Clever as the Devil & Twice as pretty @as-mean-as-the-devil-blog - Tumblr Blog

who says you can’t go home (closed)

It had been a long time since Dallas was in Tulsa, not since Johnny died at any rate, and the only reason he figured on going back was because the Big Apple wasn’t much of a home anymore either. At least here he had the gang, the closest to a family he ever had, which was more than he could say for his gang back in New York. The stupid punks ostracized him, saying he went soft, saying he wasn’t tough enough to be rambling the city streets. Well fuck them too. Fresh off the bus and smelling of Kools the tow-headed teen kicked a steel-toed boot as he surveyed the small town. A wave of nostalgia washing over him.

Tulsa hadn’t changed much since his last time here. He spat at the ground as he made his way towards the other side of the street, sharing a mean grin to anyone who glanced his way except for the greaser chicks to whom he let out a long tongue-wagging gesture, and enjoyed when they looked away in disgust or even flipped him the bird. Yeah, he missed Tulsa.

Dallas just so happened to have $5 to his name and a growling stomach, and made his way to the last time he saw The Dingo. Part of him hoped to see the Curtis brothers there but he didn’t get his hopes up too high. Gang or not, Dallas was now an outsider to them. The thought stung a little but he pushed it aside, such was life, besides nothing in the town felt right anymore since Johnny. He wondered if maybe coming back to the one horse town was a bad idea after all.

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

“Ehy-Yo Two Bit! Grab me another coke will ya’ man“ A deep raspy voice shouted over the bar counter to the back room. A lanky black haired man swiveled his bar stool around, leather crying as the teen lounged with his back against the bar. Bright blue eyes scanned over the people of his new found kingdom.

Canine like teeth were exposed with each smile and nod the greaser gave to the recognizable faces in the joint and the teen’s usual scowl greeted a certain number of unknown and outsiders. After all it’s the king’s job to let his subjects know their place. Although to Sammy he would never call himself a king out loud but ever since he came to town he understood it was a roll that needed to be filled. And who was he not to oblige.

“Here’s your pop Asshole” Two Bit slammed the bottle down, nearly making Sammy fall out of his seat.

“Hey, what the hell! Ya’ spilt some on me ya’ dunce!” The black haired teen spun back around.

“Well next time get ya’own damn soda, I’m busy round’ere!”

“Yeah, yeah, next time don’t get a job at a dinner if ya’don’t wanna serve people.” Sam snickered as he reached for a nickel in his pocket, “Here, don’t spend it all in one place now.” He teased the other greaser grabbing his bottle he swayed towards a booth, only to be stopped by an unfamiliar face.

thealecisnotyourbitch

Yes. Yes, you do •credit to owner• ~ R. Herondale ~

#sammy headcanon

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

"Welcome to mia famiglia"

Jail house rock, a very fitting song for the situation was heard playing on the radio that was situated ontop of a counter in the front of the restaurant.

1957, Elvis was at the top of his career and Sammy thought by now he would have been too. But between Elvis, Gene Vincent and Jerry Lee there wasn’t much room left for a starving artist/Rock legend wanna be to get much leadway. “Are ya’ serious right now! Yeah i’m upset, I have every intention of bashin’ ya’ head in for this one!”

Trying to catch his breath the man paused. Slicking his hair back he was trying to cool his jets since they were in a public area. However the back room of a half deserted pizza joint was hardly what most would consider public.

The black haired man wasn’t sure if he wanted a cigarette, a shot of whiskey or a bullet to the head after what the other had told him. Although all three sounded pretty good at the moment.

“I know we’ve been short on cash lately but I ment lets try ta’ work longer shifts or cut down on the cools…not borrow money from the damn mob!”

devil-in--his-eyes

“Dude, relax,” for someone who had regular dealings with the mafia and especially considering not all of those dealings were good ones, Dallas was extremely nonchalant. He leaned against the shelving, a smoke in one hand as he began picking apart a slab of pepperoni, looking smug and worry free for someone who just talked with one of the biggest gangs in New York. “They’re the mob, yeah, but they’re good people. Familgia.”

