#mitosis notes

[er-cryptid]

Mitosis Stages

-- has four phases

Prophase -- duplicated chromosomes coil up -- nucleus and nucleolus disappear -- spindle apparatus is completed -- chromosomes go to the center of the cell

Metaphase -- centromeres line up on the metaphase plate

Anaphase -- centromeres split -- chromatids move to opposite spindle poles

Telophase -- chromosomes uncoil -- nucleus and nucleoli form -- spindle apparatus is undone -- cytokinesis is complete

[tragiccomedyenthusiast]

some babynitos i made on my 3ds during some free time

"get off of my foot"

"will i ever be able to work alone again???"

"OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SIDE-EYEING ME LIKE THIS" based off of these images i had

[gay-jesus-probably]

If you know anything about chromosomes, you should know that sex chromosomes are barely relevant to a person. There's a reason it's the only form of monosomy that presents in humans - you just need one X chromosome to set up some hormone systems and whatnot, and there you go, you're viable for life. I mean, Monosomy 23 isn't great for a person, they'll probably be sterile, their bone structure turns out a bit fragile, and they'll definitely need hormone therapy to properly hit puberty, but it's a life. Which is a hell of a lot better than any other form of monosomy in humans, which comes with lethal structural flaws ensuring you don't make it to birth.

Anyways, the far more common issue with sex chromosomes in Trisomy 23, and I say 'issue' in the loosest sense of the word, because honestly it's not even a problem - we have no idea how common Trisomy 23 really is, because there's basically no symptoms, and every form of it presents about the same. As in, the first case of XXY trisomy was discovered accidentally - the man who had it was getting a karyotype test done for completely unrelated reasons, and was shocked to discover he had a trisomy.

Sex chromosomes are neat like that; since they're literally designed for everyone to have an X no matter what, the way it works is that you just need to have one X chromosome, and there you go, you've got the structural information you need, you're viable for life. The other sex chromosome (or chromosomes) is just a modifier for what configuration the reproductive organs should be in. So the Y chromosome carries very little information, since it's only relevant half the time, and the X chromosome is meant to be able to work through a redundant copy, which leads to the end result where Trisomy 23 does basically nothing. Unless you've had a karyotype test done, you have no idea what's actually going on with your sex chromosomes, and neither does anyone else.

Like... come on people, they're so meaningless. Chromosome pairs are numbered from most to least important, you know; there's a reason the sex chromosomes are all the way at the end, and that's because they're barely relevant. Humans just don't have a lot of sexual dimorphism; we're a very androgynous species.

And all that stuff about Trisomy 23 stands in very sharp contrast to the other survivable forms of trisomy in humans, which is... arguably one and a half kinds. Trisomy 21 (aka Downs Syndrome) is the best known, as it's the only other form that's really viable, since it fortunately just presents as some mild structural issues - the brain's a little scrambled, and the heart has some fundamental flaws that cut about twenty years off the average lifespan. For a trisomy patient, that's incredible. If you've got Downs, you technically lost the genetic lottery, given that you had the bad luck to get either a sperm or ova cell that'd suffered a nondisjunction during the meiosis process, but I'd argue you also won the genetic lottery, because my god your existence is a miracle, we're so lucky that the 21st chromosome pair just happens to not cover anything too vital. And you're absurdly lucky that the defective sex cell that started it all just so happened to have that specific form of nondisjunction, because if any chromosome pair apart from 21 or 23 is affected by nondisjunction during meiosis, it's extremely not good.

...Then there's also Trisomy 18, which is... hard to describe. I mean, it's amazing that Trisomy 18 cases can survive until birth, but... the structural flaws are considerably more severe, so most don't last long after that. Most Trisomy 18 patients die within a week of being born. The lucky ones get a few months or years. With constant, intensive medical care and a hell of a lot of luck, a tiny handful of patients have even survived to their twentieth birthdays... but never for long after that. There's a reason why treatments for Trisomy 18 include grief counciling for the parents. It's just... it's not good. There's a reason I said Trisomy 21 is a miracle; other forms of trisomy in humans are so, so much worse.

Except for Trisomy 23, which again, barely counts, because there are no symptoms, and so we have no idea how common it really is. Are you slightly taller than average? Congratulations, you might have Trisomy 23. Or you might not, who the fuck knows. Certainly not you!

Basically my point is, chromosomes are absolutely fascinating, but the sex chromosomes are only really interesting in the context of how irrelevant they are compared to all the other chromosome pairs. They're just not doing all that much, so there's a massive amount of room for error with no real signs. All anyone knows for sure is that they have at least one X chromosome (as that's where the important information is; no X means no life), and beyond that if you haven't had a karyotype test done, it's just wild guessing. So if you're ranting about sex chromosomes being A Big Deal... congratulations, you've exposed yourself as a fucking moron that knows nothing about chromosomes. Anyone that's studied biology beyond a high school level could tell you otherwise. Rip to all you bioessentialists but I'm cooler than you.

Context.

[causenessus]

try again. | sakusa k.

it was no one's fault. sometimes friendships just fade with time. sometimes people grow apart. sometimes things happen in their lives that force them apart. but she never stopped missing him. seeing his face on magazines and tv screens were always a painful a reminder of the boy who had slipped through her fingers. and he never stopped thinking of her, despite his best attempts to leave her behind. because there was nothing he could do now, right? he never expected to see her again. especially not in the most unlikely of settings.

...

...

...

"...can we go back to what we were before?"

"...can we be more?"

sakusa x f! reader

ongoing haikyuu smau

taglist: open! (comment or fill out form to be added <3)

playlist (on spotify <3)

warnings & notes: friends to strangers to friends to lovers, right person wrong time but now it's the right time <3, not really angst imo, just LOTS of hurt/comfort, miscommunication, characters are probably ooc, you guys aren't ready for these notes LMAO, client-therapist dynamic, reader and omi are both lowkey a hot mess but they're hot messes together!, daddy issues <3, language, atsumu's gonna play cupid i'm pretty sure, honestly not sure if this smau will be very silly but i don't want it to just be deep, it WILL be very omiyn centered though, drinking

the waiting room: professional tea gossipers | four peas in two pods in one big pod

table of contents: ( ꕤ for any chapters with written content <3 )

prologue (ꕤ) part one: everything at once (ꕤ) part two: plants (ꕤ) part three: feeling a little dapper part four: next time (ꕤ) part five: mitosis part six: floor time (ꕤ) part seven: my person (ꕤ) part eight: i watched for you part nine: coming soon <3

moodboards: try again, omi, yn, omiyn

divider credits: @/strangergraphics

[akanemnon]

These are my favorite facial expressions from this page.

I also really love the concept of Frisk initially feeling nothing for the monsters in the underground during their first run through but over time learned to love them. I hope I’m interpreting this correctly as I haven’t played Undertale in a while.

