#I have a proper bit of birthday art for them but this makes me cackle I know its been done before and it will be again!!

[paintedcrows]

They do this every year...

Happy 25th to Dipdop and Lebam!! and Happy 17th to Hatsune Miku!! 🎉🎉

(comic continued: The M&M stands for...)

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

[howling-harpy]

A gift from the heart

Pairing: Malarkey & Skip Rating: G

Word count: 2520 Summary: Skip and Don have a day in Paris, and they are on an important quest. [ao3]

A/N: Happy birthday @lyselkatz! This is for you, I hope it’s to your liking.

*

Skip had clearly taken his pass to Paris with a plan in mind. “You have got to help me find the perfect present for her!” he begged as soon as Don walked up to meet him, his hands crossed in a prayer that was surely blasphemous. “What is she going to do with a present at this point?” Don argued back. “You’re shipping yourself back home soon enough.” His heart wasn’t in it, not really. He was arguing more for the sake of arguing, but it was true that they had this one afternoon off and their chances of success were pretty slim.

Paris was a great place to rest and pretend to work at an airplane exhibition, the city was nearly bursting with emotion and will to go back to peacetime, and any heartsick soldier was bound to find something good to send back home to his sweetheart. Don wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk his way out of a shopping trip, or was he simply relieved about Skip’s energy and how he displayed it despite the broken arm and cuts and bruises and drawing the banter out. “With that attitude you will be very unlucky in love!” Skip declared. “My mom said that men who think of themselves as the greatest of gifts will find themselves very lonely indeed, and I plan to make the most of this mortal life and make sure that my girl has nice things!” “Fine then, since you’re the romance expert out of the two of us,” Don gave in and finally allowed a grin to spread on his face. “But what would she like to have?” “That’s why I need help,” Skip said, raising a finger to make an important point. “I’m the romance expert, yes, but small gifts are not my area of expertise.” The thought both did and didn’t make sense, but Don was past arguing over the title of romance expert and instead tried to think of the kind of gifts girls liked. His idea of a good time was an ice cream date and listening to good music, but that was something you did in person, not wrap in brown paper and ship across an ocean. “Uh… Perhaps a good record?” Don said uncertainly. That was more like something he would have liked to unwrap himself and then be delighted about how well his girl knew him, but it was a thought. “Nah, I’d get you a record,” Skip said, nudging Don’s side with his elbow, and flashed him a knowing smile. “No, this has to be a Faye Tanner-gift. I can’t give her a Don Malarkey-gift.” Don shrugged, then gestured at the streets lined with shop windows all around them. “Maybe we should ask around?” If possible, Skip brightened up even more. He seemed to be almost trembling with excitement and ready to explore the city. “That’s great! But we need some places to hit. Make it a proper mission.” Don smiled indulgently. He had had enough of missions and objectives for a lifetime, but Skip was feeling as playful as ever and he knew it was a joke, so he allowed it. “Alright, fine,” he said, then paused to think. “Let’s think some things that she likes and what she’d like to get, and then think where we’ll find it.” “Oh yes. A guest for a true love’s gift! Onwards!” Don smiled for real then. That made it sound like an adventure in a jungle or perhaps across castles and fields and forests instead of an all too real endeavour in current time with real consequences. It almost felt like they could have been friends since they were children and run wild in the woods playing adventurers and wild children. Together, they took to the streets of Paris, Don leading the way as he sometimes knew where they were and where they were going. The list of things that Faye might have liked was growing slowly: Something distinctly European, something pretty or something sweet. Something pretty would have probably been their best bet, given both could recall a dozen times a girl back home had referenced European fashion or make up, but that was quickly becoming a dead end for them. Post-war Paris was many things and there was no doubt about fashion coming back, but right then it wasn’t exactly a priority. At least not at a reasonable price. There were shops open and some driftier places sold many mismatched piles of treasures Parisian ladies had no doubt emptied from their closets while trying to make the ends meet, but Skip and Don quickly realized they didn’t know enough to make a good judgement about them. “This is just… Not Faye!” Skip huffed as they strolled down the street after the fourth shop. “She is pretty and I think she wears cute clothes too, but it’s just… Not like this.” Don didn’t know about fashion either, just of what looked pretty to him, but looking at Skip and knowing him he could imagine Faye was probably not the beauty queen type. “Okay, forget about dresses and hats,” Don thought out loud. “How about a ribbon? Or a scarf? Or jewellery?” Skip thought it over, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t really do her hair, says it gets soaked and flops down anyway, so why bother.” “Okay, so something distinctly European then.” Aside from the airplane exhibition Don was consulting at, several other local cultural exhibits were also opening. Curators at Louvre had apparently cried when their looted treasures started to return in their collection from Germany, and museums and galleries had started to open again, even if only to clean and air the premises. It seemed people missed beauty in their lives, and Don couldn’t fault them on that. They all did. Still, the only thing sold at Louvre were postcards and other souvenirs. There was a certain charm to them, and perhaps sending some cool trinket home along with perhaps some photos and a letter with loving regards would do. Faye sounded like a girl who appreciated the personal touch and the thought more than anything material, so a breeze of culture from France might be the thing they were after. There were plenty of soldiers buzzing around the museum and the park, plenty of them apparently caught by the same idea, everyone trying to decide which artwork was the most suitable one to convey one’s feelings. Skip didn’t pay too much attention to anyone there, but Don had learned to recognize plenty of soldiers by their uniform, and a familiar one drew his attention right away. “Hey! Lieutenant!” Don called out as he recognized a familiar profile and a set of broad shoulders. “Do you know what’s the best gift for your lover?” Lipton jumped in surprise when he was spoken to and nearly dropped the stack of postcards depicting some old, cracked paintings of Roman soldiers. “My what?” he asked, immediately flustered. Skip giggled and skipped over to join them. “Not yours, sir,” he cackled, the entire idea absurd, “we’re trying to find something for Faye before I go home. She will feed me to her cats if I don’t send her a nice present beforehand.” “Oh,” Lipton said and cleared his throat, awkward and jittery on the spot. He set the postcards back to the holder and turned his back to the photographs of Roman generals and Greeks in aggressive military formations. “A wise choice,” Skip solemnly advised him with a heavy nod. “I don’t think any girl will like those. You ought to pick something more… Elegant! Beautiful! Something European.” Lipton smiled politely and shrugged. “Technically Roman Empire used to cover most of the continent what we now call Europe, and what we even consider Europe varies through history.” When Skip and Don just stared at him, he became flustered again. “I… Uh, I’ve been listening to some radio programs at night,” he explained. Skip laughed again. “Getting a history lecture is just about the most boring thing I can imagine doing in bed,” he chuckled, and Don joined in for the plain amusement of the mental image. Lipton lowered his eyes and blushed scarlet. “Well, to each their own,” he allowed diplomatically while swaying on the heels of his boots.   “Sure, sir,” Don said, then reeled them back on topic. “But the gift! Skip needs a gift for Faye.” “Oh, right,” Lipton said, visibly more at ease now that the attention was turning away from him. “Well… I don’t know Ms. Tanner, but you do, so you should use that. Whatever the gift is, the most important thing is that it makes her feel like you have listened to her and know what she likes.” “Uh-huh,” Skip said, and Don nodded along. It was a wise piece of advice, but not concrete enough to actually help them. Judging by Lipton’s smile, he realized exactly the same thing and shook his head at their impatience. Don was almost ready to appoint Lipton as the new romance expert if it wasn’t for his choice of Roman art and Greek pottery. Lipton sighed. “There’s a postcard of just about every European masterpiece here. Why don’t you look at those and pick one that makes you think of her?” Even though Lipton slipped away with a postcard depicting Marcus Crassus battling the rebel leader Spartacus, his advice was actually good, and Skip and Don started browsing the many pictures of various beautiful ladies and princesses and queens. They didn’t understand about the styles or periods but trusted their own eyes to tell what was really beautiful. Momentarily Skip was taken with a painting of a golden-haired woman wrestling a large book from a brown eagle with two heads, but even if beautiful she was too distressed, and the painting was too dramatic anyway. Eventually Skip picked up a postcard depicting a fairly modest painting of a girl dressed in simple clothes and a blue scarf on her head. She couldn’t have been more than ordinary, but the longer you looked at her gentle eyes and lips parted like in a half thought out question as she looked at you over her shoulder, the more convinced you became that she was by far not only the most beautiful but also the most intriguing of all women pictured there. “This one,” Skip said as he held the card. “She looks a bit like her too.” Still, having a simple postcard wasn’t a gift yet. It was a greeting, a simple souvenir, and it needed something more, so the quest went on. “What does she like?” Don asked Skip again as they strolled through the gardens outside of Louvre. “I think that based on all your tales of your bets and highjinks all I know is what she doesn’t like, and that’s you being an idiot.” Skip threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe so! Well, let’s see… Faye likes… Me. Cats. Baseball. Homemade pies. Milkshakes. Dancing. Pretty normal stuff, I’d say.” Just a normal girl, with normal interests, she seemed to be. Don was again at loss. It was a beautiful and hot summer day, and there was a small café on the street by the garden, and just the sight of it made them both feel suddenly thirsty and their sweet tooths ache. Mostly the café was serving coffee in tiny cups, but their display was also showing signs of revival as they served cakes, flaky pastries and chocolate treats. The prices were high and there wasn’t enough to fill the display completely, but what there was looked delicious and made with great care. They got two small éclairs because they looked nice in the window and the little sign in front of the tray had the word “chocolat” in it, and with their little treats they ventured back to the streets. Don was almost used to French baked goods after three weeks in Paris, but Skip savoured his from the very first bite. It was no wonder, the soft, fluffy dough alone was a treat, but the chocolate icing that cracked softly when you bit into the pastry was perfect, and from the face he made Don could tell that Skip hadn’t expected the cream filling. Skip chewed on the éclair slowly with his head tipped back towards the sun, and for a moment Don led him by the arm because he refused to look in front of him. “If only I could send something like this back to the States for her,” Skip sighed around a mouthful. “That would solve literally all my problems. Get a box of these or those little pink cookie things and that would be it. Too bad they wouldn’t make it to the States.” “You’re right, but maybe something else might,” Don said, his eyes already scanning for another shop. “Something sweet would do nicely.” They had to try a few shops for what they were looking for, but eventually Skip managed to find a metal tin filled with hard fruit toffees in candy wrappers. The candy itself wasn’t an extraordinary delicacy like fresh pastries were, but just as important was the beautiful tin they came in. It was like two gifts in one, European candy and a new decorative tin for buttons or letters or whatever Faye fancied. It was nearing evening, and Don had an early morning ahead of him and Skip had to report back to his commanding officer too, but the quest wasn’t yet done. “Don’t forget to wrap it up nicely too,” Don reminded Skip. “Sure, the postal office will put it in brown paper, but that’s not good enough for a gift for your girl. You got to at least find a ribbon to go under the boring paper and string so that she knows you’ve thought about it.” “Good point,” Skip said. “I’m sure I’ll find someone with a ribbon to trade – even something that doesn’t belong in some another dame’s underwear set. Thanks for the tip.” “Sure,” Don said. “Should I see you back to the station?” “No, that’s okay, I’ll find my own way,” Skip said. It was sensible that way. Don’s hotel was in the opposite direction and if he were to walk with Skip, he’d triple his own walk, and Skip knew it too and wouldn’t accept such a bother. Still it felt bad to part ways before they had to since things were uncertain, a discharge and a ticket home might come at a day’s notice, and then they wouldn’t see each other again. Not being able to say goodbye loomed over Don and kept him lingering. Skip seemed to sense it from him, because he smiled and reached to gently touch his arm. “Don’t worry, we’re headed in the same direction eventually. And when we get to the States, I’ll mail you the best present you can imagine.” Don was implored to smile, and despite the melancholy played along. “Really? What’s that?” Skip grinned bright as a summer sun, spread his arms and gestured at himself.

