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Mistakes and Consequences

Fandom - Epic: The Musical

Genre - Whump

Summary - Penelope fails to realise one little flaw in her grand plan, and finds herself in a rather humiliating predicament.

Ships - Odypen (Odysseus/Penelope)

Warnings - Detailed description of pee desperation and eventual pants wetting, themes of paranoia, mentions of SA, the suitors are their own warning

Penelope and Odysseus were of the same level of intelligence, certainly, but there were sometimes ways she came up short that he normally wouldn’t. She could make a cunning plan and execute it, but she often missed crucial details.

Exhibit A: right now.

No one could string the bow. Only Odysseus knew how to string the bow, and Penelope knew that. But if just one suitor were to somehow get wise and realise the trick behind it, he would win the challenge, and her life would be over. Worse than over. She couldn’t allow even a slim chance of that happening - so, she set up the challenge in the throne room and planted herself right behind the axes, ensuring that if anyone were to win the challenge, they would kill her in the process. She would never have to face a future with anyone other than her beloved Odysseus.

This was where Penelope had failed to consider one thing: how long the suitors would be at this. Clearly, she underestimated just how much these disgusting men wanted the crown. She had lost count of how many hours she had sat here, upon her husband’s throne, watching them fail over and over again. The challenge had begun in the late morning, and it was now well after dark.

And she couldn’t just get up and leave, could she? What if a suitor figured out how to string the bow while she was gone?

For several mind-numbing hours, Penelope had been stuck here, sitting perfectly still, ensuring the hypothetical arrow wouldn’t miss. This was no easy task, especially for an active mind such as hers, but she had been managing. Handmaids had been keeping her fed and watered, delivering her meals and chalices of wine right to her. Her boredom and restlessness were semi-taken care of too, with rolls of thread and other ‘fidgetable’ items brought to her at her request. She still had an insatiable urge to get up and walk five laps around the palace, but she could fight it.

However, it was becoming increasingly clear that there were two painfully basic needs that Penelope had forgotten all about. Now that the sky was dark, her eyelids hung heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to retire to bed and let Morpheus receive her. At this point, she was sure only one thing was keeping her awake - and that was the pulsing, aching pressure in her lower body.

Penelope had to pee. She had tried to convince herself that the familiar tingle was just anxiety, but after her fifth drink in… what, six hours? of sitting still, it became undeniable. Her legs stayed firmly crossed, and her foot tapped in a rhythm that endlessly picked up speed. She fought the urge to twist and squirm  - it wouldn’t be completely unusual to see the queen fidgeting in her seat, but Penelope didn’t want to risk her suitors potentially catching on and exploiting the moment of weakness.

How long had it even been now? Looking at the sky, maybe eight hours, coming up to nine? Penelope might have even applauded the suitors’ dedication if it wasn’t torturing her so. With every second that ticked by, she became more and more desperate to run off to her bedchamber and empty herself into the chamber pot until not a single drop remained, before flopping into bed and knocking out.

Penelope let out an audible exhale, wincing, as her bladder contracted, sending a wave of fizzing pressure through her entire lower abdomen. Thinking about it was clearly not helping, yet it was reaching a point where she couldn’t think of anything else. 

The suitor currently trying to string the bow locked eyes with her, a look of confusion flashing across his face. She forced herself to sit still.

Her mouth opened wide in yet another yawn, and she concealed it with her hand. Gods, if not for her bladder, she was sure she’d be fast asleep. Her body was at war with itself, crying for relief and keeping itself from resting in the process. She could feel every blink getting longer and longer, and her body feeling heavier and heavier.

Maybe… maybe she could try to sleep it off. 

She needed sleep, and if she was asleep, she wouldn’t feel the agonising need to relieve herself. She could solve one problem with another. The only risk was, perhaps, her bladder relaxing and releasing while she slept… that would not be ideal.

After a moment of thinking, Penelope carefully adjusted her position. She lifted her leg up, and wedged her foot underneath herself, pressing her heel tightly and securely against her loins. The burning pressure eased just that little bit, and she no longer felt like she was about to spring a leak - perfect. 

Just before she closed her eyes and finally relinquished consciousness, Penelope looked down the twelve axes in front of her one more time, and the one-hundred and eight unruly men at the other end of them. Another reason why sleeping was the best course of action popped into her head: should an arrow fly, she would not have to see it hit her. She would die in her sleep.

