"i'm not paid enough for this"

Irene Oliver; Pokemon OC blog.  Sideblog to cannockroyalcourt.  Read rules and about before interacting!

[cannockroyalcourt]

i missed her

[cannockroyalcourt]

it’s been a while

[semitruthful]

The night with Emmet had gone well enough.  Of course, it had ended as any night with Emmet naturally ends, but it didn’t suck.  In fact, Irene was beginning to understand why so many people chose to get involved with the boy.

Of course, morning sickness was not part of the plan.  Nor was a positive pregnancy test.

What am I going to tell Mike?

As the plane departs for Sinnoh, Irene ponders her options.  She has to talk to him.  Emmet’s his best friend, and it was kind of shitty of her to sleep with his best friend immediately after being rejected by him.  Of course, talking to Emmet should probably happen first.

As expected, pondering isn’t getting her anywhere.  She sighs to herself, props her chair back, and does everything in her power to get some much-needed sleep.

[deceivingheir]

semitruthful:

Oh.

He’s…helping her.  That’s…very nice of him.  It’s dark both inside and outside the bar, but she can tell he’s lost some weight.  And grown his hair out.  Both changes are a bit more sudden than they should be, but Irene is grateful to see a familiar face.  Even if it is a face that she, frankly, despises.  And calling her “sweetheart” isn’t exactly helping that matter.

She’s not drunk enough for this.

With an expression somewhere between frustration and determination, she silently grabs his hand a bit too tightly and drags him over to the bar.  A few drinks later and his face looks slightly less punchable.

“So, uh…what’re you doing in Alola, Em?  I thought you were, I dunno…”  Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember where he’s supposed to be.  Drinking can do that to you.

She’s taking command. He likes that. She drinks with him. He likes that too.

Oh, but she…

This might be a problem. Aside from calling him that distasteful nickname, a name that has him scrunching his face up in displeasure for a fraction of a second, she seems to be familiar with him. Who is she? He’d get it if she only knew his name, but no. No, this is beyond that. She behaves like they know each other. Talks to him like a casual acquaintance, not a celebrity stranger. Who is she? Who is she? He has to think, try to pull a name, different from the one he used to get her in here.

Or, y’know, use no name at all.

“Not a whole lot. Just sorta, like… like y’know, ended up out here. Figured I’d make a bit of a holiday of it!”

A holiday that’s been going for a couple of months now. When is he going back to Kalos? He should think on that.

“What about you, hon? What brings you all the way out here? What brings you here tonight? You’re lookin’ a little…”

He’s not sure what to call how she looks. He also doesn’t have enough interest to try and put a name to it, so rather than that he’ll put on a smile. A sort of smile without a clear meaning. Could be a soft, concerned look. Could be a calm, interested look. Could be something else. A very unexaggerated, very safe expression. Open up to him, Miss.

[semitruthful]

She takes another sip of her drink.  There’s just enough alcohol in her that she feels comfortable opening up to Emmet.  She’s probably going to regret this later, but what the heck.

“Mike dumped me.  I mean, to be honest we weren’t really together...s’more like pretending to be together so--”

Oh, right.  They were pretending to be together so Emmet wouldn’t hit on her.  Best to leave out that part.

“But, I mean, I know it’s dumb, but I kinda liked him?  I mean, I genuinely can’t for the like of me figure out why...he has no career, no life, and possibly the worst luck of anyone I’ve encountered.”

“Kinda cute, though.”

Irene, what is your taste.

[semitruthful]

Ever since The Incident, as Irene has dubbed it, Mike has been seemingly impossible to avoid.  They do live in the same house after all, and every time they make eye contact, he gives her that trademark Mike confused stare.  It breaks her heart a little bit more every time, so she catches a last-minute flight to Alola.  One of the perks of being a detective is free business class, which she’d appreciate a little more if every dark-haired man on the plane didn’t remind her of him.

Alola is gorgeous.  The minute Irene steps off the plane, she is greeted by flowery scents and bright colors, but she doesn’t notice it.  What Irene needs is a bar, and she finds one pretty damn soon.  It’s coming on towards nightfall, so every tourist in sight is headed the same way.  They’re all there to celebrate.  Irene’s there to forget.

She forgets that she’s one year underage until the bouncer asks to see her Trainer Card.  She is not in the mood to be turned away, so she does what Olivers do best.  She causes a scene.

