Dreadnought: The Quest for Cringe - White-Kettle-Shufflepunk reads a trans YA superhero novel

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

So, there's this little YA book about a trans superheroine (feel free to add scare quotes around the second half of that word if you want) that I first read back before I was peaked. I thought it was... alright. I thought it had some some good elements, but a lot of jank. I definitely gave it more latitude than I would other books because it was from a "marginalised voice." You know, cuck shit. Anyway, I've decided to reappraise the book from my new perspective for the amusement of you good Kiwis.

Oh, just a note, the main character of this is a MTF, and after their magical transition, I'm probably going to use mostly female pronouns, mostly because calling someone who basically got turned into a flesh and blood female "he" feels linguistically arkward. Don't take it as an endorsement of his identity. Use whatever pronouns you like, as if I needed to tell you that.

Anyway, Dreadnought, chapter one!

Cover's alright from a design standpoint at least.

We open with our protagonist, Daniel Tozer, on a secret misson to buy nail polish. So, either he's trans, or gay, or metrosexual, or goth, or emo, or into glam rock, or a cosplayer, or...

It’d be really cool to be able to do this without shame, without hopping on a train to ride halfway across the city first. Finally, I get to the front of the line and drop the nail polish on the counter. The cashier rings me up with a smile that makes me curdle inside. I wonder if she knows. I take my nail polish and get out of there as quick as I can.

The big problem with trans centric narratives is that they need to pretend it's the 19-fucking-50s. Like hell Daniel would be the first young man this cashier has sold nail polish to. Aside from all the other subcultures I rattled off above, and even if she's the most sheltered woman on Earth, wouldn't she just assume he was buying it for a girlfriend or a sister or something? I guess you could argue that Dan's just being paranoid, and I imagine that's the intention, but when your entire worldview hinges on this being a massive trangression that proves this character is in fact a girl, it's pretty weak. Also, what about the chicks they don't wear nail-polish? They all demi-boys?

I make sure not to glimpse my reflection in the mall windows as I beeline for the exit. More and more I hate to look in the mirror. It’s getting worse every day. The first little bits of hair are pushing their way up from my face, and my voice dropped so early it’s almost a lost cause. I’m way too tall and my shoulders are getting broad.

I'm morbidly curious whether April Daniels (powerword unknown as of this time) genuinely suffers from gender dysphoria, or is just one of those AGPs that pretends they did. This does seem like a fairly evocative description of dysphoria (reminds me a bit of accounts by anorexics, hint hint) but troons have been swapping stories that play better with doctors and the media since before Reddit. Also, "almost a lost cause"? I'm pretty sure once your voice drops that's it. Or is he talking about vocal cord surgery?

The mall doors slide open and the outside air hits my face, cool and wet. Spring in the Pacific Northwest: come for the moist, stay for the damp.

I could do with some sexy, problematic vampires and werewolves right about now. Anyway, Daniel ducks into an alley to paint his toes.

The nail polish is a nice deep red. I’ve been running mostly with blue recently, but I think it’s time for a change. The cotton balls soak up remover and the blue polish rubs off my toes a bit at a time. It feels right. It feels necessary. Painting my toes is the one way I can take control. The one way I can fight back. The one way I can give voice to this idea inside me that gets heavier every year:

I’m not supposed to be a boy.

Sometimes I want to climb up on a table in the cafeteria and scream it out at the top of my lungs. There’s been a horrible mistake. I’m trapped on the wrong side. I’m not a boy. I won’t be a man. I’m a girl. I’m a girl.

I AM A GIRL!

And what about all the blokes who wear nail-polish?

Maybe I’m only imagining things.

Absurd. Which seems more likely? That you're a boy who's freaked out by their changing body, or that you're a literal female child who somehow was born in a body that happens to be identical in form and function to a healthy male one? Clearly the second.

Like, for instance, my junk. It doesn’t bother me, but I feel like it’s “supposed” to bother me. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go?

Here we see a certain tension in was April... Daniels (Jesus Christ) is trying to do here. Whether or not this reflects his own life, April presents Daniel as a Jazz Jennings style child dysphoric. Someone who's "known" they're a girl since birth and hates their male body. Of course, I and many others think Jazz was only "dysphoric" because every adult in his life has told him he's essentially a deformed girl-child who needs to be corrected with hormones and brutal surgery since he was a toddler, but that's beside the point. It makes sense Daniels would write his probable self-insert this way. Convincing normies that "trans kids" need to be medically alligned with their "true sex" is much easier than selling them on children being tiny adults who should be allowed to customise their living computer RPG avatars on the public dime.

Except, a lot of TRAs consider dysphoria to be irrelevant to whether or not someone's trans. They reckon someone who doesn't want hormones, surgery, or even to shave their fucking beard can be just as much a woman as your own mother. Now, pretty much the entire market for Dreadnought is the cursed crossover of book and trans Twitter, so Daniels can't afford to alienate the vanguard of TRA bullshit. Therefore, Daniel (this is getting embarrassing) who's entire inner monlogue so far has been dominated by disgust for his own body and male puberty, takes a moment to assure us he's okay with his girldick. It completely runs contray to his character.

But then in health class when the teacher starts talking about reproductive systems, I get this feeling of cold invasion. My body knows what it’s missing, and being reminded of it is the worst feeling in the world.

Daniel(s) has a breeding kink, doesn't he?

Obviously I can’t tell anyone about this. If it got back to Dad, he’d kill me. He’s obsessed with ‘making a good man’ out of me. “You’re a man now,” he says as his justification for friggin’ everything. He wants me to be strong and boisterous and popular. It’s bad enough I’m quiet and like to be alone, bad enough I don’t like sports even after he forced me to join the football team, bad enough I couldn’t care less about cars. If he found out I might be a girl…well I don’t really want to think about what might happen.

Oh, we'll get to Mr. Tozer, don't worry Kiwis.

The dirty little secret about growing up as a boy is if you’re not any good at it, they will torture you daily until you have the good graces to kill yourself. The posturing and the dominance games are almost inescapable.

Unlike girls, who never play stupid and vicious social games growing up.

God forbid anyone ever catch you sketching flowers in class, or reading a book that’s “for girls.” Maybe for people who really are boys that stuffworks. Maybe it fits for them.

So, we have an "assigned male at birth" kid who is relentlessly mocked for his feminine interests, is told they are exclusively for girls, who decides this means they are in fact a girl. Nope, can't see any connection there.

But I don’t get to fit. Not anywhere.

The frustrating thing about trans media is that it's basically complete and utter solipsists pretending the most banal parts of growing up and being human are unique to them.

The one thing I must never do is try to fit in with the girls. I don’t know what would happen if I tried, but I have a screaming animal instinct that tells me not to even consider it.

God forbid you actually try talking to the group you've decided you're a part of.

Anyway, Dani's distracted from his waaaah fest by an explosion.

Oh. Great. A superhero fight. Just friggin’ wonderful.

Yeah, superheroes are a known quantity in this world. Basically imagine a sludge of second hand Detective Comics Comics tropes with all the novel bits filed off.

Another crump of impact, and then a flapping, fluttering noise. Something soft and heavy slams into the ground on the other side of this wall.

No. No. No. Go away. Crap.

On my hands and knees I peek around the painted cinderblocks again. There’s a man lying there, crumpled up and broken. He wears a blue bodyglove, and a charred and tattered white cape. Of course I recognize him. He’s probably the most famous person on the planet: Dreadnought. Mightier than a battleship, faster than a jet, and so on. He’s not supposed to be lying crumpled in an alley. It’s wrong and terrifying in ways that go straight through me.

“Hey,” I call out to him. “Dreadnought. Are you okay?”

Case in point, Not-Superman! He's also a bit Green Lantern, but we'll get to that.

Chanting curse words like a prayer, I crawl out from my little hiding spot and grab him under the armpits. He’s so heavy. Up close, I can see the things about him the cameras always miss. How deep the hollows under his eyes are, how heavily lined his face is. As he turns over, I go weak with shock. There’s a hole in his chest about the size of a golf ball, his suit charred and melted at the edges. It looks like it goes all the way through.

When top-surgery goes wrong!

Dreadnought tries to speak. It’s just a slurring noise. He sounds different than he does on TV. His voice is higher and weaker than I expect. He tries again. “Get out. Leave me.”

