#sheeps clothing

[aconfusedsquirrelsstuff]

I came across this in a book I'm currently reading and it's really stuck in my mind and I wanted to share

'Sheep in Wolf's clothing' by Judith Duffey 1986

I don't know if anyone on here is going to be interested I'm this piece or anything but I wanted to share as it struck me an an amazing piece of textile art

[notthemayor]

raising 100kids, that's Love

raising 1000kids, that's Love

these men aint rich

then they have the nerve to call themselves christian

[fishfingersandscarves]

kabru!!

[squidddds]

Made my own Termina Oc called Agnes.

Her design is based on a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She appears innocent and harmless through her clothing and soft spoken nature however she secretly has a cruel personality, viewing emotions and those driven by them as weak. Her moonscorched is based on a sheep in wolfs clothing. Her fear deep down that maybe she is as weak and vulnerable as she outwardly appears.

She chooses to remain unseen and this helps her immensely, as she can sneak past enemies unnoticed and is less likely to be hit when in battle. Unfortunately due to her impractical clothes and inexperience, she isn’t well versed in combat, when forced to fight, she prefers guns or small blades.

For those who don’t know - a professional mourner is payed to go to funerals to add to the crowd, they pretend to have known the person and pretend to mourn their loss

She has been posted on artfight (my username is Squiddds)

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Daniel Ridgway Knight (1839-1924) "The Shepherdess of Rolleboise" (1896) Oil on canvas Located in the Brooklyn Museum, New York City, New York, United States

[canisalbus]

I tried to draw sheep Machete and goat Vasco (but I am not good at drawing goats, at all)

.

[jstsayyes]

first time uploading art publicly in like 4 years.. holds him gently

oc for meadowlark by @yaelokre !! i love this series so dearly, plspls go listen to the beautiful music and check out the incredible art by yaelokre because. wow. they deserve every bit of love they get <33

[mishacakes]

sometimes different hyperfixations roil around in your head and you go “hmmm how can i combine these”. also sometimes ur like “damn this visual is cool” and have to exorcise it like a demon

[that-sweet-jester]

just your local florist/part time astronomer/other time angel & and a demon who dresses too well for a demon

[yayll]

~ a little something about you and Dazai working together... or at least trying to ~

"Hold still! God, you really need to be more careful, Dazai, I worr-"

He blinks, and tilts his head, his voice soft yet firm as you both sit on the agency's couch.

"Would you mind looking at me real quick?"

You glance up from disinfecting his wound, and hum.

"Mm, why?"

He sighs, and when he speaks his voice comes out dramatic yet tantalizing, the way he always makes it sound when he knows he's about to say something silly. Something you'll hopefully scold him for! Yum...

"Oh, no reason... Just wanted a little kiss before I inevitably die in your loving embrace~"

You roll your eyes and groan, it makes his stomach do flips. There it is, that adorable shade of pink he loves so much! It matches the one you had on in bed this morning, but that's too naughty to think about now... Dazai hears the way your voice is significantly less strict, and he knows he has you. When does he not?

"Not now, Dazai-"

He interrupts, pouting as he reaches over and twists a lock of your hair in between his slender fingers, twirling it mindlessly while you mend his wound. He gives you a melting expression as his eyes droop enough for you to have no choice but to notice his despair as he whines.

"Mmm, why do you always only call me Dazai when we're at work?"

You sigh as you gently finish dressing his wounds, the fresh bandage mingling with his older ones... He makes a mental note to have you change those later too.

Anything to keep your hands all over him. Desiring him. Always in sight, always on the mind.

"Because we're at work... we're professionals, remember?"

That silly little comment makes him scoff.

"Hmph. Well, everyone knows..."

"Know what?"

"That you and I kiss in the supply closet sometim-"

You fling yourself against his chest and clamp his mouth shut, cheeks burning redder than a tomato. He licks the inside of your palm, causing you to immediately yank your hand away with a small squeak. You can't hold back the way your lips curl into an embarrassed smile as you hiss, and it makes him almost froth at the mouth... Trying to relearn decency is hard when he's this close to you.

"Professionals, Dazai!"

"... We should kiss" He blurts out, face smug.

"No"

"But it huuurtssss!" He's desperate now, resorting to the lowest of the lows so you'll accomodate him against all wishes, not like he has any shame left. He dramatically points at his wrapped up wrist, and slumps back onto the couch as he deflates into deadweight.

Your face softens and you look down, sighing in resignation that your boyfriend might just be a total baby FREAK. His pupils turn into hearts when you speak to him in the way he wants you to.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Who are you referring to?"

"You..?"

He smirks devilishly, and shrugs, feigning ignorance as he looks off to the side, arms crossed. You slowly start to get it, and crack a smirk. You exhale, shaking your head as you give him what he covets for.

"... Where does it hurt, Osamu?"

There it is, the magic word. By the time you're done asking that he's already crawled ontop of you, cornering you on the small loveseat and caging you in between his slender frame. Dazai takes your hand in his, and intertwines your fingers together as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. His voice is soft, gentle, and talks you through it, just how he did this morning.

"Mmm, I'm not sure anymore... Let's find out together"

Your breath hitches, and you become bashful under him. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, knowing what it does to you, but more importantly what it does to his sick little mind. Leave it to Dazai to turn playful banter into something that will surely leave the two of you a mess... Hopefully you a little more than him. You whisper, a little breathless.

