❛ — 𝔞 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢, 𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 ❜
CAPTAIN JAMES ❛ HOOK ❜
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INTRO BELOW THE CUT
name: james ❛hook ❜
face claim: luke arnold
alignment: lawful evil
positive attributes: fiercely loyal, strong fighter, charming, strong-willed
character flaws: quick-fused, untrusting, guarded, confrontational, unafraid to turn to violence, manipulative when necessary
headcanons
in the eyes of hook, wendy darling is the textbook case of stockholm syndrom, and whilst wendy doesn’t remember coming to hook requesting aid when she was younger… hook remembers it. he remembers the moment of realization melting into her expression as he begrudgingly informed her that he, too, was trapped here and couldn’t be of any assistance getting her home. it hurt him more to inform her of that fact than it probably was for her to hear it… because in the young girl’s eyes, he saw sally. his first and only love, the melody lilting along with the steady rhythm of his heart beat, and he wanted so badly to help her as he had with sally. yet, seeing her naively returning to peter all those years later, completely oblivious to the mountains of harm he had forced her to climb… it filled hook with a sense of complete and utter loathing. did he loath her for being able to dismiss the evil that was peter pan? Or did he loath her for the way she looked at him, now that she had returned, as if he wasn’t the one she had turned to in her time of desperation? hook himself couldn’t sort that out, and it fills him with waves of turmoil if he dwells on it for too long.
hook is the sound of a tsunami, not when it crashes against the shore, but the sound as it’s beginning to swell and bloom in the distant pit of the ocean, miles and miles away from the visible eye. he is the hum of the water as it begins to form a catastrophic wave, ebbing chaotically out where no one can see it, fueled by the phenomenon of nature as it prepares to rise so high it’s body could make the tallest mountain look like a thumbtack. the distant rumble is one everyone is aware of, but unable to pinpoint precisely where it’s coming from.
hook takes betrayal incredibly seriously, being as he gave his hand- literally- to give even the opportunity of escape to those in his youth. he is a bastard, a trauma-riddled husk of who he was when he was a small, blissfully unaware child… but within his core there is a hair of need to protect. he would sacrifice a lot just to prohibit those who show him loyalty from suffering any harm, but the moment that bridge of trust is broken… the effort made to repair will cost more than an apology. sometimes, it costs fingers, it costs feet, it costs eyes, other senses, or tongues… he is ruthless in his pursuits to protect, but he is just as ruthless in the consequences of betraying him.
hook is the smell of a long abandoned whiskey barrel beneath the floorboards of a ship, the wood still carrying the smell of liquor complimented by the aroma of the sea. though the barrel is old, worn, and beginning to rot... it carries a sweet and chest-warming musk from the brew it once held that not only soothes the senses, but jump-starts the heart. he is the smell of the metal bands that held the bent planks of wood in their shape, rusted and decaying but complimenting age with bursts of iron and salt that have clung to their surface.
hook's draw to peter pan is one of obsession, as there is not a moment in his mind that is silenced from the echo of guilt he still feels from getting sally killed and putting charlie's life at further risk than it already was due to tempting the hands of the eternal demon. his need to destroy him is one that makes up every fiber of his being, and it is not one he likes questioned. crew mates that dare attempt to ease hook off the ledge in regards to peter are ones that hook sees as betraying him; he is slow to trust and quick to anger and it doesn't take more than an attempt at a consoling comment to have him holding his knife at their throat. as fiercely loyal he is to those who show him respect, he is fiercely loyal to his cause of destroying peter pan and neverland all together.
a glimpse into hook's head....
it wasn’t often hook abandoned the sanctuary that was his crew and his ship, though he solemnly used that word to describe any element of his existence. even his own mind wasn’t a sanctuary, riddled with visions of his youth, of faces he had lost, of battles he had won, of tears he had shed desperately attempting to make sense of why peter was the way he was. long had those ravines of emotion ran dry, materializing themselves in other shapes and forms that had Hook feeling manic more than it didn’t. even his own name brought about discomfort, the lilt of peter’s voice as he sang it with praise ringing in his ears at a decibel that was near deafening whenever it was spoken. however, he had heard about the arrival of a particular individual that had gotten him off the ship for the first time in weeks. no, it couldn’t be so… with how desperate they had been for escape, the very idea that they’d return for any reason of their own free will was unfathomable. hook had been desperate to leave Neverland for what now felt like eternity… and the concept of someone being rewarded that freedom and choosing to return… it threw brush into the dying fire in his chest and sent its flames reaching for the very heaven he knew he wasn’t making it to. crossing through a familiar yet foreign path, hook cut through the winding vines that had slung themselves across tree-trunks due to how long he had left the space between them abandoned. there was weight to his walk, his boots meeting the ground with such an intensity the twigs were snapping before he even set his foot down. however, his stride was brought to a devastating halt at the distant sound of laugher. delicate, whimsical, laughter like the fairies themselves were carrying each note from their lips to hook’s ears, and he almost braced himself against the nearest tree due to how hard the crash of realization came against his chest. ❛ peter, stop! ❜ yet the voice wasn’t one pleading, it wasn’t accompanied by an agonizing scream or the sound of a sword ruthlessly swinging against a limb. it was… delightful, it was cheery, it was playful and innocent and beautiful. ❛ i can't breathe! ❜ but she wasn’t suffocating, for if she was the sounds of laughter would have dimmed and the hum of the island fueling the power of pan and absorbing the residue of a ceased existence would have replaced it. the shrill cries of joy continued, getting louder and louder, sending hook back into the shadows he always sought out, his lungs grasping at each strand of oxygen he was allowing them due to how hard he was holding his breath. she had returned, the beautiful fool had returned, and just as blindly as she had came upon his ship seeking aid… blindly had she returned to the allure of peter pan and the false promises of eternal life and escape he promised each child who blindly trusted that by life, he meant living… but james knew peter. peter knew james. wendy darling, as it so appeared, knew neither of them.