Although truthfully the closest thing to familial ties the blonde had with the Italian mafia was fucking the boss’ cousin on the weekends. His Nonna would kill him if she found out for a reason that the hood couldn’t figure out, so what if he owed them a few favors? Money was money after all. Yet at the ripe age of 16 and hellbound with angst rage, Dallas found little reasoning behind his friend’s outburst. “You said we needed money, so I got us money. What’re ya yappin’ yer jaw fer? The job is simple and I owed Mario a few favors anyway. All we gotta do is sell some Smack t’ some dudes and we’re done.”

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

“Don’t tell me ta relax” the black haired teen sighed out smaking the others hand away from the meat. “Family? Right… The only family ya’ got Dal are the stray dogs ya feed behind the shop.” With an eyebrow raised, blue eyes fixed on the blonde’s. Sammy knew eye contact made Dallas nervous but he also knew that was the only way to let the punk know he was serious. “We? You’re the one that made the deal. You’re you one that owes him the favors. Why ya’ gotta drag me into ya deals…” He stole the other teen’s cigarette from him and took a drag. He knew they shouldn’t have been smoking especially where they kept the food but old habits die hard. Smoke drifted from the black haired teens round lips. They were womenly as his sister would put it. Soft and full despite his bad quirk of always biting them. His mom always says ‘the only thing you inherited from your italian side are those lips and your love of food.’ And she wasn’t wrong. “Nothin’s evea'simple with the mob, of all people you should know that ya’ stronzo! Who ya think got ya’ thrown in Juvie in the first place!” He took another puff and handed the stick back to the blonde.

devil-in--his-eyes

On instinct the blonde snarled at the other’s smack about lack of family and sneered when his hand was shoved away from the food like a dog who was looking for scraps. Alright, so maybe he had a point. His sneer turned into a full on barred teeth however when he realized the male was making eye contact, ever the animal disguised as a human, and Dallas took a step forward in challenge.

“C’mon, Sammy.” he jeered as he fondly wrapped his arm around the other’s neck. “I do it all the time. I need ya as my wingman, man.” he tried to appeal to his better side and truthfully Dallas wasn’t asking anyway, he already told Mario that he would come along so the deal was done regardless.

“Hey,” he glared at the jab about his recent run-in with the mob, bringing up memories he rather forget and burning hot in his chest, and all he wanted to do was punch Sam because of it. “’Fanculo. I can do it on my own, but it’s my money then. Too bad I already told Mario you were in though, so you have no choice dickbag.” he smirked victoriously as he took back his smoke, taking a puff smugly.

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

Sammy cringed internally, dropping his head and breaking eye contact when the blonde slinked over and wrapped his arm over him. His heart pounded like a drum at the other teens touch and Sam just hoped Dallas couldn't hear it. Blue eyes slowly made their way back up to meet the hoodlum’s gaze when he called his name. The black haired teen shook his head knowing Dallas was only trying to manipulate him with kind words, what the blonde didn’t know is that he wasn’t very good at it.

“Alright! Alright, so how much we talkin’ here, and whens it going down?” his voice was less harsh to lighten the mood up. Sam usually just went along with whatever Dallas asked him to do anyways so he would keep him around a little longer. And of course to keep him out of trouble. Which was a job in itself.

The teen couldn’t help but to laugh at the other trying to act so smugly. Don’t get him wrong he knew Dally could kill a man, but he also knew he kept the teddy bear his grandma gave him for his baptism in his dresser drawer.

#sammyxdally

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

"Welcome to mia famiglia"

Jail house rock, a very fitting song for the situation was heard playing on the radio that was situated ontop of a counter in the front of the restaurant.

1957, Elvis was at the top of his career and Sammy thought by now he would have been too. But between Elvis, Gene Vincent and Jerry Lee there wasn’t much room left for a starving artist/Rock legend wanna be to get much leadway. “Are ya’ serious right now! Yeah i’m upset, I have every intention of bashin’ ya’ head in for this one!”

Trying to catch his breath the man paused. Slicking his hair back he was trying to cool his jets since they were in a public area. However the back room of a half deserted pizza joint was hardly what most would consider public.

