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Your Alternative Views

Your Alternative Views
Welcome to Your Alternative Views, our special one-off supplement to Worldly Weirdness Weekly, written by you! Below is a selection of articles written for this special issue, covering a variety of topics from the London area.

NB. Articles are not fact-checked and staff take no responsibility for the veracity of any sources. The content of this supplement in no way reflects the opinions of Alternative Views News staff.

Letters You'll Never Send

Thirty years with a broken heart
By J.H.
When I rejected your advances, I did so out of fear of what my family would think. Not because I did not have feelings for you. You were beautiful and kind and witty and were it not for your place in society, I would not have thought twice about it.

I was a fool.

It's been thirty years and I have an admirable marriage. Two children and a third on the way. The two of us get along famously. But every night I lie in my wedding bed I can think only of you.

It is no secret you returned to your place of birth with the changing of the seasons last spring. You never did return to me in all that time, but I wondered when I heard a long suffering sigh on the wind that same night if it was a final message to me.

That sigh haunts me. In these last months I've come to believe it's a curse. Your heartache made mine. What love I have for my family pales and crumbles under its pressure. I no longer care about them. Their lives meaningless noise.

I should hate you for this.

Your Opinions

Burn The Nest
By E.L.J.
It's been months since Harris came into power and nothing's been done. The Night Council, whom we've all been trusting to do their goddamn jobs, have simply sat on their arses. Sure, the Nest isn't protected by their laws anymore, but are they out there eradicating them? No. They're patting themselves on the back while running with their tails between their legs whenever any vampire so much as sets foot near them.

This has gone on too long. We need a good old-fashioned torch and pitchfork mob to deal with this. March up during the day and set fire to all the holes the abominations hide in and let the flames and sun sort them out. London can be rebuilt when it's done and it'll be for the better.

Real Justice Means Not Letting Them Get Away With It
By Mr Angry
You know one thing that shouldn't change around here? Justice for those that deserve it. I had the displeasure of watching the Night Council hand out their so-called pardons to a motley array of criminals and ne'er-do-wells the other day and it is utter BULLSHIT. They pardoned a prostitute who was a known member of Circle Midnight just because they felt sorry for her. Boo hoo. You're a witch, get a proper job. Not to mention an ACTUAL FUCKING MURDERER. I sure feel safer sleeping in my bed at night. One of these days Hillingdon is going to go full-on vigilante and you'll only have yourselves to blame.

Gossip Girl

Climbing the Carpet Ladder
By J.J.
The only reason Nora Shannon got elected in the first place is because Sylvia Redbright wanted to get her hands in those Catholic pants. Everyone knows covens are just another word for sex harems, but it's never been so blatantly obvious until the last election and the recent trials. Between her and Diphylleia's reinstatement, Sylvia's little harem is just going to keep dominating the Council.

Gossip Girl says: That is an image I never wanted to have. Thanks!

Is Roddy Geiger Gay?
By J.P.
All those pictures of him up on NHILF and he's not with a girl in any of them. That is, a girlfriend girl. He was with a lot of girls when they asked him to stop for them, but he wasn't with a girl that looked like they were dating. Just wondering because if he is I have a friend that's interested. Can anyone confirm?

Gossip Girl says: You know he's like, a RAT, right? He probably RUNS AROUND IN SEWERS and EATS HIS OWN POO. That's why he isn't dating anyone. Gay or not gay, jury's still out.

Mystic Mary's Advice Column

A Courtin Call
Dear Mary,

That's how you're supposed to start these, right? I don't got anyone to talk to about it and I don't know what the heck I'm supposed to do, either. There's this guy, you see, and every time we meet he starts doing this thing. I don't know what it means. If it were someone else, I'd think he was flirting. And I'm pretty sure he does it with everyone else too. Flirting, I mean. It's like he's actually interested, not just making fun. But he's also making fun of me while he does it. I'd be fine with it if he was. Making fun, I mean. I get that. It's what people do. Just, it sounds like he's serious sometimes. I don't know what to do.

– Rattled in Richmond

Dear Rattled in Richmond,

Ooh, it sounds like this man has you all in a tizzy! The question is, are YOU interested? Once you know how you feel, the answer is quite simple. If you are interested: flirt back! Let him know that you enjoy spending time in his company and that you'd like to take things one step further. If he's serious, he'll go for it. If not, well, now you know not to waste your time with him. If you're not interested: let him down gently. You don't have to put up with him bothering you, tell him straight.

