#Suspenseful plot

[coffibeani]

Book 1 of ‘Villainous things’

Listening length: 11 hours, 12 minutes

A superhero m/m novel where the villain is a Dom and the hero is a Sub. There’s a hidden identity trope going on , and a few really, reeeeally horny scenes.

All in all I really liked it, It was like listening to a really gay comic book. The story itself was already funny but the narration had me taking breaks to walk out of my room and collect myself.

If I had to rate it I’d give it a good

4.5 sips out of 5

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 47

In a dimly lit alley, obscured by the shadows of towering buildings, two figures stood locked in a tense confrontation. The air crackled with palpable hostility as they exchanged heated words, their voices carrying the weight of unresolved grievances.

"You think you can just walk away from this? You owe me, and you damn well know it!" spat one, his voice thick with anger.

The other, his features twisted in defiance, retorted, "I owe you nothing! You brought this upon yourself, and now you'll face the consequences."

With a sudden lunge, the first figure lunged forward, brandishing a gleaming knife in hand. The glint of steel reflected in his eyes as he made his intentions clear. In a swift and brutal motion, he began to rain down blows upon the other figure, the sound of flesh meeting steel echoing through the desolate alley.

"Stop! Please, stop!" cried the second figure, desperation tainting their voice as they attempted to fend off the relentless assault.

But the first figure was unrelenting, driven by a fervor that bordered on madness. Each stab was delivered with a savage intensity, fueled by a potent mixture of rage and vengeance.

"Too late for begging now," snarled the attacker, his voice cold and devoid of remorse. "You brought this upon yourself."

As the violence reached its crescendo, the alley was consumed by an eerie silence, broken only by the labored breaths of the wounded figure. In the dim light, the assailant's face contorted with a mixture of triumph and malice, his hands stained crimson with the evidence of his brutality.

And as the echoes of their confrontation faded into the night, a chilling realization dawned upon the wounded figure – in this unforgiving world, survival often came at a steep price, and sometimes, that price was paid in blood.

[blueheartbookclub]

"Duality of Human Nature: A Review of 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' by Robert Louis Stevenson"

Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a timeless classic that delves into the depths of human psychology, exploring the dualities that exist within each individual. Set against the atmospheric backdrop of Victorian London, Stevenson's novella follows the story of Dr. Henry Jekyll, a respected scientist, and his mysterious alter ego, Mr. Edward Hyde. Through the eyes of Mr. Utterson, Jekyll's friend and lawyer, readers are drawn into a tale of suspense, intrigue, and moral ambiguity that continues to captivate audiences over a century after its initial publication.

At the heart of the novella lies the exploration of the duality of human nature—the eternal struggle between good and evil, virtue and vice. Stevenson masterfully depicts Dr. Jekyll's internal conflict as he grapples with the darker aspects of his personality that are embodied by Mr. Hyde. Through Jekyll's scientific experiments and subsequent transformation into Hyde, Stevenson raises profound questions about the nature of identity, morality, and the consequences of unchecked desires. The novella serves as a cautionary tale, warning readers of the dangers of suppressing one's true self and the potential consequences of yielding to temptation.

One of the most striking aspects of "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is Stevenson's skillful use of atmosphere and setting to create a sense of foreboding and unease. The fog-shrouded streets of London, the dimly lit alleys, and the eerie silence of the city at night serve as the perfect backdrop for the unfolding mystery. Stevenson's vivid descriptions evoke a palpable sense of dread, drawing readers into a world where danger lurks around every corner and the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur.

Moreover, the novella is populated by a cast of memorable characters, each representing different facets of human nature. From the upright and respectable Dr. Jekyll to the sinister and malevolent Mr. Hyde, Stevenson's characters are complex and multidimensional, reflecting the inherent contradictions and complexities of the human psyche. Through their interactions, Stevenson explores themes of morality, guilt, and the consequences of sin, inviting readers to confront their own capacity for darkness and self-deception.

As the plot unfolds, Stevenson masterfully builds suspense, leading readers on a journey of discovery as they uncover the truth behind Dr. Jekyll's transformation into Mr. Hyde. With each revelation, the tension mounts, culminating in a shocking climax that leaves readers breathless and questioning the nature of humanity itself. "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a masterpiece of psychological horror that continues to resonate with readers today, reminding us of the eternal struggle between light and darkness that exists within us all.

Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is available in Amazon in paperback 10.99$ and hardcover 17.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 97

Language: English

Rating: 10/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[taletuner]

A Thrilling Journey: Unraveling Agatha Christie's 'Murder on the Orient Express'

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie is a classic that truly deserves its legendary status. If you’re a fan of mysteries or just love a good whodunit, this novel is an absolute must-read. Christie’s ability to craft a compelling story that keeps you guessing until the very end is on full display here.

The plot centers around a murder that takes place on the luxurious Orient Express, a train journeying through Europe. When a wealthy and not-so-likeable American named Samuel Ratchett is found dead in his compartment, it’s up to the brilliant detective Hercule Poirot to figure out who did it. As Poirot interviews each of the passengers, it quickly becomes clear that everyone on board has something to hide, and the mystery only deepens with every twist and turn.

One of the things that makes this book so enjoyable is the way Christie brings her characters to life. Each one feels distinct, with their own quirks, backgrounds, and potential motives for murder. Poirot, with his meticulous approach and sharp insights into human nature, is a fascinating character to follow. You can’t help but admire the way he pieces together clues that seem impossible to connect.

The setting of the train adds a unique atmosphere to the story. The idea of being trapped on a moving train with a killer is both thrilling and claustrophobic, and Christie uses this to ramp up the tension. As Poirot gets closer to the truth, the stakes feel higher, and you find yourself racing through the pages to see how it all ends.

