#Carl Flint

[sonicpanels]

Sonic the Comic #124: "The Lump"

Writer: Lew Stringer Pencils/Inks: Carl Flint Colors: Steve White Letters: Gordon Robson

Editor: Deborah Tate Managing Editor: Steve McManus

[downthetubes]

FOLD, Derby's first Zine Fest, debuts next month, call for creators to apply for tables

FOLD - Derby Zine Fest is set to debut next month – and the team behind it has issued a last call for comic creators and zinemakers who may want tables

FOLD – Derby Zine Fest is set to debut next month – and the team behind it has issued a last call for comic creators and zinemakers who may want tables. “FOLD is Derby’s first ever Zine Fest,” artist Carl Flint tells downthetubes. The event will span two city centre venues, Deda: Déda Derby Dance and Derby Quad. “Quad will host stalls for independent and small press comics, stripzines and…

[comicwaren]

From Amazing Spider-Man Vol. 6 #060

Main story by Zeb Wells (W), John Romita Jr., Scott Hanna and Marcio Menyz (A)

“Doctor’s Orders”, by Zeb Wells (W), Ed McGuinness, Mark Farmer and Marcio Menyz (A)

“Team-Up: Part Two”, by Zeb Wells (W), Todd Nauck and Rachelle Rosenberg (A)

“Bubs”, by Zeb Wells (W) and Paolo Rivera (A)

“Same Spider-Channel”, by Zeb Wells (W), Patrick Gleason and Edgar Delgado (A)

“Ride’s Over”, by Joe Kelly (W), Mark Buckingham and Edgar Delgado (A)

[fekatsitra]

Postknight fanart of the Pompon Village merchant, Carle! 😇✨

I'm drawing his design back in PK1 and mixing it a bit with Pk2. The Eolin temple priest design is based on the Caldemount arc when we deliver knightmail to the South Temple. Based on PK2 chat, delivery quest, and event, we've learned that Carle is formerly an Eolin Priest but for some unknown reason quit at athe age of 33 years old. Though fellow priest/priestess seems to still try to persuade him to return?

Also, Merchant Carle is forty years old as of year 1836 in the Postknight sequel Postknight 2. This old man has no right looking so cute and dorky 😤

[borrelia]

this story cute :) i like that it has both sonic caring abt his friends and amy just casually being capable as always. AND "sonic you looked like a nerd." it's obv very silly but well i like those parts about it

[mossandfog]

The Beauty of Native Glass Gem Corn

If you’ve ever seen Glass Gem corn, you’ve probably done a double take. Its kernels shine like little jewels, with colors ranging from deep blues and purples to bright yellows and pinks. It almost doesn’t look real—but it is! And while its beauty grabs attention, the story behind it is what really makes Glass Gem corn extra special. Via RareSeeds. A Piece of Native American History Glass Gem…

[flashfuckingflesh]

Is this EVIL Real or is it a "Deathdream" reviewed! "(Blue Underground / 4K UHD and Blu-ray Combo)

The Nightmare is Here. “Deathdream” on 4K UHD Blu-ray! The Brooks family just sat down for dinner before receiving a personal house call by a military commander, conveying the tragic killed in action telegram of their son Andy during a Vietnam War skirmish.  Very early next morning, Andy inexplicably arrives at their doorstep and the whole family is elated with his return and relieved in the…

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 40

You

The sun begins to dip below the skyline, its fading light casting long shadows that stretch across the forest floor. You pause, uncertainty settling in your chest as you try to orient yourself. You’re not even sure you’re headed the right way, the once-familiar path now blurred by time and overgrown foliage. It’s been so long since you were in these woods, yet the memory of being with Daryl is as vivid as ever—so close you almost feel his presence beside you.

Deciding to carry on in the morning, you crouch down beside a tree, glancing around one last time to check for threats, your senses sharp as always. You catch a fleeting moment of disappointment, a small ache that the only comfort tonight is a distant memory, not the cabin you once shared on a run. Nor any signs of the man himself. But you push the feeling down, focusing instead on the squirrel you managed to catch earlier while making your way through the dense woods. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that survival is more immediate than sentimentality.

You set your bag down, carefully pulling out items from Jade’s pack. A small blanket, a basic first aid kit, and—your breath catches—a piece of flint. It’s an unexpected find, and for a moment, optimism flares in your chest, a brief reprieve from the heaviness that’s been lingering for days.

You begin skinning the squirrel, your hands moving with practiced ease. Daryl’s voice echoes in your mind, a steady, grounding presence from a different time. “Remove the tail and forelegs at the joints… cut the skin from the rear… pull the edges of hide away…” You can almost feel the warmth of him beside you, guiding your clumsy hands when you were just a kid. The memory is bittersweet, a mix of comfort and longing that leaves you feeling both grounded and hollow.