[popculturebuffet]

Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!

Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays.  And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out.  This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show. 

We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...

Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping. 

But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not. 

But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut. 

We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we?  Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened. 

Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later. 

On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all. 

Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one. 

Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE. 

While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look. 

See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that  Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this. 

The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward.  So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful.  If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again! 

Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow. 

[pinkrival]

anonymous said: Could you make a post about Peony and Petunia's backgrounds as well as how Bede recruited them and their relationship with him? Really like your blog btw!

               aww, thank you, anon!

               originally i was just going to link back to the post i originally made about them and then maybe expand on what i already wrote... but then i decided that was boring, so i did you one better!

-------

                ❝ it seems lady opal has picked a successor. ❞ nan mentions offhandedly over tea one day.      ( she isn’t really your nan, but in a town as small as ballonlea, everyone starts to feel like family eventually. )

               you arch a brow. opal had been looking for someone to pass down her title to for as long as you could remember. you would have been lying if you tried to say you didn’t spend much of your childhood dreaming about taking the role for yourself. nothing came of it, of course; you and your sister both dropped out of the gym challenge when kabu proved too difficult a roadblock to overcome, and that was the end of your professional battling career. still, you look to peony, trusting her to read the silent question in your eyes.

               she dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin and asks, ❝ what are they like? ❞

               nan ponders this for a moment, then says, ❝ he’s... interesting. ❞

               and that was the end of that.