And speaking of the ending—wow. The twist in Murder on the Orient Express is one of the most famous in mystery literature, and for good reason. It’s surprising, thought-provoking, and leaves you questioning your own sense of right and wrong. Christie doesn’t just deliver a solution; she also makes you think about the bigger picture, about justice and morality in a way that stays with you long after you’ve finished the book.

In short, Murder on the Orient Express is an incredible read. Whether you’re new to Agatha Christie or have read some of her other works, this novel is a perfect example of why she’s considered one of the greatest mystery writers of all time. It’s a story that grabs you from the first page and doesn’t let go, with an ending that’s as satisfying as it is surprising.

Listen for Free

[joncronshawauthor]

Listen to Punks Versus Zombies (1-24) - FREE zombie survival audiobook

🎸 Punk’s Not Dead…But The World Is! 🧟‍♂️ Join Tommy’s Thrilling Fight for Survival! 🎤 Brace yourself for an adrenaline-fueled, gore-soaked adventure as Tommy and his punk band battles hordes of undead while on tour! 💀 When a zombie apocalypse strikes, Tommy, Laila, and Micky must navigate a crumbling world fraught with danger at every turn. Can they make it back home to Philly alive? 🌎💥 This…

[blueheartbooks]

"Duality of Human Nature: A Review of 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' by Robert Louis Stevenson"

Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a timeless classic that delves into the depths of human psychology, exploring the dualities that exist within each individual. Set against the atmospheric backdrop of Victorian London, Stevenson's novella follows the story of Dr. Henry Jekyll, a respected scientist, and his mysterious alter ego, Mr. Edward Hyde. Through the eyes of Mr. Utterson, Jekyll's friend and lawyer, readers are drawn into a tale of suspense, intrigue, and moral ambiguity that continues to captivate audiences over a century after its initial publication.

At the heart of the novella lies the exploration of the duality of human nature—the eternal struggle between good and evil, virtue and vice. Stevenson masterfully depicts Dr. Jekyll's internal conflict as he grapples with the darker aspects of his personality that are embodied by Mr. Hyde. Through Jekyll's scientific experiments and subsequent transformation into Hyde, Stevenson raises profound questions about the nature of identity, morality, and the consequences of unchecked desires. The novella serves as a cautionary tale, warning readers of the dangers of suppressing one's true self and the potential consequences of yielding to temptation.

One of the most striking aspects of "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is Stevenson's skillful use of atmosphere and setting to create a sense of foreboding and unease. The fog-shrouded streets of London, the dimly lit alleys, and the eerie silence of the city at night serve as the perfect backdrop for the unfolding mystery. Stevenson's vivid descriptions evoke a palpable sense of dread, drawing readers into a world where danger lurks around every corner and the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur.

Moreover, the novella is populated by a cast of memorable characters, each representing different facets of human nature. From the upright and respectable Dr. Jekyll to the sinister and malevolent Mr. Hyde, Stevenson's characters are complex and multidimensional, reflecting the inherent contradictions and complexities of the human psyche. Through their interactions, Stevenson explores themes of morality, guilt, and the consequences of sin, inviting readers to confront their own capacity for darkness and self-deception.

As the plot unfolds, Stevenson masterfully builds suspense, leading readers on a journey of discovery as they uncover the truth behind Dr. Jekyll's transformation into Mr. Hyde. With each revelation, the tension mounts, culminating in a shocking climax that leaves readers breathless and questioning the nature of humanity itself. "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a masterpiece of psychological horror that continues to resonate with readers today, reminding us of the eternal struggle between light and darkness that exists within us all.

Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is available in Amazon in paperback 10.99$ and hardcover 17.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 97

Language: English

Rating: 10/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[pebblegalaxy]

The Color of Law by Mark Gimenez: A Gripping Legal Thriller Unveiling Justice, Morality, and Corruption

The Color of Law by Mark Gimenez: A Gripping Legal Thriller Unveiling Justice, Morality, and Corruption #TheColorOfLaw #LegalThriller #MarkGimenez #JusticeInFocus #MoralityTale #CorruptionExposed @ByMarkGimenez

“The Color of Law” by Mark Gimenez is a legal thriller that intricately weaves together elements of law, morality, and human struggle. It is a legal thriller that follows the story of Scott Fenney, a successful Dallas lawyer who is appointed to defend a black prostitute accused of killing the son of a powerful senator. Fenney must choose between his lucrative career and his conscience, as he…

[inspisart]

dick took the news that a strange thirteen year old broke into his apartment while he was away at the circus pretty well, I gotta say

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Tips: Plot Twists

tips from Anthony Horowitz

Don’t underestimate the planning. "I put everything down on paper. I make copious pages and pages of notes until I am ready to write and by the time I do sit down at my desk, I have a sort of a map of where I'm going and everything is going to work." Horowitz says. Make sure, though, that you leave a little room to surprise yourself when you get to the page: “If I can't surprise myself, how can I surprise my reader?”

Start with a simple formula. Not sure how that plan should begin? There’s a Horowitz Hack for that: “Start with a simple formula,” he advises. “A plus B equals C. A equals one person, B is another person, C is the reason why A murders B. That's your bullseye. If that's original and interesting and surprising enough, then you can tell us who A and B are, and and that's your next ring. Once you’ve got the basics,” he explains, “you can build out into the worlds your characters occupy, who knows them and how they know each other.”

