"You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true - anyone can cook… but only the fearless can be great."
I don't understand why ppl are so freak over the last ep being called 'Brother's Keeper' as it obviously means Dean will finally realise he's not his brother's keeper and lets him go. Sam finally finishes Stanford and gets 12 dogs. Dean looks at Cas *awkwardness & sexual tension level rises* 'So... guess it's just the two of us now, huh?' *Crowley's face can be seen plastered against a window as he looks on heartbroken while Dean and Cas get it on* PLOT TWIST: the spin-off is called MOOSE ABROAD
There are a handful of major script revisions for the episode ‘Chinga’? Not going to bore and go through all of them but it blows my mind. Usually you read these scripts and you notice things they left out or things not added and go ‘oh cool’. Usually its not a lot. This one is something else.
BONSAINT What do your friends call you, Agent Scully?
SCULLY My friends just drop the agent part.
Teaser differences in the two non aired versions:
The first one is labeled as First Draft. The second one is labeled as “Molly”.
Teaser from the first draft:
Teaser from “Molly” Scully had a friend!
The first draft from Stephen King read like fan fiction I mean look at this ending scene with Mulder & Scully:
Though this version was good in the shipper sense. Jack was a younger guy with the hots for Scully and she was interested until she sees Mulder then its like “Jack who?”
The Molly draft version of part of the ending scene with mulder and scully.
Okay, that was my quick show and tale from two revisions that I have dug up from my days as a nerdy kid. (Okay, I’m still nerdy).
No wonder this episode was fucked up. All these revisions just to make it “decent”.
Extra note: The first draft seemed to want to make a mytholgy connection with the doll knowing that Scullys’ sister was shot, her cancer, and the abduction and that “they’re watching her”. Rather have the sappy fan fiction scene over them including that.
Thistle is roughly my height, or perhaps just a bit taller when standing up straight. I felt that this was a respectable height for anybody to be, and it simply had not occurred to me that it would not be a respectable or even average height for a Floran. Looking at five other Florans from my hiding spot inside the remnants of a massive carcass, however, I realized something.
Thistle is a child.
It was hard to determine exactly how tall they were, but the Glitch salesman barely reached shoulder-height on even the smallest of the plant people standing before him. The universal fear of Florans began to make a bit more sense. The corpse was wedged in the footwell of the greenish-gray vehicle, and it was hard to tell what sort of shape it might be in. However, I soon realized that this was actually the topic of discussion among the Florans and the peculiar shopkeep.
“Nope. Nope. Won’t do,” he snapped. “Got standards to meet. Sun baked, nibble damage all over the good parts. Tepid.” “They are ssssuperficial marksss!” hissed one Floran. “Deadnettle had only a sssmall bite!” “Thought this would stand up to scrutiny? Hurts my feelings. Feelings hurt. Not up to snuff.” He shuddered, and his joints rattled. “Pleassse, meatmaker. Undersstand, we have lossst our only waterfinder, who was but a ssapling. We are without anything to drink. Our tribe will ssshrivel and die without a compromissse,” said Deadnettle. “Ssshould not have allowed the waterfinder on a hunting missssion,” muttered another Floran. “Otherss have alwaysss tormented Thissstle for being a picky eater, and Thisstle wass bound to wander away.” “Waterfinder had to learn to hunt sssometime, or would alwayss be ‘picky eater!’” said Deadnettle. “Better picky eater waterfinder than no waterfinder!” yelled the other. “Have to ration babies properly. Common sense,” said the Glitch.
Beside me, I heard Gillian load the magazine of her pistol. “I thought Hylotl were pacifists,” I whispered. “Were, boyo—how many other Hylotl have you seen in New Beryllium? What do you think happens to pacifists who meet Florans?” She slid the magazine back into place with a loud click. The largest of the Florans haggling with the ‘meatmaker’ snapped to attention at the sound. “What wasss that?” they said. “Jeep’s falling apart. It’s dumb,” the Glitch said matter-of-factly, kicking it to punctuate his point. “No,” hissed the large Floran, and stalked slowly toward us. “Came from inssside.” Gillian raised her pistol as if preparing to shoot through the tarp. Unthinking, I placed a hand over the barrel and frantically shook my head ‘no,’ but neither Gillian nor the Floran would be deterred. Just as the Floran reached out a gnarled hand to lift the tarp, I heard Thistle’s voice. “Henbit! Deadnettle!” they cried. All five of the Florans immediately rushed to greet Thistle, who had appeared from behind the ribcage just in time. The older Florans crowded around and fussed like nervous aunties. “Ssso worried!” they wheezed. “Coussinsss will be ssso glad to know waterfinder isss sssafe.” “Otherss are in ssssuch trouble for losing a sssapling!”
“Come,” said the largest Floran, and ushered Thistle toward the vehicle, the attempts at bartering apparently forgotten. Thistle looked entirely cowed, and offered no resistance. They climbed glumly into the passenger side, with a sad sidelong glance toward the ribcage, where they knew we must still be watching. “We mussst find water for the tribe,” said the large Floran, climbing into the driver’s seat. The others piled onto the frame of the decrepit car wherever they could find purchase. Then they drove away in a cloud of dust while the rest of us could only watch.