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violett-writes · 4 years

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Monotone Donations

"Are you and Dream dating?" Your monotone slightly British text to talk reads off the $10 donation from alexiscarter3215.

You laugh, blushing slightly at the question as you continue to build your trusty restaurant on the Dream SMP server. You and Dream have been friends for about a year now. You had built a small friendship with George when he introduced the two of you, claiming you to be the 'woman version of Dream'. And it's just skyrocketed from there. You were introduced to Sapnap, who complained at being the last one introduced in the Dream Team. Then Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur, Niki, and so many more people. It made your head spin, honestly. You jumped from being a semi-small streamer to having a solid fanbase.

"Thank you for the dono, alexiscarter3215." You smile at your facecam, holding up a little heart. The chat goes wild, whizzing past too fast to read but you're sure they're upset that you didn't answer their question.

You had to think about it for a second. You two sure acted like you were dating. Between the constant guest appearances on each other's streams, the twitter flirting, and the Minecraft beds next to each other on his server, you could see why others would be confused. But you weren't dating. You mean, you two did facetime every night and he did know all your secrets. But you don't even know what he looks like yet and....

Shit. You have a fat crush on Dream. The realization that you finally admitted it to yourself making you pause slightly before your phone buzzes, a notification from Twitter. You spot Dream's username and pause your game. "Let's find out what Dream tweeted folks." You tell your stream, planning on ending it soon anyways so this was the perfect segway to wrapping it up. You're thankful for the distraction as you weren't even sure what you were going to say next.

!TWITTER!

Dream @.Dream

proud to say i haven't lost no simp september 😤👏🏻 but can't say the same for @.nightmare

You read it aloud, blush covering your face and you thank your shitty camera quality for once. Hopefully your small face cam in the corner of the screen was too tiny for your viewers to see the pink tint to your cheeks.

"What do you think I should reply, guys?" You ask your stream, leaning in to see the chat. Most of the suggestions were either to profess your love for him or were to meme him. You chose the later, as you weren't 100% sure if he liked you back.

"Okay, okay, we'll meme him." Your fingers expertly move across the screen before you press tweet. "Go blow it up guys." You set your phone down and make your facecam the only thing viewers can see on the stream.

"That'll be the end of my stream for today! Thank you all for joining and remember, don't you dare lose no simp september to block men!" You wave goodbye to your viewers, raiding Sapnap quickly before leaning back in your chair, sighing loudly. You hear another ding from your phone.

Dream @.Dream

proud to say i haven't lost no simp september 😤👏🏻 but can't say the same for @.nightmare

Night @.nightmare

no ❤️

Dream @.Dream

You giggle at his tweet, liking it as a text from him quickly follows.

dweam

how dare you not simp for me?

night

I should say the same to you Big D

You giggle, stealing Tommy's nickname from him. You watched enough of Tommy to remember all the different names he has used for Dream.

dweam

okay, pls lose my number

night K.

You giggle, biting your nails slightly as you wait for his reply. Instead of a text, you get an incoming facetime from him. You decline his call, choosing to keep the bit going. After a few moments, you get a facetime from Sapnap. You answer it, confused as to why he would be calling you out of the blue.

"Answer Dream." Was all he said before hanging up. You laugh loudly, covering your mouth so as to not wake your housemates before deciding to take the bit to twitter.

!TWITTER!

Night @.nightmare

i hate men. dhmu. only the real ones know.

Dream facetimes you again and you pick up sniffling slightly.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay??? I didn't mean it. I saw your tweet, please... I didn't mean it." He says, concerned as he hides his face from the camera.

You finally break, laughing loudly as you put the camera down so you can hold your stomach, wheezing. "Dream, bud. I was just joking around." You hear him let out a sigh of relief.

"You should come to Florida." He suddenly states, making you choke on the sip of water you were drinking.

"Uh..." You pause for a moment.

"I mean if you're uncomfort-"

"Yes." You cut him off, smiling into the camera brightly. "Yes, I will come to Florida."