There’s a giddy fear bubbling up beneath me. I manage to stop cussing long enough to say, “There will be firefighters here soon. They’ll help you.” I drag Dreadnought away from the mall, toward the ramp. We’ll hide under the road until the emergency crews arrive, and then I’ll find some paramedics and bring them back here.

“Kid, I’m done,” he rasps. “Save yourself.”

It's Billboard Chris, they got him again!

Fun fact, Tony Reed himself once spruked this book. Claimed the first page moved him to tears. Some girls are denied education, some are raped, some have their genitalia mutiliated, and some have to catch a train to buy toenail polish. My heart breaks.

The rest of chapter one will be along shortly. I'm going to try and cover one chapter per post from here on out, but Calibre mislead me because I am an actual Amish man. If you need me, just flash the Kettle symbol in the sky.

 

[VeteranOfTheRetardWars]

I was hoping this would be about the guys who sing sea shanties...

 

[Ultrapenguin]

I looked up the amazon page on this:


Charlie Jane Anders has informed me that this is the superhero adventure we all need right now, so I guess thank you for saving my life by bringing it to our attention OP.

And of course a book about trannies is going to have to insert a bit about how, oh no, now that I'm a girl all the boys won't stop trying to force themselves on me and my feminine body!

Also the reading age labeled on Amazon is 12-18, because of course it is. Gotta get em' before they start asking too many tough questions.

BTW as a slight detour, this is Charlie Jane Anders, the..."lady" quoted in that review:

Spoiler

And here the obviously-a-man is with their obviously-a-woman partner, meaning they're one of those "straight with extra steps" couples.


Entertainment weekly put this guy on their list of "27 female authors that rule sci-fi right now"

Award winning authors in modern day, ladies and gentlemen.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Mediocre white guy authors trying to get a book deal:

True story, a friend of a friend of mine tried to get a book deal for years as a gay dude. Trooned out, got snapped right up.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Forgive the double-post, but I figure when it's actual content it's forgiveable. Anyway, time to finish chapter-one and cover chapter-two while we're at it. When we last left our hero(ine) the world's greatest superhero had landed in front of him with a hole in his chest.

A pale blue glow blooms across the back side of the mall. My hair begins to float on a static charge. A flat wave of blue light flits across ground where Dreadnought landed, once, twice. There is a snapping, hissing sound, and something else, an almost musical series of tones.

My lungs are locked with fear. Beside me, I feel Dreadnought go statue still. Finally, the light fades and the sound disappears.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper.

“She said her name was Utopia. She had some kind of…weapon.”

So she's either an Australian comedy or a British thriller, good to know.

If there’s one good thing to come out of being conscripted into the football team, it’s that I was carrying a water bottle today.

Yeah, Dan's a football player. Now, given that American football is an infamously rough and tumble sport, and Daniel's going to become a superhero, a calling defined by physical violence, you'd think this would be relevant. That say, he might translate his skills on the field to combat. A smarter author might even use it to say that a "trans girl" doesn't only have to be into stereotypically feminine pursuits. After all, there are plenty of lady athletes, and plenty of football fans are women. But no, Daniel's not into football whatsoever, he only plays because of his mean dad.

For a panicked moment I think I left it at school, but when I push aside my natty sketchbook and some French comics, I find it.

They're all Pyrénée, aren't they?

And now, the real centrepiece of this chapter:

“What’s your name, son?” he asks.

“I’m Danny.”

Dreadnought’s eyes focus on me like he’s really seeing me for the first time. “Christ, you’re just a boy.”

I don’t know why I can’t lean into the familiar lie the way I do with everyone else. It just feels wrong to lie to Dreadnought, and it hurts that he thinks I’m a dude. “I’m not a boy!” I hiss at him.

Imagine you're Dreadnought, the world's greatest superhero. For decades you've fought an endless battle against evil, and now, it's finally caught up to you. You're dying, in terrible pain, with only a strange boy to comfort you, no doubt wondering if your mates will be able to defeat the foe you failed to stop. Not only that, but you now have to pass on an unimaginable burden to him, one that will change his life forever, and likely doom him to a similar fate as yours. And then...

"It's Ma'am!"

Luckily for him, Dreadnought doesn't pick up on this:

“Don’t be in such a hurry. You’ll be a man—” Dreadnought breaks off in a fit of hacking coughs. “You’ll be a man soon enough.” More coughs wrack his body. He seems to come to a decision. “Guess that’s it then. It’s on you now, Danny. The world needs Dreadnought. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know.”

I kind of wish he did, though:

I put a hand to my heart and shook my head gravely. "You don't understand Dreadnought. I'm actually a trans-girl lesbian--"

Dreadnought put a shaky hand over my mouth. "Nah, son. Ya want pussy." He coughed raggedly. "Ya just want pussy..."

Anyway:

Dreadnought reaches up to his chest, and his fingers seem to sink right into his breastbone. He pulls a fizzing white ball of light out of his chest, and holds it out for me.

“Take it.”

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton. I reach out with a shaking hand and touch the—



—a billion, trillion suns roaring silently in the night

—becoming light, scalding everywhere

—spilling out inside of me as

—a lattice of light and heat, blinding glare against the black

—but more than that

—twisted up out of potential and into being

—the pain is everywhere, filling me

All hail the Plot Inciting Orb! Shortener of plots, contriver of premises! The absolute minimum of worldbuilding!

I slam back into myself with a gasp. My hips ache. My chest burns. My skin feels tight and wrong. My throat, my guts, my legs. Everything feels different. I’m lying on the filthy ground next to Dreadnought, and the world is spinning. I sit up, and when I move my clothes seem to pull on me in ways they haven’t done before.

Dreadnought lies perfectly still. I pat his cheek, but he doesn’t respond.

“Dreadnought. Dreadnought! Wake up!”

I stop, and listen to myself.

I have a girl’s voice.

Before we move onto chapter-two, I will give April Daniels (I will never get over how blatant this is) this, he didn't dawdle. I could imagine like, three extra chapters at the start of misery porn about Dan's oh-so-transphobic homelife. At least this gets to the self-insert fantasy fast.

Moving on:

“Dreadnought,” I say in this voice I don’t want to believe I have. “Something’s happened. What’s going on?”

I look down at my body, and yeah, that is not the chest I woke up with. When I go to reach down into my pants, my hand kind of jumps back on its own, nervous and scared. After I find the nerve to feel what’s between my legs—or rather what’s not—I explode in tears. Everything is wrong, but so perfectly right. I wrap my arms around my legs and rock back and forth. The last little doubts are gone, and the fear leaves with them.

I’m free. I’m finally free.

Remember when Daniel told us his cock didn't bother him? Well, apparently it bothered Plot Inciting Orb. Honestly, thinking about it, I kind of believe him now. All his complaints about his body were about his body changing. His shoulders broadening, new hair, his voice deepening, that kind of thing. It's almost like puberty is often frightening and intimidating , and a lot of this gender stuff among kids is an attempt to flee that. But you know, that's much less likely than Daniel literally being a girl born genetically and physically identical to a boy.

I’m free. I’m finally free.

This would be really funny if this was Saudi Arabia. Or any country on Earth prior to the 1900s, really.

Nearly as abruptly as they came, the tears leave and I feel empty and calm. I crawl back over to Dreadnought, and when I do so I have a moment of vertigo. His eyes are open, and he’s staring up at nothing.

“Thank you. I—thank you.” I reach over and close his eyes. A surge of almost painful affection and gratitude sweeps through me. Somehow, I will find a way to honor his memory. Nothing to do now but wait for the cops to show up, and try to explain what happened.

I suppose I can't quite fault Dan for not thinking clearly--he did just get turned into a she and thinks that's the solution to all her problem, but I am kind of amused by her assuming that Dreadnought, in his dying moments, somehow picked up on her being a "fake boy", and decided to fix that using his hyper specific power of shitting out Sex-Change Orbs from fatal chest wounds.

It’s not the cops who show up first. The cowgirl finds me sitting with my head in my hands on the concrete lip that separates the space under the ramp from the empty space behind the mall. I hear footsteps and look up.

She’s wearing a wide brimmed gray hat, and a red bandanna around the lower half of her face. What I can see of her face makes me think she might be Latina.