So with that, she leaned back into the throne, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

Her sleep was empty, dreamless. She never fully entered a deep sleep, part of her brain still remaining vigilant.

The sounds around her were muted, like she was in her own soundproof bubble.

Then that bubble popped.

“…And when the deed is done…”

Penelope jolted herself awake, her eyes snapping open. How long had she slept for? Who was that? Was that Antinous? Was he… fucking singing?

She discreetly moved one hand down to check the fabric of her dress, and to her relief, it was dry. Her bladder hurt, great gods it was really hurting now, but she hadn’t wet herself in her sleep.

Antinous had his back turned, but when she saw him turn on his heel towards her, she immediately closed her eyes again, pretending that she had not stirred.

“… the queen will have no one to stop us from breaking her bedroom door,” he continued to sing - why was his voice getting closer? “Stop us from taking her love, and more…”

Before Penelope could even process the meaning behind the words that had just come out of Antinous’ mouth, she froze.

She felt two large hands grip her shoulders.

“And then we’ll hold her down, while her gate is open…” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Hold her down, while I get a taste.”

His hands wandered down to her collarbone. 

“Hold her down, while we share her spoils. I will not let any part go to waste!”

The declaration was met with roaring cheers, and apparently not a single man had any objections to this plan.

They were going to violate her.

They were going to hold her still and overpower her with their numbers and swarm over her and violate her.

Penelope suddenly felt the heel underneath her turn very warm, and very wet.

She couldn’t stop it. With her body and mind suddenly consumed by fear and nothing else, it was like the floodgates forgot to stay closed. As the horrid hands left her collar and Antinous walked back towards the crowd of suitors, Penelope could do nothing but sit, deathly still, as her bladder started to empty at full force. Her dress, the cushioned throne below her, it all became soaked, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She couldn’t even cross her legs, try to stop or at least stem the flow - if she moved, the suitors would realise she was awake.

A twisted feeling of relief fluttered in her gut. Gods… she knew she was desperate, but she hadn’t properly realised just how much she’d been holding. However, that relief was swiftly poisoned by stinging embarrassment. She - a queen, a Spartan, a grown woman - was sat here pissing herself. Partly due to fear. She could only hope and pray that none of the suitors were watching her disgrace.

Penelope took a chance, and opened her eyes just a crack, looking down at the mess she had made. Her snow white dress was soaked, and clung uncomfortably to her thighs, and liquid had even pooled over the edge of the throne and collected on the floor. As the flood slowed to a stop at last, Penelope blinked hard, in an attempt to banish the tears welling in her eyes.

What would everyone think if word got out about this? The whole of Ithaca, seeing their headstrong queen reduced to this, all because of one-hundred and eight rowdy bachelors. No queen, let alone a Spartan, acted in such a way in the face of danger. It was behaviour more expected of a child.

Penelope painfully swallowed the lump in her throat. She shouldn’t keep shaming herself for this - Odysseus would never stand for that. If he were here, if he heard all the words she was thinking right now, he would take her tenderly by the face, and tell her that none of it was right. He would gently rub her flushed cheeks with his thumbs, and tell her that this happened to everyone, and that it made her no less of a strong, gorgeous, perfect woman. He would kiss her until she believed him, before taking her to the bathhouse and easing her out of her tarnished dress, ready to wash the last of her humiliation away with soap and water.

Penelope slowly wrapped her arms around herself, trying to imagine being held and embraced by him. Not only comforted, but protected too - if Odysseus were here, this wouldn’t even be happening. Every single wretched suitor in the palace would have been dead before Antinous even laid a finger on her. Blood would splatter, heads would roll, and the halls of the palace would be silent and peaceful, at last.

“Hhk-!”

Her thoughts came to an abrupt end when the sound of a choked gasp reached her ears. Opening her eyes, she saw Antinous in front of her, standing before the other suitors. He was deathly still… with the sharp tip of an arrow only just visible, sticking out of the back of his neck. 

His body fell forward, and thudded to the floor, the impact shaking the entire palace.

Penelope cautiously looked up from the fallen Antinous, and right there on the other side of the axes, perfectly strung bow in hand, was him.

Her king.

💜———————

FLUFFY BONUS YIPPEE

———————💜

Odysseus hadn’t been this happy since before the war. After twenty hellish years, it was over, actually over. He was home, and about to lay down to sleep in his very own bed, next to his patient, brave, incredible wife. He could hardly believe he was silly enough to think, even for a moment, that Penelope would no longer love him.

