Treats Me Like A Princess Quotes

Haven’t I?” Magnus said, and then smiled at him. “Will, you treat me as a human being, a person like yourself; rare is the Shadowhunter who treats a warlock like that. I am not so heartless that I would call in a favor from a brokenhearted boy. One who I think, by the way, will be a very good man someday. So I will tell you this. I will stay here when you go, and I will watch over your Jem for you, and if he wakes, I will tell him where you went, and that it was for him. And I will do what I can to preserve his life: I do not have yin fen, but I do have magic, and perhaps there is something in an old spell book I might find that can help him.

Some girls, deserves to have you treat her like a princess everyday, just like you always do to me." - Maisie Preston

Because he is good and kind,” she explained softly, then went on. “Because he treats me like a princess. Because he makes me laugh. Because he makes me happy. Because he took the trouble to read to me when I could not read to myself. Because he fed me and gave me wine when I could not eat or drink at balls. Because when he kisses me my toes curl, and when he makes love to me I cannot contain my passion.

I just don't understand what you see in her," Sim said carefully. "I know she's charming. Fascinating and all of that. But she seems rather," he hesitated, "cruel." I nodded. "She is." Simmon watched me expectantly, finally said. "What? No defense for her?" "No. Cruel is a good word for her. But I think you are saying cruel and thinking of something else. Denna is not wicked, or mean, or spiteful. She is cruel." Sim was quiet for a long while before responding. "I think she might be some of those things, and cruel as well." Good, honest gentle Sim. He could never bring himself to say bad things about another person, just imply them. Even that was hard for him. He looked up at me. "I talked with Savoy. He's still not over her. He really loved her, you know. Treated her like a princess. He would have done anything for her. But she left him anyway, no explanation." "Denna is a wild thing," I explained. "Like a hind or a summer storm. If a storm blows down your house, or breaks a tree, you don't say the storm was mean. It was cruel. It acted according to its nature and something unfortunately was hurt. The same is true of Denna." "What's a hind?" "A deer." "I thought that was a hart?" "A hind is a female deer. A wild deer. Do you know how much good it does you to chase a wild thing? None. It works against you. It startles the hind away. All you can do is stay gently where you are, and hope in time that the hind will come to you.

I think you do. A part of you knows that I’m the man for you. That we belong together. That’s the real you. You aren’t some fair maiden that your idiot boyfriend must save and speak for and treat like a princess. You’re light, but you crave the dark. You crave me.

I mean that we hold the centre. We hold everything from Acquitart to Sicyon. Can we not call it a kingdom and rule it together? Am I such a poorer prospect than a Patran princess, or a daughter of the Empire?’ He made himself say no more than that, though the words crowded in his chest. He waited. It surprised him that it hurt to wait, and that the longer he waited, the more he felt he couldn’t bear to hear the answer, brought to him on a knife point. When he made himself look at Laurent, Laurent’s eyes on him were very dark, his voice quiet. ‘How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?’ ‘Because he was false,’ said Damen, ‘and you are true. I have never known a truer man.’ He said, into the stillness, ‘I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.’ Laurent turned his head, denying Damen his face. Damen could see his breathing. After a moment he said in a low voice, ‘When you make love to me like that, I can’t think.’ ‘Don’t think,’ said Damen. Damen

My mother used to tell me, every time we were watching Cinderella, that Cinderella had the best attitude and that I should strive to be just like her. Later when I grew up, I resented my mother for teaching me that way, as I saw it as the reason why I often felt preyed on by people who were much more like the ugly stepsisters. But now, all of a sudden, I’ve realized that what my mom meant was that no matter how ugly people can be to you, no matter how rough they treat you, no matter how much their actions tempt you to become your worst— you should overcome them by never letting them steal your gentleness. People only win when they are able to take away your gentleness, your sweetness. But if you remember that you’re a princess, and they’re just not, at the end of the day you win! Still, my mom should have pointed me in the direction of Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Cinderella is fine, but had she taught me that Belle was the best way to be, I would have probably never grown to resent that. Belle always retained her gentleness but she could still beat up a pack of wolves at the same time and that’s the kind of princess I wanted to be like! Not to mention she loved books!

