#i spent like 3 years getting low-key harassed and bothered by someone

[eeunwoo]

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[slingspeacea]

☆ // SUBJECT: THE EARP HOMESTEAD. LOCATION: PURGATORY, COLORADO

a collection of research exploring the idea, that if not for wynonna earp’s low budget and physical filming location, purgatory and its key landmarks should have been based in the united states,            around the colorado river specifically.  !important: earp roleplayers are more than welcome to also adopt this divergence if they agree with it, and may 100% feel free to REBLOG this post. please remember when interacting with my character, in all verses, that they are from purgatory, colorado, and not from canada. if after reading this, you feel bothered, please let me know and we can absolutely follow writers’ show canon in our threads!!

☆  // WARNING!!

this divergence is strongly opinionated. the writers of the show have confirmed the plot setting for the television series wynonna earp, is in fact located in alberta, canada. i am 100% aware that alberta is absolute show canon. however, as a roleplayer, creative writer, and western fanatic, i can neither ignore, nor let wyatt earp and doc holliday’s history get completely washed away for the sake of filming convenience. make no mistake. i love the show, the storyline, and i love the characters immensely;  but because of both the comic book series, and nonfictional history, their story’s location does not make any sense to me or add up at all. 

☆  // PART I. WYATT’S JOURNEY.

first, let’s begin with wyatt earp’s original routes and a few historical events. i’ve taken the time, and mapped wyatt and doc holliday’s trail out below in order. they were obviously riding on horseback and taking ferries or trains, so they wouldn’t have been using main roads or highways ( although busy trails later became paved highways and roads throughout america ). at only one point does wyatt travel through canada and it is during his two, long journeys to alaska. as you can see below, he really goes nowhere near alberta or calgary on his way to his next stop, seattle, washington. 

it would make way more sense for purgatory to be located somewhere in the united states, in one of the towns wyatt earp lived or stayed in for a prolonged period of time. not to mention the old west  is well... united states history, and all notable events regarding the old west happened in the states. the original 1993 wynonna earp comics even pay homage to places like tombstone ( and can i mention when the t.v series says they’re loosely based on the comics, they are hardly anything like them? like barely even remotely? ). it mentions white trash and trailer parks, hill billys, pabst blue ribbon, you name every southern stereotype, and they cover it. no surprise, it is based in america.

“ two u.s. marshals and a sheriff lie dead in san diablo, new mexico. when marshal wynonna earp hits the trail to bring the killers to justice, she uncovers connections to a devastating new drug...and a pack of redneck vampires! modern firepower and frontier justice --that's wynonna. “          wynonna earp, comic issue #1, summary.

but that’s totally besides the point, and another post probably worth making entirely. let’s get back to the real wyatt earp and docs holliday’s actual history. below are some maps, and i’ve linked bigger versions so they’re easier for y’all to see.

larger map images for reference:     a,   b,   c.

exhibit one: map a.  ↳ this displays his route from dodge city in 1875, up until his last ride to los angeles where he would also die in 1923. this map is all prior to docs death specifically, which is extremely important. why? because doc had obvious connections to both constance clootie and bulshar. this has become even even more so evident in season 3. wyatt earp did not travel through canada until after docs actual death. this alone raises a red flag as someone who thinks placing purgatory in canada was an easy cop-out by show writers, and as someone who often ponders plot holes in the show’s storyline. 

another point i have to to stress, is that a majority of wyatt earp’s time with doc holliday throughout life was spent in the southwestern united states. their stomping grounds are where a majority of the route lines cross on the map, and they traveled between each of those cities, owning saloons, gambling, hunting outlaws, etc.. countless times. i’ll have more to add about this later under section iii, which heavily regards the revenants.

exhibit two: map b. ↳ map b is probably the most important of all three. it depicts what his ride would have looked like from wrangell, ak to nome, and then from wrangell, ak to seattle, wa. google maps actually wouldn’t let me map the whole thing through from idaho and washington to alaska, because fun fact, you have to fly and take ferries to get around from the usa to those alaskan towns. phew, can you imagine wyatt’s adventure to alaska on horseback and water?? his wife actually tried to stop him from making the journey because she was pregnant at the time, but of course, he saw an opportunity for wealth and didn’t listen.

alberta is a far stretch out of the way. he would have had to go over or around the canadian rockies, and since he was traveling to and from alaska from either washington state and/or idaho with a clear destination in mind, it would make no logical sense whatsoever. the red triangle, accurately labeled show’s location wtf??  is where the show’s canon ghost river triangle is located. i know what you’re probably thinking, they never say it straight up in the series,             but writer’s confirmation aside, upon researching there is one particular episode which gave us show purgatory’s exact location right away. here is a picture of waverly in s01e03, with a map of purgatory. . . and here is another .... and now here is an actual, real map which indisputably matches waverly’s layout. note: those are not my screencaps, you can find the original post i got them from here !!

