you & I (just meant to be)

Author: @rosegardeninwinter​

Prompt: This silly, silly ditty was inspired by two (count ‘em! two!) lovely prompts which are as follows “Peeta can’t stop staring at Katniss in her costume :0” and “Everlark meeting at a fancy dress party dressed as a ‘matching’ pair, although they don’t each other - maybe a famous couple but who don’t need the other … Joker and Harley Quinn, Batman and Robin or my favorite: Anna and Elsa from Frozen … Peeta would make a wonderful Anna” - I thought these two went well together, and took a couple of creative liberties to make them jive. Hope you lovelies like! [submitted by @deardiaryithinkiamaghost​ and @wendywobbles​]

Rating: T, for implied Everlark shenanigans 

Author’s Note: Thank you to my dear @archersandsunsets​ for her second pair of eyes on this one and to all the lovely moderators and coordinators of @seasonsofeverlark​, the true MVPs. It’s been a busy month, so I apologize for any incoherence. Sometimes, the heart just wants goofy modern AU fluff. Alrighty, Chatty Cathy is done … enjoy! 

____________

“Katniss, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Prim exclaims, though it sounds pretty pathetic with her congested, pinked nose. “You make the perfect ice queen!” 

“I don’t think that’s usually a compliment,” Katniss says dourly, plopping down on the couch where her sister is situated with several fuzzy blankets, a box of tissues, and a large bowl of ice cream. She can’t taste it very well, but it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. Prim is in denial. 

“I wish I could go,” she whines, holding the “o” in a long, dramatic note. 

“I wish I could stay,” Katniss shoots back, holding the “ay” just as long. 

“No you don’t,” Prim shoos. “You love our friends.” 

“I do,” Katniss sighs, plucking at the silver sequined sleeves of her—well, Prim’s—Elsa costume. It’s too long on Katniss, with her sister’s good half inch on her, but it’s all they’ve got. Her original plan was to pull the classic black top and pants plus cat ears, but when it became apparent Prim wasn’t budging from the couch this Halloween, the real snowy blonde princess of the family had insisted Katniss take her outfit. 

“You can’t show up to Finnick’s in a slapdash, last second costume, Katniss,” she’d said. “The man lives for Halloween. Don’t insult his extravagance with plastic headbands and tails.” 

“I do love our friends, but … I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m tired.”

“Just half an hour,” Prim says. “Snag me some candy, make some pleasantries” — “okay, Jane Bennet” —  “and then come home. At least one of us needs to show up. Just pretend to have a social life for thirty minutes, okay? For me.” 

Katniss rolls her eyes as she gets up from the couch in a twinkling of blue overlay and snowflake hair pins in her braid. She does a quick once over of her shadowy makeup in the hallway mirror as she grabs her car keys. “What do you want?” 

“Chocolate. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. I’ll save it for when I can experience taste again,” Prim calls back. “Oh, and if Delly’s cousin is there, all of the cupcakes he brought.”

“Mmkay. All the chocolate and cupcakes, coming right up,” Katniss says with a resigned smile. On her way out, she clicks on her phone. It’s just now eight. She resolves to be firmly ensconced in bed by nine at the latest. She gives her sister a wave, keys jangling. “I’ll be back. Soon.” 

At ten thirty, Prim looks up from her Harry Potter induced doze to find she’s received a text from her sister. 

Staying a little later. Fifteen minutes maybe. Have the treats.  

Prim checks the time stamp. The text was sent forty five minutes ago. This might be cause for alarm were it not for the text underneath Katniss’s, from Finnick. It’s a photo, taken in front of a makeshift photo op with purple and silver and orange streamers in the background and cutesy little bat and pumpkin and vampire fang cardboard props for people to hold up. It’s captioned “You can’t marry a man you just met!” 

Prim brings her hand to her mouth to catch a laugh before it turns into a cough. Her sister, Elsa costume sparkling in the flash, is pretending to shake her finger disapprovingly at her “Anna” counterpart. The laugh breaks free this time. Prim grabs for her tepid tea to soothe her throat as she cracks up over the really incredible image of Peeta Mellark, Delly Cartwright’s stocky older cousin, in a red braided wig, and strikingly accurate green rosemaled gown, sitting quite comfortably, if amusingly, over his athletic build. He’s pretending to gripe back at Katniss about why exactly he can marry Hans of the Southern Isles. Their mock scowls barely contain smiles. 

Prim quickly fires a text back to Finnick: How??? Did that happen??? 

Finnick’s text comes through a second later: The Lord works in mysterious ways! Idk!

Okay but like?? Yes??

I know!!!!

Some people are worth melting for???? 

Her cold never bothered him anyway? *finger guns*

Omg. 

Katniss arrives back at the house at five to midnight, and Prim pretends to be asleep, watching with one eye cracked half open as her sister unstraps her silver heels and dumps them by the front door, drops her keys into the bowl. Sets down a full bag of what Prim can only guess are cupcakes and sweets. 

She’s humming under her breath. It sounds like the chorus of “Love is an Open Door.” Prim wonders if it’s possible that her folk and indie music loving sister actually listened to a Disney album on the way home. Katniss unbraids her hair and shakes it loose, dropping the pins on the side table as she sinks into the squashy chair kitty-corner to Prim’s couch. She curls up, knees to chest, making her look like some sort of ice mermaid as she takes out her phone and taps something on it, still humming. Prim watches her chew her cheek pensively, as if deciding to send the text. She takes a deep breath and taps one final time on the screen, then drums her phone nervously against her lips for a moment. Prim’s nerves are firing with anticipation. 

They wait a silent minute. Two. Three. Three and a half — 

Katniss’s screen lights up again and she flips the phone up to stare at the reply. Her whole face softens. Eyes, brow, edges of her mouth. Katniss bites her lip and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the chair cushion with a contented sigh. “‘You know what’s crazy?’” she sing-songs in a mumble under her breath. “‘We finish each other’s sandwiches … I’ve never met someone who thinks so much like …” She yawns. “Me.” 

“You know,” Prim says, and Katniss shrieks, sending her phone flying to the carpet, “Peeta Mellark strikes me more as a Kristoff than a Hans.” 

“Prim!” Katniss yelps, going red. “Wha — what? What do you mean?” 

“So we’re done with stupid plastic cat ears for Halloween then I take it?”

[the very next Halloween] 

“Whoa. Okay.” Peeta sits up from the pile of cushions at the head of their bed, eyes wide and staring in approval, pupils gone dark. “Katniss Everdeen in cat ears is not something I knew I needed until this moment.” 

“Oh sure,” Katniss laughs. “Because it’s definitely the cat ears that are doing it for you. Not these.” She hoists one stockinged leg up onto the bed like a mountain climber posing for a magazine. 

“Well, those are certainly part of the appeal,” he teases, reaching for her leg, running his hands up and down the silk tights. “As is this lovely number.” He toys with the hem of her dress, a strapless black velvet thing that falls just above her knee. “Where’s this from?”

“Jo,” Katniss sighs. “She says if I’m going to be a cat, I need to be a Gretchen Wieners level cat.” 

“For whose benefit, I wonder?” Peeta muses, cheek nuzzling gently at her lower thigh. 

“You wonder?” Katniss laughs, taking her leg away and flopping onto the bed. She glances over at him, eyes sly and somehow soft at once. “I don’t.” 

“I can’t help thinking,” he muses. “that this is something of a counterproductive plan on Jo’s part. Because now, I have a sudden and distinct interest in staying in tonight.” 

“Oh?” Katniss raises a come hither eyebrow and pushes up on her elbows to accept the kiss he plants on her lips as he crawls over her, urging her back to the headboard. “Is it the cat ears?” She reaches up to give the (already molting) plastic and faux fur ears a flick. 

“The Kat ears,” he says. He nips softly at her real ear and she shivers. “The Kat nose.” He kisses that too. His nose nudges her head back, inclining her neck at the perfect angle for him to plant a stretch of kisses down it. “The Kat neck.” His mouth wanders down the front of her dress and he scoots down the bed with it. “The Kat’s cradle.”

“You have that,” she says, hiking her legs up to hug around his middle because her arms can’t reach to hold him. “You’ll always have that.” 

“A piece of that Kit Kat bar.” He kisses her stomach. “The whole Kit and Caboodle,” he teases and she laughs loudly, but on a dime his tone is changing, from silly and playful into husky and dangerous, as he moves lower. “Kitten,” he murmurs and her fingers curl in the bedsheets at the name. “Grab my phone,” he tells her, hooking his fingers around the band of her tights, “Tell Finnick we’re going to be late.” 

An hour or so later finds the cat ears lost somewhere among the remains of their costumes and a hasty snack of pepperoni rolls cooking in the convection oven. Peeta, festooned in boxers and an old apron, presides over the food like it needs a baker’s supervision. Katniss perches on the counter, wrapped chest to toes in the white sheet she pulled from their bed, feet batting absently at the cabinets. 

“This is a good look too,” he tells her, gesturing with the salad tongs he’s using to handle the pepperoni rolls. 

“What is? This sheet?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of sexy ghost.” 

“Or sexy Roman senator,” she laughs, tossing one edge of the sheet over a bare shoulder. “Sexy Julius Caesar.”

“You’d make a good Julius Caesar,” he says. 

“Why?”

“You’ve got that “came, saw, conquered” vibe. Least that’s how I felt that night at Finnick’s party.”

“Conquered?” 

“I was gonna say seen, but — yes. Conquered too. I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He snaps his fingers. “Sexy ice queen? Definitely.” 

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of Freudian analysis one could make on falling in love with the guy dressed as your fictional sister but — ”

Peeta shrugs as the timer beeps, and he sets to fishing the pepperoni rolls onto a plate for them to share. “I choose to think of it as a metaphor for how the two people you love most in the world are your real, actual sister …” He sets the rolls beside her on the counter and sets his hands gently on her sides. She lets the sheet fall and pool slightly around her waist to cup his face as he leans in to kiss her forehead, very gently, thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. “And some loser who has the luck of … oh, I guess having the same first initial and hair color as she does,” he jokes. 

