#hom3land3r

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

They didn’t call it a punishment. They called it retraining. But he knew better.

They kept him in the heart of HQ the moment Lancelot walked through the doors. Stripped of his watch, gear, and—though they didn’t say it outright—his dignity. Jamie was sent to psych evaluations, hand-to-hand requalification, rewatching surveillance footage like he was back in training again. Every mistake played frame by frame. Every moment of hesitation underlined, bolded, and thrown in his face like a blade across the cheek.

You should have shot him.

That’s what they told him. Over and over.

“Twice now,” Merlin said, voice sharp and clipped, “twice you’ve let Rutledge slip through your fingers. The first time, maybe we chalk it up to chaos. But the second?” He leaned forward, elbows to the table. “He was right there. Vulnerable. And you hesitated. Again.”

Merlin’s voice wasn’t angry. That’s what made it worse. “You were not put on leave to reconnect with the criminal. You were put on leave to consider your loyalties. Instead, you shared a flat.”

Jamie’s silence said everything.

Merlin took a step closer, gaze hard. “So I’ll ask you plainly: What is your link to Edward Rutledge?”

Jamie’s throat bobbed. “We trained together,” he said, low and clipped. “That’s all.”

“He was in your flat,” Merlin countered again. “ And yet—again—you let him walk.”

Jamie said nothing.

“Are you compromised?” Merlin pressed. “Because if you are, Lancelot, you need to say so now before your missteps get someone else killed.”

“I’m not,” Jamie replied stiffly. “Compromised.”

But he could tell from Merlin’s silence that the man didn’t believe him. If he wasn't , he wouldn't have shared a flat with him.

So they kept him inside. Made him earn back the right to leave. Made him prove that he could still be trusted with a gun and the cold clarity needed to pull the trigger when the target wore a familiar face.

The next week was worse. Drills. Re-education modules. More in depth Psych reviews. He was thirty-six years old, and yet was treated like a fresh recruit who’d failed his first field exam. Hell, they made him spar three trainees at once and shoot another dog just to prove he hadn’t gone soft.

But the worst part wasn’t the bruises or the interrogations.

It was the strange calmness he had no control over clouding his thoughts away every time he started to think of Eddie beyond 'target'. It was the It was the silence he had to maintain.

Jamie couldn’t contact Eddie. Couldn’t warn him that HQ might already have tabs on him. Couldn’t explain why he’d let him go. Couldn’t tell him that for the first time in years, he'd finally slept through the night—because of him. Because of the warmth and safety he'd found, even if just for one damn night, curled against someone he knew.

He shouldn’t have let it happen. But he did. And he didn’t regret it.

So no, he didn’t disappear on Eddie, he was locked away, scrutinized, and reminded that loyalty to a person—especially that person—is a betrayal of the agency.

Still, he keep checking the door.

Every morning, every night. Hoping maybe he’ll be trusted enough to return to the field. Hoping maybe he’ll get the chance to tell Eddie the truth, without the muzzle of Kingsman’s expectations clamped around his jaw.

Until then… he follow orders.

It was better than being killed for his insubordination.

It was one of the weirdest nights Eddie had had in a long time. Never in a million years did he think he’d be in this situation again, playing guard to an old friend. Again, it felt like he’d stepped back in time, back to his younger years at the academy and long days of training. Broken and exhausted, he’d still stay up so Jamie could rest. He always took first watch. Back then, looking after Jamie came naturally, and it seemed that hadn’t changed a single bit.

Eddie could hear through the grogginess just how exhausted Jamie was. Poor bastard probably hadn’t had a decent sleep in years. He knew what that was like. The least he could do was allow his friend to sleep, the alcohol in his system helping with that also. A small smirk had formed on Eddie’s lips at Jamie’s sounds of protest when he moved away to set up the cushions. Though the second he relaxed back against the house, Jamie returned to his space, nestling into Eddie in a way no one ever had.

And then, when ensuring Jamie it was alright to rest, the Brit fell asleep almost instantly. Eddie felt the heaviness against him, made not that Jamie had changed from shoulder to chest, even gripping on as if scared that Eddie would just disappear. This was…different. New. The Aussie didn’t know what to make of it nor did he want to read too much into it. Jamie was drunk after all, which was a heavy factor in judgement. Still, Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he felt this…calm. Relaxed. Content. Even though he was just sat there staring at the door, he wasn’t bored by any means.

