𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐈. @vergili - Tumblr Blog

an ind., private & selective solo muse blog for vergil, son of sparda.

basics. penned by mika, he/him. hit 30. mst/mdt. can also be found @sicsemper !

rules. (sort of). we all know how to act right. don’t expect anything else here. that includes: fiction =/= reality, and if you disagree with that statement, turn around post haste! thank you. don't want any nonsense or drama. i'm an old man who's tired of it. in essence: don’t be a twat. minors dni.

mobile friendly navigation. general ic. ✧ memes/prompts. ✧ meta.

insanity in association with. @aequitaes ✧ @inibicion ✧ @dcwnseeker

anything more expansive is on desktop !

#「 blog 」 psa.#「 blog 」 ooc.#pinned post /

aequitaes

“No matter your past — our past..." Shared; even unknowingly, tethered across eons despite their years of misunderstanding. The magnitude of the idea as it stirs in his mind, halts his tongue, and drifts off. There's little to be said, yet so much they've failed to talk about. He supposes neither of them are particularly good at talking — unless Dante's running his mouth. "There is beauty in darkness.”

❝ Aw, you getting all poetic on me now, Verg— ❞ Dante huffed out a low laugh, a crooked smirk pulling at his lips as he kicked his boots off the desk and pushed himself up. The words didn’t quite land straight away — not properly — but they stuck somewhere, lingering longer than he’d like to admit. His gaze settled on his brother as he stepped closer, rolling one shoulder loose like he could shrug it off.

❝ We’ve both seen some pretty ugly things in the dark, ❞ he went on, tone lighter, teasing on the surface, but not without weight. Years of it. Too many to count. He didn’t need to spell that part out. He reached out, clapping a hand against Vergil’s shoulder — solid, grounding.

❝ But hey— ❞ his head tilted slightly, grin sharpening just a touch, ❝…maybe this whole ‘beauty in darkness’ thing’s just you putting a nicer label on it.❞ A beat passed. He didn’t move his hand right away.

❝ World’s still a mess. Always is. ❞ his voice dipped just a fraction, quieter, less show this time, ❝ but we’re still here. Still standing. Still kicking the hell outta anything that crawls out of it. ❞ For a second, his gaze shifted — not quite on Vergil, not quite anywhere else — like something crossed his mind he wasn’t planning on sharing. Then it was gone.

The smirk came back, easy, familiar.

❝ So yeah… if that’s what you’re calling ‘beauty’? ❞ he gave his shoulder a light shove, stepping back like none of that meant anything at all, ❝ guess I’ll take it. ❞ A small pause.

❝ Just don’t expect me to start writing poetry about it. ❞

vergili

... UNLESS DANTE'S RUNNING HIS MOUTH. He's not sure when his brother became so predictable, or if it was simply a truth of his character upheld through tireless trials and tribulations over the course of decades. Decades, he thinks idly as Dante lays a hand on his shoulder; slaps, rather, in a way unbefitting the moment, but Vergil feels he need not re-iterate his own thoughts. The air in the room felt still, as if the walls of Devil May Cry were holding their breath, sensing the weight of something Dante seemed eager to gloss over.

So many things they haven't talked about, and the rare opportunity offered to do so swept away. He feels the squeeze to his shoulder and watches from his periphery as his brother's hand slips away. Such a waste, truly. "You try my patience." A simple statement he feels must be leant to the moment as a sort of chastisement. The mood to allow for them to address any one of the many elephants in the room is rare... and has passed as quickly as irritation has risen in response to his Dante's dismissal.

The heels of his boots are a stark sound against the wooden floorboards as he crosses the room to one of their cork boards, arms folding over his chest as pale eyes sweep the printed maps and photographs. Stalled, he's actively fighting the urge to walk out. Nero's been yelling at him about self-isolation for well over a year now, but life-long habits die hard. An image flickers in his mind; of a boy in a tree, leg swinging with a book in his lap as the summer breeze brushes through silver hair — the low buzz of cicadas.

Vergil hums. He is staring at the board, but he's not looking. Not really. His focus is still struggling to unlatch from even recent memories of hellfire and the taste of iron. Being topside is... an adjustment. "I couldn't expect you to articulate a single thought with any sense of sincerity or clarity, let alone turn it into poetry." Because, as always, Dante has missed the point. "What's on the docket?"

