#Cecile Jammes

[dr9com9ge-ix]

I realized I never posted my Limbus Raoul design here so! Here he is the boy! (Also Jammes is here too, they’re both looking for Christine and are both currently La Garnier Office fixers. Jammes is part of the Corps de Ballet portion of there which has pink uniforms c:)

And some pre-incident scrunglies! Also will add that

- Raoul wears his hat specifically to hide the scar he got from headbutting Erik and his cracked mask cutting him.

- Christine probably has never gotten a real good look at Erik prior to said incident because he has said he doesn’t want to be looked at.

[thelesbianoftheopera]

Cecile Jammes!

It is done

Mixed feelings about Little Shit here

[the-world-of-another-dimension]

Erik from the Phantom of the Opera, after his failure to have a relationship with Melek and Cristine, met Cecile Jammes (cristine's dancer friend) and they began to start a conversation until they had a friendship.

Anyway... Erik never believed that his bag would be a bed for the baby cats that Jammes finds.

--------------------------------------------------

Erik del fantasma de la opera depues de su fallo en tener una relacion con Melek y Cristine, conocio a Cecile Jammes (bailarina amiga de Cristine) y empezaron a entablar conversación hasta tener una amistad

En fin... Erik nunca creyo que su saco seria cama para los gatos bebes que Jammes encuentra.

[britishchick09]

poto rewritten short stories 6/6: meg the fooler

in honor of read an e-book week, i'll be sharing sneak peeks of the rewrite's first short story collection (which will be an e-book exclusive out this spring)! last but not least is meg and cecile being epic pranksters! ;D

...

The door creaked open…

“BOO!” Meg yelled, running out from the vanity.

“AHHH!” a dancer screamed as she put a hand on her heart. “You got me, Meg!”

Meg laughed. The foolee was none other than Cécile Jammes, her pranking partner. They had pulled many tricks throughout the years on the other dancers, the singers, the stagehands, the managers… no one was safe from their pranks on April Fools’ Day!

…No one except The Opera Ghost, that is.

“I have a little something for my partner in crime!” Meg said.

“Oh!” Cécile’s brown eyes sparkled as Meg handed her a little chocolate fish and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, thank you. Are you ready to start?”

“I’ve been ready since last night!”

Cécile smirked and tossed one of her caramel brown ringlets over her shoulder. “I know exactly what we can do first.”

...

 A few minutes later, chatter sounded through the ballerina dorm as the corps de ballet filed in. Some did stretches, a few lounged on the sofa, others sat at their vanities and some stood around to talk. Meg and Cécile waited near the back, hiding soft giggles behind their hands.

“Here she comes!” Cécile whispered.

Meg gave an excited squeak as Sorelli DuPont walked in. She rubbed a horseshoe on the wall for good luck.

“What in the world?” Sorelli looked at her horseshoe, which was covered with a rubber bathing cap! “Oh, I should’ve known…”

“April Fools’!” Meg and Cécile exclaimed.

Sorelli rolled her eyes. The jokesters looked over at Fleur, who sniffed a tulip… that sprayed her with water! Elena was brushing her hair at her vanity. She gasped as she realized that cold cream was on it! The lotion belonged to Colette... who smeared ketchup all over her face! Nellis opened her vanity drawer to find nothing inside except a paper fish and April’s paper nameplate had ‘Fools!’ written on it. The remaining seven ballerinas were pranked as well, leaving Meg and Cécile in stitches.

“I knew this would happen.” April said with a sigh.

“You two are almost as bad as The Opera Ghost!” Colette exclaimed.

“And just as delicious!” Meg added as she swiped some ketchup from her face.

“No one could ever be as great as that ghost. It’s-” Sorelli paused at Meg’s look. “He’s the greatest trickster in the opera house.”

“We may be great, but he’s the true master.” Cécile agreed.

Meg looked down at the floor as an idea sprung into her mind. She looked up, her eyes widening with a gasp as she exclaimed, “I got it! We can join forces with Mr. E!"

“Seriously? You want us to partner with The Opera Ghost?" Cécile asked with an uneasy frown.

"Yeah! The Ghost is a bit scary, but Mr. E is perfectly fine. He has access to every corner of the opera house, so..."

Sorelli groaned. "Great. You'll be unstoppable.”

"Oui... unstoppable!" Cécile exclaimed with a grin. "Let's do it!"

Meg cheered. "This will be the best April Fools’ Day yet! I'll go get him!"

She ran down the dressing room hallway, stopping at the very end. She put her ear to the door and listened.

"Meg woke me up by putting my hand in cold water," Christine was saying. "It startled me so much! One of her many tricks for today!"

"What's today?" Erik asked.

Meg wanted to shout, 'April Fools’ Day!' but she let Christine say it instead.

"Ah, yes. One of the best times of the year for The Opera Ghost," Erik chuckled. "Ayesha likes it, too. She stretched out on my legs and I sat up to pet her... and then she started walking towards me. She was going to lay right on my pillow! I caught on and laid back down before she could, but she found a nice spot next to me."

Christine giggled. "Oh, how funny! She nearly tricked you!"

"Sounds like she'd be the perfect kitty prankster!" Meg exclaimed as she ran into Christine's dressing room.

Erik looked up. He was doing a mirror chat with Christine, who looked over her shoulder at Meg.

“Then we’d have three tricksters scurrying around!” she realized with a chuckle.

“More like four.” Erik added with a wink.

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Meg said. “Meet Cécile and me on stage after practice, Mr. E!”

Erik frowned. “Can’t I just meet you?”

“Nope. I don’t prank alone,” Meg smiled as she added, “Cécile won’t be scared of you, I promise.”

She went up to the mirror and held out her pinkie, getting a confused look from Erik.

“That’s a pinkie promise.” Christine explained.

“It is!” Meg agreed. “It’s one you can’t break.”

