OK, so I've been knitting since 2010, and I just learned 2 things.
[1] Magic loop was invented around 2002
[2] Circular needles were invented in the 1910s
That means that, if you were knitting as recently as just over 100 years ago, you either were knitting with straight needles or with double points
??????????????
I fucking hate straight needles, and I fucking despise double points [personally, I know not everyone does]
I like to imagine knitting as this craft that goes back hundreds of years and connects me to history and all that. And in some ways it is
But then I find out that I've been ALIVE longer than the magic loop method? If my grandmother had been able to teach me to knit [she died around the time I was born but was apparently a very experienced knitter], she wouldn't have even known what magic loop was???????
I also wonder if I would have even liked knitting at all If I was stuck with straight needles and double points
Idk my mind is blown over this and I guess I just need to remember that my knitting is a modern craft that is only in some ways related to historical knitting
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If there is anyone following me that also knits socks, I am hoping to benefit from your expertise! When using DNPs my tension around where the needles meet is always off, creating these little ladders. Now I have looked online and couldnt really figure out how to avoid this (no amount of tension put on the first few stitches avoids these sadly).
My current solution is just to switch the point where the needles connect every few rounds by taking a couple stitches onto the same needle and using a stitch marker. Unfortunately that takes more time and only limits the issue but doesn't solve it.
Does anyone have any ideas of how to best prevent these ladders from occuring?
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The sun is setting, casting golden orange light through the leaves.
Geralt leans against the tree and closes his eyes for a moment, the dappled light warm on his eyelids. He has been sitting for too long, with a soft pillow in his lap and Jaskier’s head resting there comfortably.
Jaskier sleeps peacefully through the afternoon, all the while Geralt tries to finish a new sock. He’s only halfway through, but he keeps trying anyway. The glasses slip down his nose, so he pushes them up again.
The yarn ball rolls into the crook of Jaskier’s arm and he stirs.
“Mmph…” Jaskier breathes, his nose wrinkling.
“Good nap?” Geralt puts down a bare needle to comb his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and gets a contented purr in return.
Jaskier blinks open his eyes, nuzzling into Geralt’s palm. “Didn’t mean to sleep,” he says. “Wanted to spend a nice day with you.”
“It was.”
Geralt goes back to knitting, one stitch after another. Jaskier wakes slowly as always, stretching and yawning on the pillow before pressing his cheek against Geralt’s stomach. He hugs Geralt’s waist to get his attention. “Who is this for?”
Geralt smiles. “Ciri.”
“Not me?”
“Don’t you have enough socks?”
“One can never have enough socks.” Jaskier pouts, his voice still hoarse and lazy. “You know how my feet get cold.”
“Yours is next then,” Geralt promises. He’s already planning the next pair anyway.
Jaskier picks up the ball and feeds the yarn as Geralt works, his eyes fixed on Geralt. A soft grin spreads across his face, bright in the sunset.
“You have too many needles, poking out everywhere,” Jaskier says. “It looks like witchcraft.”
“Dangerous witchcraft. Your feet could be too warm if not careful.”
Jaskier has that look again, one that says he needs more attention.
Geralt tidies up and puts the half-sock on the ground. He takes off his glasses too, so he can look at Jaskier properly. By some miracle, the grin on Jaskier’s face grows bigger, his cheeks turning pink from a blush.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just…” Jaskier answers, “I think I have a crush on you.”
“Do you now?”
“Is that so bad?”
Geralt lets Jaskier catch his hand and press a kiss on his wrist, right over a small scar. His hands, the things he once believed to be only capable of killing, now make socks to keep Jaskier’s feet warm. His hands now belong over Jaskier’s heart, where they are cradled carefully.
Perhaps, Geralt has a crush in return.
“It’s embarrassing, is all,” he says. “You married me already.”
“Yes, yes, I’m hopeless, having a crush on my husband,” Jaskier giggles. “Can you blame me? He looks too sweet when he’s knitting.”
Jaskier looks as smitten as Geralt feels, his cheeks red and eyes gentle, which means Geralt must kiss him now. It’d be unfair to let Jaskier go unkissed when he looks like this.
They meet each other in the middle, with Geralt leaning down and Jaskier wrapping his hands behind Geralt’s nape. It’s rather awkward, so Geralt holds Jaskier’s back in return. The sun warms Jaskier’s doublet, and Geralt kisses him patiently, and kisses him again.
“Oh no. It gets worse,” Jaskier whispers, settling against Geralt’s knees. “Now I’m falling in love too. Would that be too pathetic?”
As if Geralt isn’t falling in love every day himself. He falls in love every time Jaskier puts on his socks and wiggles his toes. He falls in love so much that he knits a drawer full of them.
“If it is,” Geralt answers, “we’ll just be pathetic together.”
“We should put that in the vows.”
“Didn’t we?”
“No, but next time, maybe.” Jaskier’s eyes flash with mischief. “I shall marry you again one day.”
“Oh? Where will you do that?”
“Your home? Under the stars, with your family there this time.”
Geralt’s stomach flutters with the promise. He can picture it perfectly, the snow falling on Jaskier’s eyelashes, the northern light in the sky, the last of the wolf witchers there, witnessing all the happiness in his life.
“It’ll be cold in Kaer Morhen,” Geralt says, his lips quirking into a hopeful grin.
“Oh, that’s okay then.” Jaskier puts a hand over his heart. “You’ll just need to make things that keep me warm.”
And luckily, Geralt has a lot of practice with that.
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