#kaveh pov

[phi-justpassngby]

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

[rhooboob]

⟡ haitham ⟡

[peanutbutterandfailure]

GN!ReaderXKaveh-“No Matter What”

TW: yandere/obsessive, murder, kidnapping

(I’ve never written a yandere/obsessive character before, please be kind UwU)

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, gently stroking your hair. “I just want to be with you forever.” Kaveh gave you a soft kiss on the temple before getting up from the bed. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, darling, so please don’t fret.” He pauses before pulling the door closed. “Oh, and don’t bother screaming for Alhaitham, he won’t be able to hear you.”

You hear the lock in the door slide home, and your heart rate spikes, pulse thundering in your ears. You stumble off the bed in a daze, the heavy chain keeping you tethered to the bedframe dragging across the floor behind you as you check the limits of its length. It’s long enough that you can easily reach the small sitting area and the private bath. But Kaveh has his room laid out in just the right way so that you can’t reach the door, no matter how much you stretch. Heavy drapes cover the only window in the room, which is also just out of your reach.

You drop to your knees with a wail as the last eighteen hours run through your mind. You recount every little detail that led to you being chained against your will in Kaveh’s bedroom, wondering if there was anything you could have done to prevent it.

******

It had been a while since you last came home to Sumeru. After graduating from the Akademiya, you spent quite a few years traveling all over Teyvat studying what types of flora grow in each region. Everything you learned had been diligently recorded into not only foraging guides, but also resources to help teach the people of Teyvat how to live in tandem with nature. Now as a celebrated Ecologist, you were ready to return home for a break.

You walked through the familiar streets of your home city, being greeted by everyone you came across; old classmates, past colleagues, and strangers alike all stopped you to say how much they enjoyed your works and to welcome you home. Even when you were relaxing in the Razen Gardens, your favorite place in Sumeru City, you weren't ever alone. Every few minutes someone would come up to talk to you about your books. But you didn't mind, you enjoyed sharing your knowledge with anyone who wanted to learn. One of those people ended up being Kaveh, a former classmate of yours. Even though you studied in different parts of the Akademyia, the two of you had developed a close friendship while there.

He sat beside you in a gazebo, listening, enraptured by your descriptions of the different forgeable plants that helped you survive while living in solitude in Liyue. "Fascinating!" He exclaimed. "I knew the world was bountiful, but I would have never imagined it would be so easy to completely survive off the land!"

"The earth will always provide exactly what we need to live, so long as we aren't too greedy," you tell him with a smile.

He tosses his head back and laughs, the same full bodied laugh he had during school, shoulders shaking and hair glistening in the sun. "That's the problem though, isn't it? We're just too greedy and will always take more than what we need."

"That's what I'm trying to change. I want to help people relearn how to work with what the world gifts us."

"Admirable, as always," Kaveh says with a smile. After a few moments of silence as the two of you stare out through the gardens, Kaveh turns back to you with a grin. "Say, y/n, what do you say to going to dinner with me this evening?"

"I'd love that, Kaveh," you tell him, smiling. A nice and quiet dinner with an old friend would be the perfect way to end your first night home.

"Wonderful! How about you meet me at Lambad's Tavern later? I have a few errands to run first, but I'll meet you there!"

You agree to get a table and wait for him to arrive before he heads off. You wander the gardens for a few hours before making your way to the tavern, going in and finding a small table for you and Kaveh. You order a drink to sip while you wait for him. You’re staring out a window, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of the chair moving across from you startles you. You turn to smile at Kaveh but are surprised to see it’s not him. The man sitting across from you is a complete stranger.

“I’m sorry,” you say to him politely, “but I’m saving that seat for my friend.”

The man looks around dramatically before smirking at you and saying “I don’t see no friend.”

“That’s why I’m saving a seat for him, he’s not here yet.”

“We’ll that’s his problem and not mine.” He says, putting his elbows on the table and leaning towards you. “You’re that eco-author that everyone’s been talking about, aren’t ya? Not much into reading myself, but once I saw what a smoke show you were I knew I needed to get to know ya.”

You quirk a brow at the man’s brashness. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m not interested-“

“What, ya think you’re too good to get to know me?” He bursts out, unexpectedly. “Just because your some big headed Akademiya educated twit, you presume you’re too good for us common folk? Just because you published a few books! You conceded asshole.” His outburst is drawing the attention of the other patrons. Your face flushes, but not from embarrassment. You’re angry at his childish tantrum, and you don’t really want anyone witnessing it to get the wrong idea about you. You worked hard to build your reputation, and you’re not about to let this man tarnish it.

