#this has been bugging me since watching Scott say his name was silly and then flirting with him on stream

[hannah-fannah9503]

As a resident fan of both One Piece and Pirates SMP I am taking it up on myself to inform those unaware that I am 96% sure that this guy ↓

is meant to be a reference to this guy ↓

His name is Franky in the series, but his given name was actually Cutty Flam

that is all carry about your days

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter One

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

“Well don’t you two look like a couple of city slickers,” Meg teased two of her oldest friends. Javi, who always preferred to be half dressed was in khakis and a wrinkle-free polo, and Kate, who had never been much of a fashionista, was in a turtleneck and a button-down despite the heat of an Oklahoma summer. Meg was dressed in comfortable jeans and an old New Orleans EMS shirt with the sleeves cut off, her style being the only one that apparently hadn’t changed since college. The only thing new about her were the tattoos covering both her arms and her back.

“You’ve spent too much time in Louisiana, your accent’s startin’ to go sour,” Kate teased, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I missed you Mud Bug.” 

“Bite me, Katie my Lady.” Addy had always called them two shades of the same color, a dynamic duo, who had been inseparable from the first day of freshman orientation until their friend’s funerals. It felt like slotting two puzzle pieces together standing side by side again.

“Don’t I get any love?” Javi asked, mock offense filling his voice. Kate and Meg shared a look before each pinching one of Javi’s cheeks, making him wince. “Okay, okay,”

“We missed you too, Jav.” 

“A little bit,” Kate patted him on the cheek. Javi pulled both of the women in for a quick hug before pushing them towards the truck.

“Are you two ready to work your weather magic for me? If I’ve only got you two for a week, I don’t want to waste a second of it.” 

“We’re going to need two sweet teas before we work any magic, Kate’s been in the city far too long.”

“Two sweet teas, coming up. Now get in, get in, we’ve got two cells forming and my team’s waiting for us.” Kate took the passenger seat and Meg climbed into the back, relaxing into the leather upholstery. Javi and Kate kept casual conversation but the tension between the three of them was palpable. Meg sighed, pain in her wrist sparking up, it never used to get this quiet. 

Meg wasn’t paying attention at all when Javi introduced her and Kate to the Storm PAR team, getting weird vibes off of them. They reminded her of how her parents described Jonas’ Nightcrawler team from back in the day. What brought her attention back was the sounds of cheering, loud country music, and honking. Kate looked confused but Meg couldn’t help but smile, it was the Tornado Wranglers. Her dad was obsessed with the channel, watching all of their live streams. Sometimes the old crew would gather at the house and watch the live streams together, cheering and booing like it was a football game.

“Hey, Storm PAR, we’re live on YouTube, say something.” Meg waved at the camera, grinning as she felt her phone buzz, probably her dad having caught sight of her. 

“Blow me,” One of the Storm PAR guys shouted and Scott admonished him. Meg rolled her eyes at their antics, were they grown men or schoolchildren?

“Come on now, guys, science is fun,” Boone shouted as they drove off. Kate’s brows were scrunched in confusion,

“Who are they?”

“Chasers out of Arkansas,” Javi answered at the same time as Scott, who with a lot more venom denounced the group as hillbillies with a YouTube Channel. Meg glanced over at where the red truck was now swarmed with chasers, smiling at the whole situation. Tyler Owens was leaning out of the truck, shouting his silly little catchphrase to get the crowd riled up. Meg glanced at her phone,

Dad: You’re in Oklahoma?!?

Meg: Only for a week

Dad: With Kate and Javi???

Meg: I’ll call you later and explain

Dad: Get me a mug!!

Meg rolled her eyes, she would most certainly not be buying her dad a Tornado Wrangler mug, especially not in front of the entire Storm PAR team that seemed to hate them. Tyler looked over, catching Meg’s eye and tipping his hat. Meg stuck her tongue out, laughing and hoping she got picked up on Boone’s wide shot so that her dad would see her.

“That’s Tyler Owens, he calls himself a tornado wrangler.” 

“What does that even mean?” Kate scoffed like she didn’t used to call herself a tornado tamer on a regular basis. 

“Mean’s our world is going to shit,” Javi sighed. “Alright, let’s figure out which storm we’re going after. Kate, Meg?” He passed them Scott’s tablet. “What do y’all think?” Kate took it, studying it while Meg left her side, going to the open grass where she could stare up at the sky. It didn’t take long for Kate to join her, abandoning the tablet in favor of a dandelion. Meg leaned down, scooping up a handful of dirt. Different shades, same color, doing the same thing in different ways.

“Old school, I like it,” A southern drawl filled with humor called out behind them. Kate turned to look but Meg couldn’t take her blue eyes off of the sky, feeling the instability of the atmosphere in her bones. The storms brewing were pulling her mind in different directions but they couldn’t chase both. She took one last look towards the east and it didn’t feel right, there was no tingling in her fingertips or twist in her gut. It wasn’t the right cell. “Where did you ladies come from?”

“New York,” Kate answered. Meg brushed the dirt off her hands, glancing to the west, the familiar sensations of her undeniable instinct confirming her decision on which way to go. “Mud Mug, mind your manners,” Kate chided, pulling her out of her head. The cowboy was giving both of them an appraising look at Meg and had to admit, he was handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, obviously strong with the way his muscles filled out his flannel shirt. Maybe she would have to become a subscriber to his channel alongside her dad.

“Sorry, Sweetie Pie. Jav dragged me out here from New Orleans,” After five years, Meg spoke like a local, pronouncing the city with only one syllable. Kate chuckled, “Nice to meet you.” 

“Good to meet you ma’am. So, how are you liking working for Storm PAR?” There was something about the way he asked it that made Meg’s skin crawl like he was asking how she liked working for a sweatshop.

“Tyler!” A clean-cut British man with glasses came jogging up before Meg could question him. “Have you figured out which storm we’re going after?”

“Why don’t we ask-” He pointed between the women.

“Kate,”

“Meg.” Tyler grinned, eager for attention like a golden retriever. Meg smiled back, liking the feeling of his attention.

“I’m Tyler,” 

“And I’m Ben,” The man shook both their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m a reporter here to do a piece on American storm chasing. Tyler here has been kind enough to let me tag along.” Tyler patted Ben on the chest, still grinning like an idiot. Meg wondered if his cheeks ever hurt from smiling so much.

“All Ben here had to do was promise to write nothing but good things.” Kate caught Meg’s eyes, looking towards the sky. Meg nodded curtly, letting her know she was on the same page.

“Well, good luck with that,” Kate sassed, pulling Meg away. “West?” Kate whispered,

“100%,” Meg confirmed.

“Now hold on,” Tyler called out, stopping them in their tracks. He had his hands on his hips, playing the role of the unserious cowboy to a T, but his green eyes were studying them like precipitation charts. “Y’all didn’t say which storm we should be going after. The way I see it, west we double our chances, to the east it’s high-risk, high reward.” Was he testing them? Or was he really that bad at chasing?

“You best go for the reward, Sweetie Pie,” Meg kind of hoped he knew she was trying to play him. Kate caught onto her game quickly, 

“Don’t want Ben here to think you’re boring,” Kate traced a W onto Meg’s back, confirming her gut feeling. Tyler licked his lips, looking between the two of them with a pensive expression.

“Being boring is never an issue with me, Kate.” Kate huffed with laughter, mumbling I bet under her breath.

“The two to the west are fighting over the same inflow, they’ll choke each other out. The one to the east has the sky all to herself. Precipitation, wind shear, instability, she’s got everything you need to give Ben here a good show.” Damn, she was laying it on thick. 

“Don’t you feel it in your bones, Tyler?” Meg teased, turning on her heel. After a few steps she looked over her shoulder to see him watching them with a small smile, “And if you feel it, well, you know.” 

Meg’s dad would be fangirling knowing that she had just had a full conversation with Tyler Owens and she knew that if Tyler found out whose daughter she was, he’d be doing some fangirling of his own. Kate excitedly got Javi into the truck, telling him which storm to chase and he didn’t even hesitate to throw all Scott’s data aside to listen to her. 

Meg’s heart was pounding with excitement, it felt a little bit like old times as she slid into the back seat of the truck. Out of the window she caught sight of Ben and Tyler watching them, Ben looked confused but Tyler on the other hand was smiling. He must have known they had been playing him, which made Meg all the more excited, he was fun and hopefully could take a joke. When he caught her eye as they drove past, Meg made the tornado motion with her fingers and blew a kiss, grinning from ear to ear when Tyler doubled over with laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Mud Bug?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

Next Chapter

A/N: All three of the original tornado tamers needs a really long hug and a cup of hot cocoa. Meg's got her dad's instincts, her mom's need for adrenaline, and has probably made more progress on processing her emotions than Javi and Kate combined. Probably.

I don't plan on taking this story anywhere above a T rating but if there's interest, I might make a collection of post-canon one shots later on that include some smut. Who knows.

Taglist: @writtingrose

Let me know if you want to join the taglist!

[popculturebuffet]

House of Mouse Review: Not So Goofy or The Ungoofy Is Upon Us!

GG

Welcome back to the RIDE OF THE THREE CABLLEROS. And i’m hitting the ground running to continue the trek after some lessened activity over the holiday weekend. Especially with Christmas season already there.. and.. things to take care of. 

