#laylavanhellsing

[theveryworstthing]

Are you currently open for commissions?

i have a single sketch commission tier on patreon right now but i’m not fully open to commissions because i’m still working on two very large commissions (these simpler ones are done to give me a little cash/breathing space while doing the big ones tbh). i’ll be sure to announce when general commissions open though!

[miranda-mundt-art]

I saw on your insta stories that the author of Uriah is looking to hire coloring assistants but I cant find the post on their blog

idk their blog but if you go through my story it will lead you to the post on their insta! 

[gloomy-prince]

laylavanhellsing replied to your post: a comic about a trans magical boy is apparently...

What’s it called?

if I'm remembering right i’m pretty sure its just called Magical Boy. I’ve seen it on tapas’ main page several times so it shouldn't be too difficult to find

[nivilliain]

i love yamencia and she's so cute and I love it when she poses all sassy

[archi-pelago]

Depression that not even Hungarian Folktales can cure

no lie I watched like half of those videos in a night and instantly dissociated into a world of peace and confusion, sometimes i just leave the playlist on while i draw because its good background noise

[phoenix-fenix]

Visit Original Link

@laylavanhellsing requested this audio, I’m sorry, I do not know how to remove the background voices, but I hope this is good enough

[sharpace]

For @laylavanhellsing for the @cocofanexchange Valentine’s event! They requested Ernesto post-movie hiding out.  So of course I couldn’t resist drawing him being dramatic. Lots of fun doing this one! ♥

[thomasblanky-moved]

Write about Ernesto accidentally poisoning himself when he tries to kill Hector

dying hurt. 

at least, it hurt to die the way he- he assumed he did. and how stupid, to die like that, accidental suicide; his hands must have been shaking, or he must have spilled into his own glass. he can still taste the cheap alcohol, the way it had seared across his tongue and burned the back of his throat.

he was nothing but bones now, though. 

his clothes fit strangely, too loose. he tucks his shirt and tightens his belt, tugging uncomfortably at his necktie. that, at least, was still loose, flopping lifelessly against his collarbones; he couldn’t stand the idea of cinching it around his spine. he couldn’t stand the sight of himself in the room’s- cell, really- one wall-mounted mirror, couldn’t bear to look at his hands.

the door opens to reveal one of those strangely sympathetic officers, dressed in a neat blue uniform, skull still somehow managing to impart emotion. he swallows back the revulsion that rises in him at the sight.

“ernesto?” 

he knew that voice. 

the officer steps aside to reveal another skeleton, this one dressed in a red-brown charro suit, cheap satin tie at its- his- throat. his brown eyes were wide, dark hair falling in messy layers; there were markings etched across his cheekbones in shades of gold and purple, looking almost like wings.

“héctor?”

and then héctor was on him in the blink of an eye, pulling him up into a fierce hug, clinging almost desperately. it takes him a moment but ernesto responds in kind, curling his fingers into héctor’s jacked, hands pressed against the other man’s shoulder blades. it should have been uncomfortable- there were far more sharp angles now, he supposed, the both of them just being bones- but it felt just as it had when they were alive.

“oh, héctor,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper and héctor just squeezes him closer. clinging together like this he can feel the way that héctor trembles just so, as if he would fall apart at the slightest provocation. they were all the other had, now, and that was almost what he wanted, but not like this. never like this.

ernesto de la cruz was twenty-six years old, and dying hurt.