#grease the orangutan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

popculturebuffet · 2 years ago

Text

Top 20 Animated Episodes of 2022, Part 2: 10 to 1

Happy new year all you happy people and welcome back to my best of the year list. If your just joining us ..

YOU CAN FIND PART 1 HERE

To breifly recap for those who didn't go click that link

Now your all caught up, let's get to the list itself.

10. Who Violently Murdered Simon S. Salty? (Smiling Friends)

"And none of you are leaving until we solve this!" "You didn't need to raise your voice man"

Look i'm a sucker for restraunt based shows, humor and what not. I just love food, and love stuff set around it. I'm an easy orangutan resembling a person to please. So a fast food based mystery with a bunch of weird mascots ranging from the more understandable (A ketchup packet, a mustard packet and a drink cup), to the slightly abstract (Said drink cup being a man horrifyingly poured into it, a pile of salt and a pile of pepper) to the smilng friends of it (A pile of grease who cheerfuly wants to be included, two manic eyeballs and a century egg), and having all have various quirk (Mustard being a femme fetale who ends up taking too long with the build up, salt and pepper liking to kiss in the closet ("that that's beauitful), said cup talking WAY too loong about his doodies or whatever the fun twins were up to), it wasn't a hard sell. But the episodes still a nice break from form as the police have outsourced to our heroes so when Charlie and Pym find the head of Charlie's faviorite restraunt murdered after undergoing a menu change, it's up to them to solve it. It's just a densely packed, wondreful little joke fest, cumilating in EVERYONE having tried to kill him while no one actually didi t and our various supsepcts being free to run riot in the streets.. somehow. Pure comic magic.

9. The Circus (Helluva Boss)

"Son Cease this bitch crying"

Helluva boss had a BIT of a rough time getting to season 2: it took half the year, the intended season finale , a one off special that wasn't plot relevant was held up in some sort of legal trouble Vivinzie likely can't talk about legally, and in general it was just a headache inducing wait for the fans.

Said wait was well worth it though as we go tthe Circus an episode that gave a suprising backstory for both Blitzo and Stolas, and their relatoinship. It also gave us Jonathan Freeman, aka Goddamn Jafar as Stolas dad and got him to say Jafar's signature catch phrase"cease this bitch crying". Good times.

Said bitch crying is because as many fanas guessed, Stolas really had no choice in his relationship with Stella, and given Paimon's never had to actually.. you know get his sons to agree with more than that, he bribes him with the circus… the same one Blitzo grew up in.

I honestly didn't see the two being something resembling childhood friends coming.. well friends is pushing it, to Blitzo he's just a kid who was kinda neat and who he robbed a bit because his dad is the worst and sold him for an ultra slim condom and 5 bucks. Honestly it's hard to tell which father is worse, but it's clear his time with Blitzo is one of the only times Stolas was ever happy. Which is just sad. It also explains a lot… part of how stunted he is emotoinally.. is that he was kept in these palace wals never really allowed to grow or taught how and stuck in a loveless marriage.

Said marriage is somehow WORSE than it appeared.

Yeah really. Stella holds a still not divorced party and talks shit while he's right there. I'm mixed on this.. not on her being awful, given she's willing to scream in front of her daughter on a DAILY basis, treats Octavia more as a prop to get back at Stolas than an actual daughter, and called out a HIT on stolas, we knew she was bad. We just didn't know how abusive, selfish, or cruel she was. It shows why Stolas clings to blitzo so much: Sure they have actual chemistry.. but around him he can actually be himself and any demaning stuff.. is simply Stolas not realizing how much it hurt Blitzo to be treated like a toy. He can be himself for the first time instead of having to drink all the abysnth just to function.

We also see that Blitzo.. forgot any of that happened and in typical Blitzo fashion his plan for the grimiore was just to.. steal it and no one would eve rknow.. and gets caught almost instanlty. The only reason he's not dead is Stolas is horny for him, though we do see Blitzo's barb wired, land mined, and set on fire walls go down a sec as he plans to just abandon stolas in bondage.. only to realize Stolas really needs this and a few or so hours later

youtube

It shows the story of two deeply traumatized people who badly need each other.. but don't really know HOW to communicate that. Blitzo probably needed it as much as stolas did, he's just been hurt enough and it took seeing him vunerable to see past the rich asshole to the vunerable manchild underneath.

We also get ONE HELLLLL of a cathartic ending as after singing out his misery Stella barges in, berates stolas.. who finallys tands up to her. While his adultry isn't great and I do like that the series dosen't hide the effect the divorce has on octavia even if it's LONGGGGG needed, we get the sense that like so many failed marragies he tried. He tried to love her, he tried to make it work but it's clear any attempts at that are long past.. and given Stella tries to hit him when he declares their divorcing, damn the consequence,s he catches it. He's finally free, for whatever that costs him. And god it feels glorious. HIm breaking her things next episode helped even if the timing was fucking awful. I cannot wait ot see where this goes.

8. Whispers At the Zigguarat (The Legend of Vox Machina)

"I broke the world for us"

You heard me gush about Vox Machina plenty in part one

This was one of the two best shows of the year, and it knew how to close things out. We'll get to the second part of this finale later, as it's enough of it's own thing to warrant two slots, but after a season of well done storytelling as Percy shot his way through the list of people who wronged him, found out his sister was alive only to seemingly loose her again, and the party as a whole fought it's way through jail cells, half assed solo fancy mansions, crotch lightning duels, silver tounged Stephen Roots, and naked acid baths… it finally comes down to this. Vox Machina versus the Briarwoods and a brainwashed Cassandra and Vax, all to stop the power couple from destroying the world.

The episode is almost entirley one long fight scene, with the party nicely divided up: Pike and a silenced Scalan take on Necromancer supreme Deliliah, Percy tries to fight both his possed gun and his sister to snap her out of her possesion, Vex tries to hold off vax, Keleth tries to reawake the suntree and Grog gets his rematch with the vampiric brute with the cool sword that's TOALLY not going to be a problem in of itself next season, Silas.

The resulting fights are gorgeous and well built up: We've seen how much Vex relies on vax and thus her forced to fight to the death with him destroys her, we see Percy fight his need for vengance and growing possesion to save the only family he has left, and pike and grog's fights nicely give both payback for the party's first fight with the briarwoods: After getting utterly curbstombed in his first fight, Grog uses all his wits

Which amounted to fighting blind and using the fact Silas coudlnt enchant him to empale and suplex the fucker, then pull a raditz when Keyleth used sunburst.

While after Deliliah breaking her phalicry (and Ashley filming a tv show in the original stream), left PIke mia and nearly killed her future husband, pike got to strike back and show her just why Delilah was wise to take her out. The resutling fight is just one long brutal climax as the Brirarwoods get what they deserved and deliliah is left without her husband, her attempts to summon her god seemingly futile, with her sheer brokenness DESPITE being such a huge monster, amazingly conveyed by Grey Deleise in one of her finest voice acting roles. She was the crews first and top choice and their faith was ENTIRELY justified. She's left at the mercy of percy.. whose looking a little shadowy there buddy.. percy.. percy.. ohs hit. We'll get back to this later just.. hold on pal alright?

7. Thanks to Them (The Owl House)

"Dear diary: All I ever wanted was to be good at something, to be around people who also liked that something. And when I found the Demon Realm, I thought, 'Wow, I found it. I can learn magic. I can be a witch! I-I won't have to be the dummy in the principal's office anymore!' But I messed up too much, and put everyone in danger. Mama said I have to learn from my mistakes, so… I know what I have to do now. On Halloween, after the Hayride, I'm telling everyone I'm staying in the Human Realm. Permanently." So after a 6 or so month hiatus, the Owl House returned for the first of it's three finale movies, which hopefully won't be the last as said movie…is on the cusp of breaking FIVE MILLION views on youtube.

