A/N: For the Lunarescent Dan Heng JieJie zine. Ngl, the two pieces I made for this are one of my favourites, I was trying so hard with mood and setting and I think I killed it. For the SFW piece, I thought the Dan Heng/Blade/Jing Yuan trio fit so perfectly into a western, with the tropes of revenge and loss and emptiness. Of course, it’s not Dan Heng without March and Stelle somewhere. I also ended up going two different ways with the theme of the zine for each piece, since I love the different ways you can play with gender and character depending. Also, it’s a crime there’s no splash art with these three. Excuse me. You can’t have such lore between them and then not have anything canon to see.
Other fun part was trying to figure out how to do Dan Heng vs Dan Feng for both pieces. XD In a world without dragon reincarnation…gotta be creative.
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The desert seemed soft in the morning light. While the sun hadn’t risen yet, the hard sands took on a rosy hue, the cacti appearing smooth at a distance. A foreigner would be forgiven for forgetting the scorpions in the shadows, the thorns on the plants, the harsh midday sun.
Dan Heng was no foreigner; her boots were permanently caked with clay, her clothes covered in a layer of sand. She’d spent too many years on the well-worn paths crisscrossing the West to be anything but a local.
As she adjusted the straps for her saddle, she double-checked her saddlebags. There was just enough food for her to reach Xianzhou Luofu. After that…well, there was no use for supplies if things went sideways.
“I don’t like this,” March 7th protested, hugging Dan Heng’s bedroll tightly in a last-ditch attempt to get her to stay. “We should just keep going to Penacony.”
Dan Heng sighed, patting her horse’s snout once before turning to face her irate friend. They’d travelled together for nearly a decade now, arguing for most of those years, but this was different. “I have to go.”
“It’s dangerous!” March 7th argued, glaring. Her fingers dug into the bedroll. “At least let us go with you. Blade’s attacked us too; it’s not just your problem!”
“It is. She’s not interested in you,” Dan Heng corrected, rubbing her neck as she tried to find the right way to explain. They wouldn’t have been attacked if it weren’t for her. They wouldn’t have faced any danger at all if it weren’t for her.
Blade wasn’t after them, after all.
“Blade wants me to face her, and she won’t stop until I do so.”
March 7th scowled and squared her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter who she’s after. Friends don’t let friends face danger alone.”
Next to March 7th, Stelle watched Dan Heng thoughtfully. She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger before asking, “Are you sure about this?”
In all honesty, Dan Heng hadn’t been sure of much for the past decade. Lifting her hat’s brim, she observed the sky. To the east, the sky was a gentle pink as the sun slowly rose. Yet, to the west…dark clouds rolled, ominous and heavy. A survival tip she had learned long ago was this: storms couldn’t be avoided, merely survived.
It was time she stopped running.
It was time she faced her past.
“Yes,” she finally uttered.
“Fine.” Stelle inclined her head.
“Hey!” March 7th protested, shocked at the sudden betrayal.
Stelle interrupted, “Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.” When March 7th tried to argue, she silenced her with a single shake of her head. “We can’t stop her. But,” she turned to Dan Heng, “you will meet us in Penacony.”
An unexpected response. Dan Heng could only stare at her. “What?”
Stelle took the bedroll from March 7th and firmly pressed it into Dan Heng’s arms. “We’ll wait for you there. Don’t be late.”
-x-
Dan Heng had few memories of the past, of the time she had been known as Dan Feng. A doctor once told her that traumatic experiences did that sometimes, the mind hiding memories to protect oneself. It left her a blank slate, remembrances washed away like footprints in the sand.
Yet, despite that, her heart beat faster as her horse picked his way along the river to Xianzhou Luofu. Something in her thrummed with excitement as she left the desert flatlands for a more mountainous trek. White wildflowers dotted the trails. Mountain goats carefully jumped from ledge to ledge. A fresh, clean scent filled the air.
This was not her home.
Yet…it had been. Once. In another life. For another her.
And for all her denials, she couldn’t deny the way she straightened at the first sight of the town as she turned a corner. The buildings were the same: worn, peeling, in need of upkeep. Nothing had changed from when she’d run away all of those years ago.
Nothing but herself.
-x-
“Dan Feng…”
“Dan Heng,” Dan Heng corrected automatically. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. When she had entered the sheriff’s office, she had expected to get directions, maybe some advice. The locals would know Blade’s location these days.
