Ashmusy Asks VeryDarkMan for Help After Losing 33 Million Naira to a Scam 🙌🏾

Popular influencer Ashmusy recently reached out to activist VeryDarkMan for help after reportedly losing 33 million naira to a scammer. The news has sparked a lot of reactions online, with many curious about VeryDarkMan’s response.

According to posts on X, Ashmusy privately messaged VeryDarkMan, asking him to assist her in recovering the money. This comes after a past disagreement where Ashmusy allegedly called him names during a previous encounter. Despite their history, VeryDarkMan reacted with a mix of surprise and humor, pointing out the irony of her asking for his help now. He later agreed to assist her, which has left fans talking.

This isn’t the first time these two have made headlines. Last year, VeryDarkMan called out Ashmusy for not delivering on a 1 million naira advertising deal, which she refunded after his public outcry. Now, with this new 33 million naira scam, their story continues to grab attention.

What do you think about Ashmusy’s plea and VeryDarkMan’s reaction?

#Bloom

Let me tell you a story about Love

Title: The Love That Stayed

***************************
In a small town filled with cobblestone streets and blooming jacaranda trees, there lived an old man named Mr. Bello. Every evening at exactly 6 o’clock, he walked the same quiet path through the town square, dressed in his crisp grey suit and holding a fresh bouquet of lilies—his wife's favorite.

He would sit on the same wooden bench, smile gently at the sky, and place the flowers beside him like he was waiting for someone.

People watched him often—some curious, some moved. But no one ever asked, until a little girl named Zina did.

She was just seven, bold and curious, with two braids and a backpack full of questions. She walked up to him one evening and asked, “Why do you bring flowers here every day, sir?”

Mr. Bello looked down at her, a warm smile lighting up his weathered face. “This was where my wife and I met every Sunday for 42 years. Rain or shine, we sat here, talked about everything and nothing, and just… loved.”

“But she’s not here now?” Zina asked softly.

“She passed away five years ago,” he said, his voice calm, like a soft breeze. “But love like ours—it doesn’t end when someone leaves. It stays in the air you shared, in the habits you kept, in the quiet moments that still feel full.”

Zina was quiet for a while. Then she sat beside him and pulled a crumpled flower from her backpack. “It’s not as pretty as yours, but can I leave one too?”

Mr. Bello chuckled, eyes misty. “That would be perfect.”

From that day on, every Sunday, Zina joined him on the bench. They’d talk about life, dreams, and sometimes about his wife—how she laughed with her whole face, how she loved humming while cooking, and how she always said, ‘Real love is the kind that stays even when you can’t see it.’

And so, the bench became more than just a memory. It became a symbol—a little spot in the world where love still lived, blooming in petals, words, and shared silence.

Moral: Love is not only what we say or feel, but what we continue to give—even when the world has changed. True love echoes in how we remember, honor, and pass it on.

Maybe the world handed you a report card that left you disappointed.

Your heart feels heavy.
But listen: you’re still growing.
You’re still becoming.
Seasons change—and your time to bloom "will" come.

Stop believing the lie that you’re “not enough.” You are. Right here. Right now.

You’re not where you want to be yet. But look back—you’re not where you "used" to be, either. That’s progress. Own it.

Close the gap between where you are and where you want to go.

How?

Discipline. Learning. Humility.
Take one step. Then another. No shortcuts.

Ignore the noise shouting, “You’re falling behind!” Close your eyes to what others are doing. Their success isn’t your failure. Let it inspire you, not shrink you.

You’re allowed to want more.
You’re allowed to move fast.
But never skip steps.
Strong foundations take time.
Trust the process.

Today, remind yourself:
I am enough.
I am growing.
I will keep building.

Wishing you a great and productive week.