Given the gender stuff, I'm a little suprised it wasn't "Latinx." Actually, this came out in 2017. Was Latinx much of a thing then?

She also has big fucking guns, but is not nearly as based as that might suggest.

“You okay?” she asks, and I realize she’s no older than me. Vigilantes are not—to put it kindly—unheard of in New Port City, but I’ve never heard of one my own age.

Okay, time to explain some dogshit worldbuilding. In Dreadnought's world, all "real" superheroes are licensed and bonded by municiple governments to serve as a kind of auxiliry to the police or military. But superheroes who're just people with powers who put on a costume after work and beat up muggers, like Spider-Man or Superman? They'd be "vigilantes" which are illegal. A bit like My Hero Academia. However, whatever else you can say about that series, there that felt like motivated worldbuilding. Superpowers appeared suddenly, basically upended all human civilization, so the Powers That Be deliberately set up a new social contract by drawing off old western comic books.

In Dreadnought, it's pretty much like that because that's what most "serious, original" capeshit does these days. Not like, genuinely deconstructive or original works like Watchmen or The Boys (specifically the TV show) or even Miracleman if you're a total hipster. More like... how should I put this. Okay, you know Hawkeye from Marvel? In the comic, he was a carnival performer who got so jealous of Iron Man he basically reinvented himself as a superhero out of sheer spite. In the movies, he's... a special forces soldier, who's allowed to use a bow and arrow on the job for some reason. He also doesn't wear a purple costume. Because that would be silly. Or Sam Wilson, the Falcon, Captain America's best mate and later replacement. In the comics, he was a social worker who ran into the Captain during some weird shit involving an island of Neo-Nazis (so, us but funnier) who taught him to fight. Then it turned out he had the power to telepathically communicate with birds, so now he has a literal pet falcon who acts as his eyes and ears. In the MCU, he's an ex soldier (again) who also has a drone he calls a bird. Because that's totally as interesting and fun!

You can see this on a wider level as well. In the comics, the Avengers basically decided on their own to become a team after the heroes ran into each other dealing with the Hulk. In the movies, they were a UN initiative. This is the kind of set-up you use when you're worried about seeming "silly", reject bawdy high strangeness, but are too lazy or hack to work out something new.

All that being said, the "vigilante's" name is Calamity. She also notices the dead superhero.

“All right, so then…who is she? I’ve never heard of a supervillain named Utopia.”

Calamity shrugs. “Me neither, and I’ve heard of most of the players who could do this. She’s either really new, or someone from the little leagues who got lucky.” Calamity’s eyes fix on me, and she asks “What’s your name, anyhow?”

“I’m Danny.”

Calamity is silent for a long time.

I think Calamity just glanced at the author's name and doesn't know what to say. She suggests to Danny they get moving because otherwise, the police might want her to testify against Utopia, and as we learn, she's a bit of an ACAB type. And like most ACAB tyes, is a violent lunatic, but we'll get to that.

I’m throwing all my crap into my bag and running next to her as she sprints for the parking garage’s rear. Around us, I can see the occasional shopper huddling behind a car, waiting to see if it’s safe to come out yet. We zip across the street, down an alley; she vaults a chain link fence like a gymnast on a high bar, and I’m up and over it too before I realize I should have had more trouble keeping up. Around another corner and down another alley, we slow to a stop. It’s quiet here, and the sirens seem distant.

Calamity looks at me, her brow knitted in with confusion. “You uh…you on the track team or something?”

I realize I’m not winded. “I’m a wide receiver,” I say, which is true, but also not really an explanation for why I could mistake a dead sprint for a light jog.

Amerimutts, help me out here: what does a wide reciever do? Aside from catch fat people?

“Whatever you say, Danny. I think we’d best part ways here. I’ve got some things to run down. Might be seeing you soon.” Calamity turns, and from a standing leap catches the lowest rung of a fire escape ladder.

“Hey, wait!” I blurt.

“What?” she asks as she slithers up onto the escape’s lowest landing.

My cheeks get warm. “Do you have a mirror with you?”

She turns back to me and spreads her jacket wide so I can see the flash grenades hanging from a harness she wears around her chest. “Do I look like I carry a compact around with me?”

Poor Calamity. She hasn't realised what kind of story this is yet.

Now I’m alone again, with this new body.

I sit down on a stack of abandoned milk crates and begin to shake. I’m dizzy. Is this what shock feels like? I stare at my hands, and my legs. It’s hard to tell but I think my shoulders are narrower. My pants are pinching me pretty hard around my hips. I feel my face and the scratchy peach fuzz is all gone.

I bet Daniels (either of them) think chicks don't have hair besides their scalp and maybe their mons pubis. You know, if they're wild like that.

Are you ready for some boring historical exposition? Well, fuck you:

The train rocks gently as we shoot along a straightaway. The windows are fogged in the early evening gloom, and I sit at the very front of the car so I can keep my back to everyone else. I can’t stop smiling, even when somebody looks up from their phone and announces to everyone in the carriage that Dreadnought is dead. Some people are crying softly, others talking in hushed voices. This train has the air of a funeral, but I can barely keep from giggling. A quiet part of me in the back of my head says I should be ashamed. Dreadnought is dead. People are in mourning. But I can’t be sad. As sick as it is, I’m excited. He gave me the greatest gift imaginable, even though I don’t deserve it. He fixed me. Made me a girl.

Insert Nashville shooting joke here.

As far as I know, none of the men who wore the mantle of Dreadnought ever had powers like that.

Admittedly, it does seem like a rather specific superpower. I guess if I was a bank robber I'd be inclined to stop what I was doing if my dick fell out.

Here’s what I know, courtesy of way too many late nights fangirling about superheroes on Wikipedia: In January of 1944, an American pilot whose name has been deliberately lost to history encountered an unidentifiable glowing light in the midst of a fierce battle over Germany. Thinking it was a new German weapon, he attempted to follow it, but it vanished into a cloud. He went in after it, and his plane simply…disappeared. A week later he returned to Allied Command in England and changed the course of history.

Forty years before that strange encounter over Germany, the British had built a warship that revolutionized naval warfare. HMS Dreadnought was faster, stronger, and tougher than anything else afloat. Overnight, it made every other battleship in the world obsolete.

...Not really? From what I've been told, the Dreadnought was more like a refinement of a very old pattern: namely, ships with cannons. If you wanted an example of ships that revolutionised naval warfare in the 1940s, you'd probably want to look at aircraft carriers, which basically made a joke of dreadnought-inspired designs. It also seems odd that an American air-pilot would name himself after a British ship that had been obsolete for four decades? Were their no badass planes he could've named himself for?

That’s what the first man to wear the mantle did to metahumans. Nobody had ever flown as fast or as high as he could. Nobody had ever been able to throw a punch like he could. Nobody was able to soak up the kind of punishment he could. So they called him Dreadnought and he was fearless.

In two months of fighting, he’d killed or captured half of Nazi Germany’s metahuman operatives, Hitler’s famous Übermenschen. Infamous villains like Kristallnacht and Doctor von Sieg didn’t even slow him down. The survivors went underground and stayed there almost the rest of the war, right up until the big showdown in Leipzig in April of ’45.

After the war was over, when the alliance between the Western powers and the Soviets began to break down, everyone in Washington assumed the twin superiorities of American nuclear power and American supermen would be enough to force the Soviets to capitulate to any demand the Allies wished to make. That lovely notion, along with a dozen city blocks of downtown Berlin, was demolished during Red Steel’s debut bout against Dreadnought.

And then the arms race was on.

Dreadnought wasn’t just unprecedented, he was the harbinger of a new wave of metahumans more potent than anything that had come before. For a short while it seemed like a major new player took the stage every month or so. All efforts to find the source of this new glut of powerful metahumans failed. Atomic radiation, ancient curses, exotic chemistry, and eldritch magic—the variety of origin stories was as broad as the variety of people they happened to. Despite an aggressive search, no common cause was ever identified.

You might recognise this as basically a very literal version of the superhero genre's real-life trajectory. Emerges as a distinct concept derived from various pulp-genres around WW2, lot of stories about fighting Nazis (or the Japs) which then gave way to the commies in the 50s (along with a substantial drop in sales) before experiencing a resurgence in popularity in the 60s. This is another world building device superhero authors tend to draw on when they haven't got any better ideas.

