#now it's just me. no team. occasional meetups. It's me and my plan and whatever I want. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ecto-american · 5 years

Text

Like Father Like Daughter P2

On AO3 here || First Part Here

Summary: "Dawn, would you like to help Grandma and Grandpa figure out some things in the lab?" Dawn's eyes immediately flickered from that ominous glowing green back to baby blue in excitement over the idea of finally being allowed in the lab. She nodded eagerly.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Danny openly stared at the clock, the voices of his coworkers muffled and blending together in his mind as they were contributing. He didn't care, quite honestly, about the meeting. About the subject matter, about the business contract being negotiated, the budget cuts and additions. He wasn't even sure what the meeting was about to begin with, just that he had to be there.

He tore his gaze away to observe the man who was talking at the moment. Some older woman, he could never remember her name, but he knew that she had a husband and three grandchildren that she gushed often about. The woman was going on and on and on for what felt like forever, about things Danny could have just read in ten minutes in an email. But then it would result in the dreaded "reply all" loop of technology illiterate businessfolk trying to communicate private matters. It drove Danny nuts.

He picked up the pen and glanced at the notebook in front of him. Everybody around him had been scribbling notes like crazy, numbers and key words covering pages of the pad they were supplied with, or even on the devices or within notebooks they brought themselves. Danny had doodled a spaceship with a dog astronaut that was exploring Pluto in his. He never bothered taking notes, he didn't see the purpose. The administrative assistant always emailed everybody a copy of what happened during the meeting anyway. He sighed, bored as he began to doodle a cat alien for the dog to battle against.

Wednesdays were Danny's least favorite day. In the morning, while good old CEO Vlad Masters was out golfing with his dad, of all people (Danny could never understand how that regular meetup even began, especially considering his Dad, in his neverending grace, always lost horrifically), while all the department heads had a meeting. It lasted all morning. And was followed by an all afternoon meeting with Vlad himself. Meaning, he couldn't slip away to go ghost to deal with a problem, leaving Team Phantom to pick up his unintentional slack. He did use a duplicate often, but it still left him very unable to focus properly on PowerPoint presentations about who knows what.

Danny wasn't even sure what he really did at the job half the time. Hell, if he didn't have a family, regardless of how much the other halfa had changed, he wouldn't have accepted the job offer. Damn, did it have pay beyond Danny could ever imagine making though, a generous amount of vacation time and benefits so good that even Jazz said he'd be an absolute fool for turning it down, especially since Dawn was still just on the way when Vlad had made the offer. Probably partly out of pity. The couple were making ends meet fine, but they definitely weren't living the high life in their old apartment in the not-so-great side of town. Not their fault that the town needed protecting, and that this cut deeply into work and sleeping hours.

But, especially considering the billionaire's weird midlife crisis of sorts some years back and all the therapy business he gave Jazz, Danny supposed working there wasn't so bad. Job was easy enough. He suspected Vlad just made up his job as an excuse to give him one. Danny couldn't even recall the name of his position. But in a half hour, catered lunch would be here, the only good part of the day. Then Vlad would drone for a while, and he could go home to his family.

He was already getting himself excited with his plans for the night. He was going to take Dawn to the park so they could play on Dawn's new favorite playground attraction: the jungle gym (something Danny, of course, also played on). Afterwards they were going to pick up pizza for dinner and meet her mom at home. Once Dawn was tucked in bed and a duplicate watching over her, the couple would go on their normal nightly patrol together. Dawn had surprisingly never woken up to her parents coming home, injured or walking in on them while they were bandaging up. Danny considered themselves lucky. Both of them wanted to keep the entire Team Phantom part of their lives a secret from her. There was no reason for her to have to know or understand.

Yet, despite this, despite the occasional tantrums, the exhausting pregnancy itself and the long nights of back to back ghosts with a colicky newborn, Danny was thrilled. They never thought that they could have a child. Well, meaning, they could, but the details always never added up to where it could be a reality.

He remembered that one night, a particularly bad one. The night had been full to the brim of ghosts, leaving the halfa absolutely exhausted. Even with the full support of a Team Phantom, whose membership had expanded since that first ghost fight in freshman year, he was still bloodied and bruised, barely able to stay awake when home. His new wife, the two having only been married for five months at the time, had to unlock the door to their shared apartment for him, her own body sore from the rough night. His hands were shaking so badly from exhaustion and pain.

"Sit," she told him, and she pointed to the couch. Danny didn't have the energy to complain. He sat, and she fetched the kit for them.

Together, they began to slowly clean themselves and each other up. Occasional quiet requests to pass burn cream or to inquire if stitches were needed. To help with an injury that was out of their own reach. Once done, neither could bother cleaning up from their first aid. Danny just shifted to lean into her, and she wrapped her arms around him in a light hug. Soon, they were laying on the couch together, silent before they began to idly chat. The subject of Jazz and her growing family came up, and a thought hit them both.

"You know, I think I'm content with being an auntie," his wife said softly, and Danny nodded best he could. She sounded incredibly hurt, and Danny didn't blame her. Even though neither had really had their heart dead-set on children and a family of their own, it never being their biggest wish or desire, it still hurt to know that it was something they couldn't have.

"I'd worry too much," was all he said in response. Her loose hug around him tightened. "It's too risky."

It was unofficially decided that night, later confirmed in the following evening's conversation. The ghost fighting while pregnant, the reality that one of them may not come home one night at least half-alive, the child being a target for their enemies, and Danny's biggest concern, the inheritance of powers. Danny had the reputation for years now that he was clumsy, and he had time to master his powers and rehearse the lies and excuses.

Of course, it could never be truly confirmed unless a child came into play, but the possibilities scared Danny. Their childhood would never be normal, constantly struggling with this incredible power and all the intimate influences of ghosts and ghost hunting, saddled with the moral obligation to eventually begin protecting the city like their parents did. They could never have a truly normal life. The couple had their on and off days when it came to how they felt about the responsibility, but it would be awful to unintentionally pressure a child into accepting such a big commitment.

So they remained childless for years, until there was an accident. That's how almost all of Danny's biggest life changing events seemed to happen.

His wife had given him a small, sly but anxious smile when she had slipped an envelope across the table towards him at their little breakfast table. It was early in the morning, but the two were still awake. Danny from ghost hunting, her from a night shift job. Danny raised an eyebrow at it, picking it up as he sipped coffee.

"What's this?" he asked. He got a small smirk in response.

"Open it," she encouraged him. So Danny did, and it was a father's day card. He stared at her, absolutely baffled by it.

"Did you get me the wrong envelope?" he asked. She shook her head no.

"Nope. I just found out a few days ago. I figured we could go ahead and celebrate now."

Danny's chair practically flew as he burst out of his seat. His wife was soon in his arms, both laughing as they hugged excitedly. At the time, they let themselves not worry about the questions that always plagued them. The couple decided to just enjoy the moment.

With the announcement came a whole new assortment of life changes. His wife ended up getting a new job, a better one. Vlad made his offer to Danny. That offer led them to move out of their apartment and into their first real house.

Danny watched another man contribute, droning on in the absolute most boring as fuck voice. How the man's family could stand to listen to it, he could never guess. Maybe he actually had some sort of life in his voice then though? Danny was now curious. While he was watching intently, putting up a good facade that he was paying any sort of attention, the man's voice was just muffled in his ears. God, this meeting was boring as hell. What was going on?

