RAMONE, emlyn james

[emlyn]

EMLYN JAMES RAMONE .
you and i should meet.

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GAZE INTO HER KILLING JAR
i'd sometimes stare for hours[/color]
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name: emlyn james ramone
age: nineteen
birthday: september twelfth
band name: drops of jupiter
position: lead singer
play by: kyler krunk

LOOK IN MY EYES.

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you're killing me, killing me.[/size][/center]

likes: surprising people, singing, women, men, sex in general, booze, a nice cigarette, tattoos and piercings, the concert scene, tabloids, rumors, an empty stage, sweat, the thrill of the chase, trouble, attention, biters, breaking down the macho types
dislikes: hangovers, whining, liars, expectations, angry boyfriends, getting dirty, losing his temper, country music, girls who act ditzy, ukelele, government, people pinching his cheeks like an aunt lolol, winter, pregnancy scares >>, straight guys, macho types, tears
habits: smoking, partying, sarcasm, seducing people (lolol), crowd surfing
secrets: secret pink floyd junkie, terrified of love,
overall personality: in a recent interview:

"Who am I? Where the fuck have you been, under a rock? Heh, Emlyn James Ramone, singer extraordinaire. Huh? Oh, you look surprised. I know, funny how such attitude comes out of such a cutesy boy, right? Yeah, fuck you. Look, here..." He pauses to snatch the paper from the hands of the interview and shred it into impromptu confetti, tossing it aside and smirking, folding his arms. "Just talk to me bro. Or here, I'll do your job for you, since I'm so....nice." He smirks. "I'm an asshole. A sarcastic, blunt, womanizing asshole. You won't like me, I'm willing to bet, and frankly I'm juuuust fine with that. 'Cuz, know what? I like the attention, I love the hate, I bloody thrive on it. Oh, this is something you'll want to print....I only have two rules...And I do mean only two. One, I don't lie, and two, I don't regret. What? No, I'm serious. I may be a sex-crazed jerk who only tries to get into people's pants, but at least I'll tell you that, I won't pretend to love you or anything...Jesusfuck no, that word just kills me. And as for regret, well, it's a useless emotion anyway, there's really no need for it. I'd much rather just live life, die young and fast but hey at least I'll have plenty of people to show up at my funeral, I wanna be a fucking icon.

You're judging me with your bloody eyes, I see it right now! Haha, that's just fine with me. Like what you see? Yeah, I know, it really works to my advantage, being so cute...plus, I fucking ooze charisma...Even the people who hate me can't help but be drawn to me...I'm quick on my feet, I'm cool under pressure, and I know how to mess with people. Give me two hours with anyone and I'll be able to tell you their weaknesses, fears, and their favorite color, guarenteed. It's pretty unnerving to people when they get pissed at me and I just laugh and keep going nonchalantly, totally unruffled, but don't be mistaken, I've gotten into fights too....Haha, gotta stay in shape--what? No, all the sex isn't a good enough workout, but I am proudly and out loud bisexual if that's the question...What can I say, gotta keep the bloody gorgeous bod gorgeous, don't I? Heh, I'm a sex icon, I swear...Which is rad, totally happy there. Sex over most other things, I'm afraid....Actually, it's entertaining. Do you know how jealous boys get of me? And the girls, oh fuck, the girls, they swoon..." He pauses, grinning lazily, arrogant as all get out and cool as a cucumber. "Are we done here? Swear to God if you ask me what my favorite color is...."

Emlyn James Ramone is not a person of layers. What you see is what you get...Well, that's not necessarily true, he's an adorable creature...Until he opens his mouth. He's a charismatic, arrogant, sexually charged bottle rocket who quite enjoys pranks, rumors, drama, and trouble in general, although he has yet to be in one relationship in his waking life unless it was one for the ease of access (sexually of course). He is the typical rockstar: out loud, in your face, bouncy, egotistical, vain, rude, and not about to stop for anyone at all. He'll indulge in the rare post-sex cuddle but his affection just about runs short there; he has no shame because it tastes too much of regret, and he is perfectly happy to keep going full tilt until his ship runs aground, at which point he's not sure what he'll do because surely he wouldn't survive in "the real world".

I'M AN ADDICT FOR DRAMATICS
i confuse the two for love

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mom: Marialena Sherry Ramone, 46, real estate agent and proud (if not a bit chagrinned at his big mouth) mother
dad: James Alexander Ramone, 50, IRS agent and not really sure how his son turned out the way he did lolol
siblings: none
other important figures: other than his band members there really aren't many, he obviously didn't have too many shining role models ;P
overall history: Starting date: September twelfth, nineteen nintety-one. A Mrs. Ramone has just given birth to her second child, the first having been a stillborn approximately thirteen months prior. The child was a smiling baby with radiant blue eyes; his parents were overjoyed, because here was the answer to their overwhelming depression at the failed first pregnancy. They were not extremely wealthy, but they had enough means to put him into a private school near their London home. His parents were supportive and coddled a bit with the nagging thought that their baby boy was rather fragile--and with a face like that, it wasn't that hard to belive, now was it?