Yeah i'm proud and this episode easily shows why. Like the other owl house episodes I did a whole review on this but in shor tit finishes the rehabilitation of Camilla's character, both giving an in character reason for her hating conversion camp.. and ocne she has context fully accepting the isles as a part of her child;s life: she accepts her coming out with pride (As we all expected), basically adopts the kids temporarily (Except Hunter, he has a foreve rhome now), and most importantly outright walks Luz back from trying to abandon her friends and the isles. It's a story about forgiving yourself, something I struggle all too freaking often to do, and thus related to heavily. But quality wise it's just objectively good cramming at least a four or five episode arc into two episodes of special.

We also get great hunter moments, Veesha, and Belos back, which helped my only gripe about the collector: Given the entire series was set up with Belos as it's true antagonist and even the collector being free was his fault, i was worried about him being a quick boss just for this special.. and while his possesion of hunter was horrifying if smelling of

It still gave us a tense fight scenes that leaves our heroes going into the next fight with TWO villians to worry about, the fate of two worlds at stake and a dead bird corpse freshly baked into a teenager. It's… it's going to be a lot and I can't wait to see it in two weeks. As for it leaking.. yeah i'm stayin away from that so if you need me

6. The Feast of Realms (The Legend of Vox Machina)

"YOUR SOUL IS FORFEIT"

Yeah i've never seen a show go from excellent to HOLY FUCKING SHIT so fast, so soon but after a two episode pilot that set a lot up, had david tennat playing another money hoarding creature of legend, and was generally good, the next episode is where the series really stepped up it's game now everything was in place and set the arc of the season in place.

In this case our ragtag bunch of heroes have just found respectablility as the protectors of emon, a new house, and a rousing round of ball tag. Seriously the joke shoudln't work this well, much like the literal pissing contest from final space, but the combination of Vax wincing "I didn't even agree to this stupid game" despite already having a point meaning even with that he's still participating, to his later revenge sucker elbowing Grod in his balls of many sperm for a three pointer and of course scalan knowing all the ins and outs apparnetly having become referee for hsits and giggles.. it's beautiful.

The real meat though is on our heroes having to mingle with high society…. which while not going how percy planned (Scalan accuses a noble of hitting on him for shits and giggles while Pike and Grog pound wine flutes like shots, as is custom), they get infintely worse when the Briarwoods, our big bads and the ones who murdered Percy's entire family show up and send him into ptsd. He opens up and our team heads on the offensive, with Vax sneaking out to go investigate while the rest of the heroe sput their apperance in at dinner.

Naturally.. none of this goes well. Percy has an outburst after Dellilah, clearly recognizing him, gleefully blames Percy's family for their own downfall while Silas enchants the kings mind, and Vax quickly gets caputred after. While he barely survives, it leads to a massive brawl, which not only puts the already awesome dragon fight to shame.. but shows our heroes arne't quite ready yet in a way that dosen't diminish their badassery: they had no ieda what they were expecting.. and thus while they fight the briarwoods well enough, they still mostly get laid out and Deliliah taking pike out early means an easy loss with the team minus a healer and the team dropping like flies, with Delilah cheerfully telling percy to stop by any time. Grey's performance as Delilah, as I said, is one of her best and this clinches it, the way she gives the necromancer plenty of personality and charm.. while still conveying she's pure evil to be stopped.

The scene tha tclincehs this episodes spot though is a draastic turn that, due to not having done any research on the campagin at that point, something I was NOT prepared for: Percy's response is to snarl "You let them get away'". While the entire main cast and our two main villians (Including Critical Roll dm and master voice actor himself Matthew Mercer as Silas), are fucking amazing, Talisen Jaffe does the legwork as percy and I was impressed to learn later that a LOT of Percy's most cutting lines and moments in this season were entirely just Talisen improvising. His various backstory monlogues are taken from the game, as is this moment as Percy SNARLS as he confronts what's clearly an innocent coach driver the briarwood left, leaves the poor man crawling.. THEN SHOOTS OFF HIS HAND as he puts on a creepy bird mask radiating shadows, while his teamate sna the audience look on in object horror. While Percy was no nonsense before he had a noblity about him, and not just because he rich.. and seeing his tightly put together mask of civlity peel off as a combination of possesion and his own need for vengance consumes him. The chillingly calm "Your soul is forfeit!' never ceases to amaze me and it' sonly our heroes getting arrested that stops him. It's one hell of a moment that sets the stage for 9 great more episodes of television and leaves the first batch of three on one hell of a cliffhanger, all thanks to good ol No Mercy Percy.

5. Fire and Ice (Craig of the Creek) Kelsey pondered her literary predicament. Was Kelsey… truly like Fire? Was Stacks truly like Ice? Were Kelsey and Stacks like… Fire and Ice? W-would that… be okay?

Another episode I reviewed, as part of a decent sized middle finger ot the don't say gay bill, and another classic. It also cements that had I gotten my act together Craig of the Creek would've had a place high on this list for some time, but even with a show this high quality that essentially serves as the spirtiual sequel to Recess, updating it for modern times with way more diversity and having it after school instead of during to allow for more creative freedom, this show is an absolute delight and this is easily one of it's best episodes.

See the show had long hitned at Kelsey being gay with her subtext with a blatant crush on wildernessa nad plenty of muttual ship tease with Stacks. The show didn't really make a bit deal out of it it was just clear she was likely into girls. The creators even just casuallyr evealed she and stacks were both gay via word of mouth. But the clever trick here is that just because the audeince could tell to the points the creator sdidn't bother waiting to confirm it.. dosen't mean the CHARACTER knows their gay.

As such this episode is one long coming out story for Kelsey and even then only the first, most important, and most nervewracking party ESPECIALLY for a young child: admitting it to yourself. Like Kelsey I ha dcrushes on men before realizing I was bisexual, but just.. never relaized it was more than appricating a man looks good. And I was about twice her age when the wave of terror of realizing hit me. So all these feelings of realizing this is real, not knowing what to do.. are hard.

It's doubly hard on Kelsey who has this relization in front of a target and is crushing on someone who not only may like her back, but is one of her closest friends. Kelsey's friendship with Stacks steadily grew over the series, the extroverted kelsey suprisingly meshing well with the introvert who prefers to stay in the library. The two even shared their love of reading with a secret society/book club that's progressed into writing their own books, all set up by previous episodes.. for the payoff here. Kelsey writes an adventure story reminicent of she ra with obvious avatars for her and stacks.. that are into each other. The problem is Kelsey and Stacks, being childrens, didn't realize their avatars were each other nor what that meant till Craig blurted it out for everyone. In his defense he both ENTIRELY doesn't realize what this means for both of them or the pain it would cause and as we see later in the same season wit his own love life it took him MONTHS to realize Wildernessa liked him after flat out confessing during capture the flag, and the obvious tension during breaking the ice. Craigy Boy is many things, most of them good.. but oblvious is very much one of them.