“And the same beautiful heart,” Katniss corrects in a whisper. “I mean that.” She’s rarely so sentimental to anyone except him. She smirks. “And I haven’t even started drinking yet.” 

“Well, my pretty kitty,” he starts, wrapping both his arms around her middle and hoisting her off the counter. She rolls her eyes, even as her hands card through his hair. “The night is still young.” 

chemistry (my heart’s a city you’re out to destroy) - [i/iii]

Kylo Ren - superhuman, mercenary, and the world’s most dangerous man – has recently resurfaced after a mysterious three-month disappearance.

Rey Niima, listicle writer by day and investigative reporter by night, is way too busy to worry about that. Seriously, she’s got a million things on her plate - she doesn’t have the time to think about anything else.

Especially now that news editor Benjamin Snoke has returned to the office and seems hell-bent on making her life… interesting.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s the Superman/Lois Lane AU I never thought I’d write! (Okay, not really. But... vaguely. Loosely inspired, I’d say.)

Happy belated birthday, @nancylovesreylo! Earlier this month you came up with one of the best prompts I've ever seen, and while I'm still holding out hope that someone will come along and do it justice someday, here's my little attempt at it in the meantime. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

Rey wakes up on the first Monday of February to find her phone blowing up with notifications.

The first tweet her eyes land on is a set of pictures with the very uninformative caption HE LIVES!!!, and she’s still blinking sleep out of her eyes when the first grainy photo finally loads and immediately captures her undivided attention as her heart gets lodged somewhere in her throat.

Kylo.

Hidden amongst the trees dotting the lake, loitering outside a darkened theater, perched precariously atop City Hall – all of the pictures are of Kylo Ren, MIA for three months now and even feared dead by some. Rey had thought herself unaffected by the rumors, secure in the knowledge that she would know somehow if something had happened to him, but tears spring to her eyes all the same as she stares at pixelated, zoomed-in images of him until her vision goes blur.

It’s a message, she knows, but it’s also one she can’t do anything about right now. So she shakes herself out of it and goes through the motions of her usual workday morning, setting her phone aside as she forces breakfast down her throat and pulls on a repeat outfit from last week. But as soon as she reaches the office, Rey can’t help the way her fingers automatically reach for her phone every five minutes to reassure herself that it’s real, he’s back, she isn’t just dreaming again–

She’s busy staring at him for the umpteenth time that morning when she walks right into a wall on her way to get coffee.

No, not a wall, Rey realizes as she looks up from her phone to find a solid expanse of chest and torso and black shirt. A little further up, and she finds a man looking at her as if he’s on a particularly bad trip and she’s a dancing, flying elephant.

Bewilderment is the best way Rey can think of to describe it, but all she’s done is accidentally run into him while on her phone; surely that doesn’t warrant the way he’s looking at her with wide eyes (she can’t help but notice how dark they are) and tense shoulders (broad, so very, very broad) and parted lips (thicker than she’s ever seen on a man, but still alluring somehow) that look like they’re trying to say something, anything–

Rey beats him to it. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention–”

The man blinks at her, and then promptly walks away.

She’s abruptly reminded of a piece of drunken wisdom Rose had taken it upon herself to share with the rest of the bar at last Friday’s happy hour, fresh off her latest failed Tinder date. The hot ones are always assholes, a tipsy Rose had sagely proclaimed to the bar, only to be met with supportive cheers and enthusiastic applause.

Maybe Rose and the rest of the bar knew what they were talking about after all.

“Fine,” Rey fumes to herself as she turns to watch the asshole’s retreating back cut a path across the office, eventually winding around the staircase leading to the newsroom upstairs. “Fine. Fuck you too, mystery man,” she mutters under her breath, and figures that is that. The news team barely ever mingles with the rest of them anyway, so with any luck Rey won’t ever have to see him and his perfect hair again.

Except after lunch that day Amilyn calls for a staff meeting on the second floor, and as Rey squeezes into the crowded conference room she catches sight of said perfect hair on the opposite end of the room, seated on Amilyn’s right. Thankfully he’s looking straight ahead, leaving her with only a view of that broad, broad back which Rey most definitely does not find distracting as she attempts to focus on their editor-in-chief’s… presentation? Speech? It’s the start of the week, so maybe Amilyn is just giving them all a little pep talk to get things off on the right foot.

In any case, Rey desperately hopes it’s nothing too important. And it probably isn’t, given that Amilyn starts wrapping things up fifteen short minutes later.

“And finally, I’d like to welcome Ben back to the office. It’s been a rough three months without you, and I’m sure the news team is glad to have its editor back. I know I am!” Amilyn beams as a polite round of applause fills the room, and Rey cranes her neck to catch a glimpse of the elusive Ben Snoke, who’d gone on leave to handle some sort of family emergency just days before she joined Raddus.

From the corner of her eye, she catches movement where there should absolutely not be movement. But maybe Mystery Man is just as curious as her, maybe it doesn’t mean anything that he’s slowly turning around in his seat and unfolding his gigantic treelike frame out of the tiny conference room chair–

Mystery Man stands and acknowledges the room with a nod and a tight smile. “Thanks, everyone. It’s good to be back,” he says even as those dark eyes land on her, and the smile falls off his plush lips. “I look forward to working with all of you again.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

The rest of the day goes decidedly downhill from there because there’s no coming back from the realization that your potential future boss hates you for some reason, but at least no one stops Rey when she’s the first to leave the second the clock strikes six.

It doesn’t actually make a difference – she knows he won’t be there until eleven at the earliest – but at least it leaves her with plenty of time to navigate through hellish rush hour traffic and still have dinner and change before she leaves for the Amidala Museum.

Their museum.

Rey can’t remember exactly when it became their spot, only that one day she spotted Kylo hanging around the museum on her way home and they ended up talking about their mutual love of the place for more than an hour. It had been one of the very first real conversations they’d shared, and just thinking about it still brings a smile to her face nearly two years later.

She’s chasing after a wisp of a memory about his favorite exhibit when a familiar, faint rasp announces his presence. It’s that damn voice modulator as always, giving him away before he can get the chance to sneak up on her.

A thrill races down Rey’s spine as she prepares to turn around.

Three months. It’s been three months since she last saw Kylo, last made him laugh, last stood a little too close–

She can feel him standing right behind her now, and a tiny shudder works its way through her body as Rey processes their proximity. Forget news editor Ben Snoke and his plush, kissable lips and his unfairly attractive voice – nothing will ever come close to the way Kylo sets her blood on fire.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Rey turns and nearly staggers backwards as she comes face-to-face with all six-foot-three of her masked man, and she folds her arms across her chest to keep her hands to herself as she tips her head back to look at him. “It’s been three months, Kylo. Of course I showed up.”

It’s impossible to tell with that mask of his, but Rey thinks she detects a hint of a smile when he speaks. “I’m glad you did, sweetheart. I…” he hesitates, and a gloved hand reaches out to pull her out of the tiny patch of moonlight and into the shadows of the grand, ornate pillars that hold up the museum. “I wasn’t sure if you would, after all this time, but I had to see you. Had to know how you’re doing.”

Not for the first time, Rey wishes she could at least hear his real voice. The growl of the modulator is so at odds with the sincerity of his words, a harsh reminder of reality when all she wants is to escape into a softer, kinder dream world.

But that’s never been in the cards for them, no matter how many pretty words Kylo whispers into his modulator, so Rey huffs out a bitter laugh and shakes her head at him instead as she pulls her hand out of his grasp. “Me? You’re the one who disappeared for three months! Kylo, I thought– I didn’t know what to think, but people were saying that… that…”

That he’d finally gotten what he deserved. That the world would be a better place without him. That they should all be glad to be rid of him and his knights.

Rey has tuned out op-eds and news shows for the last three months, choosing instead to dwell in the corners of the internet where everyone seemed equally concerned even though they’d never met Kylo at all, even though there was no way they felt the way she did, does–

“You could’ve let me known you’re alive,” she murmurs, dropping her eyes to the ground. “You could’ve done at least that.”

The modulator crackles, distorting his sharp intake of breath.

“I’m sorry. Things have been… difficult,” Kylo says with a sigh, yet another unpleasant burst of sound rushing past his mask. “Difficult and different, and I wasn’t really thinking, I couldn’t think at all–”

His hand rises to his head, and then falls back down. Rey’s noticed he does that sometimes, especially when he’s agitated or stressed or embarrassed, and all it does is make her want to take that stupid mask off and run her hands through his hair the way he’s itching to do.

It’d be flat from the helmet, she imagines, and so soft in her hands–

But that’s something for a kinder world. In this world Rey sets the urge aside to focus on his words instead, like a crow catching sight of something shiny for it to chase after and fixate on.

“What happened? Where have you been? Where are the rest of the Knights? Why haven’t you–”

Kylo laughs and shakes his head at her, the way he always does whenever she gets all ‘reporter-y’ – his word, not hers – on him. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

Rey shrugs, unrepentant as ever. He can’t expect her to stop doing her job just because of their unlikely friendship, just as she’s never expected him to stop doing his – even when it involves more bloodshed than she’s comfortable with.

“I’ve lost more sleep in the past three months than I have in the past three years, Kylo,” she tells him sharply, unashamedly. “I think I deserve an explanation–”

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” he interrupts, and even in its distorted form Rey can tell his voice is just a little too innocent. “It’s getting late, Rey. You should go home and get some sleep.”

She crosses her arms and scowls at him. “Are you serious?”

“Always,” Kylo intones with a nod of his helmet. “Now go home, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you get there safely.”

It’s not fair that he always makes her that promise no matter how their conversation ends, and it’s definitely not fair that she immediately softens at his familiar parting words, first spoken so long ago–

I should get going, she’d told him then, just a young reporter reluctant to step away from a living, breathing mystery that might prove to be her big break if only she could crack him. It’s a long walk home, and I’m alone.

And instantly, without a moment’s hesitation, the words had spilled past his lips: you’re not alone. I’ll make sure you get home safely, I promise.

Rey might not know much about Kylo Ren – might not know anything about him, actually – but on this, at least, she knows she can always trust him.

