Welcome to my art blog💕 Age: 19 I take art requests! Will they be done quick? Most likely not, but I will put in effort to get them done! Hyperfixations: Disney (specifically villains), Villainous, Undertale, Deltarune
It has come to my attention that I have gained some followers after my recent post regarding my Aladdin poster that I made. Sooooo I thought it would be good to introduce myself!
My name is Rosa, I am 17 (soon to be 18 on February 13th) and I LOVE Disney and ANYTHING related to villains (whether that be the Mexican-animated show Villainous, Disney Villains, etc).
Over the past year I have been trying to get out of my hiatus, but with issues happening in my personal life it has gotten very difficult to keep up with my hobbies as well as my social life, mental health, school, etc. HOWEVER, despite the fact that I will not be super active, I hope to kick into high gear whenever time and energy works in my favor. I already have some old drawings that I have yet to repost, and I have some drawings that are finished/near-finished that are almost ready to be posted!
After being on Twitter for many years (RIP Twitter, I shall never call you X), I feel comfortable enough to consider Tumblr one of my new home social media sites. I cannot wait to post more artwork in the future! And please, if you wanna dm me or chitchat my askbox and dms are always open (I may even take some requests if I fancy your offer👀)!
Here is my YouTube if anyone is interested! I will be posting more speedpaints in the future:
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OMG THESE SKETCHES LOOK SO AMAZING! I can just tell that you had a blast making these! I love the coloring you did.
(Also the idea of Jafar being Jasmine’s Nanny is making me laugh my ASS off. Realistically I’m sure Jasmine did have her own Nannies when she was younger, but I wouldn’t be shocked if Jafar was stuck with baby duty every once in a while😅)
10 more scenes in animated musicals where a song was deserved
As a follow up to my post about 10 Disney scenes that deserved songs, but I wanted to branch this out to non-Disney films as well.
Anya's nightmare--I recently thought of this. It gives off a Pied Piper/"The Little Mermaid" (Disney's version) vibe to it with a siren song Rasputin could sing to Anastasia in the form of her family. It'd also be fun considering her family aren't heavily characterized in the film; the dowager empress talks about her son for a moment in the narration and tells Anastasia that she's like her parents, and Anastasia mentions a drawing the Olga found ugly. It'd be fun to see Anya's memories slowly coming back in the dream and enjoying herself beyond a simple sequence of going from a meadow to jump into a stream/river. It'd be even more morbid if this was a reprise of "In the Dark of the Night."
Anna almost freezing--This is mainly because I feel robbed of the reprise of "Life's Too Short" (better than the original) and Kristen Anderson-Lopez saying that she originally pitched a reprise of "Do You Want to Build a Snowman" around this time in the film. Unfortunately, the president of music advised them against having music in the third act, much to my disappointment.
Tzekhal-Khan's talk with Tulio--I swear, this film was one of those musicals that were obsessed with hiding the fact that it was--well, kinda; there's the whole "musical narration" thing I abhorr, but Miguel and Tulio do sing a song, the only one that any characters sing, so it's easy to forget it's a musical since it's almost tacked on as an afterthought. In the world where Dreamworks took the idea of it being a musical more seriously, Tzekhal-Khan's talk with Tulio would've been the perfect spot for a villain song.
Rothbart trying to woo Odette--Considering a TRUE musical exists where the music furthers the plot and thus the film/production can't exist without them. Rothbart trying to convince Odette to marry him could've fleshed out his motivations more (him vaguely saying he tried to do a hostile takeover and it didn't work out feels very lampshade-y), as well as expand more on Odette's character independent of Derek. As someone who isn't sold on the music of "The Swan Princess" in general, I could've easily seen this replacing "No Fear" or "Practice, Practice, Practice." Honestly, they could've even made a "Far Longer than Forever (Reprise)" out of it.
Cornelius trying to find Thumbelina--A big issue I have in this film, aside from the constantly moving location and non-engaging plot, is the lack of character depth; Cornelius wants to introduce Thumbelina to his parents since he likes her, but when she goes missing, suddenly the idea of marriage is brought up, with no explanation for how they got around to the idea or having their characters interact more. It vaguely reminds me of "Sleeping Beauty," but at least Phillip told his father immediately after singing with Aurora rather than going from "I want you to meet my parents" to "let's get married" (especially since one movie is from the 50s and another one is from the 90s). Cornelius singing about trying to find Thumbelina while Thumbelina sings back to him about wanting to see him again could highlight more of their characters, as well as allow them to be carried away in the song, going from blossoming love to full-on love by the end of it to wanting to be together. Of course, this would be ideal if they actually got to sing it to each other rather than singing it alone and hoping the other feels the same, maybe under a circumstance of Corenlius continually visiting Thumbelina--but this is may be awkward if it's the next song after "Let Me Be Your Wings," even if it was a reprise.
The Titans attacking Olympus--Similar to "Mulan," there's a cutoff point for the music to show when things get darker, as if dark songs don't exist during high-tension periods. I have no idea if Hades can sing, but it'd be interesting if a song was played while the titans wreaked havoc. I honestly feel like there was more focus on the cyclops, and the titans themselves were dealt with WAY too fast. The fact that the last 15 minutes was technically an epilogue is wild to me. Giving the titans more screentime and even a song would've helped them feel like a more substantial threat that Hades unleashed.
Maleficent taunting Phillip--I always felt sad that "Sleeping Beauty" had so little songs. I'm curious if this was either a creative decision, or if they found this difficult since they used Tchaikovsky's melody and couldn't/didn't want to create more lyrics with the composition. But if we had gotten more songs, one place I'd have liked to see it is when Maleficent visits Phillip after she imprisoned him, revealing Briar Rose is Aurora, and mocking Phillip's sense of true love. It'd also be fun since Disney hadn't made a habit of doing villain songs yet.
Flynn at any point in the movie--Okay cheating since this isn't a scene, but due to my bias against Flynn Rider and the fact that plans for him to have a solo song were shut down, I gotta say I'm quite disappointed.
Jasmine confronting Jafar--As many people will point out, Jasmine is the only Disney princess to not have a solo song (as well as the only Disney princess who is a love interest rather than the main character, or subject, in some cases), and many argue that she doesn't have an arc or story, with her main story being around who she can and can't marry. I argue that she isn't entirely focused on marriage, being similar in personality to Ariel and Belle, but so little of her story is independant exploration. The live-action film remedied the song and character complaints, and while I'm torn on the direction they went with her, "Speechlees" is a glorious song. Jasmine having a song when confronting Jafar after Aladdin is apprehended would be a good addition to the film, or perhaps giving Jasmine and Aladdin a non-romantic duet (for the most part) when Jasmine is disguised.
Charlotte and Lawrence/Naveen's proposal--I often find it weird that Charlotte never sings in the film. Honestly, only two disney princesses have human best friends in their films, and neither of them sing, which not only feels isolating, but also feels out of character for Charlotte. She seems like someone who enjoys singing, particularly since it'd make her feel like living in a fairy tale. Lawrence trying to propose to her disguised as Naveen could be a twisted villain love song, in a way.
I was gonna include "Kpop Demon Hunters," but that wouldn't really work due to the radio style of the songs not really allowing for more conversational songs.
I think the film that would have actually improved the MOST with an additional song would certainly have to be The Swan Princess.
As you said, Rothbart indeed doesn’t seem to be the most strongest antagonist plot-wise. While I do think “No More Mr.Nice Guy” is a decent song (I even listen to it sometimes), I personally would have much preferred a more twisted rendition of “Far Longer than Forever.” Not only would it genuinely be such a deep and twisted song to hear, but I think it would also improveed Rothbart’s character because it would have justified his importance in the narrative much more clearly. You know why? It’s because it would have made his implied foiled relationship with Derek become a lot more prevalent to the story. Think about it: Derek in the film has to prove that he loves Odette more than because of her looks and, just by looking at Odette’s relationship with Rothbart, it is very clear that Rothbart seems to only admire Odette for her beauty as well. Both of these men in Odette’s life have this very same flaw, and I believe that if the film implemented a contrast of their relationships with Odette through a reprise of the song, it would have made Derek’s foil to Rothbart a lot more prevalent. (Do I think this foiled relationship would have helped Derek’s character in any way? HA! Nope. But that’s a discussion for another day).
… Man whenever I find the time I would LOVE to rewrite The Swan Princess, because that movie has sooooo much wasted material that I would have loved to have seen the film explore🥺
The shady, quiet back alleys of Agrabah were a part of town readily forgotten by most. And yet for so many, it was more important than the bustling market place, the docks or even the palace. Mainly because it was so easily forgotten by most citizens. A soul familiar with this place acted almost like they lived in a separate city, with its own customs, culture and most importantly no guards.
The elderly woman, wrapped tight in layer upon layer of green fabric, hurried through the sturdy sandstone structures. The walls and corners brought back memories of more desperate times, but there was a sense of joy as she ran deeper and deeper. Those long-passed desperate times were shared with someone special, so she cherished them.
Eventually, taking corner after corner lessened the buzz of the marketplace crowd until the passing breeze winding through the alleys drowned out the distant chatter. The woman slowed down by a bunch of worn old crates piled against a blank sandstone wall. She gave a deep exhale, her form shuttering. The mass of green fabric faded into a sandy cloud that fell and scattered across the ground. The woman looking in her sixties vanished into one in her thirties.
Nomad stretched up with a groan. Man, hunching over did a number on her back. A significant crack in her spin gave a satisfying wave of relief. “I love royal guards.” She smiled at the tiny cloth bag heavy with coins in her hand. “They never get any smarter.”
“Never. Absolutely never.” Iago landed on one of the taller alley crates near the woman. “So how much did you get off that guy? Come on, tell me!” The macaw said, rubbing his wings together with a grin.
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I think that guy just gave me his friend’s whole purse for that anti-venom. What’s your guess, Red?” No answer. “Red?” She looked behind her. No follower. Well, there’s only one place that genie could be. She threw her green cape off her side, revealing a black lamp hanging from a shoulder-slung satchel. With a finger, she gently scritched under the lamp’s spout. “Coochie, coochie, coo.”
The gentle glint of the yellow sun across the shiny black metal surged with a reddish hue that passed over the item’s surface and down the spout. The opening quickly produced a thick crimson haze that drifted up and took the form of a rather skinny human laid-back, lounging. Jafar pouted and set his teacup down on the porcelain plate. He sat up on nothing and raised a single eyebrow.
“Again?” Nomad shrugged. “You’re running away from excitement again.”
“I have better things to do than watch you and your pointless... ‘thrill-seeking’.” He replied flatly.
“Better things?” Nomad put her hands on her hips. “Name one.”
Jafar’s face sunk, eyes darting to his lamp. “Touche…” Growled the genie.
“Hey, it’s your loss, Jafar.” Nomad shrugged, tossing and catching the bag of coins. She ducked under the fast-angering floating man and started walking farther down the alley. “If you prefer polishing the inside of your lamp over having fun, that’s on you.” She smirked as she heard a short growl behind her. Another sounds; quick little fluttered grew closer. The smirk became a smile as Iago landed on her head.
“Yeah yeah yeah, Jafar’s a fuddy-duddy, we all knew that.” The bird waved his feathers about. “But come ooon! Don’t leave me hanging; How much did we make!” The little chubby parrot couldn’t help but bounce in place.
Jafar huffed. Fuddy-duddy?! He wasn’t the one wasting time on petty distractions. He wasn’t the one being a public nuisance! He wasn’t--! The gold cuffs on Jafar’s wrists started glowing. With an angry scowl, Jafar’s form collapsed into red smoke and reformed next to his lamp-holder.
Nomad shrugged and held the bag up to Iago. “I dunno. How much does this sound like?” She rattled the coins inside.
Iago put both wings around the bag and rubbed the worn burlap against his cheek. The coins clanked, and clinked, shifted against each other as well as the side of the bag. A mental image slowly formed in the bird’s mind. “Sounds like… 17 dinari in here.” He shook the bag once more for good measure. “Oh! And a drachma. I almost missed the drachma.” The bird placed a gentle loving kiss on the bag before Nomad’s hand pulled away.
“You can have it when we get back to the hideout.” The woman said. “If we can get that far without Mitr needing to bite someone again.” The cobra hidden under her scarf shifted at the mention of his name. “I think he’s all scammed-out for the day.”