Once the squirrel is ready, you dig a small hole in the earth, your movements automatic. You arrange twigs and leaves into a small pile, swiping your knife across the flint. Sparks catch quickly, but your mind is slower to let go of the past, each strike a reminder of nights spent by fires with Daryl. There’s that ache in your chest—a deep, gnawing sense of absence—as you watch the small flames flicker to life, their light barely filling the void inside you.

As you ready a larger branch to stretch the squirrel’s flesh over the fire, a sudden snap echoes through the darkening forest. Your head jerks up, body tensing. You scan the tree line, eyes straining to pierce the growing shadows. Everything feels sharper, your senses on high alert. You wait, breath held, muscles coiled, but nothing emerges from the stillness. You force yourself to breathe, pushing the rising unease aside as you return to your task. 

The fire crackles softly, its warmth a small comfort against the creeping cold. You stare into the flickering flames, your mind drifting back to the prison, to the faces that once surrounded you. You wonder where everyone is now—Rick, Carl, Maggie, Glenn… and Daryl. Are they scattered in different parts of these same woods? Or have they found each other, a small bit of warmth in this desolate world? The thought makes your chest tighten with a mix of loneliness and frustration. Is everyone just as lost and alone as you?

“Well, lookit here,” a voice drawls, cold and mocking. It comes from behind you, but as you raise yourself up and turn, you realize there are more—six or seven men stepping out from behind the trees, weapons raised and eyes locked on you. You pull your knife free, wishing you had your rifle to point at them instead.

But as soon as the man calls his greeting, another, silky-smooth voice slithers through the darkness. “Claimed.”

Goosebumps rise along your skin, and your grip on the knife tightens. You take a defensive stance, feet shifting instinctively. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” you snarl, turning sharply toward the voice. God, there were a lot of them. Every nerve in your body is on edge as you take in the sight of the men surrounding you.

“Claimin’ the squirrel,” another calls out behind a gun, but it’s forgotten as your eyes land on the one who seemed to think you were a piece of property rather than a human being.

He’s a greasy-looking man with long, unkempt black hair that falls around his shoulders. His beard is scraggly and uneven, and his eyes gleam with a wicked, hungry light. He has a leering grin on his face, eyes fixated on you like prey he’s already claimed in his mind.

“Ooohoohoo,” he jeers, voice dripping with amusement, “I like 'em feisty, Joe!”

Your lip curls, anger and disgust twisting in your gut. You don’t back down; instead, you take a step forward, knife still raised, the blade aimed right at his throat. The man’s grin widens, clearly enjoying your defiance.

“Okay, okay,” another man interjects, stepping forward. He has tousled salt-and-pepper hair and beard, his weathered face lined with experience rather than malice. His eyes are calm, but there’s a coldness in them, a calculating edge. His leather jacket is colorful, the skull and roses embroidered catching the light. This must be Joe, clearly the leader. He raises his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Hold up,” he says with a disarming calmness, his voice carrying a certain authority.

But you don’t lower your weapon, your gaze locked on the man who “claimed” you. His hand twitches toward the handle of a machete hanging at his hip, testing you, but Joe’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Len, back off,” Joe orders, his voice steady but firm. “We don’t scare 'em right away. There’s no fun in that.”

“Who the hell are you,” you growl through bared teeth, “You wanna fight, you got one. You don’t get to go around claiming human beings, asshole,”

Joe studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “We’re not here to fight,” he finally says, though the glint in his eye suggests he wouldn’t mind if it came to that. “We’re here to make an offer.”

“Not interested,” you snap back, but the circle of men remains unbroken, their weapons still trained on you.

“Now, now,” Joe continues, his tone almost conversational, “We’ve been keepin’ an eye on you, all alone out here. No one to save you. So, you can put that knife down, and we can all be friends, or you can keep testing us.”

The greasy man, Len, chuckles low and dark, clearly enjoying the standoff. “Yeah, we can be real good friends,” he says, his voice a suggestive purr.

You glare at him, your voice a low growl. “Try me, and I’ll gut you where you stand.”

“Listen,” Joe says, stepping closer, the flames of your fire glowing orange on his face, “You slice into that man’s neck, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That whatcha want?”

When you don’t drop the knife from where it pricks into the man, Len’s skin of his neck, Joe continues, “Come on girl, suicide is stupid. Name’s Joe.”

“Yeah, kinda figured that,” you say, dropping your knife. Eventually, the men around you lower their weapons, but your eyes don’t leave the skinny, dark haired one in front of you. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Joe says contentedly, “why don’t I tell you ‘bout our rules?”

warnings: I hate the Claimers and they're only going to be worse from here on out

[shiliria]

All the artist:

Left wall: Roberto Corona 

Right wall from top to bottom (left to right):

Lew Stringer, Carl Flint , Jonathan Gray, @Kapellosaur , @MORG , Carl Flint (once more) and Nigel Kitching

The rest was me.