#aequitaes #「 vergil of sparda / writing 」 thread.#「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / canon verse: post dmc v 」 i'm startin' to think this is never gonna end. / maybe. but we got plenty a'time.#we'RE BACK BABY #AND IDK HOW TO CUT THREADS WITH SAFARI SO I MIGHT NEED TO DOWNLOAD FIREFOX

thequeerwithoutfear-deactivated

pick your battles. pick… pick fewer battles than that. put some battles back. that’s too many

embershx

*Picks up another battle while maintaining eye contact* Make me

#「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.

cybrvce:

Beauty to be found…in Hell? Maybe Nero didn’t look hard enough. He can’t imagine it, but maybe when someone is stuck there for long enough, they develop a sort of fondness for it. A bit of Stockholm Syndrome fucking with their heads. Then again, there’s the chance that Nero misunderstood entirely what his father is trying to say. There’s still missteps between them, times when they don’t quite mesh and things become awkward or strange. Vergil had to fight for so much longer than almost anyone Nero’s met, in ways no one should have, and Nero’s pretty damn sure he hasn’t heard even half of what happened there. Maybe there’s beauty to be found between the pain. Like those broken bowls put back together with gold. Or something like that. It seems like Nero might get something more, but he trails off, leaving Nero on an edge, wondering what he was going to try to say. Is it hard in general to talk to Nero? Or just hard to talk about this? He wants to tell him it’s okay to talk about whatever’s on his mind, but how often has that been easier said than done for a lot of people in Nero’s life? He’s so good at talking and getting it out of his system and not letting whatever’s bugging him linger in his system. But it’s not always like that. What about when he got his demon arm at sixteen? He hadn’t known how to tell nearly anyone about it for such a long time, afraid of what it could mean. Whatever Vergil bit his tongue on is probably a bit more severe than that, but the sentiment feels comparable to a degree. But of course, it goes back to fighting. Nero had led it there, and Vergil had grasped onto it, and at least that’s something. He laughs, and the handle for the pump clicks to indicate the tank is full, and Nero pushes off from the car to put the nozzle back and put the cap back on the tank. “You, rusty? I mean-” He laughs and tucks his hands between his body and arms again for warmth. He should’ve worn gloves. “I did kick your ass last time, so maybe?” It’s a joke; it was a close fight, Vergil casually deflecting attacks with his sword, almost as if bored. Another laugh escapes him. “Nah, no way. Just trying to find ways to not let it happen, you know? There’s always plenty to go around, especially after-” His voice catches in his throat and his eyes dip slightly from where they’d just held his father’s gaze. “Y’know. The Order bullshit.”

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝑵𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 -- or, rather, perhaps Vergil detects a sense of curiosity in his eyes. Ah, he thinks, so it's come to this. Frost bitten cheeks warming slowly from the well placed woolen scarf, the mist of his breath lets out from his lips in a silent huff. Again. Fumbling for words has never been his forte, and so he surpasses it altogether. There would be time for storytelling, all things considered. But it would preferably not be now, when the icy wind was nipping at their heels.

The pump clicks, and it is a sound as sweet as anything he's heard in quite some time; a sense of unbidden relief washing over him as his lashes flutter. And then his son laughs... and the tightening of his chest as his heart thuds against his rib cage for only a split second derives him of much else to say -- be it in affirmation or detest. He simply watches, breathes idly by as Nero takes care of the gas, and finally quirks an eyebrow at his teasing. The teasing, at least, allows him to let go of a growing anxiety he's yet to learn how to fully deter. And then Nero carries on, and his attention is immediately piqued. "Kicked my--?" But his mind is once again pulled away by the laughter that escapes the other, and any irritation he once felt subsides.

He listens as Nero carries on, and fully snorts at the jest before the anxiety he once felt seems to return in the face and posture of the one mirroring him; the quick loss of eye contact not going unnoticed. "Ah," he says aloud. He pauses for a moment before pulling the scarf from his neck, letting it slither off his shoulders like a slippery snake. Stepping forward, he wraps it around Nero's own once more, lightly patting the wool hanging over Nero's chest as if it had found its rightful place. "There are things..." He trails for a moment, frost bitten gaze seeking to catch his son's once more as he lets his hands fall, fingers rolling in clenched fists before releasing. Once he does, he continues, "-- that we don't speak of, as men. It is nothing to be ashamed of, Nero."

