#pavelyan

They aren't dead or outta my head!

They will forever be, my one and only OTP!

I'm doing these for now to really get my footing back in writing

hope you wanted to be sad and get Theon lore.

(but also thank u I love my muscle boy)

That's why:

Even if I am playing Resident Evil Requiem atm, even if I am writing other stories for a while, those two fictional men are my entire happiness and hope, and they are the only reason to keep me sane in this crazy world.

Love and peace for all of you precious souls out there. Stay happy, healthy and hydrated. Spend time with dear people, enjoy cozy things, live every day to the fullest, cry alone if you feel so, joke a little bit around and be kind - especially to yourself ❣

I've been working on my behemoth of a fic A World With You again, it's always so much fun to return to it 🥹 Here Tristan is having a very chill and friendly chat with noone's everyone's favourite assassin:

"Well," Maliphant drawled, his dark, hawk-like eyes sweeping over the throne room. "Nice digs."

Tristan rolled his eyes. Since his injury, the assassin looked worse for wear—Solas had healed him to the best of his ability, but there was nothing even he could do for the blood loss—but he still didn't spare them his snippy remarks. The small smile on his face was insufferable and just this side of smug.

For a moment, Tristan questioned the wisdom of his decision to ever bring the man to Skyhold. Scratch that— he briefly wondered why he had ever spared his life in the first place. Twice.

"It could do with a touch up here and there," Maliphant continued, shuffling slowly around the room on his cane until he reached the wide windows, "but you lot have managed pretty well for yourselves, eh? Rather impressive, I'd say."

"You're welcome to talk about Skyhold's particular architectural features and the plans for its renovation with our stonemason until the druffalo come home, if you're so inclined, Maliphant," Tristan said. "We're here to talk business."

"Of course, Inquisitor." Maliphant turned around and gave him a bow and a hand flourish, as best he could with all the bandages that were no doubt still wrapped around his middle. "I am entirely at your disposal."

"That you are." Tristan pressed his palms onto the war table and leaned forward, fixing him with a cold glare. "Make no mistake, Maliphant. You belong to me. You work for me, your men work for me, you answer only to me. If I catch wind of you doing anything resembling what you did to Celene's troops, I will have your hide this time."

Maliphant’s mouth twisted in a sneer, but the man kept a tight hold on his expression, returning it to neutral. "As long as you don't spill my men's blood to fill your own coffers, or to make sure you stay on some bloody throne, then why would I?"

"Yeah, well, unless Corypheus and his Venatori are defeated, no one will have any use for coffers or thrones very soon."

Maliphant grinned. "See that? That's the sense that's lacking from Orlais right now. That is why I like you, Inquisitor."

"The feeling is not mutual, I assure you."

"Ah, give it time. I'll grow on you."

"Like a yeast infection, no doubt." Tristan pushed himself upright again. "Leliana's people will show you and your men to your new lodgings, and will give you your next assignments. Dismissed."

A new tiny part of "Actors"

Filming was going smoothly. Everything was running like clockwork. Only a few scenes had to be reshot. The team worked together like a Swiss watch: precise and spot-on! It was wonderful.

During a short break, David sat alone on a chair in the shade behind the studio. He was deep in thoughts.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. He looked up.

It was Yadiel.

“There you are, David. We’ve been looking for you.” The giant’s booming voice echoed out here, sounding strange and surreal.

David looked silently past Yadiel, trying to see behind the man. When he saw no one, he stood up from his chair. He put his hands on his hips and looked the slightly taller man in the eyes, but remained silent.

“Everything is going wonderfully. Magnificent, in fact. The team is running at full speed. This will be a grand finale like few others in this genre.”

Iva grinned broadly and sized up Trevelyan.

He held his gaze and still had nothing to say.

“Dorian is looking for you, too. You should pay more attention to him…”

Anger and contempt welled up in David; he would have gladly punched Yadiel in the face, but his self-control—and especially his affection for Dorian—kept his hands on his hips.

“So? Don’t you want to look for him? At least check your cell phone. Your agent called and you weren’t reachable. There’s news! So… see you later.” Said the man in the elegant suit, flashing a brief smile, winking, and then turning on his heel to head back into one of the studios.

‘Now grab that chair and knock him out with it!’ David thought to himself.

Why did he hate Yadiel so much?

Everything in him rebelled against this man and his very presence. And Iva was even somehow… no, actually friendly today.

What on earth was going on?

What had happened?

David grew even more worried.

Everyone was content and happy and nice to each other, and Dorian was feeling better, and the show was still on, and… and David no longer felt like he belonged. As if he were just getting in the way and being a hindrance, to the show and to his friends’ lives.

He’d spoken briefly with his mother on the phone earlier and outlined what had happened. Her first question wasn’t how he was doing, but what he could think of to hurt Dorian. Was David Valerie’s son, or was it Dorian? She immediately took Dorian’s side. Since he knew his mother very, very well, he knew it was all his fault. No matter who he talked to about it, the result would always be the same: David had deeply hurt Dorian with these accusations and most likely lost him because of it. And rightly so! That’s why Dorian didn’t want to talk to him. There was nothing left to discuss. It was over. They would break up, call off the engagement, and worst of all: their friendship would be broken forever.