So this leads Kelsey into a panic as she realizes what this means and avoids stacks worrying about both destroying her friendship and how to progress the story… knowing it could mean progressing her relationship. We also get a nice moment as Craig misses the point.. but in a nice subtle bit JP POSSIBLY dosen't. It's left nicely vauge: my surrogate son is entirely dense… but there are little cues int eh animation that tell me him taking Kelsey to Kat, his sister Laura's girlfriend who turns out ot be a writer, wasn't just for writing advice.. but to help his friend sort out her feelings with people who not only likely had been there but who can ease her into it.

What follows is a truly great scene as Kat helps guide Kelsey, not only praising her writing.. but helping her realize that these feelings, while panick endusing are a bad thing.. and she should embrace htem. That having your feelings come through in your work isn't bad.. and said feelings are a good thing. ONe generation helps the next.. and through that Kelsey's able to not only finish the story.. but tell Stacks how she feel, leading to adorable handholding. Granted the story.. is far from over and hopefully we have enough time in season 5 or later this season to continue this before the series ends because damn you zaslav, as there's still a few steps in her journey to go but I can't wait to see the

4. Screech Leeches (Tuca and Bertie)

"Bertie you weren't a creep, you were a high school girl with too many hot wet sloppy high school feelings to know what to do with. Be kind to that creepy baby bertie, she wormed her way into my heart. " "Awww i'm your heart worm"

Another show bows out of this list though unlike Close Enough, where it comes off as JG Quintel has moved on… eeriley well at that, it's clear Lisa Hanawalt hasn't given up yet and the show might find yet another home. And given Season 3 was as good as ever and left with a lot of places to go, i'm hoping for. For now though the show left with a stellar season and one episode in paticular sucker punched me in the emotoinal gut. And while it sadly lacks Matthew Rhys using his belos voice as a sexy tree, speckle for more than one cameo or Tuca giving literal birth to bertie

It was easily the best of the season. Screech Leeches is really a stand alone, focusiong on Bertie as she spirals over her high school friend Muriel making a jordan peele style horror film that she feels is about her. What follows is a very long very painful flashback that shows just how lost Bertie was after her molestation: Her parents, as already establisehd didn't want to talk about it, her counciler was useless and her friends were worse than useless, none of them realizing what they did wrong or that it wasn't scoring… though one did go professional at being a bitch so… good for her..

Bertie does find a friend in Muriel who for the moment is what she needed: someone willing to lash out, who also had been sexually asaulted and gotten no help, and who helped her be angry. It's the kind of friendship we've all had: where you find someeone cooler than you and latch onto them.

And as we see while Bertie does start copying Muriel not only did muriel encourage it.. but then lead her on by kissing her. While Bertie then became a bit.. too obessive, it's as Tuca says at the end: She was a little creepy.. but also awash in 80 pounds of hormones, at a loss of any directoin. It makes Muriel rejecting her and tearing the poor girl apart so painful and there's no real cathariss: the film wasn't about her, and there's no real indication things would ever get solved. And that's how life is sometimes. Sometimes one of the worst moments of it. .is just an object lesson more than something you'll ever get real closure on. Hopefully the same won't be said for this series

3. The Beginning of the End/All-In/The Hardest Thing (Amphibia)

"Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever, sometimes you have to let it go. But of all the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you."

Amphibia came to a close and while as I mentioned last part, the last batch of episodes was more.. okay.. the finale.. was true magic. While it's first part, The Beggining of the End was part of WHY that batch was okay, having the assembled army just go

When Anne was captured, which made little sense and felt like we just wasted a good chunk of build up building these armies when it amounted to fuck all. It's why this one didn't score higher, despite making it all the way to #3: it felt like an insulting waste in a series that really wastes little.

Thankfully what followed is easily one of the best tv finales i've seen, a masterful hour and a half (While the hardest thing was seperated it's basically one big movie) of payoff. And one of the first things it does once our heroes escape the floating castle, is make something I disagreed with, Anne's Parents staying behind, into something badass as they've become trained badasses in super suits and Mr. X, having done his face turn we all knew was coming now he realized that not all aliens are bad, just the one with floating final boss castles.

We get the epic battle we were promised.. as well as three excellent payoffs to each of the calamity trio's arcs: Anne shows how far she's come whil epunching a dictator in the face, Sasha fights her own self doubt and Darcy, and Marcy herself rejects what she's always wanted after realizing what other people wants matter and she can't just avoid reality. We also get abuses of goverment property, the Plantars conquering the very beings that took the kids parents so long ago, and k-pop, which is better than I ever thought it'd be. Yes i'm old. I know.

The final part dosen't let up with one final battle with the Core (Who I felt ended up underdeveloped , another small crtique), with an utterly epic version of no big deal.. and a truly tearjerking goodbye as our heroes have to accept amphibia is gone.. and instead of feeling like a copout.. it worked. I didn't like all the seperation.. but it worked for the theme matt was going for: Sometimes you have to say goodbye, nothing lasts forever.. but what the people you met taught you does.. and maybe just maybe they'll come back to you. And all live in a house together and be gay with each other. one can only hope. it was a truly fitting end to a truly amazing cartoon that became so much grander than I ever imagined and will stick me with me for some time. It's hard to let it go.. but this ep made it so much easier.

2. The Darkness Within (The Legend of Vox Machina)

"I know your in there. Darling, take off the mask…

See I hadn't forgot Percy getting ready to murder his tormenter. I did however didnt' mention things were even worse as Keyleth tearjerkingly took the bullet for Vex, who had been absolutely terrible to her all season worrying she'd loose her brother if he shot his shot with the ashari. Oh and Pike is gone, her astral projection she'd been using having run out

So it's not the best time for Orthax, the shadowy demon Percy unknowingly made a pact with and who increased his bloodlust for those who wronged him, to fully posses percy as Delilah taunts him, wanting him to finish the job.. so he can take full root in the man's soul and full control of the metaphorical demon he's unleashed, the creation of the gun. It's Percy's long dark knight of the soul and while it's clear Orthax nearly has him at this point and he knows he's being controleld by something.. he's not resiting at first. After all Deliliah destroyed his life, killed almost everyone he's ever loved, tourtured everyone in his home town, done countless other attrocities.. why not put one between the eyes? And the answer is simple: he does.. and that's it. Percy is gone.

So it becomes a tense battle between a possed no mercy percy and vox machina, who both don't want to hurt him and have to play keep away with depowered deliliah. While the fights in whispers were gorgeous, ther'es a reason it's on the list it's this fight that honestly compells me more. The fight there had plenty of character but this is the real climax: Percy versus his need to fill the void left by the briarwoods genocide of his family, versus the literal and metaphorical demon inside him, a living representation of vengance and how even if done for the noblest of reasons.. it only keeps going. As The List adds vox machina to each barrel it's clear this will never end if Percy isn't stopped.

It's also telling that what stops Percy isn't the fighting.. but a plea from Vex, love of his life and the only person able to get through to him so far. It's risking her life to stand up to him that finally get shim to relent if only for a second, taking the mask off.. and the animatoin is stunning as it is horrifying here as we see percy SOBBING with fear as he tells her when she asks him to put down the gun "I .. .can't it wont' let me".. and his solution is equally heartbreaking.. to put the gun to his chin and as Vex and Cassandra both beg him not to his response "I don't know what else to do"

Thankfully the shadowy demon puppeting him intervends then suggests him to psychological torment to try and get him to continue doing his bidding.

What we get is a truly gruelingly long nightmare as Orthax reveals himself, that he was there all along.. and uses hallucinations of Percy's family to torment him as he attacks unknowingly attacking his firends. Once again wha tfinally wins the day.. is love. This time the love of family as Cassandra takes her own turn, at vax's urging, begging him, getting him to let go… and let a round into his hand, freeing him from orthax.

