#chq;intro

ABOUT.

Name: Nathan Young Nicknames: Nate Age: Forty-one Date of Birth: 5th November 1981 Birthplace: Manhattan, New York, USA Current Location: Denver, Colorado, USA Occupation: Photographer Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/bisexual

Nathan was born in Greenwich Village to Enid and Marc . They were big in the community, always doing charity work and volunteering. His father even ran for major at one point. He was expected to get involved, too, but he really wasn’t interested.

All he wanted was to take photos, so at 16 he got a part time job at Starbucks and bought all the equipment his parents refused to. The rest was history as they say.

Eventually drifted away from his parents, the relationship with his younger sisters also suffering as a result.

In his senior year he came out as bisexual and dated a guy from the hockey team for a little over six months, up until college pulled them apart anyway.

The New York Film Academy was his chosen college. He briefly dabbled in movies, but in the end decided to stick with photography, landing an internship at a major fashion magazine shadowing one of the photographers as soon as he graduated.

He worked his way up the ladder, starting with fetching coffee, basically doing everybody else's shit. It took a couple of years, but in the end he got where he wanted, finding himself being headhunted for Vogue, GQ and Vanity Fair.

At 24 he met his soon to be wife on a shoot, she was pretty new, majorly awkward and he fell for her in a big way.

It was proper whirlwind romance, in the space of a year and a half they were married and had a child. Within a couple more years their family of three became four... and then there was the dogs, too. Three of them in total. Fluffy Pomeranian's his wife was obsessed with. They set up home in the Upper East Side and could haven’t have been happier.

Up until Nathan cheated on her anyway.

Flirty in nature he was always chatting people up, just a way to get people to ‘fall in love with him’ for the benefit of the camera, but six years after he first got married, things went a little too far.

He confessed straight away and within a year they were divorced, his wife granted full custody of the children.

Deciding on a fresh start, he up and moved to Denver, setting up his own studio in the city a year later.

His daughters are Lyndsey ( 16 ) and Jessica ( 14 ), who he sees during the holidays for the most part now, the pair coming to stay in Denver with him ever since.

He’s still a flirt, something that will never change, but he’s failing pretty dramatically at getting back on the dating scene. His job is his life now, though, and a lot of his time is dedicated to that and spending time in his studio.

TIMELINE.

1984: Manhattan, New York 2005: Manhattan/Los Angeles 2014: Denver, CO

HEADCANONS.

Despite his protests in the debate over whether to get a dog or not with his ex-wife, he’s found he’s actually quite fond of them now. After spending six years having miniature breeds yapping at his heels, he chose to adopt a Doberman within a couple of months of moving to Denver.

Nathan is a keen reader and considers himself a bookworm. It’s a little known fact about him, but he adores the classics, and his favourite book is War and Peace. One day he hopes to write something himself, although knows it will probably only end up being a photography book or a pictorial of his years taking photos.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Felipe was born into a fairly big and rich family of four siblings, being in the middle of the bunch. The family has been in Denver for a good two generations and used to be known for running the local theatre named The Polymnia which offered much needed entertainment. The Mendoza's has, since then, tried to move on to bigger and better things as they mainly invest in other businesses and keep to themselves.

Everyone in the family get along well, even if the parents are your typical aloof rich people who have lost themselves a little along the way, and the siblings seems to be a mix of either that or being a bit more grounded. Felipe is one of the grounded ones and has his moments of trying to pull his other family members back down as well, with no luck thus far.

His childhood was rather straight forward, with the only bump in the road being at the age of 13 - in which he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis after a few years of feeling like something wasn't quite right with his joints. It hasn't stopped him from engaging with his hobbies, which is theatre, writing and art but it does make it harder for him whenever the symptoms flare up.

Felipe has basically been writing stories since he was able to write, playing them out with friends for fun and by the time high school was beginning to wrap up, he already knew he wanted to get his hands on The Polymnia before his parents decided to even the building with the ground.

Up until that point it had mainly been used for conferences or private events and the building was struggling to keep itself together, with loads needing to be fixed up and none of it was going to get cheap. Felipe decided to stay living at home to save on costs, working a good two jobs (sometimes more) to make the building acceptable for shows.