He stole a glance over at his neighbor's paper. Oh, they were discussing more budget stuff, numbers about increasing budgeting to more researching nano-whatevers with cutbacks they were making to uniforms because they changed sweatshops in China or something. Woooohooo.

"Mr. Fenton, you've been quiet. What are your thoughts on the matter?" Fuck, he was caught. All eyes were on him as the boring-voiced man stared at him, almost accusatory. While he did not fear for his job at all, Vlad made sure of his job security, he still squirmed a bit under the gaze. He sat up straight.

"You often know my stance. I think that we should put money towards raises," Danny pulled an answer out of his ass, giving a sheepish grin. "Money always encourages people to work harder, less motivation to leave."

The boring-voiced man still looked at him sketchily, but nodded.

"Yes, I suppose that's always an option," he said, tone a bit huffily. "So what you're thinking is when it comes to the new research budget, paying the scientists more as opposed to buying new lab equipment?" Danny felt a small bit of relief at his bullshit answer apparently being close enough to the topic to reasonably seem fitting.

"Well, depends on the need. I'd assume those scientists could give a proper answer better than I could. I don't really deal with the lab much. I think they'd also like their voice being heard and would appreciate being able to weigh the options for themselves," Danny replied. Boring-voiced man nodded in approval before beginning to drone on and on again before he was cut off by another man, who began a counter argument. Danny leaned back in his seat, sighing softly to himself as his eyes darted to the clock.

Danny noticed several other of his coworkers steal a glance at the clock, and thankfully, somebody else brought up the suggestion of taking the remaining five minutes before lunch came for everybody to sort out their notes. Danny glanced at his "notes". Maybe he should just buy a sketchbook instead of wasting Vlad's paper. Eh, who cared.

Everybody agreed, and people fell into a small explosion of shuffling and light conversation as his coworkers began to relax. Danny whipped his phone out. He scrolled to check his messages. Facebook telling him that Tucker had posted a photo of his son, Tucker Jr., a text from Jazz asking about if he and his wife wanted to do a double-date with her and her husband, a few other misc things. He ignored most of them for now in favor of going to his conversation history with his mom, sending a text.

Hey mom, love you. How's Dawn?

Once sent, he replied to Jazz and liked Tucker's photo. It was a simple photo of Tucker with his son, posing together at one of his son's school events. He checked his other apps before he got a reply.

Hey sweetie, Dawn's doing good. Love you too, have a good day.

He gave a soft sigh of relief. He was just constantly waiting, worried, for the day he'd get a text asking all sorts of questions. Why is Dawn glowing? Why are her eyes glowing? Why is she flickering invisible? A part of him secretly wished Dawn did have powers. Like father, like daughter. But with great power comes great responsibility. She didn't need to be pressured into taking on such a responsibility like protecting the town. However, Dawn was growing up, and she seemed perfectly human.

Of course, Danny watched her like a hawk for any signs the second Dawn was born, constantly hovering over her (figuratively and literally) for anything. Nothing, but Tucker had pointed out that it may be a while before they began showing up, assuming Dawn had any. Jazz agreed. Vlad had suggested that Danny did a few power demonstrations in front of her, including going ghost, to see if she'd copy him. Danny did go ghost, and he flashed his eyes, turned invisible (turns out it made for the ultimate game of peek-a-boo), made her icicles and showed off glowing concentrated green energy in his hands. All it resulted in was wide, delighted and fascinated eyes, an occasional soft baby coo and, later on, eager demands for him to teach her how to do that. But of course, he couldn't if she didn't have anything to work with.

Danny broke from his thoughts as he was handed lunch. Fancy sandwich and chips, with a drink. He smiled and gave a brief thanks as he accepted it, and he began to unwrap and eat it. People around him continued to talk, but Danny tuned them out. He wasn't actively trying to be unfriendly. Just that most people around him were so much older, outside of his daughter, there wasn't much for him to really talk with them. They were borderline retirement age, often talking of grandchildren and the weather being too cold here. Another reason Danny suspected Vlad just flat out made up his job. Everybody around him was easily in their sixties, and Danny was turning forty-four soon. To his delight though, due to all the ghost fighting, he was in pretty good shape compared to the coworkers within the office around his age. When he first started, people had assumed he was younger than he really was. It was flattering.

A thought hit him, and he paused. If Dawn even had powers, would she truly be delighted in having them? Would they just be a novelty to her? Danny always feared her constantly losing control of her powers, much like he did. Jazz had thankfully been so helpful through those negative thoughts.

"Danny, you've been a half-ghost for well over half your life now. You can teach her, assuming she even inherits ghost powers, how to control them. She'll grow up with parents who know about her powers and who will love and accept her no matter what, and even if something were to happen, would and could protect her at all costs, grow up knowing how to use and control these powers. You're also so good with the boys, Danny. Both of you are, I know you'll be great parents. You have very little to worry about. What children need more than anything is a loving and safe environment that nurtures and cares for what they need most. I have no doubt you can provide that. You save Amity Park every day."

But tricky obstacle to also overcome was not just the unknowing, but the very realistic possibility of Dawn getting powers when at a day care and absolutely freaking everybody there. Ghost powers were a huge deal, and it wasn't worth the risk if they were discovered. Dani suggested that he stay at home with a duplicate, but Danny reminded her that this would drain him completely very quickly if he was constantly duplicated to be with Dawn and at work full time, especially since he often duplicated to go and fight ghosts when he couldn't slip away for a while. Vlad had offered, but while Danny did truly believe that Vlad had his weird little redemption arc and was practically a new man, he was still not about to trust him alone with his little girl all day. His wife would have absolutely never stood for it either. She'd actually probably kill him if he even brought up the idea as a serious suggestion.

As they were still debating what to do, his parents had come to visit the couple. Maddie had taken a seat in the living room, in the armchair. Danny was already sprawled out on the couch, his little girl snoozing happily on his chest on her stomach. He had a hand on her back, protectively, to assure that she wouldn't wiggle off, or, god forbid, this be the time she used ghost powers and floated off.

Danny had casually brought up that they had looked into local daycares when Maddie had offered,

"Oh Danny, that's just silly. Dawn can come stay with us during the day."

Danny immediately tensed up.

"Mom, I'm just not sure," he replied, and he knew that he sounded defensive. The idea immediately made him uncomfortable.

Of course, he trusted his parents. His parents would never do anything to hurt Dawn. They absolutely adored and treasured their grandchildren, and they took great pride in the little crowd of "future ghost-hunters" as they put it. But his parents also didn't know his secret.

"She wants to go back to work in the future, and we already keep the boys," Maddie replied with a frown. "Danny, it's not any problem to leave Dawn with us while you two work. We don't mind."

"It's not that," Danny replied, and it really wasn't that. What if her ghost powers activated, assuming they existed? What if they thought she was a ghost or being possessed? What if... His eyes flickered to the infant on his chest. She was making precious little noises in her sleep, oblivious to her dad's worries. "I-I-I, just, you know. It may not be safe for her. You and dad are so active in the lab, what if you accidentally spill something on her?"

His mom looked a bit hurt, and Danny winced. He didn't know why he didn't just tell them. There was nothing stopping him. He knew his parents would love and accept him no matter what. He had confirmation of this multiple times. But how do you even begin to bring it up? After everything they had been through as Phantom vs FentonWorks? They never dissected or destroyed him, but they had come pretty damn close on multiple occasions. How could he look at his parents, who spent so much of his life, well over half by this point, hunting his other half down, and tell them who he really was? He wasn't sure. He wasn't ready. By now, he figured he never truly would be ready.

