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Job: Office Worker

Housing: 1761 Beaver St. (With Jill [wife], Kyon [son], and Relm [daughter])



What the fuck was that? I didn't catch all of that, but what I did.... Jill, did you--

Nnnnnnnnnnnot Jill.


[ Private; hard to hack ]

I'm not sure what to think about these letters. I stayed inside the whole time that beach was there, does that really count as "participating"? I guess this is better than the hangovers we got after the beer faucets, but it's still kind of weird. We got punished for one and then rewarded for the other. Talk about mixed signals.

That is, if it's really a reward. Major General Sears lost his eye, but Jill got that uniform back. What to do what to do what to do....

...I guess it can't hurt to look.

[ Some time later; Public ]

God, it's so good to see this armor again. I don't think I'll have much use for it here, but it's reassuring to have it anyway. A gun or two might've been more reassuring, but one thing at a time, right?

((Residents of or visitors to the Simmons household will likely notice that the man of the house has taken over the dining room table and is quite contentedly and very thoroughly checking over his armor. This is probably the happiest anyone in Mayfield's ever seen him.))


...What the shit is this?

...No. I'm not going outside dressed like this. And definitely not in this weather. It's not happening. Call me when the world makes sense again. In the meantime, I have things I have to read.

001- Action Post

[ Simmons was, by habit, an early riser, but no amount of habit could turn him into a morning person, not without a nigh-unhealthy amount of coffee. He grumbled into his pillow as he slowly drifted into consciousness and simultaneously tried to figure out exactly why something felt so... off. Simmons pushed his face farther into the pillow as he tried to make sense of the feeling when it hit him.

It was the pillow itself that was wrong. It was soft and comfortable and completely unlike sleeping on a rock! Confused, Simmons lifted himself onto his elbows and along the way, his arm brushed against what was definitely another person. That was about when his reaction upgraded from confusion to panic.

He rolled away as fast as he could, catching a glimpse of what was definitely a brown-haired woman--why was he in bed with a woman he'd never met?--before rolling straight off the edge of the bed with a loud and undignified squawk. ]
So, as you have likely noticed, Simmons here has not been particularly active present about the Nexus as of late over the past three months or so. Yeah.

Anyways, this is basically just a heads-up/divider. I'm recycling this journal for use at mayfield_rpg very shortly. So if you don't want to see random out-of-context posts for a game entirely separate from dear_multiverse on your character's f-list or something, I would suggest removing sycophanticdick here from said f-list. :|b
Well, I'd say that easily won the title of Best Night in the Sanctuary Ever.

Log 011- excuse me wtf r u doin

Oh my god. Morons in mechs trying to take over the Nexus. I almost want to think it's all a spectacularly dumb joke. Do they really think that'll work? You can't even get a cup of coffee in the Nexus without it trying to fuck you sideways (whether "it" in that sentence is the Nexus or the coffee, I'll leave up to you), and they really think they can enforce some sort of order on it? I haven't been so amused since Grif switched Sarge's and Donut's shampoos. And trust me, that was hilarious.

Personally, I give it a week at most before they end up running back home to their mothers with their tails between their legs. Possibly literally. It is the Nexus, after all.

Log 010- [Private]

Just once. Just fucking once, I would like to go to the Sanctuary and not end up getting beaten over the head with the fact that I'm a cyborg, or that my armor is an unflattering shade, or that my rank and name together are "Private Dick."

But no, I have to get all fucking three in one short night.

I hate people. Why do I worry so much about being human when humanity's such a bunch of cockbites?

Ugh. I feel like shit. And everything had been going so well lately.

Note to self: Research hellebore.