but i have promises to keep

[closed for joel] backdated to march 9

Sun, 13 Mar 2016 09:47:12 GMT

No matter how much he may try to distract himself, no matter how happy he is with his family, this is always going to be a difficult day.

It's not for lack of trying, of course. Since the weekend, Spencer has noticed Joel doing his best to be casual about going out of his way to get to the mail first, to be the one to volunteer to take the dog out in the mornings while Spencer tends to the baby, to send Charlotte on strange missions to get them lunch or coffee that always take her longer than would be normal to do. He knows what his husband is doing, there's no question of it, and more than that, Spencer loves Joel so much for it.

Last year, Joel had managed to keep any letters filled with hate and accusations at the wayside, had kept them from slipping through the cracks. He's done an excellent job of it this year, too, though Spencer supposes he can't be certain any had been delivered at all. There hasn't been any graffiti on their garage doors, no shouting from across the street on their walks to the store, and in the absence of all that, Spencer is only made hyperaware of the approaching day.

He's thirty-one now, he thinks, staring up at the ceiling as he lies next to his husband in bed. It's been a few hours since he'd woken up with the sun, hardly a surprise, considering the nightmare that'd disturbed him in the middle of the night. Joel had been woken, too, much to Spencer's dismay, and it'd only been after getting up to make sure Dane was still safely asleep in his crib that he'd felt even close to being able to attempt getting back to sleep. He'd managed to succeed for a little while, which is remarkable in itself, but now, Spencer is realizing that he's going to have to actually face the day ahead.

Last year had been incredible, the bouncy castle a surprise that Spencer will cherish in his memory forever because it'd been the first time in the past few years that he'd been able to enjoy his birthday. He has no doubts that his husband has planned something just as wonderful this year, and Spencer shifts onto his side to drape an arm over Joel's waist and press a kiss to his shoulder. His heart is heavy, there's no escaping that, but at the same time, things are different now. Not only does he have his husband, he has his son, an entire family that's brought him so much more joy than he'd ever though he could have. So as difficult a day as this will be, Spencer still knows he'll get through it. With Joel and Dane at his side, he can get through anything.

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when the going gets tough [open]

Sun, 24 May 2015 04:31:34 GMT

He hasn't slept, not really.

Trapped in the warehouse, Spencer had done little else but find an escape within his dreams in between Roman's abuse of him and Davin, and he wishes he could have been a better friend, a stronger friend, one who would force himself to stay awake just so Davin wouldn't have to face a moment of their captivity alone; but he'd failed in that, and he feels so guilty for it that when he spends any time at all thinking on the subject, his stomach turns as hard as it had every time Roman had walked through the door again.

Joel hasn't left his side since they'd been found, ever the compassionate, patient, and caring husband that Spencer loves so much. But it's been four days and the store can't run itself, no matter how many times Joel insists that Spencer's comfort is more important, so he'd made his husband promise to at least check on Crossroads to make sure everything has remained as it should be in the time it's been closed. It'd been with reluctance that Joel had agreed, and Spencer doesn't know why he'd been so adamant about it when really, he never wants to spend another second away from Joel again; but he supposes he'd wanted to feel like he can spend half an hour on his own, he'd wanted to prove to himself that he's not so thoroughly damaged.

Twenty minutes in, he's finding that he's quite wrong. He'd tried to fall asleep--tried--but every time he closes his eyes, he feels the swing of the bat against his shoulder or his ribs or his back. He feels the bat in his hands, remembers the crack of it against Roman's head and sometimes, he's the one holding it when it comes down on Davin's hand. Trying to fall asleep has led only to stress and tears and an anxiety he can't shake without his husband's arms around him, gentle hands soothing him as he's reasssured that he's safe, Davin's safe, that everything had worked out in the end. When his eyes open again this time, he's curled up on the sofa with Huxley at his feet, and he can't quite remember how he'd gotten there but all of a sudden, it seems like an excellent idea to leave the house. Just for a little bit, he thinks, a quick walk around the neighborhood for some fresh air.

He still looks like a mess, the bruises over his eye and jaw a stark contrast from the fairness of his skin, and he's still walking with a slight limp from the pain in his ribs but at the very least, the potions have been helping. His shoulder feels much better now, thanks to what Joel's been giving him, and the more minor cuts and bruises have already healed because Coop had been kind enough to offer his help. In any case, there's no fixing his appearance right now so he clips the leash to Huxley's collar and sends a text to his husband that he's taking the dog out for a bit, just so Joel won't come back to an alarmingly empty house.

It's warm out today, and Spencer appreciates the heat of the sun's rays beating down on him after days of being held in a watery room, clothes constantly damp. He'd thought, at first, that he might have caught a chill from it but a couple days of fever had only left him feeling slightly weaker than he'd already been. He's better on that front now, which he supposes is a good thing, but halfway down the block, Spencer slows to a stop so he can let his head tilt back to enjoy that warmth he'd missed so much.

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ooc: shipping headcanons for idiots

Wed, 13 May 2015 20:37:48 GMT

Took this from Tumblr. Feel free to comment if you like with more questions on headcanons or steal for your own ships :3 The first half are SFW questions, second half NSFW plus bonus NSFW gif so beware if at the office~

( r.i.p. me )

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[closed: davin, dated for 5/16]

Wed, 13 May 2015 04:10:08 GMT

It's with a promise that he won't let anyone do any 'souping up' of the Jetta that Spencer manages to sneak a kiss to Joel's cheek before laughing his way out of Crossroads. His husband had balked at the idea that his car might need any sort of tuning he hasn't been able to do on his own in the years he's owned it, but Spencer had gently reminded him that Davin is the actual expert when it comes to cars so it's not as if their friend's offer to look it over could possibly hurt. Besides, it wouldn't do to find the car in need of some dire fix the day they're due to take the baby home, so to Oceanside he will go.

