#spencerberkeley

[amescastaignede]

FOR: @spencerberkeley EVENT: The Camp Out, 24'. WHERE: Day Two. Out and about.

For obvious reasons, she'd kept her distance.

It came with great difficulty. It seemed everywhere she'd turned on night one, there'd been such a mass of them that she couldn't escape. In the end, she'd resolved to spend a good portion of her night sat on a log, some way up the trail trying to get herself into something akin to coherence.

This time, however, she'd have no such luck. A one-on-one encounter. Wonderful, she internally jibbed at herself, forcing what looked to be the fakest attempt at any smile, ever. "Spencer, it's nice to see you." she prayed that Gideon was close by because she wasn't sure she could handle the both of them right now. "I see you've got a better fashion sense today."

[amescastaignede]

She wasn't sure how she was such a walking disaster, but the night unfortunately was about shining a bright white light on it, the way in which she'd found herself brushing off her trousers before glancing back up to the man.

Amélie felt her cheeks burn as Spencer's eyes fixed on her. Embarrassment laced itself into her entire body, seizing at the moment. Anxiety bubbling up, heart racing, and her stutter even more pronounced. She fumbled with her words, trying to respond to his remark. But those who knew her well enough knew that was a hard venture to task in the most normal of situations.

"I- Um, thank you, I - I appreciate the help... I just, it's um, I don't really have that much...y'know, money," Amélie stammered, voice barely a whisper. She wished the ground could just swallow her whole at that moment, but instead, she took a shaky breath and tried to regain her composure. Amélie's tense shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and she managed a faint smile.

"Sorry — Wait, Spencer?" Amélie called out with a furrow of her brows before a sense of ease seemed to envelop her almost instantly. She knew him. In the dark of the room, features weren't that easy to recognize, but she could see him better now.

@amescastaignede Location: Smoke & Mirrors. Dated: 30/9/23.

"Wow. Well, fuck me, I guess..."

So far as party atmospheres went, Smoke & Mirrors, on the rare occasions he actually visited, wasn't exactly the wildest spot in the city. It seemed as though two men had the intention of escalating things in all the wrong ways this time, however, and the poor brunette who'd been sent hurtling his way was the collateral. Well, that and his second shot of vodka. Spencer knew which he cared about more. When he was sure she was on her feet and not noticeably hurt, even if shaken up, he shot her a pointed look. It was much harder to get obliterated if he was wearing his drink.

At least he still had one shot left...

"Looks like the next round is on you."

[cassandra-acton]

@CassieActon: Fashun. @drrutherford @spencerberkeley

[leylayilmazx]

INSTAGRAM

Leyla: My 🌎 [@jessi-reyes @cassandra-acton @alexislarsson @laurent--stpierre @spencerberkeley @silas]

[alexislarsson]

REACTION: Problematic Fave @laurent--stpierre / @spencerberkeley

@mobscene-awards

"I swear it's like they are the same person."

[westminster-insider]

DATE NUMBER 11 - Ibiza, Spain. Winning Bid: @spencerberkeley with £1,500. Total Bids: 1.

"Enjoy a long-weekend away to Ibiza where you will experience both sides of the Island; nights out in the best clubs with the greatest DJs and the nights in watching sunsets by the beach, most luxurious dinners. A date with the best of both worlds."

Partner: @amaroadriana

[jessi-reyes]

@jessi-reyes || 🏆 2024. @leylayilmazx @cassandra-acton @alexislarsson @nora-berkeley @laurent--stpierre @silasagreste @spencerberkeley @henrygarcia @yvonne-rutherford

[amaroadriana]

INSTAGRAM

notyouradri: our core #ibiza @spencerberkeley

[valenciaflores]

📱

What was my muses 5 last sent texts yours?

[TEXT] Spencer Berkeley: I stopped taking notes five minutes ago, I’ve just been planning a trip with my brother to make it look like I’m still taking notes

[TEXT] Spencer Berkeley: Why is it taking this man 20 minutes to say what he could’ve said in 2 minutes? Or a short paragraph of an email?

[TEXT] Spencer Berkeley: 

[TEXT] Spencer Berkeley: Oh, it’s ending!!!!

[TEXT] Spencer Berkeley: Lol I’m gonna pretend I got my period and leave to get a tampon. Have fun.

What was my muses 5 last unsent texts yours.?

[DRAFT] Spencer Berkeley: Have you seen Honor this week?

[DRAFT] Spencer Berkeley: I know it’s tough. I saw Gideon the other day and he’s being hounded. Honor is, too.

[DRAFT] Spencer Berkeley: Everyone there lost someone or nearly lost someone but I just keep thinking that you knew so many people there. And it’s horrible that you have to deal with all this not just for yourself but for the country.

[DRAFT] Spencer Berkeley: Needless to say, I’m here for whatever you need.

[DRAFT] Spencer Berkeley: Also needless to say, but...no holds barred.

