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But who was to blame really? Him, for his insanity, his destructive obsession? Or her, for making him that way? She blinked back hot tears. They had destroyed each other.
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
“You haven’t changed a bit.” “And neither have you,” Aacro bit back. “Still hiding, still running.”
aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAMYGOOOOOOOOO
She straightened and drew in a loud breath. “I won’t marry you, Aacro.”
YAAAAASSS QUEEEENNN SLAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY 💅💅💅💅
Ahsra wanted to slap him.
Me too, girl. I don't care if he has a pretty character design, I don't care if he has a sympathetic upbringing, I don't care if he has a hot topic wannabe singing voice. I'm still gonna bash Aacro's head so hard he'll meet his Maker 😤😤😤😤
I have been a bit quick tempered lately—”
THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT AND YOU KNOW IT STOP LYING TO YOSELF AACRO 👉👉👉👉👉👉👉👉👉👉
Faint, blue light and breeze poured into the room as Aacro fell to his knees. He swore under his breath and didn’t bother to repent. Every muscle in his body felt as hard as iron. Aacro tipped his face to the open window and as he slowly lowered his lashes, the scribe let out a shallow, anguished groan. He had lost her. He had lost everything.
haha lol skill issue
Ok, but in all seriousness, Aacro has seriously become psychopathic. He pushes the blame on others, tries to convince himself that he's not in the wrong, uses others as his scapegoat for his guilt, shame, and pain, develops a distorted view of love, and literally becomes corrupt in his obsession with Ashra. This man is seriously broken and mentally ill, and no amount of therapy is ever gonna fix that. 😔
He truly had been blessed beyond all he could ever ask.
Ashra and Matthias are my new favorite couple, right next to the Song of Solomon couple
Moments like these would forever be his most valuable possession.
🥹❤️❤️❤️
My love, my beloved, You have ravished my heart with one look of your eye You have raptured me. Captivated me Everything about you enchants me My love, my beloved, Dance, my queen, dance and let me watch Remove your feet from your sandals Wear your smile And light me a path With the glow in your eyes My love, my beloved, Your beauty could hold captive a king And you humble yourself to love a simple coppersmith But if you do love me Like you say Let me lead you Let me teach you to love Let the world fall away as you fall into my arms This love is stronger than death Greater than sickness,
...more
Is this Song of Solomon? 💁🦋
he hated when her pain built walls. He hated when she wouldn't let him in—to her heart, her hurt. He wanted to hug her and cry with her, but he couldn't when she plastered on a smile and said there was nothing wrong.
Now THIS is what I call husband material, being with their wives at their lowest moment (Aacro could never 😒)
“You could heal me if you were willing.”
🎵 IIII AM WILLING BE CLEAAAAAANNNNSSSEEDD 🎵
“I’ll keep you safe, Zyrah. Best I can.” Zyrah’s heart began to race. “If you let me stay by you.” She pressed closer to him, feeling warmth expand in her chest, “I’ll protect you with all I am—as long as I live. I vow it.”
I think about this quote a lot 🥰🥰🥰
“Kaius.” “Ashra,” he grinned. “Happy to see me?”
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮💀💀💀💀💀💀
it was not like there was much left to lose anyway. If she was condemned, she might as well take this man down with her.
Bro I feel so sick reading this I can't even eat my breakfast😭😭😭
The young girl sat up again and her silky hair spilled over her shoulders. Ashra ran her fingers through her own hair. It was thick and long, but did not shine the way Marta’s did. Nothing about her shined like her little sister.
In a way, Marta acted as a foil character to Ashra, being Ahsra's polar opposite : virtuous, innocent, and pure.
“If you see me, Lord,” she whispered brokenly, “please, look away.” Her shaking voice broke and she lowered her face, her chin dipping in the water. Very soon it would be over. One hell to the next, one darkness to another.
aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAMYBOOOOOOONNNNEEESSSS
Matthias’ burning eyes flashed over the man’s impressive apparel. He wore a short, belted, Greek-style, two-piece tunic. It was white silk, embroidered with gold. And a sleek, bleached robe clung loosely to his wide shoulders, swirling gracefully around his sandaled feet. His ears and brow were pierced with gold rings and he wore golden, pearl-studded anklets and bracelets on every limb. Wrapped around his neck was a beaded, Egyptian choker, centered by a large, turquoise moonstone. He looked like a god.