“Fine,” she gives in with a huff, pointing a warning finger at him. “But this conversation isn’t over yet.”

“It never is,” Kylo agrees, and the cheery note in his voice pulls a reluctant smile out of her. “Good night, Rey.”

“Good night, Kylo,” she whispers in return, and in the blink of an eye he’s disappeared – up into the sky or on the roof or maybe even to a different dimension; you never know with Kylo Ren.

Rey shakes her head at the thought and sets out into the night, knowing she has nothing to fear.

A week after her unfortunate first meeting with Ben Snoke, Amilyn calls Rey in for a meeting.

Thankfully it’s after hours, which allows her to wait until the news team has left for the day before she climbs the spiral staircase up to the second floor of the converted warehouse. Amilyn’s office is all the way at the end, and Rey can’t help but sneak a glimpse at Ben’s office as she walks past.

His door is closed, but the office is entirely dark. Empty, just like she’d hoped it would be.

Bolstered by that reassurance, Rey picks up the pace and quickly finds herself seated opposite her editor-in-chief, documents and pictures fanned out across the desk between them. She’s been discreetly looking into a chain of strip clubs for months now, trying to prove that it’s all just a front for the Guavian Death Gang, but her investigation has slowed down in recent months.

In her defense, it’s unexpectedly hard to focus on strip clubs when you’re constantly worrying about a certain mercenary and his possible death. Amilyn had been very understanding about the whole thing, even if Rey had never actually said anything about it to her, and had encouraged her to focus on fleshing out her cover as a mere listicle writer first.

But now that Kylo is alive and well and she’s written at least a dozen posts about the top ten hidden gems in Coruscant City, Rey is itching to get back to work.

“So you’re going back on stakeout duty?” Amilyn asks, worry lines forming between her brows as she picks up a picture of the club’s back door.

Rey nods. “It’s been a while, so I figured I should see if anything’s changed and familiarize myself with things before I try to go in. I’m thinking of starting next Monday–”

The door opens without warning, and both women immediately spring into action, sweeping all of the papers strewn across Amilyn’s desk into a haphazard pile.

“Amilyn, we need to talk–” Ben declares just as their boss drops a write-up about a recent ‘influencers’ summit’ – whatever the hell that is – on top of the pile, effectively hiding Rey’s work from view.

Ben comes to a screeching halt, and there it is again: that wide-eyed look of sheer horror over having to share a space with her. “Oh. I didn’t realize you’re still here.”

Rey quickly gets to her feet and sweeps the pile into her arms, summit write-up and all. “I was just about to leave,” she announces coolly without sparing him a look. “Amilyn, I’ll have that article about diving spots done by tomorrow night, if that’s okay?”

She doesn’t know anything about diving, but during times like these Rey tends to just go with the first thing to come to her panicked mind. So diving it is.

Amilyn nods as she plasters on her signature warm smile. “That’s more than okay, Rey. It’s just what we’re looking for, and I’m sure you’ll be able to execute it flawlessly–”

Fine, so maybe Amilyn’s laying it on a little too thick, but that absolutely does not justify the little snort that escapes Ben.

Rey turns to him with a scowl. “What?” she demands, clutching her papers close to her chest as she pins Ben with a glare, desperately fighting against her body to not react to the amused little twitch of his lips.

“Nothing,” he claims a little too quickly, barely meeting her eye for two seconds before he moves forward and settles into her abandoned seat. “Now if you’re done here, I really do need to speak to our editor. In private.”

“Fine,” Rey mutters before she bids Amilyn a good night and pointedly does not do the same for Ben. Screw him; he deserves the worst of nights for having the audacity to be so attractive yet so awful. Rey very nearly slams the door behind her, but manages to rein in the urge at the very last second. She does, however, stomp her way back to her desk, and maybe she bangs around her table for a bit before she finally slams her drawer shut, documents safely locked away, and allows some of the tension to drain away.

What even was that snort? What an asshole; he probably thinks he’s better than everyone here just because he writes about ‘real’ news–

With a frustrated growl, Rey kicks the thought out of her mind and focuses on work instead.

It’s only twenty minutes past six, so traffic is definitely still hell. Rey figures she might as well stick around and throw together that diving article; it’s half of what Amilyn is paying her for, after all.

The next time Rey looks up from her computer screen, an hour has passed and someone is clearing their throat behind her. She turns back for a curious look and immediately suppresses a groan.

Because of fucking course it’s Ben Snoke, looking down at her with furrowed brows.

“Why are you wasting your time on this shit?”

If Rey were standing, she would have taken several steps backward out of sheer shock. “Excuse me?”  she demands, voice colored by indignation and anger.

Ben, miraculously, does not back down. In fact, it’s almost as if he hasn’t noticed her reaction at all, because he pushes on and steers the conversation into an entirely unexpected direction. “You’re an amazing investigative reporter – or so I’ve heard,” he quickly adds before Rey can even begin to process the idea that Ben Snoke might know her work. “Any serious news team in the city would be lucky to have you. So why are you here posting about the same ten Instagram trends day in and day out?”

He seems… genuinely puzzled, Rey notes with no small amount of surprise. And maybe in any other case that would’ve softened her, and maybe under any other circumstances this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to ask if his team could use another reporter, but right here, right now… Ben was already dangerously close to the truth when he pushed his way into Amilyn’s office unannounced. She can’t let him get any closer.

“It’s a brave new world, Ben,” she huffs at him, going for a sneer and failing miserably as soon as she catches sight of a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Try to keep up. Escapism gets hits. Sensationalism gets hits. The same ten Instagram trends over and over again gets hits. But good old boring investigative work? There’s a reason newsrooms are growing smaller and smaller all around the country.”

And before Ben can defend his craft, their craft–

“Besides, that’s none of your business,” Rey states with a note of finality as she turns her back on him, returning her attention to her screen.

She waits for the hairs on the back of her neck to go down, for the odd prickle of awareness she feels around him to fade away.

But Ben lingers, and finally he lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re right,” he mumbles, and out of the corner of her eye Rey spots him placing a brown bag on her desk. “Here. Since you’re working late.”

She turns her head just the slightest bit, and then a little more to stare at him when she catches sight of the logo printed on the bag.

Pastries. He’s brought her pastries from the bakery around the corner.

“Um… thanks?” Rey reaches out and notes that the bag is still warm. “When did you–”

Ben sticks his hands into his pockets and fixes his eyes straight ahead, on her crowded notice board. “Breakroom,” he lies.

Rey can’t exactly call him out on it – what is she supposed to do, accuse him of taking the trouble of getting fresh food for her? – but she’s too puzzled to let it slide. “Wow,” she pretends to play along, “you guys just happen to keep fresh pastries on hand?”

To his credit, Ben remains nonchalant. “This floor might have healthy, balanced meal-prep lunches,” he shrugs, “but we have all the good stuff.” A pause, and then, a little quieter: “You should come up and check it out sometime.”

She’s been to the upstairs breakroom at least four times, and can confirm that they do not have ‘all the good stuff’. In fact, on most days the news people can be found hanging around the downstairs breakroom, hoping to swipe something from the lifestyle team’s latest video shoot or cooking experiment.

“Maybe I will,” Rey says, keeping her tone even.

Ben withdraws his hands from his pockets as he nods. “Okay. Great. Yeah.”

A painfully awkward silence settles over them then, but just as Rey’s about to reach for the bag and ask if he’d like to share something – it’s only polite to offer, since he’s the one who went and got them – Ben steps back and promptly turns on his heel. “I’ll just… I’ll just get out of your hair now.”

Rey reaches for him without thought. “Ben, wait!” she requests as her fingers wrap around his wrist.

When he turns he’s got that same look from that first morning again, this time focused firmly upon her hand on his. Rey’s cheeks heat up as she quickly lets go of him, and if her heart falls a little at his reaction it’s nobody’s business but her own.

“What…” Ben falters, clears his throat, and finally tears his eyes away from his hand to look at her for all of five seconds. “What is it?”

“I just…” Rey takes a deep breath, and offers him a smile. “Thanks,” she says, leaving it at that.

Slowly, hesitantly, Ben smiles in return. It’s a small thing, a barely-there curve of his lips, but his eyes are warm and bright as they hold hers, the first time she’s ever seen them that way, and oh fuck, Rey’s going to think about this a lot now, isn’t she?

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, still smiling. “Don’t… don’t stay too late, Rey. Good night.”

This time, she lets him leave.

“Good night, Ben,” Rey whispers to his retreating back, wondering what the hell just happened.

But hey, at least now she’s roughly 80% sure Ben Snoke doesn’t actually hate her for no damn reason.

So this was originally meant to be done by last week, but then life got in the way as it always does. And it was originally meant to be a one-shot, but then it got out of hand as my stories always do. This one especially strayed further and further away from the plan with every word I wrote, but I hope it's still somewhat decent.

Hoping to update again this weekend and then sometime mid-next week for a third and final time, but we'll see how that goes. You know what they say about life and the best-laid plans...

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you liked it. Please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment; I'd love to know what you guys think about this so far!

