[ danny ramirez | cismale | he/him | 28 ] —— welcome to grimrose, diego chavez. it’s cool that you’re here, you know. haven’t you heard of the history of this place… anyway, how’s being a newcomer who has been in town for two months, especially since you spend most of your days as a florist? also, not that it’s a bad thing, of course, but i’ve heard people say you can be a little withdrawn more than you are playful… but that’s just coming from people who are bored here, i promise. to me, you remind me of pornography by the cure and winding ivy vines, little green sprouts in winter soil, soft waves hitting a rocky shoreline. hope to see you around, diego.
full name: diego emilio chavez
nickname(s): d, chavez
name meaning: supplanter
age: twenty-eight
date of birth: january 20 , 1968
place of birth: san francisco, california
current location: grimrose, new hampshire
gender: cisman
sexuality: bisexual
pronouns: he/him
religion: agnostic
occupation: florist
education level: high school
financial status: keeping afloat; he can rent a small, two-bedroom home in grimrose without much struggle
spoken languages: spanish (first language), english
piercings: right ear lobe
tattoos: peonies on his outside right thigh, a small oak leaf on his left wrist/outer forearm
musings & headcanons
diego has come to grimrose to get answers about his father, who is mostly a complete mystery to him as he died before diego was born. all he has of him is some yellowing photos and newspaper clippings his mom had stored away after his father died.
his mom is a native mexican immigrant while his father was half white, half columbian, with his family being in the us for several generations.
diego has phutrakinesis - the ability to manipulate the seeds of plants. diego's ability started showing in his young teen years, and caused him a bit of trouble when he got angry. since then, he’s learned to control it if only to hide it. he feels lucky that he at least has a high interest in plants and biology, as his ability has helped him greatly with his career.
it was easy for him to start a successful career as a florist; school never spoke to him that much, so he didn't choose to go to university and become a biologist, or whatever his school guidance counsellor insisted he would thrive at. flowers, and making things pretty, interested him so much more.
born in san fransisco and raised in monterey, coming to sleepy, rainy new hampshire is a big shift for him, but he’s glad to still be along a coast. for as much as plant life calls to him, the water does, too.
some people would describe him as shy, but in reality he's not quick to trust and is more of a withdrawn personality. however, put him in the right situation and he'd be the loudest person in the room.
diego is also a massive flirt when he wants to be - and he's good at it, too. he likes to have fun and always says life is too short not to.
[tw mentions of aids] diego is bisexual and with a mexican catholic mother, it took him a while to unpack those feelings - and a lot of trips into the city. given the slough of deaths throughout the last decade, he’s been feeling a lot more conflicted because of all the grief; he’s lost so many friends. grimrose kind of gives him a new start, along with everything else.
digeo has always wanted siblings - being an only child to a single mother was so isolating.
he's always wanted to learn an instrument and play in a band. he doesn't know if he'll ever get to be in a band, but he's been saving for a guitar.
it was hard to leave his mom back on the west coast, but he needed a change of pace. the grief started to become too much to bare; it was like he was seeing ghosts everywhere. but with the mystery of his father on his hands, he's wondering if he maybe should've gone to mexico instead, to live with his tito who taught him how to ride a motorcycle at 15, and his favourite abuela.
there's a dark part of him that wonders if he'll ever be able to love again. he doesn't like to think too much about his last partner...maybe he's just trying to run away.
[text ID: You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You’re still right here. /end ID]
diego felt something in the air as the person got closer, but he can’t place it. the whole day has already been so off and it’s barely 10 am, so he figures it must just be that.
as she comes up next to him, he brushes his shoe over the weeds, hoping she doesn’t notice as she bends down to help him - something in the back of his mind goes off about small town sensibilities, but when he realises she has an accent, that takes the focus.
and of course, when she manages to cut herself.
“oh f- man, here, come on in i can get you cleaned up,” he quickly opens the door, telling the woman to watch her step as they cross the threshold. “stay here, let me get the lights and our first aid kit.”
he smiles gently at her before taking a quick peek at at hand and thanking god it didn’t seem to be bleeding too bad from what he could tell.
diego speed-walks to the back of the shop, places his things on the service counter on the way, and grabs the first aid kit and a bottle of water. when he walks back into the main part of the shop, the feeling from before is palatable.
.