The rest of the episode is largely wrap up, but well done: Percy apologizes for his actions, Scanlan wisely decides to just throw his gun in acid instead of dealing with it expense sbe dammed (Which Percy is righ tpissed about.. until a shadowy bird demon made of acid pops up as it screams it's hopefully last scream.. then he's a bit cooler about it), and Delilah gets hers… courtsey of cass. While Percy forgave her for his own soul.. she didn't have to.

Our heroes survive, whitestone has a chance to rebuild, Cassandra a chance to lead them, and our heroes are free to prance off to clear their name, taking a few days off.. which was good because the next shit show is literally around the corner. That dragon they killed.. was one of FIVE. and the others are bigger, meaner, smarter.. and heading right for Emon. See in you in a few weeks boys and girl! For now though it was an excellent way to end the season as Percy finally gets to breathe.. can he forgive himself? Can he move on? Will it take as long as it did in stream fo rhe and vex to see their menat for each other? All good questions.. but he's now free to answer them on his terms.

Hollow Mind (Owl House)

"Do me a kindness would you and call me by my real name?

After only making it to second place last year, Owl House wins top honors this year. It also FINALLY gives me a defending champion, as the last two years the winner was either on it's last season (BoJack Horseman ) or took a year off (Invincible), so while Owl house only has one more year to it, it has a very good chance of giving us our first two time winner!

For now though, it's gladly won top honors. It wasn't easy, I went back and forth between the top two a lot.. but in the end while both have some waking nightmare in there, the tight plotting, horrifying reveals, and sheer nightmare of Hollow MInd won out. In 22 brillaint mintues, we're taken inside Belos head… and neither Luz , Hunter nor the audience come out of there okay.

The setup is simple: Hunter barged in on the future CATS trying to get into Belos head, and not having fully been deprogrammed yet, tried tos top them. Luz trie dtos top him.. and so both ended up in his brain. It's a nice tense build up as the various flashbacks and a ghost child show us how Belos got here: We know he's phillip at this point, Elswhere and Elsewhen made that very clear, but we see that indeed his connection to the titan is bullshit

And in actually shocking news.. the sigils, while always figured to be something bad.. are designed to MURDER the participants. There was a lot of speculation as to what belos was planning, what his end goal was. And finding out he was phillip

So the reveal.. is painfully terrifying, and shockingly realistic… while he's using magic to do so and it's fantastical enough to slide by disney censors. .his end goal is still plainly, clearly, nakedly.. genocide. He wants witch kind dead.. nothing left and feels as a witch hunter that' shis job. That's all he's eve rwanted, why he made a pact with an elder god all of this.. was just pure bigotry in it's most gastly form. It's a simple motive.. but one that makes Phillip that much more horrifying as an antagonist. We all thought there was more to it.. but that's really all he wants and what all this was for and it suddenly changes the game: we needed to stop him.. but now if he's not EVERYONE who has a sigil dies. Every adult character we know except Eda is marked for death.

The reveal itself is chilling coming shortly after we find out Hunter.. isn't the first of his kind. Every one of the guards has died because Belos simply coudln't accept his brother was a bigot.. including the original Caleb as seen in some background flashback paintings. Belos has killed dozens of beings just for the crime of not being what he fooled himself into thinking his brother was. It's utterly chilling and Matthew Rhys gives the performance of his career as he gladly reveals everything, coldly tries to kill hutner, then gleefully tells Luz her paret in aall this.. I feel her not getting he was phillip soone rwas denial.. and finding out hits her hard. She helped cause this.. everything she loves is going to die.. and the guy responsible has the gall to ask for her help. She says no, he "can't reason with crazy" and luz BARELY surivives… it's a truly horrifying, long walk that ends with our heroes now having a short time to save the world, hunter runing and both our main heroes for the season utterly broken. It's a majestic half hour of television, the finest episode in oen of the finest shows i've ever seen.. and it firmly deserves this honor. A true masterpiece if there ever was one.

Thank for reading all of this. if you want more of my nosense you can find me HERE on twitter, and here's to another great year of reviews. Thank you all so much for your support. I love you all.

#the owl house #amphibia #helluva boss #the legend of vox machina #craig of the creek #smiling friends #tuca and bertie #Youtube

45 notes · View notes

faveficarchive · 4 years ago

Text

Summer's Circus: Part 1

By Barbara Davies

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle (uber)

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Summer Walsh owns a struggling circus with a dark history. When journalist Alison Carmichael walks through her Big Top, though, things might just start looking up for the distant Ringmaster.

It was late Wednesday evening when the last trailer finally limped on site. Summer watched anxiously as it eased its way between the other trailers, caravans, and vans to its designated spot, its tyres leaving huge ruts in the turf.

So much for 'Flaming June'. Rain had soaked the work crews as they pulled down the Big Top and loaded the unwieldy poles and sections of canvas onto the long trailer kept specially for the purpose; rain had streamed down her van's windscreen every second of the journey by tortuous, winding B road; and it was *still* raining, the hills surrounding Cheltenham almost invisible through the downpour.

She sighed. At least Cox's Meadow had turned out to be a proper field, she consoled herself, not one of those derelict building sites that were all most councils could seem to spare these days. She wondered who Cox was and what he would have made of the meadow that was rapidly turning into a swamp. For this they were paying £1,000 a week? Tomorrow they'd have to get the boards out - couldn't expect the public to wade through mud. She rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Headache, boss?" Pyotr Dyakonov had come up behind her, unheard in the pelting rain.

"Yeah," Summer confessed. "Just the usual 'Will we be ready in time,' 'Will people like us enough to pay to see us' kind of headache."

"We always are; they always do," said the acrobat complacently.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "I thought Russians were s'posed to be pessimists."

He shrugged. "Things always seem to work out OK when you're around, Boss."

Summer snorted. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," protested Pyotr, stroking his moustache.

"Tell that to Uncle Tommy," she murmured, too low for Pyotr to hear. She turned away and began the tricky process of picking her way carefully between the ruts and puddles towards her caravan.

***

Alison replaced the telephone receiver and let a broad grin plaster itself over her face. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the circus!"

For a moment she allowed herself to feel the excitement she had felt as a little kid, even hopped up and down a bit, then she sobered. This wasn't for pleasure - well, maybe just a bit. This was her chance to prove she could hack it, to call herself 'freelance journalist' and mean more than the book reviews and column fillers that were the only things on her CV so far.

She paced up and down, hardly seeing the little sitting room, considering what to take with her. Her camera, of course. The article would be nothing without pictures, but she was good at photography - she could probably come up with something colourful and spectacular. Her tape recorder. Some spare batteries, a pen and notepad, just in case.

If all went well, she'd be interviewing each of the performers, maybe even the owner of the circus herself. Summer Walsh; what an unusual first name. Alison crossed to the table and rechecked her notes. Yes, it *was* Summer. And not many British circuses were owned by women, according to her research.

Would that make the interview harder, she wondered suddenly. Men were so easy - you just dressed femininely, batted your eyelashes, and simpered. Her Mother had taught her how to flirt with them from an early age, and then been devastated to learn it had been a waste of time. She sighed, remembering how difficult it had been coming out to her mother, how she had wished that her father had been alive to take her part as he always had.

She shook off the melancholy memory, and her doubts. "I can do this," she told herself. "I *will* do this." After all, all circus owners, regardless of their gender, would welcome a chance of free publicity, wouldn't they?