“If you want to talk about presumptions, sir,” you say in a loud voice that carries easily through the tavern, “I’ll say you’ve been quite presumptuous for our entire interaction. You sit at my table, uninvited. You claim to want to get to know me, but only because I’m attractive and not because of my work. When I tell you I’m meeting a friend and am not interested, you brush it off and then get mad. Pretty presumptuous of you to assume that the friend I’m meeting is not also a date.”

The man scoffs and starts to say something back to you, but stops as his eyes shift to just above your right shoulder. You’re beginning to turn when you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder and Kaveh says “Sorry I took so long, dear.” He steps up beside you and stares down at the man. “I’m sorry, but who are you, and why are you in my seat?”

“Your seat?!” The man barks.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. I also believe you heard y/n say that she was meeting me here for a date. So if you would be so kind as to move, we both would appreciate it.”

The man puffs up at being told to leave. “I’d like to see you try, buddy.” He stands from the chair and crosses his arms across his broad chest. Even though he’s a head taller than Kaveh and built like a boulder, Kaveh doesn’t seem bothered. Be raises his brows and adjusts his grip on his briefcase before swinging it upwards so it connects with the side of the man’s head. As he topples to the ground, Kaveh calmly sits the briefcase down, walks around the table, and grabs the man by his shirt.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now. And if you mess with y/n again, you’ll be sorry.” Kaveh growls in a low voice.

Groaning and swearing, the man gets to his feet and shuffles to the door. With a triumphant look, Kaveh takes his seat and looks at you. “So, a date, huh?” He asks grinning, causing you to laugh out loud.

The rest of the evening went nicely and with no other incidents. You enjoyed your time catching up with Kaveh. After dinner, the two of you walked around Sumeru, talking about nothing in particular. Just being around him gave you a sense of ease and familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Finally, the two of you parted ways, and as you walked back to where you were staying, you kept thinking of how quick Kaveh was to resort to violence to defend your honor. One one hand, it was flattering that he respected and cared so much for you. But on the other, it was… Well, unsettling.

The next day, your walk through the city is filled with whispers and rumors.

"Did you hear..."

"Down near Yazadaha pool..."

"Three of them..."

"Beaten and their throats slit..."

By the time you make it down Treasures Street to Alhaitham's house, where you knew Kaveh was staying, you had all the horrifying details. The bodies of three rouge Eremites were found on the banks of Yazadaha pool, beaten and slain by some unknown person. The Corps of Thirty were investigating, and the weapons used to take their lives were left laying in the mud. Eremite weapons, they said. Their killer probably used their own weapons against them then fled the city, perhaps even the region.

Kaveh answers when you knock on the door and you must look distraught, because he immediately pulls you into a hug. "Dear, what's wrong?" He asks, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Haven't you heard? There was a triple homicide in the city!" You exclaim. You know the world is a violent place, but you didn't like the idea of not feeling safe in Sumeru. You came home to relax, to not have to feel on edge and be on the lookout while staying in the wilds of Teyvat. You wanted to feel protected, and that feeling was slowly slipping from your fingers. If you couldn't find peace in Sumeru, then where?

Leaving an arm around your waist, Kaveh pulls you inside. "You're shaking, come sit down." He gently lowers you down onto one of the couches in the central room. You explain everything to him as he gently rubs your back. You can't help but notice that he doesn't flinch or show any kind of reaction when you mention the state of the bodies. "I don't understand why you're so upset, y/n. They were rogue Eremites. They were probably causing trouble in the city. I think we're better off now."

"How can you say that?" You gasp at him.

He just pats your head and says "Sensitive, as always." He stands and heads towards the kitchen. "I'll make you some tea, please make yourself at home."

As he disappears through the door, you stand and begin to pace, too anxious to sit still. Your pacing through the central room leads you to an open doorway for what had to be Kaveh's bedroom, you could see his briefcase sitting beside the bed against the opposite wall. A book opened on the bed catches your attention. You glance over your shoulder to see if Kaveh is still in the kitchen, then step into his room to see if your assumption is correct.

The book is a well loved copy of the first book you ever published, full of underlined text and notes in the margins. You smile to yourself. You never knew Kaveh cared that much about your work. But as you look up from the book, your smile falters. Across from you, occupying their own shelf in a small sitting area, are more copies of your books. You can tell by the spines that there are multiple copies of each publication. Walking over, you can see they're all as worn as the one on the bed.

