If You Wanted To Know Why I Wanted Human Scientist Augments Animals With Cyberlimbs For Space Jets Storyline,

If you wanted to know why I wanted “Human scientist augments animals with cyberlimbs for space jets” storyline, THIS was probably why: one dark-skinned human woman pilot scrapped from SF2! thank @morgankitten for this tweet I almost forgot

Better or Worse Illumination x Nintendo film pitch for Starfox movie:

Brute Force meets Top Gun

Dylan McCloud (29, Filipino), Flight Technician, Lylat Aero-Space Engineering & Research center [L.A.S.E.R.]: Young Lady with an eye for aerodynamics and a head flight of fancy

Active imagination gets in way of checking altimeter and air supply, jotting fantasies on a personal notebook full of Lisa Frank stickers n highlights. Avid animal lover, mainly survival instincts

15 yrs ago, she wondered far from Corneria Park, befriended gang of woodland critters: a swift tailed risk-seeking red fox (Fox), an overconfident berry thief raven w/ indigo feathers (Falco), a resourceful pixie frog (Slippy), and a wizened old rabbit with a knack for survival (Peppy). They’re her ragtag flight crew fending off aliens and dinosaurs and rogue AI yet

Colonel Starr assigns Dylan to analyze their Arwing’s specs for FTL space travel to a quadrant in the Stag Cluster. Excited, she enlists her woodsy pals as Team McCloud (l8tr Fox Team) 2 test them b4 human trials

Fox, Falco, Slippy & Peppy fitted w/Detachable cyber-limbs 2 maneuver the controls, test the FTL travel diagnostics; 2-Way TransCom on the temples, group chat, develop teamwork w/o clawing/biteing ea other. Dylan assigns Fox on Command, Falco SIC, Slippy’s size perfect for Mechanic, and Peppy’s wisdom lends well to Analyst.

Jez O'Donnell, green-eyed rival engineer, fits prototype limbs & 2ways on a wolf, a chameleon, a pig and a panther from a Zoo, then proto Arwing, MIA for years

Blue-furred Vixen Krystal transmits to Dylan & co. of Wolf's Gang, crimes, Jez found, plus the other missing test animal, Anders the chimp, fully evolved as Andross. Now Fox Team, under command of friend Dylan and the bio-enchanced bloodhound Sgt. Pepper, must get Jezz and his renegade team back to earth and foil Andross’s revenge plans on humanity

yea not my best Starfox film concept, but cud b worse. Wait until the new Illumination Mario Bros. Movie we’ll see

Imagine someone like Milo Thatch or Kida Armourfied with an Atlantean warrior spirit like those stone giants or a Mix n Match from Kida going into that crystal trance form in the film.

Or as Goalkeepers, out of the ground an Atlantean A appears, they summon the spirit of the kingdom from the ground to defend their post. Y’know something like this—

TELL ME YOU WOULDNT SEE THAT WITH THESE CHARACTERS!! ammirite, ORAMMIRITE?!

I could totally see Level-5 make a soccer team out of Disney’s Atlantis characters. They did it with Professor Layton, another Level-5 game series, why not take the best of the Ulysses? Maybe mix in some Secret of Blue Water characters to fill the roster

Sweetest part of Disney Springs’ Orange Alley by Splitsville. Coffee n Donuts from #Everglazed @disneysprings (at Disney Springs) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmp07NJLt0T/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Two months ago I tweeted about seeing Dr Bluebottle, one-off villain from 1987 Ducktales series, in the 2017 series, with a twist: What if he was secretly a Marsupilami? I mean you can see some resemblance can ya? With a few tweaks i mean it can b possible

sent to Ben Schwartz (@rejectedjokes) but its Henrieke Goorhuis who shud see this ask if he approves

Sling Set, 2 February (Last of the Marsupilamis, part 3–Summary)

One moistened mid-August, Joan and Megara flew to Bolivia to pick up rare tree turnips on a remote village in Aguapiche for her cousin’s boo Jack, Joan discovers the runaway Navy scientist Dr. Bluebottle and the suprising origins of this escaped convict. 

{About Turnip Trees (Brassica Rapa Andanosia):

hybrid species of edible beetroot grown in parts of South America, Africa and Asia after huge monsoons and during fog seasons

soft red turnips 8-14 weeks, thick n tall Baobabs 7-16 months if left on the ground

Discovered in 1916 after an Eswatini shepherd’s wild dog dug out bunches of turnips entangled in baobab roots

Trees grow turnip buds which bomb down on unsuspecting travelers}

  He was actually a Navy Blue furred Marsupilami named Blubo, a leopard chimp creature rarely seen in the wild, but their bright fur n prehensile tails were hunted down by poachers to line their rumpus rooms and socialites for apparel and accesories. 