-------

               even in a town as isolated as ballonlea, the champion cup is a big deal.

               the employees at the tiny general store had been gathered around the telly, mumbling to each other during the intermission before the finals.      ( they only dragged out the old television during this time of year, you knew. it was too distracting, otherwise. ) one cashier was begrudgingly handing money over to another — from his grumbling, you pieced together he had bet on the champion’s younger brother to come out victorious.

                ❝ — can’t tell me you aren’t miffed by all this, too! ❞ he was still ranting when you walked over to the counter and started unloading your groceries. impidimp nudges your leg and holds up a chocolate bar, eyes pleading. ❝ petunia! ❞ you look over at the sound of your name, snatching up the candy and placing it with the rest of your purchases.      ( impidimp cackles victoriously. ) ❝ who are you pulling for, huh? hop, right? hop should’ve been the favorite to win! ❞

               you glance at the screen, then back to him. you shrug. no preference.

               it only takes a few minutes to bag and pay for your groceries. the walk home isn’t a very long one — yet another good thing about living in a town as small as ballonlea. the streets are even more deserted than usual, with everyone likely at home and glued to the telly, waiting for the intermission to be over. it’s only you and peony this year. mum and dad are off in unova, busy working on their next big pokemon musical      ( they made you promise to record the finals ) and nan is at the stadium. had to take care of something, she said. you assume it has to do with lady opal and the new successor.

               you make it to the cottage      ( hopefully ) before the intermission ends. it takes a bit of finagling to get the door open with your hands full, but you manage. impidimp races inside, waving around his half-eaten chocolate bar like it’s a prize.

                ❝ PETUNIA! ❞ your sister shouts as you’re unloading the snack haul. you think maybe you cut it a bit closer than intended — but there’s something about the urgency in her voice that makes you suspect this has to do with more than the start of the finals.

               you peek into the living room, bag of crisps still in hand. it’s a mess — the floor is covered in a mismatched flood of blankets and pillows. impidimp bounces on a stolen couch cushion, kicking his little feet to and fro. there’s a bowl of what was once popcorn — now reduced to a pathetic handful of kernels — and an embarrassing number of empty soda cans, enough to stack into a pyramid shape. at the center of this chaos is your twin, wrapped in a cheri berry-patterned comforter. her hair is a mess and she hasn’t changed out of her pajamas. none of this strikes you as particularly unusual.

               then she points at the telly and you follow the movement with your eyes.

               the finals have started — or have they? you squint. there’s a boy on the screen you only vaguely recognize. his hair is a mop of pale curls and something about his eyes cuts right through you. it takes you a moment to notice what he’s wearing      ( is that a gym leader’s outfit? ) and then another moment to recognize ballonlea’s trademark pastels.      ( that’s our gym leader’s outfit. )

                you feel the bag slip right out of your hands. this must be lady opal’s successor. which means... lady opal’s successor just crashed the finals. oh. oh.

               somehow, you manage to find your voice just to say what peony is too kind to. ❝ he’s going to make us all look like idiots. ❞

               she bites her bottom lip, but doesn’t disagree.

-------

               despite giving up on your gym leader dreams, you and your sister still enjoy a good battle.

               you mostly dabble in doubles these days. perhaps that was the reason why neither of you managed to make it through the gym challenge — individually, your skills are nothing to write home about, but together you become an unstoppable combo. twin telepathy, peony often claims.       ( the same so-called telepathy that allows her to translate your thoughts into speech without ever asking you to voice them. ) if only the league challenge allowed you to participate in pairs; perhaps things would be different, then.

                ❝ aww. ❞ your opponent groans. ❝ bested again by foxglove’s fury. ❞ it’s a nickname the townspeople gave the two of you when you were children; your combined talent for double battles quickly became infamous. thus, foxglove’s fury. you didn’t care for it much, but peony thought it was simply adorable. you tolerated it for her sake.

                ❝ that was so much fun... ❞ she turns to you, clapping her hands in delight. ever since the finals, it felt like your passion for battling had returned with a vengeance.      ( though you were mostly just glad to see peony actually happy about something. ) you nod, mirroring her smile. impidimp tries to give swirlix a high five, only to forget he doesn’t have arms to reciprocate it with. he gets around this issue by sticking his hand on the other pokemon’s face... affectionately? nailed it.