exhibit three: map c. ↳ vildal, california is where he built his home in 1911.  the earps bought a small cottage in vidal, the only home they ever owned. beginning in 1911 and until Wyatt's health began to fail in 1928, Wyatt and sadie earp summered in Los Angeles and spent the rest of the year in the desert working their claims. The "happy days" mine was located in the whipple mountains a few miles north of vidal.  wyatt had some modest success with the happy days gold mine, and they lived on the slim proceeds of income from that and oil wells.  ( source:  wikipedia. )

so, my question is likely the biggest plot hole in the whole freaking television series. how the heck did wyatt’s family homestead end up all the way near calgary, alberta, canada?? the show writers ignore this entirely and uses an insane amount of liberties. wyatt never had any children to begin with, but if one wants to paint the picture of family, love, loyalty, and closeness as they do on the show, i would think that the earps would have remained somewhere closer to wyatt’s grave. at the very least in the same country.

the other major thing to take into consideration, is that by the time map b and map c were traveled, real doc holliday was also dead and no longer amongst the living. i bet your thinking,  ❝   okay so maybe vidal, california would have been an alright place for the show to take place, since that was wyatt’s actual only home.  ❞  and i totally agree, but the more i thought about making this wynonna’s hometown and ground zero for the homestead, the harder i could picture the gang there. problem is, the landscape is nothing but desert. it’s hot and arrid. in vidal there are there are no prairie winds, or great plains, or chinook rocky mountain sunsets. on the show we see mountains, rivers, forests, and more importantly, large amounts of snow. 

this leads the divergence trail back to none other than the myth, the man, and the legend, doc holliday. let’s dive a little more into his relationship with wyatt in the next section.

☆  // PART II. DOC AND WYATT.

how wyatt and doc met in history & the show. ↳ earp had run two cowboys out of wichita earlier in 1878. during the summer, the two cowboys—accompanied by another two dozen men—rode into dodge and shot up the town while galloping down front street. they entered the long branch saloon, vandalized the room, and harassed the customers. hearing the commotion, earp burst through the front door, and before he could react, a large number of cowboys were pointing their guns at him. 

in another version, there were only three to five cowboys. in both stories, holliday was playing cards in the back of the room and upon seeing the commotion, drew his weapon and put his pistol at morrison's head, forcing him and his men to disarm, rescuing earp from a bad situation. no account of any such confrontation was reported by any of the dodge city newspapers at the time. whatever actually happened, earp credited holliday with saving his life that day, and the two men became friends.

how wyatt and doc actually parted ways in history. ↳  according to a letter written by former new mexico territory governor miguel otero, wyatt and holliday were eating at fat charlie's the retreat restaurant in albuquerque, "when holliday said something about earp becoming 'a damn jew-boy.' earp became angry and left…." holliday and dan tipton arrived in pueblo, colorado in late april 1882. ( source: wikipedia. )

doc’s death in real history. ↳ in 1887, prematurely gray and badly ailing, holliday made his way to the hotel glenwood, near the hot springs of glenwood springs, colorado. he hoped to take advantage of the reputed curative power of the waters, but the sulfurous fumes from the spring may have done his lungs more harm than good. as he lay dying, holliday is reported to have asked the nurse attending him for a shot of whiskey. when she told him no, he looked at his bootless feet, amused. the nurses said that his last words were, "this is funny.”  holliday died at 10am on november 8, 1887. he was 36.

wyatt visited sick doc before he died. ↳   wyatt heard of doc’s death shortly after he had died. he was close by in aspen, colorado at the time, and it’s thought that he may have visited doc before his death. josephine  earp told a story about sitting beside doc’s deathbed, but it’s thought that she may have confused this with another occasion ( because of old age ). she additionally gave an account of doc and wyatt’s last meeting in the lobby of a denver hotel. both men were quite upset and josie said that wyatt cried afterwards. there’s also a story that doc’s gun was also sent to wyatt although again not a lot of evidence to prove whether or not it’s true.

wynonna earp flashbacks. ↳   in s01e03, wyatt visited his bedside, where doc is very ill and lying down in a tent. it’s implied doc was resting, wyatt packed up his things for him, and dispite his sickness, earp keeps urging him to ride with him to purgatory. doc rejects knowing he can’t and says goodbye. this is likely right before he seeks out constance clootie for immortality, in whatever town they were in. there is no viable way his transformation could have happened in purgatory, because the church in wynonna’s vision quest later on was somewhere on the outskirts of town.

on the series, doc holliday had already come across constance clootie, and gained his immortality before the best friends had their argument and wyatt disowned him for becoming something of the devil’s work. wyatt also finally admits to his family being cursed. doc was also as equally heartbroken about wyatt’s opinion of his choice, and throughout the series, we see how deeply he considers and takes an earp’s opinion to heart. despite being set in modern years, and appended romantic aspects aside, his relationship with wynonna mirrors that of his and wyatts.  

consider that wyatt already killed constance clootie’s sons, and bulshar clootie is the man he was fixed on punishing for cursing him. it’s entirely plausible doc followed closely behind wyatt’s tail after being shunned, and that wherever wyatt was going was only a few days ride from doc’s staying place. the witch clootie admitted she turned doc ageless to hurt wyatt and succeeded, but we also know that where blushar goes, clootie is looking for vengeance. it’s conceivable to theorize certain suspicions such as, but not limited to; doc wanting take back his immortality due to wyatt’s rejection, and in turn while meeting clootie, got tossed with the final  seal into the well.

the “earp well” lol. ↳  we know doc winds up in a well , but it’s location seems to appear elsewhere from it’s original place on the earp property in season one’s pilot episode, to somewhere in a random forest, in s02ep08. the earp property is said by wynonna to be only 10 acres ( 0.125 sq miles ).  for a farm where you have to drive to get from point a to point b, this is not very large or inaccurate. all shots of the property are also mainly rolling farmland with no large forest vegetation resembling that of the well’s site. i’m going to chalk this discrepancy up to this scene having been in the pilot, having a low budget and limited choices for pilot filming location.

