#muse: hoyt volker

[general-kalani]

"Ah yes... What a time to be alive. Working, rotating between island to island. Some fuckface named 'Jack' ruined the whole thing... And the Trigens were fucked as well."

...

"We don't talk about the Trigens."

[unrclypirxte]

@cyberpawn - Cont.

---

It was always a grim day when Hoyt appeared and Vale was over. Usually, she'd have them go upstairs, play or watch TV, and she'd go get them once he was gone. But today, the timing was awful. There was no time to plan, nor time to come up with a way to get Hoyt to leave.

She had rather POLITELY asked him to come back, but the corpo didn't take too kindly. They exchanged some words, some very loud words from his end, before he directed his attention to the kid. It was one of the first times Beth felt something so close to a motherly instinct.

Immediately, casual to an IMPRESSIVE degree, she was at Vale's side, sat down and watching. Observing Hoyt's gaze, that condescending grin, the glint of mischief in his eye. Beth averted her eyes only when Vale tugged at her, quick to peer back up at her friend.

If Hoyt had been in a good mood, she'd be a lot less on edge.

"V wants to know your name," She knew better than to sign and exclude Hoyt from this conversation. He'd already staked claim to it.

"Ah," Hoyt flashed shark-like teeth for a brief moment. "I'm Hoyt! I'm Beth's boss!" Oh how he knew she hated that fact, a once anti-corpo hotshot now devolved to his puppet. "Did she not mention me? I thought we were close," A tense beat. "But no matter!" He leaned down a little now, still towering vastly over the child. "You're Vale, correct? Why don't you talk?"

[general-kalani]

"Now 'old on 'ere. Ye make it sound like I'm incompetent. Was only meant to be a li'l jab nothin' more. Sorry for the trouble mate."

"Well, I suppose it could've been done over a call. But I prefer to handle things in person."

Ah, what a waste this man didn't come prepared with his own paper. Not a worry.

Opening up a drawer he took out a piece of paper and placed it on the desk, moving it to where Jay is. Closing that drawer he opened up another to pick up a very, very fine pen and placed it near the paper. "Go ahead and write."

Then he turned back to Buck with a grin on his face. "Where were we? Ah yes! You were going to tell me how you found the drink."

"Dunno, it's awright I 'spose. Had worse but could've been better."

"That is exactly what I was thinking!.. Real shame, I always did like this brand but it's just not all there. Perhaps I'll have to restock with different alcohol."

He shot a look at the guy that looked like a drunk in some way to him. "Sewing has many properties, you know. From fixing up clothing to fixing up wounds. And I've done that for myself many a time." Sure, it wasn't really something people would expect from him normally, but no one was going to make fun of him for it, either, if they knew what was good for them.

"Well, if you've got some shit I can write with, I can jot that down for ya real quick. That is all I really came for. Kinda seems like a waste of road trip for something that coulda been sent through instant messaging or something, probably. But I guess this is the way shit's done here, 'uh? The long way."

[b3ast0fburd3n]

28. How they feel about [Hoyt & Vaas] any/all muses

CW for violence in paragraph 3

We'll start with Eden, since she seems to be the star of the show here. First off, Volker. He only calls her Eddie, which is points off because she views the nickname as a casual thing and she only speaks to him in professional settings. While she has her own internalized misogyny, she doesn't see herself as a woman when she's working, so when Hoyt treats her as such she gets annoyed and frustrated. Other than that, she respects him well enough, but her attention is mostly focused on the person/people directly above her. He's almost too far away for her to really have any opinions on him, though their few interactions brought her to the conclusion that she feels neutrally about him. The things she doesn't like are lessened by her respect for his title.

And Vaas! oh god her feelings about Vaas. (I should clarify that it's fully one sided at this point.) He reminds her a lot of her family in his erratic actions and drug use, also the fact that he could be serious when he needed to be. The familiarity instantly attracted her to him, but she had absolutely no idea what to do with those feelings. She admires his strength, resilience, charisma and leadership abilities. She tried to boil it all down to wanting to impress him, which fueled her need to impress the authority above her. She ends up obsessed with him for a few months, though she manages to fully get over the crush after the whole Jason Brody thing drove her best friend to the opposite side. They end up friends after she figures out how to stop putting people either above or below her.

Hayes fucking hates both of them. Like neither of them could be redeemed in his eyes. Volker is a selfish, condescending asshole and Vaas is a psychotic, deranged piece of shit that he would shoot if he got the opportunity. Being the only person Eden confided in about her feelings towards Vaas, Hayes constantly talks shit about him around her. Somehow he thinks that will convince her to think the same way about him. Even though he hates them both, he's afraid of them. He knows that even being so much taller than Vaas, he wouldn't win that fight, and Volker is always surrounded by his privateers, so even if Hayes could get to him, he'd die soon after.

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

@badxsshottiexllie

Biotite: the biggest problems my muse is currently dealing with

He's got a few enemies running around that he's got to worry about. There's the visitations from Mr. Dark to check on Ales, Raymesis, and Demona, There's Jano despite not really being a villain but more of a trickster, Razorbeard, Andre, and many more.

------------------------------

Red and Hoyt Volker are is his biggest problem right now. He knows Red seeks to place him in permanent house arrest by order of The High Council (or at least by certain members), and Hoyt will want revenge for the rescue of Raymona.

------------------------------

It depends on the threads. It could be trying to keep Ales and Rayman from fighting over her, or it could be trying to get over her fear and trauma she has with Demona.

------------------------------

CLH Raymona deals with a lot due to her work as a resistance member, so her biggest problems right now is Eden and certain members of the High Council.

------------------------------

Floyd's biggest problem is trying to keep his tracks hidden due to the forgery he's committed for certain patients' medical records. He does a lot of it to keep them safe from The Hunter. If they find a target that interests them as they review the records, they will come for his patients.

