LAMB

This means smut .

This means fluff .

This means crack .

This means angst .

This means suggestive .

MORTAL KOMBAT

Tomas Smut Headcanons .

Kung Lao x Bodybuilder! Fem! Reader .

Immortal Reader x Kung Lao .

Kung Lao x Bodybuilder! Fem! Reader .

Johnny Cage x Starting! Actor! Male Reader .

Kung Lao x Liu Kang - Birthday Sex .

Liu Kang x Bi-Han - Underwear Stealer .

Tomas Vrbada Smut x Fluff ( mainly smut ) x Fem ! Bodybuilder ! Reader .

Niche Fetishes I Think The MK1 Characters Would Have .

Lin Kuei Brothers x Kung Lao .

Femdom Reader x Kuai Liang + Hanzo Hasashi .

Johnny Cage x Female ! Sergeant ! Reader .

Johnny Cage x Dom ! Muscular ! Female ! Reader .

Johnny Cage x Bottom Male Reader .

Ex ! Reader x Bi - Han .

JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE

Suzi Q x Male ! Joseph Joestar’s Twin ! Reader .

CASTLEVANIA

Nothing here yet .

OCS

Nothing here yet .

AVATAR ( JAMES CAMERON ) FRANCHISE

Putting Him In His Place . ( Bottom Jake Sully x Top Male Reader )

Jake Sully’s Dad x A’e ( Na’vi OC )

Can’t Get Enough . ( Bottom Jake Sully x Top Male Reader )

Metkayina Avatar ! Male ! Reader x Jake Sully

Metkayina Avatar ! Male ! Reader x Ronal .

Metkayina Avatar ! Male ! Reader and Pril .

Metkayina Avatar ! Male ! Reader x Bottom Quaritch .

Dad ! Jake Sully + Daughter Paralysed Reader .

Dad ! Jake Sully + Daughter RDA Reader .

Dad ! Figure Jake Sully + Mangkwan Reader .

Recom Miles Quaritch x Mated Metkayina Avatar Reader . ( there’s some mention of sex so )

WRONG BODY ( AVATAR OC SERIES )

First Chapter .

Second Chapter .

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Evil ! Aged Up ! Yuji Itadori x Any Gender Reader .

Naoya Zenin x Top Male Reader .

Hiromi Higuruma x Top Male Reader .

DISPATCH

Robert x Suicidal ! Male ! Trans ( FtM ) Reader with ED .

Shark ! Like ! GN ! Reader x Waterboy .

AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER

Nothing here yet .

OTHER STUFF:

Ao3 Account . ( Shared with some people from my polycule . )

Janitor.AI for OCS .

Avatar fankids list !

— JAKE SULLY X MALE ! VESSEL OF GAIA ! READER — SMUT .

Jake Sully’s always known you were different from other humans the moment you met him.

The way your eyes dilated— in a ecstatic way— at the mere mention of Earth, Jake noticed that first. He didn't comment on it, though, just filed it away behind that impassive mask of his. You didn't gush about the polluted cities or the strip-mined forests back home.

In fact, you got quite sad anytime anybody brung it up, all the Terran things that were brought onto Pandora instantly losing their colour in your mind when you compared them to the rolling hills of alien moss or the way the wind smelled before a storm here.

You weren't like the other scientists— not even close. Norm would rattle off facts about hexapedal biology like he was reading from a textbook, and you'd just stare out the window of the link chamber, watching the way the sunlight fractured through Pandora's triple-canopy in prismatic bursts that made your chest ache.

Jake started seeking you out after missions, his avatar still dripping river water or streaked with ash from Hometree's fires. He'd say nothing at first, just fall into step beside you while you wandered the compound's perimeter, your fingers trailing along the bioluminescent fungi that pulsed under your touch. "You don't belong here," he said once, not unkindly, while you both watched a thanator skull decay into the soil near the eastern fence.

It started with the headache, that deep, bone-rattling kind that made Norm pause mid-sentence during one of his endless diagnostics. "Your vitals are… wrong," he muttered, fingers hovering over the biometric display. Not just elevated, not just erratic. Wrong. Like your heart was syncing to some invisible tide, your pupils dilating in time with the distant hum of Pandora's neural network.

