#hom3land3r

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

The silence in James Norrington’s office was deafening. Normally, he welcomed the quiet—after centuries of chaos, it felt like a luxury—but tonight it clawed at his nerves. Homelander hadn’t responded to his calls, either mental or physical, for hours now. That in itself was unusual; Homelander’s ego rarely allowed him to ignore anyone, least of all James.

He leaned against his desk, fingers drumming impatiently on the polished wood as he tried once again to reach out through their bond. /Homelander?/ His mind stretched out, searching for the familiar golden thread that always connected him to his lover. /John, Darling where are you? /But instead of Homelander’s steady, overwhelming presence, there was nothing.

No response. Just a hollow void where his connection should be.

Panic threatened to take hold, but James shoved it down. He wasn’t the panicking type. Still, something was wrong. Homelander was never just unreachable, not unless…

James inhaled sharply, his mind spinning. What if someone had done something?

Elsewhere, the dim light of the red laser absorption cage flickered as a low, metallic hum filled the air. The cage—his prison—wasn’t just containment. It was punishment. Heat radiated from the walls, but at a very low temp as not to harm him-yet.

The woman outside the cage—Angela, the former Vought lab tech—watched him with an unsettling mix of adoration and malice. Her voice was almost sweet, a cruel parody of comfort.

“You won’t leave me again will you?” she cooed, running her fingers along the control panel. “I helped make you. Perfected you. You were mine first. But they took you away—she took you away.” Her tone turned bitter. Meaning Madelynn. Nor really aware of James...yet

Homelander’s glare could’ve melted steel, but it didn’t matter here. Angela knew his limits, his weaknesses. She’d helped designed him, after all—or at least, helped refine the unbreakable man everyone worshiped. And now, she had reduced him to nothing more than a trapped bird in her oven-like cage.

“Be a good boy,” she said, her voice sickly sweet again. “And I won’t turn up the heat.”

@hom3land3r

[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.

[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,"

[unsungabsurdity]

@hom3land3r

"It's uh- for research? I was asked to get it, not told what it was for." She presses her lips together in a thin line. The two higher ranking scientists seemed surprised when she offered to gather the sample, she's starting to understand why. She only offered to 'take the initiative', seem like a 'go-getter' in front of her new boss.

"I do, actually." She huffs a strained laugh, fumbling with the clip on her collar to offer her badge. "I started last week...You-uh might know my mom? Pam? She's the head of bio-research."

[mori-the-childrens-entertainer]

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]

The lone wolf dog was sat at the back of the bar, enjoying his break from fighting. While others drank booze, he stuck with milk. It kept his mind clear and focused. Even in his cursed afterlife, Homelander couldn’t let it go. Course, he wasn’t Homelander anymore. Just J.

The crowed gathered were eagerly watching, waiting for the second round to begin. J was up against a far larger mutt and the odds weren’t exactly in his favour. But he didn’t give in easily and had grown somewhat of a reputation because of it. He fought dirty. Claws and teeth, using any and all tricks in the book. He wouldn’t lose this fight.

As the bell rang, J made his way back into the ring. He rolled his shoulders, lay low in preparation to charge. His eyes glowed red with fury as he growled at his opponent, tail swaying in anticipation. And then the bell rang once more.

He snarled as he rushed his opponent, jumping and snapping his jaws down on their shoulder, earning a howl in reward. While he was smaller, he was faster, dodging attack after attack, until his luck ran out and he was hit with a vicious swipe that knocked him to the other side of the ring with a whimper.

[ @hom3land3r ]

As James stood behind the bar, cleaning the dirty mugs with a rag that had long since lost its original color, he couldn’t help but cast his gaze toward the ring. The sound of the crowd's roar echoed through the room, but he remained silent, focused on his task. His hands moved mechanically, scrubbing the glass as his eyes flickered between the dirty mugs and the fight unfolding in front of him.

James' claws tapped against the glass, an involuntary twitch as the sound of another roar from the crowd filled the air. He felt a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe, for the fight that Homelander J was putting up. But pity didn’t have a place in the hell that James called home.

His bar tab stretched longer than a ship’s hull, an anchor he could never seem to shake off. Valentino had made sure of that. The demon had a cruel way of making debts feel like chains, heavy and unrelenting. But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now, except paying off the tab and staying out of the wrath of the big demon. He shot a glance to the side, toward the booth where Valentino would likely sit, watching the fight, enjoying the chaos.

J's fierce growls brought James back to the present, and he found himself leaning slightly forward, his grip tightening on the mug. There was something strangely familiar about J’s fighting style—raw, vicious, and relentless. It reminded James of himself, before everything had gone wrong. Back when he had fought for something, before he had been swallowed by guilt and forced into this prison of servitude.

He’d watched him fight before, but this time was different. J was fighting with a kind of desperation, his movements more vicious than usual. There was something raw about the way he fought—like the anger had become his only armor.

James’ eyes narrowed, his thoughts drifting as he idly scrubbed the glass in his hand. It wasn’t that he cared, not really. He didn’t know J, didn’t owe him anything. They had no history. But there was something about the man—the wolf, whatever he was—that made James uneasy. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were more alike than he cared to admit.

Then, as J got slammed to the floor by the larger mutt, a guttural snarl escaped James before he could stop it.

"Get up!" he growled under his breath, his fists tightening around the glass.

The next moment, the glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the bar with a loud crash.

The bar fell into a brief, tense silence. James froze, cursing himself silently as he quickly looked around, praying no one had noticed. But of course, Valentino was never far when something went wrong.

“What was that, huh?” Valentino’s voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and heavy with authority. James’ heart dropped as the overlord's eyes locked onto him, a predatory glint in them.

“I—I'm…” James stammered, trying to collect himself, but he could feel the weight of Valentino's stare, his every word crushing him down further. “ Terribly sorry sir, I didn’t mean to, I was… just slightly distracted watching the fight.”

Valentino stepped closer, his gaze narrowing. “ I don't pay you to watch baby, I pay you to tend my bar. You shout at my fighter while he’s in the ring? You forget where you are, or something? You ain't some military hero anymore—you’re just a nobody who works for me.” He sneered, clearly enjoying the power trip. “So keep your yap shut and your hands busy, or I’ll have you on the floor cleaning every last inch of this place with your tongue. Got it, baby?”

James nodded stiffly, swallowing his frustration. "Yes, sir."

Valentino’s eyes lingered for a moment longer, then he turned back to the ring, leaving James standing there, staring at the broken glass scattered across the bar.

A quick glance back at J, as the poodle demon began to clean up the glass shards. Something twisted in James’ chest. Keeping an eye on the newer 'entertainment' for the mothlike overlord.

For now, all James could do was pick up the pieces of the glass and quietly fume, hoping the night would pass without any more attention from Valentino or the other demons watching the fight. He wasn’t sure why he’d even cared about J's fight in the first place.

Still, as he cleaned, he couldn't help but glance at J again, watching him fight—watching him survive. And for a moment, James couldn’t help but wonder… Maybe they weren't so different after all.

[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

[mori-the-childrens-entertainer]

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.