What was my muses last snapchat to yours?

What my muse saved your number as?

Spencer Berkeley

Occasionally changed to “Spencer Berkeley, Whipped” when he’s acting dumb because of certain people and she sends him a screenshot of it

What contact photo my muse has set for yours?

What ringtone my muse has set for yours?

One similar to her ringtone for all MP’s, but a little bit more urgent sounding

How many times my muse has called yours this week?

At least a dozen times

How many calls has my muse missed from yours?

Probably none but she will put his ass on hold for any call that comes in unless they’re talking about something very urgent

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Spencer Berkeley. AGE: 38. PLACE OF BIRTH: Guildford, United Kingdom. AFFILIATION: The Hathaway Family. OCCUPATION: MP for Epsom and Ewell. Chief Whip. FACE CLAIM: Scott Eastwood. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

            BIOGRAPHY:

“How did you even get elected?”

“Firstly? You can take your shitty tone and shove it up your arse. You lost your seat, you reprobate. Secondly? I got elected because I’m fucking charming. People don’t want honesty. They want someone to smile big, and make them feel like they matter for ten seconds of their miserable lives.”

And that was exactly what he was good at.

Clearly, it must have been some solid wisdom on his part, because it was exactly what had dragged him from his journalistic career and plunged him into the solid Tory seat of Epsom and Ewell. The people there loved him because they didn’t know him. They just knew his name.

The Berkeley family had been Westminster royalty for generations. Spencer’s grandfather sits as a hereditary peer in the House of Lords, and his father is a dedicated MP and (formerly) one of the longest serving Foreign Secretaries in British history. His mother, a woman comparably gentler to her husband and father-in-law, is a kind-hearted philanthropist who once served several constituencies over a now-ended political career spanning most of her adult life.

Staying in the political sphere was worthwhile because there, Spencer’s familial influence was enough to keep him in the good graces of those who mattered. It was probably a good thing given that his abrasive attitude didn’t always earn him favour with everyone else.

Eton had scolded him constantly for conduct unbecoming, and yet the teachers could never truly hate him because he was so fucking good at winning people back ten seconds after verbally throat-punching them. The professors at the prestigious St. Andrews University were less forgiving, however, and when he was kicked off his International Relations course for a characteristic mixture of cocaine and threatening to head-butt a professor that under-marked his paper, it was only his father’s influence that could save his already questionable reputation by keeping said indiscretions under wraps.

Spencer wasn’t used to hearing no, because he’d never heard it growing up. He got what he wanted, when he wanted it, without having to lift a finger. It made him lazy because he was more interested in learning how to manipulate people into saying yes than working for things himself. So, when his father threatened to cut him off entirely unless he got his shit together, it was a dire wakeup call. Against the odds, the man got him into LSE to study Politics and Communications, and even managed to get him an internship at The Spectator (a political magazine he was once the editor of) to put him on the right track.

Even though Spencer didn’t appreciate the stark fucking reality check, he was intelligent enough to realise that his father wasn’t a man to be crossed. Politics might’ve been a familiar way of life to a man who’d known nothing else, but he grew to love it all on his own. It was a game. Backstabbing and manipulation and point-scoring; all of his favourite things rolled into one. Covering it as a journalist was an entirely new perspective, and he had such a talent with words that the BBC, The Telegraph and The Spectator constantly battled to keep his attention. He was not kind. He didn’t refuse to print for the sake of someone’s career, he didn’t shy away from bullying a story out of someone, and he definitely didn’t go easy on the moronic Labour opposition. Eventually, however, writing about the dirty world of politics no longer sustained him—he wanted to be a part of it.

Putting his degree to good use, he started out life in Westminster as the Communications Director for one of London’s up-and-coming Conservative MPs. It was a fast-paced job that he absolutely excelled at. Spencer knew how to deal with the press because he had been it for the last ten years of his life. The connections he’d made in the journalistic world were invaluable, because he could control the coverage about his candidate whilst simultaneously leaking stories about opponents, no questions asked. The man might’ve been an asshole—one that had made plenty of enemies during his time as a journalist—but even those that despised him respected him for his talent and sheer willingness to do whatever it took to get the job done.

Though he’d never planned to run for a seat himself, when the Conservative Party approached him as a potential candidate for Epsom and Ewell, he jumped at the chance.

Spencer is relatively new to the job—only having been elected in the 2017 General Election—but he is already causing waves within his party. Some question whether his immediate appointment as a Parliamentary Whip has more to do with his familial influence, but he’s not insecure enough to believe it as a sign of anything more than his skill…or that he’s like a rabid fucking bulldog that people are scared to say no to. He is loyal to the party to a fault, and they love him for it. Spencer still has a little black book from his time a journalist that he adds to constantly, full of every little secret he never exposed about those in power. Better saved for a rainy day; especially now he might have to wrangle a few rebellious, London backbenchers into adopting a party line they mightn’t necessarily agree with.    

            SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. Evelyn Whitmore (ex-wife, unplayable) FAMILY: Charlene, Cecelia, Edward, Ethan Hathaway (cousins), Elliot, Everett Hathaway (cousins, unplayable), Colette Hathaway (cousin, deceased), Vivienne Hathaway (paternal aunt, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Charlene Hathaway: Cousin.  Whilst he has a good relationship with all of the Hathaway children, his friendship with the twins—Charlene, particularly—has always been the strongest. Spencer appreciates that they share the same cutthroat and savage approach to competition, and sitting back and judging the peasants with her is one of his favorite pastimes. He’s immensely glad she’s in London permanently.

Margaret Huang: Old Friend. They met whilst working at The Telegraph relatively early on in their careers, and despite his move into politics, they remained friends after. Their arrangement now is mutually beneficial. Spencer often uses Maggie to leak information that he probably shouldn’t and knows that he can trust her not to reveal him as her source inside Westminster if she gets a good story out of it.

[maria-azenha]

Maria let a snort out when he talked about his current favourite sex position falling asleep. Still she was impressed when he came over, eyes remained locked on his when he showed it. She knew he had a wild side to him.

Who knew the Italian could move his hips like that. Information she would keep tucked away for another day. A hand came up when Leyla called him a good boy. Laurent picked well.

With the dare laid in her lap, she slips off the couch, tugging her dress down, and within minutes she had her lips on another, enjoying the moment, before returning back to her previous spot, along with @jessi-reyes with her.

"That was too easy," the Vixen licked her lips. "She tastes good." A leg crosses over the other, spinning the bottle, watching it land on Jessica.

"I dare you to go take a shot between Alexis' boobs."

@spencerberkeley

"Pretty sure my future wife would argue my best sex position is falling asleep..."

Giorgio had snorted at that. It was the first time he'd met the politician in person, but he hadn't expected he'd be anything like this. In spite of his joke, and likely with the hope said future wife wasn't watching, he fucking went for it. They always did say the rich knew how to party the best, and the Italian was starting to understand why, because that definitely wasn't what falling asleep looked like. Even an onlooker cheered.

Then the bottle stopped on him. It certainly could've been worse, he supposed, had the stripper chosen it for Spencer, instead.

"If my wife is watching, you might end up on her shit list," he warned as soon as he was in earshot, eyes focusing on hers instead of how little her dress left up to the imagination when she was sat like that. A hand found her outer thigh beneath the fabric, grazing just high enough to earn a cackle from Spencer.

The Berkeley was struggling between wanting to take another shot but not wanting to take his eyes of the show unfolding in front of him. Kudos to the Italian, because he sure was selling it. Spencer supposed that was where the Biggest Womanizer win came into play. Evidently, he was good at this.

"All right, all right, break it up before my boyfriend gets pissed," he teased with a scoff, waiting for the Italian to get back to his seat and spin the bottle for himself.

It landed on Maria, and without a beat, Giorgio dared:

"Go and make out with somebody not in this circle. Be sure to put on a show."

@leylayilmazx

[cassandra-acton]

@CassieActon: Well, we were being ✨aesthetic bitches✨ until Charles showed up. Then Ms. Tits Out for Jesus (@nora-berkeley) threw up in her own hair, and he fell down the stairs and broke his ankle. Oh, and I accidentally burnt a hole into my fiancé with a sparkler. HAPPY NEW YEAR. WOULDN'T WANT TO SPEND IT ANY OTHER WAY. 🎉🎇 @spencerberkeley @silasagreste

[leylayilmazx]

Dear soon to be Mr & Mrs Berkeley Larsson clan,

Congratulations on becoming a family of one blood. 

Wear your gifts so everyone would know it, too. 

All my endless love, 

Leyla 

@alexislarsson @spencerberkeley

[milakorshunova]

Spencer.

New Year’s Eve Celebration Date — Tuesday, December 31th, 2019 Location — Sisyphos Club, Soho, Westminster. @spencerberkeley

Passing up what as likely the fifth or sixth offered shot that evening Mila continued to sip at her champagne flute at a leisurely pace, the evening was entertaining enough. Though the Russian couldn’t entirely say she was enjoying herself, not when it felt she didn’t have a single genuine friend in this crowd. She was drifting, it felt no different than any of her other public engagements, there for appearances sake. That was until she caught sight of a once familiar and beloved face, and the seashell bikini he was sporting. Her laughter - though suppressed as best she could manage at the sight of Spencer was nothing but genuine. “I have to say, the last decade has treated you very well, you fill out those shells quite nicely.”

[amaroadriana]

@spencerberkeley

Bonus:

[amaroadriana]

INSTAGRAM

notyouradri: "Hey, there's drama happening!" Us -"WHERE?" please be so kind and speak up. :) @spencerberkeley