HEART \ SMALL TARGET.

if you follow the 𝓻𝔲͟𝔩͟𝔢͟𝔰͟   ... —𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖴𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖸 ,   𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝑦𝔬𝔲.

[2ndaughter]

_ AN INDEPENDENT & SEMI - PRIVATE PORTRAYAL OF PENELOPE "PENNY" MIRREN TAFT SINCLAIR, of e. lockhart's [w]e were liars, with inspiration drawn from amazon prime's television series adaptation. * this blog heavily prioritizes plotted threads and dynamics. heavy subjects including death, murder, fire, mentions of disordered eating, and mature themes mentioned. BY BRI, 28, SHE/HER.

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚  SINCLAIR LYING WITH 0LDERLADIES, 1STLIAR, DUHTON EXITLANDS, GIRLFATE, MAGIABESOS, MATRIARCLAIR & RED-GATE

GENERAL RULES - will be moved to carrd and/or side blog once completed.

PORTRAYALS BY BRI, 28, SHE/HER. established feb twenty twenty six. TWENTY1 ONLY+ ( no exceptions ).

to start, basic roleplay etiquette applies. don't be an asshole. be kind, have fun, no god-modding, no stealing, no ooc drama. lets keep that ic.

i do not claim the rights to any media found on this blog. i'm not apart of amc or the walking dead, but i do absolutely take pride in my portrayal of penny as a whole -- and i'll know if you take anything that is aggressively personal to how i choose to portray her character. i won't tolerate that on any level.

all graphics made on this blog are made by me. [ do not steal ]

i do not follow everyone back. i've been on tumblr for many years now and have learned how best to curate a space for myself that i am happy to be in. it would be a disservice not only to myself but to everyone if i acted as though i could keep up with a quick moving dash by interacting with every single person. for the most part, i tend to try and follow people back within twenty four hours if i can see us writing together. otherwise i do make sure to softblock unless rules state you'd prefer to be hardblocked to avoid confusion.

IMPORTANT: if you support or condone racism, homophobia, transphobia, white-washing, suicide baiting, bullying, military propaganda, d*nald tr*mp or bigotry of any kind i will immediately block you. this also goes for zionists. we have nothing in common and i do not want that energy in my space. this is your one and only warning.

in terms of callout culture: i do not partake in it just for the sake of it. i typically do not reblog or engage with callout posts, but if someone is actively harmful to the community as a whole then of course that's different. i'm not interested in watching anyone to try to chase somebody out of a community simply because they don't like them. i am an adult with a mind of her own who can make decisions for herself. just because i don't interact doesn't mean i don't see it nor does it mean i'm supporting or not supporting it. if by chance i'm ever interacting with someone harmful, please let me know privately but do not do this if you don't plan to tell me why / how because again, i'm not interested in entertaining the removal of someone from a community over a friendship fallout.

this blog is heavily dynamic based with an emphasis on plotting. i love to plot and i find i am most inspired to write when i'm comfortable plotting with someone. it doesn't always have to be long and intense, but establishing some sort of dynamic between our muses is the best way to start off in my opinion. please never hesitate to come to me to do so. in fact, i'll be happy to jump into it at any time and create something together. it helps build something we'll both look forward to writing -- and gives us somewhere to go, because writing without a goal long term just isn't the energy i tend to go for. all this to say, i'm incredibly patient. i do not expect partners to be quick at replying or to do a constant back and forth. i'm simply happy to vibe while plotting too.

^IN ADDITION: i also ask that you also be patient with me. i work in finance and sometimes my job extends into my home hours [ not often luckily but it does leave me tired and brainless ] so naturally, i can get busy and there'll be days or even weeks where i don't feel like writing at all. give grace, and the same will be returned to you.

if anything is ever confusing to you or you have any questions, do not hesitate to ever reach out to me. communication is key and i'm an advocate for that in all situations. anon is off, though not for any specific reason ... i got used to doing it and now i just do it on all my blogs for my own peace of mind. but my dm's are always, always, always open. <3