The joy was overwhelming, the flow of exhausted tears never truly stopping. It was humbling, certainly, but Odysseus couldn’t bring himself to care at all. He had his life back, and that was the only thing that mattered now.

He was just about to undress his filthy clothes, when he spotted one little thing that was amiss about Penelope. His eyes widened briefly, but he quickly hid his reaction. “Ah, Penelope, darling… your dress seems to be damp.”

Instantly, Penelope’s cheeks turned the sweetest shade of red, and she sighed. Poor dear must have only just managed to forget. “Yes, well…” she began quietly, avoiding eye contact. “I-I was scared.”

Odysseus physically felt his heart break at those simple words. An irrational feeling of guilt bubbled within his chest - such an upsetting misfortune wouldn’t have befallen her if he had just gotten here to save her faster. But, he forced himself to banish those thoughts as quickly as they came. He couldn’t change what had already happened, he could only make things feel better in the present.

With that in mind, Odysseus shuffled forward on the bed, and gently gathered Penelope into his arms, in a tender embrace. In a moment, he felt the kindlings of tension and stress in her body fade into nothing against him. 

“I understand. I hope you weren’t too embarrassed, my love.” he whispered into the crook of her neck. “It happens to all of us, humans and even gods alike. In fact, my grandfather always used to tell me this one story from his youth, when he actually saw the great Lord Hermes make a puddle on the floor when he came by to visit. It was a humorous sight, but made him no less divine, and so it makes you no less perfect.”

A weak chuckle managed to leave Penelope’s lips. The image of a god, the renowned messenger god at that, going through the same humiliation as her did make it weigh just a little less on her. Odysseus rose from the bed, and extended a hand towards her. 

“Come, my Penelope. I can’t let you sleep through the night like that, and besides,” He briefly glanced down at his scarred, partly-dressed body. “I could probably use a little bath too. Come on, let us have a wash before we go to bed.”

Penelope hesitated. “Don’t you want to sleep? You’re exhausted.”

“I can stay awake for a little longer,” Odysseus promised. “And I will sleep easier, knowing you’re clean and comfortable.”

Softening, she relented, and placed her hand in his. Together, they walked through the quiet palace and down to the bathhouse, where they helped eachother disrobe, lovingly lathered eachother’s bodies with lavender soap, and splashed water at eachother like they were carefree children again - for they finally felt it safe to do so.

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i got some Barbie dolls for christmas for repainting that i’m unboxing rn and i swear to GOD the lady dolls have bladder bulges

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I DREW RICKY OMO AND I THINK IT’S CUTE

gonna add fandom tags so TW PISS ⚠️ click at your own discretion

the sign is ASL for toilet! also my first time drawing crutches so sorry if they defy any laws of physics unintentionally </3

maybe i’ll draw the aftermath… & post it perhaps

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“Chat my bladder’s gonna burst”

— me

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HFUCK I ACCIDENTALLY OPENED THIS WHILE HOLDING

Nice gif I found for anybody who happens to be holding

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Nice gif I found for anybody who happens to be holding

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heyyyy

so Day 25 will arrive tomorrow actually, same with Day 27 which will arrive on the 28th

i’m so sorry guys GOD i am never doing this again

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CHAT ‼️

if anyone here likes Epic and omo, pretty please interact with this post because i recently became obsessed and i NEED to yap

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Day 7 and 21 - secretly peeing, with a person in a position of power

Ocean had gotten herself into a right old pickle. It was almost funny how firmly the odds were stacked against her this afternoon.

Firstly, it was a hot day today, so she had made sure to drink extra water, taking swigs pretty much every five minutes. It made sense that her trips to the bathroom had been pretty frequent throughout today. This wasn’t too much of a problem for most of the day - the keyword in that sentence being ‘most’. 

The last class of the day had been English with Sister Burton. Perhaps the worst class to end the day on, as Sister Burton was fairly notorious for being a massive jerk. Ocean wasn’t sure why she even bothered to put her hand up and ask to go to the bathroom; she knew in a moment that the answer would be a snappy “No.”

On top of that, Sister Burton had also elected to keep them well past the home time bell, much to the class’ irritation. When they were finally dismissed, Ocean didn’t even have time to run to the bathroom. If she did, she would be late for choir practice - and she couldn’t possibly be late for choir practice, what would that say about her?