Sprawled across a small tea table are magazines, some flipped open to interviews with you about your work. Pinned to the wall above his drafting table are articles and photographs of you. Eyes wide, you take all of this in. You turn quickly, hoping to get out of the house before Kaveh notices, and make the most horrifying discovery yet.

Crumpled on the floor behind the door, hidden from view when you first walk in the room, is the shirt Kaveh was wearing last night. Even in the shadow of the door, you can see the bloodstains on the white fabric.

You let out a small squeak and rush towards the bedroom door, wanting to make a break for it, only to see Kaveh blocking the way. "Was someone snooping?" He asks with a small chuckle. You don't answer, just take a few steps back away from him. Your expression must be wild and terrified, because he raises his hands as if he were approaching a scared dog. "Listen, y/n, I can explain..."

But you don't give him a chance, you rush forward and quickly duck around him. You're halfway to the door when he catches you. His strong arms wrap around you and you feel a rag press against your nose and mouth. You try to avoid breathing in, but your body betrays you and you gasp in a lungful of chloroform.

******

The time you spent locked in Kaveh’s room slowly stretched from days to weeks to months. He made sure you never wanted for anything. Whatever food or source of entertainment you wanted, he made sure you had. The only request he would not grant was to unchain you. “It’s for your own protection,” he’d say to you gently, cupping your face in his hand. “I’m only doing this because of how much I care.”

And the longer you stayed with him, the more sense it made. You came home to Sumeru City to relax and be at peace. Things had only gotten more chaotic in the city since the three bodies were found by Yazadaha Pool, and their deaths would have been avoided if that man had never sat down with you at Lambads. Kaveh explained to you what happened that night. After the two of you parted ways, he continued to walk the streets of the city, not ready to return home and end the day. As he was walking by the docks, he saw the man from the tavern talking to the three rouge Eremites. He could tell by the way they were acting that they were familiar with each other.

Kaveh explained that as he approached, he could hear them talking about you. It seemed the man was still sour about what happened, especially about the way you treated him. Kaveh was able to hear one Eremite suggest running a smear campaign through the city to ruin your reputation, but that wasn’t good enough for the other two. They decided that you needed to be punished, and they wanted to do it in a very violent manner.

It was at that moment that the man from the tavern noticed Kaveh. Pointing him out to the Eremites, the four gave chase. Kaveh said he led them down by the Pool, where there would be less of a chance of being seen. He already knew what he had to do. As the first Eremite got to him, he quickly overpowered him and took his weapon. Mercilessly, Kaveh dispatched the rouge and turned to his companions. There was no hesitation in his actions, these vile humans wanted to hurt you. He had to make sure they didn’t have the chance. Once he finished off the last of the Eremites, he turned towards the man. ‘I told you that if you tried to mess with y/n again that you’d be sorry. Now leave the city before I go to the Corps of Thirty and identify you as the person who killed these three. Rouges or not, I don’t think they’d take to kindly to their own people being slain.’

Kaveh finished the story by saying to you “The man is gone for now, but who knows how long it will take for his fear to turn back into anger and jealousy. Even though you had nothing to do with it, he blames you for me attacking him in the tavern, so I’m sure he’ll blame you for me attacking his ‘friends’. If you stay here, everyone in the city will assume that you just left again to do more research. I can protect you, y/n. I can keep you safe from all the monsters that are disguised as humans.”

So, you let him protect you. You stayed with him, chained and locked in his room, where he catered to your every need and want. You would still write, but mostly it was just for him. He would bring you new books to read, but your favorite way to pass the time was to sit with him, curled up together on the small settee, and read through your books. He’d stop and ask questions, or you’d tell him stories about your travels that didn’t make it into the books.

During one of these reading sessions, Kaveh quietly sat his book down and turned toward you, gently taking your face in his hands. Hesitatingly, he pressed his lips against yours. Your book slid from your fingers and hit the floor with a soft thump as you kissed him back. Eagerly, Kaveh’s mouth began moving against yours with more intensity, his hands leaving your face to grip your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. The two of you eventually made your way to the bed you shared, and as the two of you made love, you decided you were completely fine spending eternity in this room.

[thunderous-mess]

Clay-made

Kaveh POV - First person.

Words: 866

Ship: Haikavehtham (unspecified roles)

Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh

Summary: Kaveh talks about how his relationship with Alhaitham has changed through the years and how the Scribe has softened for him.

Notes: I woke up and wrote what my brain wanted. I kinda love writing First person KAveh :3

I think Alhaitham is like a piece of clay.

When you first start working with it it's hard, tiring, and unpleasant. It resists to change and it's overall hard to work with. But with time, as you work on it, heat it in your hands, and become acquainted with it, the clay slowly becomes softer and much more comfortable to use.