© Godlove NJISONG

DID YOU KNOW THESE 12 INTERESTING FACTS

1. Salt is not a spice or a herb, but it is a mineral, gotten from the sea or rock.

2. Sugar can also be used in cooking foods, while salt can also be used in baking foods.

3. Herbs can be used in cooking and also, in treating thousands of sicknesses.

4. Crayfish is not a spice, but it is a seasoning.

5. Although they almost look alike, but herbs are different from vegetable leaves.

6. Although some spices are called vegetables by Chefs, but scientifically all spices are fruits, rather than vegetables.

7. Pepper and onion are the most used spices in the world.

8. Your spices will be more flavourful when it is activated by toasting or blooming.

9. Black pepper is the most used pepper in the world.

10. Garlic, ginger and turmeric also known as the (3 pillar spices) are the most nutritious spices in the world. They are also the second most used spices in the world.

11. Curry powder is the most used spice blend in the world.

12. Alcohol known as a condiment in cooking, is not only used for baking cakes, but it can be used to add beautiful flavour and aroma to your cooking foods.Trust me! You’re missing a lot if you haven’t joined this group yet
Barbara O'Neill health tibs

In English, we say: “I miss you.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I trace the shape of your absence in the spaces where your laughter used to linger,
and let the echoes of you fill the hollow hours.”

In English, we say: “I don’t know how to let go.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I carry you in my chest like a stone—
heavy, unyielding, and carved with the sharp edges of what once was.”

In English, we say: “I feel lost.”
But in poetry, we say:
“The compass of my heart spins wildly now,
its needle drawn to places it can no longer call home.”

In English, we say: “I wish it were different.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I water the garden of could-have-beens with tears,
waiting for flowers that refuse to bloom.”

In English, we say: “I hope you’re happy.”
But in poetry, we say:
“May the sun that warms your days
be as kind to you as the first kiss of dew on the dawning light upon the leaves of the laurel that we once made love under”

In English, we say: “You hurt me.”
But in poetry, we say:
“You planted thorns in my chest with hands I once trusted,
and now every breath feels like an apology I shouldn’t owe.”

In English, we say: “I wanted to stay.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I lingered at the edge of your world,
a star burning quietly, unnoticed in your vast, indifferent sky.”

In English, we say: “I’m trying to move on.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I untangle your name from my veins each morning,
only to find it woven into my dreams again at night.”

In English, we say: “I’ll be okay.”
But in poetry, we say:
“I gather the shattered pieces of myself like broken glass,
knowing someday, even scars can catch the light.”

With poetry I write paths through gardens of grace with words in ways my body dare not go as a whole.

Written by : Larson Langston.

AWERO, THE RIVER GODDESS
Bankole Ikusika

Episode 5: The Rising Tide of Dissent

The air in the Kingdom of Iye was thick with tension and reverberated with uncertainty. As word spread about the budding relationship between Awero, the goddess of the river, and Kofi, the rebellious shepherd from Ewele village, discontent brewed among the inhabitants. Whispers of betrayal and betrayal echoed through the hearts of her subjects, igniting a fervor that demanded to be voiced.

Awero had always believed in the power of love and connection, yet the very essence of her being now faced the threat of dissent. The villagers gathered near the riverbanks, forming a mass of voices laden with dismay. They regarded her not as their beloved goddess but as a figure whose choices questioned the sanctity of the traditions that had guided their lives for generations.

Among them was Ayi, a fierce elder and protector of the kingdom's values, whose wisdom was respected but whose heart had grown hard over the years. “We must unite!” Ayi declared, her voice slicing through the murmurs like a knife. “This romance with Kofi stains the sacred waters we revere. If our goddess wishes to defy tradition, then we shall rise against her!”

The crowd roared in agreement, fuelled by the fear that Awero’s love could taint their indelible connection to the Ije River. “We will not stand idly by while our goddess cavorts with a mortal!” shouted Jume, a young villager whose passion echoed the sentiment swirling through the masses. “If love is to conquer, then it will do so over our dead bodies!”

Awero and Kofi stood side by side, witnessing the storm brewing before them, hearts heavy with the weight of what was at stake. Kofi’s brow knitted with concern, and he turned to Awero. “This cannot be how they remember you. We must face them and explain the purity of our love. These fires of dissent only burn because they misunderstand,” he vowed.

