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#a psalm of storms and silence

aroaessidhe · 1 year

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YA fantasy where a teen is forced into self-care by the extremely powerful malevolent being possessing them

#vespertine #the scratch daughters #a psalm of storms and silence #the latter two are sequels!#i've been trying to think of more examples but i can't :( so pls suggest #book list

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reinedespres · 1 year

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ASOWAR & APOSAS side by side❤️‍🔥

I can't believe it's already been a year since one of my favorite duology concluded, I was so in love with the world of Sonande that I made fanart for each release to help me wait. Time isn't real 😭

#asowar #aposas #fantasy art #a song of wraiths and ruin #a psalm of storms and silence #roseanne a. brown #ya fantasy #artdespres #I want to reread the series now

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bloodmaarked · 1 month

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a psalm of storms and silence // roseanne a. brown

first published: 2021 read: 12 march 2024 – 26 march 2024 pages: 568 format: paperback

genres: fiction, young adult, fantasy, mythology (african-inspired), romance favourite character(s): karina! least favourite character(s): farid can still choke!

rating: 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌗 thoughts: i was surprised that i enjoyed APOSAS more than ASOWAR! i feel like the story and the writing came into its own, and therefore i spent far less time comparing this book to others i've read, making it a more enjoyable reading experience overall.

as with book one, the worldbuilding and character writing continued to astound. i really liked the increased depth written into our two main characters, karina and malik. the direction the author went in with malik's character was so intriguing and he felt more multifaceted than he previously did, even if i still don't like him nearly as much as i do karina. it was joyful to see karina's character growth throughout the duology. i wish we had gotten slightly more depth into hanane, but i did enjoy how she was woven into the plot. farid was a very well-written villain despite my burning hatred for him, and his dynamic with hanane and malik was so interesting.

[LIGHT SPOILER] there is a chapter written around a character's suicide ideation that i think was incredibly well written, and i think generally the approach to incorporating anxiety, panic attacks etc. into the narrative has been done with a lot of care. i thought the chapter was a standout moment of writing.

i would love to see more of what roseanne a. brown writes! this was a solid duology and it's rare to find a series where there isn't a drop in quality as the books continue, never mind one where they actually improve.

#a psalm of storms and silence #roseanne a. brown #2024 reads #4.5 stars #fiction #fantasy #book review #booklr #bookblr #bookworm

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fablesbookstuff · 1 year

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I want to commit to reading at least one book a week if possible this year and trying to read books on my bookshelf I haven't read before and so im gonna put them here and cross them off each week when I read them.

King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo

Ruin of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

Girls of Storm and Shadow by Natasha Ngan

Girls of Fate and Fury by Natasha Ngan

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust

Lost in the Never Woods by Aiden Thomas

Misrule by Heather Walter

A Song of Wraiths and Ruins by Roseanna A.Brown

A Psalm of Storm and Silence by Roseanna A.Brown

Realm Breaker by Victoria Aveyard

Blade Breaker by Victoria Aveyard

Gearbreakers by Zoe Hana Mikuta

Godslayers by Zoe Hana Mikuta

A lesson in Vengeance by Victoria Lee

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo

A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon

The Sun and the Star Rick Riordan

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Forget me Not by Alyson Derrick

LegendBorn Tracy Deon

BloodMarked Tracy Deon

The Sword of Summer by Rick Riordan

The Hammer of Thor by Rick Riordan

The Ship of the Dead by Rick Riordan

The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan

The Throne of Fire by Rick Riordan

The Serpents Shadow by Rick Riordan

Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

Glass Sword by Victoria Aveyard

Kings Cage by Victoria Aveyard

War Storm by Victoria Aveyard

Silver in the Bone by Alexandra Bracken

ThreadNeedle by Cari Thomas

Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron

This Poison Heart by Kaylynn Bayron

The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien

These are all the ones I have on my bookshelf currently that I either have not read yet or I plan to read again this year. And hopefully I can stick to this one book a week deal

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reviewsthatburn · 1 year

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There's something very satisfying about sitting down to read a series that's complete, ready and waiting for you to crack open and devour it. Finishing a series also requires readers to have supported each book along the way as they came out. Well, these duologies, trilogies, and series by authors of color are finished, available to be read entire. We've previously reviewed every entry on this list and included links to those thoughts for anyone who wants a bit more detail. While it's entirely possible that these authors may publish associated stories in the future (either sequels or just set in the same story universe), what's available now feels complete. Each entry includes the synopsis from the first book in the series.

