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living with family and friends in a cultured world or setting. Lovely arts and crafts hang as one’s eyes are appeased to living a better life. domestic.
Sir Henry was sitting in his parlor when he decided to scream out for his domestic servent. Mary he screamed please I would like a cup of tea! But Mary was not listening to his commands today. She decided that she wanted him dead.
He let out an angry shout as they forced him into the cell, tackling him down onto the bed and restraining his arms. Blood was flowing from his nose, his eyes were wide and crazed.
“What is wrong with you?” The man growled, watching through the window of the isolation room as the men fought against him. “Gage is unstable yet you trained him like a soldier?!”
“We had it contained. He was following orders-”
“So this is just a temper tantrum?” He growled, turning to face the commanding officer. “You put our most powerful weapon in the hands of an unstable! Put him down.”
“Sir, I can’t. He knows too much about the others, I cannot risk losing that information.”
“Then you better deal with it! This is your problem, not mine! I am not going to get my ass burned for your mistakes.” He glared at the younger man for a moment, hearing Gage scream viciously through the glass. “When I return, I want him to be obedient; I want him to be eating out of your hand! I want to see him domesticated,
“Or there will be hell to pay.”
I am sick. The virus dominates. I cannot say anymore as I have to go barf.
Domestic. Tame. Controlled.
What would life be like if everything was domesticated? Would that mean world peace would finally be upon us? Would things be easy? Would struggle cease to exist? But without struggle, life would be easy. If life was easy, life would be
The end of the river, where all the detritus accumulates in a great lake, or gets caught in eddies along the way. When swirling, it is easy to lose track of the shore, what with all the debris swirling with you. Better, then, to search for rivers that end in oceans, or, perhaps, dry up in the sun.
“Cats are domestic animals,” my grandmother tells me as I sink into the couch. The top of my head is scraped by one of her overgrown exotic trees. I nod my head. Tell me something I don’t know, Grandma.
“Did I tell you about the time I saw an undomesticated cat?” she grins, knowing I’m bored already.
I crinkle my eyebrows.
Domestic, like partnerships. Like animals. Something meant to be in the home, cooking, cleaning, being tame. Domestic women, tamed from their lives before marriage, left to cook and clean and change diapers. Domestic cats, no longer out in the trees and the bushes hunting for mice, but in the house. They hide under couches to search for their cat treats that their woman will feed them.
When it came to domestic tasks, she took great pride in her ability to demonstrate proficiency. Cooking, baking, housekeeping and cleaning became her primary obsession. If she was able, she was good. This was important
There are few things that she was unable to accomplish when it came to all tasks domestic. Whether she was completely capable or not, she always managed to give the impression that all things were possible for her to accomplish successfully. She made housekeeping her job.
domestically exchanging my emotions to a higher plane, burying them underneath it all. i want to be far far away from your grasp because you always let me slip through your fingertips, and then i’d drift for miles with no compass leaving me without an accomplice to find my way back home.
Charlie’s long, confident boot strides wracked the elderly brick walkway. Her key slayed the front door with the first forward jab. She strode through the kitchen throwing her shirt and bra off on the way to the den. She entered the room like a model down a runway, turned and planted her ass on the desk. She shook her breasts in front of a man typing madly at the computer. “Hey Darlin.” “Hey,” he said back, without looking up. Charlie whispered in his ear, “And now for my next trick, some domestic abuse!” and she clocked him with the Lalique “Dancing Nudes.”
She was so sick and tired of the laundry. Tired of walking through the kitchen and noticing – even smelling – the dishes piling up in the sink. Maybe if this wasn’t everything – this and the baby – it wouldn’t be so bad. Doing the dishes before leaving for work, for school, for something – would be better than doing the dishes because it’s your only real purpose. The way you’re supposed to fill your day.
It wasn’t what she imagined. As a child, looking ahead to domestic bliss. She imagined sunlight and happiness, towels smelling of fabric softener, babies and toddlers laughing at her feet, sitting on the pristine floors. Not this.
I sit in this domestic cage, liking around at all the people, clapping , cheering so proud of their graduates, for doing what they need to do. I love you Nina.
Mommy, you’ve taken care of me since the moment I poked my head out. You’re so much more than that though. You’re the glue of our family and the heart of our home. I’m so proud of your for picking yourself up through the many hard times we’ve endured. After you got laid off you didn’t collapse. You went out, have a great new job, brand new life amidst the chaos of the old one.
cats sit in the window of life watching the world go by. as i sit and think the cat arches her elegant back in a graceful arch. love is what we make it to be either it be human or not. knowledge is what not we know but as the lets it be
it’s a thing when you prefer being in home then outside
this word is also used to describe animals as those that are kept in houses or used in like cows cats etc.