@dcwnseeker

#cybrvce #dcwnseeker #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / writing 」 thread.#「 vergil of sparda / canon verse: post dmc v 」 i'm startin' to think this is never gonna end. / maybe. but we got plenty a'time.#i'm STILL laughing at the reaction to sagacious #for the record #nero's voice in your characterization is so clear even in the prose and i SCream #also bc of the trim reblogs hating the legacy editor we are making a new post and linking back to the thread!#also catch me still cryin in the club

soulofsparda

"Where d'you think you’re off to now, huh?" He matches Vergil’s stride, keeping just a step behind. "You’ve barely been back two minutes, and you’re already ghosting your own flesh and blood." A smirk dances on his lips—definitely taunting, looking to rattle him a bit, eager to elicit a reaction, a spark that fueled their brotherly bond

❝ Stop pretending that you care about me. ❞ @vergili

"Aw, c’mon, Vergil! What, you expected me to break into a heartfelt speech? We’ve both been too busy with our own battles to hug it out. But hey, it’s not like I’ve forgotten about you. I mean, I’ve been around, even if you’ve been MIA for years. Just don’t expect me to get all mushy about it—Can’t get all sentimental when we've got so many hellspawn to take down!"

As he speaks, Dante keeps pace with Vergil, his casual strides a stark contrast to his brother’s focused intensity. His tousled white hair bounces slightly with each stride, and his signature red coat flares out behind him like a banner of defiance. Even while he tries to maintain a lighthearted banter, there’s a flicker of concern in his azure eyes—an unspoken understanding of the years lost between them. He knows he can’t just brush off the past, but for now, he’s determined to keep the mood from getting too heavy.

vergili

𝑯𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒔, 𝒎𝒊𝒅-𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆, whipping around to stare at his brother in staunch defiance; in the absence of his coat, the effect is dulled if not for the way his lips draw back in a snarl that is no less agitated than a lion's teeth bared for slaughter. Since their return to the surface he's yet to have a single moment of silent, independent, peace. And while there are things to be grateful for, he feels... out of place doesn't even begin to describe the dissociative drawback of each moment as it passes by. Vergil is no fool -- he does not belong here, never has, and he very well knows it.

He and Dante have always been at odds. That may never change. Their time together in Hell didn't quite change that; though, it gave him a growing understanding of... what could have been, perhaps. Regardless, staring into blue eyes that never quite mimicked a mirror despite best efforts, he's reminded -- again -- that they will never truly see eye to eye. The recent cuts across his face from their most recent escapade ache, ever so subtly, beneath his skin. "You--"

But he stops short, fingers flexing, curling into fists that tighten the muscles of his forearms, his bare shoulders. He should feel insulted by the charade, truly, but he's ultimately far too tired to dip into a deep buried and age-old anger. "Must you follow my every quaking step?" he expounds, a rigid tension in his chest, his breaths shallow yet slow. "In case you failed to notice, I'm not exactly running off." There is a particularly dissatisfied pause. "... We're out of milk, you idiot. Or do you feel the need to stalk my every move?"

#soulofsparda #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / writing 」 thread.#「 vergil of sparda / canon verse: post dmc v 」 i'm startin' to think this is never gonna end. / maybe. but we got plenty a'time.#i feel insane i HAD to JDFKGHFDK

incipienthappiness-quotes

No‌ ‌father‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌world‌ ‌wished‌ ‌to‌ ‌have‌ ‌their‌ ‌son‌ ‌see‌ ‌their‌ ‌failures.‌ ‌Every‌ ‌father‌ ‌wished‌ ‌that‌ ‌before‌ ‌their‌ ‌sons,‌ ‌they‌ ‌would‌ ‌always‌ ‌be‌ ‌the‌ ‌greatest.‌ ‌

Heaven Official's Blessing / Tiān Guān Cì Fú- Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

#dcwnseeker #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.#「 vergil of sparda / dyn: nero 」 i won't lose next time — hold onto that until then.

lilientrish

Break this heavy chain That does freeze my bones around.

#i have this meta in my drafts about seppuku and i still feel insane #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 vis.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.

updated info on the ever present question of 'where is mika?' !

i got a new job ! that, plus my health situation still being a work in progress (though getting better slowly), means that while i should, hopefully, be able to be around here more finally — my activity is still gonna be sporadic and slow going. essentially: business as usual !

