#And you must spend hours drawing a horse on a kitten

[bumblefruit-ahhh]

Life inspires art

[dizzydancingdreamer]

“First Lines” | Tag Game

Hey Y’all I have gotten tagged in this a few times— thank you so so much @auroracalisto @mikaelson-emma and, of course, @hellotvshowtrash— I haven’t had much time to read them and form coherant thoughts but expect some soon. 

So the rules are you post the opening lines to 20 of your most recent fics— or all the ones you have if you don’t have 20— and it kinda just shows who you are as a writer and it’s just fun!

I decided to include some WIP’s— and expose to everyone who is not @activist-af the sheer amount of fics that I start and then set aside. Please enjoy y’all I got a kick out of compiling this list!

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“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies, a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies. Right?

(WIP | Persephone’s Symphony | Bucky Barnes)

_

“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter One | Loki)

_

The ride to the capitol takes three gruelling days. Each night is spent at a different tavern. It is the same story each time; Estrid and Anna spend the night in a lavish bed and Y/n is left with the horses, curled under her thankfully baggy cloak. It is neither warm nor comfortable, sleeping on the bench seat of the carriage. She never really falls asleep, she only dozes in and out of consciousness. It is almost always interrupted by footsteps or the murmurs of animals or her own mostly empty stomach growling into the night. That one is twofold- usually her stomach is in so much nauseating pain that she cannot sleep but, on the off occasion she can, she is then awoken by the loud roars it makes.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Two | Loki)

_

“Please Surtr.”

Her voice rings through his ears on a loop, the most beautiful and agonizing melody that he has surely ever heard. She must be magic- something strong and powerful and like nothing he has ever seen before. There is no other explanation. It had been magic when she appeared to him, literally falling into his lap as if out of thin air. He is the god of tricks but even he cannot do that- he cannot make women that smell like flower petals land in his arms at will. He wishes he could- more than anything he wishes he could pluck her out of his dreams and bring her back to him. But he cannot because that was not a trick. That was something else entirely.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Three | Loki)

_

Y/n’s heart thunders as she gazes up at the glittering golden gates of the castle. If she was not so bogged down with bags she would throw a hand over her brow— a futile attempt to keep her eyes from burning out of their sockets. Do they really have to be this glittery? She thinks they are marvellous, that is not the problem. The problem is that she is not marvelous. Not in the slightest. Not worthy of such magnificent, splendid, rich architecture. She glances down at her simple dress— the loose green threads hanging from the side of the garment— she had meant to fix those— is this really where she must stay? Surely there must be a stable somewhere. A barn for animals like her.

(Posted | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Four | Loki)

_

“On the balcony,” Frigga calls back, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. “We have company!” She adds, seemingly as an after thought— she is too busy pouring wine from a glass feeder into a beautifully ornate cup.

At least, Y/n thinks it is wine. She can smell the fermented berries— sweet and tangy and warming her nose as all wines she has encountered before have— only this wine is a pale violet shade. It is not an opaque rouge, not a barely there chartreuse. Nothing like what she has ever been able to get her hands on by way of bartering or shared celebration. Weddings and births. She takes a seat in one of the golden chairs, trying not to think about how out of her element she truly is. The little details are starting to show though. Not just extravagant pools and marble hallways. Even the food here is luxurious.

(WIP | The Servant and The Prince / Chapter Five | Loki)

_

She would have never thought it possible. Never. She’s the type to sit at home and crack open a good book. Maybe make a nice cup of tea. Lately she has been finding hibiscus tea to be a nice way to end the night. That’s besides the point, though. The point is that she is nothing like her older sister Jane. She is a dreamer, not a doer. Not a traveller.

Especially not a traveller of space— of foreign planets.

(WIP | Untitled | Loki)

_

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

(Posted | Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys)

_

“Get away from me, Kai!” Y/n snarls, pushing her way through the grill with a huffing witch on her heels.

She had been eating her meal- staring at her meal more like— and trying to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. He was incessant, texting her non— stop as if it would make it all better. After the thirtieth text she had turned her phone off, preferring to look at her food in silence. No text can erase his voice in her head. She means nothing to me.