You are not really dying,” he said, the oddest tone to his voice, “are you?”Jem nodded. “So they tell me.”“I am sorry,” Will said.“No,” Jem said softly. He drew his jacket aside and took a knife from the belt at his waist.“Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me.” He held out the knife to Will, hilt rst. Charlotte held her breath, afraid to move. She feltas if she were watching something very important happen, though she could not have saidwhat.Will reached out and took the knife, his eyes never leaving Jem’s face. His fingers brushedthe other boy’s as he took the weapon from him. It was the rst time, Charlotte thought,that she had ever seen him touch any other person willingly.“I’ll train with you,” he said. Jem, Will’s parabatai, treated her with the distant sweet kindness reserved for the littlesisters of one’s friends, but he would always side with Will. Kindly, but rmly, he put Willabove everything else in the world.Well, nearly everything. She had been most struck by Jem when she rst came to theInstitute—he had an unearthly, unusual beauty, with his silvery hair and eyes and delicate features. He looked like a prince in a fairy-tale book, and she might have considered developing an attachment to him, were it not so absolutely clear that he was entirely inlove with Tessa Gray. His eyes followed her where she went, and his voice changed when hespoke to her. Cecily had once heard her mother say in amusement that one of theirneighbors’ boys looked at a girl as if she were “the only star in the sky” and that was theway Jem looked at Tessa.Cecily didn’t resent it: Tessa was pleasant and kind to her, if a little shy, and with herface always stuck in a book, like Will. If that was the sort of girl Jem wanted, she and henever would have suited—and the longer she remained at the Institute, the more sherealized how awkward it would have made things with Will. He was ferociously protectiveof Jem, and he would have watched her constantly in case she ever distressed or hurt him inany way. No—she was far better out of the whole thing.

I can’t apologize for falling in love with her. I can’t call what happened a mistake. Gun to my head, I’d repeat every moment so I’d have the boldest, smartest girl next to me—a girl I shouldn’t have. But she’s mine, and I might not deserve her but I swear to God, I’ll never harm her, and I’d give my life to protect her. I know I’m not a prince. I’m not a king. But I’d treat Jane like she should be treated. She’s my princess, my angel, and my queen. Every morning and every night. I’d kneel at her feet and stand by her side.

That's almost like telling lies," she said. "And lies—well, you see, they are not only wicked—they're VULGAR. Sometimes"—reflectively—"I've thought perhaps I might do something wicked—I might suddenly fly into a rage and kill Miss Minchin, you know, when she was ill-treating me—but I COULDN'T be vulgar.

I want to fuck you like my personal whore. Then I want to pet you like a puppy and hold you warm against my chest. Treat you so soft and sweet, like a princess. You make me crazy, little brute. You make me feral and wild and insane. And I thought I already was all of those things. But it was nothing compared to when I met you.

Don’t go tarring me with that brush! I’m nothing like him. I never cheat and I never lie. The woman I end up with would be my princess. I’d treat her like damn royalty and worship the ground she walks on. I’d tell her every day how much I love her and every night how much she means to me. So don’t you ever tell me I’m like all the rest Amy. I’m not!

Treat me like a princess, and I'll blow you like a king

I should like to marry someone gracious and considerate, who treats me like a queen. Or at the very least, a princess. Surely that is not too much to ask.

Yes, he had a temper that left at least one hole in our walls before he went to therapy and got a handle on it. But he treated me like a superhero princess and was also warm, responsible, hilarious, and kind to children and animals.

guysssssss this is the BEST BEST part in steel princess "he treats you like i've never seen him treat anyone else" and then elsa goes, "and how's that?" and– "like he wants to shield you from the world. i don’t think you even notice it, but sometimes, he looks at you like he can’t breathe without you. and believe me, that’s not the king everyone knows" i- *dead*

I sent a messenger to the inn where they’re staying,” he told us. “They’ll look after you while Castor and I are with the Pythia. Have a good time in Delphi.” He acted as though he’d just solved every problem in the world. I didn’t see it that way. As we crossed the temple grounds together, I asked Polydeuces, “Is there a good reason you’re treating me like a silly sheep?” I indicated the two soldiers behind me. “Or are you embarrassing me like this just because you can?” Castor spoke up before his twin could answer. “Stop making a fuss over nothing, Helen. These men will protect you, not steer you.” “That’s right, Lady Helen,” the taller of the two said. “We’re your shadows, not your sheepdogs. Go anywhere you want.” I gave him a sweet, innocent smile. Then I barked at him.

