TheLoud’s Blog

I’ll go first. In Good Omens, Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell says awfully racist things, and doesn’t get punished in the narrative for it, or even learn the error of his ways and atone for his sins. Instead Gaiman rewards the totally unrepentant Shadwell by giving him a happy ending, including a relationship with Madame Tracy. This proves that Gaiman approves of all the awful racist ideas that Shadwell spouts, according to the laws of literary criticism I can deduce from the discussions of fiction I see online. If Gaiman weren’t racist, he’d have punished this fictional character for his racism, because a novel writer’s job is to reward good characters and punish bad characters, according to the consensus I see on the internet. Since Gaiman didn’t punish Shadwell, that proves either than Gaiman is a racist who thinks Shadwell is right, or Gaiman is a bad writer who failed at his job to punish bad characters. You just can’t argue with that logic. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Therefore, instead of reading Gaiman’s books, which suck, readers should read books by… I don’t know, whichever writer hasn’t come out as a bad person yet. I’m pretty sure that a lot of people advocating this switch will be the same ones who recommended Gaiman a few years ago as the unproblematic alternative to J.K. Rowling (whose books suck for similar reasons.)

So far, I’ve seen Douglas Adams recommended as an unproblematic alternative. His books are great, and he has the advantage of being dead, thus unlikely to get in the news for assaulting any nannies. You’d think it’s safest to stick with dead authors in general, but the problem is, the longer they’ve been dead, the more likely they are to have opinions that don’t meet modern standards. I was happily reading a book by P.G. Wodehouse and then boom, fatphobia. And don’t even talk about H. P. Lovecraft.

Terry Pratchett still seems safe, but I’m nervous about typing that since I don’t want to jinx it.

If you want to save it for your own reading pleasure, that’s fine, but don’t share or post it anywhere.

I don’t necessarily recommend it in its current form. I wrote it a while ago when I was bad at creating OCs. The main OC has no personality, but is just a vantage point from which to view the neurotic disaster that is Remus. In the novel, she’ll finally get a personality. Also the novel will be set in the modern day in my hometown (while it’s infiltrated by aliens from a different dimension), since I’m tired of researching what things were like decades ago in a different country.

This takes a fic out of my Employee of the Month series, which describes in exquisite detail exactly how much it sucks to be canon-compliant Remus. Readers should be able to infer from context that this missing part of his life sucked as well, so the series is still coherent.

Chapters 1, 2, and 3 of my fic, In the Bleak Midwinter, are now available in audiobook form, read by the metamorphmagus-voiced Sam Gabriel. I’ve linked to the audiobook versions from the chapters in my fic:

Or you can find those recordings and more on Sam’s website:

Those are the edited versions of the audio. If you want to listen in on Sam’s live recordings, complete with multiple experimental versions of characters’ voices and plentiful bloopers, she’s recording chapter 5 tomorrow, Friday, December 16, at noon Eastern time (same time zone as NYC) on my Discord server:

Feel free to listen in and heckle her and me in the text chat.

as she does every other Friday. Her live readings are full of amusing bloopers, since accidentally reading one character’s lines in another character’s voice is comedy gold. She’ll edit this rough draft into a blooper-free audiobook later. Everyone is welcome to listen to the live reading, and heckle Sam and me in the text channel.

Sam’s up to the second half of chapter 5. This chapter is fun if I may say so myself. It’s in that classic Harry Potter fanfiction genre, shopping in Diagon Alley. Here’s a sample, but it will be much better in Sam’s voices:

Tom searched the magazines until he found what he wanted: Dueling Illustrated, which he picked up to purchase, and Witch Weekly, which he didn’t touch. “Hermione?” he called, for she was looking at quills.

She came over. “I don’t know if hippogriff feathers are really any better than owl in terms of functionality, but they are more expensive, so maybe that’s what you want. What’s this?”

“Witch Weekly. Would you please be so kind as to get the publisher’s address from it, so if it’s in the neighborhood, I can order a subscription at their office?”

“Why don’t you just do that yourself?” she asked.

Tom looked at her.