Your time will come, you blighted hell of an episode. But no today we’re talking about something actually good! It’s Not So Goofy! It’s back on in to the house of mouse as this was only one year after the previous episode. We’re on to season 2 though frankly i’d have to re-watch more of the show to spot a difference. The show really didn’t change all that much between seasons. The only difference i’ve heard of is Pete is ENTIRELY absent this season, so my long spiel on him being on the show continues to be worthless and I continue to not regret it. But since I covered most of the stuff I knew about the series and how much I liked it last time we can dive straight into the episode> And this one was a treat for me as Goofy was my faviorite watching this show back in the day and is tied with donald now as my faviorite of the classic characters.. not that it’s hard competition but still I love both. Goofy is kind, clumsy, and a loving father, he’s who we are and who we want to be all in one. As with last time, which you can find on the disney tab on my blog, i’ll be reviewing the host segment seperate from the short’s for coherency’s sake. So with that in mind...

NOT SO GOOFY: Hot Goofy on Beast Action We open with Mickey intorducing the show and everyone chanting house of mouse, house of mouse, which makes me want a version of the show that’s a disney fight club, with over the top smash bros or scott pilgrim style battles. God that’s a project I never completed.. reviewing that series... maybe some day i’ll just start from scratch and do that.. HINT. Point is instead  of Disney Fight Club, we get goofy breaking a bunch of shit, because this episode he’s extra clumsy. Though thanks tot his I am reminded the HOM’s jaintoral staff is the brooms from fantasia, which is a nice touch and we get a nice bit of Minnie sending all of them after Goofy keeps breaking stuff. So despite Mickey being the one interrupted constantly, everyone else is hte one to point it out, Minnie politley everyone else just sorta barging in. I was going to give out about them giving out when none of them were effected but.. really bad wait service really dose impact them all: Donald is co owner so if goofy injures someone he has to help pay the setlement, Minnie runs the staff and has had to have her brooms work double to clean up, Hoarace has to clean up structural damage, Daisy is guest services so she has to hear about it, Clarabelle only heard a rumor and Gus is chef so he has to remake the food. So i’m sympathetic to all of them.. except Gus. Gus your only gimmicks are your lazy, you eat things, and in animations case you only communicate by honking obnoxiously. You don’t get to insult a comedic genuis for doing his bit. 

But Goofy overhears this and is upset, saying they want him to be the oppsitie of goofy, ungoofy. I mean technically your right, but an ungoofy would be something more like this. 

“I WAIT INSIDE YOUR HOUSE UNTIL THE CRESENT DAWN THEN ONE BY ONE YOU’LL ALL BE GONE. “

See nothing like goofy. But no ungoofy in this episode’s case is just goofy acting refined and posh. And to help with that after the first cartoon, aka half the episode as i’m now realizing is standard, is...

I will never get tired of doing that. Rob Paulsen is back as Jose, and does a MUCH BETTER job this time. Though really that’s also because he has more to actually work with this time, so he can actually play the character. Him being a white guy playing a Brazilian is still unfortunate, still not his fault, and was covered more last time. We’ll get into how Jose helps goofy after the cut. 

So Jose helps goofy try to ungoofy himself.. which as established isn’t how that works but hey. So we get a funny montage of Goofy learning the ropes of being significant, getting a turkey on his head, and backslapping jose so hard he flies into the next room and goofy wonders where he is. I don’t have much to add, it’s just funny. It’s why reviewing comedy is hard. Besides being subjective sometimes that’s the most you can say. 

So it works, and Goofy helps everyone in a dignified manner.. and this is where the plot starts to slip up slightly, as for starters Goofy’s apperance is the same, he’s just closing his eyes a lot. He’s also not really doing anything wrong... the closest he gets is massaging bugs out of the beasts hair when he has an itch. 

And that’s because he didn’t ask if they have an open marraige.. I mean they probably do, Belle’s open minded and beast has needs, but still, he should’ve asked. Otherwise it’s going great.  As for where it goes wrong.. it’s because he dosen’t really DO anything bad. He isn’t an uptight jerkass about it or anything, he isn’t mean or tyranical to the customers or dosen’t transition to that he’s just.. not himself. Which isn’t good, btu the most he does in that regard is just not give the goofy laugh. Mickey and Minnie just suddenly kind of decided “Whelp this is bad let’s fix that”. And Disney would do this better, one of the Mickey Mouse shorts had Minnie, swooning over a sophisicated gentelman type on tv, give Mickey finishing lessons which turned him into a snobbish monster who broke up with her for daring to serve Bologna and not having a waiter. That WORKED.. and not just because we got Donald and Goofy kidnapping Mickey. But because we were shown there was nothing wrong with him in the first place, and there was something bad with the change. 

Here Goofy’s just.. compitent at his job. he’s not cruel to say max or clarabelle, he’s just refined. He should be himself, i’m entirely on board with that, but he’s not shown being worse off. I’m not saying he should stay posh, just give him a clear reason why his life is worse off this way is all. It’s basic storytelling.  But since Jose can’t just.. undo his training because he dosen’t know how they bring in Panchito! And we get another delightful song as Panchito tries to give a good lesson on being yourself with the help of his fellow cabs by explaning his long ass middle name... with Rob Paulsen’s voice. Yeah while Rob dosen’t play Panchito outside of song, he does end up voicing him for the number, likely because of his signature rapid fire delivery in music, but still does a GREAT job at that too. Serously I wasn’t just trying to placate people calling him a legend last time, he REALLY is fantastic, he was just given nothing to work with and here the diffrence shows as the song is really catchy, really beautifully animated and really fun and really plays to Rob’s strengths. Again casting a white man as a Latino is .. pretty sketchy, but it’s not Rob’s fault and i’m sure if Carlos was even offered the song, or even if he wansn’t, Rob apologized for it and made sure it was okay> Wether it actually was I don’t know but I can’t genuinely see Rob Paulson as the kind of guy to be racisit or steal rolls or any of that stuff. It’s likely they just knew he could sing fast and wanted to do that and dind’t think through implications. 

The song dosen’t quite work so they play a short, and when that fails Mickey closes the show sincerly thanking everyone and apologizing to Goofy. Goofy is restored.. horay? What do you think ungoofy?

“SOON THE APOTHEOSIS WILL BE APON THEE AND ALL WILL BE GOOF. ALL WILL BE GOOF. “ Oh you always say that Final Thoughts on Not So Goofy Wraparound: Not terrible, but it’s really thin plot wise. but joke and song wise it’s REALLY good, so overall i’d say i’ts just okay> Not a great or memorable plot, or an original one really, btu the use of the cabs is FAR better this time around, the song is really damn good, and there are some good jokes, so overall it works. Like the last one the wraparound is nothing specail, but it’s still deeply entertaining. Speaking of entertaining, let’s talk shorts. 

Roller Coaster Painters:  It’s one of those old “Mickey, Donald and Goofy” have a buisness deals, where all are hired to paint a rollercoaster with the person who does the most getting a free pass for life and Donald naturally being the only one who cares. A paint war insues between Donald and Mickey... mostly because Donald wants the prize real bad and Mickey wants to “give him a run for his money” instead of just helping him because he’s a dick I guess? I dunno, but it escalates to them paiting each other and, in my favorite part, Donald stealing shit from the park to create a paint arsenal for himself, forging the prize to get his revenge. Fun paint base fighting ensues, and Goofy inevitably wins and rips the thing. SImple, but really charming with really fluid and wonderful animation helping accenutate the hyjinks. Really good slaptstick stuff and a VAST improvment over the last episode’s longer short. 

Goofy’s Extreme Sports Wakeboarding:  Just a fun, silly skit of Goofy wakeboarding, my faviorite bit being him doing the tantrum, which his him doing a child’s tantrum in mid-air. What was your faviorite bit UnGoofy?

“BEHOLD MY SEED, THE SEED OF YOUR DOOM, THE SEED OF ALL WORLDS AND THE SEED OF ALL BLOOMS!” 

Awwwwww.... he has a kid now. 

How to Wash Dishes: Another How to Bit. Not as strong as the last one but still fun and throughly relatable as Goofy’s a dishwasher, which having been one twice now, I can relate to his surly disposition at the narrator guy talking it up. The Narrator then.. has goofy run up credit card debt because he’s a terrible person, hijinks ensue, and Goofy ends up.. washing dishes. Overall a fun short, and again relatable as Washing Dishes is not great. Not quite as good as the other two, but still enjoyable because well. it’s goofy after all. 

OveralL Thoughts: This was more like it. While the plot of the main segment was kind of thin and nonsensical in places... it worked because this is more of a comedy show and the wraparounds are more focused on jokes and crossover gags than a real plot, and worked SLIGHTLY better. The shorts were also really great, making this a hell of a lot more fun to watch. Highly recommend it to any cabs or house of mouse fan or if your intrested in house of mouse, this is a good one to try out.  If you liked this review, reblog it, like it, comment etc etc, and if you have an episode of house of mouse, another disney show, or just another show in general you’d like me to cover you can comission episodes by sending me a direct message on here or an ask to get my discord to hash things out there. Right now comissions are ONLY 3 bucks through monday, so get em now while their hot! And until next time there’s always another rainbow.  NEXT TIME: It’s Don Rosa again! Horary!. 

[dreamthinkimagine]

That’s An Order!

Here’s that Chekov fic that I promised 59,000 years ago. This is a sequel to “It Was Good and Bad” which was prompted by @amazingmsme.

WARNING: a lot of sad people, bully, mention of being drugged, mention of possible death, alcohol

Chekov had had a good few weeks. Kirk was still tickling people. “Because why not,” the Captain would say. But that was alright since Kirk stopped getting him - well, almost - but Chekov was OK with that because it wasn’t constant and not nearly as much. Just an occasional poke, squeeze, or prod; nothing more. No full on attacks. He didn’t feel anxiety or anger whenever he saw Kirk nearing him or when he was attacking people anymore and since they enjoyed it, he enjoyed watching them “suffer” the “wrath” of Captain Kirk. The crew as a whole became happier - even the grumpy MD could be seen smiling more often; sometimes it even seemed for no particular reason.