Awero’s heart ached. She had never wanted to bring unrest to her land, only love and healing. Yet she stood resolute, determined to claim her truth. “Then let us address them, Kofi. If they wish to love me as they do the river, they must first understand that my heart cannot be bound by tradition alone.”

Together, they approached the gathering, their presence silencing the noise. Awero’s luminescent form shone brightly before the villagers, a figure of grace and longing. “People of Iye,” her voice resonated like a gentle waterfall. “I hear your concerns and understand your fears. But I ask you to embrace the spirit of love, for everything ties back to our hearts.”

“But goddess!” an elder interjected, his voice shrouded in despair. “You would cast aside tradition, the very rules that bind us? Our ancestors gave us these truths to maintain balance, and now you toss them aside for a fleeting whim! What becomes of us?”

Awero felt the burden of their doubts settle upon her, heavy like stones. She turned to Kofi, whose unwavering confidence bolstered her spirit. “This love is no fleeting whim; it is a connection borne out of understanding and a shared journey. I see greatness in him, and he sees the essence of me beyond my divinity. Shouldn’t we herald the love that strengthens us rather than the fear that chains us?”

While her words spoke to many, the dissenters grew louder. “If you continue down this path, we will revolt! Kofi will become a symbol of your betrayal!” Ayi’s voice rang out in defiance, urging the villagers to take action.

With fury rising like the waters of the river in a storm, the villagers began rallying together, spreading the words of rebellion like wildfire. Kofi felt desperation pool in his chest. “You cannot turn against the river, the essence of life that nurtured you!” he pleaded, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Awero does not abandon you; she seeks to redefine our understanding of existence, forging a path through love!”

Awero, witnessing the anger of her people, felt a tear slip from her eye, a drop of shimmering water cascading down her cheek. “I do not wish to abandon tradition, but rather to encompass love as a part of it,” she spoke, a tremor in her voice. “Let us shift our people's notions from fear of the divine to respect for the love it inspires.”

Yet Ayi’s followers rallied to her side like a tempest closing in. “We will not be silenced! Remove Kofi from our realm, or we will revolt and reclaim our land!” The threat loomed like thunderclouds.

With hearts aching under the weight of chaos, Awero and Kofi withdrew to the riverbank, seeking solace in each other’s embrace. The waters lapped gently around them, belying the storm brewing above. “What hope do we have if they refuse to listen? Our love is drowned in a sea of rigid tradition,” Kofi said, anguish flooding his voice.

Awero’s heart felt heavy at the thought of losing not only Kofi but also the love she had for her people. “We must do something, Kofi. If they rise against me, this will create a rift that will never heal. I cannot allow violence to taint the love we’ve fostered.”

Kofi contemplated her words, a spark igniting within. “Perhaps it is a time for a vision—a way for them to witness the connection we share. Let them see what love can do, the strength of unity! Let us unite our worlds, not through force but through understanding.”

Awero’s face lit up at this idea, her heart racing at the potential it held. “What do you suggest?”

“We could gather the villagers to witness the harmony of our love. I will venture into the depths of the river, and you will guide me. Let them glimpse the beauty our bond can manifest—a celebration of love that transcends the mundane.”

While Awero held apprehensions about exposing her true potential to the villagers, the thought of losing Kofi tore at her heart. “We shall do it,” she decided, quiet determination settling in her core.

As twilight enveloped the sky, Awero and Kofi prepared for the moment where the essence of their love could be revealed. The villagers gathered stiffly near the water’s edge, wary eyes trained upon the couple. Ayi stood prominently among them, crafting her thoughts into a formidable wariness.

“Let the goddess show us her folly,” she sneered, arms crossed defiantly.

Awero called out to the villagers, her voice soothing yet firm as the currents of the river. “Tonight, I wish to show you what love has the power to create. Trust in this connection!” As she intertwined her fingers with Kofi’s, the air shimmered with anticipation.

