Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man.
Sooner or later, the man who wins
Is the man who thinks he can.
- CW Longenecker
[ SELECTIVE INDIE BARRY! EST. 2013 BY DAN ]
an ancient indie/selective rival barry rp blog finally gets its own pinned post! written since forever by dan (he/him, 31) / about / rules / icon credit
❝ Hm? Is something the matter, Barry? ❞ Listen. Only on a few occasions ( fewer than twenty! ) did she accept candy / baked bribes in return for homework solutions. C’mon, that can be overlooked after all the good she’s done!!!
"hm. despite all the outstanding fines you've received in this lifetime..." barry sighs melodramatically, stretching with a teasing grin, "...I s'pose they can be forgiven in the end. yup hika, don't sweat it--your dark past is safe with me. it pays to be pals with ol' barry, huh?"
(he doesn't pass trainer's school without your help & homework answers, hika. thank you.)
(barry & his parents have the healthiest relationship of all time. I'm fighting the urge to re-re-re-reblog the wholesome father and son fanart again and if you know, you know)
ooc. popping on barry's blog out of nowhere on this day specifically to gush about how important it is that his connection with palmer is a thriving, healthy father-son relationship. yes, they are both whirlwind disasters sometimes and no, they aren't perfect, and yes, barry grapples consistently with being in palmer's shadow.
BUT.
no relationship is perfect, that's just how life is. and at the core of everything? he loves his pops. and palmer loves him right back. and that means so much to me, and is something I've tried to maintain on this blog for years.
. . . Just as expected. He must've woken up half the forest with that bite, that appalling crunch of what was once recognizably bread. Now it's a scorched corpse. ❝ Well. Maybe next time. ❞ What else is there to say. From behind the two Trainers, Aquila harshly clicks her beak in disapproval, and Carcharodon —- having sauntered over to the campfire to inspect Barry’s latest disaster —- appears to be thinking the same.
Still, the Garchomp was contemplating swiping the toast out of his hand until he chucked it into the flames. A perfectly edible slice of bread, crummy but still edible ( for a shark ), gone in an instant. Whoops.
For his most tragic loss, Barry gets some comforting pats on the back, and an extra-large bag of marshmallows sent his way ( as requested ). ❝ Fall down seven times, stand up eight, right? I know you have what it takes to be a toast master. ❞
"Hah. Thanks," Barry snorts at Hikari's remark, sliding a fresh marshmallow onto his stick while popping a fresh one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He's quieter than usual today, but still a bit fidgety, scuffing some loose brush into the fire with the toe of his faded sneaker. For a while all is silent, save for the cheerful pop of the flames and Carcharodon's contented rumbling. And then, finally, Barry lets out one of his patented full-bodied sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. "Haaaangh."
"...I ran away from work today. Y'know, the part-time tour guide stuff I was telling you about? Argenta read me the riot act and everything...and I kind of got fired," he mumbles, face reddening with the admission. "Soooo, yeah. Guess I'm not really cut out for the whole 9-to-5 schtick either. I can't help but answer the call of the wild, y'know? Or, at least, the call to toast toast and tasty 'mallows."
Barry shakes his head, blowing some dejected air out the side of his mouth. "I dunno, Hika. I'm starting to think this growing up thing isn't all it's cracked up to be."
Barry appears from the darkness somehow. Is this the beginning of a doppelganger story?
"Hey, other me, let's team up to take people's money!"
Barry is less surprised the sight of other-Barry than he should be, a massive grin on his face.
"Hey, other me, it's like you read my mind!" he crows, going in for an intricate greeting handshake (that other-Barry somehow already knows.) "Let's get after it! I've been selling trinkets in the Fight Area, buuuuut...I'm always game for more ideas! Fining? Battling? The possibilities are infinite!" (He's listed all of his possibilities.)
Oh yes. Barry Business is a go once again, now with double the dazzling smile! Double the gusto! Double the raw, entrepreneurial power!
Hikari bites off a chunk of roasted marshmallow, humming in thought while taking her time to savor it ( acting like she doesn’t already know ). Oh, what fluffy, heavenly sweetness. All is good with the world.
❝ . . . Yes, ❞ she eventually replies. ❝ I think it’s your toast. ❞ Getting destroyed.
"Huh," Barry retorts skeptically, sliding the, uh, smoldering chunk of charcoal-bread off his campfire stick. "You really think so? I'll bet it still tastes fine. I even see some unburnt edges..."
He brings the blackened toast to his mouth and the resulting CRONCH has both of their Staraptors glancing up with concern. Yeah, it's inedible.
