I think, in a lot of ways, Monika and Sayori are reflections of each other.
Really, I think all of the girls are similar in a lot of their issues (self-esteem, anxiety, etc) and that's something emphasized in a lot of the stories, and a big part of why they all gravitate towards each other and work to create the club as a safe space for all of them, but I think Monika and Sayori in particular are just very much alike.
I think Trust really emphasized this similarity in the reveal of Sayori's poem, Become the Flower.
Prior to shifting focus onto the poem, Monika talks to herself about her real vision for the Literature Club. I think here, Monika points out what Sayori actually meant when she said that Monika was "trying to make the club [she] needs the most, out of anyone", even if she doesn't actually realize that yet. It's pretty clear that when she says that literature is a window to the real self underneath the person who's "forced to always smile and blend in", and is "forced to be perfect", she's really talking about herself.
I think that a lot of Monika's character throughout Trust is expressed more subtly, often in a roundabout way like this. A huge part of the story is centered around Monika's own personal struggles expressing herself, and that trait is pretty well exemplified in this indirect way of talking about her own struggles. I think that the reason why Monika's characterization here is so subtle overall is reflective of this.
And I think it's pretty blatant that this is statement is also meant to be reflective of Sayori, given that we immediately move from this statement onto the poem which reveals to Monika that she's been hiding her own problems. In this way, I think Team Salvato wanted to explicitly point out how similar they really are, and draw your attention to it.
I think that the way that Trust as a story is put together is meant to really emphasize just how similar they are even in their differences; spending a great deal of time focusing on Monika's own problems, to then showcase Sayori as the mirror to them.
I think the two of them make a very interesting pair in that respect, because a big similarity they have is that they very much place others above themselves, so they both end up individually building each other up while they put themselves down. It creates this strange back and forth where they each insist they suck and the other is great, when the reality is that they're both pretty fantastic.
In the statement Monika made to herself about her vision of the club, while it's clear she's talking about herself, she frames it in the context of somebody else getting those benefits out of the Literature Club, rather than herself. Throughout the entirety of Trust, she speaks dismissively of her efforts and her problems alike, while pointing out that Sayori is providing a lot of help. Sayori by contrast spends most of her time hyping her up and points out, explicitly, that Monika doesn't give herself enough credit. She also dismisses her own efforts, pointing out in most things she does, up into the climax, that Monika is a lot better than her at whatever she's doing. And when Sayori's problems are actually revealed, she explicitly says that she doesn't want Monika to worry about her, and that she doesn't want to have this conversation.
I think this all really shows that both of them are averse to tackling their own problems head-on, and I think this comes out of a fear of being vulnerable, since that's directly mentioned several times in Monika's issues openly expressing herself.
I think what makes Monika's particular brand of self-negging quite so disheartening is that she dismisses it out of hand as her being silly and dramatic, and in that way, she doesn't actually address the fundamental problem underlying it, nor does she actually address the statements themselves as incorrect. The amount of time she spends talking down her own problems as something trivial and silly, particularly in comparison to Sayori's problems, are a manifestation of her own desire to avoid the vulnerability of even having these problems, and it's just...heartbreaking. Sayori's denial is its own can of worms, but Monika's ability to so consistently minimize her issues when they are clearly still impacting her is so uniquely troublesome.
I think a big difference between the two of them in that respect is that Monika wears significantly more of her heart on her sleeve, so Sayori finds it a lot easier to directly target Monika's problems than Monika does in the reverse, but their individual habits of avoidance are coming from the same place.
I'm traveling a bit aimlessly in this essay, trying to tie things together nicely as I see them, but there are just a lot of similarities I notice between their actions and the way they think that showcase that they have a lot of the same problems, and a huge theme in Trust is expressing oneself, which both Monika and Sayori struggle to do, in much the same way.
I think a key similarity between the two of them is their tendency to catastrophize over a situation when left alone, mostly revolving around seeing the worst possible scenario for how they could've personally messed up the situation. I'm just rewatching Trust for this little essay, so there are two major moments I see Monika doing this, but I remember Sayori doing this...a few times, actually, throughout the side stories.
I think the spiral Monika goes into after reading Become the Flower is particularly important, as it exemplifies the habit of dismissing her own problems fantastically; in this case, she has an excuse. It's true that Monika's issues with her perfectionism seem silly and trivial in comparison to Sayori's, but that's exactly the thing: She shouldn't be comparing them in the first place! Her problems are real, and they clearly cause her distress, but because Sayori's own issues appear so much more serious than hers, she dismisses them wholesale as her being dramatic and silly. Because Monika's problems seem so small, she doesn't see them for the problems they really are. In the same way, because her own accomplishments and work seem so small, she doesn't see them for the accomplishments they are.
This spiral showcases Monika's biggest problem, the reason why she has such trouble expressing herself, and conversely, the exact same problem Sayori has. She doesn't want to be the center of attention.
Put another way, she doesn't think she deserves to be the center of attention. Her problems are so trivial; her accomplishments menial. Her fear of vulnerability isn't a fear that others will hurt her; it's a fear of being selfish.
