My Own Creation

Summary: Stephen is far too exhausted to deal with his wayward creature, but Mister Misery has taken Wong and Doctor Strange needs to rescue his friend
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for Doctor Strange: Blood in the Aether; violence; references to emotional and physical torture; AU
Author’s Note: I originally was going to write a DC fic based on the new Flash movie, but this plot bunny bit me and simply wouldn’t let go. And it seems fitting to write a Marvel themed fic, as I’m currently at a Marvel convention this weekend.
And, yes, this is a cracky fic. And taking a lot of liberties with magic. But I hope you still enjoy it anyway

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He was so tired.

Sitting in the back of the cab, gripping his sword in a white-knuckled hand, Stephen Strange kept his head bowed. And it wasn’t just because he was sniffing out Wong’s scent, like a bloodhound on a trail, though that was the only spell he had anything left for.

No. If he kept his head lowered, he wouldn’t be tempted to open his third eye. He wouldn’t be tempted into a battle he had no hope of winning in his current state. He wasn’t even sure he had enough left to face his own creation, now calling itself Mister Misery.

But he really had no choice. Not if he wanted to save Wong from whatever nefarious scheme the creature had in mind.

Finally, Stephen raised his head. He leaned forward and tapped the cabbie’s seat. “This is the place.”

The man snorted and stepped on the brake, bringing the car to a rumbling stop. His eyes were fixed on the black smoke escaping the narrow alleyway they were parked in front of, in tiny tendrils of darkness. “You sure this is the right place, Doc?”

“Unfortunately.” Stephen slowly opened the door and stepped out. He turned to watch as the man drove away, then turned back towards the alleyway. Finally, wincing at the pain that sliced through him, he opened his third eye.

Most of the surrounding world was still bland. Colourless. Magic was returning slowly, but only in tiny trickles. It would take a long time before its rich vibrancy returned to the universe.

But there were some splashes of colour. And most of those were concentrated in the alleyway, where Mister Misery had Wong.

And Stephen could hear his creation speaking. Not the exact words, but the whispering sounds that wound through the air like sinuous snakes. Mister Misery had been created from suffering and now, all it could do, all it was capable of doing, was bringing that same suffering to others.

Gritting his teeth and forcing himself to move forward, to move onward, Stephen made his way down the alleyway, towards his friend and his creation.

Misery was wrapped around Wong, black misty tendrils attached to the man’s body. The whispering came from the creature’s many white faces that were attached to its black, smoky body in multiple places.

One face turned towards Stephen, and then the creature was speaking. “Strange. I am surprised it took you so long to find me. I was just thinking that maybe you’d decided to gift me this human.”

Stephen didn’t loosen his hold on his sword, but he allowed his eyes to flicker over to Wong. His friend seemed physically unharmed, but he wasn’t sure he could say the same for Wong’s mental or emotional state. Did he believe whatever Misery was whispering to him?

Stephen’s creation had evolved since the last time they’d come into conflict with each other. Misery hadn’t even tried to physically harm Wong, instead going straight for the emotional kill.

Pulling his gaze away from his quiet, still friend, Stephen narrowed his eyes at his creation and spoke in a sharp tone. “Let him go. It’s me you want.”

“Haven’t you figured it out, Strange?” Dark tendrils followed the whispers, brushing over Stephen’s skin…stinging and burning everywhere they touched. “I want you to suffer. But if I hurt you physically, it won’t break you. I have to hurt those closest to you. Because then you’ll feel their pain worse than your own.”

Stephen opened his mouth, but before he could speak, one of Misery’s tendrils slammed him into the wall, hard enough for the force to reverberate through his spine.

And Wong screamed.

The sound was sudden and unexpected and Misery wasn’t wrong. Stephen could ignore his own pain. And what he couldn’t ignore, he’d pushed onto his own creation. But Wong was in pain. And Stephen couldn’t ignore the pain of someone he loved.

The sword hadn’t fallen from his grip, which had grown so tight that his nails dug into his palm. He used that pain…the damage to his broken hands…and he used it to force himself forward; to shove against the tendril that had pinned him there. “I said let him go.” Power sparked around his fingers, as he drew on what remnants of magic still lingered in the air around them.

Misery hissed, tendrils recoiling as black mist dissipated into the air, like blood seeping from a wound.

Stephen continued to press forward, pushing his advantage, slicing the sword through the dark, misty body. Magic flowed and sparked along the path the blade took, leaving dissipating black mist in its wake.

And then Stephen stopped. The creature wasn’t attacking him any longer. Wong was no longer held in place and being whispered at. He was on his knees, likely wounded emotionally and in a bad mental state, but he was breathing. He was conscious.