At some point Eddie began to get sleepy. Jamie had been in a deep sleep for a few hours now, completely settled. The flat was silent, the only sounds being distant passing of cars. Still, Eddie fought against it and instead settled deeper into the couch. For some reason, without any thought, Eddie wrapped an arm around Jamie. He almost hadn’t realised he’d done it until he gazed down to check in that Jamie was still sleeping. It was natural to want to protect, he supposed. Especially when someone who can’t afford to be vulnerable chooses to. And maybe Eddie also wanted to have something…someone to hold onto.

His eyes got heavier and heavier, so he rested them though didn’t allow himself to drift off to sleep. At least, that’s what he told himself. But eventually he did drift off without even noticing. It wasn’t until he felt Jamie shift against him, heard the low grumble that Eddie snapped awake in an instant. “Jamie, you alright mate?” He asked, though Jamie was already on the move to the bathroom. Eddie heard it all and just shook his head, snickering. He’d been there, many many times.

When Jamie returned, Eddie watched him closely though was surprised when the Brit settled back in like nothing had happened, once more using Eddie as a pillow. He blinked for a moment, then soon settled back in himself. “Always better out than in, is what they say.” He muttered soft and low. He wasn’t even sure Jamie heard him because he’d fallen back asleep that quickly. Again, Eddie stayed awake for a while to keep watch, but eventually the sleepiness returned. Again, that arm wrapped around Jamie as if to protect with his body so his eyes could rest. So he could rest.

The knock on the door startled Eddie awake the exact same time as Jamie. He froze for a second, trying to focus and realised what was happening. He’d fallen asleep, shit! He should’ve known better. It was too late to fix anything now. Eddie let Jamie make the call on what to do. So when Jamie told him to leave out the window, he did. He grabbed his jacket and moved quickly and quietly to the window, opened it up and with one last lingering gaze on Jamie, he left. He was down the stairs and headed further down the street before Jamie had even opened the door.

A few days later

Eddie had received no word from Jamie. No update as to what happened back at the flat. There was just radio silence. Eddie knew he shouldn’t care. He should move on like he did before, forget about Jamie and focus on his own plans. Crypto wasn’t just going to fall into his hands. He needed to keep busy, keep his mind working. But he needed to check just one more time…

It was risky, he knew. The Kingsman could be close by monitoring the area. But Eddie was careful, focused on blending in and not drawing any attention. He entered the bar, the same one where the brawl broke out. The same one he sat with Jamie for hours reminiscing. He thought maybe there would be a chance of finding the bastard here. Eddie stepped further in, the bar having gathered a crowd though it was early enough still that the place wasn’t full to capacity. Eyes scanned the patrons, looking for a familiar face. Instead all he found were strangers. Jamie wasn’t here.

It was in that moment Eddie decided to let it go. It was for the best. He was a wanted criminal and Jamie was just trying to do his job. They were enemies. It was better for it to stay that way. Easier. And so Eddie left the bar and headed back to his place, shifting his focus on work. Trade one target for another.

He needed a plan and needed one soon.

[manyimaginativemuses]

There was a thud, and not a delicate one either. Homelander landed in front of Lestat’s lair, part of him hating himself for even wanting to willingly confide in the leech. However, this was of the utmost importance and he wanted all eyes and ears on the city and beyond. No matter who they belonged to.

A bloodied gloved fist knocked on the door as the Supe stood, head to toe drenched in blood. Both old and new. This would be the first break he’d taken since his hunt began. He hadn’t stopped to eat nor sleep…or bathe. All meaningless tasks.

Lestat would be greeted with dangerously dark eyes and a set jaw. Homelander meant business and he wasn’t in the mood for any tricks or jokes. For all intents and purposes, he was dead inside with his reason for existence being taken from him.

[ @hom3land3r ]

@hom3land3r

Lestat and Stacee had been relaxing on the bus, with Lestat halfway through writing a new song, when he heard a slamming knock on the door.

“What the fuck?” Stacee said, shooting upright to answer the loud banging. When he opened the door, he was face to face with a bloody, exhausted, and angry Homelander.

“Who the fuck are you? I’m not interested in donating to the Neo-Nazi of America fund if that’s why you’re here.” Stacee said bluntly. Unless Gazelle had told Homelander about her husband, the man standing before Homelander looked like an identical copy of Lestat, albeit brunette, covered in tattoos, and with a far worse attitude than Lestat. He also wore a black leather vest with matching pants.