“Well, if I’m just gonna get the money anyways…” Iago gently pulled Nomad’s hand back towards him. “I might as well hold it for ya.” He slowly started moving the woman’s fingers off the bag. “Ya know since you aren’t—” Her fingers tightened. “-- gonna-- “ Iago’s feather hands pulled much harder. “-- need it,“ Nomad grinned and started pulling her hand away. “--I might--” Iago threw his entire tiny body into pulling the hand back up. “-- as well—“As the hand moved farther down, Iago clawed his talons into Nomad’s hood. -- keep it!”
Nomad looked up at Jafar walking along side her. “If this guy had real hands, he’d steal everything not nailed down, wouldn’t he?”
Jafar fought back a smile. “Unquestionably.”
Nomad shook her head with a laugh. “How does a genie, a being practically forbidden from being selfish, get such a greedy pet?”
Iago froze and shot an angry glare at the woman. “Pet?!” He spat in disgust.
Nomad’s walking slowed and she looked away into the deserted alleyways. “Come to think of it, how does a genie even manage to get a pet in the first place?”
Jafar eyes widened.
“I’ve never heard of a genie owning… anything, let alone an animal.”
Jafar knew he had to think of something, fast. He couldn’t let her find out he was human. Was. Past tense. He was a genie now, through and through, exactly as he wished. Every ounce and inch of him was pure magic for all the phenomenal good and immeasurable bad it did him. His plans would work whether his lamp-holder knew he used to be human or not but some part of him, some small little piece that obviously didn’t understand how powerful and massive he was, felt… shame? Embarrassment? He shouldn’t feel that way. Especially since nothing in his situation was his fault by any measure. The idiotic blue genie was solely to blame for all Jafar’s suffering. And yet...
Nomad looked at her genie, giving Jafar’s human form a once-over from top to bottom. “How’d that happen?”
Jafar kept his face neutral. Nomad’s face slowly hardened into a glare. She was studying him, picking his expression apart for clues just like she did early this morning. Jafar forced a gentle pleasant smile and took a deep calming breath. As the man opened his mouth, a child’s cry echoed in the empty alley, coming from behind his master.
Nomad and the group looked down the shaded back road, empty of nothing but trash piles piled up next to locked back door of very unimpressive houses. A small woman, covered top to bottom in a faded brown abaya, moved to sit in front a tiny child. “Please be still, Yamed.” A weary sounding woman spoke softly.
“But I’m hungry, ‘um.” The tiny boy in dirty clothes hugged his arms around his stomach. “I’m so hungry, it’s hurts.” His hung his head and started sniffling. “I’m sorry.”
Iago glanced down at Nomad. The older woman was completely still, silent. Almost transfixed on the scene playing out a couple dozen feet away. Her grip on the purse intensified. “Oh no…” The bird whimpered.
The mother’s breathing grew shaky, despite herself. She pulled her kid into her arms and stood up with him. After a moment of silence, she turned and set the boy on a barrel against an aging wall. “I’ll see if I can find something.” The mother held the boy’s head gently in her hands. “I want you to be completely quiet until I get back. Don’t speak to anyone while I’m gone. And if you see someone coming, you hide. Do you understand?” The boy nodded and gripped the sides of his seat.
“Hey!” The mother jumped with a gasp, instinctively putting herself between the sudden noise and her son. Nomad lowered her arm, dragging Iago off her hood and quickly pulled the bird off the coin bag. She tossed the bag underhanded, landing it right into the other woman’s hands. “Take care of yourself.” Nomad gave a nod.
The younger woman felt the rough bag, making the coins inside rattle and clink. Money. A lot of it! “Oh, thank you, madam! Thank you.” The woman bowed deeply. “A thousand thanks and blessing upon you, madam!” The young boy sat up on the barrel, looking to see what his mother now had. The mother picked the boy up in her arms and quickly sprinted down the side-streets towards the market.
“Come back, darling.” Iago whispered, feather hands slowly reaching out as the bag of coins’ clinking faded from earshot. With a frustrated growl, Iago squirmed in Nomad’s fist until he managed to slip out. “What was that about!” He flapped into the woman’s face, “I coulda got me a brand new cushy perch with that money!”
“New perch? But your old one still works fine.” Nomad pointed a thumb behind her at Jafar. “Mostly.” Hearing Jafar scoff, she smirked.
“But it wouldn’t be new, would it?” Iago touched foreheads with the woman. “It wouldn’t be nice scented hardwood, would it? It wouldn’t have fun dangley ropes and cupholders and vanity mirrors, now would it?!”
Nomad gently pushed Iago out of her face and walked around him. “Then just ask Red for that stuff, if you’re desperate. You’re friends enough with him to share a lamp, he can--”
“Absolutely not.” Jafar butted in. “No more freebies. Period. I gave you a magnificent palace with everything you could ever want--”
“I didn’t want that.” Nomad stated.
“-- handed right to you on a silver platter by an army of servants—”
“Literally sang a song about how I don’t want that.”
“-- so if you want anything more out of me, woman,” Jafar crossed his arms and leaned down towards Nomad. “then wish for it. I shall not give another ounce of effort for you otherwise!”
Nomad watched her genie turn his pointed beak-like nose upward, eyes closed. It was kinda cute how the red genie thought he could dig his heels in like that. She glanced at Iago. Time for another show. She gave the bird a little eyebrow wiggle and smiled. “Eh, it’s just as well. Your magic’s not worth much anyways.”
“What.” Jafar flat tone sounded more like a statement, not a question.
Nomad shrugged. “Look, bubbie, between that pathetic ruby, the boring empty building you tried to give me and now you running away twice at the slightest hint of danger, it’s pretty obvious you’re not a strong genie.”
Jafar’s arms fell to his sides, black claws slowly emerging from his long thin fingers. “How dare you!” His voice grew low and dark. “I am the most powerful being in the universe!”
Iago’s jaw dropped open, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
“I am capable of magics you can’t even conceive! Feats of brilliance you cannot even comprehend!”
Even with Jafar’s fury inching the man ever closer into the woman’s personal space, Nomad stood her ground. “Suuure.” She gave Jafar a gently pat on the shoulder before walking away. “Keep telling yourself that, bubbie.”
With a snarl, Jafar’s human form collapsed into red mist and raced in front of Nomad. The cloud solidified into the broad muscular form of a red genie, now quite a few feet taller than his master. The woman paused, if only to watch the massive fully-bared crimson chest directly in front of her expand ever so slightly as the genie took a long, heavy, angry breath. “I can prove it;” The genie growled. “Make a wish.”
Nomad’s distracted eyes briefly looked at Jafar’s face. Iago covered his head with a wing as if that would help him escape the situation. Jafar was falling for the same trick again! A trick Nomad pulled on him... about two hours ago! Jafar was an idiot. An irrevocable idiot that took 30 years of Iago’s life up by being the dumbest college-educated man in Agrabah.
Nomad took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t—”
“NO!” Jafar loomed over the woman. “You do and you will. Whatever pathetic, shallow desires a mongrel like you could ever hold, I can surpass tenfold with hardly a thought. So, let us be done with these inanities and get this over with.” Jafar’s long black claws dug into the woman’s green scarf and pulled her in close. “Make. A. Wish.”
Nomad sighed. Nothing worse than someone taking a joke too seriously. “What kind of wish...” She asked, bored.
Jafar huffed. “Anything! Just wish it so I can lay your idiotic doubt to rest!“
“Anything. Fine.” The woman’s expression fell flat. No cheek, no energy. She watched her genie hold up his hands in anticipation while she held all the excitement of having to get out of bed far too early. “I wish my mother was alive so I could finally meet her.”
A harsh chill rang out from Jafar’s cuff, numbing his fingers and snuffing the awaiting magic dancing on his fingertips. The eerie cold quickly climbed up Jafar’s arms and sunk deep into the core of his torso, seemingly plunging the genie’s heart into his stomach against any will or reason. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a voice truly distinct from his own, a voice unlike any Jafar had ever heard before, spoke a single word: “Forbidden.”
The golden shackles on his wrists as harmed him before but this... the suddenness and involuntary nature of such a widespread reaction was unsettling. It wasn’t just his hands being forced to obey. His entire body was a prisoner to this curse. Even his mind wasn’t completely safe. Jafar’s hands slowly lowered, clutching and wringing each other as feeling slowly returned to them. “I… can’t.” He muttered quietly.
“Oh, you can’t?!” Nomad threw her arms up, her volume catching Jafar off guard. “You can’t grant the only thing I want!’ The woman threw her head back, covering her eyes with her hands. “Oh, there’s a big surprise! That’s an incredi-! I think I’m gonna have a heart attack and die from that surprise!” She threw her hands down, blue magic trailing behind the motion, as she stomped the ground. “It’s almost like I didn’t ask before for a reason, ya jerk!” She let out a disgusted sigh and looked down. A thickening fog of glittering blue whipped around her hands, fingertips tingling as they paled in color. “Oh, now this is just great! Look at this; I’m so ticked off, I’m sparkling!” She ran her hands tightly over each other, almost scrapping the magic off like goo before flicking it off. The magic crashed into an empty barrel and quickly spread across the wooden surface, painting it in a thin pale frost.
“I don’t need this. I can’t have city people knowing I’m magic…” She shook her head and her hands. The last sparks of blue flew off, forming itty bitty snowflakes that soon vanished in the desert sun. “Not that the giant glowing red genie is gonna help me keep things subtle!”
Enough of the shock wore off for Jafar to actually register the woman’s anger. She was mad at him! How?! “Subtle?!” Jafar snapped. “You, madam, are the one jumping at every chance you get into trouble!
Nomad rubbed her forehead. “You’re only in trouble if you get caught. I don’t get caught. The only ‘trouble’ I’m stuck with is the problem of the giant floating idiot that smells like a smokey antique store.”
Iago snorted.
Jafar’s long yellow fangs ground together. Lightning darted aggressively between his fingertips, even as his cuffs froze in the air to hold his arms still. “Enough! You have done nothing but insult and degrade me all day and I won’t stand for it any longer!”
Nomad waved towards Jafar’s waist and the column of gently swirling smoke drifting down from his golden sash that replaced any form of legs he might otherwise have. “Floating.”
Jafar gave a deep beastly growl before his form exploded into a red haze. When the cloud cleared, Jafar stood in a humanoid form, dressed in a rich red sultan-quality robe. “No more of this madness! I refuse to serve you! I--” As soon as the words left his lips, the gold cuff tighten in a harsh sudden pinch. Jafar turned away from Nomad, hiding the pain behind his long black cape. Once the pain let up even slightly, Jafar pushed himself to start walking away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nomad asked.
“Somewhere I don’t have to endure you any longer!”
“I still got your lamp! You can’t go anywhere!”
At the distance they were at now, whatever Jafar answered was utterly indistinct. The only sign he answered at all was him throwing his hands up exasperatedly before pushing his cape aside and turning into a side-street.
Iago kept still for a few moments longer. He knew better than to try and butt in while tempers were still hot. Jafar saw to that over the decades to two worked together. Soon enough, the woman’s body language loosened up enough for Iago to make a move. He flew up to her and cleared his throat. “Yeah so, not that I don’t like, lady, but genie magic is freakin’ genie magic and I gotta hang tight to the guy with the spells to pay the bills, if ya know what I’m saying… Sooooo…” He nodded his head towards the path Jafar went down.
Nomad gave a long sigh and walked passed Iago. “Fine. I get it.” She sat down on some crates lined up against a wall. “No one sticks around with me if they have a choice. I get it.”
As he watched the woman lay down on the crates and turn towards the wall, something… new happened. Iago’s chest felt like it hollowed out in a flash. It was like some unseen force grabbed his guts and pulled them down into a dark little pit. He felt bad… but for her? He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t. Iago pushed himself into the sky to find Jafar. "Must be something I ate..."
---------
Author's Note: So after going through two new hyperfixations, a long writer's block and writing out four pages of a scene I ended up not using (it'll be finished as a bonus scene later, promise), here we are again! It took way too long and I'm not sure how happy I am with it but I wanted to get the story going again. And considering I wrote like 70% of this this week, just as I'm preparing to go to my boyfriend's place for the holidays...
