#arven/juliana

[audacious-herbaceous]

Had a great experience commissioning @the-alicorn-artist to draw the ‘deli scene’ from chapter one of my fic: Cognitive Dissonance on AO3! ☺️ She was very easy to work with and took great care to detail! 10/10 recommend her 🎨

Ch 1: Juliana learns that Arven doesn’t remember the last time he’s celebrated a birthday and takes him out while planning to confess her feelings to him by way of her Treasure Hunt journal-turned-diary (and you can see it in her bag in the picture! 📓)

This is part of an ongoing project I am starting by commissioning artists in the community/fandom to draw a scene from a select chapter. I am an advocate and supporter of the arts as a creative myself and wanted to try something that involves and supports other artists 😊 and also to keep myself motivated to keep writing 😅

[carriedreamerxx]

Arviana week day 2:

Graduation | Retirement | Career

A/N: I realize I might have stretched this one a bit but... My magic writing pen my rules - my metaphors! 😂

Preview and link ahead:

Day 2: Graduation 

Arven rubbed his palms together, and fiddled with the collar of his turtleneck. it was kinda cold with the constant sea breeze sure but he’d admit he was also nervous. 

But….why was he so nervous? 

Well, this morning he'd woken up just another League challenger and single and now he was a champion and… to be determined? 

Well… honestly… as soon the…piles of paperwork were gone through and she had then politely excused herself to ‘go get ready’.. Arven… 

Well truth be told Arven had rushed home, ripped his closet open, lamented how grossly under prepared he was for the most important date of his life, grabbed the one clean turtleneck and smart blazer he owned- hastily ironed them - hung them up- grabbed a towel, ran into the shower -

…. Maybe hyperventilated a bit in said shower… slammed the cold water also in the same shower and… yeah… 

Yeahhhhh… 

The hard part was done. The scariest three words in the entire world had after all been spoken… mutually -he paused in mid pace. 

I love you

He shifted the bouquet in his hands listlessly. A dozen Paldean Carnations mixed with the deepest most vibrant red roses the stall had to offer, and that was a no brainer

Yes he was aware that apparently tonight he was the one being shown a night out- but…

There was no way Arven was going to present himself on the first date with the woman he loved empty handed . 

Just…no. 

He'd dreamed of this moment for too long. 

This was obviously also his one shot. 

“Okay Arven, focus, cool, suave, you're a Champ now- you’ve graduated to the big leagues, your career, your life….”  He paused at that still. It'd only been… give or take five hours since La Primera’s team had gone down by his hand but… 

Badum. Badum. 

“You got this, you got this, the hard parts technically over, you told Juli the truth and she loves you too… just…focus on being cool and sweep her off her feet right into a nice happily ever after. You can do that.” He mumbled.

I think. 

No! He could! Look what he'd already done! He'd worked hard to reach her level, his friends' levels and now here now was his beloved little buddy, the shining star of his life…the woman he had loved for so long….now here was Juliana Scarlet extending a hand for him, Arven Sada, to join her at her side at last.. he was finally… worthy of it. 

You always were. 

Was that just….love talk? It had to be. 

“There's no way Mabosstiff is level ninety-five power. There's just no way.” He mumbled. 

“That seems a bit unfair to such a good boy don't you think?” 

Badum. 

Okay, here we go….turn, greet her with a smile, present the flowers and…. 

His mind went blank

[ Read the rest here! ]

[pkmntrashcan]

Language Barrier

This story is complete ☀︎  | Oneshot | AO3

Summary: It felt like second nature to fall for Arven and maybe Juliana should have done a better job to stop her feelings, but when he speaks Paldean to her she can’t help but to crumble.Now...if only she knew what he was saying.

--

“Juliana.”

If there was one thing Juliana got used to growing up was how common her name was on other people’s lips. She was always the new kid, the one everyone wanted to talk to, the one whose name buzzed around the halls until she up and left after a few weeks. From the hard J’s in Galar, her home region, to the blurred pronunciation of the “l” in her name in Kanto. She’s recently discovered her name sounded best with the softened “J” in Paldean especially when spoken by Arven in front of her.

