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#⸃⠀and we're live !!⠀☆

linyki · 10 months

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and we're live. — l.hs

## summary : ever since your freshman year of high school, you’ve been eagerly anticipating the day that you finally take over the leading position within your school’s broadcasting club. now that you’re a junior, your dream is finally within reach — well, until you learn that you have a fellow contender for the role. enter lee heeseung, the tall (and, unfortunately, pretty attractive) hurdle standing in the way of your success. will the two of you manage to settle your differences off-air, or is there only room for one mic? alternatively, lee heeseung has a crush on yn and is only competing for broadcasting club manager because he wants an excuse to talk to her.

## pairing : fem!yn x non-idol!heeseung ## feat : lesserafim (with cameos/mention of zb1, txt.) ## genre : highschool au, one-sided rivals to lovers, fluff, crack, pining. ## warnings : profanity, suggestive humour, death jokes (kms, kys), 13 y/o boy humour. ## status : ongoing. ## taglist : open.

## lin's love note : hi el oh el. im on summer break which means i have an excessive amount of free time. so... what better way to start off my break than by creating a smau !! this is vvv loosely based off of live on bcos i luv hwang minhyun. ask, dm or comment if u'd like to be added to the taglist !!

交 — profiles ! therapy group && wedgie warriors && priv

交 — chapters ! 🖇 : written 01 how to get away with murder (real) 02 that's bonkers 03 yunjin's solution 04 rizzphobic 05 let the games begin ! 06 live, laugh, laxatives 07 sherlock homies 08 revelations 09 get a grip 10 simp city 11 mission: secret admirer (🖇)

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heritageposts · 3 months

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🇵🇸 From BDS - What to Boycott:

Fruits, vegetables and wines from Israel are often wrongly labelled as “Produce in Israel” when they come from stolen Palestinian land. Boycott all produce from Israel in your supermarket and demand they are removed from shelves.

thank you @leandra-winchester for making the graphic above! if any of you are active on other social platforms, you have her permission to use the image however you want (no credit required)

keep in mind, though, that this isn't a complete list: you should still check the origin labels on other types of fruit and veggies, and see if any local orgs have produced a more complete breakdown of israeli produce that's specific to your country

#palestine #israeli #gaza #boycott israel #bds #boycott divest sanction #trying to bring some more awareness to the fruit/veggies part of BDS #since it's the boycott target we're most likely to interact with in our day-to-day lives

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elftwink · 5 months

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if you're about to get top surgery, you may hear a voice in your head telling you to make a joke about getting something off your chest even though it's overplayed. im here to let you know it's your imperative and sacred duty to not only make the joke but to tell it to every person you talk to. and that you are right it would be funny as fuck. this is not sarcastic if you tell enough people one of them will have never heard it before and also it's still funny to every person who has heard it listen to me this is a once in a life time opportunity— [i start getting dragged out by the palace guards] commit to the bit!!! if you don't you'll forever wish you had!! heed my warning or forever suffer the cons— [castle door slams shut behind us]

#good idea generator #dont ask why we're in a castle. live in this fiction with me. suspend your disbelief

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embraceyourdestiny · 6 months

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to any americans who feel "paralyzed" and "dont know what to do" to help with gaza:

reading a fucking book. i beg of you.

in a time of knowledge suppression is it your duty to arm yourself with knowledge.

read about americas occupations in the middle east.

read about 9/11 from outside of america and see how they inflicted senseless harm and violence to countless amounts of people and have been suppressing your rights for the past 2 fucking decades.

read about any of the countless wars from the past 30 years. especially from a civilian's. and the victims and survivors' perspective. listen to the horror stories and do not plug your fucking ears as to what your country is doing.

and read about fucking gaza and palestine and keep up with what is happening no matter how "sad" or "uncountable" you might get.

dont look away from this.

you dont have the right to be comfortable during countless active genocides.

if you're knowledgeable, you're powerful, and our current state doesnt fucking want that.

you have the power to change things if you open your eyes and scream to the world.

wake the fuck up.