[talonabraxas]

“Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.” ― Carl Gustav Jung

The Caduceus: Magical Staff of Hermes Talon Abraxas

Today is Wednesday, traditionally the day of Hermes (Mercury).

Moses, with horns, raises the brazen serpent Nehushtan, so that the Israelites could be cured and be protected from dying from the bites of the "fiery serpents".

The LORD said to Moses, Make thee a burning serpent, and place it upon a pole; whosoever will be bitten, and looketh at it, shall preserve life.

Moses made a serpent out of the flint, and placed it upon a pole; and whosoever was bitten by a serpent, and looked upon the flint serpent, kept life. "(Numbers 21,5-9)

[persimmonsimmer]

Sam swallowed.

For the first time she could remember, Carl wasn’t smiling.

“I really didn’t know. I told her she had to stay behind. I never thought— I don’t know how she made it all the way here!”

Carl said nothing.

“She— I’ll be responsible for her. I’ll make sure she won’t cause any trouble.”

“She’s a headstrong child. A rule breaker. I’m not convinced you’ll have any say over whether she causes trouble or not.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“I don’t know if she can be trusted. At this point, I’m leaning toward a negative. And that means her presence here puts all of our plans in danger.”

Sam couldn’t deny it. Her little sister’s performance a moment ago had proved her to be more calculating than she ever would have believed before today. But what was there to do? She felt herself wilting under Carl’s cold glare.

“But she's right, isn't she?” she ventured, unable to meet his eyes. “She's told people here there's nothing left back home. If they believe I'm all she has, sending her away would look, uh, not good.”

Carl sighed. “A clever plan, and a clever little performance. I can't see a way around it, no. At the least, I can’t send her away without losing you, too. Even that would raise questions. And then what? These days, folks with engineering smarts don’t exactly grow on trees.”

He kneaded his temples. “I believe you had nothing to do with this, Sam, I do. I've seen how hard you've been working since you got here. But be that as it may, she’s your responsibility. You’ll have to watch her. Make sure she knows what’s at stake, and nothing more. Do whatever you have to to make sure she keeps her story straight.”

“She’s not going to say anything.”

“We have no option but to hope she doesn’t. This is a serious complication, Sam.”

Sam bristled. She was tired, and none of this was her fault, and he was treating her like a child, and all she wanted was to sleep and to be uncomplicatedly glad to see her sister again, and it was all too unfair and too much. “What about Citlali? If we’re going to talk about complications.”

Carl’s eyes cut into her like cold grey shards of flint. He took a step closer, and Sam inadvertently shrank back. “Citlali. knows. nothing,” he said quietly. “And she is not going to learn anything. She is not the problem here.”

Sam swallowed, nodded.

Carl pinned her with his gaze for another long moment, then turned away, paced across the room. For a moment, as he looked pensively out the window, it almost seemed like he'd forgotten her, but Sam knew better than to move until she'd been dismissed.

When he turned back to her and spoke again, his tone was almost normal. Politely interested. “Now. When you came in today, just before all of this—you said you’d found something?”

“Oh!” It was a testament to her shock at seeing Robin that the night’s findings had temporarily flown from her head, but now it all came rushing back. “Yes!” She was practically stumbling over herself in her haste to share what she'd witnessed. To get back into Carl's good graces. “I was at the build site . . . ”

[sonicpanels]

Sonic the Comic #87: "Easy Target"

Writer: Lew Stringer Pencils/Inks: Carl Flint Colors: Pre-Press Letters: Tom Frame

Editor: Deborah Tate

[yanxidarlings]

CHARACTERS

HETALIA

MOST INTERESTED IN WRITING FOR

romano, belarus, latin america, mongolia

WILL WRITE FOR

europe

austria, belarus, belgium, bulgaria, denmark, england, estonia, finland, france, germany, greece, greenland, hungary, iceland, italy, latvia, liechtenstein, lithuania, netherlands, norway, poland, portugal, prussia, romania, romano, russia, seborga, spain, sweden, switzerland, turkey, ukraine

asia

china, hong kong, india, indonesia, iran, japan, kazakhstan, macau, malaysia, manchuria, mongolia, north korea, persia, philippines, qatar, saudi arabia, singapore, south korea, taiwan, thailand, tibet, vietnam

americas

argentina, bolivia, brazil, canada, chile, costa rica, cuba, ecuador, el salvador, honduras, mexico, paraguay, peru, puerto rico, united states, uruguay, venezuela

africa

cameroon, chad, egypt, niger

oceania

australia, new zealand

HARRY POTTER

MOST INTERESTED IN WRITING FOR

slytherins, cormac, zacharias, anthony

WILL WRITE FOR

slytherin

adrian pucey, blaise zabini, draco malfoy, gregory goyle, lorenzo berkshire, marcus flint, mattheo riddle, pansy parkinson, terrence higgs, theodore nott, tom riddle