In the decade after the war, we started getting our first supercriminals. In ’61, Mistress Malice made her bid for world domination, and suddenly we had supervillains as well.

Okay, this is another bugbear of mine. A lot of "post-modern" superhero stories like to suggest that supervillains only emerge in response to superheroes. It's an argument in the Civil War movie, for instance. This is of course literally true. Supervillains are created because superheroes need baddies to fight. I'm not sure why it's considered such an iron-clad law of sociology in the stories themselves. It's a very midwit sort of writing: thinking you're clever just because you aknowledge the the arbiturary conceits of your genre without examining them. Seriously, you're telling me it took fifteen fucking years for someone with superpowers to decide to be naughty? It's like the weird apolitical, comic book version of people who think all crime will stop if we get rid of the cops and give everyone free money.

To cut a long story short, Mistress Malice killed a fuckton of people in her flying death fortress, including the first Dreadnought, but was brought down by a second Dreadnought, aided by Red Steel, the Russian superhero who rumbled with his predecessor.

After the second Dreadnought was killed in action during the Kaiju Crisis of ’85, his successor saw the end of the Cold War and had his hands full dealing with the dozens of Soviet Bloc heroes who were suddenly on the market as high-end mercenaries. The Miami Horror and Black Christmas proved the world still needed heroes

I didn't think the remake was that bad.

Until today, when he gave me something as he lay dying. Something I don’t understand, that changed my body and made me perfect. Because of what he did, whatever it was, I’ll be able to live the way I was meant to. As a girl. Finally. I’m grateful; hell, I’m practically vibrating with excitement. It seems almost greedy to hope for more.

But who wouldn’t want to be able fly?

Yes, it's taken this long for Danny to wonder if the superhero famous for passing on his powers when he died might have passed on his powers when he died. To be fair, I know a lot of trans people self-centred enough not to consider the possibility for way longer.

Now, some of you might be thinking, "Wow, there were three Dreadnoughts before Danny? Three men with their own lives and stories, all ending tragically? I bet they cast a long shadow over the story and Danny as a character."

Bahahahahah.

 

[Lurking no more]

Amerimutts, help me out here: what does a wide reciever do? Aside from catch fat people?

A wide receiver is a position in Football, who's far out from the main formation.

...Not really? From what I've been told, the Dreadnought was more like a refinement of a very old pattern: namely, ships with cannons. If you wanted an example of ships that revolutionised naval warfare in the 1940s, you'd probably want to look at aircraft carriers, which basically made a joke of dreadnought-inspired designs. It also seems odd that an American air-pilot would name himself after a British ship that had been obsolete for four decades? Were their no badass planes he could've named himself for?

While still a ship with cannons, the Dreadnought's superior firepower and gun layout rendered every other battleship at the time obsolete, and served as an important step in the naval arms race that preceded the First World War. While it didn't revolutionize naval warfare in the same way that the submarines or carriers did, it'd be like if Roman cavalry suddenly had to go up against medieval knights, sure they're both cavalry with pointy sticks, but the former stands no chance against the latter.

 

[Kari Kamiya]

Oh, just a note, the main character of this is a MTF, and after their magical transition, I'm probably going to use mostly female pronouns, mostly because calling someone who basically got turned into a flesh and blood female "he" feels linguistically arkward.

But we already have a superhero story where a boy turns into an actual flesh and blood girl through magical transformations. Came out in 2012.

 

[Soggy paper straw]

Got confused for a while because I did not read properly that this was a different novel with the same title, by a man in a skirt, awfully written, on the same topic.

April's twitter account (proof) was suspended


Probably this is why, made Elon mad- https://archive.is/r4v7D

Spoiler: Interesting tweets

 

[AMHOLIO]

"Quest for cringe" keeps making me laugh. Onwards, to glory embarrassment!

Also, what about the chicks they don't wear nail-polish? They all demi-boys?

We are actually less than women, for we don't turn them on. I wasn't going to make this joke earlier but the Soggy posted April Daniels' tweets and it became clear that he's this kind of man.

The lady vigilante he includes later shows a "butch" woman but that's just a flavor of kink rather than a human with actual well rounded goals I'm guessing.

(reminds me a bit of accounts by anorexics, hint hint) but troons have been swapping stories that play better with doctors and the media since before Reddit.

In another book that I should get back to once my schedule clears, Whipping Girl, the author David Serano discusses having to lie and how necessary shaping themselves to the doctor's expectations was, and how much he hated and blamed the doctors for forcing trans people to do that rather than "gibs me dat homones reeeeee". Yes, he still has a raging hate boner for Ray Blanchard, why do you ask?

Also, "almost a lost cause"? I'm pretty sure once your voice drops that's it. Or is he talking about vocal cord surgery?

ITS NEVER TOO LATE TO TRANSITION YOU CAN ALWAYS BECOME A GRIL

And what about all the blokes who wear nail-polish?

Trans girls in denial, duhhhhhh.

Woman. Wo-man. Lay-dee. Fe-male. Original Charactur donut steel Danny has justification for it, but I'm reiterating it for the writer Daniels.

I and many others think Jazz was only "dysphoric" because every adult in his life has told him he's essentially a deformed girl-child who needs to be corrected with hormones and brutal surgery since he was a toddler, but that's beside the point.

The depressing moment when you realize Jazz never owned his own body and was always someone else's plaything.

is the cursed crossover of book and trans Twitter,

Wow, thanks, want to set myself on fire now.

Daniel(s) has a breeding kink, doesn't he?

Soggy Paper Straws has shown he has a leash and collar kink so highly likely, good guess.

Oh, we'll get to Mr. Tozer, don't worry Kiwis.

Ooh, let me guess:

1. Tozer insist Danny is a boy because Mr. Tozer himself is actually a trans woman in super denial
2. Tozer is a normal strawman browbeaten into acceptance throughout the story or becomes the abusive IRL parent and Danny is emancipated and lives with a new gang of vigilante or gooberment superheroes
3. Tozer is really the supervillain (doubt)

I hope it's choice 1 because that would be so fucking stupid and embarrassing.

Unlike girls, who never play stupid and vicious social games growing up.

Ok, another prediction: all women in the book are going to be his girl besties who affirm him and act like the perfect women, are mean girls who secretly want him and or are transphobes, or are stereotypical adult female figures like matron and boss lady. Because that's all that exists and the author isn't smart enough for original thought.

Nope, can't see any connection there.

Troons are like super sexism in action. They love the "third gender" for other cultures since it's exotic and makes them feel able to justify their existence and feel better because it was a special role, not ever digging deeper and seeing it was a restrictive role for gay males in 95% of the cultures.

God forbid you actually try talking to the group you've decided you're a part of.

On one hand I do understand, general shyness and insecurity. On the other, massive fucking retard.

Claimed the first page moved him to tears. Some girls are denied education, some are raped, some have their genitalia mutiliated, and some have to catch a train to buy toenail polish. My heart breaks.

The only way it could ring closer to Tony Erin Reed would be that the kid got the money by selling drugs and microdosed LSD every day. Sad, many such cases.

If you need me, just flash the Kettle symbol in the sky

I can see it now:
Null: What the fuck is this?
Mod: he left it on the roof as a present sir, in case we need to talk to him.
*mod turns on a giant floodlight powered by eucalyptus oil with a kettle dangling in front of it, upside down since he's Australian of course*
Null: my site really is full of mysterious retarded autistic niggers. You fucking deal with it.
Mod: ok, we'll keep it. at least it smells better than the last few "gifts" left behind.
*cut to a weird and horrifying pile of signals the Kiwi Farms HQ can signal people with, including a disembodied gunt*

Thanks, this was my autism of the day.

Here's my only observation:

Chanting curse words like a prayer,

This sentence starter right here. I think this is when it dawned on me that this was a book and not just someone's tweet thread about their IRL day, although it might as well be. It's fffffiiine, it's something I would greenlight for the lower levels of a creative writing class. But only ffffiiiiine. This is what I expect out of a decent high school writing, as in, written by a high schooler. This is a very standard descriptor, something that I've seen multiple times before. I realized that this will likely be the top reaches of Mr. Daniel's writing, cliche and enough to make people think he can write, and that is a sad sad realization to make. Most of OC Danny's thoughts are Tell, not show. It's just this dump of info, someone telling you about their day with maybe a half a fraction of literary trope usage to make it exciting.

