Disney Manips

A page for all my Disney manips, some serious others shameless self-inserts. Mostly Captain Hook stuff since he’s my fav but also other characters/fandoms.

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Wicked Poster - Peter Pan Style!

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Long Live the Hook!

A Disneyfied version of the "Presenting the Hook" sequence from the 1991 Spielberg film inspired by a request from a friend.

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What did you think of Peter Pan & Wendy?

Hey, there! It’s me, @not-wholly-unheroic. This is a side blog of mine specifically for Disney/animated photo manips…mostly related to Hook stuff but also some that aren’t. :) So if you’ve been following my posts on the other blog, you already have a pretty good idea of my thoughts on the film. Glad you enjoyed my recent edit of the scene between Peter and Hook near the end! It was really fun to make. The second I saw it, I knew I’d have to make an animated version of it. We’ll see if inspiration strikes me to do any others based on Peter Pan and Wendy.

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“Gotcha! Don’t worry, James! Just think happy thoughts!”

“Peter...I haven’t got any.”

~~~~~

Redo of this scene from Peter Pan & Wendy with the characters from the animated film.

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Red Carpet Reunion

The ONLY good things to come out of the Rescue Rangers film are the recognition for Bobby Driscoll and the fandom’s collective refusal to accept Sweet Pete as Peter’s fate. 

Happy AU where Hook and Peter are reunited on the red carpet for a celebration of the latest live-action film (which better not be awful) after not having seen each other for ages. Wendy is loving how happy they are to see each other again. 

(Yes, Hook should be older looking. No, I’m not gonna make him go gray. I tried and it looked stupid. Maybe he uses hair dye because you know he would.)

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They Grow Up So Fast...

Fixed it!!! Noticing how alone Peter feels as he starts to grow up, Hook and Smee take him under their wing and teach him how to shave. 

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Protecting Innocence

After what Rescue Rangers did to Peter (and Bobby Driscoll), I decided to resurrect my manip page and make this. Dad!Hook says, “Don’t speak to me or my annoying adopted son ever again, Disney!” 

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A Very Neverland Christmas

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James

I’ve seen a younger Hook depicted in The Pirate Fairy, but I’ve wondered for awhile what he might look like in traditional 2D  animation, so here is my attempt at manipulating Hook’s features into what he might have looked like as a young man. I erased the facial hair and five o’clock shadow as well as most of the lines on his face and bags under his eyes. I also replaced the missing hand, changed his eyes a bit, and had him tie his hair back, like he does in The Pirate Fairy. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but overall, I’m happy with it. 

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Mother

It always bugged me in Return to Neverland when Hook pulls out the image of his mother how obviously the animators were trying to make a joke of it when in most versions--heck, even the Jake series--Hook genuinely loves his mom, if no one else. So...I decided to make a more realistic edit, getting rid of the two hooks and mustache and softening her features a little bit while retaining the same general facial structure as Hook himself. I’m not 100% happy with it, but I think it’s an improvement from the original. 

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A Funny Story

I just love the idea of post-redemption arc Hook and Peter going back to visit Wendy and her family periodically to hang out and catch up on things. The world could use more happiness in 2020, so...have a happy James Hook with his found family. 

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So I’ve just finished binge-watching the BBC series The Musketeers and decided that I needed to do a Disneyfied version. Of course, Hook is my favorite, so I had to include him as Athos, the oldest and the leader of the group. Also featuring Phoebus as Porthos, John Rolfe as Aramis, and Prince Charming as D’Artagnan. If I were to more fully flesh out the cast, I think I’d have Vanessa (Ursula’s human form) as Milady de Winter, Belle as Constance Bonacieux, and Frollo as Cardinal Richelieu.

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Grounded

“They’re gone...aren’t they?” the pixie jingled weakly. “My wings are gone....”

The captain looked down at her with a pained expression, his dark eyes--those eyes that had so often burned with anger--now brimming with pity. This was a pain he understood in a manner that few others could. At his side, the claw twitched, invisible fingers clenching in a sudden spasm as the hand that was no longer there uncomfortably tingled and cramped. He shuddered.