It was always amazing that Kirk’s mood had the ability to change the atmosphere of whatever room he was in. As soon as he’d enter a room, the air felt lighter; like there was no weight pulling anyone down. It was even light when the crew would tease Chekov for standing up to him. Turns out that lovable dork went and blabbed to any crewmen who would listen about how the brave navigator had stood up to his tickling “tyranny” as an example that he wanted his crew to feel comfortable. Even young cadets would shuffle their way up to the Russian and shyly ask him if it was true - he didn’t even know any of these cadets either, but he was happy to play along just the same.

To be honest, it made him feel sort of like a hero. It was like when the quiet kid in high school stood up to the big bad bully and word had spread before the end of the day. Did he realize that he looked silly? Yes; but that didn’t deter the pride he had for himself. At the time, his heart was in the right place and that was all that mattered. He truly felt that he was doing the right thing - that his friends needed saving and here came brave Chekov to the rescue. That’s why he joined Starfleet in the first place: to help people.

But he couldn’t do that when he was confined to Sickbay with a stomach bug, which was where he was when it started.

***

“Captain, I’m getting a signal.”

“Bring it up, Lt,” Kirk said. What appeared on the screen was a man with grey hair and a face gracefully patched with wrinkles (especially around his grey eyes), in a red, shiny, Starfleet uniform decorated with an insignia and three medals - Admiral Clark. They all recognized him - he was in charge of all the ships in their particular class. Now, the Enterprise had just rescued an innocent planet from destruction by the Romulans - a little slower than usual, but they still did it in a few hours - and Kirk was sure they were all about to be congratulated on their success.

“Enterprise, I need to have a word with all of you.” He said in a cold tone, and his eyes, showing no compassion, aimed at the man in the Captain’s chair. Kirk stood, Spock’s eyebrow rose - and so did McCoy’s. Scotty’s smile dropped, Uhura stared at the screen, and Sulu sat up in his chair, muscles becoming tight. “It has been brought to my attention that there has been more play than work on this ship.”

“Admiral, I can assure you that that’s not tru -“

“Silence, Kirk! You are the Captain and should have put an end to this sooner. Since you have neglected your duties and have thus risked the safety of everyone on board, it is the order of Starfleet that I must attend to this vessel for you.” Kirk shut his mouth, but didn’t break eye contact.

“Do you mean to say that Captain Kirk is no longer Captain?” Spock asked, a hint of sternness in his voice, only detected by Kirk and Bones. He stepped next to Kirk, literally standing as his Captain’s right-hand-man.

“That is exactly correct. Until further notice, I will be in charge of the Enterprise. Kirk, you’ll be serving as a Cadet.” His stared at the Admiral, gaping. “Communications Officer, open the frequencies so you will receive my orders. Put them on audio so you can all hear me until tomorrow.”

“And what exactly is tomorrow?” McCoy interrupted as he took a step forward, putting himself at his Captain’s left side.

“Tomorrow is when your Chief Engineer will personally beam me aboard to take my place at command.” Everyone turned to Scotty, who looked back at them, his mouth falling open. He raised his head back to the screen and brought up his arms, as if to speak, but Kirk beat him to it.

“But, Admiral -”

“No ‘Buts’, Kirk. You had your chance. Until told otherwise, by me, you will be a Cadet. Just a Cadet. Then maybe you can learn something about being a Captain. That’s an order.”

“...Yes, Admiral.” The screen went back to the stars of space and silence filled the Bridge. Hesitantly, Bones turned to his Captain who was wearing a blank face.

“Things’ll get better, Jim. We won’t let ‘im replace ya.” Bones said giving Kirk’s side a squeeze as an attempt to wake his Captain from his daze. Nothing. No reaction. Kirk, one of the most ticklish people on the Enterprise, wasn’t reacting to a squeeze against his side. He stayed there. Frozen. His eyes still laid on the screen.

“Aye, he’s right.” Scotty said. “If he thinks I’m gonna be thrilled about beaming a scoundrel like ‘im on this ship, he’s got another thing comin’.”

“Frequency,” Uhura said, prompting everyone to look over and breaking Kirk from his trance.

“Rule number one,” Clark’s voice said. “As long as I’m in charge, there will be no more nonsense. That includes: No playing, No banter, No lollygagging, and No tickling.” No one except Clark spoke as Kirk still stared ahead. “Any disobedience will result in immediate punishment.” Jim sat in the no-longer-his Captain’s chair and sighed, rubbing his face. “And Cadet Kirk...get out of that chair!”  

***

Spock and Bones decided to stop by Jim’s Quarters and check on the...Cadet. This whole thing had come as such a shock that they weren’t entirely sure if it was real or if they’d somehow been drugged. Their own confusion acted as the only thing keeping them from arguing with each other as they both agreed that the entire situation was, and God help Bones for saying this: “Illogical.”

“Agreed, Doctor.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Jim’s a great Captain! Look at all he’s done!...it just doesn’t make any sense, Spock.” They approached the door, which opened, and went inside to see Jim sitting on his bed.

“Jim?”

“I’m fine, Bones.”

“In a pig’s eye.”

“Captain -”

“I’m not Captain anymore, Mr. Spock. If this is what Starfleet thinks is best for the crew, then I’ll step down.”

“Jim, you can’t just -“

“But he’s -”

“Wrong! He’s wrong!”

“I was just -”

“Keeping up, morale. Humans tend to need play to function mentally,“ the Vulcan finished.

“Look, I appreciate you guys trying to help, but I think I just wanna be alone right now,” Kirk said, with a slight hint of anger.

***

The next morning, Scotty reported to the transporter room and started putting the coordinates in the machine. While his face seemed blank, the muscles were tightened just barely enough that someone who didn’t know him might not notice it. His eyes shown fire. The only reason he was gentle with the equipment was because it was part of the Enterprise, his prized possession, and nothing could make him hurt her. But each movement was harder than the last. With each push of a button he clenched his jaw harder; every lever pull, his muscles tightened more.

He sighed and tried to relax his muscles once he saw the yellow, broken up atoms of Clark. Don’t make him angry, he thought, it’ll just make it worse for all of us.

“Lt. Commander Smith.” Clark said as he stepped off the transporter pad.

“Scott. Admiral. Montgomery Scott.”

“Show me to the Bridge, Smith.” He said as he motioned to the door with his head.

“Scott,” he said under his breath and followed Clark into the hall. Throughout the journey, and it was a journey, Clark kept commenting on the ship. Scotty’s ship. He’d complain that the hallways were too tight, that the wall intercom was too “out in the open where people like Kirk can play with it.” Apparently, the quiet rumble from the engines was too loud and Scotty needed to silence them immediately after they got to the Bridge.

Soon he’d started making utterances on every crew member he saw. He’d say things like that they needed to speed up their walking or slow down, that they needed to work harder at their jobs without observing them first. He even told one person that they needed to change their hairstyle.

With each opinion Scotty’s muscles tightened again. He could almost feel himself getting warmer as if steam was about to shoot out his ears like in old cartoons. In fact, he was sure his face was red; but Admiral Clark seemed too absorbed in insulting everything and everyone he saw to notice.

***

“- and Kirk better not be in my chair!” Clark finished as the turbolift’s doors opened and he stepped onto the Bridge. His rant caught the focus of everyone there, even Spock’s. With Scotty mouthing, “Good luck,” the turbolift closed. As Clark began to walk around the Bridge, the crew turned back to their stations.

“You must be Mr. Spock,” he said as he approached the half-Vulcan. Spock rose from his position, eye-to-eye with the man.

“That is correct.”

“Well? Aren’t you going to welcome me?”

“...Welcome.”

“Welcome who?”

“...Welcome...Admiral.”

“Remember it, Eyebrows.” He said and went to sit in the Captain’s chair. “You! Helmsman!”

“Lt. Sulu, Sir.”

“Did I ask your name?! Steer course for Rigel II.”

From that moment on, Clark was as hard as he could be on every and anyone; even harder than he was before. Anyone who disobeyed or didn’t live up to his expectations was punished. His demeaning remarks were starting to affect everyone. His outrageous rules and comments caused people to move slower - Bones could practically see the clouds over their heads pouring rain onto their spirits from Sickbay. Lost in the big and deep woods of depression, they were almost like zombies; except if they had one of his rigorous practice missions. The thought of giving any less than 200% made their stomachs drop, made them turn cold, made them sweat. And those were just fake missions. The thought of getting a real one, made some people freeze, others felt light headed and dizzy, and some actually did faint.

Even “Eyebrows” was affected by him. Spock never showed it on the Bridge or in front of anyone, but the name-calling was upsetting. McCoy would comment on his ears and blood, but he never attacked his face. A person’s face is the first thing someone else sees; the Admiral was judging him just by sight alone - McCoy at least got to know him first.

But Cadet Kirk received the worst of it. Clark had him restricted to his Quarters until further notice. He’d already been in there for days, and still no word.

***

Clark burst into Sickbay to see an unconscious young man on a biobed surrounded by medical equipment, a CMO, and a nurse.

“We’re about to begin surgery! You can’t be in here!”

“There’s someone sick.”

“Ensign Pavel Chekov. Thought it was the stomach flu, but it’s appendicitis - that’s why we’re about to perform surgery. Now get out, this boy’s appendix is about to burst!”

“Perhaps, Dr., if you were practicing procedures properly, he wouldn’t need surgery.”

“Are you suggesting that he is in this state because of me?!”