Full post at link, book titles in tags.

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theoreticalwildmage · 1 year

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Y'all I love this duology so much 🥺 and the anxiety rep! The author recently said she's working on something new in the same universe and I NEED.

#wildmage reads #a song of wraiths and ruin #a psalm of storms and silence #roseanne a. brown #dolls of the night

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mad-rdr · 1 year

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A Psalm of Storms and Silence (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #2) - Roseanne Brown

★ ★ ★ ★ ★/5

Bring back breathtaking duologies!! I mean it when I say that I've yet to meet a duology I haven't liked. Sometimes two books are all you need and three just stretches it too much. This book, this ending, isn't quite a conclusion, and yet I'm happy with it. I didn't get the closure I necessarily wanted but it was written so well that I can live with it. This book starts off with Karina on the run and Malik acting as the apprentice for the very man who betrayed his foster family to bring back his unrequited love from the dead. Yeah, needless to say, there's a lot going on. I, for one, am still not going to forgive Farid's betrayal. I liked him in book one and I cannot believe what a manipulative asshole he is in the book, not to mention abusive. I feel so bad for Hanane, poor girl did not ask to be brought back from the dead to be at Farid's beck and call. Her backstory is so sad, she was essentially groomed by him because she pitied him and now she has to live with being in a weird state of not dead but not alive. Which makes sense as to why she sacrificed herself in the end. I'm glad we got to see some healing between the two sisters, and a glimpse of what it would've been like if Hanane lived and became Empress. Karine and Malik on the other hand, wow the sexual tension was through the roof. I can't believe they let their ancestor's quarels dictate their relationship for so long. SO what if your "kinds" hate each other?? It's been like a thousand years, c'mon. I'm glad they got over the miscommunication in the end, because things were so messy. I think my favorite part of the duology was Hyenas random appearance to cause chaos- definitely a fan of that mentality. And since Hyena is the one telling the story in the end, that's why we get an ending that's kind of up in the air, we will never truly know if Malik and Karina found each other again, but I'd like to believe that they do, because I'm not entirely heartless. Overall, I really liked this duology and I would definitely recommend to any YA fantasy lovers out there, this series is like a breath of fresh air to the genre.

#a psalm of storms and silence #a song of wraiths and ruin #roseanne brown #ya fantasy #ya fiction #young adult #fantasy books #young adult fantasy #fantasy #2023 tbr #5 stars #book review #booklr #books #reader #reading #books and reading #duology

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 2 years

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Nesha Reads: A Psalm of Storms and Silence

Guess who's back on her audiobook bs?

And two of my favorite readers are here 😃

Author:

#Nesha Reads #Nesha Reads A Psalm of Storms and Silence #A Psalm of Storms and Silence #audiobooks #black books #books #Roseanne A Brown #Jordan Cobb #Bahni Turpin #Bahni is a Gemini too 😌

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blackgirlcinephiles · 2 years

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I am currently and forever will be obsessed with this duology. Such a beautiful, intricate, epic story woven throughout these two books. I’ll never get over these characters and I’ll miss them so much. 🥲💕

#a song of wraiths and ruin #a psalm of storms and silence #roseanne a brown #ya fantasy #Black teen protagonists!!!#would make a truly epic limited series #each book could be spread out over 2 seasons #making four seasons total #a girl can only dream…

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andipxndy-writes · 1 year

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7, 14 , 15 ?

