#working out and drawing porn! yippee!!

[hcnnibal]

Hi uhh how did you learn anatomy? I’ve been drawing for years, and one thing I really want to improve on is my understanding in that area. More for speed’s sake than anything else because I can usually make a pretty good pose, it just takes an hour of agonizing. Since you’ve said you’re making a webcomic I assume that’s something you’ve overcome to a certain extent. It’s easy to find beginner anatomy tutorials but you seem really good, so how did you learn? Did you teach yourself?

im mostly self taught, i drew alot of stuff like this when i was a kid

then i went to uni for art (and cs and game design) and did a little bit of this stuff.

my program was mostly just like. thinking about art and meaning making and cough grant writing cough

but yeah, it still takes me a long time to come up with poses and make them feel natural and interesting, and thats why the comic only gets like 4 pages a month ahahahah

i also have always used references and will always use references, i love looking at stuff, but understanding what you’re looking at helps a lot

[elareine]

(For @reah22​. Set in the future of Adamare.) There are three rules to Magical Monster Trucks.

1. Nothing is off-limits when it comes to magical or mechanical modifications of the vehicles. As long is doesn’t kill anyone, you’re good.

…actually, Duke wasn’t sure about that last addition. Might just be wishful thinking on his part.

Case in point: Damian was currently yelling, “Take that, you old gargoyle!” as he fired a stun-spell ray gun at a truck that  

“They’re out. Good job, team!” Dick gave them both high-fives.  

“Two more out there,” Duke warned.

Today was ‘Teacher Throwdown Tuesday.’ Not that had helped them prepare. An advantage of wizard cloaking: You never knew who might face you. Jason did; as the headmaster, he’d decided he was impartial enough to handle sign-ups.

Duke suspected Jason wouldn’t object if some rando showed up with a truck, as long as that truck was awesome enough.

2. No magic during the fight, not even for communication.

Instead, they got some good old-fashioned muggle comms. The next message on which was: “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!”

Okay. That narrowed down who was coming at them next.

Steph and Jason, the only two muggleborns among them, had started saying that at every opportunity, claiming it was a traditional saying that dated back to the eighteenth century. Duke was pretty sure Dick had caught on. The others, maybe.  

Damian hadn’t.

“Brown has no decorum,” he seethed. “This small amusement is not worthy of a time-honored battle cry.”

Duke exchanged an amused glance with Dick. A mistake—while they were distracted, another truck sped from its hiding place behind a pile of tires and immediately covered them in a barrage of stick-to-it spells before Dick could react.

Damian’s eyes widened comically. This time Duke couldn’t blame him. “It glitters!”

“Should make it easier to hit.”  

“You haven’t landed much either!” Damian bit back.

Honestly, neither of them was having much luck. Steph and Cass had opted for small and mobile over huge and heavy, and it was paying off.

3. This ends in surrender, or not at all.

“Giving up yet, Triple D?” Steph’s voice was mocking.

Duke would flambé her for that, but the Batgirls managed to land a hit on his flamethrowers three minutes ago. (See why he had some doubts about the ‘no killing’ rule?) Instead, he was left to ruminate once more about how their team name really sounded like a bra size or a porn video. Since Dick and Damian were experts in neither of these things, Duke’s objection had been overruled.

“They’re coming up the ramp!” Dick yelled.

Duke could see it, clear as day. The girls were going to get up there, activate the floating spell Cass was famous for, the one they had named their truck for, and land right on top of them.

They were so screwed.

The noise as the Batgirl landed on top of them was deafening. And then it just stayed there. Dick tried everything, but they couldn’t get away—that thing was heavier than it looked.  

“Owned you,” Steph cooed.

“Well played,” Duke had to admit.

Honk.

“What was that?” Damian asked.

Dick frantically checked his instruments. “I don’t know, I can’t—“

Duke rolled his eyes and opened the window.

“Oh, right.” Dick joined him—not like there was much steering to be done anymore—and they stared in horror at the yellow school bus charging straight up the highest ramp.

“…does that say ‘Bad to the bone,’ or am I hallucinating?” Duke asked.

“I wish.”

There was only one person who would drive that thing.

Honk.

Steph’s cursing filled the comm line. The truck above them shook as the Batgirl rolled off in a desperate attempt to get away; then again when the bus landed right on top of them both.

Silence.

“Fuck.” Steph sounded disgusted. Cass was the one to add: “We’re stuck.”

“So are we,” sighed Dick.

“Guess what that means?” There was loud cheering over the comms, enough to tell everyone that Jason had not been alone in that truck. “We won!”

Damian grimaced. Duke, however, grinned and leaned forward to the mic. “Can you move, then?”

There was no reply at first, but they could all hear Jason revving up the truck and his wheels spinning in the air. The bus was simply too long. There was no purchase.

“Nope,” Jason finally conceded.  

“Draw?” Dick offered. Pretty ballsy of him, Duke thought. They’d been the ones who would have definitely lost.

“Yeah.” “Alright.”

The only way out was through the window, so that’s what they did.

Looking at the pile-up from the outside sure was something. No wonder the students at the stands were cheering so much. There was glitter everywhere. The whole scene looked ready to be a special exhibition at MoMA. Some indictment on modern living and Instagram culture, probably.

“Okay, kids, Miss Cain will now demonstrate the floating charm to you,” he heard Jason say. Of course this was gonna be a teaching opportunity. Duke strongly suspected the kids would float the car parts for recycling purposes next.

He stood back, content to observe. Too many cooks and all that. As he watched, at least two dozen twelve-year-olds lined up to be gently floated down the pile of car junk.  

“I see you’re having fun.”

Duke started, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Tim. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

Tim looked tired and pale, as was to be expected after a mission somewhere North, and slightly distant, as was to be expected after being away from his family, Duke thought.  

Dick had been the one to recruit him, back at school, and Duke’s first partner had been Bruce, but he’d worked with Damian and Tim often enough. They shared the ‘Defense against the Dark Arts’ position between them. Jason had wanted to make sure that his kids were taught by people who knew what was up; not some airhead with false notions about bravery and antiquated dueling procedures.

If it had the added side-effect that this was probably the best-protected school in North America, well. That was just a bonus.

They watched as Jason hoisted a kid that looked afraid onto his shoulders, jumping down with her in one fluid motion, then mimicking a horse charging at Steph until everyone was laughing.

Tim radiated fondness. “It’s good to be home.”  

Duke smiled. Yeah. Same.