Instead, she found herself face to face with Jing Yuan, a woman she had hoped to avoid encountering.
A woman who looked equally surprised to see her. It was a small relief that this wasn’t just strange for Dan Heng. She peeked at the shiny gold star on Jing Yuan’s chest. Sheriff. The position suited her, and she really shouldn’t have been shocked by this turn of events. Even the scant memories Dan Heng had of her childhood friend were that of a confident, self-assured woman, as popular with the town as she was skilled with her gun.
Jing Yuan winced, a shadow crossing her face. “Sorry, I…forget sometimes.”
A heavy silence sat between them. Dan Heng closed her eyes, not wanting to think about it. “…It’s fine.”
“I’m glad that you’re back.” Jing Yuan set down the letter she’d been reading and stood up. For a moment, she seemed ready to walk around her desk and hug Dan Heng, before thinking better of it and offering her hand instead.
Dan Heng stared at it before sighing. Shaking her hand, she replied, “Not for long.”
“Still, I never thought you would return. It’s good to see you again,” Jing Yuan replied warmly. “What brings you to town? Are you here long enough for drinks?”
“I didn’t think I’d come back either.” Dan Heng ran a hand through her hair as she scanned the small office. Wanted posters covered the walls, the most prominent one was of Blade. Even in the drawing, her expression was cold and angry, burning with a vengeance that couldn’t be put out. “And you know why I’m here.”
Jing Yuan followed her gaze and sighed. “After all this time…If she won’t let it go, you should. There’s no need to drag this out.”
“I tried running.” Dan Heng shrugged. “It didn’t work.”
Smiling bitterly, Jing Yuan leaned against her desk and glanced out the window. Her hair shifted, revealing a small scar. She touched it unconsciously. “No…I suppose it wouldn’t.” Jing Yuan turned back to Dan Heng, her expression serious. “You know Baiheng wouldn’t have wanted this, right?”
Dan Heng chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s never been about what she wanted. Both back then and now.”
“True.” Jing Yuan reached down to grab the single, small, framed photo on her desk.
Dan Heng caught a glimpse of the black and white portrait. Perhaps it happened when a travelling carnival came through town. It was a rare shot, three teens dressed in too-big clothes, guns holstered as they stared at the camera with stiff smiles. Yet another memory she didn’t have.
Sighing, Jing Yuan closed her eyes. “It’s too much to hope we can go back, isn’t it?”
Perhaps it was a good thing she couldn’t remember. It’s impossible to mourn what you’ve never lost. “No, some things can’t be undone.”
-x-
Of the few memories Dan Heng had, all of them centered around the person buried in the center of the town’s graveyard. She stood in front of the gravestone, her lips mouthing the name she knew by heart: Baiheng.
Merely reading the name made her heart ache. Images flashed through her head, scenes of a tall woman, a star badge on her chest as she taught three kids how to shoot.
“I’m sorry,” Dan Heng said softly as she knelt and placed wildflowers on the marker. “I haven’t visited.”
“You don’t have the right to,” an (un)familiar voice said.
“Blade.” Dan Heng didn’t have to turn around to know whose stare was burning a hole through her back. Her cold, flat voice was enough, her fury barely restrained.
“Dan Feng.”
“Dan Heng,” she corrected, futile as it was. In this town, she would only ever be Dan Feng, only ever be trapped in a stasis, in that moment a decade ago when everything had gone wrong. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or what deeds she’d committed since.
There was only one that mattered.
“Dan Feng,” Blade repeated, her voice even colder. “You finally came.”
“You wouldn’t stop until I did.” Dan Heng closed her eyes, tapping her forehead against the gravestone marker. Done saying her goodbyes, she wiped her hands on her pants and stood up, turning to face Blade.
She looked just as fierce as she did on her wanted poster. Her jaw, sharp angles, her eyes, burning with hate. If Jing Yuan was filled with grief, Blade was filled with rage.
“You haven’t paid the price yet,” Blade said. “Neither you nor I.” She knelt, placing her own flowers on the grave. “And then this will finally be over.”
There was no need for clarifications. In the West, there was only one way to clean up a mess. Dan Heng glanced at the stormy sky, the clouds that had followed her all the way here. “When?”
“Tomorrow. Dawn.” Blade turned and walked away. “You know the place.”