Erik looked at Meg’s pinkie before slowly lifting his own.

“There you go! It’s a date! But not the ones you and Christine go on!” Meg said, giggling at Erik and Christine’s rosy blushes.

...

 Meg sighed as she stood on her tip toes and tried to peek into Box Five. It was eleven-forty on the dot. Ballet practice had ended not too long ago and now she and Cécile were waiting on stage.

“He should be here by now!” Meg said impatiently.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to partner with us,” Cécile hoped as she fiddled with her coral ring. “Let’s think of some more pra-”

Just then, the chandelier lights went off! Cécile’s scream echoed through the theater. Meg jumped a little, but she wasn’t afraid.

“The electricity’s gone out!” Cécile exclaimed in a panic. “Let’s fetch the managers!”

“Or you could fetch The Opera Ghost.” a voice said.

The lights returned and a shadow stepped out from Box Three.

“Mr. E!” Meg exclaimed happily. “I thought you’d be in Box Five!”

“Got you, Little Miss,” Erik said with a smile. “Consider that an April Fools’ gift from me.”

“The greatest gift would be partnering with us!”

“As long as you’re not creepy.” Cécile added.

“Oh, that’s only The O- Opera Ghost. Y- You won’t need to worry about creepiness with me,” Erik reassured her. “Y- You’ll just need to w- wo- worry about all the sneaky tricks we’ll pull.”

Cécile’s fearful face was replaced with a sly one.

“So you’re in?” Meg asked.

“Yes, Little Miss,” Erik smirked. “I’m definitely in.”

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Who is your favourite side side character in Phantom of the Opera (the book l

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

Previous

[extraordinarygrrls]

continued from x

"Well, I have somewhere you could be, at least right now. I never expect you to retire Javert, it's as endearing as it is worrying... But I am no different." That characteristic little smirk, that mischievous grin that grief nor age could take. Cecile pulled back, but her freckled hands still lay on his shoulders. "Have you had lunch? I'll get you lunch." She had come into some prosperity in America, she'd made the right friends she supposed, they all like a plucky French lady there.

In a closed-off cafe, Jammes spoke about her adventures in Rochester, New York, her new friend perhaps more? Rueben Briggs-Davenport, her contemporary in myth-busting. His chasing of a story had reminded Cecile of her own. She was just as she always had been, manic, chatty, talking with her hands, but above all a woman of action.

"Do you ever think about it? Our case at the Garnier, the Phantom? It drives me spare thinking of the answers we never got. Christine, Raoul, and Iskandar were all safely returned, if not worse for ware, we found dormant gunpowder in the foundations, and then... Nothing, it took me a while to realize that the little riddle in the Epoque soon after was about him, his name was Erik... If he's even dead..." She murmured, clearly having her own conspiracy. All involved were still her close friends of course. "I've had this itch I can't scratch about the whole thing, shortly after of course I lost Maman and started getting to work but... Now, now I'm actually writing I've had an urge to reopen the case."

@reverdies

[delanuit]

“Don’t think about the way things might have been.” Big Jammes, aka Cecile as a young adult, and old man Erik who'll prolly be dead v soon.

They sat in comfortable chairs on the rooftop garden, overlooking the city. The late afternoon sun beat down upon them, bathing all they could see in a pleasant golden glow. Two cups of Turkish coffee, untouched, sat on the small table, next to the finished manuscript of Cecile's biography. Erik had only just finished giving his final approval on all its contents, and for a while they had sat in companionable silence. At some point, the young woman had taken his hand, and when Erik turned to look at her he saw a deep, unnamed emotion shining in her eyes. As she spoke those words, Erik squeezed her hand in return: an acknowledgement.

“ I was merely thinking how beautiful this city looks from up above. I deprived myself of its sight for far too long. ” His voice had grown weaker but no less captivating in these last few weeks. He offered her an ironic grin, an attempt at their usual teasing banter. “ I appreciate your concern. If I didn't know better, Mademoiselle Jammes, I would think you had grown to care for me. ”

[megajirachi151]

I drew some of my interpretations of Leroux’s descriptions. I might refine these sketches later.

[pastel-cryptids]

POV: You work at the opera house and you just walked in on the ballerinas gossiping about you

(Bonus points if you add what they're talking about)

[theimpossiblescheme]

Eh, why not--these composites are really fun to make.  So here are more characters from “Phantom” based on mine and @meggiry-khaleesi‘s headcanon appearances!

Top left: Carlotta Giudicelli, based on a mix of Adelina Patti, Marcella Albani, Kristen Chenowith, Rachel Anne Moore, Trista Moldovan, Minnie Driver, Gabriella Zanchi, Jean Harlow, Virginia Pearson, Catherine Tate, Ekaterina Lekhina, Kim Stengel, Audra McDonald, Irina Samoylova, Eartha Kitt, Rosemary Ashe, Magda Olivero, Miriam Hopkins, Madeline Kahn, Paola Barale, and Hazel Court.

Top right: Cecile Jammes, based on a mix of Kara Klein, Melanie Thierry, Aissa Maiga, Lily James, and Sharon Millerchip.

Bottom left: La Sorelli, based on a mix of Bianca Balti, Sophia Loren, Natalie Dormer, Rachelle Ann Go, Asmeret Ghebremichael, Janelle Monae, Ciara Renee, Elizabeth Taylor, and Anna Pavlova.

Bottom right: Madame Giry, based on a mix of the Oslo Norway dance teacher, Liz Robertson, Paula Capovillia, Ellen Harvey, Mary Millar, Anne Kanengeiser, Miranda Richardson, Elena Obraztsova, Marilyn Caskey, Heather Jackson, Nancy Hess, Katharine Alexander, Diana Rigg, Michelle Fairley, Bernadette Peters, and Donna Murphy.