And of course it didn’t get any easier from there. The choir today seemed to have completely forgotten how to sing. They were, if Ocean was to be blunt, awful. It was one simple suite, and they just kept on messing it up and having to restart the rehearsal, all while she was trying not to completely urinate on the floor. The pressure and frustration had gotten to her, and in hindsight, she had been rather curt with her friends.

Which was probably why Father Markus had just dragged her out of the room to talk to her after choir practice was finally over. 

Ocean could barely walk straight as she followed Father Markus down the corridor, more shuffling than anything else. Her bladder strained more with every step, almost weighing her down with how heavy and full it was. She white-knuckled her skirt, fearing that one wrong move would cause her restraint to collapse. 

Father Markus ushered her into the teacher’s lounge, which to her relief, was empty. “I’m sorry to keep you, Ocean, but I need to speak with you about your behaviour,” the priest gently spoke, patting a chair and sitting himself down next to it. “Please come and sit.”

Ocean swallowed, and nodded a bit more stiffly than she had intended. As she lowered herself down onto the chair, she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening a little in internal panic. She felt the smallest dribble force its way out, sinking into the only lifeline she had: the sanitary pad currently lining her underwear.

She wasn’t technically supposed to have this - her parents, being the environmentalists they were, were pretty insistent on her using reusable menstrual cups. The thing was, she hated the feel of them, particularly during the application process. Luckily for her, there was a $1 pad dispenser in the ladies’ room, which she had secretly been utilising ever since she first noticed it.

“You acted out of order today,” Father Markus began, making sure to be firm but show no real anger in his tone. “The choir were trying their very best - it was a difficult suite for some voices - but you were very impatient and snippy with them, which I don’t believe was necessary.”

“I apologise, Father,” Ocean gave a half-genuine apology, trying not to let her voice crack. “It’s been a long and stressful day today, a-and I guess it just got to me more than it should’ve. On top of that I’m also on my menstrual cycle, which caused my hormones to be imbalanced and my emotions to be more intense… but even with those valid reasons, I should’ve been more respectful towards my dearest friends.”

Father Markus smiled in a mix of pride and sympathy. “Thank you for being honest and apologising, my child. I’m very sorry to hear you’ve had a tough day, and that your period is a bother.”

He continued to talk, but Ocean zoned out at that point, the words going straight through her. Her hands clenched the hem of her skirt desperately, and she had to put all her effort towards keeping a neutral face, and not showing the agony she was currently feeling. Her overfilled bladder wouldn’t stop contracting inside of her, trying to go against her futile efforts to hold it in. 

She didn’t like to think badly of Father Markus, as he always meant so well - but he had a tendency to go on and on, for longer than necessary. Ocean sometimes got to wondering if he had that ADHD thing everyone seemed to have. Whatever the reason, she feared it would be the death of her today.

“Ocean? Are you listening?” Father Markus lightly prompted, able to see the far-off look in her chartreuse eyes.

“Y-yes, Father,” Ocean nodded a bit frantically.

She wasn’t listening in the slightest. The priest’s voice was drowned out by the flood of panicked thoughts in her brain. She couldn’t just sit here and take this anymore, she needed to do something. What exactly, she didn’t know, but she knew that if she stayed here she was going to completely disgrace herself. She would crack under the horrible pressure and soak everything. This chair, her skirt, her underwear, her pad-

Her pad. That was it.

The entire purpose of a pad was to absorb blood. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard for it to absorb urine, right? Not all of it; Ocean wasn’t that stupid and nor was she that undignified - just a small controlled release to take the edge off until she could actually go. It seemed like her only option, and though it sounded very uncomfortable, she would take it over wetting herself in front of an authority figure any day.

As Father Markus kept talking, Ocean shifted very slightly, hardly able to believe what she was about to do. Trying her hardest to maintain normal eye contact, she cautiously opened the floodgates just a crack.

She expected to have trouble getting the flow started, but no. As soon as she loosened her muscles, a small stream began to pour out, and Ocean’s entire body froze from the sensation. It was like carefully sticking a pin into a big balloon, and watching the air rush out of that tiny opening, deflating the balloon at an agonisingly slow pace, but deflating it nonetheless. Chills crept up her arms, and she only grabbed her skirt harder, fighting the urge to express her relief.

