marcusgoddamnvansten

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

[Don’t forget to check out the #partyinpenthouse2 tag to see who’s at the party so you can get mingling! Throw some open starters in there and have fun!]

#ooc #partyinpenthouse2

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

This starts today, people. Get in here.

[Event: Party with a Billionaire!]

Cecil: Welcome back, listeners. Now, ordinarily, I would wrap up the broadcast with a few carefully chosen, succinct, but meaningful words–however, during the weather, our station received a visit from a familiar stranger who, without any hesitation whatsoever, put a briefcase full of money on the front desk and demanded to purchase air time at the end of the broadcast. 

After some howling and peculiar scraping noises, Station Management approved the purchase, and, from what I hear, the money will be going toward general repairs, as well as the purchase of a brand new water cooler for the intern break room. Congratulations, interns! It’s too bad Intern Clay will not be with us to enjoy it, following his accident on the roof. To the family of… oh, it will have to wait. This is bought time, after all!

I have with me in the studio our honoured guest, Jake Ahn–who, as you may recall, was under the employ of a local celebrity before said person tragically didn’t become an angel and it became illegal to speak of him. Welcome to the studio, Mr. Ahn!

Jake: Thank you, Cecil. You look great, as long as we pretend it’s still 1969.

Cecil: Haha. Well, I’m glad to see we both enjoy pretending that time is linear and makes sense. What brings you in to speak to our listeners tonight?

[Read on for event details –>]

Keep reading

#signal boost

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Marcus snorted softly, rolling his eyes at the petname, though he didn’t bother to tell her off on it or anything. No harm done, and he could never really bring himself to be short with her.

“I’m not generous,” he protested, rolling his shoulders back as he watched the guests mull about. “I’m a selfish old man, ya know. This kinda thing is great for public opinion... and, well, I kinda miss people having opinions about me. Not existing sucks. It’s boring.”

Marcus, honey, in ground hot tubs at a party. Really?

“They’re all fourteen-seaters. Do you think I should have installed a couple more? I don’t want anybody to feel left out of hot tub time,” Marcus hummed, rubbing his chin and observing from the tower window; he didn’t bother trying to actually look at the flicker in the corner of his eye.

#facelessoldvansten

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

To be fair, Marcus had to give Jake most of the credit for the actual party-throwing--he had mostly assigned himself the task of shouting suggestions and letting his assistant jigsaw everything into something coherent. That was pretty literally what he paid the man to do, anyway. But it had all come from him, of course. The decor, the entertainment, and naturally, the venue.

Just in time to see an old familiar face back in this sleepy desert town he’d gotten so attached to. For whatever reason.

Marcus’s days of running for mayor out of boredom were already behind him, but he still had a soft spot for Night Vale, and the pieces of Night Vale that made it what it was. The sweet-spoken scientist had really become part of the landscape to him, perfect hair and all. The billionaire grinned, side-stepping into the void, only to emerge beside Carlos to slap him all friendly-like between the shoulderblades, wings casting refractions of sunset across the deck.

“Hey, Science Guy,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “How’s it feel to be back in the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S., or whatever?”

Welcome Home

Carlos looked around, dazzled by the opulent glamour that was the penthouse of Night Vale’s most prominent citizen.  The tall, winged guards, the lights, the colors, the music…it made him feel dizzy; almost drunk.  It felt as if everyone in Night Vale had descended upon the rooftop.  There was a part of him that was happy to be surrounded by all of these people who he had missed in his year away from home, but his senses were assailed on every side, and the scientist found himself retreating from the throng to a slightly less busy part of the soiree to gather himself.

It had been so long.  There was so much to catch up on and, scientifically speaking, this seemed a wonderful place to get qualitative data concerning Night Vale’s recent history as well as a wonderful opportunity to further re-integrate into the little town’s populous.

He hadn’t expected things to be quite this extravagant, but found himself grinning ruefully at his mistaken hypothesis.

If anyone knew how to throw a party and pull out all the stops, it was going to be Marcus Vansten.

#eruditexperimenter #Carlos #partyinpenthouse2

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

“Did you share it with Jake?” Marcus asked with a soft snort. “He likes lists. Especially long ones.”

The billionaire stretched lazily, letting his wings pin and spread downward like a relaxed golden parakeet. The violet cocktail robe he wore loosened at his waist from the gold sash tying it in place, though it mercifully remained modest. “I just wanna see ‘em having a good time. Dunno what this altruistic itch under my skin is, Mâdarbozorg. Must be an Angel thing.”

Marcus, honey, in ground hot tubs at a party. Really?