--
(Part 15)
(Part 17)
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(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience
The shady, quiet back alleys of Agrabah were a part of town readily forgotten by most. And yet for so many, it was more important than the bustling market place, the docks or even the palace. Mainly because it was so easily forgotten by most citizens. A soul familiar with this place acted almost like they lived in a separate city, with its own customs, culture and most importantly no guards.
The elderly woman, wrapped tight in layer upon layer of green fabric, hurried through the sturdy sandstone structures. The walls and corners brought back memories of more desperate times, but there was a sense of joy as she ran deeper and deeper. Those long-passed desperate times were shared with someone special, so she cherished them.
Eventually, taking corner after corner lessened the buzz of the marketplace crowd until the passing breeze winding through the alleys drowned out the distant chatter. The woman slowed down by a bunch of worn old crates piled against a blank sandstone wall. She gave a deep exhale, her form shuttering. The mass of green fabric faded into a sandy cloud that fell and scattered across the ground. The woman looking in her sixties vanished into one in her thirties.
Nomad stretched up with a groan. Man, hunching over did a number on her back. A significant crack in her spin gave a satisfying wave of relief. “I love royal guards.” She smiled at the tiny cloth bag heavy with coins in her hand. “They never get any smarter.”
“Never. Absolutely never.” Iago landed on one of the taller alley crates near the woman. “So how much did you get off that guy? Come on, tell me!” The macaw said, rubbing his wings together with a grin.
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I think that guy just gave me his friend’s whole purse for that anti-venom. What’s your guess, Red?” No answer. “Red?” She looked behind her. No follower. Well, there’s only one place that genie could be. She threw her green cape off her side, revealing a black lamp hanging from a shoulder-slung satchel. With a finger, she gently scritched under the lamp’s spout. “Coochie, coochie, coo.”
The gentle glint of the yellow sun across the shiny black metal surged with a reddish hue that passed over the item’s surface and down the spout. The opening quickly produced a thick crimson haze that drifted up and took the form of a rather skinny human laid-back, lounging. Jafar pouted and set his teacup down on the porcelain plate. He sat up on nothing and raised a single eyebrow.
“Again?” Nomad shrugged. “You’re running away from excitement again.”
“I have better things to do than watch you and your pointless... ‘thrill-seeking’.” He replied flatly.
“Better things?” Nomad put her hands on her hips. “Name one.”
Jafar’s face sunk, eyes darting to his lamp. “Touche…” Growled the genie.
“Hey, it’s your loss, Jafar.” Nomad shrugged, tossing and catching the bag of coins. She ducked under the fast-angering floating man and started walking farther down the alley. “If you prefer polishing the inside of your lamp over having fun, that’s on you.” She smirked as she heard a short growl behind her. Another sounds; quick little fluttered grew closer. The smirk became a smile as Iago landed on her head.
“Yeah yeah yeah, Jafar’s a fuddy-duddy, we all knew that.” The bird waved his feathers about. “But come ooon! Don’t leave me hanging; How much did we make!” The little chubby parrot couldn’t help but bounce in place.
Jafar huffed. Fuddy-duddy?! He wasn’t the one wasting time on petty distractions. He wasn’t the one being a public nuisance! He wasn’t--! The gold cuffs on Jafar’s wrists started glowing. With an angry scowl, Jafar’s form collapsed into red smoke and reformed next to his lamp-holder.
Nomad shrugged and held the bag up to Iago. “I dunno. How much does this sound like?” She rattled the coins inside.
Iago put both wings around the bag and rubbed the worn burlap against his cheek. The coins clanked, and clinked, shifted against each other as well as the side of the bag. A mental image slowly formed in the bird’s mind. “Sounds like… 17 dinari in here.” He shook the bag once more for good measure. “Oh! And a drachma. I almost missed the drachma.” The bird placed a gentle loving kiss on the bag before Nomad’s hand pulled away.
“You can have it when we get back to the hideout.” The woman said. “If we can get that far without Mitr needing to bite someone again.” The cobra hidden under her scarf shifted at the mention of his name. “I think he’s all scammed-out for the day.”
“Well, if I’m just gonna get the money anyways…” Iago gently pulled Nomad’s hand back towards him. “I might as well hold it for ya.” He slowly started moving the woman’s fingers off the bag. “Ya know since you aren’t—” Her fingers tightened. “-- gonna-- “ Iago’s feather hands pulled much harder. “-- need it,“ Nomad grinned and started pulling her hand away. “--I might--” Iago threw his entire tiny body into pulling the hand back up. “-- as well—“As the hand moved farther down, Iago clawed his talons into Nomad’s hood. -- keep it!”
Nomad looked up at Jafar walking along side her. “If this guy had real hands, he’d steal everything not nailed down, wouldn’t he?”
Jafar fought back a smile. “Unquestionably.”
Nomad shook her head with a laugh. “How does a genie, a being practically forbidden from being selfish, get such a greedy pet?”
Iago froze and shot an angry glare at the woman. “Pet?!” He spat in disgust.
Nomad’s walking slowed and she looked away into the deserted alleyways. “Come to think of it, how does a genie even manage to get a pet in the first place?”
Jafar eyes widened.
“I’ve never heard of a genie owning… anything, let alone an animal.”
Jafar knew he had to think of something, fast. He couldn’t let her find out he was human. Was. Past tense. He was a genie now, through and through, exactly as he wished. Every ounce and inch of him was pure magic for all the phenomenal good and immeasurable bad it did him. His plans would work whether his lamp-holder knew he used to be human or not but some part of him, some small little piece that obviously didn’t understand how powerful and massive he was, felt… shame? Embarrassment? He shouldn’t feel that way. Especially since nothing in his situation was his fault by any measure. The idiotic blue genie was solely to blame for all Jafar’s suffering. And yet...
Nomad looked at her genie, giving Jafar’s human form a once-over from top to bottom. “How’d that happen?”
Jafar kept his face neutral. Nomad’s face slowly hardened into a glare. She was studying him, picking his expression apart for clues just like she did early this morning. Jafar forced a gentle pleasant smile and took a deep calming breath. As the man opened his mouth, a child’s cry echoed in the empty alley, coming from behind his master.
Nomad and the group looked down the shaded back road, empty of nothing but trash piles piled up next to locked back door of very unimpressive houses. A small woman, covered top to bottom in a faded brown abaya, moved to sit in front a tiny child. “Please be still, Yamed.” A weary sounding woman spoke softly.
“But I’m hungry, ‘um.” The tiny boy in dirty clothes hugged his arms around his stomach. “I’m so hungry, it’s hurts.” His hung his head and started sniffling. “I’m sorry.”
Iago glanced down at Nomad. The older woman was completely still, silent. Almost transfixed on the scene playing out a couple dozen feet away. Her grip on the purse intensified. “Oh no…” The bird whimpered.
The mother’s breathing grew shaky, despite herself. She pulled her kid into her arms and stood up with him. After a moment of silence, she turned and set the boy on a barrel against an aging wall. “I’ll see if I can find something.” The mother held the boy’s head gently in her hands. “I want you to be completely quiet until I get back. Don’t speak to anyone while I’m gone. And if you see someone coming, you hide. Do you understand?” The boy nodded and gripped the sides of his seat.
“Hey!” The mother jumped with a gasp, instinctively putting herself between the sudden noise and her son. Nomad lowered her arm, dragging Iago off her hood and quickly pulled the bird off the coin bag. She tossed the bag underhanded, landing it right into the other woman’s hands. “Take care of yourself.” Nomad gave a nod.
The younger woman felt the rough bag, making the coins inside rattle and clink. Money. A lot of it! “Oh, thank you, madam! Thank you.” The woman bowed deeply. “A thousand thanks and blessing upon you, madam!” The young boy sat up on the barrel, looking to see what his mother now had. The mother picked the boy up in her arms and quickly sprinted down the side-streets towards the market.
“Come back, darling.” Iago whispered, feather hands slowly reaching out as the bag of coins’ clinking faded from earshot. With a frustrated growl, Iago squirmed in Nomad’s fist until he managed to slip out. “What was that about!” He flapped into the woman’s face, “I coulda got me a brand new cushy perch with that money!”
“New perch? But your old one still works fine.” Nomad pointed a thumb behind her at Jafar. “Mostly.” Hearing Jafar scoff, she smirked.
“But it wouldn’t be new, would it?” Iago touched foreheads with the woman. “It wouldn’t be nice scented hardwood, would it? It wouldn’t have fun dangley ropes and cupholders and vanity mirrors, now would it?!”
Nomad gently pushed Iago out of her face and walked around him. “Then just ask Red for that stuff, if you’re desperate. You’re friends enough with him to share a lamp, he can--”
“Absolutely not.” Jafar butted in. “No more freebies. Period. I gave you a magnificent palace with everything you could ever want--”
“I didn’t want that.” Nomad stated.
“-- handed right to you on a silver platter by an army of servants—”
“Literally sang a song about how I don’t want that.”
“-- so if you want anything more out of me, woman,” Jafar crossed his arms and leaned down towards Nomad. “then wish for it. I shall not give another ounce of effort for you otherwise!”
Nomad watched her genie turn his pointed beak-like nose upward, eyes closed. It was kinda cute how the red genie thought he could dig his heels in like that. She glanced at Iago. Time for another show. She gave the bird a little eyebrow wiggle and smiled. “Eh, it’s just as well. Your magic’s not worth much anyways.”
“What.” Jafar flat tone sounded more like a statement, not a question.
Nomad shrugged. “Look, bubbie, between that pathetic ruby, the boring empty building you tried to give me and now you running away twice at the slightest hint of danger, it’s pretty obvious you’re not a strong genie.”
Jafar’s arms fell to his sides, black claws slowly emerging from his long thin fingers. “How dare you!” His voice grew low and dark. “I am the most powerful being in the universe!”
Iago’s jaw dropped open, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
“I am capable of magics you can’t even conceive! Feats of brilliance you cannot even comprehend!”
Even with Jafar’s fury inching the man ever closer into the woman’s personal space, Nomad stood her ground. “Suuure.” She gave Jafar a gently pat on the shoulder before walking away. “Keep telling yourself that, bubbie.”
With a snarl, Jafar’s human form collapsed into red mist and raced in front of Nomad. The cloud solidified into the broad muscular form of a red genie, now quite a few feet taller than his master. The woman paused, if only to watch the massive fully-bared crimson chest directly in front of her expand ever so slightly as the genie took a long, heavy, angry breath. “I can prove it;” The genie growled. “Make a wish.”
Nomad’s distracted eyes briefly looked at Jafar’s face. Iago covered his head with a wing as if that would help him escape the situation. Jafar was falling for the same trick again! A trick Nomad pulled on him... about two hours ago! Jafar was an idiot. An irrevocable idiot that took 30 years of Iago’s life up by being the dumbest college-educated man in Agrabah.
Nomad took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t—”
“NO!” Jafar loomed over the woman. “You do and you will. Whatever pathetic, shallow desires a mongrel like you could ever hold, I can surpass tenfold with hardly a thought. So, let us be done with these inanities and get this over with.” Jafar’s long black claws dug into the woman’s green scarf and pulled her in close. “Make. A. Wish.”
Nomad sighed. Nothing worse than someone taking a joke too seriously. “What kind of wish...” She asked, bored.
Jafar huffed. “Anything! Just wish it so I can lay your idiotic doubt to rest!“
“Anything. Fine.” The woman’s expression fell flat. No cheek, no energy. She watched her genie hold up his hands in anticipation while she held all the excitement of having to get out of bed far too early. “I wish my mother was alive so I could finally meet her.”
A harsh chill rang out from Jafar’s cuff, numbing his fingers and snuffing the awaiting magic dancing on his fingertips. The eerie cold quickly climbed up Jafar’s arms and sunk deep into the core of his torso, seemingly plunging the genie’s heart into his stomach against any will or reason. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a voice truly distinct from his own, a voice unlike any Jafar had ever heard before, spoke a single word: “Forbidden.”
The golden shackles on his wrists as harmed him before but this... the suddenness and involuntary nature of such a widespread reaction was unsettling. It wasn’t just his hands being forced to obey. His entire body was a prisoner to this curse. Even his mind wasn’t completely safe. Jafar’s hands slowly lowered, clutching and wringing each other as feeling slowly returned to them. “I… can’t.” He muttered quietly.