“Not going to happen, kitten,” Kai purrs, his hand wrapping around her arm and tugging her to his chest, “you’re not going to ignore me.”

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

_

New Orleans isn’t all that it was cracked up to be she muses to herself as she winds her way through the tombs. They tower over her, shadowing her with the sins of so many people before her. They’re lonely. That’s all she can think, over and over again. They must be so lonely. There can’t possibly be enough people to visit each of them. There aren’t even any people to visit her, let alone thousands of lost souls. She laughs to herself, a cruel sound breaking through the crashing silence. She is a lost soul.

(WIP | Do You Have A Moment? | Kol Mikaelson)

_

A little bit outside the city lines of New Orleans, tucked precariously off highway 109, there stands a roadside market. It isn’t too far, nor is it too close; it’s just right, like the porridge in some half assed, uninspired fairytale. It’s nestled perfectly on the edge of the bayou, drawing in just enough business to keep the two girls running it in business. The jam is sweet, the ham is honeyed, and the women have smiles that look a little bit like rain in a drought: necessary for life but too much water on dry soil is a recipe for disaster. It’s all a little bit too perfect. Too clean cut and wholesome. But this isn’t a fairytale, after all. It’s the story of the girl who got away with it and the girl who helped her do it.

(WIP | Hey Tommy | The Mikaelsons)

_

The Salvatore house has always smelled the same; like oranges and rum. A lot of rum. It is a welcome scent, one that smells almost like home. It will never truly be home, those scents are already reserved in your very essence, but it’s close. You’ll always be happy to walk through their door. Today is no different.

(WIP | Forever and Always | The Mikaelsons)

_

Kol drags a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on the book in front of him. His eyes wander the page, the corner of his mouth lifting when he skims something particularly interesting. You, too, have a book in your hands but, unlike him, your focus is elsewhere. To be exact, your focus is four feet away, basking in the sun on the lap of one shirtless vamp.

(WIP | Best Friend Things / Part Two | Kol Mikaelson)

_

“So, love,” a pair of arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a warm chest, “these are the famous pumpkins?”

A familiar blonde head, the one you woke up to this morning, settles against your shoulder. He must be leaning significantly given the fact that he’s at least a good head taller than you. You break the rain spell you had been working on, laying your wand next to your pumpkin starts. That’s the beauty of magic, you can grow in any season. You turn to face Klaus, a soft smile on your face.

(WIP | Pumpkin / Harry Potter Universe AU | Klaus Mikaelson)

_

The salt clings to her sticky skin, her hair grainy and matted from the surf. Thunder rolls overhead, chasing her through The Cut like. It’s only half past noon but shadows layer the street, casting everything in a dusky gloom. The pavement smells sharp; the rain is coming and fast. She hikes her tote higher on her shoulder and wishes for a moment that she hadn’t dove for as many shells today. She feels like a beached whale with all the dead weight. Business is business, though, and the tourists go crazy for a handmade necklace.

(WIP | Thunderstorm Afternoons | Jj Maybank and John B. Routledge)

_

She shoves her key into the lock of the Smith’s beach house, turning it with an audible click and smiling when she pushes the door open to the smell of warm pizza and oranges. Try as the boys may, Mrs. Smith’s affinity for essential oils will always prevail over the mass amount of cheap pizza they consume on what is— unfortunately— the daily. She hauls her bag higher on her shoulder, closing the door behind her and thanking the heavens she remembered to pack some of the chicken her mother made for dinner on her way out the door. No Domino's tonight, thank you very much.

(WIP | Sleepovers | The Kook Boys)

_

“Y/n, darling, come here,” her mother’s sweet voice trickled over her from the front hall, “I have some people I want you to meet.”

She stepped into the hallway, coloured lights pouring over her. It was Christmas time, her favourite time, and everything was extravagantly decorated. Garland lined the grand staircase, there was a tree in almost every room, and, her favourite, holly strung in every doorway. Her house radiated magic, more so than usual, that is.

