#delq

[foxmagpie]

Hi!!!!!!! Just reread your fic dizzy and it Is definitely one of my all time favs!! I love a Theme especially when it is fall and Halloween vibes 🎃 🍁And it was so fun to see Brio go to a Halloween party. It was soo cute!! I was wondering how do you think brio would celebrate Xmas , New Year’s eve or Valentine’s Day in the delinquent universe! Do you have any cute head cannons!? 🎄🥳💝

oh my gosh, thank you so much! that means a lot because I think that’s my very favorite thing I’ve ever written :’)

AND I have so many headcanons!

4th of July is the first holiday they spend together, and they’re both having growing pains because it’s a holiday tied to nostalgic traditions that are fading in their lives - rio’s always spent it with mar, but now he’s with elena; beth loved celebrating it with her dad, but he’s left. It’s not that they don’t want to spend the holiday together, they do, but they’re both missing someone else.

So basically they copycat rio’s tradition with mar and watch fireworks on the roof. only Beth’s deathly afraid of heights right? except Rio won’t know that for another year and a half, when they break into the school

And that’s because Beth knew how important the tradition was to Rio so she climbed it and swallowed her fear

(And maybe that was when Beth had her first flicker of just had much deeper she could feel for him)

Then Dizzy’s their next holiday together - three months after 4th of July - (around when Beth first says I love you, and Rio’s not ready) - and after their six month anniversary - (when Beth tries to initiate sex when she’s not ready)

And Rio still hasn’t said I love you

(It just—it means something to him, okay. He said it to a girl he didn’t mean it with, and he doesn’t want to do that with Elizabeth.)

And Christmas is coming up and Rio is stressin’ about what to get her

He wants it to be perfect

It has to be perfect

She made his birthday so dope, he thinks, and he hasn’t gotten a chance to return the favor

That’s all this is - normal competitive relationship things, right?

And Rio can find anything to buy that would be good enough, thoughtful enough

So he comes up with the perfect idea:

He’ll take her ice skating at that rink she used to go to with her dad and Annie and get the hot cocoa

They’ll bring Annie, too

Recreate a tradition of hers like she did on 4th of July when they climbed the roof

(When he knew she was terrified but also knew that she’d never, ever admit it; knowing she would always, always wanna save face.)

(Not knowing then how it would feel when she did admit it, told him straight to his face - because that meant she trusted him enough to drop the mask on purpose)

Only the thing is… Beth’s dad ends up being there too

At the ice skating rink. With a woman. A woman and her kids.

He too was recreating the tradition with someone new.

And then Christmas is ruined…

Only it’s not, because Rio finally realizes he only cared about finding the perfect gift because he loves her. He loves Elizabeth.

So he says it to her for the first time on Christmas Eve.

After he’s given her his new present - his St. Christopher medal for her to wear

And she’s wearing it when he tells her - and she kisses him -

and that’s the night she’s finally ready

she didn’t know that was what she was waiting for

but when he wraps himself around her after, nuzzling into her neck, they both can’t help but think how at least this?

this was perfect

not planned, but perfect

and they don’t really feel the need to say it after that

they both feel it - constantly, deeply - inside themselves and from the other - and for them, that’s enough

[foxmagpie]

The bottom of the borrowed heel is too smooth, worn down from use, so the moment Beth’s foot slips off the pedal, the spike catches and lodges in the valley of the rubber floor mat. 

Her eyes glance at the car ahead of her.

Her heart jumps into her throat. 

Scrunching her toes, Beth scrambles for purchase, yanking her foot back. 

The sedan’s close–closer—too close—

If she doesn’t do something soon she’s going to crash into it, going to watch the dusty hood of her mom’s station wagon crunch into the fender of the silvery BMW in front of her, and—

Frantically, her brain tries to catch up, but it’s only at the last second that she manages to kick her heel off and slam on the brakes. The car jolts to a stop, breaks squealing. The force of it thrusts Beth forward. 