People should be able to guess the twist. Want to know the secret of a killer plot twist? It should be obvious enough for people to potentially guess it – but surprising enough that they rarely actually do. One of the major influences on Horowitz’s work was Agatha Christie, an author who he says always surprises him but “you always feel you could have guessed because all the information has been down there in front of you. When I’m writing my book, I’m very influenced by that. When my publisher or my agent or anybody else reads one of my books, the first question I ask is not ‘Did you enjoy it?’ but, ‘Did you guess it?’ Because that, to me, is the crux of the matter. If they do guess it, I feel a sense of disappointment but at the same time, if they can't get it, then I haven't played fair. What I prefer to do is for them to say, 'No, I didn't get it, but I should have.' That's what I'm aiming for.”

Live inside your book. “There’s one piece of advice I would give to writers: don't stand on the edge of the book, looking over the edge of the chasm. Live inside the book looking around you,” Horowitz says. “What my characters see, I see. What they feel – the wind or the sunshine – I feel. If I'm inside the book, I'm not thinking about it as being something that you or anybody else will read. I am merely inside the world of the book – all that comes later.”

The only rule is originality. “If you ask me what are the do’s and don’ts in writing a whodunnit or a murder mystery? Quite simply, there aren’t any. Never constrain yourself. It is by doing the don'ts and not doing the do’s that you will write the completely original book for you – and find success.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[coffibeani]

Folk Lore, Book 1

Content warning: self harm, homophobia

listening length: 11 hours, 41 minutes

Priest gets caught with gay porn, and is sent away to a village in the mountains as punishment.

For this one I stayed mostly invested all throughout. Unsurprisingly this book turned out to have some elements of horror, which I enjoyed. The ending wasn’t really the best in my opinion, but it’s not so bad that I wouldn’t listen to the audiobook again.

overall I’d give it :

3.5 sips out in 5

for narration and story

[ahb-writes]

Writing Problem: The Scenes Are Void of Meaningful Conflict

Problem: The Scenes Are Void of Meaningful Conflict

Solution: Character growth and story arcs don't occur in isolation. Conflict-guided scenes and conflict-guided storytelling, more broadly, open the narrative to moments in which the characters are continuously tested to validate their knowledge, skills, or relationships.

To drive the story forward with measured purpose, focus on building, developing, and testing a character's desires. If necessary, implement story or relational dynamics to economically assess, judge, and curate a character's failure (and the consequences thereof). Conflict needn't be grandiose; writers must be in tune with the different levels, types, and intensities of conflict that drive their story. Conflict should be multifaceted.

Writing Resources:

A Few Words About Conflict (Glimmer Train Press)

Conflict Thesaurus (One Stop for Writers)

6 Secrets to Creating and Sustaining Suspense (Writer's Digest)

Emotions in Writing: How to Make Your Readers Feel (Jericho Writers)

The Primary Principles of Plot: Goal, Antagonist, Conflict, Consequences (September C. Fawkes)

How to Master Conflict in Young Adult Fiction (Writer's Edit)

Failure, Conflict, and Character Arc (Writers in the Storm)

❯ ❯ Adapted from the writing masterpost series: 19 Things That Are Wrong With Your Novel (and How to Fix Them)

[blueheartbookclub]

"The Mysteries of Gloria: A Review of G. Frederic Turner's Captivating Tale"

G. Frederic Turner's Gloria is a literary masterpiece that mesmerizes readers with its intricate plot, compelling characters, and thought-provoking themes. Set against the backdrop of a small New England town, Turner weaves a tale of mystery, intrigue, and hidden secrets that keeps readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end.

At the heart of Gloria lies the enigmatic character after whom the novel is named. Gloria is a woman shrouded in mystery, her past veiled in secrecy and her motives unclear. As the story unfolds, readers are drawn into Gloria's world, where nothing is as it seems and every revelation only deepens the intrigue surrounding her. Turner masterfully explores the complexities of human nature through Gloria's character, leaving readers questioning the nature of truth, identity, and the masks we wear to conceal our innermost selves.

One of the most striking aspects of Gloria is Turner's skillful storytelling and evocative prose. His vivid descriptions of the New England landscape and its inhabitants create a rich tapestry of imagery that transports readers to the heart of the story. From the quaint charm of the town square to the eerie atmosphere of the surrounding forests, Turner's writing immerses readers in a world filled with beauty, danger, and uncertainty.

Moreover, Gloria is populated by a cast of characters as complex and multifaceted as the town itself. From the enigmatic Gloria to the town's quirky residents, each character is rendered with depth and nuance, their motivations and desires driving the narrative forward. Turner deftly explores themes of love, betrayal, and redemption through the interactions of these characters, weaving a web of relationships that adds depth and complexity to the story.

As the plot unfolds, Turner masterfully builds suspense, leading readers on a journey of discovery as they uncover the secrets hidden beneath the surface of Gloria's seemingly idyllic existence. With each twist and turn, the tension mounts, culminating in a gripping climax that leaves readers breathless and eager for more.

In conclusion, Gloria is a literary tour de force that captivates readers with its compelling narrative, intriguing characters, and atmospheric setting. G. Frederic Turner's masterful storytelling transports readers to a world filled with mystery and suspense, where nothing is as it seems and every revelation only deepens the intrigue. With its blend of suspense, romance, and psychological depth, Gloria is a must-read for anyone seeking an unforgettable literary experience.

G. Frederic Turner's Gloria is available in Amazon in paperback 18.99$ and hardcover24.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 432

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[havenshereagain]

I posted the Next to Normal inspired fic!

Thing Will Get Better Ao3 Summary: Tim sees Next to Normal and accidentally kicks starts healing. (MCD tag is Jason since this is centered around the Wayne's grief)

[bestducky]

Master Chief x fem! Reader

Chapter 4: That's one big map!