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Hi! I was reading "Yellow Rose" again (because that fic is wonderful), and I was wondering if you could tell me more about some of your OCs in it--Justine, Valerie, and Meg's fellow ballerinas. I love them all, and I was just curious about them.

You have no idea how much it means to me that you like Yellow Rose so much and that you’re so interested in my OCs! Fabulous to see in my inbox. 

Let’s see….

Justine and Marcus: I see them kind of becoming a Thin Man/McMillan and Wife duo. She’s a world famous singer, he’s a secret agent, and every once in a while, she takes part in one of his cases. Her career serves as a great cover, since it gives them lots of excuse to travel and hobnob with the rich and famous – such a perfect setting for a spy couple. I mentioned in Yellow Rose that they have twin girls, and I can see them following in their parents’ footsteps; the younger one, Aimee, becomes a world-traveling spy and her older sister, Isabelle, writes mystery fiction inspired by her sister.

Valerie: The product of a scandalous marriage between a Chinese ambassador and a French ambassador’s daughter, she grew up somewhat isolated in Martinique, where her parents settled down. Still, she grew up with a lot of love, since her parents were passionately devoted to each other (Since I mentioned in the notes to Valerie’s chapter in “Yellow Rose” that my face claim for her is actress Mylène Jampanoï, I think it only fair I fancast her parents, too: Andy Lau as Fu Li and Isabelle Adjani as Helene Li).

Her parents hire other exiles to tutor their daughter in the art of singing, dancing, dressmaking – and self-defense/subterfuge. She soon learns that to finance their seclusion, her parents have maintained a relationship with the secret police from both their native countries. This is what leads Valerie to Darius, and a whirlwind romance ensues. 

Meg wonders why Erik was never infatuated with her when she sang at the opera house, and the truth was, she intimidated him. He was too immature at that point, and wanted someone as insecure as he.

Oh, and my inspiration for her character? Julie Motherfucking D’Aubigny. (She also seduced Sorelli and almost had a threesome with Carlotta and Piangi, but backed out because they were driving her crazy).

Adele Segal: She ends up living the life Meg always envisioned for herself before falling in love: she becomes a partying spinster, living the high life and raising hell. Eventually leaves the opera house and joins the Folies Bergeres, shocking the elites of the ballet world (much like Cleo de Merode, who’s actually one of my inspirations for Meg’s character). So basically, Adele is a lot like a less grounded Meg. She’s a French Auntie Mame, taking her brother and Cecile Jammes’s children under her wild wing. Weekends at Auntie Adele’s are always memorable.

David Perrin: When Darius and Cedric retire, he takes over the secret police force. He’s sort of the Charlie to Marcus and Justine’s Angels.

I might add more to this, such as when I remember all the different OCs I added, lol. It’s been awhile since I read YR, might be worth re-reading! I am nothing if not obsessed with looking at my work with fresh eyes.

Thank you again, @theimpossiblescheme! I really appreciate how you always encourage and engage with me about my various headcanons. Does a good hermit like me some real good.

[walkingshcdow-a]

🔥 gimme the salt on poto

Satly Saturday | Buckle Up. | Accepting!

Do you want ALL THE SALT or just some of it? Because i feel like I could write a dissertation on everything wrong with PotO and, more specifically, the Phandom and be only a diploma shy from my doctorate. 

One of the things I’m incredibly angry about is that it is still an “unpopular opinion” that Meg Giry is anything but blonde and white. In the novel, she is described as “swarthy” with dark hair and eyes, but even if that were not the case, who does it harm to headcanon her as a WoC? I think it is much more damaging to ascribe white traits and white traits only to her, not only because in the Leroux text, she is not white, but because other interpretations of PotO, whether they be the stage show or a roleplay portrayal, should be more open to diversity in general. The world is diverse. And the world was diverse in the 19th century. Historians, novelists, and filmmakers tend to whitewash history and create a false monolith of Europe and the Americas, except when it furthers a particular narrative (typically revolving around the American South, even when the American South has no bearing on a story, like PotO, which takes place in a different country altogether). It’s disgusting. 

The thing that gets me, though, is that the Phandom largely just accepts that Meg Giry is white and blonde. That’s the way it is in the stage show and since stage shows (and their subsequent film adaptations) are visual mediums, whereas novels rely on imagination, it’s “easier” to use images from the show to make aesthetics, fan art, etc. about Meg. It’s pure laziness most of the time; ignorance in other instances. This, to me, is dangerous in a different way than adamantly demanding Meg Be White for thinly veiled reasons tied up in racism. We know the latter is wrong. We take people to task on the latter. We demand more and better from our fandoms than casual, but intentional, racism. When it’s unintentional… or when it’s intentional because 99 percent of media including Meg Giry whitewashes her, we still hit that like button or that reblog button, instead of demanding better from our fandoms. I’m not calling for people to spam content creators with vitriol over their blonde, cherubic Meg Girys. I am calling for people to create more black Meg Girys, more Asian Meg Girys, more Jewish Meg Girys, more Latina Meg Girys, more Middle Eastern Meg Girys. Take what precious little Leroux gave us about her and expand your interpretation. Be kind to interpretations that are racially/ethnically different than the norm, or even than your own. The headcanons someone is posting about a Romani Meg Giry might be their way of connecting their own heritage to the text, of seeking representation that was hinted at in the book and destroyed in later interpretations. The fan art of a black Meg Giry might be a young woman’s way of seeing herself or her friends or her sisters in an art form (ballet) that has traditionally been unkind to WoC. Meg as a woman of color is so important - especially when you dare to mash up Leroux with ALW because the traits they each give her, when put together, create a complex and nuanced young woman that anyone might be happy to identify with. Whitewashing her takes that opportunity away from fans, especially young fans, who do not otherwise see themselves reflected in this beautiful melodrama. Ad who wants to be the gate keeper to a world of fun and joy? The ones we should be taking to task are the casting directors of PotO productions - especially in the US and UK, since those shows are most widely seen and publicized. Not just the ALW show (although I do hold the ALW show responsible for whitewashing Meg in the first place), but future productions of PotO by other creators. 