[tacticalvalor]

«────── « HEADCANON » ──────»

Inspired by Vendetta, and my slow returning fixations on Far Cry and Cyberpunk, here is a brief overview of what the Far Cry muses do within the Cyberpunk universe.

Ajay Ghale: Born to Ishwari and Mohan Ghale, the founder of the Golden Path. When he was only three-years-old, Ajay’s mother fled with him to Night City and would reveal nothing to him of Kyrat, his father, or why she left. Ajay led a conflicted childhood and grew up causing plenty of trouble for himself and his mother. He eventually fell in with the wrong crowd and, during his teens, became caught up in a robbery gone wrong that resulted in a store clerk being shot to death. While Ajay was not directly responsible for the shooting, he turned himself in and bartered a deal with police — in exchange for no prison time, he provided the name of the person who pulled the trigger. As Ajay was turning his life around, he learnt that his mother was dying. The last lucid conversation they had was about Kyrat. Yet before Ajay could prepare to travel back home, he was reached out to by Pagan Min. He offered his condolensces regarding Ishwari’s death, remaining vague about how it was he knew the woman and of her death. Instead, he simply offered Ajay one thing: Work with him, and he would reveal all he knew about Ishwari and their past.

Bambi “Buck” Hughes: Formerly a member of the Australian military, Buck found himself turning to the solo lifestyle. Some days he was a hired merc. Others he was a stone-cold assassin. His reputation precedes him, as many of his contracts have accompanying XBDs to go with them… if you pay the right price. Buck’s brutality and efficiency caught the eyes of Hoyt Volker, who permanently contracted him as the manager of his more sinister operations. His task? Break in the merchandise.

Bembé Alvarez: An immigrant from Yara, Bembé found himself quite at home within Night City’s bustling streets. He took up most gigs slid his way without complaint, earning quite the reputation among Night City’s criminal underbelly as “efficient” and “thorough”. Sure, it only took a hell of a lot of manipulation on his part, but that was just the way things worked. He never lied to folk, just never quite told them the whole truth about the brevity of circumstance. Soon enough, Bembé became a Fixer, establishing a lengthy network across the city and across the border.

Charlemagne “Sharky” Victor Boshaw IV: Surprisingly, Sharky had quite the normal upbringing in Night City. Born to a family who didn’t quite want him, he did his best to scrape by with what he was handed. Unfortunately for everyone else, he made it their problem. Sharky built quite the reputation among the NCPD as a serial arsonist and pyromaniac, having set fire to numerous properties (some purposeful, some accidental) with his shenanigans. Eventually, this resulted in him gaining an outstanding warrant for his arrest that resulted in him ‘taking a vacation’ to The Badlands. He fell in line with a few different Nomad groups, never sticking around long and breaking things off amicably. If only the same could be said for his high school sweetheart. Sharky travels across the desert taking up any sort of gigs he can get his hands on, often favoring those handed down by Dakota.

Dani Rojas: Born and raised in Yara’s capital city, Dani was a firsthand witness to the tensions between the government and the country’s citizens. The conflict reached a point where upon reaching adulthood, there was no choice but to enlist with Yara’s military, the Fuerzas Nacionales de Defensa (FND), as such was required for all Yaran citizens. Not long after boot camp, Dani dropped out from service and found a way to flee the country, landing in Night City. Hoping it would be a safe haven, Dani, Lita, and Alejo attempted to start anew, only for the dream to crumble when the Unification War broke out. With Lita and Alejo caught in the crossfire, Dani went into hiding until the peace treaty was signed. It was around this time that he learned of Castillo’s role within BioTechnica, and realized that if he wanted to avenge his friends, he would have to go to the source of it all.

Gilberto Rosario (Rosa Mel Paquete): Gilberto grew up in a poor family alongside his parents on the outskirts of Night City, often not having much in regard to basic necessities. Both of his parents took on odd jobs for any sort of pay, and Gilberto tried to help where he could. He would help local farmers tend to their fields and transport animals. He would help the local doctors with cleaning their offices after cases with severe traumatic injuries. Anything he could do, he would do. However, in this time, Gilberto realized he had a passion for music. It began when he helped up-and-coming bands set up and take down equipment wherever they played, and has since developed into a form of flourishing self expression to deal with the stress of his family and lifestyle. Gilberto allied himself with the Moxes even before their formal formation, finding solace alongside the group. After the death of Elizabeth “Lizzie” Borden, Gilberto rallied under the Moxes banner and used his status as a drag performer to pass along intel from other gangs and corporations. Something of a spymaster, Gilberto has his eyes set on tearing down Night City one corrupt bastard at a time.

Hoyt Volker: Formerly aligned with a vast South African corporation (comparable to the likes of Militech in size, not function) due to his father’s position among the corporation’s executives, Hoyt has taken control of the remaining land along Morro Bay and its State Park, dubbing it the grounds of the Privateers. The Privateers are a gang consisting largely of former military professionals, including many from the likes of Militech after controversies of massacring innocent civilians came to light. His primary operations remain fairly the same: Drugs, Human Trafficking, and Weapons.

Jacob Seed: Troubled from the start, the eldest Seed brother served his fair share of time among Militech’s ranks. He was a key fighter in the Unification War, tossed around while drowning in a cocktail of chems to keep him awake and going at a moment’s notice. Jacob stood on the brink of cyberpsychosis numerous times, just pulled back by the crushing weight of reality. But this weight grew lighter and lighter. Lighter until he snapped and, in what he claims to be a moment of survival, desecrated the remains of his brother-in-arms to live another day. After his discharge from Militech, he became a ghost. A specter wandering Night City’s slums until his brothers found him and brought him back to life. He joined them in leaving the city for good, and makes sure to put his combat expertise to use in The Badlands.