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Summary: Bridges made of light!? Portals!? Can we please use a normal form of transportation!

Notes: Things get more interesting, I changed some scenes from the game, otherwise everything is canon!

The path ahead rose gently, carved from cracked stone and overgrown with wild grass that rustled under their boots. At the summit, something utterly alien dominated the landscape. (Y/N) felt herself slow as they approached. The building was massive—an impossible fusion of nature and machine. Its outer shell gleamed a pale, metallic white under the filtered sunlight, so smooth and seamless it could have been poured from the sky itself. Luminous accents of blue and gold traced delicate patterns across the surface, pulsing softly with a life all their own.

It was beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

The air around them buzzed faintly, the hum of unseen energies vibrating against her skin. The closer they got, the more the world itself seemed to quiet—no birds, no insects, only the low, ever-present sound of power thrumming through the ground.

(Y/N) tightened her arms around herself, feeling the rough fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Every logical part of her brain screamed at her to stop, to turn back, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something terrifying about the structure's perfection, something deeply wrong in how it stood untouched by time, by decay, as if it had simply been waiting.

Chief moved ahead without hesitation, his heavy steps unwavering. (Y/N) trailed after him, her own movements cautious, almost reverent. Her gaze flicked across the strange architecture—arching spires, floating platforms suspended in shafts of golden light, walls that shimmered like living stone. She had never seen anything like it. Nothing human, nothing natural.

When they reached the entrance, she hesitated.

The doorway stood three stories high, no hinge or seam, only veins of light tracing its edges. No handle, no welcome—just silent, mathematical permission. Then, with a deep, resonant groan, the metal split along hidden seams. Panels shifted and slid into the walls with fluid precision, revealing a passageway beyond. Cold air spilled out, brushing against her skin with a strange electric bite.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively, heart hammering against her ribs. She had seen automatic doors before—at malls, at hospitals—but this was different. There had been no sensor, no sound of hydraulics, no visible command. It had reacted to them as if it knew they were there.

She stared into the gaping entrance, her muscles locked in indecision. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, that stepping through would be a mistake she couldn’t undo. She looked toward Chief. He waited at the threshold, one solid hand resting lightly against the frame, his gold visor reflecting her small, frozen figure back at her.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the sharp bite of her nails against her palms, and forced herself to move. One step. Another.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the hum grew stronger. Not louder—but deeper, like a bass note thrumming in the bones of the world. The air inside was colder, thinner, laced with a metallic tang that tasted like ozone.

The walls of the corridor were impossibly smooth, curving upward into a vaulted ceiling etched with glowing lines of shifting script. The floor underfoot was the same seamless white metal, marred only by hairline fractures spiderwebbing outward like old scars. Shafts of pale light streamed down from hidden sources far above, catching in the mist that clung low around their boots.

(Y/N) slowed, tilting her head back to stare at the dizzying height. Awe prickled down her spine, battling fear. It was too much. Too alien. Her engineer's brain itched to understand the mechanics of it—the materials, the construction—but her instincts recoiled. This wasn’t built. This was grown. Or shaped by hands that didn’t think the way human hands did.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against the wall. It was cool to the touch, almost soft, as if the metal itself was breathing. She snatched her hand back, heart leaping.

Chief kept moving ahead at an even pace, scanning the path with methodical sweeps of his rifle. His steady presence anchored her, gave her a rhythm to follow when her mind wanted to spiral into panic.

(Y/N) forced herself to breathe slowly.

One step at a time.

One breath at a time.

The corridor opened wider ahead, revealing a massive inner chamber lit by an eerie, sourceless glow. Great pillars of white stone and metal spiraled toward the unseen ceiling, their surfaces engraved with delicate patterns that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. Floating platforms drifted lazily through the air, tethered by thin streams of crackling energy. In the center of the room, a towering obelisk pulsed with soft light, casting long shadows across the misty floor.

She turned slowly in place, trying to take it all in—the impossible architecture, the terrible beauty of it. Her heart ached with the enormity of it all, a sharp, painful longing for home, for anything familiar.

(Y/N) stopped dead in the entrance, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

An immense circular platform stretched out before them, suspended high above a bottomless abyss by columns of shifting, braided light. Floating geometric shapes drifted lazily through the air, orbiting a towering central spire that pulsed with a cool blue glow. Narrow bridges branched out from the platform’s edges, leading into darkness and distant doors she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Above them, the ceiling disappeared into swirling mist lit by shafts of golden sunlight that filtered down like something holy.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her hand tightening instinctively around the hem of her shirt. This wasn’t architecture. This wasn’t construction.

It was like stepping into the exposed skeleton of a god.

A sudden metallic trill echoed overhead. Narrow panels in the floor parted, and a flock of small machines drifted out on columns of pale light—orb-shaped cores ringed by three razor-thin arms that clicked and realigned with unnerving grace. Their central lenses glowed a cool amber as they fanned across the chamber.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step behind Chief’s bulk. “Uh—what are those flying machines?”

“Sentinels,” Cortana supplied, tone matter-of-fact. “Automated Forerunner custodians. They’ll monitor us unless we give them a reason to do something less friendly.”

One Sentinel paused directly in front of (Y/N). A lattice of light swept over her—head to toe—then receded. The machine issued a soft chirp, as if filing her under mildly interesting, and floated away.

She let out the breath she’d been storing. “Good to know we’re only rated ‘minor inconvenience.’ “

Chief resumed his advance, apparently satisfied the drones posed no threat. Their amber eyes tracked him for a moment, then drifted upward, leaving the platform clear for Cortana’s console work. (Y/N) followed slower, unable to tear her eyes from the grandeur towering above and around them, even after the Sentinels had left.

