every fandom under the sun

☆ 20s↑ || self indulgent profile || multifandom, so expect anything || ☆

[multiashking]

☆2025 ANIMATION REEL☆

2025 was a year in which I was trying to find my love for animation and art again, without the prejudice that social media brings nowadays. Thank you all for sticking around for so long, and I'm so excited to create more in the following year <3

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They sure would be unstoppable

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2 secs of rotoscoped radiostatic…

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🦌Domestic MuderMedia my beloved…📺

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So we all know that one gif….

📺RADIOSTATIC VERSION 🦌

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Illustration based on Chapter 1 of “It’s Just Me” by @mephie404 feat my attempt at Alastor’s design (again)

Check out the fic, it’s incredible 😭💕

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TW for self-inflicted harm, just in case (and different versions under the cut)

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TADC EPISODE 7 SPOILER

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📰BREAKING NEWS📰

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April 2025 FlashBang Masterpost

Links to all the creations for this round of FlashBang!

The touch of your hand (says you'll catch me) By @abstractfrog and @glitterymumfriend

A Lovely Affair By SumRandomGirl29 and @ratinavan

A day like every other By @alistair-theirins-tits and @bluecarbun

We're a family, Sherlock By @marieartsy and glorious_purpose20

Sleep is not my friend By @bellwether33 and @kinssideblog

The Experiment By starsrcooll and __egg__16

Unnamed  By Dino (banabalizm) and Bird (@birdifulhuman) 

Word Weaving's Purposes By @jupiterjay and @multiashking 

a double bed and a stalwart lover By @jartchick and @crashingmeteorz 

Our Love Oozes for You By @c-hark and @peculiar-psi

Good Grief By @shinymoonforest and saturn11dae

Wounds heal better with Sweet words By @el-on-mars and rusnuz

The Business of Loving By @miiints-repostiory and @paperleef

Holding you close, never letting go By @falling-raine and @brother_m1ne 

A Birthday on Baker Street By @absolute-gibberish and @owletry

Be My- By @itsnobodysproblem and @tiredmilkshake

Kintsugi Honey By @ghostofnuggetspast and @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant

The Maimed Doctor By @annoyingcat413 and @gregorovitch-adler

who let the dogs out?! by @lxvenderjewel and atispeach

Oops, it's under baked! By jahames102 and @notcookiecrumbs

A Late Night Realization By @whispering-strays and @theomm-h0lmes

This Story Oozes Love By @frenchfriedgiraffe and @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant

Lechuza, not Owl By @quetzadrawshere​ and @tsukihasnolife

there's nothing like doing nothing with you By @ilovegayangels and @colonelmajorkepler

[yourlocalinternetidiot]

magma may have genuinely made me enjoy doodling again this is really fun :D (little tennas next to mine by @multiashking !)

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It was so so fun to have you there!! Your drawings were awesome 😭💕💕

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(Less suggestive) Tenna in the bathroom

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Tenna in the bathroom

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(Most of) the FUN gang sleepover

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💻Driving with my darling📺

Aka I passed my theory driving exam and felt like making these two go for a ride

(More sketches and closeups under the cut)

Also don’t mind the lack of windshield, I noticed it way too late

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I also had the motivation to finish this so here's some [DELUXE DINNER]

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First vs Latest Tenna drawing (aka I drew him 3 times and these are the only finished pieces)

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Word Weaving's Purposes

By @jupiterjay and @multiashking

There is good fun to be found in the lapse of night and dawn. Stars shed their essence and sink back past the sky and the colour swivels and dances in tandem with the clouds, it all comes along quite nicely. Sherlock Holmes had seen it a few times before. Knowing the hours of night pass faintly, sometimes he'd catch its moments slipping past him.

He was in the kitchen, a pen put off onto the page, though brief notes on the experiment had been taken (data table, not much else, the purpose seemed also a little indistinct, but since the idea had come from daytime, it was probably alright), that wasn't quite the point of this pen-to-paper tangibility.

The mess of the room was often inconsistent – a side effect of having separate definitions of order and separate tendencies to strive towards it. For Sherlock, the placement of Watson’s jacket, his empty dishes and now not so taped notes wasn’t relevant. It was a good warm up for deduction, the dishes were left in the morning, there was a fading light brown line and cereal is a typical enough breakfast food for Watson. So on and such. But they’d served their purpose so had gotten shoved off the table to make room for the test tubes, a mug of inconspicuous liquid and a commonplace book.

And in front of him there sat the noteless side of the paper. Sherlock spun the pen between his fingers lazily. He reached for one of John’s notes, it was a little pitiful how many of them had floated right off the board. “Edit audio”, read this one. Or that was what was deciphered from it.