“Watch your tone, Doctor; remember who you’re talking to. I will stand here and personally oversee you operate to make sure you are up to procedure regulations.” So, McCoy took out the Ensign’s appendix with that overcritical, fussy, dogmatic oaf of a man watching his every move like a hawk. Peering over the doctor’s shoulder with such condescendence that McCoy could almost taste it. He made more comments about how it should be done, but the doctor didn’t listen - he even yelled at Clark to be quiet so he could concentrate - which, as he knew it would, led to punishment. As a result, Clark became much harder toward everyone in Sickbay but McCoy; and if the CMO stood up for anyone, it would only get worse.

He was forced to sit there and watch the dismay and downfall of his medical staff.

When Chekov woke, they were all at his side taking tests, gathering information, and some just caring for him as he just woke up from surgery and was probably in pain. They rushed - their brains and bodies quickly becoming exhausted after a few hours - but too afraid of the immediate repercussions to rest or make a mistake; so they pressed forward with McCoy approving or disapproving their findings.

Chekov looked at the new behavior in the Sickbay and wondered if the rest of the ship was like this. He’d never seen anything like it - to be so fast, efficient, accurate. He was a little jealous that he couldn’t navigate like that. Everything was happening so fast, that he wasn’t totally sure what was going on, but it seemed effective.

This. This was everything he aspired to be since his decision to join the fleet, even before he decided. He didn’t know what Kirk was doing differently, but he liked it. It was like he was in a new world with how things were being run. Maybe he’d get a chance to learn more and learn it faster. Maybe he’d even get a higher rank. And maybe, he’d be able to help people better than before.

***

A few hours later, Spock, Bones, Scotty, Uhura, and Sulu all gathered in the Break Room after their shifts to discuss their situation in whispers. None of them would be surprised if Clark had super-hearing; he seemed to know everything anyway, so why not what they were talking about?

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“We’ve got to do something.” Bones said as he held his aching head.

“And what do you suggest, Doctor?”

“I’m open to any ideas at this point,” Sulu said.

“Aye. I haven’t been able to fix the engine rumble - I’ve got other things to do - so he forced me to reprogram the food synthesizer to reject me. I’m not allowed to eat tomorrow.”

“Might I suggest waiting until Cadet Kirk and Ensign Chekov are released,” asked Spock. “There is safety in numbers. Two additional individuals will be beneficial to our party - especially when they will be a passionate Chekov, and the other, a very angry James Kirk.” A moment of silence followed Spock’s suggestion as they all nodded and agreed that he was right.

“But we will do something?” Uhura asked.

“We have to,” Scotty said putting his hand atop hers.

But none of them knew that Chekov was currently passionate about the wrong thing and that Jim wasn’t angry anymore.

***

After being set free from Sickbay, Chekov took to the Bridge ready to work until he couldn’t anymore - especially in front of the Admiral. He was told what had happened, but not to the full extent as Clark was in the room. All he knew was that Kirk was taking a break, that Clark would be in charge for a while, and that he ran things differently. It didn’t matter though, he hungered to do good and was more than willing to make some changes under Clark to do so.

Upon entering the Bridge, he introduced himself to the Admiral, who immediately howled an order. Chekov got to his station and carried it out as fast as he could. Properly fed, not exhausted, and his spirit allowed him to finish his task not only first, but correctly and in record time too. This Ensign’s capabilities caught the Admiral’s eye.

For the next several days, he tested the Ensign in anyway he could - physically, mentally, emotionally. He’d have him run laps, give him problems to solve, and yell at him when it seemed he didn’t do well enough. He just kept thinking to himself that, in the end, it would all help him on missions. This just pressed the young man to persevere. Instead of getting put down, he pulled himself up to be the best he could be. It seemed the Russian never grew tired or weary; he was always ready for action. He even performed the best of everyone during the practice missions; and Clark was certainly impressed - there was promise of a great leader in him.

However, it came at a cost: Chekov was so distracted by his work, goals, and dream, that he didn’t even notice his friends’ sufferings. He had no idea what Clark was really doing to them. He had no idea that they were so tired and miserable. He never noticed how slow everyone was moving. He never noticed the punishments. He never noticed the grumbling stomachs.

It was made clear to the Vulcan, doctor, communications officer, engineer, and helmsman that they would just have to wait for an angry Cadet because the navigator was not going to help. .

***

Soon, things started happening again. Starfleet assigned them a mission to help an entire race on a different planet - to transport cargo necessary for their survival across the galaxy. They’d even gotten into a couple space battles. Not that that last one was good, but it what could you do? Chekov did even better during this mission than he had during their practices. Clark had even taken him under his wing to train him. The Ensign was even close to going up a rank.

And he was happy. Chekov was finally happy. Missions made him happy. The kind of happy that made him want to sing. The kind of happy that lit up any darkness within him no matter what the source. The kind of happy that made you unaware of anything else going on around you. Then Clark told him that Cadet Kirk would train under him.

“Cadet?”

“Yes, Cadet. Stripped him of his position before I even beamed aboard!” He said with a laugh.

“But why? He’s -”

“Are you questioning me, Ensign?!”

“No, Admiral.”

“...Go get Kirk.”

***

Kirk’s door opened and Chekov stepped inside. It was dark; and trays - some empty, some still had untouched food - sat on the floor and furniture. There was Kirk, laying on his bed.

“...Cadet Kirk?” His eyes fell on the Ensign.

“Chekov?” He nodded and Jim sat up. His uniform was covered in sweat and wrinkled. It looked like he hadn’t changed it in days. He had a beard and his hair was spewed.

“What’s wrong with you? What happened?” He looked at him, such a different man than before. Chekov remembered a bold, brave Kirk - this one seemed frail and broken.

“Clark. He’s kept me here.”

“What?!” Jim nodded.

“I haven’t been allowed to leave. He said that I can’t be a Captain because there wasn’t enough work going on. He said that I endangered everyone’s lives.”

“He said that?”

“And he’s right.”

“No he’s not.” Chekov didn’t know what was happening. How could someone who had made his life so much better, be making this man’s life so much worse? “You’ve done so much good. You’ve never let any of us down. You protect us and aliens and -”

“Then why did Starfleet send him? Why is he torturing my crew?”

“Torturing?”

“He’s too hard on them. They’re exhausted, depressed, hungry.” Chekov stayed quiet, listening to the man. “If they don’t do exactly what he wants when he wants it, or if it’s not good enough, he punishes them.”

“...Are you sure?”

“I can hear the complaints through the wall.”

“Well, why don’t you do something about it?”

“Believe me, I want to. Badly. But I’m powerless. He’s an Admiral...and I’m just a Cadet.”

***

Chekov walked the corridors, pondering what Jim had said. Could it all be true? It couldn’t be, could it? He’d only seen an effective leader who pushed him to give more than he thought he could. He’d seen someone who could help him get to where he wanted to be. Someone who could help him help others. No, this couldn’t be Admiral Clark. It had to be someone else. Something else. And yet...

As he walked, he paid special attention to the people he passed. They were drooped over, dragging their feet, covered in sweat, mouths hanging in frowns. Some tried to massage their own muscles and grimaced at the feeling. Some had tears slowly falling down their faces. He heard growling stomachs. He saw darkness under, and in, their hopeless, bloodshot eyes. Anyone not too depleted to notice him immediately straightened up and moved faster. Despite the pain, the tears, the fatigue, the hunger, they fought to move quicker.

After watching this for an hour, he couldn’t deny it anymore. This had to be Clark - none of this would ever happen under Kirk’s command. But, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stand up to him. He offered him so much, but look what was happening to his friends. But he’d never been happier, but they had never been so miserable. And he was with Clark most of the time - he could do something; they couldn’t. But he was so close to being promoted. And even if he did do something, if he failed, his hopes would be destroyed and he’d end up just like them. Had it really come to this? Would he really have to choose between his dream and his friends? That’s when he heard faint voices coming from the Break Room. He placed his ear against the wall to get a better listen.

“Mr. Chekov has grown rather close to Admiral Clark,” Spock started. Yes, he thought on the other side of the wall. “If we can convince him to assist us in our endeavors, it could prove most useful.” Endeavors?

“Yeah he’s close. Too close to notice the rest of us commoners,” McCoy added.

“He hasn’t had a drink for me since before he got sick,” commented Scotty. “Hasn’t spoken to me since then either.”

“He hasn’t even looked at me,” said Uhura. “It’s like I don’t exist.”

“Face it; he’s either forgotten about us or he doesn’t care anymore.” It was Sulu who said it. “Pavel’s not gonna help us.” Chekov turned against the wall and slid down it, mouth agape. That conversation revealed a lot to him. He thought back to the state of those crewmen, to them running from him, then back to their talk again. They thought he chose Clark over them, and in a way he had. That tore it.

Ten minutes later the doors to the Break Room opened revealing Chekov and a sad Jim.

“We want to help,” the Russian said. The rest of them stared as McCoy pulled up a chair for Jim, who sat, and immediately began scanning him.

“He needs to eat. Now.” Scotty gave up his plate, but Jim wasn’t touching it.

“We want to help take down Clark.”

“Eat,” McCoy said to Jim. Still, no one even looked at Chekov.

“Please, I want to help! I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Uhura, still not making eye contact, was the first to speak.

“How do we know you haven’t been sent by Clark?”

“Aye; he could be a spy.”

“I wouldn’t have brought him then.” He said and pointed to Jim.

“That’s not good enough,” Uhura said, looking at the ex-Captain.

“Eat, Jim!” Jim stayed put, listening to the conversation as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t looked at the food since it was put in front of him.

“I was supposed to bring Kirk out of his Quarters earlier, but I left him.”

“You let him rot?!”