Jason Brody: An aspiring techie from Watson, Jason found himself way in over his head. Living in the lap of luxury that he could not afford. His debts quickly caught up to him, and it resulted in his kidnapping and the tragic loss of both brothers. Grant was executed by the cyberpsycho Vaas, dragged out past the city walls in a grand display of authority. Riley was taken without a trace, imprisoned somewhere deep within the Pirates’ territory, where rumors are Jason’s only lead to finding him.

Deputy Joey Hudson: Returning to the force after a tragic run-in with a cyberpsycho, Joey Hudson works within NCPD’s ranks as a dedicated lieutenant. Her specialties place her on the outskirts of MaxTac’s jurisdiction, a point of connection for the psdueo-military sector and those tucked away in the pockets of the rich. While she has her qualms with the purchasability of NCPD’s higher officers, she voices no complaints, long as she makes it home at the end of the day.

John Seed: Once a bright-eyed boy, tragedy would separate John from his elder brothers and land him in the hands of the Duncans. His time with them was defined by punishment. By reverance for rejecting the “corporate standard”. Yet, John studied law. He flourished when he finally left their home, burying himself in the harsh neon glow of Corpo Plaza. Losing himself in the world of cybernetics and sex. It was on the streets where he found Joseph once again, and on those very streets that he turned his nose to the world that hoisted him up. With some convincing, he left behind the city of sin and aided Joseph in establishing Eden’s Gate.

Joseph Seed: Hailing from quaint suburbs which became targets during the Unification War, Joseph and his siblings traveled west to avoid the growing plague that was the corporate takeover. Town after town fell to the atrocities of NUSA’s top corps, and life had a funny way of pulling the family apart one by one. Joseph once wandered Night City’s streets as a preacher, warning citizens of the horrors of transhumanism and the corporate greed that blinded everybody to them. His beliefs would become the foundation for Eden’s Gate, a cult of followers dedicated in their aversion to cybernetics. Eventually, through trial by fire, the Seed brothers reunited and established their compound in The Badlands.

Juan Cortez: What began as a simple tale grew into something much bigger than expected. Born in Yara, Juan had a difficult upbringing with the growing political tensions the nation faced. Many locals in his neighborhood took up arms with guerrilla forces, and others stood by the side of the Yaran government and the Castillo family. Things reached a boiling point when a group of revolutionaries led by Santos Espinosa lead an intense revolution against the Yaran government, ultimately resulting in the death of President Gabriel Castillo. Only 10 at the time, Juan’s parents realized that their best bet would be to flee before things got worse. The Cortez family packed their things and vanished into the night, eventually stumbling onto the sandy shores of Miami, Florida. Juan did what he could to aid his family, and ultimately found himself working for the NUSA’s Central Intelligence office. He served as an eye on the inside during the Corporate War, embedded into enemy lines to relay information to the government. His efforts weren’t entirely as straightforward, as the information exchange often flowed both ways. When the war ended, Juan realized that the man who toppled his home country was a frequent flyer to Night City, and thus began Juan’s independent operation into taking down Antón while he had the chance.

María Marquessa: Right hand to the newfound CEO of BioTechnica, María lends her aid as the corporation’s head of marketing (and propaganda, though she won’t go on record to call it such). María handles the corporation’s public relations, and assures the citizens of Night City that nothing can go wrong, so long as they place their trust in Castillo’s leadership. Behind the scenes, there’s another side to María. A vulnerable side hidden away from public eyes, where she dotes their son and attempts to stroke the simmering flames between herself and Antón.

Nicholas “Nick” Rye: Hailing from a long lineage of servicemen, Nick fell out of contact with his family when he refused to serve in the Unification War. Instead, he left Night City and found his personal freedom in the Badlands. He took up odd jobs as a scavenger, traveling in and out of the city to deliver cargo. It was during his outings in Night City where he fell in love with Kim, whom he convinced to join him out away from the push and pull of it all. Together, they built a homestead to call their own. A homestead to plant the seeds for raising a family of their own… alongside the abandoned Panzer that Nick salvaged from his family’s old property on the border.

Noore Najjar: Once a member of Trauma Team, Noore found herself at wit’s end when an assignment gone wrong landed her at the feet of the notorious Pagan Min. At first, she was willing to lend her aid to the organization. After all, Kang Tao was held in high regard among Night City’s corporate elite. What she didn’t know is that they had eyes on her every move. On her family. And one day, when they 'mysteriously’ went missing, Pagan was there to offer Noore information in exchange for an exclusive arrangement. She left Trauma Team to work for him as a back alley ripper, and he 'conveniently’ forgot to mention that her family had been dead for months upon months. Funny how that works, huh?

Pagan Min: Rather than abandon his role within the Triad, Pagan embraced taking the reigns from his father. Now that the piece of shit was gone, he had the means to properly tear shit up. And he did. So much so, in fact, that he got in it with Kang Tao. A few shady deals here, a couple of bribes there, and Pagan’s branch of the Triad found themselves in all the glory Night City has to offer. Pagan acts as the figurehead for Kang Tao’s less legitimate dealings, often brokering deals between the corporation and anyone willing to buy in on exclusive stock.

Paolo de la Vega: Born and raised in the Heywood District, with his parents hailing from Yara, Paolo had many expectations to uphold in his family. He was drafted into Militech’s ranks at the turn of the War, and did well to follow in the footsteps of his father. That was, until news of his identity came to light. Paolo was dishonorably discharged and disowned by his family for “dressing like a man”. He was left to fend for himself in Night City’s streets, taking odd jobs that typically weren’t worth the extra creds. At some point, he ended up stealing from Talia, who opted to befriend him and let him on her musical ventures. The duo formed Máximas Matanzas, using their voices to protest the corporate takeover of Night City (particularly that of BioTechnica, where the utopian leadership is not all that it seems).

Peaches: One of few wild animals to survive Night City’s attempts at eliminating the local populace after a string of transmissible diseases, Peaches wanders the sands of The Badlands. At times, she finds herself at the doorstep of Miss Wilhelmina Mabel, who cares for Peaches for reasons unknown. Perhaps it’s craved companionship. Perhaps it’s simply an exchange for the loot Peaches gathers and stores. Regardless, the cougar seems rather friendly to most scavengers.