Edit: please check the reblogs there are readings and ways to help

#og #truly if youre not about it your against it and i dont fuck with you because you're complacent #wake the fuck up #we're all responsible and dont you dare say you're not #americans need to stop living in the world with their eyes closed and their ears covered #look at what your fucking 'glorious country' is doing to people #everyone should be against america no fucking exceptions because america is violent and evil and needs to be stopped #then read about what america has done to the natives of their land #radicalize yourself #decolonize your mind #free palestine #land back #palestine will be free #theres too many fucking movements of just the past couple years all happening at once to act like the world is fucking fine #we are in a human rights CRISIS #WAKE THE FUCK UP PLEASE

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tawaifeddiediaz · 4 months

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you know what boils my blood.

over the last 2 weeks, i've seen countless patients walk into my urgent care center, symptomatic for so many things, refusing to get tested for covid and flu, citing that they don't want to knowingly bring it to their holiday tables. i had a patient tell me, verbatim, "i don't want to test for covid, because i don't want to be the asshole who brings it on a plane."

i understand that - i understand that holidays are times where people look forward to meeting loved ones that they might only see once a year, or where they get a break from the hectic back and forth of their lives.

but here's the thing - whether they get tested or not, they will bring whatever they have to their holiday tables. it's pure recklessness to know that you're sick, and walk into someone else's house spreading the disease.

today, january 2, i saw 91 patients, many of them who have tested positive for covid and flu. many of these patients are the same ones who didn't want testing 3 days ago, until their events were over, and now, they will have to reach out to everyone they know to let them know that they were positive because they were showing symptoms well before their event.

the next week or two? we're going to see many, many more, all people with symptoms that started around christmas. these are the only two viruses we test for rapidly in our office, but they are potent and can be fatal in many people.

so here's why i wrote this post, and maybe it's a little late, but - if you care about your loved ones, please get tested if you know you're sick. it doesn't have to be at a clinic if you don't want it to, because the over-the-counter tests work just fine too (if you test within 5-7 days of symptom onset). just...please don't try to run from the knowledge that you might have covid, because immunocompromised people, elderly people, people with co-morbidities like asthma, pregnancy, diabetes, etc...many of them may not recover. and they may not be sitting at your holiday table in the future because of it.

#zee rambles #this isn't to guilt trip anyone #but im so so tired of people coming in and just refusing testing because they want to see grandma or whatever #and on top of that people are avoiding vaccinations and all that too??#we all lived through the pandemic - everyone saw how many people unfortunately passed away from it #now because of vaccinations and some amount of herd immunity we're finding milder cases in healthy people #but that doesn't mean its gone #that doesn't mean it doesn't have long-term repercussions even in healthy people and that doesn't mean people aren't still dying from it #honestly i just needed a lil rant #and if this helps at least one person??? im all for it #also i can't sleep so here we are spilling thoughts into the voidddd

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anti-heroism · 4 months

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Ayo awards season sweep! Her first Golden Globe, Critics Choice and Emmy all in one week. No one is doing it like her, truly an IT girl.

#ayo edebiri #she's loved by us the public ireland the industry #it's ayo edebiri's world and we're just living in it #the bear #emmys 2024 #emmys #femaledaily #wonderfulwomendaily #wonderfulwoc

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roydeezed · 5 months

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One thing for those who have watched The Boy and The Heron or will watch it. The Japanese title for it is How Do You Live? And Miyazaki stated he was leaving it for his grandson, saying, "Grandpa is moving onto the next world soon but he is leaving behind this film".

The deaths of contemporaries and friends such as Satoshi Kon and Isao Takahata and also the expected successor of Yoshifumi Kondo were things that have always weighed heavily on the back of Miyazaki's mind.

He recognizes the industry and the occupation for how soul crushing it was, grinding up either the spirit or the physical body of those who work in it. He loves and hates the industry he stands on the peak of and fully recognizes how it will probably be the death of him. And he knows it'll leave him unable to say a lot of things to his Grandson.

So How Do You Live? is a lesson. For his grandson. For himself. For his two sons. And probably for anyone else willing to pay attention.

Hayao Miyazaki is a flawed man that makes things so important to so many people. And I think more than any other film of his, in this you get to pull back the curtain a bit and see him at work. And what should be this giant unblemished titan can be seen for what he is, a sad old man who had higher hopes for himself and has even higher hopes for the people he makes his work for.

It's a beautiful thing to see another's humanity in their work. To look past the artifice and glam of commercialized art and find humans behind it. And humans willing to show their humanity and mortality is even rarer. And something to be celebrated. So when you watch it. Or if you've watched it already. Understand that this film is Miyazaki kneeling down, weary after years of weaving dreams and making mistakes, reaching out and saying to you that he hopes you can do better. It's an old man who's made all the mistakes of the world passing it on to you, hoping you do better, and making sure you know it's okay if you don't.