(WIP | Hufflepuff Princess | Draco Malfoy)

_

Her feet hit the pavement with careful clicks, her heels— while undeniably killer— a little loud for her taste: a product of her day spent in practice with the other debutante girls. She has to force herself to make her steps light. This isn’t New York, it’s Mystic Falls. Being a southern woman is not a choice; it’s an obligation. A prior commitment she agreed to before she was old enough to truly fathom what it meant. For the most part she loves it— the elegance and refinery, the teatime giggles and flouncing skirts— but the heels? That’s a hard no.

(WIP | Untitled | Kai Parker)

_

She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n.

(Posted | The Bet | Rafe Cameron)

_

Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else.

(Posted | Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker)

_

I don’t really know who to tag because I haven’t been active these last few days so I am tagging people I have not seen do this yet and if you have just ignore me : @elijahs-wife @draconisxcaput @imaginearyparties @dumble-daddy 

[xjerichosystemx]

Alters

The current stable members are (With their actual selfie bar Kirk and kitten):

Me, the host. Probably the ninth or so version of me because everything keeps changing however I retain my memories. It's hard to explain. I'm nineteen, female, and the main personality. I deal with people and all that. I have 2 cats, a dog, and a horse. I spend most of my time with my pets, or my boyfriend.

Then there's the little one. We don't know her name other than we call her little one, and she refuses to answer to anything else. She's been around the longest. She's five. She likes crafts, watching cartoons, her (200+ collection!) stuffies, and "1 flavour sandwhices". (Just jam,just cheese etc. Jam is her fave, but they have to be cut in squares).

There is another little too, however all she seems to do is take tantrums and not speak to anyone. If you can't figure out what's wrong with her it just goes on and on and on...

Next is Coraline. She's late twenties- quiet. Pretty much mute except when it comes to children. She doesn't really 'look' like anything, she's kind of just there... existing... she's the housewife. She's an exceptional cook, she likes everything to be clean and tidy. Cora also does cross-stitch and sewing. She's extremely broody. Like, e x t r e m e l y.

Kirk is the voice of reason- the intelligence of the system. He mostly keeps us sane, and he keeps to himself. Kirk notices absolutely everything. We don't really know his age, but we assume late twenties early thirties. Kirk drives. None of us have the attention span or ability to not freak out at oncoming traffic. He loves soduko. Sudoku. The box numbers....

'Pear' is next. It's Pièrre, but if we call them anything other than Pear, little one will tantrum. Pear will not speak. To anyone. Pear likes to draw, although she only draws in scribbles. She deals with our schizophrenic episodes when they get too much to handle. She protects us,and is basically Self-D's babysitter.

'Self D' (Short for self destruction) is the main trauma holder. We don't know their name or anything about them. Only that they go by Self D. They're usually found crying, or drinking. They absolutely love Pear. We don't let them front much because they're big on self harm and self destruction; walking into traffic, 3am walks alone. D loves gore, true crime documentaries, and orchestral music- violins especially. You must understand that though we do our best to keep them under control we have to let them from every so often or they build up and the results are disastrous.

The rest of the system are covert, so I will use their nicknames and share what I know for convenience.

"Marc'" is your typical british teen. She will wear a full face of makeup, false eyelashes, fake tan, false nails, straightened hair. She is the only alter that will willingly drink gin or wine (🤢), and the only one that will listen to the likes of Cardi B, Stormzy, or Niki Minaj.

The weight obsessive amongst us is "Lòry." They refuse to eat, and if they do they force it back up. They will also exercise or ride Flinty (our horse!) until they're going dizzy/getting nauseous, just to ensure they've burned off calories. Very unstable. They front on the low down and we barely realise, until it's too late..

"Nicky" does nothing but make art. For hours at a time. She's always got winged eyeliner and curly hair, along with miss matched clothes. She loves her plants too and treats them like her children.

There is a non human in our ranks, too. Kitten. She will front for seconds at a time,only to stretch or to headbut something. She will let out occasional mrrps too. She's bitey and scratchy.

