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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

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.

He nodded, not at all worried, "Yeah. You could. But if you did, I could track you down and get whatever you took back. Or whatever's left of it by then. You'd also be blacklisted by the Night Council. Probably. And you'd be gettin' Lancelot in trouble, too. Since he's your sponsor. Didn't figure you for the sort to want to screw him over."

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.

Well, that put a damper on things. She'd nearly forgotten the fact that if she got caught for anything from here on out, it wasn't just her own head on the line, but Lance's as well. And then subsequently, Lilly, and that was a terrifying thought. So, simply enough, don't get caught.

"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.

"Depends on what bits of metal you'd take. The right parts is a good month's paycheck for more'n one person. Lotta money to be made on the short term. Not much on the long. But it wouldn't necessarily be me that did the turnin' in. You steal from a shop, everyone that works there's gonna find out about it quick." He answered casually, tone still non-judgmental, just matter-of-fact. Let it sit for a moment. Then looked over at her and added: "Not that you'd steal."

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."

That's good information, truly. At one point, she'd have been expected to report back with this information. But Bill's not here, she won't tell Fagin shit, and the information falls only to her. She decides it's hardly worth it.

"Not that I would steal," she echoes, as if solidifying what's actually really only a half-truth.

"Right. Did he get pardoned, too?"

Daryl nodded, "Yeah. He had a good sponsor." And even if the council wasn't very sure about Sirius' actual innocence, it was hard for them to not show trust in the judgement of one of their Guardians. About the only good to come of Faolan's position in Daryl's opinion.

"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.

At the mention of his name, Nancy makes a face. "Oh, good. Glad the Council thinks he's reliable." Her distaste was audible. She had, 100%, no respect for that man.

"Glad your friend got pardoned, though."

Well, that was an interesting reaction. Daryl's brows rose and he glanced her way, wondering what Faolan had done to earn such clear dislike. Sure, he had his own issues with the man, but they didn't stretch that far.

"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?"

"I know who he is," she tells him. She didn't need his explanations about where her hypocrisy may lie.

"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."

Oh.

"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?"

"It's not your fault," she tells him gently. That's not what he means by the words, and she knows it, but it seems right to say, anyway. he didn't make Faolan leave. He chose that himself. He chose to become a Guardian.

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."

He nodded, feeling subdued, and headed across when traffic was momentarily light enough to do so. When he got to the door, he held it open for Nancy. And when they were led to their seats, he pulled her's out all polite like before taking his. His jacket, and the vest he wore over it, got pulled off and folded over the backrest. The button up he was wearing had the sleeves cut off as was usual for him. The weather was getting colder and he'd have to wear his jacket more often, but he still preferred his shirts sleeveless.

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.

Nancy watched him with curious green eyes as he pulled her chair out. Following his lead, she took her own jacket off, leaving her in a t-shirt and jeans. She looked a whole lot different from how she did at the trial, but still not quite how she dressed for a night of work. She actually almost looked her age.

"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?"

Daryl glanced at her, giving her a 'don't pull that who's paying shit' look, "I offered."

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.

"Fine." She didn't have the heart to fight over it today. He was lucky.

"Daryl, then. Thank you. I'm Nancy- but you probably figured that out already."

He cleared his throat and had to shift his seat as he leaned forward on his elbows. Let his eyes drift down to the table top while he nodded.

"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."

She did. Shit. Nancy winced with the realization. "Fuck- I'm really sorry I didn't recognize you." But she meets so many random men in bars, but she's not going to use that as an excuse.

She nods. "Yeah. Supposed to be twenty next month." Most people had no idea how young she was. It wasn't really something she wanted to advertise.

Daryl shook his head, "Nah, don't be. I said no. I ain't ever... purchased those kinds of services."

There wasn't any reason for her to remember him. It was just that, when one hit bars where people like them were able to be themselves more publicly, there was much smaller group of faces to remember who frequented what. And it wasn't like Daryl went to them more than a couple times every few months, anyway. So his memory of passing by her was bound to be better than what it was in return. Especially on the nights when she'd had more than one man showing interest.

"You ain't know for sure?" he asked after a second, the 'supposed to be' registering a little after the fact as an odd way of putting that.

"Ah," which, honestly, helped. Sometimes though, she never did get a clear look at a person's face. More so, recently, but her pardoning put an end to that. She actually had a place to practice her work now. Far safer, and made her feel a bit more classy.

She shakes her head. "No- There's no record of my birth anywhere. And whatever I found out when I was a kid was the truth as Fagin knew it, or could twist it. So." She's reasonably sure she's nineteen.

An orphan then. Not surprising. She actually got off lighter than many in her situation. Probably had a lot to do with the asshole of a Fae she'd been bound to.

He nodded again and went quiet. Small talk had never been his strongest suite.

Fagin, as much as he hurt them all, he kept them all alive, for the most part. And generally out of jail. Never mind it was his fault that her ex was in jail in the first place.

The coffee was brought over, along with Daryl's water, and Nancy eagerly grabs for her mug, the bite marks visible on her arms. She'd left that part out of her pardon- that a good amount of her work had been with vampires. "Alright, coffee, and I'm all decided." She orders her food- breakfast food, actually, looking forward to what she realized would be her second breakfast.

The first was another cup of coffee.

Daryl had noticed the marks, but refrained from saying anything. He knew there was money in that kind of work. As much as it made him uncomfortable, the best he could do right then and there was what he was doing: offering her another option.

Her going for breakfast made his lips twitch up in a small smile before he could get it under control. His own coffee got put down next to his water and he immediately raided the creamer to fill the cup as much as he could. No sugar, but he liked his cream. His own meal was just a sandwich. The one with the most meat, but a sandwich none the less.

"You got someone to call if things go bad?" Other than Lance.

While Daryl put in his cream, Nancy applied sugar and what cream was left over to her own coffee. She stirred it with the small spoon, before setting it on the saucer like a proper English lady.

"I do, yeah. I'm living with my boyfriend now, actually." And he'd be there in a minute of she needed him. He made her promise she would call, and she intended to keep it.

"He knows. About all of this." She gestured vaguely, not wanting to reveal to some random man that her boyfriend was a vampire.

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