  He returned to Aguapiche on the 40th anniversary of two misfortunes: his family’s disappearance and death of the real Bluebottle he was posing as, his life gone in a stampede of freed animals, which wasn’t on Blubo. His curiosity would endanger those around him,but never lead them to certain death, merely looking for ways to ease him and his animal pals. 

  He tracked the hunters back to their basecamp, looking for his family when his wandering eyes darted towards a sketch of his species in Bluebottle’s tent. From afar, a tweedy game hunter mistook Blubo reading his journal in the tent for Bluebottle in his Mar-Suit rehearsing his subject’s behavior when he recons the trees for more Lamis or other animals. Blubo panicked and wrapped himself in his own tail, the nerdy poacher calls out to a burly lead game hunter, alongside Dr. Bluebottle, they missed one. 

He was about to put Blubo in one of Bluebottle’s SOTA thumbprint ID cages with the other animals, later revealed to be Narnians, when he freed all four of his hands and clutched onto the cages, including one with an ornery rhino. The pull was straining him, he lost his grip as the buff poacher twanged his tail like a yo-yo pulling back, but not before Blubo unlocked all the cages with his fingerprints, which were near identical to Bluebottle’s prints. The locks open, then the stampede. the hunters scattered away, one portly poacher knocked the doc back and onto the path of the stampede. Blubo was just ready to follow his family in the commotion until…CRUNCH!!!! 

The last gasp of Bluebottle’s life traumatized dear inquisitive Blubo. He continued his research digsuised as him for 40 years, wearing his labcoat and clothes to conceal his blue fur and leg hands, he even concocted a formula to repress his wild side to look more dogmanish and cover his murder tracks. 

Years pass, he already believed himself to be the real Dr. Bluebottle, and while working under the Navy for their secret anti-radar whale sub, stole it and began seeking notoriety thru this mishap with Glomgold and McDuck’s Savings Game. Could’ve been his Marsupi heart wanted the attention to fund some research grants into searching for Marsupilamis like him while discreetly finding the family he presumably lost after that stampede on Aguapiche. 

  In fact, Seeing these Turnip Trees after escaping Navel custody unlocked forgotten memories of his life as a lasso-tailed leopard chimp, swinging on the branches and bungeeing for fruit and pranking predators while unveiling some wrenching reminders of the incident. He would’ve apologized to those poachers for killing and posing as Bluebottle if he wasn’t targeted by Glomgold, and that some of the poachers were using Circene to release their canine instincts and forms. 

Joan asked why he would pour his backstory on her, it was from her tail Slink’s size and :3 face that Blubo could trust Joan with his confession, both being long-tailed beasts. She aides him from a smudged leopardess (Meg after his Houba shriek disrupted her midnight makeover) and the feralized hunters returning to capture him with his rediscovered family, found alive not dead as he thought they were. Some hightail hijinks and repented sins later, Blubo sighed with contempt returning to spring & swing with his family & animal pals, relieved of a No-Shirt-No-Shoes life but keeps the doc’s lenses as primal cousins do. Just then, police choppers flydown and arrest the feralized poachers to the pound by Ed with the Alphas, Sgt. Basquait & Adm. Grimmitz. Ed got Slink’s comwatch message with Gene’s assist. Grimmitz informs Joan & Blubo he’ll confirm Bluebottle’s death in their files. Meg can give Mark the turnips, and Gene asks Blubo for cryptid research via comwatch.

Joan’s Parck: Laugh of Leisure (Sling_Set Sep.8.93 AC)

Plot: Haida’s Walking Wild after a spill in Benton-Night’s supply room leaves him on fours recuperating at his aunt’s place while her pet Taz Tony tries to throttle him out of top bunk.

I’ll admit to being a touch guilty for this whole episode. Ida known to get the paperclips before heading to the 3rd FL w/a cart full o’ stationery & snacks if Haida hadn’t freeclimbed the supply rack. I just assumed a feral animal broke in to the building!

Just as I heard pained howls from the 2nd FL closet, Haida was nowhere in that abyss ‘til I saw those ashy paws step in to the light w/a gnarled snout frothing and baring craggly teeth, eyes gleaming bright and furious as if I invaded its quarry. I pounced onto some boxes as I slam the door shut with my hind paw, hiding from the feral scavenger. Thanks to Tom & Jerry cartoons, I trapped that bastard! It’s amazing what a cat-and-mouse show can inspire survival tactics from an unused mop bucket and your own tail. Thank The Ol’Man I have a tail for all trades. Good Job,Slink! :3

Wasn’t after turning on the lights back on do I finally see Haida, completely nude and on fours, whining how he got the tin pail on him. I told him my sorries assuming he was a beastie in the building. No prob on his count as he hands me the box of clips on my pawlm. Just as he stood back on his hind legs to redress and we were heading back to work tho, a shooting pain erupted from behind, each step ached him to his core then back on fours once more. The lit closet showed his clothes on the floor, shoes and socks too, but why?