Just as fast as the release began, Ocean felt the pad underneath her get heavy and oversaturated, and knew she had to stop. She pressed her thighs together and tightly clenched her muscles, and the flow was cut off. And then instantly started again, which just about made her heart stop - before finally stopping properly with one last dribble. 

“Oh, my dear, you really are tired…” Father Markus sighed, softening as he saw Ocean’s eyes flutter slightly. “I won’t keep you from home any longer. Will you do everything I told you?”

“I will, Father,” Ocean nodded a bit drowsily, unable to believe she had actually done it.

Her bladder was still full, very much so, but she could actually breathe now. With the precious time she had bought herself, she could reasonably hope to make it to the bathroom without flooding the corridor. “There’s a good girl,” Father Markus praised, standing up from his seat and offering a hand to the girl. “I really do think it’ll be helpful for you.”

Ocean stood up with a small wince. On the back of her skirt was the tiniest wet spot, which she could only hope and pray no one saw. “Thank you…” She nodded respectfully at Father Markus, who nodded back.

“Of course. I pray you get home safely, my child.”

She finally managed a smile at the priest, before making her way out of the teacher’s lounge, her steps still shaky but more confident and swift. Instead of leaving school, Ocean immediately took a hurried detour to the bathroom down the hall to finally get some proper relief.

And maybe change her pad, too.

finished with 35 minutes left in the day, phew! see you on day 25, hopefully at an earlier time than this!

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GIVE ME LIKE HALF AN HOUR GUYS I PROMISE DAY 21’S NEARLY READY 🙏

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Alright gamers, let's get this bread and wet the bed.

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minor announcement

Omovember day 15 will not arrive on the 15th and will be late i’m so sorry </3

writer’s block is hitting so hard and i can’t focus on this particular piece it’s just not clicking at the moment i promise it’ll come just later than the 15th i’m sorry ok bye 🙏

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Day 13 - while gaming

before i begin, please note! this is a catfish!Noel centric fic, so if that’s not your personal taste, please continue to scroll!

Noel’s current life was pretty much the perfect definition of a snowball lie. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, for such a simple action to spiral like this. 

Using alternative accounts online with female usernames and profile pictures of beautiful women was just his stupid little guilty pleasure. It gave him that full-body feeling of joy that he craved, but rarely found. He had seen the name Talia somewhere, and decided it sounded pretty and slapped it onto a new Youtube account, using a random photo of a young woman as the profile picture. While browsing on that account, he happened to stumble upon a video by one Mischa Bachinski - his Ukrainian classmate whom he may or may not have caught a mild case of the hots for. It was a rap video with shitty quality, filmed in his basement, but Noel thought the rap was pretty good, and deserved a positive comment. 

He had no idea that in a couple months’ time, his biggest regret would be sending that comment.

After seeing Mischa’s overjoyed response to the comment “Talia” left, it felt like there was simply no choice but to keep leaving such comments. It was only on the tenth comment he left that things went south - Mischa asked for her other socials. And just like that, suddenly Noel was creating more Talia accounts. Discord, Instagram, even a Roblox account was created. Suddenly he was researching how to do a Ukrainian accent, and keeping Google Translate open on a tab on his phone at all times. Suddenly he was installing a voice changer to use on Discord calls - giving the household computer a virus, which he was still too scared to mention to his mother.

Noel knew that this was all wrong. He was feeding lies to a vulnerable teen who had already been through so much. But he was too embarrassed, and too afraid of the consequences, to ever admit the truth to anyone.

“Top left!”

Noel flinched as he was suddenly pulled from his melancholic thoughts. He quickly clicked a key on his keyboard and shot down a zombie about to attack him. “Phew… дякую, dear.” he sighed in relief, reminding himself to speak in a more girly tone of voice, just in case the voice changer wasn’t convincing enough.

This whole mess wasn’t all bad - Noel finally had someone to play video games with, even if he did need to put on a fake accent and use a voice changer. Every Tuesday and Thursday, after choir practice, Mischa would call up Talia on Discord, and they would play any free multiplayer game they could find together.

So far, they had been at it for an hour, and neither boy was getting tired. Noel was more than content to stay here all night, and Mischa seemed like he was too.

At least, that was what Noel thought, until his headphones picked up a quiet shff of fabric, a shift. He thought nothing of it at first - Mischa was probably changing his position; he had been sitting for an hour straight. But then he heard him shift again, and again, in the space of just two minutes.

