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@mashiexists
intro post
hello! i'm mashi. i am a walking, talking, organ-filled vessel.
i enjoy doing human things and researching on human topics, as well as seeing human emotions and reading human stories. it is very awesome.
i like making stories about my characters. :)
ask box is 110% open, especially for my ocs !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11
Below is a summary of my characters.
Just some quick sketchy drawings I did for my friends' birthdays — I used blighted flowers as a little wreath thing :3 Wesker and Deathslinger ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ
Old
New
Meow
Hrrrr
ᨏᨐᨓ SCP Headcanons Part 6 ᨓᨐᨏ
-Dr. Bright is known to have an extensive knowledge of pop culture references, often quoting movies and songs inappropriately during serious meetings, which both annoys and amuses his colleagues.
-Gears is a meticulous planner, and he keeps a detailed journal of every experiment he conducts. He believes that documenting every detail helps prevent future anomalies and ensures that knowledge is preserved for future researchers.
-Clef has a ritual of visiting the containment chambers of SCP-999 on a weekly basis, believing that the creature's happiness is a barometer for the well-being of the Foundation as a whole.
-Every evening, after a long day of containment procedures and scientific analysis, Dr. Kondraki has a surprisingly meticulous routine of tending to a small, unassuming bonsai tree in his private quarters. He often finds a quiet solace in its slow, deliberate growth, a stark contrast to the volatile nature of his work.
-Dr. Iceberg doesn’t form many bonds, but when he does, they are absolute. If someone earns his trust, he becomes quietly protective in a way that’s almost invisible—until someone else tries to endanger them.
-Many young researchers arrive at the Foundation completely unprepared for what they’re about to experience. Dr. Glass quietly keeps an eye on them. He’s the kind of person who notices when someone looks exhausted, overwhelmed, or frightened. He may not confront them directly, but he’ll find a way to check in.
-Dr. Paradox can identify when someone is lying within minutes of speaking to them—not because he has some supernatural ability, but because he’s spent years studying microexpressions, speech patterns, and behavioral inconsistencies.
-Dr. Rights has a terrifying “Mom Voice”. Most personnel know Dr. Rights as kind and patient, but when someone crosses a line? Everything changes. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t threaten. She simply uses a very specific tone. The moment that voice appears, entire rooms go silent.
-Dr. Light has a locked desk drawer that everyone assumes contains classified documents. In reality, it’s filled with candy, energy bars, and emergency chocolate for long research nights.
-Despite his reputation, Dr. Gerald is actually very careful when working with genuinely dangerous anomalies. The reckless behavior usually appears during lower-risk testing. When something poses a serious threat, he becomes surprisingly focused and professional.
-Dr. Trebuchet's colleagues swear she doesn’t sleep. Not in the metaphorical “I work too hard” way—more like she schedules sleep the way most people schedule dental appointments: reluctantly, and only when forced by medical personnel or an SCP with memetic influence that induces unconsciousness.
-Dr. King prefers long-term containment cases where he can build patterns over time. Rapid crisis response situations frustrate him—not because he can’t handle them, but because he considers them “statistically noisy.”
-Dr. Edison has a habit of naming experiments after mundane objects (“Toaster Protocol,” “Desk Lamp Scenario,” “Kettle Run”), which deeply confuses junior researchers until they realize the names are usually the only non-lethal thing about them.
-Dr. Cimmerian is surprisingly tolerant of ethical debates, but only up to a point. Once a discussion starts looping, he tends to end it with variations of: “We are not doing philosophy with a contained memetic hazard. We are doing paperwork so we don’t all die.”
-Dr. Mann has an unnerving habit of remembering people’s baseline vitals without ever looking at a file twice. Staff swear he once corrected a nurse’s charting error just by glancing at a hallway interaction.
-Dr. Roth is known for never raising her voice. Ever. In fact, multiple personnel files note that she maintains the same tone whether she’s discussing lunch plans or a containment breach involving a reality-eating manuscript.
-Dr. Crow remembers every interview he’s ever conducted—but pretends he doesn’t. Researchers have tested him on this. He always answers vaguely, but small inconsistencies suggest perfect recall.