“Oh, you can’t?!” Nomad threw her arms up, her volume catching Jafar off guard. “You can’t grant the only thing I want!’ The woman threw her head back, covering her eyes with her hands. “Oh, there’s a big surprise! That’s an incredi-! I think I’m gonna have a heart attack and die from that surprise!” She threw her hands down, blue magic trailing behind the motion, as she stomped the ground. “It’s almost like I didn’t ask before for a reason, ya jerk!” She let out a disgusted sigh and looked down. A thickening fog of glittering blue whipped around her hands, fingertips tingling as they paled in color. “Oh, now this is just great! Look at this; I’m so ticked off, I’m sparkling!” She ran her hands tightly over each other, almost scrapping the magic off like goo before flicking it off. The magic crashed into an empty barrel and quickly spread across the wooden surface, painting it in a thin pale frost.
“I don’t need this. I can’t have city people knowing I’m magic…” She shook her head and her hands. The last sparks of blue flew off, forming itty bitty snowflakes that soon vanished in the desert sun. “Not that the giant glowing red genie is gonna help me keep things subtle!”
Enough of the shock wore off for Jafar to actually register the woman’s anger. She was mad at him! How?! “Subtle?!” Jafar snapped. “You, madam, are the one jumping at every chance you get into trouble!
Nomad rubbed her forehead. “You’re only in trouble if you get caught. I don’t get caught. The only ‘trouble’ I’m stuck with is the problem of the giant floating idiot that smells like a smokey antique store.”
Iago snorted.
Jafar’s long yellow fangs ground together. Lightning darted aggressively between his fingertips, even as his cuffs froze in the air to hold his arms still. “Enough! You have done nothing but insult and degrade me all day and I won’t stand for it any longer!”
Nomad waved towards Jafar’s waist and the column of gently swirling smoke drifting down from his golden sash that replaced any form of legs he might otherwise have. “Floating.”
Jafar gave a deep beastly growl before his form exploded into a red haze. When the cloud cleared, Jafar stood in a humanoid form, dressed in a rich red sultan-quality robe. “No more of this madness! I refuse to serve you! I--” As soon as the words left his lips, the gold cuff tighten in a harsh sudden pinch. Jafar turned away from Nomad, hiding the pain behind his long black cape. Once the pain let up even slightly, Jafar pushed himself to start walking away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nomad asked.
“Somewhere I don’t have to endure you any longer!”
“I still got your lamp! You can’t go anywhere!”
At the distance they were at now, whatever Jafar answered was utterly indistinct. The only sign he answered at all was him throwing his hands up exasperatedly before pushing his cape aside and turning into a side-street.
Iago kept still for a few moments longer. He knew better than to try and butt in while tempers were still hot. Jafar saw to that over the decades to two worked together. Soon enough, the woman’s body language loosened up enough for Iago to make a move. He flew up to her and cleared his throat. “Yeah so, not that I don’t like, lady, but genie magic is freakin’ genie magic and I gotta hang tight to the guy with the spells to pay the bills, if ya know what I’m saying… Sooooo…” He nodded his head towards the path Jafar went down.
Nomad gave a long sigh and walked passed Iago. “Fine. I get it.” She sat down on some crates lined up against a wall. “No one sticks around with me if they have a choice. I get it.”
As he watched the woman lay down on the crates and turn towards the wall, something… new happened. Iago’s chest felt like it hollowed out in a flash. It was like some unseen force grabbed his guts and pulled them down into a dark little pit. He felt bad… but for her? He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t. Iago pushed himself into the sky to find Jafar. "Must be something I ate..."
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Author's Note: So after going through two new hyperfixations, a long writer's block and writing out four pages of a scene I ended up not using (it'll be finished as a bonus scene later, promise), here we are again! It took way too long and I'm not sure how happy I am with it but I wanted to get the story going again. And considering I wrote like 70% of this this week, just as I'm preparing to go to my boyfriend's place for the holidays...
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(Part 15)
(Part 17)
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(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience
My mother has always been there for everyone who needed her. She's strong and vibrant and fig… Samantha Benatti needs your support for Help
I really really REALLY hate asking favors from you guys but my family has been going through a lot for the past couple of days.
My mom has been suffering from Stage 4 Brain cancer for the past year now, and survived from Stage 3 Lung a couple of years ago, but things have not been getting much better. Radiation on her brain has gotten so intense that her frontal lobe is now partially destroyed, and she’s simply not the same person she used to be. She was finally able to get a job a month ago but they fired her after a couple of days because “she wasn’t keeping up.” So now she is unable to work.
The only time I’m able to talk to her is on the phone while I’m at college, and her ability to communicate has gotten so bad that she slurs when she speaks. She is too exhausted to do anything anymore, and I honestly feel horrible that the only thing I can do for her is this. I just want my mom to be okay….
This will be the only post I will be discussing this, but if any of you guys are able to give at least a doller, or repost, share with friends or fellow cancer survivors, or simply leave a comment to boost the post, I would be eternally grateful. I wish I could do more for her but I can only do so much being so far away from her. Thanks guys💖
The Skull and Dagger was a hole-in-the-wall establishment of Agrabah’s older, less desirable district, full of holes of a donkey-related sort otherwise known as customers. It was a rather dark and dusty pit of a bar and the patrons preferred it that way for one reason or another.
Despite that, the establishment wasn’t just beaten down dirt floors and ‘thrifted’ second hand furniture. There were slight passing resemblances for nice things about that place. In the corners, the tables were fairly new and the seating areas actually had a pillow or two instead of faded stained rugs to keep sitting patrons from being directly on dirt. But the most coveted feature in the corners were the hung curtains, easily sectioning off the tables from the greedy, prying eyes of other patrons.
Jafar knew these especially dark corners well; he had done most of his worse deeds from such a place. Assassinations, bribery, collusion. So many dirty deeds over so many years with only a pair of magic gold bands on his wrists to show for it all. But coming to such a place wasn’t all bad memories. Despite the places lowly standing, they made a decent mint tea.
Unfortunately, that was about the only highlight to be found.
To one side of him, his ragged ‘master’, Nomad, sat half-asleep on the table, limp hand still petting her pet cobra, Mitr. On the other side, Jafar’s own pet/partner Iago stood grinning and giggling as he fussed about with a bag of coins the woman had swiped earlier. Jafar did his best to tune out the repetitious sound of Iago stacking and clinking the gold coins together over and over, the bird would happily do this for hours if allowed, but as the bird’s greedy wings thumbed through the coins more and more, the woman stirred.
A grunt, then a groan. A tired little head scritch on her snake and then finally an open-palm smack of the coin tower, sending the meticulously crafted stack tumbling down.
“Hey!” Iago squawked with a hop back.
“Ehhh, hush…” The woman muttered, head falling back into her arms.
A set of heavy footsteps boomed closer before the slightly tattered curtain was thrown open. Iago flinched and flapped away from the motion. Nomad’s head shot up. Mitr quickly retreated to his owner’s scarf. Jafar slightly raised one eyebrow.
Staring down at the sitting group was a wide and top-heavy man in a plain black shirt, pale tan scarf around his neck and a tiny purple fez sitting on a small pointed head. Yellow, rotting teeth ground together before the man spoke. “Do you know who’s table this is?” He growled.
“Yeah, mine, ya moron.” Nomad rolled her eyes. “That’s why I’m sitting here.”
The man put his foot on the low table and bent down to Nomad’s level. “Dis is Hamar’s table!”
Nomad glanced down at the man’s well-worn curled shoes. “No, those are Hamar’s feet. Hamar should learn what words mean what before speaking.” She dropped her head in her hand and looked away. In a second, she got yanked out of her seat by her yellow robe and got stood on the table, just barely matching the man’s height.
“Dis is Hamar’s table!” The thug spat. “Hamar’s table in Hamar’s hangout!” His breathing got heavier when the woman laughed in his face, a weird cackling leading into something of an amused yell.
“Bubbie, I don’t know you.” Nomad shook her head. “That mean you’ve only started coming here the last couple years, and that don’t mean camel plop in my book. So, how about you back off and I don’t teach you what an old hand in this line of work can do.”
The man threw his head back in a wide guffawing laugh. “You?! Leetle woman?! HA! Leetle old lady with skinny husband!”
Jafar huffed at the slight but buried the anger behind a long drink of his tea. All his interference would amount to is getting his lamp-holder out of trouble for free. And that would be a bigger disgrace to his ego than the off-handed comment.
“Who do you think you are!?”
“I know who I am!” Nomad sneered. “They called me Mama ‘round here. Know why? ‘Cause if Mama ain’t happy--!” She raised her voice so most of the bar could hear her.
The patrons in the shadows gave a collective breathe and grumbled amongst themselves. They knew how she wanted that sentence answered. They just weren’t giving it to her, not in this situation. Not when answering meant getting in the same trouble she was in.
After a moment of nothing, Nomad growled and grabbed Hamar’s fists. “Oh, you sons of jackals are gonna pay for this!”
Hamar pulled the woman in close and breathed a hot rancid breathe in her face. “Guess you’re not as big around here as you thought, Leetle Woman.”
Nomad pulled back as much as she could in the tight grip of the large man. She glanced back in the corner, at Jafar. “Red!” Her tone, sharp and stern.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Hamar tossed the woman against the rickety wall with a hard thud before kicking the short table out of the way.
Jafar didn’t move. He refused. This brute would’ve hardly gotten a reaction from him when he was a fully human vizier with just a barely-magical cane to protect him, but now, as the most powerful genie in the universe? Jafar wouldn’t grant him the honor of even looking at his pathetic, insignificant, mortal rage.
Jafar remained cross-legged and silent as the large man grabbed part of his tunic and pants. He levitated himself as he was carried by the brute to the door, simply so the act of being hauled away like a bag of yams wouldn’t strain or rip his clothing. Not a sound or expression from the disguised genie as Hamar used Jafar’s shoulder to bash open the club’s door, tossing him into the quiet beaten-dirt street. Jafar righted himself mid-throw and gently levitated down, willing a large luxurious pillow beneath him. The spilled tea thrown during the action paused in the air before quickly pouring itself back into Jafar’s cup. Jafar took a quiet sip. Huh, things worked out better than he hoped.
After a moment of distance ruckus, Iago was chucked fast through the bar door, crashing through the curtain of strung up row of pottery pieces. The bird slammed face first into the ground and skidded all the way down until he crashed into Jafar’s pillow. The genie looked down. Hmm, the bird wasn’t moving. Shame. A few seconds more and Iago’s wings flapped wildly, kicking up a tiny cloud of dust in the deserted alley.
With a hard tug, Iago pulled his head out of the ground and started spitting out dirt. “Pweh! BLECH! EEEEUUUGGG! Why’s everyone hurting the bird? Why’s everyone acting like I’m this morning’s catch? Getting tossed around up ‘nd down the docks by every low-rent dirtbag with two hands?” Iago stomped up Jafar’s lap as the man looked to the heavens for salvation. “Tell me, Jafar, tell me; did we repeal animal rights before we got locked up? I know we tried to get that stupid Sultan to gut a bunch of civil rights out of the founding charter ‘cause who needs that junk, but why’s everyone so mean to the parrot?!” The parrot grabbed Jafar’s shirt and started thrashing it. “I’m such an enchanting creature!” He shrieked.
A short quiet hiss caught both man and parrot’s attention. Nomad’s black and gold cobra hit the dusty ground with a quiet thump right outside the bar entrance. Iago pointed with a wing and threw his head back in a harshly loud cackle. “Ha-haaaa! ‘King Cobra’, my tail feathers! Lotta good those fangs did ya, chump.”
Mitr’s head perked up instantly and with a huff, his wide bright gold hood flaring out. It spat out a spritz of venom before giving a deep long hiss. Iago made a tiny yelp and jumped up to Jafar’s shoulder. “AHH! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He ducked inside the black scarf wrapped around Jafar’s neck, hiding himself under it’s many folds before daring to peek out again. “Come on! You reptiles gotta have a sense of humor. Just look at you!”
The cobra gave an indignant gasp before zipping across the ground. A crash from inside the bar made the beast pause and look back. Something shattered inside the building as a woman yelled. The bar door got kicked open again and Nomad was hurled outside with a scream. Mitr only just barely dodged his human hitting the ground face first.