The next two weeks were a blur, Dream insisted on paying for your ticket to fly to Florida. And when the boys found out that you were visiting without asking them first, they were super jealous. So jealous, in fact, that they both booked flights that phone call. They were nice enough to give you two days alone with Dream, but only after an awkward amount of silence and a lot of text notifications where you're pretty sure Dream threatened to leave their ass at the airport if they didn't come later. Your knowledge of this only coming from the screenshots George sent you of Dream's threats.

The day of the flight, you were incredibly nervous. You had picked a soft plum colored sweatshirt with simple black leggings and converes. You wanted to dress up a little, but you also knew that you would be uncomfortable the whole flight if you did. Hopefully Dream didn't mind you dressing down for the first in person meeting with him.

night

leaving now for the airport. wish me luck

You send the text and shut your phone off as you enter the uber. A short 30 minute drive later and you're walking through the airport. You smile slightly, airports seem like they exist in a different dimension all together. You don't judge someone having a drink at 9 a.m. at an airport, because well... they're in an airport. You buy a water once you get past security, drinking it nervously as you wait for your flight to be called.

After a 30 minute wait, your flight is finally called. You finally reach your window seat and check your phone.

dweam

i hope u don't die.

night

how kind of u. we're leaving now :))) see u soon!!!!!

You smile and turn off your phone, leaning back and closing your eyes as you drift off.

The kind old lady seated next to you shakes you awake, telling you that you're landing soon. You flush red, not realizing that you slept through the whole flight. You probably looked ridiculous.

Once you land, you quickly pull out your phone and turn it on. You notice that you had 3 unread messages from Dream.

dweam

i'm so kind

but fr i hope u have a safe flight.

text me when u land. i got here a little early... guess i was just too excited

night

we just landed!!!

You blush at the connotation of his text. He was genuinely excited to see you? When everyone was finally able to leave their seats, you grab your overhead luggage and make your way off the plane. You make your way to the baggage claim and watch the bags intently, waiting for your polka dot bag to show itself.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn around, coming face to face with a very tall blonde man.

"Oh- sorry, am in your way?" You mumble, moving over for them to grab their luggage.

"(Y/N)?" He asks you, his voice unsure and hesitant.

Your eyebrows raise in shock and you turn around again, looking at him closely. You cover your mouth in shock, "D-Dream?" You ask for a moment, unsure if this is real.

He nods, laughing and you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. Tears start to come to your eyes as he hugs you back tightly. You pull back so that you could look up at his face, but still keeping your arms wrapped around him. "Dream!" You sniffle, your voice a little scratchy from holding back the tears.

"(Y/N)! Are you crying?" He asks, laughing. He is so much more attractive than you could have ever imagined. You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you hit his chest lightly.

"Don't make fun of me. This is easily the best thing that has happened in my life." You giggle softly, looking back at the conveyer belt to see your bag. You quickly rush to grab it before it disappears on you.

You turn back to Dream, your bag trailing behind you as you pull it along. Dream grabs your carryon much to your complaints.

"I got it, (Y/N), don't worry." He chuckles, his deep voice making butterflies appear in your stomach. As the two of you walk to his car, chatting excitedly about what the plans are for the week, Dream grabs your free hand, linking your fingers together. Blush creeps up your neck as you pretend nothing is different. Once you reach his car, Dream grabs both of your luggage and puts them in the trunk as you get into the passenger side.

"So, I don't know if you rented a hotel room or something..."He trails off, tapping the steering wheel nervously.

Your eyes widen slightly, you didn't know he wanted you to. "Oh! I, uh, I totally forgot. I can book one right now, though. No biggie." You quickly pull out your phone, panicking a little as you search hotels near me.

Dream pushes your phone away, chuckling. "No, no. (Y/N), you don't have to. I didn't mean it like that. I just wasn't sure if you were comfortable staying at my apartment."