"Oh, now you're just baiting me, huh..."

"Well if I'm bait, then you're biting."

He whispers back, as if sucking the very life force out of you with his eye contact alone. This is how he wins, how he secures heaven for himself every single day, selfishly. He's not hiding anything in his expressions. He wants you for him, and no one else.

You really never stood a chance.

[deoccchi]

Finished the fallen version and . . . well, I let my delusions win 😇

[spiraling-trap]

wolf and sheep lahligh

i wanna make these into charms

[artoutforblood]

In the warm months, sheep put on their winter coats

[quantumfizz]

Never ask a man his salary, a woman her age, and an outspoken male progressive celebrity how many sexual assaults he's committed during his career

[moondirti]

i do think dark! gaz has a bit of a... complex about everything he does. a sort of hypocrisy, or sanctimonious attitude — the apollonian champion who'll scorn the sensuous for all but himself. it's a friction that started at work (as all things do, of course) but has gone so far as to infiltrate life beyond it, too.

toxicity. manipulation. isolation. dumbification.

perhaps non obvious to a stranger, nothing like the more flagrant quirks of his teammates. on a surface level, he's the only typical member of his task force. the charm he uses to cut through life used as a shortcut for the others. kyle is the one obliged to order drinks at every bar, or the shepherd to lead flightier birds into the overbearing mens' beds. who's told, repeatedly, how approachable and handsome and kind he is compared to them. that he sets himself apart, despite how equally sullied his hands are. despite the blood crusting beneath his fingernails, and the callus on his trigger finger. despite the sins he's committed fighting those with perfectly mirrored ledgers, trying to stop them from committing more by committing more.

and there's nothing to argue against, not really. spoor it back to basic, where they were taught to justify transgressions by the flag stamped over their arm — it's okay when he does something, because he's on the right side. thrust that ideology forward and it's quick to snowball. now nothing is off limits, not as long as he can justify it. and wouldn't he — decorated, promoted, hand-picked, college educated, admired, perceptive, quick witted, revered, moral, righteous kyle — have well founded grounds for everything he intends to do?

of course he does. he knows best, always.

you edge closer, and that ugliness starts to bare its teeth.

like dipping your toes into placid waters, surface undisturbed, only to be pulled under by leviathan itself. it's something that's been allowed- no, encouraged to grow. fed and fattened up, cleaving through the sea unchallenged. in every relationship, he will appoint himself as the moral arbitrator for your every action. that is, being respected means that everything you do will be picked apart. be ready to defend your decisions, because he's appraising them all. keeps an incisive eye on you, your health, your hobbies, your friends, your clothing, your sleep, your finances, etc... something i think he inherited from price and adapted for his own; though he won't control those aspects for you (at least, not directly), he'll expect you to live up to the expectations he holds.

— which are not the expectations he has for himself.

(sensualism, overconsumption, corruption, arrogance, indecency.

they're all on the cards for him, if he can warrant it.)

and why would they be? you're not him, not unless you prove you're on par, in time. kyle maintains a double standard, though he wouldn't necessarily call it that. he just can't expect you to prescribe the level of thought he does to everything, or do it with enough discretion. do you really dig into the full range of consequence, decide value based on utility? do you know to tally the calculus that determines right from wrong,

(to vindicate pain, you have to maximise happiness. perfectly simple, really. applies to most everything — from the way he bullies you into the relationship in the first place, by determining it's for your greater good, to how he prunes off your friends, one 'break up with him!' advocate at a time.)

or do you act on impulse, like so many of the brutes he's told he's better than?

he wouldn't blame you if you do.

nor would he end things, should you disappoint him.

but you see, having kyle lose faith in you is arguably worse.

to most, things look like they get better. even you're so easily fooled, at first. he's much gentler than he was before. his words no longer have that sharp edge to them, censure a dull knife tucked in the back of a drawer. if you trip or make a mistake, he'll shush the pleas rolling to the tip of your tongue, soft kisses placed over your eyes, cradling your trembling arm. if you succumb to any of your baser desires — like employing your vibrator in his absence, oblivious to the cameras he's installed around the house — he'll just come back home and wring a dozen more orgasms out of you, indulgent of the lust you're so brazen about.

however nice it is, you half expect the switch to flip at any moment; watching warily from the corner of your eye as he goes about his days, completely content to let you do whatever you want. things just feel wrong, thrown off kiler. like there's something going unsaid, or a piece you're misunderstanding. how someone can just shift like that — turn their back on the model they upheld for so long, seemingly overnight. it strikes you the wrong way. too good to be true, almost.

(undoubtedly.)

you finally understand once you voice your concerns.

because kyle refuses to hear you out, pouting condescendingly when you go on about how 'hard things used to be' and how you're 'worried about his change of heart.' (two very antithetical sentiments, he has to say.) doesn't answer any of your questions. rather, he coos softly at your cries, brushing the hair off your temple like one would do a beloved animal. those tears are too big for you, lovie. so silly worrying about complicated things like that. why don't you clear that little head for me before supper.

you're no longer regarded as human, at least not one worthy of deference. but that's just what you wanted, wasn't it? by being so negligent of what it takes to keep that status in his eyes. humans exhibit discipline, intelligence, order, routine. if you can't uphold what that entails, then—

well, you're no better than a pet.

(free range, at least.)

[pumpkster]