You laughed it off, rubbing your temples where the pressure throbbed. "Maybe I'm just allergic to your bullshit, Spellman." But Norm's grin faltered when the monitors flared brighter, reacting to your touch like the fungi outside, swaying in waves of blue-green light that mirrored your exhales.

Jake leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. He'd been quiet all morning, watching Norm poke and prod with that same unreadable expression. "Run it again," he said, low. Not a suggestion. Norm swallowed hard, recalibrating the scanner

The screen lit up with a cascading diagram—

A dodecahedron of interconnected energy nodes, each branching into fractal patterns, Norm's coffee cup hitting the floor. "Oh, oh fuck." His voice cracked. "You're not… you can't just be this. Human biology doesn't do this."

Jake's breath hitched when the realisation hit him— not like a bullet, but like the slow unfurling of a vine seeking sunlight. You were staring at the biometric screen too, but where Norm saw impossibility, Jake saw something else entirely.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a drumbeat syncing with the thrum of Pandora beneath his boots. The way your fingers trembled near the display, the way the air around you shimmered faintly blue when you exhaled— fuck. Fuck. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the doorframe.

He'd spent nights listening to you murmur about Earth's lost rainforests, how you'd trace patterns in the dirt with your fingertip— not the clinical schematics Norm drew up, but winding, organic shapes that mirrored root systems. Jake had watched you, silent, from across the lab. Now, with the scanner's light painting your face in fractal greens, he imagined those same hands pressing into ruined soil back on Terra.

Imagined the way dead earth might quicken under your touch, how cracked riverbeds would surge anew when you knelt beside them. His heart kicked up violently at the thought— your palms slick with mud, sweat tracing your collarbones as life surged upward in response to you alone.

"You good?" you asked, snapping Jake from the reverie. His throat clicked when he swallowed. Your fingers brushed his wrist as you stood, and the contact sent a jolt through him so sharp his tail lashed against the doorframe. Norm was still gaping at the screen, but Jake didn't care. He followed you into the hallway, his breath coming too fast.

—

The first time Jake fucks you, it's against the rough bark of a willow palm, his hips slamming into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. His fingers dig into your thighs, lifting you higher as his tail lashes behind him— not just hungry, but ravenous, like he's trying to carve himself into the very core of you. "Look at you," he growls, voice ragged, "fuck, look at you—" His teeth graze your shoulder, possessive. "You'd make deserts bloom."

You gasp when his thrusts stutter, losing rhythm for just a second. His pupils are blown wide, his breath coming in short, hot bursts against your neck. "Could see it," he murmurs, almost delirious. "You— kneeling in the dirt back home, hands in the soil—"

His grip tightens. "And it'd listen to you." The image undoes him— his hips jerk forward, driving you harder into the tree. "Gonna put a baby in you," he snarls, and the way he says it isn't crude, isn't dirty— it's a promise. "Fill you up till Earth remembers what it's supposed to be."

You arch against him, nails scraping down his back, and the sound he makes is barely human. His pace turns brutal, chasing something neither of you can name. When you come, it's with his teeth at your throat and his name on your lips— and Jake? Jake follows with a groan so deep it vibrates through your ribs, spilling into you with a shudder that feels like surrender.

The fantasy clings to you both like the sweat-slick press of your bodies— impossible, absurd, intoxicating. Jake knows the mechanics don’t work that way, knows it the same way he knows the sky is violet and the air burns if you breathe too deep.

But when he pins you against the moss-draped roots of some towering Pandoran behemoth, his hands mapping your ribs like he’s memorising the contours of a sacred site, none of that matters. His teeth find the curve of your shoulder, and the groan he lets out is half-laugh, half-snarl. "Fuck," he mutters, dragging his tongue over the mark he left. "You’d look good round with it, though."

"That's the third time you've yawned in two minutes," Jake murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You don't even bother denying it, your eyelids are heavy as river stones, and the soft, rhythmic sound of Tonowari’s breathing isn’t helping.

The firelight paints the walls of the marui in flickering gold, shadows stretching and curling like lazy vines. Someone, probably Quaritch, shifts behind you, his arm draped heavily over your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns against your hip. It’s not the first time you’ve all ended up like this, tangled together like roots after a storm, but it still surprises you how easy it is. How right.

"You’re thinking too loud," Tonowari rumbles, the words vibrating through his chest where your back is pressed against him. His tail flicks lazily, curling around Jake’s ankle in a gesture so casual it makes your throat tighten.