You let out a sigh of relief. "Of course I'm fine with that you dork." You punch his arm softly, "I thought for a second you didn't want me there!" You tease him.

Dream feigns being hurt by your punch before gently grabbing your hand again. "Of course I want you there." He mutters softly.

The words set your stomach aflame as your intestines tie themselves into a knot. He wanted you there.

#dream team #dream team appreciation #dreamwastaken #dream #clay #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream fanfic #clay fanfic #sapnap #nick #sapnap fanfic #nick fanfic #georgenotfound #george #georgenotfound fanfic #george fanfic #dream team if you see this #no you didn't #but also hi im 19

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zhanenaomi · 4 years

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It must be exhausting to be so weird all the time

Earlier, I saw a clip on the BBC Facebook page of Original Flava (a British-Caribbean duo creating recipes), making some bbq jerk burgers. As is my bad habit, I checked the comments for the inevitable racist comment about the BBC trying to be “woke” for showing people that black people exist in the UK. There I found a random account, posting a youtube clip of the late Dame Vera Lynn singing ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. This comment was obviously in reference to the fact that the BBC recently announced that ‘Rule Britannia’ and ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ would be performed without words at the Proms (only for this year). This, again obviously, is the fault of all black people (including Original Flava) and absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that we are in a global pandemic of a virus that is easily spread by loud singing. The thing that disturbs me most about these comments is less the blanket assumption that all black people just sit around foaming at the mouth at the sheer idea of colonial lyricism, and more that this random person had clearly just copied the link to this video to post on any video they saw with a black person in it. Whether that video was about black people barbecuing, black people singing, black people talking about the economy, they were ready to own us with a youtube video of a song literally none of us will click on and listen to. It just made me think, surely it is exhausting to be so weird all the time?

Now, comments like this are admittedly pretty harmless, especially given the fact that they present that the person commenting is much more hurt than anyone else in this situation. However, by far the most disturbing thing I saw in the BBC comments that day, was on a Children in Need post. BBC Children in Need announced that they would specifically be donating £10 million to black children (a thing that is reasonably necessary given that 46% of BAME children live in poverty) (also this will be going over the course of 10 years, not a one time payment). By all intents and purposes, it is highly likely that vast amounts of Children in Need money were already going to black communities, given they go to… British children that are in need. The post in question was clarifying on false reports that they were giving money directly to the Black Lives Matter organisation, and in response many people said that since the BBC were now giving money to black children, they would no longer give money to the BBC. This, despite the fact that Children in Need fundraises year-round, and raised almost £50 million during their official appeal night last year and has raised more than £1 billion since 1980, and so £10 million over ten years is likely a drop in the ocean for this organisation. Way to throw your toys out of the pram, right guys? “If disadvantaged black kids are getting my money, then no disadvantaged kids are getting my money”! What a bizarre world view to have! It must take up a lot of time and energy to not only decide that giving money to disadvantaged children of colour in a country where they’re more likely to be disadvantaged than white children is racist for some reason, but then also to camp out in random Facebook comment sections talking about how you hate this alleged racism so much that you will be boycotting a charity because of it. Remarkably wild. Amazingly wild. Incredibly wild.

The last Facebook comment section weirdness I want to talk about is the reaction to news involving arrests, crime, and police brutality, most specifically the “If you do nothing wrong, the police will leave you alone” argument. First of all, tell that to yer man Harry Maguire. Second of all, there is police data stating that between March and May, you know, those months when we were knee deep in the throes of a global pandemic that is disproportionately killing black people, 21,950 stops and searches on young black men were carried out in the capital, approximately 80% of which lead to no further action. So if we’re keeping score, not only is the most expensive defender in the world not exempt from being harassed by police when his account suggests no wrongdoing on his part, but around 18,000 young black men were put directly in harms way by being searched by police without masks (and obviously without social distancing) in the midst of a pandemic, for no crime other than being black and maybe having a nice car. The reason I bring up Harry Maguire is because I would assume that most British people believe and support Harry Maguire over the Greek police, and none of them would ever use the “no crime, no police intervention” argument towards a news story about him. You know, like they did when George Floyd died. The point here is that people in these comments like to pretend that they are indiscriminate. They like to say “I don’t care if you’re rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight (insert identity here), if you’re getting arrested you must have done something wrong” which is simply just not true, and the fact that you don’t say these things when a white British footballer is brutally arrested is very telling. It shows who you assume to have being “doing crime” when they were apprehended versus who you assume to be innocent until proven guilty. Because the fact of the matter is that you DO care whether someone is black or white or poor or rich and the like, you obviously do. And its weird to lie about it to save face in Facebook comments. Ain’t you tired, Miss Hilly? (I’m assuming you all understand that reference given the unnecessarily large amounts of people who rushed to watch The Help after the BLM protests began earlier this year).