"We wash our hands religiously, and what would it matter anyway? She's human, even if, somehow, something got onto her, she'd be perfectly fine. Any and all chemicals and liquids and gadgets we have only target and harm ghosts," Maddie lightly argued. He flinched, and he gripped onto Dawn's onesie in worry. "Danny, we'd never let her into the lab anyway, and we've been keeping everything down there anyway. You know how nosy the boys are. They get into everything."

"Uh...just...let me think about it. And we both have to talk about it, ya know?"

His grip around his drink tightened. He was...oddly very accustomed to lying to his parents. There had been many times that he had debated coming clean, from situations ranging from being so close to being dissected or experimented on while under their capture to just a heat of the moment feeling after a hard day and wanting their full comfort.

But now? How do you come clean to your parents after lying to them for over thirty years now? So much of his relationship with them was now built on a lie, how could you ever come clean from that? Recover from that? His parents could never look at him the same way again. Of course, Danny knew they'd still love him, but they'd be crushed to know how close they had been to destroying their only son, devastated at the decades of lies. Danny planned on taking his secret to the grave.

Soon, the door opened, and a familiar white-haired billionaire strolled in.

"Afternoon," he greeted the room, and everybody, even Danny, returned the light greeting. The billionaire gestured to the table still full of food. "Feel free to continue eating, I just wanted to get a small head start, see if I can end a bit earlier today."

Everybody murmured in agreement, and Vlad began to drone on and on. Annnnd now was time for Danny to completely tune out. He saw his phone screen light up on the table in front of him. It was on completely silent, no vibration, so thankfully nobody paid attention to it but him. He noticed it was a new photo message from his mother.

A smile broke, and he went to check it. He expected a cute photo of Dawn sitting in front of the TV, staring at Crash Nebula. What he got instead made his heart drop into his stomach.

A device screen's reading. While the device wasn't familiar, he recognized the general software. A ghost detector, and the words lit up on the display read:

Name: Unknown

Age: Unknown, est existence: 1wk

Pwr lvl: ERROR 412

Misc: ERROR 412

Another message came in.

Honey something's wrong with Dawn. Ghostly wrong.

Danny's heart pounded like crazy as he frantically typed back.

I'm on my way home. Don't do anything.

We're pros, Danny. Dad and I are going to check her out in the lab to figure out what's wrong. Don't worry, she'll be safe.

Danny's hands were shaking uncontrollably, but he still managed to response.

DONT DO ANYTHING IM ON MY WAY

"Daniel, would you like to rejoin us today?"

Vlad's annoyed voice caused Danny to jump to his feet, his chair flying backwards and his coworkers staring at him.

"Vlad, there'sanemergencyIgottagoit'sDawn," was half-screamed in a blurred sentence, but Vlad seemed to catch it.

"You owe me an explanation by tomorrow morning!" his voice shouted back. To Danny's coworkers, it was a threat. To Danny, he knew Vlad probably caught on exactly what had happened, it not, was close, and that he would let it slide. But he had to keep up a face at work.

Danny zoomed down the hallways, ignoring startled gasps and concerned questions. He managed to avoid everybody as he ran out to the front door of the building. Practically slamming the door open, he made a mad run for the parking garage. He ignored his car though, instead using the isolated building as a safe place to go ghost before flying at top speed towards FentonWorks.

Maddie had stared, dumbfound at the readings until Jack had come inside. Despite rescanning over and over and over again, the device would report the same information.

"Hey Mads!" his voice boomed, and he heard it accompanied with an excited "Hi Grandma!"

Jack stepped into the living room, along with her grandson, who immediately plopped down next to Dawn to watch the cartoon. They began an eager conversation/light argument about the cooler villain in the series. Jack came over, leaning over to give his wife a kiss. She happily returned it, smiling weakly as he took a seat next to her.

"Did you get the Fenton Finder 4.0 going?" he asked curiously, snatching the invention up before Maddie could even reply. He stared at the readings given, and his face fell into an immediate pout. "Aww, you and Dawn went ghost-hunting without me?" His eyes widened a bit. "Danny's not gonna be pleased about that. He doesn't even like the idea of Dawn going into the lab."

"Jack, can I talk to you in the kitchen," Maddie asked, her voice hushed as she glanced at Dawn skeptically. Jack gave her an odd look, but nodded.

She spared another glance at Dawn, who was oblivious to the situation as she and her cousin hummed the Crash Nebula theme song together as a new episode began to play. In the kitchen, Maddie glanced once more at Dawn.

"Mads, is everything okay?" Jack snapped her out of her trance.

"Jack, that reading...," she said slowly. Maddie was slowly connecting everything that happened that day in her mind. The eyes, the sudden disappearance while she was making lunch, the glowing. The revelation was slowly making her feel sick to her stomach. "It was reading Dawn."

Jack stared at her in bewilderment before glancing over at Dawn as well. She was pumping her fists to and from the TV, imitating Crash Nebula's hand laser noises as her cousin had begun to stand up, jumping up and down excitedly as he zoomed around the living room, pretending to fly.

"Are you sure?" he questioned. Maddie reached over to push the button to rescan, adjusting Jack's hand so that he was pointing the device towards Dawn.

Within moments, the reading came back. Same as before, reporting that the ghost was barely ten feet from them, in the exact same position Dawn was sitting. Jack swallowed hard, and he watched the little girl throw her hands up in the air, making an explosion noise to copy the TV.

"Maybe it's just like Danny," he tried to reason. "He set off everything. She is a spitting image of him." Maddie shook her head, biting her lip as she put a hand to her chest, watching Dawn.

"That's not it, Jack," she whispered. "Earlier, she...she seemed to be glowing. And, when I was making lunch, she was in time out, and she...she just vanished and reappeared, Jack. Out of thin air." Maddie took a deep breath. "And...her eyes. They...they glowed green. And..."

Maddie didn't know how to continue. Jack didn't speak. Both of the Fenton adults had their eyes locked on Dawn. Her cousin had lost interest in the show, having gone to get a toy from the toy box. Dawn was still glued to the screen, looking exactly like Danny did when he used to sit and watch cartoons. Baby blue eyes widely shining as she watched the spaceship take off, black hair fluffed up and fists clenched in excitement.

"Go Crash!" she squealed. Maddie exhaled deeply.

"Jack, she looked exactly like Phantom when her eyes glowed."

The statement clearly startled Jack, who broke his stare to gawk at Maddie. She tore her gaze away too to stare back at him. He was clearly disturbed by her announcement.

"Mads, that's crazy," he suddenly blurted out.

"I'm serious! The way she looked at me, she..." Maddie stole another glance at Dawn. "I'd know that face anywhere."

Silence fell over them for a while before Jack finally broke it.

"Where do we go from here then?" he asked. Maddie shrugged.

"I don't even fully understand what's going on. I don't know where to do if I don't understand," she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck as she cracked it. "I mean, to my memory, Danny never did anything like glow or have his eyes change or the like. It can't just be something that she inherited from Danny. So...what is this?"

Jack glanced anxiously towards Dawn.