I also think that for people who aren’t fans of Meg, who don’t pay her much mind, don’t understand why this is such a contentious issue for those of us who love her, whether we love her from Leroux, Webber, or another iteration. For me, the version I take issue with is the ALW version… largely because I believe ALW Meg to be a composite of Meg Giry, La Sorelli, and Cecile Jammes from the Leroux novel. You see traits of each woman reflected in ALW Meg. She’s aged up, perhaps not prima ballerina, but a principal dancer. She’s superstitious, but level-headed. Kind, almost maternal, but bubbly and fun. She’s bold and fascinated by the strange goings-on around her. If ALW had wanted to give her the blonde, blue-eyed good looks of a Barbie Doll, he would have done better to name her after Jammes, who has a peaches and cream complexion in the novel. He could have even named her after Sorelli, though this move would have been more difficult, since Sorelli was a principal dancer and not the daughter of one of Erik’s employees. No. He chose to name her after Meg Giry and elevate her to secondary character status. The least he could have done was make her look the part. It would not have been the first time a principal cast member in an ALW was a PoC. Ben Vereen played Judas in the Broadway debut of JCS. So, why so scared to cast a black woman (or, really, any WoC) as Meg Giry? Come on, ALW. Would it have been so hard? It could have started the conversation about race in period dramas or the conversation about racism in the fine arts (especially ballet) twenty or thirty years earlier. And even if it didn’t, PotO would still be the beautiful leviathan it is today. 

Of course, I know that in a post-LND world, a lot of people have bigger complaints about Meg Giry’s treatment in modern stagings. I agree with them - the characterization of Meg Giry in LND is painful to watch. It’s inconsistent with what we know of her in the original show; it certainly is divorced from the novel in all ways. The flaws with Meg’s character in LND have nothing to do with the fact that she’s made into a sex worker (although that choice is questionable from a narrative standpoint, not a moral one. What does it add to Meg’s arc that she sold herself to help buy Phantasma? The implication that we’re meant to see her as lesser than Christine for it is the real moral quandary, But I digress). Rather, the flaws with Meg’s character stem from her being inconsistent with all previous and recognizable versions of her character and with the anti-feminist need to pit two women, who were previously the best of friends, against each other over a man… Not even a man who treats one or both of them right… like… it pits two best friends against each other over an abusive narcissist. It does no characters any favors, least of all poor Meg, who is made out to be needy, jealous, emotionally unstable… It does a poor job getting from Point A to Point B. 

This bastardization of Meg’s character would probably seem like a great bullet to dodge, insofar as representation goes. I think it would be absolutely disgusting to cast a black woman as LND Meg, due to all the negative stereotyping that would end up clouding even the best performance. However, LND was not the commercial or critical success ALW hoped it would be. Not even close. It underwent a lot of rewritings, still was not highly successful, and (by and large) disappoints both fans of the original story and newcomers to the PotO story. It is nowhere near the cultural phenomenon that PotO is. And so, then, again I ask - why have we not seen a WoC in the role of Meg? It’s only very recently that we’ve seen PoC in the roles of Christine, the Phantom, and Raoul. Meg is still depicted as white. I’m hoping that the trend of diversifying Broadway is more than a trend, but instead a cultural shift in how Broadway appeals to the masses. I hope to see a WoC play Meg (and Madame Giry, who I’ve neglected to mention until now, woops) within my lifetime. 

Honestly, I think that I only really started thinking about this critically two years ago when my Salt Squad and I got talking about representation in the Phandom, particularly in the RPC. I was rereading Leroux at the time and meditating on Kay (as one does) in my spare time and it occurred to me that if I wanted to see some change in the Phandom, I had to be a part of the side I wanted to see prevail. I had to be some of the change I wanted to see in the Phandom. So I took up Meg as a muse. I’m starting to see more and more racially diverse Megs in the Phandom and that thrills me. I want to @fillescharmxnt because her Meg is what I aspired for mine to be in so many ways. There are plenty of other fanartists, fic writers, and aesthetic makers who are doing such great things with recontextualizing Meg Giry for the 21st century.

I do want to include this disclaimer, though: just because someone is roleplaying, writing, drawing, headcanoning Meg as white, doesn’t mean that their ideas are without merit. There are plenty of very talented artists, writers, and bloggers who depict Meg as white. My goal is not to shame them - a lot of them do great work, both from a technical and emotional standpoint - but rather to invite them to the conversation about Meg Giry, race, and representation. I urge these fans to challenge their notions about Meg Giry and to be open to accepting ideas that are different from theirs. Even those of us who HC Meg as a WoC enjoy and support content with blonde Meg (like… can we talk about the Brazilian actress with the freckles?!). All I ask is that fans of white Meg Giry enjoy and support content with black/Asian/Jewish/Romani/Latina/Middle Eastern/Other Meg Giry in return. 

Fans can question the media they consume. Fans can challenge the media they consume. But at the end of the day, it is the media that we create and ask to be created that make the most difference. The only way media gets created is if there is a demand for. Be willing to demand a more inclusive, more historically accurate depiction of Meg Giry and you will be rewarded with a creative explosion of fan created content. 

[numbertwocontender]

Watch the event in all of it’s glory.

The early Ultimate Fighting Championship events were such a success, especially on Pay-Per-View, that there were bound to imitators. Promoters, looking to cash in off the UFC’s popularity, set up a cage or ring, picked a three or four word name, and tried to steal away a part of the UFC’s market share. The vast majority of these imitators ended up being miserable failures, both financially and aesthetically, and yet for some reason these type of events kept popping up, and to some extent still do today. The first of these events was the World Combat Championship.  