Also, on an unrelated note, how are you feeling today? I hope you’re doing alright, Akane. Here’s a mitosis cookie I made in biology a few days back. It reminded me of this AU, because um, MITOSIS. I think the top one’s supposed to be metaphase and the bottom is anaphase. I’ll let you decide what to do with this information :)

Getting these faces JUST right was extremely important for me. They are really what underline the whole backstory and exchange between Kris and Frisk so well. Now that I think about... it EVERYTHING about that page was extremely important to me. It is my favorite one so far.

The whole idea of Frisk not really caring, or rather learning how to care THROUGH the guidance of the Player and Chara ties back to the Pre-Runes mini comics (check the pinned masterpost.) There you can really see how... unusual Frisk used to act. Concussion or not, a lot of Frisk's behavior there is almost robotic. It's kinda like watching a 9-year-old baby figuring out what it means to be human. In a VERY weird way, through all these resets the Player and Chara raised Frisk into the person they are now.

Also holy crap, your Oreos mitoasted!

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Your friends, like the whole school, don't like Eddie Munson. You, on the other hand, think you'd like to get to know him but that's probably never going to happen. Until you find yourself locked up with him in the school library.

The parking lot was crowded, filled with students arriving and getting ready for another day at Hawkings Highschool as you walked alongside your two friends through the sea of ​​people.

"Is this jacket new?" Debby asked as she approached you with her nose, as if to sniff it, with an almost disgusted expression painted on her face.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, it wasn't the first time Debby complained about the way you dressed, among the many faults she seemed to find in you every time.

"Um, yeah." You raised your eyebrows not understanding what she was getting at.

"It's leather." She stated as if the fact were a crime. "Leather stinks."

"Debby, it's not even real leather, it can't stink. I bought it for ten dollars at the flea market."

"Oh. So that's why it stinks."

"Debby, I swear I-"

"Hey, hey" Jess interrupted you "no one stinks in here, okay? Look, Y/N... Debbs and I were planning on going out tomorrow night. Maybe to the movies or something?"

"I'm sorry..."

"Ugh, what you have to do again?" Jess rolled her eyes, smoothing her perfect cheerleading skirt with her hands.

Jess was one of the most popular girls in school, perhaps second only to Chrissy Cunningham and a few other cheerleaders who became known through their jocks boyfriends.

"You know I work almost every day after school. Does the new record store sound familiar?"

"Oh c'mon, why do you have to work so much?" Jess snorted.

"Because I need money?" It was something between an answer and a question, you had never thought anyone would ask you why you decided making your own money was a good idea.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll do it another time okay?" Debby concluded, as you finally entered the school and Jess saw her boyfriend in the distance, talking to other jocks, all in their sparkly green and white school uniforms.

"Hey Beck!" She raised a hand to get the boy's attention and waved at him at the same time, trotting towards him and instantly forgetting you.

"God, she's so in love with him." Debby commented dreamily still by your side, looking at her friend from afar.

You saw the possessive way Beck kissed his girlfriend and then put his arm around her and held her close as he continued to talk to his friends, his hand was basically on her ass. "Mh, i guess she is. I really don't like that guy, anyway."

"How couldn't you? The whole school is as in love with Beck as they are with Jason." She waved at the blond boy who was now laughing at something a member of the basketball team had just said.

"Yeah, I don't like Jason either." You shrugged.

"That's impossible. He's one of the hottest guys I've ever seen."

"Debs, I'm not talking about his physical appearance. I don't like him as a person. I don't like how he behaves and how he treats people around him."

Debby looked at you for a moment with a slight smile on her lips as if she expected me to suddenly tell her you were joking.

"See you later in class, okay?"

You shook your head, thinking it was almost pointless to voice your opinion to people like her.

"Sure, see you later."

Biology class was silent as the teacher explained the reproduction of cells through mitosis.

From your desk almost at the back of the room, you could see that Jess and Beck had no idea what the the tracher was talking about and kept exchanging notes probably filled with hearts and written in pink marker, you could see that the quiet boy at the first desk was just pretending to listen and that his gaze often fell on the window, probably fantasizing about what he saw outside, and finally, to your surprise, you could see that Eddie Munson, for the first time, had a pen in his hand he seemed to be writing.

Eddie Munson was a guy you never quite understood, both before you had a few classes together and after.

He didn't seem to be very interested in school, his grades or the way he responded to the teachers but it was already the second time he was repeating his last year of high school, proving that deep down, maybe, he didn't want to dropout.

He seemed to like to make all Hawkings think he was the mean and scary cultist people already thought he was yet he spent his free time playing a fantasy board game with freshmen, making them feel accepted in a school in which if you were considered even remotely different you could consider yourself doomed.

Eddie Munson was unusual and one of those people you wanted to get to know and understand what he was really like just because seen from an outside point of view, he seemed like an enigma.

"Well well well, what do we have here, Mr Munson?"

Mr. Walker's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your head, like that of all your classmates, snapped towards Eddie.

That was the moment you realized that the whole time, Eddie wasn't taking notes but he was drawing something that you couldn't quite see from where you were.

"Oh-oh, someone's in trouble." You heard someone chuckle.

The teacher took the paper from Eddie's hands and looked at it with a wicked smile on his lips. "And what is this supposed to be?"

A slight smirk appeared on Eddie's lips. "Shouldn't you know? You studied animals and that stuff, right?"

The teacher chuckled as he crumpled up the paper and walked over to the bin next to his desk, dropping it among the day's other rubbish.

"I bet the freak will repeat the year for the third time." You hear Beck whisper and Jess laugh right after.

"I won't send you to detention again because I really want this year to be your last." The teacher continued, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Eddie with a severe look. "But if you still don't pay attention to the lessons, you won't give us any other choice. Okay?"

"Okay." Eddie replied after a moment of silence, the way he said it vaguely recalled the professor's tone and you were sure he did it to make fun of him, the smirk on his lips was still there.

After one last glare Mr.Walker sat down again behind his desk and continued reading from the book.

The last laughs faded and the last gazes on Eddie returned to the notebooks, except yours.

You saw how his cocky expression gave way in less than a second when he thought no one was paying attention to him anymore, you saw how he closed his eyes for a moment, huffing as if the existence of the possibility of repeating the year for the third time suddently hit him, while passing a hand over his face with a tired expression.

The look in his eyes was far from the one they had when he teased jocks or made speeches on top of the cafeteria tables.

He had just dropped his facade and no one had even noticed.

You can't deny that for the rest of the lesson you kept eyeing him, only to find him propped up on his elbows on his desk, playing with the rings on his fingers.

When the bell rang Eddie was the first to get up, he grabbed his jacket and darted out of the classroom without once looking back.

You, on the other hand, were the last to leave, after placing your books back in your bag, but as soon as you stepped out the door an idea crossed your mind.

Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was even useless. You didn't even know why you were doing it.