How do you Live? By making mistakes. By messing up. But still moving forward. And still reaching out.

#the boy and the heron #how do you live #hayao miyazaki #i love you old man #i know you'll be back but if we're talking to each other through screens then thanks #if the wind rises was him exposing his mistakes then this is his apology #i really dislike the popularization of ideas like “parasocial relationships” and “seperate the art from the artist” and how it seeps into #the discussion of art. While people should be maintaining a detachment from people they don't know I think blunting arts impact by not #acknowledging the human behind it is a disservice to art. And you lose the beauty behind someone as flawed as you making something beautiful

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devildaisies · 9 months

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i have this npc named au'liver who runs a dimension-hopping magic shop that i put in every single campaign because I love him and logically it tracks that I can do that.

i named him au'liver because i'd been dogsitting my brother's dog oliver the week before i made him up on the spot while dming a game

a few sessions later, my player, teiani, pointed out that he was "au'liver the place" which was like. jawdrop. not intentional but so good. so he became au'liver l'place.

few years and a few campaigns later, that same friends talking to me about dnd and she refered to my games as the au'liverse. i cant stop thinking about that

#its his worlds we're just living in them #i dont use the word blorbo lightly but literally blorbo from my games

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linyki · 10 months

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╰╮(l.hs) and we're live ﹗゛

04 — rizzphobic

pre. nxt. m.list.

## taglist : @luvistqrzzz @haknom @yenqa @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @kjrcrz @hanjisunglover @lunavixia @xrvrqs @aeminju @beeeb05 @rikisly @vizstars @ashy1um @flwrshee @enhaz1 @sparklingsjy @haechology @jhopesucker (open)

## lin's love note : if anyone would like to eventually proofread my one-shot (IF and if i ever decide to finish it), pls lmk !! anyways, someone tell me why the enhypen lightstick (or js lightsticks in generals tbh) is so expensive ??? $108 cad for a fancy flashlight is crazy.. ts better file my taxes and go to my tutorials for me or sum

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revasserium · 7 months

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Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

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egophiliac · 9 days

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Wait, did you put a photo of Vil and Neige as kids in Eric’s office??

oh good, I was afraid that wasn't going to read properly and people would just be like "what is this supposed to be". :') but yeah! I like to think Eric was pretty fond of Neige as a kid! single dad sees orphan child approximately the same age as his own son and goes "hmm. okay, you guys are going to be friends now." (this did not go as well as he'd hoped.)

(also I do love how it's kind of a running joke that everyone loves Neige except for Vil, who's standing over in the corner and just seething with furious irrational hatred. someday maybe he'll find someone who doesn't think Neige is the best thing since cinnamon rolls.)

#art #twisted wonderland #vil: am i massively projecting my own hangups and insecurities onto someone who i would otherwise find only mildly annoying #vil: no it must be neige who is wrong #idk i just like neige a lot! he's sweet and i find him fascinating honestly #there's ONE offhanded comment about how oh yeah he's been orphaned since a young age and just never talks about it #he lives with a bunch of dwarves and cooks and cleans for them and this has been going on since he was like eight #like. hello?!#there's a whole backstory here that we're never going to get more than this single crumb of and frankly that makes it better #man if i had a nickel for every fandom about fairytale characters in high school #where i instantly fell in love with the snow white character #i'd have two nickels et cetera you know the rest

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starcurtain · 9 months

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One of my favorite things about the game's writing of Alhaitham and Kaveh:

The basic game text goes out of its way to convince us that the house is Alhaitham's--it is literally called "Alhaitham's Home" even during Kaveh's hangout.

But in-universe, we never see Alhaitham in his house unless Kaveh is there.

Throughout Sumeru's archon quests, we run into Alhaitham practically everywhere: in Port Ormos, in Aaru Village, in the Akademiya, at the Grand Bazaar. But never, despite the fact that the story wants to sell him as a homebody, in his own home. In fact, the only references we have to Alhaitham's house at all throughout the entire lead up of the archon quests are mentions of Kaveh.

Alhaitham doesn't suggest going there, doesn't ever go home himself (at least that we're explicitly told about) until the end of the archon quests, and has no cutscenes in his own house until Kaveh returns from the desert.

Then, all the sudden, Alhaitham literally can't wait to go home and walks off in the middle of a conversation.

From that point on, every time we're permitted to enter Alhaitham's house, in story quests, the hangout, and the event, it's either when he and Kaveh are together or with Kaveh alone.