[2ndaughter]

i miss beechwood

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ ❝   SHE ISN'T AN ADDICT!   ❞ it's a rapid beat of her tongue, hands thrown in the air for emphasis and a thickly unveiled exasperation evident in her tone. it'd be hard to miss the annoyance riddled into each word either. annoyance for all the things she thinks she can't see but won't admit to not being able to see ... that maybe, JUST MAYBE ... carrie could see more clearly. but oh what would that say about perfect penny and her chronically well behaved daughter? she tucks her hair behind her ears. SHOULDERS STRAIGHTEN AND SETTLE BACK. chin raises. a breath expelled. penny's raised her voice one too many times for a summer that's barely started. ( tipper would be mortified ) & it's their first summer back here too ... without her, with the taste of the one they lost her in still writhing on their tongue. ❝   not everybody empties a pill bottle at the first sign of trouble, carrie.   ❞ though her words have sharp teeth and claws and lock on aim for the jugular ... her eyes soften with an unspoken apology. she doesn't have her mother, but she still has her sisters. ❝   but if i had a dime for every time one of us dyed our hair brown in a fucking crisis—   ❞ she says into her chardonnay glass with a shake of her head. what penny says next, however, is only a version of the truth. ❝   and trust me, it wasn't professionally done so ... WINNER, WINNER. you got it half right. i don't have any plans to leave her alone any time soon.   ❞ as if that's the only reason...

CARRIE SINCLAIR , "any addict alone is in bad company." @red-gate

[red-gate]

❝ I don't know anything more than you do. ❞ Silently mimicking the tone of her younger sister. It wasn't very proper and if seen by Harris or Tipper, she was sure there would be some form of correction. Something along the lines of : [ WOMEN NEED TO HAVE DIGNITY AND RESPECT. ] Or some utter bullshit. Carrie understood the need for some of the Sinclairian motto's and even believed in the meaning but sometimes she wished to just throw them out the goddamn window. Closing the door, making sure not to have any noise echo, and to lock Bess out of conversation. Carrie struggled with the conversation of Rosemary but needed to discuss the tragedy. It was the only way to mourn and grieve losing the baby of the Sinclair girls. It was something she struggled with, the idea knowing, no matter what, there was no saving her. [ IT WAS CARRIE'S DEEPEST REGRET AND RECKONING. ]

Bess, the third born of Sinclair girls, was thirteen, almost fourteen. Stupidity ran rampant in that head of hers with an open-mouth spilling everything. [ NEVER TELL ELIZABETH JANE LEIGH TAFT SINCLAIR YOUR DARKEST SECRETS. ] ❝ Do you really believe that? Really? ❞ Under normal circumstances, sure, it would just be hair color. This, though, was farthest from normal.

Their baby sister died and Tipper Taft Sinclair was mourning. Carrie was concerned, going back to school two weeks post accident and leaving their Mother and Father to their own demise. The silence of the house must have been difficult. It was difficult for Carrie even with the commotion of having Penny and Bess at North Forest. Without Rosemary, life no longer made sense.

❝ You know it's more than just a color. ❞ It's their Mother weeping, screaming, raging and everything in-between. [ IT'S SUFFERING AND THERE ISN'T ANYTHING THEY CAN DO TO PREVENT IT. ]

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ the sound of her sister's mocking tone snapped her head up, eyes glaring at carrie from across the room. IT'S BRIEF: a blink and you'll miss it, but the scathing is hot when mixed with a grief she's still unsure how yet to fit in the spaces between her rib cage, much less how to confront the blatant display of one tipper taft sinclair's. the woman who has chinned up and shoulders backed everything she has ever known her to face. but that's the thing, ISN'T IT? the girls ... they weren't here to witness it, to see her face it ... ( not any of it! ) & for the first time in her sixteen years of her life penny wonders: has mother finally cracked? but the question lives and dies in her head as she falls back onto the bed to stare at her ceiling with the air of it hanging over her. ❝   be a credit to the family.   ❞ she remarks to lighten the heaviness that sits between them. that encompasses this house. that she's sure will linger at the dining room table tonight while they all laugh and smile and shrink their hearts ... ah, penny thinks, that's where the grief will fit— IN THE PLACE WHERE HER HEART ONCE OCCUPIED. quiet and still beside the lulling thump of her beating organ. she rolls her eyes with carrie's continuation. carrie won't drop it, because carrie never drops anything. she carries it closer than any one of them holds their purse on newbury street in the shopping district. ❝   well, noooo, but—   ❞ a sound co-mingled between a sigh and groan escapes between her lips. ❝   but why does it matter what i believe, carrie? we can't fix her by talking about it. we're home now. all we can do is be normal. that's what she'd want from us anyway.   ❞

[matriarclair]