And once again: happy birthday, Nancy! <3

Hi-Jacking Australia Day: Photo Op Fail Shows That The Mayor Knows How Deep She Is In The Electoral Doo-Doos

Shameless in its hypocrisy, utterly stupid in its transparency Jenny Hill and her team claim honours they WERE NOT awarded, in a bumbled bit of cheap campaigning chicanery. For all that, The Pie owes Jenny Hill an apology or does he? Could it be that he err short-changed her when writing about the LGAQ last week? There seems to be some murky financial (albeit apparently legal) fancy financial footwork in the local governments published reports. The Pie has a beak around to see if he really must offer to Jenny what she was forced to offer Clive Palmer an abject apology. (Good luck with the $50 grand part of it, though.) An unfortunate choice by the Townsville Chamber of Commerce and a truly shameful one by the Bulletin.. Plus, Bentleys hilarious take that will make Katter go Katter-tonic and in addition to our usual visual visit to the week in Trumpistan, a wonderful pictorial insight into how time reverses our values. But first Bobs A Real Pain The Arse The Mad Katter was at again this week, describing homosexuality as a fashion trend, and making the ingenuous dopey statement that In my whole life up to 50, I had never seen or heard of a homosexual person. Well, you probably met heaps of them, Bob, but in that time period, the laws of the day made it advisable not to advertise the fact. And one wonders if he doth protest a tad much could the Member for Kennedy be on a late-life slide into iniquity? Theres been a hint when you host a barbie in a shirt that looks like it was bought at Peter Allen garage sale, casually slung over a Ripcurl T-shirt, youre poised at the top of the slippery slope we call life-style choices. Indeed, our visionary toonist Bentley can clearly see the next passing phase for our Bob. Of course, this is all in fun, we all know that Bob is a solid, upstanding member, a real hands-on bloke who has a strong grip on things despite all his giggling and gasping. Still In Bentley territory, our man reckons not everybody is unhappy with our current heat wave across the country. And he is right about The Pies reaction, but being a considerate chap, Bentley has omitted the brown stains in the water behind the old bird. Low Blow In a shameful tabloid attempt at sensationalism, the Townsville Bulletin has surpassed itself on this, our national day when we talk up that we live in The Land of the Fair Go. In one of the most denigrating efforts yet by this floundering fish of a paper, we were treated to this below-the-belt guilt by association dog whistling front page. And the sleazy effort just got worse and worse, especially when a reporter quizzed him with what can only be an accusatory question on any possible involvement with his aunts drug dealing, indicated by the use of the word denied. QUOTE: Mr Dametto denied having any prior knowledge of his aunts alleged involvement with drugs before her arrest and assured his constituents, he did not condone the use of dangerous drugs. I havent (been involved in drugs) nor any other member of my family to my knowledge, Mr Dametto said.(The alleged offending) has nothing to do with me, its something she has to sort out herself. UNQUOTE The fact that they asked the question no one had considered, with not a shred of even remote suggestion, is straight up political dog whistling the chorus of Ha! yeah, right from the LNP and Labor banjo-playing set is already plunking away. If Jenna Cairney and her band of work experience reporters think this is a good tactic to fill space, perhaps theyd like to door knock the parents and relatives of the juvenile little shits charged with stealing cars and property, and ask them if they had any prior knowledge or involvement the exploits of their little snots. One imagines such effrontery would meet with what some cops describe as summary justice and no argument there from this old bird. Truly base stuff, Ms Cairney. And Your Bizarre Story Placements Continue Apace Jeez-us, fair dinkum. When It Comes To Snide Stupidity, Jenna And Jenny Make A Pigeon Pair If ever proof was needed that our mayor is wetting herself about her plunging popularity and failure to fool ANY of the people ANY of the time, it came in the online Bulletin this weekend. Heres a little puzzle of current affairs test for you. Read the caption first, and then see a) how many Australia Day award winners you can spot, and b) see how many Team Hill councillors you can spot. And the Astonisher certainly has its political priorities right the caption lists Mayor Mullet and Premier Alphabet but failed to mention that dorky looking bloke in the center. Oh, him, hes not worth mentioning, just the Governor of Queensland and former Chief Justice Paul de Jersey. But then have a look along the line search as he could, The Pie was not able to see it reported anywhere that either Clr Ann-Maree Greaney, Clr Maurie Soares, Clr Colleen Boo Hoo Doyle, Clr Les Messagebank Walker, Mayor Mullet Jenny Hill, or Clr Kurt Rehbein had received any Australia Day honours. So WTF are THEY doing, holding some sort of prize, which if it is an Australia Day Award, is grossly dishonest to say the least a pathetic please re-elect me plea? They are making themselves out to be winners of some sort which is looking more and more unlikely next time around. But OK, why is the old bird surprised, this is about the level of honesty weve come to expect from these denizens of the Walker Street trough. Its such a thigh-slapping inept attempt at campaign virtue signalling it has just proved two things shes desperate and shes dumb. But or All that, Mayor Mullet May Get Back In A new study of Townsville voters has discovered why we have the political representation we have. Well, at least it explains it for us, but not much can be done, youd reckon. Now, Having Said That, Maybe The Magpie Owes Mrs Hill An Apology Last week and on a couple of previous occasions The Pie has snidely written that Mayor Mullet picks up $31K a year in fees plus expenses for attending 6 LGAQ meeting a year as one of the three ordinary directors of the Association. She will retain that position until June 2020. Well, shame-faced as he is to say it, it appears that The Magpie may be WRONG (clutch the pearls to throat, gals, splutter in your Scotch and Fanta, gents). And this error is a direct, albeit unintended, slur on our mayor, by wantonly questioning the worth of her invaluable visionary qualities and her legendary financial acumen, particularly in Indian industrial and aviation matters. Because it seems her spare-time gig at the LGAQ earns her nowhere near $31,000 p.a. It looks like its closer to $95,000 per annum! Which becomes even more interesting when you consider that the TCC pays about $250K a year membership, so it in essence means that her services to the LGAQ are in fact paid for by Townsville ratepayers as part of the citys membership fee. Indeed, it seems we stump up a total a very worth while total, mind you, who could argue of just under $300,000 a year for her incomparable leadership as she charts a clever path out of our current financial and employment morass. The Pie humbly apologises for underselling you so despicably, Mrs Hill, when you devote so much of your time so selflessly to the public good of Townsville. There will be sneering Doubting Thomases who question your championing of the Local Buy procurement arm of the LGAQ, which actually takes work OUT of this city. Those doubters say that the claimed efficiencies dont actually save the council anything, but pshaw! what would they know? They simply have no head for these sorts of figures and deals and they certainly dont understand the pressures of your obligation to an organisation that slips you almost a hundred grand a year to raise your voting arm when told. Oh, the irony, the irony. But, You Cry, Is This True? Well, it certainly seems so to better financial sleuths than The Magpie, but it all depends how you decipher the murky and ambiguous figures published by he LGAQ. Rubbery was a word bandied about frequently. And just to pique our interest, there is a little mystery item mentioned, but that later on. Lets go the LGAQ Annual Report, where on page 35 we find this as a starter. Now the remuneration seems pretty clear there sort of but it has the rubbery words ranged between. (And a brief digression they sure aint bound by pissant thoughts of CPI or inflation down at the LGAQ note the rise in fees from 2017 to 2018 a tasty 35% for the president and an eye-watering 100% for directors. And the 2017 figures dont add up anyway, which is rubbery/sloppy in itself, with no explanation offered. Makes one wonder. The question here is would someone like Jenny Hill from a place the size of Townsville (for round figures, let say 200,000) be willing to accept the same stipend as say Alf Lacey from Palm Island, which has what, about three to five thousand people? Methinks not in a month of Sundays, and PI membership would be a tiny fraction of Townsvilles.) Then we see this chart, which again seem clear. Or is it not? The disparity between the President and the directors $137,422 v $31,000 ($94,280 split three ways rounded out here) is not believable to one executive who deals in these areas. He thinks the real remuneration, especially for Jenny Hill, is actually about $94,000. But whether it totals that from these figures (where there would obviously have to be some accounting error), things get even more interesting if he scroll back to page 20, we find this And this Now these reports can be heavy going even for accountants at times, and impossible for the likes by The Magpie, but our experienced Magpie mate writes: The cost of directors fees and meeting fees for the year are $618,294 (page 20) this would kind of add up to me like 3 directors @ $95k plus the president @ $137k total of $422k leaving another $196k to be accounted for so I think the directors get 95K still and travel and accommodation listed separately as $734,441 (page 20) So all in all, maybe Jenny Hill is worth the money she gets as a director worth it to the LGAQ, anyway, when it presumably is she who calls the shots on the councils membership fees. All this is courtesy of the Townsville ratepayers. The loveliness continues. Oh, and that little mystery. Just this But to be sure, since the LGAQ runs an insurance arm, it will surely be covered for whatever alleged indiscretion did or did not take place either way, it gunna cost. A (un-doctored) Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words A somewhat antiquated clich borne out by an alert reader who reckons his shot in Flinders Street just about sums up Townsvilles quandary. And another reader pic is being repeated across the city at a growing rate. Sloppy unfinished work and weeds all around contractor or council, totally unacceptable, and could be a traffic hazard, especially in the wet. Of course, not all councils can get things right, even the mighty Randwick Council in Sydney which has its own wrestle with signage. Be interesting if a Great Dane owned by a dwarf takes a dump. Did The Townsville Chamber of Commerce Really Think About The Wisdom Of This? Putting an image of a hungry looking porker on the stationery of an outfit representing private business seems a bit risky. But it gets more pointed when it is advertising a Townsville information session for the LGAQs Local Buy mob. Of course, in very small print, the presence of porky is explained as recognition of the Chambers Chinese membership, it is the Year of the Pig. Well, come to think of it, it IS an election year Pot Calling Kettle Award Of The Week. This goes to US Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, addressing an emergency meeting of the Organisation of American States last Wednesday on the unrest in Venezuela, and rescinding recognition of the elected leader. He said: The time for debate is done. The regime of former President Nicholas Maduro is illegitimate. His regime is morally bankrupt, economically incompetent and it is profoundly corrupt. It is undemocratic to the core. All absolutely correct except for two words, and many Americans know which two they are but guess you wouldnt know, Mikey, what a gerbil performance history awaits you, fella. We can shortly expect Trump to recognise Pauline Hanson as Australias legitimate leader, and for the forthcoming elections to be cancelled, since elections have little meaning in Washington. Apparently. But before Trump can make any such declaration how Australia can be governed, he will need the permission of the man behind him. And thats just the start for this week in Trumpistan. And Finally, For A Final Rueful Laugh Or Two. Time and technology play unexpected tricks on us, taking just a few short years to reverse human behaviour. .. Thats it for this week, but as usual, comments are running hot on all sorts of topics, so have your say, comments can be posted 24/7. And if youre in a kindly mood (or just drunk, doesnt matter) a donation to help the old bird keep floating above it all is always appreciated and put to good use. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/hi-jacking-australia-day-photo-op-fail-shows-that-the-mayor-knows-how-deep-she-is-in-the-electoral-doo-doos/