You went back to class for a brief moment, grabbed Eddie's drawing from the bin, folded it quickly without even having time to look at it, stuffed it in your pocket and headed off to the next class.

You told yourself you'd probably never even get the chance to give it back to him.

"You'll be at the match later, right?" Jess asked as she walked down the hallway next to you after the last bell of the day had rung.

"Mh, maybe." You murmured, thinking of a possible excuse to come up with.

"What do you mean with 'maybe'? What do you have to do this time? Debby said she'll be there."

"Actually, not much, I just gotta go the library to get some books."

"Okay, it won't take a lot. The game starts in half an hour so you have plenty of time." She smiled.

"Yeah, sure. Then I guess I'll be there." You said as you stopped in front of the school library.

"Kay, see you later!" She waved at you before heading towards the gym.

"Good morning Miss Cooper." You greeted the lady behind the desk as soon as you entered the library.

"Hi dear, I close in about fifteen minutes. You know, with the match and everything I don't think many students will come here."

You looked around, the only people who seemed to be there were two girls sitting in the corner and a teacher putting down some books he had borrowed.

"Then I'll try to make it quick." You said before disappearing among the shelves.

The school library was bigger than any student who had never set foot inside could have imagined. You often had found the right books to complete a history or literature honework, and many more times you found books that you enjoyed reading in your spare time, while waiting for customers at the record store where you worked or during boring classes.

Yeah, Eddie Munson wasn't the only one who didn't always pay attention to what the teachers were saying.

While you were there, between the fantasy and horror sections (which were right at the back of the library, almost in the dark, as if whoever had put those books there had wanted to hide them) your thoughts returned to Eddie and you remembered that his drawing was still in your jeans back pocket and you hadn't seen it yet.

You put your bag down on the floor and took the paper out of your back pocket.

It was an animal, that was why he had made that joke to the biology teacher.

The creature looked like a lion but it had a second head that looked like a goat and its tail was a snake. You knew what a chimera was and that drawing looked like it came straight out of a mythology book.

You didn't know Eddie could draw so well and you were sorry Mr. Walker hadn't thought before crumpling it up and throwing him in the bin like it was trash.

Boom.

A sudden noise made you jump.

Boom. Again.

You quickly put the drawing in your bag and walked towards the source of the noise but what you saw was one of the last things you ever expected.

You peeped over a shelf to observe the scene.

Eddie Munson slammed his fists on the closed library door before trying to pull the handle down and failing to open.

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Is this a prank or what?" He asked to whoever was on the other side of the door.

He slammed his hands on the door one last time. "Awesome, really, really awesome." He snorted talking to himself and probably thinking he was alone, then he turned around.

His gaze fell on you. "Jesus Christ." He put a hand to his chest like you scared the shit out of him and you couldn't help but chuckle. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone was kinder.

"What people usually do in libraries. I was looking for books."

"Oh, I think you'll have enough time to read a lot of books, we're stuck here."

You walked to the door as Eddie took off his jacket and left it on Miss. Cooper's desk, revealing his Metallica shirt. Then he sat on it, after moving a pen holder, dangling his legs.

You tried to open the door three times and when you realized there was no hope to go out you gave up and sat down in one of the chairs, facing Eddie.

"Oh my god." You whispered.

"It's okay, don't panic. Someone will notice you're missing and they'll come looking for you." You noticed the way he said "you" as if there was no way anyone would notice he was missing.

"I'm not panicking. I just found an excuse not to go to the game!" You smiled a little too enthusiastically.

"Excuse me, what?" Eddie shook his head as if he was sure he had misunderstood ehat you had said and his curls bounced on his shoulders.

"I've been trying to find an excuse not to go to that stupid match all day. Now I can say I've been stuck in the library."

Eddie made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh, amazed at your reaction. "You know, not to judge, but it's really weird that you're happy to be locked in a room with Eddie "the freak" Munson."

"Well... are you gonna sacrifice me to the devil?" You asked with a slight raise of your eyebrows and the ghost of a smile on your lips; Eddie was surprised for the second time: you were joking with him.

"Mh, no?"

"Okay, then we're good."

Eddie chuckled, ducking his head as if to hide his smile and you found yourself wishing he didn't do it anymore.

"What did you come for?" You asked then.

"For what people usually do in libraries. I was looking for books." He repeated your words with a smirk.

"Ah-ah" your laugh was far from genuine but the corners of Eddie's lips curled up anyway. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really funny?" You asked ironically.

"It may surprise you, but I think you have the honor of being the first." Eddie followed your movements with his eyes as you stood up from your chair and took a few steps between the shelves. Soon the sun would go down and you wouldn't even see the titles of books anymore without the sunbeams filtering through the windows.

"Are you coming or not?" You turned back to him, as if it was obvious you wanted him to come with you.

"Where?" He asked as he jumped off the desk reluctantly.

"To find the perfect book for you."

"Oh, I don't think that-"

"Fantasy and horror are in the back."

The smile you were starting to like returned on his lips. "Lead the way."

"Where the fuck is she?" Jess asked Debby during the first break of the game, placing her pom-poms on the bench next to her.

"I don't know, she said she would come. You were the last one to see her."

"She said she had to do something really quick and then she'd come. Tomorrow she will come up with a stupid excuse like always."

"She's been getting a lot weird lately, I don't know what's going on with her."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

Your laughter once again filled the library as the patter of the incessant rain that had been falling for almost an hour continued.

You never thought you'd spend so much time with Eddie one day, but apparently you were wrong. You enjoyed staying there with him.

"I swear it's a good one."

Eddie put all the books you convinced him to take on Miss Cooper's desk.

"It talks about a girl." He commented, as if that was all it took to not be a good book.

"Who has superpowers! Trust me, it's a good book. Near the end there's a lot of blood and stuff."

"Oh well, if 'there's a lot of blood and stuff' then I really should read it."

"Stop making fun me!" You hit his shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"I didn't hurt you."

"Yes, you did."

You rolled your eyes. "Read that damn book. Then tell me if you liked it."

"Well well well, do you wanna keep talking to me when we'll get out of here? Won't you pretend you don't know me?" He questioned, trying to figure out if you were lying.

"Why should I? Are you..." You hesitated "You're cool, I like you."

Eddie studied you for a moment. "You know, Y/N, I think you're a bit of a freak too."

You laughed, glancing at the books leaning on the desk. A weird creature caught your eye and you remembered Eddie's drawing.

"God, I almost forgot!" You took your bag in your hands, looking for the page. "I hope you don't think it's weird. I…I saved your drawing from the bin."

You handed him the paper, it was still a lot wrinkled but it was certainly in a better condition than when the teacher had thrown it in the trash.

Eddie stared at you.

He always had that way of looking at you with his big brown eyes that looked a lot like an animal that doesn't want to show that it's scared but is still reluctant to approach anyone.