“No! I just -”

“If you don’t eat, I’m gonna have to force it down your throat!” Chekov paused and turned. He walked to Jim and knelt down to his height.

“Please eat.” The five watched as Chekov picked up a fork and held it out to Jim with such tenderness that he actually looked at it. “I’m sorry, Captain.” The Cadet looked up at Chekov.

“You want to help take him down?” He nodded.

"Yes, Sir.” Slowly, Kirk took the fork, and placed the piece of food into his mouth. The room was quiet when Sulu stood and made his way to the navigator. He looked at his face, down to his boots, and then up again. “I...think he’s telling the truth.” The Russian smiled as Sulu held out his hand toward him. “Will you help us, Pavel?”

“I will.” Sulu pulled him up as he smiled at him. “Do you have a plan?”

“Nothing yet, lad.”

“Unless Mr. Chekov has logically calculated a starting point for one.” They all looked at the young man, waiting for his answer.

“I think I have one, but we’ll all need to help.”

***

The next day, McCoy told the medical crew what was happening and Scotty told the engineers as Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov secretly told the rest of them. Jim stayed in his room to keep things from looking suspicious.

Clark knew something was up. Something had to be. Why all the whispers behind his back? When he yelled at anyone, they wouldn’t tell. When he took away food, they still wouldn’t tell. When he approached Chekov, he was assured that the Ensign was on it, trying to figure it out for himself too. He ran off before the superior officer could suspect him of anything. Clark practically interrogated Jim in his Quarters demanding answers, but the Cadet claimed he had no idea what he was talking about. He insisted he’d only left his room when Chekov took him out for training. This just brought with it a stream of insults: “You shouldn’t be here!” “You were the worst Captain the Federation has ever seen and you’re the worst Cadet too!” “All you’ll ever be is a Cadet! And you deserve even less than that!”

When he caught “Smith” fiddling with some wires behind a small door in the wall in the hall, he wouldn’t confess. He didn’t even show any fear toward the tyrant, but Clark pushed him away before he could finish his work and tried to figure it out himself; not letting the engineer back in. That was bad. Very bad. Scotty tried to run to Chekov and tell him to postpone the signal until he could finish with the wires to the Bridge screen, but it was too late. From over the intercom, he, and Clark, heard it.

“Freedom was invented in Russia.” On “freedom,” people exploded into the halls screaming, running, jumping. Some, including Bones, Sulu, and Uhura, surrounded Clark, slapping him on the back, prodding his sides, yelling playful things at him - the entire crew was doing everything he had banned. He turned in confusion, not knowing how to react. He tried to yell, remove the hands from his being (what were they trying to do?), but nothing produced the results he was looking for. In the confusion, Sulu slipped Clark’s phaser from his belt for safe keeping; and McCoy slammed the door shut, sealing off the wires and almost crushing the Admiral’s hand. He was completely helpless against them. He didn’t know what to do. As they forced him through the halls, he saw Spock, standing calmly, staring at him with one eyebrow up.

“Eyebrows! Pinch them!” He shouted as he gestured at the small crowd surrounding him.

“My name is Mr. Spock. I insist that you refer to me as such.” Already frustrated, Clark submitted to the Vulcan’s request.

“Fine, Mr. Spock! Pinch them!”

“No, Admiral. It is not logical to do so as they are not causing you direct, physical harm.” After answering to the Admiral, Spock walked away an another direction.

***

On the other side of the ship, Scotty ran trying to find Chekov to tell him what had happened, but he couldn’t find him through the chaos. There was so much screaming, jumping, tickling, running, playing that he couldn’t even identify where he was. He was lost in his own ship. It would be impossible to find Chekov like this, and too dangerous to try to fix the wires in the uproar. The best he could do was try to find a turbolift and get to the Bridge.

If he had succeeded with the wires, it would have created a simulation battle on the screen - Phase III. It would’ve shown a Romulan ship attacking the Enterprise and each person would play their parts as they would any other battle; but this battle would have been Kirk’s. No one was to listen to the old Admiral’s commands to prove once and for all that Kirk was a better Captain, and would be a better Admiral, than Clark ever would or could. And their victory would have been glorious.

After a performance like that, even if it was just a simulation, there was no way the Federation could refuse to give him his position back; especially after they all filed a detailed complaint about Clark which happened last night as Phase I.

But without the third phase, the entire plan would fall apart.

***

Jim emerged from his cave as the old Kirk. He’d changed his clothes, shaved, and was ready to fight. He let out a loud laugh as he ran down the halls. The people cheered the appearance of their soon-to-be-again Captain. As he ran, he heard a yell.

“Kirk! Call them off!” There was still a crowd surrounding him and leading him to different places on the ship. They were still jumping in the Admiral’s face, poking him, screaming, dancing - you name it, they were doing it.

“Sorry, Admiral,” he called back, “but I can’t control of them!...I’m just a Cadet!” He pointed at the doctor before he flew down the passageway, leaving Clark with the crowd.

“Phase Three!” Shouted McCoy and he and Uhura kept eyes open for a turbolift along the walls.

As Jim ran, he couldn’t believe the feeling of everything. Of being set free, of the defeat of Admiral Clark in a few minutes, of becoming Captain again, of getting the Enterprise back, of getting his crew back. Pure happiness shown through him like light through a bulb as people continued to cheer him over the screams.

“Spock!” The First Officer turned and saw someone running toward him.

“Captain!” Spock could not deny the gleam of happiness that radiated within him when he saw Kirk like that. Though his face didn’t show his true emotion, he did grab Kirk’s arm. Kirk looked around at the crew, unable to believe their plan was working. Unable to believe his own comeback. Unable to believe his eyes as he looked upon the beauty of their own controlled chaos.

“Isn’t this great,” he yelled over the other screams.

“A most logical means of defeat, Captain.” Kirk just smiled at his comment, the best comment he’d heard about himself since Clark got on their screen. Speaking of which...

“I’ll see you on the Bridge!” Kirk said and ran the other direction.

***

“Sir, look!” Ever since they were defeated, the Romulans searched for the Enterprise. Day and night they looked; never once was the screen unwatched. Never once was there an empty place at the scanner. Never once were their weapons left unguarded. The resentment they had for the Enterprise, and Kirk, only grew. “I think we found them.”

On their scanners lay a small dot. When they closed in on it, they could tell that, from its shape, it was a Starfleet vessel. When they zoomed in, the ship read “U.S.S. ENTERPRISE.” The Commander smiled to himself.

“Warp twelve,” he said. “Prepare the attack.” His First Officer stood immediately and went to their wall intercom, announcing that they had located the enemy.

“Battle stations. Wait for the Commander’s signal.” Throughout their ship, the aliens rushed to their positions, waiting for their leader’s word.

“How do you want to go in, Sir?”

“Cloak on. They will regret ever interfering with Romulan intentions.”

“Engine room,” said the First Officer.

“Engine room here.”

“Cloak on.”

“Cloaking on.” The next second, the ship suddenly blended in with the stars as it became invisible. The Commander chuckled with malice. “Ready or not, Kirk...here. I. Come.”

***

Chekov was on cloud nine as he pranced through the crowd and high-fived everyone who passed. Such a change had taken place. Not even twelve hours ago, these people feared him. They practically cowered before him as they stood up straight and pushed themselves even more beyond the human breaking point. He looked at them as they let loose in pride and thankfulness that they had accepted him as their friend again. Once it set in that they were going to finally be free, he felt so light that he thought he might start to float above the horde of wild people. Suddenly, he saw a yellow shirt in the midst of the party darting toward him.

“Captain! Can you believe it?”

“No I can’t, Mr. Chekov.” He put his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said and pinched his side. Chekov jerked.”Sorry.” He said as he grinned at the Ensign. But that Ensign had a growing grin himself as he tackled Jim and rapidly poked his rib cage. He wriggled at the feeling but also from trying to avoid getting stepped on. His laughter was high and one of the loudest sounds on board.

The last time he tickled Jim was right after he yelled at him for tickling the crew. While Chekov still had mixed feelings about being tickled himself, he could tell Jim liked it and that he was probably secretly hoping that someone would get him back. So, why not get him back again after everything he’d been through? That being in mind, he dug into his belly and Jim immediately tried to make himself into a ball.

He backed off after a minute, not wanting to overwhelm him too much in their positions, and offered Jim a hand; but he got up on his own. That was when they saw Clark and McCoy, Sulu, and Uhura heading to a turbolift as the rest of their tiny crowd faded into the party. They both took off for the group and squeezed in the lift with them just before the doors shut.

As soon as the doors closed, that was when Clark struck. He swung his arms and kicked his legs to push his captors out. They tried to grab him, but he would send his fist swinging. And he had a perfect aim. Loyal to their true Captain - or in Kirk’s case, his crew - as soon as they hit the ground, they’d force themselves back up, only to dodge punches and eventually take another blow. Kirk went to kick him, but Clark grabbed his leg and threw him to the floor. He grabbed his phaser from Sulu and pointed it at all of them, forcing the officers to step down. Then he aimed it at Jim.

“You did this, Kirk! Call it off or I shoot.”

“He didn’t do it.” Chekov said and stepped in front of his Captain, shielding him from the weapon. “I did.”

“You?” The Ensign stayed silent as he stood his ground and refused to get out of the way of fire.

“Chekov,” Kirk said.

“After all I’ve done for you. How close you were to getting promoted...You could have made a great leader,” he said not breaking eye contact with the young man. “Too bad I’m a better one.” He pulled the trigger and Chekov fell in a heap onto his Captain, unconscious. Jim watched his eyes close. When he looked up, he was met with the phaser a few inches from his face. The turbolift doors opened, revealing Spock at his post.