Cortana materialized as Chief slotted her into the console—her form flickering to life in a bloom of soft blue light above the smooth surface.

(Y/N) stopped a few paces back, watching in awe as Cortana's hologram leaned over the console, her fingers moving through holographic displays that shifted and twisted at her command.

"We’re close," Cortana said, her voice sharp and focused. "I’m picking up faint distress signals—"

(Y/N) tilted her head. "From what?"

Cortana glanced over her shoulder at her, faint amusement flashing through her flickering form. "Infinity," she said simply.

(Y/N) blinked. "Infinity?"

Chief answered without looking away from the room, his voice low and steady. "UNSC Infinity. Our supercarrier. Biggest ship in the fleet."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. Even the words felt too big. Supercarrier. Fleet. It made her world—the small workshops, the crowded streets—feel impossibly distant.

She watched as Cortana plunged deeper into the console’s systems, chasing something only she could see.

Then suddenly, without warning, the entire console shuddered violently. Cortana's form blinked and distorted before being violently ejected in a burst of static, her figure collapsing into thin air.

(Y/N) flinched back instinctively.

Cortana’s voice snapped sharply over the comms. "They’re locking me out of the system!"

The console darkened, streams of glyphs racing like veins across the platform as hidden mechanisms clicked into motion deep beneath the floor.

Chief stepped forward immediately, already assessing, already planning.

Cortana's voice crackled through again. "There’s still a way. Power couplings, connected to the core systems. If we can re-enable them, I can regain control."

(Y/N) watched as parts of the platform shifted—strange mechanical flowers unfolding from the walls to reveal pathways across the abyss.

Two glowing bridges of light—narrow and unstable-looking—extended from the platform toward floating generator nodes embedded in the stone around the perimeter.

Chief started toward the nearest path without hesitation.

(Y/N) stared at the luminous walkway, her heart hammering.

It wasn't solid. It wasn’t natural. It was a ribbon of pure energy stretching over a drop so deep it made her dizzy to look at it.

And yet—

A small, fierce spark lit inside her chest.

Beneath the fear, the awe, the endless crushing wrongness of everything around her, there was something else.

Excitement.

Her hands itched at her sides, aching for tools she didn’t have.

"This is..." she whispered under her breath, almost laughing in disbelief, "This is insane."

Chief paused halfway across the platform, turning slightly to glance back at her.

She shook her head, grinning despite herself. "Back home I was... sort of an engineer," she admitted, voice still breathless with awe. "Or at least, I tried to be."

Her fingers brushed lightly against the glowing lines on the nearest column as she passed, feeling the faint warmth radiating from the Forerunner metal.

"I used to fix broken junk in my apartment," she said, almost to herself. "Now I’m walking on light bridges built by gods."

Chief didn’t answer—he just nodded once, a small, silent approval she could feel in the gesture.

The platform beneath her boots vibrated faintly as the structure shifted again, unseen systems stirring in the depths.

(Y/N) pulled in a slow breath, steadying herself.

She had no tools.

No manuals.

No backup.

But somehow, in this broken, alien place, for the first time in what felt like days—

She wasn’t useless.

Not yet.

Not today.

And that would have to be enough.

They moved across the first bridge of light, the endless drop yawning hungrily below.

Behind them, the Cartographer core pulsed faintly, waiting for the system to come alive again.

And yet, some part of her—buried deep beneath the fear—ached with a different feeling.

Wonder.

Terrible, aching wonder.

(Y/N) hugged herself tightly, trying to hold the feeling together before it could tear her apart.

Chief stood nearby, silent and patient.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

She met his gaze—or rather, the reflection of herself in the gold mirror of his visor—and felt a tiny, fierce spark of determination flicker inside her.

She wasn't ready for this world.

She didn't belong here.

But she was here anyway.

The bridge of light solidified beneath their boots as they moved, humming with an almost musical resonance. (Y/N) kept her eyes forward, trying not to think about the abyss yawning on either side. The first generator came into view—a massive pillar of smooth metal carved with shifting glyphs. Its surface pulsed faintly, a heartbeat buried under layers of ancient code.

Chief reached it first.

He moved with efficiency, placing a gloved hand flat against a recessed panel. A series of symbols flared to life beneath his palm, and with a deep, resonant hum, the pillar began to unfold. Light spilled upward in a sudden surge, stretching back toward the core platform where Cortana waited.

(Y/N) flinched slightly at the sudden flare, but it was beautiful—like watching a sun rise in fast-forward.

Before they could admire it, Cortana’s voice snapped through the comms.

"Contacts! Covenant forces incoming!"

(Y/N)'s blood went cold.

She turned instinctively—and there, across the broken stone and floating pathways, a ripple of distortion twisted into reality. Bright bursts of energy crackled into existence, forming the squat, hunched shapes she recognized from before. Grunts. Behind them, taller, more imposing figures materialized, weapons raised, armor glinting in the strange half-light.

Panic surged in her chest.

Without thinking, she darted toward the nearest cover—an outcropping of fractured Forerunner metal at the edge of the platform. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she pressed herself against the cold surface, heart hammering wildly.

Blasts of plasma sizzled through the air.

Chief was already moving—fluid, precise, a living machine of destruction. He dropped into the fray with brutal efficiency, plasma bouncing harmlessly from his shielded armor as he cleared a path with his rifle.

(Y/N) crouched lower, arms wrapped tight around her knees, fighting the instinct to squeeze her eyes shut.

Stay calm. Stay hidden. Let him handle it.

