⚫️ EXCL: Jobe Bellingham to Borussia Dortmund, here we go!

€33m fixed fee, €5m add-ons to Sunderland… and also 15% sell-on clause.

Record sale for #SAFC and huge fee after initial €20m bid rejected. Excellent addition for BVB.

Another Bellingham in Dortmund!

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎! Borussia Dortmund agree deal to sign Jobe Bellingham, all done

Record sale for Sunderland worth €33m fixed fee plus €5m add-ons and also 15% sell-on clause included.

Excellent addition for BVB and impressive sale also for Sunderland after turning down initial €20m proposal.

Excluding add-ons, Jobe Bellingham will become 2nd most expensive signing in Borussia Dortmund’s history and with realistic add-ons in place, it could happen.

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃.

An eagle once taught a woman how to raise a child.

— Are you alright, human mother? — the eagle asked.

The woman looked at her, startled.

— I’m afraid. My baby is about to be born, and I have so many doubts. I want to give them the best, a beautiful, easy life… but how will I know if I’m raising them right?

The eagle perched nearby and replied:

— Raising a child isn’t about keeping them comfortable. It’s the opposite. When my eaglets are born, I line the nest with soft feathers and grass. It’s warm, safe. But when the time comes for them to grow, I remove it all. I leave only the thorns.

The woman frowned.

— Thorns? Isn’t that cruel?

The eagle looked her in the eyes.

— Discomfort pushes them to move. The thorns make them want more — to fly, to find their place. Comfort teaches nothing.

The woman hesitated, still uncertain.

— And if they fall?

The eagle nodded.

— They do fall. I throw them into the wind. They drop. I catch them. I throw them again. Over and over — until they learn to fly. And then? I let them go. I don’t help anymore.

The woman’s eyes widened.

— But what if they’re not ready?

— They won’t be, until they try. If I keep them safe forever, they’ll never learn. It’s not about letting them suffer. It’s about letting them grow. Even when it hurts you.

The woman placed her hand on her belly, breathed deeply, and smiled.

— Thank you, Mother Eagle, she whispered. Your wisdom is a gift.

She walked away — ready to be the mother her child would need: not perfect, but strong. A mother who teaches them to fly.

If you want your child to soar high — don’t clip their wings with comfort.
Let them feel the wind.
Let them stumble.
Let them rise.

True love isn’t sheltering them from life.
It’s teaching them how to live it.
Even if that means watching them fall… so they can learn to fly.

Paul and the Housemaid

In the quiet village of Kijiji Mzuri, trouble was cooking not in the kitchen, but in Paul’s own house. Paul had just hired a young, curvy housemaid named Fina. From the moment she stepped in, Paul couldn’t stop smiling like a goat near fresh cassava.

One evening, as Paul and his wife Mama Shiko sat on the sofa, she gave him the stare of d£@th.

Hmmm Paul, she said, that housemaid is too friendly with you. Be careful not to fall into her trap oh

Paul laughed, scratching his bald head. Honey, don’t worry. She wants me to give her belle, but I’ll always protect myself. Trust me

Mama Shiko’s eyes widened like a village owl. What do you mean protect yourself

Just then, Fina passed by, swinging like a pendulum, carrying juice. Paul swallowed hard. This wasn’t a housemaid anymore this was a home hazard. Touble had truly landed

Reply letter to comments below by Akin olaoye:

Egbon Akin,
I wrote this as a brother and a friend.

With all due respect,
Saying that actions of some obidients will somehow dissipate support for Peter Obi in the west is a factually untrue manipulative blackmail.

As a matter of incontrovertible fact,
The most toxic, most bigoted, most insensitive, most intolerant and most insufferable inhuman animals on this app, always ready and willing to defend the most cruel barbaric actions of this current govt in power are Tinubu slaves and APC supporters.

Yet NOBODY anywhere ever tells them to tone down on their insanity and NOBODY anywhere ever says that Tinubu will lose support anywhere because of the absolutely lunatic behaviour of his fans.

And right from 2014,
The APC has had the most vile and venomous humans that the Nigerian online community has witnessed. They were absolute animals as an opposition party and they have metamorphosed into incorrigible propaganda monsters as the ruling party. For an entire decade, this fascist backward retrogressive retards deployed the most poisonous weapons of bigotry and venomous propaganda to hold perpetual sway on this platform.

