Christen Dye

After my elderberry bush went off it's tits this year production wise I went "I'm not fuckin hand squeezing all that" because LOOK at this gotdamned six gallon bucket of cooked berries.

So I leveled up my wine hobby and got a fruit press. I am delighted to report that the design of them is pretty much the same as it's always been and I feel so fancy and legit and dare I say, cottage core. Look at that COLOR 🤌🏻🤌🏻

I love doing stuff that I feel like an ancestor from thousands of years ago could peep in and be like "a lot of this stuff is unfamiliar and new BUT I recognize what you're doing!!"

I am officially an entire year free from suicide attempts

dyeing what is left of my tips to cope

FNV Minor Character Poll - GRUDGE MATCH - Cadaver Clash

Left: Mr. RADical, a nuclear waste enthusiast who died outside of Novac doing what he loved.

—Day 1: Love the suit. Can scavenge anywhere now, screw the rads. I hereby christen myself Mr. RADical. Get it? Ha! —Day 4: Suit passed first test with flying (yellow) colors. Overnight visit to Yucca Mountain. Didn't go too deep because something big moving down tunnel. Rad level high even where I was, and I didn't feel a tickle. Go, rad suit, go! —Day 5: Vomited all morning. Didn't splash on suit or I'd be pissed. Must be something I ate. —Day 9: Exciting! Ran across old woman's scrap yard. Bought glowing container for measly 50 caps. Heading for Clark Field to prove suit at higher rad levels. If it holds up, I'm going to pop this jar of goop open and pour it all over me! I bet I could swim in this stuff if I had enough of it! Oh yeah!

Mr. Radical was the 101st seed in the tournament overall on the A-side bracket. He beat Ronald Curtis (a.k.a. Picus) and Jimmy before being defeated by Keely, the ultimate runner-up, in Round 3-A.

Right: Trash, a wannabe ghoul who died in the Nuclear Test Shack doing what she loved. —Dear Die-ary: I'm so done being confined in this human body. So, today I moved in to the shack at the abandoned test site. There should be enough radiation there to turn me into a ghoul. All around me this world is bleak and dreadful; is it so wrong to want a body to match it? I wonder what color my skin will turn and if I'll be able to find a good shade of lipstick to go with it. Probably not. God, everything is so miserable. —Dear Die-ary: I've been in this shack for almost a week now. Nothing is happening. I'm so bored. And this shack is so hot. And it's totally ruining my hair. It's like, so hard to find dye this color in the wasteland. This sucks, I want to be a ghoul now. I hate all this waiting. Life, ugh, living is so overrated. —Dear Die-ary: Good news Die-ary! I think it's finally starting to happen. Ok, so I do feel like, totally miserable (what else is new ha-ha-ha) and my skin is starting to peel off, but I'm pretty sure that is the first step. Oh, and my hair! I finally got it just the way I like it and now it starts coming out. Why does ghoulification have to be so unfair?

Trash was the 104th seed in the tournament overall on the A-side bracket. She beat Ada Straus and Pacer before being defeated by Harland, an ultimate quarter-finalist.

[Bracket | Info & FAQs]

How the fae age headcanon

+ inviting the fae in headcanon

So, I've been thinking about this every once in a while, so here:

I think I've seen people insinuate the fae are immortal. Considering Malleus will inherit the throne, I don't think that's the case.

I think the fae age.

Lilia mentioned that time flows differently for them, so I'm thinking that they age slowly or at least their bodies do.

I think the fae might be a bit like elves in dnd.

This is the first thing that came up: "Although elves reach physical maturity at about the same age as Humans, the elven understanding of Adulthood goes beyond physical growth to encompass worldly experience. An elf typically claims Adulthood and an adult name around the age of 100 and can live to be 750 years old."

We don't know how many years ago the fae-human war happened, so we can't really get a proper idea of their ages.

(I personally would put Malleus at late 190-something to 200-uptill 210 at most and Lilia at around 456 -idk why this number- to 650-somthing at most)

It also makes sense when you consider Malleus' propensity to be late to places. Time flows differently for him.