These things are all interconnected, because I’m sure that these keyboard warriors had some similarly angry takes when Stormzy offered scholarships to black students aiming to go to Cambridge University, and love to talk about “black on black crime” when black people are invited onto news outlets to talk about institutional racism in the police force. What this comes down to, is a clear lack of critical thinking and a clear racial bias. We know that crimes like theft and drug dealing tend to be crimes of necessity. No one steals bread and milk for the “thrill of the chase”. Poverty and crime are intrinsically linked. So why are you so hellbent on preventing black people from receiving assistance to escape poverty? If you want crime to reduce, then you should also want poverty to reduce, this is just the truth. If you don’t see how crime in black communities links to socioeconomic status in these black communities, then you probably (consciously or unconsciously) believe that nothing can be done to help black people; we are just inherently bad, born with a criminal gene. Suffice to say, this is a racist thought to have. Even when black people do manage to “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps” this also does not mean we’ll be treated favourably by the general public. The nation’s favourite punching bag is a black woman who was born into a low income household, attended Cambridge University, worked in the Civil Service and became the first black female MP in this country; this is of course Diane Abbott, who unfortunately receives half of all the abuse sent to female MPs overall.

Although I started out joking about how these people are just weird, the more I write, the more uncomfortable I feel. Is there a way out? Is there anyway we can win? Is our destiny to win the bet, just to be shot in the face by our loan sharks and have our proverbial jewellery shop ransacked (metaphor working on the assumption of your knowledge of the film Uncut Gems)? Its one thing to say weird things in video comments, it’s another to actually truly believe them. In the wake of the recent shooting of Jacob Blake, I’ve witnessed a spate of comments making statements about the case that are simply not true – things that have never been reported by the police or any credible news outlets. What do you gain from lying about these things? I guess you gain more public distrust in the black community and more animosity towards BLM protesters. I assume that’s what these people are aiming for, since I can see no personal benefit to lying about a case (unless you are the actual police officers involved in the shooting?). I actively try and stop myself from hopping into comment sections now because honestly and truly, it’s one of the most exhausting things to see hundreds of people talk about how bored they are of black people appearing on their screens. I’m sorry that my presence tires you out, guys. I’ve been staying off of Twitter because it’s good for my mental health to not be dialled into the ~discourse~ 24/7. It’s sad the way that these things often make black people feel that they are the ones who need to pull away in order to protect themselves. Dawn Butler has tweeted about how many young black women tell her they can’t see themselves pursuing a career in politics because of the sheer amount of hate they see black MPs receive. I want black children to receive financial support without fear that the rest of the world hates them for it. I want black people to get uni places and jobs without hearing others say that they got it because of their skin, rather than their merit and potential. I want black people to be present in the public eye without having to report racial abuse against them to the police on a weekly basis. The way that Britain works is that Britain has been and always will be, a multicultural nation. This is the result of the British Empire that we’re all oh so proud of. Therefore, (and this is not controversial to say), British people descended from individuals born in Empire nations deserve to live in Britain without constant apology for our existence, our actions, and our criticism of our government. Yeah, I bet its exhausting to act in such a bizarre way on social media. But imagine how tired we are.