The car does, as Joel always says, run impressively smoothly for as old as it is, and Spencer arrives at the auto repair shop without so much as a squeaky window just before noon. He smiles through the windshield when Davin waves him into one of the carports, and he notes that there doesn't seem to be much activity going on for a Saturday afternoon as he steps out of the car with an awkward wave.

"Thank you again," he says, which possibly isn't best greeting he could have mustered up, but the words had been at the tip of his tongue all the same. He still hasn't been able to get past just how many people had shown up for the baby shower and left so many gifts. He knows that neither he nor Joel had expected such an extravagant outpouring of support at a party they'd been resistant to from the beginning but as it turns out, he'll be worrying about carpal tunnel very soon with all the thank you notes he'll be working on in the next few weeks preceding the baby's birth.

"Oh," he adds, rolling his eyes fondly, "my husband says the same and also that he doesn't want me to bring the car home with any fancy modification so if you could refrain from painting flames on the sides, it would be greatly appreciated."

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[closed: joel, dated for idk before]

Tue, 12 May 2015 01:44:30 GMT

Joel's going to kill him. Or at the very least, be mildly unimpressed with him.

Never mind the fact that Spencer had texted him to promise he'd be home with dinner over an hour ago, he's now arriving empty-handed and with a widespread burn across his side from the spark that had hit him on the beach. He still isn't sure what had happened or whether the woman he'd been with would be alright but right now, Spencer is selfish enough not to want to worry about that because the pain of the burn seems to getting worse by the minute.

It's not as bad as it could be, he supposes, and he's been subjected to worse before; but he can't imagine that his husband will be very much pleased with him or the situation as a whole. He should have just walked away when the woman had shouted for him to but no, of course, he'd had to get involved.

He sighs, lingering in the doorway with his key in the lock for a long moment as he reminds himself of all the reasons why this is really his own fault. He's a husband, he's going to be a father, and he's not exactly gifted with powers like a majority of this town. Spencer winces when he moves again, the stretch of his skin stinging terribly as he unlocks the door and steps inside, half expecting his husband to be standing right in the threshold with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern expression. Instead, he's greeted by a yipping Huxley and instantly, the tension in Spencer's shoulders eases as he lets out a soft laugh and kneels down to scratch at the puppy's ears.

"Joel?" he calls, gathering Huxley in his arms and letting out a grunt as he gets back to his feet. "I'm home. Please don't tell me you've already filed a missing persons report."

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get in, loser, we're going shopping [open; fairy tale plot]

Sat, 18 Apr 2015 20:36:43 GMT

An entire day has already passed, and Spencer is no closer to being used to walking on these legs than he'd been when April had helped him reach the shore. Each step is pure agony and for that alone, he is admittedly relieved that his voice has been taken from him for the time being; but in spite of his fears that Joel would tire of him quickly, that the prince would send him on his way after seeing him fed and clothed, he's been invited to stay in the palace for-- well, for as long as any of the royal family sees fit, he supposes.

Joel had demanded--in as princely a way as possible, of course--that Spencer be seen to, and the workers in the palace had been quick about putting him in a shirt and trousers that he supposes fit him well enough, not that it matters much to him, seeing as he's never had to wear clothes before in the first place. Joel hadn't left his side once, though he'd been very gentlemanly about keeping his back turned while Spencer had been helped into his clothes, and though they hadn't been able to converse, Spencer doesn't think he's ever felt more attended to in his life. The way Joel had looked at him as the evening continued on, as he'd sat across from him at the table while Spencer had been unapologetic about shoveling the stew laid before him into his mouth, is unlike anything he's ever known.

Only the introduction to the king and queen had made him flush terribly, though they'd been nothing but kind to him upon discovering he had been the one to save their son from drowning the day before. Joel's father had laid a gentle hand on his shoulder while his mother had offered a near tearful thanks punctuated with a kiss to his cheek and that had been that before Spencer had been ushered off to a large room with a bed that could certainly fit three of him comfortably on it.

Worse than the pain in his legs had been when the time had come to bid farewell to Joel for the evening, though he'd been assured that if he needed anything, he could call for him anytime. Spencer had slept soundly, though, exhausted from everything that had happened in so short a time, and by the time he'd woken up the next morning, he'd been more than ready to face the day. Now, he's exploring the marketplace, brought here by carriage and equipped with a cane meant to assist him with his walking. Joel had promised to come find him after he'd finished with what Spencer can only assume are his princely duties, though he hasn't the faintest idea what that might entail, but he's content with that for now. He can almost grow numb, in fact, to each sharp jolt that shoots through him with every foot forward as he admires the jewels and fruits and vegetables that are all for sale here, smiling and shaking his head at every merchant who calls out to him.

He has thirteen days left to make being human count for something; but in this moment, Spencer just wants to allow himself the chance to enjoy it the best he can.

[OOC: Open to all!]

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Tue, 17 Mar 2015 02:47:50 GMT

Hi frands,

I have returned from my vacation and ready to take on threads that will probably take me 84 years to play out BUT STILL, if anyone wants to do anything with Spencer, let me know. He's a bit more hyper than usual with the baby only four months away, as a general warning.

I'm also trying to think of ways to ease Coop and hopefully Jameson back into the game without getting too overwhelmed so if anyone wants to plot it up, don't be shy.