Quaritch snorts, his breath stirring your hair. "Always does." There’s no bite to it, just fondness.

"You’re one to talk," you mumble, tilting your head back just enough to catch the glint of Quaritch’s teeth in the dim light. His grin is all lazy satisfaction, the kind that comes from knowing he’s won without even trying. "Like you don’t overthink every damn thing." His fingers pause their idle tracing, pressing just a little harder, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you shiver.

Jake chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you feel it where his chest brushes against your shoulder. "Both of you shut up," he murmurs, but there’s no real command in it, just the same drowsy contentment that’s settled over all of you like a second skin. His tail twitches against your thigh, a silent, grounding weight.

Tonowari hums, a deep, resonant sound that seems to ripple through you. "They will not," he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice, thick as honey. "They enjoy this too much." His fingers slowly card through your hair, and you melt a little further into the tangle of limbs.

The fire pops, sending embers spiraling upward, and for a moment, the shadows dance across the ceiling like living things.

Quaritch exhales, long and slow, his breath hot against your temple. "Damn right," he mutters, and you can feel the way his lips curl against your skin. "S’good. Arguing with you." The admission is quiet, almost lost in the crackle of the flames, you don’t have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes at himself.

"You say that like it’s a revelation," Jake murmurs, his voice rough with sleep but still teasing. His tail flicks lazily against your thigh, like the drag of a paintbrush. "We know you love bickering. You’d argue with a rock if it looked at you funny."

Quaritch grumbles something unintelligible into your hair, but his fingers resume their idle tracing, this time mapping the curve of your ribs with a touch so light it’s barely there. You shiver, and Tonowari’s chest rumbles with a quiet laugh against your back. "Like a skxawng with a new toy," he says, the words warm.

Jake’s tail stills first, the lazy flicks against your thigh slowing until it lies heavy and warm across your legs. His breathing deepens next, the rise and fall of his chest evening out against your shoulder, his exhales turning slow and measured. You don’t need to look to know his face has gone slack, his sharp edges softened by sleep, his brow smooth, his lips slightly parted. The arm he’d draped over Tonowari’s side slips just a little, fingers going limp against the Olo’eyktan’s hip.

Quaritch notices it too. You feel the way his breath hitches in silent laughter against your temple, the way his fingers pause their tracing to tap once, pointedly, against your ribs. Look at him, that touch says, smug and fond all at once.

Quaritch lasts another minute, maybe two, before his breathing slows. You feel it in the way his fingers finally still against your ribs, the way his exhales deepen into something heavier, something surrendering. His grip slackens, his arm sliding just a fraction lower around your waist, but he doesn’t let go entirely.

Even asleep, he clings, like he’s afraid the tide might drag you away if he doesn’t hold on. His forehead rests against the curve of your shoulder now, his breath damp and warm through the fabric of your shirt.

You can’t help it— the laugh bubbles up before you can swallow it, muffled against Tonowari’s forearm where it’s curled around your shoulders. "They’re ridiculous," you whisper, tilting your head back just enough to catch the way his eyes gleam in the firelight, half-lidded and amused. His fingers pause in your hair, then resume their slow combing, the rhythm so steady it’s hypnotic.

"Mm. Like children," Tonowari agrees, voice a low rumble you feel more than hear. His tail flicks lazily, the tip brushing Jake’s ankle again, as if to say see? Even in sleep, Jake’s tail twitches in response, curling tighter around your thigh.

Quaritch, for his part, lets out a quiet, disgruntled noise, something between a sigh and a grumble, and nuzzles closer, his nose pressing into the hollow of your throat like he’s trying to burrow there. You swallow another laugh.

Tonowari’s fingers slow their combing through your hair, the deliberate drag of his fingers against your scalp becoming uneven, stuttering like a boat caught between currents. He exhales through his nose, long and controlled, as if he could will away the weight of his own exhaustion through sheer stubbornness alone.

You can feel the effort in the way his chest expands against your back, the deliberate steadiness of his breath, the slight tension in his arms where they cradle you.

"You’re fighting it," you murmur, tilting your head just enough to catch the flutter of Tonowari’s eyelids, heavy as storm clouds. His fingers twitch in your hair, a half-hearted denial, but the rhythm of his breathing is already slipping, long inhales, longer exhales, the kind that pull a person under whether they want it or not.