I will give a few examples:
During the EndSARS protests in 2020,
These animals denied a blatant massacre of innocent defenceless young people that was live-streamed for the entire world to see, yet these soulless depraved creatures defended a murderous govt in the name of party politics.

A female Igbo young medical doctor was shot by bandits on a train during a terrorist attack. As she was bleeding to death, she tweeted asking for prayers and help. These unfortunate APC cretins camped under her tweet calling her a liar, labelling her a demarketer of Nigeria and denying the terrorist attack. That doctor died. These are the kinds of animals we are up against.

It is really sad my brother that you are falling for their nonsensical hypocritical scheme- where they are demanding from the obidients a decency that they themselves lack, asking for a kindness that they never extend to others and judging us all by a virtue they do not possess.

Over the last 10years, we all lived through the 8years of the many bigoted Fulani supremacist fundamentalist idiots on this app - yet nobody ever said this will affect Buhari’s chances in 2019. Over the last 2 years, we are currently living through the horror of the shocking intolerance displayed daily by the Yoruba Ronu thugs on this app- and again I remind you, you will never hear anybody say that the behaviour of these online street urchins will affect Tinubu chances in 2027.

But when it comes to Obi, all of a sudden, we hear that the behaviour of some Obidients will affect Obi. This is really dishonest, dubious and duplicitous by everyone and anyone who holds such view.

Just 1week ago,
Amnesty International confirmed that at least 10,000 Nigerians have been killed across northern Nigeria in just 2years of this unfortunate government led by the inept and incompetent power-crazy dolt in Aso Rock. 10,000 human beings bro.

This country is slowly sliding into a one-party, narco-driven, fascist-led, terror-cuddling, bigotry-sponsored gestapo jungle. This is what we face as a people.

Yet some of you are upset with the lone voices crying out against our national demolition as a people, rather than the horrible monsters in power who are killing us all on a daily basis. This is not only laughable but saddening.

Again, with all due respect, if you leave the baboons in govt who are killing Nigerians, destroying the economy and ruining all of our lives, to target some obidients who speak harshly out of frustration, you have your priorities upside down.

Pls have a rethink my brother and kindly continue to stand on the right path so that when posterity remembers this dark period of our country, and the story is told of the valiant men and women who fought for a better country and did not bow to the Baal in Bourdillon, your name will not be left out.

Thank you. Happy weekend ahead.

Akin Olaoye's comment below:

The biggest mistake post 2023 was some loud mouths in the Obidients camp alienating a voting bloc in the SW with toxic rhetoric that fought the APC machinery. Many exploited reckless commentary for engagements not realizing the long term effects. Support in the SW has dissipated.
Those same toxic accounts will show up under this tweet to repeat the same bad behaviors we tried correcting for months. People get fatigued with bad behavior and will dissociate from a group that continues to promote the behaviors they are accused of exuding. Correct course!
~~ Akin Olaoye

