#and i hope vanoé kiss. the end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neversetyoufree · 3 years

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I read the vanitas manga it's feels like queer bait to me, so many straight kisses but no gay ones? Vanitas & noe dancing is just more bait, Luna is a genderless vampire (non human) and that's it, everything else is bait just like the creator's last work

I've seen other blogs getting similar asks, so to be honest, I suspect that this isn't being sent in good faith. However, on the off-chance that this is a genuine question, or that anyone reading this has similar concerns, I'll try my best to answer this properly.

1. VnC is still a work in progress. Literally anything could happen before the ending, including canon queer people, and given the subtext we've seen so far, there's a part of me that's hopeful for it. If there were ever a shonen manga with a chance to give us legitimate rep among major characters, I feel this could be the one. I'm not going to say that just because a series so far hasn't had any explicit queer relationships, it never will.

I mean hell, just look at the show Hannibal. It's a gay love story, but the main characters spend the first season and a half getting romantically involved with a woman. One of them even gets straight married. These things happen, y'know? And even if we never see a kiss or anything, that doesn't mean something can't still be rep in a meaningful way.

2. As I've said before, even if we never do get more explicit representation than we have right now, this series will still be a very welcoming one to queer people in a way that I think is important. There is a lot of casual, subtle homophobia in the world of fiction, and VnC has had every opportunity to fall into those tropes, but it never does, and I think that's worth something in itself.

I think it’s valuable that we get to see a woman flirting with other women, and the joke isn’t “haha gay girls, that’s weird.” The only joke is how flustered the girls she flirts with get, because Domi is charming and forward. I think it’s valuable that we can see a couple of dudes dancing together, and nobody makes a thing out of it. There’s no commentary about how it looks gay. Neither guy is uncomfortable. They just. ballroom dance, and it’s fine. This may be hard to articulate well, but even if we never get Vanoé romance, and there’s nothing gay about that scene, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still feel queer. I think the more we get to see that kind of casual same sex intimacy, whether it ends up romantic or platonic, the more welcoming the world becomes to actual gay people, because it does a lot to normalize that kind of interaction. So while you may disagree, I think that scene has a lot of worth.

3. I don’t know where you’re from, anon, but personally, I am pretty uncomfortable accusing MochiJun of queerbaiting, because I come from a wildly different cultural context. I am a whole-ass American, and though there are some especially obvious cases that I’ve joked about in the past, I am not qualified to try and have an actual educated discussion about queerbaiting in Japanese media. I’m not educated enough about gay rights and culture there. I don’t know what actual Japanese queer people would and would not consider good rep. I don’t know what issues people there are concerned with.

Plus, like, queerbaiting is a marketing tactic more than anything else. The issue comes from when you try to lure in an audience by signaling that your work is queer, then double back on that promise. It is entirely possible, though rare, perhaps, for an author to write something full of goddamn subtext without fully intending to do that. For a famous example, just look at the original Sherlock Holmes (the books, not the BBC show). A lot of people have read queerness in Sherlock and his relationship with Watson over the years (and funnily enough, Noé and Vani were conceived of as a Holmes and Watson relationship), but I’m not about to accuse Arthur Conan Doyle of queerbaiting, y’know? I’m not convinced that Mochijun has ever tried to hook people in under a false promise/suggestion of rep, which is what the real issue would be.

So like, without a better knowledge of Japanese queer culture/representation and a closer understanding of Mochijun’s own intentions with this series, “bait” is not an accusation I feel either of us should be making, anon.

4. It’s been a while since I last read the series, so perhaps I’m forgetting something, but I am legitimately racking my brain trying to figure out what in Pandora Hearts you’d consider queerbait, and I am coming up empty. The series doesn’t really have any representation in it, but it never tried to suggest that that wouldn’t be the case, and I cannot remember anything that ever toed the line of getting gay. If you’d like to tell me what exactly you mean when you say “just like the creator’s last work,” please feel free, because I am genuinely rather confused.