"Do you think...she's a ghost?" he dared to ask. Maddie didn't answer. She didn't know herself. "We need to take her to the lab and just...check. She could be in danger." He quickly clarified, "of course, nothing dangerous. It's just...there's so many questions. Maybe we need a different scanner."

"I agree. I'm going to let Danny know," Maddie replied. She motioned for Jack to hand her the reading, and she took a picture of the reading before sending a message.

Honey something's wrong with Dawn. Ghostly wrong.

She slipped the phone into her pocket. Jack followed her into the living room. Maddie glanced at Jack, telling him silently to pay attention as her head lightly jerked to Dawn. She reached over and turned the TV off. Dawn's face immediately fell into a scowl, and she glared up at her grandparents. Jack gasped as he saw exactly what Maddie was talking about. Glowing green eyes glared at them, and Phantom's familiar scowl was on her face.

"Grandma! Stop that!"

"Dawn, would you like to help Grandma and Grandpa figure out some things in the lab?"

Dawn's eyes immediately flickered from that ominous glowing green back to baby blue in excitement over the idea of finally being allowed in the lab. She nodded eagerly.

"Yeah!"

Jack smiled, reaching out his arms for her. She eagerly jumped up and into his arms, and he picked her up, pecking her cheek. She gave an excited giggle. Maddie felt her phone vibrate, and she checked it.

I'm on my way home. Don't do anything.

In this instance, Maddie understood Danny's worry. He always seemed so fearful of ghosts. He seemed to always vanish and hide when ghosts came around. Great when he was a kid, and Maddie herself was fearful of his and Jazz's safety. But now, he still seemed to hold that fear and tended to run when ghosts came about.

We're pros, Danny. Dad and I are going to check her out in the lab to figure out what's wrong. Don't worry, she'll be safe.

Maddie was startled when she got a reply almost instantly. DONT DO ANYTHING IM ON MY WAY He was terrified of the situation. Not that she blamed him. She decided to not reply.

"Honey, do you want to come into the lab too?" Maddie asked her grandson, who was occupied with his toy. He shook his head.

"I wanna watch Little Einstein," he replied. Maddie nodded, and she handed him the TV remote. The boy immediately plopped to the ground in front of the TV. She pecked the top of his head.

"Stay out of trouble, if you need us just yell down, okay?" He nodded.

Jack carried Dawn into the lab behind Maddie.

Please be okay, please be okay.

Danny prayed to himself as FentonWorks came into view. He forced himself to go faster. Despite not needing to breathe, he felt like he was choking on his anxiety as he phased in. He completely ignored the entire home, going straight for the lab.

"STOP!" he shouted, coming into view as he skidded himself to a stop in the air of the lab. As expected, within moments, both Fenton adults had an ectoblaster in their hands and pointed at him.

To his odd relief, despite his parents apparent suspicions, they still had immediately put themselves in front of Dawn, who had been previously sitting on a lab table. She had moved to stand on the table when he shouted, peeking curiously over her grandfather's shoulder and smiling brightly at him. She knew who he was, but he looked at her desperately, shaking his head slightly no. She looked confused.

"What are you doing here spook?" Jack snapped accusingly. A free hand had moved back to place a protective hand on Dawn, assuring himself that she was out of harm's way.

"What are you doing?" he demanded to know. He mentally slapped himself in the face. Stupid, stupid Fenton. Would have been a much better move to come in as Fenton, not Phantom. The Fenton adults glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

"Phantom possessing her's out of the question," Jack murmured to Maddie, but it was loud enough that Danny could catch it.

"I'd never do such a thing to her!" Danny immediately blurted out. Maddie narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why do you care? You're a ghost." Danny had no clue how to answer that. Why would a ghost care about a Fenton kid? He had no explanation.

"Grandma?" Dawn's voice spoke up quietly.

"Not now honey," Maddie quickly dismissed her, and she pressed into Jack to better shield the girl from the ghost, but she never took her eyes off of the enemy.

Danny's eyes were trained on Dawn as he saw tiny fingers grab Maddie's shoulder so she could use her grandmother as leverage so she could look over at the ghost. Maddie used a hand to lightly push her face down a bit, protectively trying to shield her. Danny's mouth felt dry, and a strange rush of excitement ran through him as he noticed Dawn's blue eyes flash green in annoyance.

Dawn stepped back, huffing annoyingly. She sat back down on the lab table, stretching her leg out wobbly as she tested if she wanted to jump the long distance (for a kid anyway) to the floor. Soon, she decided it was worth the risk, and she hopped down. The noise made Maddie jump, and she spun around to see Dawn standing on the ground. Before she could do anything, the girl darted for the ghost.

"Dawn!" Maddie cried out. To her horror, Phantom held his arms out for her, and Dawn was eagerly running to him. No, no, no! She knew that Dawn was too trusting of ghosts.

Jack opened fire. Phantom yelped as it hit him square in the chest, sending him back into the wall. Dawn stopped in her steps, staring wide-eyed. Maddie reached out to grab Dawn by the arm, to pull her back. The girl jumped in surprise, but allowed herself to be pulled out.

"Honey, that ghost is dangerous!" Maddie scolded her, pulling her close to her chest as she knelt close to the girl's level. She took note of Dawn's confusion.

"But-" she began.

"No buts!" Dawn's lower lip quivered, and Maddie pulled her into a tight, protective hug. She must be scared.

Phantom was quick to recover from the blast, already on his feet and standing on the lab floor, eyes darting from adult to adult. His hand was on his chest, some smoke and a light burn forming from where he was hit. He was half-surprised that Jack even hit him.

"Look," he began, but he stopped upon hearing the ectogun in Jack's hand began to whine as it charged.

"Jack Fenton will not allow any harm to come to this family while he is alive!" he declared, narrowing his eyes. "Take your leave, spook."

"No!" Dawn yelled, and Jack spared a slight glance to his granddaughter. The child was distressed, wiggling in Maddie's arms.

"Dawn, it's not safe!" Maddie scolded her, and she let out a gasp when Dawn slipped through her grasp. Literally.

Maddie reached out to grab at her again, but Dawn was already running for Phantom. The ghost immediately scooped her into his arms, holding her tightly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He shifted to move so an arm was supporting her, his other resting on her back.

"PUT HER DOWN RIGHT NOW!" Maddie yelled, holding her ectogun up to him.

Dawn looked at her with an expression she had never seen before on her. Pure fear. Her fists had begun to clutch Phantom's jumpsuit, and Phantom had shifted his stance so that if either Fenton shot at him, it wouldn't hit Dawn. Dawn was mostly hidden from view, but she could see twin glowing green eyes belonging to her peeking from behind Phantom. Phantom looked worried more than anything else, to her surprise. The resemblance was uncanny, and it unnerved her greatly.

Maddie's confident demeanor faltered, and her lowered the ectogun a bit. Jack glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Jack, we can't," she whispered to her husband. "It only harms ghosts, but..." Her eyes flickered to Dawn and Phantom. Jack returned his focus to them, and he glared.

"You better explain yourself," he demanded.

Phantom looked at Dawn, who had begun to tear up.

"Daddy, I'm scared."

Maddie nearly dropped her ectogun, and Jack looked baffled. Phantom's hold on Dawn, tightened.

"I know, baby boo." Phantom's tone became eerily familiar as he comforted the girl. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

Phantom locked eyes with the Fenton adults. A flash of bright light appeared at his waist, and twin rings moved opposite of each other, leaving their son in Phantom's place.

