Never play a game with a woman who isn't afraid to be alone. She has already survive nights without someone to hold her, days without a call and seasons with no support. She has learned to wipe her own tears, fix her own problems and protect her peace. She doesn't settle for breadcrumbs, mixed signals or half hearted love. You can't manipulate her with silence or win her with temporary affection. She has built a life that doesn't need validation, she's already whole. So when you play games, you're not confusing her rather you're showing her that you're not ready for her love and the moment she sees you're wasting her time she won't argue, beg or chase you rather she will walk away quietly, gracefully back to her peace. She love by choice not out of need and if you're not adding to her life she won't hesitate to subtract you from it.

Dangerfield Newby is the actual man on which the movie D’Jango Unchained is loosely based. He was a member of the John Brown raiders. He joined the gang to save his wife, Harriet and children from slavery. —Dangerfield Newby (1815 – October 17, 1859) was the oldest of John Brown's raiders, one of five black raiders, and the first of his men to die at Harpers Ferry, Virginia. Born into slavery in Fauquier County, Virginia, Newby married a woman also enslaved. Newby's father was Henry Newby, a landowner in Fauquier County. His mother was Elsey Newby, who was a slave, owned not by Henry, but by a neighbor, John Fox. Elsey and Henry lived together for many years and had several children, although interracial marriage was illegal in Virginia. Dangerfield was their first child. Dangerfield Newby, his mother and his siblings were later freed by his father when he moved them across the Ohio River into Bridgeport, Ohio. John Fox, who died in 1859, apparently did not attempt to retrieve Elsey, Dangerfield, or any of his siblings. Dangerfield's wife and their seven children remained in bondage. A letter found on his body revealed some of his motivation for joining John Brown and the raid on Harpers Ferry. Dangerfield Newby's wife, Harriet Newby, was the slave of Jesse Jennings, of Arlington or Warrenton, Virginia. Newby had been unable to purchase the freedom of his wife and seven children. Their master raised the price after Newby had saved the $1,500 that had previously been agreed on. Because all of Newby's other efforts had failed he hoped to free them by force. Harriet's poignant letters, found on his body, proved instrumental in advancing the abolitionist cause. Newby was six foot two. On October 17, 1859, the citizens of Harpers Ferry set to put down the raid. Harpers Ferry manufactured guns but the citizens had little ammunition, so during the assault on the raiders they fired anything they could fit into a gun barrel. One man was shooting six inch spikes from his rifle, one of which struck Newby in the throat, killing him instantly. After the raid, the people of Harpers Ferry took his body, stabbed it repeatedly, and amputated his limbs. His body was left in an alley to be eaten by hogs. In 1899 the remains of Newby-plus remains of nine other raiders-were reburied in a common grave near the body of John Brown in North Elba, New York. Dangerfield Newby's wife, Harriet and her children were sold to a Louisiana slave owner after the raid.

Unlock phone wahala 🤣😀😁🤣 t was a peaceful Saturday morning. Birds were singing, the sun was rising until Chike exploded down the street like a stol en okada🤣🤣 His neighbours shouted, Chike, Are you running from ar m*ed ro bb*ers🤣🤣 Breathless, Chike yelled, Worse, I forgot my phone it’s not locked. and it’s beside my wife🤣🤣🤣 Everyone gasped. One man shouted, Guy, increase your speed o. That woman go scroll to 2018 if you delay🤣🤣 Ehee..men supporting men🤣🤣 Chike didn’t wait for motivation. He jumped gutters like an Olympic athlete. He even ran past the local church choir rehearsing it is well at full speed🤣. Rumour has it that by the time he reached home, his wife had already opened WhatsApp, scrolled past Good morning beautiful from Amaka, and was just about to open the photo album titled Business Documents which had no business in it🤣🤣😂 If you love peace, lock your phone or train for a marathon🤣🤣🤣🤣

Beauty does not make a good lady. Character and attitude are the basic needs of a relationship. Also, a woman is not interested in your money or status. What she wants is your time, loyalty, love and commitment.

Italian Relationship: 1st day= S€x 2nd day= S€x again. French Relationship: 1st day = movies & kiss 2nd day = S€x 3rd day = S€x again British Relationship: 1 day= hangout & kiss 2nd day = kiss & hug 3rd day= kissing, hug and smooching 4th day = s€x and more s€x American Relationship: 1st day= Date 2nd day= Hug 3rd day= Hug again (warmly) 4th day= Kiss 5th day= Long kiss 6th day= S€x Nigeria Relationship: 1st day= Toast 2nd day= Toast 3rd day= Toast again 4th day= Agree 5th day= Date 6th day= Date again 7th day= Date again with three of her hungry friends or cousins. 8th day= Date & Hug 9th day= Tried to peck but failed. 10th day = Peck 11th day= Tried to kiss but failed. 12th day= kiss 13th day= Long kiss 14th day= Tried to have s€x but failed. 15th day= Tried to have s€x but quarrelled 16th day= Didn't talk to each other 17th day= Malice till the next day 18th day= The man called but the woman didn't pick 19th day= The man called, the woman picked and asked: "what is it?" The man apologize and the Ital replied: "Leave me alone, am not that type of girl" The man continued to beg till the next day. 20th day= The woman accepted the unwarranted apology 21st day= Hug 22nd day= Long hug 23rd day= Kiss 24th day= Long kiss 25th day= Tried to have s€x but the woman complains that her phone is bad. Guy promises to buy her a new one. 26th day= Tried to have s€x but the woman said until he buys the phone 27th day= Tried to have s€x but the woman asked: "where is the phone? U are not serious, call me when you are serious" 28th day= R@pe. 29th day= Police c@se 😅😁I tire hmm