The black haired man wasn’t sure if he wanted a cigarette, a shot of whiskey or a bullet to the head after what the other had told him. Although all three sounded pretty good at the moment.

“I know we’ve been short on cash lately but I ment lets try ta’ work longer shifts or cut down on the cools…not borrow money from the damn mob!”

devil-in--his-eyes

“Dude, relax,” for someone who had regular dealings with the mafia and especially considering not all of those dealings were good ones, Dallas was extremely nonchalant. He leaned against the shelving, a smoke in one hand as he began picking apart a slab of pepperoni, looking smug and worry free for someone who just talked with one of the biggest gangs in New York. “They’re the mob, yeah, but they’re good people. Familgia.”

Although truthfully the closest thing to familial ties the blonde had with the Italian mafia was fucking the boss’ cousin on the weekends. His Nonna would kill him if she found out for a reason that the hood couldn’t figure out, so what if he owed them a few favors? Money was money after all. Yet at the ripe age of 16 and hellbound with angst rage, Dallas found little reasoning behind his friend’s outburst. “You said we needed money, so I got us money. What’re ya yappin’ yer jaw fer? The job is simple and I owed Mario a few favors anyway. All we gotta do is sell some Smack t’ some dudes and we’re done.”

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

“Don’t tell me ta relax” the black haired teen sighed out smaking the others hand away from the meat. “Family? Right… The only family ya’ got Dal are the stray dogs ya feed behind the shop.” With an eyebrow raised, blue eyes fixed on the blonde’s. Sammy knew eye contact made Dallas nervous but he also knew that was the only way to let the punk know he was serious. “We? You’re the one that made the deal. You’re you one that owes him the favors. Why ya’ gotta drag me into ya deals…” He stole the other teen’s cigarette from him and took a drag. He knew they shouldn’t have been smoking especially where they kept the food but old habits die hard. Smoke drifted from the black haired teens round lips. They were womenly as his sister would put it. Soft and full despite his bad quirk of always biting them. His mom always says ‘the only thing you inherited from your italian side are those lips and your love of food.’ And she wasn’t wrong. “Nothin’s evea'simple with the mob, of all people you should know that ya’ stronzo! Who ya think got ya’ thrown in Juvie in the first place!” He took another puff and handed the stick back to the blonde.

#sammyxdally

"Welcome to mia famiglia"

Jail house rock, a very fitting song for the situation was heard playing on the radio that was situated ontop of a counter in the front of the restaurant.

1957, Elvis was at the top of his career and Sammy thought by now he would have been too. But between Elvis, Gene Vincent and Jerry Lee there wasn’t much room left for a starving artist/Rock legend wanna be to get much leadway. “Are ya’ serious right now! Yeah i’m upset, I have every intention of bashin’ ya’ head in for this one!”

Trying to catch his breath the man paused. Slicking his hair back he was trying to cool his jets since they were in a public area. However the back room of a half deserted pizza joint was hardly what most would consider public.

The black haired man wasn’t sure if he wanted a cigarette, a shot of whiskey or a bullet to the head after what the other had told him. Although all three sounded pretty good at the moment.

“I know we’ve been short on cash lately but I ment lets try ta’ work longer shifts or cut down on the cools…not borrow money from the damn mob!”

#sammyxdally #closed roleplay

some-rp-memes-for-you

Muse Reactions #1

-Send a number for my muses reaction to yours~

1: Slapping my muses ass

2: Playing with my muses hair

3: Changing in front of my muse

4: Hugging my muse randomly

5: Kissing my muse randomly

6: Sending a flirty text to me muse (you can also say what the text says)

7: Wanting to have a sleep over with my muse

8: Wanting to be friends with my muse

9: Asking my muse out

10: Walking in on my muse changing.

