Apparently my muse decided it wanted to write all about Princess Theresa and her backstory tonight. So this happened. idk if this is any good or where it came from but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Theresa has six sisters. Theresa has six sisters, and she is the oldest. She watched all of them come into this world, from babies to toddlers to little girls that clung to her hand as they stood behind their parents. Theresa has six sisters and she is the oldest and she knew from an early age that she had things she would need to teach them all in turn.

Theresa has six sisters and she is the oldest, but one day a brother arrived and he became king. All of a few minutes old and the country was his to rule. Theresa loves him dearly, but honestly.


When Theresa was still a teenager, the movie The Princess Diaries came out. It was a cute film about an ordinary girl finding out she was royalty. Theresa liked it. Three years later, Theresa was no longer a teenager and the sequel had come out. She watched Princess Mia step up and stand before centuries of tradition and say ‘no’. No, I don’t need a man to rule. No, a queen can rule just fine, thanks. Theresa watched Princess Mia become Queen and couldn’t quite help the twinge of envy.


When Theresa was a young girl, her parents taught her all sorts of things, both actively and not. Her mother taught her etiquette, guidelines, rules and regulations about people, but also stories, strength, cleverness. Her father taught her diplomacy and politics and finances, history and what ruling over people meant, but also compassion and gentleness and wisdom. And from watching them she learned about putting on a front, about elegance and poise, and how to straighten her spine and charm people she didn’t particularly like. Theresa listened and watched and learned.


Once her sisters were born, Theresa always made sure to arm them with the knowledge she had gained. Her parents were busy now, with many children and work to do, and the laugh lines around her father’s eyes were now competing with the lines of stress. Sister after sister came, and while her mother and father did not love them any less, they wanted an heir as well. Women were not as valuable, not as capable, not as important. Women could not be queen (some days Theresa remembered Princess Mia and her smile would tighten). Theresa knew that as the oldest, but she knew so much more. Buried in her gut and whispered in the privacy of bedrooms, she taught her sisters how to thrive.

This is (some of) what she knew:

  • The cooks in the kitchen will always give you sweets if you ask nicely.
  • There’s a secret reading nook in the library where no one will find you.
  • The flowers in the gardens are great for telling secrets to.
  • The world can tell you you are not important, and the world will always be wrong.
  • Just because we are princesses, doesn’t mean we can’t be dragons.

Theresa was the oldest. There was weight in that distinction, and she bore it gladly on her shoulders. She had a duty to her sisters, to prepare them and care for them and teach them. Observe. Absorb. Be smart, be brave, be strong. They looked up at her with wide and eager eyes, faces small and round, and she loved every one of them, but their life was demanding. One by one, Theresa led them into it, striding forward as they followed in her wake, until they could be just like her. They present as a united front, a joined force, a single family unit, though Theresa tries to encourage their different interests and dreams, be it science or the arts or in her fifth sister’s case, fencing. (Theresa had dreamed once, of flying, but with each sister the dream got further away. She wants more for them than she had. She still occasionally casts longing looks at a passing jet, but she has no regrets.) Armed with makeup and clothing, shoes and jewelry, they let the world see what they wanted, what they expected and hid anything else away, quietly growing into young women with steel in their cores. Their mother taught them how to talk, to walk, to sit and act and smile. Theresa taught them to how to listen and learn.

When their brother came along and was crowned king, they simply smiled and stood behind him, just like they were supposed to. But he was just a child, young and naive, with shoulders that could not yet carry the weight of a country. Perhaps Liechtenstein wasn’t all that significant in the world, but a kingdom was a kingdom, and he was only a child, draped in a title too big for him and surrounded by a world that could very well eat him alive. But his seven sisters stood behind him, his sisters who had learned and listened and grown. Princesses yes, but also dragons wrapped in dresses and heels and smiles, who had turned themselves fierce so their baby brother didn’t have to. Theresa and her sisters watched their brother play and run and laugh, careless and free, and felt a sense of satisfaction.


