#im very interesting in her queen in chains era

[dulcewrites]

Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor during their girlhood. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come. There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

[sailorshadzter]

Prompt: Ancient! Rome AU: After the Starks were branded as traitors Sansa becomes a political hostage of emperor Joffrey and is expected to marry him, however her hatred for him increases each passing day as he forces her to watch the gory executions of her people in form of gladiator fights. One day a new gladiator enters the coliseum: it's Jon

id like to start out by saying i KNOW NOTHING of this time period LOL

but its always been a time period ive been interested in and someday when im not so obsessed with the tudor era in england, ill read about something else. tbh i kind of want to get some more info because as ive finished writing this piece, im entertaining the idea of continuing it. maybe just a part 2 because i have another idea! 

ANYWAYS. thanks for the request. i hope you enjoy :)  

ps. its set with the backstory of jon being a stark/targ, but rather than being raised among the starks, he’s raised among the night’s watch. 

send me prompts

Another day, another summons to join Joffrey in the stadium.

Sansa sighs but does her best to smile for the man in her doorway, for she knows any sense of displeasure would be told to the emperor without hesitation. The man, seemingly satisfied with her response, bows and backs out from the room, allowing the door to slam closed behind.

When she's alone, all of the fight leaves her and she sinks into the nearest chair, head in hands. Yet another day where she's to be forced to witness the gruesome violence that is the gladiator colosseum. Every drop of blood is a reminder of her father's execution, every hour spent in the crowd only more fuel for her nightmares. "My lady... perhaps you are feeling unwell this morning?" It's Shae, her ever loyal handmaiden, prompting her with an excuse she might use to get out of the day's events. But Sansa smiles for her lady and shakes her head, instead rising up from the chair. She is braver than that, than running away from what frightens her.

She might yet be betrothed to a tyrant, chained to a family that had the rest of her's murdered in cold blood... But she was a Stark, through and through, and though she was so very far from the North, she could feel the strength that her home offered. I am a Stark, she thinks as Shae begins to undress her from her nightgown, I am strong because I am a Stark.

She was a Stark and so she would be brave.

[ x x x ]

He can hear the crowd shouting, screaming, gasping.

The horror of it all, this gladiator colosseum , even for a seasoned soldier such as himself is tough to take. He's heard of it of course, even way up North in the midst of the Night's Watch, they know some of what goes on in the South. He's heard the rumors of the mad ruler Joffrey, who prefers violence to peace, who abuses the lowest of servants and most noble of knights. There is no one who is immune to the emperor's temper- save for maybe his mother, the golden haired Lannister queen who ruled alongside his father for many of the last twenty years.

Suddenly, the crowd is roaring and Jon feels his stomach turn over. A moment later, the door that leads out into the stadium flies open and before anyone can speak, he knows what's happening. "Your turn." A gruff voice says a moment before he's shoved out the door and into the sunlight.

All around him, eyes are staring down at him; they scream and they stomp their feet, eager to see the blood bath continue on. In front of him, Jon meets gazes with his opponent, an undefeated mountain of a man, who's chest is smeared with blood that is most certainly not his own. Jon gulps. He's skilled enough of a fighter, but against this brute seems impossible. And from the state of the battefield, from the rumors of this man's strength... Jon has to wonder if this will be his end. After everything he's seen, after everything that he's done... This is where it all will come to and end.

From where she sits beside Joffrey in the emperor's box, Sansa sees the newest recruit come out into the stadium center. Her breath catches in her throat- she's seen hair like that before and it certainly wasn't there in the South. Beside Joffrey, ser Merryn leans in to speak to him. "From the North," he says, shooting a sidelong glance at the young woman seated beside the emperor. Sure enough, as Sansa had thought, this was a man from the North, from her home. But how, she wonders, watching the man as he squares up in front of Joffrey's champion, the Mountain, how has a Northern man ended up here?

"Ah, one of those black crows, eh?" Joffrey asks, green eyes flashing with danger in the sunlight. "Do you know him, sweet lady?" His eyes are upon her instead and for a moment, she freezes. "He looks like your traitor father." Joffrey goes on, gesturing towards the gladiator that now raises a sword as the battle prepares to begin. "But all your traitor brothers are dead, so I imagine it's just another piss poor criminal from Wintertown." Joffrey turns away from her then, back to facing the fight that's just begun.