之前的（居然没发啊
Rooms. Labs. Dorms. Or something.
what their labs are like :) (some thoughts after the cut!)
!! no proofread :((( this was just a quick snippet I decided to make for them at night !!
RESEARCH CHARLOTTE
If you pass by Researcher Charlotte's laboratory, the first thing you'll notice is sleek white walls kindly asking you to immediately pass by. It's a narrow hallway, one entrance and one exit, so it's not easy to get lost. Start to finish. Beginning to end. The lights guide and hold your hand. Cold, sterile, a guide nonetheless. But if you slow down right where the entrance to her laboratory is located, a smell tends to leak out through the cracks and corners similar to that of rotting flesh. It seeps out, crawls its way out into the corridor, and onto the sleek floors on the other side of the door. The smell doesn't greet all those who pass by. It's escaping. Escaping from her.
The door is always open. It's only ever locked when Research Charlotte is actively working. And if you choose to grab the handle, push it down, and slide the door open, you'll see it. A sterile, cold, unfeeling room. The smell will seep out, running from the source. Research Charlotte will be sitting at her desk, staring at the results on a computer, whilst a chamber is in front of her, a glass facing directly against her, and a door tucked away to the very ends. It hides away from everyone. Everyone chooses to ignore it.
She won't force you into a conversation you're not ready for. But she does love to talk. So she'll turn around, face you with a wide-open, ecstatic grin that contrasts with the dark, gasping room, and talk to you. Her voice is loud. Appealing. Honeyed. Her body language is open. Sometimes, that scares people.
Everyone's like family. Well, at least the personnel are. The other men, women, and people in lab coats. The ones risking their life to research, understand, and see the horrifying, otherworldly creatures in front of them. She respects that. That yearning for knowledge. It's what she yearned for, too. What she still yearns for. And anyone who wants to see that same, bright future is family in her eyes.
RESEARCH AURELIO
Papers are often stacked to the brim in Aurelio's office. Dark shades of monotone colors are often present, shaping the area and the four walls around him. The once wide space grew a little more cramped and tighter as the paperwork he finds himself working on seeps into his everyday life, his lab, and the desks he used to sip coffee on.
Aurelio isn't always open to chatter. He'll leave the door locked when he's not in any mood to be distracted, but a simple knock can help fix that problem right up. Though there's no guarantee he'll be in the best of moods when he answers.
On the rarer occasions, when he's on duty and isn't overloaded with work, he finds himself much more willing to speak and chat with his co-workers. It isn't particularly comfortable to chat in his laboratory, so most conversations are taken outside in the hallways. The lights are softer, not as harsh on the working mind. The air is fresher, not cramped with the smell of day-old paperwork. The space is bigger, not forced to huddle amongst unfinished work.
On those days, it's much easier to see him crack a smile.
DOCTOR RIVERSTONE
Jazz curls up in his room like a sleeping kitten. It's homey. Cozy. Easily mistaken for his personal dorm if it weren't for the paperwork that chose to peek out of the old, antique books. The room is decorated in soft oranges and reds, cluttered around like a messy, warm sunset. There's a creeping smell that often lingers, even when he's already had his food. The smell of jasmine tea. Or if not that, a faint hint of fresh herbs.
The door and he are always open. He's very often laid back in a simple, wooden chair, attending to paperwork on traditional paper on one side, whilst the other is covered in electronics unfitting for such an environment. His mind only ever begins to scurry and sway with some sort of intense feeling, almost close to a discomfort in his gut once he notices the screen's gone blue, and there's nothing he can do to fix it.
His chatter is mild, always speaking in a polite yet casual tone. Talking is rather difficult when you've got so much time in the world to simply listen. Listen to what others have to say, listen to what others like to think, and listen to how they express themselves. Some are so vibrant, some so distant, and some so cold. No matter the character, he's seen it before. And in his mind, he may mistake you for an older friend.
SCP-8353 (ISAAC EDWARDS)
The four walls surrounding his chamber are solid, grey, and fireproof. The quality of it may be great, but the visual design wasn't taken into the heart of the architects as they created a prison for a being always on fire. But it's light work to change your environment. With a request for fire-proof crayons, 8353 sought to change it.
