Look, I get it. You hate the Northside. You hate that instead of inviting you to a party, they asked you to work it. It triggers all your rage about being born on the wrong side of the tracks. But this? This wasn’t your story to tell.
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@rivergirlspod
Look, I get it. You hate the Northside. You hate that instead of inviting you to a party, they asked you to work it. It triggers all your rage about being born on the wrong side of the tracks. But this? This wasn’t your story to tell.
Endless gifs of Cheryl Blossom: 2/ ∞
Favorite Photoshoots | Camila Mendes photographed by Mitchell McCormack for DA MAN (2017)
Screw the musical. I just wanted to prove to everyone that I’m still me. But, maybe I’m not. Toni, even Carrie White could stand up to her Mother. Okay Cheryl, you’ve got to show your Mother who’s in charge.
riverdale characters + tropes → fp jones
alice cooper. some things.
age 7.
white blonde hair. skinny legs. scraped elbows. spends all of recess on the swings, kicking as high as she can. scowls when f.p yanks on her ponytail. makes herself cereal in the morning, no milk. able to name all fifty states. broken plastic clip in her hair. front tooth chipped from falling on the trailer steps. overalls that bag in the chest. listens to claudia’s walkman for hours at a time. explores the woods after school. watches when annie and claudia get ready to go out to the bar, elbowing one another in the cramped bathroom of the trailer. tries on their makeup after they leave, gaudy blue eyeshadow and glittery lipstick. counts to 100 and back again on the playground, just to prove she can. sometimes mom bakes cookies and sings along to commercials on the radio and dances around the kitchen. sometimes mom goes to bed and doesn’t get up for two weeks. annie calls it getting sick and claudia calls it being a coked out nutcase. blows bubbles with her gum. doesn’t go to the father daughter dance. laughs when annie takes her to pop’s for milkshakes, instead.
age 14.
keeps her hand raised the entire class. always knows the answer. pierces her own ears with a safety pin. hair gone a darker shade of blonde with age. bruised legs. lips pursed in a scowl. spends hours in the abandoned pipes, reading books and avoiding home. watches as annie and claudia spiral further and further in the serpents. hates and envies them in equal measure. sneaks out to smoke cigarettes with f.p. flushes hotly when she struggles with the lighter. attends house parties, liking the way older boys lean in to ask her name. dark, smeared eyeliner. ripped tights. skirts she rolls up when she leaves for school in the morning. stares at hal cooper in first period bio. finds something strangely compelling in his all-american varsity jacket. can’t find it in herself to care when her mother stops coming home. deals dime baggies of weed for spare cash. does the serpent dance with her heart in her throat and three shots of jack daniels in her bloodstream. pretends claudia doesn’t have tears in her eyes when she puts the jacket on her back. wants something more. doesn’t quite know what.
age 21.
a sick, seething anger buried under pink cardigans. leather jacket at the back of the closet. hair gone more brown than blonde. gets married in a white dress, the whole town watching. does the write-up for the riverdale register herself. vows to be different. slices her mugshot out of every edition of the register in a fit of late-night paranoia. pearl earrings. well-practiced stepford smile. matching sweater sets. starts attending church with the extended coopers. pretends to pray. feels an awful, gnawing grief when she thinks about charles. wonders where he is. if he is being raised like she was. cuts ties with f.p and his wild, whiskey eyes. learns how to cross-stitch. cannot help but feel like she’s deceived hal. cannot help but feel like she’s deceiving herself. writes a letter to claudia and annie every sunday. watches as the letters comes back, unopened, every monday. lets her cartilage piercing close. smokes the occasional joint before hal gets home from work, blowing smoke out the back window so the neighbors won’t see.
age 28.
cries when she finds out she’s pregnant. promises herself that her baby will never know poverty. will never know food stamps and absentee mothers and the reckless safety of being in a gang. passes off supermarket cookies as being homemade. much prefers the violent delight of investigative journalism. likes peeling back the surface of the town, looking into the darkness underneath. still has nightmares about the sisters of quiet mercy. still can’t get out of bed on charles’ birthday. pink lipstick. sensible heels. sharp, piercing gaze. starts a garden. attends the bible study hal’s mother runs. makes a valiant effort not to scoff. fails miserably. misses fred and f.p and the old days. misses driving the truck late at night, so fast that the road blurred at the edges and time seemed to stop. decorates the nursery with immaculate detail. spends hours lying awake at night, feeling the baby kick. circles named in an outdated baby book. goes into labor on the first morning of spring. cries when they hand the baby to her, red and squawling and perfect and hers. feels unconditional love for the first time.
age 35.
can’t decide whether motherhood is the best thing to ever happen to her, or the worst. tires of hal, his entitlement and his pettiness and his passive-aggressive barbs against her parenting. polly has a pretty bad scrape on her knee. were you watching her at the playground? attends pta meetings solely to complain about the administration. loves betty and polly in a way that feels too big for her body. frown lines starting to develop. blonde dyed back into her hair. mouth twisted with displeasure. reads the girls four bedtime stories each night. thinks about annie telling her wild, inappropriate stories before bed, the way they would both giggle underneath the sheets. sometimes drives around southside late at night, watching the shadows of the trailers. feels split straight down the middle. feels like she’s still faking. terrified of betty or polly being led astray. falling into a bad crowd. getting sucked into the black hole of riverdale. fights bitterly with hal when he discovers she makes more than him. can’t find it within herself to apologize.
age 42.
watches betty take off her clothes under the spotlight, desperate and backed into a corner and in love with a boy named jones. wants to laugh with the misery of it all. feels helpless to stop her children from making her mistakes. barbed tongue. cheekbones sharper than they used to be. aggressively proper wardrobe. sees chic come in through the front door and feels a missing piece jam into place, just a little ill-fitting. lets her eyes drag a little too long on f.p when she sees him at pop’s. scowls when pop tate gives her that knowing smile, the same one he’s been shooting her since she was sixteen and drunkenly ordering three sides of fries, a stoned fred giggling next to her and f.p with his arm slung around her shoulder. misses polly with a terrible ache. wonders about the babies. her grandchildren. doesn’t miss hal. watches the man die with her eyes gone cold and hard. disposes of the body with a relentless, panicked efficiency. feels a dangerous thrill when f.p says “the circle closes here.”
Madelaine Petsch Responds to the Craziest Riverdale Fan Theories | ELLE
#cheryl is bi bi bi
@madelame: Today is the day I discovered I had dimples.
Vanessa Morgan photographed by Dimitry Loiseau for Regard Magazine, February 2018
It’s so weird, because Jughead has been heavily annoying me for basically this entire season -- but, suddenly I’m so excited to watch him and Veronica make out.
Behind the Scenes of Camila Mendes photographed for CBS Watch!
Hey, everyone! We've attached an explanation as to why we've been gone so long, and why we'll be gone just a wee bit longer, due to technical difficulties. Damn, technology! Feel free to listen to any older episodes and we hope you guys stick around for when we finally make it back!
Love you guys, and thanks for understanding! ❤️❤️❤️
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Oh, Kevin. You precious, beautiful, compulsive piece of trash.
chapter ten: the lost weekend.