“Mischa, are you alright?” Noel gently asked. “You sound a little… fidgety. It’s okay if you’re getting tired, we can sign off—“

“Oh, no no no! I am just fine, my Talia.” Mischa insisted, his firm yet loving voice crackling straight into his ears. “Please, let us continue our battle against zombies. Ooh, shit, straight ahead!”

Noel made a frankly undignified noise, and quickly rapid-fired at the zombie in his face, using up all his bullets, which in turn sent him scrambling to reload. Come to think of it, there may have been a reason no one had ever leapt at the chance to play games with him. Mischa could be heard quietly chuckling as he saw his “girlfriend” fumble - but then that chuckle turned to a quiet hiss.

“Mischa?” Noel instantly questioned it, worry creeping into his tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You just made a weird noise, you sound like you’re in pain…”

“M-my perfect Talia, your concern is so sweet,” Mischa began to brush him off, his voice sounding a little shaky all of the sudden. “But I am fine.”

“Really?” he challenged, his tone disbelieving. “I don’t think I’m buying it, my dear. You know you can talk to me if something is the matter…”

There was a tense silence. Before finally, Mischa sighed. “Okay… I am not completelyfine.”

Noel smiled sadly at the boy’s reluctant admission, glad that he had gotten through to him. “What’s wrong, my darling Mischa?”

“We-well… I…” he stammered, seeming unable to decide on the right words. “I have bottle of wine with me, yes? I have been drinking wine since we started game. And I drank wine super fast, the wine is gone now… a-and it passed through my body.”

It took Noel a good few seconds to figure out the problem, but when he did, his eyes went huge. Shit. He bit his lip behind his microphone to stop himself from laughing. “Mischa, do you, ah… need to pee?” he gently inquired for confirmation.

The soft and shy “mhm” that he received in response could’ve made his heart explode. In his wildest dreams, he never imagined Mischa could sound so meek. “Well, I don’t mind pausing the game for you while you take a bathroom break…” 

“No,” Mischa instantly refused. “I don’t need break, I-I can hold it… We can keep playing.”

Noel sighed softly at his continued stubbornness. “Dear… you shouldn’t put it off, especially since you already seem pretty desperate… It’ll only get worse, and you’ll end up—“

“No, I won’t!” he snapped, before instantly regretting it and calming down. “S-sorry, my love. But honestly, we don’t need to stop game. I’m a strong man, I-I can hold a little pee-pee, no problem… Please, let’s- fuck!”

Noel’s eyes became the size of saucers, and a red hot blush crept across his face. For a few seconds, he thought that was meant to be a full sentence, and got more than a little flustered. However, the soft grumbling and frantic rustling that followed told him otherwise, and worry cut through his brief excitement. His computer screen showed the pause menu, suggesting that Mischa had paused the game. “Mischa?” Noel gently called out, dreading to think what might have just happened behind the boy’s microphone.

“Лайно, лайно, лайно-“ Mischa could be heard breathlessly cursing. “I’m so sorry, T-Talia, I have to—“

“Hey, hey- sweetheart, it’s okay,” he instantly comforted. “Go to the bathroom. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Mischa made one last small noise of pain - before his mic picked up the sound of his headset slamming down onto the floor, as well as his footsteps faintly retreating. 

With him gone, Noel took the time to take off his own headset and give his slightly sore ears a quick break. He gently rubbed his ears, quietly chuckling about what had just happened. He said a few random things in his normal voice, just so he wouldn’t somehow forget that he wasn’t naturally a Ukrainian girl. And he patiently sat and waited for Mischa’s return.

And waited. … And waited.

Finally, just as Noel was considering exiting out of the game in the interest of not burning the pause menu into the screen, he heard Mischa pick his headset up and put it back on. “Ah, welcome back!” Noel happily greeted him. “Feeling better now?”

“Y-yeah… better,” he replied in a very uncharacteristically quiet voice.

That gave the other boy a bad feeling. If he had successfully emptied his bladder, he should surely be back to normal - unless something had gone wrong. “… Did you make it?” he found himself asking.

Mischa’s response truly broke his heart. “I couldn’t,” he said simply, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence. 

Noel softly gasped, empathy flooding into him from head to toe. He felt a knot appear in his throat. “Oh, Mischa, darling…” 

A shaky exhale came through Mischa’s microphone. “I barely even got up stairs,” he began to rant. “I-I left basement, and I tried to run to toilet and suddenly it just wouldn’t stop, I…”

The boy took a slow and unsteady breath in, trying to keep his emotions in check. “… I’m sorry, Talia, f-for becoming so weak… you shouldn’t have to see that of me.”