#Rp prompt #Sadie or Sammy

“Told ya’ I was Batman”

#sammys headcanon

#sammy #open starter #i guess???#oc roleplay

Make it or Break it (cont. closed)

Dallas had little recollection of the drive to the venue and he mused that he probably dozed off on the way. Part of him thought that perhaps he was being kidnapped but then realized what he had gotten himself into by being a hardass. When they entered the venue the hood had a hard time staying on his feet and he drunkenly stumbled to and fro, especially when the thug-like security began to handle him. “Hands off, man!” he hissed and began to fling wildly in his drunken stupor in hopes of hitting one of them. The hood hadn’t missed the look the black-haired male had given him before running onto stage and Dallas cursed himself.

Although in his current state Dallas was little match for the guards but it still didn’t stop him from trying to fight his way down the hall as they escorted him to the dressing rooms. When they roughly threw him onto the couch, told him to put on whatever pants he could fit in that were on the rack, and then promptly left the blonde thought that it was a dream. What were the chances that he would be in a high end place like this? He knew that it was a good idea to stay in the car, but of course it was, it was his idea after all.

He fumbled out of his soiled jeans but could only make it so far before he clumsily jerked backwards. His attention was caught however by the sound of music and Dallas lazily listened to the sound of a voice that sounded all too familiar. Where had he heard it before? Then he remembered who exactly had ran onto the stage before he was dragged away, and who had been singing one of his favorite songs in the car, and just who exactly was making his night a living hell.

He couldn’t block the music out or more specifically the voice if he tried. It was permanently stuck in his head and it made him hard.

Keep reading

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

The adrenaline induced singer threw one last fist in the air, signalling it was all over. Covered in sweat and topless the black haired male with one leg up on an amp and a cigarette in mouth thanked his fans.

“You guys are fucking awesome! Thanks for coming out! Can we hear it for the other bands that played tonight as well!” Sam cheered on the crowd “We’ll see ya’ next time New York!”

The stage lights went out and as the band left the platform the crowd followed in suit, scattered to the exits and merch tables. Sam coming down the backstage stairs pushed his dripping hair back out of his glistening face.

“Sam, how many times do i have to tell you not to take your shirt off. I understand the jacket but really?” His manager nagged.

“It’s Rock’N’Roll Alfred! It’s not like i’m playin’ for the damn Queen.” Sam wiped his body off with a towel someone handed him. “I’ll be in my dressing room, let me know when it’s time to leave the venue, ight?” Grabbing a water from a near by cooler, he sipped it slowly and poured the rest over his body and swung the towel around his neck.

…“Rise an’shine sleepin beauty” The black hair man stood above the sleeping blonde. Water bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other. Leaning forward one foot firmly on the floor, the other firmly pressed against the drunken man’s crotch. The tall male was still dripping wet from his cool down method.

“I would ask if ya’ had a good time but I can see that ya’ did.” Sam stood back upright and walked over to the clothing rack. “Here” He threw a pair of jeans over to the couch where the other male was.

“They’re probably the biggest pair in here.” Sammy had an obvious smaller frame then the blonde, the differences was extremely apparent considering he was half naked. The blue eyed male dried the rest of his body off and smudged most of his makeup away besides his eyeliner that would make Pete Wentz jealous. He took another puff before putting out the smoke and proceeded to take off the rest of his outfit which was basically his belt, pants and combats.

“Don’t get any ideas ya fuckin’ perv” he scoffed tugging and shimming into a cleaner pair of skinnys, followed by his beater.

devil-in--his-eyes

Dallas couldn’t have dozed off for more than a half hour but it was still enough to make him wake up with a thrumming headache and cotton mouth. It wasn’t enough however to starve off being drunk and the young Sawyer found himself still heavily buzzed when his eyes popped open like two blue chicks. The first thought he had was where the fuck was he, the second was why did he have his hand around his still harden dick and what was pressing deliciously close against it, and third was what the fuck was drooling on him.

He knew that it wasn’t his lumbering beast of a dog, because he knew for certain that he wasn’t anywhere near his shop, no place this classy–that wasn’t a restaurant was in the Bronx. That was when the blonde realized where he was and what exactly had happened before he fell asleep.

Keep reading

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

The male finished dressing and put on his signature leather. "As if I never heard that one before. Wow, you're so original, how ever did you think of that one? I told ya' to keep yer dirty eyes off of me. I get it, I'm hot but you're creepin' me out.”