End of the Year Asks

7. Favorite actor of the year?

Pedro Pascal, no question. i do a lot of rping off-tumblr now, and one of my partners uses him as a fc for a character and i. have ended up binge watching a ton of interviews with him in. he's so cute i swear. i love him.

14. Favorite book you read this year?

oooooh, that's tough. but it's got to be A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A Brown!! i honestly loved the book (and it's SEQUEL OH MY GOSH I LOVE THE WHOLE DUOLOGY). actually, i think i love A Psalm of Storms and Silence more? i don't know, i really loved both books.

but i wouldn't have got into either of them if i hadn't read Beasts of Prey by Ayana Grey first, which is also so good oh my gosh i loved it. it introduced me to black fantasy and??? i wish i'd had these books as a kid. just seeing people who look like me in stories means a lot, you know?

anyway lemme move on before i ramble too much about how these books changed my life for the better and gave me the comfort that i didn't know teenage me needed until this year.

(also not my fave but shout out to The Ones We Burn by Rebecca Mix which also fuckin slapped oh my gosh????)

15. What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

i don't think this is a habit i particularly picked up, but more like one that's just gotten worse which i think is a testament to how anxious i've felt this year: i pick at the skin on my lips a lot when i'm on edge. and i've been doing that so much more. but this year has been stressful for me so. lmao.

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bookcoversonly · 2 years

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Title: A Psalm of Storms and Silence | Author: Roseanne A. Brown | Publisher: Balzer + Bray (2021)

#books #A Psalm of Storms and Silence #Roseanne A. Brown

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chernabogs · 2 months

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Threnody

Inc: Malleus x Reader, with a lil bit of Lilia parenting Warnings: Existential crisis, anxiety mentions, allusions to death, dabbling in insecurity, post-blot coping WC: 2.9k Summary: There is trivial difference between storms of a Fae’s misery and those of a Fae’s joy—both are adorned in catastrophe for those caught within. Part 1

The gasps of spring’s last moments found closure under summer’s blade as she sliced through the tolerable weather into that of stifling, uncomfortable heat. Despite the way it made his skin itch beneath his uniform, or the way it left an aroma of sweat and humidity on those he surrounded himself with, Malleus was apt to linger on the Isle of Sages for slightly longer than necessary this time. Of course, Housewardens were always the last to leave anyway—someone had to make sure the dorm rooms were cleared out and prepared for the coming fall.

Last to leave, first to arrive.

Even then, there was more motivation than the years before for him not to depart so hastily back to the cooler, darker halls of Black Scale Palace for all of three months. Motivation which was presently situated on one of the couches of the Diasomnia lounge, basking in the fresh air from the open windows as Malleus arranged the last of the disarrayed cushions to his liking.

Yours had come to be a strange relationship in the aftermath of his uncomfortable realization post-overblot. He had bit his tongue like a man cursed and ensured that you had not caught wind of the idle thoughts turning in his mind as he had observed you, so patient and so giving, sitting next to the cot he had been delegated to in that medical ward.

Your idle chatter had been efficient at keeping periods of silence from stretching for too long. Those periods of silence would have been the trigger to make him shoot off his mouth at you, ejecting his revelations like a psalm that no one was ever meant to read.

… He wanted you. He wanted you, so much so that it ached in his body …

Such thoughts were akin to ones that a man in torment would have, writhing between the battle of want and learned conservativeness.

He had admittedly avoided you for a week upon being released. His excuses were mainly that he wished to focus on the reparations duly owed to everyone that had been caught in the prison of his insecurities. Internationally, he had a script written for him by some of the more political of Briar Valley, apologizing for his actions and ensuring he was taking the steps to never fracture again. Privately, he fumbled over words in the dark to the three he had hurt the most, his voice breaking as fingers twisted the hems of his sleeves. He had been more nervous asking forgiveness from Silver, Sebek, and Lilia than he felt speaking to an international stage.