#TWDFamily Part 3

"It's not just fandom. It's family." If you are at all familiar with Walker Stalker Convention or Heroes and Villains Fan Fest, you've probably seen this tag line before. Though I'd seen it, I had never put much thought into what it meant until I experienced this family for myself. From attending the conventions as a fan to beginning this podcast with Kia, I have witnessed a fandom that supports each other with their whole hearts. I have seen people come together for each other in a way that can only be described as magical. Their one common thread? They love The Walking Dead and attending the conventions that celebrate their favorite show. In this four part series, I will be chatting with many of the people that make up this family. Today, we take a look at the fans who love to attend WSC! Many of the folks who were kind enough to speak to me will also be in Atlanta this weekend! If you see them, I encourage you to say hello! Who have you most enjoyed meeting? Jennifer Cronin (4 time WSC attendee):  I’d have to say the person I most enjoyed meeting was Norman Reedus. I've tried meeting him for three years and he finally came to Nashville this past year. I was excited and a nervous wreck. Once I got up to see Norman he was very sweet, asking how my day was. To make things better he even held my hand the whole time he autographed my Funko Pop and picture! Then sent me on my way with a hug and a piece of candy. Mel V (8 time WSC employee): Loved meeting Danai the most. She remembered me and talked about me on Conan O'Brien! [caption id="attachment_21859" align="alignright" width="300"] Mike Angelo with one of his favorites, Alexandra Breckenridge[/caption] Mike Angelo (5 time WSC attendee): JDM, Alexandra Breckenridge, Norman, Lawrence Gilliard Jr. Angela Barr: (4 time WSC attendee): Ross Marquand without a doubt! The first time I met him was in 2016 when I was volunteering in Panels at Walker Stalker Con Chicago.  I was standing outside the Panels area as he came out of Photo Ops.  He walked over and greeted all of us volunteers and thanked us. Then he gave each of us a hug! Ross gives the best hugs!! Stephanie Rodriguez (1 time WSC attendee): Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Robert Bernardo (7 time WSC attendee): Andrew Lincoln. Connie Connelly (1 time WSC attendee): So far it’s a tie between Lennie James and David Morrissey. Until I meet Jon {Bernthal}. Stacey Lee (2 time WSC attendee): Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Even though I've met him prior to his Walking Dead time, he is my literal everything at these cons and I cannot get enough. [caption id="attachment_21858" align="alignleft" width="220"] Ingrid Bascope hugging her favorite, Scott Wilson[/caption] Ingrid Bascope (4 time WSC attendee): Scott Wilson is so far the most amazing human being. I approached to him for a picture and I told him, "Mister Scott I'm a big fan. I watch all your movies with my dad. How I wish he was here with me to meet you!" And he look at me with a sad face and said, "I'm so sorry your dad is not here come! Let me me give you a hug!" He hugs me and my kids and tells them to be good at school. What do you love most about Walker Stalker Con? Jillian (3 time WSC attendee): I love the fact that James puts so much in to these events. He’s a fan just like us Jennifer Cronin:  I love the Walker Stalker Con family. Everyone genuinely cares about each other and we all love the Walking Dead. I've made forever friendships because of Walker Stalker and these people are now part of my daily life. Also, how awesome is it that you get to hang out with people who love the Walking Dead? I love my Walker Stalker Con family. [caption id="attachment_21856" align="alignright" width="300"] Gemma Hewitt during some of her favorite photo ops[/caption] Gemma Hewitt (2 time WSC attendee): I love the whole experience but making friends has been the best part, I've met some amazing people who I now class as my best friends. Heather Robertson aka Sparkles Handler (5 time WSC attendee): Meeting the other fans and making friends from all over the world. We look forward to seeing each other again at the next con. It’s like a big family reunion. Anna (9 time WSC attendee): I love the experience, the people, its not just about the celebrities you meet, i do go to meet celebs but i look forward to being able to see a good majority of my friends all in one place. Mel V: I love meeting up with fellow TWD family; people who have become lifelong friends through this awesome show! Stephani Walker (5 time WSC attendee): Everyone is there for the same reason. The troubles of the world cease for three days. Three days of fandom and horror. Everyone there has the same passion and love for this show among many other shows that are a beautiful and entertaining escape from the reality that stresses us out. For three days, nobody cares about the color of your skin, nobody cares about your religious beliefs , nobody cares about your political views and nobody cares about your sexual preference. For three days, thousands of people from around the world gather for a family reunion and meet their idols, have fun and keep all things spooky! Mike Angelo: It's an all immersive 3 days with people from all over the world that share the same passion you do. Angela Barr: I love so much about WSC but if I had to narrow it down to just one thing, I would say it’s the people that I have met at WSC. Whether it’s an actor from the show or another fan, I love that WSC gives me the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life who love The Walking Dead as much as I do! The Walking Dead family is absolutely amazing!  And getting the chance to get together with a group of people who share my love for this show is such a great thing! I am so grateful to James Frazier for starting Walker Stalker Con and allowing me to be a part of this big, beautiful Walking Dead family! Rachal Belew (1 time WSC attendee): I love the TWD Family. It's amazing that everyone there will help you out and wants to be your friend. Stephanie Rodriguez: The family style spirit the fans share with each other. Robert Bernardo: Meeting fellow fans from all over the world. Connie Connelly: How everyone comes together and helps one another. The fandom is so warm and friendly it feels like family! Stacey Lee: Even though Atlanta is hugeeeee, it doesn't feel that way. You can literally walk up to the dude standing in front of you in line at the ops and you have a new friend: it's rad. Do you have a favorite memory or story from your time attending Walker Stalker Con? Jillian (3 time WSC attendee): My favorite memory is meeting 3 of my closest friends; Ashley, April, and Amanda.  Gemma Hewitt: One of my favourite memories so far was the Saturday of London, I managed to buy an Andy photo op from somebody 10 minutes before the shoot so it was a mad rush but I got to meet him & he was sooo lovely! [caption id="attachment_21861" align="alignleft" width="300"] Heather Robertson, Sparkles the Unicorn, and one of her favorites, Ross Marquand at WSC Nashville 2017. If you see Heather and Sparkles, make sure to say hello and take a photo with Sparkles![/caption] Heather Robertson: At WSC Charlotte in December 2016 is the first time I met Ross. He was so friendly and down to earth and I loved talking with him. He remembered my name on Sunday after just meeting me on Saturday, and that made me feel amazing. The best part was when he made this amazing video for me. It was him standing beside me and doing 3 different voice impressions. It was the best thing ever. I still go back and watch that video over and over. Stephani Walker: This is my 15th convention but for WSC, I have many great memories. I believe creating a painting of Norman and Mingus’ rescue cat, “Eye In The Dark” along with a quote from Norman himself. He gets hundreds of gifts daily and it was heartwarming to capture a video of him leaving with Sean Clark and security carrying the personalize canvas with him. Stephanie Rodriguez:  I found out I was pregnant on the same day I met Jeffrey Dean Morgan. When I met him I was happier than I imagined I would be and he remarked on my huge grin. I told him it was the best day ever because I met him and found out that my IVF had worked. We took our picture and then he gave me a huge hug and a peck on the cheek before wishing me good luck. He was so sincerely happy in the exchange, it was just a great moment and really fulfilled my expectations of meeting him. He was fantastic. Robert Bernardo: During the first Walker Stalker in Atlanta, I remember meeting Andrew Lincoln and introducing myself as “Robert from San Francisco.” He said, “Hello, Robert from San Francisco.” Then, later in the day when we were doing the cast photos—he yelled out to the rest of the celebrities, “Hey, everyone! It’s Robert from San Francisco!” That’s my fondest memory from all the Walker Stalkers. Connie Connelly: So far when I met the governor, I was very nervous. I couldn’t talk and he asked me, “What’s wrong? You’re not a fan of the governor,” As he goes to my throat to pretend to choke me.  Any advice for new Walker Stalker Con goers? Jillian (3 time WSC attendee): My advice would be keep an eye on the schedules. They can change at anytime. And if you need any help with anything ask anyone. We’re all willing to help you out. We’re a big family. Jennifer Cronin: Plan your day as far as photo op times, autos, panels, etc. Portable phone chargers are a must! Germ-x so you dont pick up the con crud. Mostly have fun, this'll be one of the best experiences of your life and it'll go so fast, so cherish every moment. Walker Stalker Con is just amazing. Gemma Hewitt: My advice would be to plan your schedule and check the floor plan so you know where you need to go. Don't waste valuable time looking for a table! Also, if you are like me and get shinier throughout the day, a powder compact will be your best friend! I topped up in every photo queue! Heather Robertson: Don’t be shy. Talk to other fans when you are waiting in line. Join the meet up groups and connect with others. You will learn so much from the veterans. Plan, plan, plan. Do your research, it will help your first con experience go smoother. Anna: If allowed, bring water and small snacks, comfortable shoes (if you’re cosplaying the most comfortable you can find), bring a bag of some kind to carry your stuff, buy photo sleeves ahead of time or find a vendor who has them for 2 or 3 bucks each. You can fit 2 or 3 photos in each one until you get home. Don’t stress too much about a schedule unless it’s very time specific such as photo ops or panels. I thought having everything planned to a T was a great idea when I went to my first con (NYCC of all places). My "plan" for the most part fell apart midway through the first day. After that I decided to just wing it. Surprises happened, I got most everything I wanted. It was a great time. Above all, expect the unexpected. You never know what will happen when you least expect it. And don’t be afraid to ask questions to people who have attended cons before. I don’t think I would have survived NYCC and NYC without asking a ton of questions beforehand. Some people will be jerks and not want to share "secrets" but we aren’t all like that. I do my best to pay it forward to newcomers to any con (I’ve done a few others besides WSC and NYCC). I remember all too well what it was like to be new. Mike Angelo: Plan ahead. Start a year out if possible. Angela Barr: Be prepared for lots of walking and waiting. The venues where the Cons are held are pretty big.   That means between the Panels, photo ops and meet and greets, you may have to walk from one side of the venue to the other several times a day. And there are lines for everything. Lines to pick up your badges, lines for photo ops, lines for meet and greets, lines to get into the Panels and lines for food. But being cranky about waiting will only spoil the experience for you and possibly for others around you. To pass the time, make a new friend while you wait in line. To make the most of your experience - remember to pack your patience and wear comfortable shoes. Rachal Belew: Aim for the big stars you want but never forget the co-stars. They are all so kind and take the time to make you smile too! Robert Bernardo: Here are my Top 3. 1. Prepare a schedule in advance so as not to waste precious time. 2. Plan ahead for any Photo Ops (costumes, props and specific poses). 3. Bring: phone chargers, cash (Note: photo ops and autographs are “cash only”!), any prescription medication, plastic photo protectors, and comfortable shoes. Stacey Lee: Breathe. Take it in. Smell Jeffrey's breath and have fun. Ingrid Bascope: Get ready for 3 days of excitement and study the maps so you know exactly where to go. And don't hesitate to ask a volunteer for help. That's what we are there for.   Want to go? You can purchase your WSC Atlanta tix here!