[ x x x ]

One more swing, one more!

He's pushing himself, harder and further than he's ever pushed himself before. For the first time in all his life, he's thankful for his short stature, giving him ample opportunity over the beast of a man he's facing. Where the man is slow, Jon is quick. His agile movements are too much for him and Jon knows by the end of the third round that if he gets the right chance, he might actually survive.

Now it's the sixth round and Jon knows the final moment must come.

And so he puts it all into this last swing- a quick upper cut movement that catches the Mountain off guard- and for the several moments after he lands back on his feet, Jon isn't certain he's managed to pull it off. But then he glances at his sword- it's stained crimson and dripping. Behind him, he hears the man stagger and then, the crowd goes silent as he falls to his knees and then to the ground. Dead.

Then... The crowd erupts.

[ x x x ]

It's no more than a few minutes when he's approached by the man in charge of the gladiators and another man, well dressed and fair-haired. "You, boy." The gladiator barks, catching Jon's attention where he stands, mid-wiping the blood from his hands. "Come with us."

"To where?" Jon asks, dark gaze sharper than his voice. "I was told if I won I would have my freedom back." He only longs to return North, to find Ghost and live out his days in a place where no one might ever find him.

"And your freedom you shall have," the second man speaks, his green eyes bright in the sunlight that streams in through the nearby open window. "As winner in the stadium, you have the great honor of meeting our emperor." He continues, gesturing for him to take a left down the corridor and towards a door that leads up a set up stairs, which sure enough as he climbs up them Jon can hear the emperor's harsh laughter.

Stepping through the doorway, Jon is lead across the way to where the emperor sits, but it is not the man that catches Jon's interest first. Rather, it is a young woman with hair a shade of vibrant red that seems quite out of sorts among these blonde and brunette southerners. He's seen that shade of hair color before, a Tully born boy who had once joined the ranks of the Night's Watch had hair of the same shade. But beyond the color of her hair... She was beautiful. So beautiful that when she turns to face him, the breath is stolen from his lungs. Her eyes are clear and blue, but lovely as they might be, he finds their gaze to be sad, the eyes of a woman lost.

"So you've defeated my champion."

The sharp voice belongs to the emperor, who Jon has quite honestly forgotten was there. He turns to face the man instead, though he's hesitant to tear his gaze from the lovely woman at his side. "Aye, so I have." Jon replies, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. "It was that or die. I preferred the first option." For a second, there is only silence, until Joffrey lets out a laugh that startles those around them.

"A jester are you, crow?" Joffrey takes a step closer to where Jon stands and it's only then that Jon notices the striking resemblance between him and the man that had led him up to where he stands now. "You would make a far better champion." Now Jon knows where this is going. "I can make you a wealthy man, far wealthier than your meager coins made in the ranks of the crows." He's offering him a choice- to stay and be his new champion of the gladiator colosseum , or... "Or you may go, it is the law of the colosseum and I am a man of my word." Beside him, the young woman flinches, but it is so quick that Jon is certain he's the only one who's noticed. "But be my champion, I will give you all the wealth you could dream of."

For what feels like a lifetime, Jon stands there, silent and still. Only moments ago, his answer had been strong, had been absolute. But now that he stands there in the presence of this young woman, something is nagging at him. Something about her is calling out to him and despite it all, he wants to heed her call. He doesn't even know her name, but with that single glance, she's set fire to his heart and soul.

And so, he nods; he will be the emperor's new champion.

[petitepistol]

CHAIN OF SWEETNESS

5 THINGS YOU LOVE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER.

this is hard because i have to separate elena from how she exists in canon from the elena i have built up for myself in my mind, so in the interest of brevity im choosing to focus on the canon aspects that deeply drew me to her to begin with and continue to feed my fascination and frustration with her to this day

ONE elena is a minor character. like, take her out of the story of the game and nobody would bat an eye. the writers dont really know what they are doing with her at any given moment, so she is this half formed mess of anachronistic traits. that can be really interesting and really challenging to try and flesh out, especially when you factor in how disconnected she is from even the characters closest to her and what those interpersonal dynamics must be like. even among the turks she is an outlier, new to the team and hellbent on diligently doing her job despite not having the same ghosts as the rest of them. before crisis tries to touch on that with her sister, but that just muddies the waters further providing conflicting motivations that they never really address. because, as stated initially, she is a minor character. and that means the exposition is something i have to do, not canon.