He had not asked for forgiveness from you, despite the fact that you and Grim had been on the forefront of this conflict, alongside the Shroud brothers and STYX. Your presence by his bedside had felt like absolution already granted, and so to plead for it would be a waste of fragile breath in the end.

“Have you marred the cushion enough?” A teasing tone snaps him sharply from his ruminations as he pauses, his mind sluggishly returning to the present. He holds the couch cushion in his hand, its form warped from the original due to his constant pushing and remodelling. Malleus clears his throat before dropping it unceremoniously and nudging it with his knee.

“It was due for some rearrangement.” His voice is less light as he assesses the rest of the dorm before his gaze drags itself back to you. The sunlight dapples across your skin as you watch him, the faint smirk on your lips doing little to hide the tiredness that rests in your eyes. Like him, you too have fought battles this year. It was selfish to bemoan his own hells when you have been in levels far deeper.

“Sometimes you seem more meticulous than Riddle. I should be thankful I don’t need to memorize a rule book for Diasomnia as well.” You still continue to poke fun even as you observe him with a sharp stare. This is a look he has grown familiar with since his overblot. Perhaps born of concern, or perhaps born of paranoia, but you have been dissecting every comment he’s made as of late in a more clinical fashion.

Malleus does not deign to give you a reply as he drifts around the lounge, readjusting candles or shifting books ever so slightly on the table. He wouldn’t say he’s overly anal about how things operate, but he does appreciate a sense of order. He has dealt with enough chaos this past year that the thought of more feels like a weight on his back. It’s when he enters his third lap of the room that you speak up again.

“Malleus.” His name slips from your lips like a lure, causing his attention to move from the lounge to your form once more. The smirk is absent from your lips as a sterner expression rest on your face. He still enjoys the sight of it. Smiling, stern, or despairing—he struggles to find flaws in your complexion. “Is there something on your mind? You seem quite restless.”

That terrible impulse to speak true rears its ugly head once more as deeper thoughts bubble up to his tongue. Want, want, want, want—

His upper lip curls into an expression he doesn’t mean to give—disgust—and he see’s the consequence of this by the hurt that flashes in your eyes. He turns to face away as an ugly feeling embraces his body.

... You cannot speak with them, or hold them, or tell them how much they mean to you ...

“Nothing, Prefect. I’m merely thinking about what still needs to be done.”

_______________________________________________

There is trivial difference between storms of a Fae’s misery and those of a Fae’s joy—both are adorned in catastrophe for those caught within. The skies above are a roiling mass of grey as the scent of rain perfumes the air. Malleus observes it with fraught silence as he taps painted nails along the windowsill. That ugly feeling is still wrapping its arms around his body. He has showered several times, scrubbing his skin until it was raw in an attempt to remove the heat and the unseen slickness that is holding him hostage. The failure to do so has set him in a foul mood—one that the entire world can now sense.

This can be easily written off as a last spring storm, intending to make the season’s death a performative one. At least, those who have not been alive for several hundred years would think so.

He can feel a gaze on the back of his neck for a while before he finally rolls his eyes and decides to address the elephant in the room.

Or, more accurately, the bat.

“If you intend to surprise me, you’re doing a poor job at it,” Malleus mutters wryly as he finally looks back to the shadowy corner. Red eyes glint in delight before being accompanied by a white smile as Lilia moves to stand by his side.

“I was trying to surmise if I would be allowed to approach, or if you’d try to fry me with a lightning bolt first.” Lilia clasps his hands behind his back as he leans forward to look at the skies above. His expression is quite relaxed for someone fully aware of the turmoil going on in the man next to him. Lilia’s brush with death in the recent months had caused him to be more open-minded to the possibility. “You’re going to make move out day a very unenjoyable experience if you keep this up.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Malleus’ voice is dry as he taps his nails again, his attention fixating on the skies. The ugly feeling churns alongside the clouds above and for a moment it makes him feel satisfied to see a physical reflection of his state.