doc’s well was never on the actual earp property like some probably assume at first glance, but instead, somewhere else entirely. just go on ahead and re-watch. after retrieving peacemaker and talking to dolls, wynonna drives up to the purgatory town line, truck facing towards the town. it makes for a clear ( or not so clear ) clue hinting the well’s whereabouts. in s2ep08,  juan carlo takes wynonna outside of purgatory to the outskirts for her vision quest. the well is clearly located in that area and tied heavily to the flashback in the church. from a teen wynonna was a drifter. she could have stashed the gun in an abandoned well anywhere, somewhere safe, and no where too close to the homestead.  but here is another thought, doc and wynonna’s fates were entwined, so who knows? maybe she felt specifically drawn to that area and frequented there to clear her head when she was younger. merely a concept.

finally, bobos imprisonment in the well further proves it’s located elsewhere, since revenants can't step foot on earp land without being burned. this gives us some room to play for setting up wynonna earp’s story in colorado.

tying history and flashbacks together. ↳  this is where it gets complicated, where it’s hard to put things into words, and where my divergence really starts, because the show canon entirely ignores actual history when it comes to the true separation and deaths of both of these men.  we have no clue as to the location in either of these flashbacks on the show, but we do see wyatt is wearing a jacket and scarf. it’s apparently cold outside so there’s at least that to work with. the state of colorado has cold winters, which also works in this divergence’s favor.

if the real doc holliday died in glenn springs, colorado, and the real wyatt earp was in aspen, colorado around the time of his death, we could place purgatory somewhere in that area. doc faked his death on the series, between the time he decided he would became immortal, and the time he was thrown in the well shortly after. sewing these realities together puts purgatory in colorado. doc’s death would make the location default. in regards to the comic taking place in the deserts of the united states, this divergence will also have that covered later on.

the canadian show takes an extreme with creative freedoms and gives no resolution  whatsoever as to how wyatt earp somehow settled down in alberta, candada ( did they even do their fact checking?? ) or how every family member has lived there ever since. the actual wyatt earp had no children, and his home was and will always historically be in vidal, california. 

so, let’s make this more believable. what if in another universe that isn’t real history, but makes a hell of a lot more sense when unified with the show’s,            wyatt earp made a home in colorado after bulshar was buried?  not only close to where is thought to be his best friends grave, but where he can keep an eye on, and protect, bulshar’s remains until he dies? bobo moved him, but where were they prior? on the show wyatt is also said to have been partially involved in entombing bulshar’s body. therefore, this explanation would make 100% total sense as to why wyatt and his wife never made it to vidal, california. his life’s journey would have been stopped dead in its tracks, so he could keep the demon who cursed his family from the widows, and make sure bulshar never returned. one could claim, in a historically based, fictional western series, that wyatt earp built a ranch because of this, and settled down with his wife in a town called purgatory, colorado.

☆  // PART III. WYATT’S CURSE, THE REVS, & THE GHOST RIVER TRIANGLE.

wyatt earp’s curse. ↳  the earp curse makes all people that wyatt earp had killed in his lifetime resurrect over and over again. those revenants can only be killed by the peacemaker which only the current heir can use.           wait a minute. wynonna voice: say whaaaat?? wyatt never killed multiple people in canada. at any point in history. how would the 77 people he killed even get to canada if revenants can’t leave the ghost river triangle in the first place??         can you say, major woops? this is personally my favorite fudge up.

the ghost river triangle. ↳  the ghost river triangle is an area of cursed land, partially framed by the splitting of the ghost river into two, that imprisons the resurrected outlaws killed by wyatt earp. should a revenant cross the boundary line, they experience hell on earth. to quote waverly, in leavin' on your mind: '...everything from the mountains to where the north and south ghost rivers meet, forms the ghost river triangle. it cuts through the big city, contains thousands of square miles of forest, foothills, prairie, the badlands. and all of it...cursed.'

forest, foothills, prairie, and badlands? yeah, if we want to place divergent purgatory somewhere in the united states to make the show a little more historically accurate, the ghost river triangle definitely parallels to none other than the colorado river. the colorado river runs through colorado, utah, arizona, nevada, california, and all the way down to mexico. at least three of those states were in fact, wyatt’s stomping grounds before and after his historically recorded vendetta ride. 

not to go with some total, mythical, movie cliche here, but in an alternative wynonna world set in the united states, the ghost river triangle could have also been named by the native americans who inhabited the land along the colorado river. factually, many parts of the colorado river are actually suspected to be haunted. let’s not get too carried away, though. alberta canada is in fact home of a real place called the ghost river valley, and there’s totally no disputing that.

wyatt’s vendetta ride ↳  in history the vendetta ride was a deadly search, where wyatt lead a federal posse for outlaw cowboys they believed had ambushed, and maimed virgil earp and killed morgan earp. the earp brothers had been attacked in retaliation for the deaths of three cowboys in the gunfight at the o.k. corral on october 26, 1881. from march 20 to april 15, 1882, the federal posse searched southeast cochise county, arizona territory for suspects in both virgil's and morgan's attacks. several suspects had been freed by the court, owing in some cases to legal technicalities and in others to the strength of alibis provided by cowboy confederates. up to this point, wyatt had relied on the legal system to bring the cowboys to justice. now he felt he had to take matters into his own hands.