Background

Christopher Peters, son of movie producer Jon Peters, had previously approached Rorion Gracie and Art Davie, the men behind the first UFC, in 1994 about putting together a promotion to rival the Ultimate Fighting Championship that would be more based in sport, rather than spectacle; Gracie and Davie passed. Undeterred, Peters partnered with Bob Wall, a martial artist with connections to kickboxing juggernaut K-1, and started planning what would be the first, and only, World Combat Championship. The event was scheduled to take place on October 17, 1995 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. The idea behind the event was fairly simple. Two brackets, one composed of four strikers, the other, four grapplers, with the winner of each bracket fighting in the main event.

Enchanted by the grappling majesty of Royce Gracie’s UFC outings, Peters wanted to get a Gracie to build his show around. Initially, he reached out to Rickson, thought to be the best off all the Gracie’s, and even in 1995 was already somewhat of a mythic figure both for his fighting ability and hardball negotiating tactics. Ultimately, Peters was unable to agree to terms with Rickson. Determined to have a Gracie compete in his event, Peters reached out to Renzo Gracie through an ad Renzo had placed in the back of Black Belt magazine.  Intrigued by the $120,000 up for grabs in the tournament, Renzo jumped at the opportunity.

Rounding out the rest of the grappler’s bracket were: Ben Spijkers, a Dutch Judoka who won an Olympic bronze medal in 1988 and had fought Erik Paulson a few months prior in the Japanese MMA progenitor Shooto. Mike Bitonio a practitioner of Kapu Kuialua, a Hawaiian martial art characterized by its joint locks, throws, and  emphasis on bone breaking. The final grappler, and perhaps the most famous competitor in the tournament was Kenpo Karate stylist and acclaimed Shoot Fighter Bart Vale. Vale was most well known for competing in Pro Wrestling Fujiwara Gumi, a Shoot Style pro wrestling organization that presented itself as a legitimate fighting promotion, despite having predetermined outcomes.

When assembling the striker’s bracket, Bob Wall’s K-1 connections seemed to pay off in spades when both Peter Aerts and Sam Greco agreed to fight in the event. Once K-1 got wind of the tournament, and what exactly a No Holds Barred tournament entailed in 1995, they pulled both of their fighters. Without the marquee names of Greco and Aerts, Peters and Wall had to scramble to fill out their tournament with fighters with less sterling resumes.

James Waring had perhaps the best resume of anyone in the tournament. He had previously held the IBF Cruiserweight title, various kickboxing titles, and had an amateur kickboxing victory over future Heavyweight boxing king, Vitali Klitschko. Though in 1995, Klitschoko had yet to make his pro boxing debut and was almost entirely anonymous to most fight fans.

Erik Paulson’s inclusion in the striker’s bracket was somewhat dubious. Paulson was a Taekwondo black belt, but had been training with the Gracies for nearly a decade and already had already immersed himself in catch wrestling, a style that would become his trademark and calling card in future years. By the time of the WCC event, Paulson had already had 5 fights in Shooto, including a win over the aforementioned Ben Spijkers. 

The final two fighters in the striker’s bracket were Justin McCully, an undefeated Muay Thai fighter, and Jerome Turcan, a French Savate world champion.

The Event

The show opens with the above graphic. Showtime, the premium cable channel and boxing mainstay, produced the event. It says something about this event that it took Showtime another decade to try MMA again. Peters later claimed the event was a financial success, but based on Showtime’s ten year sabbatical from promoting MMA and a sparse crowd, it seems unlikely that there is any truth in Peters’ statement. 

The show opens with a video package that is as ostentatious as it is hamfisted. Men are seen practicing their martial arts while an unseen narrator rattles off the show’s opening salvo. With lines like “All people are his family, all places are his home ... he is alone, he is a legend, he is a warrior,” and claims that the winner of this 8-man tournament will be crowned “the greatest warrior on the planet.” It is clear that we are in for quite a show.

Our lead announcer, Todd Christensen, a man who looks like a cross between Dan Severn and Dick Butkus but with a hint of Kyle Kinane’s stage presence, opens the show by flubbing the name of the venue. He then introduces the rest of the commentary team. Bob Wall, a karate world champion and one of the events organizers, who can only be described as a better coiffed Councilman Jeremy Jamm, and Tom Murray, who eerily resembles Heaven’s Gate cult leader Marshall Applewhite. Murray procedes to predict/read of an obviously pre-prepared note card that the tournament will come down to Renzo Gracie and Jerome Turcan while blinking an inordinate amount of times.

Christensen then throws to  Richard Norton, an Australian actor known for being in over 40 martial arts films, I guess. Norton introduces former WBA lightweight champion Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, the only person on this broadcast who is notable in anyway. Mancini offers some tropes about fighting being mostly a mental game, and how fights are often lost on the way down the ramp. Norton stumbles over his words and throws it back to Christensen.

Todd runs down the brackets, and then has Bob Wall explain the bracket system and the rules. All strikes are legal except eye gouges and groin shots. The grapplers’ bracket matches will be one 22 minute endurance round with a ten minute time limit on the ground. The strikers’ bracket has identical rules, except with a two minute limit on the ground and submissions will result in a disqualification. 

  Opening Round Fights

Cecil Peoples is the referee for the entire event, and is dressed for the occasion, wearing the classically stylish look of a t-shirt tucked into sweatpants. However, much to my displeasure, in 1995 Cecil had not yet seemed to have developed his signature knee-lift/arm cross dance to start a round.