“Malleus.” There’s a sharper, more paternalistic tone now behind Lilia’s words. Malleus can feel the disapproval rolling off of him the longer they stand here in a stubborn silence. In the aftermath of the blot, Malleus had agreed to be more communicative of his moods to his family, and so it’s with a reluctant grunt that he speaks again.

“I don’t feel good.” His words are just as sharp as Lilia’s as his expression darkens. “I don’t know why.”

“Have you visited the medical ward?” Lilia’s hand flits out to touch Malleus’ forehead, as though checking to see if he’s feverish. The gesture causes the prince to scowl and move his head back. “Oh, come now, don’t get moody with me. I’m concerned.”

“Is it concern, or do you just wish to fuss over me?” He grumbles back as he bats his guardian’s hand away. “I haven’t visited the medical ward, no. I’m not too sure if there’s cause to do so.”

“Then at least tell me what you’re experiencing. Perhaps I can provide some insight.”

Lilia would be the most probable to give some sort of answer. Malleus knew the cause already, but his denial of the fact makes him speak up regardless. “I feel... unclean. Hot. Restless. There is a twisting sense of anxiety in my stomach that has made sleep quite evasive as of late, and it only is growing with each passing day. It’s as though I’m afraid of something—but I have yet to discover what.”

Lilia frowns as he looks from the window to Malleus. There’s a seriousness to him that comes from those many, many years of experience. “Is that so? And is there something you think of that seems to make this feeling grow?”

Malleus’ jaw clenches at the question as memories briefly flash in his mind. Sunlight dappling on skin, lips curled in a faint smirk, and idle chatter at a hospital bedside.

“Malleus?” Lilia’s voice is softer this time. Malleus knows that in this moment, he is playing traitor to his own thoughts. He looks to his guardian, and his silence is all the answer the other man needs.

“Am I ill?” He asks, and it’s when Lilia’s expression becomes one of faint sympathy that the ugly feeling becomes clearer.

“... no, not ill.”

Lilia’s repetition of the same answer he gave Malleus so long ago feels like cruel irony in this moment. Malleus barks out a laugh before waving dismissively at the other, who takes his cue to vanish away.

Not ill, no. But foolish, most certainly.

_______________________________________________

Ramshackle is no longer a dorm of ruins. The school year and your tender care has given it new life, something that many may have thought would never occur. No longer can he hear floorboards rotting or cement cracking under the weight of time. Although he mourns the loss of such precious tribute to the end, the prospect of rebirth is invigorating all the same.

He draws to a stop by the iron gates and takes a deep breath, looking to the dorm in silence until he see’s a figure step out and stand on the porch, waiting for him.

He does not make you walk to him this time.

Malleus’ hand grasps that iron gate and forces it open so that he may step through. He walks with purpose towards the porch where you stand, a mug of something in your hand as you watch him in the dying light. Birds sing their last songs and grasshoppers begin their own chorus as he stops just at the edge of the steps and looks to you appraisingly.

“Are you ready to retire?” He asks.

“Depends. What brings you to my home tonight?” You counter, smirking wryly from over the rim of your mug. That expression makes his nails dig into his palm behind his back as he clears his throat. He feels more nervous standing before you now than he felt speaking to an international stage.

How funny.

“Walk with me.” The words come out more as a demand than a question, and for a moment he balks, thinking that the authority in his tone may have just cost him an opportunity. But then you take a sip of your drink before setting it down on the porch’s banister.

“Please?” You hum, and Malleus clenches his jaw, looking to you with an unwavering gaze.

“Please.”

_______________________________________________

The nights silence, often welcoming, now feels as though he’s standing on a stage before an audience held in rapt attention. The two of you walk silently down your usual route as his mind turns and tosses his thoughts like a restless sea. He wishes to know if you feel a similar turmoil to what he presently does—and yet you are moving in perfect ease by his side.

“... and I can tell you, he wanted to make another contract with Azul over this. He was making faces at the man the entire time we were in the Lounge and Floyd looked ready to drag him to the backrooms.” You’re chattering away about your two other friends as you walk. He finds the situation grimly humorous. He’s having a crisis, and you’re filling him in on how ridiculous the antics of your companions are.

