#poor abel

instead of a Sepfember Saturday, here's some Dad Squad art! :D

This is set at the end of between a rock and a tree place!

I tried to do some dappled lighting and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

I have also been informed since starting this that the korok too, must be Dad, and thus it is canon.

sorry town, I started writing you and now you are filled with undercover Yiga

adam shows up on abel’s doorstep unannounced one morning claiming it to be “take your son to work day”. abel is still blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes as adam pushes his way in and starts ushering abel towards his bedroom to get changed. any protests or questions are drowned out by adam’s loud ceaseless bragging about how cool his exorcist army is and how lucky abel is to be getting a personal tour by the head man himself.

abel throws on the uniform his dad had made special for him, which sits most days in the back of his closet, then makes it halfway to the bathroom before adam stops him and plops the tall white and pink uniform hat adorned with an A on top of his head.

“ha! ha ha! you look ridiculous, it’s adorable. now hurry up, you’re taking forever and i’m bored here,” adam groans, yanking abel by the collar out of his room, down the stairs, and right out the front door.

now, abel has always had a small bladder—something adam would know about his son if he bothered to pay attention—so by the time he stumbles through the giant arched doors of his father’s office, he’s already starting to squirm.

“um, hey dad?” abel pipes up meekly. “is there a bathroom in here that i could—”

“oh fuck yeah, i’ve got my own personal golden throne, come check it out!”

abel sighs in relief as he hurries to follow adam through a nearby gold plated door. as soon as he crosses the threshold, his jaw drops. ‘golden throne’, as it turns out, was not an exaggeration. the marble tiled room looks—well—heavenly. Water spews from a fountain in the center of the room and behind it, preceded by an extravagant marble staircase, lies the throne itself, in all its solid golden glory.

as abel stares longingly at the toilet, adam drones on and on about the specs of the room. he tries to shift his weight subtly from foot to foot, but the proximity to his much needed relief coupled with the constant splashing of the fountain is sending his desperation into overdrive. he nods along to whatever adam is saying, no longer hearing him, and mentally begs him to hurry up and leave so he can finally relieve himself. but much to abel’s dismay, adam claps a large hand on his shoulder and steers him out of the bathroom.

“yep, that’s all mine. a real beut, ain’t she? well anyways, where the fuck is lute?! that bitch’s usually waiting for me with my coffee the minute i step foot in the building,” adam scoffs.

abel opens his mouth to reply but is promptly cut off by a knock at the door.

“fucking finally!”

abel stands frozen as adam saunters over to the door, greeting lute with his usual rough affections. he barely registers the conversation that ensues as he fidgets in place, stealing glances at the golden door that lies open beside him, seemingly calling to him. slowly, he begins to inch towards it, feeling his bladder lurching low in his abdomen, but just as he’s about to enter the bathroom, adam is suddenly standing in front of him, shoving a cup of coffee in his hands.

“drink up, buttercup, i made sure lute brought you your favorite,” adam smirks, patting him on the cheek. “i know you love that sugary shit.”

abel slumps over miserably, grasping the warm cup in his hands. so close to relief yet still so far. he feels himself growing angry at his dad for dragging him down here so early in the morning, rushing him before he could use the bathroom, then subsequently missing every cue that indicates that his son is so so desperate for a piss—and just as his thoughts are about to spiral into the usual breakdown over how his father never sees him—his dad goes and gives him just enough affection to keep him stuck on his line.

abel sniffs at the sugary sweet caramel latte in his hand and his lip quivers. it feels so dumb, and he hates himself for it, but already he can feel all of his anger towards his father washing away only to replaced by the deep seated desire for his dad to see his anguish, grab his hand, and take him to the bathroom like he so desperately needs.

and suddenly his frustration is all too much and his bladder hurts so bad and he doesn’t know what to do and he just wants someone to come and make it better but no one’s coming and—

“hey, kid, why are you crying,” adam laughs loosely, wiping abel’s tears away with his thumb. “this kid’s always crying about something,” he chuckles, turning to lute. “anyways, what were you saying about the new weapon developments?”

abel lets himself be steered out the door and down the long corridor as the two drone on from behind. he sips gingerly at his drink so as not to be rude, but as he tries to take slow steady sips, the sweet warmth provides him with so much comfort and he doesn’t even realize how much he’s actually had until it’s too late.

splash.

he freezes, ears ringing and vision blurry as the cup drops from his hand and splatters on the ground. adam stops abruptly, bumping into abel and sending him stumbling forward. with his back turned to the two angels behind him, he shoves his hands deep in his crotch and doubles over, squeezing his eyes shut. his bladder spasms angrily, begging for release. he whimpers, fighting against the impending flood, which he only just manages.

“god, abel, you’re such a clutz,” adam groans. “look at you, you got coffee all over the nice pants i got you!”

he snaps his fingers and immediately the surrounding mess disappears just as abel awkwardly straightens back up.

“good thing you’ve got your daddy here to clean up your messes, huh?” adam grins, patting him on the head, then turns to lute and mutters in a lower voice, “not exactly the athletic type, this one.” he laughs, then rolls his eyes when he sees abel’s pout and flicks the protruding lower lip with his index finger. “alright, let’s keep moving.”