He grabbed it slowly. "Why did you save it?"

"I wanted to see what you were drawing. It turned out to be worth it. It's really good."

"It turned out I was right."

You looked at him questioningly.

"You're a bit of a freak too. You put your hands in the trash to get a drawing of someone you didn't even know." He laughed again and you did the same.

You realized you liked the dimples that formed on his face when he smiled.

He took one last look at the drawing before carefully folding it and putting it in his pocket.

"Thank you." He finally said, sincere.

"Anytime."

Eddie's gaze fell on something behind you.

You turned around but didn't see anything different from moments before.

"What?"

"The window, Y/N, the window!" The excitement in his voice didn't even let you realize it was the first time he'd called you by your name.

"The window what?"

"We can get out through the window!" It seemed that at any moment he might start jumping from one side of the room to another.

You walked to the window where the rain continued to beat while Eddie looked behind you for something. "Looks quite high."

"And that's why we're going to need this." When you turned around Eddie was already setting up the ladder under the window after quickly putting on his jacket again.

"God, where did you find that?"

"I saw it earlier in the romance section."

"Were you checking the romance section?" You smirked.

"I walked past it, okay?" He rolled her eyes as he climbed the first rung of the ladder.

"Wait, should I go first?" He asked before going up.

"Go. Don't kill yourself when you jump to the other side."

"Who would care if I die?" He joked. Or you hoped he was.

"I would care! If they found me with your corpse who would they think sacrificed to the devil who?"

Eddie laughed again, shaking his head then opened the window. Lots of raindrops started falling on the library floor.

He sat on the edge before jumping over to the other side.

"Agh!"

"Shit, are you okay?" Your words left your mouth too quickly, your tone far too concerned about someone you've only known for a few hours.

No reply.

"Eddie, I swear-" You said starting up the ladder, the raindrops that passed through the open window falling on your face and in your hair.

"I'm fine!" He laughed.

"Thanks for your quick response." You commented ironically, not before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Aw, were you scared I was hurt?" You sat on the edge, now you could see his smirk as he looked up at you.

Most of his curls had gotten wet and stuck to his forehead and neck.

He was still pretty.

"Shut up."

"You were scared I was hurt!" He exclaimed, laughing, this time he was sure.

"Are you going to keep teasing me or are you going to help me get down from here?"

"Right, sorry." He reached out a hand and helped you jump. His fingers were warm, and having his palm against yours, even if only for a moment, gave you an indescribable feeling of security and safety.

"You okay?" He asked when you both finally got your feet on the ground.

"Yeah." His hand was still holding yours.

"Good."

"STAY FUCKING AWAY FROM HER!" Voices from behind you instantly made you turn around and before you know it Beck and Jason were pushing Eddie away from you. His hand slipped away from yours.

It seemed like the game was over.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Jess and Debby asked you, claiming you by the arm. "Did he hurt you?" Their tone was concerned and almost frightened.

"Hey, hey okay!" You tried to calm everyone down. "Eddie and I got locked in the library and went out the window, that's all."

You noticed that Jason's hands were still gripping Eddie's shirt, like he was ready to bail on him and beat him until he couldn't even remember his name at any moment.

The rain continued to fall incessantly on you, somewhere in the distance a thunder rumbled.

"Jason, leave him."

"Did he-"

"NO! STOP FUCKING ASKING!" You placed a hand on Jason's chest and pushed him away.

For a moment no one spoke. Like everyone was amazed that you didn't seem bothered by Eddie or that he hadn't done you anything wrong in the hours you'd spent locked in the library with him.

They were all looking at you with shocked expressions painted on their faces.

"Could you give me a lift home, please?" You turned to Eddie and this time he seemed to be the shocked one.

He pushed a strand of wet hair away from his eyes. "Yeah. Yes, of course I can."

"Okay, thank you." You kindly placed a hand on his back, as if urging him to leave. "Let's go."

You didn't say goodbye to any of the four students who watched you leave with Eddie "the freak" Munson and you didn't turn once as you walked beside him to his van.

You didn't know exactly how many friends you had just lost but you certainly knew you had a new one.

Part 2

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon

[simsludge]

Mitosis Dark Mode Contacts

Here are the black sclera version of my Mitosis contacts!

Details:

Base Game Compatible

HQ Compatible

Found in the face paint category

Toddler-Elder

Unisex

29 swatches

2 versions - download the standalone if you don't have the originals and you only want Dark Mode in your game, or if you have the Pooklet Unnaturals or my Naturals version of the original Mitosis contacts. Download the add-on version if you have the All Colors version of the original Mitosis contacts.

DOWNLOADS

STANDALONE | ADD-ON

TOU

If I ever delete, feel free to reupload my stuff to free sites!

Feel free to recolor, but please credit/tag/link back to me and don't put under a paywall. No adfly, no early access, no making money off of something I offered for free.

Bigger swatch photos and HQ comparisons under the read more.

The colors are still Pooklet's unnaturals and my naturals, but I've cut a few colors that just didn't show up well against the black.

And for some reason when I take my HQ graphics rule out, my sims are more zoomed out in CAS, even though the resolution is the same. This wasn't the case before. I'm sorry that the HQ comparison isn't a direct 1 to 1 as a result.

Notes:

The preview image has been edited to be brighter, so that her finger edges aren't as pointy and so that her bangs go over her horns. Her eyes are untouched, though. All swatches (including the ones in the preview) are also unedited.

If anyone wants some other combination of add-on, i.e. you have the Pooklet Unnaturals version of the originals and would like an add-on version of these, just shoot me a message and I'll make it happen. A good portion of the originals downloads were the All Colors version, so I thought this way was easier than trying to get all the combinations of add-ons out.

Also! If you use my stuff in your game and post pictures, I'd love to see. Please consider tagging me.

And as always, let me know if there's anything wrong with them!

[er-cryptid]

Interphase Stages

Support me on Patreon!

[sanct1f1ed]

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

being multiple gives us access to shrimp emotions

[craykaycee]

..... hmm

If this post gets 400 notes, I'll draw Springtrap & @spaciebabie softness using this type of brush, start to finish

[the-raven-lady]

(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 1]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Fear Inoculum - TOOL [YouTube] [Spotify] “Enumerate all that I'm to do / Calculating steps away from you / My own mitosis / Growing through delusion from mania / Exhale, expel / Recast my tale / Weave my allegorical elegy.”

Warnings: Violence, explicit and detailed blood and gore, disgusting and disturbing imagery, terror and dread, fear of death, all of the warnings you should expect hearing the words ‘Night Lord’ bestie this is the “I love murder” legion.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: The long awaited Night Lord claiming + womb tattoo series. This part is primarily exposition and setting the scene. Also new dividers? Raven Lady's getting fancy.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender

The slosh of brown water on the floor splashes away from your washcloth, and you overextend your shoulder trying to catch it before it runs too far. Hissing at the sudden spasm, you sit back on your heels, rolling it out to soothe the ache. You’ve been on your hands and knees for what feels like far too long now, and your joints are starting to protest. It seems the other serf helping you isn’t faring much better. A glance in her direction reveals her sitting like a child, knees bent and feet flat on the floor, using the full weight of her body to scrub between the seams of the floor panels. You shake your head and return to pushing around the rusty water, struggling to remove the grime from the floor. 