Alison remembered the circuses of her youth, full of horses, elephants, tigers, and lions. These days British circuses without animals were the norm - unrelenting pressure from animal rights protestors and the RSPCA had seen to that. She wondered if the show could possibly be as magical without animals.

Well, tomorrow night she'd see for herself, wouldn't she.

***

"Out of the question." Summer glared at the man who had barged into her office five minutes earlier, and who, rather disconcertingly, reminded her of an orangutan. (It must be the ginger hair and long arms, she decided.)

"I don't think you quite understand." His earlier affability had vanished.

"What's to understand?" she demanded. "I have all the permits and licenses I need. Why should I want to spend more than I have to?"

So far she had managed to keep a tight rein on her temper, but it was getting increasingly difficult. Especially since she was exhausted from helping the work crews to assemble the tiered seating inside the Big Top.

"For a quiet life," he said. "For oiling the wheels of progress -"

"For greasing your palms, you mean." If he thought the sunglasses and leather jacket made him look cool, thought Summer, he was wrong.

"Call it what you like, Ms Walsh. But I think you'd be very unwise not to -"

"I said 'no'. I meant it."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

Summer stood up, placed her hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward, fixing the man with a feral glare from which, to her satisfaction, he flinched. "You're just running a glorified little protection racket, aren't you? Well, no deal." She bared her teeth at him. "You haven't met Tonio and Marcello yet, have you? They're strongmen, they perform under the stage name Men-o-War. I'm sure, if you met them, you'd understand why."

Her visitor was already backing towards the door, looking anxiously through the glass as though expecting the two strongmen to be waiting outside for him. Which, if she'd known he was coming, they would have been, she thought sourly.

"This is probably the worst decision you've made, lady -"

"What happened to 'Ms Walsh?’"

"- in a long, long time."

As he disappeared, like a rat up a drainpipe, she wondered gloomily if he might not just be right.

***

Alison halted just inside the tasseled blue-and-white marquee that was the Big Top, and surveyed her surroundings. It would hold about four hundred people, she judged, but it was barely a quarter full. She checked her watch. There was still ten minutes before the performance was scheduled to begin, but she was doubtful the place would fill up.

She tried to get a sense of the kind of people that had come to the circus. Some were parties of adults only, chattering excitedly to one another; some were adults with children, the parents wearing longsuffering looks; and some, like herself, were alone, their wistful expressions indicating a desire to recapture the magical experience of their youth.

Alison suppressed a smile and searched for Block D. Ah, there it was - the far side of the tiered seating, near the ramp that led from the ring to backstage. She eased herself along the row of tip-up seats until she came to the one that matched the A9 on her ticket stub then sat down gratefully.

She made herself as comfortable as possible on the very basic seat then opened the brochure, emblazoned: 'SUMMER'S CIRCUS', that had cost her a pound. As she had feared, it consisted mainly of advertisements for ice-cream and hotdogs - but a loose sheet of A4 itemized tonight's running order.

She closed the brochure and leaned back, squinting first at the apex of the Big Top high above, then at the trapezes, wires and safety ropes a little below it, then at the ring itself - not covered with sawdust, these days, she noted - which was a lot smaller than her childhood memories had led her to expect. Not bad, she decided, feeling pleased with herself - she should be able to see the performers close to as they came up the ramp into the ring. She pulled her camera from her pocket and hung its strap round her neck ready.

A group of well dressed people - businessmen and women and civic dignitaries by the look of them, one overweight man even wore a chain of office round his neck - approached her block and began to take their seats in the front row. A rather striking dark-haired woman was directing them - her scarlet jacket had wide lapels and tails, and she was wearing a matching bow tie.

The woman smiled brilliantly and said, "I hope you enjoy the show." Alison eyed her with interest.

"I'm sure we will, Ms Walsh," said the man with the chain.

So that was the mysterious Summer Walsh? Well, well.

As the scarlet-clad woman strode away, Alison found that she was suddenly looking forward to interviewing the circus owner.

***

Summer made her way backstage. It was chaos; organized chaos - at least she fervently hoped so.

"Five minutes to the Overture," she yelled. "Everyone okay?"

"Okay, Boss," came the chorus of replies.

She stepped over the pile of baseball bats that looked like wood but weren't. They belonged to Egor and Maks who were due on first after the Overture. As she negotiated the clowns' other props: a foam rubber hatchet, a scrawny looking chicken, and a huge inflatable ball that after the Intermission would be bounced off the audience's heads to screams of fear and delight, her mind returned to the mayor's party.

"Pompous ass," she muttered. He had insisted on complimentary tickets for his wife and colleagues too. "Does he think we're made of money?"

Summer knew the figures all too well. Just to survive, the circus needed three thousand customers a week. Paying customers, like that little blonde who had been sitting just behind the mayor and his cronies. Her thoughts dwelt pleasantly on the woman's interested green eyes for a moment, then she remembered her intention to see how the Ticket Office was getting on.

She was heading for the office wagon at breakneck speed - she had barely ten minutes before she was needed in the ring - when she noticed that a weaselly little pickpocket was working the queue.

With a growl of anger, she somersaulted neatly over the goggling members of the public and launched herself at the man whose hand was about to delve into an unsuspecting customer's coat pocket.

He took one startled look at her and tried to bolt - but by then she had him by the back of his coat collar.

"'Ere, what d'ya think you're - Ulp!" His protest became a strangled squawk as an arm strengthened by years of trapeze work held him effortlessly six inches above the ground.

"Going somewhere?"

He struggled briefly then stopped and concentrated on simply breathing.

"You have a choice, sunshine," growled Summer. "You can spend this evening down the nearest police station...or..." She lifted him higher and watched him think through the implications.

The thief smiled rather glassily at her. "No harm done, lady," he babbled. "I was just looking after a few things for their owners. Know what I mean?"

She lowered her arm, and saw relief wash over his face as his feet touched the ground again. Then she released her grip on his coat collar and held out her hand meaningfully. "Give."

Reluctantly he reached into deep raincoat pockets and began to pile purses and wallets and wristwatches into Summer's hands. From the Big Top came faint music, the first bars of the Overture, reminding her that time was passing.

"Need a hand, Boss?" Tonio and Marcello had joined the little crowd of bystanders watching the proceedings as though it were part of the evening's entertainment.

She nodded, relieved to see them. "I'm due in the ring. Make sure these -" she pushed the pile of purses and wallets into Tonio's huge fists "- are returned to their rightful owners. Most'll have some kind of ID or photo in them, I expect. The rest - well, you may have to ask members of the audience to check if anything's missing."

She rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, annoyed at the extra work the thief had caused. If she reported him to the police, even more time would be lost. No police, then. Unless...Suddenly, she remembered the orangutan who had tried to sell her protection.

"You," she turned back to the thief. "Who are you working for?"

"No-one. I'm strictly freelance."

Summer put on her best scowl and took a threatening step towards him.

"Honest." He raised a shaking hand in defence.

She nodded. "Okay. One other thing."

The still unnerved thief looked expectantly at her.

"If I catch you in my circus ever again, I'll let these two - " she indicated the strong men examining the stolen booty "- tear you to pieces. And have no doubts, they can do it, too." She glared at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

The thief winced. "As crystal."

"Now, get out of my circus."

The thief needed no further urging.

***

The Overture ended with a flourish (*Also Sprach Zarathustra*, if she wasn't mistaken) and Alison clapped appreciatively. It amused her that such a tiny orchestra - two men, a drumkit, and what looked like a steam powered synthesizer - was capable of generating music with such power and volume. Circus people, she was rapidly learning, were nothing if not resourceful.

