secondhand sweater

On that Note: Raven Heights

If you read the books carefully, you can get a sense of the physical heights.

Ronan’s the tallest:

“Are you kidding?” Cialina replied, eyeing the four boys. Having finally ended his call, the first one slid into one of the orange vinyl booths. The tallest of them knocked his head on the green cut-glass light hanging over the table; the others laughed generously at him. He said, Bitch. A tattoo snaked out above his collar as he swiveled to sit down. There was something hungry about all of the boys.

One can assume Adam is taller than Gansey, because one of the few descriptors Gansey spares for him in his description is that he’s tall:

Unlike Ronan, Adam’s Aglionby sweater was secondhand, but he’d taken great care to be certain it was impeccable. He was slim and tall, with dusty hair unevenly cropped above a fine-boned, tanned face. He was a sepia photograph.

(Which if Adam is tall, and Ronan is visibly taller, it indicates they’re both notably tall.)

Gansey is of average height, maybe on the taller end of it:

“I certainly hope so,” he said, in a way that indicated less hope and more certainty. He had to speak loudly to be heard, and he had to incline his head to meet her eyes. There was something annoyingly impressive about him, an impression that he was very tall, although he was no taller than most boys.

Noah is not described as short, so one can assume he is also of average height, probably shorter than Gansey. 

And then there’s Blue. Poor Blue:

Really, she didn’t know if she’d truly like to find out more about the pygmy tyrant. She just liked the name, because, for a five-foot-tall girl, pygmy tyrant sounded like a career.


i say, how about scallops?
- because my reward for
trekking to the city to see him
despite my travel anxiety is
a home-cooked meal he’s 
promised to be delicious;
because i haven’t had scallops
in such a long time, and 
because something about his
secondhand cable knit sweater
makes me believe he’d cook
them well. he smiles and nods
and says we’ll have to go to
the store and pick some stuff
up, but he’s got a plan
and i am going to love it.

we walk to the whole foods
a few blocks over and the
faint autumn chill feels nice on
our faces because it’s still
pretty warm, for october,
but we want to wear
our layers. after the fifth
or sixth time his hand
brushes mine i start to
wonder if it’s on purpose
but i’d never assume;
certain i’m imagining it.

he gets close to me, when he
asks me if i want pasta or
rice; leans into me, bodies
touching, as we contemplate
the aisle we’re in. i’m holding
a basket full of fresh herbs
and onions and garlic.
i think i want pasta,
and i tell him this. he says
to pick whatever kind i
want, regardless of whether
it classically pairs well with
scallops; i choose small shells
and this seems to amuse him.
he chooses big bay scallops.

on the walk back to his
apartment he puts his
arm around my waist
and there’s no way i’m
making this up in my head
and i’m confused.
i make a joke about
slumming in public
where people he knows
will see him and he 
tells me to shut up so
i do and he pulls me in.

he puts me to work, chopping
garlic and scallions. the sparse
but appealing apartment smells
like butter and so much garlic.
he says he’ll use a lot of it
because he knows i like it
and that he doesn’t mind
garlic breath and i can’t
help but be suspicious and
skeptical and goddammit, i
have always found him handsome…
but he has only ever dated 
really fucking beautiful girls
and i have always just been a
really fucking good friend.

we sit across from each other
at his little retro dinette table
and he’s right, the food is
amazing and i was right, he
knows how to cook scallops
and he tells me he’s so happy
i’ve finally come to see the place
and i apologize for the way i am
and he says he likes the way 
i am just fine and i ask,
since when? and he says since
always - he’s loved me since
the day we met and been in
love with me since the 4th of july
when we got drunk and made out
and felt each other up a little
at his sister’s time share.

i just sit there not saying
anything and swirling a
piece of onion skin in the 
butter on my plate because
what if i’m just in a coma,
or something? waking up
alone after this would suck
so bad; he asks if i want
more edamame and i say no
and he sits back in his
chair and watches me play
with my food and when i
finally glance up, he’s looking
at me like this is literally
everything he’s ever wanted
and i want to kiss him again.
i want to kiss him forever,
and it’s fucking unnerving.

