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#fanny writes
cryptocism · 7 months
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next chapter fit lets goo
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m-kyunie · 2 years
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Summerboy [Lady Gaga]
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thoughtkick · 1 year
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I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.
Fannie Flagg
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perfectfeelings · 25 days
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I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.
Fannie Flagg
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quotefeeling · 2 months
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I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.
Fannie Flagg
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orcelito · 10 months
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in the Wolfwood side story of trimax volume 8 chapter 6, we see this visual metaphor:
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[ID: Three pages from Trigun Maximum. The first pages shows Wolfwood staring up at a flying bird and carving it in wood. He thinks to himself, "Us humans... We look up at them... and feel longin'. But they may look down at us... and envy how we have earth and shade to escape the pain of endlessly flappin' yer wings to survive." The second page shows a new scene where he is talking to Maylene. She looks up at a bird in the sky and tells him, "I... used to be an orphan. I've always depended on others for survival. Mr. Priest... How does the world look when you are able to choose your own path?" As she talks, Wolfwood is shown with a resigned look to his eyes. In the third page, Wolfwood replies, "Knock it off. Look over there." The bird lands, and we see that its feathers are mangled. Wolfwood continues, "That bird... It's in terrible shape. If you could look into its heart, you'd know all it wants is a safe place to sleep, a few scraps of food, and a life of peace. You'd know just how much it would envy yer luxurious cage." End ID]
(all pages from @trigun-manga-overhaul)
even at the time of first reading this, I wondered if it was a metaphor for Vash. at this point in the story, it's just after Wolfwood broke Vash out of the ark. we've seen the horrible truths of Vash's life over and over again... & the fact that at the end of the day, he just wants to live a quiet life of peace.
this suspicion turned into certainty with these pages in volume 10 chapter 4
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[ID: Four pages of Trigun Maximum. The first is a single panel of Vash passing by a bloodied Wolfwood with a hand on his shoulder, telling him, "Crush him." In the second page, Vash walks off, leaving Wolfwood to his fight. Wolfwood preps his gun and says to himself, "I'm sorry... Needle-Noggin..." The third page is a wide shot of the sky, followed by a flying bird just like the ones seen in the prior pages. The fourth page is a shot of Vash staring up at the bird. His face is partially obscured in darkness with his eyes out of shot, but he is not smiling and his posture is hunched. The final panel is blank white. End ID]
... yeah. with the same imagery of the bird, we see Vash looking up at it with a hard to read expression. partially obscured, so we don't even see his eyes, but in his posture and the lack of a smile... you can see his pain. he's only just learned that Wolfwood is dying, and he wants so badly to be able to save him... but he can't. he's forced to accept that this is Wolfwood's fight, so he leaves him to it even as it agonizes him.
looking up at the bird that's forced to keep flying to survive... Vash is that bird. for the first time since he was a child, he allowed himself to grow truly close to someone. he found himself wanting to share a future with him, to share their Tomorrows...
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[ID: A panel progression of Vash listening to Wolfwood fight. His face is partially obscured until it's revealed that he is weeping in agony. End ID]
but it wasn't meant to be. Vash isn't a being that can settle down like that.
he's cursed to forever fly.
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smittyw · 29 days
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team GO BIG vs team GO HOME. would u accept these idols into ur heart for splatoon [n+1]?? clap if u believe!!
bonus off hours for fun
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dyinginfandom · 27 days
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Writing a ghosts reincarnation fic and I’m only on the prologue and already made my friends I’ve asked for judgement from cry
All the main ghosts minus cap have already been sucked off and cap is the only one left and cap is sat talking to Alison opening up and in his own sort of way of coming out to her he talks about how if anyone had known in his time he’d have faced a similar fate to Turing and that that was a closer explanation to what would have happened than Oscar Wilde’s fate. He also references living longer than Turing but not quite as long as Wilde but having much less to show for his life.
I then have him broach the topic of reincarnation and soulmates by asking Alison if she believes in them upon her saying she’s more open minded since meeting the ghosts he explains the belief of reincarnation then soulmates and throws a bit of shade on people who think Romeo and Juliet were soulmates because soulmates and star crossed lovers are very different. And tells her if reincarnation exists they’ll find their way back to button house and that they’re all family.
He then reveals his name and as he’s being sucked off he tells her that they ‘shall meet again some sunny day’
While writing this I was listening to ‘empty chairs at empty tables’ from les mis as I felt that fit the vibe of both the Captain the lonely ghost and Alison as she looses her found family. I concerned my flatmate with the song until I explained and she said she’d been meaning to watch ghosts and that she loves a show with both gay characters and ghosts. Our group chat name was ‘be gay do crime’ but one is a mentor so we had change it.