Sayori is very similar, in that the reason she actively works to avoid showing any possible sign that anything is wrong is because she doesn't want anyone to worry about her. She doesn't want other people to dedicate time and energy to her.
I think that for both of them, this comes from low self-esteem. Sayori is self-explanatory I think, but I'd say Monika's perfectionism makes it exceptionally difficult for her to really feel accomplished in anything she does, which, coupled with her constant preoccupation with how she appears to other people (I think Monika places very high expectations on herself. I mean, Trust literally starts with her frantically apologizing and saying "I normally don't ever do this!" when Sayori finds her napping) makes it very difficult for her to feel confident in herself.
The fear both Sayori and Monika have in being vulnerable isn't that people will use that vulnerability to hurt them.
It's that people will try to help them.
And I think that's a really big part of why Sayori feels like she can trust Monika with her darkest thoughts, because she understands that they're the same in a lot of ways.
Monika created the club which she needed the most...and it was also the club Sayori needed the most, for the exact same reason.
I think it's kinda easy to overlook a lot of this because of the sheer amount of focus placed onto Sayori and the more explicit issue Monika has (insofar as the plot is concerned), but I think Sayori is exactly what Monika needs just as much as Monika is what Sayori needs.
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@infernalpursuit inquired: does your muse believe in an afterlife?
(( As with all things with Miranda: it's complicated.
The religion that Miranda has the most contact with and could most be considered as being brought up within is the religion attached to the Crown, the one that Amanda's currently the head of. This isn't to say it was a particularly strict connection. Even the other members of the Royal Family aren't necessarily too fussed about believing strictly in the religion (save except Amanda herself), and mostly care about presenting the image that they do, less than self-enforcing it among themselves and within themselves. If Miranda said and did the right things when it mattered, then what was behind closed doors didn't, since the political connection is far more important and far more vital to what they do. Miranda was walked through all the ritual parts of what she was expected to do, was given all the things that she was expected so say, and so long as she upheld both of these and followed along for major holidays and interactions, she was allowed a fairly long leash when it came to religion.
Of course, this also included tutelage under Amanda herself, with a certain degree of religious schooling by Amanda being necessary to Miranda's title as Crown Princess, but also in other classes and studies as well, since there was a lot of information that needs to be passed down to the future ruler.
Which is... where things get complicated.
The crown's religion is mostly animist, like a lot of other merfolk religions, and centers on the Sleep and the Wake, with the mortal world being in the middle of the gradient between the two, as the Sleep filters up to the surface and the Wake filters down to the seafloor. They believe that merfolk have souls, yes, but so does everything else, not just alive, but also inanimate objects and places and phenomena. They also believe that souls are plural in the first place, giving away pieces of themselves and picking up pieces of other souls, constantly changing, and that the lines between souls are blurry.
When a merfolk dies, they believe that the soul will reincarnate into another body or bodies, and there are gods devoted to ensuring that the correct soul finds the correct next body where it will be needed. Other gods are devoted to messing up this process and switching up where the soul will go, to ensure it ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other gods will protect the soul as it lingers in the mortal realm, waiting to take on the next body or just observing the living, and other gods yet will help lead the soul down to the Sleep, where they return to being the raw material of creation and become something different entirely. Or, souls might wander down into the Sleep, but then later wander back up to the realm of the living, without taking on a new life. There's considered to be a lot of souls who remain in the uppermost layers of the sleep, living in cities and towns that are strange reflections of the living world, where one of the living might accidentally wander themselves and not realize that all of the people around them are dead.
The most common interpretation of all of this, and the one held mostly by the more commonfolk of the Merkingdom, is that care should then be taken to help guide the soul into their next body or where they need to go as much as possible. There's a lot of ritual involved around deaths, including examples of funerary cannibalism, to ensure the soul takes care of the people they loved in life or that they become a form that would be helpful to the people they loved.
The royals usually take a more indirect approach, however. They will still invoke the gods and write their symbols and have complicated funerary rites dedicated to capturing certain gods' attention, but enforcing where it goes is less important to them. Considering one of the gods which leads the peaceful dead to the next body and life that needs them most is a mythologized, godly counterpart to the Royal Family's very real ancestor, you can imagine why their living counterparts would feel fairly assured in what is happening to the soul after death. Even moreso when the dead Vanderbilts are then interred in the Royal Catacombs, where their last resting place becomes an altar and a dedicated space to this god, where converts can go to worship.
For Miranda, it's this last part that's the biggest stickler in her mind. Seldom outside of proper events does Amanda allow her down into the Royal Catacombs, and especially not to see the tomb of the Former Queen — since the entire area is considered to be under her purview, and it's something Amanda can hold over Miranda, poking and prodding at her and making her behave as she wants if Miranda wants to go see their mom for herself.
