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    LIMA, OHIO:
                      A TOWN DIVIDED
                                   âthings are rough all overâ
Itâs 2018, a time when discrimination is frowned upon, and segregation is meant to be a thing of the past, yet Lima, Ohio stands out among the masses and remains divided. Not a single Lima native can remember a time before this; a time before the Greasers â the poor, lower class families â of the South were pitted against the Socials â the wealthier, high-class families â of the North. An unfortunate âtraditionâ passed down throughout generations, with no amount of change ever proving capable of ridding the town of its divide. Bouts of violence and bigotry have become part of the norm when both sides cross paths.
However, Mayor Smythe â whose loyalty lies with the Socials â intends to try to make the city a "safer, more respectable place.â But at what cost? His views and propositions are against all that is the Greasers. If the Greasers donât stand their ground and stick up for what they believe, their numbers are sure to begin dwindling, the tight-knit family that they had created with one another bound to be torn apart.
But, now, the tension between the Greasers and Socials is higher than ever, especially among their youth. Interacting with one another on a daily basis has proved to only heighten the animosity. Both sides are only attempting to survive and fight for their own beliefs, no matter how violent the outcome may be.
                                           MAIN ⢠MESSAGE ⢠PLOT ⢠CHARACTERS
Now accepting both Greaser and Social OC applications!
         LIMA, OHIO:
                      A TOWN DIVIDED
                                   âthings are rough all overâ
Itâs 2018, a time when discrimination is frowned upon, and segregation is meant to be a thing of the past, yet Lima, Ohio stands out among the masses and remains divided. Not a single Lima native can remember a time before this; a time before the Greasers â the poor, lower class families â of the South were pitted against the Socials â the wealthier, high-class families â of the North. An unfortunate âtraditionâ passed down throughout generations, with no amount of change ever proving capable of ridding the town of its divide. Bouts of violence and bigotry have become part of the norm when both sides cross paths.
However, Mayor Smythe â whose loyalty lies with the Socials â intends to try to make the city a "safer, more respectable place.â But at what cost? His views and propositions are against all that is the Greasers. If the Greasers donât stand their ground and stick up for what they believe, their numbers are sure to begin dwindling, the tight-knit family that they had created with one another bound to be torn apart.
But, now, the tension between the Greasers and Socials is higher than ever, especially among their youth. Interacting with one another on a daily basis has proved to only heighten the animosity. Both sides are only attempting to survive and fight for their own beliefs, no matter how violent the outcome may be.
                                           MAIN ⢠MESSAGE ⢠PLOT ⢠CHARACTERS
Were you picking up Ben x Evie vibes during "Chilling Like a Villain"? Also what was with all of the sing/talking in this movie? It's like one of the writers discovered spoken word during production and was like "This is EXACTLY what Descendants 2 needs."
ykw, Iâll have to rewatch, haha. I kind of hate him so I really didnât pick up anything anytime he was on screen period except me going âUGHHHHHHHâ
And idk lmaoooo. I think it was supposed to be ââârapâââ...sometimes? Iono man. It was not a wise inclusion.Â
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Title: Win Some, Lose Some
Rating: G
Pairing: Spoderick
Length: 2.6k
Summary: College AU. Roderick just wants a slow day at work.
AO3: Here!
The Ohio State Buckeyes were having a dream season, and Roderick felt like he was the only one in the whole school who wasnât over the moon about it. Even people who didnât care about football, even the people who knew nothing about football, even the people who hated football--everybody was excited, because the Bucks were undefeated.
Roderick was a freshman with an as-of-yet undeclared major, who had received financial help to get into the school in the first place. Some of this help was by way of workstudy.
His workstudy was the reason he was standing in the OSU Barnes & Noble, trying not to look too miserable as yet another herd of his classmates wandered obliviously past him, nattering about the upcoming game. Roderick wasnât entirely sure who was playing, just that it was a big deal, and the older employees were nervous about how the Bucks might do (and how this might affect apparel sales).
âWhy the long face?â Roderick looked up and rolled his eyes fondly at Madison, who had a stack of textbooks piled high in her arms. Roderick set down the pens heâd been reorganizing and took a few from her, helping her get them to the counter for stocking.