-x-
It was a memory in fragments, but Dan Heng had pieced them together enough times to know the story: two girls, not yet women, one not even aware yet that she was a girl, sneaked through the wilds. Their guns hung heavy on their belts. A bounty had rolled into the neighbouring areas and despite Sheriff Baiheng making them swear up and down that they wouldn’t go by themselves, they did.
Why wouldn’t they? It was a chance to prove their worth and skills. It was a chance to make a name for themselves. It was a chance to repay the kindness of the sheriff who took in three orphaned kids when she didn’t have to.
They were cocky as they crawled up the rocky mountain, ready to catch the bandits unawares. At dawn, when their enemies should be fast asleep. Unfortunately, they forgot about the lookout. Things had gone sideways, fast, two greenhorns making noise when they should be silent, slow to the draw when they should be fast. Bullets whizzed past them as they tried to survive.
And just when they thought all was lost, Baiheng appeared, guns blazing. Saving them. Killing the bandit.
Getting shot in the process.
The mountain was where it all started and the mountain was where it would end.
-x-
The saloon was loud and rambunctious. Dan Heng lifted her shot glass, savouring a sip. When Jing Yuan slipped into the seat by the bar next to her, she wasn’t surprised. Nor was she by her entreaties.
“Dan Heng,” Jing Yuan said carefully. “You don’t have to do this.”
Dan Heng snorted. An obvious lie. “I must. You know that better than I do.”
“No one would fault you for leaving again. This isn’t your fight.” Jing Yuan reached forward, clasping Dan Heng’s hand. Despite the heat, her palms were clammy. “You don’t even remember why she hates you.”
She didn’t extract her hand, though she picked up her shot with her other hand. Her reflection in the whisky felt as fragile as her existence. “I know enough.” Dan Heng chugged, and the alcohol burned a bitter path down her throat. “Even if I didn’t, that wouldn’t stop Blade.”
“…No, it wouldn’t.” Jing Yuan retracted her hand with a heavy sigh. After signalling the bartender for her usual, she leaned back on the bar, studying the saloon. “I’ve always wanted to have a drink here. The three of us.”
It sounded just like her. Dan Heng gave her a dry look. “You know that would never happen.”
“That’s the funny thing about hope. Reality doesn’t stop it.” Jing Yuan held out her drink, clinking their glasses. “Two out of three isn’t too bad.”
They sat there in silence, drinking, listening, anticipating tomorrow. It was only when their glasses were empty that Jing Yuan finally asked, “Is there anyone you want me to send a telegram to? If things…go wrong.”
Dan Heng stared at the almost melted ice in the glass. She remembered that parting, a teary-eyed March 7th struggling to say goodbye, Stelle stoically offering her extra bullets.
We’ll wait at Penacony.
“No.”
She’d tell them herself.
-x-
While everywhere in Xianzhou Luofu made Dan Heng feel unsettled, as though her body wasn’t her own, nothing made her feel it more than the path to the mountain. She could almost see traces of two kids running ahead of her, marking her route for her, re-enacting a tragedy that would never be forgotten.
Was she Dan Heng? Dan Feng?
Did it matter? She was here regardless.
And so was Blade.
The taller woman stood at the base of the mountain, staring up the mishappen slope with its pinkish-orange bands. Her hat brim hid her face but her stiff shoulders and rigid posture gave away her feelings.
This place unsettled her just as much as it did Dan Heng.
“Soon, this will be settled,” Blade stated without turning around, her hands tight fists.
Dan Heng pushed a stray lock behind her ear. “Do you really need vengeance that badly?"
Blade clicked her tongue, frowning as turned around. “Justice,” she corrected.
Suddenly, Dan Heng was tired of this pretense. At least in the end, she wanted them to be honest. She snorted, “What’s the difference? Baiheng didn’t want either.”
Whether it was justice or vengeance, it was all for the living. The dead didn’t care. The dead didn’t have a say.
Blade contemplated this silently before nodding. Her voice was as dead as her eyes. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter.”
“…That might be the first thing I’ve agreed with you on.” Dan Heng rested her hands on her hips, her fingers grazing her holstered gun. “A duel?”
“The quicker, the better.” Blade pulled back her own coat, her hand resting on her gun. “Signal is the sun.”
Dan Heng hadn’t dueled before. She had had many gunfights over the years, some more honourable than others, but this was the first time she’d had such a personal one. Despite that, she automatically stood across from Blade at the appropriate distance, her hand steady as she waited for the sun to rise.