#danny phantom #phics #my phics #oc #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #dawn fenton #DP OCs #second gen #i'm going to become the queue

45 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 6 years

Text

Wrong Road to the Right Place 7/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. AO3 link

John was pretty sure this plan had about fifty different ways it could blow up in Oliver’s face. But it wasn’t easy to reason with a man in love.

Laurel was worried about Oliver, so Oliver was trying to do what he could to keep her from worrying. That part, John didn’t so much have a problem with. Truthfully, Oliver’s concern and care for the people he loved was one of the few things that convinced him he hadn’t totally cracked on that island.

The problem was he was going about it all wrong.

Where before, Oliver might have seen Laurel once a week or so, now he was scheduling regular meetups. Lunch, coffee. No dinners yet though that probably had more to do with Oliver’s standing nighttime engagement than anything else.

The first time he’d swung by CNRI to make one of those offers John had tagged along, curious to see how Laurel was going to react.

It didn’t disappoint.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Oliver had asked as he drew up to her desk. Before Laurel had had time to turn around let alone reply, he’d plunked a tall paper cup down onto the surface. “I brought coffee.”

Laurel had blinked at it. “You brought coffee to talk for a minute?”

“Well, I thought we could walk around a little bit,” Oliver continued on blithely. “They let you have breaks here, right?”

“Yes, though typically they like more than a second’s notice.” She’d lifted the lid of the cup and peered inside. “Is this an americano?”

“Yeah, four shots with hazelnut. That’s how you drink it, right?”

“I drank those in college when I had to cram for an exam,” Laurel had told him. “I’ll be up until two a.m. if I have this.”

Oliver had looked down at the floor. “Oh.”

Laurel had sent a look John’s way as if trying to ask what this all was about. He hadn’t really been able to answer.

Eventually she’d sighed and looked back to Oliver. “I can probably take a short walk. There’s a coffee place on the next street over.”

Oliver had looked back up, positive energy seemingly restored. “Great. I’ll buy you a new one. Whatever you like now.”

“I have my own wallet,” Laurel had said as she’d gathered up her purse.

Oliver hadn’t pursued the issue. He couldn’t, not without defining whatever this was — a friendly gesture or a date, he had a feeling the man hadn’t really known. Somehow the short walk there hadn’t been awkward. Laurel had asked about the club renovations, and Oliver had asked about the de la Vegas. They’d touched briefly on Thea’s upcoming birthday party and what she was planning to do as an official adult.

“Honestly, I don’t think she has any plans, even for college. That’s probably my fault,” Oliver had said. “I’m not exactly the best role model in that regard.”

“College isn’t for everyone,” Laurel had replied. “Thea just needs to find something she’s passionate about. She’s already got all the connections she could possibly need.”

“Thea’s passions seem to extend to partying and illegal substances,” Oliver had stated bluntly.

“That’s not the only thing she’s been doing while you were gone. You know she was on the archery team for a little bit? Got kicked off for playing hooky too many times, but she was pretty good. And hey,” Laurel had added as Oliver had held the door of the cafe open for her. “I know a guy.”

“That’s not funny,” Oliver had said as John had struggled to disguise his snort as a cough. That had garnered a wink from Laurel and a frown from Oliver, respectively. John had even gotten free coffee out of it when Laurel had looked to him after she’d ordered.

“Just a black coffee for me. Thank you, Miss Lance.”

“It’s Laurel. And it’s the least I could do, really. I never actually thanked you for your help when the Triad broke into my apartment. I got really lucky you and Oliver were there,” she’d added with sidelong glance at Oliver as she sipped her drink. Oliver hadn’t chosen to comment.

John had tailed their walk back at a respectable distance, not trying to listen in. He didn’t know how they had so much to talk about, what with Oliver concealing whole parts of his life and activities. But they seemed to be making do as they’d been out another five times since.

There wasn’t exactly a good way to tell if Laurel had grown less concerned about Oliver in the meantime, though she did send him the occasional questioning look whenever Oliver’s back was turned. If anything, he wondered if Oliver’s sudden increased presence around her was only making her more suspicious.

Any time John tried to bring Oliver around to the idea of just telling Laurel what was really going on, the man found some excuse to head upstairs to the club and talk to Tommy. So John made sure to follow and hover just in Oliver’s line of sight, a silent reminder that he couldn’t run from this for very long.

Today was one of those times. As a discussion about the restoration process wound down, Oliver glanced at his watch.

“I have to go meet Laurel for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything urgent. Oh, Digg,” Oliver added, like he’d only just had the thought. “Feel free to take a lunch break or something. I should be alright for an hour.”

John didn’t dignify it with a response, and Oliver turned and left the club.

“So are they dating now or what?” Tommy Merlyn asked in his direction without actually looking at him. The laugh in his voice was sharp and discordant.

“It’s not really my business, Mr. Merlyn,” John answered. He went downstairs to avoid continuing that talk.

The one thing puzzling him was what had led Laurel to think Oliver was in a bad spot. She clearly didn’t believe he was the Hood. And other than Walter going missing, there wasn’t too much to raise an eyebrow at on the surface.

So the Walter angle. Did she have some kind of information about his disappearance they weren’t privy to? Or was it a wild guess on her part borne of Oliver’s odd behavior the last few months?

Then there was her mentioning a bad crowd her friend had fallen in with. The only person Oliver had been hanging around recently who fit that description was Helena. But it had been a good month and a half since Helena had been in town, so who had Laurel really meant?

She’d been more affected by Oliver’s hospitalization than even his own family. Yet she couldn’t know why he’d really been hospitalized. Or could she? There was obviously something she wasn’t telling Oliver or the Hood, just as Oliver wasn’t telling her the whole truth. They were both just watching the other and waiting.

Whenever that wait was over, John hoped Oliver wouldn’t find he’d ruined a good thing he could’ve had.

—-

She wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Oliver’s seemingly random insistence on spending so much time together might have been a welcome change, if Laurel didn’t know what she did. Since she did, however, she couldn’t help wondering if there was some kind of ulterior motive at play.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a good time with him; they’d always been close even before they’d dated, and truthfully she was always going to like being around Oliver. She certainly didn’t feel as though she was in danger in his company.

And the more he was around her, the less time he had for any sort of Bratva business, so really it was a win-win. Even if she still didn’t know what his status regarding the organization was. Or why they’d taken Mr. Steele and what sort of ultimatum they might have given Oliver to get him back.

Maybe Oliver was seeking her out because he was conflicted. Making that sort of decision, she couldn’t imagine what it had to be like. If her presence gave him some sort of comfort, she wouldn’t begrudge him that. She just wished he’d open up to her, let her actually help him. Not that she had a specific plan in mind.

If she went to her father now, Oliver would be in Iron Heights faster than she could blink. He wouldn’t want to hear any of her arguments about the island and the coercion Oliver must have faced. And that wasn’t even touching on what might happen to Mr. Steele as a result.

Perhaps Oliver’s family was a better option. If Laurel could convince him to talk to his mother, Mrs. Queen might have some idea of how to make a deal with the Bratva to release both Mr. Steele and Oliver. It might cost quite a sum, but if it meant they’d be safe she couldn’t imagine Mrs. Queen wouldn’t do it.