Today The Polymnia is a home for other theatre enthusiast and volunteers looking for some experience or those just looking for a place to hang out or to extend a helping hand. The place often ends up in the shadows next to other event places and one could say the place seems haunted by some unhappy spirits by the many accidents and happenings that fall over it, but the struggles are worth it by the end of the day.

Love, what a concept. Monique has long since forgotten what love felt like,  the comfort of having someone to lean on through thick and thin, to trust in every aspect of life. Instead, she relies solely on herself to carry on forward. She doesn’t mind it anymore; what could a companion give her that she could not find elsewhere? 

 It wasn’t always like this. 

On a sunny Summer day, she was ready to get married to the man she thought was the love of her life. Her mother was ecstatic, whereas her father had seemed less inclined. The wedding planner had made sure every detail of this day would be perfect: food, flowers, music, everything  carefully selected to make this day as beautiful as possible. However, the groom was nowhere to be seen. 

Monique waited for hours, wearing her beautiful A-line wedding dress, make-up ruined by tears still staining her cheeks. He ignored her calls, and the coward instead settled for throwing six years of her life away through a text message:

 I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be like this, but I can’t do this. I can’t pretend anymore. 

That was the last she heard of him. Now left to pick up the pieces of her life, Monique promised herself she’d never allow anyone that power over her. She spent months figuring out where they went wrong, what she did to push him to that decision, and how she could have been better.  The truth came in the form of a picture sent by a coworker. It was never her. She was not the one he loved. In the photo, he sat with her best friend, holding hands over a cafe table. That was the real reason he ran away. All the while letting her plan the wedding and pretending everything was fine. 

Her place of employment requires her to work with people as naive as she was that fateful day. Though she no longer believes it is possible to find love for herself, she’s happy to help those on the journey to join their lives… most of the time. Where she was once excited, lively, and empathetic, she feels those qualities have long since vanished from her repertoire. 

A few years later, Monique sat across from a couple, their excited chatter about wedding details filling the room. She nodded along, her professional demeanor unwavering as she discussed flower arrangements and seating plans. The couple's joy was infectious, but somewhere deep within, a flicker of something stirred—a memory she'd buried long ago.

As the couple shared their love story, laughter bubbling between them, Monique's facade faltered. She excused herself briefly, stepping into the quiet hallway. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, trying to push away the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm her.

The words from her ill-fated wedding day echoed in her mind. I’m sorry, I can’t pretend anymore.

For a fleeting moment, Monique allowed herself to feel the pain she'd locked away. The betrayal, the heartache, and the sense of loss surged back with an intensity that caught her off guard. She blinked back tears, silently berating herself for letting her guard down.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened up, steeling herself to return. The couple's happiness was what mattered now. She plastered on a smile, reentering the room with a renewed professional demeanor. But the ghosts of her past lingered, a silent reminder of a heart that had once believed in love.

STATS Full Name: Kareem Arash Salaam Nickname(s): None Occupation: Museum curator at Denver Art Museum Age: Thirty-seven Date of Birth: July 22nd, 1986 Ethnicity/Race: Black, West Indian, African-Caribbean Gender & Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Orientation: Bisexual Height: 193 cm / 6’3” Tattoo(s): None Piercing(s): None Birthplace: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA Current Residence: Denver, Colorado Languages: English (fluent), French (fluent) Social Class: Upper middle class Notable Family Members: Jahmal Salaam (father, deceased), Abigail Salaam (mother), Hamaad Salaam (paternal grandfather, deceased) Traits: Honorable, creative, free-thinking, philosophical, inventive, fickle, snooty and petty MBTI: ISTP - The Virtuoso Eanneatype: Type 3 - The Achiever Moral Alignment: True Neutral Temperament: Phlegmatic Intelligence Type: Spatial, existential Astrology: Cancer sun, Aquarius moon, Capricorn ascending Habits: Glancing at watch, tapping his foot, rubbing chin, tunes boring people out, over-organized, snores when sleeping, turns almost everything into a project, raising eyebrows, often stands with hands behind his back Hobbies: Metalcrafting, wood-working, resin molding, anything art-related, visiting wineries, art journaling, visiting restaurants and giving scorching reviews on social media, reading Likes: Charcuterie boards, cured meats, philosophical debate, questioning existence and other people's poor choices, candles, pastries Dislikes: The fog, cake that's too sweet, flying on airplanes, people trying to give him nicknames, being cold, clutter BIOGRAPHY His father was a hero. That’s what others would tell Kareem when they recounted how his father died in a helicopter accident as an EMSA pilot during a vicious hurricane.  

