#alhaitham pov

[alhaitham-kaveh]

Sweet Moments

genre : fluff, domestic relationship

haikaveh ( top alhaitham x bottom kaveh )

established relationship

alhaitham pov

He stopped looking at him.

The only question that came to mind was: why?

Kaveh was always able to surprise him, even when he didn't try.

He was curious on what he was dreaming.

The fact remained that at this moment the boy was sleeping in their private garden with a cat who didn't even know where it had come from, but was there sleeping next to his boyfriend. He could really make anyone fall in love with him.

He sighed and leaned down, being careful not to ruin the projects the Sleeping Beauty was working on and carried them into the house, then went out again to pick up the boy in bridal style and carry him back into the house, going to his room instead than in the other's, laying him down on the bed and covering him with a blanket.

He pondered for a few moments and then went out for the third time, also taking the cat in his arms and scratching him a few times to keep him quiet since as soon as he had touched him, his feline eyes were opened, looking at him curiously.

"Only today you are so lucky, thank Kaveh. Tomorrow you'll be out of the house though." and despite having said so, he continued to caress it , taking it into his room too, at the feet of the blond who was still sleeping peacefully.

"Idiot... To fall asleep like that." he watched him for a few minutes, brushing his hair and cuddling him a bit, which if he was awake he would never have allowed himself to do. It was as if he was being called, so he leaned in and finally placed his lips on Kaveh's for a few moments. The cat had curled up and immediately meowed as he stared at him, almost as if to say 'what are you doing to my human friend?' and he smiled at him, placing his index finger on his own lips and suggesting that he should keep silent, to keep that secret only between them.

[godsentience]

A pill I find difficult to swallow

Alhaitham x Kaveh pairing, one shot. Please be mindful of the tags below. Crossposted on AO3. A practice on metaphors in writing. Also in Alhaitham's POV.

I crave so subtle an affection beneath the limelight of the moon, where my solemn adoration are unheard, concealed behind the cowardice of textbooks. Days are brimmed with endless retorts against one another; arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, neither willing to give up their claims of the world before them. It is always at the end, that we learn to compromise or get over the trivialities of our personalities never destined to meet due to their variance. Accustomed to the vexing attributes of our souls, this shared home becomes a house when you are absent to question my ways.

When night dawns, we thrive in a deafening feat of silence, a space more quiet than the confines of the accompaniment of books in the House of Daena. The ambiance felt tender and warm and has my skin scorching off of a passion unspoken. My lips would wordlessly proclaim the code of my relentlessly beating heart by a hushed whisper, eyes trained on the engraved letters of the book perched upon my hand, acting as if quantum mechanics enthralled my curiosity when all along, it was but our contrasting chemistry that has my inner feline in shambles.

Occupied by our respective, personal endeavors, my mind finds itself wandering back to the light that is you, fiddling with the quill, stroking delicate lines over the sheet of paper caught in the apple of your attention. In the midst of the silence, I would spare a glimpse from time to time, wondering about the projects you were tasked to make, wishing you would tell of how begrudging a request you were asked to do, how people would give you unrealistic proportions for a dwelling they wish to call their home, and how painstaking it was to negotiate with the persistence of stubborn clients.

When I first gazed upon ground to look at the picturesque silhouettes of our casted shadows, I had found that it is with you that this house started to look less insipid and monochromatic compared to when I was its sole inhabitant. I am merely a fragile flower vase in a still-life art, surrounded by teacups and the galores of plates embellished with exquisite prints of patterns on them, while you resemble the enthusiasm of a swirling illusion embedded in one's sight to fool the audience with its kinetic motion.

Is it not silly of me to think you'd ever share your efforts and troubles on plates you've worked yourself on, Kaveh? You've said it yourself; my compliments of your hard-earned title sounded halfhearted coming from me, regardless of my intent. Understanding the complexity of emotions seemed more farfetched than sensing the behavioral collisions and divergence of particles that surrounds us; a flutter of dust visible under the streaks of reflection mirrored by the moon's asperity.

How could I talk of the meaning of life when it follows you wherever you go? It is a phenomena not even distinguished scholars can comprehend, neither are they capable of seeing this vision, even if I forcefully compress the philosophy in one of the capsules that hold knowledge as captive. It is subjective, I knew this to be the absolute truth. But I'd never tell you about this peculiar finding; I am purposely shunning you away from the truth. What if we found this answer as our common ground? How could we argue about our theoretical beliefs like we did before, should we arrive at a truth? It may be selfish of me to gatekeep my conviction, and if to be iniquitous like this would keep you by my side then, I am your most devoted sinner.