The wind blew through the long grasses, their golden flowers swaying with the breeze. Above, a hawk cried, a piercing, mournful sound.
Somewhere beyond reach, Penacony waited. The city of pleasures. The city of fun.
The city where Stelle and March 7th waited worriedly.
Maybe she should have said something more to them.
“What will you do if you win?” Dan Heng asked.
“…Then there will be one final justice to serve,” Blade said softly.
“Ah.” She wondered if Jing Yuan was still at that bar, slumped over drunk. If she had already known Blade’s plans.
For: Guppy for the Letters through the Tides Minibites event hosted by @soruiru! Thanks for running this!
Prompt: Experiencing snow or the first time. Neuvi hates snow but doesn’t mind. Or practical joke by Sigewinnne and the other isn't involved.
A/N: I am not good with jokes so I almost defaulted with the first prompt, but no! I wanted to challenge myself! And then came this absolutely terrible idea. It was a challenge to keep this at around 1k but I just managed!
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There were few things better than relaxing in either Wriothesley’s or Neuvillette’s office with a cup of tea. Well, there may be a few things, things best left away from prying eyes, but all of those were off the table until Neuvillette had finished his duties for the day. While Wriothesley was no slacker, his lover took ‘married to work’ to a whole new level.
This left Wriothesley with no other option than to arrange tea time in order to even catch a glimpse of Neuvillette’s face during the day.
Today, they were in Neuvillette’s office. Wriothesley took a mental note to update his stash of loose-leaf tea later; they were starting to run dangerously low. As usual, there were two cups of tea on the table, all carefully brewed by Neuvillette. As usual, there were plates of cookies and cake; despite them not being to Neuvillette’s taste, his time with the former Archon left him with the habit of ordering sweets for every occasion.
Oddly, Neuvillette had sat across from him before Wriothesley could cajole him into sitting on the couch next to him
Unusually, instead of drinking his tea, his paramour kept staring at him intently.
“Careful,” Wriothesley teased, toying with the ribbon around his neck that proved quite useful at hiding hickeys. “Or I might get the wrong idea and think you want to break your iron-clad ‘no pleasure during business’ rule.”
Neuvillette raised a brow, but his expression remained serious. Almost stiffly so. “Whatever gave you that impression?”
“Well…” If it wasn’t fun, then it had to be work. Wriothesley rubbed the back of his neck. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been any paperwork due nor had there been any complications that required either of their jurisdictions. While he knew some of the loopholes of the law, Neuvillette knew the ins and outs far better and so he probably wasn’t looking for any advice. After wracking his brain, he gave up and just asked, “Is something the matter?”
Again, he gave a bemused look. “No.”
“Are you certain?” Wriothesley pressed, starting to feel concerned. The entire time they spoke, Neuvillette’s eyes hadn’t left him, a razor sharp focus he rarely showed when relaxing. “If anything’s wrong…”
Frowning, Neuvillette cocked his head. “As I asked previously, whatever gave you that impression?”
“It’s just…” Wriothesley gestured at Neuvillette’s countenance. Where should he start? “Your face. You’re making that one you do whenever there’s a business deal.” He paused. He hadn’t considered that. “Are we making a deal?”
At that, his lips twitched slightly, an almost smile, before he shook his head. “I assure you, there is nothing of that sort occurring now.”
“Righhhtttt.” There was no way to make a stubborn dragon talk if he wasn’t ready; it was a battle that Wriothesley had lost before. Instead, he would have to slowly cajole it out. Taking a cookie, he bit into it and gave a low moan. “This is better than last time.”
“Sedene suggested a new vendor,” Neuvillette explained, pride colouring his voice.
Thanks to the Melusines and the former Archon, Wriothesley was certain he had all the deserts in the city mapped out now. “You should stick to this one.”
Neuvilltette nodded. “You enjoyed it more than I expected.”
“Whoever’s making these knows what they’re doing.” As Wriothesley licked the crumbs off a finger, he couldn’t help but notice that Neuvillette’s gaze had never left his. Or more precisely, his focus was entirely on his hand: as he picked up a cookie, as he wiped them against each other, as he gingerly adjusted his posture..
Something was up.