My Second Cochlear Implant Surgery.

I recently had my second CI surgery almost two weeks ago. Obviously, with all surgeries, planning is required. I had to go through a whole process before the surgery, I just couldn’t go to my surgeon and say “Hey, I want another cochlear implant” and then be approved for it on the spot and go in to surgery. It doesn’t work like that.

Back a few years ago during a routine-check-up with my audiologist, at the end of the visit, he pulled out a box that had a dummy model of a new processor called the Naida CI. He showed this to me and my dad and brought up the idea of me possibly getting a second cochlear implant. The Naida was a lot lighter and thinner than the processor I was using, the Harmony. My audiologist talked about the different colors and features and programs and it all seemed pretty snazzy. I left that day thinking that it was cool, and talked with my dad about possibly getting my left ear implanted. I talked with my mom about it too. However, at the time, things were busy and we didn’t take the idea of implanting me seriously. This happened a few times over the years. Eventually, I was able to drag my mom to the audiologist with my dad and I so she (and also my dad and I) could ask more questions about that process as well as re-implanting (that’s for waaayyy later, if need be.) me. After that, appointments were made for further evaluation.

After that, I can’t remember the exact order of appointments, but I saw my audiologist and my ENT (ear, nose and throat, or otolaryngologist, for you science nerds) doctor. At my audiologist’s appointment, I was subject to hearing tests as part of determining my candidacy. I was internally groaning at the thought of taking more hearing tests—I get so frustrated when I can’t get everything right. But it turns out that it was the easiest thing ever since it was an unaided (code for no cochlear implant on) test. They took off my CI and I’m not sure exactly what they played, words, sentences, or pitches since I’m deaf as a post without it on. Then, they gave me hearing aids and I assume they cranked them up as high as possible and did a pitch test. I just sat there, knowing I wouldn’t have to raise my hand if I heard a sound. My audiologist knew it too, so the both of us just went through it for formalities and proof for the insurance company. However, something funny happened. The hearing aids and the sound booth’s speakers together must have been so loud that for certain pitches I could actually feel my eardrums vibrating but couldn’t hear anything. That had never happened before.

At my ENT appointment (their office is on the same floor where audiology is, just that it’s off to the left where audiology is off to the right. Handy to have them both in one place.) I met up with my ENT doctor for a cochlear implant consultation. It had been years since I saw him, which was for my tonsils. Before that, I had seen him for my first cochlear implant surgery since he was the surgeon. Questions were asked about my general health, medications I take, vitals were taken, etc. My ears and throat were checked. My doctor sat down and told me a few things. He started off with the fact that the second implant was not going to be like the first. It most likely would not perform at the level my right one was at even though the left one would be cutting-edge technology, due to the amount of time my left auditory nerve and brain had gone without stimulation. My right side had gone over 2 years without stimulation before I was implanted, but then got implanted and used for 16 years. The left side had nothing for 18 years. Even with newer materials, design, and processing strategies, the new implant’s performance would not match or exceed my old one. My doctor also told me that I could get a wide range of results. I could get the best potential out of it (this potential would still not match my old implant) or I could get very little potential. It was essentially gambling, but with the expectation that the benefits would be better than the risks, since my doctor was willing to do the surgery. I understood this. I agreed that I still wanted to go ahead and do the CT scans. An appointment was made for a CT scan of my temporal bones.

One of the images from my CT scan appointment. This is just a general image of the skull, the structure that was of most interest in the scan was my left cochlea. Images showed that my left cochlea was clear and of normal anatomy. the bright white structure in the scan above is actually my right cochlear implant. It is a magnet, receiver coil, and small computer encased in a ceramic shell that looks like a square with a rounded side. The electrode array is visible. It is light gray and almost blends in with the large gray area but is still noticeable. For those of you curious about the bright white line where my teeth are, it’s my bonded retainer that I got after my braces were removed!

Since my cochlea was good to go, requests for a cochlear implant surgery and cochlear implant were sent to my insurance company. After a while, they approved it and my surgery was set for early August since I was excited and wanted it ASAP. However, the date ended up being too close to the start of college for me, so I decided to push it back to late December, when I’d be home for over a month for winter break. I’d have plenty of time to heal. (In hindsight, I’m extremely glad I made the change. There was no way I could’ve gone through orientation in the state that I was in after surgery! Orientation was hot, busy as hell, and there was SO much walking.) That proved to be a little sticky with the insurance company since during that time my insurance was also renewed, but it was done and the December surgery would be covered. My first semester of college kept me busy so I didn’t have much anxiety or thoughts about the surgery.

However, there was a time during the summer before I started college where I was very unsure about my decision to get a second cochlear implant. I had been doing fine with my right implant, and I had begun to really identify as a Deaf person and feel like part of the Deaf community (short explanation: deaf is used for the medical view of deafness, and Deaf is used in reference to the culture) and was worried about how others would view me if I got another cochlear implant. I feared that they would think I wanted to become more “hearing”, that I didn’t cherish the culture or want to be part of it. There is a small section of the Deaf community that are very against cochlear implants for a number of reasons, but that is for another potential post in the future. But, that wasn’t the case. I still call myself d/Deaf even with my cochlear implant on. My CI is not a cure—I take it off and I’m instantly deaf. With it on, I’m essentially hard of hearing. I still sign with it on. I know personally that the CI doesn’t make any difference in me being part of the Deaf community. I was just afraid of how others would see it though. Me being me, I made a list of pros and cons of getting the implant. I talked to some of my friends who were hearing, deaf with cochlear implants, and very strongly Deaf (they rejected cochlear implants and hearing aids for their self). All of them supported me, regardless of what decision I made. That made me feel better that the people I knew had no objection to me getting another cochlear implant. At that point I was like 98% sure I was going to get it. When I was at RIT (my college) I saw a huge variety of d/Deaf/HoH people using a wide range of assistive equipment. I had captioning and interpreters. I had the most access in my life. It was nothing like I had back at home. This made me kind of waver in my decision to have a second implant because there was just so much support I could get. I hesitated during the fall months and reevaluated the pros and cons. I locked in my decision one hundred percent in early December. I was going ahead with the implant.

I had pre-op a week before my surgery, where my height, weight and vitals were taken for anesthesia reasons. The general instructions for surgery were given to me via a pamphlet. I had to stop eating at midnight the night before surgery. I could have clear fluids up to four hours before. No makeup or jewelry could be worn that day. My surgeon specifically requested I have my hair pulled up so shaving it would be easier. I asked more questions like what specific electrode array that would be used, how much hair would be shaved, if I was going to be fully intubated or not, if the magnet position would be symmetrical with the other one, if they were going to use a facial nerve monitor, etc. I left feeling good about my surgery. I knew not to psych myself out. It was just surgery, I’d seen countless CI surgery videos on YouTube. It would be like closing my eyes and then opening them and the surgery would be done before I knew it. Plus, I trusted my surgeon. He had done my first CI and it went smoothly, so I already had a foundation of trust with him. This time around I (not my parents) was able to personally judge his character and trustworthiness. He passed—he is a really sweet guy who definitely knows his stuff, and is someone I might ask to shadow someday!

The day of surgery I woke up at around 7:45 AM and got comfy clothes on. My family left the house around 8:30 since we had to be there at 9:45. My dad drove me, my sister, mom and aunt to the outpatient surgery center. We sat for a few minutes before I was called in. Once again, my height and weight were taken. An urine sample was also taken (since y’know, that’s required for all females who are capable of reproducing) and I was led to my room. I changed into a hospital gown and got into the bed. The nurse was really sweet and got me heated blankets since I’m pretty much perpetually cold. It took two tries to get the IV in but that was no biggie. During the end of the IV insertion, my surgeon came and talked with me while the nurse was poking around trying to get a vein to pop up. It was a nice distraction. I remember this conversation I had with him:

“What did you have for breakfast?” he said.

I was very confused as to why he asked that question because its obvious that I didn’t have anything, since that’s required for surgery and that’s pretty common sense for a surgeon and for me, too.

“Uh...Nothing?”

“Good. That was a trick question.”

Then I got why he asked it. I laughed. He left the room to go prepare for the surgery.

The IV was in and the nurse gave me some fluids. I could feel the cold liquid running up my arm. It was so weird. I could feel it run up to my shoulder before I could feel nothing as it warmed up and went into my heart and the rest of my body. At some point, a nurse came in and said that my surgeon was running ahead of schedule so my surgery would actually be sooner than expected. I talked with my parents for a few minutes and then met the circulating nurse that would be in the OR with the surgeon, then met the anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist said he would be back soon to give me some medicine to relax me before they wheeled me in to the OR. I talked with my parents some more and then took off my CI and gave it to them to hold during my surgery. My glasses were already in a leather pouch the nurse had given me and was put with my clothes. Then a nurse popped in and said everything was ready for me. The anesthesiologist stuck to his word and was back to give me the “happy juice”. He did that and I felt fine for like three seconds and it started hitting me. My mom and dad kissed my forehead and sent me off. At that point things started to get foggy. I clearly remember my dad saying goodbye and my mom’s goodbye was a little hazy. Then, I only remember being wheeled down the hall and the doors of the sterile corridor opening and having a feeling of “OH SHIT THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING”. Actually, a few hours after surgery, a random image of a square blue label that said “OR 5″ on it popped up in my head as well. That’s all I remember.