And if this was, in fact, a bad-faith ask rather than someone legitimately concerned or confused, then it is at this point I’d like to ask you to politely fuck off and please stop messaging people. As I said, I’ve seen at least one other person get a very similar message to this, which makes me suspect that you, anon, might be the same asker, which is honestly quite sad. Do you genuinely have nothing better to do with your time than try to make random strangers on the internet feel bad about the things they like? Is making ill-informed accusations of queerbaiting fun for you? Get a hobby bud.

#ask #anon #vnc #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #this blog is less than a week old #and i've already got my first weird anon!#what fun this is #meta #the gay agenda #long post

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powwidge · 5 years

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I’m basically uploading this so that @exicio suffers but no one else will understand this but basically this is vanoé from my harry potter au. read at the risk of not understanding it at all. (also look at the tags because of trigger warnings first.)

the song is ‘show me love’ by robin schulz :D

There's a notebook on the table

You can take it to the store

So you won't forget the groceries anymore

The first time Noé had met her, the girl had still looked like a boy. She had worn red chucks which were soon going to be covered in blood, a pair of jeans, a black pullover and her hair, oh, her hair had been the worst Noé had ever seen. Messy, not combed, probably not even washed.

But nevertheless, he had been so happy and so relieved that he wasn't going to be alone for the coming seven years.

Or so he had thought.

Her name was Vanitas and instead of sitting down next to him, she had moved to the end of the table, not wanting to talk to anyone.

Noé had hated her, he really had. She had been strange. Distant and cold, oh so cold.

He had longed for his best friend to just be there for him. But it had been his friend who had screamed. His friend who had died.

His friend whose blood had colored Vanitas' red chucks even darker.

He had died, just like that.

And from then on, the only person at his side had been Vanitas.

The only person who had hugged him after Louis died had been her.

The only girl making him able to feel love again, after his first love had been killed by his own father – that had been her, too.

There's a rifle in the cabinet

That I used to fight a war

But to this day I don't know what I was fighting for

Been fighting for

The first time he had seen a part of the real her was when she wasn't able to cast a simple spell. She had cried, cried and screamed her lungs out because she was afraid of getting beaten up again, like her father had always done.

It had hurt Noé to see her like this, even though he still didn't like her. She had looked broken and lost. But it finally made sense that she was always so distant, that she didn't allow anyone to touch her.

Because the only touches she had ever known were harsh and cold and hateful.

Noé hadn't known better than to put his hands to her shoulders to show her that not everyone would touch her in the way her father had. He had wanted to show her that touches could be gentle and calming and in the end, she had accepted his hands on her shoulders.

The second time he had seen a part of the real her was when she was sitting in a corner of their room, crying again, screaming again, looking so broken and thin that Noé had been afraid to hurt her. But his heart had won over his fear and he had walked over to her to pull her towards him. Slowly of course, so that she could back away if she wanted to.

But she had allowed him to hug her, to hold her in his arms, she had been warm. Her trembling shoulder against his chest had been warm, her head on his shoulder had been warm, her hands had been warm on his back, even when her nails dug slightly into her skin.

She had told him repeatedly that she was ok, but of course he had not believed him.

How was he supposed to believe such a thing when she was shivering in his arms?

Will you

Show me love as we get older

And I'm falling at your feet

After 30 years of service

And one to fit our need

Show me love as we grow colder

Let our love provide the heat

That our older bones are missing

But our hearts will never need

The moment Noé should have realized that he was in love with her was when they had stood below the mistletoe shortly before Christmas.

He had stuttered excuses to not have to kiss her, stuttered nonsense because his heart was racing so much that he thought he was going to die for a moment, racing so much at the simple thought of kissing her.

He had thought that it was because he was embarrassed that he had never kissed someone before; because he was disgusted at that thought.

But he hadn't. He had thought a lot about it later in that night, thought about how it would feel to kiss someone, to truly love someone.

He hadn't noticed the stirring in his heart at the image of Vanitas kissing someone else though, exactly as he hadn't noticed his flushing cheeks when Sharon, Break and Mikhail had started telling them to kiss because that was the tradition.

He should not realize what those feelings meant until quite some time later.

In the same year they had fought two dementors that had suddenly appeared on the school yard. Noé hadn't thought long about what his happiest memory was.