But Kareem wasn't ever interested in chasing after his father's legacy, in flying that close to the sun, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground from a young age. 

As the result of his father passing and his mother being away from home a lot working, he was raised primarily by a no-nonsense paternal grandfather starting from the age of seven. His grandfather instilled in him high values and expectations and, as a result, Kareem always has held himself to high standards and views the world with a critical gaze. 

Through his observations from his youth, Kareem adopted his own code of conduct. He doesn’t just hold himself to this code, but also the people around him, and as a result, he has alienated more people than not. This suits Kareem just fine as he preferred to have a smaller, curated circle of friends. 

Incredibly cutthroat and unafraid to sever ties, Kareem spent most of his time exploring the world through nature, philosophy, and art. Often found with a book in hand, in a lot of ways, George Dickie, Walter Kaufmann, and Ted Cohen were his most steady companions growing up. 

While he finds plenty of faults in people and the world around him, Kareem also has a fascination with the beauty of the imperfections that exist in every corner, leading him to follow a passion for the arts. Graduating from high school in his hometown of New Orleans, Kareem went on to get his bachelor’s in Museum Studies from New York Univeristy.

It is during this time that he meets Kassandra Yung, his first love. After a period of pining, the two of them began to date, only calling it quits upon graduation. Kassandra was going back to her home, and Kareem needed to move onto graduate school, and the two of them split after deciding not to try and make the relationship work long distance. For awhile, they still exchanged letters until contact dwindled.

Career-focused, Kareem went to John Hopkins University for his graduate studies, and after he had completed the program, he served his internship at the Dallas Museum of Art.  

Kareem spent the better part of the next decade hopping around the southern United States and leaving his footprint in various museums with his hand-picked exhibits. During this time, it wasn’t only art pieces that he left behind, but also broken hearts. Never settling down for long. 

Kareem dabbles in creating art pieces of his own every now and then, preferring woodworking and metal crafting to any other art styles, but he mostly loves to pick art pieces to hang not just in his home, but in local museums as a museum curator. 

After the passing of his grandfather last year, Kareem decided to spread his wings and relocate to Denver, Colorado to help nurture the vibrantly growing art scene there.

details (tw suicide):

Cassidy never really knew her father. He was more a stranger than anything, a character in their story. Growing up, Cass had always heard that her father was a real estate tycoon or something of the sort who owned properties in various states. Truth be told, Cass didn't really know much about her mom either. She knew her of course, but she didn't know about her. All they knew was that their mother had been married before, that the marriage had ended, and she'd moved to the United States.

When Cass was young, her mother remarried. That was how Ryder Sydney entered her life. Between Ryder and Cass's older sibling, Cass felt safe -- something that was necessary as Ryder's dad was not a nice guy.

About ten years ago, Cass's mom secreted them away to Denver in the dead of night. They bought a small house and never looked back.

For a while, life seemed perfect, or as perfect as it had ever been, but then things fell apart. tw start Cass's mom had been dealing with more than the teenager could've imagined and one day, those demons won. tw end

To keep her from becoming another child lost in the system, their older sibling became their legal guardian. After all, Cass was only a few years away from being an adult themselves.

Cass currently resides in Lakeridge District, in an old broken down house they inherited from their mother and works as a piano tutor and picking up odd jobs where ever she can while attending college.

potential connections:

older sibling (will be a wc on the main)

best friend/friends (she’s lived in denver for over a decade now for their entire life)

flirtationships

enemies

clients (both for piano and babysitting)

it’s  nuclear  family  archetype—his  parents  are  loving,  his  needs  are  attended,  his  wants  are  indulged  when  reasonable,  his  elder  brother  and  he  are  close.  hal  grows  up  with  the  world  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  he  is  bright,  wants  so  desperately  to  work  in  aircraft  engineering,  to  build  and  design  the  jets  his  brother  had  his  hand  in  flying.  