Kofi took a deep breath as he stepped forward, anchoring himself in Awero’s love. He plunged into the river, surrounded by the luminescence of the goddess’ magic. With each stroke, waves of light began to ripple through the depths, reflecting colors unseen; a twinkling symphony of blue and gold danced upon the surface.

Awero whispered incantations that brought forth vision to the villagers—a luminous world of intertwined destinies where love conquers fear. As Kofi glided through the currents, the waters began to swirl and shimmer, crafting vivid scenes of life filled with joy and unity.

Translucent images began to form around them; joyous villages thriving with laughter and mirth, couples tied together in bonds of love, strengthened by faith in each other, and the essence of life flourishing like the vibrant flowers that adorned their lands. The villagers watched with widened eyes, dazzled by this radiant display of harmony.

As Kofi emerged from the water, his body enveloped in light, he took Awero’s hand, their ethereal connection illuminating the entire riverbank. “This is what we fear losing! Love deems more powerful than all, binding us to each other and to the land. I am a mere shepherd, yet standing by this goddess—I am home!”

The spectators fell silent, the enchanting display weaving through their hearts, kindling sparks of curiosity where fear had resided. Awero, unfurling her arms, motioned for the villagers to gather closer to the river.

“Witness the life we could cultivate, a flourishing realm where love, not fear, binds our destinies,” she impassioned, her radiant presence illuminating the night. “Should we not embrace what can bring joy—a soul both mortal and divine?”

Slowly, the community began to shift, understanding unraveling within their hearts like the delicate petals of a bloom. Each villager contemplated their own relationships and the profound love that guided them through life. The doubts that once clouded their hearts began to lift, as whispers traversed the crowd.

“Perhaps we have misunderstood,” a voice murmured from the back. “Are we not made stronger by love?”

Yet Ayi, steadfast in her beliefs, raised her hands in defiance against the tide of change. “This will lead to calamity! You, dear people, are being blinded by a temporary dazzle! Remember our traditions!”

As the tide of voices began to shift, Kofi felt the potency of the moment building. “We can honor our traditions while allowing for new growth, Ayi. Do not fear what you do not understand. Our connection only seeks to deepen the love we hold for each other and our land.”

Ayi’s dark brow furrowed as she scanned the seeds of doubt taking root within the crowd. “You speak of love, yet love can lead us astray, and nothing remains sacred if boundaries are torn apart!”

Awero, sensing Ayi’s deep anguish and struggling to maintain the bonds of ancient customs, turned to her with compassion. “I do not seek to erase your traditions—merely to redefine them. Allow our love to be part of this journey! We can intertwine the threads of our fates while honoring your wisdom, Ayi, joining our hearts as one.”

The crowd murmured, captivated by her tender approach, while Ayi’s resolve faltered momentarily as she saw the light glimmering in their eyes.

“Can we bend, yet remain strong? Can we love without losing the heart of our values?” Ayi’s voice wavered, her gaze flickered to the shimmering waters of the river, its depths symbolizing the profound understanding they sought. “Will this ensure our traditions hold their importance? That we honor our ancestors while embracing the love that binds us?”

Awero nodded earnestly. “Let us forge a new path together, illuminating the values of both love and tradition. The heart is capable of holding both—together, we can transform what is in danger of being lost into something even more profound.”

And slowly, as Kofi and Awero’s unwavering spirits revealed the light of possibility, the villagers begun to look at each other. Unraveling their fears, the ripples of understanding glimmered like stars in the night sky.

In the face of chaos, Kofi and Awero had ignited a glimmer of hope—an understanding that could bridge the divide between love and tradition. Still, Ayi stood firm, the weight of history pressing against her resolve.

“I will not relinquish my caution or let you lead me astray without proof of your worth,” she said, her voice resolute. “If you truly wish to unite love with tradition, then you must first prove your intentions. A goddess cannot simply declare her love and expect all to follow.”