These thoughts loomed large in her mind the night of Thea’s birthday party, but, as seemed to constantly be the case, Laurel was forced to set them aside when disaster struck the Queens again; Thea left her own party while drunk and under the influence of Vertigo and was picked up by the cops after a car accident.

No one had been hurt, but that was where Thea’s luck ran out. Her case was being heard by Judge Brackett, and he was currently running a re-election campaign with a hardline stance on crime. Laurel went to the initial hearing to support Oliver’s family, but she couldn’t see an easy way out of this for Thea.

So she was surprised when Oliver showed up unexpectedly the next morning at her apartment, asking her to see if her dad could pull some strings.

“Laurel, I am working on something on my end, but...if it doesn't work out, this is my best chance to help my sister. Please.”

She did her best to conceal the spike of fear that went through her. Something on his end? What exactly did that entail?

If she knew Oliver at all, she knew he would be willing to do anything for his family, including embroiling himself even deeper in the mafia just to use their resources.

He was waiting on her answer. “I’ll see what I can do,” was the best she could offer. She wanted it to be more, wanted to tell him that it would all be fine and she would take care of it, that he didn’t need to throw himself in harm's way.

“Thank you.” Oliver left her apartment soon after that, and there was something about the set of his shoulders that threw her worrying into hyperdrive. She had to know what he was doing.

Laurel threw on the first clothes she could find overtop of her pajamas and returned to watch through the peephole as the elevator doors shut down the hall, then rushed out of her apartment to the fire door and down the steps. If she could get to her car quick enough…

The door banged against the wall as she raced out of the stairwell and to her parking spot. Laurel started the engine and pulled out of the garage, rounding the building just as Oliver climbed in and shut the passenger door. Mr. Diggle started out into traffic and Laurel followed, making sure to memorize the look and license number of the car in case she needed to put some space between them.

This was crazy. For all she knew, Oliver was going right back home or to the club. She couldn’t follow him and Mr. Diggle around all day. But the further they went the less it looked as if they were headed back to Queen Manor or even the Glades. They were driving towards the warehouse district.

Without taking her eyes off the road, Laurel got her phone out of her purse and dialed.

It was picked up on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Tommy, I need you to do something for me,” she began.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a simple favor?”

“It’s simple on your end. All I’m asking is if I don’t call you back in—” she paused to think it over. They were driving out pretty far by the looks of it. “Two hours, call my dad.”

“Wait, what? Laurel, what are you doing? Where are you?” Tommy demanded.

“I’m meeting a client, and the neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest,” she lied. “It should be fine.”

“Should be? Why couldn’t your client meet you at CNRI?”

“She has young kids and couldn’t get a babysitter. I have to go.”

“Laurel—”

“Two hours. Wait two hours.” With that, she hung up and refocused her efforts on the car three ahead in the line of traffic. It merged into the turning lane, and Laurel had no choice but to glide up right behind it. She’d have to hope Mr. Diggle wasn’t checking his rear view mirror too carefully.

Laurel slowed to just under the speed limit as they left most of the other cars behind. Buildings gave way to a line of warehouses looming large and foreboding on either side of the narrow road. The car ahead rounded a bend, and she stopped just before it for a good thirty seconds. She didn’t want to lose them, but she couldn’t look as if she were tailing them. When she did turn the corner, she just caught sight of their taillights near the end of the lane.

With a sinking heart, Laurel watched Oliver’s car pull into the parking lot of a warehouse that definitely wasn’t owned by Queen Consolidated. She pulled off into the lot before it and waited about ten minutes before reversing back out and entering the lot they’d left their car in. It looked as though she’d gotten lucky; Mr. Diggle wasn’t waiting in or by the car, so there was no one to see her. Laurel parked several spots away and as far from the warehouse as she could.

There were no windows on the side of the building facing the lot. Laurel crept up and stuck close to the wall, leaning to check for any sort of guard first before rounding the corner.

There were a set of windows on this side, so Laurel peered down into the large room. The floor was a level below, so it was hard for her to make out much more than the tops of people’s heads. She could easily pick out Oliver and Mr. Diggle, and it looked as though there were at least two other men in the room, the shorter of whom was doing the talking.

She couldn’t hear anything being said distinctly. As she watched, a third man led a fourth down a set of stairs near the back. The fourth man was forced to his knees once he’d been brought before the others, and more talking ensued. The short man gestured to the one on his knees.

Oliver nodded, then walked around behind and placed his hands at the man’s neck. There was a sharp motion. A second later, the man’s body hit the floor.

A strangled cry left her that she couldn’t hope to stop. Shock, denial, betrayal — she’d believed Oliver was an unwilling participant at worst, that he could never—

But as five heads whipped up in her direction, Laurel realized her mistake. She froze for a crucial second, then her mind worked past the fear and screamed at her to run.

She cleared the corner at a sprint. Two of the mafia men had already raced around the other side to meet her. Laurel swung her purse straight into one of the men’s stomachs whose breath left him all in a whoosh. The second one caught her arm, and she twisted around to ram him with her shoulder.

The first man wrenched her arms behind her back and lifted her. Laurel shouted in protest and tried to hook one foot around his ankle to knock him off balance. A hand was clamped over her mouth to muffle any further sounds so she concentrated all her effort on kicking and lashing out. Laurel heard at least one pained grunt as her limbs connected with whatever she could reach, but the tight grip never slackened, and her feet were never quite able to touch back on the ground.

Dimly she knew the panic was beginning to cloud her judgement, but she was powerless to stop them dragging her back into that room with their boss and Oliver and the man he’d just killed. Her heart pounded wild and erratic in her ears like wings beating in a vain attempt to fly away.

The door to the warehouse slammed, closing her in. Her ankle caught on a railing and the hand over her mouth was dislodged as they fought to stop her from clinging on. Laurel’s captors were calling down to their boss in Russian, she was shouting and yelling again, but one voice rose above the rest, harsh and booming.

“Let her go! Vy ne navredit' yey! I said release her!”

Laurel was forced to her knees, the gasps of breath she took loud in the sudden silence. Her eyes darted from the bald Mafioso to the dusty windows high above them to Mr. Diggle with his ramrod straight back and stoic expression—had he known all this time?—anywhere but the man who had given the order.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Oliver, to see the cold rage and command that had just been in his voice. To have to face a reality where all her fierce hope and belief was in vain.

But then he spoke again, and she nearly didn’t believe her own ears. “Honey…I thought I told you to wait in the car.”

Laurel’s neck nearly snapped with the speed at which she turned to him, absolutely no idea what expression was on her face.

“She is your woman?”

Oliver did not answer for the moment as he instead made quick strides towards her. He held his hands out palms up and for a single second allowed the careful mask to slip, meeting her eyes with a look of open pleading. And Laurel knew, no matter what had just happened in this room, she was not going to die here.

In the next breath she’d reached for him and was pulled up to her feet and to his side.

“So sorry for the interruption,” Oliver finally said, turning them both around to face the other man, the picture of cool confidence again. “I thought I’d made it clear that this was strictly business, but she gets…curious. I’m sure you understand.”

“Perhaps you should have explained the business was with friends,” said the Russian. He gestured at one of the men who was clutching his side, and Laurel hid a satisfied smirk in Oliver’s shoulder. With a hand resting on his chest she could feel his heart hammering underneath the calm veneer he was presenting.

“Again, my apologies. She knows it’s her safety that I value above all else.”