This is going to suck.

Entertainment weekly put this guy on their list of "27 female authors that rule sci-fi right now"

Award winning authors in modern day, ladies and gentlemen.

Yeah, congratulations to these two for achieving the image below:


I'm glad I don't force myself into following modern writing.

True story, a friend of a friend of mine tried to get a book deal for years as a gay dude. Trooned out, got snapped right up.

Well, at least trooning out gave him something in return for a diminished sex drive ans other fun medical side effects. The semper fi was for the gif, btw.

I kind of wish he did, though:

If the story ended there like this it would have been my short story of the year award. Beautiful.

All hail the Plot Inciting Orb! Shortener of plots, contriver of premises! The absolute minimum of worldbuilding!

Shortener of thoughts too. Good observation.

and a lot of this gender stuff among kids is an attempt to flee that

And people screaming that it isn't is their only defense, and the fact that it works is so fucking annoying.

This would be really funny if this was Saudi Arabia. Or any country on Earth prior to the 1900s, really.

Considering the author's tweets, it would have gone into a kink fiasco with victorian ladies or muslim ladies leashing men or men doing it to them or just women doing it to women or whatever. Ugh.

Given the gender stuff, I'm a little suprised it wasn't "Latinx." Actually, this came out in 2017. Was Latinx much of a thing then?

It was the dawn of the use of latinix iirc. Some latino might have been up to date enough to be a sensitivity reader and to tell Mr. Daniels to nix it. Who knows.

Amerimutts, help me out here: what does a wide reciever do? Aside from catch fat people?

No, a wide receiver is a fat bottom with a goatse, duh.

Are you ready for some boring historical exposition? Well, fuck you:

The desire to be trans but also be seen as "smrt" by other nerds makes some people take some truly lazy shortcuts.

Exposition dumps like this can be necessary, but this is a clumsy way of delivering one.

I guess if I was a bank robber I'd be inclined to stop what I was doing if my dick fell out.

The godorb sounds like it's probably either not going to be fleshed out (in this book or ever) or will likely be some mysticsl force of godhood who blesses the best people into becoming their true selves with great power or some shit. Hack writing for lazy writers.

Were their no badass planes he could've named himself for?

Wonder if this troon is a Hearts of Iron fan? He likely just picked Dreadnutter because it sounded cool and then half assed an explanation later.

The good part of embracing sillier superhero stuff like Hawkeye & Falcon's origins is that you don't have to tie it to an existing earth. You don't have to question it, it just embraces fun and moves on. A balance of this leads to a fun superhero story, too much grounding and you open a can of worms that happens with too gritty realistic super scenarios that makes them look sillier because it's trying to be too logical.

This is another world building device superhero authors tend to draw on when they haven't got any better ideas.

I'm stealing this phrase. This describes so much.

Seriously, you're telling me it took fifteen fucking years for someone with superpowers to decide to be naughty? It's like the weird apolitical, comic book version of people who think all crime will stop if we get rid of the cops and give everyone free money.

Thank you. Hell, it would be logical for supervillains to appear as soon as superheros or even just before: rules don't apply when you can just fucking punch a wall and fly away after robbing a bank. Blaming superheroes for villains is like saying "well if you didn't try and defend yourself from me punching you I wouldn't have needed to grab the bat to hit you harder." Escalation can arrive from both sides, but are the people trying to defend others really the bad guy or does it just sound like a subversion of expectations for dummies?

Now, some of you might be thinking, "Wow, there were three Dreadnoughts before Danny? Three men with their own lives and stories, all ending tragically? I bet they cast a long shadow over the story and Danny as a character."

This is exactly what I was thinking when you made your first post on chapter 1: even though it was just one DruidNaughts, that is still a giant shadow to inherit. There could have been a preexisting relationship that had nothing to do with transness that the main character one sidedly had with Doughnaughts, but lol, nope, Deeznutz is actually a way to give Danny superpowers slapped into their lap and the prestige of being a powerful superhero without having to make a story where Danny works for something.

I'm a piece of capeshit, a capeshitter if you will. I've been around the block a couple of times. This isn't a story interested in superheros, this isn't a story interested in being good or doing good, this isn't a story about morality, saving people and the struggles of such, the great power great responsibility struggle, or even plain old adventure: this is a story about Danny getting everything they want and what they want is people loving them and being a girl. Edit: AND the power to punch transphobes and enemies in the face. Fuck you dad! I'm powerful now! Look at me! I punch you, now you obey me even though your remarks on never being a girl still hurt and won't stop hurting! I'm guessing the main enemy will be taken out Steven Universe talk down style. I'm also mentally comparing this protagonist to Titan from Megamind, and I'm sure the author doesn't realize the parallels in thought.

That's fucking fine. Just don't disguise it with backstory about superheros, don't even fucking focus on it, don't bother with it. Mr. Daniels ignores a bloody interesting set up for a teen (transgender or not) becoming a superhero that they could have looked up to and watched the gory death of for a wish fulfillment fantasy. This bugs the fuck out of me because the right beginning of this wasn't the trauma & grief of death and finding peace withinafter, it was "Danny finds a shooting star that turns out to be a superpower source that chooses them to be a superhero". That would still make Danny special WITHOUT the death of someone, which just makes your character look like a sociopath when they're smiling and giggling about "teehee I got blood on me but I achieved my dream!" Mr. Daniels wrote himself into a fucking corner at the beginning of the first act! Fuck you, got mine! Mind you, this is assuming that Danny won't realize this for the entire book. I truly assume they won't.

White Kettle Shufflepunk, can you tell me any of Danny's interest outside of being a woman? Can you tell me their goals or wants? What they're like as a character? I'm guessing the fuck not. Maybe I'm asking too much but I honestly don't think it would have taken more than 10 minutes to write about Danny getting a needle out of a dog's paw. Not just flower sketches, actual contemplation of figuring out how to hide liking horticulture by growing something that isn't big or doesn't need much light. You know, interest. Personality. Actions. Fuck me, I'm too old and retarded for this shit.

Anyway, I'm sorry you're subjecting yourself to this. @ Shufflepunk: What's your favorite superhero? What makes you like capeshit? Who's your favorite superman character? These are fun to answer and show where you come from as a reader, and I just like to know because I too have Stockholms Syndrome to the superhero genre and I always appreciate a fellow captive. And godsneed and good luck!

 

[Soggy paper straw]

@AMHOLIO I think Female by Andrea Long Chu is more horrific if there are no takers, I may do it, but not anytime soon.

This is the Tumblr of the author, https://www.tumblr.com/msaprildaniels/

Holy shit, this dude posts a lot! There are hints at degenerate AO3/ffnet, but seems this one at least knows how to not cross reference everything.

Very quick observations,
- does not seem to truly have dysphoria. There are like 2 posts, both reblogs about it.
- seems obsessed about pushing the ideology onto kids
- has a porn / fetish side - VERY defensive of kink in pride.

Will properly dig later

Spoiler: :(

Not fair you get to read a Dreadnought novel that at least is written in a way that can be understood!

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

- has a porn / fetish side - VERY defensive of kink in pride.

In a way, I'm glad the Integrated Messaging Aparatus or whatever we want to call it seems to have chosen to make Gretch trans literary figurehead instead of Daniels. Gretch is like the Andes of peaks, Daniels seems way better at presenting a more... family friendly image of trans stuff.

Not fair you get to read a Dreadnought novel that at least is written in a way that can be understood!

I feel for you, brother/sister/genderfluid comrade, though your Dreadnought is probably much, much funnier.

I'm a piece of capeshit, a capeshitter if you will. I've been around the block a couple of times. This isn't a story interested in superheros, this isn't a story interested in being good or doing good, this isn't a story about morality, saving people and the struggles of such, the great power great responsibility struggle, or even plain old adventure: this is a story about Danny getting everything they want and what they want is people loving them and being a girl. Edit: AND the power to punch transphobes and enemies in the face. Fuck you dad! I'm powerful now! Look at me! I punch you

It would unironically be better if Daniels went down this route. Instead, we get something even more tedious to read.

White Kettle Shufflepunk, can you tell me any of Danny's interest outside of being a woman? Can you tell me their goals or wants? What they're like as a character? I'm guessing the fuck not.