âNo longer than usual, Madison,â he said, shrugging. âJust thinking about this weekend.â
Madison nodded understandingly. She worked Saturdays with him, but unlike Roderick, she wasnât allergic to sports. In fact, she--along with her twin brother--were on the gymnastics team, since apparently OSU wouldnât allow freshmen on the cheer squad. Roderick only knew this because Madison complained about it. Frequently.
âIt always calms down once the game actually starts, though,â Madison said, picking up a messy pile of clothes someone had mistakenly dumped at the books desk instead of the apparel counter. Roderick grabbed the entirety of the books Madison had been holding and followed her.
âYeah, I guess,â Roderick allowed. âI just wouldnât mind if they lost a game one of these days.â
âRod--â
âWhat did you just say?â
Both Madison and Roderick froze, staring at each other with wide eyes. Roderick set down the books on a nearby shelf and turned to meet their accuser, who was tall, blond and looked deeply, personally offended.
âI--I said--â
âWhy would you even say that? Why would you put that energy into the universe, dude? This is the best season weâve had in years!â
âI know, I--â
âAre you from Michigan or something? Are you rooting for them?â
âNo!â
âThatâs even worse, then!â The guy made a scoffing noise and shook his head. âIf youâre gonna be a traitor, at least have a reason!â
âIâm not a traitor!â Roderick managed, spluttering and embarrassed, bright pink. Madison had tried to escape, but the guy turned to look at her.
âWhat about you? Are you also showing negative team spirit?â
âNo!â Madison squeaked, and then carried on, more smoothly, âHe was just--because it gets busy? I love football!â Madison added; Roderick was briefly worried this guy might try to get them fired, and briefly worried that their manager might be crazy enough to go through with it, but with one final headshake and a disappointed sigh, the guy turned away and headed toward the checkout.
Roderick let out a shaky breath. âGuess I should learn to watch it at work, huh?â Madison chuckled a little and nodded; they didnât have a chance to speak again for the rest of Roderickâs shift, which was just as well, because he wouldnât have been a very good conversationalist anyway: how could he have been so stupid? Heâd be lucky if he kept his job if that sort of thing kept happening, had he needed to keep his job so he could stay in school, and he had to stay in school so he could make something of his life. What exactly he wanted to make he wasnât quite sure, but he knew that he wouldnât be able to if he flunked out of college because he didnât get his measly 300$ paycheck anymore.
Two days later, Roderick was talking to one of the cashiers--Mercedes, a junior, the first person to be nice to him at work--when he felt an aggressive tap on his shoulder. Roderick turned and nearly passed out: standing before them was the blond guy, flanked by a guy with a mohawk and a guy who was--well, he seemed fascinated by the Coach Meyer bobblehead in his hand, but when the mohawk guy nudged him in the ribs he snapped back to it.
âLook, if youâre gonna beat me up canât you at least wait until I get off work?â Roderick asked, pleaded, before he could stop himself. These guys were every guy that had picked on him in high school, every jerk that shoved him or tried to break his glasses or take his bus fare.
âDude, weâre not gonna beat you up.â The bobblehead guy said, seemingly genuinely stunned and confused. Then again, he looked like the sort of guy who got confused about ordering breakfast.
âAnd if we did, it wouldnât be in front of a lady,â Mohawk added, grinning over Roderick at Mercedes, whose hand was halfway to her radio. She narrowed her eyes at him and didnât reply. They were all still for a moment, and then Mohawk gave Angry Blond Guy a pointed shove.
âSo I told these guys what you said,â he said, after shoving Mohawk back absently. âThinking theyâd be on my side because who does that, but--I guess I was kind of an asshole.â
âKind of?â Mohawk repeated, crossing his arms. âCome on, Porter. Try harder.â
The blond--Porter--sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. âIâm sorry for yelling at you. I had a test right after I was stressed about and you didnât do anything wrong.â
Bobblehead guy cleared his throat. Porter, unseen by the other two, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then looked back at Roderick.
âHere.â He handed Roderick an envelope. âHave you been to a football game, even?â
Roderick shook his head, opening the envelope slowly. Inside were two tickets. Roderick brought his eyes back up to the gang of boys; the two in back high fived. Maybe they mistook his confusion for awe, or appreciation.
âI didnât think so. And dude, donât like--sell them or anything,â Porter added. âI gave them your name, theyâre checking IDs.â
Roderick blinked. âHow did you know my name?â The thought of selling them hadnât even ocurred to him, so thrown he was, but he wished it had. Heâd heard people bemoaning the lack of tickets for weeks.
