first breath after coma, Maggie Mayhem, Smashley Simpson, Rosa Sparks, Bloody Holly, PG-13
Title: first breath after coma
Author: aphrodite_mine
Fandom: Whip It
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, rink violence.
Prompt: 150) "Of things I'd rather keep in silence, I must sing." -- Beatritz or Beatriz de Dia, female troubadour.
Summary: Four of the Hurl Scouts, before they were.
Author's Notes: Characters aren't mine; in fact, I think that Shauna Cross and Drew Barrymore did a great job with the film. I'm just playing with Ms. Mayhem and her cohorts for awhile. I certainly don't own roller derby, although I am a player of the growing sport. The title comes from a song by Explosions in the Sky. Thanks to my beta vilomsious and to gehayi, for again running a superb ficathon.
Author's Notes, the second: Derby names can be a bit incongruous with real life names, so for the purpose of clarity and help if you don't happen to watch movies as neurotically as I do... Maggie Mayhem is Peggy, Smashley is Francine, Rosa Sparks is Tammy, and Bloody Holly is Rachael. This, then, is their origin story, where Whip It happens to be Bliss's.
first breath after coma
--
Peggy reads about it in the paper, managing to read and flip through the headlines while she slams down a bowl of Sam's cereal and urges him to eat faster even though she knows, knows, knows doing that will give him indigestion. She's not late yet, but too many times 'not late yet' has slipped into 'barely gonna make it' and that, of course, devolves into 'fucking fuck fuck--you didn't just hear that, Sam--goddamnit, get in the car' and the rest of the day she feels a little sick about the yelling, and probably from rushing breakfast.
"We're on a time crunch, buddy," she reaches out to where his head will be, smiles when her fingers find his soft hair. Tousles.
"Crunch, crunch," he agrees, chewing on the cereal with his mouth open, surely grinning.
There's a picture of girl-legs and roller skates, and she thinks, that's funny, but keeps reading. Roller derby. Something vaguely familiar about the words. Maybe an echo of something. She mouths it: roller derby. Games, padding, practices. Open recruitment.
She folds up the paper, scoops up a few more bites of Fruit-Os, and swallows. "Come on, buddy. Time to go."
For the rest of the day, she feels funny. Keeps pressing her lips together. She wants to call Sam's dad and tell him off for not sending last month's childcare check, but each time she starts to dial, she stops, fingers itching.
--
The Brisbane Rollers are tough, but Rachael's tougher. Still, she doesn't come away from fresh meat night unscathed. She's been working the night shift at Rhonnie's for months to afford to get this far, but she's still running--skating--on poor quality trucks and bad knee pads, despite reading voraciously everything she can get her hands on. The first bout she witnessed? A fucking revelation! Blurs of fishnet flashed through her dreams that night, beer-soaked and heady, she woke up spread-eagled, shoving her date to the floor. She wanted it.
She wanted it, and she knew she wanted it, and she still wants it. Shoves the mouth guard back in her mouth after a water break and breathes in want and out want. Stretches want. Feels want coiled up in her muscles.
Practice disbands and the reeking pads are peeled away, shoved in travel cases, in bags, in duffels. Girls spray themselves with deodorant, with men's cologne, with Febreeze. Rachael smiles at a small cut on her shin, already blossoming blue and green and gray. She's never felt this alive before, not even with the rush of a massive accident hitting the ER, all senses on alert, escorting a writhing body to surgery. It's nothing.
Margery, captain of the Queens of Queensland, touches her shoulder, and she knows.
"Join us for a bit of re-hydration?"
Rachael's grin looks wild. "Only if you call me Bloody Holly." As an afterthought she adds, "and buy me a beer."
--
"I made the team!"
"What team, Frannie, slow down."
"The roller derby team, mom. Like I've been telling you for months." Francine hops onto her kitchen counter, knocking dishes to the floor in the process.
"What was that? Frannie, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, mom, and yes, I told you, I'm great!"
"You know that I don't think this is a good idea."
"You've said that."
"Because you're going to get hurt."
"Way to inspire confidence in your daughter. Love you too."
"I'm not trying to make you upset, Frannie. I'm just looking out for you."
"You don't think I can look out for myself?"
"I didn't say that. It's just that when you're skating around and hitting people, things are going to happen! And Frannie, don't you think it's just best to maybe help out from the sidelines? Don't they need a scorekeeper or something, maybe someone to sell merchandise?"