Drawing, I guess? Superheroes, but mainly so she/he/they/harrggle-blarrgle can occasionaly do the dance of exposition. Her goals? I guess she wants to "do right by [the last[] Dreadnought" but not in a way we learn anything about the poor, dead bastard.

What's your favorite superhero?

Superman. If we're counting Deconstructy-ruckty types, Miracleman. This makes me the most boring, antiquarian type of capeshit fan. My favourite's team X-Men, if that helps? Though, it probably says something that I own both the Power Pack omnibuses.

Who's your favorite superman character?

I could write whole spergy paragraphs about how vital Lois Lane is to the whole premise and core appeal of the character, or all the interesting ways you can use Bizarro, but I used to be very fond of Jon Kent. Then... Bendis happened.

While I'm here, how about we get chapter-three out of the way? In which we meet Danny's parents!

Well you see, Father, I was out buying nail polish to wear in secret because I’ve been half the colors of the rainbow for years now, when the greatest hero of the age fell out of the sky, gave me his power, and died.

Yeah, Danny's a "lesbian", lest any of you were pinning your hopes on him being a HST.

Somehow this turned me into a girl. Anyhow, I’m off to buy some bras and panties, ta-ta! Come, Mother, and show me the wonders of the tampon aisle!

This feels especially awful right next to a line about how the world's greatest superhero died in your arms, but honestly, I feel like this is just as much the fault of the YA's addiction to "quriky voice" as it is Dreadnought being a cleaned up transformation fetish story.

Danny proceeds to get a text from her parents about missing curfew and shit, which leads to her slinging off another text to her best friend forever (bing!) David:

His reply comes almost instantly: Shit. Are you still out?

Yeah.

Okay, it’ll be all right, but you need to go home. It’ll get worse the longer you’re out.

I’m scared, I type.

It’ll be okay. Text me later if you need to.

He’s right, of course. David’s always there for me. But this time, I feel like it’ll be different. What with the girl thing and all.

Yeah, even if I hadn't read this before, I'd assume David was going to be a 'transphobic' monster.

My keys shake in my hand as I turn the lock. I slip the door closed behind me, and try to set my feet down quietly. It’s an old house, with wooden floors and a fireplace that doesn’t work anymore.

Not since the Weasleys exploded out of it.

If I can just make it to the steep, narrow staircase, maybe I can slip sneak past them and get up to my room before they notice I’m back. And then… And then.

Master of the cunning plan, am I.

Mistress. I mean mistress of the cunning plan. I start giggling halfway through the living room, and that does it. Cover blown.

A man just died!

Anyway, Danny's mother sees her, and because she's the only case of transition actually working in the history of the world, doesn't recognise her son.

“Roger. Roger, get in here,” says Mom, not looking away from me. She’s twisting her apron in her hands. Her fingers have gone white.

Well. This is going swimmingly.

My father enters. He’s got a receding hairline and a voice made for shouting.

Oh shit, it's Kervyn!

“Who the hell are you?” he snaps. “Get out.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Wh—I don’t have a daughter.”

“Um, you do now. I’m Danny.” My posture folds inwards. My arms cross across my stomach, and I can’t look him in the eye. I hate how I always wilt like this, but, well, it’s easier this way. Sometimes even this isn’t enough. Sometimes it pisses him off that I’m a coward.

Get used to that, folks. This goes on and on for a bit until Mrs Tozer clocks Danny.

My father’s eyes get wide. His face goes the color of spoiled milk. “What did you do?” he asks, quietly enough to scare me.

“I didn’t do anything! It just happened. Dreadnought was fighting someone, and there was this flash of light, and then…I was this.” My cheeks are burning. It’s not really a lie, right? I brace up and get ready for it.

For once, Mount Screamer doesn’t detonate. “Danny? Oh hell, what happened to you?”

“I don’t know. There was a superhero fight. And I was nearby, and then…this.”

“Don’t you worry.” He draws himself up, as tall and proud as he can, like he’s about to be magnanimous. “We’re going to make this right. I love you. You’re my son.”

I take a half step back. “Well…not anymore.”

This is written like a bad comedy trailer.

“We’ll go to doctors. We’ll get this looked at,” he says. Dad doesn’t sound like he’s all here anymore. He’s not really looking at me. He’s looking past me, toward some kind of pathetic optimism where he doesn’t have to deal with who I really am. “Hell, we’ll talk to the Legion if we need to. If it was done, it can be undone.”

That bastard, not rolling over and accepting that his son got his body noncensually transmogrified by a passing supervillain! Keep in mind, Danny's never, ever brought up being trans to his dad. Yeah, it's because he's afraid of the guy because he's a cartoon abusive father, but still, he legit doesn't know Danny wanted to be a girl. From his perspective, this is basically a slightly more fantastical version of him being castrated on his walk home.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Dad. I’m a girl now. Maybe”—I lick my lips—“maybe we should just accept that.”

He seems to come back to the here and now with a jolt. He sets his jaw. “Don’t say that. We’re going to get through this, okay? I will find a way to fix this. You have my word.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

And then he sweeps me into one of those rough, manly hugs he’s so big on. A healthy masculinity, he calls it, over and over again. I am suddenly filled with contempt. It takes an effort of will not to peel him off me, and I shiver with disgust.

It's difficult for me to articulate all the ways this passage bothers me, mostly because there's so goddamn many. Let's start with the message this is trying to send to young trans-identified readers. It's more or less framing any kind of parental concern or affection that isn't coupled with immediate, unconditional affirmation and medicalisation (or in this case, not going to a doctor or a superpower specialist because I guess good dads are also mind-readers) as insincere.

Also, it's basically gender-policing. Hahaha, Roger Tozer is hugging his son and telling him everything will be alright. That's so fake. Masculinity is inherently aggressive and toxic.

I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what he wants. I don’t care what he thinks. I am a girl. I am free.

And I am never.

EVER.

Going back.

You know, I think about all those generations of black women who were enslaved in America. Being forced to labour without recompense, not being allowed to choose their spouses without their owner's say-so, being raped, being seperated from their children. But at least the guy with the whip used their pronouns, right?

My door locks behind me with a comforting click, and I let out my breath. That was frustrating, and scary as hell, but it’s over. Dad spent twenty minutes thinking out loud, brainstorming, he said, about all the ways he’s going to try and take this away from me. I’m sorry, I mean all the ways he wants to help me. Jackass. There’ll be a lot of doctors and a lot of tests, and so on. Good luck, buddy. You’re going to need it.

You know, Harry Potter handled this sort of thing with so much more grace. Also, trust me, all this tough guy gal rhetoric is going to be real funny in retrospect. Now, 6% of the way into a book about getting superpowers, it's time for Danny to test some of his new superpowers:

I slide the butter knife out of my sweatshirt sleeve and sit down on my narrow bed. I slipped it up here to test a theory. With just a few fingers at either end, I try to bend the metal. It resists me, and for a moment disappointment wells up in my chest. But then I get a sense of something, like if I pushed in just this way, then—

With a quiet whine of tortured metal the knife bends in half, easy as folding a piece of paper.

Holy shit.

I feel cold and shaky. The knife slips out of my fingers. I’d hoped. I’d really sincerely hoped, but I didn’t—

Holy shit.

Go ahead, Dad. Hit me like you mean it. What do you think you can do? Force me to take testosterone shots? I pick the knife back up, and tie it in a knot. Nobody is going to force me to do anything ever again.

I look forward to Danny going from wannabee school shooter to mewling fucking coward. Oh, Danny can fly, or at least jump and forget how to come down. Yay.

As I’m getting dressed, my eyes fall on the poster of Valkyrja that’s hanging on my wall. She’s another member of the Legion Pacifica, the regional superhero team. Maybe I’ll get to meet her. At the thought of it, a deep flush rises in my cheeks. Maybe that would be a bad idea. I’d probably fangirl all over her. She wouldn’t be impressed.

God, that's a shitty team name. It either sounds like a credit-union, a triatholon contest, or a right-wing militia.

Even worse, because none of Danny's clothes fit properly anymore, his mother takes him shopping:

We slip down aisle three, and Mom measures my foot with one of those metal ruler things with the slide. Then she measures my foot again when we realize she’d accidentally used the men’s scale. There’s a whole wall of generic gray sneakers to choose from. I notice the colors for these are much calmer than I’m used to seeing in sneakers. Pastels and grays and so on. Boys’ shoes want to look like they’re made of knockoff hypertech. Boys’ shoes are friggin’ ugly.