Neck aching, she exhales. Then she looks to her left to see a woman staring at her from another lane, the judgment stark on her face. Beth smiles weakly, then kicks off her other heel too, pressing her bare foot to the pedal. The woman doesn’t turn away. 

Please, please, please stop looking at me, Beth pleads, staring straight ahead as the weight of the woman’s gaze rests like an anvil on Beth’s windpipe. 

With her hair curled and swirled into an updo, Beth thought she could certainly pass for sixteen, but she still doesn’t want anyone looking too closely, doesn’t want anyone noticing that she was driving underage without a learner’s permit in her mother’s stolen car. Especially not because she was stupid enough to try to do it wearing her mother’s stolen high heels, nabbed from her closet and still half a size too big on Beth. 

The last thing she needed was to get arrested on Homecoming, the night she’d meticulously planned for weeks.

Luckily, when the light turns green, the woman hangs a left at the next block, and besides her racing pulse, Beth makes it the rest of the way to Dean’s neighborhood without incident. She parks on the curb a few houses down and trudges down the street and up the long driveway, trying to jam her toes into the pointed tips of the heels so that she doesn’t take a step and leave a shoe behind. 

Already, she can feel a blister forming on the back of her ankle. 

When Beth knocks, Judith opens the door with a wide smile. 

“Oh, Beth, look at you!” she coos, appraising Beth from head to toe. 

Did her eyes flicker over Beth’s bare lips, or did she imagine it?

To draw attention away from her secondhand dress, Beth had spent ages on her hair and makeup, raiding her mom’s drawer in the bathroom for everything beyond the chipped tube of mascara and the mango-flavored Lip Smackers Beth kept in her desk drawer. She hadn’t seen Debbie with her face done up in months, but Debbie’s vanity was fully stocked with creams and curlers, pencils and primers. Her brushes were still dusted with pink, and gingerly, Beth had run her thumb over the bristles, remembering when she used to sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch Debbie in front of the mirror in her silk robes. Remembering the way that sometimes, her mom would dab Beth’s cheeks with a spot of blush—“just for fun.” 

That had been ages ago, though, back before Annie was born. By the time Beth had been ready to learn how to do her own make-up, there were already days-long stretches where her mom barely got out of bed, her eyes puffy and skin blotchy, and Beth had ended up teaching herself from articles in Seventeen and CosmoGIRL! Beth hadn’t expected to find that Debbie still had so many tubes and compacts tucked away after all this time, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d found everything she’d needed in that drawer other than a suitable lipstick (Beth would’ve loved a soft pink—something delicate but grown-up—but her mom had only a dark plum and a nude that washed her out). After spending twenty minutes scrubbing off the plum, she’d thrown her Lip Smackers in her clutch and decided it was going to have to be good enough. 

Now, standing in front of Judith—Judith, who never had an eyelash out of place— she wasn’t so sure. 

But Judith only reaches out and curls a loose tendril of Beth’s hair around her finger. “You look beautiful, honey. Dean’s going to be speechless, you just watch.”

“Thank you.”

It’s silly—it is—it's basically an expected compliment in these types of scenarios—but still. Something catches in her throat. 

Debbie hadn’t seen her before she left, probably didn’t even remember that the dance was tonight, but a shrinking part of Beth still wonders what she would’ve said if she had. If she would’ve said anything. Or rather, if she would’ve said anything beyond admonishing Beth for stealing her shoes, or outside of asking about the heart-shaped pearl earrings Beth had untucked from where she hides them underneath her mattress (they were a precious bat mitzvah gift from Ruby that Beth couldn’t even keep in her jewelry box for fear of Debbie stealing them and pawning them off). 

Judith steps aside to wave Beth in, but lingers, peeking her head around the door frame.

“Did you drive here yourself?” 

Translation: Where is your mother?

“Oh—yeah.” Beth shifts her weight. The burgeoning blister throbs. “My mom’s staying with my grandma right now. Nana just had her hip replaced so she’s, you know, cooking and helping her to the bathroom and everything.”