“They’re all fourteen-seaters. Do you think I should have installed a couple more? I don’t want anybody to feel left out of hot tub time,” Marcus hummed, rubbing his chin and observing from the tower window; he didn’t bother trying to actually look at the flicker in the corner of his eye.

#facelessoldvansten

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Marcus, honey, in ground hot tubs at a party. Really?

“They’re all fourteen-seaters. Do you think I should have installed a couple more? I don’t want anybody to feel left out of hot tub time,” Marcus hummed, rubbing his chin and observing from the tower window; he didn’t bother trying to actually look at the flicker in the corner of his eye.

#partyinpenthouse2 #facelessoldvansten #ask

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Marcus took a long sip of scotch, letting it roll back over his tongue as he appeared to contemplate the issue.

“Yeah,” he said finally, setting the glass down. “Ricky’s a good pal of mine, and he’s one of ours. He’s not technically from Desert Bluffs, anyway--and nobody who lives here even knows who he is. He’s good at that. He’ll just be another one of my buds showing up for a good time or whatever... Just make sure he doesn’t come in here sporting a yellow tie or anything.”

Vithya was practically bursting at the seams, beaming as she reviewed items on the security check list. "I think we have things well in hand, Marcus. I was just checking with the others, and wanted to run this by you in case we've missed anything; Mr. Ahn's suggestion."

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, Vith.” Marcus paused Candy Crush and set his phone down for a moment, sitting forward on the couch so he could reach the bottle of scotch and his empty glass. “Lemme hear it.”

#empyreanacademic

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Party in Penthouse 2

There’s a party on the rooftop, top of the world.

Marcus Vansten, Night Vale’s Greatest Citizen, no longer legally exists--but he still knows how to throw one hell of a party.

The building itself drips with opulence, even from the outside; the lower floors of the old StrexCorp buiness tower have been transformed into a glass-walled art gallery. The journey up to the penthouse for the guests--after they’ve checked in with a couple of tall, imposing, winged security guards sporting classy tailored jackets emblazoned with the initials MV on their lapels--is a sight to behold. The lobby leading to the elevators is lined with sculptures of cats of every description from every corner of the world, elegant creatures bent into every malleable shape amid furniture covered in patterned upholstery made from the skins and fur of real bengal tigers, rare jaguars, and snow leopards that would have certainly been majestic beasts prior to their lives as armchairs.

The music that plays here is soft, classic--something that might play in the lobby at the Met. It continues as the guests enter the elevator, which takes up only a few people at a time--but when the elevator doors slide open to the roof of the penthouse, the atmosphere changes completely.

A DJ is perched high on a platform, angled so that the desert sun has begun to set behind them; they’re spinning tracks from an elaborate set of mixing equipment flanked by speakers that pound the air, filling the sky with club music and requested tracks alike, blended into the sound. The penthouse roof itself almost looks like the party level of a cruise ship, blue glass walls refracting fading sunlight, crystal light fixtures beginning to glow on around the party floor. An enormous swimming pool makes up the centerpiece, and from above, one could see the elaborate painting on the bottom, a portrait of a very wealthy green-eyed man decorated with gold, a drape of scarlet fabric, and little else.

Around the pool there are several in-ground hot tubs, endless comfortable looking lounge chairs; a seating area with sofas and a contained fire pit; there’s an open bar next to the doors of a sauna, from which steam is seeping out; and the dance floor in front of the speakers offers plenty of space between all of that and the extensive buffet on the other side, long tables strewn with selection. There are whole roast turkeys, fancy fruit trays cut into stunning persian-inspired patterns on their plates, a broad selection of hors d’oeuvres that are occasionally ferried around the party, massive bowls of punch sitting in crystal bowls shaped like swans, and more sculptures of big cats.

And slowly, most of the population of Night Vale begins to fill the space, until the whole penthouse is full of excited, chattering, dancing, eating, drinking and swimming citizens of a Place.

It’s going to be one hell of a night. Where’s the host?

#partyinpenthouse2 #wtnv rp #wtnv #welcome to night vale #Marcus Vansten #Setting #[Feel free to reblog to spread the event and establish the setting!] #[Start your own threads! go go go!]

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

[Event: Party with a Billionaire!]

Cecil: Welcome back, listeners. Now, ordinarily, I would wrap up the broadcast with a few carefully chosen, succinct, but meaningful words–however, during the weather, our station received a visit from a familiar stranger who, without any hesitation whatsoever, put a briefcase full of money on the front desk and demanded to purchase air time at the end of the broadcast. 