I don't mean that Haitham is someone you can mold to your liking. He definitely isn't. But seeing how he has changed for me; with me... makes my heart flutter in ways I can't simply put into words.

When we were younger he used to be too serious and cold. So logic and pragmatic that it even hurt to talk to him as a cold so extreme that burn.

We both suffered because of that. Even to the point of losing touch for years just to hurt alone, trying to heal the burns while missing the person who inflicted them.

In retrospect, we were both really dumb.

Maybe we still are even now, but I can't help to look back and pity the way we were.

But we managed to get back together. Older and mature — or so I like to think. And even if at first it didn't seem like he had changed at all, he started to mellow down. For me.

It was as if every caress and word I whispered to him slowly melted that cold and let free the tenderness under it that he was trying to hide and protect. It sounds stupid when I think about it, but it was in those moments when his cold facade shattered that we started to reach each other. When he was too overwhelmed by my words of affection and touch. When my roundabout words made him embarrassed or sentimental. It was in those moments that we finally started to work things out.

We still clashed. Of course we did. Even now we still do. We're too different after all. But now it's not as often and more importantly, it's not so painful as it used to be. Light disagreements (as heated as they may seem from the outside) instead of debilitating wars of painful words.

Instead of hatred looks or us leaving without a word after the fights, we started to apologize; to check if any of us had gone too far, or trying to at least mend the wrongs we did. In a way, it doesn't feel that different from the moments we curl up in bed against each other, feeling closer than ever; happy and satisfied.

Alhaitham warmed up, in my hands and in our bed. He opened up to me about a lot. His past, his thoughts, his future plans... likes and dislikes, his (very few) friends and even me. He started to talk about me a lot. It was terribly embarrassing at first and sometimes it still makes me blush from time to time... well, who am I kidding, almost every time. But after so much pain and coldness, after feeling alone in his company for so long, hearing from his own mouth how much he cares and all he does for me. It feels like magic. The persons we used to be and the words we used to say to the other fade in my memory when he tells me with his awfully handsome deadpan face the things he loves about me and about us, the ways I make him feel and the little things I do that make his day.

I love the man he has become.

I never thought we would be like this. When I used to look at him I only saw pain. It hurt to love him and hurt even more to know that we were the wrong person for each other despite caring so much. But seeing us now... Oh how naive and young we were.

Sometimes I hope we had met later in life. That way, we might have saved us from many headaches and tears. Yet at the same time, it's our journey that brought us to today. To the days when he sits on the couch with me and we talk about everything and anything without the need of picking on each other. Where he pulls me out of the studio and into our bedroom for a forced nap when I accidentally overwork myself. Where he grabs my waist in the middle of the corridor and whispers me how happy he is just because I smell like our shampoo. Or where he cries on my shoulder because he is tired and he's too happy that he came back home to a tasty meal and a kiss.

With a lot of effort, many sleepless nights, and a lot of talk he went from the hard unmovable rock he used to be to the softie he is now.

And it makes me so proud of him. Of us. And proud that despite everything we managed to come to this point.

It makes me excited for the future. I look forward to seeing how we are in ten or maybe even fifty years. Whatever happens, I hope we manage to stick together.

Thanks for reading!

[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.

[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

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[nodriot]

Day 7- Kaveh

[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

[lunannex]

While I’m talking about headcanons: my favorite Faranak hc is that she’s fat. Think about it — her happy and healthy in Fontaine after spending so many years drowning in her grief. I think Kaveh, on the other hand, was mildly underweight until he started living with Alhaitham. He spent years putting himself last to make sure his mother was always eating well. Living with Alhaitham gives him a chance to build a home again, while Faranak gathers her own support system in Fontaine.

That’s why I think a lot about that moment where they finally get the chance to talk about everything. Healing and bonding through food. Particularly by making fatteh, the dish Kaveh’s father taught him to make when he was a child. They teach each other recipes to other dishes that they’ve picked up over the years since they parted ways. It’s about getting to know each other again in their truest forms. Kaveh being open about those old wounds born from having an emotionally neglectful parent and having to grow up too fast. Faranak acknowledging her mistakes and knowing that she can’t take it all back, but wanting to be there for him regardless if he lets her.

Basically: love is stored in the kitchen and these two deserve to heal. Faranak’s grief is not an excuse for her neglect but I personally love that about her. It makes them and their relationship so delightfully complex. A well meaning parent who made so many missteps along the way, but still loves her son so much.

[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