His chest rises against your back, like he’s counting each breath to stay anchored. It’s almost funny, how hard he’s trying, how pointless the effort is.

Quaritch snores softly against your collarbone, a quiet, uneven puff of air that makes Tonowari’s nose wrinkle in unconscious irritation. His arm tightens around you, just for a second, like he might shake the other man awake out of principle. But the moment passes, and his grip loosens again, his fingers going slack where they’re tangled in your hair. His exhale this time is a surrender, warm and damp against the nape of your neck.

Jake’s tail, still curled around your thigh, gives one last, half-hearted twitch, as if even in sleep, he’s trying to have the final word. The fire pops again, embers spiraling upward in a lazy dance, and the sound seems to startle Tonowari’s eyelids back open for a second. But it’s no use.

His head dips forward, his forehead pressing between your shoulder blades, his breath evening out into something deep and unresisting.

Sleep takes you like a slow tide, not all at once, but in creeping increments, the weight of Quaritch’s arm around your waist and Tonowari’s breath against your neck becoming indistinguishable from the warmth of the firelight. The last thing you register is the soft click of Jake’s tail against the woven floor mats, a sound that slips seamlessly into the rhythm of your dreams.

These are taunting me so bad because I CAN’T FUCKING GET IN MY DMS‼️‼️‼️TUMBLR WON’T LET ME‼️‼️‼️😔😔

If anybody wants to request this reader feel free to‼️I’d love to do something with this version of reader :)

The pod seals with a hiss of pressurised air, swallowing you whole. Mercer's face flickers behind the reinforced glass, sharp cheekbones catching the sterile light, mouth twisted in something too tight to be called a smile. His thumb jerks upward in a mockery of encouragement. You don't return the gesture.

Synaptic fire erupts behind your eyelids as the connection initiates, a familiar agony that never dulls. Your spine arches against the restraints, fingers clawing at nothing. For three terrible seconds, you are nowhere, neither human nor Na'vi, just raw nerve endings screaming into the void.

You blink awake into the Sarentu's body, slowly waking up on a med-bed. The room smells like antiseptic and something earthy, probably the salves they slathered over your wounds. The ceiling tiles are wrong, too clean and a groan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

A human doctor leans into your line of sight, his beard streaked with grey, eyes tired but alert. "Welcome back," he says, like you've just returned from a vacation. "Can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

You flex your hands, foreign hands, Na'vi hands, and watch as the five, long blue digits twitch obediently. The sensation is both intimate and alien, like wearing a stranger’s skin. The doctor nods, satisfied. "Good… now your toes."

The command feels absurd when your feet are so different now, the arches higher, the joints more flexible. You curl them against the cool metal surface. Every movement is a question unanswered, whose body is this really? The doctor scribbles something on his datapad, oblivious to the war inside your chest.

A monitor beeps softly in the background, counting breaths that don’t feel like yours.

The doctor pauses, tilting his head as if reading your silence like a diagnostic report. "Does the Avatar feel natural?" he asks. Your thumb lifts, but the gesture tastes like ash in your mouth. He exhales, shoulders loosening. "Excellent. We’ll proceed then."

A holo-projector flickers to life above the bed, displaying a grainy surveillance feed: Na’vi figures darting through a dense canopy. The doctor taps the image, freezing a frame where one stares back. "Former TAP subjects," he says. "They escaped from cryopods, we need them recovered. No one else can get close."

The doctor’s voice drops to a murmur. "Mercer wants this handled quietly." He doesn’t say what happens if you refuse. He doesn’t need to. The doctor taps his datapad again, pulling up a dossier. "They’ll trust you," he says. "Because you’re going to tell them you’re the last Sarentu to get out of cryostasis."

"And if they don’t believe me?"

Scenario : The first Avatar movie where Jack meets the clan for the first time and surprise, surprise he has child reader with him since in the 1st movie he is a block head and some how dragged child reader into the mess. I would like to see how the clan reacts to reader who is almost similar to Luna Lovegood (i.e. very whimsy and cloudy) in their mannerisms and a bit 'magical'..... Reader rarely talks and when they do their words are carefully chosen (but in riddles) since they do not need to over exert themselves for words and sentences that are meaningless. Always has this far eyed dreamy stare where it seems they are not really there with next to you, and almost always know something others don't. (If it is okay can reader be extremely pale? Since they have a weak heart + an iron deficiency hence their snow-like skin/appearance. If not ignore this the paleness thing.)

