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@ganseyweek
Gansey Week may be over but we’ll still be here sharing works so please keep tagging us!
Day 1: The Pig/Yearning/High on Life
Day 2: Monmouth/Insomnia/Larger than Life
Day 3: Cabeswater/Hopeful/Magical Moment
Day 4: Aglionby/Lonely/As You Walk Away
Day 5: Henrietta/Homesick/The View from Here
Day 6: Ley Lines/Death & Rebirth/I Would Take All of You Anywhere
Day 7: Journal/Passionate/Body Language
Beginnings and Meetings 6: Ley Lines [A TRC Fanfic]
Day 6 of @ganseyweek.
The first time Gansey ever set foot on a Ley Line, he was thirteen years old and two weeks into his Europe trip.
By that point he’d known about Ley Lines for years, but there were none close enough to his parents’ house for a kid his age to get on his own. This was annoying because there actually were Ley Lines fairly close to his home, just not close enough for a kid with no driver’s license. It wasn’t until he’d escaped to the wider world away from his family that he finally got to actually visit a Ley Line for the first time.
The experience was much more lackluster than Gansey had hoped. Over years of desperately dreaming of being able to visit a Ley Line, Gansey had built it up in his head, which was perhaps unsurprising for a child as single-mindedly focused as Gansey was, but also a set up for disappointment.
In Gansey’s daydreams he set foot on a Ley Line for the first time and some huge and obviously magical happened and put him directly on the path to finding Glendower. Obviously, that didn’t happen. He set foot on the Ley Line and not much happened. Perhaps the texture of the air changed a little, but that could just as easily have been him desperately wanting a sign of something magical.
Gansey went back to his hotel that day bitterly disappointed and wondering if everything he’d done to get here was in vain. Perhaps he would have been better off staying at home and accepting that the voice telling him that he’d been saved by Glendower was just a hallucination. Perhaps it really was a fool’s errand.
The next day, Gansey didn’t work on his search at all. He went out and did normal touristy things. While he saw the sights, he thought. He thought about booking a flight and going home. He thought about turning his trip into a real vacation and abandoning his quest. He thought about the voice which had called out to him as he lay dying amongst the wasps. The next morning, he got up early, bought a set of dowsing rods on the internet and payed for next day delivery. Then he gathered up his journal and most useful books on Ley Lines and headed out to the Ley Line again.
Ultimately, he knew he couldn’t let this go until he knew the answers.
What was a kiss without a kiss?
It was a tablecloth tugged from beneath a party service. Everything jumbled against everything else in just a few chaotic moments. Fingers in hair, hands cupping necks, mouths dragged on cheeks and chins in dangerous proximity.
They stopped, noses mashed against each other in the strange way that closeness required. She could feel his breath in her mouth.
For the seventh and final day of @ganseyweek with the prompt ‘passionate’
Beginnings and Meetings 7: Journal [A TRC Fanfic]
Day 7 for @ganseyweek 🥳 Hope you enjoyed!
Gansey’s journal was actually a series of journals, lovingly filled one after another and saved as the years went by. The first iteration of the journal wasn’t even a journal at all, just a spare composition notebook he hadn’t needed for school. Of course, it wasn’t like the Ganseys couldn’t have afforded to get him a nice leather journal like the ones he would later have, but Gansey’s therapist had told his parents not to indulge his “Glendower fantasy” and that if they just forced him to stop thinking about he would eventually forget about it altogether.
They didn’t have any grasp of how difficult it was to keep Gansey from thinking about things. That was practically his default state and already his universe revolved around finding answers for what had happened to him that day with the wasps. He quickly realized that if his parents weren’t going to allow him to explore the mystery openly he was going to have to do it secretly. That was no easy decision to come to for a child like Gansey who had been a serial people-pleaser and therefore had no experience with disagreeing with adults or lying to them. But some things had to be done in the name of answers.
So, the first volume of Gansey’s journal was a composition notebook. So was the second one, and the third. The fourth was an actual journal from a great-aunt who’d been under the impression he was constantly writing in a diary. After that he was in Europe and could buy any journal he wanted and the journal took on the form it would later have.
By the time Blue met Gansey, he actually had a box of filled journals that he referenced whenever he needed them. They were a record of his search stretching back over the years.
Drabble written for @ganseyweek Day 7: Journal/Passionate
Sometimes, Gansey got his old Glendower journal out and flipped through it. He traced his fingers over the drawings and writing, remembering when he had written it, feeling all that was held in those pen strokes.
He both did and didn’t miss those days.
He had been trying to cram so much into his time, even before he’d heard his own voice on St. Mark’s Eve and known his time was shorter than ever imagined.
He’d obsessed over this journal, over this quest, the one he thought would be his last, and then suddenly it wasn’t. He’d lived again. He felt like he was missing something, sometimes, now that it was over. That passion no longer lighting him on fire.
They were nearly back to Henrietta, now, having traveled the country for a year, and Gansey had been drawn back to the old journal again, searching for an answer to how he was feeling.
