#aph george devalier

[shushiiax]

I hate them alot 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[sisalrian]

ex russian nobility braginski siblings, 1930

[lunakagayake]

Ciao Hetalians I'm here to give you war flashbacks

Printed out the VeraVerse

To new fans, the VeraVerse is a series of fanfiction made by George DeValier on Fanfiction.net though they were taken down and re-uploaded by users on Ao3

And I just so happened to use my extra money to print fanfics to read at school

If you need the PDFs of the fics in ready to print format just ask me I have it saved :) I used Adobe Reader (free version) to print it

Links on Ao3

Auf Widersehen Sweetheart

We'll Meet Again

Keep Smiling Through (Sequel to We'll Meet Again)

Bésame Mucho

[irarann]

i read it and now i cry in my sleep knowing its unfinished

also i imagine the garden also had a small tree but i cant draw backgrounds for the life of me

[lilakyy]

I had a dream that Charli XCX wanted to make a song about Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart

[savannahthefangirl]

Advice for a video idea I have, anyone?

So, I wanna make an analysis video of Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart and it’s significance in not just the Hetalia fandom, but also in fanfiction in general. Does anyone have any advice as to how to make it good/resources I could use to research the fic?

[chucklepea-hotpot]

are there even regular five for fighting fans? under every music video i ever watched them there were just hetalia fans who read george devalier.

[aph-honk-kong]

Heaven Knows

In which an abandoned church makes for an interesting conversation topic. [Set in George DeValier’s Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart.] [Recommended listening/watching: Heaven Knows by Five For Fighting, animated by Alice Jaxerques.] [This story contains discussions about religion.]

  The sunlight shone in through the stained-glass windows, bathing Feliciano in a soft topaz glow. His walking almost looked like dancing, a lovely one-man waltz casting shadows across the dirty, tiled floor of the church.

  “I never saw this place on my walks before.” Feliciano turned back and smiled at Ludwig. “How could I have missed an entire church, especially one that’s so pretty?” He spun around in the multicoloured lights. “Look at all this!”

  He could not deny that the church was pretty, even in its half-dilapidated state. The floor was grubby, the windows were faded and the walls were in need of cleaning, but the painted statues and carved wooden pews were intact. Ludwig watched as Feliciano ran up and down the lengths of the small church, his footsteps echoing. 

  After two laps, he stopped next to Ludwig, round cheeks flushed slightly. “Churches are always so beautiful, with their stained glass and carvings,” he said. “If I ever own a house, I’d want my windows to be made of stained glass.”

  “That would be very colourful.”

  “Exactly! It would look just like a church, except I hope nobody would mistake my house for one. I don’t want people showing up at my door on a Sunday morning.” Feliciano fidgeted with the bunch of heliotrope he’d picked earlier. “Do you believe in God, Ludwig?” He suddenly asked. 

  Surprised by the question, he replied, “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I.” He gently swung the bunch back and forth. “I know Vino does, because he crosses himself sometimes. And I don’t know about Grandpa. But I like churches anyways.”

  “So do I.”

  “Do you want to get married in a church?”

  Heat pricked at Ludwig’s cheeks. Suddenly, he could not meet Feliciano’s eyes. “Yes, I think so, if I were allowed to.”

  Feliciano laughed. “If we can find a way to fit Greta in here, you can have a wonderful wedding.”

  He tried not to laugh; it was amazing how Feliciano managed to be so silly and serious at the same time. “Maybe not with Greta.” He still couldn’t look him in the eye. “I would love to marry a person in a church, though.”

  “Anyone in particular?” He sounded teasing.

  He stammered, “uh... well...” He became very interested in the grimy floor. “Actually, the person on my mind is - “

 February, 1944:

  Ludwig’s eyes flew open. He was not in the church.

  He sat up, shrugging off the thin, scratchy blanket he and his fellow pilots were given. In the bunk above him, someone snuffled.

  Feliciano’s bright, airy laugh was still fresh in his head, as was his teasing grin. He had had dreams of him every night since leaving him, and a longing wish-fulfilment of the brief time they’d spent in the church just happened to be another one.

  When they’d been to the church, they had commented on the windows and the statues, then left a few moments later to keep picking flowers. If only his dream was what had really happened.

  For a moment, Ludwig saw Feliciano again, smiling with flowers in his hands and leaves in his hair, rambling away with that sweet voice of his. He saw him laughing, running, singing his lovely songs. Just the thought of him made his heart ache. Goodness, they had only been apart for two weeks and he already missed him so.

  Careful to ensure that nobody was looking, he took his photo of Feliciano out of his pocket. He was beaming at the camera, Ludwig’s jacket draped over his shoulders like a cape. He ran his thumb over the photo and sighed. He would see him again one day. 

  He’d make sure of it.

...

July, 1960:

  “Look, it’s still up!”

  Hands clenched tight on the armrests of his wheelchair, Ludwig nearly yelped as Feliciano pushed him towards the church at full speed. The wheels rolled over rocks and clumps of grass before stopping with a jolt in front of the entrance.

  “It’s been so many years!” Feliciano hoisted his wheelchair over the single step with a grunt and rolled him into the church. “Nothing’s changed, huh?”

  The lights shining in from the stained-glass windows were as vibrant as ever, and while the filigree frescoes on the walls were a bit more faded, they brought a smile to Ludwig’s face all the same.

  All was silent until Feliciano spoke up. “It’s nice to see something that wasn’t changed by the war. We only came here once, and I’m glad to be back.” He sat down at a pew and held Ludwig’s hand. “How about you?”