۶ৎ the sharp, jarring trill cuts through the kitchen just as the edge of her knife connects with the checkered - maple board, and it makes her pause. when occupying beechwood,  tipper sinclair is only reachable via the clairmont landline by anyone off - island.   especially during the month of may.   because those who truly knew her, preemptively harbor the knowledge that her cellphone would be far,  far away   …  one might say it’d be off in another land entirely.   and that is exactly where she believed it belonged.   there was no room for frivolous worldly distractions here in her magic castle, (THE EVER PRIVILDGED LIFE OF A HOUSEWIFE)  not when this time was specifically designated for them.   non - dominant palm swipes daintily against the apron sported at waist   – even though there’d been nothing on it –   before scooping the receiver out of its cradle, and securing it between cheek and shoulder.     “Sinclair residence.”     the greeting is a statement rather than an inquiry,  trusting whomever is on the other end will have the courtesy to announce themself.   she’s quick to assume that the incoming calls to this line are meant for her;  anyone looking for harris would dial him directly,  and the list of people entrusted with this number was slim to begin with     “Oh hello sweetheart,”     tone carrying a higher lit now at the revelation that the un- invited expected caller just so happened to be one of their girls.     “I always have a minute for you   …   but I have a feeling this is going to take more time than a measly minute.”     she sounds amused – because it’s a lighthearted jest –  but she does find herself intrigued by the requested correspondence   …   it’s rare that they hear from any of them prior to the first of june once mother’s day has come and gone.

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ there's a particular type of sound that lodges itself in her throat. half-scoff, half-laugh; like carving the ha-ha right from her tongue as it presses against the back of her teeth and she jams her thumb into her eye. it precedes a condescending cadence, one that she instantly regrets ... AND HARDLY MEANS IN ANY IRONIC SENSE OF THE WORDS: ❝   you always know.   ❞ because of course tipper knows. tipper always knows. i mean, that's why she's calling, ISN'T IT? who else would a girl want to call when the worst thing has happened if not for her mother? after all, the worst thing CAN be subjective. there isn't a rule book— unless you're a sinclair. and all that means is penny is free from having to admit just where exactly this particular 'worst thing to have ever happened' falls on the scale. she just simply needs to admit it has happened. then, she and cadence can get on with their summer ... ( like it never happened at all ) as prime examples of the sinclairian ways would. something sam could never understand. & something sam will never be able to rob from them, even if he comes for it all ... but as she takes a breath another sound breaks through the crack of her lips, across the telephone line, far less bitter to the ear. while exceptionally durable at best, perfect procelain is prone to wear and tear too at times. ❝   there's going to be a change in guests at beechwood this summer.   ❞ she manages after clearing her throat. concise. to the point. ❝   OR SHOULD I SAY: a lack of guest.   ❞ sweet merciful jesus, spit it out, penelope! ❝   sam won't be joining us. actually, we're ... getting a divorce.   ❞ a brief pause— where she finds renewed strength invigorated by sardonic wistfulness. ❝   he left this morning. news travels too fast to wait and i like to strike before anyone else thinks they're the early bird who caught the worm.   ❞ but this is where the rarity shows. the fear of the failure. the woman who swallows secrets. the girl who just wants her mother. ❝   i ... —you had to be my first call.   ❞

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ it shouldn't be difficult to pick up the phone. it should be just as simple as any other conversation, like discussing something as mundane as the weather. ( is it raining on beechwood? because it's raining in burlington ... oh, by the way, mom: sam and i, yeah, we're getting a divorce— but don't worry i was already thinking about replacing the china his parents bought us for a poor excuse of a wedding gift— ) but where penny feels nothing in regards to sam leaving, she feels everything about people knowing of his departure. it's an admission of failure at best. not her favourite look by any means. at worst, though ... at worst: it's an invitation for questions, AND THEIR ANSWERS MIGHT NOT BE MIRROR IMAGES. as the phone rings, she swears each one laughs at her. maybe it's better if tipper doesn't answer. maybe there is still a little luck— ❝   hi, mom.   ❞ tonally, she's all performance, but fuck she could've used a dress rehearsal. fear of the imperfection she's about to admit threatens to claw up her throat and create cracks in her voice where she should otherwise keep a stiff upper lip. ❝   do you have a minute or am i interrupting something?   ❞ the least she can do is be a credit by asking first.