Mindy runs to the DVD player and delicately places the disk in the holder and presses play. “Will you sit in this chair, please, Princess Mindy?” I ask, bowing deeply at the waist. Mindy giggles as she replies, ”I guess so.” After Mindy sits down, I take a wide-tooth comb and start gently combing out her tangles. Mindy starts vibrating with excitement as she blurts, “Mr. Jeff, you’re gonna fix my hair fancy, ain’t you?” “We’ll see if a certain Princess can hold still long enough for me to finish,” I tease. Immediately, Mindy becomes as still as a stone statue. After a couple of minutes, I have to say, “Mindy, sweetheart, it’s okay to breathe. I just can’t have you bouncing, because I’m afraid it will cause me to pull your hair.” Mindy slumps down in her chair just slightly. “Okay Mr. Jeff, I was ascared you was gonna stop,” she whispers, her chin quivering. I adopt a very fake, very over-the-top French accent and say, “Oh no, Monsieur Jeff must complete Princess Mindy’s look to make the Kingdom happy. Mindy erupts with the first belly laugh I’ve heard all day as she responds, “Okay, I’ll try to be still, but it’s hard ‘cause I have the wiggles real bad.” I pat her on the shoulder and chuckle as I say, “Just try your best, sweetheart. That’s all anyone can ask.” Kiera comes screeching around the corner in a blur, plunks her purse on the table, and says breathlessly, “Geez-O-Pete, I can’t believe I’m late for the makeover. I love makeovers.” Kiera digs through her purse and produces two bottles of nail polish and nail kit. “It’s time for your mani/pedi ma’am. Would you prefer Pink Pearl or Frosted Creamsicle? Mindy raises her hand like a schoolchild and Kiera calls on her like a pupil, “I want Frosted Cream toes please,” Mindy answers. “Your wish is my command, my dear,” Kiera responds with a grin. For the next few minutes, Mindy gets the spa treatment of her life as I carefully French braid her hair into pigtails. As a special treat, I purchased some ribbons from the gift shop and I’m weaving them into her hair. I tuck a yellow rose behind her ear. I don my French accent as I declare, “Monsieur Jeffery pronounces Princess Mindy finished and fit to rule the kingdom.” Kiera hands Mindy a new tube of grape ChapStick from her purse, “Hold on, a true princess never reigns with chapped lips,” she says. Mindy giggles as she responds, “You’re silly, Miss Kiera. Nobody in my kingdom is going to care if my lips are shiny.” Kiera’s laugh sounds like wind chimes as she covers her face with her hands as she confesses, “Okay, you busted me. I just like to use it because it tastes yummy.” “Okay, I want some, please,” Mindy decides. Kiera is putting the last minute touches on her as Mindy is scrambling to stand on Kiera’s thighs so she can get a better look in the mirror. When I reach out to steady her, she grabs my hand in a death grip. I glance down at her. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is opening and closing like a fish. I shoot Kiera a worried glance, but she merely shrugs. “Holy Sh — !” Mindy stops short when she sees Kiera’s expression. “Mr. Jeff is an angel for reals because he turned me into one. Look at my hair Miss Kiera, there are magic ribbons in it! I’m perfect. I can be anything I want to be.” Spontaneously, we all join together in a group hug. I kiss the top of her head as I agree, “Yes, Mindy, you are amazing and the sky is the limit for you.

This story begins when Tay’s daughter Emily, who was nearly seven, shouted to her that she was stuck on a jungle gym, that she needed help to get off. I told her to get down and, when she said she couldn’t, I suddenly felt furious. I thought she was being ridiculous—she could easily get down herself. I shouted, “Get down this minute!” She eventually did. Then she tried to hold my hand, but I was still furious, and I said no, and then she howled. Once we got home and made tea together she calmed down and I wrote off the whole thing to myself as “God, kids can be a pain.” Fast-forward a week: we’re at the zoo and there’s another jungle gym. Looking at it, I felt a flash of guilt. It obviously reminded Emily of the previous week too, because she looked up at me almost fearfully. I asked her if she wanted to play on it. This time, instead of sitting on a bench looking at my phone, I stood by the jungle gym and watched her. When she felt she’d got stuck, she held out her arms to me for help. But this time I was more encouraging. I said, “Put one foot there and the other there and grab that and you’ll be able to do it by yourself.” And she did. When she had got down, she said, “Why didn’t you help me last time?” I thought about it, and I said, “When I was little, Nana treated me like a princess and carried me everywhere, told me to ‘be careful’ all the time. It made me feel incapable of doing anything for myself and I ended up with no confidence. I don’t want that to happen to you, which is why I didn’t want to help when you asked to be lifted off the jungle gym last week. And it reminded me of being your age, when I wasn’t allowed to get down by myself. I was overcome with anger and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.” Emily looked up at me and said, “Oh, I just thought you didn’t care.” “Oh no,” I said. “I care, but at that moment I didn’t know that I was angry at Nana and not at you. And I’m sorry.