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dilcetto · 4 months
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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 months
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Long Leaving
Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Lady Belle Fox/Dr. Jack Dawkins Rating: M Word Count: 1618
Summary: For Belle, studying the human body usually comes before intoxication, so this is new.
Once, Belle and Fanny hosted a tea party for their porcelain dolls. It was hardly Belle’s idea, but a necessary concession after her game of diagnosing those same dolls with dreadful diseases was not a success.
“Oh dear,” Belle trilled. “I fear Miss Abigail is afflicted with cirrhosis of the liver.”
“She is not,” Fanny protested, her skirts rustling against the carpet as she scooted closer in a protective fashion, frantically petting the patient’s chestnut hair.
“She is too. I don’t at all like her colour.”
Fanny’s chin wobbled.
“It’s called ‘jaundice,’” Belle offered helpfully, prepared to magnanimously distribute her medical knowledge. “J-A-U—”
It was then that Fanny released an ungodly wail and attempted to stumble to her feet, doubtlessly bound for their mother. Belle grabbed at her, shushed her, and made her negotiation: she would engage in Fanny’s preferred game of tea party for a full twenty minutes.
“Twenty-five,” Fanny sniffled wetly.
Belle rolled her eyes but patted her sister’s shoulder, surrendering. Fanny recovered rapidly, dropping happily to the floor so that her dress puffed like a round loaf of bread and gathering the dolls Belle had placed in quarantine (cholera) back into the center of their play space.
Belle hesitated.
Fanny usually went to Mother to request the tea, which would be delivered by a maid once cool. If Belle went to her for the favour of tea-party libations, she would raise Mother’s suspicions in an instant, never mind that she did not have the patience to wait for the tea to cool. They could make-believe the tea, but goodness, Belle needed some measure of realism. She pinched her chin in thought, then brightened.
“Just a moment,” she told her sister, striding from the room. She had spotted a bottle containing a liquid of strikingly tea-like hue only yesterday evening sitting atop Father’s desk.
And that was how, sipping from doll-sized China cups painted with pale violets, Belle got herself and her five-year-old sister tumble-down drunk on cognac.
This, now, exceeds that, then.
Lightheaded, overwarm, and unbalanced, Belle may be seriously intoxicated. Which is silly, she thinks, hand slipping between Jack’s vest and his shirt, so silly, when she had no more than a swallow from his tankard. The rest comes from the taste of his tongue. She steps on his boot trying to get her foot back into her slipper without severing the kiss and he huffs a laugh across her lips.
“How did you get here?” he inquires, sweeping loose curls behind her ear.
“Carriage,” Belle exhales, and grips Jack’s chin, tilting it to bring his mouth back to hers.
He lets her kiss him, clearly amused, but when her fingers part the front of his shirt and stroke a sliver of his chest, he drags her nearer by her cloak and clutches at her waist.
“You’re not wearing a—” he mumbles against her lips.
“Corset,” she finishes. “No.”
And it isn’t the first time, because there was the time in her father’s office—Jack eating soup, Belle at the bookcase—and of course, the time he examined her in her bedroom, cold stethoscope trailing under her camisole. But he wasn’t touching her like this then. He hasn’t touched her like this ever, like he needs her, like there are things that he wants to take for his own and not all of them are ruby necklaces.
She can feel the heat of his hand through her shift, feel it twitch higher. She can feel the stiffness in his trousers and see his throat bob when she adds in explanation, “I came straight here from my bedroom.” Her eyes dart between his.
“And it’s probably best,” Jack says slowly, angling her away, “that we get you back there.”
His nod is loose and heavy and she wants to shake his head from side to side instead. But she has him pressed against a wall on a street corner peered into by warm-lighted tavern windows, and Jack is drunk, and Belle is dressed for bed.
“That we get me back there so…?” she tries.
“So you can sleep.”
“Sleep.”
“Sleep,” he confirms.
Belle steps back, sliding her hands down his forearms.
“The only problem is,” she says, “I don’t have a carriage now.”
“Ah. Well… we’ll walk?” Jack glances down at her feet before raising skeptical eyes to hers. She lifts her chin defensively.
“I’m perfectly capable.”
“Good,” he says, pushing off from the wall and reaching for her shoulder as he staggers, “because you might have to keep me on my feet as well. Let’s go.”