And while “Juliana” was the one word she could discern…everything else struggled to translate over.

“¿Me entiendes?”

The only reason she could tell Arven was talking to her wasn’t the use of “me.” Or even the fact that he was tapping his pencil on her notebook. (Ironic coming from the guy who hated studying in the first place.) But instead it was his intense gaze, turquoise eye staring right through her– she’s sure at a certain point his patience would wane like it would with Penny or Nemona and yet with her, it never seemed to happen.

She felt lucky for that.

“Juliana,” he repeats, the syllabic word sound more and more like a song every time he called for her.

She’d be a liar if she said the extra hours with Arven weren’t the highlight of her day. Eagerly running from class to his dorm room just for their tutoring lessons.  The lower octave of his voice when speaking Paldean putting her attention in a chokehold, perfect for learning she told herself, even if everything he said went in one ear and out the other.

She blinks, unsure of how many seconds have ticked by as she thought about the very guy in front of her, and yet he was still staring at her, waiting for a response.

“Poco…slower” she gets out, forehead furrowing in concentration as if it would make her ears work more efficiently. How much brain power did it take her to use one word in broken Paldean? Pal..arian? The mishmash of languages that Arven affectionately would call her “Juliana-ese.”

He chuckles warmly, a sound she swears is only made for her as he leans in closer into Juliana’s space. “You know when I asked you to slack off for me, I didn’t mean it literally,” Arven flawlessly switching over to her native language.

“Remind me who is the one who has moved to every region in existence?” He’s teasing, mouth pulling into a coy smirk–reminiscent of his Mabosstiff who was currently curled up on his bed a couple feet away.

“Now aren’t you cheeky?” her nose crinkles, “besides my mum speaks Galarian to me” she states matter of factly, aware of her accent making a strong appearance more than ever with that phrase.

It doesn’t deter Arven who once commented that her accent was endearing. She reminded herself of that daily.

She sighs, resting her cheek into her palm,  “besides move too often and you gather nothing if you have no one to speak with.”

A low hum blesses her ears. If there’s someone who understood the pain of being alone, it was Arven. But he doesn’t sound sad in his contemplation, well aware she was no longer alone with him by her side.  Instead he was deep in thought in trying to fix her current predicament.

“Maybe Mr. Salvatore was right, we gotta stop giving in and speak more Paldean around you instead.”

A breathy one noted laugh escapes her. “Oh that’s a bad idea when you and Nemona go at it I have zero clue what you’re saying.”

It’s funny to her how the only context clues she’d get of their… discussions was their body language. They’d start off in hush whispers, trying to be conspicuous, but things would get heated–fast. Voices would rise, desperation evident in their tones as speed became the priority in the flurry of words and flailing arms that Juliana could never follow. More often than not she wondered if she was the topic from how Nemona would point incessantly at her.

Sometimes Penny would translate to clue Juliana in. Other times Penny would scoff, a sound rooted in annoyance and grievances as she’d  join in on the jabs against Arven–at least that’s what Juliana assumed given how proud the two girls would look and how red in the face Arven was by the end of it.

“Trust me,” he mutters, “you don’t want to know what the student council girl is saying.” There’s a second of quiet. “You know it’s concerning. How are we ever going to speak if your understanding is mediocre at best.”

“Hey,” Juliana retorts. “That’s not fair, I think my pronunciation is great.”

A eyebrow quirks at her. He doesn’t need to say it; she knows what he’s thinking.

“Fine, it’s decent at best,” she mumbles in defeat. She’d never understand why Director Clavell ever said she was to be a model student because to her the perfect student should be able to say more than “hola”, “gracias” and “tengo hambre” (the latter  specifically only to Arven) after 6 months.

Then again half of that time was her on her treasure hunt and the other was filled with classes in… Galarian .

Oh she was doomed.

The soft thud of a book closing claims Juliana’s attention once more.