“Is that so?” Malleus murmurs vaguely, if only to keep you speaking, if only to keep hearing your voice. The two of you continue on your route as he remains in a trance like state.

No, not ill.

Lilia’s words are an omen hanging over his head. His guardian knows, and although Lilia is very skilled at keeping secrets, the fact that another is involved in this only makes his anxiety grow. He looks to you briefly. There’s a time limit left on how long you will remain by his side, both for tonight and for the future. You may return home, or you may embark on some grand adventure around the world, drinking in all the sights that Twisted Wonderland has to offer while he’s forced to remain in a palace on his own.

Everyone misses the ones they love when they leave us.

His grandmother’s comment in the mausoleum also comes to the forefront of his mind as he ruminates on this. He will miss you, and that’s an uncomfortable fact. He will miss you, and he cannot place if this is because of genuine care or because he’s so goddamn terrified of ending up on his own, that he cannot come to terms with the loss of someone by his side.

He doesn’t even register the two of you coming to sit on a bench by the main street, doesn’t even register how empty it is. He doesn’t register anything at all until he feels the sensation of your warm hand on his and it pulls him so harshly from his thoughts that he fears he may have whiplash.

“Hey?” You’re looking at him, and it seems that at some point you had stopped talking about your friends, stopped talking about your day. There’s concern in your eyes and it’s such a warm feeling, to be worried about, but for some reason it makes Malleus want to shrink back into the shadows even more. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem like you’ve been in a whole different place this entire walk.”

No. He wants to say. No, actually. According to my guardian I am not ill, and yet the very prospect of watching your form grow smaller on the coast of this Isle as I return to the Valley is one that fills me with such abysmal fear that I cannot even comprehend it. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I do know that you are the centre of this all.

You will die. So will I, in the end, but yet it’s this childish fear of seeing you fade away while I still remain that I cannot seem to get past.

Please, show me how to get past. Let me know, so that I may know you.

The words that had fought so hard to escape him so far now shrivel on his tongue as he looks to you. Your gaze flickers around his face, focuses on his lips, and it’s that action that makes a bolt of heat shoot through him. But before that bolt can ignite to something more, the ugly feeling wraps its hand around his throat and wrenches his head back. He jerks his face away and stands from the bench, his body stiff as he clears his throat.

“No, I think I may be coming down with something. It would be best to head back.” Even his words feel fabricated—traitorous! —as he speaks them aloud. This is not what he wishes to do. He wishes to thread his fingers through your hair, to pull you in and to lose himself within you until he can no longer differentiate where he ends, and you may begin. He wants to taste your words before they leave and know your thoughts before they’re spoken. He wants you, so much so and it aches and—

“Malleus,” you begin again, moving to go to his side, but he raises a hand to you sharply.

“Now.” He chokes out before setting off down the path, uncaring to see if you’re truly following or not. His mind is in turmoil and his body feels as though he has no control over it any longer. All that lingers now is the way your gaze went to his lips and the silly, hopeful thoughts such an action provoked.

Please.

#twst x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #ok i promise i'll give u a nice conclusion but there is a BUILD UP #the man is like an onion we got layers we gotta pull #the beautiful crisis between what you were raised believing and what you desire #OUAGH #the tension of want and control #malleus has several crisis in my stories and i love it all

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bloodmaarked · 26 days

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➫ monthly book round-up: march 2024

books read: 6 [=] average rating: 3.1 [-14%] average speed: 10.5 days [+35%] total pages: 2,219 [+7%] yearly goal progress: 17/50 best of the month: a psalm of storms and silence, roseanne a. brown worst of the month: saving time: discovering a life beyond the clock, jenny odell