i could be wrong, but i have a feeling the chase for bulshar is loosely based on this part of wyatt earp’s history. the parallel of his two own brothers dying, and two of clootie’s sons dying, is a little thought provoking, no? coincidental even? an eye for an eye, perhaps? there is a lot of wyatt’s history left to be uncovered and explored, and that’s if the show writers even decide to reveal anything else at all. on the show, wyatt got innocent people killed, there was one hell of a lot of collateral damage surrounding him. 

i feel 100% comfortable standing firmly by the headcanon that after wyatt was cursed and his brothers were killed, that he went on a tear after bulshar and destroyed anyone who got in his way. this is important, because these events could be tied to his life in tombstone, arizona, and the events which took place in and after the shootout at the OK corral. if he was cursed in tombstone, then there is no way around it,          one of the ghost river triangle’s points would have to begin there.

the revmap, i mean . . . revamp. ↳ below is a map which bases a divergent ghost river triangle heavily off of history. it takes into consideration doc holliday and wyatt earp’s routes, where doc’s last known whereabouts were, where wyatt would have killed the most men, and finally, his vendetta ride. in total the divergent river triangle’s perimeter is about 2,500 miles and takes 36 hours nonstop to drive. in contrast, the show’s ghost river triangle is 617 miles and takes about only an easy 12 hours to drive from point to point. purgatory is west of denver, and the homestead is about where the house icon is.   ( larger image version is here. )

yeah okay, so the size may be of some issue, but vastness aside, there are three things this triangle does have, that the other doesn’t. firstly, historical accuracy. it includes nearly all of the areas where a number of wyatt’s targets made their peace. if we tie back to wyatt’s vendetta ride and the whole paralleling idea for a moment, many of the revenants who rode with bulshar would've died in various areas of colorado and the purgatory area. secondly, the terrain might aid with narrowing revenant whereabouts down. deserts and mountains surround a majority of these iconic towns.          and lastly another argument can be made that because some revenants do want to end the earp line, few might've simply migrated to colorado and placed themselves somewhere closer within wynonna’s line of fire.

i could continue ridiculously blabbering on and on about why i chose this location divergence for my character. everything from climate, to terrain, and how there are salt flats in utah nearby, or my really strong distaste for how the show writers erased wyatt earp and doc holliday’s real history,            but in honesty i think everything i’ve covered above nicely sums up my research and premise. anywhooo, that’s all for now folks, hope you enjoyed the read!

[auroraphilealis]

The Siren

The Siren | Once, a long, long time ago, Phil had heard a story – a strange story, so fantastical he hadn’t known whether or not to laugh, eyes wide and terrified amidst it all, - about a mermaid, a siren, who supposedly stole away the sailors of the sea to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again. | Phan | Teen and Up | Siren!Dan, Asexual!Phil | 3811 words

Happy birthday my dear Rachel, @phansdick​ <3 Sorry I suck at surprises and decided to spend all day teasing you about your birthday fic. I’m really, really glad I was able to pull this together for you, though, as I didn’t think I was going to make it, and low and behold, you ended up getting it early! I love you a lot, even if some times I really, really suck at showing it and disappear for days on end, and you’re the best friend anyone could ask for. You are truly one of a kind, perfect, amazing, and so incredibly strong. Thank you for always being there for me, and I hope that I can always be there for you as well. I sincrerely hope you enjoy this, because I think I legitimately took a turn with his most people probably won’t be expecting.

Based on that tumblr post asking for an asexual sailor to run into a siren.

(Ao3 Link)

**

Once, a long, long time ago, Phil had heard a story – a strange story, so fantastical he hadn’t known whether or not to laugh, eyes wide and terrified amidst it all. He’d been about thirteen at the time, just coming into puberty and all that that supposedly entailed, and staring in absolute disbelief at the father of a friend who swore up and down that he’d seen it – a mermaid, a siren, the deadliest of the kind.

It was the first time Phil had come over for a visit, walking over the docks of his little town’s shipping yard towards the boat of his new found girlfriend Myla that she’d lived on for her entire life, their hands swinging together between them, and some kind of notion of sex flashing through Phil’s mind.

(He didn’t actually know what sex was yet, and he was in for a nasty surprise.)

Myla’s family were sailors – well, kind of. Myla’s father was a sailor, and he’d been teaching Myla all her life, but she wasn’t really into it. In fact, she only really tolerated the lessons as some sort of penance for being the reason her mother had died – child birth – on the rough and tumble seas that they’d both loved so much, but she told anyone who would listen that she was never ever going to be a sailor like her father before her.

(Eventually, the boat would be passed down to her, and she’d hand it off to Phil, a lifelong companion of hers after the fateful and awkward events of that afternoon.)

They’d walked up together a little shy and bereft, aware that Myla’s father would be leaving soon for some kind of shipping conference up in the middle of town, but also aware that they wouldn’t be able to avoid him all together.

Myla had introduced Phil to him, and they’d thought that will be that.

But it wasn’t.