The act was pointless. Everyone knew that it wouldn’t be another week before the armory would be so rancid with dried bodily fluids that a cleanup crew would have to scrub it down again, but you knew better than to make a comment on it.

The racket of raucous laughter nearby shoots ice through your veins. You and the other serf instinctually freeze at the sound, and it doesn’t even cross your mind to check on her before abandoning your post, scrambling off of the wet floor in a flash to hide behind a large crate. The cold metal at your back would shield you from view, you know, but the hammering in your chest and shuddering of your breath would be beacons for a bored astartes. Silently, you will yourself to calm down at any cost, holding your breath for so long your lungs begin to burn from the effort.

Their heavy footfalls eventually fade into the distance, off to another area of the ship. Still, you remain in place for another few minutes until you’re as certain as you’ll ever be that they’re gone. You dare not risk yourself getting caught by a group of Night Lords, if experience has taught you anything.

You’ve become jaded to the rags of tanned hide displayed proudly on their armor and the grotesque corpse art that lines the walls of Nightfall. The smell doesn’t even get to you anymore, having been surrounded by abundant death and decay for so long. Everything reeks of it. Even if you did take the time to think on the dreadful feelings that stir when you see them, your body wouldn’t be able to afford losing any more meals with how sparingly you’ve been fed.

What has never left you are the screams. The gush of blood pouring from a weeping laceration. The crack of breaking bones. Desperate cries from the poor targets of the Night Lord’s insatiable appetite for ‘entertainment’, sobs and begs for their lives— No, no, no, please! I’ll do anything, please, just let me go–!— eventually turning into pleas to be put out of their misery, shown mercy, as their captors only laugh and croon. No mercy flowed through them; they were never quick with their kills. It was all a sadistic game to feed off of the tears and terror for as long as they could. The Night Lords wouldn’t stop their fun until their playthings had been bled dry– literally or figuratively.

You peek out from around the crate, surveying the dim armory. Empty. 

The serf you had been working with was missing as well, likely sequestered off somewhere for safety. The utter silence of the room causes your gut to tremble with anxiety. It was a dangerous game to be alone: lone serfs were prime prey, and you by no means wanted to make yourself an easy target. 

With no small amount of horror, you realize it’s outside of your power to do anything about it. Your lungs deflate, and you give yourself a false reassurance before returning to your station on the floor, taking up the soiled wash rag and wringing it out into the water bucket. Pieces of slimy rehydrated skin pass over your fingers. You return to your efforts with the intent to finish as quickly as possible. The desire to flee to your cot is all-encompassing, driving you to redouble your efforts and get the job done just passably enough that you won’t be killed for it. 

A thought stops you, though. Where had your companion gone? It’s not that you particularly cared for her safety (you didn’t know her and caring is a luxury you could not afford), but to be gone without a trace was peculiar. You don’t remember hearing her footsteps, but you had also been preoccupied with yourself at the time.

You look around the empty room for anything out of place. Nothing appears to have moved since you last checked. Her brush and bucket are still on the floor, right where she had left them. You had seen her put them down there, right?

…Hadn’t you?

You dismiss the thought. She was probably still hiding somewhere, and for that, you couldn’t fault her. There was no loyalty amongst serfs of the Eighth, just an understanding that it was safer together than apart. Wanting to determine how much longer you would be here, you observe the areas the other serf had already worked.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The surfaces of the floors, storage units, and walls were visibly much cleaner than the rest, but she had done a horrible job wiping things down as she went. The steady dripping of a poorly dried surface unpleasantly fills your ears, slowly becoming the only thing you can focus on. You frown. It was amazing how you could begin to miss the ever-present dull thrum of the ship’s electrical systems when it was covered by something even slightly more annoying. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You shake your head and get back to working around the floor grate at the center of the room. Its placement makes it convenient to push the disgusting wash water into. As expected, the seams around the drain are compacted with hair and dried flesh, and you have to soak the mass to begin to scrape it free. The spongy texture is a nightmare to work with, but it wouldn’t be such a chore if you had some help.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Annoyed, you decide you’ve had enough of it. Water sloshes in the bucket when you wrench your washcloth to go wipe down whatever it is she had left unfinished, rising up to your feet. With some luck, you’d figure out where she had run off to. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if she had abandoned you altogether, leaving you to finish the task and fend for yourself.

A cursory glance over the bench, lockers, and racks reveals nothing out of the ordinary. They were passably clean and– perplexingly– completely dry. You ran a hand along them to be certain and, surely enough, it came away much the same. Odd. You were certain that you would find something. Continuing your search leaves more questions than answers.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Checking around a wall of storage cabinets, you carefully inspect each of the gaps for signs of water or some other liquid that could be leaking. You find nothing. 

At the end of the lockers, a shadow dances in the dim candlelight. Fear grips you for just a moment as you focus in on it, but it is much too small to be an astartes. At the realization, the chill in your blood is replaced with a simmer of frustration, and you stomp down the hall towards the figure.

Your eyes lock with the other serf’s. “Are you just hiding to–?”

You stop. It appears she had been too preoccupied with hanging from a bracket on the wall to come to your aid. The side of her neck is torn open with loose strips of muscle and connective tissue fanning over her shoulder. A glistening metal finial of Nostraman design pokes ornately through her spine and sternum, partially coagulated blood pooling at the tip.

Drip. 

Drip. 

Drip.

“About time,” a voice spits.

You’re suddenly dragged by the back of your robes, hoisted up into the air by an unseen force. The scream that leaves you tears at your vocal cords, but it’s choked off by the fabric of your neckline biting into your throat. Thrashing your head from side to side, you catch sight of a colorless face cackling, bloodied lips curled into a grin. You desperately kick your legs in an attempt to free yourself.

“Feisty little pet, aren’t we?” he asks. The Night Lord turns you around easily as you struggle, splitting red as he talks. “Good. Your friend was far more boring.”

You rake at the fabric around your neck, trying to alleviate the pressure preventing oxygen from getting to your head. The action only makes him laugh harder. “Oh, how precious. Poor little serf can’t breathe?” He tilts his head as he taunts you, and a cruel glint crosses his eye.

“How about I help with that?”

A half turn and your back slams against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your gasp of pain ignites a malicious glee within your captor, a row of bloodied yellow teeth peeking from behind his lips. At least like this, pinned to the wall, you have the ability to catch your breath, ragged and shallow. Each rough huff eases the ache in your diaphragm.