And maybe Lilia dyes his hair because he has white hairs, aside from him just doing it for fun.

Also about Malleus not showing up, I believe it's been stated that he wasn't notified of the events, meaning he wasn't invited.

Now, I know that plays into Malleficent's not being invited to Aurora's christening(?), but I think it is also taken from the belief that you need to invite fairies into a space (don't invite fairies in).

So that's why he doesn't show up to meetings and such, even though he is expected to be there, he wasn't explicitly invited. When we first meet him he establishes a link with us, permitting us to call him by a name of our choosing. There's no getting rid of him now.

As for Lilia, we basically invited him in when we talked about him in the cafeteria. Lilia, from what I remember, specifically says that he heard us talking about him, he most likely wouldn't have teleported to us if we didn't mention him.

Christen Dye

St. Christopher, The Christbearer

Dog-man, Cynocephali Saint, christened by baby Jesus after helping him cross a river.

The Dogheaded people

They were seen by conquerors, explorers, evangelists and described in detail. Alexander the Great, Marco Polo, St. Augustine, Christopher Columbus all described these creatures. You also have Anubis the Egyptian god and St.Christopher who was converted to Catholicism and achieved Saint-hood by helping believers cross a river.

There were letters corresponding with the Vatican on whether or not these dog headed men could be saved or not. The Catholic church was not surprised and simply asked if their eyes were on the front of their heads or on the sides. Apparently dog headed men were nothing new to cultures around the world.

'Ratramnus’s Epistola de Cynocephalis, is a letter written concerning if dog headed men could be saved. The response was yes based on the evidence that they showed the ability to have free will; they wore clothes, kept animals, had relationships, and obeyed laws etc. So they could choose salvation and therefore could be worth ministering to.

( Canaanites = canines, described as cannibals and great fighters who did detestable things.)

In Tibet there was recorded history of over 200,000 living in a village. They lived in Parts of India along the Mountain Range, there are traces of them in the Celtic lands they lived in Ireland.

St. Christopher is the patron saint for travelers. Dog-headed people often have acted as guides, ferries and Shepards. I will cover this in a future post, which will feature Xolotl and Aztec Gods, including Anubis!

Canines are interwoven into human history.

On these mountains there live men with the head of a dog, whose clothing is the skin of wild beasts. They speak no language, but bark like dogs, and in this manner make themselves understood by each other. Their teeth are larger than those of dogs, their nails like those of these animals, but longer and rounder. They inhabit the mountains as far as the river Indus. Their complexion is swarthy. They are extremely just, like the rest of the Indians with whom they associate.  They understand the Indian language but are unable to converse, only barking or making signs with their hands and fingers by way of reply, like the deaf and dumb. They are called by the Indians Calystrii, in Greek Cynocephali (“dog-headed “). [They live on raw meat.] They number about 120,000.  Near the sources of this river1 grows a purple flower, from which is obtained a purple dye, as good in quality as the Greek and of an even more brilliant hue. In the same district there is an animal about the size of a beetle, red as cinnabar, with very long feet, and a body as soft as that of a worm. It breeds on the trees which produce amber, eats their fruit and kills them, as the woodlouse destroys the vines in Greece. The Indians crush these insects and use them for dyeing their robes and tunics and anything else they wish. The Cynocephali living on the mountains do not practice any trade but live by hunting. When they have killed an animal they roast it in the sun. They also rear numbers of sheep, goats, and asses, drinking the milk of the sheep and whey made from it. They eat the fruit of the Siptakhora, whence amber is procured, since it is sweet. They also dry it and keep it in baskets, as the Greeks keep their dried grapes. They make rafts which they load with this fruit together with well-cleaned purple flowers and 260 talents of amber, with the same quantity of the purple dye, and 1000 additional talents of amber, which they send annually to the king of India. They exchange the rest for bread, flour, and cotton stuffs with the Indians, from whom they also buy swords for hunting wild beasts, bows, and arrows, being very skillful in drawing the bow and hurling the spear. They cannot be defeated in war, since they inhabit lofty and inaccessible mountains. Every five years the king sends them a present of 300,000 bows, as many spears, 120,000 shields, and 50,000 swords. They do not live in houses, but in caves. They set out for the chase with bows and spears, and as they are very swift of foot, they pursue and soon overtake their quarry. The women have a bath once a month; the men do not have a bath at all, but only wash their hands. They anoint themselves three times a month with oil made from milk and wipe themselves with skins. The clothes of men and women alike are not skins with the hair on, but skins tanned and very fine. The richest wear linen clothes, but they are few in number. They have no beds, but sleep on leaves or grass. He who possesses the greatest number of sheep is considered the richest, and so in regard to their other possessions. All, both men and women, have tails above their hips, like dogs, but longer and more hairy. They are just, and live longer than any other men, 170, sometimes 200 years (Ctesias, “Indica”, from Photius I).