"...Man," Barry huffs, his shoulders slumping in defeat as casts the remainder sadly into their crackling fire. "Good toast is still so hard to make outside--and I thought I leveled up my culinary game since we last camped. Can you pass the 'mallows over here...?"
"HMM...I'm sensing something ominous in the air today," Barry muses, concern etched in his brow as he emerges from his hastily-strung tent to sniff at the sky. "Anyone else smell that?"
(His breakfast toast is charring, um...beautifully over the nearby campfire.)
You feel like you have been running in place for a while now, and that feeling makes you sad when you lay awake at night, a lingering worry lurking at the back of your subconscious.
What happened?
It seems like just yesterday that you and Hikari were fooling around in the Underground together. Just yesterday, you and Lucas were excitedly comparing Pokedexes, bragging about your bountiful new finds. Just yesterday, you completed Sinnoh's League Challenge in record time, all eight badges tinkling cheerfully in your case.
All this motion, this carefree abandon, leading up to an otherworldly showdown with your father at the top of the Battle Tower. And you won, flashbulbs popping and fists pumping and people chanting your name. It was your dream come true, the fruit borne of your years of hard work as one of Sinnoh's strongest trainers.
But, dreams are fleeting. The world spins on. Now what?
You're getting older. Life's demands are making it increasingly impossible to chase the champion title--and you're not sure if you even want that particular prestige anymore, after seeing all the difficult interregional responsibilities that are interlaced with the crown. Still, seeing Hikari and Cynthia on the news, heralded by the masses as the twin saviors of Sinnoh, makes your throat catch. (You wish you could be so put-together, so strong.) Seeing Lucas's name alongside Professor Rowan's on a published research paper will always feel weird, no matter how you slice it. (You wish you could be so wise, so committed to one purpose.)
But you're you. You're Barry. You work part-time in the Fight Area as a tour guide, and--while you love your job--it is focused work, and you've never been especially good at focused work. It also isn't prestigious by any means, which is fine, but...a part of you aches for something more, especially when you look to your friends, now so busy with their own endeavors, so committed to making their marks on the world.
You'd always been the first one out of the gate...but you seem to have lost your path, and now you're just trying to keep up.
What happened?
These feelings all come to an abrupt head on an innocuous day. Argenta is reading you the riot act for getting distracted on your tour (again) and selling autographs (again), and something just...snaps within you, your heart finally springing free of its restraints. And you...just start to run, Argenta's shouts fading behind you.
You run, and the Sinnohan sun beats down upon you as the traipse over the rocky routes and overgrown paths. You run, and the wind whispers in your ear, the breeze offering reassuring, long-forgotten reminders.
You're Barry, and that's fine. You're Barry, and you've always blazed your own trail. You can only ever be yourself, and--if you just keep moving--the world will eventually fall into place for you. Believe in that.
Also, it's never too late to set off on a new adventure. Carpe diem, kid.
Falling into that familiar rhythmic step now, you leap over brooks, clamber over boulders, and pull yourself up onto ledge after ledge. Your Pokemon--your ever loyal squad--pop out of their capsules with no hesitation, joining you on this reckless, joyful sprint that means nothing (and everything.)
With every panted breath, every nostalgic step through the brush, you feel your heart sing, your malaise melting away, the sun illuminating some unknown--but thrilling--path. Who knows where you'll go next? You're excited to find out. You're Barry, and complacency was never a word in your dictionary. You're terrible at waiting for life to happen. You can't believe you had almost allowed yourself to forget these things, and an exhilarated whoop leaves your mouth, a catharsis echoed by your team and the wilds sprawling around you.
Barry's bright-orange suit wrinkles a bit as he slumps against the polished park bench, bouquet falling limply to his side. He's in mourning, and there's no better place to mourn than Amity Square after-hours, with only the sympathetic chirping of nearby Kricketot to break the reverie. (So what if he had to hop the fence to get in...?)
Embarrassing. When a very puzzled Blue first told him that the party was over, Barry's brain just...short-circuited. Unable to process. He was only able to get out a garbled 'sorry--youlookbeautifultonightbytheway' before scampering off, coattails flying, convinced of some scheduling error...
But lo and behold, still pressed against his chest, the glittery invitation--the same one stuck proudly to his fridge for a month--laid bare his folly. Barry had, indeed, missed it all. Somehow.
"Man..." the blond sniffs, swiping a hand across his face. He'd fought so hard just to make it to Hearthome, fought with Argenta for time off his tour guide duties, ran a good couple miles...but it had all been for nothing. (Ever since he got this proper job, it's like his brain's been all scrambled...!!)
The Amity lamplight flickers overhead, and Barry lets out another dejected sigh, wondering if it's possible to fine himself.
2087
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