If you're wondering what "hypertech" means in this context, don't, the answer's pretty boring. Also, boys' fashion, well known for being more bright and colourful than girls'.

While Mom is searching for a pair of shoes in my size that’s on sale, I slip around the aisle and head down the back side. Something caught my eye on the way in. These are the more distinctly feminine shoes. I find a pair in my size and clutch them to my chest, blushing. Flats, glossy black with straps. Super cute. I’ve always wanted some.

AGP thermometre rising.

Mom is pretty smart. If I show these to her, she might start putting things together. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

"So that's where my underwear keeps going!"

“Oh, those are nice,” says Mom, and then an instant later I see her realize what Dad will think of them. A moment after that, she looks at me, puzzling. I’m sitting on the knife-edge of hope, waiting for what she’ll say next. “But…oh. Yes, you can have those.”

My smile is huge, as wide as it goes. I hug her, and she hugs me back and I love her so, so much. “Thanks, Mom.”

After a long moment, we break apart and I decide to press my luck.

“Now how about some underwear?”

Aww, shit, the thermometre just exploded! Now I have to clean up all this genderfluid!

There are cops all over the back side of the mall when we get there. It feels a little creepy being back here. Everyone’s walking around like they just lost a relative. As ecstatic as I am with what’s happened, someone had to die for it to be possible. I don’t like thinking about that, because it reminds me I’m a horrible person. It’s disconcerting to realize Dad is right about how selfish I am. We have to go around two sides of the city block that the parking garage is on to get in.

“I can’t believe Dreadnought is dead,” says Mom. “You were near that?”

“It was really scary,” I say.

"So naturally, I spent the rest of the book so far giggling about my new tits."

The mall downtown is built over several city blocks, with extensive skyways between the main buildings. We cross the road through a glass and steel tunnel on the third floor and come out near where we need to be. The lingerie shop in the mall is packed front to back with floor to ceiling photos of impossibly beautiful women posing dramatically in their underwear. And I mean literally impossible. These women have all been airbrushed and retouched until they are something that basically does not exist in nature. Even actual models don’t really look that way—it’s a full time job for them to do the kind of dieting and exercise needed to be a top tier model, and then on top of that they have staff to help them. Dermatologists, dieticians, personal trainers, and makeup specialists, talented photographers, and even digital artists all work together make it possible. Our health teacher made sure to show us a really long documentary on the subject, about how every little human imperfection, from pimples to scars to pockets of fat, by artists with computers before these photos are shown to the public. With an almost guilty jolt, I realize I look a lot like these pictures. Maybe not so…developed, but pretty close. There’s a weird moment of dissonance as I process that.

How to get across that your self-insert is impossibly hot, but make it woke.

A clerk walks up to us. They must pay better here; she doesn’t have that desperation that fills you with pity and fear. Her eyes are red and a little puffy like she’s been crying. A lot of people’s eyes have been like that today. Everyone loved Dreadnought. “Can I help you two?”

You know, when DC comics killed off Superman for a year in the 90s, newscasters got choked up on the air. In real life. I somehow can't see someone doing that for Dreadnought. Here's everything we know about the man about as of book 2. He was a man, he was part of the Legion Pacifica, he did superhero shit, he was the third Dreadnought, and he died in front of Danny. That's it.

“My daughter needs a bra,” says Mom. Another little burst of joy flits through me hearing her say that. Her daughter.

Yeah, not replacing the themometre yet was a good call.

The clerk takes my measurements, looping a tape measure around my chest, and then higher around my breasts.

“You should have been in here a while ago,” she says.

Sadly, the genderfluid is still bubbling, infusing my brain with their terrible fumes.

I put on my shiny black shoes and practice hovering in mid air. It’s easy now. I can spin on all three axes, and stop precisely in whatever orientation I choose. Tomorrow is Monday. I can’t wait.

School is going to be amazing.

LIAR!

 

[RougeRed]

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

View attachment 5028519

That pagan note is going to be really funny soon enough. Also, of course he was an r/atheist.

 

[Soggy paper straw]

April Daniels: a closer look at the woman behind the book

Gretch is like the Andes of peaks, Daniels seems way better at presenting a more... family friendly image of trans stuff.

Of course, Gretchen dear is miles worse, but Mr Daniels is also not a pure YA angel.
However, he is much better at keeping his privacy online.

---

His mission statement (Source)
For those that think Julie Bindel is the devil, you will (not) like this:

I want total, unfettered cultural domination by women at the expense of men in all forms of media. I want the lives and stories of women to be the preeminent concern of all popular culture in all venues, with only lip service paid to the existence and agency of men. I want this to continue in the face of mountains of incisive, cogent analysis why this is unfair. I want this state of affairs to continue for at least three generations.

I cannot be bothered to copy his TDS, but here is a particularly interesting political rant that I am sure parents everywhere would love to know was written by the author of the YA novel they bought their dear daughter son (Full archived rant)

So what if, hear me out, what if somebody kidnapped Tucker Carlson? And made a video of him being castrated? What if that video was released to the public at a strategically selected moment?

Supports men having access to Michfest (he is a lot into Michfest, archived example)

Spoiler: Boring explanation why men being part of Michfest matters

He also dismisses any concerns of violence, saying that the trans community rejects them. Well, there has been a lot of silence by the trans community on the murder, and also the violent protests against Michfest.
For those unaware, one of main trans activists fighting to gain access to the festival ended up murdering a lesbian couple and their son (https://www.womenarehuman.com/male-...urder-of-female-couple-their-son-dana-rivers/).

He has some feelings about wearing nail polish, specifically read about this long tumblr post written by another LAydEEE that he reblogged

Spoiler: The post

maybe this is bc i’m from the south and not fuckin uhhhh new york or wherever the hell but like. it is still not really normalized for a man to wear makeup or nail polish. women with short hair still get offensive comments about their appearances. like even small acts of gender nonconformity can still be scary and dangerous in 2021 and i feel like so many people just live in this progressive bubble where they think that all dudes being Remotely “feminine” in some way are like homophobic tiktok e-boys doing it for clout or whatever and that’s uh. fucking stupid. like i can PROMISE you that the vast majority of gender nonconforming people are not trying to do something that’s never been done before, nor are they claiming to do so, they’re just trying to live their lives and look the way they want to look. you aren’t helping anybody by trying to police who has the right to be wearing skirts or painting their nails or doing their hair a certain way.

anyway this is ur daily reminder that gender nonconformity is not a trend and it’s gross to attack people for being gender nonconforming in a way that you think “has been done before” or “isn’t that special” or whatever the fuck. like i’m sorry but it’s just cruel and hateful! being gender nonconforming still takes bravery and courage. people still face discrimination and harassment. whose cause do you think you’re helping by attempting to be the gatekeeper of nontraditional gender expression? genuinely, who do you think benefits when you attack people for stepping outside of the bounds of traditional gender expression? who? because it certainly fucking isn’t gnc people.

Obligatory "the wizard game is literally Hitler"


Poor Mr Daniels is getting PTSD from deadlines... because TrAnS HaPpInESs




Archive for proof that I don't think he has dysphoria. However he likes to pretend he does.


However, in reality his "dysphoria" is just a serious case of AGP and female envy




I am 100% sure there is(/was) a degenerate Tumblr somewhere, and a fanfiction account.


Is he also a furry?

He is a huge supported for kink at pride, example:



"Arm transwomen" sticker reblogged March 2023, how about not doing it?

 

[AMHOLIO]

Drawing, I guess?

Yeah, "I guess". That's exactly what I thought, Mr. Daniels writing is top tier.

Superman. If we're counting Deconstructy-ruckty types, Miracleman. This makes me the most boring, antiquarian type of capeshit fan. My favourite's team X-Men, if that helps? Though, it probably says something that I own both the Power Pack omnibuses.

I could write whole spergy paragraphs about how vital Lois Lane is to the whole premise and core appeal of the character, or all the interesting ways you can use Bizarro, but I used to be very fond of Jon Kent. Then... Bendis happened.