With great care, Amy opened the cellar door. With ladylike demeanor, she descended the stairs. And as her reward, she had the satisfaction of catching His Mighty Lordship sitting on the cot, his knee crooked sideways and his ankle pulled toward him, cursing at the manacle. “I got it out of your own castle,” she said. Northcliff jumped like a lad caught at a mischief. “My . . . castle?” At once he realized what she meant. “Here on the island, you mean. The old ancestral pile.” “Yes.” She strolled farther into the room. “I went down into the dungeons, crawled around in among the spider webs and the skeleton of your family’s enemies—” “Oh, come on.” He straightened his leg. “There aren’t any skeletons.” “No,” she admitted. “We had them removed years ago.” For one instant, she was shocked. So his family had been ruthless murderers! Then she realized he was smirking. The big, pompous jackass was making a jest of her labors. “If I could have found manacles that were in good shape I’d have locked both your legs to the wall.” “Why stop there? Why not my hands, too?” He moved his leg to make the chain clink loudly. “Think of your satisfaction at the image of my starving, naked body chained to the cold stone—” “Starving?” She cast a knowledgeable eye at the empty breakfast tray, then allowed her lips to curve into a sarcastic smile. “You’d love a look at my naked body, though, wouldn’t you?” He fixed his gaze on her, and for one second she thought she saw a lick of golden flame in his light brown eyes. “Isn’t that what this is all about?” “I beg your pardon.” She took a few steps closer to him—although she remained well out of range of his long arms. What are you talking about?” “I spurned you, didn’t I?” What? What What was he going on about? “You’re a girl from my past, an insignificant debutante I ignored at some cotillion or another. I didn’t dance with you.” He stretched out on the cot, the epitome of idle relaxation. “Or I did, but I didn’t talk to you. Or I forgot to offer you a lemonade, or—” “I don’t believe you.” She tottered to the rocking chair and sank down. “Are you saying you think this whole kidnapping was done because you, the almighty marquees of Northcliff, treated me like a wallflower?” “It seems unlikely I treated you as a wallflower. I have better taste than that.” He cast a critical glance up and down her workaday gown, then focused on her face. “You’re not in the common way, you must know that. With the proper gown and your hair swirled up in that style you women favor—” He twirled his fingers about his head—“you would be handsome. Perhaps even lovely.” She gripped the arms of the chair. Even his compliments sounded like insults! “We’ve never before met, my lord.” As if she had not spoken, he continued, “but I don’t remember you, so I must have ignored you and hurt your feelings—” “Damn!” Exploding out of the chair, she paced behind it, gripping the back hard enough to break the wood. His arrogance was amazing. Invulnerable! “Haven’t you heard a single word I’ve said to you? Are you so conceited you can’t conceive of a woman who isn’t interested in you as a suitor?” “It’s not conceit when it’s the truth.” He sounded quite convinced.