TIPPER SINCLAIR , sc. @matriarclair

[2ndaughter]

click the🤍for a starter.

[prettygirlcleanup]

There is a fiery anger building up within. Erin, who prided herself on communication, honesty and loyalty throughout her adult years found herself in a complicated situation. Somehow she had gotten herself into a predicament of half ass truths which was breaking her heart considering she though the two evolved from this childlike behavior. Six months had past since their first entanglement and regret is now beginning to loom over. Erin thinks about her career, how she has jeopardized everything to be with Penny and this moment makes her question if it's truly worth it. On one hand, the adult who sees what trauma has done to Cadence understands why this needs to happen but on the other? The selfish lover who just wants her girlfriend to stay and be herself hates every aspect of this. Their first and potentially final fight might be happening because their relationship was always cataclysmic.

❝ Right, because Perfect fucking Penny gets to decide everything for us? Just like when we were kids. Nothing has changed with you. ❞ The name Cadence drops and her heart sinks, a finger is pointed and wags in her direction, ❝ Don't fucking throw her in my face like I do not care about her and haven't seen what she has been going through at home and at school. I have been here for you both, don't forget that. ❞ Erin's voice is stern and not even a yell. Maybe it's the taught behavior of her profession that yelling never gets her anywhere but goddamn she could never yell at Penny no matter how much she wished she could. ❝ Throw her in my face again and I walk, Penny. Don't do that to me. You know how much I care about her. ❞ Erin didn't have kids of her own and the students often came to her. She was their confidant and Cadence was the special circumstance that put her in a different category than the rest for obvious reasons. This wasn't easy for any party and everyone would lose regardless of the final outcome. ❝ Everything is going to change. I can't - I can't ... ❞ Her eyes drift towards the floor before wiping away tears, struggling to give eye contact but knowing it was necessary. [ THIS MIGHT BE THE END. ] ❝ The person you become there, it's not the person I love. Who I've loved my whole life, Penelope. ❞ It slipped out and like Pandoras Box, there was no going back. ❝ I thought we'd be a family, you know? We lost so much time together and I thought things would be different. Dumb of me for having that expectation that things could change, that you could change. ❞ There's a pause, fingers running trough coarse hair as she momentarily pierced her lips, ❝ I should go. — Yeah, I think I should go. ❞

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ ❝   now look who's throwing things in the others face.   ❞ maybe it's harsh and it's unfair, but penny has never claimed to not be either of those things. not to mention, she thinks the entire concept of her being THE ONLY ONE TO EVER DECIDE THINGS FOR THEM is also unfair considering @erinriegert had been the one who got to hold reign over the biggest thing to ever happen to them: their end. when combined with the stress that eats away at the cellar of her rib cage, she simply can't resist the way her walls rise. reinforcement upon reinforcement. ice and stone in the name of defense. she has always been possessive about the things that were hers ( maybe that's where cady gets it from after all ) but most especially when it comes to her emotions. born and bred to perfection, A TRUE SINCLAIR. & that— that's where erin hit the nerve ... perfect fucking penny, isn't so perfect.

with a deep breath, her eyes fix to stare at the ceiling— AS IF NOT STARING AT THE MESS WILL SOMEHOW MAGICALLY CLEAN IT ALL UP. unfortunately, the crash has already happened. all glass shattered, watch where you step, the horn blaring, and blood spilled. it was inevitable, really, is what penny tells herself. beechwood owns the summertime. she wouldn't be able to keep cadence away from it forever. it was her birthright ... BOTH OF THEIR BIRTHRIGHTS, and erin ... erin never asked for that. but she's also a mother who is still learning the art of skinning herself alive for the very thing that came from inside of her. ❝   all i meant is that, this trip? is for cadence. it's what the doctor suggested and it is what i am doing.   ❞ penny moves to the edge of the bed as erin stammers over her own words. an urgency she usually lacks at what she knows an ending sounds like. she digs down deep into the crux of her core to find the pieces of herself capable of handling words like love and time and expectations without a cool beat of her tongue.