The ringmaster had just stridden into the ring - she recognized the dark-haired woman in the scarlet jacket immediately - when Alison became aware that a big man in black sweatshirt and jeans was easing his way along the row of seats towards her. She frowned.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said politely, as he got nearer, easing her fears, "but is this yours?" He was holding out a wallet similar to the one she owned and pointing to a strip of passport photographs.

Abruptly, she recognized the unflattering snaps she had had taken at the Post Office photo kiosk last week. She gasped and felt for the pocket where she usually kept her wallet. It was empty.

"That's mine. But how did you? I mean - "

The man smiled and handed her the wallet. "Pickpocket was working the Ticket Office queue," he said simply. "The Boss caught him. Persuaded him to return the stolen goods."

There was a subtle emphasis on the 'persuaded' that piqued Alison's interest, as did his accent, which was, she realized, foreign. She checked the contents of the wallet, and was relieved to find that nothing was missing. "'The Boss?’ You mean, Ms Walsh?"

"Yes. Everything there? Sorry to rush you, but I've got several more owners to locate."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, everything's here, but -"

But the man was already turning to go. "Enjoy the show, Miss," he called back to her.

Still feeling rather stunned by this turn of events, Alison turned her attention back to the ring. The attractive ringmaster had disappeared and two short men with unwieldy moustaches and red noses, dressed in appalling yellow-and-black checked suits and bow ties, were starting to hit each other with baseball bats.

***

The trouble with seeing the show from the inside, thought Summer, was that, unlike the appreciative audience - who were clapping wildly at every little thing - you were all too aware when things didn't go right.

For example, the music had started off slightly too fast, but Ruud and Jan had quickly corrected that. Then Egor had tripped over one of Maks' big feet but had deftly turned it into an extra piece of ' business'. And Grigori had almost dropped one of his flaming torches, but an extra flourish distracted the audience from his mistake.

The ringmaster sighed. No matter how often and thoroughly they rehearsed, it was always the same. First-performance-in-a-new-town nerves. But as the evening progressed, she could feel the nerves calming, the professionalism of the performers taking over.

But it was time to announce the next act. She strode out into the ring, fixed a smile on her face, and clicked on the microphone.

"And now, for your enjoyment, Summer's Circus presents, all the way from Greece: the *stupendous* Miss Clio."

She gestured extravagantly towards the maroon velvet curtain that hid backstage, and, right on cue, a petite figure in a pale pink leotard appeared and bounded up the ramp to join her.

"Break a leg, Clio," she murmured. Her reward was a dazzling smile.

Summer withdrew, and watched Clio go into her act.

First came the smile and wave to the audience, then the Greek woman reached for her little ladder and began to climb, adjusting her balance constantly so that the unsupported ladder would remain vertical. When she was settled, Andor, her young male assistant, appeared, carrying a pile of cups and saucers, and proceeded to throw them to her one by one. Almost nonchalantly, Clio would catch each cup or saucer and then throw it up so that it landed on the top of her head. Gradually a stack of alternating cups and saucers grew.

Summer had had no doubts at all, when she'd first seen Clio's act, that she was a must for the circus. On paper, catching cups and saucers while balancing on a ladder was a nonstarter, but in real life there was something about the precision and skill displayed by the young Greek woman that made the audience hold its breath.

As Clio caught yet another saucer, and was greeted with wild applause, Summer's thoughts turned inwards.

It looked like her gamble that the affluent Cheltonians would flock to the circus hadn't paid off - the Ticket Office receipts had confirmed what her squinted glances into the spotlights told her: the Big Top was only half full tonight. What with the appalling weather, the orangutan demanding protection money, the pickpocket ripping off customers, and the question of what would happen when Uncle Tommy discovered his least favourite niece was back on his patch. She sighed.

A teaspoon landed with a loud clink in the topmost saucer, and the audience went mad. Clio's act was winding down. Almost time to announce the aerialists, thought Summer, rising to her feet.

The Finale had met with sustained and enthusiastic applause, and the two man band was playing music calculated to get the audience heading for the exits, when Summer went round backstage congratulating the acts and patting people on the shoulders. There had been no major mishaps, and everyone was feeling relieved.

She was looking forward to a shower, a hot meal, and an early night, and was half way to her caravan, when she remembered she had rashly agreed to see a journalist - Alison Carsomething - about a possible article on the Circus.

She groaned, and trudged over the waterlogged ground towards the trailer that housed both the Administration and Ticket offices.

A blonde woman was waiting for her outside the Admin office. She looked vaguely familiar, thought Summer, traipsing up the short flight of steps.

"Ms Car-" She trailed off.

"Alison Carmichael," said the woman helpfully. "And you must be Summer Walsh." She held out a hand.

Summer grunted, gave the hand a perfunctory shake, then began to unlock the door. "Come in."

She switched on the light, and crossed the office to the battered old desk. The journalist followed her inside, glancing at the dingy interior assessingly. Hmmm, thought Summer, having noticed the camera around her visitor's neck, I don't imagine you want to take a photo of *this* for your article, Ms Carmichael.

She dragged a plastic chair from its place by the wall and indicated it before moving round behind the desk. The journalist sat down. Summer did likewise.

"I really enjoyed the show tonight, Ms Walsh."

"Thanks."

After a moment's silence, the blonde woman realized Summer wasn't going to say any more and picked up the conversation. "Um, we spoke on the phone, about the possibility of my doing interviews with you and with your performers."

Summer nodded.

"So, I was wondering..." The journalist bit her lip.

Summer glanced at the message pad where she had written details of their telephone conversation and frowned. What had she been thinking? "I don't seem to have made a note of which paper you write for, Ms Carmichael," she said apologetically.

"Oh, well - " A slight flush covered the blonde woman's cheeks. "I'm a freelance, but several publications have expressed an interest in the article -"

Summer realized abruptly that there was no point in continuing this conversation. "Then I'm afraid it would be better if we didn't waste each other's time, Ms Carmichael," she interrupted.

The look on the other woman's face made Summer aware that her bluntness had been misinterpreted as offensiveness.

"By the time you've written it and placed it, probably with a local paper," she explained, "the circus will have moved on. Such publicity will be of no benefit to us." She groaned inwardly, realizing that she had only made things worse.

A red spot now burned in each of the blond woman's cheeks. "But, you said on the phone..." Green eyes flashed with indignation.

Green eyes, thought Summer suddenly. Of course. The row of seats behind the mayor's party. Another headache was lurking behind her eyes. The sooner this was over, the better.

"I've changed my mind," she said, sounding more curt than she'd intended. "If you'll excuse me?" She stood up to indicate the interview was over.

Lips pressed in a grim line, the young woman snatched up her gloves and stalked off.

I could have handled that so much better, thought Summer regretfully as she watched the young woman stomp down the steps outside. She sighed, then switched off the light and locked the office door behind her.

As she walked down the steps herself, she glanced absently at the distant figure walking disconsolately towards the carpark. The rest of the paying audience had gone home, and a single pale green Fiesta remained. One of the carpark floodlights was out. Summer made a mental note to get it replaced, then noticed movement in the shadows. She stopped, her senses on alert. A mugger, or worse. And Alison Carmichael, her mind on other things, was heading straight for him.

The rush of adrenalin banished her tiredness and incipient headache instantly, and she broke into a run. "Look out," she called, even as she realized that running wasn't going to get her there in time and launched herself into a series of somersaults and flips.