There it is, forming behind us: The Fat Blue Phalanx. All the smug self-satisfied maleness you can drink, and free refills at the station house. It's all I can see in cops, that patriarchal bullshit that will never yield to a contract of mutual respect. That grunting fuck-obsessed inability to deobjectify you and treat you as a person, it’s a subclass of male that will never, ever change, no matter what. There they are with their uniforms and their discipline, an abstract and codified representation of all the construction workers who ever whistled at you and there you were, too polite to pee in their toolboxes in retaliation, too polite to challenge them, walking away red-faced because the worst part of it is that you were wondering whether they were really whistling like they’d whistle at Caprice or if they were just being sarcastic and were even now laughing at you with your short skinny legs and flat ass. Besides you’re not supposed to let it get to you. You’re supposed to have a sense of humour: they do. See them waving their cocks at each other and farting? You aren’t allowed to break the rules of their society which say that you are a cold uptight lesbian bitch if you don’t like their hohoho aggressive male ways so just hold your head high from your position of moral superiority and go home and tell your boyfriend (if you have one, which I don’t) who if you’re lucky will offer to go beat them up knowing you won’t take him up on it because you know perfectly well he’d probably get his ass kicked, most of the boys you know are highly ass-kickable because they’ve been brought up nicely. They were brought up in the luxury of knowing the money power of the military-industrial complex would protect them from the dirt and the grime of uneducated testosterone. its thanx to our weak boyfriends that we have cops at all, surrogate cock and balls to maintain ‘order’, whatever that is. Or was. And where does it really leave you as a prisoner of the suburbs? Fuming over some tiny incident that the aggressors have already forgotten about, but you have the sinking feeling you've just sniffed the true underbelly and the aroma was not what you get in Calvin Klein ads. Scratch 'n' sniff, scratch 'n' sniff, peel the onion... will you ever get down to the reality of what this place is about? And I know I shouldn't brand individual cops with the big blue brush but in my mind these guys are a symbol of the whole iron-cage Boy system that makes me always a victim, no matter what I do, it's a cage I can't escape. I'm the little princess. They dominate, they aggress, they protect.

You’re going to teach me how to do that. Teleport.” Hunt whipped his head to her. But Cormac simply nodded. “If it’s within your wheelhouse, I will.” Hunt blurted, “I’m sorry, but Fae can just do this shit?” “I can do this shit,” Cormac countered. “If Bryce has as much Starborn ability as she seems to, she might also be able to do this shit.” “Why?” “Because I’m the Supet Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess,” Bryce answered, waggling her eyebrows. Cormac said, “You should treat your title and gifts with the reverence they are due.” “You sound like a Reaper.

I’ma treat you like a princess and fuck you like a slut.

My cowboy fucks like a god and treats me like a princess, and I’m so painfully fucking aware that our time together is coming to an end.

When a man treats a woman like your son treats me, like a princess he worships and adores, you know it's because he was raised by a queen. Thank you for giving me such an amazing man to love. I promise to protect him with all that I am.

A gentleman treats a woman like a princess, Rule

As long as you treat me like a princess everywhere else, you can treat me like a whore in the bedroom and I’ll take what you give me and come back for more.

Just buy me a popsicle,” I command him with a frown. “Oh!” he exclaims as he exits the car. I feel the vehicle shift with the loss of his weight. “That reminds me of a great porno. I’ll tell you about it once I get back!” “Get me a popsicle, too,” Liam says weakly. Once the door shuts, Liam turns in his seat to glance back at me. “I’m so sorry about this, Helen. I think he’s doing it on purpose.” “You should have warned me more,” I say with a fake grimace. Although I’ve been acting horrified, I actually find the whole situation quite hilarious—Dr. Owen Philips is somewhat adorable in a slightly pathetic way. I try very hard to keep myself from smiling at Liam to betray that I am enjoying the eccentric company. “I almost wish I’d spent thousands of dollars on a cab ride,” I tell him teasingly. “At least I wouldn’t be scarred for life.”  “He means well,” Liam assures me. “He’s a good doctor, and a great friend. He’s also really amazing to his girlfriend.” “Wow,” I say in surprise. “How does someone like that get a girlfriend? Is she human?” Liam chuckles. “Yes. Oddly enough. He treats her like a princess, but he still makes time to hang out with me.” “I can see that he cares about you,” I say gently. “It’s been a long time since I had a friend like that...” “Why?