ummm… Cabin Pressure makeout scene whuuut?! I was doing a warm-up sketch like I usually do before art-ing, and this just came out and I had to just finish it in all it’s glory and lensflare and cheesy lighting and lazy drawing!    Anywhooo this is Martin and the Princess! Maybe they went and Martin was just gonna show her how and she just climbed on his lap and yeah… someone needs to write this for me NOWZ! lol just kidding… no really write it!?
Agra - All_I_need - Cabin Pressure [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

I realised I completely neglected to mention that this is now online. Behold, my first Cabin Pressure fanfiction! You can blame @thescreechowl for this one - this is what happens when I lose a bet with her. Sorry it took me three years to complete this thing!

Summary: Douglas can’t find his tie. Arthur can’t find his surprising rice. Carolyn can’t find one of her pilots. Can Martin and Theresa at least find their way to the Taj Mahal and navigate the king of Sweden’s birthday party without everything ending in a catastrophe? Let’s find out.

Fandot Creativty Night: Wind/Adore

It was the wind rattling on the windows that first woke them.  Over the sound of the storm outside they could both hear the faint sound.

“It’s all right.  I’ll get it this time.”

The floor was freezing underfoot.  

Note to self.  Buy slippers.

He padded quietly down the hall, trying not to feel jealous as Theresa turned over with a sleepy murmur and burrowed back under the covers.


But fair was fair.  It was definitely his turn.

Kitchen first or…

The decision was made for him as the whimper grew into an unhappy wail which, he knew from experience, could easily turn into a brain-shredding shriek.

“Hush, hush!  It’s OK! I’m here.”

Huge dark eyes fixed on him reproachfully and little arms flailed in his general direction as he crossed the nursery in two strides to scoop the baby up.  He just managed to avoid hitting her head on the planes dangling from her mobile, earning an angry growl.  He bounced her hastily.

“Right.  Right. The kitchen.  Are you hungry?”

The baby glowered back at him.  Somehow, despite all the laws of biology, she’d managed to inherit Auntie Carolyn’s patented Death Glare and seemed to know it.  Despite himself, Martin could feel himself beginning to sweat.

“Kitchen.  Kitchen. Right.”

He almost jogged down the stairs and sloshed water everywhere as he filled the kettle and set it to boiling.  Fortunately, he managed to bite back the curses.  Theresa would not have approved.  Neither did Erika, judging by her increasingly loud growling wails.

Nudging her higher up his shoulder he hummed and bounced her with quiet desperation, even as he prepared the bottle and formula with his other hand.

Finally, the kettle whistled and the bottle was filled and cooling in the sink as they paced the kitchen.  The wind was still howling outside, and Erika seemed determined to give it a run for its money.  Her little face was screwed up in fury as she opened her mouth to really let rip.

“Come fly with me.  Let’s fly, let’s fly away!”

The baby paused, staring at him in wonder.  Encouraged, he launched into the next line and the next.  She was smiling by the verse, and by the time he reached the second chorus they were shuffling around the kitchen in an awkward waltz.

Erika was gurgling happily, though, and the tension was melting away as he smiled.

“Goodness!  What’s this?”

It was Theresa, wrapped in a dressing gown and smiling sleepily at them both.

“Oh!  What are you doing up?  It’s my turn. You should be asleep!”

She shrugged and moved to join them, winding her arms around his waist.

“Well, I was trying.  But then I heard Frank Sinatra singing downstairs in my house.  So I had to come and see.”

He blushed.  It surely clashed horribly with his hair.

“Oh… well… Do you really think I sound like Frank Sinatra?”  

And there it was.  Together for almost eight years, and he still sounded ridiculously shy.

But she only smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

“Even better.”

Of course, Erika chose that exact moment to start fussing again.  Their little Princess had to live up to her title, after all.

The milk had cooled and a sleepy baby was soon fed and resting against his shoulder as he patted her back gently.  She huffed and snuffled ticklishly but otherwise didn’t complain. Or burp.  He patted her back a little harder, letting his head fall back as he leaned against the counter.

God, he was tired.