<3333
erika

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when will my reflection showwwww who i am insiiiiiide~ [timed to 1/20, open to all]

Tue, 20 Jan 2015 00:35:47 GMT

It's been a day since he'd... well, changed, and he steps outside of the house with the slightest bit of trepidation. He'd taken some clothes that had belonged to his mother from a box in the attic, which is strange enough in itself, and if it hadn't been for his husband's exceptional support yesterday, Spencer would be feeling significantly more out of place than he does now. It's not that he's used to this body yet, it's only been a day, but he's had the chance to get more familiar with it in the last twenty-four hours and to be entirely honest, it's exactly what he'd needed.

He doesn't quite know where he's going now, he simply picks a direction and starts walking without much purpose because he knows he can't stay in the house until this is over, especially considering he isn't even sure that it ever will be over. He's trying not to think that way, frowning as he picks up a passerby's thoughts of how nice his breasts look in this shirt and trying not to shoot the other man a dirty look, but Spencer knows it's a distinct possibility. Still, hiding isn't the option, he's done enough of that over the last couple years and it'd only been when he'd stepped out in a misguided attempt to face the Hydra that Joel had found him so this is good. Getting out of the house and pushing aside whatever nerves might plague him while he still has these powers and is still in this body is good.

He thinks.

[Find Spencer anywhere in town! He woke up in a woman's body after drinking Ascension so it's a good time ~~for a good time~~ TO SAY HELLO, YA BIG PERVS.]

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he's beauty and he's grace [closed for joel, dated for 1/19]

Wed, 14 Jan 2015 01:20:59 GMT

A week of having powers hasn't been as distressing as Spencer might have thought, though he wouldn't say he's enjoying it. He's still fretting a bit over how long it might last, whether this is something he's going to really have to train himself to deal with, because as much as he thinks he's generally quite ordinary without them, Spencer isn't sure that he'd want to keep the powers permanently. It's invasive, his power, of course it is, he's able to hear people's thoughts no matter how much he doesn't want to or how private they may be. He understands now what Joel means when he says he has to try not to read people's auras because Spencer doesn't want to know that any given person he passes on the street has just had sex or finds him attractive or can't pay their bills this month.

All these things are on his mind as he blinks his eyes open and stretches out in bed, the sun shining through the curtains and casting shadows at all the right angles on his husband's face. He smiles softly before glancing at the clock on their nightstand, sighing to himself when he sees how early it is. There's still a couple hours yet before he has to get out of bed, before he and Joel have to walk Huxley to the store to set up for the day, and he rolls over on his stomach so he can rest his cheek on Joel's chest.

Something feels strange this morning, something he can't quite put his finger on, but he lets his eyes drift back shut because it doesn't matter right now. He can worry about it when the alarm goes off and their day really begins. For now, he's content to pretend that everything is normal--well, as normal as things can be when it comes to living in this town--and that he's powerless as he should be and their biggest worry, which isn't even a worry at all, is what size the baby's growing to be this week.

Everything else, Spencer's happy to let wait.

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CHARACTER permissions

Sun, 04 Jan 2015 21:20:44 GMT

OOC PREFERENCES: Permissions for OOC game activity.
CONTACT METHODS: E-mail and Twitter are the fastest and best means of contact for me. Find them here.
THREADJACKING: Obviously, private threads are private for a reason so if the post is closed to a particular character, that's that. I am always up for other private threads or am happy to tag into top-levels in other posts if any of your characters are looking for any of mine. As far as my top-levels in open posts, have at me!
SLOWTAGGING/BACKTAGGING: I'm fine with slow and backtagging because I'm not stranger to doing it myself. However, don't be surprised if I end up deciding I need to drop older threads just to keep up with the newer ones. If this happens and you request that we continue an older one, I'm totally cool with that.
NSFW: Yep 8)))))))))) /bonertown
AVOIDED SUBJECTS: I'm up for pretty much anything and everything with Spencer except plots involving cheating. It's just not going to happen.
PREFERRED GENDER PRONOUN: She/her.

( driver, roll up the partition, please )

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love is watching someone die [backdated to dec 25] [for joel]

Sun, 28 Dec 2014 03:02:35 GMT

Spencer had woken up that morning to Huxley licking at his face and nothing but empty space beside him when he'd thrown his arm over where Joel's usually sleeping. It had only taken a moment or two before he'd reached clarity, remembering that it's Christmas before wiping the sleep from his eyes and rolling out of bed so he could wander downstairs with his messy hair and pajamas making him a ridiculous spectacle.

Seeing the kitchen so full of life had been so strange, incredibly surreal because he knows what a busy household during the holidays but despite knowing that Joel's parents would be there, that Charlotte and Raleigh would be there, Spencer had still found himself frozen in place when he'd seen all the happy faces bustling around his home. Joel had noticed him standing there first, as he always has and likely always will, and Spencer had easily fallen into the cheer that had come with sloppy kisses to his cheeks from all the women in the room and even his father-in-law.

Where the kitchen had been warm, Spencer's now freezing cold. He'd gotten considerably quieter as the hours had passed because he'd known what he and Joel were going to leave to do. Ellie had taken him aside at one point, the concern evident in her eyes, and she'd hugged him almost as tightly as Joel knows how to when Spencer had explained that he'd be visiting the cemetery today. They're here now, and it's stranger than he remembers it being the last time. He's wearing one of the awful Christmas sweaters from the box in the attic and the leather jacket Dane had given him for a birthday--the one he'd been wearing for his and Joel's proposed first date, but he's not thinking about that now--but he dons his coat overall and is pressed closely against Joel's side as they stand in front of the two graves in silence.