                ❝ evidently the rumors were true. ❞ an unfamiliar voice reaches your ears. you turn around to look at the speaker, and freeze when you realize who it is.

               the gym leader. lady opal must have been teaching him well, if he had already mastered the art of appearing out of seemingly nowhere. it’s strange seeing him in person. he’s smaller than you expected, yet sharper. vibrant and ethereal in a way the screen couldn’t quite capture that did him proper justice.      ( those eyes are even more piercing up close. ) he tilts his head, regarding you and your sister with a calculating stare. unexpectedly, the gym leader raises his hands to clap. one, two, three times. a polite gesture  — yet something about it screams awkward and stilted and artificial. ❝ it seems you do have some measure of talent. ❞

               you look at peony. she looks at you, then back to him. ❝ um... ❞ her voice threatens to falter. ❝ s — sorry, but... did you need something? ❞

                he nods, then says, ❝ battle me. ❞

                what.

                ❝ what? ❞ peony voices your thought aloud, though she seems just as shocked as you are.

               the gym leader      ( what was his name again? beet... bede or something? ) seems unsympathetic. he takes a step closer, tilting his head. there’s something challenging in his violet stare — hungry for a fight. ❝ i said, battle me. ❞ blunt and to the point. ❝ i want to see how strong you are for myself. ❞

               you and your sister exchange another glance. you frown. she turns back. ❝ we... we aren’t really sure... ❞

                ❝ fine. ❞ you’re surprised he gives up so quickly, but then he holds out a great ball. ❝ in that case, i’ll only use one pokemon. is that acceptable? ❞

               you can feel peony’s eyes on you, searching for an answer. you glance at the great ball, then bede’s face. he looks determined. it’s actually a bit intimidating, how intense this kid seems. like he’s so ready to prove himself that he’s willing to go all in at a moment’s notice.      ( is he always like this? ) after a moment, you shrug.

                ❝ well... ❞ peony still hesitates a second longer. ❝ okay... ❞ she perks up. ❝ y — yeah! we’ll show you! just because you’re lady opal’s successor doesn’t mean you can get all cocky y’know! ❞

-------

               ... you lose.

               it doesn’t even seem to take much effort on bede’s part — his hatterene is simply a monster. you both throw your best strategies at him, and he easily dismantles them piece by piece. it’s more than a little humbling, to say the least.

               after the battle, he regards both of you coolly. ❝ not bad. ❞ bede says.      ( it sounds unnatural, like he isn’t used to giving compliments. ) ❝ although i can see substantial room for improvement. ❞ he looks at you for a moment longer, seemingly deep in thought. then he asks, ❝ how would you feel about becoming gym trainers? ❞

               eventually, you both agree.

-------

               as time goes by, you start to learn more and more about him.

               first, the basics — his name is bede. he’s fifteen years old.      ( fifteen! he’s practically still a baby. ) his birthday is on november eleventh. he’s left handed.

               he prefers tea to coffee, and tells everyone he drinks it plain.       ( the reality is usually an even mix of tea and copious amounts of honey. ) sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he’ll eat entire sugar cubes like candy. in spite of this, bede still claims to be indifferent towards sweets.

               he’s quite possibly the most stubborn person you’ve ever met. once he sets his mind to something, he won’t give up even when common sense dictates his goal a lost cause.

               he likes making bets and wagers — especially when he feels confident in his chances of victory. the gym leader claims not to cheat, yet petunia is utterly convinced she caught him sneaking extra pokeopoly money under the table during game night. you think cheating only counts as cheating when it comes to light, and stuff an extra wad of bills into your left sock to compensate. still, bede always ends up winning.

               he devours knowledge like his life depends on it. occasionally you find him lurking around the gym, tearing through textbooks drier than the sands of stow-on-side.

               he literally lives inside ballonlea stadium, out of what was once an old office or storage room. you discovered this when you opened the wrong door, only to be met with floral pattern sheets and a fluff of white hair you initially mistook for a very tiny wooloo. a sylevon sat curled upon the blanket pile. she blinked with curious eyes and purred loud enough for you to hear across the room. you wisely chose to shut the door.

               he dislikes reporters and being interviewed, but will tolerate it up until a point. once they try to pry a little deeper than bede would like, he immediately makes up an excuse to cut things off.

               he can literally eat the same exact food ad nauseam. you know this because you had to stop him from eating fruit yogurt and granola for breakfast for the sixth day in a row.      ( begged him, please just let me make you an omelette, until he finally relented. )

               fairy type pokemon all seem to adore him. he disappears into glimwood tangle for hours on end, and comes out with hatenna and impidimp following him like he’s the pied piper.

               he has no knowledge of any popular tv shows or movies that aren’t related to pokemon battling. as this is an unforgivable crime, you declare a weekly movie night absolutely mandatory. he rolls his eyes the first time he hears it, yet still continues to show up and steal all the popcorn.

               his moods tend to fluctuate. most days he’s confident and determined, if a bit aloof. then he slips into a sudden downward spiral and you can barely find him      ( physically and emotionally ) let alone hold a conversation. it’s worrying. you look at this kid — technically your boss — and see the shadows of so many demons looming over him, knowing you can’t fight those battles for him because he won’t let you.