The black haired man turned to the blonde. “Hurry up and get outta here alright,ya had your fun and the shows over now. I ain’t your escort so take a damn souvenir if you ain’t got any cash for a taxi.”

Sam picked up a shredded, torn up book bag that had too many patches on it and had obviously seen better days off the vanity in the dressing room and headed towards the door. He walked over to his guitar case which was strategically placed directly across from him, or in other words, right beside the blonde that was still gawking at him. He smirked up at the other male as he grabbed the case

#devilinhiseyes #sammyxdally

devil-in--his-eyes

Make it or Break it (cont. closed)

Dallas had little recollection of the drive to the venue and he mused that he probably dozed off on the way. Part of him thought that perhaps he was being kidnapped but then realized what he had gotten himself into by being a hardass. When they entered the venue the hood had a hard time staying on his feet and he drunkenly stumbled to and fro, especially when the thug-like security began to handle him. “Hands off, man!” he hissed and began to fling wildly in his drunken stupor in hopes of hitting one of them. The hood hadn’t missed the look the black-haired male had given him before running onto stage and Dallas cursed himself.

Although in his current state Dallas was little match for the guards but it still didn’t stop him from trying to fight his way down the hall as they escorted him to the dressing rooms. When they roughly threw him onto the couch, told him to put on whatever pants he could fit in that were on the rack, and then promptly left the blonde thought that it was a dream. What were the chances that he would be in a high end place like this? He knew that it was a good idea to stay in the car, but of course it was, it was his idea after all.

He fumbled out of his soiled jeans but could only make it so far before he clumsily jerked backwards. His attention was caught however by the sound of music and Dallas lazily listened to the sound of a voice that sounded all too familiar. Where had he heard it before? Then he remembered who exactly had ran onto the stage before he was dragged away, and who had been singing one of his favorite songs in the car, and just who exactly was making his night a living hell.

He couldn’t block the music out or more specifically the voice if he tried. It was permanently stuck in his head and it made him hard.

Keep reading

as-mean-as-the-devil-blog

The adrenaline induced singer threw one last fist in the air, signalling it was all over. Covered in sweat and topless the black haired male with one leg up on an amp and a cigarette in mouth thanked his fans.

“You guys are fucking awesome! Thanks for coming out! Can we hear it for the other bands that played tonight as well!” Sam cheered on the crowd “We’ll see ya’ next time New York!”

The stage lights went out and as the band left the platform the crowd followed in suit, scattered to the exits and merch tables. Sam coming down the backstage stairs pushed his dripping hair back out of his glistening face.

“Sam, how many times do i have to tell you not to take your shirt off. I understand the jacket but really?” His manager nagged.

“It’s Rock’N’Roll Alfred! It’s not like i’m playin’ for the damn Queen.” Sam wiped his body off with a towel someone handed him. “I’ll be in my dressing room, let me know when it’s time to leave the venue, ight?” Grabbing a water from a near by cooler, he sipped it slowly and poured the rest over his body and swung the towel around his neck.

...“Rise an’shine sleepin beauty” The black hair man stood above the sleeping blonde. Water bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other. Leaning forward one foot firmly on the floor, the other firmly pressed against the drunken man’s crotch. The tall male was still dripping wet from his cool down method.

“I would ask if ya’ had a good time but I can see that ya’ did.” Sam stood back upright and walked over to the clothing rack. “Here” He threw a pair of jeans over to the couch where the other male was.

“They’re probably the biggest pair in here.” Sammy had an obvious smaller frame then the blonde, the differences was extremely apparent considering he was half naked. The blue eyed male dried the rest of his body off and smudged most of his makeup away besides his eyeliner that would make Pete Wentz jealous. He took another puff before putting out the smoke and proceeded to take off the rest of his outfit which was basically his belt, pants and combats.

“Don’t get any ideas ya fuckin’ perv” he scoffed tugging and shimming into a cleaner pair of skinnys, followed by his beater.

#sammyxdally #backseat serenade #closed #nsfw

Live fast, Die free

#the Hart's family motto #quote #rocknroll #live fast