Noel could’ve cried with sympathy. His heart absolutely ached for poor Mischa. “… Mischa,” he carefully began to speak - in this moment, he wasn’t playing a character, he was speaking entirely from his heart. “You know what I want you to do, darling? I want you to sign off, and get some dry, comfy pyjamas on. We can do a longer gaming session on Thursday.”

Thankfully, Mischa seemed too emotionally exhausted to put up too much fight. “Are you sure…?”

“I’m not about to let you sit at your computer in soaking wet pants on the verge of tears trying to fight zombies,” Noel insisted bluntly, which managed to get a very soft snort out of the other. “I’m positive.”

“Alright. I will… I will leave game and put on night clothes,” he reluctantly agreed.

They both exited out of the game, leaving them on call together without any distractions, which brought about a peaceful silence. Mischa breathed a heavy, despondent sigh. “… I-I’m sorry, Talia—“

Noel gently hushed him. “You don’t need to apologise for anything, kохана. Your bladder just couldn’t take it anymore, it’s not any kind of personal failure, it’s just biology… And I don’t think any less of you, okay? You’re perfect, Mischa, and I’m never not gonna think that.”

There was a short pause, before Mischa gave a small sniffle, evidently starting to fail at holding back tears. “I love you, Talia,” he managed to shudder out.

“I love you too,” Noel instantly repeated, the rehearsed feminine tone in his voice almost disappearing altogether. “I really do love you…”

“Will you message me goodnight on the Discord before you go to bed…?”

The soft smile on his face slowly fell, into a slightly sad resting face. “… Yeah, of course,” he assured him, returning to his usual Talia voice.

“Okay…” Mischa took a deep breath. “Thank you for playing with me. До побачення,Talia. Я люблю тебе.”

The little icon containing his profile picture disappeared from Noel’s phone screen, and he was alone. He let out a deep sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to process what just happened. 

Needless to say, it was very hard for Noel to keep a poker face when he heard Mischa the following day at school, muttering about how he had the “shittiest night”.

see you guys in two days for Day 15! :3

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I am whatever gender has the shortest line at the bathroom

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Day 9 - “That was kinda hot.”

Noel shivered slightly as the flow finally tapered off, leaving him with exhausted but very relieved muscles. The damage was unmistakable, with piss not only pooled underneath him, but also still spilling off the side and collecting on the floor of the carriage. His uniform pants were completely soaked through. His cheeks burned with humiliation, but emotionally, he felt completely fine, his mind clouded with blissful relief.

As the carriage finally creaked into slow motion just minutes too late, Noel glanced over at Ricky - and was slightly confused by the expression on his face. His cheeks were redder than Noel’s, even though he wasn’t the one who had the accident. In additions, his brilliant blue eyes were the size of saucers, and they were immovably fixed on his soaked crotch.

“What’s the matter, huh?” Noel gently questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Ricky flinched slightly, snapping out of his apparent trance. A shy smile spread across his face, and he began to sign a response - of course, using his special made-up version of sign language that he had been kind enough to teach Noel.

First, he pointed down at the puddle underneath Noel. So it was about the accident, fair enough. Noel had assumed so. Then, he pinched his thumb and index finger together - “little”, or by extension “a little bit”, most likely. Before finally, he placed his hand to his forehead and dragged it across, as if wiping off sweat - “hot”.

Put together, that roughly translated to… “that was a little bit hot.” Noel’s already-racing heart did a flip in his chest, and he blushed about ten times harder. Ricky thought his accident was attractive.

He looked at Ricky, then down at his mess, and felt himself crack a smile. His shoulders shook with the semblance of a chuckle. “You’re messed up…” he muttered playfully, leaning his head on his lover’s shoulder.

Ricky had no qualms about this, and happily nuzzled into the touch, as their carriage slowly descended to the ground. 

i cannot stress eNOUGH how rushed this was i’m sorry for my quantity over quality sins

i was going to make art for this one to match Day 3, but the poses just wouldn’t pose :( AUGH how do people do month-long creativity challenges bro

see you on day 13 hopefully maybe possibly 😃

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Mischa the type of guy to either say “piss” or “pee-pee”, no in between