  “I’m happy, too.” He stroked the back of his lover’s hand with his thumb. “Especially since we’re here together.” 

  “Too bad we could never have stained-glass windows at home like I said.” Feliciano kissed his cheek. “I told Vino about that and I think he laughed for five minutes straight. Antonio had to ask if he was okay.”

  Ludwig smiled. “I think our house is beautiful anyways. It’s probably even better than this old place.”

  “This old place?” He repeated. “Don’t be so mean! It’s not that old. You shouldn’t be so rude to the place where we spent time together when we were young.” He kissed his cheek again. “Remember when I asked you if you’d ever get married in a church?”

  He shook his head. “With how the world is today, people like us can’t be married anywhere.”

  Feliciano snorted. “We don’t need to be officially married by an officiant or something. We can just be married because we say so.”

  The years had not stolen away Feliciano’s carefreeness. Ludwig squeezed his hand, imagining if they could ever walk down the aisle. “If that’s the case, then I guess we’re husbands.”

  “That sounds good to me!” He extracted two of the many red daisies he’d stored in the breast-pocket of his jacket, and pulled their stems off. After a few moments, he’d managed to knot a pair of crude rings out of them. “Here, we can wear these.”

  He let his lover (or could they call each other husbands now?) slide the rough green ring on his fourth finger, then press his lips to it.

  Ludwig touched the ring on Feliciano’s hand. “And we did it in a church, too.”

  “So you got your wish after all.” He laced their fingers together, grassy rings pressing against each other. Eyes brimming with quiet joy, Feliciano rested his head on his lap and beamed up at him.

  They were far from young now, probably what most considered too old to get married. But as Ludwig looked down at the man he’d just been unofficially wed to, he felt twenty years old again, a naive young soldier on the streets of Anzio, rescuing an air-headed young man from a beating. He felt youthful, energised, as though he could race all the way back home. 

  “Who will take whose last name?” Feliciano held his hand up to the sky.

  “We don’t have to,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine you as anyone other than simply Feliciano Vargas.” 

  He laughed at that, sweet and clear, and the captivating sound echoed around the church. Ludwig could not help laughing, too. If he had more energy, he’d tell Feliciano just how much he adored him. But he was getting tired, and he settled for swooping down and claiming his lips.

  Only Heaven would know how strong his love was.

[drowning-in-dennor]

Nobody Else

A dockside conversation while the world burns. [Part of George DeValier’s VeraVerse.]

  Matthias found him by the docks, a pile of grimy rags beside him. Lukas’ feet were dangling over the edge, inches from the white-capped water that roared and crashed against stone. The wind smelled of salt and the sea, tossing his silky hair about and threatening to whip the cap from his head. But he was undeterred by the turbulent weather, almost mechanically tearing the rags into even strips and braiding them together.

  He sat down. “What are you doing?”

   “Braiding these into ropes.” He shook out a dirty shirt that looked like it had been dragged through mud fifty times. “Nothing can go to waste here.”

   Lukas’ hands were swift, twisting the strips of cloth together at lightning-speed until they formed a length of rope. He let the ends dangle over the dock, tying together strip after strip until the crude rope sank well into the sea. Matthias could not tear his eyes away. His fingers were deft and slender, and when he let go of the rope for a while to grab another piece of clothing, Matthias could see off-white callouses on his fingertips.

   They sat in silence until the pile was gone, and Lukas dragged his long rope up from over the dock to rest in coils. He flexed his fingers. “I never thought I would be using my hands like this, but war changes us all.”

  “What did your hands do before this?” Matthias asked.

   “I was a violinist,” he replied. “Before all this, I dreamt of going to Copenhagen one day and playing at the Royal Theatre.”

  He had not expected that. Lukas’ hands were gnarled and strong from years of work and practice, but his face was youthful. Those glimmering periwinkle eyes could not be holding decades of experience. 

   “How old are you?” Matthias watched as he picked up his rope and looped it around his arm. They had met twice before, yet he still did not know this.

   He replied, “I am sixteen.”

   “Not old enough to join the army, then.”

   “Yes, but I am old enough to join an orchestra.” He smiled slightly, while Matthias was wondering how somebody who was only a teenager could be so whimsical, as though an adult. “Imagine if all the strong, eligible men joined the orchestra instead of the army. We could wage war in concert halls, not the trenches.” Lukas slung the rope over his shoulder. “I would have no need to do this, if that were the case.”

   Enchanted, Matthias followed him away from the docks. If only they could fight through music, indeed. At the corner of his mind, he heard his own battle. It had to be you, it sang, it had to be you. I wandered around and finally found the somebody who could make me be true.

   He pushed it away. He would not lose to the boy and the song that was so insistently fighting his self-control. 

 He could not.

[jajatoc]

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart

[sisalrian]

“When we make it out of this, I’ll teach you to shoot.”

[ladygretabeth]

the veraverse by george deValier

[shreddies-scribbles]

imagine drawing auf wiedershen sweetheart fanart in this day and age PSSHHH couldn’t be me

[emoryinaboat]

Today I offer you.. dumb Monster High quote in an Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart context with my lackluster drawing pad skills. Tomorrow? Who knows.

[lilakyy]

To the people who still like and reblog my Hetalia posts from when I was a feral 14 year old I hope you’re okay

[resakitsu]

normal people: Money Heist

me, an intellectual: Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart