This is the main blog to the following blogs below:
@toxorionxhastingsxwexcrawl (Orion Hastings)
@tristanxcalmitbruvxpayne (Tristan Payne)
@remyxcomenowpetxpayne (Remy Payne)
@cooperxalwaysyoursxwilson (Cooper Wilson)
@cameronxwatchyouburnxpiney (Cameron Piney)
@kneelxtoxcharlesxmoore (Charles Moore)
@sahsahforjasjas (Multi Muse)
All threads on any of these blogs are written with @writewithjas and her sideblogs. If you want to interact with me, please follow @musesforthedamned
All threads are considered exclusive with @writewithjas to further the book I'm writing and to give us our own space.
However, I wanted to share the plot and characters of my book, and their story, with everyone!
This is the main blog to the following blogs below:
@toxorionxhastingsxwexcrawl (Orion Hastings)
@tristanxcalmitbruvxpayne (Tristan Payne)
@remyxcomenowpetxpayne (Remy Payne)
@cooperxalwaysyoursxwilson (Cooper Wilson)
@cameronxwatchyouburnxpiney (Cameron Piney)
@kneelxtoxcharlesxmoore (Charles Moore)
All threads are considered platonic plots on these blogs, as they are exclusively shipped with @writewithjas to further the book I'm writing. However, I wanted to share their story with everyone!
Buuuuut, if you're interested in more to ship or anything else, please follow my main RP blog; just ask for it, as they're also featured on my multi-muse blog.
Charlie Moore grew up on the outskirts of Austin, Texas—not quite poor, not quite privileged, but always wrong in the eyes of those around him. Too tall. Too smart. Too weird.
From the schoolyard to the street corner, he stood out like a knife in church. That made him a target. And while the beatings were frequent, his spirit never cracked. He learned to keep quiet, to endure, and most importantly—to watch.
By seventeen, Charlie was done being prey. He took his anger and turned it into discipline, sculpting his body like a weapon and turning pain into fuel. Every punch he threw after that was a message: never again.
College was never really the goal, but it was a useful front. He paid for it by working nights as a bouncer at a downtown dive owned by the Castiglione family—a local offshoot of the old Sicilian mob.
Charlie liked the job more than he expected. People feared him, listened to him, moved when he told them to. And the family? They noticed. Not just his size, but the way he could read a room in seconds—like he knew what people would do before they did.
Charlie wasn’t just muscle. He was instinct. Precision. Psychology.
He earned his stripes fast. His cool head and sharp mind made him perfect for handling "sensitive" situations—collecting debts, silencing problems, finding people who didn’t want to be found.
They called him Ghost Dog, half as a joke, half in fear—because once you knew he was after you, it was already too late.
It didn’t take long before the Castigliones brought him in deeper. They saw him as an asset: loyal, quiet, and lethal. He became their invisible hand, tracking down rogue enforcers, rising threats, and rival families sniffing around where they didn’t belong.
But what they didn’t tell him—what no one told him—was that his assignments weren’t about cleaning up loose ends.
They were about controlling a hidden world of powered individuals, people with abilities like his, scattered across the underworld.
The Family had been trafficking them, using them as weapons, pawns, slaves. Charlie was their hunter. And he never even knew it.
The truth hit Charlie like a bullet to the gut—discovered in a black folder tucked away in a locked room beneath the Castiglione estate.
It wasn’t just files on his past. It was his origin. He was adopted. His real name wasn’t Charlie Moore. He was born into a different life—one torn apart by the very people he served. Worse, two of the names in the trafficking files were his biological siblings.
People he had unknowingly delivered to the Family.
He didn’t cry.
He didn’t scream.
He just disappeared.
Now Charlie works alone. No more names. No more families. Just the job—his way. He changes identities like suits, cleaning up messes the mob left behind. But he’s not doing it for them anymore. He’s doing it for himself.
Every “fix” is a penance. Every rescued life, a step toward balance. He goes by Charlie, now. Just Charlie.
The dogs are still with him—Selene and Apollo, loyal and silent as shadows. And Cayenne the tabby still sleeps on his chest at night, claws and all.
Charlie is a strange contradiction—steel and empathy, brutality and grace. He’s a killer who meditates.
A smoker who practices yoga. A gangster who reads ancient Greek myths and cries during animal rescue commercials.
He still carries guilt like a second skin, still searches for the siblings he betrayed. He doesn’t care about forgiveness. He just wants to fix what he can before the past buries him.
He smokes too much, sleeps too little, and trusts no one. But if he calls you family? There’s no one more loyal. No one more dangerous.
His rage is still growing. Subtle. Quiet. Terrifying. The kind of emotion that doesn’t scream—it whispers. And by the time you realize you’re not in control anymore… you never were.
character
Charlie Moore is a paradox of warmth and danger, kindness and self-loathing. His mind never stops analyzing, questioning, and breaking things down, a relentless overthinker driven by curiosity. Once he cares about someone, his loyalty is unwavering, and he will go to any lengths to protect them. Naturally charming, his bold flirtation often serves as a mask for deeper insecurities, a carefully crafted shield against the wounds of his past.
Impulsive and argumentative, Charlie’s rebellious streak has always made him difficult to control—a trait that ultimately led to his break from HYDRA. Stubborn to a fault, once he sets his mind on something, there is no turning back. His strengths lie in his integrity and wisdom, a strong moral compass that persists despite years of manipulation. Highly intelligent, adaptable, and physically trained, he is as much a strategist as he is a fighter.
But his weaknesses run just as deep. His greatest emotional vulnerability remains his parents—both the adoptive family that raised him and the biological family he has yet to find. His insatiable curiosity often leads him into dangerous situations, and his impatience, coupled with a lack of self-love, makes him prone to reckless behavior. Charlie has little regard for his own well-being, throwing himself into harm’s way without a second thought. And, if there’s one thing that’s truly beyond saving, it’s his cooking—an unmitigated disaster.
Beneath his hardened exterior, fears linger. He hates spiders and rats with an almost irrational intensity, but his deeper fears are harder to admit. The thought of losing her—whoever she is—gnaws at him constantly. He worries about his own sanity, afraid that in his quest for redemption, he may be losing himself. Worst of all, he dreads not being there when it truly matters, the fear of failing someone when they need him most. And then, of course, there’s Santa Claus—but he refuses to explain that one.
Despite everything, Charlie still finds joy in the small things. He loves Greek mythology, animals, and the calming rhythm of rain. He’s always eager to test out the latest technology and never misses a chance to watch his favorite football team, a loyal OU supporter through and through. But he despises freezing cold days, bugs, long flights, cliffhangers, baseball, and above all else, bullying.
His days are filled with habits and routines that keep him grounded. He spends time reading, working out, walking his dogs, testing new gadgets, practicing yoga, and indulging in video games. A heavy smoker and an unapologetic movie buff, he carries a gun at all times, bites his nails when deep in thought, and starts his mornings with a long jog. Sarcasm has become his go-to defense mechanism, a way to keep others at a safe distance while pretending he’s fine.
Through it all, the only true constants in his life are his pets—Selene, a gentle Great Pyrenees; Apollo, a fiercely loyal rescued German Shepherd; and Cayenne, a mischievous tabby kitten who adopted him rather than the other way around. They are the closest thing to unconditional love he has ever known. As he searches for the family he lost and the redemption he isn’t sure he deserves, they remain his one unshakable source of comfort in an otherwise uncertain world.
Cameron Piney never really had a home—at least, not in the way most people mean when they say it. He had addresses, case numbers, and a list of foster parents long enough to rival a rap sheet. Nine placements, to be exact. Nine sets of “new beginnings” that ended the same way every time: someone promised love, and someone broke under the weight of pretending.
He remembers glimpses of warmth—a dog’s bark, a laughing voice, maybe a home-cooked meal—but those memories are fragments, warped and buried beneath years of being passed around like an unwanted package. People always talked about adoption like it was a gift. Like love could be handed out and revoked on a whim. Cameron learned quickly that promises didn’t mean a damn thing unless someone bled to keep them.
Still, he didn’t become bitter. Not right away. He watched. He studied. He saw the exact moment every so-called parent’s patience fractured, when saccharine affection soured into silent neglect. He learned how to read people by necessity—how to see through their masks, how to hear the truth beneath a lie.
But it wasn’t until Savannah Daffodil that Cameron truly understood just how dangerous people could be when no one’s watching.
She was just another kid in the system—sharp-tongued, a little jaded, but not broken. Not yet. She vanished one day without a word. And the foster parents? The ones who made chore charts and smiled like they were auditioning for sainthood? They didn’t bat an eye. Lied to the caseworker with ease. Claimed she was “at the library,” “sleeping over,” “out with friends.” Weeks passed. Nothing changed. Savannah had disappeared, and no one cared.
Except Cameron.
So, he looked.
He followed threads no one wanted him to pull. And when he broke into an old shed on the edge of the couple’s property, what he found rewrote everything he thought he knew about monsters.
Four bodies. Four kids. All in various stages of decay.
The girl he’d shared microwave dinners and half-hearted jokes with was just the latest entry in a long-running nightmare.
He told the police. He testified. He made sure they went away for a long, long time. But that wasn’t enough.
Cameron realized in that moment—he didn’t want to survive the system. He wanted to burn it down and rebuild it better.
The Making of an Agent
He didn’t wait. The day he turned eighteen, he began his path to law enforcement. No one believed he’d last—too emotional, too intense, too personal. But Cameron didn’t want to follow procedure. He wanted to change it. And he had no intention of letting bureaucracy or politics get in the way of justice.
He rose fast—fueled by grit, a photographic memory, and a borderline obsessive commitment to the victims no one else would remember. From beat cop to detective, from profiler to federal agent, he clawed his way up the ranks.
Now? He’s one of the youngest agents assigned to the FBI’s Organized Crime Task Force, with a specialized focus in behavioral profiling, missing persons, and human trafficking.
His current case?
The Viper Mob.
The Hunt for Orion Hastings
A ghost wrapped in silk and power, Orion Hastings and his Viper Mob are at the center of a tangled web that spans cities, countries, and bodies. From drug trades to underground labs, missing metahumans to political blackmail—if there’s rot in the system, the Vipers are coiled somewhere at the core.
Cameron knows the body count they’ve left behind. He knows the children they’ve disappeared. And he knows how the system’s let them slip through the cracks time and time again.
Not this time.
He’s made it personal.
He studies their movements, tracks their cash flows, listens for whispers in back alleys and burned-out warehouses. He knows they’ve got people on the inside—cops, judges, maybe even agents. He doesn’t care. He’s coming for them anyway.
And if he has to walk alone to see justice done?
So be it.
The Complication: Her
Cameron never expected the job to get complicated like this. He’s not the type to fall for anyone—too busy, too jaded, too used to building walls no one’s allowed to scale.
And yet... her.
He didn’t know who she was at first. Just someone smart, sharp, magnetic in a quiet kind of way. She challenged him, saw through him, and for the first time in years, Cameron let his guard down. They crossed paths through an informant. It wasn’t supposed to be anything. A conversation. A spark.
Then he found out she was Orion Hastings’ sister.
It hit like a punch to the ribs.
The sister of the man he’s been hunting for years. The man responsible for dozens of disappearances, death, destruction. And there she is—untouched by the family empire, or maybe just skilled enough to hide it. Whether she’s truly innocent or not, he doesn’t know.
What he does know is that he wants her—and that terrifies him.
Because Cameron Piney doesn’t do conflicted. He doesn't date potential liabilities.
But when he looks at her, it’s like something inside him softens. Not weakens—just reminds him he’s still human.
He keeps trying to pull away. To cut it off. But every time she shows up, every time she texts, or calls, or looks at him with those eyes that say she knows he’s lying to himself… he can’t do it.
So now he’s stuck. Torn between the case that’s defined his entire career—and the one person he might not be able to arrest without breaking himself in the process.
The Man Behind the Badge
Cameron Piney isn’t a hero. He doesn’t want to be. He’s a survivor turned hunter, a man with a badge and a blood-soaked purpose. He lives out of a duffel bag more than a home, sleeps four hours a night, and chain-smokes like his lungs are expendable.
He still remembers Savannah. Still hears her laugh when he walks into a silent room. Still keeps a photo of her tucked behind his ID. She's the reason he does what he does. She's the reason he hasn't stopped.
Emotionally, he's a slow burn—sarcastic, a little too intense, but fiercely loyal once you break through his walls. He doesn’t trust easily, and if you lie to him, you get one chance. That's it.
He has a gun, a badge, a scar over his ribs from a case gone wrong, and a list of names he hasn’t crossed off yet.
At the top of that list?
Orion Hastings.
And somewhere, written in a softer, more vulnerable corner of his heart?
Cooper Thomas Wilson grew up in a household that, at first glance, seemed ideal—a grand home, wealthy parents, and three siblings. However, behind closed doors, his family life was anything but nurturing. His parents, caught up in their own superficial world of parties, socializing, and infidelity, neglected their children entirely. To them, love was nothing more than a contract, a facade they maintained while ignoring the very existence of their offspring.
From an early age, Cooper learned that he couldn’t rely on anyone but himself. His parents barely acknowledged him, and when they did, it was often in mistake—his mother once drunkenly confused him for the household help, berating him when he failed to assist her. The Wilson children were raised more by the staff than by their own parents, and Cooper quickly came to understand that survival meant adaptation.
Unlike his siblings, who either faded into the background or lashed out in rebellion, Cooper chose another path—he became a master of persuasion. While he wasn’t naturally athletic, academically exceptional, or particularly popular, he had one undeniable gift: the ability to make people see things his way. His sharp mind and quick tongue allowed him to navigate social and professional landscapes with precision, leaving adversaries bewildered and allies in awe.
From high school debates to university lectures, Cooper honed his skills in argumentation and reasoning. He had an uncanny ability to manipulate discussions, ensuring that his viewpoint was not only heard but accepted. It became his weapon, his means of control in a world that had never given him any.
People often told him he was destined to be a detective, given his keen analytical mind and relentless determination. But Cooper saw no nobility in dedicating his life to a justice system that had never done anything for him.
Why waste his talents on a cause that had never served him? Instead, he chose the path of law. He became a lawyer—one of the best in his district. It wasn’t about justice; it was about winning. And Cooper was built to win.
He took on cases not out of any moral obligation but because they challenged him. He argued for the guilty and the innocent alike, weaving intricate defenses that left juries spellbound and judges nodding in reluctant agreement. Success was his driving force, and morality was just another tool to be wielded as needed
Then, everything shifted. Cooper was shot—straight through the chest, a bullet tearing through his heart. Had the ambulance arrived even minutes later, he wouldn’t have survived.
For a brief moment, he was pronounced dead. But against all odds, he came back.
The shooting wasn’t random. It was a consequence of the very world he had immersed himself in. His own client had been the one to pull the trigger, an ironic twist that left him questioning everything he had built his life around.
The aftermath was a blur of forced leave from his prestigious law firm, medical recovery, and something far worse than physical pain—doubt. For the first time in his life, Cooper found himself caring, questioning the choices he had made, the people he had defended, the system he had exploited. He had always thought himself above morality, above conscience. Now, those very things gnawed at him, forcing him to reevaluate the man he had become.
Present-day Cooper Thomas Wilson remains a man of sharp intellect and relentless ambition, but now he finds himself at a crossroads. The world he once navigated with ease now feels foreign, riddled with complexities he never cared to acknowledge before.
Will he return to the cutthroat world of law with the same ruthless drive, or will this newfound conscience lead him down a different path? That remains to be seen.
But one thing is certain—Cooper is no longer the man he once was.
character
Intellectual & Cunning Cooper is a man who thrives on logic, persuasion, and strategic thinking.
His ability to make others see things from his perspective is unparalleled, making him a formidable lawyer. He is methodical in his approach, always planning several steps ahead, and his intelligence—while impressive—often borders on arrogance. He believes in control, in outmaneuvering opponents, and in ensuring he always has the upper hand.
Charming & Socially Adept Despite an isolated childhood, Cooper adapted and refined his social skills over time.
He learned to be smooth, flirtatious, and effortlessly persuasive. His charm is both a tool and a defense mechanism, allowing him to easily navigate social circles while keeping people at a distance. Beneath the confident exterior, however, lies a man who is still unsure how to connect with others truly.
Emotionally Guarded Love is a foreign concept to Cooper.
Growing up in a household where affection was non-existent, he struggles to understand the true nature of emotional intimacy. He guards his heart fiercely, unwilling to let anyone in unless absolutely necessary. While he can be flirty and charismatic, deep connections are rare, and his trust is not easily earned.
Dedicated to Work For Cooper, work is everything.
It gives him purpose, structure, and a sense of control. He takes each case personally, obsessing over every detail until he ensures victory. His perfectionist tendencies make him impatient with the slow wheels of justice, and he pushes himself to extremes to prove his worth. Even when the stress takes a toll on him, he refuses to back down, often sacrificing his own well-being in the process.
Morally Grey (But Changing)
Early in his career, Cooper had no issue representing questionable clients, bending the law when necessary, and doing whatever it took to win. The moral implications of his actions never concerned him-until they nearly cost him his life. After being shot by one of his own clients, something shifted. For the first time, he found himself questioning his choices, reassessing his beliefs, and, much to his frustration, actually caring about the impact of his work.
Hot-Tempered Yet Diplomatic
Cooper is a passionate and headstrong man who thrives on debate. He needs to be right; his sharp tongue often makes that clear. However, his ability to read people and situations means he knows when to push and hold back.
He can be diplomatic when needed, using his intellect and charm to manipulate situations to his advantage.
Loyal, yet Lonely.
Fiercely protective of those he deems worthy, Cooper is unwavering in his loyalty. However, true friendships are rare for him. He may be socially adept, but there is an underlying loneliness he refuses to acknowledge. While he surrounds himself with colleagues and acquaintances, few truly know him.
Energetic & Workaholic
With an almost endless supply of energy, Cooper throws himself into his work with relentless determination. He thrives under pressure, constantly pushing forward, rarely stopping to rest. His stubbornness means he refuses to walk away from a case, even when it’s harming him.
Compassionate Beneath the Surface
Though he spent years denying it, Cooper is not as detached as he once believed. His impulsive decision to rescue a neglected kitten, Zarina, was a moment of unfiltered compassion—proof that, despite his hardened exterior, there is a part of him that still cares deeply. He may not always admit it, but beneath his carefully crafted persona, there exists a man capable of love, loyalty, and kindness.
Remy Agustus Payne came up in the thick of East London’s decay during the 1980s and ‘90s—an era of soot-covered buildings, crumbling social systems, and a city that chewed through the forgotten without a second glance. He was one of three children, the middle child by minutes, born alongside his twin brother Tristan. Their younger sister Briana was the heart of them, frail but bright, always sick but somehow still hopeful. The three of them were all they had.
Their father vanished when they were kids. No note, no explanation—just gone. Their mother, Andrea, fell apart slowly and loudly. First it was cigarettes, then it was cheap vodka, then it was resentment poured into every breath. She had nothing left to give, and what she did have, she took back in bitterness.
The flat was never warm, never quiet. There was yelling, the occasional glass shattering, the occasional hand flying. Briana's chronic illness only made things worse. What little money they had disappeared into bottles instead of medicine.
As teenagers, the twins did what they had to. Remy was quick on his feet, good with his hands, and even better with a lie. He picked pockets, ran scams, boosted whatever wasn’t nailed down. Tristan worked harder jobs, steadier ones—but that made him the one Andrea leaned on hardest.
Their mother figured out the boys were making money and made damn sure she got her share. She started taking their earnings directly—sick daughter be damned.
Remy never had Tristan’s discipline. He drifted through jobs, got bored fast, quit faster. The only thing he never walked out on was Briana. But even with everything they tried, the money wasn’t enough. And eventually, neither was she.
She died on her thirteenth birthday.
The twins didn’t cry. Not until after. Their mother showed up drunk to the funeral, ranting, pointing fingers, accusing her own dead daughter of being a burden. That was the day something broke in Remy—and it never quite fixed itself.
From then on, the goal was simple: get out.
The twins saved every pound they could. They stole, dealt, bartered, and fought their way toward freedom. At eighteen, they walked out of their mother’s flat and never looked back. They scraped together a new life in a low-rent flat of their own, each one determined to stay out of the hell they'd come from—but neither of them truly escaped it.
For a while, they tried to live clean. Remy took a job with a corporate asset recovery firm—GeneCo. At first, it was a paycheck. Then it became something else. The deeper he got, the darker the work became. "Repossession agent" sounded harmless until you realized it meant kicking in doors, dragging out clients who owed debts to dangerous people, and reclaiming property at gunpoint. He got used to the violence. He got good at it. Cold, efficient, and fast with a knife—he was the kind of guy you sent when you wanted fear in the room.
That’s when the Viper Mob noticed.
They offered better pay, less oversight, and more dangerous jobs. But Remy didn’t hesitate. He left GeneCo without a second thought and started taking contracts from the Mob—dirty work, wet work, tracking down lost "assets" that had once belonged to Orion, the reclusive and now-absent Mob boss. People. Property. Secrets. Didn’t matter. If it was tied to Orion, and it was slipping out of reach, Remy was the guy they called to bring it back or burn it down.
He became known as one of the Mob’s most reliable mercenaries—not because he was loyal, but because he delivered. He didn’t overpromise. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t lose sleep over the things he did, because he already lived in the aftermath of worse.
But everything changed when his personal life collapsed.
His wife, Emma, left him. Too many secrets. Too many bruised knuckles. Too many late nights that smelled like gun oil and regret. She went off to chase her own dreams, left him with two daughters—Esmeralda and Ariana—and a hole in his chest that never quite closed.
For the first time, Remy looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of the very man he swore he’d never become.
So, he stepped back from the front lines. Not out—but to the side. He took handler work, managed logistics, ran missions for other field agents. He still picked up contracts when things got too messy for anyone else.
He stayed in the game, but now on his own terms.
He’s a father first.
Not a great one.
Not always a present one.
But a father who fights like hell to make sure his girls don’t end up with the life he had.
Character Profile – Remy Agustus Payne
Role: Mercenary (Viper Mob); asset recovery and enforcement specialist
Known For: Handling high-risk assignments tied to Orion’s legacy assets; quiet but brutal efficiency
Disposition: Hardened, pragmatic, volatile under pressure; has a soft spot for his daughters but rarely shows it
Weaknesses: Commitment issues, gambling, emotionally closed off, short fuse
Fears: Becoming like his mother; losing what little family he has left
Notable Traits: Scar on his left brow (blade wound); drives a beat-up black SUV with reinforced doors; never leaves home without his worn-out pocketknife
Lifestyle: Keeps a low profile; lives just outside city center; spends evenings cooking, drinking in silence, or fixing up old electronics
Reputation: Among the Mob’s mercs, Remy’s the one they send when someone needs to disappear—fast, loud, and final. No questions. No cleanup crew. Just results.
Remy Payne is a man shaped by hunger, rage, and grief. A survivor who learned too early that mercy is a weakness and love is a liability.
But even in the dark, there’s something left in him—a flicker of warmth he tries to protect behind cold eyes and clenched fists.
He’s not a hero.
He’s not a villain.
He’s just a man doing what he has to, for the only people who ever really mattered.
Charlie Moore grew up on the outskirts of Austin, Texas—not quite poor, not quite privileged, but always wrong in the eyes of those around him. Too tall. Too smart. Too weird.
From the schoolyard to the street corner, he stood out like a knife in church. That made him a target. And while the beatings were frequent, his spirit never cracked. He learned to keep quiet, to endure, and most importantly—to watch.
By seventeen, Charlie was done being prey. He took his anger and turned it into discipline, sculpting his body like a weapon and turning pain into fuel. Every punch he threw after that was a message: never again.
College was never really the goal, but it was a useful front. He paid for it by working nights as a bouncer at a downtown dive owned by the Castiglione family—a local offshoot of the old Sicilian mob.
Charlie liked the job more than he expected. People feared him, listened to him, moved when he told them to. And the family? They noticed. Not just his size, but the way he could read a room in seconds—like he knew what people would do before they did.
Charlie wasn’t just muscle. He was instinct. Precision. Psychology.
He earned his stripes fast. His cool head and sharp mind made him perfect for handling "sensitive" situations—collecting debts, silencing problems, finding people who didn’t want to be found.
They called him Ghost Dog, half as a joke, half in fear—because once you knew he was after you, it was already too late.
It didn’t take long before the Castigliones brought him in deeper. They saw him as an asset: loyal, quiet, and lethal. He became their invisible hand, tracking down rogue enforcers, rising threats, and rival families sniffing around where they didn’t belong.
But what they didn’t tell him—what no one told him—was that his assignments weren’t about cleaning up loose ends.
They were about controlling a hidden world of powered individuals, people with abilities like his, scattered across the underworld.
The Family had been trafficking them, using them as weapons, pawns, slaves. Charlie was their hunter. And he never even knew it.
The truth hit Charlie like a bullet to the gut—discovered in a black folder tucked away in a locked room beneath the Castiglione estate.
It wasn’t just files on his past. It was his origin. He was adopted. His real name wasn’t Charlie Moore. He was born into a different life—one torn apart by the very people he served. Worse, two of the names in the trafficking files were his biological siblings.
People he had unknowingly delivered to the Family.
He didn’t cry.
He didn’t scream.
He just disappeared.
Now Charlie works alone. No more names. No more families. Just the job—his way. He changes identities like suits, cleaning up messes the mob left behind. But he’s not doing it for them anymore. He’s doing it for himself.
Every “fix” is a penance. Every rescued life, a step toward balance. He goes by Charlie, now. Just Charlie.
The dogs are still with him—Selene and Apollo, loyal and silent as shadows. And Cayenne the tabby still sleeps on his chest at night, claws and all.
Charlie is a strange contradiction—steel and empathy, brutality and grace. He’s a killer who meditates.
A smoker who practices yoga. A gangster who reads ancient Greek myths and cries during animal rescue commercials.
He still carries guilt like a second skin, still searches for the siblings he betrayed. He doesn’t care about forgiveness. He just wants to fix what he can before the past buries him.
He smokes too much, sleeps too little, and trusts no one. But if he calls you family? There’s no one more loyal. No one more dangerous.
His rage is still growing. Subtle. Quiet. Terrifying. The kind of emotion that doesn’t scream—it whispers. And by the time you realize you’re not in control anymore… you never were.
character
Charlie Moore is a paradox of warmth and danger, kindness and self-loathing. His mind never stops analyzing, questioning, and breaking things down, a relentless overthinker driven by curiosity. Once he cares about someone, his loyalty is unwavering, and he will go to any lengths to protect them. Naturally charming, his bold flirtation often serves as a mask for deeper insecurities, a carefully crafted shield against the wounds of his past.
Impulsive and argumentative, Charlie’s rebellious streak has always made him difficult to control—a trait that ultimately led to his break from HYDRA. Stubborn to a fault, once he sets his mind on something, there is no turning back. His strengths lie in his integrity and wisdom, a strong moral compass that persists despite years of manipulation. Highly intelligent, adaptable, and physically trained, he is as much a strategist as he is a fighter.
But his weaknesses run just as deep. His greatest emotional vulnerability remains his parents—both the adoptive family that raised him and the biological family he has yet to find. His insatiable curiosity often leads him into dangerous situations, and his impatience, coupled with a lack of self-love, makes him prone to reckless behavior. Charlie has little regard for his own well-being, throwing himself into harm’s way without a second thought. And, if there’s one thing that’s truly beyond saving, it’s his cooking—an unmitigated disaster.
Beneath his hardened exterior, fears linger. He hates spiders and rats with an almost irrational intensity, but his deeper fears are harder to admit. The thought of losing her—whoever she is—gnaws at him constantly. He worries about his own sanity, afraid that in his quest for redemption, he may be losing himself. Worst of all, he dreads not being there when it truly matters, the fear of failing someone when they need him most. And then, of course, there’s Santa Claus—but he refuses to explain that one.
Despite everything, Charlie still finds joy in the small things. He loves Greek mythology, animals, and the calming rhythm of rain. He’s always eager to test out the latest technology and never misses a chance to watch his favorite football team, a loyal OU supporter through and through. But he despises freezing cold days, bugs, long flights, cliffhangers, baseball, and above all else, bullying.
His days are filled with habits and routines that keep him grounded. He spends time reading, working out, walking his dogs, testing new gadgets, practicing yoga, and indulging in video games. A heavy smoker and an unapologetic movie buff, he carries a gun at all times, bites his nails when deep in thought, and starts his mornings with a long jog. Sarcasm has become his go-to defense mechanism, a way to keep others at a safe distance while pretending he’s fine.
Through it all, the only true constants in his life are his pets—Selene, a gentle Great Pyrenees; Apollo, a fiercely loyal rescued German Shepherd; and Cayenne, a mischievous tabby kitten who adopted him rather than the other way around. They are the closest thing to unconditional love he has ever known. As he searches for the family he lost and the redemption he isn’t sure he deserves, they remain his one unshakable source of comfort in an otherwise uncertain world.
Tristan Laughton Payne was born into a world that took more than it ever gave. The streets of London in the 1980s weren’t kind to children, especially not those growing up in the forgotten corners of the city—the post-industrial wastelands, the crumbling council flats, the neighborhoods where the police only came after the smoke cleared.
He had a twin brother, Remy, and a younger sister, Briana. Together, they learned early what silence meant when it came from an empty stomach, what bruises looked like when they weren’t from playground scraps, and how to hide things from neighbors and schoolteachers so they wouldn’t be taken away. Their mother, Andrea Payne, was a ghost long before she was dead—lost in a fog of cheap gin, cigarette smoke, and bitter regret. Their father had walked out one night and never looked back. No note. No explanation. Just a front door left swinging in the wind.
They were forgotten by everyone but each other.
Briana was always sick—some kind of condition no one could ever name because they couldn’t afford to take her to a proper hospital. She spent more days in bed than out of it, and even on her good days, her smile was weak, her frame bird-boned. Tristan did what he could to keep her comfortable, while Remy ran errands and Andrea drank herself into oblivion.
Money didn’t come in unless the boys brought it. Tristan, the more disciplined of the two, picked up under-the-table jobs—fixing things, carrying packages, doing favors for men with names they never repeated at home. Remy drifted, quick to earn and quicker to burn through it, gambling what little they had or pissing it away chasing some shortcut out of the gutter.
Still, they both tried. Every pound they scraped together went toward food, bills, and medicine that never worked.
Andrea didn’t care. As long as there was booze on the table and someone to blame, she was content. She resented Tristan most of all—not for what he was, but for what he wasn’t: obedient, soft, broken. He wasn’t hers to control, and she hated that. She called him cold, said he had his father’s eyes, but even that felt too kind. She said worse when the bottle got low.
The day Briana died—her thirteenth birthday—was the day something inside Tristan shut off for good. He’d known it was coming. He’d heard her breathing change. He’d held her hand when it stopped. And when they buried her in a plain wooden box with no priest and fewer mourners, Andrea stood at the graveside drunk, shrieking that the world had robbed her, that she was the victim. Tristan didn’t cry. Neither did Remy. They just stood there, still as gravestones themselves.
After that, it wasn’t a question of if they’d leave—it was how soon.
They worked for two years, living on instant noodles, doing jobs no one else wanted. Tristan fought bare-knuckle for money in warehouse pits. Remy ran numbers and sold counterfeit electronics. They kept their heads down, saved what they could, and when they turned eighteen, they vanished. They left everything behind—no note, no goodbye, no trace. Just two duffel bags and a one-way ticket out of the house that had never really been a home.
They bounced around for a while—Manchester, Birmingham, even a few months in Liverpool—but it was in London where fate caught up with them again, this time in the form of a man named Cain Dravik, the boss of the Viper Mob.
Tristan met Cain through a fixer who owed him a favor. Cain saw something in him: cold precision, complete focus, and a dead stare that didn’t blink when things got ugly. He offered Tristan a job—simple protection work, no questions asked. Tristan took it, and never looked back.
What followed was a slow, methodical climb through the ranks of the Mob. Tristan was never loud, never flashy. He didn’t party, didn’t show off, didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
But when he spoke, people listened. When something needed to be cleaned up—quietly, completely—he was the one they called. And when Cain’s circle tightened, Tristan found himself pulled in closer, until he was no longer just muscle.
He was the right hand.
Remy stayed in the life, but he floated on the fringes—always looking for the quick score, never quite stable. Eventually, he had kids, and when their mother ran off, Tristan stepped in.
He raised them like they were his own, buying them school clothes with blood money and reading bedtime stories with calloused hands still stained from the work he did during the day.
He kept the worst of his world away from them—mostly.
Behind closed doors, Tristan’s life is hollow. He doesn’t date. Doesn’t drink much. Doesn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time. His flat is sterile, barely lived in. He cooks to keep his hands busy. He trains to stay sharp. He plays chess alone and never lets himself win. He keeps a photo of Briana in his wallet and hasn’t once looked at it without feeling like he failed her.
People in the Mob talk about him in hushed tones. They say he’s more feared than Cain himself. They say his eyes are dead, that he can smell betrayal before a man even thinks it.
They call him The Pale Ghost, because by the time you see him, it’s already too late.
But those who know him—if anyone truly does—understand that he’s not heartless. Just careful. Just broken in ways no one can fix. He doesn’t trust easily. He doesn’t forgive. And he never forgets.
Tristan Payne isn’t a villain. He’s a survivor. A protector. A man who learned too young that the world doesn’t care about good intentions—only strength, only silence, only the cold edge of a blade.
He never wanted power. He never wanted blood.
But in the end, it was the only currency the world ever respected.
Growing up in Chicago, Illinois, was a nightmare for Orion Hastings—a prison disguised as home. To the outside world, the city was alive with opportunity.
Still, behind closed doors, Orion’s life was dictated by his father’s iron fist, Kai Hastings, the infamous leader of the North Valley Vipers. From the moment he could comprehend the world around him, Orion was a pawn in a game he hadn’t even realized he was playing.
His mother, Mira Hastings, was a battered shadow of the woman she once was, and his younger sister, Juliet, was blissfully ignorant of the darkness that lurked within their own home. But Orion? Orion was born into the fire. He wasn’t shielded from harsh realities but was trained to endure them.
For years, he wondered why he was treated as nothing more than a burden, a tool rather than a son. He could count on one hand the times his father had looked at him with anything other than expectation or disappointment. Every scrape, every mistake, every misstep was met with punishment, not comfort. His father never loved him. The only thing Kai Hastings cherished was power—and Orion was meant to inherit it.
At the age of ten, Orion was indoctrinated into the world of the Vipers. The lessons he learned weren’t those of a normal child; they weren’t filled with math problems and science experiments. No, Orion learned how to survive. He knew how to hurt before being hurt, read a man’s fear in his eyes, and wield a knife with precision.
But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the horrors of November 11th, 2006. He was fourteen when he heard his mother’s screams, raw and pleading. When he heard her beg for mercy from the very man who claimed to love her. Orion knew what pain sounded like; he had heard it countless times in the cries of victims the Vipers tormented. But this?
This was different. This was his mother—the only person who had ever tried to protect him in her own broken way.
Without thinking, he burst into the room to find his father, mentor, and supposed role model, forcing himself on Mira Hastings. The look in her eyes as she saw Orion standing there was something he would never forget. Shame. Terror. A silent plea for help.
That was the first time Orion truly lost himself. His hands moved before his brain could process, grabbing the nearest weapon—a knife. His father never saw it coming. The blade sank into Kai Hastings’ back, a wound that wasn’t enough to kill, but enough to leave a mark.
Enough to tell his father that Orion wouldn’t be his puppet anymore.
From that moment on, Orion made it his mission to be his mother’s shield. He abandoned school, opting for homeschooling, not out of laziness but necessity. He wouldn’t let his father have a single unsupervised moment with Mira or Juliet. Friends? He didn’t need them.
Normalcy? That was never in the cards for him. His life revolved around keeping the monster that was his father at bay.
But eventually, something inside him snapped. He had endured too much, seen too much, suffered too much. He could tolerate being his father’s punching bag, but the moment Kai raised a hand toward Juliet, the last fragile piece of Orion’s restraint shattered.
Kai Hastings died that night. The official story was a firefight between rival gangs. The truth? Orion had buried the knife deep into his father’s chest and made sure he never drew another breath. And just like that, the infamous leader of the North Valley Vipers was gone, and his prodigal son was left to pick up the pieces.
For the next eight years, Orion shaped the Vipers into something... different. They were still feared, still ruthless, but under his leadership, they weren’t the same venomous force his father had cultivated. He ensured his mother and sister were no longer prisoners within the organization, their voices finally heard, their safety finally guaranteed.
But power was a suffocating thing, and Orion had been drowning in it for too long. At twenty-six, he made the decision to step away, leaving the day-to-day operations in the hands of someone he trusted. He had spent his entire life fighting, surviving, existing. Now? Now, he needed to figure out how to live.
And that’s when he found Juniper.
The pitbull had been used in an illegal dogfighting ring, another victim of a cruel world Orion knew all too well. Saving her was second nature—he didn’t stand by and watch suffering. He made the ringmaster an offer he couldn’t refuse, and just like that, Orion had his first real companion.
She was terrified of him at first, and he didn’t blame her. He was just as scared of himself. But over time, they learned to trust each other. Juniper became more than just a pet; she became family. And with her came more rescues—two more dogs, three cats, all pulled from situations that mirrored his own past in some way.
Now, Orion Hastings walks a different path. The man who once wielded violence like a second skin now finds solace in the quiet, in the mundane. He no longer has to look over his shoulder every second. He no longer has to be a weapon.
For the first time in his life, Orion Hastings is free. But freedom comes with its own price. And if the past has taught him anything, it’s that peace is never permanent.
character Orion Hastings is a man forged by his upbringing—intense, self-driven, and unwaveringly loyal. His childhood shaped him into a protector, particularly of women, as he assumed the role of his mother’s guardian from a young age. This sense of responsibility has carried into adulthood, making him fiercely intolerant of violence against women.
Despite his hardened nature, Orion possesses a natural charm. He speaks with a slight Southern drawl, a remnant of his upbringing, and has a magnetic personality. He enjoys making people laugh and is often the one to lighten the mood with a well-placed joke or silly antic. However, beneath this lightheartedness, there is a man who is no stranger to violence—a part of him craves it, especially when it means seeking justice.
Fluent in English, German, Greek, Italian, ASL, and Russian. His multilingualism stems from his father’s insistence that he be able to command whomever he needed to, however he needed to.
Plays both the guitar and piano with ease. Possesses a beautiful singing voice. These talents were nurtured by his mother, offering him a softer, more artistic side.
Expert in hand-to-hand combat. Highly skilled in MMA boxing. Proficient marksman. Trained in expert knife skills.
His upbringing instilled in him an intense drive to shield those who cannot protect themselves. He will go to any length to ensure no woman is harmed, whether he knows her or not.
Orion knows how to have a good time and is always ready with a joke or playful act to bring a smile to his loved ones’ faces.
His family and close friends mean everything to him. He often puts their well-being above his own, sometimes to his own detriment.
He has no fear of confrontation, and if someone crosses a moral line, Orion has no issue stepping in—violently, if necessary.
While his combat skills are lethal, his music allows him to express a softer, more emotional side.
Orion was never allowed pets as a child because his father believed that they would make him weak. However, he has adopted and rescued numerous animals in adulthood, unable to resist giving them a home.
He now owns: Dogs: Irene (great pyrenees, puppy), Juniper (pit bull, adult), and Silas (golden retriever, adult). Cats: Nyx (Tabby, kitten), Hermione (Bengal, adult), Tink (Persian, kitten).
One of his pets is a former war veteran trained animal that was set to be euthanized.
Orion is a man of contradictions—soft yet unyielding, warm yet dangerous. He values love, loyalty, and justice above all else.
Through his music, humor, and combat skills, he leaves an indelible mark on those around him.
His past may have shaped him into a warrior, but his heart ensures he remains a protector above all else.
This is the main blog to the following blogs below:
@toxorionxhastingsxwexcrawl (Orion Hastings)
@tristanxcalmitbruvxpayne (Tristan Payne)
@remyxcomenowpetxpayne (Remy Payne)
@cooperxalwaysyoursxwilson (Cooper Wilson)
@cameronxwatchyouburnxpiney (Cameron Piney)
@kneelxtoxcharlesxmoore (Charles Moore)
All threads are considered platonic plots on these blogs, as they are exclusively shipped with @writewithjas to further the book I'm writing. However, I wanted to share their story with everyone!
Buuuuut, if you're interested in more to ship or anything else, please follow my main RP blog; just ask for it, as they're also featured on my multi-muse blog.
Please read my rules before interacting. (WIP)
RP Blog Hub @writewithsahsah - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