Rachel Jessop (Faith Seed): Born into wealth and set up with significant shares in BioTechnica (thanks to the family’s research in experimental medicine via plants), Rachel fell from grace when the pressures put onto her finally pulled her under. She turned to drugs for comfort, often finding herself lost within Night City’s streets and barely able to make it back home when things got particularly awful. For a while, Rachel had Tracey. Had someone to help her and pull her away from whatever edge, metaphorical or literal, that she found herself nearly toppling over. Unfortunately, their relationship fell under when Rachel met Joseph. According to Rachel, dubbed Faith by the preacher, Joseph welcomed her, introducing her to a strict moral code without drugs and alcohol whereby she recovered from her addiction. Unlike Rachel, Tracey soon realized Eden’s Gate’s duplicity and left them, while Rachel immersed herself completely in the ideology of the cult. She became a figurehead for those who stumbled across their territory, luring them in with a false sense of security before subjecting them to “the Bliss”.

Sam Becker: The son of a proud Militech father, Sam Becker treads Night City from the shadows. Working alongside Willis Huntley in the NUSA CIA, a mission gone wrong turned this dedicated soldier into a man fighting for his life. After losing contact out on Morro Bay, Sam found himself stuck in the ranks of Hoyt’s Privateers. Rising to become the patriarch’s right-hand man, he’s got a bad feeling he might not be able to claw his way out.

Willis Huntley: Working for President Myers is no easy task. Anybody can tell you that, but Willis doesn’t sugar coat it. Agent Willis Huntley works as a member of the NUSA’s Central Intelligence Agency. Sound familiar? A lot of his work involves working closely with Militech to keep an eye on things. Particularly the work of Arasaka, and what exactly it is they want with Night City. What do they gain from the town’s independence from the Union? Who knows? Not Willis.

Yuma Lau: Loyalty is one hell of a drug. Ever since the Min family took her in, Yuma devoted herself to their cause… whatever that may be. She idolizes Pagan and what he’s capable of. It’s no surprise that she followed him into the light as he stepped out of the shadow his father cast upon him. She followed him into blind deals with Kang Tao, acting as his personal guard. If anybody so much as looked at him wrong, they were in for a world of trouble. She followed him to Night City, taking control of the Triad’s security and protecting their interests with an iron fist.

[general-kalani]

First thing Randall would've heard was footsteps walking away after speaking.

And then more coming back.

Vaas was at the bars with a whistle, two others behind him. "Y'know, you really did scare me. Good fuckin' job on that hermano. Haven't seen someone manage to do that in a while."

"This is the guy, Vaas? If you didn't show me video evidence I probably wouldn't believe it."

"A squirt if ya ask me mate, could break him over one leg. We really sure this guy can bring profits past his... Magic fuckery?"

"Amigos that's why I'm keeping him so fuckin' locked up. Stefano hit him with the tranq y'know. I mean I told you it was a bear tranq, right? And look at him, still fuckin' alive. I even showed you-"

"The proof, yes, I know already Vaas... Maybe we'll catch millions off of him. Would certainly be interesting! Now we've been speaking a lot, let the man speak for himself. You there, speak up before Vaas interrupts you again."

@general-kalani:

A pause, Vaas felt his heart beating so fast. No one and nothing moved as they stared at the downed body. Waiting for a twitch in the fingers, waiting for something to move!

But when a minute passed with nothing happening he broke out into a grin.

"Al-fucking-right! HEY STEFANO! WAS THAT YOU ON THE TRANQ?! NICE FUCKIN' JOB! You're getting a raise and the rest of the week off as paid leave, go fuck your wife huh?"

Well, now it was time to do something with this guy. Rolling the man onto his side he checked for a heartbeat. Maybe the tranq straight up killed him and-

Well shit there was a heartbeat.

What kind of fucking madman was this?! Not even a tranquilizer for a- considering colouring he was presuming- bear couldn't kill him?

This really was something to present to Hoyt.

"ALEJANDRO! GET A CELL READY! LOTSA FUCKIN' CHAINS AMIGO! I gotta send this shit in to Hoyt. He's about to be rich off of this fucker... Guess I got my wish for someone just as expensive as that prisoner! Except double the price by five... No, six. Keep tranqs on this fucker I wanna get Hoyt here before he wakes the fuck up again."

It may be a long few hours to get Hoyt out of his office with Buck on his tail, but this would be worth it.

"Lets both hope they don't take too long to get your ass out of my fuckin' compound."

The first thing to cut through the haze of unconsciousness is the feeling of resting on a cold, hard surface—that, and the fact he shouldn't have been unconscious at all.

More awareness comes to him in degrees. The room he's in is a fucking prison cell, Flagg realizes, and more than that, he's restrained—and from there, he can infer well enough what happened, from beginning to end.

He shifts and grits his teeth in frustration as the heavy-duty chains wrapped around his upper body tighten with the movement, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. His legs might be free, but the limited range of motion makes trying anything except standing up futile.

Whatever they had dosed him with isn't helping, either. Without it, he could melt the chains in an instant—burn the entire place down, too, just for kicks—but whatever it is is quite good at suppressing his abilities, and he is acutely aware of that fact. In all of his long years, nobody had ever thought of such a simple, yet effective solution.

Whoever had designed this little setup knew what the hell they were doing. He'll give them that.

"You boys really pulled out all the stops, huh?" he calls out, half-slurring, not quite sure if anybody can actually hear him but continuing on regardless.

"I'm flattered. Really."

[breakthings]

— STARTER / PLOTTING CALL.

This is a starter/plotting call for the following muses.

Jason Brody.

Hoyt Volker.

Pagan Min.

Like this and I’ll come to your DMs to discuss some stuff!

[cwarscars]

👶

Unconventional munday asks!