“Stacee who’s at the door?” Lestat called.

“Some cosplay weirdo who’s wearing an American flag as a cape.” Stacee replied and Lestat snorted a laugh.

“Tell him to fuck off, I’m not interested in dealing with his nonsense today.” Lestat said and Stacee turned with a fanged smile.

“You heard him. Fuck off.”

[awkwardcourage]

semi-plotted starter | @hom3land3r

They can't harvest Homelander's blood very easily, seeing as no needle can pierce his skin. They could bite his arm and let the blood flow, but Hughie hasn't suggested it, seeing as he doesn't think Homelander has the patience for it. There are stores of it, but none of them are sating Hughie's craving. So this is how he finds himself sat on the floor next to Homelander's bed, gently pulling his arm down to reach his mouth.

It feels weirdly the similar to sneaking into his dad's room when he was a kid, to steal away a Stephen King book he was too young for or because of a nightmare. The comparison makes him feel irritable and uncomfortable. So he gives it no more thought and bites down on Homelander's wrist.

[brunolover808]

@hom3land3r (Starter)

"Currently at Vought International anyone special can live the dream of being a hero. Our biggest name around the United States is The Homelander. A rising star among the greatest powers in Vought. Progress in the making. A brighter future for the next generation."

Vought, a name commonly listed on products, newspapers, radio channels, and even spoken at the dinner table. A company that is not uncommon these days.

Vought is known for the arsenal of heroes and security. Classified information is kept under wraps. Classified personnel are kept on strict rules. No matter the situation, person, or hero, Vought keeps everything locked down. The security surrounding the company facilitates the raw power and money they hold.

Personnel chosen by Vought go under background checks, giant stacks of paperwork to get them approved for possible work, then they are reminded by strict policies and NDAs. That is for normal employees. There are a very select few who Vought owns.

In the case of a Supe is found to be put into a situation of the parents releasing parental rights. There is a system that deals with collecting the potential heroes of the future. Which brings the few chosen to be under the protection and care of Vought International. Given the highest quality of training and education provided to keep the world safe.

Tap, tap, tap, step, turn, step. The air turning from metallic and heavy with gasoline to stuffy and over used cleaning products. The smell of corporate cleanliness was disgusting and unnecessarily strong on the main floor. Entering the tower there is first a long front desk wrapped around the center wall that likely hid the main support beams of the building. The flooring led with hints of texture towards a couple of security guards and what looked to be the highest tech for metal detectors. Past that was sectioned off walls, elevators, café, and the main bustling of corporate employees.

So much was going on already, yet nothing pierced the metal and fabric of wired headphones. Chunky, heavily pressed against ruffled jet black shoulder shoulder length hair. The speakers squeak with tremble as the figure turns to the security. The first guard raised a hand which was lowered the moment the headphones were taken off.

"Empty your pockets and bag on the table before walking through." A brief exchange between the guard and the woman.

Silence from the woman's end as the headphones and a walkman. The two items stretched a good technical jump, but could easily be found locally. The woman drops her bag on the table before walking through. Nothing detected that wasn't obvious to see, but the security still does a pat down before letting her go. The woman grabbed her items and continued on. The dark hair swayed, leading the eye to a baggy black jacket, black button up slightly tucked into cargo pants, and old sneakers that saw better days. The dark eyes looked around before landing on the elevator. Stepping towards the direction there was a noticeable change as she passed others. Her express is dark, cold, and unwelcoming. She did not speak even as she got on the elevator and tapped the floor she needed to go to. Silent, uninterested.

To no one's surprise the elevator was quick. The doors open and close with each floor till the woman stepped off. Almost an instant sigh of relief from those still on the metal box.

Briefly the hallway looked white, medical almost, but after walking through a door it looked industrial. Cement, dim lighting, hues of blue. Nothing too uncommon for back walkways to a certain room. At the end of the hall there was a double door and with ease the woman opened them to find a densely padded and concrete room. Had aspects of a dojo and gym. A training room for Vought's greatest heroes.

A new face was there to welcome the woman. "I am so glad you could find your way here. I did tell the front desk to have an escort, but you are a smart girl who knows how to follow directions. Welcome to Vought Tower Amrita" Madelyn Stillwell, the current agent over Homelander and, as far as Amrita knew, the Seven.