Damn Princess. You look …” He cleared his throat and finally met my eyes, “wow.” I blushed fiercely and crossed my arms over my chest. “I was uh, just coming to get more towels.” He reached into the closet and pulled out a few. Dropping all but one on the floor next to me, he shook out the one still in his hand and wrapped it around my shoulders. “How are you?” He brushed his fingers across my cheek and down my neck causing me to stifle a moan. “Huh?” Chase chuckled against my neck and lightly pressed his lips to my throat. “That good, huh?” I blinked a few times and pushed away from him, ignoring that smirk I loved so much, “Why do you keep doing this to me?” “What do you mean?” He went to wrap his arms around me, but I stepped out of his reach. “This!” I pointed to an outstretched arm, “You can’t keep doing this. I’m with Brandon now, you have to stop.” His face fell into an unreadable mask and he dropped his arms to his side. “No more notes, no more touches, no more putting your lips on me. This isn’t fair to me. Do you have any idea how crazy you’re making me?” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that, his eyes lit up and that stupid smirk was back. “Really now?” “Chase I’m serious, this has to stop.” “Give me one good reason why I should.” I huffed and wrapped the towel tighter around me, “I told you, I’m with Brandon now.” “I said a good reason Princess.” He deadpanned. “That’s a perfectly good reason! And it’s the only one you’re going to get.” I bent down and picked up the towels, when I stood back up he was right in front of me. “Harper.” “No Chase,” I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t get distracted again, “Please just – just don’t. I really like Brandon. Besides, you have plenty of girls who are fine with being treated like shit by you, I’m not one of them. Go find another brainless bimbo to screw and get out of your system.” I heard his sharp intake of breath, but kept my eyes closed until I was on my way back outside.

Turning to Patrick and Caroline, Diana asked if I had trouble getting them to do their homework. They both replied, “No, we just sit down and do it.” I know I embarrassed Patrick when I told Diana what a good student he was turning out to be. With a grin, Diana confessed, “I have to bribe my boys to do their homework.” The bribes were only little treats, like a piece of candy. Diana was determined to teach her sons about the real world and how people live. She was trying to give Prince William, at ten, and Prince Harry, soon to turn eight, as “normal an upbringing as possible,” given their station in life. With regard to this aim, she observed, “My husband thinks I’m overdoing it.” This was her only reference to Prince Charles that afternoon. For instance, so that the boys would learn to handle money, Diana gave them pocket money to buy candy and other small treats in the local shops in Tetbury, the market town near Highgrove, the royal couple’s country estate. It had been difficult to send William to boarding school at eight, but it was not as harsh as it sounded, Diana assured me. Parents could visit on weekends and come to watch sports matches, as she and Harry had done that morning. Also, the boys were allowed to come home for a weekend about once a month. Harry would be joining his big brother at Ludgrove in September. “After prep school,” I asked, “where will you send Prince William? Not to Gordonstoun, I hope.” Gordonstoun was the boarding school in northern Scotland where Prince Charles had been unhappy as a teenager. “Oh, no,” Diana answered. “I’d like William to go to Eton, if he can get in.” I smiled, “I don’t imagine that will be a problem.” Prince William is currently attending Eton and Prince Harry is finishing up at Ludgrove.

I would do anything to make you as happy as you make me. You are an amazing woman, and deserve to be treated like a princess. Let me be your Prince Charming, and I will make all of your fairytales come true.

Tazain, do not tell me what I am meant to do!” His words stab like a needle, locking me back inside the palace walls. Amari, sit up straight! Do not eat that. That’s more than enough dessert for you- No. No more. I have lived that life before and lost my dearest friend because of it. Now that I've escaped, I shall never return. With my escape, I must do more. “I am a princess, not a prop. Do not treat me any differently. My father is responsible for this pain. I will be the one to fix it.

Do you like horses?" "Truth be told, the only thing I love more is dragons." Wren whistles, and a whinny resounds throughout the air. I spin around, marveling as a horse gallops through the field of jasmine. She's like a bolt of obsidian in a blanket of white, her breaths like little gusts of wind. She rears several times once she's next to Wren, stomping her front hooves until he reaches out to pet her. "This is Nerra. She will take us where we must go." Like an acrobat performing a trick for the umpteenth time, Wren hops onto Nerra's back effortlessly. He reaches a hand out to me, and I climb on. He places my hands around his waist, and I swallow hard. "Hold on tight. You're in for a treat," he says. On the count of three, he kicks Nerra into a gallop. The horse is like a dragon bound to the earth. Her gait is smooth, her gallop so strong it practically feels like she's trying to take flight with each stride. I hold on tightly to Wren. We head north. Dressed in bright garments that appear to be dipped in a ray of sunlight, Emerald flitters around as we enter a field of daisies. "Hi," Wren says. "We're on our way to see Omniscius." Emerald gives a graceful nod, following behind Nerra with several other fairies. Much to my delight, as we exit the field of daisies and encroach on a field of red roses, the fairies' beautiful yellow garments turn red. Wren's shirt and my dress do the same.