That had been the plan.

Until she realized where she had ended up.

Through the shifting haze of battle, she spotted it— another generator, nearly identical to the first, tucked against the far side of the platform. The second activation point.

And she was closer to it than Chief was.

Far closer.

(Y/N) hesitated, terror clawing at her throat. Plasma scorched the air overhead. She ducked instinctively, her muscles locking.

She could stay here. Hide.

Let Chief deal with it.

Or—

She swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs, and pushed herself up into a low crouch.

I’m not useless. I’m not dead weight.

She forced her legs to move, darting from cover to cover, keeping her body low as she sprinted toward the pillar. Every step felt like it could be her last, but somehow—miraculously—nothing hit her.

The generator towered above her, humming with latent energy.

(Y/N) stared up at it, trying to remember what Chief had done. The panel—his hand—the symbols—

Biting her lip, she mimicked his movements as best she could, pressing her palm flat against the smooth surface.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the pillar pulsed under her hand.

And the entire structure responded—not sluggishly, not with mechanical delay, but immediately. Like a living thing recognizing something familiar.

Light flared upward in a brilliant rush, faster and brighter than before.

(Y/N) flinched back, shielding her eyes.

She stared at the activated console for a stunned second, blinking.

"...Huh," she muttered under her breath, brushing dust off her jeans. "Thought it would take longer."

The words left her mouth without thought, more confusion than pride. She stepped back quickly, scanning for cover again as the battle raged nearby.

Chief, having just cleared the last of the nearby Covenant, turned at the sudden surge of light. His helmet tilted slightly, his posture shifting in that subtle, careful way she was starting to recognize.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Cortana's voice chimed in the comms, sharp but not accusing. "The generator’s online. Faster than expected."

(Y/N) ducked her head, half-shrugging as she jogged back toward them. "Got lucky," she called out breathlessly.

Neither Chief nor Cortana answered immediately. But as she fell into step behind him again, she could feel it—their attention lingering just a moment longer than usual.

Not suspicion, but respect, if she could call it that. Which made her proud, showing them, she wasn’t just useless.

The bridge behind them solidified, a new path unfolding back toward the core platform.

(Y/N) tightened her fists at her sides, her skin still tingling faintly where she had touched the console.

She didn’t understand what had happened.

The chamber shuddered.

A deep, resonant hum rolled through the floor under (Y/N)’s boots, rattling up through her spine as the Cartographer core flared to life.

The central spire blazed upward in a torrent of shifting blue light, expanding outward like a living tree made of pure energy. Thin strands of illumination spiraled across the platform, connecting the floating islands of Forerunner machinery with lines of burning code. Above them, a massive holographic sphere unfolded—spinning slowly, casting fractured light across the mist-filled air.

(Y/N) staggered back half a step, head tilted back in awe. The sphere was enormous, suspended above the platform like a captured star, its surface rippling with images she couldn’t understand—maps, symbols, complex structures forming and dissolving in impossible patterns.

It was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Nothing human could have made this.

She stared, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, lips parted in stunned silence. It wasn’t just technology. It was art. It was language. It was alive in a way no machine back home had ever been.

Cortana flickered into existence at the console nearby, her form brighter now, energized by the facility’s systems. She moved with quick, precise gestures, manipulating the swirling mass of information with her bare hands like a conductor orchestrating a symphony only she could hear.

"There," Cortana said sharply, highlighting a section of the sphere. "Deep beneath the surface. There's an access point near the core. If we reach it, we might be able to find the source of the signal."

Chief stood still, his rifle lowered for now, his gold visor catching and scattering the light from the hologram.

(Y/N) looked between them, frowning slightly. "Wait—core? As in, 'center of the planet' core?"

Cortana didn’t look up. "More or less. This entire installation is built around it."

(Y/N) blinked, then gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "We’re digging our own grave now. Didn’t know self-burial was part of the mission."

Chief’s helmet tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement. If he was amused, he gave no sign—but Cortana’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, a shadow of a smile.

"It’s not ideal," Cortana admitted, her tone dry. "But it's our only option."

The platform beneath them shifted again, deep, grinding tremors rolling through the massive structure as more pathways unfolded—narrow bridges of white stone and shimmering light stretching downward into the misty abyss.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her stomach flipping uncomfortably.

Lower. Always lower.

She shifted the strap of her glasses nervously, tightening her hands into fists to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

Chief moved first, stepping onto the newly formed bridge without hesitation.

(Y/N) hesitated a breath longer.

The glowing lines pulsed underfoot, inviting them downward into the heart of a dead world.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, voice almost lost in the rising hum. "First the end of the world, now spelunking into alien hell."

Still— she followed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The corridor widened until it dissolved into light. Stone gave way to a sweeping ledge, and (Y/N) found herself staring at a sky that seemed too large for any horizon she had ever known. Mountains reared up in fractured ridges, their peaks lost in bright, swirling haze. Great white spires of Forerunner alloy pierced the cliffsides; smaller monoliths hung motionless in mid-air, tethered to the earth below by ribbons of molten-blue energy. Far beneath the ledge, rivers of light wound through silver forests and out across a valley floor she could barely see.

One step carried her onto weather-worn stone. The breeze was thin and metallic—sharp enough to sting her nose, scented with rock dust and something faintly electrical. She gripped her sleeves, half for warmth, half because the view threatened to tip the world sideways.

Back home she’d fixed radios in cramped apartments, brushed rust from broken circuit boards, breathed city air heavy with exhaust. Now she stood on a mountainside that wasn’t even on her star chart—still not sure which star chart she belonged to anymore.