Nevermind that Debbie’s own mother had died when Beth was nine, or that her Nana lived all the way in Kalamazoo and was currently referring to Debbie as “that woman,” as in “that woman who’s keeping you kids away from your father.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. We’ll get some pictures printed for her,” Judith promises, easily accepting the story. 

I think you lie as easy as breathing. 

The recent memory whips back into view, sending her thoughts racing. Standing stock still in the middle of the Bolands’ foyer, Beth braces for impact. 

You’ll say anything to get out of trouble, huh?

Beth blinks, the room dissolving, remembering only the way his face had looked different, softer—no, that’s not right. Not soft. Raw. Open and wild and—

’Cause he gets jealous over nothin’ right? 

—then hardening into something she didn’t recognize—colder than anything she’d ever expect from him—

Like what just happened in that closet?

Beth’s heart stutters—lurches—an engine backfiring in her chest.

She can’t think about what almost happened in that closet—what she knows she had wanted to happen in that closet—what might’ve happened in that closet if only that woman hadn’t—

If she doesn’t slam the breaks right now, she’ll picture it. Picture it and then remember it—the slight undercurrent of cigarette smoke mingling with sandalwood and sage, the hand curling around her hip, the shape of Rio’s mouth in the darkness inching closer—closer—not close enough—

“Beth, honey? Are you okay?”

She can’t picture it because if she does, she’ll careen off the road and crash, her life exploding into ash.

So she swerves.

“I’m good,” she chirps, shaking herself off. “But do you have any lipstick I could borrow? I accidentally forgot mine at Ruby’s house.”

Judith immediately brightens. “Of course! And you can touch up your rouge, too. Follow me.”

[foxmagpie]

DIZZY: Chapter 3 of Delinquents: Snapshots | 17.1K | Artwork by the lovely @bethsuglywigs

He feels that itch to reach out for her, but he knows he should wait until they’re not standing in front of Ruby and Stan, until they have a moment to themselves so he can kiss her proper, not all chaste like she prefers when they’re in public.

Later, he thinks. Maybe after they drop off the girls, they can find a spot to park down the street before heading into the party. He wants to taste the sugar on her tongue, leave a mark on her neck, slide his hands up her smooth skin until they’re under her skirt to trace over those polka dots.

He wets his lips, imagining her in her tinsel halo spread out underneath him, breath catching, hair fanning out on the tan leather seats, pale skin marred by marks he left on her. Sure, they’d had that hiccup last month and it’d made Rio feel—not nervous, but at least a little weird—about initiating, but it was dumb to think they couldn’t go back to normal, wasn’t it?

They were obviously fine. Elizabeth had spent the whole night moon-eyed and smiling at him, most of all when he caught her sneaking glances at him when he’d carried Annie on his shoulders—and, fuck, he was no better. It'd been a year and they were so much more now than they’d been in that closet, but most of the time she still made him feel dizzy and half-desperate. The hesitation, the cloud of uncertainty—it was stupid. They were better than fine. They were good.

“Are you sure you’re going to be safe?” he hears Ruby ask Elizabeth once he drifts back into the conversation, pushing his thoughts away (he wouldn’t put it past Ruby to have some sort of radar for detecting when he was having sinful thoughts about her best friend).

“Ruby, it’s just one party.”

“It’s not just a party. It’s Shane Breeler’s Halloween party. It’s one of the biggest parties of the year. There’s going to be tons of alcohol and drugs”—she shoots a sidelong glance at Rio—”and who knows what else.”

“I’ll be fine. Rio’s going to be there—”

“Very reassuring,” Ruby mutters.