#「 blog 」 psa.#「 blog 」 pinned.#neeeeew (sort of) pinned post

canaryarrow

(x)

#time 2 cry #everyone here knows why #he will always be King in my head chuckling about his lil crown i stg #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 vis.

An air of arrogance, cockiness, and some sort of twisted pleasure would ensue upon exhaling. That was at least indicative of how they've always been - and how they'll always be. This air surrounding his reaction extended into strides, a semicircle around the other, reunited again, but this time? Dante refused to let him go.

"Yeah... This is a lot easier than talking anyway." For the moment, he doesn't look at him. "It's been a while, Verg." He rolled his shoulders. "Think you still have it in you?" His taunt is presented mockingly, which is, at the least, predictable and consistent.

As he turned sharply and quickly toward his brother, that smirk stretched to his ears, and a twinkle in his eye glistened again. "---And for the record," Upon extending his arm, Rebellion ignites into a stream of sparks before him; a gust of wind waves his hair, but he shows no sign of being phased. All part of the show.

"That son of yours—-"He begins, swinging his weapon over his shoulder to rest there. "He's--" Unfinished, interrupted by the violent tremor of the ground and a fresh spawn of demons emerging before them. A clack of his tongue at the roof of his mouth. Typical. "You invited an audience?"

𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒 ––– but the trunk of the qliphoth still holds his attention, more and more often as they drew nearer and nearer to its roots. even as dante encircles him, his frosted gaze is hesitant to withdraw from it. it is only when the light gust of wind flutters through his silver hair that his eyes finally snap to dante; and he sees that, unsurprisingly, dante has grown bored. there is a flicker of a moment, when he is reminded of their childhood. the grass stains on dante's shirts, their twin scraped knees ––– all because dante couldn't simply let vergil perch in a windowsill to read for more than fifteen minutes at a time. at some point wooden swords had turned to sharp steel, yet they had not changed. not truly.

that son of yours–––

a bold sentiment to proclaim.

slowly lowering himself, heels rooted firmly to the ashen ground, his hand drifts to the yamato's tsuka. if his brother could not respect his wishes not to speak of it even when held at the edge of his sword ( again, unsurprising ), then vergil wouldn't hesitate to open his skin with it if only to prove an endless point. but when he parts his lips to speak, the quake of the ground being overturned, devils unearthed, he snaps his jaw shut with a quiet click of his teeth.

jaw clenched, bolt of it ticking, he growls ––– and lunges forward with the yamato unsheathed to cut clean through an empusa just beyond dante's shoulder. disgusting, verminous thing. overfull and near to bursting. ❛ evidently. ❜ his tone is tight as he glides the sword over his forearm, flicks the blood from its tip.

#soulofsparda #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / inbox 」 answered ic.#「 vergil of sparda / canon verse: post dmc v 」 i'm startin' to think this is never gonna end. / maybe. but we got plenty a'time.#they're so stupid your honor JDFKGL #vergil is happily shining his little crown in my head rn i stg

finalgirlabigailhobbs

a loving relationship between a guy who says “wowza!” and a guy who says “hm. intriguing.”

#soulofsparda #i know the first posts in this tag are shitposts what of it SDHLG #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.#「 vergil of sparda / dyn: dante 」 break this heavy chain that does freeze my bones around.#please laugh bc i fuckin b ARKED

loversdreamersandyou

acitybythelightunited

#soulofsparda #this needs to be the first post in your tag JDFKGL #suffer me <3 #just like vergil suffers dante :)#「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.#「 vergil of sparda / dyn: dante 」 break this heavy chain that does freeze my bones around.#「 blog 」 crack.

mumblesplash

like it's MY fault my love language is acts of service and all i know how to do is kill

#「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / countenance 」 study.#no one look at him he is NOT well adjusted #saw this and had to reblog lottie i am so sorry i scREECHED #in other news i looked at a gifset of vergil recently and teared up because i got so emo and happy #i do not love him a normal amount #so let it be known i will come back here #i'm just elsewhere atm!

every time i have to report / block a bot i just imagine vergil performing judgment cut and it makes having to do it every 2 seconds more enjoyable

#「 blog 」 ooc.#tumblr help PLEASE #y'all finally got this more under control what on earth happened

indagatus

Vergil retreats and Dante wants nothing more than to grab him by the ankle and drag him back. He won't tolerate his brother's insistence on pulling away from him. He's done it his whole life, always with one foot out the door, bags packed and ready to disappear at a moment's notice. He's learned, however; after their stint in Hell that he has to be careful. He lets Vergil pull away, but makes no move to leave his position on the bed, legs crossed absent-mindedly, hand resting at his chest as he watches Vergil rage.