BEAUTY FROM THE ASHES Episode 6 The women’s conference stretched across the week like a divine unfolding, each evening a sacred appointment that Amara hadn’t even known her soul had been craving. It wasn’t just a program; it was an invitation. An invitation to heal, to awaken and to breathe again. The first night had left her in tears. The speaker, a soft-spoken woman with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand stories, had shared her journey from despair to deliverance. Amara sat quietly in the third row, tears slipping down her cheeks as the words struck something deep, something raw within her. She wasn’t alone. Not in her pain. Not in her confusion. Not even in her silence. Every session after that peeled back another layer of pain, of pride, of fear. Like an onion shedding its skin, Amara found herself slowly unraveling. The masks she had worn for years...the brave wife, the silent sufferer, the spiritual martyr, began to fall. With every worship session, with every testimony, the walls she had so carefully constructed began to crack. Each night, she came home lighter. And each morning, she woke with a little more clarity. It was as if her heart was remembering how to feel again, how to hope. By Thursday, something inside her had shifted. That night’s message felt like it was delivered straight from the throne room of heaven to her wounded heart. The speaker, a fiery preacher with a voice that could calm storms or rouse an army, stood with authority and grace. She read from Isaiah 61:3: “…to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” The words echoed through the hall, soaking into the atmosphere like rain on dry soil. Amara closed her eyes and let them wash over her. Beauty for ashes. Joy for mourning. Praise for heaviness. She didn’t know when the tears had started, but they came in quiet streams, not of sorrow, but of release. For the first time in a long time, Amara allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, her story wasn’t over. That perhaps God hadn’t abandoned her in the wreckage of her marriage, but had been waiting in the wings for her to find the strength to choose. Later that evening, Amara sat in Chinwe’s cozy living room, cradling a warm mug of ginger tea. The lights were dim, the air fragrant with the scent of cinnamon and honey. Chinwe sat across from her, legs tucked under her on the couch, listening intently. “I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking for years,” Amara began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was so sure I was doing God’s will by marrying Eddy. Everyone said I was. And when things turned ugly, I thought... maybe this was my cross. Maybe I was supposed to endure it.” Chinwe reached out and gently took her hand. “Amara,” she said, her tone gentle but firm, “God never asks us to stay in darkness and call it faith. He’s not glorified by your suffering. He’s glorified by your healing, your wholeness, your courage.” Amara looked down, tears pooling again. “But how do I just walk away? I made vows. I kept hoping he’d change. I didn’t want to give up.” “Walking away from abuse isn’t giving up,” Chinwe replied. “It’s waking up. It’s choosing life. God is not a taskmaster. He’s your Father. And He loves you far too much to watch you slowly die in a house where your soul can’t breathe.” A long silence passed between them. “So what do I do now?” Amara finally asked, her voice cracking. Chinwe squeezed her hand. “You choose,” she said softly. “You choose light. You choose life. You choose you.” That night, Amara didn’t sleep much. She lay in her room, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the moments she had silenced herself for the sake of peace, all the prayers she had whispered in the darkness, asking God to change Eddy, to save their home. But something had shifted. She realized she had been praying for resurrection in a grave she was never meant to lie in. The next morning, the storm arrived. Eddy came home with a man and started raining abuses on Amara; " See this idiot! You think you can come from African part of Nigeria to outsmart me that came from American part of Nigeria? It's either you hand over the school to me, channel all income to my account or I make sure the school is closed down completely." Her children, all came out to watch helplessly as usual. As Amara was trying to explain to the man he came home with, Eddy rushed Amara and started pounding her, targeting her face and bragging that he must make sure Amara becomes useless to any other man in this life; "By the time I'm done with you, people would spit on you at sight" Eddy continued hitting Amara until she collapsed on the floor. The poor man that came to ask for money to feed his family couldn't help the situation. When Amara regained consciousness, she saw only her children crying and waking her up. She sent for Chinwe. Chinwe immediately and secretly arranged for a drop that took them to Divine Mercy Hospital. The doctor was furious and demanded for his presence. When he arrived, he pleaded with the doctor that it's devil's handwork. As soon as he sighted Amara's brother, he begged Amara not to tell her brother but mocked her immediately her brother left. It's already few days Amara returned from hospital. Pastor Dickson visited their house. Bro Eddy pls kindly tell your wife what you shared with me. Eddy hesitated. "Sister Amara, your husband impregnated a lady called Jacinta and asked her to keep the baby. Although the lady insisted he must furnish a flat for her otherwise she will terminate the pregnancy. He was mad against you because he was having a showdown financially and couldn't meet the lady's demands and you refused to hand your income over to him." Pastor Dickson explained. Amara was lost in thought...so this man wanted me dead because of women. She remembered how he was bashed by one of his customers when she visited at the hospital. "Eddy, were you not the one that that told me this woman gave up her 12month salaries for you to have an English machine? Why are you treating this woman as if she worths nothing?" Mrs Aleme queried "How dare her say no to my order, a woman that bends to urinate? She must hand over the school to me. My account must be used for all income!" he thundered. But she has left the factory for you. The woman reminded And then? Eddy persisted. To Be Continued 🙏 What do you think that happened next? Find out in the next episode 🤔 Pls encourage me with like, follow, comment and share. God bless you 👏 ©️Grace Amarachi #teacherwritersingerlover #BeautyFromTheAshes #ChristianFiction #FaithAndResilience