No; instead, Myla’s father had practically ignored them, staring out across the sea towards a little island that most of their town knew to avoid. The weather was almost always torrential out there, making it near impossible to even approach the shores, and those who’d bothered to try were never heard from again.

Whether or not they’d been stranded on the island had yet to be seen.

(They hadn’t.)

Phil had thought it strange, then, for a man to be so captivated by a storm raging over the tiny mound of rocks on the sea, and he’d squeezed his fingers around Myla’s with the full intent to swing her around and let her lead them back to her rooms.

They didn’t get very far before Myla’s father turned around with eyes so wide and horrified that Phil had thought, just for a second, that he must have seen a ghost.

“I’s seen it, lass,” he’d said, not even looking at Phil. “The beast that’s taken all ‘em sailors.”

Phil hadn’t known what he’d meant at the time, but Myla clearly had, and she’d rolled her eyes at her father like she’d heard his drunken rambles one to many times before.

“What are you on about now, da?” she’d shot back, tossing Phil an amused grin. It had relaxed the terrified set of is shoulders for just a moment, and then Myla’s father had turned his gaze onto him.

There had been something haunted in those steel grey eyes that Phil would never forget, even to this day.

“The siren that’s been stealin’ all ‘em, the mermaid. I’s seen it, boy, I’s seen it take ‘em all away.”

**

Myla had taken Phil to her bedroom not long after the strange encounter, and she’d kissed him soft and sweetly on the mouth. It had been nice, drawing forth some kind of fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but then she’d started doing other things – strange things, like touching Phil in places he never wanted to be touched again, and drawing Phil’s own hands up to cup her breasts.

He hadn’t liked that, he hadn’t like that at all, and when Myla had asked Phil what he’d thought sex was, all he’d been able to offer up in reply to her was not this.

(Phil would have a few boyfriends and girlfriends in the interim of figuring it all out, but they never lasted very long after Phil refused to do much more than kiss them.)

**

Years later, Phil would follow in the footsteps of nearly ever male boy over the age of sixteen in town in joining the shipping industry, loading himself up on a sailboat on his off days for a little extra cash helping fisherman catch or sell fish across the way to another little town known as Hasten. It was quite a bit further out, not even visible from the docks of Phil’s own town, Miligan, but they were a trading post, and rarely went about retrieving their own goods despite the water’s edge being so close.

It was a good job, a fun job, but it all it really did was nurture a deep desire within him to become a sailor himself. It wasn’t the fishing that he’d enjoyed, or the unloading and haggling, it wasn’t even so much the sea; it was the beasts hidden inside of it, and the islands Phil was constantly catching sight off on each and every outing he so badly wanted to stop and explore.

(There was one island in particular that Phil wanted to see, but there wasn’t a boat in Hasten or Miligan that would venture anywhere near it, not, at least, on purpose. The tall tale Phil had heard so many years ago from Myla’s father constantly swirled through his head, and he thought one day… one day.)

**

Consequently, despite their awkward first “date”, Myla ending up being Phil’s only friend, and while she gave up sailing the second she was old enough to get a job and move out on her own, she entertained Phil’s private notions of wanting to pick it up with short lessons of her own and old school books her father had piled upon her.

(Phil had never been so grateful for his ex-girlfriend in his life, except for the time she sent him a link at two in the morning outlining the terms asexual and revulsion and he’d cried for six hours because he was finally not alone.)

**

Sailing wasn’t Phil’s only passion, though, and while he spent most of his time studying sailing and the proper ways to navigate a boat, he sometimes indulged himself in a little light reading - deep creatures of the sea: mermaids; sirens: what to expect; how to avoid the sweet call of song; alluring and beautiful, these creatures will kill you.

Mind plagued with the memory of that long ago story, Phil hadn’t ever really let it go. He was fascinated, had even harassed Myla for days – after she’d forgiven him for “breaking her heart,” and “not being sexually interested in her” – to let him talk to her father again, find out more about this elusive mermaid and what sailors it was stealing away into the depths of the sea.

Myla had never really let him have his go, angry at him anew for even suggesting that he might entertain her drunkard of a father, but still, Phil had never forgotten.

In fact, one could argue that he was obsessed, and he didn’t even really know all that much about the strange creature other than the fact that their song could lure anyone to their death – so deeply attracted would the person be to the monster, they’d chuck themselves overboard just to be in their arms for the rest of their lives.

The sirens, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than a quick meal, by all definitions, asexual.

(And there was that word again, that word that rang so deep in Phil’s chest it tugged and and tugged the same way the islands called…)

But there was rumor, too, rumor that sirens existed solely with the purpose of finding their one true love, and that they haunted the oceans in search of their mate in the hopes that one day they could be truly happy. Their song lured only the unfaithful, the sexual, and their fangs killed only the unholy, and they drowned their victims not for vindictive enjoyment, but to protect those back home who could never know of their partners misdeeds, and one day, one day, they’d find their own perfect partners and -

Well, they were only rumors.

( - rumors that a siren waited for the one unaffected by their call, waited for someone to join them with needs that matched their own; rumors that circulated the internet like a joke, but which Phil heard like a call of his own name.)

**

When Phil turned twenty-three, Myla’s father passed away – liver cancer.

He attended the funeral, helped pay through some of the costs, and sat with Myla for three whole weeks while she worked to get over the devastation of it all.

The day she sent him home, she handed over the keys to her father’s fishing boat, and made Phil promise to be careful.