And Misery was huddling in one corner of the alleyway, the black tendrils left surrounding it like a shield. Its form appeared humanoid now, smaller than both Stephen and Wong, and it was…cowering.

This had to be a trick…but Stephen couldn’t see why. Yes, he’d hurt Misery; but it was no different to how their last altercation had gone. He’d hurt the creature before and it hadn’t reacted like this. So it had to be a trick. As soon as he let his guard down, Misery would strike.

He needed to do it first.

Raising his sword, charging it with all the magic he had left in him and ignoring the physical pain doing so caused, Stephen pushed forward, swinging the blade for one final, fatal blow.

“Stephen, wait.”

He halted his movement at Wong’s hoarse voice. He risked a glance over his shoulder at his friend, even while ensuring he could still see Misery in his peripheral vision. “I have to do this, Wong.”

The other man was on his feet, though his stance was shaky and not as graceful as it usually was. His eyes were shadowed…haunted. But his voice was steady as he said, “Look at him.”

“Who…Mister Misery?” Stephen shook his head. “My creation is an it. No gender. It isn’t a human and it isn’t an animal. It’s not even truly alive.”

Wong frowned and there was a hint of disappointment in his voice as he said, “I thought the Ancient One taught you better than that.”

Stephen tensed at the response, immediately wanting to snap back; to tell Wong he had no idea what Stephen had and hadn’t learned from the Ancient One.

But he forced himself not to react like that. He would have, once before. When he’d been a skilled surgeon, able to play God with people’s lives…before the accident that had damaged his hands and he’d met the Ancient One, who’d taught him more than just how to use magic and his responsibilities as the Sorcerer Supreme.

So he forced down his initial reaction. He turned away from Wong. And he looked, really looked, at Misery.

His creation wasn’t a big, powerful monster anymore. Instead, it shrank back against the wall, body shaking. Narrowing his eyes, Stephen found his attention drawn to the long, deep gashes in Misery’s tendrils…wounds that were still leaking mist. Staring at his creation, he was suddenly struck with the mental image of a person cowering…arms raised to protect themselves from more blows.

Stephen slowly lowered his sword. He wasn’t a stranger to his enemies playing tricks; trying to get him to let his guard down, so that they could attack. Baron Mordo had done it often enough, to the point where Stephen assumed that anything his nemesis did was a trick. And experience told him that’s all this was: a trick.

But his gut told him differently.

He didn’t put the sword away, just in case his gut was wrong and it was a trap. He did lower the weapon as he crouched down in front of the creature, who now appeared smaller. More vulnerable.

“He’s just a child.”

Stephen looked up at Wong, who had come to stand next to him. Despite not having seen any physical injuries on him, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Nothing that won’t heal.” Wong gestured towards Misery. “What are you going to do about him?”

Again with the him. Stephen shifted slightly and glanced at the sword still in his hand, then at his cowering creation, who looked…so much younger. Then again, if Misery had been human, it would have still been a child. “It took you. It attacked people in a hospital. People unable to defend themselves. And it fully intended to kill me. So what other choice do I have?” He winced as he realised how much it sounded like he was making excuses. He shouldn’t have to explain himself.

“He didn’t ask to be created.”

Stephen looked away, unable to hold eye contact with Wong. His friend’s face was as difficult to read as ever, but Stephen had the distinct impression his friend was even more disappointed in him. “What are you expecting me to do?” he asked finally.

“How about you try acting as a father?”

Stephen’s eyes darted back to Wong’s face. He couldn’t stop the harsh, bitter laugh that escaped from his lips. “I’m pretty damn far from being a father.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Misery flinch, and something twisted in his gut. There was still black mist dissipating from its body. The deep wounds, the gashes, were still visible in the tendrils that now looked like arms, raised to protect itself from further blows.

Wong took a couple of steps closer and plucked the sword from Stephen’s hands.

Swallowing, Stephen looked away once more. He didn’t try to pull the weapon back or argue with Wong. Instead, he focused his attention on Misery and tried to see the same thing that his friend had.

His creation hadn’t moved, or uncurled from its protective position. There were gashes on the rest of its form, not just the tendril-arms. There was only one face now, but it seemed to be settling in place. With every passing moment, Misery was looking more and more like a human.

Wong rested a hand on Stephen’s shoulder and reiterated, “He’s just a child.”

His friend didn’t say the words he’s your child, but he didn’t have to. Stephen could hear the words anyway. Closing his eyes and lowering his head, he took a few moments to decide his next move. Then, opening his eyes again, he reached out and closed his fingers around one of the arm tendrils.