He ran his fingers over the drawings he’d made: Blue sleeping in Monmouth, trees in Cabeswater, a boy in Nino’s with a smudge under his eye, Ronan looking at Adam when he hadn’t thought he was looking, Adam looking at Ronan when he knew he was looking, Henry fidgeting with some device Gansey hadn’t bothered drawing.
It was all so much. It had been his life. But now there was so much more. He loved and was loved and he was happy in a way he never was when he’d written this journal.
He closed the journal and stood, ready to go home.
Gansey had a new journal when he returned to Henrietta from the road trip. Certainly, he still carried the old one he’d had for the Glendower search. It had so many pieces of his heart in it, and maps to places he hadn’t yet seen on his quest. If he was to come across one of the places on those maps, he wanted to be sure he recorded it. But this new journal had started to catch pieces of his heart in a completely different manner. It too was leather, with ties to hold it closed when it wasn’t in use. He’d picked it up in the bookstore of a small town somewhere in the midwest. The pages of this journal were also pleasant to touch, hand bound and with textured edges, he was caught running his fingertips along them quite often when he couldn’t keep still.
The first several pages of the journal were all about Blue and Henry. Ramblings about places they wanted to go, a recording of the places Blue wanted to protest. Henry’s favorite places to eat and the random bits of history they picked off trail signs and faded brochures under glass at rest stops. Little sketches were in the margin, like the shape of Blue’s face with a hint of her smile, doodles of Henry’s hair standing tall. Where there wasn’t writing, sometimes there were leaves pressed in the center, the little fuzzy resolution printouts bought from photobooths where they barely managed to squeeze all three of them inside. Gansey took note of ley line coordinates and picked up things that felt like magic, let the trees tell him how to shift the rocks more pleasantly and cleared obstructions from tiny little rivers no one knew the names to. He never wanted to forget any of it, so the journal never strayed far from his hands.
When he returned home, settling in at the Barns so he could fill out college paperwork, he added more to it. Pages and pages of Ronan’s dreams and the things he made them for breakfast. Sketches of the strange and skittish ox-vapor creature Ronan called Gasoline, deer in the treeline, black feathers between his scrawling text. Gansey took more pictures than he owned up to, snuck out to places he could print them and stick them in this journal. Leaves from the trees at the Barns, a Cambridge maple leaf that stuck to Adam’s wool coat when he visited on fall break. Pictures of Adam, doodles of the Harvard emblem, some more detailed sketches of the smiles Ronan and Adam gave each other.
This new journal carried the memories of Gansey’s heart living in the people he loved. He would do anything for them, he would give them anything. What he wanted in return, what he craved without being brave enough to ask, was for their memories. So little by little, he plucked them out of the lives they lived and carefully preserved them, carried them close to him, loved them with all he was.
[written for @ganseyweek - Day 7: Journal / Passionate / Body language]
TRC: Quests
@ganseyweek Day 7: Journal
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It’s the last day of Gansey Week!
Day 7: Journal / Passionate / Body Language
Tag us in your creations for today’s prompt @ganseyweek or #ganseyweek! We also have submissions open if you want to drop a link to a creation there!
Drabble for @ganseyweek Day 6: Ley Lines, Death & Rebirth
It wasn’t the first ley line they had encountered on their meandering journey across the country, but it felt important. They had reached the west coast after following whatever road called to them, chasing roadside attractions, protests, and everything in between.
But this one felt different.
Ley lines had always been focal points of his life. He had died on one. Twice. He had found friends on the ley line. He had found love. What would he find here? What would begin? What would end?
Blue interrupted his thoughts gently, wrapping herself around his back where he sat on the beach side bench. “Alright?” She asked quietly.
Gansey just relaxed into her.
They sat in silence for a long moment, looking out at the ocean, feeling the magic thrum through them in their own unique connections.
The sound of the camera shutter disturbed the moment and Gansey looked to the side and saw Henry lower Gansey’s camera. He’d been stealing it lately, determined to capture Gansey on film since he never bothered to put himself in his photos of their trip. It was rather sweet.
“Hey lovers,” Henry greeted.
“We love you, too, you know,” Gansey told him firmly. It was a different love but it was love.
“I know,” Henry said with a small smile.
They’d tried to define what they were once, early in the trip, but Henry had just shrugged and repeated his joke about being Henry-sexual and insisted he didn’t want either of them that way. Probably didn’t want anyone that way, though he wasn’t quite sure yet.
But Gansey, this post-second-death Gansey still wanted to define it somehow, wanted to share his feelings with his loved ones as he hadn’t before. So he’d read up: late nights online when they’d been in towns, lazy mornings perusing bookstores, and texts to Adam asking after resources he might have found at Harvard. He thought he’d found the words at last and suddenly it seemed like a good time to share them.
“Platonic love, but no less important,” he continued. “Some people call it a queer platonic partnership.”
Henry considered him carefully and Gansey watched his eyes flick to Blue, who hugged Gansey tighter then extended an arm to Henry.
The other boy joined them on the bench. “That’s nice.”
Gansey grinned and wrapped an arm around him as well, settling in to watch the sun set over the ley line.