The next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes and I’m back in the same room I was in before. Only this time, I felt pressure around my head and a little pain inside my ear. I look over and see a cup on a little table. I pick it up and drink it. It’s apple juice.

“How’d you know I wanted apple juice?” I ask my mom. I was thinking either she just knew me really well or the nurse read my mind or something.

“You asked for it.”, Mom says.

“Oh. This stuff (the drugs they knocked me out with) is GOOD!”

My sister later told me that when I initially woke up 20 minutes after they wheeled me back in from the OR, I started coughing because they had removed the tubing from my throat (I did not have a complete tracheal intubation, they had put something in that only went down to my vocal cords, I cannot for the life of me remember the specific name my surgeon gave for the equipment in pre-op) and my mom and sister had started freaking out because I couldn’t cough. Coughing, sneezing and blowing my nose were banned because that messes with the air pressure in the ears. So, the nurse asked me what I wanted and got me apple juice to help alleviate the coughing. After that I must’ve passed out again and then came to and finally started drinking it or was awake but the medicine gave me amnesia. My mom told me that I kept repeating sentences 5-6 times, particularly whining about not being able to see the OR. I remember complaining about that around two times. I had been curious to see the OR because I had shadowed a few surgeons before and got to see different ORs so I was curious to see what this one looked like since they all vary a bit.

The nurse came back in and asked me if I was feeling nauseous or anything a few times. I said no, but my stomach did feel weird, like it was full or something. She gave me a little container in case I did vomit. I was going to object because I knew my body, but I told her better safe than sorry. She then asked me if I was in any pain. I said a bit, but it was nothing too bad. The inside of my ear hurt and felt like there was some pressure and throbbing. I was given some Dilaudid and that helped quite a bit. She said my vitals looked great and that I could go whenever I wanted. I just wanted to lay in my warm bed and chill for a bit. My dad went to start the car to warm it up so I had more time to relax. Eventually it was time to go. I changed back into my comfy clothes and walked slowly to the wheelchair. My legs felt a little weak, but still capable of walking. I was wheeled to the car and got in. My prescriptions for antibiotics and pain medicine were picked up and we left for home. I just rested in the car, trying to fall asleep but I couldn't.

This is the cochlear implant that I was implanted with. It is the Advanced Bionics HiRes 90K with the Mid-Scala electrode array. It is a clear silicone oval with two circles side by side in it. The circle on the left is a silver “O” that is the computer chip. The circle on the right is the receiver coil with the magnet in the center of the circle that the receiver coil creates. At the side of the silver “O” is the wire that curls into the tiny electrode array which is inserted into the cochlea. Looks VERY different from my other cochlear implant, huh? It’s amazing how much technology can change in 16 years.

My sister took a pic of me knocked out cold. I am laying in a hospital bed with multiple white blankets over me. My head is turned to the side, showing the mastoid dressing I am wearing (it is a pressure bandage made of gauze and cotton packing to keep swelling down and everything intact). My brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail so everything is neat and not falling down around the gauze. I am wearing a nasal cannula that is supplying oxygen.

After surgery I had to take medications. I was given Cephalexin, an antibiotic that I had to take three times a day for five days, and Hydrocodone (basically codeine) with Tylenol in it. There were times I considered taking the Hydrocodone but didn’t want to risk upsetting my stomach and vomiting and messing up my ear because even burping hurt the first night or two. I burped a lot when I was home after surgery. I believe that was from the air that was flowing from the tubing into my lungs, but some had flowed into my esophagus and down into my stomach, thus explaining why my stomach had felt weird and kind of full after surgery and why I was burping so much. Sleeping was a little hard, since I am mainly a side sleeper, so I was limited to sleeping on my right side or on my belly. I also kept my head elevated using a few pillows so it would help with the swelling. For pain and swelling I took Aleve for the first two or three days, then for the last 2/3 days I switched over to generic ibuprofen. I had some swelling on the second and third day around my temple and eye. On the fourth day (New Year’s Day!) I had some slight bruising around my eye.Most of the time the pain was very manageable, it was just the pressure that the stupid mastoid dressing was putting on the cartilage of my ear and it was hurting it. On the fourth day or so I had enough of it so I took a cotton ball and wedged it between the dressing and my ear. Relief. I was told to wear the mastoid dressing for at least five days. The ENT nurse told me to try to keep it on until post-op but I just could not wait until it was off because it was becoming itchier and itchier as my incision healed. Finally, I took it off late on the fifth day. It felt so good but also weird to have it off because I had actually gotten used to having it on. I actually went to the mall and the grocery store with it on. People stared but it was fine with me. I didn’t really give a flying flip. I kept the surgical tape over the incision after I removed the dressing though.

A day after I took off the dressing. There was a little bit of old blood on it but nothing concerning. I was surprised that amount of hair was shaved off since I was expecting a little less to be shaved. But it’s okay. At least it’s not half of my head like it was the first time around, The tip of my ear and a patch of skin above it was numb (currently, they still are numb but they’re slowly regaining feeling I think?) In the picture my hair is obviously messy because I didn’t want to mess with my pony tail and pull on the skin. The nurse had made the pony tail because before I went in to the OR it was more to the back of my head but then after surgery it was on the crown of my head and loose, obviously to protect the skin from any unnecessary pressure that may delay or complicate healing. You can see the side of my head and on the skin in front of my ear there is a purple spot from the marking pen that my surgeon used to mark the side where I was getting the implant (so many people kept asking and checking that it was the left side! They wanted to avoid accidentally opening up my right side by all means.) The tape is yellow (I hope it came that way, if it was originally white, then ew) and is in a bent line behind my ear. I am laying down on a bed, facedown so it was easier to take the picture. This was taken on January 3, 2017.

On the fourth I had post-op. I wasn’t sure what my surgeon used to close up, skin glue, absorbable sutures, or the old-fashioned typical sutures? A resident did most of the check-up and removed the tape. My surgeon had used the typical sutures so they needed to be removed. I was nervous that the suture removal would hurt, but the resident told me that it shouldn’t and would only feel weird with some pressure. She was right, and it was only towards the end that I felt any kind of pain, but it was very tolerable, like 1/10 on the pain scale. The skin around the incision and the inside of my ear were examined and the side of my head palpated for any air leaks. Everything was good, only that my skin around the incision was quite dry so putting antibiotic ointment on it was recommended to help with that. I asked how my surgery went, and my surgeon said that everything went smoothly and it took about 3 hours. I also asked him if we were in the fifth OR room and as soon as I asked that his face lit up because I had remembered. I explained to him my flashback after the surgery and how I wasn’t sure if I was right or just seeing things because I was hopped up on drugs. After post-op I was given the okay to wash my hair. I just couldn't scrub the incision vigorously or submerge my left ear underwater. I was extremely happy to take a shower and wash my hair because it had been over a week since I had last washed it and my hair was getting pretty cringeworthy.

My dad took this picture of the side of my head after the tape was removed. You can clearly see at least five dots in a somewhat straight line about two inches back from the incision. When I took off the dressing I noticed this and was curious what they were. I knew they were scabs, and thought maybe it was from a head clamp or something, but I knew that wasn’t it because head clamps are used for neurosurgery and not cochlear implant surgeries. I asked what made these scabs at post-op and the resident said they were from staples. Staples were used to secure the medical drapery and hair around the surgical site. The incision is kind of an S shape but more like a curved line. The sutures were tied up using one continuous black thread. This suture technique is called a running locked suture—it is good for wounds under some tension, specifically those on the skull and postauricular sulcus (the groove right behind the ear). The background is a desk with drawers in a doctor’s office.

After the sutures were removed. This picture is basically the same as the previous picture, except that the sutures are gone and the area around the incision is red from irritation due to pulling out the stitches. The skin around the incision is noticeably dry.

Another picture of the side of my head. My hair is pulled up into a high bun. As you can see the hair on the shaved section is growing back. Most of the dots have disappeared, there are only three left in a line behind the incision. The incision is mostly normal with red marks from the thread pushing into my skin perpendicular to the incision, like railroad tracks. This picture was taken on January 5, 2017.

Another picture of the incision. My hair is pulled back into a low side bun with a strand rolled and pinned back to exposed the shaved area. The shaved hair is ever so slightly longer. The incision is still in it’s slightly S shape with no redness. I am wearing a dark green plaid shirt with a collar. The background is my bathroom, with the wall painted a light blue and a green curtain with white flowers all over it to the left. This picture was taken on January 8th, 2017.

So there it is, my entire surgery process from when I first started thinking about it to pretty much almost today all summed up in one post! I will try to take more pictures as time goes on so you can see how the incision is healing up. I’m sure it will heal up great. My other one did, I actually never realized I had a scar from my first CI surgery up until a few years ago!