The night I turned sixteen, I celebrated alone with a piece of dry bread I bought with my last ten naira and a silent wish whispered into the darkness. I didn’t have a cake, not even a smile from anyone in the house. Aunt Bola’s daughters were out at a birthday party, their laughter echoing in my ears as they slammed the door behind them, leaving me to wash the mountain of plates from dinner. My palms were raw and my feet swollen, but that night, something inside me snapped quietly. I didn’t cry. I didn’t hope. I just sat in the corner of the small room where I slept beside the mop and bucket, and I stared at the wall like it owed me answers. The truth is, pain had become too familiar—it no longer stung, it just settled like dust. But deep down, even in that hollow part of my soul, a flame was burning. I just didn’t know yet how dangerous it would become. The next morning, I was up before the sun. I cleaned, I swept, I cooked, then I left for school with the same torn sandals and a heart heavy with unspoken words. Mr. Bello, my literature teacher, stopped me in the corridor. He was the only adult who ever looked at me like I mattered. “Zarah,” he said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, “you’re gifted. Don’t let your circumstances define you.” That day, he gave me a form—an essay competition for underprivileged students. The prize was a full scholarship to any university in Nigeria. I held the form like it was gold. That night, while everyone slept, I wrote like my life depended on it. I poured every wound, every memory, every forgotten birthday and every hungry night into that essay. I wrote about being a shadow in a house that never called my name. I wrote about love that never came and hands that only knew how to beat or push away. I wrote until tears soaked the page. And I submitted it. Then I waited. Three weeks later, I heard my name announced over the assembly speaker. “Zarah Yusuf—please report to the principal’s office.” My heart raced. My hands trembled. I thought maybe they found out I’d used the house’s candle to write my essay or that I’d done something wrong. But when I entered the office, the principal was smiling. Mr. Bello stood beside him, tears in his eyes. “You won,” he whispered. “Zarah… you won.” That was the first time I felt my knees go weak from joy. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I’d won. A full scholarship. Freedom. A door out of my forgotten life. But when I got home and told Aunt Bola, her face changed. Her eyes narrowed. “So now you think you’re better than us?” she spat. “This is my house. You don’t make decisions without me.” That night, she locked the door and took the acceptance letter. She told me I wasn’t going anywhere. I begged. I cried. I even knelt. But she slapped me across the face and said, “You’ll leave this house in a coffin before you leave for university.” That night, I lay on the floor beside my broken hope and made a vow. I would leave. I didn’t know how, but I would. And I would never be forgotten again. Two days later, I ran. I took nothing but my ID card, a few clothes in a nylon bag, and the address of the scholarship office Mr. Bello had secretly written for me on a piece of paper. I left that house at 3 a.m. barefoot, walking for hours through empty streets, praying not to be caught, not to be dragged back. I reached the office just as dawn broke. I collapsed at the gate, too weak to stand. A woman found me and gave me water. That day, my life began to change. The scholarship board listened to my story. They called the school. They verified everything. And they accepted me—housing, feeding, education. Everything. I was finally free. But freedom came with guilt. I kept thinking of Mama. Did she know? Did she care? Did she even remember she had a daughter named Zarah? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I told myself I would never look back. But wounds don’t vanish just because the cage is gone. They bleed quietly. I slept in a new bed, but I still woke up reaching for a bucket to clean. I sat in classrooms with rich kids who didn’t know hunger, and I kept my head low, afraid to speak too loudly, afraid to be seen, because I wasn’t used to being noticed without punishment. But with time, I changed. I spoke. I learned. I excelled. I made friends who didn’t ask where I came from, only where I was going. And for the first time, I allowed myself to imagine love. Yes… love. Because in my final year, he came. A boy with soft eyes and a quiet voice. His name was Malik. He didn’t know my story. He just knew my smile. He said I had strength in my silence. He said my eyes looked like they had survived fire. And somehow, slowly, dangerously, I began to believe I deserved love too. But love has its price. And some wounds, no matter how deep you bury them, never stay buried forever.

To be continued……

Title :FORGOTTEN CHILD 2
Written by Real life stories
Do not copy or repost

F Agent for more

Aunty werey I married my old man but he is certainly not your regular old man. He is everything your kind prays for but can’t attract. Don’t get me started to tell the world how you were chasing this same old man.

Now let your age reflect your reasoning. Clearly you failed because a girl that once admired you when she was 6 sees you as nothing to write home about.

And for Christ sake stop comparing yourself to me !!! It will be a huge disrespect to me and everyone that supports my movement. You and I are not the same. Not even close. I am bigger than you and your entire music/movie career. Let’s not even mention my mama (Mercy Johnson) whose name rings the loudest bell. I don’t need scandals or shadows to shine.

Age? It’s just a number. What truly counts is how you’ve lived, what you’ve built, and who you’ve become. The roads I’ve walked, the milestones I’ve hit with grace, not disgrace are places your bitterness will never carry you.

~ Regina Daniels

Prologue

The ballroom went completely silent. Not the kind of quiet that came when people paused their conversations, but the horrible kind where everyone stopped breathing at the same time.

Thousands of wolves stared at me like I was some kind of freak show. The fancy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling made everything look golden and beautiful, but all I felt was darkness eating me alive from the inside.

I stood there in my simple sundress. The dress my mother had sewn for me with love, hoping I would find love and acceptance from my fated mate today.

I thought it would make me pretty. I thought it would make me good enough. I thought maybe, just maybe, someone could love a girl like me. A girl without a wolf.

But now the dress felt like a joke. Like I was wearing a costume that screamed how ****** I was for believing in happy endings.

Alpha Richard Brown stood in front of me. He was tall and strong and everything an Alpha should be.

Just some minutes ago, he had looked at me from across this same ballroom. His beautiful eyes had made my heart race with hope.