👶 Who was your first muse? 

(( this guy ^ hoyt volker from far cry 3 and oh my god did i have a blast playing him! crazy druglord egomaniac who tortures people to death and lives on a knife's edge? do i have a type? oui. c: ))

[general-kalani]

"Profits?"

[unrclypirxte]

"don't" Starters! - NOT ACCEPTING

@breakthings said: ❝ don’t make me tell you again. ❞ Jason @ Hoyt

---

Everytime Hoyt seemed to like the boy in blue, he went and did shit like this. Which, at first, was amusing; like his own personal reality TV show set entirely within the confines of his islands. But now it was becoming tiresome and boring. Unoriginal. Like everyone else on this God forsaken heap of privacy known as Rook, he was falling into a set pattern of actions and words. How sad.

He took his time to light his burnt out cigar, brows arching as he took a drag and considered its flavour. It wasn't one of those he usually had, and he found himself quite enjoying the new flavour. He looked to Jason after contemplating his treat, fixing The Warrior with a briefly silent look before he gestured his way in a small cloud of smoke.

"I like you, Jason!" He began enthusiastically, voice dripping with that unnearable sense of ' I'm better than you ' . "Really, I do. You remind me of someone I know from across the pond," He paused again, but this time realised that he wasn't here for a game of verbal tennis.

Very well.

The Tyrant stood from his chair and walked around his desk, taking a seat on the edge to create a more intimate distance between them. His head tilted slightly to the side. "Straight to business then? A man after my own heart!" He gestured to the seat before him, "Can we talk about this like men?"

[fantasmalforces]

🚬  :    my  muse  steals  a  cigarette   (   or lollipop   )   from  your  muse   &   puts  it  in  their  mouth . -> Hoyt and Piper || @maximuses

. * ･ ｡ﾟ☆ Tension Symbol Meme (with a twist) // CLOSED ☆ ｡ﾟ･* .

It wasn’t the first time Piper had stolen his cigar from him. Had it been anyone else, she very well may not have survived the ballsy move. And she knew it too.

He sat back in his fancy leather chair, kicked up his feet, grabbed one of his Cohibas, and lit the end of it till glowed like the fresh embers of a roaring wildfire. Puff, puff, exhale. The smell was... strange. Not quite so offensive to Piper’s senses as she’d been expecting. Rabbitfolk tended to have very sensitive noses, and she was especially keen with her sense of smell considering she was half-badger too. She’d expected the smoke to mimic that of a cigarettes. But it didn’t. It smelled... purer. Cleaner in a sense. Cohibas were a good brand. Purer than the lead paint and shit they packed into cigs or other lower name brands, and the smoke said that. It smelled rich. Like... Like french toast and burning cedar wood. Something unexpected coming from something so deadly. Heavenly. Standing idly beside Hoyt, she leaned down. He was just raising the cigar to his lips for another drag when she caught his wrist. He didn’t flinch but he did stare at her with a look demanding to know where she kept all the audacity to lay her hands on him unprompted.

Piper didn’t smoke. The habit was nasty in her mind, and useless for a creature that relied on speed. Being able to keep a good lung capacity was half of the reason her mother’s species had stayed alive so long. Smoking of any kind could fuck that up beyond repair, assuming the cancer sold with it didn’t kill a rabbit first. Plus, it just felt rough to be inhaling something other than oxygen— that’s why she did all her weed as edibles now. But... God, that smell was enticing. One little puff couldn’t hurt, right? She came forward, lips finding the end of it and pulling in a deep breath. Her eyes slipped shut, relaxing as she did, catching the flavor of it as smoke rolled over her tongue. What an experience. The tase was unlike anything else she’d ever had; rich like decadent chocolate, and spicy in a way that made her lips tingle. There was an earthy flavor to the air, like damp soil after a good rain, and new fresh leather. She drew back and exhaled. Oh. Now it made sense why people smoked these things when they were stressed. Hoyt watched her exhale a cloud of ecstasy. A beat passed before he freed himself of her grip and puffed on it again. She looked so peaceful for a moment, and that fact was not lost on him. Another drag, and he offered her a second puff. She looked at him, leaning down to take the end in her mouth again, only for him to draw it back.

He turned in his chair, chuckling at how she pouted. He patted at his lap, watched how she rolled her eyes but still took a seat after looking around to make sure no one else was watching. He took another puff and motioned with a finger for her to come closer. She she did, leaning down close and letting him raise the end of it up to her, letting her draw in another deep puff before pulling away. When her eyes fluttered open again, she could see him smirking in delight at how he had her wrapped around her finger. Oh no, that wasn’t going to fly with her. Without a moment of hesitation, she closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. She felt him jolt a bit under her in surprise, hands resting against his chest and feeling how his heart fluttered under her touch. She exhaled, letting him taste the smoke of his own cigar and hearing him grunt something between frustration and flustered delight. There were hands at her back. The cigar was left neglected in an ashtray for the moment in favor of an entirely new oral fixation. Through the plumes, Piper could catch the taste of him. The raw flavor of Hoyt Volker beneath the glamour of all he surrounded himself with. The potency of his cigars lingered on his lips, the taste of some fine wine or sweet bourbon accompanying it, and something else decadent and rich just like everything else he bought. And beneath that was something earthy, some fresh. Like cool fresh taste of avacado salted and peppered, the African grasses after a storm rolled through to extinguish a wild fire, a smoky sweetened air that crackled. ‘Like a chicken?’ Some vague, witty part of her mind conjured up before being swept away.

Now this was addictive.

