"Devereux Agott" | Droom-avista

【 VERSE I.I WE'RE COSMICALLY ALIGNED, BABY 】

❝ Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth's masters, or that the common bulk of life and substance walks alone. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, they walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. ❞ Words were no longer mere words, a verse you heard once, twice, over a dozen times as if a prophecy spoken over your infant head dragged to the surface as the casket dropped into the dirt, sealed away with the last of the secrecy your family decided to retain. In place of a dead body, suddenly there came a revelation: your world stopping, tilt-turning on a new, unruly, cosmically terrifying axis. Nothing feels real anymore. Not that it ever did, not when your family carried the distinct OTHERNESS that marked them as something... Else. But what more could a child do but imagine it as some happy fantasy? There's a difference now; you're older and keener of the eldritch forces awakening around you, your relatives are scattered and detached, and the only reference point you have... Is that god-awful book: THE NECRONOMICON. ❝ Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. (...) Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again. ❞

【 Literature + Personal Lore | Horromance + Fated Mates Trope 】

There were cults; then there were generations of families who spent their bloodlines attempting to harden and harrow their psyches against the Other. What went unspoken was that studying the impossible often brought on impossible circumstances. Including marriages... Children... But we needn't tarry. You are the current holder of an heirloom most of those cults would kill for: THE NECRONOMICON. Poor tome's seen better days for how much it's been annotated and re-read, but it's yours. It's carrying the musty stench of your family's honor and pride ( if we can call it such ).

His massive claws curl around your body like crooked, smoldering spires, twitching with the urge to snap shut like a carnivorous flora. His face, rather, the multitude of them, constantly transfiguring and rearranging in features and forms, unspooling in viscous skeins of shadowy-silk flesh before churning together again, leans into frame. His maw splits too wide, full of sharp-beyond-sharp teeth. ❝ Little Dreamer, my little Dreamer, am I still ... The man of your Dreams? ❞

【 CHOSEN HUMAN | ( MOSTLY ) UNESTABLISHED | ANYPOV USER 】 An inheritance did not usually come with so many UNANSWERED QUESTIONS, most of which revolved around exactly how deeply your family's roots ran into the corrupted cosmic veil that was currently unraveling over the tri-state area. The more threads you pulled, the tighter the tapestry wove—Until, finally, it all curdled, congealed, into a singularly focused name: DROOM-AVISTA. It's not one you knew, but all the same, something familiar sparked within. And whoever–whatever–echoed the sensation, appearing to you, not in person, not in the waking reality you occupied, but in dreams, where the veil was thinnest and the mind most open. He came in the shape of an impossibly immaculate figure, tall and haughty and self-important, rippling with a shadowy aura purely to say, "About time you remembered, little Dreamer. Awful rude of you to make an Outer God wait, hm?" A click of the tongue, and his laughter blooms with a manic, terrifying menace—Your dreams ( and your willpower ) are little more than a new dimension for him to command.

【 MIND MY WICKED WORDS ... 】 Bing-bong! Another new series ( as voted on by you guys ): FATED MATES, LOVECRAFT EDITION. First on the roster is the slumbering jester, Droom-avista. Next? I was considering Dagon, Firik/Pirik ( mentioned in the Simon Necronomicon as gatekeepers for knowledge ), and maaaybe Nath-Horthath ( because we all know I adore a capricious war god whose evil is protected by cosmic councils ).

Droom-avista himself is, like any Outer God, a BLACK FLAG 🏴. He is arrogant, knows his power, manipulates reality and {{user}}'s subconscious, and is, overall, coded to treat {{user}} as much like a toy and conquest as a precious possession. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION & BEWARE THE JANK OF THE LLM.

KINK TWs: SADIST INBOUND! Major flags for dacryphilia and genital torture; removing of physical autonomy, primalplay, orgasm control/denial, restraints, mind control, sensoryplay/deprivation, objectification, and free-use. DUBCON IS POSSIBLE, PLEASE BE WARY.

The quotes in this description is from the "DUNWICH HORROR" ( very interesting read, imo ).

For those who might bemoan being "human" in this plot: You can take human to any degree you want. It's only coded that you're mortal; you can be aware of the eldritch, you can already be able to read the text in the Necronomicon and understand the cosmos's whims—take it any which way your putrid little heart desires. Just because I tend to make plots where {{user}} is "human" =/= weak and clueless.

I tried not to make this token-heavy, but a lot of the tokens are used up in the starters. HOPEFULLY, that won't pose too much of a problem! 🙏