After some howling and peculiar scraping noises, Station Management approved the purchase, and, from what I hear, the money will be going toward general repairs, as well as the purchase of a brand new water cooler for the intern break room. Congratulations, interns! It’s too bad Intern Clay will not be with us to enjoy it, following his accident on the roof. To the family of… oh, it will have to wait. This is bought time, after all!

I have with me in the studio our honoured guest, Jake Ahn–who, as you may recall, was under the employ of a local celebrity before said person tragically didn’t become an angel and it became illegal to speak of him. Welcome to the studio, Mr. Ahn!

Jake: Thank you, Cecil. You look great, as long as we pretend it’s still 1969.

Cecil: Haha. Well, I’m glad to see we both enjoy pretending that time is linear and makes sense. What brings you in to speak to our listeners tonight?

[Read on for event details –>]

Keep reading

#Boost it. #Come on. #I want the whole town there.

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Been thinking about getting another dragon.

That was a good time. Being able to fly over traffic really cut down on hours spent in gridlock.

#Marcus Talks

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

∾   I’m not much of a horror fan. When it comes to ghost stuff and demon stuff, I can’t watch that.

#[Some of the photos that inspired Jake's new look] #Jake Ahn #Jake the PA

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

"How does securing a place work?" the girl blinked, cocking her head to the side. ~artxsticerika

“Essentially we’re going to have a fair number of you walking the perimeter,” Jake explained, tracing the border of the building with his fingertip on a digital map brought up on a small tablet. “The Sheriff’s Secret Police have offered to lend us some monitoring equipment, so there will be more cameras than the usual 122, and a few mics. You’ll all be wired to hear them and each other.”

#Jake answers #artxsticerika #partyinpenthouse2 #Anonymous #ask

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

Vithya was practically bursting at the seams, beaming as she reviewed items on the security check list. "I think we have things well in hand, Marcus. I was just checking with the others, and wanted to run this by you in case we've missed anything; Mr. Ahn's suggestion."

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, Vith.” Marcus paused Candy Crush and set his phone down for a moment, sitting forward on the couch so he could reach the bottle of scotch and his empty glass. “Lemme hear it.”

#Marcus answers #Anonymous #ask #[I forgot your Vithya URL Oh my god...........]

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

// is there a one muse per person limit on the party?

[Nope. Send as many of your muses as you want! It’s gonna be BIG!]

#ooc #partyinpenthouse2 #Anonymous #ask

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

[Event: Party with a Billionaire!]

Cecil: Welcome back, listeners. Now, ordinarily, I would wrap up the broadcast with a few carefully chosen, succinct, but meaningful words–however, during the weather, our station received a visit from a familiar stranger who, without any hesitation whatsoever, put a briefcase full of money on the front desk and demanded to purchase air time at the end of the broadcast. 

After some howling and peculiar scraping noises, Station Management approved the purchase, and, from what I hear, the money will be going toward general repairs, as well as the purchase of a brand new water cooler for the intern break room. Congratulations, interns! It’s too bad Intern Clay will not be with us to enjoy it, following his accident on the roof. To the family of… oh, it will have to wait. This is bought time, after all!

I have with me in the studio our honoured guest, Jake Ahn–who, as you may recall, was under the employ of a local celebrity before said person tragically didn’t become an angel and it became illegal to speak of him. Welcome to the studio, Mr. Ahn!

Jake: Thank you, Cecil. You look great, as long as we pretend it’s still 1969.

Cecil: Haha. Well, I’m glad to see we both enjoy pretending that time is linear and makes sense. What brings you in to speak to our listeners tonight?

[Read on for event details –>]

Keep reading

#Signal boost this.

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

36, 37, 43, 44, 45?

36. Favorite clean word?

Money.

37. Favorite swear word?

Fuck.

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

Badly. 

44. Do you have a strong accent?

Well, when I get uh... worked up, the old Angry Persian comes through. Doesn’t happen often, though. I guess I sound... you know what, you’ve heard me on the radio.

45. What is your favorite accent?

A touch of chrome.

#Yeah that last one was a joke. #numbers meme #Marcus Answers #Anonymous #ask

[marcusgoddamnvansten]

20 + 22?

Hey someone actually sent numbers. Cool.

20. Are you religious?

Do I believe in God? Yeah. Am I religious? Nah. They’re not really mutually exclusive. I know that cocktail shrimp exist and I like ‘em, but I don’t worship ‘em, or whatever.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Brushed with the SSP a few times, but, well. I’m Night Vale’s Greatest, and just so rich, so they usually let me off the hook. And definitely not since the whole ascension thing.

#Marcus answers #numbers meme #Anonymous #ask