Lastly there is her known only as "Patricia." Patricia will do,or say anything she can to hurt you. She's an emotional, vindictive, horrible little bitch. No one likes her. She pushes everyone away. We put in a team effort to refuse her host access but she has her moments. She particularly hates our boyfriend. And I don't mean she goes crazy at him, i mean no matter how much he wants to meet her she refuses. She refuses to hurt him. We've never known her to be like this.

[ryanmeft]

Injustice 2 Review

Let's clear the air here: what I know about the DC universe would fit in about half of one of those adorable very tiny notebooks with kittens on them you see at gift shops. If it ain't in the movies or the very occasional stand alone comics, it ain't in my brain. I don't know Captain Cold from Captain Kangaroo. So when I had the chance to try Injustice 2, I thought "Hey, it might be fun to do a review of this game given how not a DC person I am. After all, it's been developed by NetherRealm, the company responsible for Mortal Kombat. At the very worst, it'd be a mildly entertaining evening.

Basic information if you're new to everything this game is: fighter games pit your selected character against an opponent, either computer or human, and, well, you hit each other until one of you falls down. There's lots of variations, but that's really all you need to know. This particular game is from some of the veterans of the genre, but where their usual fare is famous for being so gory it gave rise to the game ratings system, this one features characters from DC comics, like Superman and Wonder Woman, so no one's spine is getting removed from their body.

I fired up the game, and my first thought is "DC has a villain who is an ape". My second thought was "This is pretty". My third thought was "I don't see it having a lot of longevity, though". My fourth thought nullified my third thought.

The fights in Injustice 2 are among the most epic I've seen in a fighter. Superman punches enemies into the stratosphere. The Joker and Batman break out the full range of their tricks and gadgets. Green Arrow, well, shoots different arrows. The fights play out at lightning speed, and if you hope to compete with others you better be able to keep multiple different commands in your head and fire them off quickly and in the right situation; whereas some fighters are more about careful planning, this one requires you think on your feet. That includes using the arena to your advantage: most have multiple environmental aspects you can use to attack your opponent or escape tough situations. In some, you can knock your opponent into the background, or even through the stage and into another one (for instance, you can blow your enemy through the walls of Arkham Asylum and into the prison itself). All of this is mapped to very simple buttons and combinations, and while you won't be a dominating bad ass just by jamming the buttons, you won't find any of the overly complex four-or-five part sequences a series like Street Fighter often has.

The thing that really makes fights feel epic, though, are the Super Moves. Whereas a finisher in Mortal Kombat exists simply to add insult to injury at the end of a match, these moves are fully fledged attacks and can really save your bacon if you're hurting. They also typically showcase the full range of a hero or villain's abilities. Captain Cold freezes his enemy inside a giant cone of snow. Batman calls in one of his many bat-vehicles. Black Canary screams so loud it hurts, which is...actually kind of sexist now that I think about it, but it works in the game. Some, like The Flash or The Joker, have such wonderfully insane supers I won't spoil them for you here.

The biggest problem with the actual fighting is something that won't be as huge an issue for you if you don't play a lot of fighters or are just a huge DC fan. Either way, though, there's no denying some characters are much more exciting to play than others. A lot of the non-super-powered, non-gadget-based characters like Catwoman or Deadshot are saddled with multiple types of kicks and punches, broken up with a weapon or two. Others, like Scarecrow, have abilities in the comics that just don't translate all that well to a game. If they're your favorite character, they're enough fun to make them worth it. From the perspective of someone who doesn't have a horse in that race, though, it's hard to pick "guy with guns" or "woman with whip" over "Alien demi-god who can spit ice and stare heat" or, y'know, Batman. NetherRealm has done everything they can to make every character is interesting, but the overall selection pales in comparison to MK, where they could design whoever they wanted and just go all out.