She rolled her eyes. “You can punch a Malfoy in the face, but you’re scared of a women’s magazine. All right, I’ll save you from this terrible danger. Reading a witches’ magazine could shrivel a wizard’s wand into a little nubbin.” She picked up the magazine and looked for the address. “Their office is right on Diagon Alley, not far from here.”

Tom laughed. “Thank you. And thank you for humoring me.”

She smiled. “I’m always happy to help the weak and helpless. Now let’s look at quills.”

The text version of my fic is on AO3.

Sam’s up to the second half of chapter 4. This chapter has some fun dialogue if I may say so myself. Here’s a sample, but it will be much better in Sam’s voices. In this chapter, Tom Riddle (the muggle) attempts to give a bouquet to his ex-girlfriend Cecilia:

Cecilia was seated at her writing-desk by the window, with her back to him. She did not immediately turn around, but continued writing. Her blonde hair was even shorter than when he’d last seen her, revealing her graceful neck. Finally, she put down her pen and turned to him. Her blue eyes took him in. She crossed her ivory-stocking-clad legs, slender ankles and shapely calves, and Tom completely forgot what he’d planned to say. “I used to have a cat,” she said.

This was not the greeting he’d expected, but she was speaking to him, so that was something. “Mr. Jollywhiskers, I recall,” he said, with much more emotion than the words warranted.

“Whenever he killed a mouse he would bring it into my sitting room and offer it to me as a gift. He thought highly of his mouse and it was beyond him to realize that anyone might have a different opinion of it.”

Tom looked at his bouquet in horror, for he certainly could not meet Cecilia’s cold gaze.

“I gave that cat away,” she added, salting the wound.

“For what it’s worth,” he tried, “I’m not particularly fond of purple hyacinths either, but the shopgirl assured me that they’re just the thing to convey deep regret and a request for forgiveness. If they don’t work, I’ll return them, as they’re clearly defective. That flower shop lacks the standardization and quality control that today’s customers expect from a modern business.”

I suggested that she instead read a different, extremely silly fic of mine that requires gardening noises in the background as sound effects, so she said sure and I hurried to post it. It took some work, since I had to create new fandoms for Sam Gabriel RPF and Fanfic Writers RPF. Shockingly, neither fandom existed on AO3 until today.

She pinged all her fans on Discord, skeptical that there would be any interest in such a thing, and was surprised to draw a much bigger audience than usual. So she started reading it aloud, in front of a live audience, (this is key) without having seen it first. It was extremely meta.

She’ll edit the recording into a polished podfic and post it later, but this is a rare instance in which the rough recording may be better than the polished version. There was a beautifully long pause after she read, “Sam took a deep breath, and in the accent of a time-traveling Viking with a lisp and a head cold, said.” Then she went on a rant about how I was just messing with her by making her do all these ridiculous accents, because of course I was messing with her. That was the whole point of the fanfic.

I’ll link my written version here, but you really had to be there.

This chapter has a lot of fun dialogue, so I’m looking forward to hearing Sam’s interpretations. I’m copying and pasting a bit here:

Cecilia was seated at her writing-desk by the window, with her back to him. She did not immediately turn around, but continued writing. Her blonde hair was even shorter than when he’d last seen her, revealing her graceful neck. Finally, she put down her pen and turned to him. Her blue eyes took him in. She crossed her ivory-stocking-clad legs, slender ankles and shapely calves, and Tom completely forgot what he’d planned to say. “I used to have a cat,” she said.

“Whenever he killed a mouse he would bring it into my sitting room and offer it to me as a gift. He thought highly of his mouse and it was beyond him to realize that anyone might have a different opinion of it.”

Tom looked at his bouquet in horror, for he certainly could not meet Cecilia’s cold gaze.

“I gave that cat away,” she added, salting the wound.

“For what it’s worth,” he tried, “I’m not particularly fond of purple hyacinths either, but the shopgirl assured me that they’re just the thing to convey deep regret and a request for forgiveness. If they don’t work, I’ll return them, as they’re clearly defective. That flower shop lacks the standardization and quality control that today’s customers expect from a modern business.”

