#threads: simon.

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prison was fucked up. but he'd bribed his way to making a place there, and now simon was walking away from the worst 2 years of his life ( let out on good behavior — can you fucking believe that shit? ). god, he wanted a cigarette. sliding on his jacket, simon gives the guard a handshake before he walks out of the penitentiary, looking rough and unapproachable as he glances around for the only person he really cared about. spotting her leaning against danny's car just outside of the gate, simon can't help the smirk that encroaches on onto his mouth. 'how long you been standin' there?' he calls toward patty, running a hand through the hair he had left on his head, before striding up to her with zero respect for personal space. his front presses against hers, leaning patty back slightly against the car as he glances over her features. 'lookin' exactly th'same as when i left you. thank fuck. c'mere,' simon puts a hand on the back of her neck and kisses his real girlfriend, with tongue. god, he missed that. @ephemaera.

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female led punk bands were sick. as much sexism as there was in the community, simon refused to partake, and often threatened violence against those who decided these badass chicks couldn't rock out on stage. he may be a piece of shit in other ways, but punk rock was punk rock, and though he didn't intend on fangirling or anything, he did saddle up to savannah-jane, offering her a smoke from his half empty pack. 'that song was tits,' simon murmured, pulling his own cigarette out with his lips and lighting it up with his favorite bik. he wasn't here as john q, not until later. for right now, he was just a punk enjoyer. 'you write that? fuckin' poetic,' @mostardent1y.

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the punk can't be blamed for running into her. the hard shoulder check had been an accident, but simon looks down at carrie like it was her fault. 'damn, you blend into th'wall back here,' simon scowls down at her like she's out of place. she already looks uncomfortable in her spot in the back. 'if i looked away for a second i bet you'd fuckin' disappear,' eyes widen as hands move in a magician's way, as if he was trying to make something vanish in thin air. expression goes back to its normal hardness as he sticks a cigarette behind his ear. 'anyone ever tell you t'take up more space? you gotta fight for your place in this world, man,' @frightes.

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'nah, i'm not takin' shit from you. you earned that scratch. thanks for keepin' business up,' simon pulls patty a bit closer, kissing her temple before he glances back down at the money she'd collected from selling drugs, and the rest of the stash that would soon be gone, too. patty is so punk rock. imagine your boyfriend going to prison, and you make sure everything's all in order when he gets back. that's fucking tits. 'i say we finish up this batch then find us somethin' more productive t'do,' several things come to mind: writing a new song; setting a garbage can on fire; stealing candy bars from a nearby gas station. 'm'tired of slingin' dope to posers,' not that he'd ever be caught dead with a real job, but he'd like his music career to actually make him some money. 'let's make a fuckin' album together,' @ephemaera.

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simon would freely admit how protective he was of the punk scene. he didn't want any fucking posers contaminating his heart and home. which is why when he lays eyes on the girl in front of him, he can't help but to squint a bit, the boy taking his time in taking a drag from his cigarette, inhaling the toxins deep into his lungs before blowing it just above her head. 'what're you, some kinda goth chick or somethin'?' simon finally questions, his tone flat and grungy. eyes move down allison then back up, assessing her clothes, pointedly looking at her docs martens ( old style, not that new bullshit; at least those were authentic ) and then meeting eyes with her again. 'goths and punks don't tend t'mix. unless you're just a fuckin' weirdo, you might wanna find another show,' @frightes.