It had snowed a bit this morning, there's a light blanket of it at their feet, and nobody else is here. Spencer's never seen anyone else here on Christmas Day, and he doesn't know if that's because he just comes at the right time or if nobody else could bear to be here with their late loved ones on a day like today, but he's always glad for it. The idea of sharing his pain with anyone else had always seemed terrible, though with Joel, it's different. With Joel, the company is welcome. Necessary. Needed.

He has the angel tree topper in his pocket, though it's gotten a bit crushed between the house and here, and Spencer tugs it out after another quiet moment so he can rest it in front of his mother's grave. He hesitates, self-conscious for a millisecond until he reminds himself that Joel would never judge him, then reaches out to press his gloved hand against the cold stone. It's so lifeless, the rock, so unlike his mother in every way, and he can feel a lump forming in his throat as he wets his lips to speak.

"Hi, mom," he murmurs, glancing up at Joel before shifting his gaze to his brother's headstone. It always hurts to see the dates, 1987-2012, because god, his brother had been so young. Too young, and it doesn't do any good to think that it isn't fair, but Spencer thinks it all the time anyway. "Hi, Dane. It's me, it's-- It's Spencer. I know I haven't stopped by in awhile, and I'm sorry about that, I've just been... really busy. Can you believe that? Me, busy, but it's true, I promise. I even brought someone with me this time."

Spencer looks back at his husband with a small, tentative smile. He doesn't expect Joel to say anything, of course he doesn't, and he knows just as well that talking out loud to his dead family doesn't mean a thing in the grand scheme of things; but it makes him feel better. It makes him feel like he's doing his part in keeping their memory alive. "This is Joel," he continues, reaching out for his husband's hand and keeping his eyes trained on him. "He's my husband, and we wanted to come by to say Merry Christmas."

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merry christmas, you filthy animal

Fri, 26 Dec 2014 00:52:31 GMT

THE IDIOT PLAYLIST
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

( don't feels open inside )

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i can't live, i can't breathe unless you do this with me (OPEN TO ALL)

Fri, 17 Oct 2014 02:34:20 GMT

The envelope doesn't come with a return address.

It's written out to Spencer Waters-Baker and it makes him smile because other than his monthly bank statements and bills, there hasn't been much else he's gotten in the mail with his name change. He'll always love the way it sounds, the way it rolls off his tongue, the way it had been so easy to make the decision to become a Baker.

His mind is already drifting back to the day he and Joel had gotten married, and it's only been just under two months but it feels like an eternity ago. The candles lit in the church, the red thread marking a passage in the minister's book, the ring being slipped on his finger--everything had been perfect that night, from the second they'd left the house to their return to Siren Cove, and he lets out a soft laugh because he's been needing this. Between fretting over making sure Erin is at ease and trying not to let his concern for what's going on with Joel get the best of him, Spencer has needed the respite from the stress.

It doesn't last for long, not when he unfolds the thin, white sheet from the envelope and starts to read the messy handwriting.

( cut for sad and references to violence )

By the time he's finished reading the unsigned letter--and he doesn't need to see a signature to know that Mark Fuller had written this, doesn't know why he'd read it all the way through, doesn't know why he hadn't crumpled the piece of paper up and burned it the second he'd realized who it's from--Spencer is trembling, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and he feels for a split second like he can't breathe. He shuts his eyes, sees Mark's face above him and feels the hands around his neck, the glass shattering against his temple, hears the sickening sound of his fingers breaking.

He wipes his tears on his sleeve, taking in a ragged breath as he carefully folds the note back up and puts it back in the envelope before tucking it in his pocket and starting to walk. He doesn't know where he's headed--his instinct screams that he should get to Crossroads, to Joel, but his husband has so much going on already and Spencer hardly wants to add to the burden--but he doesn't care. His feet seem to move of their own accord, and he keeps his head down to avoid any stares he might get because he knows he must look like a complete wreck.

It isn't until he's already crashed into someone that he realizes he's still shaking, eyes wide as he looks up to face the other person and hands held out in front of him in a placating manner. "I'm sorry," he manages to say, and it's not like him to apologize outright like that but it's all he can do. "I'm sorry. Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

[OOC: What a good time! Old and new friends alike are welcome to help the poor guy out, catch him anywhere in town that's convenient.]

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and many happy returns

Mon, 06 Oct 2014 23:18:16 GMT

I, too, am going on a brief hiatus starting tomorrow. I'll probably end up doing tags on my 382950238523905238523 hour flights, but I doubt I'll get to tags while I'm actually in NYC. Maybe if I'm super wired and everyone else is asleep XD

As for my characters, Spencer will just be doing what he does and also being a little ~concerned because his boo seems a little off, THAT'S NOT BUDDIES ;___;

Coop is... confused with life because Sylvie is back and also he's just got a lot going on the feelings department right now with no idea where to start with sorting any of it out. ALSO NOT BUDDIES.

Anyone can feel free to mention them/say they chatted with them/whatever, as long as there's no like, horrifying damage done to them. I'll take care of that when I come back 8)))) I'm loving all the threads I have going on so I plan on replying to them but if you feel like too much time has passed and don't want to tag back, I won't take it personally <3

FARE THEE WELL!
Erika (&Spencer&Coop)

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[closed for joel]

Wed, 01 Oct 2014 06:51:29 GMT

Spencer can't stop bouncing his knee; or drumming his fingers on the tabletop; or checking his watch because it's 1:03 and the surrogate--Erin, her name's Erin Goodman, and it would do him well to remember that because he can't very well keep calling her 'the surrogate' to her face--is three minutes late to the Cove Cafe so far and it's not that Spencer is anal about punctuation, he's just so nervous that he thinks he might actually be sick.

