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How did I ever fade...
Into this life...
Created on 2009-02-20 03:09:45 (#18743845), last updated 2009-12-04
70 comments received, 91 comments posted
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23 Journal Entries, 4 Tags, 2 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 11 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Josh Groban |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 02-27 |
| Location: | (states/regions/territories) |
Bio![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
undrgroundrp ][
josh-Groban. NAME || Josh Groban AGE || 28 ORIGINAL LOCATION || Los Angeles, California, [U.S.A.] UNDERGROUND || Josh was recording in London when the virus broke out. Everyone around him forced him to take shelter underground, while they either died or suffered from irreversible mutations. Josh escaped unscathed, though grew and immunity to the virus, but as a side-effect grew pale and suffers from a near-constant state of fatigue. SEXUAL ORIENTATION || Ever since Josh's loved ones perished, the young singer never delved in the realm of sexuality. He currently has no preference, but as a result of his fatigue, Josh will more than willing turn to a man for strength and stability, both physically and emotionally. SPECIES || Human HISTORY || Josh was born in Los Angeles, California and lived a fairly normal life until his senior year in high school. At the tender age of 17, his voice coach sent a tape recording of his voice to music producer legend David Foster and thus the singing wonder Josh Groban was discovered. From then on, he was submersed in a signing career that would last him up until the year 2005 when the virus broke out. At the time, he was in London, recording, and was forced underground by agents, assistants, family and friends—and security especially. While his loved ones died, Josh surprisingly survived without any mutations, but suffers from fatigue and depression as a result from losing everyone he once knew. Now, he spends his days writing meaningless songs and simply struggling to survive under the new system. He sings on the “street” for money and in hopes of soothing others, even if it doesn’t heal him whatsoever. Writing example: Josh sat alone in his quarters at his desk, his dog sleeping limply on his bed under the window. He sat hunched over—a position you would never normally find the singer in, elbows planted firmly over the old oak and hands cradling his head hanging limp from his shoulders. He was pale, more so than usually with illness brought on by stress and heartache. Even though it all happened so long ago, the image was horribly vivid in his mind, the picture like an old silent movie, flickering with aged film. Staring down at the small piece of scrap paper, Josh parted his lips in an attempt to hum, his voice coming out cracked and raspy. Sweeney, his old dog lifted his head, stirred from his sleep by his master’s voice. Ever since the tragedy, he had never been his peppy self, no longer the big goof with dorky glasses and messy curly bed-hair that liked to bury his face into his dog’s. He was quiet and hardly sang anymore unless he needed cash, whereas he always sang when he was happy. He was no longer happy, his world destroyed by something he couldn’t bring himself to try and understand. Standing up from his seat, he proceeded to strip himself of his clothes, ragged over a slender body and dropping them on the floor. He crawled into bed, followed by his dog under the blankets. He shivered as he laid down, facing away from the window, Sweeney settling down with thick curly fur brushing against his back, snout resting between his neck and shoulder. As Josh closed his eyes to sleep, the dog let out a huffing breath before doing the same.
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