The journalist had halted near her car and was looking back at her, mouth open in amazement. Summer growled as the figure in the shadows chose that moment to attack, and forced herself to move faster, feeling her muscles burn with the effort. The attacker - a man, by his build - had got an arm round the journalist's throat and was tugging her back into the shadows when Summer flipped over his head.

As she landed behind him, he glanced round, and the momentary distraction enabled the blond woman to break his grip round her throat. One punch with all Summer's weight behind it was enough to send him flying, and two kicks, one to the stomach, one to his unshaven jaw, rendered him out for the count.

Summer stooped over the man and checked his pulse. He was still breathing - she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She straightened, and rubbed her bruised knuckles ruefully, then became aware that the journalist was standing beside her.

"He attacked me!" mumbled the blond, her voice shaky, her breathing uneven. "Oh my God, if you hadn't -" She began to cry.

For moment, Summer stood frozen, then she pulled the sobbing journalist into an awkward hug. There was a moment's startled resistance, then Alison sagged into her embrace.

"It's okay," said Summer. "I've got you." She rubbed a hand soothingly over the other woman's back, encouraging her to cry herself out, her own mind churning. My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't been here...For Summer had no doubt at all that the attacker was working for the man who had tried to sell her protection that morning.

As the sobs dwindled to sniffs, and the tension in the muscles beneath her hands eased, her thoughts turned to the state of her ringmaster uniform. It hadn't been designed for people to cry on.

"Do you still want to do that article on the circus, Ms Carmichael?" Summer was as surprised by her own words as the journalist appeared to be.

"But you said -" The journalist took a step back, and Summer released her.

Colour had returned to the pale cheeks, and bewilderment, coupled with hope, had replaced the fear in the green eyes.

Summer smiled, partly in relief, and shrugged. "I've changed my mind."

The journalist considered for a moment. "What if you change your mind again?" she asked at last.

A fair question, Summer admitted, since from the journalist's point of view, she'd changed her mind twice already. "I won't," she said firmly. "If you want the interviews you asked for, you can have them."

A moment longer, then a smile split the blond woman's features and she nodded eagerly. "Please."

"Tomorrow, then, 10am," said Summer. "I'll give you a guided tour."

"Great."

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Summer sighed and glanced down at the still unconscious attacker.

"In the meantime," she said, "I suppose I'd better see about calling the police."

***

"It was great, Mother. There were clowns, and acrobats, and trapeze artists, and a woman who balanced at the top of a ladder while catching cups and saucers on her head...Yes, that's what I said. Um, it looked like real china from where I was sitting."

Alison could tell her mother wasn't impressed by her enthusiastic description of the circus. Opera was more the older woman's 'thing' - so much more 'adult'. No doubt her mother's opinion of the circus would sink even lower, if that were possible, if she told her about the pickpocket and the attack in the carpark...

She sighed and changed the subject to her coming interviews, then wished she hadn't.

"You're not still intending to be a journalist, are you, dear?" Her mother's tone was disapproving. "My goodness! I thought that was just a fad."

A fad! thought Alison. In fact, the dream of being a reporter had been with her since she was a child, but it was only recently she had decided to do anything about it. Coming out - to herself and to other people - she realized suddenly, had been the catalyst. It had strengthened her determination to live her own life not let others live it for her.

"No, Mother," she said evenly, "it's not a fad."

"It's not as if you need the money, dear."

Alison sighed. It was true that the Life Assurance from her father's death had left them both more than comfortably well off. But she wanted the satisfaction of paying her own way for a change.

"Mother, we've been through this."

"Well, if you *must* occupy yourself, dear, why don't you do some voluntary work? It's so much more...respectable."

"Mother." Alison had reached the end of her patience, and some sign of it must have travelled down the phone line because her Mother went quiet.

"Well, dear. Perhaps you know best." The tone made it clear her mother thought exactly the opposite. "It's past my bedtime, yours too if you're sensible. So I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother." Alison replaced the phone receiver and sighed.

The flat that was her pride and joy, her first taste of independence - she was twenty-seven, for heaven's sake; other people left home at eighteen - suddenly seemed drab and pokey. Perhaps it was the contrast with the Big Top and its colourful performers, not least among them the tall ringmaster.

Once more Alison heard the distant shout and turned to watch the ringmaster somersaulting towards her across the carpark. Once more she felt disbelief and bewilderment that the woman who had just dashed her hopes so rudely should be following her in such a spectacular way. Then came a jolt of terror as someone wrapped his arm around her throat. Followed by sheer relief, as Summer tackled the attacker and then held Alison close.

Alison swallowed over a suddenly dry throat, then laughed wryly at herself. What a strange evening it had been! And now here she was feeling gratitude, hero worship, and, if she were being honest, straightforward attraction for a woman who until this evening had been a complete stranger.

Even more ironic, being rescued by a circus owner would have made a *great* story, but Summer was concerned that a mugging might keep paying customers away. Since the policeman who took their statements didn't envisage any further involvement for either Summer or Alison (Alison, though severely shaken, hadn't actually been hurt, and the still groggy attacker had quickly realized it was in his own best interests to confess) Alison had agreed to keep the incident quiet.

Which was probably just as well, she thought sleepily, as the seesaw of raw emotions finally caught up with her. Because then, her mother wouldn't learn of the incident and come rushing over ready to sweep her daughter up and take her back to the claustrophobic home from which she had only just escaped.

Alison had feared the mugging would prey on her mind, but as she got herself ready for bed, she found to her relief and slight embarrassment that her head was full of the music of Strauss and images of clowns and acrobats and a tall, striking ringmaster with blue, blue eyes.

***

"It's going to be muddy, I'm afraid." Summer ushered the young journalist out of the admin office and down the metal steps.

"That's all right." Alison smiled back at her. "What's a little mud between friends?"

Summer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They walked across the boggy field towards the Big Top.

"We call this the Back Yard." Summer ducked under the cordon that marked the area as off limits to the public, and began threading her way carefully between stakes and guy wires, generators and storage bins.

Alison hurried to keep up. "So," she said, holding out a small tape-recorder. "What made you decide to own your own circus, Ms Walsh?"

"If we're friends, you'd better call me Summer." The tape recorder, she noted absently, was voice-activated.

"Then you'd better call me Alison, or Ali."

Summer caught the faint hesitation. "Which would you prefer?"

"Alison, if you don't mind."

"Alison it is."

Summer held back the tent flap and waited for Alison to duck under it. "We call this the Back Door - it's the performers' entrance." She followed the journalist, her pupils adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the backstage area.

"Hi, Boss." Egor came somersaulting over and stopped in front of them. "Who's the beautiful towny?"

The little clown's interested gaze was resting on Alison, who blushed. It suited her, thought Summer, suppressing a grin.

"That's what circus people call outsiders," she explained. Then to Egor, "This is Alison Carmichael. She's a local journalist, so be nice - we don't want any bad publicity."

"I thought any publicity was good publicity, Boss." Egor winked at her.

"Yeah, well you thought wrong."

Alison shot her a glance. "You don't have to worry," she said reassuringly. "I really loved the show last night."

"You did?" Summer felt her slight tension ease.

She guided Alison towards the maroon curtain separating backstage from the auditorium, then paused. "I should warn you before we get near the ring," she said, "don't, whatever you do, sit on the edge of it facing out."

Alison stared at her. "Why not?"

Summer shrugged. "It's bad luck."

The journalist leaned forward eagerly. "Oh! So you have your own set of superstitions, like theatre people do?"

"I suppose so. Peacock feathers are bad luck too. And whistling in the dressing room."