The fairy was going into shock, her tiny form shivering, her face pallid with a sheen of sweat. "I-I'm c-cold..." she whispered. 

He knelt down in the grass beside her, pulling a satin handkerchief from his sleeve and--taking the fairy in his hand--draped it gently around her shoulders, covering the long, bloody gashes that ran along her spine just beneath the shoulder blades. It was ironic, that this handkerchief--the same one he'd once offered her in mock sympathy when the Wendy-girl had been on the island--now brought her comfort and warmth. The muscles in her back quivered for a moment, the missing wings instinctively folding down as she pulled the cloth tightly around her and she gasped, the movement sending an awful burning sensation rippling down her spine.

"If...if I don't m-make it...t-tell Peter...I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye...."

Hook had been nearby when it happened, heard the sound like the tearing of fine silk and the agonizing scream that to most would have sounded only like the discordant jangling of a hundred tiny bells. He had seen the occasional fairy with damaged wings--most from an unfortunate encounter with a hawk. These pixies bore their tattered wings as proudly as the pirates and lost boys bore their battle scars...but hers...hers were just gone. He remembered the feeling of white hot pain in his wrist, slick rocks beneath his boots, water turned to wine with the stain of his blood.... He may have been a pirate by trade, but he was musician and artist at heart. The crocodile had taken more than his hand.... It had taken a part of his soul. Fairies were born to fly. A fairy without wings was like a mermaid who couldn't swim, a bird who couldn't sing...a pianist without a hand....

"You'll not die," he reassured her, "though it may feel like it at present." He went on, "It will take some getting used to...but you will learn to live without them. You will survive.”

She slipped into a reclining position, her eyes growing heavy as her vision blurred. She wanted to sleep. "I'm...so...tired...."

"You must stay awake," he cautioned, recalling how Smee had done anything and everything he could to keep him from falling asleep when he'd lost too much blood. He'd hated the bosun for it in the moment but knew in hindsight that if he had been allowed to slip into unconsciousness for too long in that state, he might very well have never woken up at all. 

Beneath the handkerchief, Tink rolled over, curling herself into a little cocoon. Already the blood from  her wounds was seeping through the fabric, and he could feel the warm, sticky liquid on the palm of his hand. 

"Just...need...to rest...." she mumbled quietly.

"Not now, my dear," he chastised. "Not yet."

He stood, cradling her limp little body in the only hand he had as carefully as though he were handling a precious trinket made of glass.

"Captain?" she whispered hoarsely. "...Thank you."

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Father’s Day

I headcanon pretty hard that one of the reasons Hook has such a hard time with Peter is that at some point, he lost a child of his own. Peter gets to live forever in innocence and youth and openly mocks the idea of growing old while his own child never had the opportunity to grow up.

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Ego Te Absolvo

(Scene from a full-length fic I’ll probably never get around to writing in which Hook and Peter both end up in the real world and Hook--now a teacher at a school for boys--adopts Peter.)

Peter sat quietly in the floor, observing his former enemy. The captain had been sitting in the same position since he’d gotten up that morning, staring out the window, glassy-eyed and silent. Smee came in every once in awhile to adjust the curtains or give him a blanket or offer a bit of tea or a bowl of soup. The latter had gone cold hours ago. It remained in the exact spot where Smee had left it, untouched, the little silver spoon resting against the rim reflecting spots of sunlight that reminded Peter of a fairy’s glow and made his heart ache. They’d gotten him to take a few sips of the tea...but only when the old bosun had held the cup directly up to the captain’s lips. It had been like this for days now...ever since he’d come home from the hospital. “It was a prank,” Peter thought to himself. “It was just a prank...” Peter‘s days of playing practical jokes on the captain were long over, but he still enjoyed a bit of mischief every now and then and could appreciate a well-executed trick as much as anyone else. So when he’d overheard some of the other boys at school scheming, he hadn’t intervened. After all, it had seemed harmless enough, and though he WAS the schoolmaster’s son, no one would ever accuse him of being a snitch. They had waited until after hours when few others would be around, save a few of their fellow inmates who had stayed behind for detention. One of the boys had caught up to him in the hall and, before he had the chance to turn around, shoved him into a broom closet and locked the door. What the boys hadn’t known was that this particular closet shared