While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
"You were on the table for 11 hours," Christine's words felt like a blade searing through his chest. "No one could have done better,"
Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. The shock left his eyes a watering mess as he looked at her. "I could have done better,"
With this, her heart broke, a slight sniffle leaving her as she tried to comfort him. "Uhm, someone left a bouquet for you-"
"Do I look like-" he took a deep breath, "do you think flowers will help me??"
Christine didn't want to start a fight, so she stood to take them from the side table, "An anonymous person dropped these off. The card just said 'for Stephen Strange' and nothing else-"
"I don't need this person's help- I don't need..." His eyes focused on the daisies. Delicate white petals along the sweet canary yellow, "just put them away, please, Christine,"
~~~
As she let the blade run along his skin, ridding it of the stubble, a nurse walked in with a bouquet of daisies. "Whoever this is, you should send them a thank you note," Christine mumbles.
"I don't know who would send them... and what for? Pity?" he swipes along the X-rays using his restricted hands, "they likely don't care. It's all pitiful,"
"It seems like they care," she takes the card from the bouquet, "this one says, 'I hope the last bouquet didn't get lost in the trash'," Christine chuckles at the message. "Same humour as you,"
"I don't act like that," he defends.
"Mm, you kinda do," Christine counters, holding the bouquet to sniff at it. "So, what's with the daisies? You don't like flowers... let alone daisies,"
"I don't know. I don't like them," he mutters, "just throw it out,"
"That would be rude," she takes an empty vase and fills it with water from the bathroom sink.
~~~
Of course, the last time he received anything from this anonymous person was the last night he was in New York. A minor knock at the door showed an old delivery man holding a mini bouquet. "Flowers for... Mr Doctor Strangle?" he adjusts his glasses.
"It's Strange," Stephen corrects.
"Eh, plenty of weird names in New York, buddy," the man shrugs and walks off.
"Right, uhm, thanks," taking them inside, Stephen lacks the motivation to question how the delivery man got to his front door, let alone in the apartment building. His feet gave up the moment he was near his seat, both hands shaking as he took a small sniff of the daisies.
Take care x
That's all the card said. No name. No sender address. Somehow, that broke him the most; within a few months, his life had crumbled. Everyone had left, even the ones that he didn't know.
Dropping them into the bin, he only kept a single daisy, tucking it in his pocket before grabbing the last of his belongings.
~~~
"Uh... Mr. Doctor Strange?" Peter waves his hand in front of the sorcerer explaining the cell structure Peter had skimmed over in AP Biology class.
A soft breeze glides past the rooftop they both stood on. "Hm?" Stephen looks up in confusion before realising he zoned out.
"You were talking about diffusion through the lipid bilayer, sir," Peter looked between Strange and the pot of daisies Wong had planted a month ago, "is everything okay?"
"Don't worry, Parker, I'm alright," he pats Peter's shoulder before using his magic to create a larger model to explain. Peter was still unconvinced but listened on until the end. By this point, his notes had been completed and questions answered.
"Thank you so much, sir," Peter pulled his mask back over and readied his web to swing back to the tower. "Oh, and Mr Stark said to give this to you," he hands over a small invite, "it's a party to welcome the new Avenger recruits,"
"I'm not Avenger," Stephen shakes his head, putting it away. "Good to hear the twins passed the training modules,"
"And Mr Wilson and Barnes," Peter adds, "uh... and I think Mr Wong is also included on that invite... Miss Romanoff said to tell you to tell him there would be tuna melts,"
"Of course, he is..." he mutters with a soft chuckle, "Get home safe, kid," walking away to the rooftop door, he sees the cloak lift a daisy it had picked from the pot. "I don't like daisies,"
Wong passes by, stopping in front of the sorcerer supreme, "what did the child want?"
"Biology help," Stephen then hands over the invitation, "Avengers tower tonight- and before you ask, the kid said there would be Tuna Melts,"
"Perfect," his hands clasped together, "can never go wrong with a tuna melt,"
~~~
Walking through his room, he reaches the mirror to fix the collar of his pristine and pressed white button-up. Opting for something less formal, he knew a tie would be too restricting by the night's end. Magic ridding his suit jacket of any creases, it slips on, the lots waving to reveal it was the cloak.
"Please don't drag me around," he quietly scorns the disguised cloak for its previous actions. After fixing up his hair to add volume, the sanctum foyer came into view as he stuffed a sling ring in his pocket just in case.
"Tuna melts, here we come," Wong hurries down the steps with a soft clasp of his hands.
"Drunk and insufferable heroes, here we come," Stephen counters, taking a step through the portal Wong made. Of course, Tony was the only one to hear Strange's words in a crowd of many heroes, elite New York residents, and even some of the military and government.
"Rude," Stark swirls his drink in hand, "and to think I was going to offer you a drink on the house!"
"They're free regardless, Stark," Strange surveys every person while Wong does the same- though Wong is more focused on the platters of food.
"I got you, buddy," Tony points to a giant tower of tuna melts, which the sorcerer scurries over to. "So, think about that offer yet?"
"To join the Avengers?" Stephen raises a brow, "Yeah, no," his hands find a martini glass, yellow rind swirling within. "I don't work for you, Stark, never have and never will,"
"Shame, we have a plethora of facilities to help you with your sorcery, Doc," Natasha had approached them both, clad in a lovely red dress.
"Agent Romanoff," Stephen greets, "thank you, but the New York sanctum and Kamar-Taj provide plenty of support," using his magic, he refills her glass of wine.
"Cheers," she clicks her glass before looking at Tony. "Time to introduce the recruits,"
~~~
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