Renzo Gracie vs. Ben Spijkers

Both men circle until Spijkers takes Gracie down to the mat. Renzo briefly works a guillotine variation before he begins working for a sweep from the bottom. Renzo uses a butterfly to sweep and brings the fight back standing momentarily before Renzo returns the favor and takes Spijkers down. The two grapple for a bit, much to the chagrin of the crowd, who in 1995 were most definitely shouting out a whole slew of homophobic slurs, until Renzo takes Spijkers back and hits three pretty rough looking elbows to the back of the judo player’s head. Renzo locks in a rear naked choke rather quickly and the fight is over. Ever the sportsman, Renzo disgustedly shrugs off Spijkers semi-conscious body and as an added show of chivalry steps on the back his opponent's neck on the way to his corner. Cecil Peoples grabs Gracie like he’s about to Irish whip him into oblivion, but decides to just give Renzo a stern talking to. Inspired by Cecil’s words, Renzo goes to shake Spijkers’ hand, but Spijkers is still lying dazed on mat, so Gracie’s handshake just looks like he’s half-heartedly trying to drag Spijkers around the mat. 

A side note on the whole stepping on the neck deal: apparently Spijkers had been repeatedly calling Renzo’s hotel room in an order to psych him out or something like that, so in the future if somebody calls you a couple times feel free to step on their neck, it’s cool. 

Sean McCully vs Erik Paulson

Before the fight, we are treated to a “funny,” and believe me those quotation marks have never been more necessary, vignette that features Sean McCully training and eating food, in order to illustrate the point that he is both trying to build muscle and that he is undersized for this tournament. It is not good. 

A corresponding vignette airs for Erik Paulson, who looks like he could be the rhythm guitarist for seminal Florida death metal band Atheist, that outlines his background, it does not feature any of the “comedy” that was expertly showcased in McCully’s video. The commentary team remarks on Paulson’s long hair, which in this tournament is fair game and in the background Anton Chekhov is placing a firearm on the wall.  

The men start the fight exchanging strikes, with Paulson using his range to get the better of his opponent. McCully takes Paulson to the mat, and Paulson begins to work for a triangle from the bottom, which in this bracket is illegal. McCully shrugs off Paulson’s weak triangle attempt, grabs his hair, and rains down a headbutt and some punches. McCully moves to side mount and lands some more punches before the 2 minute limit expires and both fighters have to stand up. Paulson again has the advantage on the feet, getting the better of McCully at range and on the clinch. Paulson lands some effective knees while holding McCully’s trunks. McCully decides to flop to the mat and finds himself mounted. Paulson lands some punches before his opponent gives up his back. Paulson lands a combination of punches and elbows mostly to the back of McCully’s head leading him to tap out.

Bart Vale vs. Mike Bitonio

A vignette introduces San Pedro, California’s Mike Bitonio, claiming that San Pedro has a reputation for being a tough place, although the video seems to contradict this statement by showing Bitonio roller skating down the street a few seconds later. Later, the vignette goes onto show Mike training with his instructor, a man simply known as Kaja who looks a lot like Scott Norton’s burnout cousin. After a clip of Bitonio agonizingly riding a mountain bike, he ends the segment by informing the audience that if he wins the tournament he plans on paying some bills.

The focus of the broadcast then shifts to Bart Vale, a supposed veteran of this type of event, you know in the same way my obsession with NHL video games has made me a veteran defenseman.  The narrator attempts to make an analogy between Bart Vale and a hurricane, but I was distracted by what seemed to be a very young Chuck Liddell, or some lookalike, being put is some strange submission.

The two men begin the fight with a short flurry of punches before Bitonio drags the much bigger Vale to the ground. Bitonio struggles to maintain half-guard, and Vale uses the opportunity to reverse the position. Vale fights off an armbar from the bottom, and delivers a few headbutts to his opponent. Bitonio’s defense from this positions seems to be running his fingers through Bart Vale’s luxurious period-appropriate hair. Somewhere along the line, Vale has opened up a cut on his opponent, and is now using his chin to exacerbate the cut. Mark Kerr is at home taking notes, thinking of ways to top Vale’s cleft-based offense. Bitonio scrambles and Vale transitions into a standing neck crank. Back standing, Bitonio goes for a headlock takeover, but Vale ends up on top and takes mount. From there he lands some more headbutts and a few elbows and begins to work for a kimura, which he quickly abandons. Vale lands the most meaningful strikes of the fight at this point, throwing some heavy punches from the mount, until Bitonio comes close to bucking Vale off. Vale, not wanting to lose position, goes back to working for a kimura. Bitonio defends by using his free hand to push on Vale’s nose in what looks to be a very unpleasant way, and uses this small distraction to reverse position and end up on top. However, it is all for naught, as Bitonio doesn’t have enough energy to mount much offense and Vale grabs an arm triangle from the bottom to force the submission at 7:10 of the first round. 

Jerome Turcan vs James Waring

A rather standard hype video for James Waring airs here. It recounts his Kickboxing and Boxing exploits, and shows him being a dedicated father. He seems like a good dude. 

Jerome Turcan’s introduction claims that he is a connoisseur of baroque architecture, savate, and fine art. This is kind of dumb, because we all know that Mixed Martial Arts is the finest of the arts, so the narrator is just being redundant. We see clips of Turcan obliterating people in the Savate World Championships. Following the video, our commentary team breaks down the fight; all of them see it going for Turcan.

The opening section of the bout is fairly uneventful, both fighters stand at range with Turcan getting the better of Waring with some low kicks. Waring clinches his opponent and lands some punches in close before his opponents spins out and both fighter are back at range. The fighters return to trading strikes at a distance, this time Waring is getting the better of the exchanges, pressuring his opponent up against the fence and landing a few jabs followed by  a right hook. Feeling the pressure Turcan goes to circle out, Waring follows. Turcan throws two leg kicks, the second one Waring counters with a short right hand to the temple and drops Turcan. Waring swarms, lands a few hammerfists and Turcan taps at 2:35.