“Alright, from now on you are only allowed to speak Paldean,” Arven looks proud, “we have to test your pronunciation then. So copy me.” He scoots his chair closer to her, “tres.”

Her head tilts, unsure of where he was going. Numbers, though important, didn’t seem like the biggest contributors to function well in conversation Paldean.

“Arven, how is that going to help–”

“Tres,” he quickly interrupts. “¿Y por que estas hablando Galarian?”

Her shoulders drop in defeat. “Fine, fine, tres.”

He’s smiling a little too widely now. “ Tres tristes tigres tragando trigo en un trigal .” Tongue effortlessly rolling every emphasized sound as Juliana found herself stuck immediately at tres once again. A word she wasn’t even saying right.

Her eyes go wide, mouth parted in indignation.

“H-hey! No, no that’s too fast, too difficult. What are you even saying three what are doing what in the where?” It’s a flurry of questions as Arven laughs. Really laughs. It’s a low vibration, warm and laced with honey as tears began to prick his eyes. She gets broken words from him this time, “at least” a laugh “you kinda” another “got the gist.”

But that’s not enough to halt her embarrassment.  “How does your tongue even form those sounds!” She yells, doing little to end Arven’s laughter. The sound getting closer and closer until he’s about an inch or two away. His sturdy hands coming to squeeze her cheeks together, lips forced to purse.

And maybe her mind was playing games, but Juliana swore he was staring right at them as he did so.

He’s still beaming, coming off the high, “you’re gonna take your lips and relax them,” his hold on her face releasing only ever so slightly to show her the difference. “ Press your tongue to the top and push out,” he then trills his r without even prompting.

“Don’t you roll your r’s at me,” Juliana pouts, pretending to be angry, pretending her heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute, pretending that having Arven this close to her didn’t effect her.

Because it wasn’t the first time Arven breached her personal space. From the quick shoulder taps, to the lingering  hand holding, to how their knees were currently brushing as his fingers danced on her skin. Then there was the faint memory of his hand on her waist, pulling her closer, keeping her safe while right up against him. Just the memory of it served as a reminder that he was always there, and he was her friend, and her heart yearned for more. And every time he’d touch her he’d stay for as long as she’d let him, never pulling away and always leaning just a little more in.

Arven was oblivious to how powerful he really was, and to how much she wished they were more than best friends.

But right now her cheeks incriminate her. Could he feel the heat radiating off of her? Or worse hear the drumming in her chest? Could he ever put two and two together about her feelings, but then she feels it all come to a halt when he whispers. Nearly pleads :

“Pequeñita, just try. You’re safe here with me.”

Her head tilts at the sound of that new…nickname?

And she can’t help but to ask.

“Que.. es.. Pe..peque..?” tongue stuck on the ñ as she in turn pleads for answers to her own curiosity. Anything Arven says she wants to know.

Instead she watches his cheeks turn pink, his eyes nervously bouncing around, his throat clearing through the heavy silence of her curiosity. “You don’t wanna know,” he mumbles.

“Si. I do!” She attempts to demand. Feistiness and eagerness not as impactful in a language she didn’t have grasped. His gaze softens as he locks eyes with her, a little sigh leaving him, bracing for impact as he sits back just enough and mutters:

“Tiny.”

She jolts ever so slightly, but his hands never move. A scoff in offense, “I am not! I am not…pequenita!” Juliana retorts with a squeak,  eyebrows furrowing angrily as she cranks her head back to look up at Arven as menacingly as she can.

“Your neck says otherwise,” and that’s when one hand moves effortlessly to the back of her head, gently coercing it back down. But their eye contact remained leveled and Juliana became highly aware that Arven has been the one bridging the height gap between them, lowering himself to remain close.

“One sentence,” his forehead touches hers, “A full one,” fingers playing with the tendrils of hair on the back of her head. “ Then we can end this charade for today and get dinner,” he chuckles though a tinge of sadness is evident in his voice. Almost as if he didn’t want the session to end.

But the feeling was mutual.

Then he lets go. The distance feeling too wide for Juliana to be okay with it.