Emerson swallowed as she felt a little surge of pain in her palm. She always was a bit of a wuss when it came to cuts and blood–but still, she tried her best to ignore it and to focus on trying not to make this poor man feel awful since it’d been her own fault. Just the same though she followed him inside, and Emerson was so focused on herself (and the lights were off) that she hadn’t even noticed how the flowers all practically bloomed around her, little buds unravelling, colors growing more vibrant. Even the vines and leaves of those overhead began to shift.
She stayed quiet too as he looked to her hand and she looked down as well, biting her lip as she looked at the smear of red along her palm and she let out a shaky breath, just nodding as he walked away before he came back a moment later with a little box and a bottle of water. It was when Emerson looked up though that she realized the little nagging at the back of her head didn’t exactly had to do with the throbbing in her palm. It…it almost felt like a buzzing, something inside of herself thrumming as the man came closer to her and it made Emerson’s breath catch in her throat, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she tried to swallow and just look up at him. “I-I um…thank you. You really..don’t have to help. It was my fault.. Klutz.” she said the word again but her voice was distant almost.
when diego comes closer, he sees a distant look in the woman's eyes and suddenly worries she's going to faint. he moves carefully, but makes sure to get close enough to catch her if she does. he frowns at her dismissal, too, knowing that she clearly isn't okay.
"i insist," he says softly. "don't want it to get infected or anything, that would really suck." diego smiles and motions for her to follow him. he doesn't turn around, though, still concerned about her state of well-being, and walks backwards to the counter. he pulls out the stool they keep behind the counter and places it in front of it on the worn linoleum from years of customers standing there to pay. he pats the seat.
"here, sit down," he says, then comes to a sudden realization. "oh jeez, i haven't even told you my name! i'm diego, i uh, work here and seriously, it'd make me feel a lot better knowing you won't be bleeding all over the town on my behalf. and the infection stuff."
he cuts himself off before he rambles off some more stuff to try and get her to feel comfortable enough to sit down so he can make sure she's okay. as he does so, he looks off past her, brows furrowing as it seemed like...like the flowers were watching her.
open starter // location: flora florentine’s florist shop
the morning after the storm, diego drives carefully to florentine’s, dodging large pieces of tree and other debris on the road. thankfully, it’s a short drive to the shop from his place, and not a lot of people seem to want to brave the roads today anyway. diego doesn’t blame them.
he pulls into his usual spot behind the shop and grabs his lunch off the passenger seat before stepping out to walk around to the store front. immediately, he notices one of the large potted plants on the sidewalk that frame the door tipped over and speeds up.
“great,” he audibly groans, seeing that the dirt spilled under the door - he mentioned the gap a few weeks after he got hired by they told him no to worry about it - and the cracked rim of the pot.
as diego lifts up the pot and haphazardly brushes some of the dirt and pieces of pot out of the way with his shoe, little sprouts of weeds shoot up between the cracks of the sidewalk. his heart races at the sight, blood going cold, and he looks around, trying to mask casualness as he spots someone walking close enough to maybe have noticed.
(or maybe that’s his anxiety talking … he hasn’t had anything like this happen in years)
diego fumbles his keys out of his pocket, immediately gripping the shop key and shooting the person a quick smile because that’s just what you do in small towns.
they’re tired. they didn’t sleep well last night, thinking that most of the town didn’t either. they’ve been yawning since they woke up and been slowly getting ready for the day, double layering as much as they could and putting on a puffy jacket before walking outside to head over to the fire station. they supposed that they could drive, but it didn’t make much sense considering the accidents that could potentially happen, and either way, maybe they could use the exercise. they’re passing in a hurry before they hear the sound of something breaking against the concrete. hunter sighs, doubling back, a polite smile and looking down at the poor person who’s day just started. “shit, you alright?” they look at the mess bending down to help try and pick some of it. “careful not to cut yourself.” he looks at them now trying to open the door. “well, it’s just one plant right?” he tries to sound optimistic, but even hunter would want to roll their eyes at that.
relief washes over diego as he realises that the other person was truly just passing by and paying him no mind. he smiles at them again, nodding.