One area where Injustice 2 is every bit the game the last two MKs were is the art. Whether you're a heavy hitter like Supes or a B-lister like Cheetah, DC's pantheon has never looked better. The darker nature of Injustice's world---which involves Superman going rogue and opting to wipe out all crime by killing all criminals---has left the developers free to get away from the standard DC designs and add a bit of their signature dark flair to the proceedings. Stages like Arkham and the Joker's hideout look like a cross between the dark design of the films and the nightmarish hellscapes of MK. You can practically make out the stitching on the clothes of the fighters, and when a hit lands the visuals make you feel it. It's rare you can say about a fighter "This is one of the best-looking games of the year", but just like MK before it, "this is one of the best-looking games of the year".

Now, earlier I said I nearly wrote off the game's staying power, and I did. Simply put, even the best fighting game often has limited appeal to primarily single player gamers, and online play is generally off the table for those of us who don't have 12 hours a day to put into mastering every nuance of the battles. MK tried to rectify this by letting you unlock things like artwork and music via in-fight rewards, but since those didn't affect gameplay, those of us who generally go solo still got maybe a couple of weeks of play out of it.

Injustice 2 answers this with a fully developed gear system, allowing you to unlock armor and weapons that adjust each fighter's capabilities in battle. If you've ever spent an evening delving into a dark dungeon for that perfect piece of gear, this is much like that, except you never know what you're going to get. At first I thought this would be a pain, but after a few fights I found myself rushing to open my latest box of random goodies to see what was in it. The items you equip also change the character's appearance, and you can even get new special moves that you can swap out for old ones...though it must be said this latter reward seems exceedingly rare. The loot system isn't a perfect solution by any means. If you don't care about fighting games to begin with, or you don't like playing them alone and your friends don't like playing them at all, it won't entice you. If you already like the genre, though, and wish there were some way to get more out of it without having to get humiliated online by psychotic 14-year-olds, it may be what you're looking for.

If the game has a flaw overall, it's the story mode. It starts off promising, with Bruce Wayne having imprisoned the unhinged Superman and Brainiac getting set to do one of those horrible things alien villains are always doing. It quickly devolves, however, into a series of excuses for characters to fight each other that seems more in line with a Saturday morning cartoon than the dark tone of the rest of the game. It isn't bad, but it isn't a draw, either. Fortunately, if you didn't play the last game (like me) the pre-fight dialogue between characters both serves to fill you in on where they stand, and gives you enough tidbits that you can figure out what kind of folks you're dealing with even if you've never touched a comic book. Injustice 2 is a fine fighter by itself, with gorgeous visuals, hard-hitting battles and top-notch voice acting, but what will decide whether you spend a lot of time with it if you aren't too competitive is the loot system. Whether that does it for you or not, it's a step in the right direction to broadening the appeal of fighting games, and hopefully it isn't too much to ask that NetherRealm continues to build on it, and that other developers take notice.

[cassidy-malta]

April 8-15: Moroccan My Socks Off

“How do I even being to describe Morocco? It was six days in a nation unlike any other I'd ever been. For starters, Morocco has a monarchy, and has a strong Islamic presence. It's a desert climate, with incomes ranging from dirt poor to horrifyingly rich. Some women are completely covered with a black veil whereas others wear jeans and allow their hair to fly in the wind. We had the opportunities to spend our time in three cities- Fes, the historical city, Rabat, the royal city, and Marrakech, the tourist city. 

Day 1

We started in Fes. A fitting place to start as Fes is one of the oldest cities in the country and a hub of tradition and culture. Our tour guide took us to the Medina, or fortified portion of the city. Narrow cobbled streets were lined by tall windowless buildings, even narrower alleys jutting off seemingly randomly from the streets. The homes are built uniform to keep everyone safe and reputable despite what the inside of their home might actually look like. There is no way to tell which neighbors and poor and which are rich until you're invited into the homes. We toured an average Moroccan home and collectively our jaws dropped- mosaics covered the floors and walls, plaster and cedar was carved into ornate Islamic symbols and patterns, and the central living room opened up to the sky in a courtyard design.

(the “average” Moroccan home)

(The view of Fes)

The medina of Fes also had a souk. A souk is essentially a market, more of a farmers market. Farmers sell their produce and livestock. Artisans push purses, carvings, paintings, and jewellery at you. Clerks try to convince you that you need a pair of knock off adidas. Vendors shout over each other and offer a massive variety of food- soups, meats, teas, sweets, and pastries. The thousands of shops (no exaggeration) were arranged in a labyrinth of even narrower streets, packed with shoulder-shoulder people. In the midst of the madness, there were schools and mosques- reminders of reality. This was an opportunity to get up close and personal with Moroccan people. Barefoot children looked up at us as stray kittens played around their feet, offering us strange foreigners a cheerful "bonjour!" Women in bright hijabis touched my hair and shirt with big smiles. Men called out "hello lovely!" or "beautiful flower!" as I passed. Blind beggars were frequently reaching to grab my arms. It was an incredible human experience.

(the streets were unbearably crowded, and panic set in when we heard a farmer yelling to clear the way for his donkey or mule. We all squished to the walls of the Souk and hoped to not get knocked over by the burdened animal)

(some of the souk was covered, and while the shade was nice, the sheer number of people made the atmosphere stiff and stuffy, full of the smells of animals and rotting sweets)

(Muslims have to butcher their chickens in order to ensure that it is holy to eat, so farmers were selling live chickens at every corner. We also saw displays of river eel, huge snails, camels, and the Moroccan delicacy- sheep foot)

(the vivid colors of the souk were unforgettable. Most shops were about this size, and every inch of space was occupied by their product)

After the souk, we went on excursions to a traditional rug shop, silk shop, leather tannery and a ceramic workshop. That night we collapsed into bed with bellies full of chicken tajine and heads full of awe.

Day 2

We left the hotel early to take a day trip to Meknes. Meknes is another ancient city, home to kings long past. We toured the stables and graineries, as well as some Roman ruins. We certainly appreciated the slower pace of Meknes, but we got our first real taste of Saharan heat.

While we didn't have to wear head scarves or wear traditional dress, we did choose to respect the culture and blend in as much as possible by keeping knees and elbows covered at all time, especially in more conservative areas like Meknes. We did not want to draw attention to ourselves, as our pale skinned, blonde, and timid group did that enough as is.

(the ruins of the royal stables. Rumor has it that the stables could house hundreds of purebred Arabian horses- a sign of the king’s wealth. Note the long sleeves and pants in 90 degree weather)

(Spirits and heat were high as we roamed the Roman ruins)

(a traditional Moroccan salad- cold veggies including eggplant, beets, lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, corn, and cucumbers, a centerpiece of rice, and a drizzling of an unknown dressing)

(Meknes showed off the Moroccan architecture and ornate detail that I have fallen head-over-heels for)

Day 3

We drove to Rabat next. Rabat is the current royal city as the royal city shifts with the dynasties. It was a long drive but once we finally got settled we toured more Roman ruins and the shell of a very old mosque at Chellah. Storks built their nests atop the pillars of the mosque- their wingspan were easily 6 feet, their massive nests providing shelter to hoards of other birds, and their calls sounding like a clicking deep in their throats. The locals call them "Lak-laks" for that reason.

(Right- behind the mosque was a picturesque garden with bananas, kumquats, oranges, lemons, olives, pomegranites- basically any fruit you could imagine. Left- a stork stands on the wall above the “mihrab”- the holiest place of the mosque)

(A street performer I filmed outside of the Chellah)

We piled back in the van to tour the magnificent Masoleum of Mohammed V, the final resting place of the King's father, grandfather, and uncle. The young and goofy members of the Kings' royal guard made faces at us as we walked among the graves and through the pillars of the unfinished mosque of Mohammed V.

(top right- the entrance to the masoleum. Top left- the ceiling of the masoleum. Bottom right- I was in total awe of the architecture. Bottom left- I flirted with this guard a little)

The day ended in the Rabat Casbah. I got to see the Atlantic Ocean from the other side, and walk the very cute little village before graciously going home for much needed rest.

Day 4

Day four was unfortunately mostly driving as we trekked from Rabat to Marrakech but we did get to pitstop in Casablanca and tour the third largest Mosque in the world.