References:

Children in Need is not donating £10 million to Black Lives Matter - https://fullfact.org/online/children-in-need-blm/?fbclid=IwAR0RfWtsHKxeFGv8PBrY64J-QoqpiEWb3Td1nPE9WvYvZXTuksIB3ZOET9k

BBC Children in Need’s 2019 Appeal raises an incredible £47.8 million - https://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/latestnews/2019/cin-total

Child poverty facts and figures - https://cpag.org.uk/child-poverty/child-poverty-facts-and-figures

Met carried out 22,000 searches on young black men during lockdown - https://www.theguardian.com/law/2020/jul/08/one-in-10-of-londons-young-black-males-stopped-by-police-in-may

Diane Abbott more abused than any other female MP during election - https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2017/sep/05/diane-abbott-more-abused-than-any-other-mps-during-election

#long post #politics #uk politics #british politics #blacklivesmatter #blm #blm uk #racism #antiblackness #police

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omgitsemilyward · 7 years

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and after the show it’s the after party, a Great News fic

After losing at the American Journalism Awards, The Breakdown crew heads back to MMN to steal some wine and have their own after party.

A/N: This is a tag to episode 2.04 “Award Show,” based off an idea I actually had this summer (my idea had them at the Daytime Emmys, but it still works). There’s a good amount of Katie/Greg slowburn in this, but this was really just me trying to get used to writing for this show, so I apologize if it’s a big rough. Hope you enjoy :)

While Katie and Jeremy were hobnobbing and exchanging business cards, Portia ran up to them.

“Katie, there you are! Your mom had the best idea. Since we probably aren’t invited to the after party anymore, we’re gonna steal the Morning Wine’d Up cart of wine again! Come on, let’s go,” she said as she started to pull Katie toward the door. “Your friend here can come too.”

“Oh, wanna join us and get some free, stolen booze?” Katie asked. Jeremy smiled but looked disappointed as he shook his head.

“I actually have my own after party to go to with my coworkers, but maybe I could take you out to dinner sometime?” He asked. Katie blushed, knowing Portia was soaking up all of this.

“I would love that.”

“Cool, I’ll send you a message on LinkedIn,” he teased, winking at her. She giggled a little too loudly and waved goodbye as Portia pulled her towards the party bus and berated her with a million questions about this new mystery suitor.

—

Everyone on the party bus was already pretty wasted by the time they got to MMN. While people did more shots, re-capped the Kanye moments, or called their would-be plus-one’s to have them head over to MMN, Portia and Carol found a “quiet” corner of the bus to drill Katie about Jeremy.

“Is he cute?” Carol asked.

“So cute!” Portia interjected.

“He works for The New York Times, and he asked me out!” Katie said, dreamily.

“I’m gonna have such smart, attractive grandbabies!”

“Mom!”

—

Greg reluctantly texted Cat. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to come. Okay, maybe it was.

Things hadn’t been going well for them the past couple months. And like he kept reminding himself, it most certainly had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he almost kissed Katie. If he was being completely honest with himself, before the almost kiss, he had already been considering ending it, and almost kissing Katie and almost getting caught had reminded him that he had a girlfriend that he needed to be faithful to until they officially ended things.

But nothing changed between him and Cat after that night, and if anything things had gotten worse, because his heart really wasn’t in it anymore (he just didn’t want to admit it).

Cat’s flaws were also starting to drive him more and more crazy as well. He never really noticed just how full of herself she was. She was also spending most of her time trying to get her new app she was designing off to a good start, and was constantly working. When she wasn’t working, she’d then go spend time with her friends as soon as she was free for the night. He could tell she wasn’t feeling their relationship anymore either, and he wondered why they were even still pretending anymore.

In fact, the whole mishap with him being blamed for not allowing plus-one’s actually worked out in his favor: he had called her to tell her about the awards when they found out they won, and she was already looking starting to come up with excuses as to why she couldn’t go.