"i'm good, thank you. and as much as i appreciate the help, i don't want you to cut yourself, either." he says, trying to keep the mood light and his emotions in check so no more...accidents happen. "but uh, yeah. i'm more concerned about the pot, they're expensive at this size and my boss isn't going to be too happy. the plant should be fine," he muses, brushing a finger over the little leaves on the bush. "pretty resilient, i'd say. weather was a lot last night."
he stands up straight again, offering a hand to the kind stranger. "seriously, there's a broom and dust pan right inside, it's all good." he grins. "i'm diego, by the way. i hope i'm not making you late to anything...?"
open starter // location: flora florentine’s florist shop
the morning after the storm, diego drives carefully to florentine’s, dodging large pieces of tree and other debris on the road. thankfully, it’s a short drive to the shop from his place, and not a lot of people seem to want to brave the roads today anyway. diego doesn’t blame them.
he pulls into his usual spot behind the shop and grabs his lunch off the passenger seat before stepping out to walk around to the store front. immediately, he notices one of the large potted plants on the sidewalk that frame the door tipped over and speeds up.
“great,” he audibly groans, seeing that the dirt spilled under the door - he mentioned the gap a few weeks after he got hired by they told him no to worry about it - and the cracked rim of the pot.
as diego lifts up the pot and haphazardly brushes some of the dirt and pieces of pot out of the way with his shoe, little sprouts of weeds shoot up between the cracks of the sidewalk. his heart races at the sight, blood going cold, and he looks around, trying to mask casualness as he spots someone walking close enough to maybe have noticed.
(or maybe that’s his anxiety talking … he hasn’t had anything like this happen in years)
diego fumbles his keys out of his pocket, immediately gripping the shop key and shooting the person a quick smile because that’s just what you do in small towns.
*
That storm had been something else. In her time here in Grimrose, Cassie couldn’t really remember anything like it. It had been something to watch, safely holed up in her apartment about as far as she could get from a window just in case a rogue branch or a Moss Man had made the trip up from Florida. She’d always wanted to meet one, especially after seeing something called Swamp Thing in her comic nerd cousin’s room. The storm had been incredible though. She’d spent most of looking for signs of the mothership she was sure had taken off in it.
The aftermath of it was less incredible. It was even borderline horrific and when she’d woken up that morning, Cassie knew she needed something lighter, something pretty to distract from everything around her, preferably in a few lovely shades of pink. There was no place better for it than Flora’s and she headed over as soon as she thought she’d be awake enough to make it over without tripping over her own feet.
It was a mess outside, and as she picked her way over the shop slower than she normally would so she didn’t trip over the debris littered over the ground, she considered what a tragedy it all was. And then she was close enough to Flora’s for the thought to drive itself from her head. The man working there stood up so quickly that Cassie couldn’t help but frown.
What could have... Her gaze stuck on the pots and sidewalk by the door. “It’s ok,” she called out, raising one hand in greeting, “I don’t blame you for the mess. That storm was a lot, and I didn’t even catch sight of the mothership.” Looking over the area again, she frowned. “Though you could use some weeding out here. Anyways,” she turned back with a smile, “are you open? I need pink flowers!”
pushing open the door with the person - woman? - in his peripheral, diego grabbed the broom they keep hung on the wall by the door from inside. he leaves his lunch on the floor out of the way of the dirt and pockets his keys, surprised that the woman actually stopped next to him. he offers her a smile as she starts speaking, but then quickly finds it difficult to keep it from sliding off his face as she continues.
and of course she noticed the fucking weeds.
"right," he says, smile tighter now. he wonders if she's going to be a difficult customer. diego thinks it would be likely, given how the universe deals its cards, and steels himself. "i haven't even been inside yet, unfortunately, to bring anything out or arrange today's specials." he gestures with the broom to the mess. "kinda got distracted by this. but i can bring you what we have that's pink, unless you have a specific flower in mind? are they a gift or? i'm happy to arrange and wrap them however you want, we've got a lot of options. my name is diego, by the way. didn't get my name tag on quite yet either."
he leaves the broom leaning against the side of the doorway and motions for her to follow him. turning on the lights in the shop, diego lets out the question he knows must be a terrible idea to ask, but he can't quite help himself: "and uh, what did you mean about a 'mothership'?"
Come hell or high water, Kitty goes to work. Aside from being the most efficient way to get out of the house for the day, as it invites the least questions about what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with, it also means she gets a solid thirteen minutes of use out of the walkman she isn’t supposed to have on the walk over to the pharmacy, which, in itself, makes the trip worthwhile.
With the dulcet tones of Toni Braxton blaring in her ears, she navigates her way through the fog with relative ease, the pathways through town still familiar to her even as obscured as they are. After twenty years of living here, there’s really no way she could ever get lost.
