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little-pondhead · 2 years ago

Text

Oh. Oh.

Oswald Cobblepot was both glad and horrified that he personally picked up the Fenton kids from the airport. While he knew it’d get him on the Bat’s radar since he usually just sent a car for his guests, this was something more personal that Oswald felt needed a more careful hand to deal with. He had worked so hard to get the kids out from under their parent’s noses, coordinating with Jazz for weeks to find the best time. And here they were. Jazz and Danny Fenton-soon to be Cobblepot if he had anything to say about it.

Visibly exhausted, Jazz stood hunched and shaking, trying to stay upright and not get swept away in the sea of travelers. Her clothes were rumpled as if she’d slept in them. She had huge eyebags, anding red marks going up her arms indicated she’d been scratching herself out of anxiety. Her fingertips were raw, and her nails had dried blood on them. Had she been digging at something? Picking at her nails? Either way, one’s nails wouldn’t look like that without repeated, aggressive action. Jazz also avoided eye contact with everyone who passed, including her brother. She wasn’t hiding something, Oswald noticed. From the way her shoulders kept twitching up towards her pointed ears, she desperately wanted to cover them. If her hands weren’t occupied with clutching her brother’s hand and a white purse, respectively, Oswald didn’t doubt she would be. The girl looked overwhelmed.

Danny didn’t look much better. In fact, he somehow looked worse. Despite Jazz's white-knuckled grip on his hand, the boy showed no emotion on his face. A fresh bruise was growing on his right cheek, and his hair was blown every way. His clothes were practically falling apart, with threads sticking up everywhere and plenty of holes to showcase the various injuries littered across his pale body. The boy was deadly still, and Oswald wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. His chest didn’t rise at all. The only part of his body that was moving was his eyes and left thumb, which was rubbing something in his palm repeatedly. Danny’s blue eyes were practically dead, but they still flickered around, bouncing from one thing to another like clockwork. Or habit. Danny was obviously very mentally checked out from reality but still couldn’t relax even in the depths of his own mind.

Both of them were overall haggard and carried little possessions. They were at the end of their ropes, and Oswald was the last hope these two children had left.

He would not be the reason the last bit of light died in their eyes.

Oswald finally saw a break in the airport rush crowd and purposefully strode forward, never deterring from his chosen path. The two children stood against a far wall and quickly spotted him coming. “Hello, children,” Oswald said, sticking his hand out with his umbrella tucked under one arm. “I’m Oswald Cobblepot. Lovely to make your acquaintance. We spoke on the phone, Miss Jazz?”

The two siblings tiredly eyed him, but the elder accepted his greeting. “Hello,” she replied. Her voice was soft, like she expected him to yell. “Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Cobblepot.”

“Call me Oswald, dear.” He guided them out of the airport and toward his limousine, where the driver was already waiting. “I imagine we have much to talk about. But for now, let’s get you something to eat.”

—

“And this is my home, Cobblepot Manor.” The large iron gate creaked open as the limousine slowly drove on the compressed gravel path leading up to the manor. The two children, his children now, were curled in on themselves in the farthest seat away from Oswald, clutching each other as the manor’s shadow fell across the vehicle. They eyed him, not with suspicion and distrust but with longing and fear. The crime lord could practically see their thoughts. They wanted this to be a new home. Their final home. They wanted Cobblepot Manor to be what Amity Park used to be.

But because of their blasted birth parents, Oswald and the children would have a long way to go until they felt comfortable with each other.

The car stopped, and the three headed inside without another word. A small feast awaited them in the dining room, courtesy of Mary, his head chef. The kids wasted no time digging in like they hadn’t eaten in days. Perhaps they hadn’t. A report Oswald skimmed a few days prior came to mind, and he remembered that it was common for them to fight off their food before they ate it. Even now, Oswald could spot the silver glint of a weapon peeking out of Jazz’s purse, and Danny was digging into his meal with unusual aggression.

Oswald sighed, taking one last sip of his drink before speaking. “Children,” he said quietly. The two froze and stared at him, assessing him. Trying to figure out what his following words would be. “We need to discuss a few things before you retire for the evening.”

Jazz straightened, slipping on a mask better suited for negotiations. He mused silently that she’d be a great asset in the business world. “Right, we expected this.” She said. “We understand this is all rather sudden for you, and we’re both willing to help with finances as much as possible. We aren’t expecting any special treatment-we’re already indebted to you for taking us in.”

“Help with finances?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “We want to work to pay you back.”

Oswald cocked an eyebrow. “Those are some dangerous words, my dear.”

“I am perfectly aware of what I’m saying, Mr. Cobblepot. I won’t take them back now.”

“Even though I’m a supervillain?” He waved his arm about, gesturing to the room as a whole. “And as you can see, I’m perfectly capable of supporting everyone here even without my little side hustles. I have no need of your money.”

Jazz visibly deflated, but Danny piped up for the first time since he’d met the kid. “Still,” he croaked. His voice was thick from unuse. “We-I-need to work. I need to help in some way. You already know about my ghost half, right?” Oswald confirmed this. “My ghost half thrives on helping, fixing and caring. I am a remedy. Even if I don’t get paid, I want to be useful to you. It’s all I’m good for.”

“Or what?” He didn’t say this was malice but was instead genuinely curious. “Will you fall ill?”

Danny grasped his utensils tighter, looking down at his plate. “Sort of. It’s…hard to explain. I’m not ready to share everything, but since I’m a halfa, unfulfilling my role as a ghost can have consequences. Core deterioration is one of them. It’s tough to return from that, just like if a human lost too much blood.”

“Oh, and there’s one more thing.” Jazz added. “The GIW.”

Oswald leaned back in his chair. “Ah yes, the Ghost Investigation Ward. The sponsors of your parents, if the reports are to be believed.” The kids flinched. “Worry not, children. You two are Cobblepots now; well, you will be once the name change paperwork is filed. Either way, you are legally my heirs. No power in this world can take you away from me; I can assure you that. As for your need to work, I imagine you don’t mean getting into the dirty sides of my business, yes?” Danny scrunched up his nose at the thought. “Well then, I shall have you work at my Iceberg Lounge. This is my most popular and legal place of business, and most of the time, my fellow crime lords and supervillains have a truce about the area. Unless Batman shows up, you should see minimal fighting. You can shadow different positions until you find something that works for you. This offer extends to you as well, Jazz. How does that sound?”

Jazz relaxed just a bit, giving him a genuine smile rather than the forced one from earlier. “That sounds wonderful…Oswald. Thank you.”

Continuation/blurb/snippet from this writing prompt.

It took less than a week to get custody of the Fenton children.

Oswald expected that it wouldn’t take long with his connections, but even that turn around is faster than what he expected. He’d anticipated pulling strings, greasing palms, maybe making some threats, but before he can even think of getting things moving to do so the paperwork is signed and a social worker is calling him to sort out the travel arrangements for the kids.

It’s all done local, the judge, CPS, the witnesses and lawyers, each and every one calling the town home. Each and every one pushing the case through at a speed that Oswald didn’t think was possible even in the most crooked of situations. He smelled conspiracy, but not - surprisingly - a malicious one.

Amity wasn’t the smallest place in the world, but it was small enough. And the Fentons were public figures, though not in the way that Jack and Maddie Fenton obviously thought they were. How long had the people of Amity been watching things go wrong for the kids? How long had they been trying - in their own, limited ability - to help? Long enough to get desperate, seemed to be the answer.

The only resistance Oswald can find as he reviewed all the information he could get ahold of, was from the Mayor - Jazz and Danny’s godfather, somehow more crooked than even Gotham’s elected officials as far as Oswald could tell - and the Dr’s. Fenton themselves.

The Mayor was summarily denied any influence of the case by the judge on the grounds of the long standing and publicly recorded ugliness of Master’s relationship with Danny - which was something else Oswald was going to have to figure out. Along with all the…ghost stuff.

Oswald wasn’t sure what to make of the ghost stuff.

Honestly he was leaving it for his people to figure out and wrangle into a reasonable explanation to report to him later. It was…something, a big something, and not - as he’d originally suspected upon initial cursory research into the town - a tourist gimmick or an overly high meta population. A later problem, provided he had to co tend with it at all once the children were officially in his custody in Gotham.

The biggest issue had been the kid’s parents. Or really, the biggest issue had been the shady government agency backing the kids’ parents.

The Fentons were the Ghost Investigation Ward’s pet mad scientists. Creating weapons and genocidal plans - against ghosts - and generally tormenting the towns’ living inhabitants just as much as the undead ones. The GIW had been protecting Jack and Maddie from any repercussions of their recklessness, and were willing to butt in on an unexpected custody battle in order to keep their maniacal golden geese happily working away.

From what Oswald had heard, a representative of the GIW had shown up to convince the judge to dismiss the case, but the judge had been faster. By the time the men in all white appeared - garish and tacky in their ill fitted, bulky suits - it had been too late of course. The judge had apparently anticipated their impending appearance and had made their ruling and had everything filed tidily late the night before. Courts did not typically stay running til three in the morning, but apparently an exception had been made.

There were a great many things wrong with Amity Park - wrong in a lot of ways they were in Gotham, wrong in ways they weren’t - but the people that called the place home seemed to have come to a decision on one thing: the Fenton children were not safe, and unknown or not they were trusting Oswald to get them out of there.

It was strange and a little overwhelming, for an entire population that did not know him to see him as some kind of hope. Some kind of hero.

There were many, many things wrong in Amity Park.

He tried to assure himself when everything was said and done and the kids were packed and on their way that it wasn’t his problem. He was officially Jazz and Danny’s guardian, in a city half a country away that even with his - nominally- cleaned up act he held a great deal of power over. He was nearly untouchable within Gotham’s shadow, and no one from some half-mad town was going to be able to do anything to change that.

He made preparations though, just in case. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid. The Bat could use something to chew on that wasn’t one of Oswald’s entirely legitimate business ventures anyway. An ethically suspect government agency that was likely to come sticking their noses in Gotham’s business sooner than later would do just nicely for that, and might even earn him some kind of grace from Gotham’s brooding knight without getting him in hot water with any of the city’s criminal element.

All that was left at that point was actually meeting the kids in person.

His kids.

He ignored the strange, bittersweet ache that touched his heart at that. It was, after all, entirely a means of improving his reputation in the city. The kids mean an end. He’d take care of him the same he did all his people, but not any more than that.

It was just business.

If he reminded himself enough, it might even be true one day.

He suspected though, as he laid eyes on them for the first time - shadow eyed and leery, haunted in a way that ghosts couldn’t manage and looking not much at all like Oswald outside the fear and the pain he did his best to forget from his own upbringing - that the point of not caring had been passed the minute he’d gotten that first call.

Apologies if Penguin is out of character, all I know about him is what I vaguely remember from TAS, what I’ve absorbed from fandom and what I tried to put together from a wiki lol.

I did this instead of sleeping last night because I couldn’t get the initial idea out of my head (which slightly defeats the purpose of making it a writing prompt so that I could just read everyone else’s wonderful thoughts and writings on the idea instead of getting side tracked from my other writing projects - again lol - but oh well).

I don’t know if I’ll write anymore, and as with everything else I post this is open for anyone who is interested to run with.

Tag time!

@phoenixdemonqueen @justgray15777 @gin2212 @blankliferain @meira-3919 @lexdamo @hallowsden @derpygirl64 @thewondersoflebanon @amercurio @vythika96 @my-perfect-storybook-love @apointlessbox

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #danny fenton #oswald cobblepot #dc the penguin #ope whats that? a little projection?#sorry boss that's on me #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc

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