a wall with a music room where a very loud metronome happened to be in use, tick, tick, ticking away in a manner that was much too familiar to the man locked inside. Peter was returning from the library when he’d heard the screams and, dropping the books he’d been carrying, came running down the hall to a scene he’d witnessed a thousand times on the island but which seemed entirely out of place in the hallowed halls of the old school and which shocked him to his core. The boys, too late in realizing their mistake, had panicked when the one-handed schoolmaster began desperately banging on the door. Most of them had fled, but a few hesitated, unsure of whether they would do better to let him out and face his wrath or walk away and pretend they hadn’t been a part of the incident. When one unlucky bystander had finally taken pity on the poor man and opened the door, he was met with the sharp sting of the iron claw raking against his chest, tearing cloth and flesh. Hook had come out swinging, neither noticing nor caring who or what he might hit in the process. The only thing that mattered was getting OUT, getting FREE—free of the suffocating blackness and the awful ticking and into the open air. It had taken three instructors, the headmaster, and a school nurse with a syringe full of sedative to pull him off the young man and calm him down, his limp body transported directly to the nearest hospital where he was taken to the wing dedicated to those patients destined for Bedlam. They had put him in a straightjacket to prevent any further “fits,” as they called them, for the safety of the staff, but the added restriction coupled with a drug-induced haze seemed only to make matters worse. Finally, after much pleading with the doctors (and perhaps a gold coin or two slipped into their pockets), Smee had convinced them all to allow the captain to return home under his and Peter’s care. They had hoped that, when the drugs wore off and he found himself in a safe and familiar setting, things would return to normal...but as the days wore on and he still hadn’t managed to get out of bed on his own or spoken a word to either of them, they grew worried. Peter quietly pulled a book from the shelf and laid it in Hook’s lap. Though he had gotten better at reading on his own, he still preferred hearing stories read aloud, and the captain was a surprisingly good storyteller, theatrical and Shakespearean when the role called for it. Peter gently pressed the book into his hand. It was open to the page where they’d last left off. “We have to finish the story,” he whispered. “You promised, remember? You said if I passed my exam, you’d finish reading it to me...” The book fell to the floor, landing facedown with the sickening sound of bent and crumpled pages. Peter looked up helplessly. “I did this to you...” he gulped. His eyes landed on the silvery curve of the hook. They did not often speak of the past, but it was always lingering just beneath the surface, the pain and suffering they had caused one another. Hook had done many terrible things in his previous life, and Peter had retaliated by taking his hand—a punishment the former pirate might now agree had been deserved. But the crocodile, Peter realized, had been a step too far. It had left the captain physically and emotionally scarred beyond what any normal man could be expected to withstand and maintain a semblance of his sanity. And in his childish ignorance, he had laughed. LAUGHED! Peter was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, laying his head in the captain’s lap as the tears that had been pricking at the corners of his eyes finally spilled over. “Please...please come back.... You’re all I have now. You have to get better. You HAVE to.... Please....” A light flutter of movement caused Peter to look up, the captain’s long fingers brushing against his hair as he laid the one good hand he possessed atop the boy’s head. Their eyes met for a moment, and though the captain had yet to speak, Peter heard the words within his heart. “I forgive you.”

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Makkapitew (Algonquin name meaning “He Has Large Teeth”)

I was speaking with a friend awhile ago about how the crocodile in Peter Pan behaves in a manner that would hint that the creature was more than an ordinary crocodile. Eventually, that led to the creation of my OC, Makkapitew, a shapeshifter who became the crocodile.

Makkapitew’s Story, as told by the Chief

Long ago, in the days of our grandfathers, there was a boy who was born with a gift. His name was Makkapitew, and he was a dreamer. From a young age, his mother discovered that he could do things that the other boys could not. He could make a wish, and it would come true. He could turn a stick into a spear with his mind and make food appear out of thin air. Whatever he imagined, it would become real. He first learned that he could change into an animal when he was on a buffalo hunt. He tried so hard to think like wolf whose skin he wore, that he became a wolf. He did not know what had happened until he awoke, as if from a dream, and found that he had killed a young buffalo calf with his teeth and was licking the blood from the fur he wore. 