Semifinals

Renzo Gracie vs Phil Benedict

Bart Vale had to pull out of the event due to a laceration on the top of is head. His manager, looking like every single wrestling coach in 1995, is out here to explain the situation. Richard Norton, star of over 40 films that surely have been seen by less than 40 people total, calls Vale’s manager Max, despite the graphic reading Matt. Matt/Max is here to tell us that the doctor won’t allow Vale to compete. I don’t mean to comment on Bart Vale’s finances, but if the guy you pay 10% of your money to walks around in a sweatsuit, you may have to find someone else to manage your money. Replacing him is alternate Phil Benedict, who the broadcast tells us very little about, aside from the fact that he is a wrestler. Actually they don’t even tell us that, it just pops up on a pre-fight graphic, but they do tell us he can bench 400 pounds, which I suppose is not irrelevant. 

Benedict, in gray spandex shorts, resembles, in some ways, the Incredible Hulk -- in other ways he looks like that weird greaser guy who was on an episode of American Pickers. The announcers basically tell us that Benedict has no shot against Gracie, and at this point in 1995 they are probably right.

The fight starts with both fighters missing with nearly every strike they throw. Benedict gets a bit antsy and throws a wild flurry of punches. Gracie reacts with a single leg attempt and wrestles Benedict to the ground. From there Gracie quickly gets to the mount and starts throwing some stiff punches to his opponent’s skull.Benedict can’t offer much off of his back and eventually taps to Gracie’s strikes.

Instead of stepping on his opponent’s semi-conscious head, Gracie decided to help Benedict up to his feet, which I suppose is better, but when you step on one guys neck you might as well step on everybody’s neck.

We cut back to the announce desk, where the commentary quartet of Christensen, Wall, Mancini, and Murray marvel at Gracie’s technique. Here in 2017, I am marveling at Renzo’s Dorian Grey-esque ability to not age. Christensen then shifts focus to our next fight.

Erik Paulson vs James Waring

As Paulson makes his way to the cage, the announcers again mention his long hair and his decision not to cut it. Chekov, having already placed a gun on the wall, takes it down, loads it, and pulls back the hammer.

Waring runs to the cage, and we get a quick cut to Paulson in his corner. He looks every bit of a person who has been recently headbutted. Waring on the other hand looks fresh. Ray Mancini adds on commentary that while he is rooting for Waring, he thinks Paulson’s ground game will give him an advantage. Mere seconds later, referee Cecil Peoples tells us that grappling is illegal in this bout.

The first minute or so of the fight in fairly uneventful, Warring paws with a jab irregularly and lands two inside low kicks. Paulson seems tentative for the most part, but eventually rushes Waring and pushes him against the fence. Clinched against the fence, the two exchange strikes, Waring mostly punching to the body, Paulson to the head. This goes on for a while, until Waring lands some solid knees in the clinch that cause Paulson to circle out, but not before Waring clips him with a solid right hook to the head.

At range the fight returns to it’s fairly slow pace, with Paulson being a bit more active, throwing more kicks to both the legs and body of Waring, even attempting a head kick at one point. Paulson then tries to take Waring down to the mat, but settles for pressing his opponent against the cage again. Against the fence, both fighters fight for an advantage, until Waring finally seizes on one, in the form of Paulson’s blonde ponytail. Chekov fires his gun and all is right in the world.

Apparently, Paulson had some stunt work scheduled and felt cutting his hair would lose him that gig, instead he just lost some brain cells. Good trade in my book.

With a fistful of hair, Waring lands solid punches and a few elbows which cause Paulson to break the clinch, The two trade sparing strikes for the next few minutes, the highlight of which is Waring landing a solid left hand and Paulson quickly shouting back that it didn’t hurt him. Shortly after, Paulson throws a strong leg kick that Waring checks, and from this point on it is all Waring. He lands with a pair of solid side kicks and then pressures Paulson toward the cage. From this position he again grabs a fistful of Paulson’s hair and begins to unload with strikes. Paulson tries to circle out, but Waring yanks him back by his hair. Waring lands a series of brutal knees, that drop Paulson,but Waring still maintains his grip of hair and drags Paulson back up in much the same way you would pick up a troll doll. Waring lands a few more stiff shots, but then decides to take a bit of a rest. Still holding Paulson’s mane, Waring chooses just to lean up against the cage and regain some of his stamina. Despite Waring’s lack of action, Paulson doesn’t mount much offense. Near the 16 minute mark, Waring finally decides to unload with a pair of knees to the body, and then drags Paulson down to the ground by the hair and lands a series of stomps. Paulson taps after Waring lands a few follow up punches, and the fight is over at 16:07

John Higginson, the ring announcer who looks a lot like Brad Maddox and has a lisp reminiscent of Al Stewart, declares Waring the winner, while his corner, a cross between Guile from Street fighter and a thing Ruben Villarreal politely claps. 

Bonus Prelim

Jerry Flynn vs Fred Floyd

Yes, this is WCW megastar Jerry Flynn, trained by Boris Malenko and Karl Gotch, which some people will tell you is impressive, but so was Bobby Blaze and I don’t think he was much of a shooter. Flynn has a mullet that would knock Billy Ray Cyrus’ dick in the dirt. We see Flynn shadowboxing in front of a mirror wearing Zubaz and the narrator tells us some people call Jerry the “Flynn Slam Man.” Who are these people? Who made them this way?

Flynn walks to the cage, and then we are introduced to Fred Floyd. Floyd is a bodyguard, exponent of Budokan Kung-Fu, and all around large man. Floyd claims you have to be a thinker to succeed in an event like this. I am skeptical.