For one perfect moment, I thought maybe the Moon Goddess had finally smiled on me.

Now those same eyes looked at me like I was garbage.

“You?” His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. He wanted them all to witness this. “You think you’re good enough to be my Luna? You think you can stand beside me and lead my pack? You think someone like you deserves to carry an Alpha’s blood?”

People started laughing. Soft giggles at first, then louder and meaner. I heard my own pack members laughing too.

These were people who had watched me grow up. The people who bullied me, who looked down on me even though I was the beta’s daughter.

“I—” I tried to speak, but my throat felt like it was full of broken glass. I had practiced what I would say to him. I had stood in front of my bedroom mirror and rehearsed words of love. But now I could barely remember how to talk.

“Look at yourself,” Richard said, his voice getting quieter, but somehow everyone still heard him perfectly. “Eighteen years old and you still don’t have a wolf. You’re empty inside. What could you possibly give me? What could you offer my pack except weakness?”

His words were cruel, and my knees wanted to give out. My hands started shaking. Someone in the crowd whispered, “Poor thing.”

“The Moon Goddess marked you as broken,” Richard kept going. “You have no wolf. No strength. No purpose except to show everyone else what failure looks like. Did you really think I would lower myself to mate with something so incomplete?”

Incomplete. That word echoed in my head like a bell ringing over and over. It wasn’t just mean. It was true.

I was incomplete. I was the girl who couldn’t shift when everyone else ran free under the full moon. I was the daughter who brought shame to her family. I was the pack member who didn’t really belong anywhere.

“I thought—” I whispered.

“You thought wrong.” He cut me off, fast and final. “I, Alpha Richard Brown of the Silver Moon Pack, officially reject you, Jane Biller, as my mate. You have no claim to my heart, my pack, or my future. You are nothing. To me. To my pack. To the Moon Goddess herself.”

When he said those formal rejection words, something inside my chest snapped. It felt like lightning striking me from the inside. I gasped out loud, and the sound echoed through the silent room.

“I always knew she was cursed...” someone said among the cowards.

“Poor Alpha Richard, having to deal with that...”

“Her poor parents, how embarrassing...”

“What was she thinking?”

“To think the beta’s only child is this useless.”

I couldn’t stand it. I had never thought I could be humiliated like this. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father, the beta, standing tall and proud beside our Alpha.

“Father,” I whispered, reaching out for the one person who should protect me. But when I looked into his eyes, what I saw there stopped my heart cold.

I had always known he didn’t love me the way he should. I had always felt his disappointment. But this? This was something else entirely.

The hatred burning in his gaze was so deep, so complete, that I realized I had never truly understood how much he despised my very existence.

“Do you think I will offer you my helping hand, Jane? Stop this pathetic display—you’re humiliating yourself,” he snapped. “Even as your father, I regret the day you were born.”

I couldn’t breathe. My hand went to my chest. It hurt so much. How could my own father say this to me?

He wasn’t done hurting me. His face grew meaner.

“If I could erase you from existence, I would do it without hesitation. You’re nothing but a stain on this family’s name—worthless garbage that I’m ashamed to call my own.”

My world fell apart. My legs felt weak. His words kept playing in my head. Trash. Garbage. Nothing.

“Ha!” I made a sound that was part laugh, part cry, and part scream. My hands shook as I tried to stop the tears.

But the more I tried not to cry, the more my body shook. The crazy laugh kept coming out because I didn’t know what else to do. What did you do when the person who should love you most told you that you were nothing?

“You have said well, Beta,” my rejected mate said, nodding like he agreed with every cruel word. “No one could accept a daughter like that. If I were the one, I would also be disappointed.”

Now it wasn’t just my father—it was him too. The man I thought I would spend my life with now stood there, backing up my father’s hate.

Two people who were supposed to love me, protect me, care for me. Instead, they had teamed up to tear me down.

I felt like I was drowning. Like I couldn’t get air into my lungs. How had I become so alone? How had the two most important men in my life decided I was worth nothing?

“I know no one can accept her as a mate,” my father said. People around us gasped and whispered. “What I didn’t imagine was that she could be matched with someone as powerful as you. The goddess must be blind.”

