#dogskin

[strawberrybabydog]

[photo: a WW1 cloth dog gas mask edited to be pink, with a heart bandaid on the cheek and a sprout on the head. it is surrounded by pink glittery strawberries. end ID]

new dogskin body ♡ i've found a lot of connections from dogskin to objects, but this is one of my favourites. of course edited to be Obnoxiously Pink... ♡

ive also changed my username on discord to schizocanidae, the title of my blog here and my tag for personal psychosis posts. when i read it in chats now and i see my new pfp it somehow brings me a lot of species euphoria & is kinda stimmy.

another Species related change is i've adopted the name лапа (lapa) because it does something for my вовкулака brain. it means paw. i'll probably just use it as a stand-in for something better in the future, its just that a lot of ukrainian words are reeally long & im having a hard time finding a name that represents me while also being relatively short. лапа is not the only name im using, im using all of my names equally so idc its just Another One LOL. call me whatever :0]

[the-strawberry-paw-anon]

@strawberrybabydog it's me again, back with the Gifts!

I wanted to do some gift art for you, and scrolling through your tags I saw dogskin. And thought: I really wanna show this puppy some care. So here's a plaster (band aid), because it's just as worthy of love and care as any other dog, and it can take up as much space and resources as it needs and then some. I Care u dogskin.

[sowiseup-blog]

Why Dog Itching And Scratching? Top 3 Dog Skin Problems (FREE BONUS)

[luvsavos]

decided that, among the many things thor has collected, he has a paolumu fur blanket

[brygush]

watched 101 dalmatians today. im so mad we got the cruella movie we did. because 101 dalmatians paints a VERY telling picture in exceedingly few strokes. cruella deville is the child of a no-longer-rich-but-still-Posh family who was brought up to have all the "right" tastes but is now unable to afford any of them. she's the british blanche dubois. in lieu of the expensive furs she lusts after, she turns to dogskin--a cheap imitation of ermine or white leopard. she mocks anita's modest home, yet lives in squalor in her family's dilapidated country estate. she doesn't hate the dogs; she barely feels anything towards them at all. they're a tool, an ingredient, a handhold to keep her clinging desperately to the class signifiers she so desperately craves but can't have. we could've gotten a cruella movie exploring her family's fall, her desperate struggle to reenter the class she's ENTITLED to be part of, a retelling of the 101 dalmatians tale focused around her scheme. but instead we got an inexplicable rags-to-riches tale, and the dog version of "singing killed my grandma, okay!"

[aroundtheworldwithphillyfogg]

Fixed: December 5th: Verne makes a detour to dunk on Mormons.

During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.

Passepartout, about nine o’clock, went out upon the platform to take the air. The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not snowing. The sun’s disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.

This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark, with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He might have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice written in manuscript.

Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car No. 117, from eleven to twelve o’clock; and that he invited all who were desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the religion of the “Latter Day Saints” to attend.

“I’ll go,” said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of Mormonism except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.

The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice, ensconced themselves in car No. 117. Passepartout took one of the front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.

At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, “I tell you that Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the persecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will also make a martyr of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary?”

No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually subjected. The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in reducing these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself master of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union, after imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy. The disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and resisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch, as is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.

Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures, he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that, in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon; how, many centuries later, a translation of this precious book, which was written in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave him the annals of the Lord.

Several of the audience, not being much interested in the missionary’s narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his lecture, related how Smith, junior, with his father, two brothers, and a few disciples, founded the church of the “Latter Day Saints,” which, adopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Sweden, and Germany, counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal professions, among its members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a temple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town built at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several famous Egyptians.

The Elder’s story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers. But this did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of Joseph Smith’s bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards, more honourable and honoured than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the chief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the Far West.

Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who was listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that, after long persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief; that he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency of the United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at Carthage, he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men disguised in masks.

Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder, looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony, thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectations.

“And this,” added Elder William Hitch, “this is why the jealousy of Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the Union invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force? Never! Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio, driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you, my brother,” continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes upon his single auditor, “will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our flag?”

“No!” replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.

During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt Lake. Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags in large strata, encrusted with white salt—a superb sheet of water, which was formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth and increased its depth.

The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated three miles eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite different from Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea, it contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its water is solid matter, its specific weight being 1,170, and, after being distilled, 1,000. Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it, and those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other streams soon perish.

The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort, would have been seen six months later. Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.

The train reached Ogden at two o’clock, where it rested for six hours, Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City, connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the Union, like a checker-board, “with the sombre sadness of right-angles,” as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where the people are certainly not up to the level of their institutions, everything is done “squarely”—cities, houses, and follies.

The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o’clock, about the streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but the prophet’s mansion, the court-house, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with verandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias, palms, and locusts. A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded the town; and in the principal street were the market and several hotels adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem thickly populated. The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of the temple, which they only reached after having traversed several quarters surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which was easily accounted for by the “peculiar institution” of the Mormons; but it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists. They are free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as, according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted to the possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures seemed to be neither well off nor happy. Some—the more well-to-do, no doubt—wore short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl; others were habited in Indian fashion.

Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women, charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon. His common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him a terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across the vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled from such a vocation, and he imagined—perhaps he was mistaken—that the fair ones of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his person. Happily, his stay there was but brief. At four the party found themselves again at the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle sounded for starting. Just at the moment, however, that the locomotive wheels began to move, cries of “Stop! stop!” were heard.

Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was breathless with running. Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers. He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train, and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.

Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast, approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.

When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.

“One, sir,” replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward —“one, and that was enough!”

[un-onnie-mousse]

Burn the Others with You, Love

TRIGGER WARNING: KINDA VIOLENT

Why is it that we have to be silent about our sufferings Silent on our knees, Silent to their deeds. And you wonder, after all the good you've tried to be, Should you be the one that begs and pleads?

Inside, rage screams and tackles, Its ankles and hands struggle against its shackles, And you cry, Knowing that out of all the pets that remain unchained, Your favourite remains chained.

But do not feel guilty, It'll reason your restraints.

Of course, you can forgive and be a big person, silly! But doesn't it feel better when you lose the chains?

Let loose, darling. Watch the destruction begin.

Scratch them with your words and rip them like dogskin, Slap them with the consequences; that's what they gain. Kick them with the sheer force that caused you pain. And with the blood they bleed, paint your canvases. Watch them cry till they beg for your forgiveness.

Now you're a ticking bomb, hand on the leash, A hand not to hold but to let go. And the eggshell path that is now your niche, Now has the others walking on it too.

Watch the person they knew crumble, And the devil within rumble.

[the-good-spartan]

Spartan Social Structure: Part One - The Helots

Thanks in large part to pop culture, we think of the Spartans as a homogenous group - everyone from Sparta was Spartan, weren't they? But it should be clear by this point that the answer to that is absolutely not. Being a Spartiate was bound by a lot of conditions - birth, education, behaviour and a certain level of maintainable wealth.

So who else was there?

I wanted to begin with the helots, as we have the most information about them as a group. Be warned, this is not a pretty topic, and if you find discussions of slavery uncomfortable, perhaps give this one a miss.

The Helots.

They were the enslaved native population of the region - Lakonia was conquered first, later Messenia was added. The word helot was derived from the Heleia, (Helos Plain), in the south of Lakonia, but it was understood to mean, 'the conquered.'

The below gives a sense of how they were treated, though it's to be noted that this is taken from a fragment of the lost Messenian Affairs, written during the third century, after the liberation of Messenia, and has propagandic purpose, so may be exaggerated (but probably not):

‘They impose on the helots every kind of insulting work which leads to total degradation. For they made it a requirement that each should wear a dogskin cap, and be dressed in leather as well as receive a fixed number of lashes annually – without reference to any offence – so that they should never forget to act like slaves. Moreover, if the physical wellbeing of any surpassed the usual appearance of slaves, they prescribed a death sentence and also a penalty for owners who failed to curb those putting on weight.’

We can add a few words from Plutarch:

'They would force them, for instance, to drink quantities of unmixed wine and then they would bring them into the messes to show the young men what drunkenness was like. They would also order them to perform songs and dances which were vulgar and ludicrous, while excluding them from the ones fit for men.'

There's a distinction to make here in an academic sense, because it's natural that we think of the later Trans-Atlantic slave trade whenever slavery is mentioned: This wasn't chattel slavery. These men and women weren't bought and sold, and were technically not owned by individuals or the state, though it's pretty clear that each helot family was answerable to one Spartan family, and that they and the state saw fit to treat them just as they chose (very, very badly).

For example, each year, the state declared war on them - thus cleansing their hands of any possible blood debt should a Spartan kill a helot - which they did, routinely. I will leave further exploration of this unpleasant topic for a post I'll make about the Krypteia soon.

[Link]

Day-to-Day

Each helot family was assigned to land held by a Spartan - the kleroi - probably a family land holding, rather than held by an individual [see my summary of land ownership as it relates to the phiditia and citizenship here]. The helots were permitted to live in their own homes and family units, to marry and have children. We don't know how many helots might work an individual kleros, but more than one family is attested, and we might suppose on large estates that there might be many.

Helot men and women did the housework, cooked, wove, child-minded and whatever other domestic duties needed doing.

The helot men accompanied Spartan warriors on campaign, at least one per man, probably more, to carry armour and look after their needs. There were said to be seven per man at Plataea, but this was probably unusual, or there has been some corruption to the text. There's some suggestion that helot boys were raised with the Spartan boys from a young age in preparation for joining them in this capacity - but this remains speculation.

Rebellions & Repercussions.

I can’t emphasise enough how, in the Spartan mind, the security of the state depended on them violently suppressing all forms of resistance from the enslaved population. The fear of rebellion was the driving force behind Sparta becoming a military power in the first place, and accounts for their continued military culture and several, otherwise inexplicable, behaviours.