“wait!” abel blurts out.

adam raises an unimpressed brow at him and sighs.

“yes…?”

“is there, um, are there, like, other bathrooms in this building?” he asks shyly.

lute’s eyes widen as she begins to take in the state of the man in front of her, but adam just looks on with mild annoyance.

“yeah, i mean, i have my own private suite obviously, but they’ve got bathrooms on every floor in this place. hardly the coolest rooms in this building though, come on i’ll show you what you really wanna see.”

adam shoves abel through a set of tall doors, hand pressed between his shoulder blades, then gestures widely to the hundreds of angelic soldiers stood at attention in front of them.

“behold, my army,” adam announces regally.

abel peers up at the rows upon rows of exorcist all dawned in the same creepy masks and is immediately intimidated. he feels the pit that’s been sitting heavy in his gut grow even deeper as his heart begins to skitter in his chest. fear seizes his body and his cheeks flare red hot as the first leak escapes, soaking into his briefs.

“um…dad?” he whispers, trying to keep his voice low.

he buries his hands in his pockets and squeezes his legs together as tight as he can, crossing at the ankles. sweat prickles against his forehead and his brows furrow even as he tries to plaster on a friendly smile for all the angels standing in front of him. it becomes apparent that adam didn’t hear him as he continues to yap for the benefit of his own ego.

“um, dad?” abel tries again, louder this time.

lute shoots him a wary glance as his legs cross tighter together and he begins to bend forward slightly, but still adam continues his ramble.

another leak slowly makes its way out, filling his briefs with warmth. he begins to sniffle, screwing up his face as his exhausted muscles continue to scream at him.

“daddy?” abel chokes out through tears.

“um sir,” lute speaks up hesitantly.

“what is it?” adam sighs, sounding mildly irritated.

“i think your son’s about to piss himself.”

“oh for god’s sake—why didn’t you say anything?” adam huffed turning on abel and grabbing him by the wrist. “come on, let’s go.”

a sob tears through abel’s throat as finally adam drags him off to find a bathroom. he hobbles down the corridor from which they just came as he tries to keep pace with his father. he feels another wave of desperation rush through his body and it nearly knocks the breath right out of him, but he can see the archway to his father’s office and knows that he’s almost within reach of his relief.

he starts running towards the door as he feels another leak spurt out of him, seeping into his oversaturated underwear. with one hand on his crotch and the other reaching out, he readies himself to push through the door, only to be yanked back by the collar.

he coughs forcefully as the momentum of his reeling body causes his collar to tighten around his throat briefly, causing a harsh jet of piss to saturate the inside of his thigh.

“ah ah ah,” adam tuts. “my bathroom is for my use only, capiche? you can use the one up ahead. go on, third door on the right.”

abel pales, and finally, finally, all of his frustration and indignation catches up to him. it hurts him that his dad never takes the time to assess his needs, never shows him any sort of empathy, and never meets him with the patience he so desperately needs. and it hurts even worse that even now as his father does see his needs, he still denies them for his own selfish reasons. he’s furious at him for letting him down yet again and he’s furious at himself for allowing this kind of treatment in the first place. he’s tried and tried for so so long to do exactly as his dad says in hopes of earning even a crumb of love and for what?

his eyes harden and he steels himself for one valiant moment to make a break for his father’s precious bathroom anyways, but something shatters in him when he realizes he’ll never make it up that stupid extravagant marble staircase to the golden throne. hell, he wouldn’t even make it to the golden door. because he’s reached his limit. and there is no stopping the stream that is forcing its way out of him.

the dull wind gusts that fill his ears dissipate as he comes back to himself, and suddenly all he can hear is the loud splatter of piss against pristine tiles as his bladder voids itself right where he stands.

“are you seriously pissing yourself right now?” adam balks.

the last of his anger breaks and all that abel is left with is profound hurt and humiliation coursing through his veins. his cheeks burn hot as he remembers lute’s presence and glances up to see her staring at him with a hand covering her mouth. he averts his gaze quickly and focuses it on his feet, which are surrounded by a rapidly growing puddle. seeing it only worsens the flush spreading across his body, and he can no longer contain the sobs that wrack through him.

“here we go with the tears again,” adam mumbles, shaking his head. “there, there, bud. it’s alright, you’re fine! it’s just a bit of piss. i mean you should see how much lute’s gotta deal with after i—” he laughs, eyes glazed over in thought while lute cuts him a furious glare. “ha. ha ha anyways,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “alright, well i better take you home, huh kiddo?”

abel sniffs, sinking into the soft touch as adam runs a hand through his hair, then nods.

“attaboy! see? you’re okay,” adam drawls, a lazy grin spreading across his face. he snaps his fingers and just like with the coffee, abel’s pants and the floor beneath him are left sparkling clean. “whatsay we order some pizza and see what’s new on netflix, huh? how does that sound?”

The sorry party of explorers I sent to take down Ursula’s stage.