Another new beginning.
TRC: Changes
@ganseyweek Day 6: Death & Rebirth
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Fairy roads. Spirit paths. Song lines. The old tracks. Dragon lines. Dream paths.
The corpse roads.
Drawn for @ganseyweek day 6 with the prompt ‘Ley Lines’
Beginnings and Meetings 5: Henrietta [A TRC Fanfic]
This is for Day 5 of @ganseyweek. It was actually written yesterday and should have been posted on time, but I wrote it longhand and one thing led to another and I wasn’t able to type it up until this morning, so here it is a day late. Hopefully I’ll get something written and up for Day 6 as well today.
A couple hours before Gansey met Declan Lynch while wandering lost around Aglionby campus, he entered Henrietta for the first time.
Though when Gansey first brought Aglionby and therefore Henrietta up to Helen he couched Henrietta, Virginia like it had been his plan before she’d ever brought up coming home to Play Nice for his mother’s political career, it had actually been a split-second decision. Sure, Henrietta had been an option on the list of places with Ley Line convergences nearby, but it had not been his first option, namely because it would require him returning to the US, which he hadn’t wanted to do.
Why ultimately, when Helen had shown up asking for him to come home, had he actually done it? Probably it was because while his parents had been asking him to come home for years, they’d always done it over the phone. Regardless of Helen’s protests, Gansey knew their parents had sent her to bring him home. If they were getting to the point where they’d send his sister after him it was only a matter of time before they resorted to using his status as an unaccompanied minor wandering across the world to drag him home against his will. He’d been counting on his parents not wanting to cause a scene to make sure he was allowed to travel without interference, but if they were getting to a point where that wasn’t enough of a deterrent he was best coming back on his own terms.
So, he chosen Henrietta. He hadn’t really had any idea where he wanted to go anyway. Ever since he’d fled England without saying goodbye to Malory he’d been spinning his wheels, uncertain of where to go next. He’d gone to France mostly because he had to go somewhere and when Helen had shown up he made the same decision about Henrietta.
Henrietta didn’t look like much, but then again most magical places didn’t look like much in Gansey’s experience—if they had they probably would have been discovered by nosy outsiders more easily. Unfortunately, that meant that he still didn’t know if he was onto anything in Henrietta or not. He thought a convergence was the right place to be, but was Henrietta’s convergence the right one? He had no idea. All he could do was hope he hadn’t resigned himself to making no progress for the rest of his time in high school.
Fingers crossed as the saying went.
Day 6: Ley Lines / Death & Rebirth / I Would Take All of You Anywhere
Tag us in your creations for today’s prompt @ganseyweek or #ganseyweek! We also have submissions open if you want to drop a link to a creation there!
Drabble for @ganseyweek Day 5: Henrietta/Homesick/The View from Here
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Henry asked, joining Gansey on the lookout. Henry had become even closer with both him and Blue on the trip and always seemed to know when Gansey needed someone to interrupt his thoughts. He fit with them like that.
“Yes,” Gansey admitted. And it was. But he wasn’t enjoying it.
He wasn’t sure if it was the time he’d been away or the new, too tall, too sharp mountains, but Gansey was incredibly homesick for Henrietta.
“Whatcha thinkin’, Gansey-boy?” Henry nudged him with his elbow.
Gansey shrugged. “Just a bit homesick, I guess.”
Henry hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been homesick.”
Gansey looked at him, studying Henry’s profile as he looked over the valley. It made sense, he supposed.
“Home was always a strange concept for me. Before Henrietta.”
Henrietta had settled into his heart and Gansey had known home for the first time in its streets and its mountains and its people.
“I found home there, too, in a way. I found home in us.”
Gansey rubbed his thumb against his lip. “Would you be homesick, then? Away from us?”
“Let’s not find out, eh?” Henry grinned and wrapped an arm around Gansey, returning his gaze to the valley.
He wasn’t in any rush to.
TRC: Without Question
@ganseyweek Day 5: Homesick; on ao3
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Ronan had already gone to the car, as if he’d contract a disease lingering around with the graduates (or his brother), but Gansey perched on the steps to the faculty building. Clusters of students and families passed by, none of them really giving him much attention, but he didn’t mind. This was their day. Very delicately, he touched on the longing for this to be him a year from now. This was an indulgence only taken down from a very high shelf and looked upon briefly. He should have already begun looking at colleges, sending applications, making plans… He put the longing back in the box and took a deep breath, gathering Glendower and the ley lines and Cabeswater back around him. Gansey had to ground himself in the present moment, to ponder Adam’s sacrifice, Ronan’s dreams, how to help Noah, and the peculiar rightness of Blue Sargent in his world. Times like these, it didn’t surprise him much that he spent more time awake than asleep; his head was so loud.
“Thank you for coming today, Gansey.”
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It was a sort of ferocious, quiet beauty, the sort that wouldn’t let you admire it. The sort of beauty that always hurt.
For @ganseyweek day 5 with the prompt ‘Henrietta/The View From Up Here’