The large man patted the sand out of his cloth and looked down with a sneer. “Dis is Hamar’s hangout. Do not forget!” The door slammed shut. The only noise in the alley for a few moments was the sound of muffled cheers from inside the bar.
The serpent carefully slunk towards his mistress, tongue flickering. The woman’s hand punched the ground, making the snake flinch. Nomad sat up. “Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?” She stomped past Jafar, towards the shoddy makeshift lean-to that counted as the bar’s stable. Growling, she tore her camel’s reins away from the roof support pole and grabbed the hefty beast by the bridle. “That’s fine by me!” She charged back towards the bar door, dragging the bull camel with her and crashed back through the barely-secured door. Immediately, the bar came alive with screaming, swearing and sounds of furniture colliding with floor, ceiling and even patrons. The woman’s yells broke out above the various layers of men yelling, gasping and swearing. “How’s this for muscle!”
Iago glanced out of Jafar’s scarf before slowly slinking out and stepping onto the man’s shoulder. All the commotion was going on inside the building and, hoo boy, was the bird glad he got kicked out now. He grinned and leaned against Jafar’s neck. “Ya know what I’m starting to like about this woman?” His partner gave a single miffed exhale through his nose for an answer. “She’s always so… calm about everything.” Iago’s smile grew as a whole lot of what sounded like dishware was shattered at once. “Ya know, very collected in times of stress.”
Two hooded men in dark robes ran out of the bar in a panic, one tripping on the tilted door sill. As the stranger scrambled back to his feet, Nomad appeared in the door way, arms pulled back ready to swing a jade topped staff like a bat. The swing just barely missed the hooded man, letting him dash into a side-road and vanish from sight. The woman stomped in anger before running back inside.
Iago shook his head, still smiling. “She’s just--” There was a gurgling camel bray before the sound of wood cracking into splinters. “-- in a word—” Sound of several glass bottles hitting the ground at once. “-- serene.” A loud male yell grew close until a long boarded up window near the bar’s door crashed open. Hamar hit the ground hard, bouncing slightly before falling limp with a groan.
The ruckus inside quickly died down. The crashing turned to simple thumps and creaks. A single glass bottle broke somewhere far within the building. The pair outside could hear that distinct cackle that always led to some wild laughing scream. “No one! Messes! With! Mama!” Nomad yelled.
“Uh, Yeah! Way ta go, Mama!” A nasally voice in the distance piped up.
“Oh, don’t you dare try to ‘Mama’ me!” The woman managed to get even louder. “You had your chance to ‘Mama’ me and no one took it!”
Wood scrapping against wood lead to a dozen or so men stampeding out the bar door, one man even managing to shove the aging slab of wood off its hinges completely. One man, a rather scrawny, pathetic looking thief with a too-tall white headwrap hurriedly scrambled to climb out the broken window. After a few seconds of fumbling his grip on the window sill, he threw one leg over the wall. The sill he was holding snapped under his weight instantly and his slight fall was stopped quickly by the broken splinters of the wall catching the back of his pants.
Iago and Jafar shared a pained inhale through the teeth. The thief let out the tiniest most high-pitched whine Jafar had ever heard before gently getting on tiptoe and slowly unhooking his pants. As soon as his pants were freed, the man dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes, and fell on his side. “I’m… alright…” The man squeaked out.
The camel’s head ducked down through the broken window and gave the scrawny man a sniff. He had a funny shape on his head. The camel grabbed the man’s turban with his mouth and pulled it back inside to chew on. The man sadly put a hand on his exceptionally bald head, another pain whimper coming from him. “Less… alright…”
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Author's note: Alternative title- "The one where Jafar is determined to stay in his lane no matter how much everyone else is crashing".
Not much to comment, but I do find it fascinating how we see Jafar’s perspective on why he isn’t defending his honor like usual. If anyone else were to insult Jafar in any other circumstance, they would get harsh insults in return. BUT what’s so cool about Jafar is he has gained experience through the years of when it would be right to bite his tongue (his childhood most likely had a major impact of that). Unlike some of the other men in Agrabah, Jafar knows when to pick his battles, which makes him a cool villain😈
Also, Iago being sarcastic is possibly one of the funniest things I’ve read in this story so far. Imagining Gilbert Gottfried saying this shit had me ROLLING😭
The Skull and Dagger was a hole-in-the-wall establishment of Agrabah’s older, less desirable district, full of holes of a donkey-related sort otherwise known as customers. It was a rather dark and dusty pit of a bar and the patrons preferred it that way for one reason or another.
Despite that, the establishment wasn’t just beaten down dirt floors and ‘thrifted’ second hand furniture. There were slight passing resemblances for nice things about that place. In the corners, the tables were fairly new and the seating areas actually had a pillow or two instead of faded stained rugs to keep sitting patrons from being directly on dirt. But the most coveted feature in the corners were the hung curtains, easily sectioning off the tables from the greedy, prying eyes of other patrons.
Jafar knew these especially dark corners well; he had done most of his worse deeds from such a place. Assassinations, bribery, collusion. So many dirty deeds over so many years with only a pair of magic gold bands on his wrists to show for it all. But coming to such a place wasn’t all bad memories. Despite the places lowly standing, they made a decent mint tea.
Unfortunately, that was about the only highlight to be found.
To one side of him, his ragged ‘master’, Nomad, sat half-asleep on the table, limp hand still petting her pet cobra, Mitr. On the other side, Jafar’s own pet/partner Iago stood grinning and giggling as he fussed about with a bag of coins the woman had swiped earlier. Jafar did his best to tune out the repetitious sound of Iago stacking and clinking the gold coins together over and over, the bird would happily do this for hours if allowed, but as the bird’s greedy wings thumbed through the coins more and more, the woman stirred.
A grunt, then a groan. A tired little head scritch on her snake and then finally an open-palm smack of the coin tower, sending the meticulously crafted stack tumbling down.
“Hey!” Iago squawked with a hop back.
“Ehhh, hush…” The woman muttered, head falling back into her arms.
A set of heavy footsteps boomed closer before the slightly tattered curtain was thrown open. Iago flinched and flapped away from the motion. Nomad’s head shot up. Mitr quickly retreated to his owner’s scarf. Jafar slightly raised one eyebrow.
Staring down at the sitting group was a wide and top-heavy man in a plain black shirt, pale tan scarf around his neck and a tiny purple fez sitting on a small pointed head. Yellow, rotting teeth ground together before the man spoke. “Do you know who’s table this is?” He growled.
“Yeah, mine, ya moron.” Nomad rolled her eyes. “That’s why I’m sitting here.”
The man put his foot on the low table and bent down to Nomad’s level. “Dis is Hamar’s table!”
Nomad glanced down at the man’s well-worn curled shoes. “No, those are Hamar’s feet. Hamar should learn what words mean what before speaking.” She dropped her head in her hand and looked away. In a second, she got yanked out of her seat by her yellow robe and got stood on the table, just barely matching the man’s height.
“Dis is Hamar’s table!” The thug spat. “Hamar’s table in Hamar’s hangout!” His breathing got heavier when the woman laughed in his face, a weird cackling leading into something of an amused yell.
“Bubbie, I don’t know you.” Nomad shook her head. “That mean you’ve only started coming here the last couple years, and that don’t mean camel plop in my book. So, how about you back off and I don’t teach you what an old hand in this line of work can do.”
The man threw his head back in a wide guffawing laugh. “You?! Leetle woman?! HA! Leetle old lady with skinny husband!”
Jafar huffed at the slight but buried the anger behind a long drink of his tea. All his interference would amount to is getting his lamp-holder out of trouble for free. And that would be a bigger disgrace to his ego than the off-handed comment.
“Who do you think you are!?”
“I know who I am!” Nomad sneered. “They called me Mama ‘round here. Know why? ‘Cause if Mama ain’t happy--!” She raised her voice so most of the bar could hear her.
The patrons in the shadows gave a collective breathe and grumbled amongst themselves. They knew how she wanted that sentence answered. They just weren’t giving it to her, not in this situation. Not when answering meant getting in the same trouble she was in.
After a moment of nothing, Nomad growled and grabbed Hamar’s fists. “Oh, you sons of jackals are gonna pay for this!”
Hamar pulled the woman in close and breathed a hot rancid breathe in her face. “Guess you’re not as big around here as you thought, Leetle Woman.”
Nomad pulled back as much as she could in the tight grip of the large man. She glanced back in the corner, at Jafar. “Red!” Her tone, sharp and stern.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Hamar tossed the woman against the rickety wall with a hard thud before kicking the short table out of the way.
Jafar didn’t move. He refused. This brute would’ve hardly gotten a reaction from him when he was a fully human vizier with just a barely-magical cane to protect him, but now, as the most powerful genie in the universe? Jafar wouldn’t grant him the honor of even looking at his pathetic, insignificant, mortal rage.
Jafar remained cross-legged and silent as the large man grabbed part of his tunic and pants. He levitated himself as he was carried by the brute to the door, simply so the act of being hauled away like a bag of yams wouldn’t strain or rip his clothing. Not a sound or expression from the disguised genie as Hamar used Jafar’s shoulder to bash open the club’s door, tossing him into the quiet beaten-dirt street. Jafar righted himself mid-throw and gently levitated down, willing a large luxurious pillow beneath him. The spilled tea thrown during the action paused in the air before quickly pouring itself back into Jafar’s cup. Jafar took a quiet sip. Huh, things worked out better than he hoped.
After a moment of distance ruckus, Iago was chucked fast through the bar door, crashing through the curtain of strung up row of pottery pieces. The bird slammed face first into the ground and skidded all the way down until he crashed into Jafar’s pillow. The genie looked down. Hmm, the bird wasn’t moving. Shame. A few seconds more and Iago’s wings flapped wildly, kicking up a tiny cloud of dust in the deserted alley.
With a hard tug, Iago pulled his head out of the ground and started spitting out dirt. “Pweh! BLECH! EEEEUUUGGG! Why’s everyone hurting the bird? Why’s everyone acting like I’m this morning’s catch? Getting tossed around up ‘nd down the docks by every low-rent dirtbag with two hands?” Iago stomped up Jafar’s lap as the man looked to the heavens for salvation. “Tell me, Jafar, tell me; did we repeal animal rights before we got locked up? I know we tried to get that stupid Sultan to gut a bunch of civil rights out of the founding charter ‘cause who needs that junk, but why’s everyone so mean to the parrot?!” The parrot grabbed Jafar’s shirt and started thrashing it. “I’m such an enchanting creature!” He shrieked.
A short quiet hiss caught both man and parrot’s attention. Nomad’s black and gold cobra hit the dusty ground with a quiet thump right outside the bar entrance. Iago pointed with a wing and threw his head back in a harshly loud cackle. “Ha-haaaa! ‘King Cobra’, my tail feathers! Lotta good those fangs did ya, chump.”
Mitr’s head perked up instantly and with a huff, his wide bright gold hood flaring out. It spat out a spritz of venom before giving a deep long hiss. Iago made a tiny yelp and jumped up to Jafar’s shoulder. “AHH! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He ducked inside the black scarf wrapped around Jafar’s neck, hiding himself under it’s many folds before daring to peek out again. “Come on! You reptiles gotta have a sense of humor. Just look at you!”
The cobra gave an indignant gasp before zipping across the ground. A crash from inside the bar made the beast pause and look back. Something shattered inside the building as a woman yelled. The bar door got kicked open again and Nomad was hurled outside with a scream. Mitr only just barely dodged his human hitting the ground face first.
The large man patted the sand out of his cloth and looked down with a sneer. “Dis is Hamar’s hangout. Do not forget!” The door slammed shut. The only noise in the alley for a few moments was the sound of muffled cheers from inside the bar.
The serpent carefully slunk towards his mistress, tongue flickering. The woman’s hand punched the ground, making the snake flinch. Nomad sat up. “Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?” She stomped past Jafar, towards the shoddy makeshift lean-to that counted as the bar’s stable. Growling, she tore her camel’s reins away from the roof support pole and grabbed the hefty beast by the bridle. “That’s fine by me!” She charged back towards the bar door, dragging the bull camel with her and crashed back through the barely-secured door. Immediately, the bar came alive with screaming, swearing and sounds of furniture colliding with floor, ceiling and even patrons. The woman’s yells broke out above the various layers of men yelling, gasping and swearing. “How’s this for muscle!”
