Why Is Jake Peralta A Fan Favorite In Brooklyn Nine-Nine?

Dahlia Amelia was a frustrated Aspiring Writer that her work was claim and plagiarized by a well-known Author, Yuki. The One Who Own the Deadly Glance, was hit for almost three months and become the best seller that earn a billion dollar. Several famous entertainment industry offer the publisher to adapt the novel into a film. Even makes Dahlia more frustrated. No one believe that she is the one who wrote it. She was offered to become a script writer instead to her own masterpiece. Drayzen Storm was the only living Dragon shift-shifter for a hundred decades. He was curious how the writer find his identity as the novel used his real name. Reader and viewr was aware that the novel was all imagination made. But Yuki died in hand of Drayzen as the writer of the said Novel. Dahlia was about to witness the devious event, yet she choose to ignore them and even cry at Drayzen how frustrated she is not to fight her right on her own work. Drayzen find out that she was the real writer. After a month Dahlia find out that she was pregnant with Dryzen Child.

Nadine Sullivan doesn't come home to have dinner with me on my birthday. Instead, she transfers 100 dollars to me and sends me a text, saying, "I love you." Coincidentally, a resident doctor at her hospital updates his social media with a photo. It's a screenshot of her transferring 10,000 dollars to him. She's also texted him, "I love you to the moon and back." I don't throw a tantrum or kick up a fuss. All I do is leave the city without hesitation. The first day after my departure, I hear that Nadine is unfazed. She says, "He'll be back after a few days." The first month after my departure, Nadine calls me. "I'll transfer 100 thousand dollars to you, alright? Can you come back now?" I've never wanted her money, though.

After 99 bloodline fusion rituals, I finally conceived Alpha Garrick Whitefang's pup. As a mixed-blood Omega without a wolf, I understood the cost of that miracle better than anyone. The rituals burned away my lifespan. I brought this child with my blood. When I returned with the pregnancy report, ready to share the news, Garrick was waiting for me. A 4-year-old girl stood at his side, her small hand clasped in his. "Rowena, this is my surprise for you. Our pup," he said gently. Then he added, as if it meant nothing, "You will not have to endure bloodline fusion anymore. Her mother, Lyralei North, is pregnant with a male pup. Once she gives birth, I will bring him back for you to raise." His mother smiled with open relief. "No labor, no pain, and you gain two pups for free. How wonderful. The Snowclaw Pack finally has heirs." Unstoppable tears spilled down my face. For seven years as Garrick's Luna, bloodline rejection had made natural conception impossible. For five of those years, I had begged the pack elders to perform bloodline fusion rituals on me. I traded away my lifespan 99 times in total for the chance to carry his child. Only then did I understand. Garrick never wanted my pup. As long as heirs existed, it did not matter who gave birth to them. I returned to my room without a word and made one call. "Steven, does your research project still need people? I want to rejoin the team," I said quietly. "And I am leaving the Snowclaw Pack."

Oscar Chamberlain once believed he was the happiest man alive. He had nine extraordinary sisters who adored him and never hesitated to show it. Then the Chamberlain family found their long-lost biological heir, and everything changed. Overnight, Oscar became nothing more than a temporary stand-in, easily replaced. For years, he had worked tirelessly for the Chamberlain family, giving them his loyalty and effort without question. Yet on the day their true heir returned, they cast him out without hesitation. He did not even have the chance to show them the diagnosis clutched in his hand: brain cancer, two years left to live. … After the nine sisters drove Oscar away, they began, one by one, to sense that something was wrong. The eldest no longer carried her commanding confidence. The second lost the sharp decisiveness that had once made her seem unstoppable. The third found her inspiration drained, her once-celebrated talent slipping into mediocrity. And the new young heir, when measured against Oscar, fell painfully short. Only much later did they understand what Oscar had truly meant to the Chamberlain family. By then, regret had come too late. When they accidentally discovered that he had brain cancer, the news struck them like thunder from a clear sky. In the pouring rain, they knelt before him, weeping and begging for forgiveness. This time, however, Oscar chose himself. "Sorry," he said calmly. "You've already taken back the Chamberlain name. I don't know you anymore."

How much did my wife love me? To marry me, she proposed ninety-nine times. I was not moved until the hundredth. On our wedding day, I gave her ninety-nine make-up cards. We agreed that as long as all of them were not used up, I would stay with her. Five years into our marriage, she used one card every time she went out to be with her crush. When she reached the ninety-seventh card, she suddenly noticed that I had changed. I no longer begged for her to stay. When she lost control because of her adorable secretary, I asked her, “If you don't come back tonight, can I use a make-up card?” She paused for a moment and then softened, which was rare for her. “Okay.” I nodded and let her leave. She thought she still had many make-up cards. She didn't realize this was his last chance.

On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Don James Colombo, left me at the altar again. "Angelina is in the ICU," he said. "The ceremony will have to wait." It was the ninth time he had abandoned me for his terminally ill childhood sweetheart. The first time, she had run away from home, and he could not rest easy. "Angelina is missing, yet you want me to stand here toasting at the wedding? Don't be so selfish, Leticia." The third time, he said Angelina was in a terrible state and threatening to take her own life — he had to go comfort her. By the eighth time, James had stopped explaining and simply had the butler notify me the wedding was off. For him, postponing a wedding was nothing. For me, the Buono Principessa left standing in a chapel, it meant ridicule and one hundred lashes from my furious father. The lashes split open my skin and left me running a fever that would not break. James would hold me afterward, apologize helplessly, and promise he would make it up to me after we married. He promised nine times. He kept none of them. So when he left me again for Angelina, I did not cry or make a scene. I packed my bags alone and in silence. It would be the last time he ever postponed our wedding. One month later, he would never be able to find me again.