               ❝ what do you think about him? ❞ you decide to ask petunia on a whim. she thinks about it for a moment, then looks at you and shrugs, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. her eyes are soft, clear fondness held in those evergreen depths.

               you nod. ❝ yeah... i think so too. ❞

               he’s kind of like the weird, prickly little brother you never had.

-------

              ❝ ... bede? ❞ it’s his room, so you do the polite thing and stand in the doorway — not entering without a proper invitation.      ( even if he left it open. ) his back is mostly to you, crouched down in front of a drawer. you’re not sure what he’s doing — you’re not sure he’s doing anything, because he isn’t moving. it’s actually a bit eerie.

               you open your mouth to call him again, when a flash of gold catches your eye — no, a watch? your brow furrows at this, but before you have time to think about what it means, bede turns around and catches your eye. ❝ peony — ? ❞ he looks... terrible. face pale. eyes flat and exhausted in a way they have no right being — not on someone that young. you can’t recall ever seeing bede look so frail and uncertain before, and it’s a bit jarring. like seeing a meowth suddenly start chattering in perfect english.      ( you wonder what the watch means to him, if it has anything to do with this. it has to. )

               quickly, you find yourself pulled out of your musings when he repeats your name again. you shake your head, feeling color pooling in your cheeks. ❝ aha! s — sorry! sorry, um. i wanted to ask about your plans for the gym mission — ❞

               bede quickly puts the watch away — you can tell he tries to be sneaky about it, hoping you won’t notice. you pretend not to, if only for the sake of his pride.

               ... but as you go over the paperwork together, the gears are already turning in your head.

-------

                ❝ what... what is this — ? ❞ it’s almost funny how confused bede looks, standing there with a plate of cookies in his hands. he stares at them incredulously, as if he’s never seen oatmeal raisin in his entire life.      ( you hope he likes them. you’re pretty sure he likes them. )

               you swallow down your anxieties and reach out to ruffle his hair. ❝ cookies, silly! ❞ bede does the thing where he scrunches up his nose and squints at you — like he’s trying his absolute hardest to look displeased.      ( but really isn’t. ) ❝ i made them for you! ❞

               one would think the act of being given homemade cookies wouldn’t send one spiraling into emotional turmoil, but the array of expressions that flash across bede’s face indicate otherwise. his jaw works, and it takes him a moment to settle on a single word. ❝ ... why? ❞ why. like one tiny act of kindness is enough to throw his entire world into disarray. why. like it’s absolutely beyond his understanding.

               you smile at him gently. ❝ why not? ❞ he looks like he wants to protest, so you nudge him with an elbow. ❝ c’mon, bede! they —  they’re gonna get cold at this rate! try them already, i want to hear what you think. ❞

               he stares at you for a moment, then hesitantly selects one and takes a bite.

               his eyes light up. ❝ they’re... good. ❞ he sounds genuinely surprised. more than that, he sounds happy.

               mission accomplished, you think. ❝ i’m glad. ❞

[penumbra-rp]

Congratulations Dean, you have been accepted for the role of Rabastan Lestrange!

“Does reputation matter to you?”

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly.

Admin Ash: Dean, from the moment we heard of your interest in Rabastan, we had a feeling he had just the vibe that would be perfect for you, and this application only proved how right we were. Rabastan is hilarious, he’s animated, he’s completely and utterly obnoxious -- just as you stated in his traits -- and I found myself cackling out loud to his antics and the numerous ridiculous things he said. Much like the gem above. He’s a proper nuisance -- wearing his place at the bottom of his graduating class like a medal and taking utter pride in spicing up any dinner party -- and I found that I adored him all the more for it. I know he’s going to give many of our Death Eaters a headache that’ll be too hard to shake. I’m so excited that you’ll be bringing our rambunctious rockstar to us! 