Yet again you confirm that you are based as fuck. Thank you, good fucking choices and responses. Mine's Batman out of the fact he's what I grew up with and shit but Supes is very high up on Supers, really hate the animosity writers have for him sometimes. Lois Lane is kino and I feel you on a spiritual level on all 3, I'm sorry about the Bendis-getton.

Yeah, Danny's a "lesbian", lest any of you were pinning your hopes on him being a HST.

I was hoping for no romance but this is a YA novel. I always kind of hope for no romance: subplots are awkwardly handled and it becomes a teen drama distracting from the original plot, but even YA target me should have expected to be pulled into that. I liked reading, but I skipped YA after reading a few shit books and went to the big classic boys in high school because of it.
That's off topic though, I was trying to say "I wish more troons would think about more than just romance once becoming a woman." Almost as if it's part of an inherent need to enjoy human connection is by having objects and people that affirm their desires, like, like a fet..fetid? What was that word...

Seriously, a trans girl coming to terms with womanhood without romance would be fucking fascinating. While teen girls experience crushes and the like, the idea of exploring how you feel as a woman and relating to society is more intriguing. Questioning what you knew, questioning what society expects, but understanding that it's not bad if another woman genuinely wants something traditional or even yourself, breaking with other women and making surprise connections with your peers your age and women older than you, learning that there isn't always sisterhood but you can always find some common ground where you least expect it. I have bobs and vagene naturally so what the fuck do I know.

A man just died!

Our protagonist is a selfish bastard and I can hear the author in my head saying "I'd be sad if you died but if you gave me your womb I'd be ecstatic! Oh I uh, would think about you a lot, but I'm not naming the baby after you for your sacrifice or putting you as credit for helping me, my womb now."

I don't know how to explain human emotion and attachment to these types. How do I convey to them that someone dying is the normal emotional equivalent of being denied HRT?

From his perspective, this is basically a slightly more fantastical version of him being castrated on his walk home.

We need to make a Kiwi Spectrum of Exceptional Gentlemen where one superpower is just someone with a cigar cutter that cuts people's dicks off, either physically or with their mind.

It's more or less framing any kind of parental concern or affection that isn't coupled with immediate, unconditional affirmation and medicalisation (or in this case, not going to a doctor or a superpower specialist because I guess good dads are also mind-readers) as insincere.

Gross. On one hand, you can call it shallow teen emotions, but you know this extends to adult retardation.

But at least the guy with the whip used their pronouns,

Considering Soggy's look into this, I am terrified you're right.

So naturally, I spent the rest of the book so far giggling about my new tits.

Summary. End book here.

How to get across that your self-insert is impossibly hot, but make it woke.

To be fair, if he's an AGP, he could look like Kevin Gibes and be faceblind enough. Thinking of the protagonist as a dumpy ass man with bobs and vagene sounds hilarious.

LIAR!

"Wow I deserve attention as my new teen girl self instead of being treated equally like other students"
Yeah kys. This book is going to fucking hurt. I'm sure Gretchen's Dreadnought was a higher concentration of bad in a short area, but this sounds like a drag out of pain.

My thoughts:

.He’s looking past me, toward some kind of pathetic optimism where he doesn’t have to deal with who I really am.

My door locks behind me with a comforting click, and I let out my breath.

I hate both these sentences. They're acceptable but they're words I heard in the same order 300 times before. Nothing the author writes outside of Danny's thoughts stand out, it's like April D can only parrot other's thoughts. You can complain about Harry Potter but it didn't feel like I was going through the motions of writing and could highlight sentence by sentence standard descriptions.

And there's nothing wrong with standard descriptions, but it's clear this author has no thoughts aside from stringing sentences together to get to another scene. He's not so much as crafting a story to entertain but dictating what he wants to happen with descriptive-enough sentences in between. It's a wants list disguised as a book, not a book. His next book seems to be worse, with propaganda disguised as a book instead.

View attachment 5028519

Yeah, I'm guessing he follows the Whipping Girl school of thought, a favored book of Contrapoints, Erin Reed, and political troons everywhere. He trooned out at peak time to do such.

I cannot be bothered to copy his TDS, but here is a particularly interesting political rant that I am sure parents everywhere would love to know was written by the author of the YA novel they bought their dear daughter son (

I don't even like Tucker but holy shit, go outside. No wonder he has no

For those that think Julie Bindel is the devil, you will (not) like this:

I was born with 2 x chromosomes and yet I have a strong need to tell him to go fuck himself since he doesn't want equality, he wants revenge and he is a massive fucking loser for wanting to power trip for his whole life and punish a whole 3 generations of males while he's in charge, damaging gender relations further instead of helping our friends/brothers/fathers & so forth. God.

Supports men having access to Michfest (he is a lot into Michfest, archived example)

He seems to be a Julia Serano generation since they have a fixation on "ree michfest".

anyway this is ur daily reminder that gender nonconformity is not a trend and it’s gross to attack people for being gender nonconforming in a way that you think “has been done before” or “isn’t that special” or whatever the fuck. like i’m sorry but it’s just cruel and hateful!

Welcome to the internet, we are cruel and hateful. You can't expect asspats for everything, you can say to go easy on people, but you can't demand to be nice.

being gender nonconforming still takes bravery and courage. people still face discrimination and harassment. whose cause do you think you’re helping by attempting to be the gatekeeper of nontraditional gender expression? genuinely, who do you think benefits when you attack people for stepping outside of the bounds of traditional gender expression? who? because it certainly fucking isn’t gnc people.

They're not being attacked for gender nonconforming. They're being attacked for being a follower. It is rebellious to be a gender rebel. It is trendy for teens much like it is to claim mental illness, they can do it but people will still make fun of them, and LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN LIFE, teens need to learn to tell people to fuck off or ignore them. "ur not helping ppl" is not a grand statement either. You should be encouraging people to buck the trend and send the message to THEM, not OP who's mind is already made up. Also, authors sho type in chatspeak on their tumblrs are fucking annoying, this isn't twitter, you have unlimited room not to speak like a middle schooler (although I suppose it helps you reach your audience).

I'm glad Mr. Daniels would never make fun of a man for giving a hug, you know.

However, in reality his "dysphoria" is just a serious case of AGP and female envy

MY FUCKING BIRTHRIGHT

MY FUCKING BIRTHRIGHT


BIRTHRIGHT OF FUCKING WHAT, DIPSHIT? YOU AIN'T NO ROYALTY


I'm just thinking of all the people who could actually claim this and how privileged he is. I can't fucking do this, is there anyone who can put why this is wrong and funny into words?

 

[The Real Jesse Singal]

Oh man, I'll have to join this read-a-long. I dropped out of the Manhunt one back on my old account because it was just too awful. It was funny-bad, don't get me wrong, but in the "ramblings of a deranged misogynistic lunatic" way. This seems more funny-bad in the "terrible barely disguised fetish fanfic of a deranged misogynistic lunatic" way.

That rant about Tucker Carlson is fucking nuts. What is it about him in particular that gets all the nutcases stirred up? And Christ, the Michfest bullshit. Who in their right mind would want to go sit in the woods with a bunch of frumpy elderly lesbians and listen to terrible guitar music? If I filled a room with deadly wasps and put a "women's only" sign on the door, trannies would be lining up to get in.

 

[Sleazy Car Salesman]

Daniel(s) has a breeding kink, doesn't he?

Everybody has a breeding kink dumbass, it comes free with your reproductive instincts.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Everybody has a breeding kink dumbass, it comes free with your reproductive instincts.

There’s a difference between being driven to have sex because of the reproductive instinct and fetishising pregnancy and/or childbirth.

We need to make a Kiwi Spectrum of Exceptional Gentlemen where one superpower is just someone with a cigar cutter that cuts people's dicks off, either physically or with their mind.

Transhuman Earth Guardians. Or Terfguard

 

[PoisonedBun]

You made the comparison with the superhero registery but this is literally my hero academia. A dying man hands over his powers to an unwitting boy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, powers that have been passed down for generations. Seriously. The only difference is the genderbender part and the clumsy 'metahuman' lore.

 

[White-Kettle Shufflepunk]

Also, All-Might was an actual character in My Hero. We got to know him, he mentors the protagonist, and his history and that of his predecessors impacts the entire story. In other words, it’s a competent use of legacy superpowers.