In one of these nights, I'd sometimes feel the burn of a stare unto my skin, but I paid them no heed. I wouldn't know how to confront such a trail of an ardent stare; engraving depth on wherever patch of flesh it lands, softening the walls of a soul desperate to hide, melting my being until it had grown satisfied. 'What do you think of me when you stare so intently?' A voice would resonate from within. It felt like I wasn't being myself, that there lies another occupying my person; always filled with greed, always filled with longing. It is quick to liquefy over a mere, accidental brush of fingers much slender than mine, a stimuli that comes from a contact that barely even met, yet with a spark that would course through the veins in an instant.

These days, the area around the chest would swell, bearing the weight of emotions I kept to myself. I am made only to be logical, and reject the absurdity of sensing and feeling emotion, to stave it off once it appears before me, to kill it immediately once it shows signs of developing, as if it were a highly contagious disease that may become the means of an impending end. With the rivers of time, this agony I had imposed upon oneself to escape the chase of our touch-deprived liaison, is plausible of a reason enough to rid of it on the earliest detection. When the heart and the mind refuses to meet, I lie in consternation trying to settle on a choice. Which of you should I follow? Both seemed to inflict further damage, one way or another.

When we sit like this, facing one another, such thoughts would leave. It would create spaces and pave the way for my silent adoration, enumerate the little things about you that I'd find endearing, gaze with the glimmer of veneration sparkling as you would languishly sketch on your canvas with a quill. However, I am merely a destitute scholar, one who could never act on the trivialities of affection, even laconic in expression. Who knew that my heart would bear this profound penchant for suffering? Even I am alienated from my own capabilities. Would you even think I would feel any of this at all with my theatrical show of contempt and conceit?

Even for me, the thought is a pill I find difficult to swallow. I am, all of a sudden, foreign to myself. Strange, odd, peculiar; I've long told that I thrive as unique in this collective societyーthat I enjoy the variegated personality, away from the slavery in which the common crowd conforms to the imposed rules that favor the reigning governance. If such then mimics the value of my beliefs then, I am a criminal to my own being. To take a path I've not once taken, to indulge in reveries other than the details of reality, it is highly unthinkable for anyone to consider this an occurrence for me, even for you whom I've grown most fond of compared to anyone else. I am continuously drowning in this pit of dissonance, one where the heart tells the path and the answer I have is only you, who cannot guarantee reciprocity.

Just one chance, a mere slip, allow me to succumb and heed to the calls of my selfish desires. Even if it were just a second, endow me an ounce of freedom to feel things deeply, without the barricades obstructing the swelling of the heart; I ask of you, let me. All I demand is affection in the most subtle of ways, for you to look at me like an equal. Let me extend a foot to purposely brush past your side, give my eyes an excuse to graze upon yours, brazenly meet the gaze halfway as you idle a second of confusion, let me dissolve in little mirth, curl the toes inwardly, clear the throat, hum, return from my selfish endeavor.

"Ah, sorry. My leg got numb."

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[phi-justpassngby]

When Kaveh needs a break from doing big brained architecture stuff he does silly little sketches of his boyfriends ✍️

[erabu-san]

Cyno just saying to Tighnari he made new friends

[mintjeru]

a lazy morning in fontaine

open for better quality | no reposts

[yoimix]

「 from eden 」

if the rtawahist theory of parallel universes is true, you are certain that you would hate ALHAITHAM in every single one of them. 

it is an ambitious theory, however. alhaitham calls it fiction.

“that’s not what the algorithm does,” he grumbles, lowering his head to rest his forehead against his palm. he looks nearly as distressed as a pyro fungus on water.

“i did not draw the wrong chart.”

“you filled in incorrect values.”

“no way.”

“i can’t believe i’m here with you at 3am.” he heaves his deepest sigh yet, mingling into the cold air outside puspa cafe. you prefer the warm, coffee-scented interior, but to get your words across, you need them to ring inside his thick skull.

“well, what else were you gonna do? sleep?” you roll your eyes.

“yes.”

you pull a face at his expressionless response. 

“now, let’s go over the algorithm again,” he presses, eyes piercing enough to draw you closer, and bowlike lips sporting his regular frown. there is no need for him to be here. he just happened upon you at the cafe five hours ago, just to point out the mistake in your assignment. of course, that didn’t end well. you’d rather deep fry and eat a consecrated shell than let a man tell you how to solve your problems. so, he didn’t need to be here. he just never left.

the answer to that is simple: in every single universe, he will choose you over anyone else.

not that you’re aware. alhaitham makes sure you never will be. he’s unfamiliar with languages of the heart; and no amount of your biting remarks and teasing voice, your pensive smile and zaytun perfume, will get him to pronounce the syllables right.

he looks over at you, your full lips moving at rapid speed as you reiterate the contents of your lecture. the side of your neck is exposed, and the distance isn’t so wide that he can lean in comfortably. no, if he did, his shoulder would touch yours, and his hot breath would be against your skin. then maybe he’d get to hear your words die in your throat. these few inches are haphazard, bordering the lines between friends and a face you cannot stand. 