"50 Cent is quite frugal. He ended our two-year relationship after I asked him for $10,000," Jamira, the rapper’s ex-girlfriend, recently shared in an emotional statement. 🥲‼️ She continued, "Ladies, think twice before dating someone like 50 Cent. In fact, if your partner follows him on social media, it might even be a red flag. During the two years we were together, he never gave me a single dollar. The only gift I ever received was a wig, which he actually asked me to return the day we broke up. It wasn’t even worth $100." Jamira explained that she had never asked him for money during the entire course of their relationship. But the one time she did—requesting $10,000—his response surprised her: "'Jamira, you're a strong, independent woman. You don’t need a man to take care of your bills. Here’s $50,'" she recalled. Feeling disappointed and hurt, Jamira ended the relationship. His final words, she claimed, were: "'I’ve been waiting to hear that for a long time. Please leave the wig on the table before you go.'" She concluded by saying, "I truly regret falling for him. Loving 50 Cent was the biggest mistake of my life. He’s just extremely tight with money." Fans have reacted with mixed opinions, while others point out 50 Cent once famously rapped, “I don’t care what you heard about me, but a woman’s not getting a dollar outta me.” It seems he meant every word. 😆

Nigerian Government Lists Woman 'Declared Wanted By Police Since 2016' As Witness To Testify Against Senator Natasha parallelfactsnews.com/woman-wanted-t…

If a woman is pregnant can she see her time again

ARE YOU DOWNGRADING GOD'S WORK ? I have a womb and no fertility issues, but I’m going to use a surrogate – Businesswoman Ife DANG.

On a more serious note no real man wants a lady with just a big bum bum... We live in a generation where attention has been reduced to angles, filters, and how much body you can show. The louder the curves, the more people assume you’re winning. But let’s be real for a moment because behind the trends and temptations, the truth still stands tall. No real man is looking for a woman with just a big bum bum. Yes, a woman’s body may attract the eye, but it is her mind, her values, her character, and her essence that hold a man’s soul. The internet may be flooded with men commenting “fire” emojis and heart eyes under BBL pictures, but when it’s time for real life, when it’s time to choose a wife, a mother, a business partner, a backbone, these same men go quiet on curves and start looking for substance. Because here’s what they won’t post online: They want a woman who has sense, not just shape. They want a woman who can sit in a room with kings and speak with wisdom. They want a woman who can raise children with values and discipline. They want a woman who can manage a home, not just show off an outfit. They want a woman who can lead a business when they are not there. They want a woman who can multiply whatever she’s given not one who needs to be constantly maintained like a car with no engine. This is the truth social media will not scream at you. So whether you have the body or not, what really matters is: do you have value? Do you have strength of character? Can you think for yourself? Can you build something out of your life even when no one is clapping for you? Can you build a family, a vision, a legacy? Because no real man is looking for a liability. Real men are looking for women who are whole, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Not women who only offer their bodies but are empty in purpose and identity. So while you’re chasing body goals, don’t forget to chase life goals. Train your mind the same way you train your hips. Build your value the same way you build your wardrobe. Learn emotional intelligence the same way you learn makeup tutorials. Because in the end, the world may celebrate your bum bum, but your destiny will rise or fall based on your substance. You’re more than a body. You’re a builder. You’re a thinker. You’re a nurturer. You’re a world-shifter. So rise beyond what they see. Let your mind be sharper than your waistline. Let your presence shake rooms not because of how you walk, but because of the wisdom you carry. Because the kind of woman who changes generations doesn’t just have a bum bum, she has a brain and a spirit that cannot be ignored. _______ You want to be a woman of value?... Learn a skill. Click on the link in the comment section to learn how to write for impact, influence, and income. 📷 Internet Yours Inspiration, Kathryn Esther Clement

For a whore is a deep ditch and a strange woman is a narrow pit🙏 Take note