To start the fight both fighters rush to the center of the cage and exchange strikes. Flynn throws a low kick, loses his balance, and Floyd lands on top. From the guard, Floyd lands a flurry of punches to the head and body as well as a few well-placed elbows. Flynn, using a body lock, is able to reverse position and end up in side control. He works for a wristlock from here, but nothing materializes. The two jockey for position of the ground, neither throwing many strikes.  In a scramble, Flynn tries to stand up and Floyd lands a nice knee to the body that hurts Flynn. Floyd follows his to the ground, but is tired and sort of just lays there for a bit. I get it man. I want to lay down all the time.

Flynn has a hold of Floyd’s ankle. He’s working for what looks like an achilles lock. PRO WRESTLING. Floyd sorta just turns and is out, somewhere I’m sure Karl Gotch is talking about how tough he is and how he would have killed every fighter ever if only he had the chance. Floyd ends up in North-South position and is sort of just laying on Flynn with his hands in the general vicinity of his neck. Flynn taps proving that while Pro Wrestling is indeed the strongest, it is no match for a fat man laying on you. 

Finals

Renzo Gracie vs. James Waring

It is time for the tournament final. Bob Wall calls Renzo the most aggressive Gracie, which at the time is true, but little did he know the aggressiveness with which Ralek Gracie would refuse to pay people who grappled for Metamoris.  

The fight starts with both men tentative. Waring paws out with a jab, but only to create separation. Eventually Gracie shoots for a takedown that looks a lot like what would happen if you tried to hit an ankle pick while falling down a flight of stairs. Nevertheless, he gets Waring down. Renzo grapples his way to mount, and gets a neck crank/smother/Arm Triangle. Waring taps at 2:47.

Richard Norton, star of over 40 films, interviews both fighters. They spout cliches, paving the way for many fighter in the future to say nothing of interest following a fight. Richard Norton, star of over 40 films, then introduces Christopher Peters, who looks like the adjunct English professor from you local community college, to present Renzo with a championship belt. 

And thus ends the inaugural and final World Combat Championship. It happened and nobody can take that away from them.

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

Potober Day 8

Hi everyone! This is based off the Day 8 prompt for Potober: “From the moment I first heard you sing” - Desire/Pining/Wedding Dress

From a Distance

Erik had first noticed her during a rehearsal. Christine Daaé, the newest chorus member, in the back row of the chorus, singing her part slightly off-key. He hadn’t thought twice of it at first—certainly, her voice had a lovely tone, but without a sense of pitch, she would not be around long.

Then, one of the ballerinas cried out in pain. Little Cecile Jammes had twisted her ankle. Christine was the first one to come to the child’s aid. She took the girl into her arms and said, “It’ll be alright. You’ll get patched up in no time.”

Jammes sobbed hysterically. Christine held the child for a few moments before starting to sing. Erik tilted his head. She sung in a different language—Swedish. Something soothing and slow, a lullaby. Unlike a few moments ago, her voice was clear and on-key, the voice of an angel’s. It only lasted a few moments, though, until her voice broke. By that time, Madame Giry had wrapped up Jammes’s ankle. Christine stood and fled the stage.

Erik stayed and watched the rest of rehearsals, feeling this strange, fluttering feeling in his stomach.

A few nights later, he was heading back to his home underground from the managers’ office, his pocket full with his monthly salary. It was always so quiet at this time of the night; if Erik wanted to walk the hallways like a regular person, he could. And so he did.

But as he neared the door of the cathedral, he noticed that the doors were open, and heard a sob from within. He pressed himself against the wall and peered around the corner.

Christine knelt at the prayer bench, a single candle lit. She cried. “Father, I miss you so much.”

Erik wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him, but he quietly entered the chapel and hid among the pillars by the wall. He must have made some sort of noise, though, because Christine started and said, “Who’s there?”

He held his breath, waiting until she settled down again. Then he watched.

“They aren’t going to keep me. I can already tell. I’m such a failure, Father.”

Erik clutched his cape and threw his voice to the front of the chapel. “You need to work on your posture. And sing your octaves daily with an instrument.”

Christine shot to her feet and backed up several steps. For a moment, Erik was sure he had made a terrible mistake, that the girl would flee and never return to the opera. But then, she said in a shaking voice, “Are you the Angel?”

Erik was silent for a moment, not sure how to answer. He was no angel. For his entire life, he had been called a monster and a demon, and a part of him always wondered if they weren’t right.

Christine continued, “The Angel of Music, that my father promised to send?”

Erik pictured himself stepping out and introducing himself and nearly laughed at the idea. He wasn’t wearing his mask—going without was often deterrent enough for people like Buquet, who sometimes caught glimpses of him. Certainly, she would run screaming from the chapel and never return. Even if he were wearing his mask, the sight was unsettling enough to send people scattering.

So he kept hidden and said, “Yes. Now, I want you to go to sleep. Tomorrow morning at 8, go to the third dressing room on the right. I will teach you there.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you so much.”

She rushed out of the chapel, walking past Erik without noticing him. She smelled like roses. Erik felt that warm, fluttering feeling return to his stomach and shook his head. He wondered if he should drink some wine when he got back to his home to settle it.

It wasn’t until the next morning, as he stood behind the mirror and watched her sing a Swedish folk song waiting for him to “appear,” that Erik realized that he had fallen completely in love with Christine Daaé.

[extraordinarygrrls]

for @ofwealthandtaste (the duke & grown-up jammes)

She resented this kind of work, she always saw it as what she did to pay her rent, until she could do something good, something important. Working for a "women's rag", and being the only woman writing for women, was not her idea of being a great writer, but at least this seemed somewhat intriguing.

A feature on André Dacor Benicieux, the Duke of Monroth. A figure of great luxury and excess during La Belle Epoque, maybe something of worth could come of this.

A knock, and a polite, if a little strained, smile. "Your Grace?" She cringed a bit, what was she, a lady-in-waiting? "Monsieur, Cecile Jammes, from L'examen des Femmes?" She held up her notebook and pen. "I'm... here to interview you, for the feature?