❝   don't—   ❞ she doesn't plead for anything from anyone, however, there is a crack in her voice that has allowed a begging tone to leak through. SEE: the second princess keeps her heart behind a heavily locked door and gated moat. erin's key rattles it to shame. it's strange land to her timid feet. she shifts a little too awkwardly for one penelope mirren taft sinclair, ending with straightened shoulders and a rigid spine. appearing much more ready for a job interview than to be a source of heat when all else is drenched in storm water. when she speaks again, her voice is softer, lower, a delicate firmness as she swallows the weight of all erin's words: ❝   sit down with me, please. don't leave.   ❞

[tvarchive]

Caitlin FitzGerald and Mamie Gummer AS PENNY AND CARRIE SINCLAIR We Were Liars • 1.02

[2ndaughter]

i’m currently in niagara falls but only until tomorrow so idk, i think all 12 or whatever of you should plot with penny and harris

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ ❝   hate you?   ❞ penny repeats. the words fall like acid rain from her mouth, AS IF THE DISDAIN FROM THEIR SENTIMENT ALONE IS ENOUGH TO BURN. her nose scrunches. horrified confusion contorts her expression as an ache emerges thunderously in the crux of her core. she has made a lot of mistakes in her life. the mirrors are all jagged, some even turned around, & every wine glass in the house has had its stem imprinted on her right hand with a force to be reckoned with. but out of all of her mistakes, she never thought subjecting cadence to even the idea that she could be hated BY HER would be one of them. ❝   i could never hate you, cadence.   ❞ OF COURSE SHE DOESN'T KNOW, she thinks. cadence couldn't understand the war of a mother that pounded battle drums next to her beating organ in cadence's very own name because well, cadence wasn't one, because she was too young, and mostly— because penny never allowed her to. she was salt air and outdoor exercise, brisk to the touch and harsh to the bone. the rest was hers to bear. ❝   nothing that has happened or, or, or - COULD happen, would change that. where would you ... even get that from? i don't understand.   ❞

CADENCE SINCLAIR , + @1stliar / i understand if you hate me.

[1stliar]

WELCOME TO THE beautiful Sinclair family. No one is a criminal. No one is an addict. No one is a failure. The Sinclairs are athletic, tall, and handsome. We are old-money Democrats. Our smiles are wide, our chins square, and our tennis serves aggressive.

INDEPENDENT & SELECTIVE CADENCE TAFT SINCLAIR EASTMAN ROLEPLAY WRITING BLOG OF WE WERE LIARS BOOK & TELEVISION SERIES. WRITTEN BY ITZA ( SHE/HER, TWENTY6).

WELCOME, ONCE AGAIN, to the beautiful Sinclair family. We believe in outdoor exercise. We believe that time heals. We believe, although we will not say so explicitly, in prescription drugs and the cocktail hour.

[red-gate]

The Sinclair girls were rambling in the back seat of the 1985 Rolls Royce Corniche. The cold Boston air could be felt radiating from the windows and snow was starting to stick. This season was different than the ones celebrated before hand. [ ROSEMARY WAS GONE. ] She was never coming back. No more snuggles with Shampoo, no more early morning trying to beat Luda and Tipper into the kitchen to grab soda and salty chips for breakfast, no more witnessing the baby of the Sinclair girls grow. Sometimes Carrie thought it impacted her drastically more than the rest of the siblings. Their avoidance and refusal to acknowledge her absence made her skin boil. Nevertheless, the eldest daughter pushed through these feelings. [ STIFF UPPER LIP AS A SINCLAIR SAYS. ] Well, pills and booze help the cause as well.

The three girls and Harris arrive at the Boston house. Home but different — sadder, angrier, lonelier. Tipper, who would always come with Harris to pick up the girls, wasn't there this time. Strange and weird considering there isn't a memory associated with pick ups or drop offs without Tipper. [ THIS WOULD BE THEIR NEW REALITY. ] Walking in the door, a black hair figure emerges and hugs the three without skipping a beat, as if nothing had changed. A look from their Father insinuating to not mention this drastic change. A gasp from Bess, silence from Penny, pursed lips from Carrie.

They excuse themselves from the pleasantries and are told dinner would be ready soon. The two eldest Sinclairs escape to their rooms, Carrie following Penny into her room with bags still in hand. There was shock written on her face, too stunned to put words together for a moment. Eyes widen as she points to the door, gesturing what's outside the safety of the four walls, ❝ She has black hair. When did she dye her hair? ❞ This crisis was the only visible scar this situation they'd ever see from their mother.