Jack raises the hood on her cloak before they depart, looking awkward as he reasons that she won’t want to be seen with him, more awkward after she vehemently argues that she isn’t ashamed to be seen with him and he has to clarify that, walking the streets with a disheveled man after dark, she could be taken for a different kind of woman. Belle’s cheeks feel solar, but not from the modesty he probably assumes as they leave the corner. She’s imagining she is that other self who Jack describes, accompanying him on a walk they would both acknowledge at the outset leads to her bed. She peeks around her hood at him and his gaze, already on her, melts into hers.
They cut through untamed copses and the loops of Jack’s undone scarf catch in a tree. They wade through lush lowlands, Belle’s slippers in her hands, and the long grasses brush against them like water. For a stretch, they don’t speak, and the birds of late evening make their wild calls.
Though her feet are tired and dirty, the sight of her family’s estate is a disappointment. Jack and Belle pause in the shadows at the edge of the property. Standing at her side with his hands in his pockets, he drops his head onto his shoulder and looks at her with eyebrows raised. He’s still a bit drunk.
“Big house,” he observes.
“Estate.”
“Who d’you think lives here?” He’s teasing her, but Belle feels the tug of a wry smile on her face.
“Oh, no one very interesting.”
Jack frowns.
“Don’t say that. You could be the future sister-in-law of the esteemed Dr. Sneed.”
Belle gasps and gives his arm a shove.
“The spinster sister-in-law of Dr. Sneed if you behave like that!” he amends.
“You would have me with behaviour worse than this,” she counters.
They hold each other’s eyes in the dim dark blue, language brought up short as they realize what’s been said. They won’t speak of this conversation the next time they meet. Jack gives her a small smile and Belle’s heart thumps endlessly, endlessly.
They creep for the house—estate—like, well, thieves in the night. His hand is snug around hers until she lets him go ahead of her up the stairs he’s scaled before. He opens the glass door for her with a gallant incline of his head and she steps through into her bedroom where no candles burn without her. The space is flocked with darkness and suddenly Jack is very close, and they are very much alone. It’s different from being alone outside, with witnesses or possible ones. Here are her books, her beakers, her bed. Here is Jack’s throat that she traced with her fingertips. Here is his hair falling down on his forehead, begging for her to brush it back. Belle swallows. Her hands go to the ribbon fastening her cloak.
“Please don’t.” Even Jack’s whisper is loud when they haven’t spoken. Not in words. His hand covers hers.
“Tell me why not,” Belle demands, just as soft.
His gaze descends to her hand on the ribbon, lower, up to her face. His expression opens like a sunrise, inevitable and warm, utter helplessness in his eyes.
“Because I won’t be able to leave.”
He wants her mercy, but with Jack’s confession, Belle moves into him, cupping his cheek and resting hers on his chest, eyes shut. She can smell the tavern on him, but also the night. How would he smell out of these clothes? If too much desperation can be tender, this is—she can feel his tension even as he holds her to him in return.
“Leave,” she murmurs into his shirt.
“Glad to,” he lies.
His fingers skim up the back of her neck. Goosebumps. She shudders in his arms and for a second, a second, she reads in his body the instinct to jerk her towards him. It’s the deep breath he takes that promises sudden action, but he releases it and they shift apart.
Jack swaggers backwards with his hands in his pockets, wearing a pleased smirk until he collides with her desk. She winces as much at the noise of her equipment rattling as at the way he reaches back to rub his buttocks.
He frowns down at the surface of the offending desk and taps the drawing Belle has yet to relocate. The one with the… trees.
“That,” he announces authoritatively, tapping the page again for emphasis, “is a member.”
Well, yes, Belle would agree. I don’t only read the medical texts; I look at the pictures, just like you.
But Jack’s final pronouncement seems meant to be unreturnable as he makes his stately exit. A flourish of his hand, nearly nimble on his feet until he catches one on the threshold and trips out the door. Belle waits a moment to perform a self-assessment. Yes, the urge to mash her mouth against his until her lungs are empty of oxygen is still there. Hopeless. She rushes forward to bring him back inside. He can sleep in her chair and leave at first light.
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little-cereal-draws · 3 months
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Ok but the way ghosts writes multilayered/conflicting romantic relationships,,,,,,
Fanny hates George. He never gave her what she needed in life. Every time she brings him up, it’s to vent about him. He killed her and had no issue covering it up and living without her. She has to relive this brutal betrayal every day. But she stops Alison from throwing his portrait away. She doesn’t like to look at it but can’t bear the thought of not having it. She uses it to remember him and their life together. She still thinks she needs him even though he never needed her.