Ashley

Hi-Jacking Australia Day: Photo Op Fail Shows That The Mayor Knows How Deep She Is In The Electoral Doo-Doos

Shameless in its hypocrisy, utterly stupid in its transparency Jenny Hill and her team claim honours they WERE NOT awarded, in a bumbled bit of cheap campaigning chicanery. For all that, The Pie owes Jenny Hill an apology or does he? Could it be that he err short-changed her when writing about the LGAQ last week? There seems to be some murky financial (albeit apparently legal) fancy financial footwork in the local governments published reports. The Pie has a beak around to see if he really must offer to Jenny what she was forced to offer Clive Palmer an abject apology. (Good luck with the $50 grand part of it, though.) An unfortunate choice by the Townsville Chamber of Commerce and a truly shameful one by the Bulletin.. Plus, Bentleys hilarious take that will make Katter go Katter-tonic and in addition to our usual visual visit to the week in Trumpistan, a wonderful pictorial insight into how time reverses our values. But first Bobs A Real Pain The Arse The Mad Katter was at again this week, describing homosexuality as a fashion trend, and making the ingenuous dopey statement that In my whole life up to 50, I had never seen or heard of a homosexual person. Well, you probably met heaps of them, Bob, but in that time period, the laws of the day made it advisable not to advertise the fact. And one wonders if he doth protest a tad much could the Member for Kennedy be on a late-life slide into iniquity? Theres been a hint when you host a barbie in a shirt that looks like it was bought at Peter Allen garage sale, casually slung over a Ripcurl T-shirt, youre poised at the top of the slippery slope we call life-style choices. Indeed, our visionary toonist Bentley can clearly see the next passing phase for our Bob. Of course, this is all in fun, we all know that Bob is a solid, upstanding member, a real hands-on bloke who has a strong grip on things despite all his giggling and gasping. Still In Bentley territory, our man reckons not everybody is unhappy with our current heat wave across the country. And he is right about The Pies reaction, but being a considerate chap, Bentley has omitted the brown stains in the water behind the old bird. Low Blow In a shameful tabloid attempt at sensationalism, the Townsville Bulletin has surpassed itself on this, our national day when we talk up that we live in The Land of the Fair Go. In one of the most denigrating efforts yet by this floundering fish of a paper, we were treated to this below-the-belt guilt by association dog whistling front page. And the sleazy effort just got worse and worse, especially when a reporter quizzed him with what can only be an accusatory question on any possible involvement with his aunts drug dealing, indicated by the use of the word denied. QUOTE: Mr Dametto denied having any prior knowledge of his aunts alleged involvement with drugs before her arrest and assured his constituents, he did not condone the use of dangerous drugs. I havent (been involved in drugs) nor any other member of my family to my knowledge, Mr Dametto said.(The alleged offending) has nothing to do with me, its something she has to sort out herself. UNQUOTE The fact that they asked the question no one had considered, with not a shred of even remote suggestion, is straight up political dog whistling the chorus of Ha! yeah, right from the LNP and Labor banjo-playing set is already plunking away. If Jenna Cairney and her band of work experience reporters think this is a good tactic to fill space, perhaps theyd like to door knock the parents and relatives of the juvenile little shits charged with stealing cars and property, and ask them if they had any prior knowledge or involvement the exploits of their little snots. One imagines such effrontery would meet with what some cops describe as summary justice and no argument there from this old bird. Truly base stuff, Ms Cairney. And Your Bizarre Story Placements Continue Apace Jeez-us, fair dinkum. When It Comes To Snide Stupidity, Jenna And Jenny Make A Pigeon Pair If ever proof was needed that our mayor is wetting herself about her plunging popularity and failure to fool ANY of the people ANY of the time, it came in the online Bulletin this weekend. Heres a little puzzle of current affairs test for you. Read the caption first, and then see a) how many Australia Day award winners you can spot, and b) see how many Team Hill councillors you can spot. And the Astonisher certainly has its political priorities right the caption lists Mayor Mullet and Premier Alphabet but failed to mention that dorky looking bloke in the center. Oh, him, hes not worth mentioning, just the Governor of Queensland and former Chief Justice Paul de Jersey. But then have a look along the line search as he could, The Pie was not able to see it reported anywhere that either Clr Ann-Maree Greaney, Clr Maurie Soares, Clr Colleen Boo Hoo Doyle, Clr Les Messagebank Walker, Mayor Mullet Jenny Hill, or Clr Kurt Rehbein had received any Australia Day honours. So WTF are THEY doing, holding some sort of prize, which if it is an Australia Day Award, is grossly dishonest to say the least a pathetic please re-elect me plea? They are making themselves out to be winners of some sort which is looking more and more unlikely next time around. But OK, why is the old bird surprised, this is about the level of honesty weve come to expect from these denizens of the Walker Street trough. Its such a thigh-slapping inept attempt at campaign virtue signalling it has just proved two things shes desperate and shes dumb. But or All that, Mayor Mullet May Get Back In A new study of Townsville voters has discovered why we have the political representation we have. Well, at least it explains it for us, but not much can be done, youd reckon. Now, Having Said That, Maybe The Magpie Owes Mrs Hill An Apology Last week and on a couple of previous occasions The Pie has snidely written that Mayor Mullet picks up $31K a year in fees plus expenses for attending 6 LGAQ meeting a year as one of the three ordinary directors of the Association. She will retain that position until June 2020. Well, shame-faced as he is to say it, it appears that The Magpie may be WRONG (clutch the pearls to throat, gals, splutter in your Scotch and Fanta, gents). And this error is a direct, albeit unintended, slur on our mayor, by wantonly questioning the worth of her invaluable visionary qualities and her legendary financial acumen, particularly in Indian industrial and aviation matters. Because it seems her spare-time gig at the LGAQ earns her nowhere near $31,000 p.a. It looks like its closer to $95,000 per annum! Which becomes even more interesting when you consider that the TCC pays about $250K a year membership, so it in essence means that her services to the LGAQ are in fact paid for by Townsville ratepayers as part of the citys membership fee. Indeed, it seems we stump up a total a very worth while total, mind you, who could argue of just under $300,000 a year for her incomparable leadership as she charts a clever path out of our current financial and employment morass. The Pie humbly apologises for underselling you so despicably, Mrs Hill, when you devote so much of your time so selflessly to the public good of Townsville. There will be sneering Doubting Thomases who question your championing of the Local Buy procurement arm of the LGAQ, which actually takes work OUT of this city. Those doubters say that the claimed efficiencies dont actually save the council anything, but pshaw! what would they know? They simply have no head for these sorts of figures and deals and they certainly dont understand the pressures of your obligation to an organisation that slips you almost a hundred grand a year to raise your voting arm when told. Oh, the irony, the irony. But, You Cry, Is This True? Well, it certainly seems so to better financial sleuths than The Magpie, but it all depends how you decipher the murky and ambiguous figures published by he LGAQ. Rubbery was a word bandied about frequently. And just to pique our interest, there is a little mystery item mentioned, but that later on. Lets go the LGAQ Annual Report, where on page 35 we find this as a starter. Now the remuneration seems pretty clear there sort of but it has the rubbery words ranged between. (And a brief digression they sure aint bound by pissant thoughts of CPI or inflation down at the LGAQ note the rise in fees from 2017 to 2018 a tasty 35% for the president and an eye-watering 100% for directors. And the 2017 figures dont add up anyway, which is rubbery/sloppy in itself, with no explanation offered. Makes one wonder. The question here is would someone like Jenny Hill from a place the size of Townsville (for round figures, let say 200,000) be willing to accept the same stipend as say Alf Lacey from Palm Island, which has what, about three to five thousand people? Methinks not in a month of Sundays, and PI membership would be a tiny fraction of Townsvilles.) Then we see this chart, which again seem clear. Or is it not? The disparity between the President and the directors $137,422 v $31,000 ($94,280 split three ways rounded out here) is not believable to one executive who deals in these areas. He thinks the real remuneration, especially for Jenny Hill, is actually about $94,000. But whether it totals that from these figures (where there would obviously have to be some accounting error), things get even more interesting if he scroll back to page 20, we find this And this Now these reports can be heavy going even for accountants at times, and impossible for the likes by The Magpie, but our experienced Magpie mate writes: The cost of directors fees and meeting fees for the year are $618,294 (page 20) this would kind of add up to me like 3 directors @ $95k plus the president @ $137k total of $422k leaving another $196k to be accounted for so I think the directors get 95K still and travel and accommodation listed separately as $734,441 (page 20) So all in all, maybe Jenny Hill is worth the money she gets as a director worth it to the LGAQ, anyway, when it presumably is she who calls the shots on the councils membership fees. All this is courtesy of the Townsville ratepayers. The loveliness continues. Oh, and that little mystery. Just this But to be sure, since the LGAQ runs an insurance arm, it will surely be covered for whatever alleged indiscretion did or did not take place either way, it gunna cost. A (un-doctored) Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words A somewhat antiquated clich borne out by an alert reader who reckons his shot in Flinders Street just about sums up Townsvilles quandary. And another reader pic is being repeated across the city at a growing rate. Sloppy unfinished work and weeds all around contractor or council, totally unacceptable, and could be a traffic hazard, especially in the wet. Of course, not all councils can get things right, even the mighty Randwick Council in Sydney which has its own wrestle with signage. Be interesting if a Great Dane owned by a dwarf takes a dump. Did The Townsville Chamber of Commerce Really Think About The Wisdom Of This? Putting an image of a hungry looking porker on the stationery of an outfit representing private business seems a bit risky. But it gets more pointed when it is advertising a Townsville information session for the LGAQs Local Buy mob. Of course, in very small print, the presence of porky is explained as recognition of the Chambers Chinese membership, it is the Year of the Pig. Well, come to think of it, it IS an election year Pot Calling Kettle Award Of The Week. This goes to US Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, addressing an emergency meeting of the Organisation of American States last Wednesday on the unrest in Venezuela, and rescinding recognition of the elected leader. He said: The time for debate is done. The regime of former President Nicholas Maduro is illegitimate. His regime is morally bankrupt, economically incompetent and it is profoundly corrupt. It is undemocratic to the core. All absolutely correct except for two words, and many Americans know which two they are but guess you wouldnt know, Mikey, what a gerbil performance history awaits you, fella. We can shortly expect Trump to recognise Pauline Hanson as Australias legitimate leader, and for the forthcoming elections to be cancelled, since elections have little meaning in Washington. Apparently. But before Trump can make any such declaration how Australia can be governed, he will need the permission of the man behind him. And thats just the start for this week in Trumpistan. And Finally, For A Final Rueful Laugh Or Two. Time and technology play unexpected tricks on us, taking just a few short years to reverse human behaviour. .. Thats it for this week, but as usual, comments are running hot on all sorts of topics, so have your say, comments can be posted 24/7. And if youre in a kindly mood (or just drunk, doesnt matter) a donation to help the old bird keep floating above it all is always appreciated and put to good use. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/hi-jacking-australia-day-photo-op-fail-shows-that-the-mayor-knows-how-deep-she-is-in-the-electoral-doo-doos/