Fountainvalleys
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- Ghosts (TV 2019) (1)
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“You’d like him, you know,” Thomas said.
“I do like him,” Aldo said automatically, twirling the stem of his wine glass, looking into its deep red like it was a scrying mirror.
“I mean as a friend. If you spent more time with him. You have a lot in common.”
“Do we use the same shampoo?” asked Aldo, raising an eyebrow. Thomas gave him a warning look but his mouth was tugging up.
“You’re both stubborn,” he said bluntly.
*
Cardinals like Thomas Lawrence and Aldo Bellini know all too well how slowly things move within the walls of the Vatican. But with Vincent Benítez's election cracking their world open, and the new Pope cutting away the old branches to make room for the new, both find that change is flooding in everywhere, mostly within themselves.
Bookmarked by Fountainvalleys
11 Oct 2025
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With every season of change comes regret for the chances not taken. Aldo Bellini and Thomas Lawrence confront their regrets.
Bookmarked by Fountainvalleys
30 Sep 2025
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"I sometimes think that we stand at sunset. It may be that the night will come close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows again out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the lantern bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.” ― Rosemary Sutcliff, The Lantern Bearers
- Words:
- 153,560
- Works:
- 5
- Bookmarks:
- 8
Bookmarked by Fountainvalleys
09 Aug 2025
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"Babe didn’t think suffocating would take so goddamn long.
That’s what it feels like."
In which Babe's life feels stifling, Bill convinces him to take a trip, he meets old comrades and eventually finds the one he's desperately yearning for.
Bookmarked by Fountainvalleys
03 Aug 2025
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The thing that scares George Luz the most is the empty pages.
It’s different when he’s choked out a paragraph or two, because there's something to build off of, and he can think ‘Okay, maybe I've got the hang of this’ until it all crumbles down again, and then he’s erasing everything because it doesn’t fit right. Like an artist struggling on drawing an eye, like an architect mapping blueprints, like a detective coming back to something again and again, because it doesn’t make sense, because it’s wedged in all the wrong places, the deadly urge to figure it out. For it to fit.
It’s all the same feeling if you think about it.
Bookmarked by Fountainvalleys
28 Jul 2025