Dc Penguin - Blog Posts

I really like how throughout s5 there were a lot of paralels between Ed's relationship with Lee and Oswald.

This man is a definition of Be gay do crime

My problem is that I have the heart of a Robin with the body of a Penguin.

The world isn't ready for another Danny Devito I gotta try to make things better for my next round

You know what? I love this. I hope that the writers put that amount of thought into the show and the characters.

It also occurs to me quite suddenly that a future Batman writer is going to have Batwheels as their first introduction to the characters. That is going to be interesting...

Well, I didn't expect Batwheels to reveal that Penguin is apparently a singer. Or that he got music lessons as a kid and has this weird proclivity for liking music. But I guess it makes sense. It's a fun thing for the kids, but it also makes some sense for The Penguin. For one thing, music is sometimes seen as an upper class thing. Look at opera and everything. But also: a lot of Penguin's actors have been singers. Paul Williams had a whole career in that. Jess Harnell and Tom Kenny don't do music for a living, but they can sing if a show requires them to, Danny DeVito did a song for Disney's Hercules, etc. So it makes some small amount of sense, I suppose.

👉👈

Penguin x reader.?

One for the Birds

Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin) X Reader

The Iceberg Lounge was louder than usual. Smoke curled into the chandeliers like ghostly fingers, the kind of place where secrets got dressed in diamonds and danced between martini glasses. You didn’t belong here—and that was exactly the point.

You walked in sharp, calm, and dressed just well enough to be ignored. Not rich enough to be noticed. Not low enough to be questioned. You were just looking for someone to talk to. Someone with power. Someone with reach.

Oswald Cobblepot.

He stood near the back, half in the shadows, watching his empire breathe. People passed him by without a glance, not out of disrespect—but out of fear. He was the kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to control a room. He just was.

You stepped close, careful not to spill desperation on the floor.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” he said without turning. Voice like broken glass dipped in molasses.

You didn’t flinch. “Neither do half the people on your payroll.”

That got his attention.

Oswald turned, eyes narrowing behind his monocle, studying you like a puzzle someone forgot to finish. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

You told him. No stutter, no hesitation. Just enough truth to sound like a lie. His smile was small, but real.

“Brave,” he said. “Or stupid. The line’s thin in this city.”

“I’m counting on that.”

Oswald tilted his head, intrigued now. He motioned to a booth tucked away from the rest of the chaos. “Sit. Talk. If you're trying to sell something, it better be good.”

You slid in without breaking eye contact. “I’m not selling anything.”

“Then you’re asking for something.”

You leaned forward. “A favor. A deal. A crack in the wall no one else will give me.”

His fingers tapped against his umbrella. A beat. Then another.

“Everyone comes to me when they’ve run out of choices.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You? You walked in like you planned to be here.”

“I did.”

Oswald laughed, low and rough. Then he waved a hand, dismissing the waiter hovering nearby.

“Alright,” he said. “You’ve got five minutes. Impress me.”

You did.

By the time you stood to leave, the air between you had changed. His eyes followed you, calculating. Interested.

“Next time you walk in,” he said, “use the back entrance. I don’t like surprises.”

You paused. “What if I do?”

He grinned, sharp and cold. “Then you’ll be fun.”