A hand roughly snaps your head forward, forcing you to focus on the face at your front. He suffocates you with his presence, leaning in far too close. “You know,” he starts, “I had been just about ready to walk in there and drag you out myself.” Despite the melodic quality of his voice, you only feel discomfort at the astartes’s words as he uningenuously laments. “I could only stare at my masterpiece for so long.” 

Briefly, your eyes linger on the silhouetted corpse of the other chapter serf. You hadn’t even heard her scream. Hadn’t heard the attack. Hadn’t heard the bones crack when she was unceremoniously mounted on the wall. You had managed to miss every detail.

…Or your captor had been skilled enough to mask them. You shiver.

He follows your gaze, scoffing when it lands on the body. “Your buddy is as pretty as she is stupid, trying to run all the way back to the hole you serfs call home.” The image of the other serf running down the hallway and getting caught as you did passes through your mind, and you grimace at the thought of whatever game she may have suffered through to end up where she is. The sing-song cadence of his voice draws your attention back to the Night Lord in front of you, “You humans fall so easily to your emotions. Not the brightest of you lot I’ve had, but certainly the best bait.”

Bait. The word is sour in the air.  

“So unwilling to have fun–” 

She had just been bait. 

“–but you’re eager to play, aren’t you?”

You were the game.

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening as you process everything you had missed or ignored up until now. Black blurs the edges of your vision. “Oh, don’t be like that,” the Night Lord shakes his head, but you know better than to believe it. This is exactly what he wanted. ���We can be great friends—” 

Self-preservation takes a hold of you. Your adrenalized brain screams to overcome, persist. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot out before you, and you manage to jab your fingers into his dark eyes and claw. The astartes snarls, ducking away and dragging you with him off of the wall as he stumbles back. With a shake of his head, he regains his senses. He growls.

“You stupid bitch!”

The Night Lord tosses you like a ragdoll, uncaring of how your head impacts the nearby bench before hitting the floor. The world spins around you. “I’ll gut you like a pig for that, you impudent rat!” he roars, ceramite boots stomping closer. His eyes are wild, red around his enlarged pupils from where you’ve managed to burst blood vessels. Uncoordinated, you scramble backwards on the floor, staring up at the approaching astartes in terror. 

This is it. This is where you die: surrounded by filth, hyperventilating on the floor as a pissed off Night Lord tortures you within an inch of your life until you perish from the stress. All for one measly act of courage. Your back hits a wall as he rounds the bench, and you find yourself unable to watch any longer as fate unfolds before you. You curl up in a ball, turning away and protecting your head with your arms, then wait for the inevitable killing strike.

And wait.

…And wait.

But the blow never comes– no white-hot stab of pain, no sting of a kick to the ribs, no blunt ache of broken bones– just a sickeningly sodden crunch of flesh and bone. A wet spray paints your back. Your tattered robes easily soak up the warm liquid, causing you to flinch from the sudden moisture. Even through the rush of confusion and fear, it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is. The scent is unmistakable.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you struggle to catch up with your surroundings. By all means, you should be dead: the newest addition to a Night Lord’s skin cloak, or at the very least in excruciating pain. But you aren’t. 

Tentatively, trembling, you withdraw your head from the cage of your arms, turning just enough to peer behind you. You gasp at the grisly sight. 

Crimson rivulets of blood drip down over massive navy blue gauntlets. A single enucleated eye dangles from the gore between its digits. The terminator, more mountain than man, holds the unmoving body of your persecutor up by what remains of his cranium and neck. It is little more than ribbons of meat now.

Bile rises in your throat. You struggle to force it back down. 

Bolted armor caked in blood– both dried and fresh, sunken deep into the recesses of the ceramite plating– gives off an aura of wrought iron and decay. The metallic tang permeates the air around him, hanging heavy in the poorly ventilated armory. His scarred skin looks sickly pale. Greasy. Dehydrated. Aside from deep black eyes that watch you as a predator observes prey, the most prominent feature on his face is a wicked scar: a tear in his upper lip that exposes maxilla and sharp teeth alike. The shock of black hair on his head still has the impression of his helmet on it.

Without so much as a sound, he had come up from behind and grabbed the smaller Night Lord by the face, yanking them back into the crux of his chestplate and pauldron with enough force to shatter the hardened skull of an astartes. 

The massive marine throws the limp corpse of his former brother aside. The impact of metal on metal causes your ears to ring as a thousand pounds of lifeless ceramite strikes the wall, immediately followed by a disgusting wet slop of pulverized brain matter spilling onto the floor. If you had been on the Nightfall for any less time, you would have screamed. The shock almost prevents you from registering that you’re being spoken to.

“Get up.”

The terminator’s voice is that of rolling thunder and coarse gravel, resonating deep within your chest and leaving your heart fluttering with trepidation. His words had been spoken no louder than conversational, and yet they had you shooting up to your feet as if they had been shouted. Your wobbly legs nearly give out beneath you from how quickly you rise from the floor, croaking a shaky, “Yes, my lord.”

He removes his helmet from where it is magnetized to his belt with a click, placing it down on the bench you had been cowering behind. The tusks on it are as long as your forearm and nearly as thick. A faint decal of a skull is painted around the red lenses, chipped and fading but almost cartoonishly cute in contrast to the rags of flesh and weathered bones decorating the rest of his armor. 

The new Night Lord doesn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing as you do. He pushes the helmet in your direction, and you clamber to catch it before it hits the ground, not wanting to incur his wrath by dropping it so soon after he had just saved your life. The metal is heavy in your arms, tusks dangerously close to puncturing your throat.

“Clean it,” he barks. 

You grab your wash rag from the floor and shake it out. You do not have to be told twice.

[Part 2]

[simply-ivanka]

Why Do the Young Vote Left?

Socialist teachers lead them to think of government as a free-money tree.

It’s the gifts. The progressive vibe is that big government will take care of you. It knows what’s best for you. It will redistribute money how it pleases. You need to put a smile on your face while it takes away your laurels, guns and money. “We believe in the collective,” Ms. Harris declared, much like Hillary Clinton’s “it takes a village.” Equity in Schenectady. Handouts for all.

You want proof? Ms. Harris’s Senate voting record is leftward of socialist Bernie Sanders. Vice-presidential candidate Tim Walz fawns over China, saying “everyone is the same and everyone shares.” Viva la revolución and Che Guevara T-shirts for all.

This is antifreedom. Too many of today’s youth fall in line with progressives because they’re undereducated and overindoctrinated with someone else’s agenda. I watched in horror as local high-school biology classes spent weeks on the science of recycling centers and only a short afternoon on mitochondria and mitosis. Profit is a bad word. It’s gimme, gimme, whether it’s student loan forgiveness, free healthcare or tax credits.