(It was a promise he wanted so desperately to keep.)

**

The island had been calling his name for years by then, so was it really any surprise the day he finally packed up to leave?

**

Once, a long, long time ago, Phil had heard a story – a strange story, so fantastical he hadn’t known whether or not to laugh, eyes wide and terrified amidst it all, - about a mermaid, a siren, who supposedly stole away the sailors of the sea to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again.

Once, a long, long time ago, Phil heard a story about a creature so powerful, its song was enough to lure any sailor to its death.

Now, nearly ten years later, Phil would stumble across said creature of his own accord, curious and tempted far beyond their song.

**

The storm rages fast and strong, stronger than Phil had ever anticipated, has ever experienced out here on his own. His sails whip about starboard from the colossal winds, and his boat surges upon the water with every pelt of the angry sea below him. He’s freezing cold, his hair plastered to his forehead, clothes soaked through with the salty brine of the ocean below him, but his hands remain firm on the steering wheel of his boat, and his eyes remain trained on the island before him. It’s so close, Phil can practically feel it.

He’s been at this for hours now, struggling against the wind and the rain, fighting for control over something he knows he’ll never quite be able to hold onto, and all for what? To reach the shore of an island he’s been told over and over and over again swallows up sailors like its own personal victims?

No, no, not quite.

He doesn’t care about the island, even as its shores call his name, even as he stares at it through the thick veil of dark storm clouds that practically hide it from sight.

No, it’s not the island he’s here for, but the rumors of the creature that’s made it its home.

The siren.

Phil’s heart is racing in his chest. He’s been battling these winds for hours now, literal hours, but he refuses to give up just yet. He’s heard rumor that most sailors never even make it this far, heard rumor that most hear the call on the outskirts of the storm, and turn their boats into the middle of it all only to die before they can make it past the first fifteen feet towards the island, but he knows that he isn’t wrong to keep moving forward, to fight past the wind and the rain towards a shore he’s starting to see clear as day – a shore where the rain doesn’t touch, and the sands sparkle under the same dull sun as his own little town thousands of feet from where he is now.

He knows that there’s something waiting for him there, and when he finally breaks through the rain to the other side, a mere few feet from the shoreline – there, a song so beautiful and sad that Phil stops short to turn and find where it’s coming from; just beyond the line of the storm sits a mermaid so beautiful Phil nearly feels his heart stop, sat just upon mossy and green rock protruding from the sea as if it were an island all its own.

His boat, his fishing boat decorated with years of use and muck that Phil’s never learned how to clean, scrawled across in the ugliest shade of green with the words the st. mary, crashes into the far shore, but Phil doesn’t care to even look.

His gaze remains fixated on the mermaid sat before him, their smile so cunning and sharp that Phil thinks amazing.

They’re singing, a dark head of brown curls fluttering in the wind, their eyes nearly as sharp as their eyes, and their fingers dancing about the air in a come hither motion that Phil hasn’t seen in years.

Revulsion sears through him, but he ignores it, fascinated, captivated by their song, by the red-black of their long, glossy tail, and he closes his eyes for the briefest of brief moments just to take it all in.

The moment he does so, the singing stops, and he hears a splash.

When he opens his eyes once more, the mermaid, the siren, is sat bobbing along in the water below him with that same sinister, all knowing smile gracing their too beautiful features.

“That was beautiful,” Phil says, and offers them a gentle smile.

Slowly, slowly, the siren’s grin fades, and they stare up at Phil with eyes so dark, he feels like he’s staring into nothing. They don’t even have any whites to their eyes, and their teeth are bared, sharp and terrifying.

Some deep part of Phil can’t quite believe that this is real.

“Will you sing for me again?” he asks when the silence wears on far too long.

The siren’s grin slowly comes back.

“Of course, my love,” they say, their voice a deep baritone that soothes over Phil’s soul, calming his racing heart beat and the aches of his soul, and they haven’t even started singing yet.

“But only if you were to join me down here?” they offer, hands snaking out of the water once more to return to making that same come hither motion from before.

The easy grin Phil had been wearing moments before fades as the revulsion surges through him once more, and he finds himself shaking his head, almost tempted to turn away from the siren bobbing along in the water before him, but terrified of what they might do to him then if he does.

“I’d – rather not,” Phil disagrees, and feels his heart lodge in his throat. The rumors he’s clung to for years swirl about his head, but he doesn’t act on them, doesn’t trust them enough to lay them quite to that kind of test. “But I’d still really like to hear you sing again. Your voice is beautiful,” he says.

The siren stills below him, staring up at Phil with eyes dark and piercing, almost sinister looking for how black they are. He feels his heart thump anew in his chest, but the oddest sensation of safety suddenly over takes him until he’s able to grin once more.

“Please?” he requests, and watches as the siren slowly opens their mouth and starts to sing once more.

The song brushes over Phil like a cool wind, soothing and calm, and the longing he’s felt for years suddenly comes to an end. He can feel it, that strange pull that had been driving him for years, withering away into nothing but content. He has no wish to dive into the waters below like the books always said, has no desire to leap into the siren’s arms, but he does feel something close to – close to – home.

He listens with one eye open, not quite trusting, not quite believing, as the siren sings their song to him in the most beautiful and captivating voice that Phil has ever heard. The song is soleful and soft, but there’s that same tone of mourning Phil had heard before that breaks his heart.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s singing too – soft and breathless, the words caught in his throat.