Emlyn proved from a young age to be nothing if not intelligent; it was merely getting him to focus on his education that proved a problem. He was witty, with a sharp tongue that clearly defied authority, and by the time he was twelve he was barely clinging to his place at said private school. He was so interested in girls that it was hard to get him to even come to class; it was no better when he picked up binge drinking. At thirteen, he was expelled from the private school, and admittance to a public school obviously did nothing to help the sitution. He was blatantly sexual, and experimented openly with other boys...His parents were shocked, and embarrassed, but Marialena doted on her precious only son enough to push it away, and his father could only blink and wonder if it was because he never played football with him or kept his nudie mags locked up too tight for Em to find.

At around eighteen, he met his bandmates. They all were as out loud and outrageous as he was; upon graduation there was nothing to keep him from cutting loose and settling in Liverpool with them. They were notorious crashers, fond of jumping onto an empty stage whereever possible and riling up a crowd to mosh pit frenzies that set the concert securities' teeth on edge. Their blatant disregard for any kind of rule was what got them noticed...Em's childike appearance, something that along with his smooth talking charisma had always conflicted with his badboy ways as a child, was an unlikely spearhead to the crazed music making, leaving people stunned when he opened his mouth and let forth such vocals. And when they bridged the gap between Europe and America, they only made more of a stir, with that enigmatic label as not only "that crazy hardcore moshy band with the cutesy singer" but "that crazy hardcore moshy band with the cutesy singer from England".

rp quote:

NOTE: totally has nothing to do with Emlyn but you know me :3

jenna hated heights. absolutely hated and despised and feared them. to be honest, she wouldn't be surprised if it was because at one point or another in her early developmental years someone had dangled her from someplace way up high, she wouldn't put it past any of them. and yet, here she was, pretty much tempting fate, by peeking over the rooftop of morris, fingers gripping the edge so hard they're bleach white and yet still so morbidly fascinated by the sheer dizzying fall. she was a small little thing, fifteen and yes, solid enough, but short, and currently lighter than normal due to that apparently being the way stefani preferred her. the fall would not take long, even as light as she was; the fall would probably only hurt a split second, instaneous death...not that she was even contemplating it. oh no, for being at morris youth correctional facility, the little duckie was ridiculously happy. besides, even at her absolute worst jenna would never ever kill herself. it was a deeply-ingrained sense of no self worth coupled with extreme dedication to another living soul, whatever living soul would actually have her at the moment. right now, happily, that was stefani, which was a whole love/hate twisted relationship for dissecting another time and place. as it was, the way sweetie saw it was this: she was giving everything to stefani, her life included. it wasn't her place to take her own life (as if she'd ever want to with stef around!). she didn't exactly want to die, but if stef asked her, she would, no questions asked. and when she was alone, without anyone to dictate her life for her? well, dear sweetie just viewed that as complete and utter failure on her part, and punished herself with living. but, even so....there was something so tantalizing about dancing with death, on the edge of a blade, or in this case, on the edge of a tall building.

with the wind whipping her hair in her face and her knees knocking together from the sheer vertigo of it all, sweetie finally decided that was enough watching (and tempting some evil to come along and shove her off the edge) and clambored down, feet feeling better once placed on terra firma (up to this point she'd been sitting on the edge peeking over, on her knees, fingers gripping at the ledge tightly). now that her daily tempting danger was through and her mind could return to anything resembling normal, our heroine-of-the-moment found herself sinking down to the ground, looping her arms around her knees and pulling them tight to her chest. the rooftop was a depressingly gray place, but then again, that was all of morris. the brightest, and almost only color here, was crimson. blood. passion, love, hate, pain, fear, life. a young, sweet soul like jenna really needed more. she wanted bright, she wanted happy. now, whether she thought she deserved that or not was a completely different (more depressing) tale. but, the thing was, as much as she was an absolute doormat, people tended to like her a lot. she had a natural sweetness (hence most people knowing her literally only as stefani's Sweetie), charisma, and optimism about her that made people either want to scoop up and protect her, or absolutely take advantage of her. not to mention, her sole mission in life appeared to be making people happy. when she was younger (not too much younger, though, just....she's only fifteen now, so four short years ago she was only eleven, imagine!), that meant being an unwilling prostitute for her mother's drug habits. it means giving her all, 1231723901% to everyone around her, not ever saying 'no', and always looking for that small bright side to even a place like morris. and yes, seeing as she's a harm, that bright side, just like blood is the only bright in this entire place, was often pain. it made her feel alive, when stefani was administering it it made her feel special, important...it was attention, it was someone feeling like she was worth something to take the time to hurt her. it took out other people's aggression so they felt better, it was the punishment she felt she deserved for even being alive. the thrill, the adrenaline it gave her, the darling scars that proved she had some worth to her life to date...it was all worth it for her.

I DONT WANNA KNOW ABOUT EVIL

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i only wanna know about love[/color][/center]

name/alias: asho(incognito, bobasho, cakes)
age: sixteen~
experience: psshh, six+ years I wanna say...
password: ADMIN EDIT ;D

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this was made by heather. lyrics came from tons of bands, so yeah. dont steal or she will send boo the ghost to eat your face and your mothers face.