Piqued, he brushed his tea cup, noticing how Neuvillette’s gaze lingered longer this time. Lifting it, he took a sip. It tasted…fine. It tasted as usual. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t detect anything else within the drink aside from the usual ingredients of water, milk, sugar, tea.
Unable to resist any longer, he asked, “Yes?”
Done playing games, Neuvillette responded, “Might I inquire how you perceived the tea?”
“Delicious.” There was little else to say about it. The usual tea sachets were used and he knew their taste intimately by now. Yet, Neuvillette’s expectant gaze lingered as though he were fishing for something. “Did you brew it differently?”
“In a sense,” Neuvillete sat perfectly straight, his hands on his knees. “Did you taste anything different?”
No, but that obviously wasn’t the right answer, not with the way Neuvillette had started to lean toward him the way a flower did to the sun. Wriothsley took another sip, making sure to savour it. “It’s sweeter?”
He frowned. “Is that all you sense?”
Wriothsley winced. He’d misstepped. Taking another sip, he rolled the tea in his mouth as he searched for another adjective. The only problem was that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Was it brewed longer?”
Neuvillette fell silent.
“What is it?” Wriothsley prodded, making sure to clasp Neuvillette’s hand before he could retreat.
His lover sighed, looking away. “It is nothing of import.”
“Come on,” Wriothsley encouraged. For the great Iudex, this felt oddly like cajoling a child. He threaded their fingers together. “Tell me.”
There was another long silence before Neuvillette sighed and reluctantly explained. There was a faint flush on his cheeks. “I switched the water.”
Wriothsley stared at his face, then at the cups. “What?”
“Previously, I had your tea brewed with the finest of Fontaine’s spring water,” Neuvillette explained, gesturing at the window behind him. Then he pointed at the cups. “These, however, were brewed with water imported from Inazuma.”
“Oh.” Wriothsley stared at the cup, not sure what to say to that. Sensing there was more to this story than his paramour’s sudden desire to taste exotic water, he asked, “What brought this on?”
A much longer silence filled the air this time. When Wriothsley was almost convinced he hadn’t even asked the question, Neuvillette whispered, embarrassment clear in his voice, “It was meant to be a prank.”
“A…prank…” He rubbed his ear, but he had heard right.
“It seems I have erred.” Neuvillette sighed. “Seigwienne had suggested I try to change the pace with a prank and I thought this would make a wonderful one. It seems instead of laughter, I have only sewn the seeds of confusion.”
Wriothsley stared at him. He could only imagine what Seigwienne had told him. Had he floated the idea past her? Had she agreed because she had also thought it was good or because she had wanted to see him fail?
Yet, more than that, he imagined Neuvillette smiling to himself as he swapped the water, like a young child keeping a secret. It was endearing, it was cute, and it was the opposite of how Neuvillette normally acted.
It was enough that Wriothsley burst into laughter.
“There is no need to placate my feelings,” Neuvillette informed him.
“I’m not.” Wriothsley couldn’t help himself, he raised Neuvillette's hand and pressed a kiss on the back. “It’s a charming joke.”
“It is a terrible one,” Neuvillette muttered. Was that sulking? From his dragon?
“It can be both things.” Wriothsley laughed again, wondering if he had remembered to lock the door before entering the room. “It’s endearing because of how bad it was.”
He looked slightly mollified. “Still…”
“Besides, if you want a change of pace.” Wriothsley grinned wolfishly as he all but leapt over the table to Neuvillette’s side. Straddling him, he cupped his jaw and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I have a few better ideas.”
I’m fairly certain that the people who make the “batman could make himself obsolete by using his money to solve the economic strain that drives many people to crime” posts are only familiar with Batman through Will Arnett’s spoof performance in the Lego movie, since that’s the only version of Batman I know where he isn’t hiring so many ex-convicts at his company so they have a legitimate source of income and using so much money to fund social programs that all the other bigwigs at Wayne Enterprises hate him and want him gone
Literally every version of his origin story I can remember involves him realizing that he can’t just treat the symptoms as Batman, he has to treat the root cause as Bruce Wayne. A huge part of the plot of “The Dark Knight Rises” is that his company is on the verge of bankruptcy because Bruce keeps spending all their profits on things like “clean energy” and “food and shelter for orphans.”
The opening of “Arkham City” shows him campaigning against mass incarceration because the majority of the inmates in Arkham City are not public menaces like the Joker, they’re desperate people with no other options, and Gotham should be providing them with legitimate means of stability rather than punishing them for having none.