“Then it is best to keep her safe at home. Business is not the place for loved ones and their sensitivities,” the man advised. His mouth twisted into a leer as he added, “Particularly not when she can sing like this one.”

Laurel clenched the fabric of Oliver’s shirt into a fist and forced herself to bite the inside of her cheek.

“Well she is moya krasivaya ptitsa,” Oliver replied, the warm, even teasing tone completely at odds with the way his hand dropped from her waist to her hip and tucked her in all the closer to his body. “I trust that my favor will be repaid.”

“You have proven your interest. We are men of our word.”

They exchanged what she could only assume were goodbyes in Russian, and, with a nod to Mr. Diggle who heaved the dead man’s body up into his arms, Oliver led her back up the steps of the warehouse and into the sunshine. It seemed surreal even now that she was still alive.

For whatever reason, he’d covered for her. Out of sentiment, out of what she didn’t know. But he had just killed a man for the mob, and she had witnessed it, and he knew that.

She had to get away.

Laurel waited until they were out of sight of the warehouse and closing in on Oliver’s car, hers not too far away. She didn’t think Mr. Diggle would try to stop her, but her best chance was to make her move while he was still holding the dead man’s body and couldn’t help the man he worked for.

Oliver took out a set of keys in his pocket and unlocked the trunk. Then Laurel dropped an elbow into his gut and stamped on his toes with her heel.

He gave a shout of pain which was echoed by one of surprise from Mr. Diggle, but she didn’t stop to look back, already running. Her keys were in her hand — but then another hand had closed around her wrist.

Laurel whirled back, but he caught her other hand before she could even think to use it, the keys twisting harmlessly away from him.

“Let me go! Just let me go, Ollie, I won’t- I won’t tell anyone what I saw.” She hated the quaver in her voice, her panicked gasps for breath as she struggled uselessly in a hold she’d known was entirely too strong. This whole time despite everything she knew, she’d never been scared of him, and only now did she realize what a dangerous game she’d been playing.

“What were you doing here?” Oliver demanded. “How did you find this place?”

She had little choice but to answer. “I followed you after you left the apartment.”

“Why?”

“Oliver, you told me you were working on something to help Thea from your end, outside the law. Was I not supposed to find that a little suspicious?”

“What had you suspicious about me in the first place?” He narrowed his gaze. “You’ve been acting different for weeks now. I just didn’t know what you were thinking. But you haven’t even asked me who those people were back there.”

“They’re Bratva, and so are you,” she asserted. Faintly, she heard Mr. Diggle swear. “I noticed your tattoo the night of the house arrest party, and I did some research. I’ve known practically since then.”

Oliver’s grip on her finally did slacken. “You knew?”

“I knew you were mixed up with- with this, I knew it. I just didn’t want to believe you could—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish but neither of them missed the way her eyes fell on the body Mr. Diggle had finally put in the trunk.

“That I could what?” Oliver prompted. “Kill him?”

“You didn’t have to,” she insisted. “I said I’d help you get Thea out of serving jail time. What was the point of that if you were going to murder someone?”

“Laurel, it’s okay.”

“Give me one reason why any of this is okay!”

Mr. Diggle had his arms crossed and looked to be waiting for an answer, too.

Oliver sighed. “It’s really not what you think. Either of you.” Then he reached down and pressed some point near the man’s neck. The man she’d thought dead gave a great gasp of breath, and his eyes fluttered before falling closed in sleep.

“That’s a neat trick,” Mr. Diggle remarked. “You going to teach me that one day?”

“No,” said Oliver. “We’ll need to arrange a new identity for him. Get him out of the city.”

“You just lied about killing him to the Bratva,” said Laurel.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so then...you’re working against them?” She desperately needed some kind of confirmation on this, because she still had no idea what it meant now that Oliver knew she knew. “Walter’s disappearance, you being hospitalized over Christmas, the...Bertinelli stuff — that was because you’re against them?”

Oliver was watching her with an increasingly perplexed look. “That wasn’t about the Bratva. I’ve barely been in contact with them since I got back home.”

Laurel stared at him in sheer disbelief. He’d barely been in contact. How, how was that possible with everything that had happened? “Then what have you been doing?”

Oliver’s expression turned a little panicky, and his eyes flitted to Mr. Diggle.

“You gotta tell her, man,” his bodyguard said.

Laurel looked between them, her arms crossing over her chest. “Tell me what?”

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #john diggle #tommy merlyn #green arrow #black canary #my writing

6 notes · View notes

suzanneshannon · 4 years

Text

Emcee Tips for a Conference or Meetup

There are some great resources out there to help conference speakers give better talks, but fewer for people who are preparing to take on the role of emcee at meetup or conference.

I've been fortunate enough to emcee conferences more than 20 times now, most recently JAMstack_conf which I help organize. I also enjoy hosting smaller, less formal meetups which benefit just as much from having somebody to keep things rolling nicely along.

Since emcee-ing is a rather visible role, I often get asked, "Got any tips for emcee-ing?" I do. At the same time, note that there is no substitute for finding the approach that fits you and lets you be yourself. But I've found what works for me, and what I enjoy in an emcee when I'm attending or speaking at a conference.

Here's my advice:

Biggest tip: Enjoy yourself.

I find that trying to relax (yeah, easy to say) and remembering that the audience want you to succeed really helps. When you remember that you're not hosting the Oscars (if you are reading this in preparation for hosting the Oscars, please contact me directly. DMs are open), and that people are very happy with you being human and personable, it gives you license to relax and talk to the room as if everyone is your friend. That’s liberating and helps you to be more natural.

The crowd's view of the stage at Vue.js London. Image copyright www.edtelling.com.

To err is human

While we all want things to run as smoothly as possible, mistakes happen. Don’t panic or let them throw you off too much. I find that owning mistakes and communicating them honestly to the audience can be a feature rather than a bug. It also helps them trust you and be on your side. (I believe that there is only one “side” at a conference anyway. And this can help to establish that.)

Many of the moments I consider highlights have come from some silly mistake I’ve made on stage, like giving the wrong information and being corrected by the audience. It’s fine. We’re in it together. Have a little fun with it.

Technical difficulties

It’s really common for there to be technical difficulties during a conference. They often only take a few moments to resolve, but they can occasionally drag on and become a little uncomfortable.

As a speaker it is horrible to think that you are on your own to fix things while a room full of people impatiently watches on. As an emcee, you can help enormously by being ready to jump in if it looks like things might need some time and concentration from the speaker, or if a helpful member of the audio-visual team is sprinting to the stage.

I like to step back on the stage to provide a little buffer. No need to panic. Often just a little company on stage and some headspace is all that is required. My trick is to keep a little pocket-sized notebook on me all day. I keep a few notes ready, things like news and announcements for the audience. Where will the refreshments be later? Who are the sponsors and where can you find them? What are the details for the social later on? Those kinds of things. You may need them at the start of the next break anyway, but you can buy a little time for the speakers and save time for later by being ready to share that at this "handy opportunity."

“Me again! We’ll get this fixed in a second. While we have a mo...”

Even when there isn’t a problem, the speaker might still take a little time to plug in their laptop, be certain that they can see their speaker notes, and so on. If the conference does need each speaker to plug in as they come to the stage, I like to invite them up while I introduce them, and then check that they are ready when it looks like they have stopped tinkering with their setup. This doesn’t need to be a secret from the audience. “It looks like Jina is ready to go. Are you all set? Excellent! OK, a big round of applause please, for...”