Colors are splashed onto the walls. A mockery of what it calls an environment. Badly drawn people twice his size, imitations of children only half, and child-like houses with sharp, picket fences decorating their edges. A mockery of safety. A mockery of humanity. A mockery of an environment he was never able to thrive in. But it feels like home. And it is his home.
No comment. Any questions regarding the environment are fruitless. They are nameless people, the ones drawn onto the concrete walls. Strange figureheads that may adapt different names depending on the day you ask 8353 who they are, what they are, and where they are.
But conversations are encouraged. 8353 thrives off of them. The voices of others. The conversations he has. Useless or not, he likes to listen to the staff. It stirs up a whirlpool of emotions inside him.
C. Can I use your art. As my profile picture.
WAHAHAHAHAHHHH YES YES OMG YESSSSSS IM SO HAPPY YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY 100% YOU CAN USE ANY OF MY ART AS UR PFP <33 ^_^6666
Dr. İceberg cosplay yay (ignore how ı messed up the cosplay)
@dontforcemetologin for honorable mention because this cosplay came to my mind when ı see one of his iceberg drawings🔥🔥
cough
NO PLEASE!!!!
Freaky night/j
Stuck on the 5th floor.
Welcome to the new unc— agent. Agent Veto.
important question, what the FUCK is up with Everett Mann and WHY does he get referenced in so many random articles.
like. he’s involved with the factory for exactly two tales. he’s directly addressed by mr. lie even though he is NEVER brought up ANYWHERE else in the little misters series and wasn’t ever a part of it. i’m pretty sure there’s a tale where o5-2 murders the entire o5 council and gives Mann sole control of the entire foundation. and the only thing that connects all of them is that the characters are deceptive weirdos.
so what the fuck are you doing Mann. what are you up to. what is the purpose of your existence. i need to know
hes in it for the love of the game tbh
I'm really brainrotted about my characters, but especially Aurelio. But whenever I try to draw something out for them, I end up with a blank page and a couple of lines.
So, anyway, to try and get this off my mind, I decided to just write down the idea I had instead of trying to rack my brain clean for ideas, or trying to play whack-a-mole with myself and see if I get lucky to be inspired enough to draw.
I feel like there is a thick, thick wall between Aurelio and his family. Each year he works at the foundation means 2 weeks of possibly coming back home and visiting his family.
So maybe, to him, it was just the first year that felt normal. That could even possibly feel real. He got on a plane, went to America, and promised he'd be back in a couple of months. They call and they text, they ask how American life is, they ask about his colleagues, and so and so. To see if he's doing good. Doing well. He was a little late, didn't do good on his promise. But things happen. By the time he returned, his parents were happy, still active and out-going. Their bodies were worn, rugged and wrinkled, but they could still work and swat him away like they could a few months prior. His younger sister, Vittoria, is still pursuing the same art degree she did when he left. She was still young. Full of life. Excited to see the world. He came back, and she was happy to tell him everything. They were all happy.
And then time passes. A couple of years go by. He starts missing events, important family gatherings, important family meetings. Fights start and end within the family, and he won't get a text about it. By the time he's come back, he changed. His family changed. His father is more wrinkled, he drinks more coffee, does a lot more exercise, and goes out far more often. His mother becomes withdrawn, more stubborn, more critical. Vittoria still shares, and she's still happy to see him, but she'll say things he doesn't understand, and she'll just look at him wishing he did. And then another child is born, his youngest sister, Mirabella. Only a child. Whenever Aurelio visits, she thinks he's her Uncle. It makes him feel a little old.
And now, he's stuck in the present and he can't go back. He's missed everything. Time passes, and maybe he blinked too fast, breathed too fast, moved on too fast, but it's been a decade, he's still working at the foundation, and they don't text or call like they used to. Maybe they'll call and ask for money, and on the rarer occasion, maybe they aren't so busy and update him a bit on their lives. But the wall appears. Maybe it appeared years ago, and he refused to acknowledge it. But it's there.
That's just my thoughts on this right now, it's late, and sleep is a very inviting little thing.