When they'd gotten word that Erin had agreed to meet with them, Spencer had gone from feeling elated to full of dread in about thirty seconds flat because sometimes, it's still a bit hard to accept that good things are happening as consistently as they have been for him. He's not used to it, to being this happy, and it's why he's stunned nearly every day by the fact that this is his life now. He doesn't want that feeling to stop, mostly because it helps to remind him that he can't ever take any of this for granted, not that waking up with his husband by his side each morning isn't enough to ensure he never forgets. Now, in the face of meeting the potential bearer of their future child, Spencer finds himself terrified that she'll take one look at him and deem him unworthy of a gift as incredible as this.

He tries to remember the conversation they'd had, the one Joel had told Spencer to remind him of, and he knows he's jumping the gun a bit on the fear but he doesn't know how to stop letting himself belief that something's bound to go wrong. He takes a deep breath, picking up his coffee cup and setting it back down before pulling the plate of banana bread Amber had given them toward him then pushing it back away. He can feel Joel's eyes on him, but he only reaches over to squeeze his husband's hand.

"What if she changed her mind and the agency forgot to tell us?" he asks, not quite meeting Joel's gaze but not avoiding it either. "You checked your e-mail this afternoon, right? Before we left the store? What if-- Oh, god, what if she's been in a terrible accident? Or what if she was here and took one look at us through the window and thought we weren't going to be the right fit?" He shifts his body more fully toward Joel now, legs practically in the other man's lap as he looks at him with wide, panicked eyes. "It's 1:04, Joel, it's 1:04. One more minute and I think I might actually have a complete breakdown."

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[open to all]

Thu, 25 Sep 2014 11:39:48 GMT

It's a slow day at Crossroads. Joel's opted to help Raleigh with the bakery again, and Spencer's relieved that his husband isn't here to witness the truly dismal lack of business coming in today. He's spent the last hour re-alphabetizing and organizing another wall, though the incoming inventory that had been delivered today still hasn't been unpacked, mostly because Spencer hates the idea of leaving even more stacks of books just sitting around the store. Ideally, they'd make room for more books on the shelves by selling the ones they already have, but it's nearly three and Spencer has accepted the fact that this Thursday is going to be a bit of a wash.

He's sold exactly two books today, one on a history of a magic that Joel's told him is mostly crockery but more for the tourists than anyone else, so Spencer doesn't feel guilty letting the customer--a very sweet young woman who's just passing through--walk out the door with it; the other had been a novel about shopping or something or other for someone looking for material to read on the beach for the dwindling days of sunshine and warm air.

He's leaning against the counter and peering at his laptop now, groping near the cash register for a pair of glasses he knows he's left behind and setting them on his nose once he finds them. He'd finally gotten Crossroads on Yelp, and he's checking for reviews but as of right now there's only two. They both give the shop five stars, both reviews left by anonymous users singing the praises of the aesthetic of the store and the kindness of its owners. Spencer actually suspects that Raleigh or possibly Coop are responsible for the reviews, but he doesn't ask because if he's right, he'd have no choice but to ask them to take them down from the page. As it is, he's going to let this ride because a five-star rating is better than a zero-star rating. They have to start somewhere with this online marketing business, after all. He draws the line at the Facebook and Twitter additions, though. Spencer has no interest in either of those mediums.

He's just switched to his Quickbooks program so he can re-run the numbers on their profits and budget for the month so far when he hears the bell on the door jingle as someone steps into the shop, and he pulls his glasses from his face to offer a smile to the visitor.

[ooc: Feel free to stop in for whatever reason, strangers and friends alike.]

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[closed for joel]

Sun, 14 Sep 2014 11:06:10 GMT

What had started as simple preparation of their last available guest room--because Joel's parents are coming into town on Monday and it hadn't been until just a few hours ago that Spencer had started to panic about seeing them as his in-laws for the first time when he knows how hurt they both are about not getting to be there for the wedding--has now become a task much more daunting. He and Joel have been moving boxes upstairs, only to find that the clutter in the attack is getting to be far too much. He stands in the middle of everything now, boxes of books and clothes and photo albums and he doesn't even know what else, looking around and scratching his head as he wonders what on earth is going to be good for keeping or tossing.

He wanders over to one box simply marked 'Spencer--Baby" and it's only with a little bit of dread that he opens it. Spencer breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the box is filled only with clothes, baby and toddler clothes, some of which Spencer actually remembers wearing when he'd been four and five. "My god," he says, holding up one onesie in particular and wrinkling his nose. "I don't remember my mother hating me this much. We're not keeping this as a hand-me-down for our baby, over my dead body."

He tosses the onesie back in the box before stepping over a pair of water skis that Spencer had never once tried to use, though Dane and his mother both had been excellent at the sport. He'd always been a little too tall, a little too gangly, a little too off-balance for any sports at all, so he'd often found himself just sitting on the bleachers doing his homework or reading a book while waiting for Dane to finish football practice. He'd stopped doing that after some of the crueler jocks had gone so far as to push him around while Dane had been in the locker room, but he pushes that memory aside as he walks over to Joel to see what his husband's inspecting.