Almost as addictive as the feeling of Hoyt’s hand finding its place at the small of her back and slowly venturing up the curve of her spine to the back of her neck. Fingers moved in slow, steady circles about the nape of it, before fingernails move to gently scratch through her undercut. Those long, spindly digit threaded through her short hair, caressing at her scalp slowly and deliberately. All the while, his other hand navigated from one hip up her side and along her front to her collarbone. Patient fingers slowly tugged down her jacket zipper so they could caress along slopes and curves of bone, feeling her shiver as he brushed over all her sensitive little sweet spots. Finally, a hand slid up her throat, made her gasp a little at the silent motion to choke her. He felt her pulse throb beneath her fingertip, heard his deep, rumbling chuckle at her surprise, and was comforted with another taste of him as he let her continue to breathe, caressed her cheek, and joined his other hand in carding through hair. Both eventually came to rest on her ears, fingers tenderly gentle in caressing along the lengths of them. Thumbs felt along the short, fluffy hairs of a rabbitfolk that coated them, a smirk forming against her mouth as he felt her press her hips into his. Sensitive.

“Are all you bunnies this sensitive?” He rumbled, drawing back to look at her. Electric blue and gold stared down at him through lidded eyes. She was breathless, palming his chest through his clothes. There was a warmth settling under her skin, prickling and irresistible and making her Privateer outfit far too uncomfortable. He could tell she was getting flustered, the roseglow in her cheeks and the pout on those darkly painted lips of her said it all.

“No,�� she insisted, holding still as he moved to pull collar open and lowered her zipper more. “We’re not.”

“Really?” His little smirk told her he didn’t believe that for shit. Yet he kept going.

They had a quiet little back and forth while Hoyt pulled open her jacket, slowly sliding it off her shoulders and running over the newly exposed bits of skin. His fingers skimmed up her arms, following the lines of ink from her tattoos until they disappeared beneath her tank top. He reached down, casually untucking it from her pants and slowly lifting it up and over her head only to repeat the process. The smell of hot leather faded, replaced by something sweeter as he stripped away her layers of clothing. He leaned in, toying with the hem of her sports bra as he placed an alarmingly soft kiss to her neck. Fingers slipped beneath the lower edges, toting with the undersides of her breasts. He kissed down along her shoulder, committing the smell of her to memory. Hot sandy winds and vaguely citrusy. The jungle’s fruit was a perfume that clung to her, wild and beautiful and enticing. It made his mouth water and those kisses turned to biting and refreshing the long faded hickeys he so loved to leave along her collarbone. He listed to her moan, felt her wrap her arms around his neck, hold him close as their hips pressed together and his hands continued exploring. When he was satisfied that his territory at her neck had been defended, his hands returned to curling under her bra, dragging it up and over her head so he could fondle her chest to his heart’s content.

In some ways, Piper was a toy to him. An idle fixation for when he was bored. He could wind her up and watch her go off, he could map her out and explore her, and have fun with her whenever the two of them delighted. And she knew this to be fact to an extent. In that way, Hoyt was like every other person on this island. He was like every one of his clients. People were either distractions, or a means to an end to him. There was only thing separating her from the rest of the island— and it wasn’t her skill, it wasn’t her breed, it wasn’t anything of substance: only the fact she could make him feel something. Something more addictive than even the drugs he peddled. It was unhealthy line to be walking for sure.

But damn if it didn’t feel good.

For both of them.

Piper tilted her head back, let him preen and grin as he examined his handiwork and let his hands slide further down her body. Over the wings weighed down by a lock beneath her breasts, over her ribs and the old collection of scars at her left side, down her rippling abdominal muscles and toward the hem of her pants. Deft fingers worked to undo the buckle of her belt, slipping the leather from a steel loop letting it slip away so he work on the buttons and zipper of her bottoms too. He savored the way she rolled and wiggled her hips to slip out of them. Watched how the slid off of her thighs and to reveal more ink and creamy skin. He watched her kick off her boots and let her pants land in a puddle around her ankles. Watched her get back into his lap in nothing but her boyshorts. She leaned down to kiss him again, desperate for another fleeting taste. He was generous, letting her gather the flavor she so craved before pulling back to trail kisses along his jawline, down his neck and along his own collarbone. He let her nip and kiss at him, let her lick the salty sweat from them, praised her with little groans, sweetened curses, and sharp exhales. He let her unbutton his shirt and push it and his blazer off of his shoulders, and she let him slide his wandering hands under her last piece of clothing, taking a firm grip on her ass and feeling her tail dust at his wrists as he finally pulled it down right as the last button of his shirt popped open. Just as before, she moved to help him slide them down, let them get caught around one ankle. And when she came back to his lap, she helped him out of his own jeans, savored the muffled eager sounds he spilled into her mouth as they kissed. She relished in the delightful way he moaned as she teased the bulge in the denim, how he exhaled when he unbuttoned and unzipped him and pushed them down just enough to reach his brief and pull those down too. She giggled at the way he raised his hips like a needy fucking mutt and let her slide them halfway down his thighs before he had her back in his desk and was leaning over, eyes ablaze with a familiar lust spurred on by the slow rhythmic way she was stroking him.

What a familiar position this was. She’d been in it half a dozen times at least in the past month alone. Hoyt always felt the need to be on top, in control, watching her squirm and shudder beneath him. In just a fraction of a moment, a fleeting second of action, all the gentleness of their previous actions vanished. And yet, the passion remained. “Excited, aren’t we?” She teased, breathing out as he grinded against her. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him closer as her hand continue to gently work him up, coating his length in a mixture of his slick and hers. He growled lowly, nipping at her lip and resting his forehead against hers. He pushed in slowly, watching both of her hands fall to lay beside her head, limp and in his favorite form of surrender. He kissed her one last time, moaning her name as he caught the taste of her and his cigar on her lips. An addictive combination he could get used to, just like how she was getting used to his. His final act of kindness.