Chief moved ahead along a narrow path etched into the plateau. Cortana’s hologram glimmered at his shoulder, her voice soft in the comm line. “The distress signal’s stronger out here. A Terminus should be deeper in the structure beyond those cliffs.”

(Y/N) followed, forcing calm into her steps. Somewhere overhead a floating platform drifted, its underside latticed with lights that rearranged themselves like living circuitry. Her heart ached to understand it. Part of her wanted to laugh—of course she’d crossed half a galaxy only to find the most advanced machinery in existence and not a single tool in her pocket.

A gust of wind stirred the grass at the cliff’s edge. Homesickness punched through her chest: not for an exact street or building, just for sidewalks, neon reflections in puddles, the warm buzz of voices carried on traffic noise. Normal things. Earth things. A world that still existed—somewhere, impossibly far behind her—but no longer within reach.

She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum, steadying her breathing. Chief glanced back; his gold visor caught daylight and threw it in fractured sparks. He waited until her steps matched his again before pressing forward.

They wound down a sloping ramp toward another entrance carved into the cliff face: tall, flawless, rimmed with glowing script. Luminous glyphs whispered across the doorframe, as though debating whether to let them pass.

(Y/N) swallowed. She was most likely light-years from every reference point she’d ever trusted, walking into halls no human had mapped. Yet the path kept opening, and Chief kept moving, and she—somehow—kept following. Hoping she could go back to Earth. They knew about it, so maybe it was possible?

One step at a time, she told herself as the massive doorway parted with a deep metallic sigh, spilling cool blue light across the stone

The corridor sloped steadily, each level dropping them a little farther beneath the mountain. No sudden lifts, no shimmering portals—just a long march down pristine ramps of pale alloy. The walls glowed with thin seams of light that pulsed in a lazy heartbeat, guiding the way deeper into Requiem’s silent gut.

(Y/N) stayed close to Chief yet still far enough back to stare at everything. Where cracked stone met seamless metal, she traced faint scorch patterns as though someone had once tried—and failed—to cut this place open. Half-buried conduits pulsed behind translucent panels; every so often, a thread of energy leapt from one vein to another, throwing sparks of blue across the floor.

“Hard to believe this is all older than humanity,” she murmured.

“It predates most recorded Forerunner history,” Cortana replied, voice projected from the slip-space of (Y/N)’s earpiece.“Even their own archives call this period ‘pre-dominion.’”

“Translation: antique.” (Y/N) smiled. “My specialty.”

Chief’s boots thudded on the ramp, otherwise silent. (Y/N) shot a glance at his broad back, then lowered her voice into a mock whisper. “Does he ever say more than seven words in a day, or is that classified?”

Cortana’s voice said, which sounded suspiciously like amusement. “You get used to the economy of syllables.”

Ahead, a small alcove opened on the left, housing a waist-high console the color of polished bone. Glyphs drifted lazily across its face like embers floating on water. Chief passed it without slowing, but (Y/N)’s feet stopped on their own.

Curiosity won before common sense could throw a flag. She reached out, brushed the back of her fingers over the smooth surface.

Light flared. Symbols realigned into crisp lines of text no human alphabet had ever taught her. She yelped and jerked back. “Whoa—sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The console dimmed again, settling into a quiet pulse that almost felt amused. Nothing else stirred.

Chief paused, half turning. “Status?”

“Fine,” she said, cheeks hot. “Console’s friendly. Or merciful. One of those.”

Cortana’s avatar flickered up beside the panel, arms folded. “Whatever you did, you pinged a diagnostics sub-routine. No harm done.” She smiled—just a hint. “Consider it a handshake.”

“Great. I nearly shook hands with a supercomputer the size of a continent.” (Y/N) flexed her fingers, still tingling. “Back home I needed two weeks just to get a toaster to stop murdering bread.”

“You were an engineer,” Cortana ventured as they resumed walking.

“Amateur scavenger, borderline fire hazard—depends who you ask.” She smiled despite herself. “But yeah. I liked fixing things that had no business working.”

Chief led them onto a ascending ramp. The air cooled further; somewhere below, turbines—or lungs—hummed in steady rhythm.

“Part of me wants to take one of these panels apart,” (Y/N) admitted. “Other part remembers the plasma grenades and votes no.”

“Wise,” Cortana said. “Forerunner tech isn’t forgiving. Though you seem to have a… rapport.” Her tone held cautious curiosity rather than suspicion.

“Rapport with walls. My résumé keeps improving.”

Chief’s voice cut in quietly. “Stay focused. Unidentified hostiles still in the area.”

“Right. Serious mode.” (Y/N) mimed zipping her lips, shooting the gesture toward Cortana since Chief’s broad back was already turned to lead the way.

Surprisingly, the AI’s hologram matched the motion—two translucent fingers pinching an invisible zipper across her own glowing mouth. The playful mirrored action was so unexpected (Y/N) couldn’t help the soft grin that bloomed on her face before she hurried after Chief up the ramp, a little warmth flickering in her chest at the first spark of real companionship.

The giant door split apart with a groan, light shearing through the seams until each half slid into the walls. A causeway of white alloy extended beyond—straight, narrow, and impossibly long, suspended over a gulf so deep (Y/N) could see no bottom. Giant pillars—huge hexagonal shafts of metal and stone—rose and sank far below in slow, deliberate patterns, as if the planet itself were breathing through machinery.

At the bridge’s end, a lone console glowed—an altar of glass-smooth metal awaiting a key. Chief strode toward it, and (Y/N) hurried to keep up, clutching her palm against her side. Halfway across, the voice slid into her thoughts again—clearer now, cold as split granite: Reclaimer… fracture… unworthy. She winced, pressing fingers to her temple.