TWO despite being a minor character, from a mechanics standpoint she serves a purpose. her first appearance is there to give you an important lead on the big bad, her narrative purpose in the wutai subquest means you get both a party member and a forge fragile armistice with the turks. during the icicle portion if you get knocked out by her, she drops you off in gast’s house, which might mean the devs were using her to guide less skilled players into viewing missable but important lore. this extends to the compilation, where she is utilized off screen for the jenova head in a box debacle, and in before crisis to pad out the plot a little longer by getting kidnapped. from a game design perspective her existence is validated not by good writing but by being a deus ex machina and i have learned to love that as much as i hate it.

THREE she occupies a space where you can throw just about a billion tropes at her and it can work. people don’t usually realize this, but for such bit player you can do a lot with her. also if you wanna write snappy dialogue you can let this girl just say fucking anything. nothing is off limits coming out of her mouth, because there is so little to go off of and what data there is can be interpreted so broadly. that also means you can write her as downright sociopathic or as an unlikely altruist, leaning towards either of the extremes or staying dead center in the middle of the road. the only limitations are that of the perceptional biases of the writer.

FOUR that she is the highest level of the turks in game will never not make me ridiculously happy. i love that this so called clumsy rookie is the most difficult to take out in a fight with the rarest gear. if you wanna hear more about aspect that go here.

FIVE hnnnnng pretty girl who can kick my ass please step on me unga bunga

5 10 PEOPLE ON HERE YOU LOVE, AND WHY.

there are so many wonderful people i want to give accolades too that i often find it hard to do these kind of daisy chains, and even now im cheating by doubling the number. that still isnt enough, so to those who arent on this list i have to say i love you too but the powers that be and my own shyness turned off the mic before the speech ended

ONE forever amused by how both @makeupandmateria and @madamdirectcr are not only incredible to me as a player, but elena as a character. we are in love with this surprising supportive mean ladies coterie. swiftie plays an elegantly dubious scarlet to the hilt and manages to bring out the best in everyone. lottie brings an uncanny sensitivity to scarlet that makes you think while being so sweet and engaging outside of play.

TWO speaking of girls muses supporting other girl muses @heavenlyfighter and @cultivatxr are a dynamic duo and im lucky enough to be in talks with both of them. jessica plays a lovely tifa who has such a melancholy imbued to her strength while not only tolerating my flakiness but being so understanding, while phoe has had a perfect grasp on aerith for what feels like an epoch always letting that same vibrancy spill out into reality.

THREE so @animus-inspire and @urbdev-assistant are two peas of positivity in a pod and i adore them for it. one them plays an understated hero who has the capacity to do great good even when aligned with evil and the other has taken the adage about there being a great woman behind every great man and elevated an npc into a brilliant character. both are fantastic.

FOUR shout out to @missionheartcd and @rude-at-your-service for being not only the best coworkers elena could ever had but being consistently delightful out of character. not only do i want to play more with their characters, i also appreciate their support.

FIVE thank you to @warofthebeasts​ and @inanisvitae​ for putting up with my inexplicable affection for sephiroth. kevin is so patient with my persistent poking and prodding and you could not find a more passionate advocate for either character development or friendship than maria.

5  SONGS EITHER YOU OR YOUR MUSE REGARD AS A ‘GUILTY PLEASURE’ THAT ALWAYS MAKES YOU SMILE.

these are mostly mine but may or may not apply to elena from some twisted meta perspective also this was hard because i have no guilty pleasures my tastes is flawless (this definitely applies to elena as well unless we are talking about her taste in men which is terrible lmao sorry im just bullying tseng he is actually pretty cool)

ONE you cannot have this type of lists without ABBA represented and while this is almost a lesser known track of theirs, i have liked it since i heard it in childhood playing through the records my mom owned. the lyrical content is very shinra-core and while i dont think elena ever dated a middle aged fat cat for money as a teen im certain she considered it