4.5* reads:

a psalm of storms and silence, roseanne a. brown

4* reads:

the murder at the vicarage, agatha christie

3* reads:

rootless, krystle zara appiah

2.5* reads:

pageboy: a memoir, elliot page

the human origins of beatrice porter & other essential ghosts, soraya palmer

2* reads:

saving time: discovering a life beyond the clock, jenny odell

currently reading:

the meaning of mariah carey, mariah carey

#monthly roundup #saving time #jenny odell #the murder at the vicarage #agatha christie #pageboy #elliot page #the human origins of beatrice porter and other essential ghosts #soraya palmer #a psalm of storms and silence #roseanne a. brown #rootless #krystle zara appiah #currently reading #booklr #bookblr #bookworm

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fablesbookstuff · 1 year

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I went to the mall this weekend and picked up 2 new books so here's a little book haul

The first book I got is Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo, please ignore the damage to the cover on the front there was an unfortunate sticker that didn't come off nice sadly

And then the second book I got is A Psalm of Storm and Silence by Roseanna A. Brown

Very excited about both of these books and they have been added to my tbr list to read this year

#hell bent #hellbent #leigh bardugo #books #reading #readers of tumblr #booklr #a song of wraiths and ruin #a psalm of storms and silence #roseanna a. brown #reading list 2023 #reading tbr

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emperor-palpaminty · 1 year

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(Throwing Away) My Shot

Self indulgent female sniper x König fic. You're mad because he shot your target. It wasn't nice of him. So now we out here pouting.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated and preferred.

The stock of the gun groaned against your arm. You shifted, huffing, ignoring the rain pounding on your poncho. Your headphones crackled to life, and Price spoke, voice absolutely discernable despite the heavy filter of the radio. "Holding up, Banshee?"

"Affirmative, sir." You grimaced. "If you could do me a favor and turn off the rain, though, that would be dandy, sir." You smiled as you heard Price chuckle, adjusting the stock on your shoulder and thumbing over the gun.

"Any eyes on the target?"

"Negative, sir." A shaky breath left your throat. You were used to not itching, moving, sore and sleepy muscles, but the anticipation of sniping and the annoying pittering of the rain was plucking on your last nerve. "Too far back, sir."

The radio crackled, but no one replied. You eased deeper into the silence and rain and mud, leaning into the scope of your weapon. The Union Jack on your sleeve was bright compared to the gloomy war zone, with rain and storms hanging over it. You were glad that this mission was rainy- you had too many missions where the day was too beautiful and warm to be soaked in blood.

Your eyes were pulled back towards your scope at motion in the distance. "Target spotted." You rasped, quickly clicking the safety on by our rifle. "Ready for the shot?"

"Affirmative, banshee." Price replied, and you heard shots around the sound of his voice. "Fire when ready. He's being dodgy, so best do it quick. But hit him."

You leaned down again. Inhale. Exhale half a breath. Squeeze the whole gun, not just the trigger-

You saw a spurt of blood; the target collapsed, mouth open in a sound less scream, blood pouring down their forehead. A sputter of inspiration left you as you stared into the scope.

"Great shot!"

"Hell, Price." You frowned, moving your scope and cursing, irritation boiling inside you. "That wasn't me."

Pause. Price never paused. "Who was it then?"

You tilted your scope towards the high steeple of the religious building nearby. The shot came from behind the enemy, and there wasn't anyone closer in your sights to him. A metallic glint caught your attention, despite the gloom of the rain. A shape picked up, dark and shrouded.

A good you recognized too well.

You swore and sat up, yanking the hood of your poncho off. "Fucking hell." You huffed, red hot heat building up in the pits of your stomach. The rain was cold on your cheeks and head as if trying to soothe you, but your pent-up irritation, the anger, the unachieved promise of a high of a sniper shot leaving you empty.

"Banshee." Price's voice was clear now- closer. "Who was that?"

You stared through your scope again as he stood, sniper rifle over his enormous shoulder, hood blocking his expression which was, in your head, smug.

"Fucking KorTac."

---

And they said he couldn't be a sniper.

