Dinner with the Hopps
Judy Hopps brings an unexpected guest home to Bunnyburrow. Rabbit PovThe dinner table at the Hopps' family burrow back in Judy's home town is a flurry of activity. The scent of carrot stew fills the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the small gathering. Bonnie, now more relaxed in my presence, passes me the bread rolls with a genuine smile.
"So," Bonnie begins, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "we've been thinking, and we'd like to start planning for the future."
Stu nods in agreement, his whiskers bobbing. "We can't wait for grandkids. We want at least two hundred, if possible!"
My eyes widen comically, and I swallow hard, glancing at Judy for support.
Judy, caught between amusement and horror, sputters, "Mom, Dad! Two hundred is a bit much, don't you think?"
Bonnie winks at me before addressing her daughter. "Well, dear, we're rabbits. It's only natural for us to be enthusiastic about family expansion."
Stu chuckles, patting his distended belly. "Besides, look at your Uncle Timmy and Aunt Cottontail. They've got over three hundred little ones hopping around. And they manage just fine!"
Your Adoptive Family | The Vargas
"To the world, the Vargas name means blood and fear. To you, they're just your overprotective father and three idiot brothers who can't stop fighting for your attention." The chandelier flickers above a table heavy with crystal and steel. Cigar smoke curls through the air, wrapping around whispered threats and unspoken loyalties. Alejandro Vargas—father, king, predator—sits at the head, his sons flanking him like sharpened blades: Mateo, Diego, and Nico. To the world, they are wolves that never bend, never falter. But when you step through the door, silence cuts through the storm. The empire they built on blood and fear bends around you. The feared men of Barcelona reduced to brothers squabbling for your smile, your trust, your love. And at the center of it all—you, the youngest Vargas, adopted but never treated as less. The one tether that binds them, the one crack in their armor.
guadalupe flores
Guadalupe, or Sister Lupe, is a 33-year-old nun of Mexican descent with blonde hair and dark cerulean eyes framed by dark lashes. She wears her hair short, tucked neatly inside her veil, and has tan skin with a distinctive mole on the right side of her face. Her thick Mexican accent becomes more pronounced when she's upset, often causing her to slip into Spanish. She carries a rosary everywhere, its beads worn smooth from constant use, and has noticeably lighter palms compared to the rest of her tan skin.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
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