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy, he thinks.

“even if this language has the structure you claim, it’s nearly impossible to know. this poem could be dating to thousands of years ago!” you exclaim, growing frustrated, “are you sure about this? i’m starting to think it can’t be deciphered.”

you’re done with translating the first part. it is as abstruse as can be, and you’ve been scratching your head over it for the past three days. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to solve it like a riddle, or agonize through the steps of the translation algorithm to complete. though, the embodiment of agony is already seated beside you.

what is the difference between me and the sky? 

hell, if you know. you’re not even sure what’s happening anymore. the letters float across your vision, little taunts in their movement. teetering on the edge of dropping out, you groan again.

“i think you should get some rest,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

your shoulders sag, and alhaitham wonders if he said something wrong. 

“don’t patronize me.”

“i am not.”

“i never know what you mean, and what you don’t,” you mutter, picking up your pen again to scribble notes on the corners of the paper. it contains alhaitham’s neat explanations, arrows indicating grammar and some numbers signifying the presumed utilization years of this lost language. yours looks like a little kid’s next to his.

but i say what i mean, he thinks. is there a point to saying it out loud? his chest constricts at the idea of you curling your lips, dismissing his chest laid bare for your predefined ideas. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. but something in your voice betrays this thought of his. 

his aventurine eyes settle over you. but you bear no distaste, only mild annoyance from this wall you’ve hit. he must say, you’re a commendable scholar. the relentless pursuit of knowledge has far more meaning than simply possessing it, and he’s seen your weary form in the house of daena at too many midnights. you are self-sufficient and he’s certain you’ll arrive at the answer anyway.

“i’ll be leaving then,” he says, standing up. “i hope your darshan doesn’t find you groveling by a stack of papers in the morning. it’s rather unbecoming of their paragon.”

a shout of exasperation leaves you, your shoulders tense.

“it’s because of you the haravatat are known as snobs!” you shoot, crossing your arms.

“it is your choice to believe in rumors,” he responds, idly gazing at your form. “it reflects you more than me.”

“do you always have to be so robotic?”

“i’m more well off than most, so i doubt changing my mannerisms will be of benefit to me.”

you exhale, on the verge of exasperation. “do you ever hear yourself? i can’t imagine the agony your poor roommate goes through.”

“kaveh has nothing to do with this.” he grits his teeth. 

“no one has anything to do with you, alhaitham.” you stand up, glaring at him. “to you, people are no different from cats, or dogs, or- or flies—you don’t seem to understand that our languages were made to bring us closer.”

“they were invented for communication. a group that understands each other survives longer.” 

that is true. but you’re not wrong either, even if you’ve chosen more romantic phrasing. 

“i think—”

“archons,” you fume. “what about poetry? and literature, and dedication pages at the start of novels? we do it for each other.”

“your own perception adds substance to sentimental texts. i cannot agree with the poets. they led far different lives than i do.”

you scoff. “your little bubble of comfort is all you care about, don’t you? pray tell why you bothered with this anyway. was it to stroke your own ego? i... i genuinely believed you wanted to help.”

that one stung a little.

“you seem to have an entire image of me already. do i have to be present here?”

you heat up in the face, nearing a boiling point. you’ll have to apologize to enteka for causing a commotion; but your mind is heavy and you cannot quite think clearly. 

“i understand that you don’t bother with what people think of you. but you could at least be honest with me- without- without your damn glaring, or sarcasm or—”

“i don’t look at you with the intention to glare.” he raises his voice for once. “i cannot let you see what i’m experiencing because i don’t know what it is yet—and it is imperative you don’t poke your nose into this.”

his chest heaves as he steadies his breathing. there is nothing you can say, not when you’re taken aback by his quiet outburst.