guysssssss this is the BEST BEST part in steel princess "he treats you like i've never seen him treat anyone else" and then elsa goes, "and how's that?" and– "like he wants to shield you from the world. i don’t think you even notice it, but sometimes, he looks at you like he can’t breathe without you. and believe me, that’s not the king everyone knows" i- *dead*

Little Red, we’ve been through a lot of shit together. Some of it’s been good. Some of it’s been bad. A lot of it’s been really, unbelievably erotic.” I take in a stunned inhale and his mouth twitches. “I’ve waited, Georgia, and I’ve tried to show you I’m good enough. I don’t know if it’s worked, because deep down, I’m pretty sure I’m not.” Before I can argue, he rushes on, “I know your family still hates me. I can’t buy you jewels and treat you like a princess, although I know you well enough to realize you’d hate that, anyway.” “Heston—” “What I’m trying to say is that I know you, and I love you. You’re it for me.

If geography and time are the warp and weft structuring (art) history, perceptual culture is like the pile of a velvet cloth that, without altering the warp or weft of the fabric, reenchants its texture and depth. It treats Islam as the Simurgh, and objects as its feathers. Like the galleries in China full of representations futilely and obsessively trying to reconstruct the bird from its feathers, the museum is a monument to our inability to feel what we are trying to represent. And yet like the three princes seeking the hand of the Chinese princess in the gallery of creation, we can also discover through objects the spirit we can never expect to pin down in our hands. With these hopes tucked in between the warp of evidence and the weft of interpretation, this book would like to quote a certain textile from a very long time ago: I exist for pleasure; Welcome! For pleasure am I; he who beholds me sees joy and well-being. This book offers complex more than simple pleasures: its many questions diverge and converge, offering iridescence to our certainties. It puts forth the pleasure of using thought as steel wool polishing our mental acumen, enabling perception beyond predetermined realities. It may be that a barzakh exists somewhere between the secular and the sacred, a peninsula of understanding in which we enter the cave of our ghurba and become in the world but not of it. If we tread lightly with a pure heart cleansed in the mirror of curiosity and wonder, it may just open its doors a bit and let us explore the glory it holds inside.

Now that I’ve kissed the ground you walk on, Let me treat you like a princess on your birthday.

Why can’t you just be nice to me?” Trinity asked. “It’s like you’re two different people sometimes.” “No, I’m always the same person,” he argued. “Don’t expect me to treat you like a princess. I never said I would.” Trinity grabbed his sandwich then took a huge bite. Slade’s eyes widened. “You just crossed a line…

I knew I needed information that only Marchal had if I wanted to avenge my brother. I had to find out about the stone, about the princess and find a way to destroy him. There was no way around it, but that did not make it any less terrifying. Maybe it would have been better if Marchal did not show up. It was the only thought I had when the prince, still furious, looked in my direction, seeing me for the first time. My heart skipped a beat. My gaze met his, like that of a trapped prey. His gaze seemed to gain even more fury. I leaned back against the trunk of a tree. The man turned toward me. My heart beat frantically. Marchal took me by the arm and arrested me for the dark zone provided by the forest, with no sign of any effort. "Stop! What do you think you're doing! Let go of me. You can be the prince, but you do not have the right ... " "I have no right? You are not worthy of the academy or my time! But I will not rest until I find out who you are! You can not fool me!" I was puzzled. Who I am? What did he mean by that? I felt the need to grab the medallion. Alone with that man, I was more vulnerable than ever. "I need that stone and it seems like you're willing to risk your life and lose it. You must not confront wizards, nor Cron, nor Colum, nor anyone else! You will be severely penalized for your stupid act of kindness!" I shuddered. Had Marchal seen what happened to Cron? I opened my eyes. "I need this stone and since you seem to be the only person who can touch it, there is only one way we can do this. Since you are only a human, you will be treated the only way you are expected to do so. Like a slave. You're going to behave as such if you want to survive. It would be a waste to lose a human with such ... intriguing capabilities" "And what would I gain from this stupid plan, sir? I will never do such a thing! You can get the sleves you want, I will not be one of them!" I said, turning away. He squeezed my arm, pulling me hard towards him.