“Sir -”

“Quiet, Eyebrows!” He turned back to the others and waved his weapon toward the Bridge. “Go on.” One by one they left the lift as Clark followed. McCoy carried Chekov out, placed him on the floor, and bent over him to try to shield him as the doors closed again. He hadn’t brought any of his equipment, this was the best the doctor could do. The Admiral pointed the phaser at all of them, including Spock. “I am an Admiral! I will not lose command! You will obey m-”

Suddenly, the ship was blown back, sending all personnel flying through the air and crashing into everything and each other. Cheering in the halls at the launch of Phase III, the crewmen started getting to their stations to make this as real as possible. On the Bridge, the blast threw the phaser from Clark’s hand, and Kirk quickly scooped it up and held it at him.

“Stay right where you are. That’s an order.” As the doors opened, Scotty ran from the lift and onto the Bridge.

“I couldn’t fix the wires in time before this baboon got to ‘em!” Everyone on the Bridge scrambled to their stations, except McCoy who held the Russian in place and used his hand to cradle the back of his head as he shielded him further. Kirk immediately got to his chair and pushed the button, still aiming the phaser at Clark who didn’t dare move.

“Red Alert. Condition Red Alert. Battle stations. This is not a drill. This is not a simulation. I repeat: this is not a simulation.” The fun in the halls stopped right then and there at that last part. The siren sounded as they all ran the rest of the way to their stations, preparing themselves for a real fight. Another blast sent them flying, but they kept going because now they had two things on the line: Kirk and their lives.

“Uhura, screen up.”

“Yes, Sir.” The Romulan Commander appeared on the screen. He stared at the Bridge crew and noticed Clark staring back as he was held in place by Kirk and his phaser.

“Have a hostage, Kirk?”

“What are you doing to my ship? We haven’t attacked.”

“You’re ship?!” Clark cried.

“But you have, Captain,” the alien started. “You interfered with Romulan intentions.”

“You were going to destroy those people.”

“Not people, Captain. Enemies. And now you fit that category.”

“You saw what our weapons are capable of. We don’t want to have to use them again. If you know what’s good for you, you will cease fire and leave this part of the galaxy. Now.”

“There will be a different outcome this time. You are Romulan enemies; you must die. Goodbye...Captain Kirk.” It was then that the Enterprise took another hit, sending the ship back as the lights flickered.

“Kirk!” Admiral Clark yelled.

“Scotty, damage report.”

“We’ve got some damage to the shields.”

“Bones, how’s Chekov?”

“Alright so far. As good as he can be for someone who just got stunned.” He said glaring at the older man.

“Anything on the scanner, Spock?”

“Nothing yet, Sir.” Another hit.

“What do you mean ‘nothing yet’?! Where are they?! I want them found now!”

“Admiral, if you would be so kind as to shut up.” Kirk said looking at him, phaser still pointed.

“More damage to the shields.”

“Re-calibrate the scanner, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said

“What?!” Kirk nodded at Spock who turned back to his scanner and readjusted its settings.

“Sir, I am picking up on Romulan lifeforms.”

“Mr. Sulu, aim and ready phasers.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“On my word,” Kirk said.

“Now! Fire now!”

“Hold your position, Sulu.”

“Kirk, if you want to stay in Starfleet-”

“Fire!” Their lasers jetted out into the stars and made contact. The Romulans held onto whatever they could grab for dear life as their vessel shook.

“Hit,” Sulu cheered.

“Lucky shot.”

“Scotty, warp eight.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Sulu, port.”

“Helmsman! Go starboard!” The ship started moving left as the Romulans fired again, missing the beams.

“Fire!”

As the Romulans underwent another blow, pieces of their ship began to fall off the walls and ceiling. Engines and equipment damaged, their lights flashed on and off, and they endured injuries. A fatal hit broke their cloaking device, leaving them exposed, completely out in the open.

“Commander,” said a Romulan, “we can’t take much more.”

“Fire,” their Commander yelled. They blasted their rays at full power, completely taking out the Enterprise’s shields.

“Shields out,” Scotty yelled. “One engine out. Damage to the matter-antimatter unit. Lads in engineering are trying to fix it, but that unit’s sensitive -”

“The point, Mr. Scott!”

“One more hit from them and we’ll blow up.”

“Drop the phaser, Kirk! If I don’t take command now we’ll all die!” Kirk adjusted his aim, bringing the phaser even closer to Clark.

“Don’t you move. Mr. Sulu, on my count. Scotty, prepare warp twelve.”

“I don’t know if she can -”

“She has to!” Kirk said, watching the other ship as it approached. “Ready...now!” He shouted as Clark yelled “No!” At the exact same moment, both ships fired. The beams parallel to each other and so close that it almost seemed that their colors mixed into one. “Go, Sulu!” The helmsman pulled up, just barely out of the laser’s range. The other suffered a full blast.

The inside of the Romulan ship began to burn, the walls and ceiling continued to fall apart from irreversible damage, and the Romulans had no way of fighting back. One more attack from Kirk would surely destroy them..if their ship could hold out that long.

“Scotty. Go down to the Transporter Room with a full security team. I want the Romulans beamed aboard.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said getting up and into the turbolift. As soon as the doors closed, Kirk looked back at the screen and the collapsing ship. Clark took the opportunity and tackled Kirk. The others stood to attack the Admiral, but Kirk called them off, ordering that they stay at their posts. On the floor the two wrestled, rolling on top of each other, each one struggling to get the upper hand.

***

In the Transporter Room, Scotty beamed the Romulan crew aboard as fast as they could be. He had his censors locked on the ship, but they were all moving inside, trying to avoid the fires and falling metal. And boy it was hard to hit a moving target. A few at a time they were beamed up, until only the Commander was left.

“Sir,” a Red Shirt at the scanner said. “We have ten seconds before that ship falls apart completely.”

“Then we better get ‘im up in nine.”

“Eight.” Scotty tried to get his coordinates locked on their target, but he kept moving. “Seven.”

“Hold still!”

“Six.” He made a sharp turn. “Five.” He sped up. “Four.” He turned around. “Three.” He slowed down again. “Two.”

“C’mon!”

“One.” The ship broke down and was now just bits and pieces floating through space.

***

Kirk received a punch in the head, sending him down. Clark took his phaser back, once again, and aimed it at the young Cadet’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kirk,” he said. “A fool to bring Romulans aboard, and a fool to think that you could outdo me. That win was lucky, but...your luck has run out.”

“Sir, screen -”

“Bring it up,” Clark yelled. Uhura looked at Kirk who nodded. She smiled, for she knew something Clark didn’t.

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Clark!” A man with white hair in a red, shiny uniform, decorated with his insignia and six medals, yelled on the screen. Clark looked up and his jaw dropped. It was the highest man in the Federation, Fleet Admiral Jones.

“I think you’ll see, Admiral,” Kirk said with a smirk, “that my luck hasn’t run out.”

“Care to explain why when I send you to take command and retrain Kirk, I get over four hundred detailed complaints calling you a dictator and tyrant at three o’clock in the morning?! And how about why you have a phaser at Kirk’s head!” He retracted the weapon and continued to stare, speechless, at the screen.

“He also intentionally stunned one of my men when not under any direct threat or attack,” Kirk added and pointed to Chekov. That got Clark to speak up.

“That’s a lie!”

“Well,” said Jones. “Let’s ask the Vulcan. Vulcans can’t lie, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” said Spock. “As is Kirk’s claim.”

“Dr. McCoy, take Chekov down to Sickbay and let me know of any injuries sustained during the fight.” McCoy nodded and took Chekov, still unconscious, out.

“What fight?” Jones asked.

“Moments after Clark attacked Ensign Pavel Chekov, Fleet Admiral, we had a little issue with some Romulans. I took over Command and he tried to deflect the orders I gave to my crew.”

“That’s a lie too! I led us to victory!” The doors to the turbo lift opened to reveal Scotty, three Security Officers, and the Romulan Commander.

“He insisted that he see you, Sir,” said Scotty.

“You may have won today, Kirk. You may have destroyed my ship,” he began. “But this is not the end. We will be back to take our vengeance -”

“Gentleman, would you please escort our guest to the Brig along with the rest of the Romulans?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Sir?” Scotty asked.

“You can stay, Scotty.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to miss this.”

“Actually, Mr. Scott,” the man on the screen said. “I will have to ask you to bring Admiral Clark to the Transporter Room and beam him into my office.” He said eyeing the older man. Scotty wore the biggest grin he could muster.

“It would be my pleasure, Fleet Admiral.”

“And of course if he tries anything, you will be sure to notify me.”

“Aye, Sir.” He turned to Clark. “After you...Admiral.” They both disappeared behind the turbolift’s doors.

“I’m sorry you all had to put up with him; believe me, there will be punishment.” Kirk only just managed to not smile at the beautiful irony. “And Kirk, I believe you’ve earned the privilege of command again.”

“Thank you, Fleet Admiral.”

“Jones out.” The screen went black and there was a silence on the Bridge. Kirk pushed the button on his chair.

“Attention Enterprise, this is your Captain speaking...mission accomplished.” There was a collective cheering throughout the ship at the official return of their Captain. Many of them had never felt this kind of happiness before - the happiness of freedom after a long imprisonment. Scotty chuckled at the excited screaming.

“‘Tis a beautiful sound, is it not?” He asked and waved as he personally beamed Admiral Clark off his ship.

***

The Sickbay was quiet as Chekov woke, his friends waiting at his bed. Upon seeing them, he sat up.

“How’re you feeling?” Kirk asked.

“Fine, Captain.”

“You took quite a tumble there, Mr. Chekov,” said Bones.

“What happened?”