"What do you-- Oh." He stares in surprise down at the photo album Joel has opened to a terribly embarrassing photo of himself as a child on Santa's lap with a young Shauna Mercier, who'd been the daughter of their neighbor and his mother's very good friend Sherry. She'd been a year above Spencer in school, and he'd had eyes for her for nearly two years when he'd gotten around to thinking of other people as attractive before she'd made it abundantly that she had no romantic interest in him. The photo is labeled SPENCER AND SHAUNA, 3 AND 4, CHRISTMAS 1988, and he lets out a soft laugh. "I had the biggest crush on this girl, I probably wished for a kiss on the cheek from her that Christmas." He grins up at his husband, leaning in to press a sweet, soft kiss to Joel's lips as he skillfully pulls the album from his hands. "And surely there's nothing else in here that you need to see."

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happiness is a warm puppy [open to all]

Wed, 03 Sep 2014 12:42:58 GMT

He's definitely come down with something.

It's hardly cause for panic, really, just a bit of congestion; some coughing that he thinks he's done a fair job of keeping under wraps; maybe a slightly sore throat, a few pressure headaches here and there, a case of the chills; but he's fine, Spencer is sure of it. He's fine because he's got a ring on his finger and a puppy at the end of his leash, so there's nothing at all in his life that he can complain about right now.

John had most generously given him half a day off--"a wedding gift from me to you" is how his boss had put it--so Spencer had stopped back at home to get Huxley before heading in some direction or another, he hadn't really had a plan. It's not very surprising that his feet seem to take him in the direction of Crossroads, as they so often do, but a part of him hopes that he'll run into some people he knows on the way there. He has news, after all, and he's not one to call up all his friends--not that it would take long, he muses--to share even the most exciting parts of his life, but he does want people to know.

He's happy, happier than he's ever been and not just since his mother and Dane had died. He has so much to be thankful for, so much to come to look forward to, and he can't remember the last time he'd felt so optimistic about his future. He smiles to himself as he watches Huxley sniff at the grass on the sidewalk before the puppy scrambles to meet a pair of feet that's headed their way, jumping up on his hind legs to paw at the stranger. Spencer's smile doesn't fade as he lifts his head to look at the other person; in fact, it only grows wider.

"You're in for it now," he says, a teasing edge to his tone. "Huxley seems to grow attached to people far too quickly for his own good."

[OOC: Spencer's a little under the weather right now ~~because I am, too~~ but he's in an excellent mood so it would be a great time to say hello, whether your character has already met him or not :) Find him walking his and Joel's new puppy Huxley or catch him wherever is convenient for your character to be. As long as that place allows dogs.]

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[closed, joel and coop] [at coop's party]

Fri, 15 Aug 2014 02:20:26 GMT

He's not unhappy to be here, he's seen people he recognizes and thinks he's been considerably social enough even though he's only here because Joel had asked him to come--and partly because he still feels beholden to Coop for his help on the island.

He's still been having trouble sleeping since they'd arrived back home, though the headaches haven't been as bad as he'd anticipated and the scratches from the monster on the island seem to be healing well. He just needs a break, a short one from the crowd, so he manages to find a space on the couch that a couple engrossed in each other's lips have just left and plops down onto it with a huff of relief. It's not long before someone drops down next to him, and he turns his head to offer a tight smile of acknowledgment. The last person he expects to see beside him is Eli Jasper.

"What's up, Spence?" the mechanic asks with far too wicked a smile, and Spencer tries not to react to hearing the nickname. Dane had been the only one who'd used it consistently, and Cosette after him. Joel hasn't once called him that, and he never introduces himself that way. Hearing the word spat with so much venom from Eli's mouth makes him feel sick.

( tw: violence, verbal abuse )

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they don't burn up in the sky but they can dazzle or delight (OPEN)

Sat, 05 Jul 2014 01:41:08 GMT

It takes a couple hours before he realizes that he probably shouldn't have volunteered for inventory duty at the library the same morning he'd gotten the splints off his fingers. It still feels strange, having his left hand finally free and clear, and he's been carefully flexing his hand since he'd left the hospital with regular exercises he's supposed to strengthen it again. There's still an ache in the three fingers that had been broken, or at least he thinks there is; but every time his boss notices the faraway look on his face when he should really be notating any books in poor condition.

"I'm fine, John," he says, arching an eyebrow though there's a smile that plays at the corners of his lips. "For the eighteenth time."

"It's a holiday, you should be with your boyfriend," John grumbles, and Spencer rolls his eyes because that's rich coming from a man with a wife and daughter.

He feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket and knows who it is before looking, though his smile only widens when he sees that it is, indeed, Joel. "I'm going to take a break," he announces, clapping John on the back--a gesture reserved for the only man who's ever come close to being a father figure to him--as he starts backwards toward the break room while furiously tapping at his phone to write his reply. He's distracted once he reaches the kitchen, reaching into the cabinet and grabbing a bowl of ramen as he wanders over to the microwave. He sets his phone down, smiling to himself as he just stands there for a moment, thinking about how good things are in his love life right now. It's unlike anything he's ever experienced and he puts the ramen bowl into he microwave without thinking, setting the time for three minutes from now and looking back down at his phone as the screen brightens with a new text. John calls for him then from the shelves and he shouts that he's on his way, snatching his phone from the counter and leaving the microwave running as he heads back out to meet his boss.

Half a minute later, he's got an armful of books but when they hear it, a pop from the break room followed by a quick booming noise, it makes the pair exchange a startled glance before they both drop the books in their arms and run to see what had happened. There's smoke billowing from the microwave and a fire is lit up inside, and Spencer's jaw drops as it clicks immediately. He hadn't even broken the seal on the ramen bowl, hadn't filled it with water or anything, he'd just let it... "Ohhhh, no," he groans, rubbing at his temple and to put salt in the wound, the world deems it necessary for the smoke to trigger the fire alarm.