He anxiously observed the effect of his words. Cecilia tried to suppress a smile, then gave up and tried to suppress a laugh, then gave up even that and let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Oh Tom!” she cried. “How can you come here with two legs and two arms and a head as if you were a human being, when you’ve already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are instead a catastrophe? You’re a train derailment, Tom. An earthquake. The Black Plague. An iceberg in search of an ocean liner. You’re probably responsible for erupting all over Pompeii. It would take more than a bunch of flowers to fix your reputation.”

“So what will it take?” asked Tom eagerly.

Cecilia sighed. “Do you have some list of caddish behaviors that you’re running through? Does your wife know you’re bringing flowers to your ex girlfriend?”

“That’s a metaphysical question I’m not qualified to answer. You see she’s dead. Hence my somber attire.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re still flashier than a peacock, Tom.”

“You used to appreciate—”

“I was a singularly stupid girl taken in by your deceptive charms. Well, not singularly, I was just one of the stupid girls. I mean, there was me, and Merope, and how many others?”

“What?! No, there was no one else.”

“Why would I believe anything you say? Now you’re saying your wife is dead? Is that some bizarre attempt to gain my sympathy? You just killed your wife in the hopes I’d feel sorry for you, didn’t you?”

“No! That’s a slanderous accusation.”

“So what did you kill her for, then?”

“I did not kill her! Well. I mean. Not directly.”

“Oh my god.”

Also, some kind folks who know a lot more about Discord than I do made a Discord server for discussing my writing, posting fanart, etc. This is also where Sam Gabriel, voice actor extraordinaire, will read my fics live. Feel free to join it.

Sam Gabriel, voice actor extraordinaire, just posted the first chapter of his audiobook of my fanfic, In the Bleak Midwinter. He also drew this art.

Sam is perfect for this, with his deadpan delivery in the sort of deep serious movie trailer announcer voice that will make the comedy extra hilarious. The first chapter isn’t comedic since I’m just setting up the situation, non-graphically referencing a horrific canon event that can’t really be joked about, but things will lighten up considerably in chapter two. Sam will record that August 26th at noon Eastern Time, for anyone who wants to listen in live on his Discord server, with subsequent recordings every two weeks.

The recording of the first chapter is here:

http://samgabrielvo.com/midcasts/itbmw01final.mp3

I also linked to his recording in a note in my fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430560/chapters/35816418

Or you can get to it from Sam’s website, which has oodles of great fanfiction audiobooks. You can get to his Discord server from there, too:

I just joined tumblr, and am trying to figure out how this works, so here’s a test post. Can anyone see this? Here’s my one-shot about Ginny Weasley’s new pet, a big black dog.

Here’s an excerpt:

On the train back from Hogwarts, June 1994, Ron’s new owl attracted attention. More Weasleys than usual crowded into the train compartment.

“Where’d you get the owl?” asked Ginny, eyeing Pigwidgeon, zooming around his cage.

Ron froze. “Um,” he cleverly said to Harry.

Explaining the sudden appearance of the owl was Harry’s job? Should he say he bought it for Ron? That wouldn’t say much for his taste in owls. Besides, Ginny knew Ron was too proud to accept gifts from Harry. “Ron has a secret admirer,” he said. That would teach Ron to put him on the spot like that.

Ginny turned back to Ron. “Really?” she squealed. Ron’s face turned pink, clashing horribly with his orange hair.

Safe. Ginny was unlikely to guess that Ron’s admirer was the infamous mass murderer, Sirius Black, who had first expressed his admiration for Ron by breaking his leg and attempting to kill his pet rat.

Ginny, Fred, and George failed to extract any details about Ron’s secret admirer, but they could tell it was true by how strongly Ron denied it. Once that topic of conversation had run its course, Ginny sighed.

“Don’t tell me you want a secret admirer too,” said Ron. “You’re too young.”

“No,” she replied. “I just wish I had a pet. You and Harry have owls, and Hermione has a cat, and Neville has a toad—“

“Crabbe and Goyle have that ferret,” interjected Fred.

“Snape has whatever’s living in his hair,” added George.

“Dumbledore has Harry,” continued Fred.