"Mom."
"Yes, Frannie?"
"When I'm skating? Everything just... it all comes together. I don't feel stressed, I don't get--well, I do get mad, but just at the other team--it's the best feeling in the world. You know I've never been... the kind of girl who does sports and stuff, I'm not... active, or whatever. I find something I love to do, and now you want me to quit?"
"Not now, not just now."
"You really think I should give up on something I love, mom?"
"I just think you should be careful, is all."
"Thanks mom."
"You're welcome, Frannie."
"Oh, and guess what! My derby name's going to be Smashley Simpson! Yeah!"
"Heavens."
--
"Looks like somebody called all the white girls in Austin and told them TXRD was giving out free tattoos," Tammy flings her bag down at her feet, sighs. She's proud of her ragtag collection of gear: skates from a yard sale, pads from her little brother's discarded skateboarding habit, and a brand new helmet, cause no way is she risking this genius brain. The duffel's heavy when all packed up, though, and sensing herself stick out in the warehouse full of chattering women makes the weight a little worse.
No one responds, and she hadn't really expected them to.
Sure looks different here from the last time she came; bout in full steam, The Black Widows vs. Fight Attendants, beer splashing on the floor and in the air, cheers shaking the walls. She was tiny in that crowd, caught up in the swell of glory, seeing the sweat gathered on bodies, feeling the rush of air as girl after girl skated past the railing. Tammy eyes the angle of the track as she did then, thinks, yeah, I could do that. She feels her muscles coil up.
"Alright, ladies," It's Eva Destruction, Tammy recognizes her even out of the black and white uniform. The pale hair is down now, in a flat wave across her shoulders. "I believe y'all are here to learn some roller derby."
The white girls cheer.
"And maybe, just maybe, by the end of the week we'll find a few of you who are worthy enough to move on up to the ranks of the TXRD."
Hand on her hip, flash of a smile. This time, Tammy cheers too.
--
Peggy--Maggie--calls him, Sam's dad. She doesn't shake or waiver the whole time. "Send me that check or I'm calling my lawyer." She hangs up, and they lose the game, but she feels, knows, every cheer is just for her.
Author: aphrodite_mine
Fandom: Whip It
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, rink violence.
Prompt: 150) "Of things I'd rather keep in silence, I must sing." -- Beatritz or Beatriz de Dia, female troubadour.
Summary: Four of the Hurl Scouts, before they were.
Author's Notes: Characters aren't mine; in fact, I think that Shauna Cross and Drew Barrymore did a great job with the film. I'm just playing with Ms. Mayhem and her cohorts for awhile. I certainly don't own roller derby, although I am a player of the growing sport. The title comes from a song by Explosions in the Sky. Thanks to my beta vilomsious and to gehayi, for again running a superb ficathon.
Author's Notes, the second: Derby names can be a bit incongruous with real life names, so for the purpose of clarity and help if you don't happen to watch movies as neurotically as I do... Maggie Mayhem is Peggy, Smashley is Francine, Rosa Sparks is Tammy, and Bloody Holly is Rachael. This, then, is their origin story, where Whip It happens to be Bliss's.
first breath after coma
--
Peggy reads about it in the paper, managing to read and flip through the headlines while she slams down a bowl of Sam's cereal and urges him to eat faster even though she knows, knows, knows doing that will give him indigestion. She's not late yet, but too many times 'not late yet' has slipped into 'barely gonna make it' and that, of course, devolves into 'fucking fuck fuck--you didn't just hear that, Sam--goddamnit, get in the car' and the rest of the day she feels a little sick about the yelling, and probably from rushing breakfast.
"We're on a time crunch, buddy," she reaches out to where his head will be, smiles when her fingers find his soft hair. Tousles.
"Crunch, crunch," he agrees, chewing on the cereal with his mouth open, surely grinning.
There's a picture of girl-legs and roller skates, and she thinks, that's funny, but keeps reading. Roller derby. Something vaguely familiar about the words. Maybe an echo of something. She mouths it: roller derby. Games, padding, practices. Open recruitment.
She folds up the paper, scoops up a few more bites of Fruit-Os, and swallows. "Come on, buddy. Time to go."