Pat adores Carol. Or he did until he found out she had been cheating on him with his best friend for most of their marriage. He was furious. Memories of his family were all he had left and she took that from him too. He screams at Alison to send her away, that he never wants to see her ever again, to kill her. But every time he recounts a memory of her he can’t help but smile. He gets a far-off dreamy look like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again. If you asked, he would probably say that despite everything, she’s one of the best things that ever happened to him.
Humphrey wanted to love Sophie, he really did. She spent over twenty years hating him and he tried to content himself with that. They didn’t share a bedroom, couldn’t have a conversation, and weren’t even able to make it through a single meal without someone storming out. But she cared enough to put an immediate and decisive end to any unkind whispers behind his back. He cared enough to sacrifice his own life so she could live. And even though any nice comment they made to each other was laced with passive aggression, several hundred years later he still thinks of her fondly and mourns what could’ve been.
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adragonprinceswhore · 4 months
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Girlfriend: Let’s try some dirty talk
Michael Gavey:
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surqrised · 1 year
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I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.
Fannie Flagg
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extra-ordinary-wizard · 6 months
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molly gibson is not fanny price. i get the idea of it, i really do. i can see why one would think this, i think there is complete validity in saying that one reminds you of the other, because they are comparable. i like and relate to both characters, but for very different reasons. because they are very different people.
yes, they both read on a surface level as compassionate, observant, people-pleasers. yes, they are placed in similar situations (provincial girl sent to stay with the landed gentry to exemplify the virtues of her humble homeliness) and follow similar romance plots (teenage girl is unknowingly in love with a man who loves another, and she is forced to suffer in silence until said man has a revelation and realizes he loves the girl—now a woman—in the last chapter so she can have her virtue reward marriage). but they develop these characteristics and interact with these plots in fundamentally different ways!
fanny price is defined by her complaisance. she genuinely cares for people and wants to do right by them, and feels a deep anxiety for the well-being of those around her, but she retreats into passiveness and blind obedience, even when she is clearly being wronged, because she is so afraid of conflict and negative emotions being directed at her that she purposefully makes herself as small as possible. she people-pleases by being the quiet presence in the corner that is perfectly agreeable at all times, and her virtue comes from everything she does not do. she is morally good because she does not participate in the play, she is steadfast and loyal because she does not allow henry crawford to marry her.
molly gibson feels the same baseline instinct to love and be loved that fanny does, but she does not begin with that same inherent selflessness and desire for invisibility. molly’s defining trait is her emotional depth, she feels things, and she feels them deeply. while fanny already knows how to compartmentalize her feelings and set them aside, molly does not, her emotions and words can’t help but be shown plainly and loudly. this is why she does things like cry dramatically when she learns of her father’s second engagement. she has to be explicitly instructed to think of others and set her feelings aside, and she spends the entire novel learning to do so. she grows in her altruism by doing things, whether it is picking blackberries (a food she hates) because she knows cynthia likes them, or delivering the £20 to mr preston, even though it temporarily ruins her reputation.
by the novel’s end, molly has developed almost complete selflessness, and when she has her bout of illness after osborne’s death, i would venture to say that she reaches the same levels of others>self as fanny. but fanny never needs to grow in her altruism. it is her altruism that drives other characters to grow. molly, on the other hand, has a story that revolves entirely around her growth. fanny is selfless. molly learns to be selfless.
molly’s goodness is defined by what she does, not what she abstains from. fanny’s virtue is knowing when to step back and stay quiet, molly’s is in knowing when to speak up and take action. both are valuable, both are good people. but they are good in different ways and through different means, even if they ultimately have the same ending.