Words can be simple things once they are taken out of your pure thoughts. Simple, inaccurate, but actual.

The back of Sherlock’s pen grazed the linguistic constructions. Out of it came the softest rustle, yet it made him aware of having the capacity to hear, silence furled in on itself and reminded that it is night. It is quiet. However, you do exist. And that air of existence didn’t want to contain itself, it just kept reaching to feel.

Pen came to scrape paper. Well, no it didn’t. It came to add to it, perhaps complete it as it happened to have a purpose. The lapse shifted away and then, shoving thin strokes of sunshine through the window, it was morning.

Sherlock cleared a decent part of the table as John entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sherlock, up all night, were you?” He asked. “I certainly heard something at 3 am.”

“Good morning. Not all. And I don’t think that noise was my doing.” Sherlock turned over and folded the paper, and put the pen beside it.

“What’s that?” John sat down opposite Sherlock with a bowl of cereal.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. A few notes.”

***

The writing was carved into the paper and over it spilled splotches. Ink dripped, slipping into the next words, pulling over the previous ones. The shine of the sun ran dry through the paper, pointing to its roughness, how it took in all the weight of feeling.

“It didn't end up meaning anything though, but, God, it was Huge. Again, it doesn't really matter that much, seeing as, well, it got set on fire but… mate, what are you writing?” Watson's voice emerged from behind Sherlock, upon the sofa.

Sherlock lifted his gaze. Past Watson, in the corner of the living room stretched thin silver, it glittered in the light of the falling sun. Odd indeed. Perhaps a trick of the dust and light in the mess of the room. Hadn’t had a brush up in a decent while.

“Research stuff or what?” John slipped closer to him, hovering behind; Sherlock swiftly pulled the paper away. He brought the pen to his ear defenders, a slight click as he hit against them.

“No, rather unserious compared to that. Just some particular… emotion notation, I’d say.”

Watson backed up. “Oh, yeah. Cool, good. People usually save the introspective stuff for when they're alone though.” He coughed, expecting attention to what he’d been saying previously.

“If I decide to be introspective about my experiences when alone, I often find it ends in a puzzling detachment of myself. Besides, it isn't that complicated.”

Was it not? He put the paper back in place, but the words had got smudged beyond their shapes. Sherlock crossed a good bit of it out. It wouldn’t be too wise to attribute such value to his emotion, other things were pulling at his string of focus, much more potentially life threatening.

“Well, neat anyways I suppose. I’ve tried holding a few diaries, never really worked out,” John spoke and Sherlock dared to glance at him. Then to gaze. Then start to feel a sense of uncertainty wrap around himself. “Ah.”

There really was a spider web in the room. A bug tangled up in the dim-lit corner. A shadow crept over it.

Sherlock pulled on his ear defenders and escaped to the pen, twisting around with his fingers, swooping words onto the page to just get it bloody over with. It's what comes with joy – the fear of losing it. The ache of hurting it. It's irrationally sensible, writing it down is making it make sense and it matters but then it is priority to forget and discard it because, no, your emotions will play no such part when it comes to the safety of everything, everyone around–

Watson sat next to him, watching him write and… it popped. Liquid poured out the pen, sticking to Sherlock's hand before he dropped it onto the sheet. It oozed. Few sentences on the top of the page remained unscathed. And that little amount of words below, cut through between ink, read simply.

John sat away. “Oh, whoops. Seems like ‘emotion notation’ won’t be going too well.”

“It certainly won’t be.” Sherlock took hold of the paper, moving to the kitchen.

“I love you. You” and one ink split, “love” and yet another ink thread, “me.”

Too blunt. Blue slid off and into the water after a good scrub.

“You mustn't suffer because of it,” it cut off, the rest of the pathetic sentence was drowned out. Sherlock tore it. This was utterly useless in the end. Soft light slipped away bit by bit, giving way to shadow, to this late evening.

“Bad luck, isn’t that?” Watson said, as Sherlock allowed himself to pass back into the living room.

“Maybe not, I feel like the paper was distracting me anyway.”

“Assumed so, don’t think you were even listening to my impressive story.” He spoke while lifting in his hand another pen, from the floor, judging by the shoved mess.

Sherlock reached for the pen, whisking it away from Watson’s hand. Hm. “Right. I’ll be resigning to my room now.”

“Ah. Will you come back out anytime soon?”

“I suppose not.”

“Welp, I wish you… for you to go to sleep at a reasonable time. Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John.”

lovely art is by the @multiashking :) it was absolutely fantastic to work with them!! this was very cool, loved writing again ^^