TWO as a kid i didnt like the indomitable miss spears because i bought into regressive attitudes towards female sexuality while not recognizing she was being exploited by the industry, but i have grown. elena agrees with the sentiment of “you better work, bitch”

THREE im not ashamed of my love of god queen shiina ringo but at the time i first saw this video i was not prepared for the gratuitous badass lady nurse on sexy female patient malpractice action it featured and that was what made it a guilty pleasure

FOUR everybody loves george michael and that includes me. this piece from his wham! era is almost too peppy, but i am an absolutely a sucker for imagining brutal fight scenes with anachronistically cheerful songs playing over the carnage

FIVE rounding things off is an obligatory recent weeb jam. well half of this combo is american but you know what i mean. i love the combination of classic funk and whispery vocals echoing into an unrepentant cry of “fuck you motherfucker.” coupled with the blonde in the video intercut with the OL being joyfully liberated by her train ride? elena vibes

Tagged: @madamdirectcr @animus-inspire Tagging: you!

[caredogstips]

Dazing DIY Light Up Rug

String light-footeds are gorgeous and nostalgic, hitherto extremely naive in pattern.

They have big-hearted influence as you can wholly turn around the feeling in a area within times. Here is a very cool twisting on string dawns which a Finnish creator originally came up with some years ago.

Johanna Hyrks took string lightings and compounded them with carpet. The cause is Light Carpet and it is created by taking a light-up lasso and crocheting around the outside of it. These light-coloreds can be used throughout the year to create a nice, heated, ambient look to any chamber of the members of this house. You can also include it to the floor as a rug or for using during the late hours as a night light.

How hard is it to establish? Well Carmen from the Crafty Queens blog are determined to take the Finnish artists Light Carpet suggestion and form one herself. First she find the necessary pieces- a line of LED light-footeds( make sure they are LED as they wont heat up, are safe and intensity efficient) and a few skeins of textile recital. Now starts the crocheting!

The result of Carmens project is a beautiful invention, as youll listed below. Very nice and you will likely want to try your hand at it formerly you realise her results.

Crafty Queen talks about the initial difficulty of crocheting TAGEND

Im not a total crochet noob, but I had some difficulty figuring this out. Soon enough though, I got it right! Im sharing this tutorial with all of you, to spare you some trial-and-error of your own.

Important: When looking for the light-footeds, make sure that “they il be” LED-lights. As far as I know, these dont heat up, so theres less possibility of attack luck. They are safer and energy-saving!

She continues on the process TAGEND

I understood that I would have to crochet in the round a few eras, until it would fit the inside of the lighters .. um .. rope? Anyway, because the cord is very potent, it would not curl up small enough to work it into the crocheting from the beginning. I crocheted 8 SC in a magic circle, and then 2 SC in every SC, before I could start working with the cord.

The lights line I employed was 6 meters long.

On crocheting technique TAGEND

Its kind of tricky, but youll get the hang of it. For the first few rounds, remain crocheting with* 1sc, 2sc *. Crochet exceedingly loosely! After the 3rd round, I noticed that if you only crochet loose enough, you dont have to increase that much. When you do need to, exactly chain 1 in between stitches.( I did this every 6 stitches) I found that doing 2SC embraces the daylights too much. It would still glisten through, but I thought it was nicer to leave large chinks. If you need to increase in the last round, nonetheless, use 2SC instead of chains, as it obligates for a nicer edge.

When youve come to the end of the rope, crochet some SC without the rope in it, like in this picture.

Then, crochet 2 pas sews( 1 per stitch ), to make a nice circle.

Weave in the ends. Youll necessitate an extra large needle for this. If you dont have one, maybe a crochet fix will do the trick too.

Now turn out the lighters and look what you have!

This is one cool Light-Up Rug that absolutely transforms a room from suffering to interesting.

The light actually find warm when you step on it.

Any color of wool and LED light-headeds can be used for this project.

And yes, puppies like the Light-Up Rug too!

This is a very cool DIY project to engage in! Share it with all your friends and family and maybe they will be interested in creating their own!

Read more:

The post Dazing DIY Light Up Rug appeared first on caredogstips.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2ud4cAZ via IFTTT