This is going to be tricky for you and the rest of my readers. The ask is being answered a few [five days at current count] days before I get to the fic prompt that is part two. So… thanks in advance for your patience in this matter.
As is always with luume headcannon - @interstellarvagabond should verify or deny my accuracy.
Any Elf who already has sensory issues would fucking HATE luume, IMHO. I’m pretty sure the painful experiences would be dulled, since luume exists to perpetuate the species, but unpleasant ones are another story. I imagine that sort of thing would be the same level of annoying as a mosquito in the dark. Awareness plus fixation plus an inability to do anything much about it.
Symptoms of luume usually read as ‘inebriated’ to the uninitiated, and the Elven brain in question is sorting the world into one of three ways to deal with it [fight, fuck, or feed]. This leads me into thinking that a luume-addled Elf would attempt to fix whatever was annoying at the time [eg: irritating clothes? Get naked. Too cold? Burrow in somewhere warm]. This might also lead to cycling activities when the need to find a mate conflicts with the unpleasant overstimulation.
An Elf triggered by loud noises wouldn’t call/yowl to try and find a mate, for instance. One triggered by cold would never go out in the snow.
It depends how deep into Cave-Elf your character goes. One might, for instance, tear the fuck out of any scratchy blankets they find while another would focus on gathering up all the soft cotton materials so they could get comfy.
I hope this has been helpful, and may the air never harm you again.
Luume’irma belongs to @interstellarvagabond and I just ran off with a good idea like a true rogue.
It’s a physically taxing ordeal which is almost designed to (a) increase the Elven family (b) protect the family, or © re-enforce the bonds within the family. [aka: “Fight, fuck, or feed” the three F’s of Luume’irma]
Whilst gestating, such an ordeal would logically tax the body, and probably endager the kid-in-potentia. Therefore, pregnancy hormones just shut Luume the fuck off. Pregnancy hormones continue until like a few days after delivery, which is why postpartum depression happens. It’s unlikely that Luume would switch on during labour. Depending on the severity.
If it did, it would be much milder and the unlucky Elf in the process would have to roll will saves to resist the urge to bite the doctor/midwife/any non-family attendants.
If the originator of this particular thing would like to weigh in on this, pay attention to them, not me.
[AN: In Continuity with the Young Angus ‘verse, and a direct sequel to the previous request. AU adjustment, Agatha is now also a half-elf]
Agatha had grown to like making Professor Angus McDonald, world’s greatest detective, blush and stammer. Some days, she could do it just by smiling a certain way. Today, though, she wasn’t even trying. Yet there he was, in her company, face growing ruddier by the second.
He was also sniffing a lot and using simpler language choices. It was when he started to perspire that she suspected something was up. Especially when, upon sneaking up on the latest crime family plot, that he wound up right next to her, taking a deep inhale, and spontaneously purring.
In elven parlance, he had a pretty loud engine when he set up a purr. Even his distress purrs were audible across a room.
“Still it,” she whispered. “You’re gonna fuck our stealth check.”
“Smells nice,” said Professor McDonald. Something on his wrist began a tinny little chime. It chimed Love Is In the Air.
“What the shit?” Agness whispered. She grabbed his arm and pulled up his sleeve and saw a little alert. Luume’irma. Batten down the hatches. Oh no. Oh no. “You’re going through Luume? Now?”
Angus, a little behind on things for a change read the display, felt his own cheeks, and said, “Oh fuck, not this again…”
Timing is everything. Just as Agatha was reaching for his ‘off switch’, one of the obligatory stupid guards was bringing a young, teenage prisoner in for a dark ritual that almost certainly included a blood sacrifice.
“Baby,” cooed Angus.
“Oh fuck,” said three people at once, including the potential ‘child’ sacrifice.
Angus saw the chains, the ritual knife and, having also seen the altar, was able to put two and two together and come out with murder as both the problem and the solution. With Luume in the equation, it meant that most of the cultists and all of the crime family were stopped with extreme prejudice. Agatha helped, only to make certain that a few were left alive to testify to the authorities.