Christen Dye’s ribs

Small Talk with Ayfie

Ayfie is an entrepreneur who currently lives in Suzhou, China. She is the owner of Ankh Hairdressing, a brand with two storefronts located in the SIP region. A woman of her early forties, time has left no distinguishable markings on her face. Her hair is worn short, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors. This time, brown. The next, yellow. She bustles around the small rectangle of Ankh’s main store with a pair of hairdressing scissors hanging at her waist, assistants following her beck and call. The door opens, and, like hearing the tinkle of a wind-chime, Ayfie looks up, smiling.

In retrospect:

Claire: You always have a smile ready when someone opens the door.

Ayfie: I think that’s part of the appeal, isn’t it? That’s what our store is, really. We’re telling our customers that we’re ready for them, that we’re happy to see them, again and again and again—every time. That’s why they come back.

Before: Claire—panting, out-of-breath, and late by ten minutes—rushes into Ankh Hairdressing, rattling the door open with her elbow. Ayfie looks up from where she is sorting through a box of deliveries and smiles. She asks what Claire is looking to do with her hair today.

Claire: Redying my hair—my roots have grown in. Sorry I’m late.

Ayfie: That’s alright. Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute.

Claire sits down on a comfortable chair facing a vanity desk. She fidgets. The room is warm and fluorescent light haloes her surroundings. She hasn’t visited the store in months. Ayfie spreads open a book with numerous rows of colored hair-strands taped in, and asks Claire to choose her new hair color.

Claire: Maybe brown, again? I’m not sure.

Ayfie: What about lighter brown? It’s a warm color scheme, pleasant for winter weather.

Claire: That sounds good. 

Ayfie nods and motions for one of her assistants to get the appropriate hair dye. She stands by where Claire is sitting.

Ayfie: It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here. Your mom, too. And your sister.

Claire: Yeah, I’ve—been busy. I’m in eleventh grade now, so I’m applying for university soon. I was in the US during the summer. 

Ayfie: Wow, eleventh grade. I can’t believe you’re growing so quickly. The first I saw you, you were still a kid.

Claire: Time flies. 

Ayfie’s assistant lathers dye into Claire’s hair. She does so carefully, her fingers plucking through each strand like she is fingering the teeth of a comb.

Claire: Actually, Ayfie, I wanted to ask you something. About being an entrepreneur, I mean. I’ve been having thoughts about business school, but… I’m not really sure how the whole entrepreneur thing really works, like how it can be taught as a course. It’s always something that seemed kind of intrinsic to me. It’s like, entrepreneurship is one of those things. You’re born with it, or you’re not.

Ayfie: Well, first, people aren’t born to be entrepreneurs. People aren’t born to be anything. Really, a person’s environment plays a big part in what people would christen an ‘entrepreneurship spirit.’ I was interested in sales when I was a kid, and I liked the idea of selling things, so I sold things. It was fun. I liked exploring flea markets—I used to go to them every week when I was in Japan—so I went. I don’t necessarily agree with the idea of learning how to be an entrepreneur in a business school. I never went to business school, for one. But I think that gaining an education is useful, just so you can have something to build off of.