[foxmagpie]

Delinquents update anytime soon?🥺

my summer starts on Monday ☺️

[foxmagpie]

chapter 9 in which we see the 7 virtues...

carlos tries to make rio show a little humility (with some help from a story about a snowblower)

mr. stewart reminds rio that he needs to practice the concept of diligence—for his own good

dylan's lack of charity leads to a fight

rio wonders a lot about someone's chastity

rio feels gratitude for mar stepping in and stepping up

mar & elena practice some temperance (by choice? who is to say!)

and rio spends the whole time exercising heroic levels of patience

review the calendar | read it on ao3

[foxmagpie]

“Hanging out with Rio made her feel good, but feeling good made her feel terrible—the guilt like a slow drip off a cave wall, forming a stalagmite of shame in the pit of her stomach.” you are such a good writer!!!!

this is me hugging u anon ❤️

[foxmagpie]

Tell me about what other students at delinquents high think about Beth and Rio

It’s definitely dependent on what time frame we’re talking about.

In the present, I don’t think most people think much. Not a lot of people know about their tutoring arrangement, and while people like Christa Maak are paying attention, they’re also keeping a tight lid on it. After all, Christa’s mainly looking out for Dylan, and I don’t think she wants anything getting back to her. She just wants to nip things in the bud.

People definitely noticed Christa’s pointed comment about Daisy being a tramp, though, and that is going to set up some drama that happens around winter formal, where a combination of very public drama and very private moments are misconstrued. Beth will end up developing a ~reputation, and people will have a lot more opinions then.

I think overall people understand Beth’s attraction to Rio (can confirm that young smart studious girls very often attach themselves to underachievers). He’s charming and a little rebellious and obviously very cute. And they do understand Rio’s attraction to Beth, too, but I think they mostly chalk it up to the idea that he wants to get into her pants and that’s the extent of it.

I think after the events of Dizzy, people will be more confused about them. What they thought was a fling or then thought was about sex and attraction isn’t. Rio’s reputation certainly isn’t a secret, and it will be surprising to them that it’s clear how hard he fell for Beth, especially because Beth IS good at hiding the parts of herself publicly that Rio is most attracted to privately. I think that will pique people’s curiosity, especially since they made a few enemies along the way, like Christa and Dylan and Dean (Beth and Dean’s break up will be very dramatic and the fact that Beth’s a sophomore breaking up with a star senior football player will draw more attention and gossip than necessary).

I think those people will contribute to trying to further put dents in their reputation, but I think the fact that Rio misses a lot of school and Beth’s not ingratiated into the social scene at school mitigates a lot of things tbh. They will certainly endure judgment, but their insular circles of friends do somewhat protect them from the worst of it I think.

ask me fic trivia

[foxmagpie]

Crumbs of delinquents chapter 10? 🤲🥺

Anything for you, dear!!!

He’s not looking at her apartment building. Not at the cracked asphalt poorly lit by the flickering streetlight, or the minivan in the parking lot with a tarp hanging over a broken window. Not at the crooked number hanging on the door of apartment eight, or the pile of weeds in the flower pot that have never been replaced.

He’s not looking at any of it.

He’s only looking at her.

It’s freezing out, the night air against her face leaving her nose a bright red bauble, but Beth could swear she has a fever, feels a fire raging inside of her, heat licking up her spine, making her too hot in Rio’s hoodie (but she doesn’t want to take it off).

Desperate for something to do, for some excuse to look away from the intensity of his gaze, Beth’s hand flies to her hair, which she knows is falling out of the clips, tangled from the wind, a string of it caught between the wetness of her lips. She tries to pull it out.

Then, suddenly, Rio’s hand is reaching forward. Freezing, Beth is a statue as Rio gently—featherlight—pushes her bangs back, fixing it. The tips of his fingers ghost down her cheek like a trail of gasoline, the soft smile on his face a match that sets her own ablaze.

She should go inside. She should unzip his hoodie and tell him thank you and walk away.

Instead, she leans forward and curls her fingers around the handlebar in between his.

(What is she doing?)

In the distance, a car backfires.

Beth can barely hear it over the blood rushing through her ears, her heartbeat thundering in her chest—and the sound of Rio swallowing thickly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his fingers twitch.

Then his gaze falls to her lips like maybe—