i break my super-charged silence
to ask him if he’s sure-sure
and he sighs while flipping
channels. by this point we’ve
been sitting here a while, my
head on his chest, his arm
wrapped around me. so
fucking casually, as if we’d
been playing this game for
years. he asks me if i really
think we’d be here right now,
like this, if he wasn’t and
i know we wouldn’t; i’ve 
known him long enough to know.

he falls asleep there on the 
couch in the middle of a 
docuseries about all the insects
that could potentially kill you
in brazil, and i watch him
intently, looking for signs of
bullshit, but i don’t find any.
when he kissed me that first 
time it had felt urgent and 
raw and there were fireworks
but only because it was july 4th 
and when he felt me up his
hands had lingered a lot,
almost like he was trying to
memorize me or the experience
or something, i don’t know,
he’d seemed really into it.

and he’s asleep, and awfully calm
about it all when i’d spent years
wondering if maybe he’d one day
notice me-notice me and want to
kiss-kiss me or hold my hand in 
public but then i remember he’s
always been nonchalant and casual
and we’re both passive, non-assuming
people and i spent at least half
an hour learning to be terrified 
of yellow scorpions while also
debating whether or not to wake 
him with a surprise blowjob.

About Adam Parrish

(stuff i gathered from TRB + TDT)

(words in parentheses are mine/my monologues; can’t help it) 
(wow this is really long, man)

  • Adam was a friend of cars everywhere; he fixed cars
  • Adam was very particular about money; he reminded Gansey again and again that “things cost money”
  • Adam’s Aglionby sweater was secondhand, but he’d taken great care to be certain it was impeccable
  • Adam was slim and tall, with dusty hair unevenly cropped above a fine-boned, tanned face
  • Adam was a sepia photograph
  • Adam’s Southern accent would appear every time he was uncertain about something
  • Adam tried so hard to hide his roots, but they came out in the smallest of gestures.
  • Adam fought with Ronan (a lot; reckon it’s not his fault tho, Ronan fights anything with a social security number, remember?)
  • Adam Parrish had been Gansey’s friend for eighteen months (at the start of TRB)
  • Adam was very good at watching without being watched; only Gansey ever seemed to catch him at it (how are you guys so aware of each other) (SUSPICIOUS ADANSEY ACTIVITIES)
  • Adam’s signal knock is one long, two short
  • Adam wished to have enough money one day to have a place looked on the outside like he looked on the inside
  • Adam kept his change in a cereal box under his bed (!!!)
  • Adam’s cereal box is a dented Froot Loops box with a Transformer
  • Adam found Gansey intimidating when he first met him
  • Adam’s faith was imperfect
  • Adam was good at making things quiet
  • Adam had an erratic handwriting
  • Adam had a bicycle
  • Adam believed he needed Glendower’s royal favor
  • Adam would follow Gansey anywhere
  • The close word to describe Adam is elegant
  • Adam was fine boned and a little fragile looking, with blue eyes pretty enough for a girl (according to Blue)
  • When Adam blushed/felt embarrassed, his ears turned bright pink
  • Adam held a partial scholarship at Aglionby, and worked three part-time jobs to support himself, which was why he always looked tired
  • Adam looked clean, self-contained, utterly in control
  • Adam’s voice was careful, masculine, and local; the vowels had all the edges sanded off
  • Blue described Adam’s slightly accented voice as “Henrietta sunset: hot front-porch swings and cold iced-tea glasses, cicadas louder than your thoughts”

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“I don’t like things that are pretty and clean and nice, I can’t buy new clothes, I have to wear my old clothes. I mean, these are the same pants that I’ve worn for the last three years. This is a mohair sweater. I buy mohair sweaters secondhand. I like to buy old things. I like old, dingy, dirty things because they have more character. There’s more detail to weathered things. There’s more detail to decay. I can’t stand anything that’s new. So even though I’m a really rich Rock star I have to wear old dirty clothes because it’s the only way I feel comfortable.” - Kurt Cobain, 1992.


♡ O O T D ♡

Sweater - Delia’s (Secondhand)

Scarf - not tagged (Thrifted)

Necklace - LoveSick (Hot Topic)

Dress - Blue Sky (Local Shop)

Shoes - Faded Glory (Wal-Mart)

Bag - Aerie

Went out and got some pictures printed to change up the photos in our room from winter. Hopefully it cools down and we can finish up painting the deck chairs. I’m excited for our outdoor space to look nice. I just need more plants!!