For the rest of their little endeavor was far less forgiving. It was a violent struggle, just as it always was. Nails dug into his back and raked down the length of his spine, seeking some kind of purchase among the blood she shed. His handprints became bruised into her thighs, her hips, and her throat, teeth finding each other’s necks and threatening to tear the throats from one another. But they never did. It always ended up being rough kisses, hot and full of teeth and tongue. It became a battle of wit, growling out expectations for how long the other would last. She’d make some quip about how the old man was past his prime, he’d fire back something about how he thought bunnies loved a quick finish, and it would devolve into something sickeningly sweet: filthy compliments about how seven and a half never felt so good, how she was so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull out, how she didn’t want him to, how he didn’t plan on it. Oddly romantic words, juxtaposed to how rough they were. Rough enough that his whole desk was shaking and the rest of the upper floor was quiet from people leaving- they knew best not to stick around for when things got like that. They only eased up towards the end. When both of them lost their focus.

The nails in his back eased up in favor of pushing those stray hairs from his face, seeing those lovely green eyes clearly, watching theway they dilated and betrayed his most secretive desires when they found hers. His grip on her hips fell away to let his arms encircle her and pulling her into him as much as he could, he wanted no space between them. (He always argued it was because it was the best way to sink deeper and make it as pleasurable as possible for both of them, but she never bought it.) He lost his rhythm but she didn’t mind. She clenched around him in anticipation anyway— it made things easier for both of them. His little pants, his little curses and grunts, they made it worthwhile. And likewise, he enjoyed the way she ran her fingers up the back his skull, gripped at his hair a moaned his name over and over again like it was some sort of chanted prayer. He’d rest his forehead against hers for those last few thrusts and God— God! — It was one of those rare moments where Rook actually felt like paradise. Hoyt holding her close, buried deep inside of her and sending fiery tingles of electricity all through her body— white hot pleasure enveloping her just like he was. The taste of him lingering on her tongue and on her lips, that delightful scent of him practically suffocating her and the sight of his face crumpling, then relaxing in pure ecstasy as he finished with her, felt her wetten him with her squirt. The sounds of satisfaction he let out as he came and came down from his high.

Hoyt Volker was a five sense experience.

It took the two of them a good bit to catch their breath, let the world back in through the hazy clouds of pleasure they’d so delicately and so violently swaddled themselves in together. He muttered something she didn’t quite catch as they held each other’s gazes for a moment. Her ears raised suddenly in surprise as she felt him kissing her again. A rarity that was. He felt it was too personal, too intimate for their taste— for his taste. There was never anything official stated between them. Not even between themselves. But there were feelings all the same— unbeknownst to them, mutual. Whatever spurred the sudden action Piper didn’t know. But she didn’t pull away either. She’d come to know Hoyt as a man full of surprises- and not all of them particularly unpleasant either. Her hands cupped his cheek and ran through his hair, savoring the lingering taste of Cohiba on his breath and the rawness of him beneath it. Delicious. Addictive. She’d have to kiss him more often. However that worked.

Finally he pulled away, taking the last of her breath with him. He drew back, a hand at her cheek slipping away. The tips of his fingers lingered against the soft supple skin, tracing her jaw and clasping lightly at her chin. A thumb rolled over her lower lip and she smirked, pecking at the pad of it as she sat up. The two of them stifled a sound as he pulled out finally and tucked himself back into his clothing. She preferred to give him a little show, waiting until he was flopped comfortably back in his chair to show him how she slowly pulled her boyshorts back up her thighs and settled the hem back on her hips as though nothing happened. He chuckled, watching her redress herself and fix her hair. She went to go back to standing guard but he stopped her calling her back over and bidding her to lean down. The Cohiba they’d abandoned maybe an hour or two earlier on the ashtray was raised to her lips, only for her to shake her head. He hummed, thinking for a moment before taking a puff of it and puckering his lips slightly. She shook her head a bit with a little grin and leaned down to kiss him again. The rich flavors of smoke and him filled her mouth once more. Fuck, that was it now. She was hooked on it. On him.

He chuckled as he drew back, watching the curling remnants of smoke flow from her lips, and sent her off with a slap on the ass and husky “back to your mark” and she dutifully obeyed, taking up her post beside him. There was a wordless understanding between them from this. An unspoken agreement. They wouldn’t breathe a word of what happened between them to anyone, ever. But they would know. They would know they were something. Just “friends” with benefits. No, no it went beyond that now. The feelings went beyond just physical attraction, lust, and the tension of their rivalry. In love? Maybe. But that word didn’t feel right, so they didn’t say it. And probably never would. It didnt feel right to describe their arrangement like that. But it was something.

And it was definitely something they could get used to.

[scardnbroken]

R

ABC’s of getting to know my Muse

Is there something they wish they could do/achieve but can’t?

[ Vaas has a deep desire to rule the whole of Rook Islands without the constant persistence of his sister, Citra, and the Rakyat. Not just that but also a world without Hoyt Volker and his privateers. A fantasy of pure psychedelia and Chaos where the Pirates are the top apex predators of the jungle and Vaas is the one true King. Not the Right hand man of a drug and slave trafficker or the Brother to a voodoo bitch that lives in the jungle. No a Man who lives in a drug induced world and rules it with an iron fist, where he can do what he wants and when he wants. ]

[unrclypirxte]

The disturbance didn't catch Hoyt off guard, no. In fact, he EXPECTED it. Knew the rapport Piper had with Beth. It was one of the reasons he had heavy security. That, and the fact a few pirates were there and visiting with Beth. The last thing he wanted was unnecessary casualties and Vaas asking what happened. Though, to be fair, Vaas would be asking about this anyway.

From the ground, the woman stirred, a hand rising towards Piper in a pathetic attempt to keep her away, "I'm—" A thick swallow and sharp intake of breath, "I'm alright. Don't worry."

The Tyrant smiled his usual predatory grin, looking down at Beth with something bordering admiration. Then, just as quickly, he focused back to the uncouth privateer. "Piper! I appreciate your concern, but business is business! I'm sure you understand. Isn't that right, Beth?"

"Yes sir," She gritted out, flinching slightly as one of the Privateers kicked at the dirt beside her. A few of the watching men laughed.