"It was not hard." Amrita sighs out before flicking a strand of hair out of her face. "So I was told that I would be training Supes for Vought."

"You are going to be training The Seven for Vought, but I want you to take over someone's training specifically." Her lips curling into a fake smile that would be award winning.

"Homelander." Amrita interrupted shortly as to not dillydally this warm welcome.

"Exactly, our rising star has been needing some refreshers on combat and other life saving acts. Which is why after hearing we produced the perfect Supe to train other Supes, I could not resist insisting on your employment here." Madelyn's words are very particular as though she was not trying to say that their golden boy was failing at being a hero. "I do want to inform you that your quarters will be on this floor and you can leave whenever you like after you make sure all training sessions are finished."

Amrita didn't act honored or anything all she did was look off past the blonde woman. She just wanted to get this over so she didn't have to socialize with her boss. "Where is the boy wonder?" She said already taking steps to wander the training area.

[mages-pandoras-box]

Building Blocks

Starter for @hom3land3r

Months. It has been months since Ryan has talked to his biological father. Months since their 'human vs supe' argument and months since Ryan started giving John the cold shoulder.

Ryan still had his apartment in Vought Tower and slept there often. But he never went out of his way to see John. He tolerated the supe's presence if necessary - through his mask.

Then John's powers got stolen, and the man who did it wreaked havoc on the city in Homelander's name. Ryan confronted John about it and ended up punching him in the face, breaking his nose, when he didn't believe John's words.

It had been a few days, James had bitten Ryan's face off, and the teen had agreed to help in the relentless pursuit of the lunatic who'd taken Homelander's powers. The man was a slippery target, always one step ahead, making the chase both thrilling and frustrating. Ryan, taking a break from the hunt, walks to John's apartment and knocks. He wanted to apologize, even if John didn't blame him. He owed the man several apologies.

"John? It's Ryan! I think we need to talk,"

[everythings-coincidence]

Homelander decided to drop by and check in on the kid…for absolutely no particular reason. He knocked on Mori’s door.

“Mori? It’s Homelander.”

- H🇺🇸 ( @hom3land3r )

The door opens and Mori peeks out with a sweet smile that pulled at his cheeks.

“Hm? Hullo, Homelander!” He grins, tail instinctually wagging at the sight of his idol/familial figure.

[collateraldamage-old]

This is my life, but it's yelling at @hom3land3r to get the fuck out of the fridge.

The milk you DIDN'T FIND THERE isn't going to magically reappear until I go to the STORE stop OPENING THE DOOR.

[redchikittymeow]

Watching Homelander and Jame's interactions always puts a smile on my face thank you too you both

[jethrowest]

@hom3land3r

continued from here.

Homelander’s snark made the corner of Eva’s mouth twitch into a private smirk. As soon as it came, however, it was gone, transforming into a forced smile that showed off her pearly whites. Her pointed gaze skimmed the crowd, giving at least a few lucky fans the belief that she locked eyes with them.

“Smiling and lookin’ pretty, eh? Being told what to wear, how t’pose. It’s not as if that’s your whole thing or anything,” she teased. She bent over to personally wave at a man nearest them wearing a Toxic Rose shirt, ending the gesture with a cheeky wink.

“On second thought,” Eva began again, knowing full well that she was pressing her luck. “I’d be a-” Also knowing full well that Homelander could hear her no matter the noise or where she stood, angled herself close to his ear regardless.

“- pornstar.”

Going back to ogling the spectators, she persisted, “Got the gloves already.” She bent her elbow and wriggled her fingers about for dramatic effect. “Always protected.”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Hungry Boy

James entered the conference room with Homelander at his side, their arrival quiet but commanding. He smoothed a hand over his suit as he took his seat at the head of the table, posture straight, expression unreadable. The hunger sat low in his stomach—not unbearable, but present, a quiet edge in the back of his mind. He’d meant to feed before this, as he always did before meetings, but the day had gotten away from him. Unfortunate.

The executives and interns filed in one by one, voices murmuring, the rustle of papers and the clatter of laptops filling the space. The air carried the scent of stale office coffee, nervous sweat, and the cheap synthetic fibers of ill-fitted suits. James ignored it. Mostly.

The last to enter was Ashley, juggling her tablet, a thick folder, and a half-crushed energy drink. She looked one crisis away from a breakdown, as usual.