Theresa joined him, leaning her head on his shoulder.  She was breathing slowly, just as tired as him.

A smile tugged the corner of his lip.

It was 3am.  He had work tomorrow.  

But he also had two beautiful ladies in his arms.  He didn’t get this lucky.  It was almost enough to make him paranoid, like winning a bet against Douglas.

Erika hiccupped, and Martin felt sticky wetness spread down his back.  

And there it was.  


But still strangely perfect.


“Are you sure nobody’s around? I’ve got this awful feeling someone’s watching us.”

“That’s just the security cameras, we’re fine.”

“The- what?! But we- oh, god. Douglas is going to put it on Youtube.”

“Martin, relax. The security cameras are in the main hall, making sure Maxie and Arthur don’t eat the wax apples again.”

After Theresa and Martin are married, they decide almost immediately that they want to have children. And it doesn’t take long for their fellow party guests to start taking bets on when the two of them will sneak away from the festivities to have their own kind of fun.

(Yes, I did spend nearly an hour researching the official sash colours and medals that the royal family of Liechtenstein wear to formal events)

Drabble Set 2

5. Can we shoot them?

Another day, another boring stuffy ball. Theresa sighed.

Being a princess had its advantages, but honestly, she would kill to be able to go running around outside, getting dirty and playing pretend. Sometimes, she really didn’t want to be the princess, especially when both the dragon and the knight sounded way more fun to her. But she was seventeen, and she had her duties and expectations to meet.

“Can we shoot them, please?”

Her youngest sister asked quietly, eyeing a couple of older men distastefully, who had been alternating between sneering inappropriately at Theresa and speaking down to her sisters all night. There was a mutter of agreement from the other girls, and Theresa grinned.

She may have had her duties and expectations, but at least she had her sisters.


Despite a second night of bad sleep (I’m wondering if Loa has acid reflux😖), I dragged me ass to the gym. You can’t wait for perfect conditions, right?

Day 1 of Go! I need a new start 🏋🏻‍♀️
Warrior princess braids @serena-theresa @aubernutter 👸🏻

Since I’ve been asked twice 😉here’s my outfit. My pants are navy and silk. They feel like pajamas. 🦁🙌🏼

Happy Wednesday. 🤗🌈


Some of the shots of my character for the now-ended Crucible LARP, Princess Theresa Alder de Valerielle. Crucible was my very first campaign LARP, and Tess ended up morphing into something far larger and more complex than I could ever have anticipated. She left Valeria as a young librarian determined to battle through her trauma in order to live her life on her own terms, and in the course of her time on Avrynas she went through a lot – she fell in love and then lost him, she forged friendships that would last a lifetime and make her a better person, and she ended up becoming a beacon of stubborn, enduring hope to her people – a single voice raised in defiance against the Dark, urging everyone else to join the song.

And on a more personal level, it was great fun playing a disabled, bisexual heroine – and one who was the chosen vessel of the Goddess of Light and divine royalty, to boot! Endlessly thankful to the GMs for trusting a newbie with that plot – thank you for trusting me and I hope I didn’t disappoint. 

My dress was from Armstreet, my corset was from Damsel in this Dress, everything else was a mixture of thrifted and handmade by local crafty people. Photos by Reality Dysfunction!

If Jem dies, I cannot be with Tessa,” said Will. “Because it will be as if I were waiting for him to die, or took some joy in his death, if it let me have her. And I will not be that person. I will not profit from his death. So he must live.” He lowered his arm, his sleeve bloody. “It is the only way any of this can ever mean anything. Otherwise it is only —”

“Pointless, needless suffering and pain? I don’t suppose it would help if I told you that was the way life is. The good suffer, the evil flourish, and all that is mortal passes away,” Magnus said.

“I want more than that,” said Will. “You made me want more than that. You showed me I was only ever cursed because I had chosen to believe myself so. You told me there was possibility, meaning. And now you would turn your back on what you created.

—  Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

’…and yet how much j o y they took from simply being in the same room.’

Will Herondale | Tessa Gray | Jem Carstairs