Konig stood at full height, feeling a grin twitch on his lips, the scars on them jutting from his mouth. "I had it handled." He muttered to himself, hands grasping the sides of the roof. He swung into the building, inhaling the dampened air. The smell of rain stuck inside the tall tower, mingling with the age of the brick and mortar. Konig took the second to breathe, then walked towards the stairs.

The 141 had been so preoccupied with strategizing they had not noticed him slip in and to the roof in the middle of their little war zone. Konig bustled down, trying to shake the rain off as he hurried through the abandoned building. Old prayers, psalms, and discussions of some faith lingered around the long and narrow hallway.

Konig sighed as he stopped in front of the modest wooden doors, then he pushed them open. Konig had to duck his head slightly to lumber through, sighing at the rain. Members of the 141 were scattered around him, and appeared to be reconvening in the center of the area. Scattered eyes turned to him. Konig glanced away briefly, doing his best to ignore them all.

Usually, when he ignored people, they would be intimidated enough by his size to stay away. It was mostly a blessing, and sometimes a curse. He half-exhaled in relief and began to walk away, toward the entry point that KorTac had dropped him at.

"Hey! Big guy!"

Konig didn't stop. Someone in the 141- probably talking to that fellow with the skull mask.

There was a curse and footsteps overpowering the sound of the rain. "I'm talking to you, tall ass."

That warranted a glance over his shoulder. There was, indeed someone approaching him. Konig stopped walking and turned (it was the polite thing to do) and looked down at her. The poncho swung from her as she stormed towards him, fists clenched. Konig tilted his head as she yanked back her poncho hood, face and hair sopping wet. She was pretty. Pretty angry, at least.

"You," She snarled. "Killed my fucking target."

Under the hood, he frowned. He felt his voice form words, soft, cautious. "Negative, he was of interest to KorTac. I simply executed the contract."

For a second, the woman in the poncho's eyes widened- taken aback, for some reason. But that was only for a microsecond. Her lip curled into a sneer, and she tilted her head back, back, back to look up at him. "That's funny. Because your private little company took a target that was of interest to the 141."

Konig watched her- she was a funny and small thing (everything was small to him, though). "He was on my contract. I finished it. I am sorry, but I do not know what to tell you."

Her jaw rotated, eyes flickering over his hood before settling on his gaze. "Maybe, just maybe, you can go back to your little boss and tell them to go fuck-"

"Easy, Banshee." Price stepped up, grasping the 141 sniper on her shoulder. "We had the same goal. The goal was made. Kill the enemy."

Her- Banshee- brow knitted together. "But-"

Words rushed from Konig's mouth. "He does make a point, I think." Konig offered. "We had the same target, and now that target is dead." Banshee shot him a glare, and Konig kept his gaze steady on hers. He was earnest.

But she glared. Hard. He forced his gaze to soften as he kept hold of her eyes, keeping a bubbling anxiety at bay. All eyes are on me- breathe in, breathe out. Stay calm. The hood helped- his warm face was concealed by the fabric, but allowed him to take silent, soothing breaths.

Price intervened, laying his hand on Banshee's arm. "Thanks either way, Konig." His expression was flat, but his tone was accepting. "Same goal. More the merrier, I suppose."

Banshee's glare didn't lessen. Instead, she tilted her chin proudly, chewing on her cheek, maintaining the silence as the lighter pace of rain rolled down her face.

He was a threat to her.

Konig was pulled away from looking at the sniper by Price clapping a hand on his shoulder (reaching up, of course). "How about we rondez-vous back at base, yeah? Talk over KorTac's interest and the 141's."

Konig only nodded. "Ja, that sounds like a plan." He looked back at Banshee once, before turning to follow Price.

The whole time, he felt her eyes burning into his back. It stung, oddly enough- somehow, he promised to himself for no reason, it would be better, even if it was only marginally so. Because, from the way Price was talking, it sounded like the Banshee would cross paths with Konig in the future.

#cod #cod konig #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #minty writes #konig cod #cod reader insert #konig mw2

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