The siren stops.

“Who are you?” they demand, throwing their body backwards in the water until their pale chest glistens up at Phil, and he feels another surge of deep revulsion surge through him at the same time as their tail beats at the sea, propelling them backwards against the fair rock from before.

Phil doesn’t know quite how to respond, but he does his best.

“I’m Phil Lester, uhm… a sailor from Hasten,” he says.

The siren bares their teeth at him once more, sharp and pointed just as legend had said, but Phil does not recoil.

“Why do you know that song? Why do you not fling yourself before me? Do you not want me, not desire me? No mortal before you has ever resisted my allure,” the say, and their words are heavy with anger and frustration, fear.

There’s something there in those deep, intent eyes that Phil wishes he could get to the bottom too.

“What do you mean? I know the song from you – I was just… mimicking you,” Phil tries to explain, a little shaken, the calm that had overtaken him mere moments ago rescinding until he suddenly feels like this was a mistake.

(It wasn’t.)

The siren hisses, and then cries out, the beautiful song they had been singing mere moments ago belting from their tongue in a long, hideous shriek of irreversible pain, and Phil cringes away, pressing his hands to his ears to block out the sound while his heart twists painfully in his chest. He’s panting before he knows it, crying, the tears dripping down his cheeks in a long stream of agony and pain, and the siren just looks at him, never stopping, tears of their own dripping down their cheeks.

Phil can’t bear to see their pain, but he’s frozen in place, and it wouldn’t matter if he wanted to leave right then and there or not, because he can see now that he’s shipwrecked, his boat sunk deep in the sand of the island, and the rest being pushed further and further in as the moments pass, until Phil is certain that he can never go home.

“Please, please stop!” he begs, but the sound doesn’t end, and Phil falls to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut in agony.

When he passes out, he thinks this is it.

(It’s not.)

**

When he comes too, he’s on the shore, and the water laps at his legs like an old friend. He sits up, disoriented, only to come face to face with a pair of black eyes and a head of curly brown hair, just like before, staring at him from the depths of the ocean. A storm rages in the distance behind them, a backdrop to the already menacing image.

Slowly, Phil draws his legs to his chest, and holds.

“Who are you?” the siren asks again, the words a dark hiss of agony.

Phil merely shrugs.

“Just a man,” he says, and leaves it at that.

**

Once upon a time, Phil believed in a set of rumors that said that a siren wanted nothing more than to find their mate.

Once upon a time, Phil found that to be true.

**

It’s not until nightfall that the siren approaches, surging out of the water like a monster of the deep, only Phil knows better. He holds himself back from the water, merely letting it lick at his skin, but never take him, and watches the sirens slow approach, their tail thrusting them up the shore and passed Phil’s long destroyed boat – and when did that happen, while he was out cold? – until their body is hunching forward over the sand.

The red and black of their tail glistens under the moonlight, and Phil feel his breath stolen from his once more.

“Please,” the siren pleads. “Tell me who you are.”

“I’m Phil,” Phil repeats once more, “And you are?”

“Dan,” they say, with a little pained incline of their head. Their sorrow echoes over the island unlike anything else, and it hurts Phil on such a deep level that he starts to sing.

The siren only stares, and stares, and stares, uncomphrending of how Phil could not only know the words, but understand the pain.

**

They sit there together in silence as the night wears on, but Phil doesn’t mind. The terror, the agony, the pain has gone, and now that the creature isn’t trying to seduce him, so is the revulsion. He stares at them the way an admirer would, and he knows it confuses them.

“I can’t hurt you,” they say.

Phil smiles, and inclines his head.

“You’re pure,” they tack on, slinking further along the shore, closer, closer still, and Phil merely nods.

He’s long since let go of his legs, resting the palms of his hands behind him against the somehow still warm sand, and he’s stretched out his legs in front of him.

He’s waiting, suddenly, with a certainty he’d never known he’d have.

“I can’t even seduce you with my song.”

Phil shrugs, and offers them a hand.

“No, you can’t,” he agrees, and waits for the warmth of them to touch him.

They scream, then, grabbing onto him and dragging their wet body towards him, completely naked, and yet the lack of sexual desire wafting off of them prevents the usual revulsion from taking him over.

Their fangs close in on his face, their eyes dark and wild, but there is no fear, and Phil does not flinch away.

The siren, Dan, freezes, inches from his face, their warm body poised like a threat over Phil, and their tail transforms into a pair of legs and a torso, but there are no sexual body parts, and they stare at Phil like this, at least this should work.

But it doesn’t, and they stare at him in awe until their fangs recede and they say, “I can’t even seduce you with my body,” and then… they succumb.

They succumb, and they sink into Phil’s embrace, and Phil feels home.

**

Their song is even more beautiful when they sing it together, and for the first time in both of their lives, they feel like they belong.

[rissaroundtheworld]

Six Months

This picture was taken six months ago today. August 24, 2016. I had written the final check for the closing on my house that afternoon. I had only recently begun the process of coming out of the fire, so to speak, of the nightmare that was the year prior. I had lost my sense of who I was, lost my self confidence and self worth, and frankly, had absolutely no idea what I was doing anymore. So I did what any logical broken person would do... and bought a one way ticket to Salt Lake City. Since then, I have visited 33 cities in 12 different countries. I have taken 28 flights, 14 buses, 10 shuttles, 3 trains, 2 ferries, 1 rental car, 1 motorcycle trip, and countless taxis, ubers, and scooters. I have spent a LOT of money. I have met amazing people. And I have learned more than I could have ever expected about myself and the world around me. Since I have been in bed for 48 hours now, I figured I would share some of my travel tips with you!  