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orcelito · 10 months
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i've seen ppl talking about Meryl & how little we know about her family, but the geo-plant arc of trigun chapters 10-12 gives us some really useful pieces of info, i think
first, we see her thinking of herself as Cold Blooded, just like the dude that wanted Badwick to kill his own parents
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[ID: Meryl stands with her gun drawn and a troubled expression on her face as she thinks to herself, "Exactly as you described him... the cold-blooded type..." In the next panel, she closes her eyes and wonders, "Am I really... any different?" End ID]
at the start of this arc, Milly wrote one of her massive letters to her family, while Meryl mentioned not knowing what she would write to hers. then we see Milly get PISSED at Badwick after she learns he threatened his parents at gunpoint, which leads to this page:
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[ID: Meryl, held back by Milly, tells her, "Milly... I envy you... My father would have wanted me to get justifiably angry at a person who points a gun at his parents. That is an important thing." She flashes back to the moment in the chapter before where Milly is attempting to punch the son, Badwick. Milly calls in concern, "Ma'am?" Meryl continues, "But I... I just stood there and took it all in without even budging. I am such a cold person. I chose this path of blood and tears without thinking about the rest of my life. All I can see is what is right in front of me." The page shows the face of the father, dressed in basic battle gear, who is watching silently. Now in tears, Meryl laments, "Why could I not see... that when I closed myself off to him, something was wrong? I..." In the last panel, Milly stares down at Meryl in surprise as Meryl slaps her own cheeks and exclaims, "No... Nevermind!" End ID]
this entire situation is obviously striking something in Meryl's heart. some kind of insecurity she has about her distant relationship with her own parents. she shakes herself out of it, determined to not fall into a funk, and then jumps into defense of the land.
after the battle's over & the father's fallen to his ass, we see these pages:
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[ID: In the first page, the father, off screen, tells Meryl and Milly, "There are no words to express how thankful I am for your help." Meryl replies with a smile, "Ah. There's no need." The father goes on to tell her, "Ms. Meryl... I know it was rude of me, but I overheard your conversation earlier. Having raised that rebellious son, I don't know if I have the right thing to say, but... All people are different, but the bonds between parents and children are inseparable. It is a great burden, but also the most precious thing in the world..." In the second page, the father concludes, "... Choose your own path, and walk it with confidence. All of life... is connected. You must live your own life, and your parents will love through you." As he speaks, we see Meryl listening to him with a surprised expression. End ID]
this entire arc feels like a metaphor for Meryl's own situation. after these pages, we see Badwick turning in the deed, then finding out that his parents were entrusting the property to him after all. he's the problem son, someone who separated himself from his parents due to his disagreements with them (likely stemming from his dead younger brother). yet at the end of the day, his parents still love him and entrusted their life's work to him.
Meryl sees all this go down, hears these words, and it touches something in her heart. so we see her go from talking about writing to her family like this in chapter 10:
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[ID: A single panel of Meryl with her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. She tells Milly, "That would be the normal thing to do... especially when I've been away from home for so long. But I don't know what to write beyond 'it's dry'..." End ID]
to this bit at the end of chapter 12:
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[ID: Meryl approaches a mailbox with luggage in hand. She slips a letter inside, then sighs with a smile. Milly yells, "Maa'aam! What are you doing?! We're already late!" To which Meryl replies, "Ok! Ok! Ok! I'm coming!" End ID]
the experience was enough for her to accept that she might not be the closest with her parents (or just father? considering she only ever mentions a father in this all), but it's still worth reaching out even if she doesn't have much to say.
this arc is the most we see about Meryl's backstory in the manga, but I think we can draw a few things from it. we have a definite mention of a father, but no others. no mention of siblings or any other family members. she's distant from her father, too busy following her heart & goals, but she doesn't have a bad relationship with him. just Distant. she feels disconnected from him, even Cold, for her focus on her work & the practicalities in front of her. but even with that disconnect, she still cares enough about him to feel guilty when she realizes she's been doing this.
and then considering later, when we see the flashback of a man giving her the gun... i'd assumed that was possibly a senior at her work (probably tristamp giving me that perception, from Roberto), but keeping all the rest of this in mind... it really could have been her father.
i went looking to try to find that part. did not find that one exactly, but i DID find this one from trimax chapter 34:
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[ID: A nearly bald man with a kind face and what appear to be shooting ear muffs around his neck tells Meryl, "Consider guns delicate. Women, most of all, should make use of them. One shot will level the playing field between you and a big, strong man." End ID]
if this is indeed her father, it would explain why she knows how to shoot like she does. perhaps her father taught her as she was growing up out of the wish to help her protect herself. maybe they weren't incredibly close, but he still clearly cared about her & wanted what was best for her and her safety. the kind of father that's content to let her do whatever her heart wishes, since her happiness is his happiness.
and then chapter 12 ends with this page:
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[ID: A black framed page with a single panel at the center. The panel shows Meryl from behind, running with her luggage in hand. The text boxes to the sides state, "All of life is connected by a river... And the beginning of the river... is now." End ID]
she continues on her own path, not looking back, but she is still connected to the ones in her heart... including her father.
(Manga panels referenced from @trigun-manga-overhaul !)
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perfectquote · 2 years
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I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.
Fannie Flagg
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