Claire: You studied hairdressing in Japan, right?

Ayfie: Yeah, I did. Well—that’s not entirely true. I first went there for an exchange program in high school, but it was for hotel management, not hairdressing. I was eighteen. I stayed in Japan to do a hairdressing course at a vocational school after.

Claire: So hairdressing wasn’t something you were always interested in? For some reason I thought you’d always been interested. It’s hard to imagine you doing something else.

Ayfie: Actually, no. I only got interested in hairdressing after going to Japan. It’s a funny story. I was at a hot-springs hotel working, and in one of my break-times I decided to go get a haircut. There was a store nearby, one that looked cute. It was run by a girl. I went in and had her cut my hair short, just like a Japanese actress who was popular at the time. The glint of hairdressing scissors at the girl’s waist drew my eye. I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to wear that myself, that the girl was incredibly cool, and I wanted to be just like her. A petty reason, really. But it drove me to go to vocational school and get a hairdresser’s license in Japan, and open up my own shop here, so maybe it’s not such a small reason after all.

Claire’s hair is gathered into a bun by Ayfie’s assistant, who then places a plastic cap onto it. 

Ayfie: It’ll take about thirty minutes.

Claire: Alright. That’s so cool, though. A small reason, maybe, but you made it into something bigger. How come you came back to Suzhou, though? If what started it all was in Japan.

Ayfie: I worked in Japan for a few years, but when I was twenty five I got pregnant. In Japan, hairdressers work in a position where they’re constantly leaning towards the side, and the doctors said it wasn’t good for the baby, so my husband and I returned to China. I didn’t start Ankh until later—after giving birth, I worked in Shanghai for a Japanese hairdressing magazine, but office life didn’t suit me. I sold off a house under my name to purchase Ankh’s storefront, and that’s the real start of it.

Claire: You sold your house—wow. Weren’t you scared? I mean, what if you failed? 

Ayfie: That’s the thing about entrepreneurship, isn’t it? If you’re scared, it’ll never happen. I was scared, of course, but starting Ankh was almost like a river flowing to its natural, predestined ending. Some people are suited for office work. I’m not one of them. 

Ayfie leads Claire to the hair-washing basin, where Claire lies down and Ayfie’s assistant washes her hair. Claire closes her eyes, taking in the heat of water, the massaging of shampoo into her hair.

Claire: I guess some people are born for entrepreneurship, then. Or at the very least, it’s something that they’ve learned. But—how to be successful? That’s been a pressing question for me recently. I keep thinking that, well, I’ll learn nothing if I go into business. That I’m set up for failure. How did Ankh become what it is?

Ayfie: You know, it’s more luck than anything. That’s what’s really important, unfortunately. Of course, I had my knowledge of Japanese hairdressing to fall back on when starting Ankh—I did some things differently from Chinese hairdressing, like different pricing strategies or opening and closing times, which was unique. But it was luck. Ankh opened at a time when social media became a thing, and there were a bunch of emerging social media stars—they looked for stores to visit and gave their honest opinions on how the stores were. Ankh was one of the first Japanese-style hairdressing stores in Suzhou, and a lot of people followed the influencers—who acted as free promotion—to try it out. What I’m trying to say is that there isn’t really an answer, not in the way I’d like to give you. You might become successful if you learn business, but you might not. But that’s not the attitude you should go into business with, if it’s something you’re interested in. It’s not about success. It’s about knowing what you want, and having an open mind. I’m not good at advertising, for example, and I’ve never hired an advertising team for Ankh. It’s something that’s not great. We mainly rely on old customers. But I try to figure it out myself—I set myself things I’ll do every day, like posting a picture of a customer’s haircut on Wechat moments without fail. Maybe it’ll work, and maybe it won’t, but I’m doing it, and I’ll keep on doing it. Consistency is key.

Claire gets up and walks to a seat after the basin’s water-tap turns off. Ayfie takes out a hair dryer. Hot wind blows past Claire’s hair. It is so loud she can barely hear herself.