Who’s to blame? Misguided capitalism-hating social-studies teachers to start, with Tim Walzian thinking: “One person’s socialism is another person’s neighborliness.” Who is he, Mr. Rogers? Add like-minded college professors. Work ethic and ambition are evaporating.

Worse, Pew Research notes almost a third of currently childless 18- to 34-year-olds aren’t sure if they ever want children. Why? The Harris campaign’s “climate engagement director,” Camila Thorndike, is among the hesitant, telling the Washington Post, “I want to protect them from suffering.” Perpetually pessimistic progressive prognostications induce fear. No wonder U.S. fertility rates are at historic lows.

OK, I know I’m asking for trouble. Every time I write about youth, I get a chorus of comments and tweets telling me I’m an old man screaming, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn.” Yeah, yeah. Very clever. I’m not that old. But in the Kamala collective—as California attempted—private “ornamental” lawns are out, and drought-resistant vegetation is in. Progressives literally want you off your own lawn.

My conversations with young folks who do exhibit some actual drive show their confusion: “I want to do a startup.” Great! To do what? “A sustainable something or other. To save the planet.” OK, is it productive? “What’s that?” Does it scale? “Huh?” Will it do more with less? “Not really, it needs lots of money to keep going and save more of the world.” Sounds like a nonprofit. (That usually invokes a smile.) Actually, wealth comes from delivering ever-cheaper stuff to millions of people, not handouts. “I don’t care about money.”

OK, I say, but progress and societal wealth happen when you delight customers and postpone consumption to reinvest profits into better products. The looks on their faces are as if I’m describing Chinese arithmetic.

Our youth aren’t lazy but lost. Progressives have strong opinions about society but no viable solution beyond handing out other people’s money—taken from the few who actually are productive, drive progress and generate wealth by fulfilling customer needs. It’s a downward spiral: When progressives tax—screaming “fair share!”—they cripple the productive few who actually create the real non-burger-flipping, get-out-of-your-parent’s-basement jobs.

To aggressive progressives, government is simply a magic money tree. Vote left and dollars appear. The gross incompetence of government—think billions for eight electric vehicle chargers—destroyed healthcare (thank you, ObamaCare) and education (assisted by Randi Weingarten’s teachers union) and is close to destroying energy (net zero), even while the Biden-Harris administration works hard to destroy Big Tech—one of the few productive industries. And I’ll never forgive progressive Hollywood for turning “Star Wars” into unwatchable wokey Wookiee drivel.

What industries will be left standing? Who cares, because the dreamy types think generative artificial intelligence will kill all jobs and government will provide universal basic income so they can Zyn, TikTok and play College Football 25 videogames all day. A naive youthful triumphalism.

This is a false endgame. There is so much more to be invented: drugs, immunotherapy, fusion, self-folding clothes, humanoid robotics, flying cars. Hard brain work plus quality recharging leisure time is the goal, not a nation of welfare queens.

I feel sorry for the youth that do care, do work hard, are productive and help push the boulder of progress up that steep slope, while essentially carrying all the others on their backs. It’s you against the collective, the village, which is always about being supported, pampered, living off someone else’s hard work and then complaining that the handouts aren’t big enough. So, yeah, get off my lawn, while lawns are still allowed.

[causenessus]

try again

part 0.5. MITOSIS

“he’s starting to think maybe she queues up certain songs on that little speaker of hers, knowing he’ll be out here listening to them while he’s waiting to see her. but how does that work? it’s a different song every time he comes in here and he can’t be sure they’re about him. maybe he’s crazy for assuming she’s doing something specifically for him when he’s nothing more than a used to be friend reduced down to a client who is currently trying to be friends with her again. “i want you to stay.” he likes the song she’s playing outside in her waiting room today. and the way the line repeats over and over is only feeding into the assumption he's making right now: that she’s playing these songs specifically for him. “stay the hell away from me.” okay. so maybe he shouldn’t talk to her about the songs. it still makes sense, he thinks to himself (or maybe he's just being stubborn about giving up this stupid hope). maybe she is playing certain songs for him, but she’s obviously not happy to see him today.”

note: pay attention to unsent messages :) (there's one); sorry this chapters a little ????? it's only the peas in a pod gc </3 and everyone is confused because feelings are hard </3

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

I'M SORRY IF ANYTHING WAS CONFUSING THIS CHAPTER

i'm trying to...like escalate more into what happened during their years in high school without revealing too much yet...

but!! moodboards will be coming out after this <3 because y/n's family issues have now been mentioned!! yay!!!

so the moodboards will also help provide more context i think :))

the y/n shower tweet was a joke!! just in case that wasn't obvious

i have nothing else to say about this chapter except for that i am sorry

bokuto was like the voices in my head going crazy so i feel like his texts are super abrupt

NEXT CHAPTER WILL HOPEFULLY BE MORE OF A BANGER THOUGH!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[lucifurry217]

Lesbian Death Note

For Pride!!!

@wildernezz @undergoing-mitosis

[tpwrtrmnky]

I know that the PTMYG universe is mostly just a backdrop to the actual chromatic stuff, but I cannot help but be very curious. So, mitosis questions:

Is it just like ordinary cell division (two new people, mother person is no more)? Or can there be different numbers of daughter people? Or does the mother person survive somehow?

If the mother person typically/always doesn't survive, is the mitosis seen as a gift or a tragedy?

Are there specific conditions for mitosis to happen? Is it bex related?

How long does it take? Can someone choose not to have it happen (abortion, etc.)?

Are the daughter people siblings?

Note: "Mother" and "daughter" are used scientifically here. I am not gendering your people.

Well I already locked myself into people typically having parents who are alive, so the way it works is that a kid just sort of pops off under the right conditions I guess

[thatboreddrake]

Okay, bare with me on this one, because I am operating on a grand total of like, two lines of dialogue and a dream: a dream of finally getting a solid-ish number on the Elden Ring Timeline!

So, the first line of dialogue, which Ranni delivers during the cutscene for the Age of Stars ending:

Now cometh the age of the stars. A thousand year voyage under the wisdom of the Moon (emphasis added)

Fine, vague, poetic.

The second line, delivered by Miquella during the fight with Promised Consort Radahn if the player is hit by the grab attack:

"I promise you, a thousand-year voyage guided by compassion."

Now, once is vague, but twice just might mean something. Could it be metaphorical for "this is gonna be a long time"? PROBABLY BUT WHO CARES!

This brings me to my first main point: we have an official time-stamp on how often ages and gods cycle in the Lands Between, presumably. This means that this is a semi-regular phenomenon which could be looked for upon its arrival. Or perhaps, this time of transition is marked by visitors:

It is said that when Oracle Envoys appear playing their pipes, they do so to herald the arrival of a new god, or age.