The Hassan II Mosque is the only mosque that opens its doors to non-Muslims for tours and its size is only bested by the the Saudi Arabian mosques in Mecca and Medina. The size and detail of this building are completely indescribable. It was a breathtaking work of art that could Hold thousands of praying people. Our tour guide gave us invaluable information about Islam and the Hassan II.

(Top right- the outer view of the Mosque. Top left- the mosaics made awesome selfie-backgrounds. Bottom right- even the ceilings were decked out. Bottom left- EVERY SQUARE INCH WAS DETAILED AND ORNATE. I have so many pictures. If you would like more, shoot me a line!)

The faith is accented by five prayers a day and a strong reliance on symbolism. Five times a day, the Imam's warbling call to prayer blasts through every corner of every city from a loudspeaker at the top of the Mosque's highest point. The calls to prayer penetrate every the air and are hauntingly beautiful- their presence a reminder of how strong the faith is here. The towers of the mosques dot the skyline of every city, each tower having a megaphone, an ornament with three orbs, and what looks like a wooden fallow. The orbs are metal and meant to represent the three monotheistic religions: Judaism, christianity, and Islam. The wooden gallows-looking thing is actually pointing toward Mecca, the direction that all muslims pray. The towers are covered in green mosaics as green is the color of Islam. Seeing the mosques and experiencing the Islamic faith so intimately gave me a massive amount of respect for the people who practice it, anger to those who hinder them or hold prejudices against them, and inspired me to someday make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where Islam, Christianity, and Judaism meet.

(we ended the day by arriving in Marrakech)

Day 5

Another walking tour dominated our second to last day. We experienced the Marrakech souk, more graves (this time of a different royal dynasty), the ocean (again), the Marrakech medina, an herbal apothecary, and botanical gardens.

(an artsy pic from the Botanical gardens- a definite must see if you’re ever in Marrakech)

(directions like this were spread all around the Souk)

(more Moroccan architecture... what’s new?)

(a traditional water man, selling water to Moroccans. He was very excited to have his photo taken!)

(Wandering the king’s prison)

(spices and herbal remedies for sale in the Souk)

When that wasn't enough, my best friend and I ventured out to the city limits- to a desert oasis. The sandy landscape was spotted with palm trees and hearty shrubs. We pulled on traditional robes and headscarves and climbed aboard two camels: Fifi and Shakira. Fifi's baby, Scooby Doo, also graced us with us UTTERY ADORABLE presence. We rode for an hour, struggling to communicate with our tour guide but honestly loving every second of the experience. We watched the sunset and rubbed the rough hair of the camels, Scooby occasionally running beside us to brush our toes with the tuft of hair on his head or to press his nose to our bare ankles. A tranquil, magical, once-in-a-lifetime Moroccan experience.

(ended the trip with some Moroccan Mint tea- literally to die for. Appropriately nick-named “Moroccan Whiskey”)

(Shakira was quite vocal- it made Maddie pretty nervous!)

Day 6

Our final day began with one of my favorite things: food.

Unfortunately, it was through this taste testing tour that I discovered that I can not stand Moroccan food. If I had one more chicken Tajine I was going to scream. I tried to get vegetarian options in hopes of satisfying my palette but it simply wasn't enough. The highlight of the taste testing tour was fresh orange juice. Something about orange juice from local Mediterranean oranges is downright magical and borderline addictive. The lowlight was the bean based soup, desserts, and dates. The soup was simply sad, the desserts sickly sweet and too sticky, and you don't even want me to get started on the dates.

(bees swarmed the foods and the men scooped up the various treats with their bare hands. A health inspector would’ve had a hay-day in the market!)

The afternoon was free time so I did what I do best- I shopped. As shallow as it seems, shopping is one of the most culturally enriching experiences when going to a new country. It's an excellent crash course in what the people are proud of and what they feel represents them. Not to mention I got some pretty neat souvenirs and a more time in a souk.

(the boys so graciously allowed me to twin with them on our final day)

So that’s the best I can do to sum up an experience beyond words with a few words. I can not wait to continue my traveling in the future and hopefully return to this little African paradise. I have fallen hopelessly in love with Morocco and I can not encourage people enough to visit!