Zdravo! This tumblr is dedicated to the Yugotalia character Vuk Mišić/Вук Мишић (you should read the syllables just like the Japanese would). Vuk is the personification of Serbia and belongs to Tix. However, it's based on the Hetalia comics wich belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

In this tumblr you may find fanarts, original works by the Yugotalia creator and some NFSW. So, beware.

Fuck Yeah Serbia's ran by Vicky and it has no other intention behind it but spread the love about it's character. Also, you can contact me at the ask box.
1 year ago - reblog
1 year ago - reblog
1 year ago - reblog
maggiehepburn:

the salt flats
Serbia thinks of Russia as his friend. He wonders deep in his heart if Russia can remember.
There is only one photograph of Russia that Serbia has, and it’s in his desk, underneath a stack of paperwork that says ‘confidential’ and is therefor not to be touched. It’s an eerie photograph, Serbia took it while they were waiting to be picked up by a truck on a salt lake out in the tundras of Russia. Serbia does not handle boredom very well, and does so by making noises, messing with his guns, taking photographs of comrades who may or may not appreciate it and have a tendency to react somewhat… off the handle as of late.
Still. It’s a good photograph. Russia is the picture, perfectly so, of Slavic strength. Everything about him is great and strong, his jawline firm, his features impressive, his shoulders wide as a tree trunk just like the rest of him. Serbia likes that about him, albeit in a strictly platonic sense. In a way a man would admit his brother is indeed good looking when someone passingly comments upon it. He takes it out of the drawer from time to time and remembers how strange and complicated everything was back then.
And how Russia was holding them all in the palm of one hand while dueling it off with America with the other. Serbia liked that as well. Russia never steered clear of a fight, and took whatever means necessary to win. 
Four am, on a Tuesday, Serbia sits in Russia’s kitchen. The clock on the wall tick tocks like a heartbeat and he runs his finger over the image of the man he has called friend since 1838, back when they wore ornate clothing and danced without even having to drink beforehand and laughed and smiled and never once thought beyond the common man as more than just a part of them. Like a leg, like an arm. A man knows he has them, but he is never truly conscious of the fact.
In walks Lithuania, who out of everyone is the only one can get just as close to Russia as he can. Serbia has no idea how he does it, it’s obvious Lithuania and Russia are not friends, they are something more but there’s a great sadness to it. A sadness Serbia never asks about, it would do him little good to find out what it really was. 
‘Can’t sleep?’ Lithuania asks, wincing when he sits down and rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. ‘It’s so cold. I always forget how cold it really is until I walk with my bare feet on these tiles.’
Serbia nods at him. ‘Right.’ His own feet are still in their boots. ‘You get used to it, once it gets inside you.’
‘Yes.’ Lithuania says, as a comfortable silence drapes over them. ‘Suppose one does. But is that a good thing?’ The question sounds more rhetorical than anything else but Serbia can’t help but want to answer it.
‘Life can’t just be all good things.’ He’s not explaining it to Lithuania, he knows the other man, nearly as old as he is, understands the concept well enough. ‘You should go back to bed. You know how he’s been the last few days…’
They don’t need to say what that means, they know what it does and this is the only thing they have in common, the only neutral ground between them, this great magnificent nation who is teetering on a precipice and if pushed may very well pull them all down with him into the abyss. Lithuania nods at him, still rubbing his stomach and padding away towards the bedrooms.
Serbia knows he’ll get back in bed with Russia, touch his bare calf with one very cold foot and Russia will start awake, like he does now, eyes wild and hand positioned perfectly as if holding a gun. Lithuania will speak soft words in his ear, he’ll calm, lie back down and go back to sleep.
It’s only guess work. Like how he guesses to know, outside of the great Slavic features that has felt friendly to him since 1838 what his eyes now say. How his friend, the man that he considers friend always has, looking at him in that photograph hardly seems to remember who Serbia is.
Serbia puts the made out of boredom photograph face down on the table and rubs a hand over his face.
He has never handled boredom very well.

maggiehepburn:

the salt flats

Serbia thinks of Russia as his friend. He wonders deep in his heart if Russia can remember.

There is only one photograph of Russia that Serbia has, and it’s in his desk, underneath a stack of paperwork that says ‘confidential’ and is therefor not to be touched. It’s an eerie photograph, Serbia took it while they were waiting to be picked up by a truck on a salt lake out in the tundras of Russia. Serbia does not handle boredom very well, and does so by making noises, messing with his guns, taking photographs of comrades who may or may not appreciate it and have a tendency to react somewhat… off the handle as of late.

Still. It’s a good photograph. Russia is the picture, perfectly so, of Slavic strength. Everything about him is great and strong, his jawline firm, his features impressive, his shoulders wide as a tree trunk just like the rest of him. Serbia likes that about him, albeit in a strictly platonic sense. In a way a man would admit his brother is indeed good looking when someone passingly comments upon it. He takes it out of the drawer from time to time and remembers how strange and complicated everything was back then.

And how Russia was holding them all in the palm of one hand while dueling it off with America with the other. Serbia liked that as well. Russia never steered clear of a fight, and took whatever means necessary to win. 

Four am, on a Tuesday, Serbia sits in Russia’s kitchen. The clock on the wall tick tocks like a heartbeat and he runs his finger over the image of the man he has called friend since 1838, back when they wore ornate clothing and danced without even having to drink beforehand and laughed and smiled and never once thought beyond the common man as more than just a part of them. Like a leg, like an arm. A man knows he has them, but he is never truly conscious of the fact.