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Dean

AGE: 21

YOUR BIRTHDAY: July 4th 1997

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE:  GMT

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Rabastan Lestrange

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Robert Sheehan

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: July 29th

PERSONALITY:

+ Persuasive

+ Comical

+ Boisterous

- Argumentative

- Obnoxious

- Impressionable

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

‘What a beautiful little girl you have,’ strangers would coo, easily mistaking the boy’s long dark eyelashes as a feminine feature. The compliment felt like a stab in the heart for a woman who had mothered two sons when she had spent the majority of her second pregnancy dreaming longingly for a daughter.

The minute he had said his first words, the Lestranges knew he would be nothing like their first child. Rabastan was demanding, his mother’s disinterest and father’s sternness only making him thirst more for their approval. He’d approach the world as if it were a stage and his friends and family was his audience. Every move calculated strategically as a plead for more attention, plots intertwined intricately to remove wishfully himself from his older brother’s seemingly overbearing shadow and earn his own moment in the spotlight. When that didn’t work, Rabastan turned towards misbehaving. Playing cruel tricks on Rodolphus which were reciprocated with pure disdain from the young teenager, saying inappropriate things when there were guests around and neglecting to follow any rules. There were no limits, so long as he knew it would obtain him the measliest bit of recognition.

As his troublesome ways manifested and endangered on becoming a larger problem, Rabastan was swiftly packed up and sent to a private school. One where the tuitions were sky high since there was the promise to straighten out unruly children and turn them into well-behaved future politicians and lawyers. The first couple of years, Rabastan was no stranger to disciplinary procedures. Hours upon hours spent in detention, letters sent home on numerous occasions and not to mention the extra load of homework he’d receive on the basis that he never seemed to be listening in class. Yes, within the three years of his enrolment, the youngest Lestrange was fast becoming one of the rare cases that the school couldn’t fix. Foreseeably a failure in the eyes of his teachers and his parents.

That was, of course, until they decided to place the boy in front of a piano. Fingers gliding effortlessly across ivory keys and filling the room with delicate twinkling accents. What was meant to be another amercement spun into Rabastan’s saving grace, the first time he’d receive acknowledgement for the right reasons and actually feel some contentment in what he was doing. When he’d returned home that year for the summer, his piano lessons continued. Quickly followed by learning the guitar, the violin and even the saxophone. Essentially, it was considered to be a miracle, at long last, they’d found the one thing that installed some calm into Rabastan’s relentless frenzy of a personality.

Throughout the years, Rabastan’s creativity and musical talent only appeared to flourish. Carefully written lyrics sang in perfect pitch over another one of his original guitar riffs, an angelic voice filtering through the house and reverberating a gentle symphony in the bleak hallways. But when the time came, the answer was a clean cut ‘no’ to his proposal of studying anywhere else other than the Slytherin school of Social Business. Despite his talents, his father would have sooner fallen into an early grave than see one of his son’s graduating with anything that wasn’t a business degree.  

The confinements the course held over his time to express artistic freedom entirely reignited Rabastan’s dormant compulsion to rebel. Skipping one too many classes and spending more time drinking than he ever did in the library. When it came to graduating, the life of the party and class clown unsurprisingly had barely scraped the mark. Proudly taking the place at the bottom of his class and leaving the school entirely unqualified to fulfil a role in the family business.

Rabastan had won. One last swipe of his father’s credit card was enough to book a couple of days in a recording studio and the rest, as they say, was history. Songs that he’d masterfully been pouring all of his efforts into during his studies turned to meticulously crafted pieces of art. With a pretty face and sleek style, it wasn’t long before a record label picked him up and churned him into a full-fledged rockstar. Fame and notoriety came second nature. Orchestrating publicity stunts with his PR team and spreading his own rumours were all part of the game in establishing his very own empire. It was as if Rabastan was created for this fast set lifestyle, stepping on other people’s toes so he could climb the social ladder right to the very top.

Rabastan Lestrange had become a household name. Securing a number one in the UK charts for three consecutive months and selling out venues shortly after the release of his debut album. His quick-witted opinions and outrageous interviews going viral across social media, gaining him the admiration of many and resentment of others. It wasn’t long after that, that his family name would call on his like a curse to act dutifully to another cause.

Owning one of the major organisations that formed the frameworks of the Sacred 28 meant that the Lestrange family were no strangers to the acts of Death Eaters. Regularly, it had been part of the dining room chatter that Rabastan was effectively escorted away from, untrusted with the secrets that Rodolphus’ silver tongue was so often wrapped around. That was until they’d seen an opportunity in the younger Lestrange’s childish arrogance and increasing influence he held over the public. Rabastan’s lust for trouble and manipulative discourse fit suitably within the skill sets of a Death Eater. They would use him as a middle man, putting his sweet talk and skilled bribery to good use and when that failed, he’d follow precise orders and discard of the target.

If it weren’t for Rodolphus’s involvement, Rabastan would have never of handed his loyalty to the organisation as easily as he had. Though the Dark Lord may be the ringleader, for Rabastan this went further than ranks. It was about blood. He’d never been that ideal, pristine version of the man his parents anticipated that he’d be. Dismissing controversies to the press with blatant arrogance and refusing to comment on anything associated with Lestrange Industries and the warfare it supported. This was a chance to prove himself, to his bloodline, he was one of them.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

“Adoring fans that scream your name, music royalties, fancy events, groupies,” Rabastan lists off one by on his fingers before scoffing, “no, you’re right, I should really go beg my darling big brother for a space in the family business, I’d be a really sexy secretary for a businessman- I mean, picture me in a pencil skirt.” Rabastan puckers his lips at the thought, using his hand to fan himself down, “my apologies, I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

Running a hand below his chin, he’s selecting his next words carefully. “Hmm, now who do I hand out this chunk of free promotion to if not myself… No, really, I say I like something and the sales skyrocket the next day, I guess it’s my charm.” Reclined in his chair Rabastan springs back up once the perfect song comes to mind, “Have you ever heard of The Cheeky Girls?” his own laughter surrounds him in a pitch almost as harmonic as his singing, “In all seriousness, Club Tropicana by Wham! really just radiates my personality.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“My reputation? Who do you think I am, Taylor Swift?” he questions tauntingly. “It’s been said that I’m like marmite, you love me or you hate me. Either way makes no difference to me. This is where my manager comes swanning in to warn me to play nicely with my dearest interviewer, but you know why my fans love me? It’s because I’m genuine, I’m not going to feed them all this bullshit as other singers do- that reminds me! Buy my new EP, available now on iTunes.” he punctuates with a charming wink, though his tone was sarcastic his intent is entirely serious.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

“Mummy and Daddy wanted a little girl so badly, then when I turned out to be a right old diva they still weren’t impressed” He can’t fight the look of pure delight that rules his expression, even as a boy his parents distaste in his demeanour had been hugely entertaining. “Truth is I like being the black sheep of the family, it’s satisfying work for me. That and I make our dinner parties a lot more enjoyable, I inject a healthy bit of personality into the dining room conversations and stop people from falling asleep in their soup bowls, you know?… for example, bear versus shark, who would win? Obviously, it’s the bear.”

v. What languages can you speak?

“Most days I can hardly even speak English,” he declares humorously, “I speak enough French to get by thanks to private schooling. You know the basics… Voulez-vous coucher avec moi,” he’d definitely learned that from Lady Marmalade, not his expensive education.

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“The drugs- Kidding!” he’s aware that he’s yet to answer one question sincerely. “For all my beautiful fans out there, please know that I would NEVER participate in the massive consumption of cocaine, but I didn’t say anything about ecstasy.” Rabastan pauses long enough to make them feel uncomfortable, visibly revelling in the awkward silence. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m joking, again. I don’t know what I’d save, I could easily replace anything. So maybe my wallet.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

His lips are pressed together in contemplation, finally a question that couldn’t be glossed over with humour or shocking statements. “The Slytherin School of Social Science,” as he answers, he gags to dramatise his disdain. “I wanted so badly to study Literature under the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, but daddy dearest was refusing to financially support me if I didn’t follow in the family’s footsteps. ‘No son of mine is walking around reading Bridget Jones’ Diary’” Whilst imitating his father’s hoarse voice, his expression changes to an unnatural dark grimace and wags his finger in the air. “-Great book, by the way. So that’s the story of how I became a Business graduate and the bottom of the class.” A nostalgic sigh pronounces itself from his lungs as he stares dreamily into the distance, “oh the glory days.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“@RabastanLestrangeMusic, that’s the one I’m meant to plug anyway, or my publicist will have me by the throat- little does she know, I’d enjoy that,” he glances over his shoulder to see if his manager is watching before looking back to them with a delighted grin, “I do have this lesser known Instagram account, @Rab_a_stan, it’s got a couple of thousand followers, I started it last week and I put really weird unfiltered shit on there- wait can I swear during this interview? I never asked, fuck.”