@2ndaughter ( do not respond as long as me i'm begging )

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ it feels wrong ... to be conversing about their mother whose watered down grief has kept her tongue so still in the wake of rosemary's death, who would also encourage their own tongues to be still, yet whose dyed hair is louder, penny thinks, than any of the words she's ever said to her ... but when carrie stays hot on her trail in the ascent to her bedroom, PENNY KNOWS THAT TIPPER IS EXACTLY WHO AND WHAT THEY WILL BE CONVERSING ABOUT. as if her lack of presence at christmas break pick up hadn't spoken enough volumes.

❝   i don't know.   ❞ & for a second, penny sounds worried. a level of concerned she does not usually afford herself the luxury of subscribing to. altogether, the words leave her mouth in a tonal variation quite unlike the stiff upper lip that the sinclairian rules have drilled SO PERFECTLY, SO NEATLY into her bones, so as to keep all things that might snap and bear their teeth away from her beating organ. it's something she can't leave hanging too long. with squared shoulders and a slight up turn of her chin, penny rectifies the show of heart. ❝   i went to the same school you did, carrie. i don't know anything more than you do.   ❞ THEN, she peers around her sister to the door, nodding to it. ❝   and close the door before somebody hears us. you saw harris' face.   ❞ in other words, if they were going to keep discussing tipper ... they shouldn't be caught— HARRIS' EXPRESSION HADN'T LENT ITSELF FOR MIXED INTERPRETATIONS. ❝   bess really blew it, didn't she? gasping like that ... vile. it's— just a hair colour, right?   ❞

[2ndaughter]

tik tok user wh*spyedits_ might as well have just put me out to pasture

[detouch]

   the haunting of hill house    sentence meme.

   episode 4 - 6

they never believe me.

you believe me, don’t you?

when i was a kid, my brother taught me how to spot faces in clouds.

and i mean… that fucked me up pretty bad.

it’s normal for kids to have imaginary friends and nightmares.

we could have a heck of a yard sale.

big boys know the difference between what’s real and what’s imaginary.

that one doesn’t exactly keep me up at night.

i know we’re all going to have a lot of feelings about that.

we’re not in a relationship.

how the fuck do you expect people to get through this without friends?

i just wanted to make sure you were okay.

i’m gonna fix this.there are moments you kind of remind me of her.

the only other person that believed in me like that was you.

nothing left to do except maybe fill this place up with kids.

i mean, you know the definition of insanity. doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

when we decide to get clean, it’s not because we expect it to be fucking exciting, you know?

you ever seen someone in withdrawal?

just because you care about someone, it doesn’t mean they won’t burn you.

thirty days clean so you can make me feel like shit again.

it’s taken me ten years to get ninety days clean.

i’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but “fearless” is not one of them.

i was always a scared little kid, and i thought i’d get braver as i got older, but i didn’t.

any addict alone is in bad company.

listen, i know i fucked up.

please, please let me come back.

they say she’s a nightmare, but she’s real.

if she comes back, you come find us, okay?

i was planning on waiting until the end of your visit to ask you out for coffee.

i’m gonna have to get used to that, but i like it.

it’s perfectly normal to want to find something to blame.

don’t worry. i don’t expect you to believe me.

i’m not supposed to have things that are fragile.

use your cup of stars. insist on your cup of stars.

can we have a tea party?

i’ve been having a hard time sleeping in that house without him.

i need to get well before i go in.

it’s just you and me. that’s it.

i always believed in you, you know that?

we all just need a little help sometimes, right?

that is not the way you help an addict.

i am feeling serious fucking concern.

i thought we might get drunk and fucking cry.

you look worse than you did four months ago.

he’s not exactly impressing me and i know what the fuck i’m talking about.

i’ve got your back, but i also have my limits.

you never cared about anyone more than yourself, and that’s sad.

my family is just like any other family; we don’t always agree on everything.

you’re supposed to protect me, but you say the meanest things to me when i try to tell you.

you don’t come in here and embarrass me like that.

are you off your meds?

you don’t get to just start smashing up our lives because you’re transitioning into a new treatment.

this was not the time or place.

the problem is that you haven’t confronted your past.

how can a house, just a collection of bricks, wood, and glass, have that much power over people?

i don’t know what i saw.

you should get some sleep. you’ve had a rough night.

it’s just a carcass in the woods.

we were going to have a tea party.

we always knew. we always believed you.

i’m so sorry that we fought.

it’s time to wake up, sweetheart.

in movies, they always say that they look like they’re sleeping. she doesn’t look like she’s sleeping. she looks dead.

