Just smile & wave boys smile & wave

I made a independent & selective Skipper RP blog.  

Up in the nearest amur corktree. Curious for a penguin ,as flight was not compatible with his build, but liable that the Scottish terrier had never seen on his kind before. The avian suspected that perhaps this mutt was out here in search of food, he was certain that they could perhaps come to an arrangement yet rushing into this would evidently lead him to being supper rather than an ally. So he waits for an opportunity. 

Not too long after a beartrap seemed to trigger. SNAP. Well that was not the opportunity he had expected but now this mission had turned into a rescue mission. The trap had been hidden in the foliage and at this point it was undefinable how much of the canine’s leg was caught. 

The commando jumped down from his position, hurried toward the latter animal but maintained distance for now. He was unsure how he would react if he was suddenly in a stranger’s company at his most vulnerable. ❛ Easy now, canine. I’m here to help. ❜ His voice was stern yet assuring.

Dystopia AU Dystopia AU Dystopia AU ft my poor camera work

/ @privat3

“Stay put! I’m just trying to— Agh!” He’s struggling to figure out how much strength he can apply to this. The penguin won’t stop fighting back, and now he has his hands on one for the very first time, he isn’t sure if they feel more sturdy or more fragile than he thought they were. He doesn’t want to harm him any further, that’s for sure, but the boy is starting to fear he might accidentally worsen his injuries.

Unfortunately, healing magic wasn’t his forte. He often carried a decent supply of potions, but either way he couldn’t just force it down the penguin’s throat.

Not with both hands full, that’s for sure.

“Would you please stop moving? I’m trying to help you!”

🐧 / skippr

❛ Well excuse me if I don’t outright trust a teenager without any spots! That’s like a tiger without stripes! ❜ He sputters. 

Penguins were more fragile than most but Skipper was certainly not any usual penguin, he was for more feisty. He continued to struggle until the boy pleaded him to stop moving and insisted that he was helping him. The sporadic kicks seemed to subside. ❛ Fine! Commence helping!  ❜  He sighed a hefty sigh, now lay on his back, folding his flippers in a childish pout. It came with the territory of his body aching the way it did. Dulled his edge, as much as he did not care to admit that.

Penguins of Madagascar - 1

A knowing chortle from the avian. ❛ Well, okay then, hippy-lady. ❜ Hippy because her hair had some volume to it and that was all he really needed to distinguish somebody under that umbrella. ❛ I’m glad you agree. ❜ She probably had not anticipated Skipper to take her seriously on that one but he took a run-up into throwing both himself and the teenager off of the top of the building. Psychotic? Yes. Psychotic was a term usually affiliated with him and his waddle. 

Fortunately, he was good at thinking on his feet...and inherently in the air, plummeting to their death too. Perhaps penguins could not fly but he had been in this situation many times before, knew New York well enough to know that there was a float parade today. In the usual nature of his own antics there was a parade balloon in the shape of a smiling waffle to break their fall. Skipper remains perched on the giant, inflatable, somehow mustering the strength to drag the female away from dangling off of the side. ❛ Now we’re almost to that sidewalk you so desperately want to get to. ❜ That was not what she had said at all but he had taken her words literally. ❛ I can see why you wanted to take this route, frizz. This way you don’t have to answer to nobody as to why you stowed-away a penguin from the zoo in your handbag.  ❜

‘I’m hungry…’ 

The little penguin follows behind Skipper- a unicorn plush tucked tightly against his back- held in place by an old blanket. It almost looks like he is carrying an infant…except for the horse’s plush appearance.

A gun protrudes from a holster around his hips and a sad look is slapped straight across his face. It’s been days since they had a proper meal…and really that meal wasn’t much. Mostly hot water, half a cup of porridge oats and some fish (or what tiny scraps they had).

He follows behind his leader- dragging his feet. But really he should know better than that. Staying alert is a necessity in this place.

🐧 / skippr

The blanket, cradling the aforementioned “unicorn” had been the very same the older penguin had used to fix the younger to his back when he was nothing more than a ball of grey, premature feathers. Now Private mirrors that with his own plush. Albeit Skipper did not care too much for the boy’s doll. 

There was a lot bearing down on his would-be-shoulders. Having had to raise Private in a world that had already long fallen to pieces while he was still young himself. There had not been much for a long while now and civilisation felt like just a pipedream. 

His own stomach was gyrating inside him, growling and pleading for nourishment but he had to ignore it lest he were to let it hinder him. The only thing that mattered was survival. Which meant scouting out food. He too packed a pistol though his was on flipper. He could never quite let his guard down enough to actually nestle it back into its holster. 

He remains affixed to the path ahead, only diverging his attention when the littlest whined he was hungry. Facing sideways, that way he can acknowledge Private and maintain focus on what lay ahead he frowns. ❛ I’m also hungry but feeling sorry for ourselves isn’t going to get us fed! ❜ He growled, once again Private was met with the back of his head. 

     Not only was she hallucinating a talking penguin, the hallucination was also insulting her! That said a lot about her psyche, didn’t it? A lightbulb turned on inside her head. What if… what if she wasn’t hallucinating? What if what she was experiencing was actually real, and he was legitimately a talking penguin and possible war veteran, which was a whole other can of beans? The fact that he was talking down to her distracted her away from her confusion, too. Rapidly-cycling emotions saved the day once again as her panic turned to annoyance.

“Uh, I can handle storms just fine. They happen all the time, unlike talking animals, but whatever. Also, I’ve never done anything straight in my entire life, and that includes walking, and no, I will not change.” She walked towards him, her arms crossed like his flippers were. Weren’t penguins supposed to be cute? Actually, no – if she recalled correctly, they could be pretty ruthless. Reptiles and amphibians were more her realm, but she liked to learn about all animals. Oh well. She wasn’t scared of a bird, even a talking one with, uh, a military background or whatever. “Also also, why did that Alice lady not disclose this? This is, like, a thing you disclose to new employees! What the hell?!”

🐧 / skippr

The commando tuts and shakes his head. ❛ Wow sass-mouth you just opened a whole can of moxie there. ❜ Where had that come from? Perhaps he had underestimated her. 

❛ Alice? ❜ Skipper scoffs. ❛ That woman can’t even tell us apart from four bowling pins on a good day! ❜ Though it was true the red haired zoo keeper was skeptical of the penguins “antics”. ❛ Besides if she or yourself were to disclose information on our operation ❜ - and the way he turned toward her was both comedic and patronizing- ❛ I’d have to kill you. ❜

He folded his flippers behind his back, pacing back and forth on the crate he had perched himself upon, much higher than the female so he could display his “authority”. ❛ No. That would be a waste of a potential ally and it would not be an honorable death on your part either. Whatever happened to the people like Wonder Man who were willing to die like heroes! ❜ Well for one those types of people only existed in graphic novels.  

Classified’s ears flattened back at the sight of Skipper. His furry hands turned into fists as he looked at Skipper through the glass. “…I’m sorry that this happened to you.” He whispered out softly. A deep, shaky sigh escapes from his mouth as his eyes widened when Skipper growled. He slowly knelt down to Skipper’s level, pressing his paw against the glass. “Name’s Classified. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Skipper.”

🐧 / skippr

His single flipper moved to mirror the paw of the wolf against the glass. In his muddled haze Skipper found it difficult to distinguish fact from fiction. Was this canine someone he knows, was this just de ja vu? His head is spinning, prompting alarmed grunts from his the disfigured beak. 

The leader of the penguin elite had a strong will and could take care of himself. This time, he needed help. This time his own psyche and gut instinct was twisted against him since his whole being had been rearranged. 

Classified. That name. THAT NAME. It was so familiar to him. Why? Suddenly an array of memories overcomes him, a flash of octopi, an air craft dropping by, “Classified.”, “that’s not my name”. Voices harrowing into the night, an unfeasible argument. “DI-VERT”, “DEV-VERT”, “DI”, “DEV”, “DI”, “DEV!”. Then an ice cream truck and some jetpacks. And then some other thing. Someone was trying to say something. Something difficult. Was it osteoporosis? No...It was not that. It was something else. Something like...“You four are the bravest agents I’ve ever known.” THAT WAS IT! 

Penguins of Madagascar - 1

True that Skipper was no Kowalski but he certainly knew the answer to that moronic question. He sighed a hefty sigh, bringing his flipper to his face but forgetting he had still been holding his coffee mug, causing the brim to bonk him at the round of his beak. ❛ Oof. ❜ A scorn as he lowered the beverage, the lifeless sardine in the warm liquid gyrating as it was stirred by the sudden motion. ❛ No. Skipper growled, finally setting the cup of joe down. ❛ Can’t I enjoy my morning in peace? ❜ His faux-brows crinkling the space between his eyes and he brought a flipper up to rub one of them With Officer X-or whatever his alias was this time- on the prowl once again it had been a grueling week. One filled with terrible X-related puns. 

“Wha…” Marlene mumbled as she turned over, blinking still half asleep. Wait…Is that Skipper? In her room?…At this time of night?

The otter sat up with a stretch and a strange look at the penguin. “Skipper? What are you–Bob Cat?” She glanced around. No bob cats were in her view…But she supposed that didn’t mean that he hadn’t frightened them away already…if there really had been a bob cat at least.

She reached over and pulled the string on her lamp, taking a better look at him. Was it just her, or did he look a little tense? “Are you okay?”

🐧 / skippr

There was no telling him that there was not a vicious feline on the prowl. Especially not if his gut had informed him of it in the first place. 

The light flickered on but it did nothing to distract him from his mission, or rather just staring out of the habitat, icy hues darting sporadically. He was so distracted he had hardly noticed the otter had spoken at all. Until her face came into view under the dull lit space. Had she been talking to him? He merely only surmised that she had asked him if he was alright. ❛ Tiptop, Marlene. ❜ Was his blunt, matter-of-fact response, despite everything else in his mannerisms claiming otherwise.