Especially since the majority of his villains are independently wealthy people (doctors, lawyers, business executives) who are exploiting people’s desperation in order to get themselves henchmen, and the henchmen almost always have jobs with a living wage waiting for them on the other side of their sentence, and Bruce has a standing offer to pay out-of-pocket for the therapy of any of his villains whose crimes are the result of a mental illness (which Bruce is sympathetic to since he is mentally ill himself)
But what’s really damning about these posts is that a lot of them suggest Bruce should use his money to give the police the resources they need to deal with crime on their own, which makes it clear they’ve never actually consumed a piece of Batman media, since the issue with the Gotham Police is not that they’re underfunded. They have a bloated budget, they’re almost militant, and they’re so corrupt that they actually encourage crime, both violent and economic, because they’re on the payroll of the richest criminals.
Also, some of them refer to Batman as a “old rich white man’s wet dream” and I really disagree here. A story that says the only rich dude in the world who’s not a criminal drain on society is the one who spends the majority of his hefty inheritance and all his corporate profits trying to correct the imbalance that allowed him his wealth in the first place, whose staunch belief is that the best crime control policy is building a world where no one feels crime is necessary, as well as refusing to support mass incarceration or police corruption, systems which stand to benefit him financially? Batman is an old rich white man’s worst nightmare.
Bruce Wayne tends to spend so much of his wealth on social reform and funding charities for the needy and helping desperate ex-cons get back on their feet so they don’t have to resort to crime again, that they had to invent ancient curses and shit to explain why Gotham continues to be a shithole because it begins to stretch plausibility that there’s so much call for Batman in a city that has Bruce Wayne in it.
“I don’t do math because I’m gay” “the gays can’t do math” “If I explain math on tumblr I’ll lose my gay card” all of you apologize to Alan Turing right now
It’s literally been years since anyone added something slightly clever or original to this post, so I would like to congratulate you and maybe even bestow some kind of award. I don’t have anything to give you though
How long before we start seeing cases like these for just being queer? Do we have to get to that stage for people to start to mobilize against this loudly?
We can't let the fight against internet censorship and puritan outrage against NSFW content be another controlled narrative by the right wing grifters.
Brother Bear was out there deconstructing toxic masculinity long before people online talked about it, and everyone slept on it
Kenai's journey is largely about what it means to be a man
At the beginning of the film, Kenai is trying to prove himself to his older brothers especially Sitka. He thinks to be a man he has to prove his worth by being tough and macho even when it's unhelpful (like riding a mamooth instead of fishing). That is how the whole conflict of the movie comes up
Kenai does a poor job of tying this basket
Why? Because weaving and tying baskets isn't as manly as getting a fierce totem and therefore he isn't interested in stopping and doing a good job of it. He brushes it off
He then gets a totem of love which he hates and even more, is embarassed by (because love is not 'manly') and discovers the salmon laying on the floor were stolen by a bear.
Kenai could (and should) have acknowledged his fuckup and maybe said "my mistake, I'll weave a new basket and catch more" even if it'd take a while
Instead, he decides to go after the bear. Which is stupid (there is zero chance the fish and basket are intact). And sure enough he gets so frustrated when he sees that they are gone that he taunts the bear, which is doubly stupid, but he thinks he's being a man by not letting the bear get away with it.
Then he loses his eldest brother in the ensuing struggle.
And again, Kenai could have acknowledged his mistake and learned from it, but in his grief he only doubles down on 'being a man' by avenging his brother by killing the bear. Which is not gonna fix anything or bring Sitka back, obviously. His living brother even tells him that.
And you know the rest
But here's the cool thing: Kenai was never cowardly as far as the usual meaning of the word goes. If manliness was defined as being macho, he'd have been one from the start! He did have the guts to fight a grizzly bear with nothing but a a spear! But the movie makes it clear that that's not what it is about. Just fighting the bear when nobody is gonna be helped by doing so isn't being responsible, isn't being kind, isn't taking the weight of his actions seriously and THAT makes a man.
Kenai only grows and gets to be regarded as a man by the narrative, when he starts taking responsibility and having more empathy by realizing that his actions have consequences and weight not only for him, but for others.
And I think that's a banger message against toxic masculinity. I think this movie would've gotten a lot more love if more people looked at with care when it was released
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