It's not even a surprise when the sprinklers go off but at least it's centralized to the break room. He and John stand there for a moment, already soaked by the sprinklers, but when the sirens sound from outside, John drops his head and sighs. "Well, kid," he starts, and Spencer is relieved to see that when John looks back up, there's an amused smile on his face, "I guess we weren't going to be able to get through the Fourth of July without a few fireworks."

The paramedics and firefighters seem almost disappointed when Spencer explains what had happened, but they've attracted a crowd. It's a slow emergency day for the town, Spencer suspects, as awful as that may sound. He wanders away from the ambulance, hands shoved in his pockets as he observes the chatter of the gawking spectators around them and shakes his head.

"Surely there's something better that everyone could be doing."

[OOC: tl;dr Spencer accidentally blew up the library's break room and now there's a crowd, an ambulance, and a fire truck outside the building. Feel free to stop by and tell him he's an idiot. A very cute idiot.]

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love is watching someone die (so who's gonna watch you die?) OPEN

Sun, 15 Jun 2014 09:07:41 GMT

The thing about having an eidetic memory is that try as he might, Spencer can't make himself forget. He doesn't need to look in a mirror to know that he's a complete mess between the blackening eye and the stitches at this temple and the finger-shaped bruises on his neck. He flexes his fingers on his right hand as he glances down at the cast on his left, the one the doctors had insisted on putting on him because three broken fingers apparently need more support than just a splint. His ankles and wrists are still bandaged because they're raw from trying to wriggle his way out of the zipties Mark had bound him with and he's about ready to rip his own hair out because every time he feels it brush against his neck, he remembers the way Mark had used it to his advantage, taking care to be nothing less than rough.

It's only been a few days since Joel had found him in the lighthouse but Spencer almost feels like years must have passed. He'd refused overnight treatment at the hospital--against medical advisement--and locked himself in his house because it's the only place he can go. He hasn't been in his library since he'd gotten home, though a glance inside has told him that someone--not someone, Joel, there's nobody else who could have--has cleared the floor of the glass and blood that had been left after Mark had come for him. He flinches as he remembers the sound of the glass shattering against the side of his head, remembers the sting of the whiskey spilling onto the cuts and the way Mark had grabbed his hair to assist in dragging a half-conscious Spencer out to his car.

He's supposed to be taking it easy, has already been banned from coming to work for however long the doctor had recommended, though Spencer knows he'll likely be back long before that just for the sake of his own sanity. Sitting here at home has done him little to no good, not when he'd been abducted right downstairs, in one of the few places he's ever felt truly safe. It makes his good eye water with the threat of tears at the thought of how long it might take to feel that way again.

He knows there must be talk of what happened; it's a small town and gossip travels at lightning speed and besides that, he's had people ringing the doorbell and leaving things on his doorstep and leaving messages on his phone almost non-stop. It's nice to know there are still people that care, he supposes, but one very notable person hasn't tried to check on him at all. Joel hasn't come around or called or texted and Spencer feels like such a fool. Joel's the one person he'd be willing to let in the door but he realizes now that he should have known better than to think that Joel would want to even be near him after what Spencer had put him through with Mark.

He needs a distraction, he decides, a reason to get out of the house. What's more, he needs to get rid of this hair. Nearly everything seems to be a reminder of what had happened at the moment but at least he can fix the hair. He grabs one of Dane's old baseball caps and shrugs on a jacket, mindful of his injured hand, before walking out the door and heading straight toward the barber shop. The whole cut takes less than an hour and though the bruises on his face are more pronounced now without the frame of his longer locks, Spencer already feels a bit lighter. One less thing to remind him of Mark's assault.

He shoves his good hand in his pocket as he leaves the shop, unsure of where to go or what to do next.

[OOC: You can find Spencer anywhere you'd like. Roaming around town, grabbing a coffee, back at his house, anywhere. Dude needs a friend.]

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this problem's gonna last more than the weekend (MOVIE NIGHT, ONE-SHOT/CLOSED)

Fri, 13 Jun 2014 20:22:22 GMT

There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand and Spencer's fairly certain that at least two in his left are broken. He's been taking careful inventory of the injuries he's been sustaining for the last few hours because, morbid as it may be, doing that is the only thing keeping him from breaking down entirely. He takes small comfort in the fact that blood has stopped trickling from where he'd been hit in the head, though every so often he still gets what feels like a rush of vertigo even though he's been ziptied to this chair for the better part of the evening. His wrists are in his lap and they, along with his ankles, are raw from trying to snake his way out of the binds. He can barely see out of his right eye, it's swollen shut and that's thanks to how he'd dare asked his assailant--Mark, his name is Mark, it's the man Joel had suspected of leaving those letters--whether any of this is really necessary. He could have been a bit less glib about it, he supposes, but he doesn't think there's any room for courtesy here.

He'd expected Joel. The doorbell had rung and Spencer had shouted out that Joel should let himself in as he'd busied himself with pouring them both a glass of whiskey because it had still been early and the movie wasn't going to start for at least another hour. He remembers hearing the footsteps behind him; he remembers being unable to hold back the grin on his face as he'd turned around with a glass in each hand; he remembers that split second between happy excitement and terror as he'd realized that the man staring back at him wasn't Joel but the face from the pictures that Levi had shown him. He'd tried to fight back, he really had, and he'd even gotten a swing in during the struggle after dropping one of the glasses and letting it shatter on the wooden floor. It hadn't been enough, though. He should have dropped both, he thinks. He should have dropped both because Mark had snatched the other one and smashed it against the side of Spencer's head and now they're here.

