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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
Your Opinions
Gossip Girl
Mystic Mary's Advice Column
Advertisements
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.]
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
Advertisements
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.]
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"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."
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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?"
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"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.
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"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."
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"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?"
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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.
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"You know anything about keeping things organized?"
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"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.
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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.
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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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The fact that he might also get in trouble with his boss over it wasn't mentioned. That was a risk he was willing to take.
Daryl unconsciously mirrored her, sticking his hands into his pockets, "'Sides, just cause I put a good word in for you don't mean you're gonna get hired. And even if you do, it'd probably be on a trial basis. Get you trained properly. You're still young. No one's gonna expect you to have much experience."
He really hoped it was clear this wasn't a pity offer. He knew how shit that was to get and he had no intention of treating her like she was a charity case. But he also knew how good it was to have a chance to start over. That's what London was to him, after all. His chance. This could be hers.
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"So you'd turn me in?" Now she's curious how far his good Samaritan went. "Over a few bits of metal?" She doesn't blame him. "Not that I'd steal." But the idea of picking pockets was always a comforting one, it was something she knew she was good at. Sure, there was a fifteen-year-old that was far better than her, but she was still damn good.
"So why were you at the trial?" She doesn't accept or refuse his offer, choosing instead to take it under advisement. Instead, she wants to know more about this strange American fellow.
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Another beat and he addressed her other question while he turned his eyes to the street and where he was leading her, "Like I said, friend of mine was up right after you. I came to vouch for him."
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"Not that I would steal," she echoes, as if solidifying what's actually really only a half-truth.
"Right. Did he get pardoned, too?"
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"Faolan." He said the name like he expected her to know it. Which, considering the man was the leader of Hillingdon, wasn't a stretch.
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"Glad your friend got pardoned, though."
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"He's one of their Guardians. Same as Lancelot," he offered by way of explanation. Then he frowned as his thoughts went places that weren't very good, considering her age and all. "He do something to you?"
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"He did. He was a spy- posing as my friend's bodyguard to get information on us. He left, and she was hurt. Bad enough she had to be turned. So you'll understand why I've got no love for him."
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"I'm sorry." Daryl's voice came out soft, quiet. Subdued in the way that said he understood that sense of loss and betrayal. Faolan keeping secret about being a Guardian and tied to the Council had been a blow to Daryl. But it was his own brother, Merle, that Daryl thought of when it came to up and leaving and letting someone get hurt by that action.
Probably best not to tell her Lance was dating the man. Might cause some issues when the girl was only just getting her feet under her to start over.
Daryl's feet slowed to a stop and he looked up, forward, as he nodded across the street to the store on the other side. A small diner in the modern style. "You want some lunch?"
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He chose to leave Kenzi. Regardless of how reckless she had been being. She'd needed him. And he wasn't there.
Nancy stops when he stops, following his eyes over to the diner. She could smell the scent of food wafting through the air, and on a cool October day, the idea of getting inside and maybe having a cup of coffee sounded just perfect.
"Lunch sounds lovely, yeah."
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Daryl slid the menu he'd been handed over to the side. He already knew what he was getting. The shoppe was one he'd been to before.
"Get whatever you want," he said before looking up to the server and asking for a water and a coffee with cream on the side.
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"You don't have to pay for me," she tells him gently, and then adds towards the server that she'd love a coffee, too. When they left, she opened the menu and began to peruse. "What do you recommend, sir?"
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At the 'sir', he cringed and frowned, "Name's Daryl. Their sandwiches are pretty good." He really hoped she didn't keep up with the sir bit. He weren't no sir. It sounded weird.
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"Daryl, then. Thank you. I'm Nancy- but you probably figured that out already."
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"Yeah, uh..." he coughed again, voice going very quiet, "You uh... said hello once, couple years ago, when I first got to London. I seen you around bars every now and then since. Didn't know you was so young 'til recent though."
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