It was Vanitas. Vanitas who was chosen to be his roommate.

The moment he had met her had been incredible. He would only admit to himself later that back then he had already been in love with her.

His patronus had won in an instant. His memory of her, of her in those red chucks, of her with this messy, boyish hair had fought a darkness greater than the night.

There's a blanket on the sofa

That I use to keep you warm

When I find you fast asleep at half past four

The first time he had slept while holding her hand had been when she had gotten drunk. Drunk because of a heartbreak. Drunk because she had had seen her two best friends in the library.

She had quietly whispered to him that he should not let go of her hand, because her mother had always done that.

Noé had assumed that letting go of her hand while she was trying to sleep was some kind of traumatic memory for her. Maybe because her father had then gotten her for practicing spells and beating her up.

So he had stayed with her, the whole night, clinging to her hand himself, hoping that she wouldn't disappear like his parents had and like his best friend, his first love had.

Her hand had been incredibly warm, just like the strand of hair he had stroked out of her face when she had already fallen asleep.

He knew that she was a girl. A normal girl, like everyone else, with the exception that her body didn't match her mind.

In the morning he didn't remember that he had stroked the hair out of her face.

Noé had known that I was a bad idea to visit the mirror which showed your deepest desire.

But still, he wanted to know what his deepest desire was. If it could help him figure things out. But all it did was destroy him, when he saw Louis, standing next to him, holding his hand.

He did not admit to himself what this meant, though.

But when Vanitas had stood in front of the mirror, Noé knew exactly what she was seeing.

Herself. He was sure that she was simply seeing herself in the mirror, with softer skin and a higher voice.

Of course she had broken down, started crying and sobbing, because it broke her to see herself like she could have been, rather than how she ended up looking.

He had hugged her, again, pulled her close again, like in year two. She had been warm again.

She was always warm.

And maybe, maybe she was as warm as Louis, even if Noé didn't understand why.

There's a record we keep turning

That reminds us of our youth

But there's still nothing as beautiful as you

The next time he hugged her, he hated it. He hated everything about the situation with his guts because she didn't deserve it.

She didn't deserve to be mocked for who she was. She didn't deserve to be kicked and hit for who she was.

She had screamed so loudly, that, for a moment, he had thought that he would go deaf. It had sounded so desperate, her whole body was screaming to just escape its prison, to leave this world, her whole mind was screaming to finally find the one she had been looking for all the time – herself.

He had held her closely, carried her to their room to calm her down, to not lose her too. Deep inside of him he knew that she would be gone too soon if he hadn't helped her.

The only thing that had really, truly calmed her down was him openly saying that he knew that she was a girl and that he was ok with that.

The only thing that saved her was her saying it to herself.

That she had always been a girl.

And from that point on, their relationship had changed into something closer, something more intimate – into something which allowed Noé to kiss her cheeks when she had stood in front of him, in a skirt and a little bit of make-up, for the very first time.

She had been so beautiful and he had simply not known how to handle his emotions, so this was everything he was able to do. Kissing her. If not on the mouth, then on the cheeks. All day long he had protected her, told everyone to leave her alone when there were stupid comments, patted her back when she was close to crying once again because people were either amazed at how proud she was or they were assholes about it.

Noé himself was amazed by this. He didn't know how she felt. Of course not. Vanitas never talked about her feelings and overall, he himself was not in a wrong body, so he would never know this feeling.

But he knew that this was brave.

Probably the bravest thing anyone could ever do.

(As we grow colder

Love provide the heat

Older bones are missing

Hearts will never need)

The first time he had slept in one bed with Vanitas for a whole night had been when Domi had disappeared for days.

She had told him to sleep because he barely had slept. She had forced him to lay down and had cuddled up to him to keep him there, so that he wouldn't try to stand up and look for her again.

Noé had been sure that he would wake up to everyone crying because she was dead, so he obviously didn't want to sleep. It had hurt. Everything inside of him had hurt, but Vanitas had been there for him, holding him until he managed to close his eyes, holding him until he started to fall asleep for some minutes at least.

He still remembered how he had been clutching onto her hand and her shoulder, how he had breathed into her neck, to smell her because it calmed him down.