Iago glanced out of Jafar’s scarf before slowly slinking out and stepping onto the man’s shoulder. All the commotion was going on inside the building and, hoo boy, was the bird glad he got kicked out now. He grinned and leaned against Jafar’s neck. “Ya know what I’m starting to like about this woman?” His partner gave a single miffed exhale through his nose for an answer. “She’s always so… calm about everything.” Iago’s smile grew as a whole lot of what sounded like dishware was shattered at once. “Ya know, very collected in times of stress.”
Two hooded men in dark robes ran out of the bar in a panic, one tripping on the tilted door sill. As the stranger scrambled back to his feet, Nomad appeared in the door way, arms pulled back ready to swing a jade topped staff like a bat. The swing just barely missed the hooded man, letting him dash into a side-road and vanish from sight. The woman stomped in anger before running back inside.
Iago shook his head, still smiling. “She’s just--” There was a gurgling camel bray before the sound of wood cracking into splinters. “-- in a word—” Sound of several glass bottles hitting the ground at once. “-- serene.” A loud male yell grew close until a long boarded up window near the bar’s door crashed open. Hamar hit the ground hard, bouncing slightly before falling limp with a groan.
The ruckus inside quickly died down. The crashing turned to simple thumps and creaks. A single glass bottle broke somewhere far within the building. The pair outside could hear that distinct cackle that always led to some wild laughing scream. “No one! Messes! With! Mama!” Nomad yelled.
“Uh, Yeah! Way ta go, Mama!” A nasally voice in the distance piped up.
“Oh, don’t you dare try to ‘Mama’ me!” The woman managed to get even louder. “You had your chance to ‘Mama’ me and no one took it!”
Wood scrapping against wood lead to a dozen or so men stampeding out the bar door, one man even managing to shove the aging slab of wood off its hinges completely. One man, a rather scrawny, pathetic looking thief with a too-tall white headwrap hurriedly scrambled to climb out the broken window. After a few seconds of fumbling his grip on the window sill, he threw one leg over the wall. The sill he was holding snapped under his weight instantly and his slight fall was stopped quickly by the broken splinters of the wall catching the back of his pants.
Iago and Jafar shared a pained inhale through the teeth. The thief let out the tiniest most high-pitched whine Jafar had ever heard before gently getting on tiptoe and slowly unhooking his pants. As soon as his pants were freed, the man dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes, and fell on his side. “I’m… alright…” The man squeaked out.
The camel’s head ducked down through the broken window and gave the scrawny man a sniff. He had a funny shape on his head. The camel grabbed the man’s turban with his mouth and pulled it back inside to chew on. The man sadly put a hand on his exceptionally bald head, another pain whimper coming from him. “Less… alright…”
-----
Author's note: Alternative title- "The one where Jafar is determined to stay in his lane no matter how much everyone else is crashing".
Sooo it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done much stuff on this blog, and I just wanted to give a quick update as to why!
I started college a little over a month ago, so I was spending time during the summer and throughout September to make money, study, and get to know people on my new campus. That, unfortunately, meant I had to put things in the backburner for my own mental SANITY, BUT I still have motivation to draw, I just haven’t had motivation to stay online as often as I used to. The new climate has just been overwhelming to me, so I wanted to spend some time getting used to being away from home before I get back into the swing of things (I also had a major health scare from my mom, so that kinda depressed me for a bit).
As for my art, I’ve been sketching things here and there, and have some WIPs that are getting close to being finished! I even have some juicy stuff I’ve been whipping up, all I ask is for your guy’s patience! As I said when I started this blog, I may be inactive for large amounts of time. This is because, while I love art, I only use it as an outlet and hobby for myself, and I hate when it feels like a chore. Don’t think my long hiatuses is signs of me losing love for this fandom! Usually October is when I feel fully acclimated to school, so by that point you should be seeing me more on here!
Thank you so much guys, I cannot wait to post things for spooky month😈
The Agrabah Palace was a wonder of the Seven Deserts and had been so since it’s completion generations ago. Magnificent towers of marble dedicated to practical uses like food surplus storage, archives, even astrology studies stood side-by-side with luxurious living quarters, treasure vaults and war trophies. But one such trophy room was more beloved than most.
With incredibly vibrant paper kites from China hung from the ceiling, Senet boards from Egypt made entirely of dark wood inlaid with jade tiles to a Ludus Latrunculorum board made of the finest Roman marble polished to a shine, the Sultan’s game room was more than a display of wealth and connection that the Agrabah royalty held. It was a testament to the Sultan himself; a testament to a man that valued bonds and good sport over sheer wealth and self-aggrandizing. With games, all became equal. With games, shared experience created bonds that traversed any difference.
But still, a man of his station could only be allow around certain kinds of people, even if the man of the throne himself didn’t mind.
A somewhat young-looking vizier with an immaculately trimmed beard adorned in pale blue robes, a military general still dressed in pristine armor despite the peace of the land, and an elderly African head-butler neatly clothed in bold patterns of orange and gold. All were sat on fine pillows, politely cross-legged, surrounding a short square table made of fine wood with a large beautiful marble tile inlaid on the top. The table was covered in small intricate dominoes, cast into a small semi-jumbled pile in the center.
The Sultan leaned forward to double check the line of standing tiles before him. He had to be careful, no, smart… No, no, he did need to be careful… but also smart… maybe. In his pondering, he realized mahjong required focus, which he did not have during the last discard. His small dainty hand hovered over the last tile discarded by the general. Dare he--?
“YOUR MAJESTY!”
The Sultan flinched, hands slapping down into the pile, causing small sections of everyone’s row of tiles to collapse and reveal themselves The three other men groaned and looked away in exasperation.
The captain of the guard beat the doorway curtains away as he forcibly dragged a much younger, thinner man by his shirt behind him, all while a tiny monkey desperately tugged on the large man’s ankle. Following behind was a young woman at a hurried pace, looking more mad than worried for her captured man. The captain shoved the younger man down to his knees before looming darkly over the small sultan.
“For the good of all Agrabah, I demand you have this streetrat executed immediately!” The captain shouted down at his ruler. The other three men let out another collective sigh, although this time it was filled with disgust and aggravation.
The Sultan blinked a few times, sputtering. “Wh-what? But, but I don’t-- Bu-but so close to the wedding?”
“Father!” Jasmine stopped only briefly before helping Aladdin to his feet. Abu cooed sadly before jumping up and hugging around Aladdin’s neck.
The Sultan’s hands started twirling around each other. His colleges knew the sultan wasn’t dumbfounded; just thinking faster than he could talk. The vizier next to him chose to speak for him. “Would you care to throw a reason as to why His Future Highness must be put to death?” The very averagely-built man threw a judgmental glare at Razoul’s gut. “Or are we misinterpreting a missed breakfast as a ‘bad gut feeling’ again?”
“Watch your tongue!” Razoul barked. The guard make a grab for Aladdin, only for the princess to jump between them, arms out wide. “Princess, with all due respect… stand aside!”
“You will not give orders to me.” Jasmine stated firmly.
Razoul growled under his breath and looked at the Sultan again. “Your Majesty, do something about your daughter, please.”
The Sultan stammered a few half-words before huffing. “I would be quite glad to, if someone told me what the blazes all this is about to begin with!”
Razoul pointed at Aladdin, even as Jasmine moved to be as directly in-between the man and her fiancee as possible. “This streetrat openly helped a wanted criminal escape arrest! The entire marketplace saw it!”
“I saw it too, Father.” Jasmine wrapped her arm around Aladdin’s and turned to the Sultan. “And what I saw was a wanted criminal kidnap the Future Sultan of Agrabah in broad daylight and Razoul did nothing to stop it.”
The guard captain flinched and the aggression drained from his face completely. His eyes went to the group of men sitting. The Sultan’s mouth hung open in shock; the others’ got very still and quiet, a suspicious glint in their eyes.
“In fact!” Jasmine stepped up to Razoul and poked the large man’s nose with her finger. “While Aladdin’s kidnapper was getting away, Razoul stood around tarnishing Aladdin’s reputation to the entire crowd while he was in danger!”
A rolling sigh took Razoul’s attention away from the stunned face of his sultan. The vizier’s head slid into his hand, coddling a growing headache, as he leaned away towards the head-butler. The older man gave the vizier a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, nodding. The captain tensed up. They believed her! Over him! “Your Majesty!” Razoul made himself stand tall. “It’s true! I sa-”
“So you admit to abandoning a member of the royal family.” The general finally spoke.
“How dare you!” Razoul looked down at the sitting man. “Need I remind you that you speak to the captain of the Royal Guard?!”
The aging general’s thick hardened hands slammed down on the table, scattering what few organized tiles still remained. He stood taller and taller, metal plates clanking as the layer on layer shifted across thick cloth padding until he was able to look down into the captain’s eyes. Hand met sword hilt with audible impact. “Need I remind you I was killing raiders twice your size when I was half your age, boy?”
“That! Will! Be! E-nough!” All eyes turned as the Sultan got to his feet. A few short steps and a single motion from the ruler pushed both warriors apart. He sternly turned towards the two men still sitting. “I apologize, my friends, but we must continue our game another time. Clearly, I have business in need of attending.”
The vizier shrugged but nodded before he stood. “Of course, sire.” He waited a moment for his coworker to rise before following the other royal servant out of the room. He paused at the curtain’s threshold and glanced back. “We all understand the captain deserves the attention necessary of his station-” He followed the head-butler down the hall, rising his voice slightly to continue being heard. “- for as long as he holds that station.”
Before Razoul could react, the general slammed a metal platted shoulder into the captain’s side as he exited. The captain turned with a growl to the Sultan and paused in surprise. The older man didn’t seem upset at the slight; rather the Sultan rubbed his temples while looking away. Did he not care his captain was just insulted?
“Razoul, my old friend, this cannot continue.” The Sultan stated. “This is the third-”
“Fourth.” The young couple said in near perfect unison.
“Fourth, Allah help me.” The old man sighed under breath. He cleared his throat and continued. “Razoul, this is the fourth time in eight months you demanded this man’s death and not once have you ever given any reason even remotely worth an execution.”
“He helped a criminal escape!” The guard threw his hands up.
“And for any other soul in this city, the punishment would be 3 years hard labor.” The Sultan shook his head. “Why does this poor boy deserve so much worse?”
“Well… Be-- Because… Because he does! Sire, if it isn’t this, it’s something! It! Will! Be! Something!” The guard’s voice shifted away from anger. It became something more… desperate. “We let him get away with this, he’ll do worse and worse tomorrow! Today, he’s helping criminals on the street, tomorrow he could open the gates for criminals to invade the palace!”
“Why would I even do that?” Aladdin threw his hands up. “I know what kinda people are out there, probably better than you do. You’ve never shown your face in the actually bad parts of town.”
“Hold your tongue, boy, before I cut it out!” Razoul roared.
“All your men ever guard is the marketplace and the docks.” Aladdin raised his voice. “There’s whole neighborhoods in the older districts that probably don’t even think there are guards because you’re never there.”
The Sultan put a shocked hand on his cheek. “Goodness.”
“How dare--!” Razoul made a lunge for the young man, stopping only when the princess grabbed his arm.
“Do not touch him!” Jasmine voice grew louder, keeping pace with the argument. “I know the man I intend to marry and I am tired of you constantly defaming him to everyone you meet. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to marry some two-faced scheming creep?”
At the very first fraction of his very first syllable, Razoul’s eyes widened and he slapped both hands over his mouth. Jasmine’s mouth hung wide in shock. Both Aladdin and the Sultan stood frozen, afraid. Abu squeaked out a tiny ‘owh noe’ and covered his eyes with his arms.
Everyone heard the captain’s answer had started with a ‘Y’.
The Sultan gulped quietly to steel his nerves before lightly patting Aladdin on the back. “Boy, you best take your leave with Jasmine before things get… um...” He paused to ponder to precise word needed to not set off the tension like a barrel of China’s grandest fireworks. “... unbecoming?” The ruler eventually squeaked out.
Jasmine’s eyebrows dropped into a surprisingly nasty glare.
“Now.” The Sultan patted Aladdin on the back more urgently. “Go now. Hurry.”
Aladdin straightened up nervously before stepping up to Jasmine and gently taking her hand. “Let’s go outside. Uh, Rajah’s probably waiting for you in the garden.” Abu gave an anxious too-wide smile and gave a double thumbs-up.