It makes his stomach turn. This isn't a hurt that Dante can smooth over with a smack to the back of the head, or a brush of the shoulders, or even a jab and a roll of the eyes. The inhuman growl emanating from Vergil isn't something unfamiliar in its own right, even if it calls to something deep within his own chest. There is a rumble in response, instinctual and unbidden. He recognizes the warning for what it is, but as always, elects to ignore it. Vergil has no desire to hurt him, Dante knows this. Whatever filled his brother's rest has come to drive a wedge between them. Damn him for being so fucking self-sabotaging. Dante scoots over a fraction further, invading his space without grabbing him again. He can feel the heat radiating from him, and the smell of sweat from his night terrors mixing with a hint of mint. His brother is familiar, and yet the way Vergil stares is as though he sits beside a stranger. His stomach lurches. He's seen this before, he reminds himself. In Hell. It will pass.

It does. Slowly.

He swallows thickly, watching the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing evens, and the uncertainty in his eyes is replaced with annoyance, irritation. He smirks, his only acknowledgement of Vergil's command to leave as he rocks his foot, unable to sit still even then. "If you're not goin' to tell me about your dreams then I'll just have to tell you about mine. You ever see a fifty foot tall banshee? You'd think your ears are gonna have it the worst, but you'd be wrong. Big mouthed fucker had the worst breath I've ever smelled, and he wasn't even real. Really it would be worth our time to advocate for a demon dental health plan. Anyways, I come around the corner and the smell hits me so hard, I don't even hear the damn thing start shrieking. I'm tellin' you, even you didn't smell that bad when you were all, y'know," he speaks, and suddenly shifts to make himself taller, wider, mimicking his unfortunate time in an altered state.

vergili

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋; and while it would usually only serve to further irritate him, his present exhaustion has his jaw clicking shut, and his silver brow furrowing. the sweat cooling at his back is, in one word, disgusting ––– and it causes the cotton of his shirt to stick to his skin uncomfortably as it slowly chills against his spine. loosening his grip around his wrist, he allows his hands to finally fall to either side of his hips, nails lightly scratching the sheets as his hands flex against the mattress. the rock of dante's foot catches his attention, eyes snapping to the movement before his brother launches into an innocuous tangent. vergil's jaw ticks at the corner, teeth clenching; a half baked attempt to listen despite knowing it will only make him irate, or give him the sudden urge to enact fratricidal violence. neither would be all too helpful, even if the latter might make him feel minutely better.

the weary headboard at his back provides support, despite its inability to do so against his weight until it presses against the wall with a pathetic creak. his eyes flutter closed as dante rambles, focusing instead on his breathing: in, out, repeat. steadfast, it's something he clings to as his once rapid heartbeat evens; adrenaline still flooding his lungs, pressing against his ribs even as he seeks to let it fall away slowly.

eyes snapping open once more, he catches sight of dante's impression on the tail end of his words; and the furrow in his brow deepens before his gaze sweeps the room to instead catch sight of the yamato, the light from the hallway glinting off the ornate metalwork of her tsuba. his shoulders fall inch by tremulous inch as relief washes over his mind; as his fingers flex at his sides, feeling suddenly, agonizingly empty. it is a feeling that lingers in the back of his mind, he knows. day in, day out. ❛ i do not know, ❜ he states simply; tone flat with little remorse and no room for inquiry into such matters. such things had been... accounted for, rather than truly discussed, during their time beneath the surface, no matter their bickering. he had no desire to dwell on such things.

yet a thought occurs to him ––– brightens the silver of his eyes even as his hair remains dulled, hanging limply over his forehead from the evident stress of the night's somniferous events. ❛ enlighten me, ❜ he says, though the condescension in the dry rasp of his voice is difficult to repress.

#indagatus #「 vergil of sparda 」 might controls everything. but without strength — you cannot protect anything.#「 vergil of sparda / writing 」 thread.#「 vergil of sparda / canon verse: post dmc v 」 i'm startin' to think this is never gonna end. / maybe. but we got plenty a'time.#the moment i read 'if you're not gonna tell me about your dreams then' i knew i was In for it