“and i’m not frowning like you think i am. i am simply not wearing an expression at all. my collection is unordered but i mark my books alphabetically when i lend them to you. i say i bring an extra cup of coffee to have a second fill even though i know you will ask to have it. i despise the conditioning in people that they must pair up in meaningful ways for a good life. and despite that...”

he catches his breath, not realizing he was holding it in.

your eyes have softened by now, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“...if i were to end my speculations and call this love, i would be satisfied.”

you part your lips and close them again. to expect an answer, perhaps, is a grave overestimation on his part. some things are better left unsaid. it’s how languages die.

alhaitham sighs. “right. it’s too strong a word. i mean to say i feel comfortable around you. and content. though i never thought there was anything amiss in my life. as for affection, i am not familiar with this kind. and—”

you cup his face, still at a loss for words. “you talk so much. i never realized.”

“last time, you said i don’t talk enough.”

“i just like the sound of your voice.”

he purses his lips, and swallows his words. once more, you have decided to speak in a language he has no expertise in. the drumming in his heart says he cannot wait to read poetry in it.

“no more sighing, haitham. and no more glaring. no sarcasm. and no irony.”

he furrows his brows, but he makes no attempt to release himself from your touch.

“say it again. your conclusion.”

his lips part, a sharp breath running through his lungs.

“i believe this is the notion of love. every gesture points to it.”

“is your head clouded?”

“no. it’s never been clearer.”

and he lets you lean in closer, closer till your lips are brushing against his.

“so?” you whisper.

it takes him a moment. he closes the distance, and though he has rarely felt devotion, he moves his mouth against yours in a fervent prayer. carefully, he rests his hand against the small of your back, more to steady himself than you.

this makes sense to him. you’re so familiar. like dragging his fingers on his mirror from ages ago, he finds you a perfect image of what could’ve been. you and him are pages of the same incoherent book, dancing between the same two sentences.

“for clarity’s sake,” he whispers, pulling away. “i say what i mean. i’ve lived long enough to know misunderstandings are beyond my control, and truth is something to be actively pursued to gain. but i cannot stand the screen between my words and your ears.”

his gaze is focused, unwavering. it’s the way he’s always looked at you.

“i know,” you respond, after a moment. “i know what you mean. and if it is your words that you want me to actively pursue—”

he clears his throat. “that- that is not what i said.”

“—then i will do so.”

you smile, and he can feel his lips twitch.

“well, i’m no genius...”

“neither am i,” he interjects softly. “but i’m persistent. i will keep trying, over and over. and if i’m not wrong, you’re the same.”

“you’re not wrong.”

have you always looked at him this way? he thought he’s seen all of your faces before. a new language blossoms in his mind. for once, literary devices are more than just devices.

“the poets are wrong,” you state, laughing bashfully, “it’s not so earth-shattering as i thought. maybe... maybe you were right on that part.”

a small smile forms on his face, and your breath hitches in your throat. “that’s ironic. i thought i finally understood them.”

“really? then do you know the answer to this ancient poem from the sands of hadravameth?” your eyes are curious as ever. “what is the difference between me and the sky?”

he recalls the lines from a long-buried poem, and they click in his head. the sands cannot swallow words as well as it swallows life.

“the difference, my love, is that when you laugh, i forget about the sky.”

[umayashla]

kaveh doodle

[moonlit-doodles]

continuing my work of giving gacha men melanin and body hair

[habizuh-studios]

Kaveh, Alhaitham, Tighnari, and Cyno are very popular streamers who collab often. However, because of Kaveh and Alhaitham's ceaseless bickering and what the other streamers have to say about them, there's an enthusiastic fan-wide theory that they are madly in love. They are constantly fighting with the people who say they are "just friends," but maybe one day their suspicions will be confirmed... OR: The 4ggravate streamer AU where fans are crazy for HaiKaveh!

@hkvthm-action

this was written for the haikaveh gotcha for gaza!! thank you for the prompt and i hope you enjoy <3

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Snippets from Chapter Six of Change is Impurrative!

It’s a long chapter so I thought these four snippets summarised it pretty nicely? Also!! Alhaitham POV of chapter five is on its way! Am really hoping to upload it before chapter six comes out!

Upcoming: Kaveh tries out his new version of ‘honesty’, in which, he conceals his true motives from alhaitham, and in turn has many internal crises! Leading up to A Conversation about the ley line desire

[cyrafoam]

I saw that one scene from Samurai Cat 2014, and god put this image into my mind, so naturally. i had to make it.

[kaeyapilled]

never get tired of imagining kavetham to abba songs

[thormanick]

a very very late night thoguht:

"I'm Trying [Not Friends]" by Masie Peters is a very post-argument-before-tavern kavetham/haikaveh song. Especially the bridge

[dear-wormwood]

road trip kavetham fanfiction 🤔🤔🤔 oh no there’s only one bed??? hmmmmmm

[rhooboob]

⟡ haitham ⟡