Angus, bloodstained and victorious, gathered both Agatha and the half-orc kid who had been saved into his arms and carried them to safety. Which happened to be a residence overflowing with evidence because one of the bosses lived in it. Used to live in it. There, Angus groomed and fed both the kid and Agatha, though his attentions towards Agatha made her blush and stammer.
He was caught between nurturing his found child and smudging up to someone he saw as a mate. Once that information filtered through her head, Agatha decided not to tease him so much about his affections any more.
“What’s your name, kid?” she asked the teen half-orc.
“Uh… Neosemo?” He wasn’t used to a tender touch, judging by the way he flinched every time Angus delicately untangled a knot in his hair. “Is he… okay?”
“It’s Luume. You’ve just been adopted.” Agatha thought about this. “It’s a lifelong bond and Professor McDonald is gonna be compelled to look after you. The rest of the family is just going to adopt you automatically…” Agatha temporarily lost the power of speech as Angus nuzzled affectionately into her neck and kissed her tenderly. “The good news is you got the best new leaf you could possibly have.”
“The bad news?” said Neosemo as Angus tried to feed him a fragment of lembas.
“There is no possible way to rebel because your family now includes the Seven Birds.”
Neosemo looked into the middle distance like he was seeing his first rainbow. “…holy shit..” he mumbled.
*
Angus woke himself up with his own purring. Someone very, very kind was waving scrambled eggs, waffles, and hot chocolate under his nose. Food. Yes. Good food. Even better.
He was halfway through it all when he registered that someone was talking to him. “Mrf?”
“I said, are you feeling better, now?” said Agatha.
Chew, chew, chew, gulp. “Much. Thanks for the food. Man, I feel so wiped out… Um. Was there… a kid?”
“His name is Neosemo and he’s talking with the city guard. A cleric will be by shortly to be certain you don’t have any issues. Is this your second Luume or…?”
“Yeah, it was my second. Ten years apart. I think I lucked out…” He tried not to inhale the hot chocolate. “You made all this? For me?”
“Yup. Sorry I couldn’t find any bacon for you.”
Now that he thought about it, bacon would be wonderful. Bacon or mutton and clootie dumplings and -damn- when Papa said the demands on an Elf’s body were high, he wasn’t fucking around. “We’ll find some. Pretty sure one of Papa’s restaurants is around here, somewhere…” Agatha refilled his borrowed mug with more of the hot chocolate, which was delicious. “Marry me?” he said.
“Wait until you’re no longer high on hormones before you ask that again,” she joked.
“Okay,” he agreed, then his heart swelled three sizes when his new kid entered the room. “There’s my boy,” he cooed. “There’s my beautiful boy…”
The interesting times were only beginning.
anonymous asked:
on the same vein as half elf Angus, being adopted by Kravitz and Taako, may I request Ango going through his first ( or second) Luume? ( whether or not he’s with Agatha, or even around that age is up to you) Thank you for taking the time to read this!
[AN: Found it! Things be FUBAR’ed so this is the real one. I need to think about this one because I promised my Tumbl into TAZ readers that nothing would be NSFW]
“Sir? I don’t feel so good…”
It was a definite bad sign when Angus referred to Taako as ‘sir’. He hadn’t done that for half a century or more. Definitely when he was mostly-grown and it finally sunk in that he had a place to belong. Taako put down his cooking and washed and dried his hands.
Angus was– what? Seventy? Eighty? He knew being half-elven screwed things up, sometimes. The human side demanded things go quickly, whilst the Elven side wanted to chill.
“Awright, kiddo. Gimmie the symptoms list,” Taako felt his brow. Warm to the point of hot. He was feverish. Flushed cheeks. Dilated pupils… Uh oh.
“I feel real restless,” said Angus. “Like I want something, but it’s not here. Everything is wrong.”
Taako took a deep inhale of Angus’ scent. It had changed up to be abnormally appealing. It triggered Taako’s more intensive needs to care for this child of his. Fortunately, he made the will save to resist his stronger instincts. “Hungry?” Taako guessed.
“Starving.” Angus looked pained and he looked around the kitchen for the undefinable. “I know I just had breakfast, but I want… I want more…”
“Luume,” said Taako. “We knew it was coming.”