you did a really good job as usual.

you might want to slow down. it’s going to be a long night.

please. don’t fuck this up.

she was always trying to get all of us together in one place. someone should’ve told her she didn’t have to try this hard.

still not a hugger?

if it’s all the same to you, maybe we can save this conversation for a little later.

if you were married, you’d know that sometimes people need a little room.

i’m drinking every time i feel like punching something.

it’s not like we were really talking each other’s ears off before that.

this is his coping mechanism. he turns into a waiter.

you weren’t in bed. where’d you go?

i had the strangest dream.

you guys hear a scary noise?

but you know what storms do? they pass.

stay down here and stay away from the windows.

you wearing those gloves to bed now?

they’re not here to hurt us.

it’s okay, we’re totally safe.

this house has been here for a long, long time. it’s seen plenty of storms and worse than this.

i was holding her hand the entire time.

i know you’re scared.

i won’t let anything happen to her. to any of you guys.

all words are made up at first.

i know those stories ‘cause i was there for those stories.

i’m trying to drink her back to life. would you like me to stop?

you know some religions won’t let you be buried in their cemeteries if you kill yourself?

she knew the price the rest of us pay when someone does that, and she did it anyway.

i don’t know why she didn’t feel like she could talk to me.

there’s nothing she was going through that wouldn’t have been okay.

we’re all aware of how you like to hold back information.

we’ve all got questions and i think it’d be swell if you gave us a few answers for a change.

any psychiatrist worth their shit would’ve kept her on a much shorter leash.

she wasn’t worried about herself, she was apparently worried about you.

why do i need protection from the truth?

you’re entitled to your anger.

it’s very generous of you to allow me to feel my anger.

what else am i entitled to while you’re being so fucking generous?

you might want to check yourself before you start talking about the truth.

she’s drunk. i’m just pissed.

you took all that paranoia and craziness and you mass-marketed it.

you were happy enough to exploit all of us for some blood money.

you don’t know what i felt. and you don’t know what i feel. and i am allowed to process that any way i want to.

don’t touch me!

i have enough of my own grief. i don’t need yours too.

you’d have to be a real stubborn bitch not to, so.

you don’t get to lie to me, and live off me at the same time.

if i were you, i’d get off that high horse before i fall off.

if you were me, you wouldn’t be such a fucking asshole.

do you have any idea how much you’ve humiliated me?

i can’t look at either one of you right now.

i need some more vodka.

you think this is cute?

i don’t know why she’d go anywhere else by herself.

i don’t want to upset anyone any more than we’re already upset.

anything i did, i did it for a very good reason.

i was screaming and shouting and none of you could see me!

don’t do that ever again.

i’ll never let you go again. i promise.

[2ndaughter]

﹙ *  ♚  ﹚▌▌ it's a loaded question from a loaded gun, except the gun is her mouth and penny, penny doesn't do bleeding out on front lawns ... or backyards, EVEN THOUGH HERS IS MUCH MORE CONCEALED. ( the dormitory lost its sparkle after first year, but her townhouse has yet to do her wrong— ) see, she much prefers skin and bone to conceal the breadth of emotion she carries. somewhere down deep. shoved between her ribs or preferably perforated by them with no hope of it ever climbing back up her throat to make a fool out of herself. like the request that sits on the tip of her tongue as alice ONCE AGAIN insists on teaching penny how to play tennis. the fact is, she knows how to play tennis. she's actually pretty good at it. but she also see it for what it is; A GRAB FOR MORE TIME TOGETHER, as the school year reaches the finish line. or maybe that's just what she hopes is the driving force behind alice's motivation. ❝   you want to teach me that badly, do you?   ❞ she speaks easily, coolly. the sound of them alone would tell someone she's grinning, & penny is ... with her tongue pressed against the back of her canines. SPEAKING OF THAT REQUEST: ❝   then you should teach me at beechwood this summer. ❞ languid is the request as it leaves her lips. like it'd be okay if alice said no, because the intent lives in her eyes instead as she holds alice's gaze. ❝ not-so-little island off martha's vineyard. not-so-little tennis court either. you should come. besides, sue me for indulging in selfishness, but i think you'd look good out there.   ❞

. . . @0lderladies ,

[bethrip]

Caitlin FitzGerald as Penelope Taft Sinclair We Were Liars | 1.04 "The Fourth of You Lie"