Maybe you're not sure how you feel about it. Try this: toss a coin. If it lands heads, flirt back. If it's tails, let him down. It doesn't matter how the coin lands, what matters is how you feel about it. That will tell you what's truly in your heart...

Love, Mystic Mary xoxo

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New Meta Human Home Daycare
By Liadan Waters
My name is Liadan and I am starting a home daycare specifically for meta human children or any other child who has or may develop supernatural abilities. I am a meta human myself and I have a five year old son, so I have experience with the needs of these children. I am also a trained healer with healing abilities as well, so you can be sure your child will be in good hands.

If you are interested in finding out more, please call me at 07700 900841 or email me at liadan@example.com.

Prize Draw
The winner of this issue's special prize draw is... Liadan Waters! Congratulations, Liadan, an antique music box is making its way over to you now. When opened, the music that plays will soothe all that hear it and send anyone who is distressed or injured into a healing sleep. Terms and conditions apply.

[OOC: Please feel free to use this post to have your characters react and talk to each other about any of the content mentioned above! If you would like to request an NPC to interact with, let me know.

Activity count for this post: Daryl Dixon = 25 comments; Liadan Waters = 5 comments.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Get a proper job.

It wasn't the first or the last time that Nancy encountered anti-sex-work prejudice. She'd seen all of it first-hand, and it constantly running through her own mind whenever she got dressed to go out. Her job was awful, and she had to wonder who the hell this Mr. Angry was. If he'd sat through her pardoning, like he claimed, he would have known she'd told the Night Council she would look for other work. That she hadn't started prostituting herself of her own free will. She was a victim, when it came down to it.

Besides, there wasn't another job for a girl like her. She was nineteen and uneducated. No one was willing to hire someone like that- she didn't have any legal record in the outside world, either. She was all but a ghost to the human world.

What hurt the most about the article was that she knew now that he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Thousands of others in London had to feel that Nancy'd pardoning was bull, that she was a waste and a villain. And maybe she was. She knew people thought that way, when the saw her on corners. But now the rest of their world knew about her. They knew there was a Midnight prostitute who'd been pardoned. They knew about her. Everyone she passed on the street could have that same opinion, hate her without knowing her, the article leaving out the conditions of her life.

It stung. But it was no better than she deserved.

She balls the paper up in her hand, closing her eyes for a moment, hoping that the nausea brought on by this would pass.

Daryl's first reaction to seeing the paper was to sit in his bedroom flipping a coin without looking at any of the results. But he has responsibilities, a job, all that kind of shit to take care of. So he couldn't stay there, mentally kicking himself, much as he wanted to.

He hadn't put much thought to the rest of what was written but stopped and did a double take when he saw Nancy standing near one of the news stands looking like she was sick. He didn't know here well. Had seen her around a few of the bars when he first got to the city. Another girl too young to be doing what she did but one he knew didn't have many options. And of course her face was fresher in his memory because of the trial. He'd been there, in the audience, when Lance had pledged to watch out for her and she'd been so happy to have been given a chance within the Community instead of being driven from London.

He hesitated for a second before crossing over to join her, stopping to speak in a quiet tone, "Whatever opinion you read, it ain't worth shit."

The words in the article burned red hot in her mind over and over again, her knuckles white. The tip of her nose started to tingle, but she bit her tongue as she so often did and she could ignore it. She doesn't even notice the man next to her until he speaks.

Jarred out of the cycle of words, she looks up at the man, her brow creasing. "I'm sorry- what-?" She could tell he was one of them, but his face isn't too familiar to her, much less someone she would remember from the trial. She was kind of focused on things other than the audience.

He couldn't be talking about what she thought he was talking about.

Daryl reached over, very slowly, cautiously, and touched the paper crumpled in her hands. He didn't try to pull it away or even try to touch her as he did it, just made sure she had a clear idea what he was talking about. She seemed a little out of it.

"Was at the trial. Friend o'mine, he was up right after you," he said to clarify as his hand dropped back to his side. Kept his tone soft and as non-threatening as he could. "You ain't got nothin' ta be shamed 'bout. And whoever's tryin' ta is an asshole. His opinion ain't worth shit."

Nancy stills when he touches the paper, doesn't look at him. He knew who she was.

Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him, a tear trickling down her cheek. A complete stranger was trying to help her. "You say that." But the man from the paper was right. "But it's all I know." The deep shame that came with her incredible life. She tried to pretend she wasn't ashamed, that she wouldn't let Sylvia Redbright take away her pride by making her tell the entire Council what it was she did for a living.

So she'd put on her brave face and told them, owned her life and what she did and for how long. And it had helped.

But the pain didn't go away.

"He's one person, but how many agree with him?"

Daryl knew how hard it was to believe that it didn't matter what others said about a person. No matter how much one divorced themselves from the opinions of others, there was still that need to fit in. To be wanted. To be approved. And a girl at 19? No way she didn't have those same desires.

"Ain't gonna say it ain't important that folks think well of you," he replied, bringing his hands up to fiddle with one of the cuffs of his jacket. "It can be. But... I think it's more important what you think of yourself."

He chewed at his bottom lip for a second before finishing with: "You didn't look too happy with what you do when you were talkin' about it." It wasn't really a question. More an open-ended observation she could confirm or deny as she choose to.

Nancy shifts from one foot to the other slightly, looking back down at her trainers. Other than that, she doesn't move, doesn't turn to speak to the man. It's better if they don't get too familiar. He's just a stranger to her. But he knows so much of her life story.

"It wasn't something I ever wanted," she says, which she tells him easier than she'd told anyone else before in her life. Even Cooper didn't know how she'd come to this place in her life, and they were living together.

Her left hand comes up and scratches absentmindedly at the hidden scars on her neck. "I don't think much higher of myself than Mr. Angry does."

He watched her. She'd been better at holding herself up in front of the Council. Out here, in the wide open without such deep scrutiny, she looked tired at having to put up any kind of brave face. Maybe it helped that she didn't really know him.

"You wanna do something else, then?" he asked not because he thought she wanted to keep on the current road, but because she might not feel ready to try something new. He knew how that was himself. He'd stuck around in Georgia, with family he shouldn't have, and put up with more shit than anyone should have to shovel. All because it was what he'd been familiar with and he'd been too scared to leave and go it alone. Start fresh. He hadn't been ready before. And if she wasn't, well, she wasn't. Couldn't easily force that sort of change.

"Find you a different way'a gettin' your pockets lined?"

Edited 2016-10-20 12:32 (UTC)

"Like what?" There's no harshness in her voice, just exhaustion. She has no idea where she'd start looking for a real job. "I don't exist outside our world." No legal documents with her name on it. No education to speak of, either.

All she knew was selling herself and picking pockets.

"it's not even something I've ever even wanted to do." She's told people time and time again she works of her own free will. But that was hardly the truth when you looked at it.

Nancy shoves her hands in her pockets, letting the paper fall.

Daryl watched the paper fall and let it hit the ground. Let it sit there for a couple seconds before he bent down and picked it up. A quick jerk of his hand sent it sailing into the trash bin next to the newsstand. He shifted his weight and went to turn, jerked his head for her to follow but didn't actually move until it looked like she was going to.

"You know anything about keeping things organized?"

Nancy blinks, looking over at him. This isn't the first time she's followed a stranger anywhere, and she slides into step with him easily.

"A surprising amount." Was he going to offer her a job? The idea was tempting but still just an idea. "Had to keep things organized or we lived in a pile of rubbish." At least it felt like that. Now whenever she came over to see the boys, she spent a lot of time cleaning up after them.

"Place I work at," he said slowly, like he was working through his thoughts before each word came out, "they only hire people like us or those that already know about us. Not sure the owners know about our world, but my boss, Angela, she's uh... she's got this things she can do with her..." Daryl lifted a hand to wave vaguely at his head. "...and don't like having to keep it under wraps around the staff. She won't look at a resume that ain't got a stamp of approval from someone already workin' there."

He glanced over at her, trying to gauge her reaction while he went on, "It's a motorcycle shop. Needs a lot of stock kept track of. We ain't had anyone just for that for about four months now, though. 'Cause of how she hires. We get along alright. Ain't sayin' it's a problem. But... could put in a word for you, if you wanted ta try something else."

After a beat, he added, "It's in Richmond." In case that was a problem.

She matches pace with him naturally, half a step behind him. She frowns a little in concentration, as she tries to take this in. He was... he was offering her a job, she understood. A job. A real job.

But it wasn't that Richmond was the problem.

"I couldn't- you don't know if I'm any good. I don't know if I'm any good. You don't even know me. For all you know, I'll rob you blind." And she could, too, make no mistake.

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