hufflepuff

cedric diggory, ernie macmillan, justin finch-fletchley, zacharias smith

ravenclaw

anthony goldstein, michael corner, terry boot

gryffindor

cormac mclaggen, fred weasley, george weasley, harry potter, neville longbottom, ron weasley

other

rita skeeter, viktor krum

THE WALKING DEAD

MOST INTERESTED IN WRITING FOR

WILL WRITE FOR

original series

aaron from alexandria, caesar martinez, carl grimes, daryl dixon, eugene porter, gabriel stokes, gareth from terminus, merle dixon, negan smith, owen the wolf, paul jesus rovia, philip blake, ron anderson, rick grimes, shane walsh, simon the saviour

fear

chris manawa, james mcallister, nick clarke, travis manawa, troy otto, victor strand

[the-wild-rose-withers]

Fandoms, Favorites, & Liked Characters

❧ Genshin Impact

FAVORITES

♡ Xiao ��� Baizhu ♡ Cyno ♡ Neuvillette ♡ Freminet ♡ Pantalone ♡

LIKE

♡ Diluc ♡ Venti ♡ Albedo ♡ Noelle ♡ Razor ♡ Zhongli ♡ Shenhe ♡ Xianyun ♡ Raiden Shogun ♡ Kamisato Ayato ♡ Tighnari ♡ The Wanderer ♡ Furina ♡ Kinich ♡ Arleccino ♡ Il Capitano ♡ Il Dottore ♡ Dainsleif ♡

❧ Guilty Gear

FAVORITES

♡ Testament ♡ Romeo F. Neumann ♡ Asuka R. Kreutz ♡

LIKE

♡ Happy Chaos ♡ Zato-1 ♡ Slayer ♡ A.B.A. ♡ Venom ♡ Raven ♡

❧ Identity V

FAVORITES

♡ Helena Adams ♡ Ganji Gupta ♡ Joker ♡ Frederick Kreiburg ♡ Florian Brand ♡ Richard Sterling ♡ Joseph Desaulniers ♡ Alva Lorenz ♡

LIKE

♡ Emily Dyer ♡ Naib Subedar ♡ Vera Nair ♡ Eli Clark ♡ Aesop Carl ♡ Murro Morton ♡ Victor Grantz ♡ Andrew Kreiss ♡ Luca Balsa ♡ Emil ♡ Ada Mesmer ♡ Luchino Diruse ♡ Matthias Czernin ♡ Jack ♡ Michiko ♡ Hastur ♡ Xie Bi'an ♡ Fan Wujiu ♡ Yidhra ♡ Antonio ♡ The Will Brothers ♡ Phillipe ♡ Ithaqua ♡

❧ Pokémon

FAVORITES

♡ Wallace ♡ Cyrus ♡ Ghetsis ♡ Piers ♡ Brassius ♡

LIKE

♡ Red ♡ Blue ♡ Koga ♡ Giovanni ♡ Lance ♡ Morty ♡ Clair ♡ Will ♡ Archer ♡ Proton ♡ Winona ♡ Steven Stone ♡ Archie ♡ Maxie ♡ Volkner ♡ Flint ♡ Lucian ♡ Cilan ♡ Chili ♡ Cress ♡ Burgh ♡ Brycen ♡ Grimsley ♡ N ♡ Siebold ♡ Milo ♡ Kabu ♡ Gordie ♡ Larry ♡ Grusha ♡ Rika ♡

❧ Twisted Wonderland

FAVORITES

♡ Rook Hunt ♡ Dire Crowley ♡ Divus Crewel ♡

LIKE

♡ Trey Clover ♡ Azul Ashengrotto ♡ Jade Leech ♡ Floyd Leech ♡ Jamil Viper ♡ Vil Schoenheit ♡ Silver ♡ Che'nya ♡ Rollo Flamme ♡ Neige Leblanche ♡

[borrelia]

the nice thing abt doing comics stylistically inspired by stc is that things can look bad ^_^ its okay. sometimes comic panels look bad bc you gotta make a bunch of them! who care! im here to see the funny little sonics

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Have you ever felt like this?

Grounded, fierce, committed, and definitely unpredictable...

It's good.

I hope you get to experience this alive feeling in the best way possible for you.

Something to dream about.

"Emotion is the moment when steel meets flint and a spark is struck forth, for emotion is the chief source of consciousness. There is no change from darkness to light or from inertia to movement without emotion."

- Carl Jung

[Image: Eastern Motive (1875) by French painter Édouard Frédéric Wilhelm Richter (1844-1913).]

Poetry, Tea and Me

Mara Clear Spring Cook