As he grew older, he learned that he could change into other creatures— whatever he dreamed up—so long as he had something that belonged to it—a tooth, a claw, a skin.... With practice and with time, he learned to control the animal part of his mind when he changed...but he found that the longer he stayed in animal form, the harder it became. He became very good at it and used his skills to become a great hunter, warrior, and spy. He also learned more about magic and medicine and became a wise healer. 

One day, a sickness came to the village, unlike anything our people had seen before. It killed nearly half of the village in one cycle of the moon. We burned everything that remained from the teepees of those who fell ill, but the people kept getting sick. Perhaps the sickness was in the water or in the ground.... Whatever it was, Makkapitew could not heal it, nor could any other medicine man. So we decided to leave the land of our ancestors and look for a new place to call home. It was at this time that the boy—for he was still quite a young man—began to dream of the island. We were people of the plains.... We had never seen such a place before with so much water and so much green. It seemed too good be a real place...but he believed it was real, and we believed in his dreams...so we followed his lead. Across the plains and into the forests of the land where the sun rises and still further, we followed the young dreamer and the star he said would guide us until at last, we came to the sea. Still, Makkapitew said, we had not gone far enough. We were not sailors, but our brothers along the coast taught us their ways. We learned to build boats and canoes and ventured beyond the borders of all we knew. One night, at long last, we passed through a heavy storm and became lost. We feared the worst, but when the storm cleared, rising out of the mist on the water, we saw the island.... 

It was a plentiful land with magical creatures and beasts of every kind...but no other humans at the time. Perhaps Makkapitew dreamed it up, or perhaps he was simply the first human to find it.... Either way, it was his island, but by the time he set foot on the shore, it had been many moons, and he had become an old man. For a while, he was content with his position of power, but as you know, the Neverland is an island of children’s imagination...and although the island’s magic kept him from growing older, he was no longer a child. Having taken on a life of its own, the island found many lost people...especially children...among them, a new dreamer. There have been many who came before Peter...but this child was the first to come along. Makkapitew felt angry at the challenge. He had devoted his life to finding the island only to have another take his place. He began searching for a way to become young again, for his imagination although powerful, was not strong enough to reverse the power of time. Breaking the bonds of time can only be done using dark magic that requires the blood of a child. It is forbidden among our people to use such magic...but Makkapitew was desperate and hungry for power. Taking the form of a large crocodile resting in the shallows of the cove, he waited until an unsuspecting child drew near and pulled him beneath the waves until he drowned. When he took his human form again, he performed a ritual, cooking the flesh and drinking the blood of the slain boy.... Then he went to sleep. When the sun rose, he awoke, expecting to find his skin smooth and his hair black again...but when he ran to the edge of the water to see his reflection, he was horrified to see not the face of a boy but the scales and teeth and claws of a crocodile. The new dreamer and the leaders of the tribe had found him out and called down a curse on him for the evil that he had done. “What you have done goes against the laws of man,” they said. “You took the form of a beast to do this evil thing, and it is as a beast you shall remain until you can prove that you still have the heart of a man. Your people, who once respected you, will shun and fear you now. Alone, you will wander the earth, always hungry, always searching for something to fill the void inside you...but what you seek, you will not find.... A beast can live off of food alone...but a man requires something more to fill the emptiness inside. But you must not harm the children of the island ever again. They come here for sanctuary, as you did, and you must protect them as children of your own. Do this, and someday, you may find the path to your humanity again.” 

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Who We Used To Be

Dear Me... This is a letter to the man I used to be Dear Me... There are some things that you should know It's not my intention to embarrass or to shame you What's inside the rear-view mirror is closer than it appears We do the best that we know how, with what we have been given And the difference between you and I is, I've been given time In time, you'll see...

(Slightly altered lyrics are from ‘Dear Me’ by Nicole Nordeman)