After his lightest tugging failed to move the princess, Aladdin nervously pulled slightly more firmly until he got a few steps out of his fiancee. As he slowly lead Jasmine by, her head turned, keeping eye contact with the guard. “He called me stupid.”
The princess’s words seemed to inflict real pain on the captain. “Princess, I didn’t—”
“Razoul!” The Sultan pulled back, seemingly as surprised as the captain by his own uncharacteristically commanding tone. The ruler leaned slightly to the side, waiting for the couple to pass the threshold of the room. He took a deliberate breath before regaining posture. “We must speak at once.”
Razoul hesitated. Thick, callused hands rubbed together nervously. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed.
A quick peek around the rich purple curtains to ensure the coast was clear before the Sultan started a stoic march down the empty marble hall. The captain followed, head low. Against the tall, meticulously-kept walls were three men: The well-trimmed vizier scratching his beard in a ponder, the old and wise head-butler with a gently bowed head and the general leaning back with tense folded arms and a scowl as striking as his armor. The butler gave a kindly nod as the Sultan passed him. The vizier mouthed ‘good luck’ as the captain walked by. The general looked at the guard and drew a slow smooth line across his throat with his thumb.
The captain’s teeth ground together, head lowering even more. Eventually, he heard the trio finally start walking away with sighs and mumbles. But over the slight noise, the general’s voice still struck out even under breath. “Once a street dog, always a street dog...”
The Throne Room was massive but sparse. That was something the Sultan was proud of. Many other palaces across the land were packed full of treasures and trophies, fineries and fabulous fortunes. Those rulers had every right to do so. It was natural for a sovereign to want to show off his nations wealth and connection. But this wasn’t an empty room, embellished only by the tastefully crafted golden elephant head cradling the throne. The throne room was, in fact, the treasure. The massive golden dome standing above was a true marvel and the kingdom’s pride and joy almost as much as the family that lived under it. Designed by Agrabah’s greatest minds, carved of Agrabah’s finest stone and build by Agrabah’s proud citizens in the name of Agrabah’s glory.
No other treasure from this or any other land could compare.
The Sultan hopped up the stool and sunk into the deep blue cushions of his throne. Without a word, Razoul kneeled. After a moment of silence, Razoul peeked upward cautiously. His ruler held his head in a hand, brow furled, eyes closed.
“I ask you, old friend… Are you loyal.”
“Your Majesty, I would give my life this very second for the throne.” The captain bowed deeply.
The old man sat up, hand hitting the cushioned armrest. “I am not asking about this throne, Razoul. This throne is an object, a chair. I could have a thousand exactly like it made and destroyed without consequence. I am asking if you are loyal to my family.”
“Without question, of course, Your Majesty.” Razoul kept his head low.
“Are you? Truly?” The Sultan sighed. “I know you would give your life for me. Gracious knows you nearly did all those years ago before you even worked for me. And I know, Allah forbid such events ever pass, that you would give your life for my daughter.”
Razoul bowed with a nod.
“But… as hard as I’ve tried… as much as I wish it so… I cannot convince myself you would ever give your life for Aladdin.”
Razoul straightened with a growl. “Why would I ever wan—”
“Because he will be part of this family!” The older man scooted to the edge of the throne. “He will be Sultan! This will become Aladdin’s throne. It will be Aladdin’s word that governs this kingdom and it will be Aladdin’s children that shall continue the Al-Grabah lineage.” The Sultan slipped down to the short stool before his throne. “Do you not understand the consequences to your actions if you continue like this, old friend? What would our allies think to see a captain of the guard so openly disliking his king? Not to mention our enemies!”
“I would never betray this kingdom!”
“But would you betray Aladdin?” The Sultan’s heart fluttered. Tiny hands clenched as he waited for the captain’s response. But the guard merely looked away. Nothing. No remorse. The Sultan straightened, resolve quickly devouring his distress. “That’s settles it. Razoul,” The Sultan stepped down from the stool. “I’ve been holding back on telling you this out of respect for your seniority but I’m afraid, after today, you leave me no choice.”
Even still measuring a few inches taller than the Sultan whilst kneeling, Razoul looked at the ruler with worry.
“After the wedding, which will happen short of Allah’s personal intervention, the ceremony will immediately shift into Aladdin’s coronation. And as soon as Aladdin is crowned, you will no longer be serving as the Captain of the Guard.“
“WHAT!?”
The Sultan flinched from habit. No, this was serious. He was in charge. Volume didn’t change that. The Sultan took a breath and stood firm. “Me and my advisers debated this for quite a while and a suitable replacement has already been found.”
“WHO?!” Razoul’s foot slammed the floor as he rose. “Which pathetic sell-sword thinks he can take my place!”
Thick boots clicked on the marble floor. Razoul turned to find three palace guards, two with spears and one with a scimitar, behind him. The one with the sword, a somewhat younger-looking man with a deep tan, stepped forward. “We heard yelling.” He glanced at the captain.
“One moment, Hakim.” The Sultan held a hand up. “Razoul, I can never repay all you have done for me, truly. I know I wouldn’t even be here today if you hadn’t saved my life during my wedding parade.” The ruler’s expression softened. “Therefore, out of respect for your service, you will become my personal bodyguard during my retirement. But you will not be allowed to act outside of that station, understand? No giving orders, no patrols. You stay by my side and see to my safety. Now,” The Sultan put up a hand. “You have my leave to go.”
“Sire, with the greatest possible respect,” The captain stepped forward. “This is madness!”
“His Majesty told you to leave.” Hakim stepped forward.
Razoul spun around, teeth bared. “You do not give orders to me!” Movement caught the old guard’s eye. The other two guards shifted stance, aiming their spears. But why--. Razoul felt the hilt of his sword on his palm. His hand had gone there on instinct. The captain glanced at the Sultan. The ruler stood, frozen, eyes wide. Razoul’s heart dropped hard to his gut. Did the Sultan really think he would draw his sword in anger?
Razoul slowly pulled away from his blade, putting both hands out to show they were bare. He turned gently back to the Sultan and bowed deeply. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Razoul took a wide berth around the other guards and he headed towards the hall. Multiple sets of steps followed after but he refused to look. He had to maintain dignity. He had to prove he belonged here. He deserved to be captain! He deserved to give the orders! As he marched bravely towards the guard barracks, Razoul heard the two spear-men trailing behind.
“I thought for sure he was gonna get it this time.”
“Nah, Sultan’s Pet never gets punished.”
---------
Author's Note:
Not the most exciting part, I know, but I really wanted to do this just to sort of acknowledge and hopefully fix one of the biggest issues with the original movie, mainly the Orientalism. For those unaware, the "fat dumb sultan" stereotype was propagated by colonizers to "justify" their conquest of places like India. by painting the picture that sultans weren't legitimate rulers. For the record, I do not believe Disney or any involved parties intended to paint Arab/Indian people in a bad light with Aladdin or any of its sequels. I think, at worst, they didn't research deep enough to know what was actual culture and what was stereotypes.
So here's my version of the Sultan: He's not dumb, he's bad at speaking under pressure. He's fat, but so are a bunch of people in the palace. He isn't out-of-touch, he just isn't allowed to talk to those outside his 'acceptable' social circle. He only startles easy because he's used to people being presented to him openly and acting in a very specific manner.
I also hope I somewhat fixed Razoul by making his attitude be unpopular outside of his main henchmen gang. The "brutal guard that wants to cut off hands and kill over every mild crime" is another unpleasant stereotype that remake is slightly respectable for removing.
--
(Part 14)
(Part 16)
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(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience
Omg @onesentencemusings thank you, thank you, and I THANK YOU for fixing this!! I love the original Aladdin film just like you, but oh my word it’s racial depictions of its characters are things that really needed to be fixed and I am so glad you acknowledge that in this sequel!
Honestly, these new depictions make their actions in the original film make so much more sense! The Sultan is a man that is well-meaning and may make mistakes, but he is still a good ruler! I know he was like this in the original, but he is more by-the-book and follows rules that were established before his time because that is one of the main frameworks he looks at to help him be a better ruler, which also explains why he doesn’t change the law for Jasmine until the end of the original movie. And Razoul being the captain only for Jasmine’s father and not for Aladdin also makes sense! Him and Aladdin do not have good history, so to have him be captain when Aladdin is ruling Agrabah doesn’t make any sense, WHICH IS SOMETHING ELSE YOU ADDRESS TOO!
Honestly didn’t even realize how much of these problems bothered me before until you changed them in this story. FANTASTIC reinterpretation to the original story, they now make Aladdin’s story more culturally respectful💖
The Agrabah Palace was a wonder of the Seven Deserts and had been so since it’s completion generations ago. Magnificent towers of marble dedicated to practical uses like food surplus storage, archives, even astrology studies stood side-by-side with luxurious living quarters, treasure vaults and war trophies. But one such trophy room was more beloved than most.
With incredibly vibrant paper kites from China hung from the ceiling, Senet boards from Egypt made entirely of dark wood inlaid with jade tiles to a Ludus Latrunculorum board made of the finest Roman marble polished to a shine, the Sultan’s game room was more than a display of wealth and connection that the Agrabah royalty held. It was a testament to the Sultan himself; a testament to a man that valued bonds and good sport over sheer wealth and self-aggrandizing. With games, all became equal. With games, shared experience created bonds that traversed any difference.
But still, a man of his station could only be allow around certain kinds of people, even if the man of the throne himself didn’t mind.
A somewhat young-looking vizier with an immaculately trimmed beard adorned in pale blue robes, a military general still dressed in pristine armor despite the peace of the land, and an elderly African head-butler neatly clothed in bold patterns of orange and gold. All were sat on fine pillows, politely cross-legged, surrounding a short square table made of fine wood with a large beautiful marble tile inlaid on the top. The table was covered in small intricate dominoes, cast into a small semi-jumbled pile in the center.
The Sultan leaned forward to double check the line of standing tiles before him. He had to be careful, no, smart… No, no, he did need to be careful… but also smart… maybe. In his pondering, he realized mahjong required focus, which he did not have during the last discard. His small dainty hand hovered over the last tile discarded by the general. Dare he--?
“YOUR MAJESTY!”
The Sultan flinched, hands slapping down into the pile, causing small sections of everyone’s row of tiles to collapse and reveal themselves The three other men groaned and looked away in exasperation.
The captain of the guard beat the doorway curtains away as he forcibly dragged a much younger, thinner man by his shirt behind him, all while a tiny monkey desperately tugged on the large man’s ankle. Following behind was a young woman at a hurried pace, looking more mad than worried for her captured man. The captain shoved the younger man down to his knees before looming darkly over the small sultan.
“For the good of all Agrabah, I demand you have this streetrat executed immediately!” The captain shouted down at his ruler. The other three men let out another collective sigh, although this time it was filled with disgust and aggravation.
The Sultan blinked a few times, sputtering. “Wh-what? But, but I don’t-- Bu-but so close to the wedding?”
“Father!” Jasmine stopped only briefly before helping Aladdin to his feet. Abu cooed sadly before jumping up and hugging around Aladdin’s neck.
The Sultan’s hands started twirling around each other. His colleges knew the sultan wasn’t dumbfounded; just thinking faster than he could talk. The vizier next to him chose to speak for him. “Would you care to throw a reason as to why His Future Highness must be put to death?” The very averagely-built man threw a judgmental glare at Razoul’s gut. “Or are we misinterpreting a missed breakfast as a ‘bad gut feeling’ again?”
“Watch your tongue!” Razoul barked. The guard make a grab for Aladdin, only for the princess to jump between them, arms out wide. “Princess, with all due respect… stand aside!”
“You will not give orders to me.” Jasmine stated firmly.
Razoul growled under his breath and looked at the Sultan again. “Your Majesty, do something about your daughter, please.”
The Sultan stammered a few half-words before huffing. “I would be quite glad to, if someone told me what the blazes all this is about to begin with!”
Razoul pointed at Aladdin, even as Jasmine moved to be as directly in-between the man and her fiancee as possible. “This streetrat openly helped a wanted criminal escape arrest! The entire marketplace saw it!”
“I saw it too, Father.” Jasmine wrapped her arm around Aladdin’s and turned to the Sultan. “And what I saw was a wanted criminal kidnap the Future Sultan of Agrabah in broad daylight and Razoul did nothing to stop it.”