“Just try to make a sentence it can be anything. It can be Mabosstiff is brown. It can be sandwiches are good.”

And he smiles, warm and genuine like the meals he presents to her nearly daily. It’s an act of encouragement, one that believes in her, and one that she wishes she could press her lips against taking it all in for what its worth.

So she scoots back in, her index finger bouncing on her lips , “how do you say this?”

His eyes following every motion. And that fuels her.

“Boca.”

Determination etches her features, a look she only gets when she’s in battle calculating every next move. “Mi boca,” she stands. Her voice is steady, lips pulling playfully as Arven watches her come closer.

“Your mouth.”

She doesn’t have to lean much at all, reaching forward her fingers to graze his own lips. Pride swelling at feeling them part almost naturally under her touch.

“Tu boca.”

He swallows slowly, Juliana taking in every motion of his throat bobbing. “My mouth?” His voice is dry, raspy, it’s a question and yet it wavers on wanting. His gaze no longer fighting to stay on her eyes, they’re locked onto the topic at hand.

But Juliana spends a moment, she’s gotten this far. This far to make a move. This far to show Arven she wants to be more than just his little buddy. But the word escapes her. She doesn’t think it ever was on a test. And as much as she has daydreamed about telling Arven how she feels she has not once thought to look up “to kiss” in Paldean..

And was her sentence even grammatically correct to begin with? But by then it’s too late, milliseconds turning into full seconds and she gets a goofy grin.

“Mwah.”

It’s not Paldean, and it’s not even Galarian at that point. A full onomatopoeia to try to convey what she was trying to say. She’s full on smiling at this point watching the realization etch its way onto Arven’s expression.

She breaks into a flurry of giggles.

“I don’t know how to say kiss in Paldean.” It’s a dash bashful, and whole lot more  honest, her shoulders lifting and rising with every sound. She didn’t even have a chance to feel embarrassed as the adrenaline washed over her.

She feels relief, and joy, and even if Arven has yet to react at least it wasn’t an automatic rejection. She tried, that counted, and maybe he’d start to consider her as something more than just his best friend.

“I hope,” her fingers fiddling with her braid, “ the point gets acros–”

The sentence is swallowed by his mouth crashing onto hers. It’s slow and a bit clumsy, but she tastes peppermint. Fresh and slightly sweet, like the garnish he adds in her cup of hot chocolate.  His hand holds her waist tight, desperately bringing her closer til she’s stumbling into his lap with a little gasp.  Her own hands looking for leverage on his chest as Arven seeks to memorize her taste with every pass of their lips.

“Besar,” he parts, but just barely, as if he’s aiming to return to where he belongs. His breath dances on her lips. It tickles ever so slightly. “Me besas. Te beso. Nosotros besamos.”

And Juliana takes a second to rewire. “Mi boca, tu boca, beso,” before closing the gap between them once again.

[scribblespecters]

That's a Gen 2 awoo if I ever heard one!

YT version | Support/commission me on Ko-fi <3

[mawguai]

I'm so grateful to have met you

[pkmn-tcg-manga-scvi]

pokemon scvi is a good game

[reizerou-arts]

M🟣CHI M🟣CHI

[eggtempest]

[vanillahina]

Monopoly night with the Scarlet and Violet friends! ♥️💜

[aliencatart]

a summary of mochi mayhem minus the mochi mayhem

[etthenerdling]

Arven being jealous during the dlc was so funny

[audacious-herbaceous]

Flower 🌸🌺 is the server prompt this week 💕

[carriedreamerxx]

I'm not gonna spoil anything

But this epilougue made my shipper's heart weep with happiness, rainbows and I won't be over this for at least 24 hours.

Anyways: Fic incoming.

Probably about 2 hours. 😂😂

[angryrata]

I drew them again cause I loooove their dynamic

Can we talk about Pawmi being the best pikachu??? I want to bite that face

[skitkattl]

shoutout to that scene of arven being physically incapable of being a normal person around his bestie's bestie

the image..

[minitiimidnight]