The whimper Misery gave sounded all too human and Stephen adjusted his grip slightly, so that he wasn’t putting any pressure on the gashes…on the wounds. Misery’s body wasn’t supposed to be human, and every other injury had appeared to heal almost instantaneously. Now, he couldn’t help wondering if what he’d been seeing was merely an illusion; if Misery had been hiding his wounds, just like he’d hidden his true form under multiple tendrils and faces.

“What are you going to do?” Misery whispered.

“Be a father.” There wasn’t anywhere in the alleyway that Stephen could sit down, apart from on the ground. Then again, there wasn’t any garbage or dirt that he could see…and he’d been in far worse places. Quickly, he sat down and guided Misery across his lap.

The boy’s body was surprisingly solid when Stephen touched it to shift him into a slightly more comfortable position. He paused, taking a few moments to figure out whether he needed to pull anything down or not. But then again, he’d never actually seen Misery wearing any sort of clothing. Finally, he rested his hand on the spot where a human’s bottom would be, and he felt something shift under his palm. The next moment, there were two very human-looking buttocks attached to the body across his knees. In fact, all of Misery’s body was looking like a human…a naked human, body just as black as the mist and tendrils had been.

Stephen looked at the back of Misery’s head, taking in the jet black hair that fell in soft curls to the boy’s shoulders. Had Misery changed his appearance, or had Stephen’s perceptions of his appearance changed? Had it been easier to see Misery as inhuman, as a monster, rather than what he truly was?

It felt almost wrong to continue with his current plan of action, now that he was finally seeing Misery for what he was. But although Wong hadn’t specifically said the words spank your son, he had told Stephen to be a father…and Wong wasn’t stopping this, like he had done when Stephen had been about to strike the killing blow.

Pushing away the thoughts that were causing him to second guess himself, Stephen lifted his hand and brought it down in a firm smack. He cupped his hand as it landed, so that the smack would sound loud, but didn’t put too much force behind it. And he continued that pattern, bringing his hand down on first one cheek and then the other, methodically covering every inch of Misery’s bottom from the crest down to mid-thigh.

It didn’t take long for Misery to begin shifting and then squirming across Stephen’s lap. A low, whimpering whine escaped him, and he finally threw his hands back to cover his bottom. “It hurts!” he burst out.

“I know it hurts. It’s a punishment. It’s supposed to hurt.” Stephen gripped Misery’s hands and pulled them out of the way, holding them against his back. Then, he began to smack a bit harder and a little bit faster.

After a few more moments, Misery gave a wail and slumped over Stephen’s lap, beginning to cry audibly.

Stephen brought the spanking to a stop. He squeezed Misery’s hands and then pulled the boy up, settling him on his lap instead of over it, and wrapped his arms around the child in a tight hug.

Misery’s own arms wound around Stephen, cuddling in close. His face was pressed into Stephen’s neck, head tucked under his chin.

Stephen didn’t know how long they sat there for, holding his son tightly and being hugged as fiercely in return. Eventually, though, he heard Wong clear his throat. He glanced up at his friend.

Wong held out a stack of clothing, including a pair of shoes, with a yellow box on top.

Stephen frowned. “Swedish Fish? You want to give my kid candy?”

“I also bought clothes for him,” Wong replied. “I don’t think we can take a naked boy back to the Sanctum with us.”

“You’re right.” Stephen stood them both up and began to help Misery to dress. Finishing with the shoes, he glanced towards Wong. “You estimated his sizes very well.”

“He looks just like a normal human child.” Wong shrugged as he handed the box of candy to Misery. “Your father likes them too.”

“Just don’t eat the whole box at once.” Stephen reached down to grasp his son’s hand. “If you start getting any pain or weakness in your body, I want you to tell me,” he ordered. He’d already noticed that the gashes had faded from the boy’s body, and it made him relieved. Still. Once they’d reached the Sanctum, he was going to give his son a thorough examination.

The boy nodded, but by this point, he had the box of candy open and was munching away. His eyes widened and he exclaimed, “It tastes good!”

“Much better than demon bacon,” Stephen muttered under his breath. As they headed out of the alleyway, he looked towards Wong. “There are still more problems we need to deal with.”

“Of course there are.” Wong looked towards Stephen, then refocused his attention on Misery. “And once we’ve decided what to do about those…I think your son needs a new name.”

The End

Additional Author’s Notes: For anyone wondering, the fish is there for my friend Donut, who believes that everyone needs fish and that it can solve any problems.

And there is going to be a sequel to this fic. And Misery needs a human name for his new human form. So...any suggestions?