He was surprised when she texted him back almost immediately:

Sounds fun babe, see you soon!

Maybe it would’t be that bad after all. Or at least he’d get to prove to everyone that his girlfriend wasn’t actually a cat.

—

The music was bumping and the wine was flowing. Everyone seemed to completely forget about the fact that they had lost their award, and they were just happy to party it up in the office (for free). Like during Snowmageddon, Carol was the life of the party and was encouraging everyone to: “Get lit! I just learned that word from Angie, who learned it from her grandson. See, I can be as hip as the rest of you kids!”

“Wait,” Chuck interrupted, reaching for a pen and some paper, “start over, I want to know everything you just said.”

Katie was rolling her eyes at them when she noticed Greg joining them with a woman she didn’t recognize.

“Hi everyone, this is my girlfriend, Cat.”

Katie couldn’t describe what exactly she had imagined whenever Greg had talked about him (okay, she 100% imagined some sort of cat-meets-woman crossover), but she certainly wasn’t expecting a tall redheaded bombshell with the most perfect smile she had ever seen.

“Wow you’re so pretty- I mean, hi I’m drunk- I mean Katie,” she introduced herself, feeling a bit mortified. Cat laughed and shook Katie’s hand.

“Oh, you must be Greg’s mentee!” Cat started, and Katie raised an eyebrow at Greg, who was refusing to look at either of them. “He’s been bragging about you all week, how in only a year you were already nominated and it was probably because he trained you so well and how he’s so proud or whatever.”

“Oh he really said that?” Katie asked, smirking, but Cat was already moving on, distracted by more important people

“Oh my god, Greg, you didn’t tell me Portia was going to be here! You can finally introduce me to her. I have to tell her about my new app and see if I can get her to tweet about it.” Greg made an apologetic face to Katie as she pulled him away.

“I do not like her,” Carol said when the couple was out of earshot. “No wonder he wanted to kiss you so badly.”

“Ugh, mom, let it go.”

—

It was getting late, and Katie needed some air to try to sober up. She escaped to the MMN rooftop. With all the running around looking for her mom, arguing (and flirting) with Jeremy, and everyone Kanye-ing, she hadn’t taken a second to realize that she had actually lost her award. Two awards, in fact! She was pretty sure it was the booze making her emotional, but she started to tear up a little, and took a couple deep breaths.

“Calm down, Katie,” she said to herself, looking out at the city as she leaned against the railing, “I don’t know why you’re getting all upset, you knew you weren’t going to win anyways. You’re not good enough, you idiot!”

“Now, that’s not true.” said a voice from behind her. Startled, she quickly turned around to see Greg standing there, hands in his pockets. She tried to wipe away her tears as fast as possible.

“You scared the crap out of me! Anyways, you’re just being nice.”

“I’m not! I meant what I said earlier: you really did deserve that award, and you’re certainly allowed to be upset that you lost. If it means anything, I’m really proud of you.” She blushed.

“Well thanks, but I feel like, since you’re my mentor, you’re supposed to say stuff like that,” she teased, and he groaned as he moved next to her to lean against the wall of the roof.

“Dear god, I can’t believe she told you that. That’s completely embarrassing. All I meant was-”

“No, it’s fine! Besides, it’s totally true. I mean, Diana was my mentor for like two weeks, but you had been mentoring me way before her. The Biscuit Blitz story happened before she showed up, and I couldn’t have broke that story without you. It might’ve been unspoken, but you’ve definitely been a mentor to me.”

They smiled at each other, holding each other’s gaze much longer than necessary, but neither of them felt uncomfortable by it. Katie tried to ignore the fact that she felt the same butterflies in her stomach as she did on the night when they had almost kissed.

“How did you know I was up here, anyways?”

“Oh, right, I just kind of guessed, but I didn’t know why you were up here. Also, everyone’s looking for you. They want you to give the speech you would’ve given tonight.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, grabbing Greg’s arm. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shook his head. “Nope, time to get down there, Wendelson,” he said, pushing her toward the stairs.

“Is this some sort of mentor-hazing thing?! You bastard!”

—

It wasn’t a mentor-hazing thing. Someone had set up a microphone on the top of the open staircase, and when everyone saw Katie they started chanting “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Greg continued to push her towards the mic, and she glared at him. “I blame you for this,” she muttered at she neared the makeshift stage.

“Uh, hi everyone,” she started and her drunk audience cheered. “I know it’s pretty cliche to say this, but I didn’t really have anything prepared. But I guess I’ll give it a go anyways: I’d like to first and foremost thank everyone I work with here at The Breakdown. It was your hard work and dedication to be outstanding journalists that allowed us to break the real Biscuit Blitz story-”

“and we really wanted to take down Gram!” Justin yelled.

“Yes,” Katie laughed, “taking down Gram was a big part of it too. I, uh, also need to thank Greg, who has been such a good mentor this past year,” she said with a smirk. She didn’t see him rolling his eyes behind her. “He was the one who gave me the opportunity to do the story, and even though he actually fired me at one point, he’s not only been a good mentor, but also a really great friend.” She looked back at him and this and smiled, and he beamed at her.

“But most importantly, I have to thank my mom, Carol Wendelson-” the entire office cheered, and some people started chanting Carol’s name. Katie, meanwhile, could feel herself choking up already. “If it hadn’t been for her, my award-nominated story would’ve never happened. She has always been there for me and has been such a great role model, and continues to do so every single day. I’m just so lucky to get to work with her everyday. Thanks mom.”

Everyone cheered again and Katie tried to pull herself together.

“I know we didn’t win tonight, but like I said earlier, we deserved to! You all worked so hard and I’m so proud to say I work here, with every single one of you. So thank you all for being the best news team in the biz!”

Someone passed her a glass of champagne and she raised it to toast everyone. The music came back on, but it wasn’t just any music:

Hit It! Nah, na na na nah Na na na nah, na na nah, na na nah Na na na nah…

And in a whirlwind, Carol was dragging Katie to the middle of the dance floor, and they did the Here Comes the Hotstepper dance together.

—

Greg couldn’t take his eyes off Katie as she did the hip hop dance he remembered her doing when she was a field reporter for a bit. He laughed as he watched her try to teach the dance to Justin, Beth, and Gene. Suddenly, Portia was next to him, giving him a look that he figured had something to do with Cat bothering her about the app earlier.

“Oh, hey, sorry about Cat. I know she can be a lot but she really wants her business to take off. Have you seen her?”

“No, I think I saw her duck out during Katie’s speech. I think she was a little pissed that I told her I couldn’t tweet about her app, but it was boring!” Portia said, and Greg shrugged. “You don’t seem all that upset that she left.”

He shrugged again, “Yeah, we’ve been drifting apart, and I’m pretty sure she only came to this party to try to get on your good side. I think I’m going to break up with her,” he said, unconsciously turning back to watch Katie’s impromptu dance class. Portia smirked, realizing what was really going on.

“Well, when one relationship ends, a new one always begins somewhere else,” she said, cryptically.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, turning back towards her.

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Katie got asked out by this hot big shot over at The New York Times tonight.”

Greg looked like all the air had been knocked out of him, and Portia knew she had guessed correctly.

“Don’t worry,” Portia said, patting him on the shoulder “you two will get there someday. Well, unless it works out with her and New York Times guy. Bye!” She started to walk away and Greg quickly tried to cover it up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he yelled, but she was gone.

Greg sighed. He wasn’t happy that Portia had quickly figured out that he maybe, just might, have feelings for Katie Wendelson. He also wasn’t happy that apparently some fancy journalist had already asked her out before he’d even had a chance to finally break things off with Cat. He frowned, wishing he hadn’t taken so long to figure things out.

But then he noticed that Katie was calling him over to dance with them, and he just had to hope that Portia’s prediction would come true someday.

#great news #fanfiction #katie x greg

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