(Of note - my keyboard is broken and I cant include any apostrophes, unless they're done by autocorrect. Forgive me)

1. Wifi is key! During your first few days in a new city, check out restaurants, cafes, and bars in a variety of neighborhoods. This way, if youre lost later (not that I EVER get lost), youre not too far from somewhere you can steal wifi. Also, don't be stupid and wait 5 months to learn about maps.me. Seriously, why didn't anyone tell me about this in South America!

2. Download Tinder. Gone are the days when Tinder was all about swiping right for some action (mostly). Tinder now serves many purposes! I personally downloaded it simply because one more day without speaking English was going to kill me. Not comfortable going to dinner alone? Tinder. Want someone who can watch your bags while youre in the ocean? Tinder. Need someone on the other side of the camera while you obnoxiously do headstands all over the world? You guessed it - Tinder! I would never use it under circumstances where I cant get on a plane and fly away from someone (men can be stage 5 clingers, too) but its been an amazing resource for meeting people while traveling. And... occasionally you do get some action.

3. Dont set lofty goals for personal hygiene. Sometimes, youre just having way too much fun to be bothered with a shower. Sometimes you have the time, but just cant bring yourself to take one of the ever present cold showers. Maybe youre halfway through a 4 hour shuttle, have to use a squat toilet during the bathroom break, and you pee all over yourself right before getting on the bus. Or you and a gentleman accidentally pee on each other trying to cover up each others public urination on a historical building. Or you fall asleep on the beach and dont realize how much sand is in your hair until days later when you finally take that cold shower. Plus, the less products you use, the less money you spend... its called budgeting people. And swimming definitely counts as a shower.

4. Expect all non-airborne transportation to be at least a small nightmare. Yes, airports are a hassle, but man are they consistent. Flights generally take off on time, and if they dont, you'll know. There are so many signs, and so many people who speak English. This is a well oiled machine. Busses and shuttles? ...Not so much. They're never on time, except that one time when youre running late, then they take off early. Signs? Nah. You have to figure that out on your own. If you dont speak the language...good luck to you. Expect sexual harassment from the drivers, pulling over and swapping vehicles for no reason at any given point, and DEFINITELY expect to arrive at your destination several hours later than expected. Is it hot out? Dont worry, the bus will blast the AC so high that you will shiver the entire time. Is it a reasonable temperature outside? Not so much on the bus!! Prepare to sweat out whatever it is that you consumed in the last 24 hours. Buses are NOT your friend.

5. The best way to acquire things is to act like you dont care about them. This is a well known phenomenon, but Im still pretty amazed at how extreme this can be. See something you want? Ask how much, hear the price, and then make a big, dramatic fuss about how expensive it is. Walk away with as much huffing and puffing and wild hand gestures as you can conjure up. You will, without a doubt, get what you want at the price that you want. I recently talked a woman down from 120,000 rupiah to 30,000 rupiah. Just by walking away and acting pissed. She went so low I actually felt bad and gave her 35,000... but now I have 3 new sarongs which cost the equivalent of about $2.50 each. Side note - this strategy often works with men as well. Try it out.

   6. Things work themselves out. This is, by far, the biggest lesson I have learned from 6 months on my own. I cant tell you how many situations Ive been in where I thought ¨this is it, Im going to die here, starve here, get attacked, get killed, etc.¨ I planned a new life of sleeping on the streets in Panama. I had every detail of my dramatic escape from jungle captivity planned (also in Panama, it was my first stop so I was pretty nervous.) I have spent many a walk with my hands in my pocket, clenching my brass knuckles, knowing FOR SURE that someone was going to come after me and I would have to fight for my life. I thought I was getting deported in Thailand. Ive run out of money, out of food, showed up in new places with no place to stay, lost contact with people Im supposed to be with, had no access to phones, shown up at the airport with no flight booked (twice, not proud), gotten very sick with no one to take care of me... yet here I am, alive and well (ok, a little sick), relaxing in Thailand. You get through things. I found that I am so much stronger than I realized. And that people are really, mostly good, and they will help you.

So, what's next? Well first, Ill fly to Vietnam for a bit because a certain CHANNA BAO is coming to visit me!!!! This is big, people. Remember when Channa wouldn't be my friend? Then... some major changes to my itinerary. The details are still being worked out but some exciting new things are on the horizon. Hint: no part of this plan involves snow, still. And there's a pretty big birthday thrown into the mix.

Most importantly, at this alleged half-way point in my trip, I want to extend a gigantic thank you to everyone in my life who has supported me in this journey (and in the journey that led me to leave in the first place.) Whether you've come to visit, kept in touch via text, let me facetime you in a panicked state (love you, Laura!), commented on my posts, or even just sent a quick message to say hello - it really means the world to me. Though I am constantly grateful for this life of adventure, there are undoubtedly moments of loneliness. You all remind of the amazing support system I have back home. Its Friday (I think?) and Im still sick in bed, so... have a drink for me!