rian johnson could look me in the eye and tell me that finn is not a skywalker and i’d be like wow i love finn skywalker, son of luke skywalker, nephew of leia organa and han solo, grandson of anakin skywalker, padme amidala, bail organa, and breha organa, and great grandson of shmi skywalker
Power-forward Victor Ejdsell traveled to Nashville in April with tempered expectations. Maybe too tempered.
[…] The 6-foot-5, 214-pound center saw his phone light up with calls from the Red Wings, Blackhawks and Predators, and was unexpectedly presented with the opportunity to join some of the game’s greatest franchises.
Enter the Nashville Predators, who knew they couldn’t compete with the storied tradition of the other two franchises, but felt they might have something better. So they invited Ejdsell (whose last name sounds like “aid-sell”) to take in Game Four of the Predators Round One series with Chicago – live in Smashville. It was his first time attending an NHL game. Consider him permanently ruined for any other in-game experience.
“I had no idea what to expect when I came here, but it was crazy, it was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Ejdsell, who is attending Preds Development Camp this week, said. “Everything, the fans, the game [presentation]… it was a show around the game too.
"I fell in love with it.”
He signed a two-year, entry-level contract with Nashville a couple weeks later.
Shouto doesn’t know what makes him decide his mother might like flowers, but he spots the shop on his way to the hospital and decides to duck in and buy some. She’s never mentioned having a favorite flower, but it seems like the kind of thing a son might get for his mother, and he’s desperate to make up for lost time.
It seems like a good idea until he’s inside and overwhelmed by the abundance of flowers that take up the majority of the room. There are purple and blue and white and pink ones looming above him, and every other color of the rainbow scattered around on shelves and tables, wrapped in decorative paper or sitting in vases with bows.
He’s about to back out of the shop when someone yells out, “Coming!”
He stands awkwardly in front of the counter, where a dozen sunflowers tower over him, when a head of curly hair and bright green eyes suddenly pop out from a door that leads into the back.
“Hello,” the boy chirps, blinking at him. “Are you looking for anything specific?”
“Um,” Shouto says hesitantly. “I was looking for flowers for my mother.”
Something in the boy’s eyes soften, and his smile goes warm. “For a special occasion, or just because?”
“Just because,” Shouto says.
“Those are the best flowers,” the boy says. Shouto finally spies a name tag on his vest, which says Midoriya on it. Midoriya catches him looking and grins. “I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he says.
Shouto is so caught off guard by how bright Midoriya’s smile is that he answers, “I’m Todoroki Shouto,” before he really thinks about it.
“Well, Todoroki-san,” Midoriya says, beaming at him (how is his smile like the sun? He’s just a person, Shouto thinks), “Let’s see if we can find you a good bouquet.”
Shouto follows behind Midoriya and dismisses many of the ones he first suggests, which only seems to make Midoriya more and more pleased, as if he enjoys rising to the challenge. Shouto finds himself trailing behind far closer than he would normally let himself, even brushing up against Midoriya by accident once. He apologizes, but Midoriya brushes off his apology easily and puts a hand against his wrist, and gesturing to a bouquet that features a spray of dozens of tiny white buds, with twisting green stalks and huge blue and purple blossoms. “What about this one?” he asks, tilting his head curiously.
“It’s lovely,” Shouto admits. Midoriya flashes that smile at him, and Shouto feels dazed. “I think that’s the one.”
“Perfect,” Midoriya says cheerfully. He takes great care in wrapping it for Shouto, and continues smiling at him throughout the payment and when Shouto waves awkwardly before he leaves.
When he’s waiting to be allowed to his mother’s room in the hospital a little later, he spies a small tag attached to the bottom of the bouquet, and pulls it out curiously. There’s a phone number, and a small X next to the initials MI. Shouto’s touches a hand to his cheek, aware that he’s flushed, and he finds himself hoping that his mother loves flowers – he has a feeling he’s going to be buying many, many more.