Because Vanitas was the only person able to keep him sane in those nights.

Noé hadn't understood why it had hurt so much when Vanitas had admitted that she was in love again.

His whole heart had seemed to be bursting, his whole body felt as if it was burning, slowly breaking away below the weight of that information.

He hadn't known why.

All she had done was cry and cry and cry and clutch onto his hand, almost as if it was him. Noé didn't know why he was hoping that it would be him. Maybe because otherwise she would forget him? Not care about him anymore? If only he knew what this pain was about, what all this sorrow was about.

She had added that it was possible that he liked her back – that the boy she was in love with liked her back and Noé had just gulped it down, gulped down the pain and acted as if he was happy for her, as if he would help her.

And he really wanted to help her, but everything about the thought hurt more than he would ever admit.

Because your hand

Belongs in my hand

Belongs in your hand

Belongs with...

With me!

Once again she had broken down right before him, screaming something that he hadn't heard because other people had started screaming at the same time too. If he had only known that it was a 'because I'm in love with you', they would have had one more year, but he hadn't.

He hadn't because everyone at the ball had screamed in agony, looking at the two corpses in the hall, laying there.

Two more of his friends had died that night and everything he had done was breaking down right in front of Vanitas, into her arms, even though she was the one who was crying and trembling, even though she was the one who should be protected and not him.

But he couldn't do anything against his body collapsing, against him falling into her arms.

At least he could be close to her like that.

Just some days after he broke down again, in Louis' old room, holding onto the black plush rabbit that the boy had loved so much before he had died.

He was just sitting in this room, on the carpet, clutching onto the black piece of cloth and cotton wool.

He had dreamed that he had kissed Louis. Kissed him. On the lips, softly and his heart had beaten so quickly that he had woken up.

And then he had understood. Noé Archiviste had understood that he had loved Louis more than anyone else in his whole life. But he was gone, gone for six years but he still loved him nonetheless.

Even though he had seen him die right in front of him. The room hadn't smelled like him anymore – it only smelled like dust and wood, probably from the furniture.

And then Vanitas had come in. And she had filled that room which was so full of tears and pain with laughter and love. Love, Noé had thought, was truly something weird.

He had slept in her arms, thinking that maybe, maybe she would be able to replace Louis one day.

(Blanket on the sofa

That I use to keep you warm

There's a record we keep turning

That I used to turn you on)

Noé had known that visitting the graveyard wasn't a good idea, that visitting Louis' grave wasn't a good idea because it would hurt so much. But he had no other chance of telling him, so he had to tell him like this.

He had bought roses – pink roses; meaning young love – to lay onto his grave. He could have chosen red roses, but he was still so young when it happened.

They fit.

He had laid them onto his grave and clutched onto the gravestone, marvelling at how cold it was even though his heart was so full of love that it might spill over if one more person entered his life.

He had cried and had been held by Vanitas when he hurt himself with one of the roses to see again that physical pain was not nearly as bad as the pain he felt in his heart when he thought about Louis.

He had almost kissed her. He would have kissed her if Sharon hadn't interrupted them.

He had already felt her breath on his face, on his lips, almost kissed her, kissed her.

Everything inside of him had yearned to just be closed to her after he had finally understood what those feelings meant, yearned to kiss her and maybe, maybe a tiny part of him had wanted to make love to her in the gentlest way possible to make up for those seven years in which he hadn't understood that he was in love with her.

Those years that she had to wait for him, he wanted to make up for them.

Will you

Show me love as we get older

And I'm falling at your feet?

After 30 years of service

And one to fit our need.

Show me love as we grow colder

Let our love provide the heat

That our older bones are missing

But our hearts will never need.

He had kissed her.

After seven years of loving her and not knowing it.

After seven years of living together with her.

After seven years of consoling her. After seven years of being consoled by her.

After seven years of growing closer.

After seven years of arguing.

After seven years of loving her – and not knowing it.

#ph vnc hp au #mentions of child abuse #tw child abuse #tw death #i guess there's a mention of self-harm?#it's really subtle though #so yeah;;;#don't like don't read #u won't understand it anyways xD #leo go suffer.

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