Wanted to write Neytiri and Jake being a bit motherly and fatherly :) Made a slight change in which Neytiri and Jake are already mated !

The first thing Neytiri noticed about you wasn’t your ghost-pale skin or the way your feet barely made sound against the moss, it was the vine caught in your hair, tangled there like a crown of misplaced roots. You stared past her shoulder at something unseen, humming a tune, while Jake Sully stood behind you looking like a man who’d accidentally adopted a stray spirit. "She just… followed me," he muttered, rubbing his neck. Neytiri’s tail flicked.

Her nostrils flared as she circled you, assessing, not the way she would a threat, but the way a mother cat circles a kitten, sniffing for weakness, for the scent of harm. You blinked up at her, slow as a sunrise, and held out a hand cupped around nothing. "The wind told me you’d be here," you said, and Jake groaned.

Neytiri’s ears twitched. She didn’t understand your riddles, but she understood the way your knees trembled from exhaustion, the blue-tinged pallor of your lips. Without a word, she scooped you up, one arm beneath your legs, the other bracing your back. You weighed less than a bundle of reeds to the giant woman. "Hey—!" Jake started, but Neytiri was already walking, her grip firm yet careful, as if you might dissolve like mist if she squeezed too hard.

You curled into her warmth, pressing your ear to her chest, listening to the steady drumbeat of her heart. "Your heartbeat sounds like rain," you murmured, eyes drifting shut. Neytiri didn’t reply, but her fingers tightened just slightly, and when Jake caught up, panting, she shot him a look that said, This one is ours now.

Inside Hometree, the clan watched in hushed curiosity as Neytiri lowered you onto a woven mat. The vine still tangled in your hair caught the firelight like a living thing, and without hesitation, Neytiri began unraveling it with her claws, working the knots loose with surprising gentleness.

Mo’at approached, her golden eyes narrowing at the way your fingers twitched toward empty air, tracing invisible patterns. "She sees what we do not," the tsahìk murmured, but Neytiri only flicked an ear in response, too busy smoothing your hair back to dignify the observation with words.

Jake hovered at the edge of the gathering, shifting his weight like a guilty child. "Uh, Neytiri?"

Her tail lashed once, sharp, without even glancing back at him, her focus entirely on the small, pale creature curled into the mat. You blinked up at her, slow and trusting, and she pressed a hand to your forehead. Jake took a half-step forward. "Look, I just—"

Neytiri hissed. Not at you, never at you, but at him, the sound unmistakable, a warning, a territorial snap. One of the younger warriors snickered into his palm. Jake froze, hands raised in surrender, but Mo’at merely hummed, amused.

Her claws combed through your hair in slow sweeps, unraveling the last of the vine, but instead of tossing it aside, she split it into three thin strands and began weaving them back into your locks. The gesture was something instinctual.

You tilted your head like a curious ikran, letting her work, your fingers still tracing the air in lazy spirals. "The stars sing louder here," you whispered, and Neytiri paused, just for a second, before continuing her braid.

Jake opened his mouth again, but Tsu’tey clamped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to bruise. "You do not speak," he murmured, low and dangerous, "Until she decides you may." Neytiri ignored them all, her fingers deft, her breathing steady, weaving the vine into your hair as if it belonged there all along.

—

The woven fibers of Jake’s hammock cradled you like a spider’s silk cocoon, swaying slightly with each distant gust of wind through Hometree. You stared up at the vines pulsing overhead, your fingers twitching as if plucking constellations from the air. Neytiri’s hammock creaked softly beside you, not with restlessness, but with the deliberate stillness of a predator observing prey. Except you weren’t prey.

Her golden eyes gleamed in the dark, tracking the way your lips moved silently, shaping words meant only for the shadows. You turned your head toward her, slow as a drifting leaf, and smiled without teeth. "The moon told me a secret," you murmured, and Neytiri’s breath hitched, just once. She didn’t ask what it was.

Jake snorted in his sleep, limbs sprawled like a dropped puppet. Neytiri’s tail lashed once, annoyance, or maybe envy, before she reached across the gap between hammocks and brushed a thumb over your wrist.