The guard captain flinched and the aggression drained from his face completely. His eyes went to the group of men sitting. The Sultan’s mouth hung open in shock; the others’ got very still and quiet, a suspicious glint in their eyes.
“In fact!” Jasmine stepped up to Razoul and poked the large man’s nose with her finger. “While Aladdin’s kidnapper was getting away, Razoul stood around tarnishing Aladdin’s reputation to the entire crowd while he was in danger!”
A rolling sigh took Razoul’s attention away from the stunned face of his sultan. The vizier’s head slid into his hand, coddling a growing headache, as he leaned away towards the head-butler. The older man gave the vizier a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, nodding. The captain tensed up. They believed her! Over him! “Your Majesty!” Razoul made himself stand tall. “It’s true! I sa-”
“So you admit to abandoning a member of the royal family.” The general finally spoke.
“How dare you!” Razoul looked down at the sitting man. “Need I remind you that you speak to the captain of the Royal Guard?!”
The aging general’s thick hardened hands slammed down on the table, scattering what few organized tiles still remained. He stood taller and taller, metal plates clanking as the layer on layer shifted across thick cloth padding until he was able to look down into the captain’s eyes. Hand met sword hilt with audible impact. “Need I remind you I was killing raiders twice your size when I was half your age, boy?”
“That! Will! Be! E-nough!” All eyes turned as the Sultan got to his feet. A few short steps and a single motion from the ruler pushed both warriors apart. He sternly turned towards the two men still sitting. “I apologize, my friends, but we must continue our game another time. Clearly, I have business in need of attending.”
The vizier shrugged but nodded before he stood. “Of course, sire.” He waited a moment for his coworker to rise before following the other royal servant out of the room. He paused at the curtain’s threshold and glanced back. “We all understand the captain deserves the attention necessary of his station-” He followed the head-butler down the hall, rising his voice slightly to continue being heard. “- for as long as he holds that station.”
Before Razoul could react, the general slammed a metal platted shoulder into the captain’s side as he exited. The captain turned with a growl to the Sultan and paused in surprise. The older man didn’t seem upset at the slight; rather the Sultan rubbed his temples while looking away. Did he not care his captain was just insulted?
“Razoul, my old friend, this cannot continue.” The Sultan stated. “This is the third-”
“Fourth.” The young couple said in near perfect unison.
“Fourth, Allah help me.” The old man sighed under breath. He cleared his throat and continued. “Razoul, this is the fourth time in eight months you demanded this man’s death and not once have you ever given any reason even remotely worth an execution.”
“He helped a criminal escape!” The guard threw his hands up.
“And for any other soul in this city, the punishment would be 3 years hard labor.” The Sultan shook his head. “Why does this poor boy deserve so much worse?”
“Well… Be-- Because… Because he does! Sire, if it isn’t this, it’s something! It! Will! Be! Something!” The guard’s voice shifted away from anger. It became something more… desperate. “We let him get away with this, he’ll do worse and worse tomorrow! Today, he’s helping criminals on the street, tomorrow he could open the gates for criminals to invade the palace!”
“Why would I even do that?” Aladdin threw his hands up. “I know what kinda people are out there, probably better than you do. You’ve never shown your face in the actually bad parts of town.”
“Hold your tongue, boy, before I cut it out!” Razoul roared.
“All your men ever guard is the marketplace and the docks.” Aladdin raised his voice. “There’s whole neighborhoods in the older districts that probably don’t even think there are guards because you’re never there.”
The Sultan put a shocked hand on his cheek. “Goodness.”
“How dare--!” Razoul made a lunge for the young man, stopping only when the princess grabbed his arm.
“Do not touch him!” Jasmine voice grew louder, keeping pace with the argument. “I know the man I intend to marry and I am tired of you constantly defaming him to everyone you meet. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to marry some two-faced scheming creep?”
At the very first fraction of his very first syllable, Razoul’s eyes widened and he slapped both hands over his mouth. Jasmine’s mouth hung wide in shock. Both Aladdin and the Sultan stood frozen, afraid. Abu squeaked out a tiny ‘owh noe’ and covered his eyes with his arms.
Everyone heard the captain’s answer had started with a ‘Y’.
The Sultan gulped quietly to steel his nerves before lightly patting Aladdin on the back. “Boy, you best take your leave with Jasmine before things get… um...” He paused to ponder to precise word needed to not set off the tension like a barrel of China’s grandest fireworks. “... unbecoming?” The ruler eventually squeaked out.
Jasmine’s eyebrows dropped into a surprisingly nasty glare.
“Now.” The Sultan patted Aladdin on the back more urgently. “Go now. Hurry.”
Aladdin straightened up nervously before stepping up to Jasmine and gently taking her hand. “Let’s go outside. Uh, Rajah’s probably waiting for you in the garden.” Abu gave an anxious too-wide smile and gave a double thumbs-up.
After his lightest tugging failed to move the princess, Aladdin nervously pulled slightly more firmly until he got a few steps out of his fiancee. As he slowly lead Jasmine by, her head turned, keeping eye contact with the guard. “He called me stupid.”
The princess’s words seemed to inflict real pain on the captain. “Princess, I didn’t—”
“Razoul!” The Sultan pulled back, seemingly as surprised as the captain by his own uncharacteristically commanding tone. The ruler leaned slightly to the side, waiting for the couple to pass the threshold of the room. He took a deliberate breath before regaining posture. “We must speak at once.”
Razoul hesitated. Thick, callused hands rubbed together nervously. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed.
A quick peek around the rich purple curtains to ensure the coast was clear before the Sultan started a stoic march down the empty marble hall. The captain followed, head low. Against the tall, meticulously-kept walls were three men: The well-trimmed vizier scratching his beard in a ponder, the old and wise head-butler with a gently bowed head and the general leaning back with tense folded arms and a scowl as striking as his armor. The butler gave a kindly nod as the Sultan passed him. The vizier mouthed ‘good luck’ as the captain walked by. The general looked at the guard and drew a slow smooth line across his throat with his thumb.
The captain’s teeth ground together, head lowering even more. Eventually, he heard the trio finally start walking away with sighs and mumbles. But over the slight noise, the general’s voice still struck out even under breath. “Once a street dog, always a street dog...”
The Throne Room was massive but sparse. That was something the Sultan was proud of. Many other palaces across the land were packed full of treasures and trophies, fineries and fabulous fortunes. Those rulers had every right to do so. It was natural for a sovereign to want to show off his nations wealth and connection. But this wasn’t an empty room, embellished only by the tastefully crafted golden elephant head cradling the throne. The throne room was, in fact, the treasure. The massive golden dome standing above was a true marvel and the kingdom’s pride and joy almost as much as the family that lived under it. Designed by Agrabah’s greatest minds, carved of Agrabah’s finest stone and build by Agrabah’s proud citizens in the name of Agrabah’s glory.
No other treasure from this or any other land could compare.
The Sultan hopped up the stool and sunk into the deep blue cushions of his throne. Without a word, Razoul kneeled. After a moment of silence, Razoul peeked upward cautiously. His ruler held his head in a hand, brow furled, eyes closed.
“I ask you, old friend… Are you loyal.”
“Your Majesty, I would give my life this very second for the throne.” The captain bowed deeply.
The old man sat up, hand hitting the cushioned armrest. “I am not asking about this throne, Razoul. This throne is an object, a chair. I could have a thousand exactly like it made and destroyed without consequence. I am asking if you are loyal to my family.”
“Without question, of course, Your Majesty.” Razoul kept his head low.
“Are you? Truly?” The Sultan sighed. “I know you would give your life for me. Gracious knows you nearly did all those years ago before you even worked for me. And I know, Allah forbid such events ever pass, that you would give your life for my daughter.”
Razoul bowed with a nod.
“But… as hard as I’ve tried… as much as I wish it so… I cannot convince myself you would ever give your life for Aladdin.”
Razoul straightened with a growl. “Why would I ever wan—”
“Because he will be part of this family!” The older man scooted to the edge of the throne. “He will be Sultan! This will become Aladdin’s throne. It will be Aladdin’s word that governs this kingdom and it will be Aladdin’s children that shall continue the Al-Grabah lineage.” The Sultan slipped down to the short stool before his throne. “Do you not understand the consequences to your actions if you continue like this, old friend? What would our allies think to see a captain of the guard so openly disliking his king? Not to mention our enemies!”
“I would never betray this kingdom!”
“But would you betray Aladdin?” The Sultan’s heart fluttered. Tiny hands clenched as he waited for the captain’s response. But the guard merely looked away. Nothing. No remorse. The Sultan straightened, resolve quickly devouring his distress. “That’s settles it. Razoul,” The Sultan stepped down from the stool. “I’ve been holding back on telling you this out of respect for your seniority but I’m afraid, after today, you leave me no choice.”
Even still measuring a few inches taller than the Sultan whilst kneeling, Razoul looked at the ruler with worry.
“After the wedding, which will happen short of Allah’s personal intervention, the ceremony will immediately shift into Aladdin’s coronation. And as soon as Aladdin is crowned, you will no longer be serving as the Captain of the Guard.“
“WHAT!?”
The Sultan flinched from habit. No, this was serious. He was in charge. Volume didn’t change that. The Sultan took a breath and stood firm. “Me and my advisers debated this for quite a while and a suitable replacement has already been found.”
“WHO?!” Razoul’s foot slammed the floor as he rose. “Which pathetic sell-sword thinks he can take my place!”
Thick boots clicked on the marble floor. Razoul turned to find three palace guards, two with spears and one with a scimitar, behind him. The one with the sword, a somewhat younger-looking man with a deep tan, stepped forward. “We heard yelling.” He glanced at the captain.
“One moment, Hakim.” The Sultan held a hand up. “Razoul, I can never repay all you have done for me, truly. I know I wouldn’t even be here today if you hadn’t saved my life during my wedding parade.” The ruler’s expression softened. “Therefore, out of respect for your service, you will become my personal bodyguard during my retirement. But you will not be allowed to act outside of that station, understand? No giving orders, no patrols. You stay by my side and see to my safety. Now,” The Sultan put up a hand. “You have my leave to go.”
“Sire, with the greatest possible respect,” The captain stepped forward. “This is madness!”
“His Majesty told you to leave.” Hakim stepped forward.
Razoul spun around, teeth bared. “You do not give orders to me!” Movement caught the old guard’s eye. The other two guards shifted stance, aiming their spears. But why--. Razoul felt the hilt of his sword on his palm. His hand had gone there on instinct. The captain glanced at the Sultan. The ruler stood, frozen, eyes wide. Razoul’s heart dropped hard to his gut. Did the Sultan really think he would draw his sword in anger?
Razoul slowly pulled away from his blade, putting both hands out to show they were bare. He turned gently back to the Sultan and bowed deeply. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Razoul took a wide berth around the other guards and he headed towards the hall. Multiple sets of steps followed after but he refused to look. He had to maintain dignity. He had to prove he belonged here. He deserved to be captain! He deserved to give the orders! As he marched bravely towards the guard barracks, Razoul heard the two spear-men trailing behind.
“I thought for sure he was gonna get it this time.”
“Nah, Sultan’s Pet never gets punished.”
---------
Author's Note:
Not the most exciting part, I know, but I really wanted to do this just to sort of acknowledge and hopefully fix one of the biggest issues with the original movie, mainly the Orientalism. For those unaware, the "fat dumb sultan" stereotype was propagated by colonizers to "justify" their conquest of places like India. by painting the picture that sultans weren't legitimate rulers. For the record, I do not believe Disney or any involved parties intended to paint Arab/Indian people in a bad light with Aladdin or any of its sequels. I think, at worst, they didn't research deep enough to know what was actual culture and what was stereotypes.
So here's my version of the Sultan: He's not dumb, he's bad at speaking under pressure. He's fat, but so are a bunch of people in the palace. He isn't out-of-touch, he just isn't allowed to talk to those outside his 'acceptable' social circle. He only startles easy because he's used to people being presented to him openly and acting in a very specific manner.
I also hope I somewhat fixed Razoul by making his attitude be unpopular outside of his main henchmen gang. The "brutal guard that wants to cut off hands and kill over every mild crime" is another unpleasant stereotype that remake is slightly respectable for removing.
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(Part 14)
(Part 16)
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(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience
