed, and other slightlys) is fucking jarring. Also: "Aux?" Since when do you like nicknames?

"Yeah, like the city." What. "And who might you be?" Augsburg is addressing Shorty now, his bright green eyes twinkling. "Here to join our... Swabian alliance?"

Pffft, as if, Stuttgart snickers, one hand covering his mouth while the other enters his trouser pocket. "He's a Badenser, Aux. He probably thinks we have cooties."

Augsburg gasps (a small, frankly adorable sound... what is with this Augsburg being the complete opposite of Stuttgart's dreams?), but he recovers himself quickly. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

"Easy mistake to make," Mr Freckles says, a wry smile dancing on his lips. "I'm SC Freiburg. Nice to meet you, Aux."

Stuttgart freezes.

Then looks at the shorter club again.

" You're Freiburg?" He's squinting, trying to make sense of everything, how can Augsburg be familiar and Freiburg way off? "Like, Sport-Club Freiburg?"

"Yes," Not-Sundress-Girl says slowly, squinting back at him. "Who else?"

Then his eyes widen, jaw dropping in horror. "Did you think I was Hoppenheim?"

That's too harsh, even for me. "Nah," Stuttgart smirks. "I thought you were a five-year-old trying to look older."

"No, really," Stuttgart adds - maybe this Freiburg isn't too different, maybe he'd get mad like she would! "You call that a beard?"

Poke that ridiculous five-o'clock shadow, Stuggi. "Have you even gone through puberty yet?"

"Yes, actually," Freiburg shoots back - oh, yes! Stuttgart's cheeks hurt from grinning already. That firebrand Christian Streich vibe is here. Not too intense yet, but it's there, it'll build up, come on... "And unlike some clubs, Stuttgart, I've outgrown petty insults along the way."

Dammit! He needs to do better. So Stuttgart clicks his tongue mockingly, his dream demeanor in full swing.

"Oh, Freiburg," Stuttgart teases, leaning on Shorty's shoulder by a folded arm like he's an armrest, "You know only immature people can't take a joke, right?"

"There's a difference between a joke and an insult," Freiburg says in uncharacteristic patience, "And I know which one you said."

What???

"I'm sorry to cut this short," Augsburg interrupts, "But I think we should get to the meeting room."

"I agree," Freiburg says, all too eagerly. "Let's go."

Stuttgart grudgingly shuts up and follows him... again.

Hertha BSC treads along the corridors of the headquarters, the slow tap-tap-tap of her heeled shoes echoing in the oppressive silence. But why is it so silent? Where is everybody else? Is she really that late?

At any rate, it shouldn't be like this. The thought - not her own but clear as day - suddenly invades Hertha's mind. This meeting shouldn't even be here, or now.

And you shouldn't be alone, it continues.

But I am alone! Hertha reflexively quickens her steps to the elevator, come on , why can't she walk faster? She shouldn't have worn a pencil skirt or high heels, this is sending goosebumps all over her skin!

You should be with Freiburg and Stuttgart.

No I shouldn't ! she yells at it, I don't even know them!

Her index slams the 'up' button in the elevator, come on, please get down here, please-

The three of you should do this in the heart of Berlin... or is it "Heart of Berlin", the hotel?

But she's in Frankfurt now, and there's no such hotel in the capital, she knows. So shut up, voice.

There is. You have to remember. You need to remember.

Goddammit, why are the elevators so slow? Oh, look, a butterfly! How did that get in?!

You should be carrying a bag of Pfannkuchen, too!

Ugh, why would she do that on a meeting like this?!

Ding!

"Finally," she sighs loudly, just in time for the elevator doors to part. When she steps in, they slide close... Until she hears someone slap of the 'up' button outside.

"Wait!"

As the doors slide open once more, the strange thoughts quiet down, but why does she feel the urge to get them back? She finds herself trying to pin the wayward memories (What memories?) down, but they slide between her fingers like sand.

"Sorry," a young man with striking red hair apologizes, stepping in with his two friends (a tall blond man and a short, black-haired one). "We got kinda distracted back there..."

"It's fine," Hertha says to the redhead - judging from his red face, he was probably running to get here. "What floor?"

"The meeting," he says.

Hertha's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.

"You're..." Her gaze flits to the plastic card hanging down his neck. It says "August Schwab", but she knows it's a fake name, same as the one on her own nametag. "You're like me."

"Yes." A soft smile between pink cheeks. "I'm Augsburg. And these are Freiburg-"

The shorter man grins and waves.

"-and Stuttgart."

The taller one flashes her a lopsided smirk.

"And you?"

She responds with a practiced smile. She doesn't think she can muster a sincere one so quickly after that . "Hertha BSC."

She and Augsburg shake hands. "It's lovely to meet you, Hertha."

"Likewise."

The door closes; the lift ascends. Hertha uses the momentary lull in conversation to fix the front part of her finger wave updo. It was painstakingly recreated from a tutorial she watched very early in the morning... then, out of the blue, she sees it.

She sees herself standing in an entirely different elevator - one with marble white walls and a red carpet on the floor. (Is this "Heart of Berlin"?) Like herself, her reflection's fixing her hair, too, but she looks... different. Her copper-brown skin in reality is straight-up white within the mirror, lighter than even real-Augsburg's. And instead of her gray curls, platinum hair cascades in long, loose waves down her reflection's shoulders, a blue bow holding her beehive in place. In the real world, Hertha's hands fall back to her side, shaking. A noise of fear escapes her lips.

"What's going on?" she mouths. If it was voiced, it would be a whimper.

Mirror-Hertha smirks knowingly. "You know what's going on, dearie." She produces a Pfannkuchen from her bag and takes a dainty bite. "Look at me," she orders between chews, "Look at us ."

Real-Hertha looks. Stares. Glares . She remembers when she was pale and gray-eyed and preferred 1960s hairstyles - it was ages ago. Why is this creepy elevator showing her early '70s incarnation? Why does Stuttgart looks the same, save the brown hair? Why is Freiburg a cute girl? And why does Augsburg have no reflection? A chill runs down her spine yet again.

"Is this what the voice meant?" she asks, silent as before.

"What do you think?" Mirror-Hertha challenges, licking off the Pfannkuchen's sugar off her slender fingers, "I don't have much time left."

Real-Hertha gulps. "I-"

Ding!

The lift chimes; the doors open;

And the walls reflect four clubs once more.

I need fresh air, Hertha thinks, dashing out of the lift with a pounding head, I can't focus on the meeting like this...

Augsburg stands rooted in place, his gaze trained on the fleeing Hertha. What in the world was that? His eyes scan the elevator, but the reflective glass walls show nothing but himself, as Freiburg and Stuttgart have already left the elevator.

"Augsburg?" He looks up to a worriedly frowning Freiburg. "What are you looking for?"

"I thought I saw something," Augsburg replies, stepping out of the lift, "But I can't find anything."

"That's because there's nothing in there, Aux," Stuttgart says, a deep crease etched between his furrowed eyebrows... before his face does a one-eighty to a shit-eating grin. "Unless you mean ghosts, haha!"

Freiburg shoots Stuttgart a glare.

"Maybe you're just tired?" he offered. "I have coffee, if you need it."

But "nothing" wouldn't warrant that reaction from Hertha, right?

No, a voice in Augsburg's head snaps, Look behind you, Aux. Don't you know you should trust your guts?

Before he could say anything, however, Stuttgart sucks in a breath through his gritted teeth.

"C'mon, Aux," he groans, "Choose already."

"Just leave, then," Freiburg said flatly, "we're not going to miss you."

Augsburg's jaw drops.

"Fine," Stuttgart huffs, making his way towards the meeting room in brisk steps, "But don't complain if you can't don't get the good seats."

"Good riddance," Freiburg mutters, looking away from the Stuttgarter's retreating back.

Wow. Augsburg never thought the so-called "everyone's second favorite club" could be so mean, but he guesses Stuttgart enjoys getting on people's nerves-

Turn around, Augsburg. The voice grows insistent. Hurry up.

Freiburg is shooting him an apologetic look, though. "Sorry, Aux, still wants the coffee?"

"I'm okay," he says, clamping down the voice in his head screaming 'look behind you now' with limited success, "You can keep the coffee, Freiburg."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." The voice is getting louder; he wishes he could scream 'Piss off!' at it. "Let's go."

Freiburg goes first, of course, and when the Badenian's back is turned, Augsburg steals a glance behind his shoulder.

His reflection on the lift doors waves him goodbye.

What the hell? He rubs his eyes (after which, of course, the mirror image turns back to normal). Never trust weird voices in your head...

"On second thought, Freiburg," he says, stopping the other club on the meeting room's entrance, "I think I need that coffee after all."

"Alright," Freiburg hands him a thermos that's entirely too large to contain one person's dose of caffeine. "Careful, it's hot."

"Will do."

He slips the thermos' rim between his lips, slowly tipping it up to let the coffee slide in... and bam. This is strong, Augsburg thinks in awe, eyes wide open after the second sip, No wonder the other puppeteers are addicted to this stuff!

"Feeling better?"

"Mmm," Augsburg shivers as he nods - he's never felt a more intense rush before. "Much better."

He hands Freiburg his thermos back. "Thank you, Freiburg."

Grinning, the Badenian puts the container back in his bag. "No problem, Aux. Now let's get inside and hope we don't have to sit beside Stuttgart."

Augsburg can't help but snicker at that.

"Sure," he says, pushing the door open before gesturing for his new acquaintance to enter. "After you."

To be continued...