Which, really, the heart of this problem is Amanda. Miranda... tries not to think about religion because of her specifically, and especially doesn't like to think about what would happen to her after death, or what happened to her mom, or even what's happened to all of her ancestors. Would they be angry at her? Hate her? Think she's squandering all the gifts she was given, gifts which said she would have been a perfect ruler, a perfect Vanderbilt, a perfect Cees'rril'ta, if only she actually did what she was told? Amanda tells her they would be. Amanda drives the message home that Miranda's not worthy of seeing their mother, that she's done something insulting to her memory, that that's why their mother would have nothing to do with Miranda from beyond the grave. And it's not like Miranda can openly challenge this, she's no expert and Amanda is supposed to be one, and how would she even know if there's been any influence of their mother hanging around and trying to help her?
And even worse: what will happen to Miranda, after she's dead? Miranda's seen the tomb where she's supposed to go after she's dead, and the thought of people coming by to leave prayer charms around the door and begging her bones for kindness is... a lot. It's a lot in a bad way, and Miranda doesn't want people to see her like that, all her bones laid out on display and vulnerable and dead, and for them all to come by, them all to claim some ownership over her body... Does she even have a soul, really? What if she doesn't? What if she fucked up, what if she doesn't actually have a soul, that she's all dead and wrong inside and not even really a person? Or what if she does? What if she has to come back? What if she has to do this a second time? What if there really isn't any escape? What if she has to look at all the people who come to worship her bones and who look at her and see her as her final form, a holy relic, a priceless object forever owned by the Merkingdom, with nothing ever able to change that?
The thoughts get worse from there, especially regarding Bellanda and the entire genre of terrifying thoughts that involve her and death.
So Miranda just... doesn't think about religion. She wouldn't say she doesn't believe, no, because that would still require a degree of thought devoted to that conviction. Instead Miranda just snips the thought out of her head entirely, removes religion from her thought process and her mind, never speaks on the issue unless it's a part of her duties and she has to, and then all she has to do is parrot what she's supposed to.
But there's still a degree of worship there, too. Not in an actively-thinking-about-it way, just... Just in the fact that Miranda still tries to make prayer charms to attach to the former Queen's tomb every time she attempts to sneak down there. She still holds on tight to the single charm she was allowed to have as a pup from her funeral. She still goes to the altars and does the brief prayers when something especially bad is on her mind, and to Miranda, she just lets it come automatically, without thought. It's easier if she doesn't think about it. If she doesn't try. If she just hopes and wants and tries to get some good luck anyhow, please, and only feels these in her chest, and never thinks about them at all.
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straight up getting emotional about a thing that happened in a campaign that ended over a year ago
like. i wrote an ambiguous and biased backstory of a character who is part of an apocalyptic world-ending cult, who deep down wanted to study wizardry but had to frame it as going undercover as an apprentice and stealing secrets from this doddering old archmage to aid her people’s cause . and then she goes and learns wizardry and eventually realizes she wants more for herself and breaks from her cult
and i mean. there’s a lot of ways my dm could have run with that. i was fully expecting that archmage to be furious at my character for lying to and stealing from him. and so when they ran into each other again, i was braced for a fight, or at least an altercation
but instead the archmage went. i knew all along. of course i knew. i’m a divination wizard, silly. i saw a young woman in a bad place and i wanted to help her. i thought that by showing her kindness and creating an environment for her that wasn’t all about power struggles and nihilistic fanaticism that she might realize that there was more out there in the world for her. that she deserved more. you didn’t steal secrets from me, because i gave them to you. i was your teacher. i loved you and love you still
and god i didn’t know where that character was going to end up before then. i thought maybe she could go on a typical wizard hubris spiral, or a revenge quest against her old cult, but in that moment i was like. oh. she is loved. she has new friends, new family. she has a reason to change, a reason to care. her story is just about love, and about making people’s lives better
her alignment shifted from neutral to neutral good soon after. she never stopped being curious, sometimes to the point of foolishness, but she never squandered her teacher’s gift. she left the world better than she found it
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friends! guidance please?
my daisy jones spiral and @actuallylukedanes being generally awesome has reminded me how much i miss writing songs, and how much i used to want to learn to play guitar--and my best friend suggested a guitar could be my birthday gift this year. (i'm not used to asking for 'frivolous' or dreamy gifts any more, so it's become a really nice idea.)
november is still a long way off, but there seem to be a lot of used guitars floating around that i'll be able to choose from when it's time. i don't think i need anything fancy or special since i'll be such a beginner, just something acoustic that's cheap and also pretty if possible (they come in colors! i love that).
but i've realized that when it comes to buying from someone local, a method that worked really well for me the last time i needed furniture...i have no idea if there's anything i should know or look for when it's a guitar. because i don't yet play guitar! is there some way for me to know i'm buying one that works?
this feels like a dumb or obvious question, but since the choosing/arranging will be up to me, i don't want to be the reason my family buys me a birthday gift that turns out to be, like, broken or something. i'm not always the most possessing of what could be considered common sense. so, for those who might know: is it really obvious when a guitar is broken, off, nonfuctional? do i need to worry?
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