â...Whatâs your name?â
Roderick almost wanted to laugh. âRoderick?â
âOkay, now Iâll give them your name.â Porter grinned triumphantly and added, as an afterthought. âIâm Spencer, by the way. I gotta go, but--have fun, okay? Donât knock it till you try it.â Mohawk clapped him on the shoulder and Bobblehead waved at them and they were almost out the door by the time Roderick regained his voice.
âWhere did you even get these?â
It was Bobblehead who called out the answer, careless, over his shoulder: âWeâre on the team, dude!â
Roderick took Madison. It was hell getting the both of them free for Saturday, but as soon as Madison heard about it, she wouldnât take no for an answer, not even when Roderick offered to just give her the tickets so she could take someone else, anyone else, whoâd actually have a good time.
But Madison McCarthyâs was a hard mind to change, and Roderick was ready when she knocked on the dorm room door at eight AM sharp. She was fully spirited--maybe proving a point to the cheerleaders, Roderick thought absently--with a bright red jersey (the name Hudson in all caps along the back; Roderick vaguely knew that as the last name of the Quarterback), a red and white plaid shirt tied around her waist, jeans, red white and black bangles on her wrists and a O-State sticker on her cheek.
Roderick was wearing one of two reds shirt he owned. It was a simple t-shirt that OHIO in big letters with the logo below. The other was a red polo, which he sometimes wore to work.
Madison raised her eyebrows but said nothing else.
âMasonâs already at the tailgate,â she informed him, pulling her phone out to send a quick text. She led them seamlessly into the throng of people migrating to Ohio Stadium; Madison didnât even look up from her phone, oblivious to the claustrophobic suffocation in Roderickâs lungs.
(That feeling went away after the third shot of whatever it was that Madison forced into Roderickâs hands. Mason, whom Roderick had seen in passing but never properly met, was wearing an outfit identical to Madisonâs. Roderick couldnât tell if he was wasted or if he was honestly that happy and excited; either way, Roderick was concerned.)
It was a near thing, but the Ohio State Buckeyes snatched a win from Michigan State, and much to Roderickâs own amazement, he joined the rest of the crowd in screaming at the top of his lungs when the winning field goal was called fair. Mason spun Madison around laughingly and then she launched into a hug for Roderick, who laughed dazedly back. On the field, players were high fiving and clapping each otherâs helmets or shaking hands with the defeated team; all save number 19, who was momentarily paused. He scanned the crowd, seemed to find what he was looking for--he smiled to himself, only rejoining the festivities when Puck yelled his name and pulled him into an impromptu, affectionate headlock.
The following Wednesday, Spencer walked into the giant Barnes & Noble that was OSUâs bookstore. Heâd never spent so much time in any bookstore before, ever, but he had a point to prove, and that was worth the teasing from the team. Besides, was being called a nerd even an insult anymore? He liked to read!
âHey, um, is Roderick here?â Spencer asked, flagging down a tired looking employee--âTINAâ, according to her nametag, who just nodded and took a swig from her coffee.
âBack there,â she said, pointing to the apparel department. âDo you want me to call him--â
âNo!â Spencer couldnât risk him bolting. âNo, itâs okay. Thanks.â Spencer moved away, but didnât miss the whispering he left behind; the girl whoâd been working the register when Puck and Finn had forced him to come and apologize had come over to ask what was going on. She probably thought Spencer was here to harass him. At this rate, he wouldnât be allowed back in this store, and since he needed his textbooks, he couldnât fuck it up.
âHey,â Spencer said, mentally kicking himself for the pitched nerves he could hear in his own voice. Roderick looked up from the shirts he was folding and raised his eyebrows.
âAre you--â Roderick paused, swallowed, straightened his back a little. âCan I help you find something?â
âNah,â Spencer said. âThe team gives me most of the clothes I need.â Spencer shifted a little. âUm, did you have fun? At the game? I saw you. You looked like you were having fun.â
Roderick eyed him for a minute, clearly weighing his options. Slowly, he shrugged one shoulder and went back to folding shirts.