“When we all got in the turbolift, Clark starting attacking us,” started Uhura.

“We tried to fight back, but Clark took the phaser off me.”

“He held it at the Captain and said that he did it,” Bones said. “Threatened to shoot ‘im if the whole thing wasn’t called off.”

“Then you stepped between Clark and myself and confessed that it was you. After that, he stunned you.”

“That two-faced, egoistic, rat! When I see him I’ll -”

“Then it is most fortunate, Mr. Chekov, that none of us will be forced to endure his presence any longer.”

“Aye.” Chekov jerked his head toward Kirk.

“We won?” Kirk grinned.

“Freedom really was invented in Russia.” Chekov planted his fist in the air as he let out a breathy laugh and fell back onto the bed. “It didn’t go exactly as we planned, but we won. Thank you, Chekov...for everything.”

“Aye, lad. You were a real hero and if it wasn’t for you, he’d still be here!”

“Hear, hear.” Bones said as he poured seven glasses of brandy and started passing them out. “A toast.”

“To Chekov,” Kirk said.

“To Chekov, I’m sorry I doubted you ” Sulu agreed.

“And to having that Clark out of our hair,” Uhura said relieved.

“I’ll drink to that one too,” said Scotty.

“And to our Captain,” Chekov said.

“Vulcans do not partake in the consumption of alcohol. However, I will honor these accomplishments.“ They clinked their glasses and each took a drink as they sat there talking, laughing, and relishing their freedom.

After an hour of celebrating in Sickbay, Chekov, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty decided to turn in for the night and walk back to their individual Quarters together. Chekov’s was last but as soon as the doors opened, he felt complete bliss. He sighed to himself and jumped into bed; he was more than ready to rest and get back to work tomorrow to make even more positive differences. And as Chekov heard laughter coming from the hall, he smiled to himself because he knew everything was good.

[defenselesswriter]

hiya dude, i just read baker!derek fanfic part 2, PLEASE WRITE MORE HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD ITS AMAZING

hey look! i finally wrote more! sorry it took so long to answer this, but i wanted to answer with a part 3. also for anyone who is new here, here is part 1 and part 2

Precisely an hour later after a shower is when Derek starts freaking out about what he did. He asked Stiles out. On a date. He actually did that.

Stiles said yes.

Derek is in so much trouble. He finally gets dressed and heads out of the house because he needs Laura, and he needs her now. Once he is in the car, he calls her and asks her to meet him at the bakery as soon as possible. Knowing her and hearing his tone, she will drop everything to come to him, which is exactly what she does. She’s at the bakery before he is.

“What’s going on?” she asks worriedly as soon as he sits down at a table in the back corner. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Derek answers, drumming his fingers on the table. “I asked a guy out.”

“You what?” she asks, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Asked someone out,” he repeats.

After a moment of nothing but his fingers drumming the table, she reaches over and puts a hand over his to silence his fingers. “You asked someone out,” she says slowly. “Okay, that’s great. Good for you! Why are you freaking out?”

“It’s the sheriff’s son,” he whispers.

She freezes with her eyebrows slightly raised. The way she looks makes Derek’s anxiety skyrocket because she looks like she’s freaking out about him asking out Stiles, and if she’s freaking out then there must be a reason to.

“Isn’t he like twelve?” she finally asks.

Derek rolls his eyes. “He’s like twenty-two. He just graduated college.”

She relaxes with a sigh and nods. “Okay, that’s much better. Four years isn’t a big difference. What did the sheriff say about this?”

“I didn’t ask him,” he hisses, leaning closer to her so their conversation has less of a chance of being overheard. “I didn’t ask his permission. I figured Stiles is old enough to not need his father’s permission to date.”

Laura shrugs, pulling her hand away to push her hair over her shoulder. “Fair enough. Again, why are you freaking out?”

Derek is at a loss. He can’t name what’s bugging him. It isn’t because Stiles is younger than him or that he’s the sheriff’s son. “I haven’t dated in like four years,” Derek finally settles on.

Laura frowns at that. “So? Is it because of Kate? You know not everyone is going to be a manipulating bitch like her.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not because of her. Or maybe it is. I’m scared I can’t get close to anyone anymore.”

“You’re ready,” Laura tells him reassuringly. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked him out.”

“It just came out,” he argues. “I barely even thought about it.”

She rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair like she’s perfectly at ease while Derek is still freaking out. “You thought about it. You think about everything.”

And well...he can’t argue against that. He does think about everything all the time. Surprisingly enough, that actually seems to settle him a little bit. He thought about it, and he asked Stiles out. It’s not as big a deal as he is making it seem.

“You’re right,” he finally says.

“I know,” she snorts. “I’m always right.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but he holds himself back, knowing that Laura will make some comment about how dramatic he is. “Thanks,” he tells her in a dry tone.

She smiles at him and reaches over to pat his hand softly. “I’m taking that as a legit thank you. You’re welcome. Love you, brother. Now be a dear and get me something with chocolate please.”

With a laugh he stands up and starts walking towards the display case of treats. “Love you too,” he throws back over his shoulder. He picks out a mint brownie for Laura for her to try and gets himself a peanut butter cookie. As he brings them to the table, Laura’s face lights up.

“What did you bring me?” she asks eagerly, sitting straight up and trying to see what’s in his hands.

“Just try it first,” he tells her as he sits down. He hands her over the brownie, and she is fast to take a big bite of it. Her eyes close once she closes her mouth to chew, and she leans her head back.

“So good,” she says over the food in her mouth. “So fucking good.”

He smiles, always happy to have his sister’s approval, but then her face turns hard as she glares at him.

“Why haven’t I tasted this before?” she asks.

“It’s new,” he answers guiltily. “I tried it out on new taste testers before I gave Boyd the recipe to use today..”

Somehow it is possible for her glare to harden even more than it already was. “You found new taste testers?”

“The sheriff and Stiles,” Derek mumbles.

She looks to the side and takes a deep breath in the way that she does when she is trying to calm down her anger. It’s something their mom taught them when they were younger. She would always tell them, “It’s okay to be angry, but it’s not okay to violently react because you’re angry.” So they practiced counting to ten in their heads and taking deep breaths when they’re angry.

“I am going to forgive you just this once,” she says magnanimously. “Only because you were trying to woo the sheriff’s son.”

“Thank you,” he laughs with a roll of his eyes. He does love his sister, but she can be dramatic at times, which she probably says the same about him.

When he gets home, he has so much time until Stiles gets there, and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. He is still a little nervous about the date, which leads him to the kitchen because now he wants chocolate now, and a simple chocolate chip cookies after dinner would be awesome he thinks. Maybe Stiles would appreciate the treat as well. It seems Stiles is always up for whatever food Derek makes, which is probably a good sign since Derek is constantly making or baking something.

He puts the eggs, sugar, and butter in the mixing bowl and turns on the mixer. While that mixes, he quickly measures out the dry ingredients before sifting them into the mixing bowl. It’s a calming process that he has been doing for as long as he can remember. His dad would let him help make cookies when he was younger. Of course back then they had a hand mixer rather than the standing one Derek has now, but whenever he makes cookies, he thinks about his dad. His dad makes the best cookies. Derek could never top them even after years of trying when he was a teenager.

The mixing cuts some of the time off of Derek’s waiting, and he puts the dough in the fridge to chill so that he and Stiles can have fresh out of the oven cookies after dinner because fresh out of the oven is the best way to have a cookie.

After watching TV for a while, Derek gets up and orders pizza and wings for dinner as the oven preheats. He puts the cookies onto a baking sheet and puts them into the oven once it’s heated. Then he gets ready for the date.

He still can’t believe he has a date. What if it goes wrong? What if it goes badly? What if Stiles figures out that Derek is really boring and doesn’t want to try for a second date?

It turns out all his worries are silly when Stiles knocks on the door - the front door, even - and is holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands with a wide, blinding smile on his face. He even looks really good with his hair styled messily and wearing a black button down shirt with slim fitting tan pants.

“You look amazing,” Derek comments before he even thinks to say hi.

He didn’t know it was possible, but Stiles’ smile got wider. “Thanks!” he says, glancing down at his outfit and then back up at Derek. “You also look amazing, but that’s a given. You always look amazing.”

Derek can’t help but blush at that as he lets Stiles into his house. He leads them to the kitchen where the table is and sits down, gesturing for Stiles to do the same.

Before he sits down, he hands Derek the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Thank you,” Derek says, surprised because he isn’t sure he has ever received flowers from someone before. He immediately gets back up to find a container to put them in with some water. On the top of his fridge, he finds a dusty flower vase.

“So how has your day been?” Stiles asks from behind Derek.

“Pretty good,” Derek answers easily as he washes off the vase. “I got to see my sister so that was nice. What did you do today?”

He can hear Stiles take a deep breath so he looks back at him, and Stiles is stretching his back by leaning back. Once he’s righted he starts talking. “Had a freakout so I went to my best friend’s house.”

“Scott?”

Stiles’ eyes light up. “Yeah, Scott. He was very calming, full of sage advice as always.”

Derek laughs and then it connects in his head what Stiles said. “Why did you have a freakout? Are you okay?”

There’s a soft look on Stiles’ face before he answers. “Yeah, this really hot guy asked me out this morning, and well, I kind of freaked out because well, hot guy asked me out.”

Derek nods. “I understand. I asked a hot guy out today and freaked out on my sister about it.”

Stiles laughs. “Really?” he asks. “I’m a hot guy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Derek tells him seriously. “Insanely.”

Stiles shakes his head, but has a giant smile on his face that distracts Derek from what he was doing. Wait, what was he doing again? Oh, right. Putting the flowers in the vase. He puts some water in the vase and then puts the flowers in.