It's the old lighthouse, he's at least figured that out and if this is about revenge against Joel, Spencer supposes it makes sense. Mark's sister--Joel's ex and Spencer thinks her name had been Amy but pain flares in his head and it doesn't matter anymore--had died in the ocean so where better for Mark to bide his time than right by the coast? Spencer glances down at his hands with his good eye, cringing at the sight of the fingers bent at unnatural angles but if there's a silver lining, at least they're all on just one hand. If he survives this night, which he honestly isn't sure about right now because of how erratic Mark's behavior has been, Spencer won't be entirely useless. The broken fingers had come after a series of questions Spencer had refused to answer--How long do you think it'll take him to notice you're gone? How long will it take anyone to notice? Does he make it good for you?. He knows he's not supposed to antogonize the other man, he's read about this kind of thing, but he just can't bring himself to do anything else.

Now, Mark has pulled up a chair of his own, unsettlingly quiet as he tries to level his eyes with Spencer's, though Spencer looks anywhere but at his face. Spencer knows there are tear streaks on his cheeks, mixed with blood and grime from the floor he'd woken up on, but he's desperately trying to mentally remove himself from all of this. It's not working, not yet, and he can't stop himself from flinching when Mark stands over him, roughly pulling Spencer's hair back to force his gaze. Both of them are trembling, one out of rage and the other fear, but in spite of that, Mark manages to pull a sinister grin.

"Did he tell you how she really died? Did he tell you it was his fault?"

Spencer doesn't answer. He doesn't bother to hold back his scream, either, at the sickening crack of a third finger.

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you ask me if i'll get along, i guess i will some way (for lou, others welcome)

Thu, 22 May 2014 22:44:09 GMT

It hardly seems fair that his luck should be so awful. Coming off the heels of learning that the curse on Siren Cove is real, nearly having his workplace crumble to the ground thanks to the loose Hydra, and being used as a chew toy for a sea beast only to arrive home to find the police waiting for him makes him wonder what it is, exactly, that he's done in the past week that has provided him with such bad karma.

At least the officer who approaches him has the decency to look regretful, Spencer thinks. He's shown a photograph, one picturing him with a shovel in the cemetery on that night he'd gone digging with Lara--though she is thankfully missing in the shot--and sighs heavily, neither confirming nor denying anything. It's hard to deny photographic evidence, though, and as he's being cuffed and read his rights, all he can think about is what he'd said to Lara that night--truly, no good deed goes unpunished.

He's given his one phone call nearly an hour after sitting in his small cell and he's grateful that this time, he doesn't have to share it. He stares at the phone for a long moment before picking it up, his fingers hovering over the numbers as he considers who he should call. Not Cosette, he'd never ask her for the bail; not Lara, he wouldn't want her to incriminate herself in any way just for his sake; not Joel, and Spencer doesn't even know why Joel's come to mind. It hits them then, the right person to call, and he quickly dials the number he'd committed to memory after seeing it listed once in her library patron file.

"May I speak with Louise Abasi? Hi, hello, Lou, this is Spencer Waters. So sorry to be a bother but I was hoping you could do me a favor..."

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coordinate brain and mouth (for Cosette)

Wed, 21 May 2014 06:59:56 GMT

It's not unusual for Spencer to sit cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the library sitting area, surrounded by the newest shipment of books and the texts he's meant to as he meticulously organizes everything before placing them on his reshelving cart. He does this on slow days and goodness knows, this has most certainly been a slow day. He suspects many people are still recovering from the incident with the Hydra--Spencer spares a quick glance toward the window to his far left where he'd placed the small, blue crystal Joel had given him that day as a protection charm for the building--and besides that, the summer is really starting to begin so people hardly want to spend their time in the library.

He takes a sip of the cream soda, his favorite, that always seems to be miraculously well-stocked in the break room refrigerator and shifts his gaze to where Cosette sits a few feet away, entering cataloging data into their automated system--Spencer's idea, for the record, as around the age of 21, he'd gotten quite tired of doing everything by hand. They've both always been content in their quiet, save for the short bursts of humming from Cosette or the occasional random murmurings from Spencer. Today is no exception.

"I'm thinking about getting a dog," Spencer says suddenly, and he's not really looking for a response but he supposes he could use the second opinion if Cosette decides to give it.

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but i have promises to keep

[closed for joel] backdated to march 9

when the going gets tough [open]

ooc: shipping headcanons for idiots

[closed: davin, dated for 5/16]

[closed: joel, dated for idk before]

get in, loser, we're going shopping [open; fairy tale plot]

when will my reflection showwwww who i am insiiiiiide~ [timed to 1/20, open to all]

he's beauty and he's grace [closed for joel, dated for 1/19]

CHARACTER permissions

love is watching someone die [backdated to dec 25] [for joel]

merry christmas, you filthy animal

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i can't live, i can't breathe unless you do this with me (OPEN TO ALL)

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happiness is a warm puppy [open to all]

[closed, joel and coop] [at coop's party]

they don't burn up in the sky but they can dazzle or delight (OPEN)

love is watching someone die (so who's gonna watch you die?) OPEN

this problem's gonna last more than the weekend (MOVIE NIGHT, ONE-SHOT/CLOSED)

you ask me if i'll get along, i guess i will some way (for lou, others welcome)

coordinate brain and mouth (for Cosette)