"What's your objection? Hm? You've even said yourself that equality is best," Hoyt gestured at Piper as he spoke, animated and joyful.

"Am I not in my right to enforce MY rules? OF FUCKING COURSE I AM!" His abrupt yell was met with deafening silence and a challenge to her view of his authority. His body tensed, scowl etched deep into his lips. "Am I being unfair?"

@unrclypirxte SAID: A "meeting" had been called at the compound, and any and all privateers could attend; the subject was a mystery, but Hoyt always promised a good show. So, a crowd had formed in the courtyard, and a good ten minutes after, Hoyt came out to greet them. He did his usual spiel, giddy as always, before gesturing to the doors behind him. They burst open, followed by a sizeable group of juggernauts. Then, thrown to the floor as far as they could make it, was Beth. Bloody, a little bruised, and gasping for breath.

"Which brings me onto the next topic: favouritism! I get accused of that a lot with her," Hoyt gestured to Beth as she tried to stand, promptly getting kicked back down by one of his men. She wheezed. "But that isn't the case, as you can see! Now! This is an important lesson in trust. But! Any questions before I continue?"

⚔️ Random Asks // ALWAYS ACCEPTING! ⚔️

Piper's was never fond of gatherings. Not on Rook anyway. Any and all "group events" typically featured one thing: torture and death. Hoyt ruled by fear, and to maintain that image often meant using someone as an example. A sacrifice. This place was a god-damned cult at times, with individuals sharing the same ideas about the value of life being counted in coin and the use of brutality to ensure "efficiency." She hated it. The whole place was practically and Mythic Pain Farm.

But what else was there to expect from Rook Island?

As much as she hated it, Piper had managed to develop something of a stomach for it all. The gore, the guts, the blood, the torture, the death and the suffering. Her prey side had always demonstrated a strong aversion to it in the beginning. But the predator side had been all too easy to adjust to it. Enjoy it even. A natural, instinctual response that she had been fast to squash.

It was bad enough that she worked on this wretched island, she was not becoming an Instinct Criminal while she was at it.

But in that moment, everything seemed to blank out. The tolerance, the restraint, the small modicum of composure she'd managed to scrape together in order to avoid losing sanity, her very self to the instincts she kept buried deep within her. All of it flew out of her and into the jungle the second she saw Beth's body hit the ground. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. Her mask slipped and her whole expression became awash with horror.

Without thinking, she rushed forward and screamed BETH's name. She slammed through the crowd, pushing the men that towered over her aside in a mad dash to get to her companion as she was kicked to the ground. The sight had undoubtedly given Piper the fright of her life. But all that fear, that horror - it boiled into a white, hot, vengeful anger as one of the juggernauts caught her arm and pulled her back. She turned and snarled at the bastard with a sharp.

"LET GO OF ME YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"

Somewhere outside of her own pulse in her ears, there was laughter as another grabbed her other arm and helped pull her back to watch. She struggled against them, kicking and flailing against their iron grip. They had her up off the ground, ears pinned back and snarling like a wild beast. She glared at Hoyt, teeth bared and teeth rattling with a positively feral sound. No words.

Only the silent promise that she'd slaughter them all if he didn't let Beth go right this instant.

[theycallmemrgluskin]

An important announcement from mun.

As you are all very aware I became very inactive the past few months mainly due to the fact I had broken my arm. Then when I started up my Hoyt Volker vlog I got more into the swing of everything though I eventually became inactive again.

I wish to get this off my chest as to why, and no its no ones fault to be exact. You see late last year my sister, whom I had not seen or spoke to in over 8 years, had suddenly came back into my life. She had gone through a rough patch with domestic violence so everything was all over the place for the first few months. I won’t go into details obviously but I will say that due to the legal pressure and stress as well as not being able to keep to my own routine and being stalked and harrassed I lost a lot of muse for both Hoyt and Eddie.

They have both been a break from the anxiety and stress but recent things have taken a turn. With a big family outburst last night my sister has cut herself off once more to my family having done massive damage to my mother and father as well as cause problems for my Brother as well and probably me too soon.

I just want you all to know I will be trying to juggle back through to RPing as I use to and I hope that I can do that on both Hoyt and Eddie rather then one or the other. I love you all so much and if you made it through the end of this it truly means a lot that someone is willing to listen to me get all this crap off my chest. I just hope that after a while I can come back to the fandoms and enjoy rping without the constant fear of being dragged away from it all over again.

[senka-mesecine]

you know, when I first saw your blog, justfarcryimagines. I was expect to see Hoyte and his blond girl (that time I still don't know it's you) in Farcry 3 that I planed to bougth it on sale and until now I'm still disappointed that I don't get a chance to see her/you in game. Anyway, I just want to say that you will always be my favourite girl I ship with him. Hoyte x Almesivamoonshadow give me life, your love for him is so beautiful for me. well, I may be weird but I really mean it.

Darling, I’m beyond flattered, actually. ❤ I’m overjoyed that you considered buying Far Cry 3 just to see me in it. (Damn, I wish!) But, suffice to say, Hoyt is my favourite male character and villain to date and I worked quite hard to develop his backstory, fill out the holes Ubisoft forgot, flesh out his motivations, grant him inner musings, give him more of a depth, bring his dad, who was unfortunately only mentioned by name on the wiki page ( Cobus Volker | x |, | x |, | x | ) to life, create a mother for him | x | and give him an entire space to exist in before the canon events of Far Cry 3 so he could stand on the same level as someone like Vaas without redeeming him, justifying him and making him less of a villain (because he is, undeniably, a villain). Just so happened to give him a girl too because so few people shipped themselves with him at the time when I did it, and I’m so, so, so pleased people actually like Alme so much (Me). Inspires me to create more stuff with her in the future even though it’s been years. (◕ ﺮ ◕✿)

Thanksies, sweetie. You made my day. A thousand kisses. Love you!  (◡‿◡✿)