Anyway, this allows me to slap together a somewhat coherent timeline of events for Elden Ring (effing finally):

The age we will start with is the Age of Dragons, led by Placidusax as Elden Lord (Remembrance of the Dragonlord) with Uhl, the Fire Giant, as the vessel of the Fell God and centered on the power of the Crucible (blatant speculation but its headcanon at this point). In the last few hundred years of the Age of the Crucible, the Hornsent begin to focus their efforts on producing a viable Empyrean to ascend to godhood for the next age. Side note, but this would also be when the denizens of the Eternal Cities were working on their project with the Lord of Night.

Anyway, through one way or another, Marika is chosen by the Fingers to serve as the Greater Will's vessel in the Lands Between after her village is butchered by the Potentates. This is also approximately when a proto-Radagon enters the scene through Empyrean mitosis (Marika severed her desire for order after the death of her family as per the Minor Erdtree incantation). For a time, Marika plays along with the Hornsent, if only to establish her base of power.

Her first stop is at the Eternal Cities, where she attempts to convince the Nox to join with her in the upcoming war against the Fire Giants. The Nox reject her upcoming divinity in favor of their Lord of Night, killing proto-Radagon with the Fingerslayer Blade as a symbol of their rejection. The Greater Will does not stand for this insolence, and sends the Malformed Star Astel to devour their sky and cast them beneath the earth.

Marika then allies with the berserker warlord Hoarah Loux and begins her assault on the Fire Giants of the Mountaintops. After all, their flame would be the one thing that could threaten the Erdtree during her reign. She manages to slay Uhl in battle, and shunts proto-Radagon's soul into his body, thus birthing Radagon as a proper Lord. However, at this point, Marika is diverted from her mission by the First War of the Dragons.

Emboldened by the defeat of Placidusax's god, Bayle the Dread leads his brood of drakes in a direct assault on Farum Azula. To counteract this threat, Placidusax sends the Ancient Dragon Florissax to instruct their erstwhile human allies in the practice of Dragon Communion. Among these, the greatest knight and leader of their order was Theodorix, a troll freed from the Fire Giants during Marika's initial assault. It is during this war that Marika and Radagon bear the kindling twins, Messmer and Melina.

Where Messmer fights on the front lines alongside Radagon and Godfrey, Melina instead takes up tutelage under Maliketh, Marika's Black Blade. After the war is over, and Placidusax has had three of his heads removed, he sees that the age of the dragons has come to a close and moves Farum Azula outside of time to await the return of his god.

Keeping their momentum, Marika and her forces carry on to complete their destruction of the Fire Giants, realize that the flame cannot be put out, and leave a nameless giant in charge of tending the forge. At this point, the time of ascension arrives, and Marika ascends to godhood using Radagon as her Lord catalyst. However, afraid of exposing Radagon's true nature to their followers, Marika instead takes Godfrey as the First Elden Lord, ushering in the Age of Plenty (Blessed Dew Talisman).

With her seat of power established, Marika dispatches her champions to complete their conquest of the Lands Between. Godfrey goes south to Limgrave to do battle with the Storm Lord and the inhabitants of the Weeping Peninsula. Radagon also goes south, but stops in the swamps of Liurnia to challenge the kingdom of sorcerers, who have been united under the rule of one calling herself the Full Moon Empyrean. Messmer, meanwhile, travels back to Belurat to exact vengeance against the Hornsent for their treatment of the shamans. It was this last expedition that was closest to Queen Marika's heart, and thus were they accorded the greatest share of golden grace of any of the Erdtree's armies.

In the ensuing 700 years or so, things proceed as normal. Messmer slaughters the Divine Beasts and burns the country to ashes. Godfrey's conquest of Limgrave nears its conclusion and he sets his eyes towards the Caelid Wilds. Radagon has fought two wars in Liurnia, finally forging an alliance with the House of Caria through his marriage to Rennala. Beneath all this, an old god conspires to put its own Empyrean on the throne.

Per Prince of Death canon (it is canon to me!), Melina is selected as an Empyrean vessel by the Deathbird who pushes her towards rebellion by exposing the injustices perpetrated under Marika's rule. Melina's breaking point is when Marika abandons her own children, the twin Omens Mohg and Morgott, for the sake of keeping up appearances (or so it seems). Taking the moniker of the Gloam-Eyed Queen, Melina marches to Leyndell to cast Marika down from her throne and slay the Elden Beast with black fire.

This rebellion is stopped by Maliketh's timely intervention. He bests his former pupil in combat and, under Marika's orders, seals the Destined Death which gives her flame its deadly bite. It is at this time that the Land of Shadow becomes Shadowed, as Marika fears how Messmer may respond when he discovers that his sister has "died" in a rebellion against their mother. However, Marika's heart is not of stone. She sees anew that which had driven her daughter to such desperate measures, and vows to reexamine the fundamental tenets of the Golden Order.

Remembering what happened to the last civilization to deny the Greater Will, however, Marika banishes Godfrey and his Tarnished warriors from the Lands Between. Should another star come to punish the land, she would not have her beloved caught in the blast zone. Thus ends the Age of Plenty; Marika plucks the very concept of true death from the Elden Ring and the blessings of the Erdtree slowly begin to dry up.

Here, the Ancient Dragon Gransseax sees an opportunity to restore the Ancient Dragons to primacy in the Lands Between and assaults the very walls of Leyndell itself. However, he did not account for the tenacity of humankind, nor the power of Godfrey's son, Godwyn. Godwyn leads Marika's order to victory in this Second War of the Dragons, forging an alliance with the Ancient Dragon Fortissax.

Seeking to keep Marika loyal, the Greater Will recalls Radagon to serve as Elden Lord in Leyndell, threatening his family with true death at the hand of the Black Blade should he refuse. Together, Marika and Radagon usher a new thousand years of history, an Age of Order.

Towards the final quarter of this new age (fully guestimating here), Marika sees that she is running out of time to find a solution to the cycling of ages and gods. Conspiring with her step-daughter Ranni, she plots to use a fragment of Destined Death to sever both herself and Radagon from the Greater Will's control, if only to free them both from the curse of immortality. However, plagued by internal conflict and mistrust, Ranni takes this opportunity to free herself from the machinations of Manus Celes, a Two Fingers serving its own god. Marika is distraught as, rather than severing her own fate, she is instead left to deal with the aftermath of the death of her beloved son, Godwyn.

In a final act of desperation, seeking to end the cycle once and for all, Marika takes up her hammer and shatters the Elden Ring, that which represents order itself. Aghast at her actions, Radagon joins her inside the Erdtree, sealing the entrance using an aberrant sorcery to create a barrier of impenetrable thorns. He sought to repair the damage done to the Elden Ring, but erecting the barrier bled him nearly dry. Seeking to protect its last hope of maintaining control, the Elden Beast fuses Marika and Radagon into one and stuffs the shattered fragments of the Elden Ring into the gaping wound in their side. There, the fused, fractured deity would hang for hundreds of years, until the time for ascension came again, and the envoys arrived once more to herald the arrival of a new lord.