Ashamed, Haida confessed he clambered onto the rack barefoot getting those clips for me. Slipped out his footwear before climbing for a firmer grip on the iron tower. When he got that box on the fourth shelf, tho, he fell down on his back, just as the rack lurched towards him and a mess of hard office supplies slid down punting his lower back, then the lumbar. When he came to, his wild side musta kicked in and ripped his clothes off clean, made the closet his territory, killing anyone who would go near him.

“That rack was already unstable”, I tell him. “One leg from the set was shorter than the others, made it real top-heavy; the exceeding weight could topple the whole kitten caboodle if some dingus tried grabbing something from the upper racks like you did. There’s a reason we called it Mt. Kilamandril. The monkey that sent it conked out 14 business days after assembly. We didn’t know about the stumpy leg til after Ms. Frisk requisitioned a step ladder to the inventory so we could safely reach the upper shelves”. As I mention our HR supervisor, he was screwed. “I can’t let Aunty Mo see me like this”, he whimpered as he trodded around with an anxious smirk, chuckling in angst, tears rolling down his face. “She sees me naked on fours, she’ll knock my spots off! I’m already reprimanded for scratching my ear with my foot, I don’t want to trod back to the zoo like a common animal when I’m fired!”

He’s not wrong. Walking Wild, in New Gaean parlance, was against Benton-Night’s code of conduct. Any act of instinct or indecdency would cost you your career; you either lived like a human or stay in the woods. I was given an exception for not wearing shoes to work since my sensitive hind paws make it hard to wear heels like my twin aunt Jane, and I can use Slink as a cane when I don’t have Gene’s Spectra-Goggles for my hazy jade eyes, but while browsing the Benton-Night handbook under the Humane Resource Policies, I found a Natural Zoning policy that allowed one spot to be designated as a rec room for our animalistic sides. It was enlisted back in the early ‘70s when workers demanded these hourly breaks to “tame their inner beasts”, a means to curb hostility towards prey and predators for max cooperation, work ethics and workload ouput. Most of our staff are a mix breed of Barban and Narnian, coming from either the zoo, the adjacent park, or living in a Barban or Mobian household as a pet thru adoption licenses. Slap a halved Circene patch on their nape or chest and we’re working class citizens. Narnians would need an ID collar or chip to even get a job, much less walk around on fours in society or be pets, or carry a license to prove their condition for benefits like housing and federal aid. Some, like Ernest the Stimpyesque beaver, are Toons, hybrids born from a Mobian mating with a Narnian or Barban, their offspring come out with five digits or a non-talking animal, sad really.

In any case, I couldn’t stand seeing my coworker break down in such an undignified state. As a first year Intern under HR supervision and acting therapist for the entire Benton-Night Distributing staff, I took a vow to keep the working animal calm, cool and collected to carry on their duties, whether by talking out their pains or taking in the methods my late therapist Dr. Lau Fing implemented on me by speaking to their inner child or letting loose their beastly behavior. I just wish I didn’t have to rub his belly to calm him down offering treats if he was a good boy like aunt Jane does to her adopted daughters Rena and Fico. Embarrassing, I know. Not as awkward as seeing our red-blazened supervisor tap her heeled foot over the mess he made. He tried to stand and get his clothes back on, but his back pain was firmly established. And while she doesn’t want the rest of our staff to wild out, with Haida, she strips down and shifts to a feral stance, nipping his nape to hold him down as we head to HR. She called Dr. Shale for a house call back at the zoo’s Hyena Habitat, requesting her nephew take an off-day from work.

I was in the break room, perched like a lion on a rock, bummed I sent Haida off work I break down the moment with the current occupants partaking in their unnatural habits au naturale: Ned the squirrel opening acorns with his feet by the sink, Ernie the beaver rubbing his weird Stimpy body all over the carpeted floor, and Nora Pinoir, a papillion whose full name I already know, acting as her pet self Princess Piddle, complete with a fancy rosé rhinestone collar, marbled bowls full of mineral water and fancy wet food.

Next day, I carted my lasso-tailed ass to his aunt’s place in the habitat, and lend my best paw to help comfort my crippled coworker.

I’m thankful with some first aide from head of HR and his aunt Moira Frisk, her witchy but caring brown hyena mother Great Aunt Melia, his cousins Wiley and Marcia, and Melia’s husband/pet Pete and his son Jeik Thunderpaw. We also has a surprise visit from the hyena trio from the outskirts of the Pride Lands, Shenzi, Banzai & Ed, and other in-laws they could invite for Step-Tember at the zoo. (species in hyena habitat: 3 spotted, 1 brown, and a mutant striped hyena that’s more a giant Fluppy dog mix of Barkley, Runt & Ushio’s Tora demon w/ two bearcats). […]

Got me some comfy shoes at Countryside!