"Ma’Jake," she murmured, barely louder than the rustle of leaves. When he didn’t stir, she hissed through her teeth and leaned closer. "Ma’Jake!" She whisper-yelled this time.

Jake flailed, nearly toppling out of the hammock, his eyelids peeling apart in panic. "Wha—?"

Neytiri ignored his floundering, her hands hooked into the woven fibers, her gaze pinned to you, to the way your fingers curled around empty air as if cradling something precious.

"Move," she ordered, not unkindly, but with the certainty of a queen who had already decided the shape of the night. Jake blinked, mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish, before he wordlessly lifted the hammock's edge, letting her slither in beside you.

She settled like a stormcloud, her warmth pressing against your side, her tail curling possessively around your ankle. Jake exhaled sharply when she yanked him closer by the wrist, rearranging them both like dolls until you were cocooned between them, her chin resting atop your head.

You sighed, content as a sun-drunk lizard, and pressed your palm flat against Jake's chest where his heartbeat thrummed— steady, strong, alive. Neytiri's fingers traced the fragile blue veins at your wrist, her brow furrowing. "Why does her heart flutter like a trapped ikran?" she asked, her voice low.

Jake swallowed hard, remembering the way you'd crumpled halfway through the jungle, your breath coming in shallow gasps, how your lips had turned the color of twilight before he'd even realised you couldn't keep up.

"I don't know," he admitted, because he really didn’t— well, the doctors when you were born explained to him that your heart was built wrong, something about valves and chambers not sealing right, but that clinical explanation never seemed to capture how you'd just… stop sometimes, mid-step, tilting your head like you'd heard a song no one else could.

Neytiri made a sound deep in her throat, halfway between a growl and a hum, and pressed her palm flat against your chest, right over where your pulse fluttered like a trapped moth. She inhaled sharply through her nose, like she was scenting the weakness, the iron-tang of blood too thin, then exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your temple.

Jake waited until your breathing evened out, until Neytiri's fingers stopped their restless tracing of your ribs, before he dared to speak. "Do you mind?" he whispered, the words barely more than a shape in the dark. Neytiri didn't answer at first, her thumb brushing the fragile skin beneath your eye, so thin it showed the blue veins beneath like cracked porcelain.

The firelight down below painted her face in shifting gold when she finally glanced at him, her pupils slitted against the glow. "She is not human," Neytiri said, so quiet the words might have been the rustle of leaves. "Not the way you were." Her claws grazed your collarbone, feather-light, as if testing the give of your flesh. "She is half-People already."

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing against your back. "That's not—" Neytiri cut him off with a hiss, her tail tightening around your ankle like a living rope. You stirred between them, murmuring something about "voices in the roots," and Neytiri's hand stilled on your chest.

Also , a little thing set in AFAA:

The fish slipped from your fingers— again— when Lo’ak tackled Neteyam into the shallows, sending a spray of saltwater across your lap. You blinked down at your empty hands, then at the fish now floating belly-up in the tide, its silver scales catching the late afternoon light like scattered coins. "Hm," you murmured, watching Tuk shriek as she leapt onto Lo’ak’s back, her tiny fists tangling in his braids.

Kiri plopped down beside you, her knees knocking against yours as she handed over another fish, this one neatly speared on a sharpened stick. "Here," she said, rolling her eyes when Lo’ak yelped as Tuk bit his shoulder. "Before the idiots scare off the rest of the school." You accepted it with a slow nod, nibbling at the crisp skin while Kiri watched you with that sideways look she always got, like you were a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.

Lo’ak surfaced with a gasp, shaking water from his ears like a soaked syaksyuk. "Hey, Big Sis!" he called, grinning when you tilted your head at him. "You ever gonna actually swim, or just sit there being weird?" You considered this, licking a fleck of fish oil from your thumb, then pointed past his shoulder at the distant shape of an akula breaching the waves.

Neteyam’s head snapped up, his ears flattening. "Shit—!"

Kiri sighed and snatched the fish from your hands before you could drop it—again—as chaos erupted around you, your siblings scattering like startled fan lizards. You stayed put, legs crossed in the shallows, humming as the water lapped at your thighs. The akula wasn’t hunting. You’d known that before you pointed. It was also dead.