She tries flirting, nagging, bribing–but nothing seems to work.  That is, until she spots a familiar–if unwelcome–face in the crowd.

@deceivingheir

[deceivingheir]

There’s a lot of noise, and in his experience Emmet’s found that that often either means something entertaining or something dangerous. Luckily for him, today it’s the former! Some girl causing a commotion. Does he know her? Does he care to? The answer to both is no! He’s more than happy to sit back, watch her embarrassingly desperate attempts to get in. So he does.

…For a few minutes. It’s amusing, yeah, but another thought pops to mind to accompany that. The girl’s… not bad. Sorta cute. Obviously pretty damn determined to get in. Emmet figures that he should help her out.

“Uh, hey? He~y?” Out of the crowd he comes. Okay, okay. Pick a name for her, any name. Clap a hand down on her shoulder and smile like an old friend. “Rose, hon, how y’been?”

Then a grin for the bouncer, whose name he really should know by now, since - well he can’t be sure, but he’s… thinks they’ve had an encounter or two before? And it’s so impolite to forget names like that, but he’s ever-so forgetful. Busy, too. The look he gets tells him that he’s not been forgotten though.

Now, there’s the average person’s bribery, and then there’s Emmet’s bribery. The average person might offer something decent, like P500 to a guy like this. Emmet fishes his wallet from his pocket with the hand not still stuck on the girl, and offers something that must be close to P10,000. It’s fine, literal pocket change to him. It’s handed over with a sweet smile and a cheerful tone.

“Liiiike, she’s with me, alright love? Don’t go worryin’, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

It’s perhaps the most irritatingly smug thing he could’ve said. And Emmet finds it hilarious. But it gets them in, as expected, and without offering the time to object he’s walking the stranger inside. A smirk for her once they’re safely in, and in a far-from-humble tone he announces-

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

[semitruthful]

Oh.

He’s...helping her.  That’s...very nice of him.  It’s dark both inside and outside the bar, but she can tell he’s lost some weight.  And grown his hair out.  Both changes are a bit more sudden than they should be, but Irene is grateful to see a familiar face.  Even if it is a face that she, frankly, despises.  And calling her “sweetheart” isn’t exactly helping that matter.

She’s not drunk enough for this.

With an expression somewhere between frustration and determination, she silently grabs his hand a bit too tightly and drags him over to the bar.  A few drinks later and his face looks slightly less punchable.

“So, uh...what’re you doing in Alola, Em?  I thought you were, I dunno...”  Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember where he’s supposed to be.  Drinking can do that to you.

[semitruthful]

Ever since The Incident, as Irene has dubbed it, Mike has been seemingly impossible to avoid.  They do live in the same house after all, and every time they make eye contact, he gives her that trademark Mike confused stare.  It breaks her heart a little bit more every time, so she catches a last-minute flight to Alola.  One of the perks of being a detective is free business class, which she’d appreciate a little more if every dark-haired man on the plane didn’t remind her of him.

Alola is gorgeous.  The minute Irene steps off the plane, she is greeted by flowery scents and bright colors, but she doesn’t notice it.  What Irene needs is a bar, and she finds one pretty damn soon.  It’s coming on towards nightfall, so every tourist in sight is headed the same way.  They’re all there to celebrate.  Irene’s there to forget.

She forgets that she’s one year underage until the bouncer asks to see her Trainer Card.  She is not in the mood to be turned away, so she does what Olivers do best.  She causes a scene.

She tries flirting, nagging, bribing--but nothing seems to work.  That is, until she spots a familiar--if unwelcome--face in the crowd.

@deceivingheir

[supremedisasterchild]

semitruthful:

Pining sucks.

She’s been doing it for a while now, but she only recently recognized it as pining.  Pining for her fake-boyfriend, at that.

It shouldn’t be this hard.  Fake-dating to real-dating happens all the time in rom-coms, right?  But rom-coms are dumb.  Confessions are dumb.  If he agreed to be her fake-boyfriend, he’s gotta like her at least a little bit, right?  Right?

Okay, stop worrying about it, Irene.  Just…ask him on a date.  No need for dramatic confessions or anything.  Girls ask boys they like on dates.  That’s normal.

Let’s do this.  @supremedisasterchild

Reading people sucks. He’s not good at it, and the fact that he technically has the ability to use his powers to help him do it and chooses not to only makes the situation all the more frustrating.