Claire: I wish there was an answer. I don’t know what I’m doing, really. I’m going to university soon, and I still don’t have a clue. I wish I knew what I wanted, like you. I wish I was consistent.

Ayfie: That’s okay. Nobody knows who or what they want to be. I mean, I only figured out that I liked hairdressing when I was eighteen. I didn’t open Ankh until I was in my thirties. You have all the time in the world. Slow down, and let yourself exhale.

Claire: Thank you, Ayfie. I really appreciate you saying that—it means a lot. Really. I guess business school is still on the table, and I don’t need to decide if I want to go or not right now.

Ayfie: Of course! Now’s the time to look at your new hair color. It’s lighter than before. Do you like it?

Claire: Yes, I do.

Ayfie takes out a camera and spins Claire around so that her side faces the lens. Ayfie smiles. Three, two, one, she mouths. Claire smiles. The camera shutter draws down.

One fateful day … tragedy struck. For the day was as hot as any other, the sweaty scrum was atwitter, and the well had run dry. Conklin scoured the circus for water, but it had been used up — the elephants had been fed, the goat had been bathed, and all hope seemed lost.

Casting impropriety to the wind he barged into the changing tent of Fannie Jamieson — the queen of mid-19th century bareback equestrian — who had peeled off her bright red tights and was scrubbing off the horse-scent in a bucket of water.

Water!

The newly christened “strawberry” lemonade sold twice as quickly as Conklin’s boring old lemonade, which didn’t contain any ladies’ tights and therefore was much less exciting. The next day, aniline dye became a permanent addition to the recipe. Though highly toxic, Conklin figured a few drops wouldn’t hurt anyone, and besides, even if it did, who would suspect the pink lemonade of befalling them?

Ooooohhh i found my list of proposed activities for the NT to finally have us get know the new players. 

Trick or treating

Bobbing for apples

Steal your captain's cleats (unlimited)

Decorating a Christmas tree (in August)

Slapping each other with quesadillas

'how to open a Durian' challenge

Pumpkin carving

Paintball tournament

End of year quiz in duo's about what happened in the past year

Ping Pong tournament

Scavenger hunt (edition 2.0)

Players telling campfire stories.

Marcel race

Someone dyeing Pinoe's hair in a surprise color (make this one first please).

Baby olympics (surely there are enough babies now in the extended bubble? If not they can use Rodman seeing as no one is willing to admit she ain't that young.)

'Decorate your onesie' exercise

'Decorate your teammate' exercise

How (not) to build a campfire with Alana Cook and Naomi Girma. 

How to treat burns with Alana Cook and Naomi Girma. 

Added

Remote control car race 

Rose Lavelle in a field of puppies (bonus points if Christen joins)

Dodgeball (Ball pitt edition) 

Make your own snowglobe challenge 

Quizz: What animal is this?

Whose nose is this? Can you recognize your teammates nose? 

things i think would be entertaining from woso:

1- a nwsl or uswnt blondes vs brunettes game

*pros: entertaining as fuck, funny,

*cons: the brunettes will win no competition, what team will pinoe be on if she dyes her hair?

2- straights vs gays game

*pros: self explanatory

*cons: do we have enough straight players to make a descent team? team gay will obviously win.

3- an nwsl significant other game

*listen i just want to watch sue bird, sam kerr, becky’s husband, and a few other people i respect just kick mal pughs husbands ass

*cons: would players who are dating other players in the nwsl be allowed to play?

4- lock k. mew, pinoe, sonnett, and ashlyn harris in a room together, give them booze and beer and a camera and put the resulting blonde gay chaos online

5- tobin vs a full 11 defenders

6- christen vs a full 11 defenders

7- christen vs tobin 1 on 1 first to 5 wins

ok i love this so much 🤣 absolutely everything

i wanna dye my hairrrrrr i wanna bleach my eyebrowssssss but i’m waiting to christen my new bathroom w chemicals but i’m so impatient

Christen Dye