What the hell was that?

Chief reached the console and slotted Cortana’s data chip into the interface. Only then did her hologram flare to life, casting pale blue over the platform.

“According to the Cathedral,” Cortana began, scanning glyphs far above (Y/N)’s comprehension, “this Terminus is just one node of a larger transit grid that spans the entire planet.”

Chief’s visor never left the shifting projections. “What?”

“When I tried to access the outlet closest to Infinity’s transmissions, the system responded with this.”

An emblem spun into view—two arcs orbiting a single dot.

“What is it?” Chief asked.

Cortana’s tone turned almost breathless. “That’s the kicker. It’s the Forerunner symbol for Reclaimer.”

Humanity. The word fell through her like lead shot—heavy, irreversible.

“Humanity,” Chief confirmed. “That’s got to be Infinity. Can you get us to those coordinates?”

“Let me try to open a portal.”

“Whoa, portal?” (Y/N) blurted before she could stop herself. The last “portal” she’d experienced ripped her straight out of her apartment. “We’re skipping steps here, guys!”

Cortana didn’t answer. Light whipped around her, coalescing into a sphere—and then everything faltered. Her hologram stuttered, static rippling across her edges.

“I’m picking up unknown energy signatures,” she said, voice tight.

Chief’s grip shifted on his rifle. “Where?”

“This can’t be right.” Cortana’s figure dimmed but remained fixed in the console. “Set a waypoint out of the tower—”

She broke off as a violent tremor shook the bridge. Beneath them, the pillars surged upward like spears. From their mirrored faces unfolded shapes—metal giants that assembled themselves in glowing seams. From her point of view, they stood maybe even taller than Chief, plated in shifting segments, skull-like masks bathed in amber light; forearms unfolded into blades of crackling energy.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched. “Those are not Covenant.” Whatever they were, they moved with unnerving grace—their machine parts moving smoothly, even if they weren’t connecting with anything.

Chief leveled his rifle. But before he could shoot, Cortana screamed:

“How did—Quick! Into the portal. Chief, GO!” Cortana’s voice snapped from the console. The hologram vanished as her program jumped back to the chip that Chief pulled out of the console and into his armor.

A disc of incandescent white flared open in midair near the console, distorting the view beyond it. (Y/N)’s stomach lurched; every instinct screamed that doors should have hinges, not horizons.

Chief braced, grabbed her wrist. “Move.”

They sprinted. The knight-like machines shifted, tracking with smooth, predatory precision. Before they could even attack, they were already jumping at the portal...well more like Chief jumping and (Y/N) being dragged along in the air, legs kicking at nothing.

“Next vacation,” she gasped, adrenaline surging, “I pick the destination!”

Chief didn’t answer—twelve words was apparently his daily limit—but his grip tightened around her wrist, pulling her hard toward the roiling light.

They plunged through. White swallowed everything: the bridge, the pillars, the metal phantoms, the echoing hum of Requiem’s heart. For one dizzy instant (Y/N) felt weightless, lost between moments.

Then the world slammed back—new ground, new air and the nightmare they’d left behind dissolved, at least for now.

But the voice lingered, faint and amused, at the edge of her mind:

Flesh… bone…pathetic.

[blueheartbooks]

"The Mysteries of Gloria: A Review of G. Frederic Turner's Captivating Tale"

G. Frederic Turner's Gloria is a literary masterpiece that mesmerizes readers with its intricate plot, compelling characters, and thought-provoking themes. Set against the backdrop of a small New England town, Turner weaves a tale of mystery, intrigue, and hidden secrets that keeps readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end.

At the heart of Gloria lies the enigmatic character after whom the novel is named. Gloria is a woman shrouded in mystery, her past veiled in secrecy and her motives unclear. As the story unfolds, readers are drawn into Gloria's world, where nothing is as it seems and every revelation only deepens the intrigue surrounding her. Turner masterfully explores the complexities of human nature through Gloria's character, leaving readers questioning the nature of truth, identity, and the masks we wear to conceal our innermost selves.

One of the most striking aspects of Gloria is Turner's skillful storytelling and evocative prose. His vivid descriptions of the New England landscape and its inhabitants create a rich tapestry of imagery that transports readers to the heart of the story. From the quaint charm of the town square to the eerie atmosphere of the surrounding forests, Turner's writing immerses readers in a world filled with beauty, danger, and uncertainty.

Moreover, Gloria is populated by a cast of characters as complex and multifaceted as the town itself. From the enigmatic Gloria to the town's quirky residents, each character is rendered with depth and nuance, their motivations and desires driving the narrative forward. Turner deftly explores themes of love, betrayal, and redemption through the interactions of these characters, weaving a web of relationships that adds depth and complexity to the story.

As the plot unfolds, Turner masterfully builds suspense, leading readers on a journey of discovery as they uncover the secrets hidden beneath the surface of Gloria's seemingly idyllic existence. With each twist and turn, the tension mounts, culminating in a gripping climax that leaves readers breathless and eager for more.

In conclusion, Gloria is a literary tour de force that captivates readers with its compelling narrative, intriguing characters, and atmospheric setting. G. Frederic Turner's masterful storytelling transports readers to a world filled with mystery and suspense, where nothing is as it seems and every revelation only deepens the intrigue. With its blend of suspense, romance, and psychological depth, Gloria is a must-read for anyone seeking an unforgettable literary experience.

G. Frederic Turner's Gloria is available in Amazon in paperback 18.99$ and hardcover24.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 432

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

DICHEN LACHMAN SCREENTIME WHEN???????