This bitter realization was the reason for his hatred of everything and everyone.

David Trevelyan realized what some had already hinted at to him on numerous occasions: He was an unremarkable and boring guy, run-of-the-mill, good for roles that die quickly.

This series had become a lucrative business by now. Sponsors and patrons were knocking on the door, and investors were practically waving wads of cash.

That wasn’t for the little rascal from the Bronx. That’s why Elie and Dave wanted to gently point out to him that his role had no future. It wasn’t just the role; it was the actor.

And Dorian?

Dorian was a trained stage actor. He had experience as a narrator for audiobooks and had dubbed animated films. Pavus was a master of his craft. The entire audience loved him, and his role was one of the most popular—which was definitely down to the actor. And David’s mother loved Dorian; yes, she had loved him long before David even knew him.

There was something irresistible and captivating about Dorian. He came, saw, and conquered! And rightly so!

And now Pavus had every right to draw a line under it all.

But were all these thoughts perhaps just the fantasies of a broken soul?

Dorian and their friendship were too precious to David not to at least try again. At the very least, he wanted to ask Dorian for permission to apologize.

A new tiny wip of "Actors".

Resentment and Politeness

Only a short time had passed.

Dorian’s smartphone and landline were ringing off the hook. He had silenced them all.

His head was pounding, and he felt more miserable than ever before. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to talk, yet didn’t want to see anyone.

Gradually, he realized that his best friend was also the person he no longer wanted to look in the eye.

Did he actually have anyone to talk to? An impartial person who wouldn’t sugarcoat things but would still listen openly?

Sera!

But no… she was close friends with… David.

The people on the team?

Some liked David a little too much, some couldn’t stand him. It was too difficult to explain the situation to them.

His mother?

She was pro-David. His father would have just listened to him. But he wasn’t there anymore…

Tears welled up in Dorian’s eyes. For the first time since the funeral, he cried for his father.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

“He’ll calm down. You love each other, after all. Just calm down first. Come on, old boy. Everything will be okay again.” Rufus’s voice sounded calm and confident.

David listened to his old buddy only half-heartedly. He stared into space and was freezing.

“Excuse me, what did you say? I… I’m sorry.” David’s voice broke with every word.

“I’ll come over right away. Davey, okay?” Rufus asked; he was afraid David would just hang up and run out into the night.

“I’m going to have to go, Rufus. Thanks for listening.”

Trevelyan hung up.

Since he’d been talking to his buddy on the landline, he could try contacting Dorian on his smartphone at the same time. But just like it had been all day, the line was busy.

David jumped up from the couch, grabbed his keys, and headed out.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

Filming was set to resume tomorrow. A morning briefing had been scheduled to discuss the current status.

Everyone had been looking forward to it and had prepared accordingly.

Especially Dorian! He was officially returning to the series. All his colleagues were happy to have him back soon.

It would be the final part of the third installment of the saga. Staged with great pomp, featuring everything the series had to offer.

Death and destruction, dragons and magic, love and hope—the entire spectrum that Hollywood knew how to serve up was to be showcased in the show’s grand finale.

Would characters die?

Would some get to experience their happy ending?

It remained exciting!

▪︎▪︎▪︎

David stood in front of Dorian’s apartment door and knocked. His heart was pounding wildly. He felt sick, and it was the middle of the night.

“Please open the door, Dorian, please,” he said to himself.

He pressed his ear against the door, but couldn’t hear a thing. No voices, no footsteps, nothing!

Trevelyan slipped a note under the door and then left the building.

There wasn’t much time left to sleep. But he had to show up for the shoot tomorrow. So he drove home, feeling sad and dazed.

Of course, Dorian was home, but he had no desire or interest in talking to Trevelyan. It had hit him hard to be accused like that by the person he loved more than anything in the world.

Did he even love David anymore?

Did David still love him?

Had there ever been love between the two of them?

Doubt, fear, mistrust… not a brilliant start for an upcoming wedding, but fertile ground for arguments and accusations and, in the worst case, the end of the relationship.

Pavus no longer knew what he truly felt.

The night was nearly over, and tomorrow most of his colleagues would see each other again.

And Dorian had made a decision…

▪︎▪︎▪︎

“How wonderful! Hey there—it’s great to see you again! Now we can get back to it! Wonderful, wonderful!”

All the colleagues and the production crew were absolutely thrilled. No one was missing; everyone was delighted, and the whole team was beaming with joy.

David always stood on the sidelines. It looked as if he didn’t want to steal the spotlight from his fiancé or take away from the brief time they had together with their colleagues before the shoot.

That’s why he stood casually leaning against a wall near Dorian, glancing over at him every now and then. As he did so, he twirled his engagement ring between two fingers; it somehow calmed him.

At some point, Dorian was standing there alone, searching for something in his pants pocket.

David took a deep breath and walked over to him.

“Good morning, Dori. How… how are you?” The lump in his throat made his voice sound strange.

“Morning. Oh, you know, I don’t want to talk about it. I have to call my agent in a minute. Excuse me.” And Dorian pulled out his smartphone.

At that moment, David noticed something.