And thus, the challenge was laid before them. Awero and Kofi must endure trials of the heart, not only to prove their love but also to showcase that this union could invigorate the very essence of life within the village while retaining the wisdom of the past. It was a daunting task, but they were determined to fight for their love, to showcase that connection was more powerful than fear.

The river flowed with renewed vigor that night, carrying both shadows of doubt and the light of understanding. Awero and Kofi found themselves at a turning point, where their love could ripple through the kingdom, transforming hearts and guiding the kingdom toward acceptance.

With hope flickering in their souls, together they embarked on a journey that would redefine their destinies—a tug of war between love and tradition, where the outcome remained uncertain, yet hope towered billowy like the grand clouds above—a reminder that even in a storm, harmony could prevail, and love could illuminate their path.

They would set out to forge new threads in the fabric of their people, weaving a tapestry that honored both love and history—ever stronger together, as the Kingdom of Iye River watched, waiting for the dawn of a new awakening to unfold...
To be continued in Episode 6

Be patient with yourself. Nothing in nature blooms all year. #Patience #PersonalGrowth #StayPatient

Don’t Compare Your Child to Others
“Every child blooms at their own pace—celebrate their uniqueness.”
#UnconditionalLove #ParentingWisdom #NoComparisons

BROKEN VESSELS

Shards of glass lay strewn on the marble floor.
Drip.
Drip..
Drip…
The sound of crimson liquid colliding with hard surface. The once ancient vase which embodied beautiful lily is now stained red with its members scattered round in fragments. The agent responsible for this disaster lay face down on the table looking as innocent as ever. I walked towards the book I had earlier thrown and flipped it over, the first few lines I read fiercely catapulted me to a web of thoughts; bitter, dark thoughts, It encapsulated everything I was at that moment. It read "I am broken, life has broken me badly, I can't get up, my bones are shattered to bits, I won't be able to fight, I am afflicted by the guilt of my past, fractured by my mistakes, ruptured by low self-esteem, weakened by the world's view of me, I'm damaged goods, I'm down in life's pit and I can't get up".

I slowly sat on the stool with my bloodied hands which had begun to stain the white pages of the book, I turned the cover of the book and read aloud " broken vessels". Up until that time I had never come across the book, I could barely remember where I got it from or who had gifted it to me but at this point, it didn't matter, all that mattered was that someone understood my deepest pain, my frustrations and hate. It was like I had formed a bond with the book and line after line, syllable after syllable helped strengthen the bond.

It told the story of a girl who had been locked up in one of the world's notorious prisons. She had been a victim of rape, and every other form of assault your mind can conjure. She had murdered her own father and chewed his bloodied flesh bit by bit, she carried within her a well of hate and anger as a burning flame. She murdered five more men before she was eventually caught and jailed. There in the prison, she became the focus of old Maa Johnson who sought to spread the love of Christ in dark corners and hell's tomb. Her passion for the lost was so great that she devised a way to reach out to the inmates of this notorious prison. Broken, as she called herself was this old woman's first contact.

Those lines that resonated with me were the words from Broken to Maa Johnson. Nothing shook me as much as the woman's reply to her " You are like a broken vase, I know you think because you were broken by life you are not qualified to live, to be forgiven, to be saved, and to fight the enemy of anger and hate, but being broken qualifies you far more than you think. Brokeness turned you from the lady that can be played with to a dangerous weapon, you became dangerous when you were broken"

I turned my head to the shards of broken glass on the floor, I looked at my badly injured hands coated with blood and these words came alive in my heart. A smile slowly began to spread on my face as I thought on these words. Life thought it was hurting me when it broke me, what it didn't know was that it turned me into a weapon. I lifted myself up from the seat, with my head poised and screamed "Bring it on". I was a weapon now, my fears couldn't bring me down and in breaking the vase I gained freedom. I went into the kitchen, took a broom and swept out the pieces of glass before tossing it into the trash can. I muttered a word of thanks to the broken vase, in as much as I would miss it, it had taught me a vital lesson for life. I picked up the lily from the floor and planted it in another vessel and with each bloom of the flower I remembered the broken vessel.