Herine Selgrey

Some Devil May Cry fanarts ^^

Been a lil obsess w DMC lately (ok mostly Dante), anyways enjoy these fun doodles <3

Had time for a sketch, heh 💖

Vergil digital fanart by RQSW -me-

getting into the rebooted mw games recently

Don’t trace or use my art without my permission!

Alt versions below:

When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.

But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.

Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.

“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.

Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.

You don’t have to show me anything, or be anyone else. If this is how you survive, at least let me fix that little wooden tail.

-BONUS-

Initial idea for the third and fourth panel :3

Hanging out

YOU KNOW WHAT WE ALL NEED? KÖNIG FLUFF. YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED? TO BITE THIS MAN FFS.

LET'S GAUR.

KönigxGN!reader

it's set shortly after MWIII, and after that Riley died too (loose ends) lol

they hate each other bcz they can see their own reflections, but they are both themselves and others so cannot hate entirely one another. himself's the only one who truly understands him right

no guarantee that 22 share the exact same comic setup, but i figured there would be some common ground between them as characters named Ghost

König has a heart attack during a meeting, he wasn’t aware it was one, tried to push past the sudden tightness in his chest but soon he couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe right. He gripped the edge of the table trying to steady himself, PowerPoint behind him already forgotten as he tried not to topple over. Somebody rose from their chair and rushed towards him, guiding him to sit, “You shouldn’t be standing, Colonel.” Another voice, more urgent. “Call an ambulance!” They had him rushed to the hospital, between the blur and the indistinct shouting in the background, König’s mind focused on one thing before he passed out: You.

Notified an hour later with eyes red and brimming with tears, you quietly tiptoe into room 203 where he was staying, finding him scribbling words on a piece of paper.

Of course, he’s working. Just woke up and already he’s filling forms. You’re angry, worried, terrified that you came so, so close to losing him. “You!” You whisper harshly, pointing an accusatory finger at him, fearing that if you yelled full force it might trigger another heart attack. “You’re not even out of bed and you’re working!” Vision blurry, you snatch a seemingly important “document” out of his grasp, “No! No more work, König!”

He reaches for it too late, it’s already in your trembling hands. “You can’t take that!” He says not too convincingly.

“Don’t fight me on this, please.”

“But—”

“I said, don’t fight me on this!”

“Nein—Schatz! Please, this isn’t what you think it is, don’t read it—” but it’s too late and your eyes are already flying over the lines.

A half finished, very sappy poem.

“What’s this…” you mutter. König takes a deep breath, his throat suddenly dry. “A proposal.”

“What?”

“I could’ve died today, Liebchen…and I don’t want my life to have ended without—”

“König, I don’t want you to ask what I think you’re about to ask just because you’re afraid of dying alone.” You have a way of making him sound more pathetic than he actually is, König hops out of bed with a disgruntled look on his face. “No, no,” he rounds the bed and steps closer to you, even in a hospital gown he looks…big, out of place, fabric barely covering him. You tilt your head just to reach his gaze.

“It’s not about that,” he takes your hands in his, dwarfing yours, running his thumbs over your knuckles in a steady rhythm, either to soothe you or to ground himself for what he’s about to say.

“It’s not about dying alone, it’s about living without the woman I love.” He gets down on one knee despite your small protest, joints popping until he reached the floor, you’re not ready.

“You are the love of what I pray will be my very, very long life. And I can’t spend one more second of it without you.”

A light pause between you, tears filling his eyes. He’s never looked more vulnerable.