Noticing some signs of life from outside the florist, Kitty takes down her headphones and quickens her pace, eager as always to chat to a friendly face (or any face at all, for that matter, she’s not picky). “Diego! Estás bien? This weather is totally crazy, right? I swear, I might as well have left my glasses at home, I’m, like, Velma Dinkley blind right now,” She babbles animatedly, apparently unaware of the fresh green sprouts pushing up through the ground around her feet. She does, however, notice the cracked plant pot on Diego’s stoop, and clucks her tongue in sympathy at the mess of soil surrounding it.
“Oh dear, did the dirt get inside? That door has been busted since forever, and the landlord never does anything about it. I can help you clean up, if you want - I’m early anyway,” Kitty continues, already starting towards him.
diego is relieved to see it was kitty coming down the road, clearly on her way to work as well. it's easier to explain away things to people he actually knows and likes, and especially as it's been very easy for him to get to know her and see her as the little sister he never had, even in the short few months he's been here.
he finds himself smiling easily, almost forgetting what just happened, as she chats away to him. he laughs when she mentions scooby-doo; he swears she's the only thing keeping him young here.
"ah, kitty c'mon, that's sweet and all but i don't want you to end up late for work," he says, unlocking the door and opening it, clearly displaying the spray of dirt across the floor. he sighs. "yeah, the door's a real piece of crap." diego looks back at kitty for a second, knowing that she's probably going to insist.
"tell you what," he starts, grabbing the broom next to the door from inside and holding it out to her. "if you really want to and it won't make you late, feel free to sweep that dirt onto the sidewalk. i'll take it from there, you don't do anything else, okay loca? i'm just gonna turn the lights on and put my lunch away."
open starter // location: flora florentine’s florist shop
the morning after the storm, diego drives carefully to florentine’s, dodging large pieces of tree and other debris on the road. thankfully, it’s a short drive to the shop from his place, and not a lot of people seem to want to brave the roads today anyway. diego doesn’t blame them.
he pulls into his usual spot behind the shop and grabs his lunch off the passenger seat before stepping out to walk around to the store front. immediately, he notices one of the large potted plants on the sidewalk that frame the door tipped over and speeds up.
“great,” he audibly groans, seeing that the dirt spilled under the door - he mentioned the gap a few weeks after he got hired by they told him no to worry about it - and the cracked rim of the pot.
as diego lifts up the pot and haphazardly brushes some of the dirt and pieces of pot out of the way with his shoe, little sprouts of weeds shoot up between the cracks of the sidewalk. his heart races at the sight, blood going cold, and he looks around, trying to mask casualness as he spots someone walking close enough to maybe have noticed.
(or maybe that’s his anxiety talking … he hasn’t had anything like this happen in years)
diego fumbles his keys out of his pocket, immediately gripping the shop key and shooting the person a quick smile because that’s just what you do in small towns.
Linnea had swore she picked the worst time to head into Grimrose. She knew there was something wrong when it came to her ex and she still hadn’t seen any sign of him since arriving. It had been a number of days and so far what she had encountered was the storm and not much else. She wanted to grab some coffee, but considering the state of the town she wasn’t even sure where to look,
She felt like she needed to stop and ask for some directions. She’d been a tourist for a long time due to having been on tour with her band, so she was used to talking to strangers, but she was gonna feel a bit awkward if she had been right by the place and not have noticed it. The singer let out a sigh before noticing she had locked eyes with another and gave him a half smile. “ Hey, sorry to bug you while you’re cleaning but I’m new and I’m looking for a place to grab coffee”
carefully stepping over the new sprouts he'd accidentally made pop up, diego is relived to see that the woman coming towards him returns his smile. he's sticking the key in the door, something that's practically muscle memory by now, when the stranger asks him about coffee.
"oh!" he says, a little surprised by it. "well, welcome to grimrose. i'm pretty new myself, only moved here a couple months ago, but you've got a couple options." diego pushes the door open and drops his lunch on the least dirt-covered spot of the threshold.
"if you want a decent meal and don't mind diner food but also slightly burnt coffee, the greasy spoon is your place. but you can get a good enough light breakfast and much better coffee at deja-brew," he rests his hand on his chin for a moment. "think like, the starbucks of grimrose. plus, it's a pretty decent place to hang out at with a good book. they're both pretty close to here, but deja-brew is the easiest to walk to; it's only a few blocks down from here. i can draw you a map, if you've got a sec? mark some other places you may want to check out, at least on the main street here, for you?"
open starter // location: flora florentine’s florist shop
the morning after the storm, diego drives carefully to florentine’s, dodging large pieces of tree and other debris on the road. thankfully, it’s a short drive to the shop from his place, and not a lot of people seem to want to brave the roads today anyway. diego doesn’t blame them.
he pulls into his usual spot behind the shop and grabs his lunch off the passenger seat before stepping out to walk around to the store front. immediately, he notices one of the large potted plants on the sidewalk that frame the door tipped over and speeds up.