Longer pauses. Oh this is getting awwwwwkward!

Every once in a while, there is a larger technical issue. The audio-visual team is on it, but you’ve used up all your padding material, pulled a couple of jokes from your back pocket, and now you and the speaker are stranded on stage with nothing to say and that horrible feeling of not knowing where to put your hands so that you look natural. Not to worry. Be honest.

Eventually the audience will start to feel awkward too, so cut this off at the pass. If things look like they really do need a few minutes, tell the audience. A bright and breezy update buys you some time and some good will.

"It looks like we still need a couple more minutes to figure this out, so we’ll step off stage for a moment and then come on again to enjoy a second, bonus round of applause. Don’t go anywhere, we’ll be right back!"

This sort of thing can take the pressure off everyone. Including the audience. And you can milk that second round of applause for the speaker as they return.

Just be honest. Everyone is on your side, remember.

Practice all the names

A mistake that makes me uncomfortable is botching somebody's name when I introduce them. That is a bit of a fear I still have and I've done it many times despite my best efforts. I like to watch YouTube videos of all the speakers that I don't already know to get a sense of what they've spoken about in the past, and also as a chance to listen to how they introduce themselves. I practice them out loud and write them down phonetically if they are tricky.

If you find a name particularly difficult, you can even use the voice recorder on your phone to capture how they pronounce it on YouTube, or your own best try, and then have it ready as a last-minute primer just before you need it.

Know more than the speaker's bio

Speakers often get introduced by someone reading out their bio. I don't think this gives the impression that you have enthusiasm for, or awareness of them. Both of which are, I think, valuable for creating trust with the audience and comfort for the speaker. I like to look them up and make some notes based on previous talks, the links on their own sites, or whatever else I can scrounge. I like to have an intro that goes beyond the bio that the attendees all have and will recognize as being read verbatim when they hear it.

Introducing Divya Sasidharan onstage at Vue.js London. Image copyright www.edtelling.com.

Jake has a good thought related to this:

... it shouldn't matter if the speaker has published 18 books, or if they're just an intern starting out their career, their talk content is what matters.

Yes! Listing their full resume isn't the point at all. I personally just like to convey that I know who this is, and that I'm not encountering them for the first time as I read the schedule — and that I’m looking forward to hearing what they have to say, irrespective of how extensive their previous experience or fame may be.

It's also worth double-checking that the job title and company details you have for somebody are still correct. It's nice to make sure that you didn't miss a recent role change.

Another good nugget from Jake is to avoid surprising the speaker. I've wandered into this territory before where I've enthused about a speaker in their introduction and mentioned a bunch of things that they were planning to say for themselves in their intro. As he says:

Make the speaker aware of the kind of intro they'll get, so they can adjust their own intro accordingly.

That's good. Communicating with the speaker ahead of time so that you can tune your own intro is likely to be easier than them adjusting their own content, what with slides and timings, etc.

"No surprises" is probably a good motto for this.

Avoid "in jokes"

When you emcee, you might sometimes be introducing somebody you know. Perhaps it's a friend, a colleague, or somebody you shared a nice chat and giggle with at the reception or dinner the night before. While I think it's fine to reference a history or relationship in an intro for context, It's safer to focus on things that everyone can relate to and not just those who already know you or the speaker.

Private jokes don't mean anything to the vast majority of the audience, and can even alienate you a little by creating a bit of a clique as Jan thoughtfully mentioned on Twitter.

Don't assume or rely on "fame"

"This next speaker needs no introduction" is rarely true. Even if it's likely that a lot of people in the room might already know who a given speaker is, there will be some who don't.

As Luke observed:

Don't assume the audience knows who the speaker is.

Each speaker deserves a nice introduction. And there will always be some in the audience thinking "who dis?" Even a little background can be a helpful foundation and give the speaker a nice springboard to get started.

Announce and thank people with vigor

I've been introduced quite a few times in ways where I've been unsure whether the intro is over or not! I like to be sure that the final thing I say is the name of the speaker. (Not their talk title, although I'll likely mention that and possibly the themes in my introduction.)

An onstage introduction at Vue.js London. Image copyright www.edtelling.com.

Ending the intro with the speaker's name seems painfully obvious, but I do this even if I've used their name earlier in the intro. It makes the handoff emphatic and acts as an obvious cue for audience applause. Using an intonation which suggests "it's time to clap right now!" is also helpful. Again, it seems obvious but giving the audience clear cues is important.

Let the speakers give the talks

You might sometimes be opinionated about the topic of the next talk. Maybe you’ve given talks on the same subject yourself. Great, that will come in handy if you need to ask informed questions after the talk. But don’t fall into the temptation to show this off during your intro. The speakers are “the show” — not the emcee. And the person you are introducing is the one invited to share their expertise.

I sometimes show I value the upcoming topic, but I advise against flexing your knowledge muscles during an intro. You might cannibalize the content, or even contradict it. And you’ll never communicate it in an intro as well as the speaker can during the actual talk. You might come off as being cocky.

Don’t step on the speaker's toes. Let them present the content. This is why everyone is here.

Prep speakers for questions and answers

If there is Q&A that you’ll need to lead or curate, it’s important to know that in advance. It is one of the first things I’ll ask the organizer in the run up to a conference. I like to ask the speakers at the speaker dinner the night before the event or when they are getting mic'd up (but earlier really is better, especially when they have time to think while being relaxed) if there is anything they'd like me to ask or avoid saying altogether. There are often things people can't include due to time and this can be a chance to squeeze that in and also serve as a nice soft ball question to get things started and let them settle in.

Some speakers might not want to take questions. I like to make sure about that first, and steer the event organizers away from it if somebody prefers not to have it.

Housekeeping is a good boilerplate

At the opening of the day, I usually jump quickly into the various housekeeping stuff of toilets, exits, code of conduct, etc. soon after saying my initial hello and maintain an enthusiastic posture about the day. It doesn't require much imagination and can help you settle in.

Don't forget to introduce yourself too!

Ask the organizers what they need

Along the way, there might be a need to mention sponsors, inform people of food, or even other things. I like to check in with the organizers at every break to see if there is anything they need me to announce. Maybe there can be a private Slack channel or Whatsapp group so you can stay in contact with them. That way you can find out if they need to adjust timings or any other odds and ends as you go.

Most of all though, and to repeat my first point a little, allow yourself to enjoy the experience. It's so much fun when the speakers and audience are enjoying themselves.

Make sure you ride that wave and have fun too!

My checklist

I have this little checklist as a starting point for the events I'll be emcee-ing. It changes a bit depending on what the conference needs.

Prep speaker intro notes Prep speaker name pronunciation notes Confirm format for Q&A with organizers Prep seed questions for each talk Share event notes Google Doc with organizers Access/create emcee slack channel or WhatsApp group Confirm or create event intro/outro slides if appropriate Get housekeeping notes from organizers Get familiar with code of conduct and contact info to share Confirm event hashtags to share Get sponsor call-out requirements from organizers Meet AV team and discuss transition format Brief speakers on transition format and get ok for questions Get water / pen / notepad / mic Breath. Smile. Have fun.

What have I missed? Got any good tips? I'd love to hear them. Feel free to leave thoughts and suggestions in the comments.

The post Emcee Tips for a Conference or Meetup appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

Emcee Tips for a Conference or Meetup published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

0 notes