In walks Lithuania, who out of everyone is the only one can get just as close to Russia as he can. Serbia has no idea how he does it, it’s obvious Lithuania and Russia are not friends, they are something more but there’s a great sadness to it. A sadness Serbia never asks about, it would do him little good to find out what it really was. 

‘Can’t sleep?’ Lithuania asks, wincing when he sits down and rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. ‘It’s so cold. I always forget how cold it really is until I walk with my bare feet on these tiles.’

Serbia nods at him. ‘Right.’ His own feet are still in their boots. ‘You get used to it, once it gets inside you.’

‘Yes.’ Lithuania says, as a comfortable silence drapes over them. ‘Suppose one does. But is that a good thing?’ The question sounds more rhetorical than anything else but Serbia can’t help but want to answer it.

‘Life can’t just be all good things.’ He’s not explaining it to Lithuania, he knows the other man, nearly as old as he is, understands the concept well enough. ‘You should go back to bed. You know how he’s been the last few days…’

They don’t need to say what that means, they know what it does and this is the only thing they have in common, the only neutral ground between them, this great magnificent nation who is teetering on a precipice and if pushed may very well pull them all down with him into the abyss. Lithuania nods at him, still rubbing his stomach and padding away towards the bedrooms.

Serbia knows he’ll get back in bed with Russia, touch his bare calf with one very cold foot and Russia will start awake, like he does now, eyes wild and hand positioned perfectly as if holding a gun. Lithuania will speak soft words in his ear, he’ll calm, lie back down and go back to sleep.

It’s only guess work. Like how he guesses to know, outside of the great Slavic features that has felt friendly to him since 1838 what his eyes now say. How his friend, the man that he considers friend always has, looking at him in that photograph hardly seems to remember who Serbia is.

Serbia puts the made out of boredom photograph face down on the table and rubs a hand over his face.

He has never handled boredom very well.

1 year ago - reblog
ohbabylightmyfire:

Yugotalia Serbia & Croatia By Tix91

ohbabylightmyfire:

Yugotalia
Serbia & Croatia
By Tix91

2 years ago - reblog
Anonymous asked : Do you have any idea just how offensive pairing Bosnia and Serbia together is to everyone in the area?

I guess even with all the things I’ve already said here, there’s a big chance I still don’t have any idea, because I’ve not been through any of things you guys have been. I’m sorry.

But I also ask you to consider once I said I like the pairing, it does not mean I’m the type who likes that stupid abusive/rapist thing which must be one of the first things people who sees this pairing use to think about. Actually I like the pairing because even knowing this is almost impossible, I really desire all the bloodbath had never happened.

I’m sorry if this does not make sense to you guys. 

2 years ago - reblog
2 years ago - reblog
— About my opinions.

Months ago was sent to me an ask questioning my taste on a Yugotalia pairing.

Guys, let me explain you something: I do not take any side in any moment at any of the Balkan wars. Actually, I do not take sides on wars. Any. I don’t like the idea of having a war to solve problems and I don’t believe in that bullshit of 'war for a greater good'. It’s unfair and not my cup of tea.

I know especially Balkan people (note I’m not saying only Serbs, Bosniaks or so. I’m talking of everyone) gets really sensitive when we talk about these wars and I understand. I find it pretty fair to be sensitive about that and I’d say indeed everyone who suffered with war gets sensitive about it. War ain’t just black on white, it’s all a collection of reds in which both sides can’t tell who has each tone. It’s complicated. Everyone suffers, everyone loses. Most of times governments wins, not people.

So, I understand and respect your pain. I really do. But I also don’t put fiction together with reality, and Yugotalia is fiction.

Hope everything it’s understood.

2 years ago - reblog
Anonymous asked : Hello~~ I love Yugotalia and Serbia. <3 And you are love. I'm so glad I found this tumblr~ Anyways, do you mind telling me where I can get the downloads of Tix's original pictures? :o

Hello Anon! I’m sorry for taking so long to answer you, I’ve been really really busy on the last months D:

Thank you so much for enjoying the blog, that’s really the meaning behind it! 
You see, I surely don’t mind telling you such things! All the fanarts and originals I have I searched through Google, DeviantArt and Y!Gallery. That’s my source (:

Unfortunately, there isn’t many pictures about Yugotalia/Vuk around D: Hope I could help ;~

xoxo

2 years ago - reblog
colacap:

From Tix91’s Yugotalia.
Characters (from left to right): Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, Montenegro, and Macedonia.
This is an early picture and their heights are represented a bit more clearly now (Montenegro being the tallest, and following after Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, and Macedonia beating Slovenia by just 1cm. xD)
Not featured here is Bosnia’s wife, Herzegovina; Serbia’s younger sister Vojvodina and Serbia’s younger brother, Kosovo.
Don’t forget Serbia’s son whom Bos and Herz have to raise, Republika Srpska.
I hope everyone can see this, somehow. please check out Yugotalia ;) 

But I think there&#8217;s a mistake here. Maybe Slovenia is the tallest?

colacap:

From Tix91’s Yugotalia.

Characters (from left to right): Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, Montenegro, and Macedonia.

This is an early picture and their heights are represented a bit more clearly now (Montenegro being the tallest, and following after Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, and Macedonia beating Slovenia by just 1cm. xD)

Not featured here is Bosnia’s wife, Herzegovina; Serbia’s younger sister Vojvodina and Serbia’s younger brother, Kosovo.

Don’t forget Serbia’s son whom Bos and Herz have to raise, Republika Srpska.

I hope everyone can see this, somehow. please check out Yugotalia ;) 

But I think there’s a mistake here. Maybe Slovenia is the tallest?

2 years ago - reblog