the  exact,  focal  moment  of  destruction  comes  when  he  is  seventeen.  it  comes  with  the  smell  of  cigarette  smoke,  the  feel  of  a  coarse  mattress  underneath  him,  regret,  loss  of  autonomy.  his  first  love,  his  first  crush,  and  he  is  far  too  drunk  to  do  anything  but  survive.  he  leaves  pieces  of  himself  there  that  he  has  yet  to  recover  in  full,  loses  the  ability  to  feel  anything  but  murk,  until—

euphoria,  dissolved  in  a  spoon,  in  the  rundown  kitchen  of  a  friend  of  a  friend’s  apartment.  strikes  a  match  in  his  veins  and  suddenly  the  discomfort,  the  overtightness  of  his  own  skin  fades.  it  was  an  off-switch  to  the  agony  he  could  not  put  words  to,  and  he  lost  himself  in  it,  lost  everything.

it  took  a  very  long  time  for  his  parents  to  cut  him  off  in  spite  of  his  obvious  descent.  his  brother—richard—was  much  quicker  to  stop  enabling  him,  drew  the  line  when  hal  refused  treatment,  but  he  was  their  baby  boy,  no  matter  how  volatile  and  sick  the  substance  abuse  made  him.

after  they  do,  hal  lives  on  the  streets  for  several  years,  struggling  to  get  back  on  his  feet,  not  entirely  convinced  being  sober  is  an  option  for  him.  he  tries  to  get  clean  on  his  own  a  few  times,  more  than  a  few,  but  the  numbness  that  comes  with  sobriety  eats  him  alive,  he  knows  no  other  way  to  feel.  

it  takes  time.  it  takes  hospital  visits,  it  takes  almost  dying.  it  takes  rehab,  relapse  and  then  rehab  again.  finally,  he  claws  himself  to  four  month  sober  and  catches  a  flight  to  denver,  to  start  anew,  perhaps  against  his  better  judgement.  

full name: gabriel isaac moore. nicknames: gabe, abe. gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him. age: thirty-four. sexuality: bisexual. date of birth: july 15th. zodiac sign: cancer ( loyal, creative, sensitive, insecure. ) place of birth:  bristol, england. occupation: assistant professor of history, university of denver.

born and raised in bristol, the youngest of three with two older sisters. as a diplomatic service officer their father was away more often than not, so gabe was raised by his mother and sisters.

his interest in writing, reading and history was a curveball. aside from his father, the rest of the family's interests were firmly rooted in stem. they were ( perhaps justifiably ) worried that gabriel's interests would not give him much success in life. but he was determined to pursue his passion and after graduating top of his class at bristol uni for undergrad, went on to get his master's and phd in history at st andrew's.

moved to london after graduation wondering what to do with himself and fell into teaching. completed his teaching qual and sought out a role teaching history whilst continuing to research and publish occasionally on the side to keep up with developments in the academic world.

( tw: car accident, injury, depression & ptsd ) was cycling to work as per usual one day when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke up just short of a week later to a shock. gabe had been lucky, really. at least, that's what everyone said -- at the time he couldn't only think that was a cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated, originally below the knee but complications did not go his way and so shortly after he became an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed - scars here and there the only thing to show of his ordeal now.

slightly reeling and with nothing to really do during his recovery, gabriel turned back to the work he loved. this was something of a relief to friends and family as, not unexpectedly, gabe was diagnosed with ptsd and depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life, but they have dissipated and significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else. he wrote a monograph, a social history of black africans in renaissance england that was eventually published just under five years ago now.

riding on the back of the book's success, a desire to return to academia and for a change of scenery he began applying for jobs. the offer from the university of denver came through and he took it and uprooted to denver. this was where his family’s relief was dampened; they thought it was a rash decision ( they weren’t wrong, but gabe was never one to change his mind once it was set and they knew it ) 

gabe has been in denver for three years now, comfortable in his position at the university but also keen to engage with as many people as possible. he runs a sort of 'history 101' evening class at the community college for anyone to attend.