The history between the two groups was always heated, and one thing is certain - at no time did the helots just accept their lot.

There are three rebellions that we know of, called the first through third Messenian Wars, and the third, which occurred in 464 BCE after the 'Great Earthquake', was an extremely close-run victory for Sparta - but this deserves its own post with much more detail than I have room for here.

I can't close out the topic of the helots without adding to it the notorious story of actions taken by the Spartan state in the wake of the devastating defeat at Pylos in 425 BCE.

Thucydides tells us:

'The Spartans invited all helots who claimed to have given signal service in war to present themselves for selection, with the promise of freedom for those chosen. This was a ploy: they reckoned that the first to claim their right to freedom would also be the most likely to have the spirit of revolt. They selected some two thousand, who then put on garlands and paraded around the sanctuaries thinking themselves free. Shortly afterwards, the Spartans did away with them, though nobody knew how any of them were killed.'

This is mentioned as being an exceptionally brutal action taken when rebellion was in the air - The Athenians had taken 120 Spartiate prisoners, many of them related to the most prominent familes - (again, we're brushing up against that population issue I've mentioned before); Pylos, on Messenian land, had been fortified by the enemy and the helots were defecting to them in large numbers - so we should be wary of thinking of this as anything like a usual occurrence; but there can be no doubt that the episode speaks very loudly of Spartan attitudes.

[strawberrybabydog]

creating dogskin has been extremely theraputic

my former system was messy but the bottom line is, i dont actually know who i am in reference to our former system or what truly happened to our alters. this means i dont know if im the original host or not... i suspect i'm not. this means i dont have an inner child to care for

there's a trend on tiktok that goes something like "being mean to myself, and remembering im talking about them [shows baby photos of self.]"

i have no inner child, so this cant apply to me. i dont view "my child self" as being related to.. me. its not me. thats someone else's child self, but not mine. its also difficult to have sympathy for my young teen "self" because the teenself wasnt a great person and its difficult to forgive

instead i use dogskin.. and it works. i've tried with an inner puppy but it didnt work so well for me, because puppies cant have the trauma that i have. but dogskin is... humanish, and is capable of human emotions. dogskin is born from trauma

i dont talk about it often but i struggle a lot with showers. partly because of trauma, partly because of sensory issues, lack of energy, and delusions. i dont shower often, only when i need to. but today when i showered, i was bathing dogskin. gentle shower setting, gentle words walking through the steps, cleaning parts of dogskin's body that i do not have (ears, paws.) when i went out today, i was with dogskin, showing dogskin the things that i love and showing it how to count cash. when people on the bus i didnt like talked to us, i talked instead of dogskin so it didnt have to be scared. dogskin got its favourite dinner from the mall and ate it slow like it likes. dogskin wiggles and stims sitting in my bed. i want to give dogskin a good life

through dogskin i will heal

[acaciaart]

(Image description: four screenshots of a Minecraft skin- one from a three quarter angle of the front, one from a three quarter angle of the back, one from an extreme low angle showing the paw pads, and one a close up of the face from a three quarter angle. The skin depicts Dogskin, a lab experiment that resembles an anthropomorphic dark grey dog with black ears, legs, and black markings on its snout, the back of its head, and the top of its tails. It has pitch black eyes, a wide, toothy mouth, and teeth growing out of its ears and from between its paw pads. It has a bloody bandage wrapped around its midsection and left thigh, which appears to be holding its second tail in place. It is bleeding from its nose, ears, paws, and wounds on its torso, knees, and neck. End description.)

And this is Dogskin, also created by @strawberrybabydog​. This one was a little more difficult to make, but I think the face turned out somewhat accurate!

Skin file above! Feel free to download and use, but consider tipping/ commissioning me if you do!

[baihetales]

TPOCTTWFP - Chapter 90

At the edge of the abyss, the changes in the world are quite significant! Before, it was like a stubborn stickiness between Huan Mo and Yun Ge, like a dogskin plaster, unable to be thrown away. Now, Huan Mo’s spring has arrived! At the edge of the abyss, Sheng Qi watched Yun Ge tenderly and considerately every day, following Huan Mo. However, here comes the problem: why does Huan Mo seem like…

[blabberbutt]

Haunted Arwine Cemetery….. I was in a spiritual battle w/ the “devil man” when I slithered into the graveyard. It welcomed me, the Dogskin clad demon of that site said I can go there cos I’m making war. TO BE CONTINUED

[captainbasch]

Here's an old piece I relined and colored of my children! It's been what, 7 years? and I've just had these kids floating around and you'll never know more about them because I am too lazy to make a story for you! LOL Oh well, I just had a little burst of inspo for them so I had to do something because I can't draw anything new T o T Hello Addie, Kano, and Arsen!

[john-barkston]

there was a young man at target today that gave off the biggest kano vibes so I had to draw kano in his outfit obviously!

[spotcanineclub]

Skin problems are very common among humans and animals both but where these things get differentiated