For the rest of the day, she feels funny. Keeps pressing her lips together. She wants to call Sam's dad and tell him off for not sending last month's childcare check, but each time she starts to dial, she stops, fingers itching.
--
The Brisbane Rollers are tough, but Rachael's tougher. Still, she doesn't come away from fresh meat night unscathed. She's been working the night shift at Rhonnie's for months to afford to get this far, but she's still running--skating--on poor quality trucks and bad knee pads, despite reading voraciously everything she can get her hands on. The first bout she witnessed? A fucking revelation! Blurs of fishnet flashed through her dreams that night, beer-soaked and heady, she woke up spread-eagled, shoving her date to the floor. She wanted it.
She wanted it, and she knew she wanted it, and she still wants it. Shoves the mouth guard back in her mouth after a water break and breathes in want and out want. Stretches want. Feels want coiled up in her muscles.
Practice disbands and the reeking pads are peeled away, shoved in travel cases, in bags, in duffels. Girls spray themselves with deodorant, with men's cologne, with Febreeze. Rachael smiles at a small cut on her shin, already blossoming blue and green and gray. She's never felt this alive before, not even with the rush of a massive accident hitting the ER, all senses on alert, escorting a writhing body to surgery. It's nothing.
Margery, captain of the Queens of Queensland, touches her shoulder, and she knows.
"Join us for a bit of re-hydration?"
Rachael's grin looks wild. "Only if you call me Bloody Holly." As an afterthought she adds, "and buy me a beer."
--
"I made the team!"
"What team, Frannie, slow down."
"The roller derby team, mom. Like I've been telling you for months." Francine hops onto her kitchen counter, knocking dishes to the floor in the process.
"What was that? Frannie, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, mom, and yes, I told you, I'm great!"
"You know that I don't think this is a good idea."
"You've said that."
"Because you're going to get hurt."
"Way to inspire confidence in your daughter. Love you too."
"I'm not trying to make you upset, Frannie. I'm just looking out for you."
"You don't think I can look out for myself?"
"I didn't say that. It's just that when you're skating around and hitting people, things are going to happen! And Frannie, don't you think it's just best to maybe help out from the sidelines? Don't they need a scorekeeper or something, maybe someone to sell merchandise?"
"Mom."
"Yes, Frannie?"
"When I'm skating? Everything just... it all comes together. I don't feel stressed, I don't get--well, I do get mad, but just at the other team--it's the best feeling in the world. You know I've never been... the kind of girl who does sports and stuff, I'm not... active, or whatever. I find something I love to do, and now you want me to quit?"
"Not now, not just now."
"You really think I should give up on something I love, mom?"
"I just think you should be careful, is all."
"Thanks mom."
"You're welcome, Frannie."
"Oh, and guess what! My derby name's going to be Smashley Simpson! Yeah!"
"Heavens."
--
"Looks like somebody called all the white girls in Austin and told them TXRD was giving out free tattoos," Tammy flings her bag down at her feet, sighs. She's proud of her ragtag collection of gear: skates from a yard sale, pads from her little brother's discarded skateboarding habit, and a brand new helmet, cause no way is she risking this genius brain. The duffel's heavy when all packed up, though, and sensing herself stick out in the warehouse full of chattering women makes the weight a little worse.
No one responds, and she hadn't really expected them to.
Sure looks different here from the last time she came; bout in full steam, The Black Widows vs. Fight Attendants, beer splashing on the floor and in the air, cheers shaking the walls. She was tiny in that crowd, caught up in the swell of glory, seeing the sweat gathered on bodies, feeling the rush of air as girl after girl skated past the railing. Tammy eyes the angle of the track as she did then, thinks, yeah, I could do that. She feels her muscles coil up.
"Alright, ladies," It's Eva Destruction, Tammy recognizes her even out of the black and white uniform. The pale hair is down now, in a flat wave across her shoulders. "I believe y'all are here to learn some roller derby."
The white girls cheer.
"And maybe, just maybe, by the end of the week we'll find a few of you who are worthy enough to move on up to the ranks of the TXRD."
Hand on her hip, flash of a smile. This time, Tammy cheers too.
--
Peggy--Maggie--calls him, Sam's dad. She doesn't shake or waiver the whole time. "Send me that check or I'm calling my lawyer." She hangs up, and they lose the game, but she feels, knows, every cheer is just for her.