BASICS:

full name: emilio michele rossi nicknames: emi hometown: staten island, new york age + birthday: 33, born on August 27th, 1990 sexuality + gender: bisexual, cis man face claim: adam dimarco

BACKGROUND (tw mental illness, depression, self-harm, suicide attempt):

the days leading up to labor day weekend on the south shore of staten island were quiet and heavy with anticipation for The Last Hurrah of the summer; emilio michele rossi arrived into the world on monday, august 27th of 1990, just as quiet, and weighed with expectations he’d never live up to

the rossi’s were proud italian-americans, with the entire clan spread across staten island, long island, and spilling into jersey. his father, vinny, was a third generation mechanic and his mother was a hair stylist

emilio was the third of four children overall: two older fraternal twins (bruno & bianca, 38), and one younger brother (luca, 26). his parents also had a few siblings each with their own respective litters, so it was next to impossible not to trip over a rossi in a hundred mile radius of staten island.

emilio was always the black sheep of the family: quiet, melancholy, and spineless, a lifetime being the butt of the joke and too soft-spoken to be heard at the dinner table. they loved each other, sure, but the only time he ever felt like part of the clan was at a yankee game, booing the opposing team.

shit started hitting the fan around middle school, after his older siblings and cousins moved onto high school and emilio, already riddled with anxiety, became an easy target for bullying. he never said anything, afterall. he was the perfect punching bag, and he never really learned to speak up for himself, much less fight back. he got scrappy because he had to, but he wasn’t winning any points with the cool kids— in fact, his blooming erraticism solidified him as the weird kid.

it was like everyone around him was a prodigy. bruno took to the body shop like he was born with a wrench in hand, and bianca returned from university with a masters in business, joining her twin in taking over the family business. luca, 11 years old, had already skipped two grades and was the family’s crown jewel. his cousins were nurses, business owners, chefs, successful successful successful and emilio was nothing nothing nothing

he had a couple of friends, other fellow outcasts, and preferred hanging out around staten island with them after school rather than returning home to explain another detention, another shitty grade, another phone call from a disappointed teacher to his parents

whenever he was home, he often ended up holed up in his bedroom to avoid the constant lectures and borderline mean-spirited ribbing from the revolving door of family members, headphones on because a family as loud as his could still be heard from behind closed doors, wondering “whatever happened to emilio, he’s just so… different”

he spent so much time thinking that it turned to rumination, and one night he found himself standing on the edge of the verrazzano-narrows, wondering if it’d hurt if he jumped.

the overwhelming guilt at once again bringing shame to his family stopped him, and he shut down afterwards.

for a few years, he continued as he had before: a passenger in his own life, watching his body move through the motions. cowardice and grief morphed to apathy. suppressing his emotions, burying everything under his responsibilities and a debilitating nicotine addiction, was the only way he knew how to get by… until halfway through his junior year of college, after a particularly normal day, when he suddenly found himself in a stretcher with gauze wrapped around his wrists, the horrified and devastating faces of his family staring as he was wheeled away.

emilio finished out his semester from an in-patient program in upstate new york.

for the first time in his life, his family was quiet around him. they were anxious, they were nervous, they were soft-spoken, and he was the one with the power. he was listened to and heard. for the first time in his life, emilio rossi defended himself.

the relief of a voice gave way to exhilaration, as it was like nothing fucking mattered anymore. he could say whatever he wanted to, he could survive anything because he survived himself when he wanted nothing more than nonexistence. 

he was a stain on his family. he was the black sheep. he was the weird cousin, he was the fun uncle, he was himself.

PERSONALITY & PRESENT (tw drug use, continued mental illness):  

graduated with a degree in history, which got him nothing more than a glorified tour guide gig at the metropolitan museum of art. go fucking figure.

started going by emi once he moved out at 21 to a shitty apartment on the lower east side with some roommates he found craigslist. 

a cocktail of nihilism, freedom, ego, and mental illness led to spending his early to mid-20s a drugged out haze, filtering between nightlife and his job, through sexual experimentation, relationships, and a disproportionate amount of bad to good days.

terribly CAPRICIOUS— his mood changes unpredictably, and he oscillates between thrumming anxiety and over-confidence, a little too honest, a little too comfortable, yet entirely oblivious in other regards. sometimes, he feels like an a spaceman trying to blend in with humanity.

this also makes him extremely ADAPTABLE, making it easier for him to flit around friendships and places because he’s always willing to follow the night.

moved out of new york when he was 30 and spent a few years working seasonal jobs around the country, until he took his savings and moved to denver at age 33 once he heard the news that luca’s been nominated for a nobel prize. 

hasn’t seen any of his family in person since he was 29