“great,” he audibly groans, seeing that the dirt spilled under the door - he mentioned the gap a few weeks after he got hired by they told him no to worry about it - and the cracked rim of the pot.
as diego lifts up the pot and haphazardly brushes some of the dirt and pieces of pot out of the way with his shoe, little sprouts of weeds shoot up between the cracks of the sidewalk. his heart races at the sight, blood going cold, and he looks around, trying to mask casualness as he spots someone walking close enough to maybe have noticed.
(or maybe that’s his anxiety talking … he hasn’t had anything like this happen in years)
diego fumbles his keys out of his pocket, immediately gripping the shop key and shooting the person a quick smile because that’s just what you do in small towns.
.
Living in England her entire life, Emerson was no stranger to rain and the occasional thunderstorms. But the storm here was unlike anything she’d ever really experienced and it admittedly left her a bit shaken–especially since she felt like she had experienced something like it before. She just chalked it up to maybe remembering it from a dream or something, and that next morning, she decided she just..needed to get out and get some fresh air (the plants in her apartment sure were thriving though..looking as lush and as vibrant as ever as she inspected them).
As she walked through the town, a little frown stayed on her face at the sight of downed tree limbs and rubbish around (even though again, it caught her eye that even the downed limbs’ crunchy, dead leaves practically seemed to start tinging green again….). It must just be in her head though- that’s what she told herself as she shook herself out of her thoughts just as she looked ahead.
She hadn’t realized how close she was to someone until she saw the man just a few feet away, and when she realized just what store it was, she perked up, a little smile on her lips until she saw the rather jagged shard of ceramic on the ground just by where he was about to step, “Oh, careful!” without thinking about it she crouched down to grab it–effectively ending up cutting herself with it in the process.
Emerson let out a little pained hiss, so focused on the little jolt of pain and that she hadn’t realized the plants around her (including in the man’s arms) were seemingly tilting towards her, the roots and vines all around almost pulsating. “I..I always have been rather klutzy…”
diego felt something in the air as the person got closer, but he can't place it. the whole day has already been so off and it's barely 10 am, so he figures it must just be that.
as she comes up next to him, he brushes his shoe over the weeds, hoping she doesn't notice as she bends down to help him - something in the back of his mind goes off about small town sensibilities, but when he realises she has an accent, that takes the focus.
and of course, when she manages to cut herself.
"oh f- man, here, come on in i can get you cleaned up," he quickly opens the door, telling the woman to watch her step as they cross the threshold. "stay here, let me get the lights and our first aid kit."
he smiles gently at her before taking a quick peek at at hand and thanking god it didn't seem to be bleeding too bad from what he could tell.
diego speed-walks to the back of the shop, places his things on the service counter on the way, and grabs the first aid kit and a bottle of water. when he walks back into the main part of the shop, the feeling from before is palatable.
open starter // location: flora florentine’s florist shop
the morning after the storm, diego drives carefully to florentine's, dodging large pieces of tree and other debris on the road. thankfully, it's a short drive to the shop from his place, and not a lot of people seem to want to brave the roads today anyway. diego doesn't blame them.
he pulls into his usual spot behind the shop and grabs his lunch off the passenger seat before stepping out to walk around to the store front. immediately, he notices one of the large potted plants on the sidewalk that frame the door tipped over and speeds up.
"great," he audibly groans, seeing that the dirt spilled under the door - he mentioned the gap a few weeks after he got hired by they told him no to worry about it - and the cracked rim of the pot.
as diego lifts up the pot and haphazardly brushes some of the dirt and pieces of pot out of the way with his shoe, little sprouts of weeds shoot up between the cracks of the sidewalk. his heart races at the sight, blood going cold, and he looks around, trying to mask casualness as he spots someone walking close enough to maybe have noticed.
(or maybe that's his anxiety talking ... he hasn't had anything like this happen in years)
diego fumbles his keys out of his pocket, immediately gripping the shop key and shooting the person a quick smile because that's just what you do in small towns.