“Alright,” she exhaled, flicking through her notes. “Let’s get this over with.”

James lifted his agenda notes as he settled across from where Homelander sat in his chair. He could manage this. For now.

@hom3land3r

[manyimaginativemuses]

@hom3land3r

If they wanted him to be a monster, he would BE a bloody monster. That flying fascist had taken the person he loved most in the world, so Lestat would take what Homelander loved the most. And from a cursory scan of his mind, Lestat determined that what Homelander loved the most was his teenage son, a young boy named Ryan. Luckily for Lestat, Homelander’s mind was an open book and he was easily able to figure out where Ryan lived.

And even more lucky for Lestat, Ryan had been outside playing with a drone when he first found him after the sun set. Despite being the son of a “superhero” Ryan was beyond trusting and naive. He fell for Lestat’s rocker aesthetic and his charm just like everyone else did. Ryan’s mind was also weak willed enough to be glamoured and manipulated so that he didn’t spill the beans that he and Lestat had been meeting. For over a month and a half Lestat charmed the boy, telling him stories of the past and hypnotizing him into finding the vampire life intriguing and fantastical. The boy loved horror comics and horror movies as it was, so it was very easy to convince him that being a vampire was wonderful and something to want to become.

Of course he didn’t tell him the insanity that being an immortal child would come with though. He already saw that once with Claudia. However he cared for Claudia, Ryan was just a means to an end. And if this meant his own end, Lestat honestly didn’t even care anymore. His heart had been broken too many times over at this point and he was feeling reckless.

And this recklessness was exactly why when Ryan asked to be made a vampire too, Lestat wholeheartedly obliged. After all, he refused to turn someone without consent, but what’s a little manipulation to get said consent to a broken vampire like Lestat?

The night he turned Ryan, he took him from the safety of his home and brought him onto the streets to feed. The boy was ravenous just like Claudia had been, but his superhuman abilities were enhanced even further by his full vampiric transformation. Hell, his transformation hadn’t even been that bad due to his superhuman genetics, he hadn’t even felt too much pain when he died. Ryan was overjoyed by his new experiences and Lestat was ecstatic to have FINALLY won. Ryan was HIS son now, Homelander could have James.

So when he and Ryan were out feeding that night and he heard the whoosh of a superhero landing, a massive smile crossed Lestat’s face.

“Ryan, I think your father is here.” Lestat purred.

[awkwardcourage]

semi-plotted starter | @hom3land3r

"If you can't kill the father, then you may as well kill the son."

Hughie thought he'd died. It had certainly felt like dying at the time, but now he knew better. This was what dying truly was. Molten fire being poured through his veins, needles pricked every inch of his skin. The first death had practically been descent into slumber. This death was being covered in gasoline and set ablaze.

A constant scream ripped out of Hughie's throat and echoed inside of his head. His ears rang. Everything was so sensitive. He could hear his blood rushing through his body, he could hear everything and when he opened his eyes, he was blinded. The world had never been so bright.

At some point, his eyes find Homelander. He still writhed, body contorting with agony, but his eyes stayed locked on Homelander. "What... did... you... DO?!"

[bossbitchfoxy]

"To be fair, @hom3land3r is quite good looking though. Still, I will not give in to him that easily."

[everrlastingheart]

@hom3land3r

it's been years no decades since the former old school supe was last seen. Vought has kept her imprisoned banned and drugged from ever seeing her son. Everlasting never thought she would see the day of her golden boy all grown up in the flesh. Standing few feet away from her.

"John..?" she whispered

[everythings-coincidence]

ooc / out of collar

two frames of the lil animatic im working on for new years

characters: @ferretoftrouble, @ashortdropandasuddenstop(James), @hom3land3r, and @spooky-and-azazel

(don't mind homelander's tit this is still a rlly rough draft--)

[sinners-inc]

Plotted starter for @hom3land3r

She hated parties like this- everyone was wearing high end clothing and holding little flutes of champaign. Even she had to sit in a chair for a few hours as her hair was painstakingly pinned and braided into place. The gown was impressive at least, it was low dipping along the back with a trail of pearls against her spine.     What she didn’t expect to see- were American supes still dressed in their suits.  “All work and no chill huh? Bet that drives you crazy.” She spoke to the closest Hero next to her, keeping her voice low and partially muffled by her Drink.