“I’m only seventy-five…”
Good thing one of them was keeping track of this business. “Yeah, and it could have come on at fifty, when you were still on the weedy side.” Taako slid across something high-calorie and easy to consume, which Angus fell on. “It’s okay. Papa’s got’cha.”
As Angus wolfed down his second breakfast, Taako found the spots behind his ears, where a particular nerve cluster could be stimulated to tell Angus’ raging instincts, Not Yet.
Angus relaxed so much he could have melted if he didn’t have bones. He leaned against his adopted Papa and began to purr.
Taako purred in response, sending a Fantasy Text to all the people who were expecting him to do shit today. Family emergency. Everything’s cancelled.
After that was done, his son had Taako’s undivided attention.
*
Angus woke in the cuddle cote. Warm, comfortable, and oddly exhausted. Papa was nearby and Angus wasn’t exactly inclined to let him go, just yet.
“Well done,” said Papa. “That’s a twenty-four hour pain in the ass over and done with for probably a decade. Good to know the humanman side of things eased it up for ya.”
Papa had forty-eight hours of instinctual overdrive followed by lazy lull. Angus had heard of Elves who suffered, and made the world around them suffer, for a full three days. Papa had the extra un-bonus of an unpredictable, erratic cycle that hit like a truck.
Angus tried to remember what he’d done. He rolled a one. “What’d I do?”
“Oh, you had an easy time, baby. It’s cool. I got to your ‘off switch’ so you slept through most of it. You had some good food, I watched a lot of Fantasy Netflix. What’s not to love?”
“Mmmh,” Angus wasn’t inclined to move. “Feel like I’ve been running a marathon.”
“Yeah, that’s what it does.” Taako offered him a straw attached to an enormous bottle of gator-aid. “Drink this shit. It really helps.”
It did. Angus could feel his brain revving back up to its full potential once more. “I have a whole decade before I go through this again, right? It’d be legal for me to… youknow… with someone.”
“Anywhere between five and ten years. The human side fucks a lot of shit up with your genes, baby boy.” Taako ruffled his hair. “And if you can’t say it, you definitely ain’t ready.”
A different kind of flush invaded Angus’ face. “…probably,” he allowed. “Did I go all… Cave-Elf? Like you do?”
“You had more vocab than me f'r sure. I had Lup cook up a bunch of those condition-adding muffins I used to feed you when you were tiny. You want?”
He was suddenly craving them, now. “That’d be lovely. Warm and with butter and cream?”
“And a steak for after.” Taako wriggled free. “You stay down. Your family’s got’cher back.”
“Good…” Angus yawned. It felt like a good nights’ sleep and some fortified meals were the best thing for him. “Good Papa…”
[AN: An Ango kidnapping would probably end the same way as Killer Instinct with a traumatised Ango being cradled by a bloodstained Taako. I’m probably torturing my beautiful magic boy in another fic enough, so…]
The redolent smell of Ginger Garlic Chicken Soup filled Casa de Taako. For all that there were medicines, potions, and Clerics to help with any given illness, Taako still insisted that his ginger garlic chicken soup was all that anyone needed to recover from any disease known to intelligent life. Doctors everywhere hated him because he was more often right than wrong.
Taako had five humanmen going down with the seasonal sniffles, so he made sure he had the big pot all but overflowing with chicken meat, ginger, garlic, and assorted vegetables, and simmering gently for anyone who wanted to drag themselves towards the soup and help themselves. And he kept three bowls at optimal temperature under Covers of Preservation for the smaller ones in his house.
Something… snapped. Like a switch being flipped inside Taako’s head. Soup was not enough to feed his babies. They needed tasty, good, good food. Almost in a dream state, Taako started baking and cooking all the best tempting foods in handful-size servings.
One of the babies had found his leg. Poor baby. Poor baby needed comfort. Taako scooped them up and, using Mage Hand to keep the food going, cuddled the small humanman and purred for him.
Amber was more likely to come and seek help. Aloe was more likely to hide and cry. Taako got them both into the cuddle cote before he finished up the treats for the babies.
His Baby still needed his sleep. Safe with mate. Taako left supplies on a handy table and under a magic cover and went back to the babies. They were warm and miserable and needing.
They needed cool. They needed clean. They needed good, good food and all the comfort Taako could provide.
Even in the throes of Luume, Taako wasn’t a barbarian. He did not lick these babies clean. What he did have was an abundant supply of cool, clean water and plenty of towelling.
Keep babies comfortable. Keep babies safe. Keep babies fed.
Check on his baby too. Sleeping. Cuddle baby’s babies. Purr. Comfort. Coo.
*
Angus felt like shit as he dragged himself out of the guest bedroom. Taako’s soup and tasty treats had helped rally his resources, but now he wanted a large beverage and he really needed to pee.
The house was dark.
Ominously quiet.
And a lot more food than normal waiting under assorted covers.
Uh oh… Knowing Taako as he did, Angus checked the Cuddle Cote.
The fairy lights were on. And inside were Agnes, Aloicious, and Ambrose. Or, as Taako referred to them, Aglet, Aloe, and Amber.
All of them tangled up in each other and all stripped down to their underthings. There were still moist towelling washers scattered around them all. Agnes had intricate braids in her hair. Aloicious and Ambrose were spread across their ‘grandfather’.
Taako was distress-purring in his sleep.
Angus crawled up to him and felt his brow. Feverish, and not just the feverish effects of Luume. But the feverish effects of the latest winter flu.
“Hachi machi, you’re going to be feeling this one,” he whispered.
Luume knocked Taako sideways at the best of times. The flu was going to knock any remaining piss out of him.
Angus arranged his kids into a cuddle pile and ferried some of Taako’s panacea soup into the cote. Best not to move him. He might get snarly. The most he did was arrange Taako so that he could eat and drink without moving very much at all.
And then it was just a matter of waking Taako up every half hour and feeding him as much soup as he could take.
*
“Is grampa better yet?”
“C’n I tickle him?
“Let grampa sleep,” said Agnes. “He’s had a rough time.”
“Did he have a silly again? He had a silly when we were born.”
Taako, feeling like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge that was somehow simultaneously on fire and frozen solid. His head hurt. His joints hurt. His fucking hair hurt. “Much though I love you all,” he croaked, “either shut up or fuck off. Pick one.”
“Grampa’s sick…” said Aloe.
Someone wiped him down with a damp piece of terrytowelling.
“I have some of your soup, sir,” said Agnes. “If you want, I can feed it to you.”
Taako cracked open an eye. Light hurt. Even the dim fairy lights of the Cuddle Cote. “Good baby,” he sighed.
Pack Instinct - Chapter 1 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Contains some details of childbirth. And a snooty doctor.
Depends on the severity of the luume. I’ve left it pretty open to interpretation resulting in different ideas of the intensity. In your fics they become very primitive and would probably yes chase doctors away unless they knew the doctors were helping. They’d probably wrap themselves around their so and not let go. Others depict luume'irma as less severe, mental capacities impaired but no more so than a night of drinking would do. In which case the elf would probably keep slapping themselves like “keep it together stay focused you’re not gonna bite the nice doctors and you don’t need to put a baby in them when one is already coming out”
I’d say it’d be rare for them to enter luume when their mate is already pregnant though since luume'irma’s evolutionary purpose was to make babies
My bad phraseology: “loved one” did not mean SO here. I was thinking, close family member going into Labor.
Luume is made to make and ensure the well-being of babies, so more instinctive levels of helping out would be in the offing. Maybe getting slightly in the way of professionals if comedy is the goal.
I’m way into purring Elves, and it occurs to me that that vibration would help alleviate aches and pains in the mum-to-be.
Gotta confess - “Don’t bite the nice doctors” is a good one.
Nurturing Instinct - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Angus is 25, married, and still Taako’s ‘baby’. At least, by now, the family thinks they’re prepared for anything.
Killer Instinct - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
There’s three ways luume’irma can go. Some might argue that this is the worst one. Those making that argument are on the wrong side of it and never live for long, so the argument has to be brief.
Base Instinct - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
You can’t say “Fantasy Pon Farr” and NOT use it for sexytimes. It’s obligatory or something.