Ok bling bling boy, we get it, your stinking rich 😒
He would do what he came to do. Easily. He would take her to the darkness. He would take her hand and lead her carefully to the same place she’d put him. The pitch-blackness that flowed through his every vein would flow through hers. And he would love her as he’d always wanted to. And whether she truly loved him back or not would not matter. His passion was enough. And she would be compliant.
NOW PAUSE THE MUSIC/CLOSE THE BOOK CAUSE WHAT I'M ABOUT TO SAY TO YALL ❗❗❗❗❗🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
IS SO DARN TWISTED ❗❗❗❗❗❗🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯
NOT ONLY DOES AACRO FULFILL HIS OBSESSIVE DESIRE FOR ASHRA ❗❗❗❗❗❗🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
BUT THIS MAN ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗ 👨👨👨👨👨👨
FULFILLS HIS REVENGE BY DRAGGING HER TO HER DEMISE ❗❗❗❗❗💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀
(this is the most horrid win win situation ever, it’s sickening. Miss Anna Brown how could you-)
“I think I’ve made a mistake.”
YA THINK!!!????
“It’s so dark.” The hoarse emotion in his voice surprised her. He sounded on the verge of tears. Ashra rolled her eyes. He’d always been so emotionally driven. Displaying himself as hard as stone, but in reality, he was so easily broken.
When listening to the musical, I thought Aacro was just some one-sided, psycopathic villain, but in the novel there's another broken, humane side to him. Instead of being glad he had his revenge, he's hurt. even regretting that he did this whole ordeal to himself and to Ashra in the first place.
“You’re the devil, Aacro! The devil!” “And you’re what?” He grabbed her wrists with one hand. “The devil’s mistress?” Aacro laughed loudly as she screamed and cried herself to exhaustion.
aaaAAAHHHHH THIS LINE MISS ANNA BROWN WHYYYYYYYY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
He cherished her, along with her pain. Her suffering was his success. He’d done what he came to do. He’d led her to the darkness.
Aacro's hatred for Ashra and the pain of Ashra rejecting him is what fuels him to do these heinous acts 😔
Suddenly the figure before her knelt to His knees, leveling Himself with her despair. The soft eyes locked with hers. “Ashra,” the stranger whispered in a still, small voice. As her trembling heart began to calm under His gaze, Ashra realized that she’d heard this voice before. A chill rippled through her body, and everything but the stranger she was sure she knew, disappeared. “Who are you?” she asked, in the tiniest voice. “You don’t recognize me?” Ashra’s heartbeat was even now, soothed by His deep, melodic voice. It was like a song. A familiar song.
JESUS OF NAZARETH HAS FINALLY ARRIVED LESGOOOOOOO- 🔇🔇🔇🔇🔇❗❗❗❗❗❗✊✊✊✊✊🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💅💅💅💅💅💅
“I say,” He began loudly, “whoever is without sin may throw the first stone.”
HE SAID THE THING!!!
“It means; of ashes. From dust, you were made; by fire, you were burned.” He looked at her again. “But it is of ashes, that you will rise.”
HE SAID THE TITLE!!!!
He was the One who had been there when she had run from home. The One who was there when Matthias disappeared. The One who was there when she tried to take her own life. The One who was there in the deepest, deadest, darkest parts of her night. The one with the light. Her heart had listened and waited and desperately cried for Him, even when she hadn’t known who had called. But she knew now. It was her savior, the Lord.
“A beautiful life calls for a beautiful death,”
😭😭😭😭
Under this stranger’s gentle gaze, he was no longer an orphan. He was adopted.
🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤❤❤❤
The High Priest didn’t like the idea of anyone’s spirituality exceeding his own, even if that person was the Lord.
Somewhere, not far away, the holy men gathered to watch the Messiah be crucified. Meanwhile, hungry hearts gathered at God’s doorstep. Not the rich and righteous, but the sinners. The sick, the harlots, the poor, the broken, the burnt, the blamed, the lost. Shelashra’s people. Not the ones who thank God because they believe they are righteous, but the ones who beat their breast and beg for mercy because they know they are not. These were the children of God.
This scene is so "God help the outcast" goated
Aacro’s eyes filled with tears.
Said in a 🇳🇬 accent: “Abeg spare your crocodile tears now 😒”
Like her husband, He was a craftsman. But so much greater. He was an artist who was not limited to metal, or wood, or stone, or paint. He could make beauty out of anything. Of dust, of pain, of disease, of darkness. Shelashra smiled to herself as she tilted her face to the day’s first beam of sunlight. Even of ashes.
Peak writing>>>>>