So when Irene approaches him, red in the face, after he’s been absent for weeks without a word, his first assumption is that she’s mad. Really mad. I mean, he did leave her in a house with Em without the security of her “boyfriend” being around to deter him. Em may not be the type to flirt just because he’s not here, but as long as Irene doesn’t know that, it’s a problem. A problem he should probably address first to defuse the situation.

“Uh, so like…” he begins. This is super awkward.

“I know. How you feel, I mean. Like, I get it, it makes sense, you’re not wrong for feeling that way or anything.”

He hates the pretending. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it’d be better if they really were together; at least then they’d need far less in the way of excuses, and as things were, if she found somebody else, they’d have to fake some kind of breakup at some point. It was all so messy. And he should be used to mess.

“You have to know this thing was an accident. It happened out of nowhere, and there was nobody I could ask for help out of the situation ‘cause I wasn’t prepared for it. But it’s not gonna keep happening, I’m done with fucking stuff up all the time.”

Oh, Mike. What have you done?

[semitruthful]

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

He’s psychic.  She had forgotten about that.  He must’ve known how she felt the whole time.  Sweet of him to keep pretending for her sake, though.

From the sound of it, however, he’s gotten pretty sick of it.  It makes sense.  He’s a guy with a life and a chance at finding a real girlfriend, so why would he hold himself back for a girl he barely knows?  I mean, as far as he's concerned, she’s an oddly forceful girl who moved in with him and started “dating” him without even asking for permission.

She can feel the tears boiling up, but she manages to put on a brave (if not very convincing) face.

“It’s fine.  I, uh, I get it.  Let’s just...I dunno.  This--this conversation never happened, I guess?  I don’t really know where to go from here, but we can’t have everyone else worrying for our sakes.”

They could “break up”, but that would raise questions that she’s not quite ready to answer.  They’ll talk more later--once she’s gathered herself enough to let it out in the open.

When that’s going to be, she doesn’t know.

[semitruthful]

Pining sucks.

She’s been doing it for a while now, but she only recently recognized it as pining.  Pining for her fake-boyfriend, at that.

It shouldn’t be this hard.  Fake-dating to real-dating happens all the time in rom-coms, right?  But rom-coms are dumb.  Confessions are dumb.  If he agreed to be her fake-boyfriend, he’s gotta like her at least a little bit, right?  Right?

Okay, stop worrying about it, Irene.  Just...ask him on a date.  No need for dramatic confessions or anything.  Girls ask boys they like on dates.  That’s normal.

Let’s do this.  @supremedisasterchild

[semitruthful]

((FINALLY got this to a place I’m happy with!  The color on the hair was driving me up the wall...))

[semitruthful]

Mike’s back?  Mike’s back!!

Wait, Mike was gone?

[semitruthful]

She went shopping!

Christmas shopping, you say?  What’s that?  She just went out and spent her paycheck on new clothes.  Good job, Irene.

[semitruthful]

new outfit??  new outfit

[semitruthful]

“Miiiiiike?”  She forgets a lot of things, but her fake boyfriend’s birthday is not one of them.

Oh.  It’s just the cat.  Best not to worry--Mike’s probably off sleeping somewhere.  Somewhere that’s not his bed.  That happens, right?

She carefully places his present--wrapped in glittery pink paper covered in hearts (even if it is only going to be seen by him, she’s gotta keep up the girlfriend act)--on his desk, clearing away some of the mess as she does so.  Even though there’s nobody around to see her (except the cat, but he’s too busy screaming), she smiles a bit to herself.

“Happy birthday, Mike.”

[semitruthful]

A day late.  She’s a day late.  Then again, she’s always late for something, so she may as well make a semi-sappy Thanksgiving post.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  I’m thankful to be living with a wonderful group of people who don’t hate me.  More than that, I’m thankful that I’m pretty sure I can call you all my friends!”

She leaves out the part where she forgot to come to dinner last night.

[cannockroyalcourt]

promo for three cute iri girls (pokemon oc rp blogs)

irene

iris

irma

[semitruthful]

irene + angus mcdonald quotes

[semitruthful]

are u into the whole "looks like a zombie" thing or

“Charmingly bedraggled, looks like a zombie.  Tomato, tomahto.”