That was it. That was the final blow that broke me completely. My father had just told everyone—the whole pack—that I was so worthless that even the goddess had made a mistake. The whispers grew louder. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, judging me, agreeing with him.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone hated me. No one wanted me to exist. No one thought I deserved to be here, to be alive, to be anything.

My feet moved before my brain caught up. I turned around fast, pushing past people who stepped back like I might dirty them just by touching them. I had to get out of there. I had to leave this hell before it killed me.

As I reached for the handles, I heard Richard talking to the crowd like I was already gone:

“Let this be a lesson to everyone. The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes. Some people are born to lead. Others...” He paused for dramatic effect. “Others are born to remind us why being strong matters.”

The doors slammed shut behind me. The sound was like thunder. It didn’t just shut out the ballroom. It shut out everything I had ever known. Everyone I had ever loved. Every dream I had ever dared to dream.

I stood alone in the fancy entrance hall. My reflection stared back at me from the shiny walls. I looked like a broken girl in a beautiful dress.

The silence here was different from the ballroom. This was the silence of being completely alone. Of being abandoned.

I walked out into the cold night air. I knew my wolf slumbered, waiting for the storm that would wake her— and when she rose, the world would tremble.

I knew that I would come back to this place years later. Not as the broken girl begging for scraps of love, but as a force of nature that would make them all remember why they should have treasured what they threw away so carelessly.

All I knew was the taste of tears and the weight of being rejected. The sound of my own footsteps echoed as I walked away from everything I used to be and toward everything I would become.

Behind me, the music started again. The dancing continued. The party went on like I had never existed at all.

But I did exist.

And someday, they would all remember my name, and I would make sure they paid.

MY ENTIRE INCOME FROM MARCH TO DECEMBER 1991 WAS 52,000 NAIRA.

I CAN'T GIVE 50,000 NAIRA AS AN OFFERING TODAY AND THINK I'VE DONE SOMETHING.

- Bishop David Abioye

While preaching at the Mega Thanksgiving Service, Bishop Abioye stated how much he earned for 10 months in 1991 in comparison to the offering he gives to the Lord now. He emphasized the need to keep records, so one can always give thanks to God.

He said, "1991, my entire income from March to December was 52,000 Naira. I can't give 50,000 Naira as an offering today and think I've done something. Far, far from it. Keep records. You used to drink Garri alone before, but now, it's buffet you're serving in your house, you are eating 'orishi rishi' now. Amen? Keep records. You used to be thin like a broom before, your cheeks have come out now, your belly has come out now, keep records!" He further stated that we're not just to keep records, but remember them and bless the Lord.

MY ENTIRE INCOME FROM MARCH TO DECEMBER 1991 WAS 52,000 NAIRA.

I CAN'T GIVE 50,000 NAIRA AS AN OFFERING TODAY AND THINK I'VE DONE SOMETHING.

- Bishop David Abioye

While preaching at the Mega Thanksgiving Service, Bishop Abioye stated how much he earned for 10 months in 1991 in comparison to the offering he gives to the Lord now. He emphasized the need to keep records, so one can always give thanks to God.

He said, "1991, my entire income from March to December was 52,000 Naira. I can't give 50,000 Naira as an offering today and think I've done something. Far, far from it. Keep records. You used to drink Garri alone before, but now, it's buffet you're serving in your house, you are eating 'orishi rishi' now. Amen? Keep records. You used to be thin like a broom before, your cheeks have come out now, your belly has come out now, keep records!" He further stated that we're not just to keep records, but remember them and bless the Lord.

MY ENTIRE INCOME FROM MARCH TO DECEMBER 1991 WAS 52,000 NAIRA.

I CAN'T GIVE 50,000 NAIRA AS AN OFFERING TODAY AND THINK I'VE DONE SOMETHING.

- Bishop David Abioye

While preaching at the Mega Thanksgiving Service, Bishop Abioye stated how much he earned for 10 months in 1991 in comparison to the offering he gives to the Lord now. He emphasized the need to keep records, so one can always give thanks to God.

He said, "1991, my entire income from March to December was 52,000 Naira. I can't give 50,000 Naira as an offering today and think I've done something. Far, far from it. Keep records. You used to drink Garri alone before, but now, it's buffet you're serving in your house, you are eating 'orishi rishi' now. Amen? Keep records. You used to be thin like a broom before, your cheeks have come out now, your belly has come out now, keep records!" He further stated that we're not just to keep records, but remember them and bless the Lord.