“Thanks again for the flowers,” Derek says softly as he stares at them with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers. It’s a good feeling.”

“I wanted you to feel special,” Stiles tells him, “because you are.”

Derek looks up at him with wonder in his eyes. Where did this man come from? Where has he been for so long? How long was he right next to Derek without him even knowing?

“What?” Stiles asks since Derek is just staring at him.

“You’re incredible,” Derek answers. “That’s it. You’re incredible.”

Stiles takes a step closer and keeps taking steps until he’s in Derek’s space, and for the first time, Derek doesn’t mind someone in his space. “You’re incredible,” Stiles whispers, leans in, and then kisses him.

And it’s a really incredible kiss.

[abnhgod]

6 Tips For Making Funny Movies

In the wake of composing and coordinating comedies like the imminent Super Troopers 2 for more than 20 years, this is what Jay Chandrasekhar realized.

6 Tips For Making Funny Movies– Or YouTube Videos– 

how to make funny videos entertenment

The Avengers has Nick Fury. Wu-Tang Clan has the RZA. What's more, Broken Lizard, the parody aggregate behind the pantheon-status Super Troopers, has Jay Chandrasekhar. Like Nick Fury and the RZA, he's the person who set up the group together, administers their missions, and stands his ground in some other limit he's required (for his situation, acting– as opposed to superheroism or rapping, separately.) obviously, he's likewise gone up against a large number of undertakings past Broken Lizard. All things considered, the best way to keep up a 20-year vacation in making clever films and TV is to always make, similar to a parody shark.

Jay ChandrasekharPHOTO: DAVID LIVINGSTON, GETTY IMAGES

On the off chance that Broken Lizard sounds like an odd name– it is actually good for nothing, only two words set up together in a request that tickled the guys– it could've been more awful. The gathering began under the moniker Charred Goose Beak back at Colgate University. An age before YouTube turned into a medium of moment wide circulation, Broken Lizard put out recordings the way out forefathers would have done it: in front of an audience, before uproarious hordes of intoxicated understudies. Subsequent to coming back to Colgate from a mid-year of performing improv and stand-up at Second City in Chicago, and boasting about his satire abuses, Chandrasekhar was forced into putting on a week by week live show on grounds. The piece of this show he delighted in the most, in any case, turned into the pre-taped business spoofs and interstitials played in front of an audience while he and alternate entertainers changed ensembles. He'd enrolled the most amusing children at the college to be included, and the recordings they made together changed the course of their lives.

The main movie Jay Chandrasekhar coordinated, a school comic drama called Puddle Cruiser, was acknowledged at the Sundance Film Festival in 1997. Despite the fact that his second and most well-known motion picture, Super Troopers, really put Broken Lizard on the guide, Puddle Cruiser earned the gathering a pilot bargain at NBC. The pilot didn't get got, however, it was seen by Judd Apatow, who kicked off Chandrasekhar's TV profession, by having him rudder scenes of the fleeting school sitcom, Undeclared. From that point forward, the Broken Lizard engineer has kept occupied as the gathering's in-house chief, and in addition a TV journeyman– before and behind the camera.

Club Dread, 2004

In spite of the fact that the present harvest of trying producers cutting their teeth on YouTube may not confront a similar sort of difficulties Broken Lizard did getting off the ground, they can even now take in a great deal from what those difficulties constrained the gathering to make sense of alone. As he completes the process of shooting Super Troopers 2, Co.Create stopped for a moment to talk with Chandrasekhar about how to make an amusing motion picture, as well as how to make a clever motion picture into a long profession.

Emerge ready to take care of business

Softened Lizard accepts up opening films with a blast, as fans can validate. Their approach is designed according to James Bond flicks– yet the gathering just figured out how to function that route after not doing as such with their first at-bat.

In only a day, Broken Lizard crowdfunded $2 million for Super Troopers 2. The gathering discusses its creative crusade and the motion picture it financed. Read More >>

"With Puddle Cruiser, the initial 15 minutes are the weakest," Chandrasekhar says. "When you add up to questions and you have a powerless opening, it's a genuine issue. At a few screenings, we'd see the odd walkout before the motion picture even went ahead. In any case, to balance that, we'd do outlines before the show, to present the film. We completed a muffle where we'd imagine the projector had gobbled up the film print. Like, 'Don't stress, another one is being sent to us, it's in an auto in transit here.' And the group of onlookers would moan and some person would begin bugging us– and it'd be one of us, obviously. And afterward another person would begin irritating the heckler– and it'd be another of us, obviously. And afterward that person would offer to kill a brief period, and haul out this spurious manikin named Billy he happened to have with him, and he'd begin doing this silly ventriloquist voice. And after that, the group of onlookers resembled, "What is this?" But they'd be chuckling. And afterward a person would come in wearing a UPS uniform with this tremendous film print and everybody would cheer and after that, he would trip and unspool the entire thing everywhere. So we'd make them chuckle and after that, we'd demonstrate to them the motion picture and in light of the fact that we're indistinguishable folks in the film from in front of an audience, we'd normally have the capacity to move through the initial 15 minutes. Be that as it may, it was irritating to need. So we said when we make the following motion picture we're going to influence a fucking to kick ass opening scene so we never need to complete one of these goddamn portrays again."

"With Super Troopers, I thought we missed once more. We're headed to travel to Utah for Sundance and I actually call part of the gang, such as, 'Bring the spurious manikin, we're going to fuckin' require it.' But when we go to the screening, it was an extremely stoned and gently hummed swarm, since this is around 11:30 on a Friday night. What's more, it promptly began to get a little chuckling. At that point, it rapidly just wound up noticeably unstable. That is to say, it resembled when the title came up, every one of the 400 individuals burst into commendation and it was simply, similar to, 'Affirm, we don't need to do this fucking sketch until kingdom come.'"

BE YOUR OWN EDITOR

Chandrasekhar is an individual from the Editor's Guild, despite the fact that regardless he utilizes different editors on his ventures. He cut his teeth working in an altering cove, and the experience is taken care of his comedic senses.

"What makes Broken Lizard, I believe, is our planning. You can like it dislike it but rather it is our own and that is a direct result of the altar," he says. "I strolled into the altering room when I was a lesser in school and I watched the person make cuts and I didn't realize what the heck was going on. He was simply assembling these shots and recounting the story, and it was stunning. At the point when Broken Lizard got to New York, I landed a position at an altering house as a chief since we were preparing to shoot a 30-minute film. I had been set off to this place called Film Video Arts to cut Broken Lizard crap and I never truly could bear the cost of a supervisor so I would request that the chief show me how to do the cuts. Sooner or later, I sensed that I should simply land a position there, so I could alter for nothing. Furthermore, I inevitably began cutting, and I was overseeing and cutting, and we fundamentally would shoot stuff and after that, I'd work from nine to seven or eight around evening time and I'd go shower and afterward we'd come in at ten o'clock and cut till four toward the beginning of the day. It was debilitating, however, it was an important training."

The Dukes Of Hazard, 2005; BTS shot of chief Jay Chandrasekhar chatting on set with Johnny Knoxville as Luke Duke and Seann William Scott as Bo Duke.PHOTO: SAM EMERSON, WARNER BROS., GETTY IMAGES

Catch A RANGE OF PERFORMANCES– EVEN FROM YOURSELF

As a chief who likewise acts, Chandrasekhar needs to hit the privilege notes– and likes to have an outside viewpoint to enable him to realize that he has.

"What I do when I act and direct is I complete a little form, go somewhat greater, complete a medium one, an over-the-main one, and afterward much greater than that. I'll complete six readings of the line. What's more, they're not all the same," Chandrasekhar says. "To make sure I know whether I wasn't right about what I ought to have done, I, fortunately, have this more unpretentious variant. You settle on your choice as a performer, and you end up noticeably persuaded that it's an awesome choice, and you may be correct. In any case, at that point some individual's watching you and they're similar to, 'You know, you're not sufficiently uproarious on that, you're not sufficiently enormous, you're not sufficiently little. You're feeling the loss of the joke.' Only someone watching you can see that. You require some person there to state, 'I don't know whether it is.' Or, 'Truly, it is. Be that as it may, attempt it along these lines.'"

MORE COMPULSIVE REWRITING THAN ON-SET IMPROVISING

Composing a screenplay is the place a motion picture first comes to fruition, however just in changing do all the little subtle elements and subtleties show up and the dead weight drops away.

"We completed 22 drafts of Super Troopers when we shot it," Chandrasekhar says. "When you appear on set, in the direct outcome imaginable, your content ought to be great to the point that if all you have sufficient energy to do is shoot it as may be, you're fine, and you're psyched. You can extemporize over that, however, you're not including upon the arrival of jokes to put you over the best. Judd Apatow and I have an alternate school of thought on this. He gets a kick out of the chance to make extremely convincing account stories and afterward have comics come in and ad lib to finish everything. Also, more of late he's been extemporizing, shooting the improv, reworking and afterward shooting another round of improv. We have dependably been a much lower planned kind of outfit thus we have rather composed, composed, composed, and when we have a content we adore, we simply extemporize several lines over it. In any Broken Lizard motion picture, I would state we're likely eight percent ad-libbed and no more."

GETTING TO THE LOWEST POINT IN A FUNNY WAY

One of the immense jokes in the Broken Lizard film Beerfest is when [SPOILER ALERT] one of the primary characters, Landfill, passes on, just to be quickly supplanted by a formerly said twin sibling, who likewise wishes to be tended to as 'Landfill.' The substitution is dealt with in such a senseless, yet mindful route as to off-set the pity of seeing a principle character pass on in the motion picture you're viewing.