âYeah, I guess,â Roderick said. âIt was okay.â Sleeve, sleeve, fold the top, tuck, flip. âYouâre good. I mean--based on how much people screamed whenever somebody threw to you--youâre good.â
Spencer smiled in spite of himself; he knew he was talented, but that didnât mean he didnât still like to hear it. âThanks, dude.â
âSure thing.â
Roderick looked back at him--they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, both stopped themselves to allow the other, both chuckled nervously.
âYou first. âCause I yelled at you.â Spencer said. âWhich I am sorry for, by the way.â
âI was just--why do you care? Why are you checking up on me?â
Spencer was thrown; of all the things heâd been expecting, that hadnât been one. He didnât have a good answer, even for himself.
âI donât know,â Spencer said. âI was kind of a dick. Wanted to make up for it.â Roderick looked at him like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe him.
âWell,â he said thoughtfully. âThanks.â
âThink Iâll see you at more games?â
Roderick laughed, quietly, and deeper than Spencer would have thought. âI donât think so, dude. Not really my speed. Plus, getting the games off is really hard. Thatâs part of the reason they hired me--flexible schedule.â Spencer grinned and nodded. âBut...maybe Iâll watch on TV this weekend.â
Spencer beamed. âFair enough, dude. Go Bucks?â
âGo Bucks.â
Spencer left the bookstore feeling inordinately pleased with himself, but Roderickâs question continued to niggle at him: why did he care so much?
As he crossed the street and readjusted his backpack on his shoulders, Spencer pushed the thought from his mind; maybe he was just being a nice guy who didnât have any ulterior motives. He loved football, and genuinely wanted others to enjoy it too. Maybe thatâs all it was.
Maybe.
Somehow, as he settled into his Psychology class, he got the feeling that he wasnât that lucky. He knew himself better than that; he wouldnât have wasted his time if he didnât care at least a little bit, on some level. He knew that.
As his TA pulled up that weekâs PowerPoint, Spencer made the firm decision to not think about it anymore, any of it, and certainly not the adorably flustered, overworked bookstore clerk with the soft laugh and big, dumb glasses.
Wasnât thinking about it anymore.
Nope.
Not at all.
Why hadnât he ever thought about the name Roderick before? It was a good name. Meant good people.
No. No more. Spencer squinted at the board and focused on his notes; the hypothalamus....was so boring, and it certainly didnât give him that funny feeling in his gut the way--
Nothing. No funny feeling, no weird thoughts, no pleasant haze surrounding the memory of their short, very short, too short, conversation. Definitely not.
Spencer Porter was definitely, completely, screwed.
Roderick, on the other side of campus, accidentally dropped a slip of paper from his pocket when he pulled his phone from his pocket. It was his ticket from that weekend, and it gave him a little swoop as he picked it up.
He told himself it was just about the peculiarity of it, mixed with the memories of more alcohol than heâd ever had in his life--and that someone being nice to him, while unusual, wasnât something that he needed to obsess about. College was going to be different, heâd told himself, and so far....
So far there was Spencer Porter, wide receiver, giving him free tickets to sold-out ball games.
So far, he wasnât wrong. Heâd never gotten any special positive attention from anyone in high school, let alone a jock type, and it was causing him a bit of a fair bit of cognitive dissonance:
Roderick Meeks wasnât the sort of person people gave free things to because they felt bad.
Roderick Meeks wasnât the sort of person who went to football games, let alone enjoy them.
Roderick Meeks wasnât the sort of person to ever be in the same social universe as the Spencer Porters of the world.
He knew that.
And yet, his mind drifted back to the nervous smile on Spencerâs face, his forced laughter, his unexpected visitsâŚ
And yet.
Roderick knew how his world worked, and it certainly had no place for Spencer Porter. Madison, maybe Mason, maybe Mercedes, maybe even Marley, the girl whoâd helped him clean up when he dropped his cereal in the dining hall--
But no Spencer Porter.
And yet?
Roderick got the distinct feeling he was, in some way he hadnât quite figured out yet, screwed.
1. Â Favorite Pokemon Type: Both my teams and my favâs are reflective of Fire/Ice. I claim my favorite is ghost but Iâm terrible at using them.6. Favorite legendary?: Â Entei!
9. Favorite eeveelution?: Glaceon.
23. Favorite Pokeball? Â Repeat Ball, tbh. they allow for the greatest margin of error when youâre not using moves to drain hp.Â