Alison's eyes danced and her tone was mock serious. "Okay. No whistling or peacock feathers, and no sitting on the ring's edge facing out. Got it."

Summer started to say something in defence of circus traditions then decided against it. She pulled back the curtain and they walked through.

The Dyakonovs were rehearsing their trapeze act high above the ring, and she stopped to allow Alison to watch. After a long moment, Alison tore her gaze away from the graceful flips and twirls, and Summer gestured towards a row of ringside seats. They covered the distance quickly and sat down.

"I noticed last night that most of the acts in your programme are foreign," said Alison. "Is that coincidence or policy? Or is it simply that Brits don't make good circus performers?"

"Hey! Are you saying I'm no good?" Summer smiled to remove the sting from her words. It was a good question, and she considered her answer. No need to mention that Uncle Tommy had made sure no British performer would work for her anyway, she decided.

"It's a question of cost, actually." Alison glanced at the sound level meter and moved the tape recorder closer to Summer's mouth then her gaze drifted upwards again. Summer smiled. She too felt the magnetic pull of the trapeze.

"When the USSR collapsed," she continued, "so did its circus funding. At their height, they had seventy permanent circuses, you know. That's about fifteen thousand performers."

Alison's startled gaze met hers. "Fifteen thousand?"

Summer nodded. "Which means that now the Russians are desperate for work and -" she spread her hands expressively "- very cheap."

"So *that's* why most of your acts are Russian?"

"Mmmm." Now it was Summer's turn to gaze up at the Dyakonov Troupe. Cheslav, she noted absently, was clasping Irisa's ankles in his brawny fists. "Though actually, the circus band is Dutch." Alison chuckled at the mention of the two musicians, and Summer glanced curiously at her. When no explanation was forthcoming, she let it go and continued. "The strong men are Portuguese. And Miss Clio, of course, is Greek. I take it you'd like to meet the company?"

"Please."

The journalist's obvious enthusiasm pleased Summer. Maybe it was because Alison was a freelance, she thought, and hadn't yet reached the embittered 'just going through the motions' stage.

A faint stomach rumble reached her ears, and she noticed Alison was blushing again.

"Haven't you had any breakfast?"

"Um, yes," admitted Alison. "But it was a couple of hours ago. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee and a biscuit, if you have them."

Summer rose to her feet. "I'm sure we can rustle up something." She was amused by the look of gratitude that flashed across the blond woman's face.

"Follow me."

***

The trailer that Summer called the 'cook wagon' was hot and fuggy and smelled absolutely wonderful. Coffee and doughnuts, thought Alison, identifying the aromas. Her stomach grumbled more loudly and her mouth began to water.

"It's help yourself in here," instructed the tall woman, busying herself with heating water for two cups of instant coffee. "Just take what you fancy."

"Okay."

While Summer carried their coffees to an empty table, Alison inspected the cardboard box of goodies and chose a large sticky, sugarcoated doughnut. Then she joined Summer and sat down opposite her. She placed the tape recorder on the table between them, and gazed at their spartan surroundings.

"So, this is where you all eat?"

Summer took a sip of coffee than nodded. "We can connect the wagon up to the mains water and power supplies. Not all sites provide access though, so then we have to make do with Calor gas and bottled water."

"I expect you've got moving between sites down to a fine art?" While she waited for an answer, Alison picked up her doughnut and took a bite. Brilliant red jam squirted down her chin and across the table. Fortunately, it didn't reach the ringmaster.

"Oh!" Alison's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, but Summer just chuckled and reached for a paper napkin.

"I'm always doing that," she said consolingly. "Here."

"Thanks." Alison took the napkin and wiped her chin with it. "Um." Her mind had gone blank and the confusion must have shown on her face.

Summer took pity on her. "To answer your question, yes, after you've been on the road for a while - and this circus has been touring for years now - you get to know the drill." She took another gulp of coffee. "Circus people are pretty tough. Everyone helps with the build-up and pull-down."

"But the circus can't always run smoothly," prompted Alison.

"No. We've had our share of accidents, and some of our vehicles are aging - they're always breaking down. Fortunately, Grigori is a top notch mechanic as well as a juggler. What else?" Summer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, two years ago, a generator caught fire - we were lucky it didn't burn down the Big Top. And last year we had a blowdown - that's when a storm blows the Big Top down."

Alison would have whistled but remembered their earlier talk of superstition and thought better of it. "That must have set you back a bit."

"Yes. Luckily we got it back up double quick - only missed one matinee. We can't afford to miss many performances."

Alison finished off her doughnut and wiped her hands on the napkin. "You're that close to the line?"

For a moment she thought the other woman wasn't going to answer, then Summer tapped the tape recorder pointedly and said, "Off the record?"

"Oh, okay." Alison pressed the pause button.

"Things are pretty tight at the moment. If they don't get better soon ?" The ringmaster's gaze was suddenly bleak.

"Can't you put up ticket prices?"

"We're already as high as we can go without putting audiences off." Summer shrugged. "Trouble is, we've got so much to compete with these days - TV, video, cinema - football. People just aren't as keen as they used to be on circuses. Especially circuses without animals." She grimaced. "It's a no win situation. If we use animals - we get attacked by the animal rights protestors; if we don't use them - the audiences stay away."

Alison frowned. "That's not fair."

"No, it isn't." Summer sighed.

The journalist suddenly remembered the tape recorder and pointed at it. Summer nodded, and she resumed recording.

"So why do you do it?" asked Alison.

"Do what?"

"Own your own circus. Keep on touring."

"It's in the blood," said Summer simply. "And," she gave Alison a wry smile, "I don't know how to do anything else."

As if regretting her sudden candour, the ringmaster looked away. "Have you had enough?" She indicated the empty plate.

"Oh, yes. That was great, thanks."

"Good. Because we've got quite a few introductions to get through, not to mention photographs."

Alison stood up at once. "Point me at 'em," she said brightly, pleased when the remark earned her a laugh from Summer.

The dark woman led the way out of the cook wagon.

***

Summer managed to prise Ruud and Jan Dekker away from their instruments and get them to talk to Alison. At first wary, the brothers soon opened up under the journalist's genial questioning, revealing a sheepish passion for Country and Western music that was news to Summer. Tonio and Marcello were glad to take a break from rehearsing, and were soon posing and flexing their rippling muscles while a suitably awed Alison took photographs. And Egor and Maks abandoned their discussion - heated, as always - of ways to improve their act and were only too happy to educate Alison in the intricacies and history of clown makeup.

Summer found watching Alison work relaxing, and she was letting the good natured banter flow over her, when Pyotr came running up, breathless.

"It's Cheslav," he said, without preamble. "He's sprained his wrist."

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Alison had come over to see what the aerialist's gloomy expression and Summer's unguarded exclamation were about.

"One of the catchers has sprained his wrist," explained Summer.

"Catchers?"

"A trapeze artist who catches," she said absently. Pyotr was looking expectantly at her. "The routine's the same?"

He nodded. "We added a few frills, but the basic moves are unchanged."

"Okay. Give me five minutes."

Summer regarded a bewildered Alison. "You'll have to look after yourself for the next hour, I'm afraid. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Uh, no. But...um, Summer, what are you going to be doing?"

"Taking Cheslav's place."

Alison's eyes widened. "Up on the trapeze? But I thought you were the ringmaster."

"I have many skills," said Summer nonchalantly.

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #Xena/Gabrielle #uber #uberfic #mature #author: Barbara Davies

6 notes · View notes